» Well, that taught 'em

What were they thinking...
Many many moons ago, I became the victim being taught a lesson.

I have to confess to not contributing a huge amount to my folks for providing a roof over my head – in fact, I didn’t pay a sausage or lift a finger but still expected pocket money on a weekly basis. (but to be fair, I was in secondary school trying to get some GCSEs)

One day, I return form school to take a call from a company saying they’ll deliver the items next Thursday. “Great” says I wondering who they were and what they were delivering. “You’ll receive a map showing your distribution area and they must be delivered by Monday” I’m told. “Sure, no worries” I reply – not having a clue what was going on.

Turns out my folks had got me a job. Delivering leaflets to 1000 houses in my area. It’d pay £20 and I’d be able to start paying my way.

I came home from school the following Thursday to four large (1m x 1m) boxes and a large map.

Bugger.

On opening, I found 250 Trakker chocolate bars in promotional packaging in each box.

I munched probably 50 or so that very afternoon and sold the rest to my school chums.

A week later I was paid my £20.

I didn’t give my folks a penny.
(Fri 27th Apr 2007, 13:31, More)

» Personal Hygiene

Posh Car launch
A few weeks back I was invited to attend the launch of the hideous "new" Porsche Cayenne - yes, the one described by the mad Mayor of London as "driven by fucking idiots".

As you can probably imagine, this was quite a plush affair with wandering temptresses armed with posh party food and the obligatory free bar. Whilst contemplating exactly why this car is so hideously ugly (yet technically brilliant) I was accosted by a floppy haired young oik with sleek black namebadge. At around the same time, a stench of unclean armpits wafted into my nasal receptors. Whilst nodding sagely at his banter trying to establish where this repugnant odour was coming from, I caught the eye of a young lady around 30 feet or so away. She'd obviously been speaking to the salesboy earlier and mouthed "kitchen, e-sticks", which met my quizzical response. She then repeated this phrase with a more pronounced mouth, leaning forward slightly with slightly bigger eyes - "kitchen, e-futch-een-sticks". Completely ignoring the salesboy now, I turned my head slightly and cupped my ear to hear her repeat "IT'S HIM, HE FUCKING STINKS" just as the crowd noise appeared to drop to a whisper.

Not quite sure who was more embarrassed, stinky, not-so-posh-bird or the blind bespectacled designer responsible for the ugly fat car who had just taken to the rostrum to talk about his fabulous creation.

I can only conclude that in a misguided attempt to counter the environmental effects of the car, stinky salesboy had decided not to use deodorant that evening.
(Tue 27th Mar 2007, 15:13, More)

» Childhood Ambitions

Ambition granted
Growing up in Thatcher's Britain as one of the GCSE guinea pigs I naturally wanted to become a millionaire.

It's not quite what I thought it would be….
(Thu 29th Mar 2007, 14:41, More)