HELLO YOU SLUTS!
Our second show aired Monday night to much applause and acclaim.
The Queen herself is said to be fan and listens to the show on her Sandringham estate while polishing her many brass doorknobs. How she giggled and chuckled at Nasty and Nice this week, especially at Nate's impression of an enthusiastic Tube announcer.
Barack Obama halted plans for a peacekeeping visit to Isreal especially to listen to the show (he can never wait for the podcast), and was especially impressed with the sounds of Simian Mobile Disco and Quantic. Michelle was said to wee herself a bit at a conversation about That's Life Magazine.
This week the part of Nate Goodman was played by Sir Ben Kingsley and the role of Cian Agnew was played by the late John Candy.
Listen to the show here
Then join the Facebizzle group x x
Friday, 14 May 2010
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Poetry innit
Fish candle horses bags
Sand beers iPod slags
Telly buttons lolly stamps
Fridges monkeys dinner tramps
Arms legs feet hands
Hammer horses testicle glands
Pants yellow ripping games
Cushion kettle monkey frames
Watch bread orange twats
Knickers bastard Fulham cats
District yeast gonad pie
Vauxhall shelving bottom BYE!
Sand beers iPod slags
Telly buttons lolly stamps
Fridges monkeys dinner tramps
Arms legs feet hands
Hammer horses testicle glands
Pants yellow ripping games
Cushion kettle monkey frames
Watch bread orange twats
Knickers bastard Fulham cats
District yeast gonad pie
Vauxhall shelving bottom BYE!
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Electro Sheek Podcast #1
Hello there scamps!
My good friend Nate has been working hard for years to break into the tough world of radio broadcast. Ever since our hectic days at school recording our own voices onto cassette tapes he's been trying to get his foot in the door and his musical views on the airwaves.
A few weeks ago he finally got offered his own show on a local south London radio station and I was flattered when he called me up and asked me to be his co-host.
What this entails is sitting next to him and talking shit when requested while he does all the hard work. There was even a bunch of people with a guitar singing at us.
It was our first attempt so go easy on us, but please do click right here and download our podcast to tell us what you think. But only nice things.
Byyyeee x
My good friend Nate has been working hard for years to break into the tough world of radio broadcast. Ever since our hectic days at school recording our own voices onto cassette tapes he's been trying to get his foot in the door and his musical views on the airwaves.
A few weeks ago he finally got offered his own show on a local south London radio station and I was flattered when he called me up and asked me to be his co-host.
What this entails is sitting next to him and talking shit when requested while he does all the hard work. There was even a bunch of people with a guitar singing at us.
It was our first attempt so go easy on us, but please do click right here and download our podcast to tell us what you think. But only nice things.
Byyyeee x
Friday, 9 April 2010
Unusual memory
Hello!
I just had a memory pop into my brain. I remembered being very young - maybe even as young as 3 or 4 - and I saw a little boy of similar age climb on top of a car on a hot day take off all his clothes and do a wee through the open sunroof.
This happened in Beckenham, South London. I wanted to tell someone about it but everyone in the office seems to be very busy whereas I'm having a rare activity lul.
I have drawn a picture for your benefit.
Byyye!
Top 5 things I miss about being an unemployed student
5 - Budgeting on food
I used to make a bit of a game out of trying to feed myself for a whole week with only a tenner. The best place to do this is Iceland. Everything in there costs either £1 or £2. This tends to mean that the food is made of sawdust and horse lips, but a WHOLE Christmas platter for a tenner? No one can turn their nose up at that.
My girlfriend and I once lived off Iceland Chinese Prawn Soup for a fortnight. By the end of it our wee was pink.
4 - White Lightning
The Tata Nano of alcohol, White Lightning will get you and your flatmate utterly shitboxed for about a quid. It'll also keep you nice and warm if you get your gas cut off, as any money strapped tramp will tell you.
3 - £50 making you feel like a millionnaire
This is obviously a very rare thing to happen, but when £50 suddenly appears in your bank account you feel like you're the king of humanity. It's a real 'Drinks are on me!' moment, but seeing as you've had no real experiences with proper money you haven't yet realised that £50 isn't really that much of it. So within 12 hours you're a bit pissed but skint again.
2 - Spending 2/3 of my life asleep
Sleep is not for the weak as some people might tell you but is actually brilliant and I miss every second of youthful slumber that I now spend 'earning money' and 'paying bills' and 'eating tagliatelli'.
1 - Jeremy Fucking Kyle
I love and hate Jeremy Kyle. He's what Jesus would look like if Jesus was a plasterer from Dagenham. He's a pompous little cretin who's somehow managed to blag a job where he gets his very own moral high horse from which he can piss on council estates across the land. He has a go at people for their adulterous behaviour somehow without batting an eyelid, despite leaving his wife for a woman half his age who won a competition on his radio show.
A friend of mine used to work with him at a London based radio station and she told me that Jezza was constantly trying to get in her pants the whole time they worked together. He really is a great example.
I love him.
Anyway, I best get back to work or soon I'll be unemployed and living this life again.
I used to make a bit of a game out of trying to feed myself for a whole week with only a tenner. The best place to do this is Iceland. Everything in there costs either £1 or £2. This tends to mean that the food is made of sawdust and horse lips, but a WHOLE Christmas platter for a tenner? No one can turn their nose up at that.
My girlfriend and I once lived off Iceland Chinese Prawn Soup for a fortnight. By the end of it our wee was pink.
4 - White Lightning
The Tata Nano of alcohol, White Lightning will get you and your flatmate utterly shitboxed for about a quid. It'll also keep you nice and warm if you get your gas cut off, as any money strapped tramp will tell you.
3 - £50 making you feel like a millionnaire
This is obviously a very rare thing to happen, but when £50 suddenly appears in your bank account you feel like you're the king of humanity. It's a real 'Drinks are on me!' moment, but seeing as you've had no real experiences with proper money you haven't yet realised that £50 isn't really that much of it. So within 12 hours you're a bit pissed but skint again.
2 - Spending 2/3 of my life asleep
Sleep is not for the weak as some people might tell you but is actually brilliant and I miss every second of youthful slumber that I now spend 'earning money' and 'paying bills' and 'eating tagliatelli'.
1 - Jeremy Fucking Kyle
I love and hate Jeremy Kyle. He's what Jesus would look like if Jesus was a plasterer from Dagenham. He's a pompous little cretin who's somehow managed to blag a job where he gets his very own moral high horse from which he can piss on council estates across the land. He has a go at people for their adulterous behaviour somehow without batting an eyelid, despite leaving his wife for a woman half his age who won a competition on his radio show.
A friend of mine used to work with him at a London based radio station and she told me that Jezza was constantly trying to get in her pants the whole time they worked together. He really is a great example.
I love him.
Anyway, I best get back to work or soon I'll be unemployed and living this life again.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Balls
Yesterday at my office a colleague approached me and asked me if I was interested in playing cricket for the company team.
It's fair to say that I've has a fairly turbulent relationship with sports over the course of my life. I love watching sport. I miss Grandstand, I'm a lifelong Chelsea fan and don't live far from Stamford Bridge. I absolutely love watching rugby - especially the 6 nations - and tend to hit Twickenham whenever possible. I've loved F1 since I was a toddler and rarely miss a minute of the Olympics. This post is not about watching sport though. The problem I have becomes obvious the second I put on a pair of shorts and stretch off. I find playing competitive sports as easy as swallowing a bed.
I think it all started with swimming lessons. I can swim pretty well - enough not to drown and die - but I was never good enough to progress to the big boy class. My mum still tells the story of when my swimming teacher told me off for hopping along the bottom of the pool when I was supposed to be practicing my front crawl. This epic fail on my part was fairly common through my whole sporting life, however.
Cycling for instance. Merely challenged to a race down the local steep hill at the age of 11 seems like a memory we all have. Very little could go wrong. As it was my mate Tim did challenge me to such a race on a nice warm day on the last week of school. We belted down Holland Way and I saw some girls we knew ahead walking on the pavement. Ever the show off I attempted a wheelie but made a complete arse of it. Luckily there was a phone box near by and the girls called me an ambulance.
Broken foot, 3 months on crutches.
Football is another example. At primary school I was always banished to play in goal. I remember once we were playing class 6D - the FC Barcelona of the school - and I was once again between the sticks. A particularly plucky striker split the defence and the rest of the team celebrated immediately, as if to say that putting it past me was merely a formality. I was not having any of that though. He smashed the ball as hard as he could and I stretched out my right leg. I saved it! Our team breathed a sigh of relief.
I was in the hospital an hour later with a rebroken foot.
I had some moderate success at secondary school on the rugby pitch. We were the shittest team in the league but at least I was on the team at all. My main strength came from my size. I was considerably taller than everyone else my age so I was considered a powerhouse. Until Donald came along. Donald was an abnormally massive guy for his young years. Like me, he was also cursed with a lack of coordination between his brain and limbs.
During a game I was predictably tackled and assumed position for a ruck. I released the ball next to my head and waited for someone to pick it and pop it out to the wings. Donald had other ideas. For some reason he decided he'd hoof it down the pitch using his size 11s. He took a run up but must have closed his eyes before wildly swinging his leg in the general direction of the ball. He missed.
I woke up a couple of minutes later on the sideline, with a nice chunky concussion.
One thing I was actually not bad at was athletics. I liked the lack of strategy. It was literally 'run as fast as possible' or 'chuck this shit far'. Easy. My hard work in these areas paid off when I was made captain of the Hayes Secondary athletics team. My brother came to watch me in our first athletics meeting. I won the 200 metre sprint and came second in the discus. I was very proud. Afterwards I asked him what he thought and he said "you run a bit like a duck".
So that was the end of that.
Needless to say I won't be playing cricket for the team.
It's fair to say that I've has a fairly turbulent relationship with sports over the course of my life. I love watching sport. I miss Grandstand, I'm a lifelong Chelsea fan and don't live far from Stamford Bridge. I absolutely love watching rugby - especially the 6 nations - and tend to hit Twickenham whenever possible. I've loved F1 since I was a toddler and rarely miss a minute of the Olympics. This post is not about watching sport though. The problem I have becomes obvious the second I put on a pair of shorts and stretch off. I find playing competitive sports as easy as swallowing a bed.
I think it all started with swimming lessons. I can swim pretty well - enough not to drown and die - but I was never good enough to progress to the big boy class. My mum still tells the story of when my swimming teacher told me off for hopping along the bottom of the pool when I was supposed to be practicing my front crawl. This epic fail on my part was fairly common through my whole sporting life, however.
Cycling for instance. Merely challenged to a race down the local steep hill at the age of 11 seems like a memory we all have. Very little could go wrong. As it was my mate Tim did challenge me to such a race on a nice warm day on the last week of school. We belted down Holland Way and I saw some girls we knew ahead walking on the pavement. Ever the show off I attempted a wheelie but made a complete arse of it. Luckily there was a phone box near by and the girls called me an ambulance.
Broken foot, 3 months on crutches.
Football is another example. At primary school I was always banished to play in goal. I remember once we were playing class 6D - the FC Barcelona of the school - and I was once again between the sticks. A particularly plucky striker split the defence and the rest of the team celebrated immediately, as if to say that putting it past me was merely a formality. I was not having any of that though. He smashed the ball as hard as he could and I stretched out my right leg. I saved it! Our team breathed a sigh of relief.
I was in the hospital an hour later with a rebroken foot.
I had some moderate success at secondary school on the rugby pitch. We were the shittest team in the league but at least I was on the team at all. My main strength came from my size. I was considerably taller than everyone else my age so I was considered a powerhouse. Until Donald came along. Donald was an abnormally massive guy for his young years. Like me, he was also cursed with a lack of coordination between his brain and limbs.
During a game I was predictably tackled and assumed position for a ruck. I released the ball next to my head and waited for someone to pick it and pop it out to the wings. Donald had other ideas. For some reason he decided he'd hoof it down the pitch using his size 11s. He took a run up but must have closed his eyes before wildly swinging his leg in the general direction of the ball. He missed.
I woke up a couple of minutes later on the sideline, with a nice chunky concussion.
One thing I was actually not bad at was athletics. I liked the lack of strategy. It was literally 'run as fast as possible' or 'chuck this shit far'. Easy. My hard work in these areas paid off when I was made captain of the Hayes Secondary athletics team. My brother came to watch me in our first athletics meeting. I won the 200 metre sprint and came second in the discus. I was very proud. Afterwards I asked him what he thought and he said "you run a bit like a duck".
So that was the end of that.
Needless to say I won't be playing cricket for the team.
Monday, 29 March 2010
Lionel Richie play-by-play
Everyone loves the video to Lionel Richie's 1984 superhit 'Hello'. What is there not to love? It's got a blind girl, 1980s American High School kids before Kurt Kobain ruined them and even lots of brown clay.
Watching this epic 5 and a half minute work of art can envoke a spectrum of emotion in the viewer, not least of all confusion and at times, fear.
I'm now going to attempt to venture waist deep into this forgotten world to see just why we find this video so fascinating.
If you want to follow along, watch it here.
0.25 - You see, he's not playing himself in the video. I think he's supposed to be a drama teacher given the drama class he is teaching. Having said that though given his behaviour in the rest of the video he could be any old pervert who's walked in off the street just to feast eyes on young bodies. This role is also slightly ironic given Richie's appalling performance in 1996 comedy-drama The Preacher's Wife. To be fair, this irony was probably lost on Bob Giraldi (the director of the video), given the movie was made 12 years later.
0.43 - Bad actors playing students who are so bad they will never make it as actors. It's a spiral of gobshite.
0.46 - That is a powerful moustache
0.49 - As is that
0.51 - And that
1.00 - The singing begins. For someone who is teaching this acting class he's paying very little attention to the students as they perform. He's more interested in staring at his own feet mumbling to himself. And yet still no one asks him what he's doing there or calls the police. The 80s, eh?
1.12 - You'd be calling the fucking police by now.
1.16 - Especially now there's some phallic instruments about.
1.22 - There he is, looking like a battered pirate's map. It seems very inconsiderate to run parallel the 'big reveal' that this girl is actually blind with the line 'I sometimes see you pass outside my door'. He should have followed it with 'then laugh when you fall down the hole I dug'.
1.23 - HELLO!
1.31 - A bit creepy there Lionel. You virtually barked that line in the poor bird's face. She doesn't know you're there, you probably scared the shit out of her.
1.41 - Off he goes to find a cupboard he can lock himself in for 5 minutes.
1.44 - Little known fact - there's a young Dara O'Briain in the blue hat
1.53 - Now I'm not being paranoid here, am I? He is clearly stalking a blind girl through the corridors of her school while singing a ballad. His face would be all over the News Of The World if this was set in 2010. And everyone would have knives. And they guy in the hat would have been Dappy.
1.58 - She actually looks a little unnerved there.
2.05 - Know comes the hint at the 'big twist' at the end. At the moment it looks like she's making a model of the moon out of dogshit but it'll all become clear.
2.13 - A young Craig David there just showing his support.
2.19 - He literally looks like he's about to strangle her when he gets interrupted by her mate. There's such a sinister undertone to this video. It's like American History X at times.
2.29 - Disappointed he couldn't drag her off to his van.
2.38 - HELLO! That's the best 'hello' of them all. Full on hardon.
2.53 - Not very good, is she?
2.54 - A young Ed Milliband in the blue vest there.
3.05 - Do you think it's too late to get him arrested for this video?
3.21 - Yes, I think you should go to Florida. And change your name. Don't tell anyone.
3.29 - We can assume this is her home. But can we assume we'll see Lionel wanking through a window? Screaming 'HELLO!'
3.42 - He's supercool, isn't he?
3.49 - Come on mate, say hello.
3.54 - HELLO!
3.59 - Looking like Chris Kamara getting excired over a Stoke goal.
4.03 - He's dropped the phone. Must be rubbing it on his balls.
4.10 - DEFINITELY rubbing it on his balls.
4.12 - Hmm...she seems to like it.
4.14 - OOPS! Nope. Freaked out and hung up. You see this is exactly why it's considered bad form to phone up the girl you fancy, shout 'HELLO!' and then stroke your cock with the mouthpiece. It rarely works.
4.23 - Now I'm worried about what he's up to behind that piano. Did you ever see him play the piano for The Carpenters? No, me neither.
4.35 - SHIT! Someone walked in on a hand-shandy. It better be for something like an exact replica of his head.
4.49 - You could cut the sexual tension with a kinder egg.
5.00 - He's thinking to himself "That'll look great on my fireplace next to your head"
5.15 - HELLO!
And there we have it. A dark tale of a man who loses his mind and stalks an innocent blind girl. He prank calls her and masterbates nonstop until she has no choice but create an exact replica of his head to give to the police. So her kills her.
It was a warning that none of us heeded. And now look at the mess we're in.
Watching this epic 5 and a half minute work of art can envoke a spectrum of emotion in the viewer, not least of all confusion and at times, fear.
I'm now going to attempt to venture waist deep into this forgotten world to see just why we find this video so fascinating.
If you want to follow along, watch it here.
0.25 - You see, he's not playing himself in the video. I think he's supposed to be a drama teacher given the drama class he is teaching. Having said that though given his behaviour in the rest of the video he could be any old pervert who's walked in off the street just to feast eyes on young bodies. This role is also slightly ironic given Richie's appalling performance in 1996 comedy-drama The Preacher's Wife. To be fair, this irony was probably lost on Bob Giraldi (the director of the video), given the movie was made 12 years later.
0.43 - Bad actors playing students who are so bad they will never make it as actors. It's a spiral of gobshite.
0.46 - That is a powerful moustache
0.49 - As is that
0.51 - And that
1.00 - The singing begins. For someone who is teaching this acting class he's paying very little attention to the students as they perform. He's more interested in staring at his own feet mumbling to himself. And yet still no one asks him what he's doing there or calls the police. The 80s, eh?
1.12 - You'd be calling the fucking police by now.
1.16 - Especially now there's some phallic instruments about.
1.22 - There he is, looking like a battered pirate's map. It seems very inconsiderate to run parallel the 'big reveal' that this girl is actually blind with the line 'I sometimes see you pass outside my door'. He should have followed it with 'then laugh when you fall down the hole I dug'.
1.23 - HELLO!
1.31 - A bit creepy there Lionel. You virtually barked that line in the poor bird's face. She doesn't know you're there, you probably scared the shit out of her.
1.41 - Off he goes to find a cupboard he can lock himself in for 5 minutes.
1.44 - Little known fact - there's a young Dara O'Briain in the blue hat
1.53 - Now I'm not being paranoid here, am I? He is clearly stalking a blind girl through the corridors of her school while singing a ballad. His face would be all over the News Of The World if this was set in 2010. And everyone would have knives. And they guy in the hat would have been Dappy.
1.58 - She actually looks a little unnerved there.
2.05 - Know comes the hint at the 'big twist' at the end. At the moment it looks like she's making a model of the moon out of dogshit but it'll all become clear.
2.13 - A young Craig David there just showing his support.
2.19 - He literally looks like he's about to strangle her when he gets interrupted by her mate. There's such a sinister undertone to this video. It's like American History X at times.
2.29 - Disappointed he couldn't drag her off to his van.
2.38 - HELLO! That's the best 'hello' of them all. Full on hardon.
2.53 - Not very good, is she?
2.54 - A young Ed Milliband in the blue vest there.
3.05 - Do you think it's too late to get him arrested for this video?
3.21 - Yes, I think you should go to Florida. And change your name. Don't tell anyone.
3.29 - We can assume this is her home. But can we assume we'll see Lionel wanking through a window? Screaming 'HELLO!'
3.42 - He's supercool, isn't he?
3.49 - Come on mate, say hello.
3.54 - HELLO!
3.59 - Looking like Chris Kamara getting excired over a Stoke goal.
4.03 - He's dropped the phone. Must be rubbing it on his balls.
4.10 - DEFINITELY rubbing it on his balls.
4.12 - Hmm...she seems to like it.
4.14 - OOPS! Nope. Freaked out and hung up. You see this is exactly why it's considered bad form to phone up the girl you fancy, shout 'HELLO!' and then stroke your cock with the mouthpiece. It rarely works.
4.23 - Now I'm worried about what he's up to behind that piano. Did you ever see him play the piano for The Carpenters? No, me neither.
4.35 - SHIT! Someone walked in on a hand-shandy. It better be for something like an exact replica of his head.
4.49 - You could cut the sexual tension with a kinder egg.
5.00 - He's thinking to himself "That'll look great on my fireplace next to your head"
5.15 - HELLO!
And there we have it. A dark tale of a man who loses his mind and stalks an innocent blind girl. He prank calls her and masterbates nonstop until she has no choice but create an exact replica of his head to give to the police. So her kills her.
It was a warning that none of us heeded. And now look at the mess we're in.
All I wanted was to see Invictus.
And so it was that I went to the cinema alone. I asked most of my colleagues at work if this would be considered strange in the eyes if the general public and I was assured that while it is unfortunate it is in no way considered the actions of a sex offender nor virgin.
I really wanted to see Invictus, but the missus was up north and none of my friends had any interest. And so after much hesitation on my part and eventual bullet biting I decided to go it alone. I was told people do it all the time. No one took into account however that I shouldn't really be allowed to do anything without supervision.
I planned the journey to the minute. Finish work, hop on a train, walk to Wandsworth Cineworld. This gave me 5 minutes to get the ticket and get into the cinema before the film started at 7.40. I even miss out the ads. Clockwork. Sadly I didn't take into account that Cineworld in Wandsworth doesn't hire as per usual, but instead goes for the peculiar tactic of hiring from the local creche.
On arrival I was happy to see that there were only 2 groups in the queue ahead of me. Of the 8 or so ticket windows available 2 had staff working. Fair enough. More than enough staff to cover the customers. The couple at the front of the queue were beckoned toward window number 3 where they ordered their tickets. At the same time the bloke standing in front of me (he wasn't alone - his wife was buying ice cream which he had loudly demanded) was called to window 7. Happily I stood at the front of the queue while new punters joined behind me. All going according to plan, but unfortunately it was at this point that all logic was sucked out of the room.
The couple at till 3 had little trouble collecting their tickets. Picked them up and off they went. Weirdly though - despite new customers joining behind me - they were followed by the Cineworld girl behind the glass. I don't know if they invited her to join them or if she chose to tag along of her own accord, but sure enough she fucked off. In reality it was probably to have a shit or something but if she was going to catch a film with someone I think it should have been me. They had each other. I had no one.
So now we're down to one open ticket desk and a steadily growing queue. It's all down to the poor sod currently serving Ben or Jerry. Unfortunately for everyone on that murky March evening behind the till there was nothing but a uniform and a human shape made of sponge.
The till seemed to sieze up while Ben or Jerry offered his cash. Confused, Spongey smacked the top of the screen in front of him. Nothing seemed to happen. But just to make sure he smacked the side of the screen. Still nothing. With both plans A and B executed to no avail Spongey got on the walkie talkie and murmered something I must admit I couldn't hear. Another bunch of people walked in and joined the queue. Spongey glanced in their direction then blankly stared forward again.
By this point I was sure that Invictus had started but I quietly convinced myself that I'd still make it before the end of the opening credits. Another couple of people joined the queue. They appeared confused as to why Spongey was just sitting there with a vacant look in his eyes and there was no other staff serving. I must admit I was feeling the same way. A further 10 minutes passed with no sign of movement and my heart finally dropped. Invictus was no longer an option, but I'd come this far and I was definitely going to see something.
Eventually a man with a tie on appeared behind the desk. "Ah-ha!" I thought to myself "the boss is here. Finally some sense will be buttered on this crazy toast." Wrong. The Boss went over to Spongey and smacked the side of the screen. He then peered up at the queue - now pretty huge - and then smacked the top of the screen. Stumped, he said something to a now livid Ben or Jerry. I was willing The Boss to call someone over to tend to a till. The queue was now approaching the door. Sure enough he bellowed "PHIL!" across the concourse.
Phil must have been a maximum of 8 years old but was clearly the brains of the operation. He immediately took control away from the Boss and tended to the broken till. He found the problem and dismissed Spongey to till 8. The problem? The till roll needed replacing. 15 minutes it took 3 people to change a till roll.
By the time Spongey had logged on to till 8 Phil had made short work of Ben or Jerry and sold me a ticket to the next available film, namely The Crazies. Objective number 1: see Invictus. Fail. But I worried not. I decided to cheer myself up by getting a massive tub of nachos. Also it was a pleasure to see Phil at work, especially after watching two shaved dogs try and run a ticket desk.
I went up to the food counter and was greeted by a friendly enough bloke who looked a bit like a slighty over inflated sex doll. I asked him for nachos. I shit you not I saw him pour some Doritos into a plastic tub and chuck on some jalepenos. He then turned to me and asked 'would you like cheese, relish or sour cream?' I told him I wanted cheese. He then asked 'both of them?'
Confusion.
Why would he ask 'both of them' after giving me 3 options? I reasoned it could mean one of two things. Either;
A) He thinks I've ordered 2 bowls on nachos
or
B) There's two types of cheese, eg Edam and Brie.
I'd be lying if I didn't say that I panicked a bit. So much rumbling through my mind, so I just said 'yes'.
I got two pots of yellow goo, one hot and one cold. As I walked to the designated screen I saw the girl from till 3 walk out of the ladies drying her hands.
And the film was shit.
Byyye!
I really wanted to see Invictus, but the missus was up north and none of my friends had any interest. And so after much hesitation on my part and eventual bullet biting I decided to go it alone. I was told people do it all the time. No one took into account however that I shouldn't really be allowed to do anything without supervision.
I planned the journey to the minute. Finish work, hop on a train, walk to Wandsworth Cineworld. This gave me 5 minutes to get the ticket and get into the cinema before the film started at 7.40. I even miss out the ads. Clockwork. Sadly I didn't take into account that Cineworld in Wandsworth doesn't hire as per usual, but instead goes for the peculiar tactic of hiring from the local creche.
On arrival I was happy to see that there were only 2 groups in the queue ahead of me. Of the 8 or so ticket windows available 2 had staff working. Fair enough. More than enough staff to cover the customers. The couple at the front of the queue were beckoned toward window number 3 where they ordered their tickets. At the same time the bloke standing in front of me (he wasn't alone - his wife was buying ice cream which he had loudly demanded) was called to window 7. Happily I stood at the front of the queue while new punters joined behind me. All going according to plan, but unfortunately it was at this point that all logic was sucked out of the room.
The couple at till 3 had little trouble collecting their tickets. Picked them up and off they went. Weirdly though - despite new customers joining behind me - they were followed by the Cineworld girl behind the glass. I don't know if they invited her to join them or if she chose to tag along of her own accord, but sure enough she fucked off. In reality it was probably to have a shit or something but if she was going to catch a film with someone I think it should have been me. They had each other. I had no one.
So now we're down to one open ticket desk and a steadily growing queue. It's all down to the poor sod currently serving Ben or Jerry. Unfortunately for everyone on that murky March evening behind the till there was nothing but a uniform and a human shape made of sponge.
The till seemed to sieze up while Ben or Jerry offered his cash. Confused, Spongey smacked the top of the screen in front of him. Nothing seemed to happen. But just to make sure he smacked the side of the screen. Still nothing. With both plans A and B executed to no avail Spongey got on the walkie talkie and murmered something I must admit I couldn't hear. Another bunch of people walked in and joined the queue. Spongey glanced in their direction then blankly stared forward again.
By this point I was sure that Invictus had started but I quietly convinced myself that I'd still make it before the end of the opening credits. Another couple of people joined the queue. They appeared confused as to why Spongey was just sitting there with a vacant look in his eyes and there was no other staff serving. I must admit I was feeling the same way. A further 10 minutes passed with no sign of movement and my heart finally dropped. Invictus was no longer an option, but I'd come this far and I was definitely going to see something.
Eventually a man with a tie on appeared behind the desk. "Ah-ha!" I thought to myself "the boss is here. Finally some sense will be buttered on this crazy toast." Wrong. The Boss went over to Spongey and smacked the side of the screen. He then peered up at the queue - now pretty huge - and then smacked the top of the screen. Stumped, he said something to a now livid Ben or Jerry. I was willing The Boss to call someone over to tend to a till. The queue was now approaching the door. Sure enough he bellowed "PHIL!" across the concourse.
Phil must have been a maximum of 8 years old but was clearly the brains of the operation. He immediately took control away from the Boss and tended to the broken till. He found the problem and dismissed Spongey to till 8. The problem? The till roll needed replacing. 15 minutes it took 3 people to change a till roll.
By the time Spongey had logged on to till 8 Phil had made short work of Ben or Jerry and sold me a ticket to the next available film, namely The Crazies. Objective number 1: see Invictus. Fail. But I worried not. I decided to cheer myself up by getting a massive tub of nachos. Also it was a pleasure to see Phil at work, especially after watching two shaved dogs try and run a ticket desk.
I went up to the food counter and was greeted by a friendly enough bloke who looked a bit like a slighty over inflated sex doll. I asked him for nachos. I shit you not I saw him pour some Doritos into a plastic tub and chuck on some jalepenos. He then turned to me and asked 'would you like cheese, relish or sour cream?' I told him I wanted cheese. He then asked 'both of them?'
Confusion.
Why would he ask 'both of them' after giving me 3 options? I reasoned it could mean one of two things. Either;
A) He thinks I've ordered 2 bowls on nachos
or
B) There's two types of cheese, eg Edam and Brie.
I'd be lying if I didn't say that I panicked a bit. So much rumbling through my mind, so I just said 'yes'.
I got two pots of yellow goo, one hot and one cold. As I walked to the designated screen I saw the girl from till 3 walk out of the ladies drying her hands.
And the film was shit.
Byyye!
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