JJ Meets Ozzy Osbourne's grandmother
Obviously this was long time ago, let's say the friend was called Potpal Abihsot, what with us being all Injuns an' all. Anyway, we were doing the studenty thing that students do with beer, cider, thunderbird and things, the upshot was that the following Friday Potpal and I had to go to Huddersfield so that he could get laid.
My role was to facilite a quick getaway in case Mother, Father, Brothers or any other unspecified relatives interrupted the proceedings. A bold plan considering the transport was British Rail and a couple of Student Cards.
I used to love travelling on British Rail in those days, I was chemically addicted to the microwave cheeseburgers. I met Roy Hattersley at Sheffield station once and just grinned inanely. I think he thought I was pleased to see him but I had just sat down with a cheeseburger. I would have had the same response to Attila the Hun.
So, I got my coaching on the train over, "the train stops near the college, we'll go to the college and find them, you keep the friends sweet and distract them while I slip off and sort her out. If you get any it's a bonus but we meet back at the station at 5 - 6pm".
Seemed simple enough, but by the time we got to the college I could'nt remember the way back to the effin' station. He dissapeared like a ferret up a train driver's arse and there I was with two soppy girlies and a would be Steve Gutenberg. We grabbed a sarnie at the college canteen and took it to the park where WBSG paraded his Kung Fu techniques for us. Well, for them actually because all I was thinking was "Kung Fuck this, I'll eat my sarnie and politely move on to the nearst boozer", which is exactly what I did.
It was about three o'clock so I had a couple of beers and hammered the fruit machine before asking the way to the station. The amazing thing was that station wasn't far away but I didn't get there 'till seven.
Several beers later, keeping a close eye on the station whilst drinking and hammering another bandit, I realised I'd missed the boat. I sat down with my pint and turned my back on the station. This old bird sat next to me grinning like a stuffed sheep. She said "ooooh you're a lovely boy, you look just like Michael Jackon", I said "you look like Ozzy Osbourne's grandmother" she wasn't impressed. Apparently she was a regular and after much one-sided debate the landlord invited me to vacate the premises.
By the time I staggered to the station the last train had gone and I had to sleep on a bench on the platform until the 5.30am.
I stared out of the train window and chewed on another soggy cheesburger, my clothes felt like corrugated iron, I went home to sleep.
JJ
Monday, 18 June 2007
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
Goethe
JJ calls the helpdesk:
HD: Hello caller how are you today?
JJ : pretty hacked off as it goes, how are you?
HD : good, I am also very well thank you. How may help you today?
JJ : some muppet posted a spice girls song in my comments, two people have already seen it but I need it taken off pronto
HD : what is a "muppet" caller?
JJ : Goth's a f***ing muppet, can you delete his comment?
HD : of course, but what do you mean "Goth"?
JJ : you don't even wanna go there honey
HD : how are you spelling Goth?
JJ : here we go, Golf Oscar Tango Hotel
HD : which hotel is that caller?
JJ : it's not a hotel, i'm just telling you the spelling, H for Hotel
HD : yes but i don't know which hotel you are talking about
JJ : it's not a hotel, Goth ends with Hotel
HD : why? Doesn't it have a place to live?
JJ : yes it does but that's not the point, just look at the comments
HD : there are no comments, you haven't posted this yet
JJ : not this one! the previous one you tit!
HD : oooohh! Look who's uppity? Not getting any?
JJ : you're the second person to ask me that today, what is it? Is it me?
HD : no caller, it's not you it's me, you're a really beautiful person but I need my space (he he hee)
JJ : I don't believe this, are you going to help me or not?
HD : sure i'll help you, there'll be a parcel in the post, plain brown wrapping, har har haaar
JJ : oh you're cracking me up now, you don't really give a monkey's do you?
HD : awwww, ish sho unfair the nashtee liddle lay-dee ish makin' fun o' the biiiig maaan
JJ : piss off, i'll just twat the c**t next time I see him
HD : thank's for calling! Have a nice day!
JJ : bollocks
Click
JJ
HD: Hello caller how are you today?
JJ : pretty hacked off as it goes, how are you?
HD : good, I am also very well thank you. How may help you today?
JJ : some muppet posted a spice girls song in my comments, two people have already seen it but I need it taken off pronto
HD : what is a "muppet" caller?
JJ : Goth's a f***ing muppet, can you delete his comment?
HD : of course, but what do you mean "Goth"?
JJ : you don't even wanna go there honey
HD : how are you spelling Goth?
JJ : here we go, Golf Oscar Tango Hotel
HD : which hotel is that caller?
JJ : it's not a hotel, i'm just telling you the spelling, H for Hotel
HD : yes but i don't know which hotel you are talking about
JJ : it's not a hotel, Goth ends with Hotel
HD : why? Doesn't it have a place to live?
JJ : yes it does but that's not the point, just look at the comments
HD : there are no comments, you haven't posted this yet
JJ : not this one! the previous one you tit!
HD : oooohh! Look who's uppity? Not getting any?
JJ : you're the second person to ask me that today, what is it? Is it me?
HD : no caller, it's not you it's me, you're a really beautiful person but I need my space (he he hee)
JJ : I don't believe this, are you going to help me or not?
HD : sure i'll help you, there'll be a parcel in the post, plain brown wrapping, har har haaar
JJ : oh you're cracking me up now, you don't really give a monkey's do you?
HD : awwww, ish sho unfair the nashtee liddle lay-dee ish makin' fun o' the biiiig maaan
JJ : piss off, i'll just twat the c**t next time I see him
HD : thank's for calling! Have a nice day!
JJ : bollocks
Click
JJ
Empires Fall
I went to one of those past life regression thingo's to figure out why I care about the Labour Leadership so much, some past association perhaps? They run hypnotic regression in the commune building after the population services desk closes at lunch time. For seven euro fifty and two passport pictures you can see one previous life. I don't know what they use the pictures for but I don't think I've had a single visit to the population services that didn't require two passport size pictures.
Even that time I went to complain about the old woman who waits in front of my appartment building every night, "why don't you recognise me petit Pierre? my beautiful grandson?" she's obviously as mad a badger and there's no point even trying to talk to her, she scares me a bit.
Anyway, the past life regression was completely weird. At first I thought I was ill but quickly realised I was some kind of small animal. The eyesight wasn't so good you see, but smell! woah, the place reeked with six or seven big animals and one slightly shorter one, but it seemed I was accustomed to them and they were quite accepting of me. Sometimes they'd just scoop me up off the floor and push their big ugly faces into mine, awful, can't they see how disorienting that is? It was just noise at the time but now I can tell they were calling me Winny, or Wenig Winston.
They were pushing these little props around on a table with lots of lines and colours on it, but when I tried to have a go they snarled and shouted at me. Why do they do that? I know they won't hurt me, so I just back off for a minute and do it again later. The second time I tried it I managed to knock a couple of props off the bottom corner and the shorter animal smacked me on the back of the head with a stick, he's mean. That was over stepping the mark I thought, so I made a mental note to have morning toilet break in his shoes tomorrow.
Then another slightly smaller animal came in and by the way the others all perked up and started nudging each other, I guessed she was female. The whiff was a bit of give away as well. Seemed she was bringing refreshments, for them anyway. But I though my luck was in, a mouse raced across the floor I jumped on it in a flash but it turned out to be horrid stuffed cloth thing that keeps appearing everywhere. I'm sure the people are making it move somehow, if only I could figure it out then I could stop chasing the disgusting thing.
I needed a drink to get rid of the taste but I couldn't have got my face into that narrow glass so I did the obvious thing and knocked it over. Just as I was about to lap up the water, the place erupted, four of the bigger people were grabbing at all the little props and pushing the water onto the floor, while the others put the hands on the their heads and paced about. This was much more fun, then the little guy with the paintbrush moustache came at me screaming, I shot under the table and he knocked the whole thing over. Now they were all waving their arms in the air and running around screaming. That was the most fun we had in there, I ran out of the door and up the stairs but they didn't chase. Odd, they seemed to be enjoying it a minute ago, still very noisy behind the door but I decided not to go back. I was hungry, I get grumpy when I'm hungry and don't want to keep playing.
I went back a few days later, there were only two of them and the female left, it looked as though they'd been cooped up in there all that time. Scratching their heads and still moving the little props around the map, then the little moustache guy saw me and started throwing things at me "diese Bastardkatze töten" he screamed. I made a hasty exit again. The last thing I heard sounded like gunshots so I made a mental note not to go back there.
Well I never did figure out why I feel the need to run my own poll* about the Labour Leadership but at least I learned that Hitler had a cat, who knew? I felt a bit guilty about wrecking his battle plan though, not a very dignified way to lose your status as would-be world conqueror and leader of the Reich. Not my fault though, frankly I wish I'd gone back and pissed in his boots.
JJ
*the poll will be removed from the site at the end of June 2007
Even that time I went to complain about the old woman who waits in front of my appartment building every night, "why don't you recognise me petit Pierre? my beautiful grandson?" she's obviously as mad a badger and there's no point even trying to talk to her, she scares me a bit.
Anyway, the past life regression was completely weird. At first I thought I was ill but quickly realised I was some kind of small animal. The eyesight wasn't so good you see, but smell! woah, the place reeked with six or seven big animals and one slightly shorter one, but it seemed I was accustomed to them and they were quite accepting of me. Sometimes they'd just scoop me up off the floor and push their big ugly faces into mine, awful, can't they see how disorienting that is? It was just noise at the time but now I can tell they were calling me Winny, or Wenig Winston.
They were pushing these little props around on a table with lots of lines and colours on it, but when I tried to have a go they snarled and shouted at me. Why do they do that? I know they won't hurt me, so I just back off for a minute and do it again later. The second time I tried it I managed to knock a couple of props off the bottom corner and the shorter animal smacked me on the back of the head with a stick, he's mean. That was over stepping the mark I thought, so I made a mental note to have morning toilet break in his shoes tomorrow.
Then another slightly smaller animal came in and by the way the others all perked up and started nudging each other, I guessed she was female. The whiff was a bit of give away as well. Seemed she was bringing refreshments, for them anyway. But I though my luck was in, a mouse raced across the floor I jumped on it in a flash but it turned out to be horrid stuffed cloth thing that keeps appearing everywhere. I'm sure the people are making it move somehow, if only I could figure it out then I could stop chasing the disgusting thing.
I needed a drink to get rid of the taste but I couldn't have got my face into that narrow glass so I did the obvious thing and knocked it over. Just as I was about to lap up the water, the place erupted, four of the bigger people were grabbing at all the little props and pushing the water onto the floor, while the others put the hands on the their heads and paced about. This was much more fun, then the little guy with the paintbrush moustache came at me screaming, I shot under the table and he knocked the whole thing over. Now they were all waving their arms in the air and running around screaming. That was the most fun we had in there, I ran out of the door and up the stairs but they didn't chase. Odd, they seemed to be enjoying it a minute ago, still very noisy behind the door but I decided not to go back. I was hungry, I get grumpy when I'm hungry and don't want to keep playing.
I went back a few days later, there were only two of them and the female left, it looked as though they'd been cooped up in there all that time. Scratching their heads and still moving the little props around the map, then the little moustache guy saw me and started throwing things at me "diese Bastardkatze töten" he screamed. I made a hasty exit again. The last thing I heard sounded like gunshots so I made a mental note not to go back there.
Well I never did figure out why I feel the need to run my own poll* about the Labour Leadership but at least I learned that Hitler had a cat, who knew? I felt a bit guilty about wrecking his battle plan though, not a very dignified way to lose your status as would-be world conqueror and leader of the Reich. Not my fault though, frankly I wish I'd gone back and pissed in his boots.
JJ
*the poll will be removed from the site at the end of June 2007
Friday, 8 June 2007
Jake's Razor
When they told us about Ockham’s razor at school I was slightly annoyed. It doesn’t make sense, why not Ockham’s Theory, or Ockham’s Hypothesis or Premise or even Ockham’s Quite Smart Idea? Why Razor? It’s completely arbitrary. And why aren’t there anymore Razor’s about different things? This has been festering in the back of my mind for twenty two years now so I’ve decided it’s high time to re-dress the balance and propose my own Razor. In fact I’d like to see a lot more people proposing their own Razor’s, no more theory’s or premises there’s too many already, we need more Razor’s now.
So, here’s my Razor “you were just trying to help”. Like Ockham’s Razor it’s not exactly revolutionary or inspiring, but the good thing is it can be used in an immense number of different situations and is probably right most of the time. This Razor can be used on other people, or you can use the Razor on yourself while standing in front of the bathroom mirror talking to yourself. Which then brings in my next Razor “you’re an idiot”, I’m going to try that one now.
Another thing about Ockham’s Razor is that the guy who wrote it was called William, he lived in small town called Ockham in England in the fourteenth century (that’s thirteen something). Shortly afterwards, Walter of Chatton proposed that William had got it all backwards and so he wrote Chatton’s Anti-Razor. The anti-razor didn’t prove to be so popular.
I know what you're thinking now, "you were just trying to help" should be Etterbeek's Razor, not Jake's Razor. You're right and it is very Belgian so why not?
We're going paint-balling now, in two teams from the office, so errmmm...
The End.
Joliet of Etterbeek
So, here’s my Razor “you were just trying to help”. Like Ockham’s Razor it’s not exactly revolutionary or inspiring, but the good thing is it can be used in an immense number of different situations and is probably right most of the time. This Razor can be used on other people, or you can use the Razor on yourself while standing in front of the bathroom mirror talking to yourself. Which then brings in my next Razor “you’re an idiot”, I’m going to try that one now.
Another thing about Ockham’s Razor is that the guy who wrote it was called William, he lived in small town called Ockham in England in the fourteenth century (that’s thirteen something). Shortly afterwards, Walter of Chatton proposed that William had got it all backwards and so he wrote Chatton’s Anti-Razor. The anti-razor didn’t prove to be so popular.
I know what you're thinking now, "you were just trying to help" should be Etterbeek's Razor, not Jake's Razor. You're right and it is very Belgian so why not?
We're going paint-balling now, in two teams from the office, so errmmm...
The End.
Joliet of Etterbeek
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Alien Invasive
A few weeks ago an alien worm-hole appeared next to my appartment balcony. It looks like a 6ft (1.8m) watery disc floating in the air, it's got furry dice hanging off the top so it may be a slightly down-market model. I've been using it to pop down to Anarkali and pick up a curry every now and then. The great thing is it moves through time and space so I can have tandoori chicken for breakfast even though Anarkali doesn't open till 6.30pm.
I soon realised the thing emits a high pitched whine whenever something's about to come through (I thinks it's one of Britney Spears'). So I've "posted" (blogging pun) a shovel next to it and whenever an alien is about to step onto my balcony, thwack! Back he goes. Thus the eternal universe remains in perfect balance, they stay in their bit and we stay in ours.
The other day I was bit slow off the mark, having spent the afternoon at the Portugese accross the road, one of the blighters got through. Damn! So there I am, in the middle of the second test at Edgebaston and woosh! there's this pale lanky bugger with sunken glazed-over eyes standing on my balcone. I thought, damn he really reminds me of someone, I must remember to get those Graspop tickets later. Not really knowing what the proper etiquette would be in this situation, I asked him in and offered him a cup of tea, he graciously accepted. I also offered him a Princes Chocolate bicuit but he declined that, just as well, the sell by date on those is Feb-07. That would've been really embarassing if he'd seen it.
I couldn't believe my luck, while I was making the tea Strauss had gone with England on 38, crap. I didn't want to be rude but I couldn't switch off at that moment so I just carried on watching it. Alien then perked up with "well why don't you use the worm-hole to go to the match?", I hate smartarses so I just gave the standard response "are you going to talk all the way through the game? I can just as well watch it down the pub you know". He didn't say a word until my phone went, it was my friend asking if I'd been to the Golf club to find about lessons and then the Alien started again "Oh, it's ok for your friends to call, you can talk to them, you've got time for them", now he was getting on my tits so I said "What's your problem? If I wasn't half cut I would've just beaten you back with a shovel like all the others, count yourself lucky you got a cup of tea".
Then he got into a strop and sulked off back into the worm-hole, didn't even finish his tea so I chucked it in after him along with the chocolate biscuit, "how's that? eh? Hope you choke on it, moody twat!"
I sat down to the cricket again and thought to myself "next Sunday I'm going to turn up at his place in the middle of Eastenders Omnibus and put my Slayer CD on, that'll teach him. Being a space traveller he's probably into Hawkwind"
Just as I was dozing off, he came back and tapped on the window. I let him in, we both apologised and sat down to glass of wine. Then he told me everything. Apparently the tea and biscuit landed, along with cricket based expletives, in 14th century Italy. Because of this unexpected tea break the rennaisance had never happened. "Listen carefully", he explained "right now, you are in a world where everything stops at 4pm for tea, the world sport is cricket and no one has ever heard of pasta or nouvelle cuisine and the French language died out 500 years ago"
I thought about this for a minute and asked "Are you saying I can walk down Georges Henri and get fish and chips with vinegar and ask for it in English", he said it was true except Georges Henri is called George Henry. "What about Girlfriend?", "Yes, she speaks the Queens English, but she still doesn't understand Cricket, that's more of a man/woman thing than any cutural or language difference".
"It's up to you Jake, I can bring back the tea and biscuit and you go back to ordering dinner by pointing at the menu, or you can live in world where Crown Green Bowles is played in France instead of Pétanque". It was an interesting proposition. "But why are you calling me by my blog name?" I asked him, he said he wasn't but he'd already read my next posting by using the worm-hole so I only thought he'd called me Jake because I was writing the post retrospectively from the future. "Oh, er more wine?", "Don't mind if I do, ta"
I thought long and hard about his proposition, "No cute foriegn accent for Girlfriend?", "Nope".
"What about the Mercedes?", "Sorry, you'll be driving a Ford C230", that hurt.
"Sony LCD TV?", "Asia is mostly the same so you keep the Sony TV, but there's no soft porn on the European channels". This was getting harder to swallow.
"Opera?", "Nope, it's Pantomime", I thought I could probably live with that and I assumed I'd still have the important things like HP Sauce and baked beans. I asked him I if could just try it for a day or two but he said as soon as I made contact with someone there would be no going back, it gets too complicated. What would be the point if Girlfriend doesn't look at me blankly when I say things like "It's a bit nippy innit?". She wouldn't be the same. Reluctanly I asked the Alien to retrieve the tea and biscuit.
I poured another glass of wine and it suddenly occurred to me the wine bottle still had a French label on it. The Alien stood at the worm-hole grinning and flicking V's at me "Suckerrrr!!!". Bastard! he was stringing me along! I grabbed the shovel but he dived into the worm-hole before I could get to him.
Bonne nuit.
JJ
I soon realised the thing emits a high pitched whine whenever something's about to come through (I thinks it's one of Britney Spears'). So I've "posted" (blogging pun) a shovel next to it and whenever an alien is about to step onto my balcony, thwack! Back he goes. Thus the eternal universe remains in perfect balance, they stay in their bit and we stay in ours.
The other day I was bit slow off the mark, having spent the afternoon at the Portugese accross the road, one of the blighters got through. Damn! So there I am, in the middle of the second test at Edgebaston and woosh! there's this pale lanky bugger with sunken glazed-over eyes standing on my balcone. I thought, damn he really reminds me of someone, I must remember to get those Graspop tickets later. Not really knowing what the proper etiquette would be in this situation, I asked him in and offered him a cup of tea, he graciously accepted. I also offered him a Princes Chocolate bicuit but he declined that, just as well, the sell by date on those is Feb-07. That would've been really embarassing if he'd seen it.
I couldn't believe my luck, while I was making the tea Strauss had gone with England on 38, crap. I didn't want to be rude but I couldn't switch off at that moment so I just carried on watching it. Alien then perked up with "well why don't you use the worm-hole to go to the match?", I hate smartarses so I just gave the standard response "are you going to talk all the way through the game? I can just as well watch it down the pub you know". He didn't say a word until my phone went, it was my friend asking if I'd been to the Golf club to find about lessons and then the Alien started again "Oh, it's ok for your friends to call, you can talk to them, you've got time for them", now he was getting on my tits so I said "What's your problem? If I wasn't half cut I would've just beaten you back with a shovel like all the others, count yourself lucky you got a cup of tea".
Then he got into a strop and sulked off back into the worm-hole, didn't even finish his tea so I chucked it in after him along with the chocolate biscuit, "how's that? eh? Hope you choke on it, moody twat!"
I sat down to the cricket again and thought to myself "next Sunday I'm going to turn up at his place in the middle of Eastenders Omnibus and put my Slayer CD on, that'll teach him. Being a space traveller he's probably into Hawkwind"
Just as I was dozing off, he came back and tapped on the window. I let him in, we both apologised and sat down to glass of wine. Then he told me everything. Apparently the tea and biscuit landed, along with cricket based expletives, in 14th century Italy. Because of this unexpected tea break the rennaisance had never happened. "Listen carefully", he explained "right now, you are in a world where everything stops at 4pm for tea, the world sport is cricket and no one has ever heard of pasta or nouvelle cuisine and the French language died out 500 years ago"
I thought about this for a minute and asked "Are you saying I can walk down Georges Henri and get fish and chips with vinegar and ask for it in English", he said it was true except Georges Henri is called George Henry. "What about Girlfriend?", "Yes, she speaks the Queens English, but she still doesn't understand Cricket, that's more of a man/woman thing than any cutural or language difference".
"It's up to you Jake, I can bring back the tea and biscuit and you go back to ordering dinner by pointing at the menu, or you can live in world where Crown Green Bowles is played in France instead of Pétanque". It was an interesting proposition. "But why are you calling me by my blog name?" I asked him, he said he wasn't but he'd already read my next posting by using the worm-hole so I only thought he'd called me Jake because I was writing the post retrospectively from the future. "Oh, er more wine?", "Don't mind if I do, ta"
I thought long and hard about his proposition, "No cute foriegn accent for Girlfriend?", "Nope".
"What about the Mercedes?", "Sorry, you'll be driving a Ford C230", that hurt.
"Sony LCD TV?", "Asia is mostly the same so you keep the Sony TV, but there's no soft porn on the European channels". This was getting harder to swallow.
"Opera?", "Nope, it's Pantomime", I thought I could probably live with that and I assumed I'd still have the important things like HP Sauce and baked beans. I asked him I if could just try it for a day or two but he said as soon as I made contact with someone there would be no going back, it gets too complicated. What would be the point if Girlfriend doesn't look at me blankly when I say things like "It's a bit nippy innit?". She wouldn't be the same. Reluctanly I asked the Alien to retrieve the tea and biscuit.
I poured another glass of wine and it suddenly occurred to me the wine bottle still had a French label on it. The Alien stood at the worm-hole grinning and flicking V's at me "Suckerrrr!!!". Bastard! he was stringing me along! I grabbed the shovel but he dived into the worm-hole before I could get to him.
Bonne nuit.
JJ
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