Most of the time my job is cool. If I want to, I can just sit in my pants all day watching films and mosey around coffee shops staring at people (not in my pants). However, sometimes I have weeks where I’m predominantly in transit. Last week, for example, I spent most of my time knocking around Manchester and Sheffield before a brief return to London. It’s impossible to feel fully comfortable when you’re away from home. You can’t write properly, you can’t think properly, you can’t touch yourself properly (if you’re into that). Therefore, I have very few interesting incidents that I can remember from my trips that are worth writing down.
One thing I noticed about my time in Manchester is that the people are a lot friendlier to you than in London. Bus drivers don’t treat you like a man in a dirty mackintosh if you try to pay for a ticket with a note. If you try to give the driver cash in London they act like you’ve ruined their entire day. If I were a driver I’d probably find this the most exciting part of the day as you get to break up your routine of pressing the door buttons and driving. This is the reason I’m not a bus driver. The other bit of friendliness that occurred was when I was at a bar. I thought I was standing next to a comedian called Vince Atta, so naturally I said, “Hi mate” and shook his hand. He shook my hand back then walked off. Only ten minutes later did it dawn on me that it might not have been him. It was not him. It was just a different mixed race guy. The fact that I mistook a mixed race person for a different one means I’m only classified as half racist. I don’t know who this bloke is but I love the fact that he shook my hand without even questioning who I was and how I knew him. He must have just been a big fan of handshakes.
In Sheffield, due to me being a boring arsehole who isn’t really drinking at the moment, I have to amuse myself in my own way. Now I know this is technically after 5pm but I think it’s worth retelling so I’m breaking my own made up rules. I went to Wagamama on my own on the Friday after my gig. It was prime dinner time, therefore, the fact I was on my own on a Friday night was magnified. I might as well have been wearing a badge that said “Sad Twat” on it. I had a decent bit of conversation with the waitress as I was desperately trying to compensate for the fact I had no friends with me. The next day, I went into the same restaurant at the same time, wearing the same outfit (from my gig) and I was served by the same waitress. She came over and said “good to see you again”. I then went “again? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked really confused and a bit taken aback. I then proceeded to order exactly the same thing as I did the night before. (chicken katsu and chicken gyoza). As she walked off I laughed to myself. I may well have got some free turd in my curry but it was worth it for the look on her face.
Now I can look forward to a week of lying in my own bed and getting treated like a terrorist by the London bus drivers. Bliss.
Sunday 11 March 2012
Sunday 4 March 2012
27th Feb- 2nd March: Mean Women and Nice Guys
I may have mentioned this on here before but just to re-iterate: if you want to witness a bust-up in the day time, get your argument-loving ass down to the parking permit renewal shop. Normally you get some irate middle-aged man shouting at the jobsworth behind the counter. This time, however, there was a vile lady (I think) who managed to make a whole room of strangers hate her within seconds. From the moment she opened her toilet of a mouth you could feel everyone else think “please have an aneurism right now”.
She walked in with her kid, took one look at the queue and said, “Come on man. This queue is stupid. I don’t even want to be here. I’m here for my neighbour, innit. No one minds if I go to the front do they?” Everyone minded. No one said anything. This is because we all suffer from the crippling illness that is being a polite Brit. Eventually a man in his sixties at the front piped up, “I do actually mind”
“Why? You’re well old. You’ve got nothing else to do. I don’t want to be here”
The big geezer in front of me rightly said, “None of us want to be here”
I’m nodding along…in my head. On the outside I showed no sign of siding with anyone. As soon as she left the room to go and be racist to a parking warden who had the audacity to give her a ticket for being parked on a double yellow, I was the bravest man on the planet. I was saying, “who does she think she is?” Then the geezer in front of me earned a virtual high five by saying, “she’s a fucking donkey”. I’ve never heard this used as an insult but I liked it and I wanted to become friends with this man. She then returned and loudly called us all mean and grumpy on the phone to her mum. People like this make me so angry. She clearly has some bad things happening in her life but to subject us all to her deep rooted anger is selfish. I think when someone like this enters a public room you should legally be allowed to tranquilise them. Everyone should be given a blow pipe and ketamin filled dart, which then becomes as essential to any excursion as a mobile phone and keys. As soon as you get a bully ruining the vibe of a queue, then “bosh”: society will be much better for it.
On the other hand I think all shops should be legally made to hire a nice person to walk around making you feel good about yourself. I went to buy some sushi on the same day and a really friendly man standing next to me cheered me up. Firstly he made me laugh by asking where a certain road in Wimbledon was and when I had no idea, he went “It’s ok I’ll just check my Google maps.” This whole question was therefore so pointless it made me laugh and convinced me that he was an angel sent down by god to make my day. He then complimented me on my sushi selection and bantered about how the owners were Korean not Japanese. I don’t know anything about this man. All I know is his aura gave my soul a semi. He made me want to commute to the same shop at the same time just to see him.
So there you have it. If you vote for me as Prime Minister I promise you all blow darts full of ketamin and shops full of nice guys. I’m off to find my new best pal.
She walked in with her kid, took one look at the queue and said, “Come on man. This queue is stupid. I don’t even want to be here. I’m here for my neighbour, innit. No one minds if I go to the front do they?” Everyone minded. No one said anything. This is because we all suffer from the crippling illness that is being a polite Brit. Eventually a man in his sixties at the front piped up, “I do actually mind”
“Why? You’re well old. You’ve got nothing else to do. I don’t want to be here”
The big geezer in front of me rightly said, “None of us want to be here”
I’m nodding along…in my head. On the outside I showed no sign of siding with anyone. As soon as she left the room to go and be racist to a parking warden who had the audacity to give her a ticket for being parked on a double yellow, I was the bravest man on the planet. I was saying, “who does she think she is?” Then the geezer in front of me earned a virtual high five by saying, “she’s a fucking donkey”. I’ve never heard this used as an insult but I liked it and I wanted to become friends with this man. She then returned and loudly called us all mean and grumpy on the phone to her mum. People like this make me so angry. She clearly has some bad things happening in her life but to subject us all to her deep rooted anger is selfish. I think when someone like this enters a public room you should legally be allowed to tranquilise them. Everyone should be given a blow pipe and ketamin filled dart, which then becomes as essential to any excursion as a mobile phone and keys. As soon as you get a bully ruining the vibe of a queue, then “bosh”: society will be much better for it.
On the other hand I think all shops should be legally made to hire a nice person to walk around making you feel good about yourself. I went to buy some sushi on the same day and a really friendly man standing next to me cheered me up. Firstly he made me laugh by asking where a certain road in Wimbledon was and when I had no idea, he went “It’s ok I’ll just check my Google maps.” This whole question was therefore so pointless it made me laugh and convinced me that he was an angel sent down by god to make my day. He then complimented me on my sushi selection and bantered about how the owners were Korean not Japanese. I don’t know anything about this man. All I know is his aura gave my soul a semi. He made me want to commute to the same shop at the same time just to see him.
So there you have it. If you vote for me as Prime Minister I promise you all blow darts full of ketamin and shops full of nice guys. I’m off to find my new best pal.
Friday 2 March 2012
20-24 Feb: Growing Up & Then Back Down Again
Do you ever think you’re maturing at an alarming rate? You start worrying about taxes, savings and get excited by purchasing a new selection of plates for your house. All these things have been happening to me recently. On Wednesday I did a couple of bit of behaviour that really pushed my maturity level up to a disturbingly high number. I bought my dad a Blackberry as a birthday present, followed by a piece of art for myself. Get the Pampers ready because I’m speedily moving towards old age and becoming a senile man with a stick.
If you thought buying a phone was tedious; try doing it with your eccentric dad. When you don’t happen to know about the latest technology the people that work in phone shops look at you like you just asked them to sniff the bit of your arm under your watch strap. Add into this already precarious situation a man who says phrases such as: “what does that do?”, “Do I get a charger?”, “how do I get my email?”, “what’s an email?” & my personal favourite “I don’t want the pink cover because I’m not a gay”, then you’re sure to be on the receiving end of some exceptionally rude customer service.
After struggling through this process I then went to trendy East London to buy a print from Ellah Sadkin (Google her, she’s very good). I know literally nothing about art, which made this an even more exciting experience. I really should have brought an art expert with me but instead brought Benny Boot, who is an expert in…making me laugh and forgetting stuff. Not an ideal art buying companion but I found a piece that I liked (it’s colourful and doesn’t contain any scary babies). She also agreed to paint a zombie version on Benny, so it wasn’t a completely wasted trip for him: the fact he already has the lips of a zombie will no doubt make the job easier for her. As I returned home that evening thinking I’d turned to a new mature chapter in my life, I spent most of Thursday…
…winding up a squirrel in my garden by hiding his nut. I would love to tell you the whole story but this is now a bit of material in my set. If you want to see it you’ll have to watch me live.
So if you thought I was going to start regularly writing about politics and economics, you thought wrong.
If you thought buying a phone was tedious; try doing it with your eccentric dad. When you don’t happen to know about the latest technology the people that work in phone shops look at you like you just asked them to sniff the bit of your arm under your watch strap. Add into this already precarious situation a man who says phrases such as: “what does that do?”, “Do I get a charger?”, “how do I get my email?”, “what’s an email?” & my personal favourite “I don’t want the pink cover because I’m not a gay”, then you’re sure to be on the receiving end of some exceptionally rude customer service.
After struggling through this process I then went to trendy East London to buy a print from Ellah Sadkin (Google her, she’s very good). I know literally nothing about art, which made this an even more exciting experience. I really should have brought an art expert with me but instead brought Benny Boot, who is an expert in…making me laugh and forgetting stuff. Not an ideal art buying companion but I found a piece that I liked (it’s colourful and doesn’t contain any scary babies). She also agreed to paint a zombie version on Benny, so it wasn’t a completely wasted trip for him: the fact he already has the lips of a zombie will no doubt make the job easier for her. As I returned home that evening thinking I’d turned to a new mature chapter in my life, I spent most of Thursday…
…winding up a squirrel in my garden by hiding his nut. I would love to tell you the whole story but this is now a bit of material in my set. If you want to see it you’ll have to watch me live.
So if you thought I was going to start regularly writing about politics and economics, you thought wrong.
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