I’ve just eaten a Hobnob, which, according to the manufacturers contain ‘60% oat and wholemeal goodness’. Fair enough, but they fail to mention that the other 40% is a life threatening combination of sugar, salt and fat. Surely that’s a bit like extolling the fucking army because, ignoring the very real possibility of being killed and having your dead anus dry humped by a bunch of bored nomads before they eat your balls with camel cheese, it offers you the chance to look pretty in a nice uniform, which is free and look dead hard running through woods with a bug gun shouting purposefully … actually that metaphor doesn’t work as they pretty much do that anyway. Isn’t advertising an atrocity.
So, January has finally kicked off, the cunt. This is the month in which things go wrong, not so much emotional things (they’re already wrong because of the post Christmas gloom) but mechanical things. Take the black bitch for example, yesterday she started happily in the morning following her little rest over the Christmas period -which was largely due to the impracticalities of ferrying a recovering Myfwt around on the back of a heavy metal rocking rolling speed machine and having to favour the how’s your father awight darlin’ white van instead- but by lunch, on account of her battery being flatter than Tara Palmer-Tomkinson’s vest, she wouldn’t even turn over.
Used to such inconveniences I keep a charger at work (alarms drain batteries when the protected machine is not in use, when the machine is being used constantly the battery charge is kept topped up by the alternator, but critical point when the latter achieves its aims remains shrouded in perplexity) in the case the cunt goes flat on me. I whipped the battery out and put it on charge for a couple of hours and before it went dark popped it back in the bike. I screwed the first terminal in tightly and went to screw in the second, but being the butterfingered arse I am, dropped the bastard which happily clattered its self down into the bowels of my engine block/suspension/mother earth, never to be seen again. ‘Blast’, I said quietly.
Before going home last night I had to visit the bike shop, having bound the screwless terminal in place with some copper wire, ironically liberated from my battery charger, to buy a piddly little screw, which I’ve subsequently fucking well gone and lost.
Last night was very clement, I met up with Frank for a couple of frankly life saving pints prior to returning home to find Myfwt waiting for me preparing dinner, which is all very old school traditional role stuff, that we ate in front of the TV like what the working classes do. I’ve decided to discuss one show I saw on Watch With Mothers (link right) but I won’t talk about the excellent remake of Dawn of Dead which was on after. Still at least I’m in work feeling all annoyed. And it’s raining.