Sick

This is a more relaxed entry today as I’m writing from my sick bed having successfully caught a cold. I don’t know how I managed to catch it but it might have something to do with falling asleep wearing virtually nothing but a smile. I woke up around 5am shivering and although conscious my body was too tired to get it self up and put on some clothes. Instead it managed to blag my mind that everything will be alright in the morning and to go back to sleep which I did but not without wrapping a pillow case around my shoulders for some token attempt to harness warmth.

So Saturday was spent spluttering all over the place and waiting for the sore throat to come on. Every time I spoke I was in pain and eating solid food made it worse so I opened the cupboard and went straight to the cliché shelf and got out a can of chicken soup. Hoping the tales of the nourishing elements chicken soup possesses were true I gulped it all down thinking it tasted more of banned preservatives, gone off cream with a few straggly bits of chicken that seemed to get caught in between my teeth. Nothing nourishing about that and I didn’t feel any better so decided to cut my losses and head off to bed even though I wasn’t tired.

This can be quite boring and I spent hours staring at the ceiling, waiting to see if it would move just slightly so I could have been a witness to a defining laws of physics defying moment. But nothing happened, and besides whom would I tell? About two people. And would they give a shit? Probably not. So instead I let the illness do its work while I switched on the radio and listened to the football.

Sunday was completely a day in bed and this morning I did have enough energy to make it to work where I am sure I have infected everyone in my open plan office with my cold and sore throat. It’s not my fault that ‘the man’ makes me work, I felt ill but I could still stand and so I attended. It’s just a shame that I have had to protest in coming to work by conducting germ warfare on a grand office scale.

Anyway, enough word processed inanity, I’m off to sleep.


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“I didn’t see anything, I just heard a smash and saw you all over Peter smashing his head in.” screamed Marla.

“He told me, he wanted to kill Semmi.” Was the timid sound from Peter’s mouth. He was entwined within Semmi’s embrace, nestled against her bosom like an upset child being comforted.

“What the fuck are you talking about, I never said that.”

Charles starts to move towards Peter who just recoils within Semmi’s body. Marla starts to yank him back and looks at the rest of the restaurant for help but everyone is watching quietly apart from the waiter who is shaking but still managing not to drop the tray of food. He nervously smiles at Marla letting her know she’s on her own.

“Yes you did, and then you threatened to beat me up if I told anyone and so you did.”

Charles listened to what Peter said and although initially he moved towards him to pull him away from Semmi and continue with the beatings he couldn’t bring him self to do it. What Peter was saying was absurd, utter nonsense.

“Let’s go Marla, this guy is a freak. Semmi, I don’t care what he says, I didn’t say I wanted to kill you, I have no desire to do anything like that. You should take this pathetic person to the hospital though he may be concussed or hopefully worse.”

Semmi just look at him, not in hatred or resentment, in a way Charles didn’t understand so he grabbed Marla by the wrists to stop her scratching him anymore pulled out his wallet and scooped out three twenty pound notes and threw them on the table. He turned around and strode out of the Janpur’s with Marla behind him.

“I hate you!”

They got into the car.

“You’re a violent dick head.”

He starts up the engine and begins to drive away.

“I told you not to ruin my night and what do you go and do…”

It’s at that point Charles decides to ostracise Marla from his thoughts. He can’t believe just how sneaky Peter was. Peter was trying to unsettle Charles as soon as they both sat opposite each other but he managed to cope with his inquisitive comments and questions and in fact turn the pressure around on him. He made Peter tell Semmi where he lives and with whom, but what he told her was a lie. But why? Why lie? He didn’t want to take her back so instead he attacked Charles knowing full well that he would retaliate with lethalness. His wailing and screaming had all been an act to sensationalise the beating. If Charles beat him too much there was no way he could go straight home, instead he’d have to go to the A&E and every one would be concerned with him and detest Charles.

“Fuck.” Said Charles aloud.

“Don’t you start swearing at me…” Carries on Marla.

What a conniving weasel Peter was, intelligent for sure but totally untrustworthy thinks Charles as he starts to slump into his seat. Even though he ended up on the receiving end of Peter’s emergency plan he was pleased with him self. Pleased that he initially didn’t use force on Peter when he started asking difficult questions, he couldn’t believe that he managed to worm his way out of them and then actually make Peter squirm a bit. In the end he used violence but he was attacked and that was a more or less natural reaction and he didn’t seriously injure him which he believes Peter was seriously hoping for.

Link (No, not the hero from Zelda)

There’s a guy at my work who has the best seat in the house if you want to be the ultimate slacker. Out of the 150+ people that work on his open plan floor he has managed to stumble across a desk that is right at the back so only the wall can see what he gets up to on his ‘puter. He informs me that he does do work even though I never mention work only just how good it must feel seeing who is approaching you and not jumping up like an idiot in fright when someone approaches you from behind. But it’s also got some other good advantages like whenever I want to buy something online (we are allowed to on our breaks which are 10:45 or 1pm). However, as it’s an open plan office I can’t help but feel that as soon as I whip my card out the Director will come strolling past seeing me online buying something, and all I can say is that ‘I’m on my break”. So I have to inconspicuously negotiate my wallet from my back pocket which consists of shimmying from side to side and contorting my body so that it looks like I’m grinding the back of the chair. Once I’ve got my wallet out I then carefully slide out the ol’ debit card and nestle it in my palm so I can lay my hand on the table and turn it over occasionally to write out the details with no one noticing. My colleague, well he just slaps his card on the table and bashes it all out all in one go.

One day I decided to pay him a visit so I made my way upstairs and endured the 3 minute walk from one end of the office to the other. He wasn’t there so I waited by his desk and saw he had his screen saver on. I waited 30 seconds and there was no sign of him. I waited another 30 seconds and there was still no sign of him. So I decided to sit in his seat and by habit I shook the mouse which to my surprise evaporated his screen saver to show me what was on his screen. On there was a still image of a clip from the IT Crowd, in fact on closer inspection it wasn’t a still it was a video paused (cheeky git). I looked confused and felt perplexed. At that moment my colleague came back saw that what I had seen and proceeded to tell me about this website he found that has loads of different TV shows and movies on. Some of them work but some don’t and some are rubbish quality. He passed me the link for me to investigate.

It’s a pretty good site full of films and TV goodies, it’s not really appropriate for the working office environment as the boss will bust your hind but if you’re bored at home it could come in handy so I think I’ll pass it on for other people to check out at their leisure.

http://www15.alluc.org/alluc/


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Marla and Semmi took two huge sips from their glasses and began chatting about television. Charles, deciding not to continue playing games with Peter looked at Semmi with her green army jacket that had the Germany flagged coloured in black. He couldn’t help but think that it was a deliberate choice of colour on her behalf, an effort of irony. Something Semmi would definitely do and leave for others to work out. She was very odd opposite Marla. Marla, enjoyed the good life, the more luxurious the more content she would be. Being pampered and waited on would be her ideal scenario in life, where as Semmi wasn’t interested at all in that part of life. She was concerned about rights and welfare of living things whether human or animal. She would talk about animals that Marla hadn’t even heard of or human torturing happening in countries that he didn’t even know about. He didn’t like her because he felt she was too self righteous but looking at the little Germany flag on her left shoulder made him think that there was so much substance in the personality of Semmi.

A shining in the corner of Charles’s eye catches his attention from his gaze and turns and raises his forearm just in time to let the glass smash against it and not his face. He peers from his forearm to see Peter pull away and quickly push the table forward. But before it rams into Charles’s stomach he manages to grab it and hold it firm. He brings down his forearm and remembers the thought he had about hitting Peter and the satisfaction he was about to feel as he brought it to reality. Grabbing a clump of his hair he flings Peter head first on to the table making a dull thudding noise as he crashes down. Next he starts punching him round the back of the head, first with his fist, over and over again until he can see blood. But his cranium refuses to cave in. Charles looks for something to grab onto and clutches his pint glass. Peter is squealing for mercy and starts crying loudly. The Indian waiter carrying their meals on a tray sees what’s happening and starts to shimmy again from one side to the next, not sure what to do but shimmy in excitement. Marla, who quickly snaps out of the initial shock sees Charles lunch for the pint glass and grabs his arm.

“No Charles, don’t do it.” Screams Marla.

Peter feels the pressure she’s applying on his arm attempting to stop it going down. Even though it’s futile she is still trying. He starts to feel remorseful of his actions.

“You’ve already fucking ruined this night I don’t want you going to prison, I need to get things, I want the kitchen redone and you can’t pay for that in prison. Now stop!”

Peter realises her attempt, her pressure to stop his arm wasn’t out of his concern but for hers. He shakes her arm away sees Peter shaking his arms in the air, flapping around like an injured bird attempting to fly as the fox approaches. As he starts to bring his arm down he sees Semmi’s pleading face, her genuine look of sorrow. The blacked out Germany badge. He slams the glass on the table centimetre’s from Peter’s eye’s who gasps in shock at not being glassed. Marla flings herself at Charles entrenching her nails on to his face.

“How could you do this? How could you show me up? You’ve attacked an innocent man for no reason.”

The Goth Dectectives

Since I repaired my Ipod I’ve had a lot of listening to do from all the podcasts I’d missed. What better way than to do it on a Saturday morning when all you want to do is lie wrapped in your covers coyly smiling that you don’t have to get up early. I lay there snoozing with my earphones locked into my lug holes when Russell Brand’s radio show came on. His usual side kick Matt Morgan had scuttled off on holiday somewhere leaving Brand needing another right hand man. So he brought in none other than, Noel Fielding. It was a recipe of utter chaos, mixed with thick dollops of humour and iced with random conversations. It was all these, and was utterly hilarious but for Brand it must have been an unusual situation to find himself playing catch up to someone else.

Both comics, I think, are amazing and dabble in different ends of the comedic spectrum. One being loud, brash and a lexicon worshiper, the other being a happy-go- lucky smirking Boosh member who talks about random things. It was strange that someone as subtle as Fielding would start taking the lead on Brand’s show. He’d always have the last say with a sprinkle of absurdity, such as “I gave away one of Lenny Kravitiz’s dreadlocks.” These sorts of sayings ended up dumbfounding Russell and sending the backroom staff in raptures. Brand is a funny guy and he tried to keep up with Fielding’s inspired randomness, “…Robin are you on Facebook?” but found himself only being able to add to his comments in his high octave voice which was funny but Fielding originated it. The show rocked, featuring a pissed up Courtney Love who was going to be interviewed but was too inebriated to risk. Instead she sat in the background shouting so she could be heard. It even featured Rainbow George who ever he is…

Brand maybe the flavour of the year and Fielding may be Gary Numan’s number one fan but together they are The Goth Detectives. When the show finished I got up feeling I’d just been enriched with an armoury of witty comments and decided that now was a good time to start the day.

Listen to this show if you can but if you don't like any of them you probably shouldn't.

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“I work for an independent insurance company, Gregorsworth.” Was the reply, from his mouth. At first he could feel just how dry his mouth actually was his teeth tugging at the lips as he opened it. But when he realised what he said was actually a worthwhile answer he felt the salvia pour in just as his enthusiasm to make Peter squirm did. He felt he could carry on talking and so did.

“What insurance do you currently have on your own property, in fact where is it that you live?”

Peter’s mouth coiled into a tight little hole which reminded Charles of an anus. He couldn’t help but smirk, not because of the anus stuck on Peter’s face or the snarling of his nostrils but because he knew Peter was flummoxed. Exactly how Charles was feeling a moment ago.

“Where I live is really none of your business, is it?” Was the acidic reply of Peter who now had his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“Well no, but you’re asking about property insurance and so I thought I’d see what you’ve currently got.” Replied Charles.

“Well I’ve got very good insurance, thank you.”

“Where do you live, Peter?” Said Charles trying hard not to beam a satisfying smile of victory.

“Yes, Peter where do you live? We’ve been going out for four weeks and yet we’ve never once gone back to your place. I haven’t got a clue where you live, who you live with, whether you got a pet.” Asked Semmi who had decided to reintroduce her self in the conversation, staring at him while she waited for an answer.

Peter sat still, he had already used his hair flopping trick once and doing it again would only show he had something to hide. His face turned red and tried to look calm by grabbing for his drink only to find the waiter hadn’t come round to give them any. He felt embarrassed.

“I live on Chester Street.” He said, awaiting the replies from both Charles and Semmi. Semmi curled her hands around her chin and leaned forward looking very interested.

“What end of Chester Street do you live on?” She asked him.

“I live near the garage, on that end.” He said quickly. Seeing the disapproval of the lack of depth in the answer in Semmi’s face he decides to add a bit more substance.

“I live on my own in a one bedroom maisonette, I own a cat named Baracus. It’s a quiet area allowing me to drink and read in peace.”

“I want to go there later.” Semmi demanded

“Of course you can. We’ll go after the meal.”

Charles didn’t really need to say anything, he knew Peter wanted to appease Semmi and not make her upset. Peter was lying, Charles knew that. He had lied so many times, to Marla, to his parents even himself that he knew when someone wasn’t telling the truth. Peter was lying for sure and because of that they both had something to lose should they continue trying to unmask each others fibs.

“Here are your drinks, a bottle of house white for the two ladies, a pint of Kronenbourg for you sir and a red Stripe for you. Your meal will be here shortly.” Said the joyful waiter, who shimmied over to the next table once he had placed the final pint glass down.

Mouf Wash

I’m not writing about the Kate Nash song here. I’m talking about my recent experience in purchasing mouthwash. I usually gurgle Listerine Mint Fresh which has served me well the last couple of years. However, when in Tesco last week all the Listerine Mint Fresh was sold out. Instead of moaning I thought I’d treat this as an opportunity to try something new. So I scanned the shelves until something caught my eye which was Oral B. It is light blue similar to my usual mouth wash so I bunged it in my basket and walked off.

The next morning I got ready for work, staring at the mirror examining for any unusual growths like spots or boils. Luckily there was none so I proceeded to the next stage of turning myself socially tolerable for the working environment, which was brushing my teeth. After cleaning my nashers I grabbed the Oral B mouth wash, spent a few seconds negotiating the safety cap and poured and generous amount in my mouth. Within seconds I realised that this didn’t taste very nice. It wasn’t a horrible flavour swishing in my gob, it tasted like Hubba Bubba but with a very rich texture so it felt like you had 20 Hubba Bubba’s in your mouth at once. I couldn’t take it anymore and spat everything out before I even got to the gurgling and poured the remaining contents down the sink. I set off to work remembering that I needed to buy some new mouth wash and when the day was over I diverted into Sainsbury’s this time. Again, no mint fresh Listerine but I thought I’d definitely get one from the same family so I settled with Original. It looked more like a disinfectant than an oral cleanser but I just threw it in the basket and carried on.

Again I found myself standing in front of the mirror the next morning and again I was checking my face for any unwanted growths. The check came back clean but a dark red patch just by my jaw is beginning to look ominous. I thought nothing of it and brushed my teeth. I reached for the mouth wash and poured out a sizeable amount in the cap. I threw it into my mouth and immediately felt my mouth burn. My nasal passages cleared as the burning spread. My hard pallet felt like it was melting and soon would be part of the soft one. My gums began to feel sore and my tongue just exacerbated everything by swishing the mouth wash around. I started coughing and tried to spit it out but couldn’t get it out. I fell back and accidentally flushed the toilet as I finally spat it out but not with out swallowing a little bit of it. It tasted like TCP. I just stared at the wall, my eyes watery and my mouth violated until the burning went away.

I’m abstaining from mouth wash until Listerine Mint Fresh is on the shelves. Everything else is either too sickly or just dangerous.


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“Sir, would you like more time?” Said the waiter ever so gently tapping his index finger on the paper to let them know he didn’t really mean it. He was though smiling politely.

“Charles why aren’t you asking for the Jalfrezi? You always get the chicken Jalfrezi, why change a habit of a lifetime.” Said Marla in an unimpressed tone.

Charles was rubbing his sovereign ring against his lips deep in pensive thought. Where does Peter come from? What is his job? Where does he live? Finally before he left an imprint on his lip by his ring he thought of a way to answer Peter’s bombardment of questions.

“Yes, yes alright I’ll go for the chicken Jalfrezi please. And can we have a bottle of white wine for the ladies, I’ll have a lager and Peter what would you like?”

“I’ll have a pint of lager also please, Red Stripe if you have it.”

“We do sir, very good.” And with that the waiter scribbled the drinks order on his pad and walked away from the group.

Charles turned to Peter, his smile equal to that of the long haired man.

“I work for an independent insurance firm, very casual. I don’t really have to dress up for work that much. Just as long as I turn up the boss is happy enough. He knows I work hard and I work long hours. The branch is on Gobian Street. You say you need some property insuring, where about is the property located as that will play a factor on the choices available to you?”

“Yes, it’s a property not far from where you live actually Charles.”

“Is it yours?” Retorted Charles quickly.

“Well…Well, yes it is mine and no.” Said Peter starting to get slightly agitated.

“I didn’t know you had property Peter?” said Semmi suddenly dipping out of her conversation with Marla and entering another.

Peter’s anxiety became more visible once Semmi became interested and kept pushing his glasses back more frequently even though they hadn’t moved a millimetre. He rocked forward so that his hair flopped over his face, hiding himself from everyone. Charles knew Peter was a wily man and wasn’t surprised that he’d try and salvage him self more time to think. He could see in between the clumps of greasy brown hair Peter’s eyes darting around almost in a crazed fashion when suddenly he flings his hair back showing a calm expression spread across his face.

“My dear, I didn’t know until recently that my aunt bequeathed me a two bedroom apartment from her will. I thought I’d take this opportunity to ask Charles here for some advice as he is in insurance. So Charles what insurance company do you work for again?”

Peter had managed to wriggle himself out and infuriate Charles by putting him under pressure once again. Charles imagined grabbing his greasy hair and pulling it towards him and grabbing the candle stick holder from the table. Pour the wax over his head allowing it to set in his scalp before crashing the holder repeatedly over his cranium, over and over again until he squealed an apology to him. Yet, even though he can feel the satisfaction oozing through him, it is not possible in reality and he still needs to tackle the problem of lying successfully to Peter without losing his temper and start hitting him. His brain began to hurt trying to suppress urges of violence so he could formulate a plan.

Francoiz Breut

At the moment Francoiz Breut is helping me get through these horrible days. Has anyone else noticed that by 4:30pm it’s completely dark outside? I have, and when I look outside from the window at work I get sad. No one wants to go to work when it’s dark and leave when it’s dark. All the best hours are spent working for the man, so luckily I’m privileged enough to be near a window and be able to listen to Francoiz Breut. She is a French singing artist that creates great slow beats with a sultry voice layered over the top. I love the French accent so I’m constantly purring at work when I start listening to her. For more information check out the Wikipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fran%C3%A7oiz_Breut

In other news I’ve just procured season 6 of Family Guy. I’m half way through the second disc and as always I’m finding it utterly hilarious. However, I’ve noticed a few things with this series. The first is that they swear quite nonchalantly now which came a bit of a shock. Secondly there aren’t as many episodes in this series as there was in the last, it seems they are slowly creating less and less and still classing it as a series. Either way Stewie Griffin is still having me cracking up al over the place and occasionally getting out a dictionary.

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Even though he was suspicious he never really entertained the idea further. Never thought about it more, like who could it be, were they male or female, where did they meet? Instead he turned his attention into locating his keys. He rummaged through his pockets until his fingers touched the serrated metal of his car keys, he pulled them out and started the car and they drove off. He turned his head to see Marla still in a state of anger, she was leaning against the window just looking straight ahead. “Bitch.” He murmured to himself as he turned back to focus on the road.

He had met her when he went to visit the dentist 16 years ago. He had lost a tooth and at least chipped three of them the previous night. He quickly ran home and looked in the local paper for an emergency dentist, no one would see him at that time of the night and all suggested the hospital. He was well accustomed with the hospital’s A&E and didn’t fancy being in the company of drunks, overdosed addicts and other people suffering grievances. Finally a dentist did agree to see him but he would have to wait until morning. So he sat in his flat till morning, using cotton wool to clog up the bleeding that was coming from the missing tooth. He played Sammy Davie Jr records to help sooth the pain.

When he arrived at the dentist he was shown to his room and that’s when he saw Marla. She was a dental nurse. Charles, felt the attraction straight away, he lusted after her as soon as he walked in to the room. Wearing her tight all white uniform only intensified his already pulsating carnal instincts. He noticed that he had an affect on her but wasn’t sure what it was that was causing her redden in the face. He could only think it was because he looked like a rugged man, one that was able to endure pain and be able to protect her if needed. The testosterone with in him was rife now and he puffed up his chest and introduced himself as Charlie. The first time he had ever called himself that.

He was right in thinking she was attracted to his hard image. She adored his skin head and the fact he had lost a few teeth made her mind burst with visions on how he lost them. She loved that rugged dangerous man and she felt she had finally found everything she wanted in one package apart from a missing tooth.

Their relationship intensified when he revealed just what sort of activities he got up to. She loved the idea he was breaking the law, that he was going out one night and coming back a couple of days later with his pockets full with bank notes that would easily pair their rent and live the most luxurious lifestyle of all the tenants of the Dennison blocks of flats. He would tell her how they would select a lorry and follow it a few days, learn it’s route and the driver’s habits like where he stopped for a break, if he visited a prostitute. They would then decide when was best to strike and Charles would always be the one to inflict the damage, he was strong, stronger than the others and that was his contribution to the gang. She would hang on his every word, look at him tentatively until he described what he do to his victims, break their noses, crack their jaws.