Monday, 9 April 2012

My life is like a big, drunken Fatty Arbuckle sketch.

Now incase you don't know who Fatty Arbuckle is... actually if you don't know who Fatty Arbuckle is, You're not as cool as I thought you were.

Anyway, Fatty Arbuckle was a comedy actor from the silent movie era.

And clearly a direct relative.

Fatty was the highest paid of his time, earning a cool 1 Million Dollars a year. He was known for his great comic timing and was utterly fearless when it came to daring acrobatic stunts.

If you've read my previous posts you'll know that when I have a few too many recreational beverages I get a little bit, well... OK I'm not the most articulate person... When I get shitfaced I get clumsy, stupid and vulgar. I essentially turn into a silent movie era fat guy.

The ladder, The Coatstand and The Fool.

You should know, there's no real punchline to this, you can guess what happens from the title.

So, I was drunk and I'm not going to go into it, but for some reason I was up a ladder, because when you're drunk, your natural, barbaric urges to do manly shit just overtakes your body. Climbing trees as a 10 year old is your way of showing nature who's boss. You never lose it.

That a harness? What are you a girl or somthing?

So as I said I was up a ladder, drunk, SOMEHOW I fell. Hard.

There was a wooden standing coatstand near the ladder, one of them ones with the 9 pointy tops which looks like it could come to life in a Tim Burton film. I could have fallen in pretty much any direction other than the coatstand and landed safely, but no, like some sort of comedy relief in a romantic flick, chunky lands directly on the coatstand.

And this is no joke, under my shear weight and the speed of my fall the coatstand collapsed underneath me like a car aerial, it was horrible, nothing was hurt other than my pride. And there was Tooting's most influential people there to laugh at me.

But I thought I'd share this story because my friend (I say friend, he's a dickhead) text me:

"Fat men falling on things and breaking them is my favourite comedy routine."

Wing a stranger

Now, I've fallen into a bad crowd recently, they're the type that have secret words so grown ups don't know what they're talking about and dare eachother to do stupid things.

So I was out with a few members of this new group of cool kids when one of them dared me (Although to be fair, I probably dared myself) to wingman a complete stranger. And it wasn't a normal dare, it was a double infinity dare, So y'know, I had t do it. I found an immediate candidate, someone who looked like they weren't doing to well with a member of the fairer sex.

Believe it or not, he was more hatable than this dick

So I decided to help the poor sap, make his seem more awesome than he was. So I go up to him slap him on the back and shout "JIMMY! When did you get back from Iraq!? It's me! Scott! From the 23rd! Man it's good to see you!"

Now as a brilliant master of improvisation and decption, I would of been like "Yeah, got evac'd after the the shit that went down in Latifya, Heading back next week"

War is hell

I probably fucked things up a little, he was doing better than me, He'd managed to hold a conversation with a woman for more than a minute without being slapped (Not in the good way).

But this dude just looked at me and was all like "I'm not Jimmy" and I was like "WHAT!? Come on Jimmy don't fuck about, let me get you a beer" but he was pretty persistent about him not being Jimmy. I basically handed him lady parts on a plate and he had no idea what was going on. Some people are so stupid it's unbelievable. So I just moved on and started shouting Fenton in the gaps between songs.

Pissing in a bin.

Sometimes I get drunk and piss in a bin. I'm not proud.


Stay Gold.

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Berlin, Prince and Thai food.

OK, I admit, recently I have been lazy, but I've been really really busy recently.

SUPER BUSY

So, new plans, I should fill you in.

Berlin.
I'm moving to Berlin, based solely on someone telling me how awesome and cheap it is out there, I plan on flying out April 1st. I decided to post my intentions here, so if I don't go through with it people can laugh at me and call me a failure (more than they do normally anyway)

That is all from new plans. Next, new developments.

Prince
Recently, I'm all about his royal badness: Prince, I don't know what it is, I've never disliked Prince but at the same time I've never gone out of my way to listen to him. But a few months ago while working my main man Saj came into the pub to empty the machines, I ask him to load up the Jukebox with a load of credits as it's going to be a quiet afternoon. The problem is when there's thousands of tracks staring me in the face I can't think of one song I want to listen to at that time. So I just start typing, before you know it I've loaded up Purple Rain.

But for the next few months I can't get Princes original Nothing Compares 2 U out of my head, Day and night I wake up with Prince in my head, I'm either going insane or I have a tumour.

Then one night last week I'm flicking through the channels and Purple Rain's on BBC four, part of some American music culture season, It's right at the end of the film and I would die 4 U is on and I can't stop doing the dance to it round my room. For the next few days I scoured BBC fours listings for a repeat, which I eventually found. I was so captivated watching it I didn't eat for 2 hours.

I think it's down to my friend who really looks like Prince moving to Australia and it's my sadness manifesting itself in the form of a symbol.

Thai Food
When you're taken away from an environment of Jerk Chicken, Greasy Spoons and pub food you really change as a person, you watch rugby, discuss awnings and go to restaurants with tablecloths where they give you chocolates with the bill.

Last night was the staff Christmas do and although I didn't want to go I was offered free booze. We went to a Thai restaurant and after scouring the menu for something I can eat without needing to punch the chef for putting something green on my plate,

"Fuck is that?"

So I ordered a steak dish in a sweet and sour sauce with some egg fried rice and some ribs on the side, now for most people that's not to exciting but for me its a huge step, Mainly because my diet consists of Viennetta, bacon and advent calender chocolate. Not only that, I had a glass of fucking WINE with dinner, without Vimto in it.

I'm growing guys, I'm cultured and can go into restaurants. Dangerzone.


Stay Gold.

Monday, 29 August 2011

Broadstairway to heaven.

So, it was that time, folk week, Broadstairs. But to proceed in the fun of Broadstairs Folk week weekend, I had to endure the atrocity of camping. These are reasons I don't understand you white people and your obsession with camping.

The people.
Why do people go camping for fun? In my case it was necessary, folk weeks on and everyone else is doing it. But get this, there were people there doing it for fun, it makes no sense. Because it's not getting back to nature, it's sitting in a cornered off part of a Field looking at other people sitting in another cornered off bit of a Field getting pissed off that you didn't have the foresight to bring a swingball set.

The shared toilets and shower block.
Respect where it's due, the block at the campsite where we were was well maintained and clean, but still, I don't need to hear people having BBQ food dumps while I'm brushing my teeth. Then there's the button controlled showers, Every time you got a good rhythm of scrubbing going the mother fucker stops and everyone can here you crying to yourself because you'll be sleeping in a Field that night.

No fires
Every time I go round my friend Jon's place, he gets a fire going, rain wind or shine, I think he has problems, but nonetheless it's just a nice thing to sit around But no, not at a campsite, god forbid we ruin their precious grass, benders.

You're stuck in a tent
If it rains, there is nothing else to do other than sit in your tent. With the smells emanating from me due to eating nothing but BBQ food and drinking scotch, plus the monsters crawling around my tent, I want to spend as little time in there as possible. Simple as.

Not even a decent support to do a Carradine

But, at the end of every tunnel there's light, and in this case, it was the fun that was had in town. Now, I done a bottle of scotch before we went out on Saturday night, so things were hazy, but the following happened.

1. We bar mitzvah someone in the conservatory of a club
2. We went on the Rory everywhere
3. I asked countless women back to my tent, they all declined, when I asked one lady why this was happening she said "Because you're the size of a fucking tent" I wanted to marry her.
4. I told everyone in a kebab shop to shut up, and they did.
5. 5 minutes later in said kebab shop this annoying twat got lamped by this geezer built like a tank. quality.

I vaguely recollect foot stomping to some folk music too. Good weekend.

Stay Gold

Saturday, 2 July 2011

"Let's face it, we're never really gonna be friends"

So, I've moved to the illustrious Reigate, which is a strange place, it's quiet and the people are nice, I have to go all the way pack to Mitcham for a £3 prostitute.

I don't have any friends here, which is new for me, being the social magnet I am, I'm used to being surrounded by people which admire and respect me for my intellectual and athletic prowess.

Specially my Athletic Prowess

See, I came to Reigate for work a few months ago, my good friend Harry got me the job. And Reigate's just outside the M25, so as far as my friends and family are concerned, I might aswell live in Heartbeat.

So Harry got me the job and he lived nearby so we'd hang out alot, but after a month of working together he decided to be selfish and take his family to the Isle of Wight for a better life. Dick.

Reigate's changed me too, I had Tapas the other day, who the fuck shares food?

I can't really make friends either, Problem is I've already burned most of my bridges when it comes to making friends with some of the other members of staff. This is pretty much how a conversation went the other day.

Me: You added me on facebook
Her: Yeah
Me: Why?
Her: So we can be friends.
Me: Let's face it, we're never gonna really be friends.
Her: What? Why?
Me: Honestly it's nothing personal but lets face it, neither of us are gonna be here forever, we just work together, you have children
Her: I have a child, yes.
Me: We're never gonna hang out are we? We're not gonna go for drinks, or see films, I'm just being honest, people call me rude all the time but it's just honesty, how many friends have you still got from your first job? Real friends not facebook friends?
Her: Let's go for a drink then,
Me: Nah you're alright.

Then I went back to playing Alleyway on my phone.

Jack Sparling: dickhead.

And you know I'm right, you go to a party and people add you afterwards, you accept to be polite and if you're one of these optimists you're all like "this could be the start to a new friendship" whereas if you're like me you're more like "She's fit, wonder if she's got holiday pictures"

And you can't make friends when you're our age, you're at this weird part of life. You made all your friends at school or college and you're not old enough to be friends with a neighbour or someone you've worked with at the kelloggs factory for 15 years.

So it appears I'm a fucking grown up now, I'm in a place now where you don't see your friends everyday and you have to arrange for somewhere to sleep if you go to a party.


Stay Gold

Tuesday, 31 May 2011

Holy fuck-up Batman!

So, I've never really been a fan of Smallville, I watched it occasionally when it first started and watched the odd episode where there was another hero involved, but a week or so ago was the Series Finale so I thought I should watch.

It was so bad it made me want to remove my Superman Tattoo with a cheese grater and blood sacrifice my comics to Alan Moore.

He'd be SO up for it.

And it got me to thinking, How is it out of all of the comic books adaptions out there only a handful are worth watching? How do these big budget films get made without a key grip or something going up to a director and saying "Yo, why does the Batsuit have nipples?" or "So, Judge Dredd's taking off his helmet" and "right, so who's Superman going to fight?".

And yeah, I get that some things won't work on film just because they work in comics, that's understandable, not everything can translate properly. But was there really a need for a dance number in Spiderman 3?

It doesn't make sense how these get fucked up,

let's take Superman returns for example, which on paper, looked like it was going to be amazing, Bryan Singer? Awesome, I loved X-Men. Great cast, Spacey playing Luthor? Perfect! brilliant visuals, set between Superman II & III, whoa, what? What happened?

How did that happen?

Studio Exec: Bryan, We're big fans, loved what you did with X-men, we really enjoyed it,
Bryan Singer: Oh, thanks, what can I do for you?
Studio Exec: Well, as you saw Batman Begins was a huge success and gave us a chance to reboot a serious character and forget all about the mistakes in the past.
Bryan Singer: OK
Studio Exec: So we've decided to kick start the Superman franchise, and we want you at the helm
Bryan Singer: Wow, yeah sure i had some ideas for this anyway, It's set between Superman II and III, yeah the Christopher Reeves ones, Lex Luthor wants real estate and the fight at the end will be between Superman and a rock
Studio Exec: Brilliant! Here's 200 Million dollars, now, don't go spending any of that on comics or anything silly.
Bryan Singer: Ha! No worries there!

I should point out that Superman has been in publication for OVER 70 YEARS! 70 years of rich history and they couldn't have chosen anything better than Lex Luthor getting involved in a real estate scam.

Seriously, anything would have been better,

The sad thing is Superman Returns is just one example of many, For Every Dark Knight or Iron Man there's 5 Ghost Riders. So I'm going to end this with some advice to the studios:

Guy's, I know making movies can't be easy, And I respect you, but when it comes to Superhero films you have to understand that comic book fans are some of the most passionate fans out there, we keep buying shit even when they kill off and resurrect our favourite characters every few years, we know we're getting mugged off but we care about this stuff, and we know you have to reach a wider audience than just the fans but surely there's compromise? What I'm trying to say is, Just let Christopher Nolan do everything from now on, K?

Stay Gold.

Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Manning bar.

Well, I have found employment, and again I've taken on the role as handsome barman. Working in a pub's OK, You meet colourful characters, work with some great people and even learn tricks like charging ugly girls more for their drinks so the pretty ones think theirs are cheaper.
"Tap water? £6.50"

But you need to follow a few rules to survive, now if you're a woman these don't apply, because customers let pretty barmaids get away with whatever the fuck they want. (Whore)

Luckily, Jack's here to guide you on becoming and ace barman in a few simple steps.


Part 1. Establish the fact you work here now.

The first group that comes in, Bar the biggest member, when asked why give no reason other than "Because I said the fuck so".

Step 2. Mark your territory.

It's not only the customers you have to watch out for, make sure none of the other staff move in on your turf by repeatedly urinating in your favourite corners, taps and snacks.

My side of the street, 2007

Phase 3. Your way is the right way.


Once in a while remind everyone who's the boss, when a customer comes in and orders say, a Carling, Pour them a Strongbow and look them dead in the eye as you do it, Place the drink in front of them and even when they try to reason with you that they didn't order that drink, maintain eye contact and don't say a word, if they haven't paid in 5 minutes bar them.

Level 4. Smash the place up once in a while.

If Eastenders has taught me anything, it's that when your wife leaves you (Or you're on crack) Smashing up the bar with a bat is the best thing to do. So next time your child runs away or your brother sleeps with your wife or you just lost your Mass Effect 2 save, Smash the place up.

Lesson 5. Be yourself.

Remember not to lose who you are while taking on this advice, I only pull this off because I'm one of the baddest motherfuckers of all time, That's who I am, So don't feel so bad if you're no good at it.

Stage 5. Don't forget to have fun

"It's called a Jizztini dickhead"


Stay Gold

Thursday, 5 May 2011

Mitcham will be the first stepping stone in the robot uprising.

I'm big, I'll be the first to admit it, I thought it was such an unfair advantage having such a huge penis and being so handsome I decided to gain weight, to give everyone else a chance. But I'm fairly active, I try and keep busy, I do alot of walking and wrestling for example. My last job in Hospital Warehouse kept me busy, Lifting boxes, carrying things around the hospital, avoiding day to day rape from the boys.
My only solace was a wistful black man.

But Mitchamites have gone to far now, I've noticed a massive increase in mobility scooters, Earlier, on my way to the bus stop (5 minute walk) I noticed no less than 4 people on mobility scooters, and, granted 2 of these people were old.

But the other 2 were what pissed me off.

1 of these people was just proper fat, I swear the seat was re-enforced and still buckling. How can someone let themselves get like that? When the day comes that I get back from Meat and Butter shopping and I'm huffing and puffing because I was on my feet for more than 3 minutes, I won't think to myself "I'll get a scooter" I'll think "Get to that fucking gym fatty"

The other one's worse, this woman, and I don't know if I'll be able to describe what I mean. But just by looking at her, I can tell she was just plain old lazy. You know the type, one of these hypochondriacs who's decided they're 50 and fuck it, they deserve a scooter instead of walking around, they tell their kids and friends they need it because they've "Been in and out of the Doctors" and "You know what my knees like", Yeah, I do, because it's like mine, fine, you fucking liar.

I'm all for progress, but these machine are just making us worse and lazier. Time was, if you got too fat, scooters wasn't a choice, you either lost weight or walked around while children laughed/used you as a portable parasol.

And these lazy hypochondriac women, if you were really ill you'd be in the hospital, not whizzing into Greggs trying to go in front of me. Word of advice, When I want my Sausage roll, I don't give a good god damn how much your 'illness' affects you, I'm not moving. Bitch.

I genuinely don't think they should be for sale to the public, they should only be available on the NHS (Y'know, for someone who actually needs one).

They're a fucking menace, and I'm not just saying this because one of them whacked into the back of me today, they always have been, They shouldn't be allowed out during the hours I'm awake (6 P.M - 9 A.M), and building a lane for them is out of the question, the only solution to these fucking cyborgs is eradication by cliff.

Fuuuuuuuck, you.


Stay Gold