Something for the Weakened

Archive for April, 2007

Banking in the wind

April 30th, 2007 by

Never really trusted the idea of direct debits. Don’t know why. Don’t think that I’ve ever met anyone who had it go wrong for them, but still have some reservations about setting one up (probably down to convincing myself that I’d forget to cancel it once it had run it’s course). As such, it leads to a monthly trip to the bank, to transfer funds for bills and what have you. This long winded introduction leads me to this one question – why do I always get stuck in the queue behind the incontinent old men? Every time, almost without fail. Today being quite hot and the queue being quite long, it was almost unbearable. A couple of months ago I thought I’d got off lightly as there was a fishmonger fresh out of work a few people ahead of me, who I only caught a brief niff of. The briefness was because the elderly gentleman in front of me’s rubber pants must have perished and the pong of raw halibut was quickly obscured by that of octogenarian wee wee. It’s just not pleasant. I’ve only myself to blame, as I’m always behind them, unless they’re following me and deliberately jumping in front while I’m getting money from the cash point. I just don’t know. Maybe it’s time to give in and accept technology. Or perhaps if I start smoking more I can completely eradicate my sense of smell. Hmmm.

High Timidity, Falling Slowly

April 29th, 2007 by

Speaking as someone who currently has one pus filled cheek (go on, give it a squeeze) and isn’t allowed to drink because of it, I have spent quite a bit of time in pubs over the past couple of days. Has it been hell? No, not entirely, though it has been an unusual opportunity to watch people get plastered from a sober perspective. It’s also given me pause for thought about my own awkwardness in social situations. This usually hits heights of reasonable awkwardness, but combined with a lack of intoxication becomes noticably monstrous. I’m far from the world’s most exciting raconteur when smashed, but cease to worry about it as most do and merely plough on with the stream of nonsense emenating from my facehole or chip in with weak single entendres (really, that’s all my banter consists of – I don’t know why people put up with me). However, sobriety quells even those meagre pickings and generally leaves me predominantly in a corner, quietly observing the banter from afar. This I put down to two possible factors; the nagging feeling at the back of my mind that everyone else is having a better time than me actually being justified in front of me rather than just a niggling paranoia in the back of my mind and the fact that I am just socially inept most of the time. I really ought to sort out the second one, though I fear that as soon as the other one can be pushed back to the rear of my brain with liquour that I’ll stop getting concerned about it again. What am I, fourteen?

More tedious mouth news, edited down for conciseness

April 27th, 2007 by

Increasingly bulbous last night, blah blah blah, kept awake by sounds of ‘guest’ rutting, doo dee doo dee doo, looked like I had a mouthful of socks this morning, diddly dee diddly dee, dentist able to ‘fit me in’, gibber gibeer, bus, la la la la laa, hour waiting for appointment, dum de dum, “yes, the same infection as last time,” hm hm hmm, doctor’s note, yeah yeah yeah, bollocking from secretary for not telling them I’d moved, doobie doobie doo, prescription, yah yah yah, no booze, ner ner ner ner nerr, British airfield.

Monster Facial

April 26th, 2007 by

Again, my face begins to take on a slightly bulbous shape. This time I am sort of prepared though. Thanks to the multiple prescriptions received from doctors and dentists last time the swelling came up, I still have a course of antibiotics left over that more or less did the trick last time around. Fond though I am of my new dentist, I really can’t afford to go and see her every couple of months, so hopefully this bit of self medication will do the trick. Fingers are being crossed as I type this that it will work (and it’s mn ot as hardn to type with them crossed as I thought it would be, if a little slower) and that antibiotics don’t have a best before date. Hopefully I shall not be dead in the morning.

My life is over

April 23rd, 2007 by

I appear to have just set up a facebook account.

God help me.


April 22nd, 2007 by

I feel quite bad about writing this. For some reason my own internet access appears to have committed suicide. Hopefully this is down to atmospheric conditions and my being too far away from the router, rather than some insidious virus creeping through my shoddy firewalling – an internet inferno would leave this old hunk of plastic looking like a shrivelled bin liner straight from a bonfire. I shall attempt moving it closer to said router in the next couple of days to see if that is the case. Should it be so, it’s just a matter of buying a booster and all should be well. If that still doesn’t work it’s entirely possible that I’ve accidentally changed some of my settings while trying to fix the problem, so that could lead to an amusing couple of nights clicking things on and off combined with much gnashing of teeth. The feelings of badness are twofold – firstly I’ve found myself able to piggyback onto what I presume is my neighbour’s broadband. I don’t feel extremely bad about this minor theft; I’m writing this in Word and only plan to go online long enough to send this and a couple of emails. Distressingly I’m getting a better signal from their router than I ever have from my own. Secondly, and more importantly, I’m using this as yet another excuse to not be writing the CV I’ve promised to deliver this weekend. As such I shall now stop and try to big myself up further, while trying to make the tedium that is my current employment sound sexy. If I post again after this tonight, barrage me with abuse until I get the proper work of the evening done. Now, onto the fourth cigarette of the hour . . .

Wee Jobby

April 20th, 2007 by

I’m currently in the process of writing a C.V. for myself for the first time in almost eight years. This is proving to be tricky. It’s not that I have a problem in talking about myself – anyone whose been reading this thing for any lenth of time should be able to see that. I do however have issues with selling myself. The little defeats, the petty failures, I can waffle on about them for hours at a time. Successes though I always feel a little uncomfortable discussing, let alone writing them down for someone to paw over and then judge me on. This will hopefully lead to some kind of interview as well, which fills me with even more dread. In my near thirty years wandering the Earth, I have still only been interviewed for work on half a dozen occasions. The first of these for a full time job went so appallingly that the interviewer kindly spent the next ten minutes explaining how badly I had in fact done (telling the truth in these situations is not a good idea being the primary mantra I took away from the experience). Still, it is something I shall have to come to terms with as I try to find some way to stop my hand to mouth existence. At least so I can afford some soap for the hand. You don’t want to know where it’s been.

Holy Molar!

April 19th, 2007 by

I think I’ve chipped a tooth. With the lack of gnashers in my gob being a cause of concern to me already, any further damage inflicted worries me. I did it whilst eating a jam sandwich. The bread had seeds in it, but I hadn’t suspected that these innocuous sesames would be able to wreak such damage on an unsuspecting molar. Fortunately the tooth is ninety percent filling already, so the chances of it aching are thankfully small. It is a little bit sharp though, so should you see me with a mouth full of blood, that’ll be why. No, not for any other reason. No. Where’s my sandpaper?


April 18th, 2007 by

It’s been a bad couple of weeks for the artistic heroes of my childhood. There’s been a double death whammy for two of the contributors to the old cartoon section that came with the Mail on Sunday (my parents can be slightly sometimes. No, really). Johnny Hart, creator of the caveman based strip B.C. passed on last week. Despite having learnt about some of his more extreme religious beliefs recently (a number of his strips were pulled from papers last year due to perceived anti-semitic/anti muslim sentiments), my memories of reading his occasionally amusing tales after finishing the issue of Buster that would have been delivered the day before will remain fond to me. Hart also co-created another strip in the magazine, The Wizard of Id, in collaboration with the artist Brant Parker who snuffed it this week. I recall preferring Id to B.C., so this comes as a slightly larger blow to me, but not as much as the really sad news that has only filtered out over the last couple of days. Massimo Bellardinelli was one of the finest artists working in British comics during the 1980s. I imagine I first came across his work in an issue of Battle, though I can’t for the life of me remember a specific strip he worked on. I do however recall his work being in the first two issues of 2000AD I ever read. Firstly in an episode of the comedy space opera A.C.E. Trucking Co. with it’s spectacularly weird chacter designs. The second was in writer Pete (he’s tried to become Peter in recent years, but he’ll always be Pete to me) Milligan’s dark, strange series The Dead. Again Bellardinelli’s character designs were human enough to draw you into their emotional worlds while still being utterly alien. I believe that the whole story was recently collected in whatever the current newsstand 2000AD reprint magazine is called. If it’s still on shelves I would highly recommend it for both story and art. The man himself seemingly retired from comics at some time around the early nineties but had recently been rediscovered by fans of his output and was apparently working on spectacular paintings of subjects as weird or wonderful as ever. Sad to think that there won’t be any more of them.

Ten things what I have done in the past week, worded in such a way as to make them sound more interesting than they actually were

April 13th, 2007 by

1 – Had drinks bought for me by the girlfriend of cyclist Lance Armstrong’s waxwork body double (though not by his wife).

2 – Heard a real French person say “Mon Dieu” – I didn’t believe they really did it.

3 – Caused someone physical pain with a weak pun.

4 – Improvised salsa dancing (whilst being extraordinarily drunk at the time).

5 – Inserted sixty pounds between someone’s breasts (a woman’s).

6 – Discovered the true meaning of the phrase ‘Ugandan Discussions’.

7 – Was forced to listen to a series of ‘Ugandan Discussions’ through a very thin wall. Heated ‘Discussions’, at that.

8 – Got lost in the myriad back lanes of Gloucestershire whilst horrifically hungover.

9 – Learnt what Richard Herring thought of having dinner with my good chum Rob (Uber).

10 – Read Bryan Talbot’s magnificent Alice in Sunderland. You should too.