Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Tuesday 27 April 2010

Fucking hell I am tired today.  Also I have a little headache.

Again once having pulled myself together I drive to the station.  Welcome to the routine.

As I approach my car I discover that I failed to lock it last night.  Is the fact that it is still sitting in my parking space a reflection that it’s not worth stealing or that I live in a nice neighbourhood?

Once inside the car my morning begins with listening to Chris Moyles complaining about Mad Men and how slow it is.  Where to begin with this.  This is a person that indulges absolutely everything and anything that the press agencies approach him at the BBC with.  This is a person that supports and big ups the most turgid pieces of shit that enter into the realm of popular entertainment, crap generated with the one sole purpose of screwing pennies out of the most moronic elements of our society.  He is the cheerleader for dirge and the kind of devalued crap that is lowering the standards for us all.  So put this now into the perspective of Mad Men now, a television show that takes intellect and patience to take on board.  This is a show that works on many levels saying and highlighting parts of the human condition that I think people like to deny and have since snuffed out or shoved underground since its setting the sixties.  For an entertainment whore that works so much within the clutches of advertising agencies and loves everything that is placed in front of him (such is the legacy of Madison Avenue) you would like to think that a person in such a position within the machine would acknowledge and respect it more.

Perhaps due to this I experience road rage along the way.  The literal rage originates from cars stopping at traffic lights when they are yellow, also stopping to let other cars go when it is in fact their right of way and finally my major bugbear of stopping completely at speed bumps.

Slightly on the drag I just about manage to catch my train, albeit with a rush and a bit of huff and puff.

Today the train is a piss streak one.  I guess all the good (and probably safe) trains are busy being used.

In a perfect world I would have grabbed some sleep on the train this morning but alas that doesn’t happen.  It never happens when it is necessary.

As the morning arrives at Liverpool Street they are giving away free tubs of Alpro yoghurt at the station.  For a few split seconds I humiliate myself in grabbing a pot.  From here I perform a little experiment playing a little game of putting it into my combat trousers pocket and seeing if it survives the journey without being crushed.  Life on the edge.

In the end I arrive at work with the yoghurt in place and thus breakfast part 2 is served.

When I check my email there is nothing from the consultant which leaves me to plod on with the February accounts of the new company before I realise that the January accounts were never properly closed off in the first place probably due to my being fucked around and about by external influences/people (its been so long now I can’t remember).

Quickly lunchtime comes around and today we have fishcake, baked beans and new potatoes.  Fucking gourmet.

From here the afternoon plays out, the highlight being the angry boss telling us how much he would like to have tourettes syndrome.  Many would dare to say that he already has.

Tonight I head straight home, boarding the 6.20PM Norwich train in the process.

Once home I try to write but commuting fatigue soon kicks in and just after 9PM I head to bed where I begin watching the Starsuckers documentary but fall asleep almost immediately.

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