» We have to talk

My Dad
and I never really had the 'father-son talks.'

When I first having sex, and my mother decided that we should have 'the talk' it went something like this...

Dad: Son-
MrTeapot: Dad, I know what your going to say, can we pretend like it we've already discussed this?
Dad: Works for me.
(Sat 21st Apr 2007, 2:15, More)

» Pathological Liars

Post Office
I used to work at a fantastic local pub in a quiet street in suburban London. It was about five minutes away from anything anyone could possibly want; shopping centre, local business, office, so it's evenings were packed and the pub made good money, but was still a locals establishment with a great stock of characters.

The best of them was it's own Manager. He would lie about anything, since his job was to sit, drink and entertain anyone with his enormous collection of enormous stories.

Because some of his stories were credible, Phil Taylor had challenged him to a game of darts - I've seen pictures, celebs from Eastenders have been regulars in the pub quiz - my eyes have seen it, it gave him the upper hand in the game of lying.

I worked there for about a year and a half or so, pretty much constantly. I'd work a couple of nights a week, as well as opening up during the days. Over that time I learnt the unspoken rule.

If he said he was going to the Post Office, that meant he was off to shag his bird and we should cover for him when the wife came home. I don't know whether he expected us to tell his wife that exact reason, because he would disappear for hours, sometimes out for the whole day. We joked with the punters, who said there must have been a pub in Newcastle called 'the Post Office'. Sometimes he'd mix up the routine and say the Dry Cleaners instead, but quickly dropped it when he came back empty handed.

I remember my favourite night at that pub. The boss had disappeared at lunch, I finished early, stayed there drinking, and had a couple after hours with the other staff. We were just finishing the last inches when Boss came staggering through the door, in boxers with his trousers draped over his arm, cigar to top it off.

There was a pause, he looked at us slightly confused, his brain taking its time processing the situation. Finally he shrugged and muttered the magic words "Post Office."
(Sat 1st Dec 2007, 23:01, More)

» God

Confirmation Name
I got into the whole Jesus shindig rather late, all I wanted was the bread and wine (less so the bread).

I started working in a Church doing the microphones and tech stuff and became more involved. Soon I decided to go up for communion (give me the wine dammit) and was refused as I hadn't been confirmed - blessing instead.

So I started classes once a week for a few months. Then a load of us in the area got confirmed together by the Big Bishop, had the ceremony, got the wine and then headed into the back room for post-service sandwiches and a chat.

Now without the full regalia, robes and hat, Bishops look very different. I didn't recognise mine when he began chatting to me, I just thought he was another Church Joe.

"Have you decided on a Confirmation Name?"

I hadn't. I thought for a moment.

"Probably Bob or Jim, dunno really."

"It really should be a Biblical Name."

"Any name from the Bible?"

"Sure."

"Well then, it's a toss up between Jesus and Lucifer then."
(Thu 19th Mar 2009, 15:43, More)

» Buses

The 484 again.
There was always going to be a long traffic queue on the hill at 4:30. There is basically one way of getting into town from that general direction and when school is out all across the borough absolutely everyone is trying to get over that hill.

Often drivers would sneak round and try entering the stream of cars through smaller residential roads. Obviously everyone else has thought of that resulting in more clogged arteries.

Once while I was on a packed out bus, with another packed out bus behind that one, coming over the hill. Our driver was the awesome Jamaican guy who would tell everyone as they got on "hold tight, mon" regardless of the state of movement the bus was currently in. Such as this point...

"Hold tight, now."

...as the bus crept forward.

We eventually reached the opening of a side road. Before it was considered naughty to drive on the phone, there was some twazzack in a little yellow car trying to worm his way out of a side road. He passed a couple of other cars, who were patiently waiting to be let out, driving two wheels onto the pavement, forcing his way to the front.

Not on. Our driver called him a boombaclat if I remember correctly. There was a space opening in front, the bus driver waved him forward, letting the yellow car commit to the movement, then he shouted back to us all.

"Hold tight, for real."

And slammed on the accelerator. The yellow car managed to stop inches away from us in the windows. The driver opened the doors and waved the patiently waiting cars forward to box the prick in.

The bus moved on slowly, the bus behind us was right up the exhaust pipe. With no room to move back, no room to move forward and no gaps appearing, the yellow twazzock had to sit there and yell.

We could see him from the bottom of the hill as we turned the corner.
(Sat 27th Jun 2009, 15:46, More)

» Buses

A bus driver actually helped me out
(not the 484 this time, some double decker)

I've always had a messy head of hair. One time, I had moved down from the top deck quite frankly I didn't feel like being kicked to shit and that's where it was going. As I was the only other person other than the driver, I sat behind the Plexiglas by the back door.

I was left alone for a while. The bus dinged so I knew they were getting off, I was expecting something. Instead they all got off, one by one, doing nothing until the last bastard grabbed my hair as he got off. I opened the window, gave the finger and suggested he try it again.

The dumb fucker put his arm through the window. You know, the horizontal opening? I grabbed his wrists, pulled his arm through to the elbow and called politely for the driver to continue.

"Fucking move it!"

The horror on his face as the bus slowly started pulling away, then as he saw the Ford Fiesta he was heading for. I let him have his arm back and he bounced lightly off the bonnet.

PS: It was London so I still didn't say thank you to the driver.
(Sat 27th Jun 2009, 15:57, More)