a bit council

andafunnythinghappenedontheway..

2005-04-09T19:14:00.000+01:00

the show must go on. little did i know what was just round the corner and then..
my fckin spectrum of an excuse of a computer blew up and its taken me the best par of a month to get a new-ish one. luckily my eldest sibling jacqui bitcouncil lent me soirt of permanently her rather loaded beau's old one. so i'm back. not in time to give you my national tips (two went at the first fence) but me and a friend did manage to get eachways on fourth place. sadly only six quid for me. and the bitch behind the counter at corals couldt be barely arsed to ring up the branch in wimbledon broadway where i placed the bet earlier on today.
the cheeky doodery old cow got on the shop miobile which was fair enough but then procceded to slag me off in my earshot.
'ywh, i know for five fifty ! he could have waited until tomorrow couldnt he?'
no i fckin couldnt you stuoid old moo. that's two pints back for saturday night up charing cross.
then i tried too explain that five fifty wouldbe the payback from the starting price not my price that i got them to put on at midday.
'ooh, now he's quibbling.'
i couldnt be arsed to stand there about small change so i took the money off the counter gave her winstons v for victory and pissed off to paddy whack powers up the road wher my mate collected his similar amount of paltry cash and had service you expect rather than ivy tilseys of five minutess previous.
anyhows, nice to see some of you back
might have a bbq tomoorow though i was a bit worried that my catholic neighbours might think iwould be trying to replicate the vatican city's choosing of the new pope. you know, loads of white smoke, etc, etc...

have a good staurday night

thumbs up harry

2005-03-22T20:17:00.001Z

so the only thing i can recall of not e that happened while you lot probably thought i was dead and buried... ,
was me seeing harry davies. 'thumbs up harry' as he's known by friends, foes and even family. now harry works down bond street. w1 is the best one as he often says, like every time you see him.
works down as in the last twenty five to thirty years. see, harry's almost pensioned off, in fact i get the feelin he's gone past his marketable sell by date - ie 65.
harry got me my first job on the steps. he's like a family friend that man. he heard about my lack of the gainful and asked for me to come up and see him. bit worried that i was not doing myself justice. so i go up to the lovely gallery on bond street that h.d. works for. harry's stepping the door as usual and he looks pleased as judy's partner to see me. tbc>

freaking out

2005-03-11T16:52:00.000Z

alan got back last night, as the weather was pretty shit, so i did jst the four days work. lucky really, as kara was getting on my tits a bit. she eneded up being a bit of a tease. turns out she was seeing some guy after all. so i couldnt be too arsed after that. but al was good as gold, paid me for five days , as he said it wasn't my fault they had to come back for the thrusday, and took us up to north lodnon for a few beers. we wnet up to camden, the primrose hill bit at first. but its' jst a little bit too up its own arse so walkd along next to regent's park walked down the parkway, and ended up by camden town tube. there were even more fkcin freaks, geeks, gothes and weirdos than there usually is that way. we wondred at first what was going on as\ all we wanted were a few games of pool, or btter still snooker. we asked a guy who looked a bit more normal if he knew of a decent pub with a table. he said we were 'close to the good mixer' and gave us driections to get there. i asked why camden was 'so fckin busy?'
he replied that it was the annual 'camden crawl', which explained the amount of teenage dirtbags that were aournd last night. anyway, we found the pub, which was alright, and there wastwo pool tabels. one of them, though, had this board covering it, with a bunch of sixteen year olds sitting on top, probably drinking snakebites, or alcopops or whatever fifth years are dirnking nowadays.
but we got on pretty quick on the pool table after alan had kicked some guys arse at pool. i had put on a few of the less grubby songs taht they had on the jukey. bit of blur, oasis, that kind of thing. and this song called 'freaking out' which i got confused with something else. anyway, it was alright but not what i had thought. then alan nudges me, tells me to 'look over there.' says 'see that guy', so said 'yeh' and he goes thats the 'singer who's singing this song'. well iget a bit embarrassed cos not only has the guy heard us, but he thinks we've put the song on cos he's in there. as some sort of kissarse triubte. fckin alan and his big mouth.

top shelf - tastic

2005-03-08T19:33:00.000Z

un-fkcin-believable.
i've actually got five days work in a row. first time since i've been doing this blog. i was beginnin to think writing away to you lot was a bit of a minnie.
but alan's let me look after his shop this week. you know the one, or if don't refer to- a shitty way to start the week. he's gone for a week with his other half doin' a boating holiday in the south bit of spain or something. not too sure, alan's a bit boring to be honest, nice lad, but talking to him is like doing a sponsored yawnathon. actually, just saying that makes my mouth strecth at the thought of a convo with him.
anyway, he was good enought to overlook me fuckin up last time so i've got a whole five days running his paper shop. i'd call it a cornershop, but it's not exaxctly big enough. more like an alley shop or passage shop. no fatties allowed. anyway, its a boring ol day until the lunchtime cover walks in. shes called kara. not too bad lookin, if anyone's marking 4's-5's would be given out i feel. i'd not met her last time, had to close the shop for an hour or so for lunch. but she does the 12-3 shift for al normally, and this week, its me. she's friendly enough,, but i get the feeling she's bloked up. so for once, i dont try it on too strong. but gradually, by the end oof yesterday, i'm either bored enough or hrony enough to start chatting her up a bit.
'so kara?' say i...
'where d'you live?'
just round the corner she tells me, five mins away from this glorious enterprise in peckham rye.
'you live with you boyfriend?'
'nah. just a mate. he's called colin. he's gay though.'
mmm. wonder why she had to add that bit. i suddenly look at kara and think of her in comparison to all those buxom sized lovelies that reside on the top shelf of alan's otherwise family business. she would defintiely not look out of place. mind you, having said that, we're talking razzle or r.w. nothing higher or lower...

went down to the indie disco...

2005-03-05T20:37:00.000Z

one of my mates little brother's band played last night at some student do over in the e numbers part of london. called the litmuss test i think. they were alright, actually more like pretty good, very competent. my sort of music. paul weller crossed with.. mmm, paul weller really. but tehy were on fckin late you know, nearly midnight.
we'd been out since six , on the razzle, had a few lagers. and a few more. wasnt that pissed though, just in the mood to get lashde really. anyways, we got a blackie over to aldgate east and ... getthis all drinks were a quid. so we got well and truly gone after that. i was drinking alcoholic jelly pots, well they were ther, werent they? i did mix up my drinks somehwat. did a few of the whiskeys with cokes. g n t's. ete cetrra, ete cetra...
then me and my aforemntioned mate got a bit too drunk. this girl was at the bar gettin served, we were next in line so to speak, and my mate - let's just call him 'notsofortunate' -thought it would be alaugh to take her drink. she wasnt rightly amused. we got her one right back. turnes out though, she was the bar manager, so within a few minutes we got turned out into the cold winter air. that took the smile off our faces. didnt miss much i reckon, it was all a bunch of shoegazing indie nonsese.

the gathering storm or the storm at the gathering

2005-03-01T21:12:00.000Z

mm. not a great party. more like fifteen people who just about know eachother trying to make a bit of conversation go a long way over four or five hours. for a man who's not done much graft recently, it was close to hard work.
it wasnt thought there hadn't been a fair amount of effort. okay to good food, decent amount of booze on display. but the great russ abbot would have been somewaht disappointed - being a man who loved 'a party with a happy atmosphere'.
and i tried to snog the previously mentioned afrikkaner hostess. it's not that i struck out, she seemed half keen. but it would have to go down as a near miss. probelm was, i was way over half cut, and i didnt quite know then what i know now.
i wasnt quite as charming and friendly as i thought i was. i did okay for abit , managed to kiss her neck. then started kissing her over sized bosoms. that seemd to be okay. tbut then it all went t**s up as they say. she suddenyl decided i had gotten a little bit too cheeky so me, the great abc, was shown the door. and my friend. i was really way gone, and tooting to peckham is rather a long way unless you're john sullivan's imagination, of course. then it's a very short cut from wolfie smith to delboy. so me an me amigo were pushed out into the coldest of cold nights by the broadway and waited for the cliched eternity to pass before a blackcab took mercy on the two of us.
twenty five quid later and it was a ll just a hazy one.

party on...

2005-02-26T13:47:00.000Z

so the south african girl came back in from the cold and invites me and ivan-o to her party on saturday - which is tonight.
'cum' she says.
eet weil bee grate. purleeez.'
you get the picture , fcvkin strong accent that girl.to use a cheese analogy, more like extra mature. ivan 's in ahurry to go, had to work early the enxt day, but i get him to hang ona sec..
'okay. i say... what's the address?'
so she tells me, but i'm not gonna tell you that. you might gatecrash, and i don't really wnat to meet you lot, you may be disappointed, or more to the point, i might be too.
i'll give you a small clue, its in sw lodnon and it's near a hospital it starts at 730. the hospital is named after... actually, i'll end up giving it away so i'll stop there.
nice girl mind, she's not exactly alooker but i get the feelin she mihgt know one or two...
anyway yous have a good weekend.
oh, i might have some proper work next week, i'll keep you posted.

i've never met a nice south african...but that's not bloody surprising mate

2005-02-22T20:33:00.000Z

..until last night. there i was, back in putney, having previously promised to avoid the area due to a certain woman, in a good boozer. actually, it was a good old pub, has since been gastrofied a bit, but just about gets away with it still. don't know why, but it's just about kept its atmosphere. then they go and start a pub quiz. i'm out with ivan again, who's no slough at the general knowlegde, but there's fckin professional quiz bods in there. living up to the cliche as well. tank top city last night, it really was, and i think all bar me and the bar staff were optically disabled. ie, they were a bunch of speccy cnts. ivan's trying to egg me on, to do the quiz. but just the two of us?
a) everyone else is in teams of at least 4, more like more than that.
b) they're all fckin saddoes
c) i'm pretty rubbish at that sort of shit
and d) most importantly, it looks a bit queer, two fellas doigna quiz on their jack.
oh, i forgot e) barmiad=fit x(pretty%sexy)+ hangover horn from late drinks at mine last night= my type
so me and the boy get high up on the bar stools chatting to sun city's finest. her name's natalie. even her accent wasn't that bad. then it starts to snow. and she goes
'eugh mai goed. eet is snoeeinng autseed!'
so i say 'you what, ? you havent seen the snow before?'
and she can barely reply. she either got a pair of glass eyes or she really is welling up. she concedes the latter.
she haqs to go otuside to jump into the picture psotcard she thinks she's lving in...

but, presnetly my confidence has the monetum of an ever expanding snowball, so i get her number.
night night,

abc.
xx
ps thanks to the person in australia today who's made me read in all the contintents.

never the twain (or diff'rent strokes)

2005-02-21T23:24:00.000Z

i'm not referring you to two of the most hilarious and original comedies of the eighties, but trying to make a point about how some people.. you like, but... well y'know, they aint ever goonna be buddies in your bosoms. you knwo what i mean. you should like them, you do like em, btu you can't quite love em. take charlotte. would like to be into her, and probably, i rackon, vicey versay/. but wanting and trying ofr something doesn't always mean it will happen. sometimes, like water out of a mountain spa, some things jiust spring eternal. and soemtimes, triyng to be into soemoen, is like having the hot tap stuck and you just wish you could just turn it off.
but no matter how hard your grip is to try and stop the bloody thing, there's just this constna amounbt of gushing.
so, i think, my readers, me and the charlotte girl are definitley dusted and done. we have apretty good time, but , wha's the point of forcing it? as my father used to say after a few bottles of rose in hte afternoon, que sera, sera...
it's been a hard old doris, and the snow, well its' not exactly been the icing on the cake, tat's for sure... anyway, i'm well goen and tired so i'll speka soon...
and writ eback you alzy bastards, i'm sick of my own voice...

the best little whorehouse in t....

2005-02-17T22:18:00.000Z

sadly, very much so, but i got truly pissed this afternoon. on me own. went to too many sam smiths pubs. shit beer good prices. a cut above the j.d.w.'s but hey, no excuses, i'm feeling the lack of wages. the thing is i slept it all off round my mate trevor's. he's anotherdoorman, and had the day off before working tonight. so i get 'round ther about five-ish, uninvited. not quite steamead but way more than merry. trev's fine about it , he's good as that one.
tells me to sleep on his sofa, and when i wake up, to double- lock the door on the way out, with the spare key. i'm happy about this, so i wake up just gone seven, he's already gone to work , so i go to his bathroom, wash a bit of water over my face, lock up and walk out his forn tdoor. trevor's got a not so nice place kind of in the barbican. not the nice bit. the thing adjacent, the council block that's the wrong side of tall.
i've got the mid-evenign horn, and am semi-pissed, semi-sober. i 'm feeling jiggy. so i get the central to tottenham court ropad, and walk down soouthward to soho. i go right to dean street, greek street, frith street and the rest, and start thinking. i'm feeling just a little bit dirty to be frank, am up for meeting teh ladies, don't mind the cost of living and all that. so i take my time, try to' choose the least scummy doorway, and walk in. i'm greeted by chav central, who's soem wannabee madam. she could be prety if she tried a smidgeon harder, but she's not to bothered about trying.
'you alright mate, she asks?'
'yeah, yeah, fine.' is say , alittle too briskly.
'you had a good night?'
's'alright, i say,' thinkning she's thinking i'm too gone.
'she won't be a minute.'
she's got a bloke in there at rpesent, of course. mind you, good sign don't you think? getting regular work. don't try to think too hard about her present company and what they're up to.
'wher you from?' asks wannabee cynthia payne.
'south-east lodnon, ' says i.
'me too!' she repleis with alittle too much enthuisaism.
'yeah? what school you go to?'
she asnwers some school i've never heeard of, which apparently is a girls' school she was lucky to get in to, bein a-little-bit-council-and-all. i'm relieved that i've not heard of it.
'i think she's ready now,' says s-e12 girl.
and then, as if by (mr benn stlye) magic, the tart with the heart appears.
she looks a chip off the old eastern-bloc, but is way too fit for the state i'm in.
'hi', she says, 'my name is monica.'
and i'm thinking, 'christ, i hope i can get it near the norm.'
and that, is that. until the next time.

fck me henry what a player, something tells me i'm a soothsayer

2005-02-14T23:37:00.000Z

fck me, henry...
told you told you told you ...five goals to the arse didnt i? look at the date, the time ... i'm the fckin daddy when it comes to the predicting scores mullarkey. i think i might get this sight sponsored by onebetonli.com or loser-cash=gamble.com or something similar. if only johnson the forward hadnt converted the pen... and that my friend, would have been the future... i tell you stay tuned, you may get a bit bored, but just think of all the spondulicks to be had

sweet dreams oh readers

ps didnt get the loved upness on the valentines....
pps i'm quite pissed
ppps going now

pppps okay this time

ppp of fuck this...

valentines day massacre

2005-02-13T14:50:00.000Z

so i'v e sort of lost out. charlotte kind of read my mind about teresa. it's not that she said much, it's just the guilt was written all over my face. so what next? popping downstairs for sugarbowls, can openers, nahhh. there's not much point. and i get to spend tomrrow night on my jack jones. typical. always seem to have just messed up right before valentines. i think i'd rather spend chrismtas day alone than the 14th of february. i mean, what d'you do in the vening? can't go for a meal - too many couples. watcha film - too mnay couples. even the pub - ditto. so i'll be in watching some shitty romcom probably. either that or my mate's got a spare ticket to see the arse at highbury. but then, there really is no excuse to see the ladies in red is there, even on a valentines day night. especially as their playing palace. mind you, if henry's on fire it could be 5-0 to the highbury ladies. amodern day valentines day massacre. with a bit of luck.

i woke up an it was all..

2005-02-11T22:00:00.000Z

i never had a dream before about some who's still alive and in my dream their dead. last night was that night. cos normally, i dream of relatives from long ago or more likely, dead dogs. like stepney. me and dad's pet labrador. stepney was the dog of all dogs. the dog's bollocks if you like. named aafter you-know-whos greatest keeper of all time. shame the fcker also played for moneymachine united. but no-ones right all of the time. but i still think of that night went my dad had to take him for the needle. to put in him in the great kennel in the sky. always dream about that. sentimental old shitebag that i am. and that kid who killed j=himself at school. seem to think about that one too much. but someone alive and thinking their dead... now that did my head in. andit was my mum's mum. lily. my nan lily.
it did my head in today for hours. i dreamt or nightmared that i was at her funeral and we all talked about her. til the ealy hours. we did the wake bigtime. and when i woke from it all,... i really thought she might be no longer alive. so you kjnow what id did? i rang her up. first time in two years or more maybe. she still answers the phone like she's in a black n white movie...
'hello limehouse 5743?'
'nan, it's me (council)... you alright?'
'oh (council), how nice ... i thought you might be one of those funny phonelines that keep telling me i've won a spanish holiday or the like..'
'nan, you keeping alright? you getting out?'
'you know me darlin, i'm always on the go. it's funny, i keep getting calls from the family. wondering about me... don't you worry,my darlin, there's plenty of petrol in nanna's tank still'
but you know what, i still felt that dream shook me up. spooked me up more so.

camp as christmas

2005-02-10T22:36:00.000Z

so did a night's work down dean street on the tuesday. things did go a bit tits though.
there i was, back very much in the swing of things, doing the door, and enjoying it.
but this book do, was full of cnts. really was.
it's a nice venue, upmarket indian place. asked a coupl of mates to come up, to enjoy the free hospitality and that. only one that bothered was asian tony, my next door neighbour but one.
me and tony go back a good few years as we used to do a bit of stewarding at the ground. (sorry can't mention the youknowwhat). anyhows, he turns up in agood little mood, and i obviously let him straight through. after a couple of hours, there's no insy-no outsy, so i go through to speak to the little fella, and it's all good. until,... this fckin twat from some magazine starts asking my friend if he's working. jsut cos he's mixed race. fuck sake, they say the working classes are ignorant or the prejudiced ones, its bullshit. its the upper middles that need to be educated. cos we've grown up together, d'you knwo what i mean? most of my class wasn't white. anyway, tony says 'no'
he's
'an invited guest'
tony's been good as, but i'm taking umbrage with this poncey twat. camp as christmas the fanny.
old quentin crisp asks him wher e hes from .
tony speks up again.
'london' he says in a sort of bemused way. 'wher d'you think?'
i'm pissed off by now.
'look mate,m i say who invited you? and besides, on this island, we're all immigrants. i'm a mixed bag of irsih/scots/english and god knows.'
'acvtually' he pipes up
'i work for tatler magazine. so i'm a list o n the guest list.'
he's really annoyed me by now. and i've remembered him when he truned up a few hours previous. talked to me like i was scum on the pavement.
'tatler? noone actually buys that do they/ i've only see in it dentist's surgeries or doctor's waiting rooms. right?'
he's not happy with this. happens to complain in front of the restaurant/bar manager.
anyway, couple of horus later, i'm thanked for my time. they'll call me when next needed.
so my mate's paternity has been gigged to someone else. and they say free speech is what makes this country great...

thank the fckin lord

2005-02-08T14:18:00.000Z

thank christ. got some work at last... doing the 6-2 shift tonight swanky bar cum restaurant down dean street. some book is being published. my old school pal stevie jones is away as his wife's just done the baby honours last sunday. not wishing to sound ungrateful but she was ten days late. so i've been waiting by the phone ready to step into his shoes. so i get about twnety days worth of cover. cos of the eu or whatever,you get paternity leave now, which i dont approve of so much. but hey, work is work. so come down if you want some frree drinks and some food just say 'abc' and i' might let you in. seconds thoughts, i could actually get the boot for that. so mkaybe actually don't bother your arse.

see you soon.

cleaning up with the bolivian

2005-02-07T13:52:00.000Z

you've probably noticed if you're one of the many daily readers of this site, that i've not been myself the last couple of entries. so, to get back some of me sparkle, i've got a confession to make. and despite the words written above, i've not been doing any class a's or b's or even c's. not my style.
when my heating went off last week, i was in my room - on the thursday, i think- doing some steam ironing on a nice crisp white shirt i was going to wear when i met up with charlotte. then i look out of my window thinking how fckin cold it was inside let alone outside, when my neighbour downstairs looks up and smiles at me. she's called teresa, lives downstairs with her son. and her brother. and her brother's wife. and her brother's kid. in a space where felines couldnt even breathe let along swing. anyway, this is not the first time she's given me a funny look from the garden. i always get a slightly horny feeling, though it disturbs me at the sametime. i couldnt helpn think that she was a lady who worked later rather than earlier if you catch my drift. apparently, her son told me that she works really late hours cleaning up behind oxford street so that explains the late arrival every night. anyway, she calls up says soemthin random like 'happy new year' -in february? does anyone know that the bolvian calendar starts on feb 1 rather than our one...?
either that, or she's making an excuse to talk to me... not being too bigheaded, but i think the latter. 'hey, what you up to? she continues.
'not much, the heating's gone, i'm meeting a friend later, but i'll probably go out for a bit.'
'take me..' she says 'take me with you'.
now i've read a few reader's wives stories in my time, few meaning quite a few, but this one's for real, i assure you.
'er, okay,' i says, 'fancying walking to east dulwich?'
'oh, okay, come down in fiftten minutes?'
so i do and we walk via the belledndean bit of peckham to lordship lane, where we find a pub to have a couple of drinks.
teresa tells me all about her job, mmm, not very interesting, though respect to her that she works 60 plus hours a week. get this feeling though, that the visa people wouldnt recognise her name on their computer. she asks about me, i tell her, to a point, about the doormanship, and then we get into slightly drunken small talk. she starts first...' oh, you very hansome neighbour man.' she says in stilted english. 'cheers' i say , in i'm so gonna get laid english. ' do you want to head back to the flat?' 'i told you , i will follow you.' i raise my eyebrow ih the great british tradition of roger moore. (make note to myself- add 'bullseye' to list of favourite films if not already present - caine and moore fantastic! michael caine and any bond make the best films)
so, we head back to the flat/s she 'follows me', i go straight to the bedroom, so does she, i take off top, so does... i start to kiss her, likewise. and at that point, i'll shut the bedroom door on you.
but to be honest, i meet up with ching ching charlotte later and unlike me, feel just a bit of a abstard. fck, i must really like this one. besides, she's not too happy when i kiss her, and the extra strongs havent quite cocnealed the taste of someone's elses you knows....

ching ching charlotte

2005-02-06T23:25:00.000Z

evening.
spent the day with charlotte. very good. very good indeed. she's a nice girl, but i've been enjoying the single life. don't need to have some complications. but it's tempting, definitely tempting.
saw that new film with bob in it. 'meeting the fockers'. fucks up my profile, don't it? said bob's been bad for a good few years. and somehow, he's pretty funny. reminded me of the old man abit. quite mean, but yet human underneath. charlotte didnt like it so much. but hey...
porbsbly see her next week. i'll call her though.
the comments have dried up again, you guys ... need some messages... alright?

no fucking wATER and bold-ly going where no man...

2005-02-05T23:36:00.000Z

the boiler went three days ago. had no fckin water since, well, none of the hot variety. and no gas means no gch. does it? its been so fckin cold in the flat and i smell like a gippo boy. and my clothes have been half wet ever since. to cap it all i had a date with that girl called c********e the day it went. i had got my clothes out of the wash, put them on the radiators for an hour and a abit and then.... boom! it all just goes, in a matter of seconds.
so i turn up, to see the litle lady in a soggy jumper and trousers that you could still smell the washing powder in them. a case of bold-ly going wher no man has gone before.. not a happy bunny was i.

whiskey a go go

2005-02-03T01:33:00.000Z

i got on the bus this morning, sadly on my way to get some doel money. less than a hundred quid a fortnight and i have to spend some lss than quality time with less than fortunate people on a ride that takes forever.just to make things even worse, a couple of wihtout abodes get on, heroin cheekbones nd cans of diamond white cider in their pockets. it's not even ten a.m. and their drinking is imminent . i'm not too happy with this, as i've just about got the tasste of whiskey from the night before off my breathe. i can't even njoy my hangover cos these twats are tasting the tasebuds a bit too early. it#s too depressing fo words.

shit, i'm nervous

2005-01-27T22:10:00.000Z

shit, i'm nervous... keep thinkin about charlotte. got her work number, slightly weird that. but am still in 24 hours since we met. must get to at least 72 hours, otherwise, it's within the desperate period. but 72 hours makes it saturday night when i can finally call her, and like is said, i've only got the office number. which means i can really only ring her on monday which would be almos t four days. maybe that's a day too long, maybe. she might meet a few guys over the weekend, maybe she'll pull. and then i'lll be just a distant memeory from days gone by. that sounds abit wanky , might delete that bit later. shit. i'd better take a chance, who knows maybe she might call tomoorow... maybe. damn.

bumper cars (orthe dodgems)

2005-01-27T01:05:00.000Z

of all the places, in all the...
shit, i bumped into her tonight, and y'know what? i was right, we just aren't compatible.
yeh, serena. i mean, she's well cute and that, but, she just doesnt do the do for me. i guess that's mutual, maybe.
i went out with my best buddy, ivan. haven't seen so much of hi m recently. srena was out too. not such a surprise seeign as we were in putney high street, and she lives alll of two minutes from there. funny enough, i was chatting up this girl called charlotte, doing pretyy well if i might say so... and then she walks over. doesnt' gve a shit, couldn't give a shit, won't give a shit.. yet to charlotte, she was agitated head fuck bird. c'est la vie. i'm in mid-flow, semi-horn, good form. serena stops all that. but, hey, why should she care, she doesn't want anything, so why fuck up any alternative opportunities for me? wasn't happy. maybe it was just bad timing, but i feel that she was on a mission to destroy tonight. made mental note. dont do putney again, elast not til the summer. and a s for serena, well, i would kike to avoid the cliche, but... her loss?
totally.

tea most definitely not for two

2005-01-23T14:55:00.000Z

we met last thursday. it did not go according to the masterplan. ie. i went home alone, and probably won't see her again. it was her fault, though. well, maybe. but the pods were most definitely not adjoining.
the thing was it started off so fcking well. i met her at london bridge in the early afternoon, then we took the overland to denmark hill. that's another way of saying camberwell. i've been thinking on the sort of places that i know, and i also thought of the sort of places that she'd like to go. so i take her to a nice little bar first. the funky monkey. it's only about four in the afternoon, so it's full of art students lookin far too content with themselves. oh, and a couple of people who are dressing like it's good to look homeless. anyway, she's liking the place, we've managed to find something in common to talk about- i think it was supermodels being too skinny or soemthing. and i'm even drinking wine. i mean, i never drink wine unless it's round an elderly relation's house. you know, i'm making a considerable amount of effort here. so we finish the bottle, and she says 'where next?' i'm hoping she means chez posh, but somehow i doubted it. 'you mean another pub, i said?' 'yes' she said. so i suggest going over the road where immediatley opposite is the finest boozer in arguably the entire south east of london. 'the hermit's' or hermit's cave to the less regular. we go in. they got a massive widescreen on showing spanish football, which is alright 'cos it's real madrid and she likes raul and beckham. obviously. but then i'm going to the bar and it all goes horribly wrong. it's like my round three times in a row, now, but i' not complaining because she seems to be worth it. 'what do you want?' i ask. .....

'a cup..'
you what?
..of tea. please.'
i ask her to repeat what she's just said, as i really quite can't believe it.
'ooh, i feel a little drunk. just a small cup of tea, please. no sugar, lots of milk.
so. i'm in my local. with serena. mad kevin's serving. and i have to order a cup of tea. and there's a few locals there. paul who's known as stan, darren and christopher jeffries, who i use to go to school with. he's a bit handicapped. like mentally so. got asberger's or something. makes him know a lot about numbers. he can tell anyone what day their birth date was. fuckin clever, but weird clever.
he picks up on me ordering tea. he starts laughing, and he can't stop himself. i mean i'd never hurt him, but it was seriously titting me off. and then, just to make things ever so slighlt y worse, serena shouts over,
'... can you make sure he puts the milk in first?'
now that really was too much. obvously, i obeyed the request, but knew it was just a matter of time before we said farewell.
so, i endured a further twenty minutes of bullshit, said our good byes and that was that.

the sweetest feeling

2005-01-19T23:08:00.000Z

i'm trying not to talk about that serena girl, but she's playing on my mind, and i won't sleep if don't talk about her. it's funny, cos normally i would't be too fussed , this early on.
especially as nothing really happened, well not yet. but,i did get her number and a goodold hard snog. i'm not saying i'm gona get laid, maybe i won't ... but in the words of mr jackie wilson.. 'i've got that sweetest feeling..' fuck it, i'e probably done in me kismet now, but what the fuck.
i'm spending th day with he tomoroow, i made an excuse that i'm workng fridays til wednesdays atthe moment. i didnt want to give her the wrng impression, just because i haven't worked for a few. so, i told her i'm doing doormanship -as we like to say- at a nice little cocktal place in soho. i'm not going to mention the name as i do get occasional work there, but it'sa good place, fashionable a few years ago, but still doin okay for the time being. anyway, 23 year old that she is, she was impressed. she asked if i'd ever beaten anyoneup realy badly. i had to say no, mind you she wa naive to as. what doorman hasn't? it's not that often, as long as you stay clear of the bank holidays. peoplare such cunts when they get three days off in a row. anyway, wish us luck, it's been a little while. best of british will do.

a shitty way to start theweek

2005-01-17T20:22:00.000Z

i'll come back to young serena in a bit... it'd just as soon as i start talkin about a woman.. it all goes a bit proverbial pete... but she's a good looking one, and i most definitely would be quite roy (as in mad fcking irish man united bastard) to continue down that partclar avenue.
but first, let me tell you what hapened to me today. my mate alan's got this shop. down near pekcham b.r. - not the rye, the other one. he's a good lad, and it's him and his wifes fifth annivesary. they're good people, and he's well aware that i've haven't worked since late november. so he's asked me to look after the business today so he coul take her away for a late weekend to amsterdam. she's made up as they're going abroad, but the choice ia more to do with the fact that he likes his dope, that boy.so, he's give me sixty quid just to open his cornershop from 8-6 , and i've done it before it'a piece of piss. specialy a monday in january.
so i wake up , realise it' 8.30, and think i'm not even gonna open it before nine. luckily, i jam a cab, and get there within ten minutes. so i'vevgot the keys in my hand, and give the cabbie a small tip , and run to the door. then i realise that there's a digustin mell of shit by the shop. i look down and right by the doorway, i do not jest, is two large fuckin shites that were either done by a huge fuckingdog or a small little man. i can barely open the door, without it touching the shit.
hangove or no hangover, that' a real test for anyone's stomach. and fair's fair. i had a hangover and a half this morning. and just as i 'm trying to negotiate through the small gap just so i don' totaly smear the bottom of the doorframe in wat alan, being a scottishman, would call jobbie, the alarm goes off. the c***t had promised me tat he'd leave it off. so i have to ring him in holland, to get this number so i can turn off the seriously loud bells that are going off. he's pissed off that i'm ringing him, probably mid-shag, but what could i do? i dont want the police coming down while i've got south east london's loudest sound system going off and man-shite a my feet. do i? he calms down, gives me the number and i'm in. and after i pour a load of bleach outsidethe front door, the colour of the you know what turns to a whitish yellow, andafter a cuple of bucketsof hottish water , it washes thinly over peckham 'village's' mean streets. from then on, the day was boring as .. well shite, really.
anway, i'll tell you about serena(who will be now nown as the shovel ) later this week.
oh yeah,where's all my comments?

divina serena

2005-01-12T22:07:00.000Z

oh, i almost forgot. i was so narked by those two cocksuckers that i felt the need to have a pint before my train left charing cross. god knows why, but i ended up in this bar that served only wine or sherry or port. i don't joke. it was named after some bloke, but the exact tag of this establishment escapes me. anyway, not being spoilt for choice i order a glass of champagne, and gave a three minute lecture to the little iberian bastard that served me, that they should at least get some bottled lagers in the fridge. so i stood there at the bar, counting down the minutes before the 21.13 was ready to leave and my night suddenly took a turn for the better. these three girls walked in, their combined age was probably about the same age as a newly pensioned old git. they looked like they had just graduated. but one of them, one of them, was a good looking girl. not my usual type, but she certainly turned a few heads. she was wearing a nic e little top which had the good grace to show off more than just a little of her nicely toned midriff. it was so well looke after, i could have had my dinner off it. anyway, she and her two amigos start talking, and i catch her eye. i know when i'm in, and i thought 'i'm in.' anyway, i'm a bit shagged so i'll tell you the rest next time.

father figures

2005-01-12T21:49:00.000Z

christ, almost a week, and i've not been doing me daily duties...
i happened to be on piccadilly last night, i was checking out the rolexes at a realy decent watch shop who always give me a good deal. actually, the shop manager used to go to the same secondary school as me in new cross. we weren't exactly mates but i did go out with his sister for about three or four weeks. anyway, i was just checking out this place down some swanky arcade adjacent to thr main street when i saw batman and robin. now i'd had about three pints after work, but i wasn't pissed, that's for sure. my first thought was that these two were some kind of robbers or something, but they didnt seem to be in much of a hurry. and they were talking to nthe point of shouting. the same fucking thing again, and again.
'right for father, rights for dads, the laws of england are mad and bad.' piss poor to say the least.. and then i realised that these boys were those attention seeking twats who have being climbing the sights of london in the name of their alleged justice. i'm no legal eagle, but my gut feeling is their wives and kids are well shot of them. i mean, dressing like superheroes, sorry lads, but making yourselves look like twats only reinforces the belief that your better halves alwyas knew what complete c***s you were.

i don't digress, i digance

2005-01-06T23:03:00.000Z

is it just me, but i can't sleep before i share the recollection of memories o fthe classic comedy era which i seemto think was probably the early 1980's... i'm not talking about any of those uni educated fuckfaces like ben elton or rowan atkinson or the young ones or the rest of them... but more the comedy trio of messrs. davidson digance and cool. there ws never a duff night on the telly was there? you'd have phil cool doing his hilarious midweek impressions of ... well, i can't quite remember who he did, but they were good; or richard digance with his guitar and crackingly good songs which would be showcased on tarby's sunday night at the palladium. but the best of all was jim davidson before the p.c. police took him away from prime time. 'up the elephant and round the castle'.. you must remember? his character was jim london played by a guy called jim who resided in london. fuckin hilarious. and don't get me started on 'sinderella'...

the karaoke's a joke to me

2005-01-06T20:26:00.000Z

following that wedding, me and a certain friend of colin's - i'll call him jack daniels to protect his integrity and innocence- ended up near the old kent road . actually, it was probably the walworth road near the elephant but we were both steamed and then some so it's more a guesstimate than an estimate. well, wherever it was we went into this pub which was full of women who looked like michael bolton groupies. sure enough, within ten minutes me and the bourbon boy had heard said long haired fanny magnet; curtis stigers was soon to follow. maybe not my ideal choice for late drinking on a saturday night but it was getting on for two a.m. and there were some good looking sorts if you were looking hard enough. i was well gone by now, so it was wasted on me and my mate. i do recall, though, some old bint who looked like a has-been darts player had the audacity to make a heavily flawed attempt for my affection. she had just come off the stage and had sung her more than ample guts out to cher's 'it's in his kiss'. she was getting rather carried away with herself. it probably goes without saying, but i quite rightly declined. the jockey was most definitely not on the oche.
anyway, a belated happy new year to one and all. see you soon.

keep the fantasy out of football

2005-01-05T21:53:00.000Z

this is my first entry into blog. i wondered where to begin and i thought i would talk about where the name came from. basically, i'm from a working background and i'm not ashamed. i've doen pretty well for myself, earn decent money, no kids, no wife- so my money's my own. i spend it mostly on alcohol and going to watch football. funny enough, i don't go to the den, because of that theo fuckwit's i.d. bullshit. no wonder we get fuck all going. anyway, apart from this first piece, i will not mention millwall or how they're doing again. if you follow the lions, then you've got the link to the site, and i've got a bet with my mate i won't mention dennis and theboys after day one. besides, they've got half a chance of automatic promotion and i don't want to hex the lads.
anyway, my mate with the bet, he's called colin. he got married about six weeks ago to sue. good lookin girl, but colin's got a few quid, and the ladies like colin. he was a good one to go on the pull with, but that's history. what was i going to say? oh, yeh, the wedding. nice do, they spent a few quid. it was a mission to get a glimpse of a single girl who was over seventeen. actually, come to think of it, there wasn't one. so the single lads stood at the bar, enjoying the catering, a nd colin comes over to say hi and says, 'do you know toby?' and he's looking at the third bloke along in our five. so i say 'nah, not really'- i'd met him before and he's like mid to late twenties but he looks like a fuckin student teacher and frankly is so looking like a liberal he probably wipes his arse with his 'guardian'. but colin doesn't get that we're pretty much polar to each other, so he beckons toby. he's obviously thinking of a link , and chooses the l.c.d. .. football. in the meantime, toby put his mini-sausage down on his serviette and- get this- wipes his hands over his second hand suit trousers as to clean them before shaking my hand. he obviously is from money, but he's got next to nothing in terms of class. rebel rich kids, i despise them. so... colin mentions football and that i support you know who, and toby pipes up - luckily he doesn't follow aresenal or chelsea or man u, but... it's almost worse. wigan. he's as home counties as high wycombe and the twat supports wigan. colin explains it's his unviersity team. i've not heard of wigan university but i left it. anyway, old corduroy jacket boy starts talking about fantasy football, and sure enough, he's got two teams on it. he asks me if i do it, and colin notices my demeanour and tries to change the subject. but toby's having none of it. ' you should give it a go' he says in an effeminate whisper. ' but make sure you choose only two defenders and have three up front.. otherwise you'll do nothing' . like i want to play fantasy football.
anyway, colin realises the error of and walks me over to meet his cousin from canada. but if anyone reading this happens to do any kind of fantasy football, please stop now. so the moral of this diary is 'don't betray your roots, if your from money, show it. and if you're abit council, then it's as simple as abc, don't hide it. night all.