I was on my walk to the station this morning. Sub zero temperatures, ice on the pavement, no one had thought to grit the streets. I was skidding everywhere. Not pleasant. As I was walking I saw a young mother with one of those 3 wheeled "extreme pushchairs". You know what I mean, designed by McLaren, could be pushed up a mountain. The thing has tyres, not wheels. With inner tubes. More a fashion statement than a necessity in a major city. Anyway, as I got closer to her I noticed her grab her toddlers bottle and unscrew the cap. She then proceeded to empty half a bottle of breast milk onto the pavement beside her. Sorry, did I say pavement? I meant to say my fucking leg. I stopped moving as if frozen in Carbonite the very second the milky mess hit my leg and looked down in disbelief.
A couple of things to keep in mind here:
- It was 7:15am, Monday morning.
- I was wearing a freshly dry cleaned suit
- She had "new age" written all over her. She had faux dreads (she was white), an African headdress (she was white) and numerous dreamcatchers and fairy stones hanging round her neck (she was white).
I shook my head a couple of times, really wanting to be back in bed. That was the emotion on display. Inwardly I wanted to calmly put my hand into my inside coat pocket, pull out a pencil and snap it in half. Then I wanted to jab the snapped off end and slam it repeatedly into her left eye until it popped and ran down her face in a runny mess. Vitreous humour? I would have laughed. Then I wanted to grab her toddler and drop kick it across the incredibly busy road. Then and only then would I get the other half of the pencil and make a fucking mess of her other eye.
Enough macho e-posturing and back to reality. I stood there still not moving and staring at my milky mess of a leg and watched as she rummaged through her bag. I was of the mistaken belief that she was going to get a tissue and hand it to me. I would have demanded that handing a tissue to me was insufficient and that she should start scrubbing. No. She got a fucking lollypop out for the mewling child and carried on walking. I stood there disbelievingly watching her walk on whilst dreamily fingering a pencil in my hand.
Mothers. What the fuck has happened to you as a group? Why do you expect every single person on the planet to be as in love with your baby as much as you are? The only reason you love that kid is hormones. In actuality that child is ugly and annoying to EVERY SINGLE OTHER PERSON IN YOUR VICINITY.
We've all seen them, the mother who is so in love with being a mother she almost convinces herself that she shares something with The Virgin Mary. They are about as important to me as a fictional character who evidently put it about a bit and when she tried to explain how she was pregnant came up with the ridiculous excuse of "God put it in me". Why do mothers like this now take their children to pubs on a Sunday? A child does not belong in a pub. I swear, some fucking boozers round my way seem like playgrounds that serve beer. Fuck off. If that is what I am after I'll hop on a boat to France where it is acceptable to take kids in to bars. I got reprimanded in a pub once for calling my friend a cunt by a young mother and her equally insipid and pathetically bearded husband. She was afraid her little Tarquin would hear naughty words. My simple response of "shut up you cunt, this is a pub" shocked her immensely. What the fuck did she expect?
Saturday 22 March 2008
Dogs make the best friends
A dog is truly a mans best friend.
If you don't believe me, just try this experiment. Put your dog and your girlfriend in the boot of your car for an hour. When you open the boot, check out who is really happy to see you
If you don't believe me, just try this experiment. Put your dog and your girlfriend in the boot of your car for an hour. When you open the boot, check out who is really happy to see you
Tea - There are some things you may need to know
I've just had satellite TV installed in my flat after a four year absence. The engineer called round and set to work with the minimum of fuss. While he was busying himself with wires and the like I offered him a cup of tea.
If you're not native to these parts, you may need to know about the ancient British tradition of "Tea". Everyone has heard of the Japanese Tea Ceremony, I feel it is only fair I should share this knowledge with you. For your own sake.
When someone offers you a cup of tea over here, there are very few answers that are acceptable to that specific question. Obviously, Yes or No are your first choices. All other answers will be met with incredulous stares. "Do you have coffee?" is a common mistake made at this point. Were you offered coffee? No. Don't ask for it then. That would be like walking into Burger King and asking to see their selection of antique Edwardian furniture. You wouldn't do that there, likewise, don't do that here. If your answer is Yes, then you open up another set of very limited answers to the question of "How do you like it?". You may now inform your host of your preference for the milk/sugar combination or lack thereof. It is absolutely crucial that at this point that none of the following words are mentioned: Rose hip, Apple & Mango, Apple & Blackberry, Lemon, Ginger & Echinacea, Raspberry & Peach, Strawberry & Kiwi, Camomile, Lime Blossom, Nettle, Peppermint etc. Down that path leads to both madness and black eyes. These words are abominations to all true Native Brits. It would be tantamount to calling them paedophiles. In their own house. No one wants a repeat of the unfortunate incident back in 1973 where 14 Californian tourists were needlessly and callously stripped, tarred and feathered, made to gorge on crumpets and walk down Oxford Street with placards stating that they were indeed "IRA", all for the crime of requesting "Green Tea". Ugly scenes.
If your host is particularly hospitable they may offer you biscuits and on rarer occasions, cake. It is perfectly acceptable to "dunk" your biscuits in your tea. For the love of God don't dunk cake. That would make you look a right cunt. You may see your host mixing tar in the kitchen and heating some crumpets at this point. If you do see this, accept your punishment with good grace and try to adapt the "stiff upper lip" the British are so fond of.
If you follow these simple rules, you should be fine.
Back to my original point made way back in the first paragraph. The engineer fixing me up asked for his tea with milk and 7 sugars. Fucking hell, it was like milky syrup by the time I had finished stirring.
If you're not native to these parts, you may need to know about the ancient British tradition of "Tea". Everyone has heard of the Japanese Tea Ceremony, I feel it is only fair I should share this knowledge with you. For your own sake.
When someone offers you a cup of tea over here, there are very few answers that are acceptable to that specific question. Obviously, Yes or No are your first choices. All other answers will be met with incredulous stares. "Do you have coffee?" is a common mistake made at this point. Were you offered coffee? No. Don't ask for it then. That would be like walking into Burger King and asking to see their selection of antique Edwardian furniture. You wouldn't do that there, likewise, don't do that here. If your answer is Yes, then you open up another set of very limited answers to the question of "How do you like it?". You may now inform your host of your preference for the milk/sugar combination or lack thereof. It is absolutely crucial that at this point that none of the following words are mentioned: Rose hip, Apple & Mango, Apple & Blackberry, Lemon, Ginger & Echinacea, Raspberry & Peach, Strawberry & Kiwi, Camomile, Lime Blossom, Nettle, Peppermint etc. Down that path leads to both madness and black eyes. These words are abominations to all true Native Brits. It would be tantamount to calling them paedophiles. In their own house. No one wants a repeat of the unfortunate incident back in 1973 where 14 Californian tourists were needlessly and callously stripped, tarred and feathered, made to gorge on crumpets and walk down Oxford Street with placards stating that they were indeed "IRA", all for the crime of requesting "Green Tea". Ugly scenes.
If your host is particularly hospitable they may offer you biscuits and on rarer occasions, cake. It is perfectly acceptable to "dunk" your biscuits in your tea. For the love of God don't dunk cake. That would make you look a right cunt. You may see your host mixing tar in the kitchen and heating some crumpets at this point. If you do see this, accept your punishment with good grace and try to adapt the "stiff upper lip" the British are so fond of.
If you follow these simple rules, you should be fine.
Back to my original point made way back in the first paragraph. The engineer fixing me up asked for his tea with milk and 7 sugars. Fucking hell, it was like milky syrup by the time I had finished stirring.
You know it is time to quit when...
Fuck, I must stop smoking weed. Seriously, it is giving me wicked mood swings.
I've put myself about a bit in my time where drugs are concerned. I don't pretend to be an expert but I do know what I am talking about. I have experienced all kinds of fucked up, most good but some bad. There are many kinds that will kick you in the face within minutes of ingestion. There are many that take half an hour plus to kick in. Then there is weed or hash. No matter how much you smoke or eat, the very worse that will happen to you is that you will eat bullshit and instant food and then pass out. I remember reading somewhere that you would need to eat a lump the size of a large loaf of bread before you put yourself in serious danger.
Having said all that, there have been several times I have been at my wits end with drugs and all but one have been with hash. This stuff creeps up on you before you know what is happening and then twats you round the head so hard your teeth rattle.
An example. I am sitting on the train on the way home this evening. I have done fuck all real work today and have spent the last two hours drinking and laughing and I haven't put my hand in my pocket once. All very jolly. I am reading my book and minding my own business, thinking about what I am going to do on my four days off I have on front of me when a guy and his two friends walk past and sit in the seats around me. This guy seems happy and so do his friends. I can't hear what they are talking about as I have my earphones in. This guy gently brushes past me and ever so slightly bumps the book that is in my hand. In a fucking instant I am transformed into a fucking inhabitant from the seventh level of hell. My relaxed and wistful state of mind is now seriously considering ripping out this guys eyes and swallowing them whole. All for the crime of walking past me. This happened maybe 50 minutes ago and I am still a little grumpy. Not half as bad as I was 45 minutes ago but still.
I really have to stop smoking.
I've put myself about a bit in my time where drugs are concerned. I don't pretend to be an expert but I do know what I am talking about. I have experienced all kinds of fucked up, most good but some bad. There are many kinds that will kick you in the face within minutes of ingestion. There are many that take half an hour plus to kick in. Then there is weed or hash. No matter how much you smoke or eat, the very worse that will happen to you is that you will eat bullshit and instant food and then pass out. I remember reading somewhere that you would need to eat a lump the size of a large loaf of bread before you put yourself in serious danger.
Having said all that, there have been several times I have been at my wits end with drugs and all but one have been with hash. This stuff creeps up on you before you know what is happening and then twats you round the head so hard your teeth rattle.
An example. I am sitting on the train on the way home this evening. I have done fuck all real work today and have spent the last two hours drinking and laughing and I haven't put my hand in my pocket once. All very jolly. I am reading my book and minding my own business, thinking about what I am going to do on my four days off I have on front of me when a guy and his two friends walk past and sit in the seats around me. This guy seems happy and so do his friends. I can't hear what they are talking about as I have my earphones in. This guy gently brushes past me and ever so slightly bumps the book that is in my hand. In a fucking instant I am transformed into a fucking inhabitant from the seventh level of hell. My relaxed and wistful state of mind is now seriously considering ripping out this guys eyes and swallowing them whole. All for the crime of walking past me. This happened maybe 50 minutes ago and I am still a little grumpy. Not half as bad as I was 45 minutes ago but still.
I really have to stop smoking.
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