hole hazel

I happened across ‘Nuts TV’ last night. I didn’t know ‘Nuts TV’ existed, for those of you not in the loop, ‘Nuts’ is a ‘lads mag’, one of those fucking awful rags that feature scantily clad ‘babes’ (i.e., young girls from Liverpool/Essex with skin like cheese graters and so much plastic stuffed into their birdcage chests they legally require ‘made in Hong Kong’ branded onto their arses) editorial on the one inch punch, features on Danny Dwyer, interviews with Mad Frankie Fraser and thousands of adverts for the hard core porn the trembling 13 year old really wanted but didn’t have the balls (or height?) to whisk from the top shelf in Patels 24 hour food ‘n booze emporium.

Anyway, I arrived upon this confusing pseudo muck last night when running through the channels of my newly installed Freeview box (Until last night the TV in the kitchen was running on analogue and due to the Myfwt smoking situation I thought I’d fork out twenty quid in order to watch Top Gear all the time whilst smoking myself to casualty in peace) and was instantly baffled / infuriated.

I was confronted with a ‘babe’ (that is, a 4-foot high teenager, 6.5 in heels, with white hair down to her sanctimonious arse, vacuous grin backed up by thin air and tits like space hoppers) walking into some beauty spa, not fully undressing and getting a massage whilst she bleated on about getting a massage. That was it.

I was just about to explode with rage about paying my TV licence fee before realising that this had nothing whatsoever to do with my TV licence fee and calmly switched over.

Last night was rather jolly, on leaving work I went up to town to meet Den, Harry and Liam for a few pints. First to arrive I managed to get a table, which is fortuitous in a Covent Garden boozer at 6pm, and greeted my pals as they arrived. I’d not seen Den in an age so we caught up over a few ales periodically darting outside for a tab. The pub began filling with obnoxious film students all full of piss and wind about their ‘edits’ and their feted glorious careers ahead, which will never happen. Ironically Harry is a successful director and remained nonplussed by these nitwits as I gently fumed in my seat, I’m not sure if it was their dreadful conversation and pretentious ‘indie’ clothes that pissed me off or the stark realisation that I was now an entire generation ahead of them. This little nugget of horror hadn’t occurred to me before.

Actually, last night was rather jolly up until that point.

And my back still hurts for fucks sake.

lazy face

The ride in this morning on the black bitch was incredible, I faced a steel grey sky with a perfect rainbow illuminating the future with brilliant white light bursting from behind. It was like being in an overexposed negative or the squinting eye shielding the Mediterranean sun, in the midst of this the rain and cold were relentless. Monday morning surrealism, I’d rather these things happened at the weekend when I can enjoy it.

My weekend was quite unremarkable in one respect. I didn’t really do anything, but in another it was possibly the most relaxing two days I‘ve had in an age. I always knew Friday was going to be spent in with Myfwt joining me later. What I wasn’t expecting as I was covering my black bitch up after arriving home was Cunt to apologise for his appalling behaviour last week, and sincerely inform me that he’ll keep the noise down before offering me a grubby little hand, which I reluctantly took, of course. I’m sure he’ll forget about his pledge shortly but in the meantime, I have peace and quiet and a crime reference number in my pocket should I have any more wankery.

On Saturday morning Myfwt went off to see her sister whilst I stayed in bed until lunchtime, I made breakfast then accidentally watched all of Diamonds are Forever, which I enjoyed immensely, much to my surprise. The shopping trip on Saturday was a lot more hardcore than usual, I had lots of stupid little bloody things to include among the regular items, but before all that I had to go to Homebase to get some grout for the bathroom sink. Rock and Roll, yeah.

In the evening I hooked up with Frank for a couple of ales in the local, which had a few very drunk Scottish people in it drowning their sorrows at volume. When I got home I made these rather clever little ham pepperoni cheese things with a spring onion sauce which Myfwt helped me eat when she got back.

Sunday was the best day of the lot, a true day of rest, 3 Scrapheap Challenges, 4 Grand Designs –which reminded me to grout the bathroom sink, it took 10 minutes and was beautiful job. I raced out to grab the Sunday papers at 2-ish and spent the entire afternoon lolling around on my tight buns watching TV and reading both broadsheet and tabloid without any shame whatsoever. It was fucking gorgeous, especially when it started to rain and I got one of those. ‘oooh, it’s nice in here and horrid out there’ ones you only get in the winter. I met Frank for a couple of ales in the early evening; it rained hard on my walk to and from the boozer. I cared not a jot as I was correctly attired in waterproofs, which made the walk into the flat even more satisfying.

With my eye on TopGear I made a chicken and mushroom pie with leak and potato, which was fucking stunning. By now I was so laid back I greeted Myfwt when she arrived back home with a ‘Yo’. We had a nightcap and shuffled off to bed. I slept like a log in complete peace, the first Sunday night in months.

I come into work this morning and a co-worker says to me, ‘are you growing a beard?’ I’ve had a full beard now for 3 weeks; it looks fucking superb I hasten to add… I replied, ‘no, I’m not growing a beard’. She looked confused, ‘what’s all the hair on your face, then?’

‘A beard’ I said.