Ladies Sitting Between Parked Cars

Take our leave of the city It's manic temper and sweating walls Screaming brakes and rigid forms Out of the subway and into the heat To ladies sitting between parked cars Bare feet, cigarettes and bottles to hand Rust on the railings Weeds in the gutter Sunlight reflects on chrome Sound of the river Under the traffic hum We're almost home.

Bury Me Standing, I've Been On My Knees My Whole Life

MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION TIME AND MOTION 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STOP.

Is That The Time?

Jesus! It feels like an eternity since I last posted. I'm getting a bit fed up of writing these entries like periodic postcards to the outside world, but until I get mind, soul and body in order, it'll have to do. The truth is that I've been a little too tired to think about anything other than the most rudimentary blog input. Alas, I'm off until Tuesday and I'm taking myself away for most of that time. Where? Ha! I'm not telling, someone might find me. Work has been the biggest fucker. Two of our number were made redundant and we've moved to another office. The days go by quicker but the work is a few degrees more intense. Having to account for 90% of your working day was the first big shock. I shit ye not, every single thing we do in a day has to be logged and timed. For some jobs it's not a problem, but when you do half a dozen different things, it's a fucking nightmare. I spend about an hour of my day just filling the bastard fucking spreadsheet in, complete with the case numbers of everything that's crossed my desk. I keep looking for the column in the spreadsheet that says "Time spent filling in this useless piece of shit because some over-paid retard at the top of the company gets a fucking hard-on from reading statistics".

Bah! It doesn't help when one of the folk to survive the cull is contributing to the deterioration of my mental hygiene. We all know the concept of the 'man-child'. This is the 'woman-child'. I haven't had to deal with her much before, but she's starting to drive me to distraction. Job-wise, she does one thing. All day. She has done for the past four or five years. This wasn't a problem when we had high volumes of work and everyone was assigned a duty. Now we all need to be able to do each others jobs and while this is no problem for most sentient beings, fat arse has done nothing but wheedle and whine like an irritating five year old. Fuck! If I hear her simpering on about how she misses our much loathed old boss, or how she's fed up of getting emails from the team leader updating us on our new roles, or how she doesn't like the new office, I'll end up snapping and cramming one of her filthy cheese spread white bread sandwiches down her craw with a rolled up Land Certificate!! At the very least I might ask her to experiment with eating with her fucking mouth closed. All I hope is that management and HR realise they got it wrong when they decided to jettison the smartest cookie in the pack and keep this stammering, simple minded fucktard. There, all gone. A little weight off my chest.................. Feels better already. So, that's the state of play in my world. Borderline psychosis, fatigue, anger management issues etc............... What about the rest of you? Has the very notion of going to work made you physically ill in recent weeks? Are you having a wonderful time in a land of milk and honey where nobody cares when you come and go and free gym membership and prostitutes? Are you constantly justifying yourself to an off-hand, shit thick time server who looks at you like you've just vomitted on their lap? Do you get to watch YouTube and I-Player on your company's internet connection and spend your days emailing clips of swearing hamsters and old Rainbow episiodes to workmates? Are you a smug comfort-zoner or are you a down-trodden prole? Answers on the back of the usual beermat. Behold! U2 Are Shit! as are Coldplay, Metallica

A Considered Response

What did you do with your BNP leaflet? Maybe you made it into a paper aeroplane to entertain the kids. Emergency toilet paper perhaps? Saves using the carboard tube. Perhaps you turned it into a birthday card for someone you really fucking despise.

I used mine to light the oven......................

Braw!

p.s. Please note that instructions on what to do when a Labour or Conservative leaflet falls through your door will follow in due course.

Have I Just Got One Of Those Faces?

A bluebell wood by the motorway. The council must be planting waves of them along the M8. The next dignity free mouth breather that asks me if I'm the 'Real Radio Renegade' is gonna get a fucking kick up the arse, so help me God! What is that about? Have people nothing better to do than approach innocent pedestrians making their weary way home from work with their headphones on, in the vaguest of hopes that they might be an employee from some tin-pot local radio station, just waiting to make them rich? No, of course they haven't. There must have been something going down in the area, as I was accosted twice in the space of a minute. Various others gesticulated at me from their cars or stared at me like I was from another planet. I mean, what's a 'Real Radio Renegade' supposed to look like anyway? Probably not half as gormless as those who fall for this naff gimmick. Wankers! They'd set fire to their houses and eat their own shit if someone offered them a fiver and a chance to be on telly. Is it the warm weather that brings them out? Ah, so many questions and so few answers.............. On another, utterly unrelated topic...... The little boy next door shouts. A lot. In fact, he's louder than you'd think possible for a four year old. It's not just when he's excited or agitated though, it seems to be a permanant setting. My bet is that everyone in the family communicates in this way, so he needs to turn up the volume to be heard, but he can't turn it off when he's out of that environment. What he's like at school, I'd hate to speculate.............. If nothing else, his throat lining will be in shreds by the time he's ten. The tulip at my back door. It finally disintegrated during the week there, but I took this one last weekend, with all raindrops and stuff on it. The sunflowers are coming through, against the odds, and the nasturtiums are thriving. Gives you something to look at in the mornings as you make your coffee and contemplate throwing a sickie.

Friends, Forgive My Absence, I've Been Away Making Snuff Movies In Belize

Of course I haven't!! It was Guatemala............. Anyway, talking of copping yer whack, it looks like I'm up for possible redundancy at the end of the month. It's hard to say how I feel about all of this. On one hand, I need to work to pay my way, but on the other, if they got shot of me, I doubt I'd give much of a fuck. Jobs are hard to find this weather, but I think if I lowered my sights just a notch, I'd find something. I don't think I'm for the chop though. Don't ask why, but going on the selection criteria, I think there are a couple in the queue before me. Sadly, one of my colleagues has taken to chewing the furniture and getting in a bit of a tizzy. She's easily the most competent person in the section, but she's driving herself mad, to the point where she's convinced HR have it in for her and will take this opportunity to ditch her. She's an awkward sod for sure, but if they ditch her I might as well get out a too. It's a ship of fools as it is, so if they do make redundant the only person in the department who knows their arse from their elbow, I doubt I'll be able to take any of it remotely seriously. So, what's everyone else been up to?

How about Cocktails?

Cocktails has been mulling over the question of one's earliest memory and the effect in has on who or what you become in later life. As stated in the comments section of her original post, my earliest memory was probably on a beach on the Isle of Man, playing with an orange & black football. Somehow it ended up in the sea and floated off into the wide blue yonder. The effect it had upon me at the time was not documented, but I can say with some certainty that I'd rather have had the football to play with than not. I have wondered on the odd occassion, just where a cheap plastic football kicked into the Irish Sea by a bent-footed three year old would end up. Did it deflate and sink? Did it wash up on a faraway shore? Did it circumnavigate the globe and return to it's point of origin? I don't remember if my parents bought me another one. Why would I? I was only three........ Other good stuff I've read and seen recently, but forgot about. Ed Milliband Robert Louis Stevenson The Cockenspiel (apologies in advance) Didier Drogba Finally, a snippet from a current YouTube favourite that seemed to get consigned to the backwater of BBC3 some years ago, sandwiched between their interminable "Two Pints of Lager & A Packet of Crisps" marathons. Snuff Box - Boyfriend sketches (1-5)

Smell

Like burning, but no fire...........

It's like the smell you got when you played Scalextric for eight hours solid on Christmas day as a child.

I think my computer might be about to die on me. A Viking burial might be in order.