Wet and Late

December 1st… it must be him

It is raining which of course means the trains won’t work. There is bedlam at Cannon Street and nobody knows anything – apparently this delay to all services is due to a points failure at Lewisham, which is exacly what happened on Monday morning. I am on the 18.21 which arrived at 18.33 and might leave sometime before now and when I am six foot under. I am sitting where nobody can annoy me, in a disabled area of the train and there are no seats in front let alone people. I dare say at London Bridge there will be a load of livestock boarding but for now I can stretch my legs and not fear some prick sitting in front with their heft, and making my knees flat. We are off – it is 18.37, so really I am 9 minutes early but let’s see how long that lasts. Just caught a glimpse of my reflection – drowned rat with a shit hair do. Need that sorted soon. Just attached some pictures – the first is a sight I saw at lunch time, it must be the man himself getting a spot of food. The second picture is what greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, and it shows me that apparently our entrance hall now doubles as a tip. They are utter pigs, their “clients” aka the fuckwit ghetto trash who come in to learn how to become a hedgefund manager, get their McDonalds and then leave the wrappers all over the place in the same area as they left their bin bags. Tramps. Third picture is the search term updates from today, some more exciting ones, I am impressed with the amount cropping up this week. The hits are up as well, 33 before I had even opened my eyes this morning at 6.30 so I was very pleased. Last picture is my view – it looks like I am on a bus. French birds got on next to me, having a conversation in English and French. Pissing me right off. The one sitting next to me was wittering on about pancakes, and saying she has never had a real pancake. I ask you, what sort of a French person is she that hasn’t had a crepe? Pathetic. Man just replaced her as she got off at Deptford. He is swigging out of a Lucozade bottle… And stinks of booze, I am guessing there isn’t a refreshing energy drink inside that bottle, I believe it might be meths instead perhaps. He is now full on picking his hooter with the end of his finger covered by a paper napkin. What a classy chap. That reminds me of something I hate – people who refer to napkins as tissues. It really makes me mad “can I have a tissue?” and all I want to say when they are gesturing like they want to wipe their hands, is “is your nose running?” but it would go right over their heads. They are the type of people who go to train to be a hedgefund manager while dressed like Tinie Tempah. Friday tomorrow, and I am putting the Christmas tree up at work. Along with organising secret santa, the christmas party, christmas cards for clients and suppliers, budget letters for 2012 for clients, leaving present for Patryk, wedding present for Mietek and a fucking partridge in a pear tree. If I didn’t do it nobody would, and I think they are things that need to be done. Alex took the day off to work from home today, waiting for his new kitchen to be delivered. We got a call from him at about 9.30 this morning asking if a Homebase lorry was outside work – the stupid fucking idiots had delivered it to the contact address and not where it is to be installed. Never thought much of Homebase since they parted ways with Sainsburys… Think even less of them now. Doing alright for time, might arrive at The Stead before hell freezes over. Wish me luck.

Recruitment Consultant fuckwittery

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View from this seat

Sorry for the spelling mistakes but it was posted with WordPress for BlackBerry dahling.
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December 1st? Are you sure?

I don’t believe it. It feels like late September today. No way is Christmas 24 days away, because it is too warm and there is no snow or even ice. I prepared months ago to have the right footwear for that weather, but they are sitting gathering dust. The only thing that is seasonal are my lungs that I have to fight with to keep them inside my body every time I cough. Lippy has just sauntered up behind me, on her phone as usual. My “christ, not you again” said to her vacant face was ignored again. Woman outside the station tried to give me a leaflet about Plumstead Film Festival, which I graciously refused as I download films rather than sit with Plumstead folk and watch. On the train and the lady has a woman next to her again, who should shift soon so I can sit there. Man next to me watching a music video on his iPhone, with the screen about three inches from his face. I am unsure why people watch music videos on their phones, I thought their soul purpose was for masturbatory reasons – especially that nasty slag Rhianna – because it lasts for three minutes and you know what is going to happen. I very much enjoyed That’s Britain – aka The Moaning Programme – last night. There was a piece about trains that made me howl with laughter as they made a comparison between commuters and livestock, and I think they must have stolen it from me. There is no law in place that says how much room you are entitled to in a commuter train, nor any about conditions on that train. Livestock however have many rules that must be adhered to. They went onto a packed train near Manchester I believe, where people often faint. They also spoke to some man who claims to be the leading spokesperson on transport, when he is clearly a fraud and the person they should have been talking to was me of course. We are getting new carriages though, Transport Secretary (I think) said there was more coming, but that isn’t until 2019. London are getting 43 new carriages, in time for the Olympics. What a fucking joke, why only spunk all this cash for the Olympics? It makes no sense, they want more people to get into work but they aren’t giving the UK more rolling stock until 2019. I might start charging people to sit on my lap soon, as this is ridiculous. Then again this stuff isn’t thought through at all. I emailed them again, begging for a section on cyclists, and of course I offered my services as an MC for the piece. What I don’t know about cycle crime isn’t worth knowing. I came home last night to something good though – after three months, my Landlord has approved the front garden to be cleared. I think Alan will be around again today to finish it off later on today. Had a chat with the lady.

Doesn’t look like my house

Sorry for the spelling mistakes but it was posted with WordPress for BlackBerry dahling.
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