Wine and Women.

Not one to stereotype but why oh why in soaps do they always have women hitting the vino after a disasterous moment with a man? What's that all about? What no beer? Are we all to believe that this is representative of women everywhere in that situation? What about getting hammered on Scrumpy Jack or moonshine whiskey? Special Brew? Methys?

What's kicked this off? A crap day and Hollyoaks.

Have you ever seen a bloke drowning his sorrows with a glass of Pinot Grigio? No way! Whiskey! A bottle of non-descript spirits. Hardcore to the max. What does this say about the media? Birds drink wine and blokes drink hardcore industrial strength spirits. Come on now......

Booze and Fag's

My mate the ex-marine, I shall call him Action Man, and I spoke at length about life, the universe and women for quite some time on Monday. It was at some point he made me realise how I can make a change in lifestyle for the better. As I may have mentioned before, his body is a temple and he takes care of himself. There is nothing remotely camp about it, just commonsense. I look back at the number years I have sustained this lifestyle of boozing and smoking, dabbling in the occassional pill, powder and "smoke". Not to the extreme of say Keith Richards et al. But enough is enough. They say knowing of a problem and realising that it is problematic is the first step in healing. Okay. Wise words whoever said that. Easier said than done is another set of wise words too. Everyone adopts a lifestyle. Good, bad or indifferent. Its a matter of perspective. Doctors would say I lead a poor lifestyle. I would agree. Changing it is tough. Most social aspects of my life involve bars and pubs. Most of my friends prefer those locations too. I've tried pursuading some friends to try something different, like doing some kind of sporting activity. Going for walks etc. Admittedly these suggestions take place whilst on the fifth pint. Typically nothing becomes of it.

Last night, I was out with a load of friends at karaoke night. There were some people who I hadn't seen for years and some I couldn't wait to see again. A real success of a night. And one with booze and fag's. Where I have left my local boozer and decided that drinking elsewherer would expose me to new experiences, I am still exactly where I started. Booze and fag's. July will see to the smoking. But not the booze.

I've been invited tonight to a gig in near Jack the Ripper's old haunt. Jack the Ripper has no relevance on this topic. A social occassion. A chance to maybe meet Miss Right. More booze and more fag's. Is it really possible to walk into such venues drinking just juice or a soft drink for the entire duration? I think I'd make a terrible pregnant woman. I don't think I could.

One of the toughest decisions I am about to make is changing this lifestyle for another. I had a moment recently that scared me and made me realise my mortality. There is nothing quite like that moment when you realise how precious life really is. Time stops. Every thought is put on hold. All worries disappear. Its then that you ask youself, do you want to live? The answer is always going to be the same.

Will I be envangelical if I adopt a new lifestyle? There is a chance I may. But only temporarily. Action Man has already invited me to join him at the gym one day. I'd be stupid not to.

Summary of the week

Nothing is quite as disturbing as a mate of mine showing me his sexual conquest on his mobile phone. Video evidence if you get my drift.

Yet another colleague and friend is leaving work for another job paying more. His excuse is like any other. Need more money for a family. It is worrying when so many good people are leaving at once. It makes me wonder if they know something that I do not. The company I work for is haemoraging employees at the moment. Normally this kind of thing doesn't bother me, but at the same time as people are leaving they seem to be lessening the opportunity for promotion by simply putting people who have been there for sometime in promotional opportunities by default. Bad practice indeed and will likely to upset a lot of apple carts.

I met a very attractive lady with some of the biggest hands on the planet. Wow! I would've taken a picture if I could taken one without being slapped with one of those jumbo sized paws.

Another week has past and much like the one before women have come and gone. Don't get me wrong, women aplenty to talk to, but not single ones. I must attract the wrong kind clearly. Apparently the trick to attracting a women is not to be nice. I just don't get it. Be a bastard and supposedly some kind of miracle occurs. I don't think so. That little bit of advice came from a lady friend of mine. All the more worrying if it were true. The modern woman likes to be treated mean?

My arm still hurts as a consequence of attempting to drunkenly arm wrestle the kebab shop man. Oh and yes, I broke my vow of a healthier lifestyle on Wednesday.

Mr Jinx (my cat) has been trying to speak to me in catlish. I'm sure that he really does try and talk in english but due to his vocal chords can only muster something like a muffled miaow.

Getting sound advice from a friend of mine who treats his body like a temple. An ex-marine no less and one part of a party of single blokes who go out on the pull a couple of times a month. I arm wrestled him too compounding the pain in my arm.

Its amazing how after several days off the booze and fags how it is incredibly easy to get hammered on just a couple of pints. I vaguely remember Wednesday night collecting my kebab, catching the bus and attempting to follow an imaginary straight line only to realise I'm not and suddenly spotting the lady I see every morning walking a little way behind me no doubt having a laugh at my expense.

Good deed for the week? Last night after declining an offer to fill my nose with colombian marching powder, I alighted a train home early'ish. Whilst struggling to stop myself from pissing myself laughing at the conversation two young teenage chavvy girls were having, I noticed this poor woman, very pretty, and very pissed, falling asleep. There is nothing more unfortunate than such a picture of a lady who is about to fall off her chair. So as quick as lightening, I reached in front of me and caught her shoulder before she fell off. With that she thanked me, checked for drool, checked that she hadn't missed her stop and started to nod off. Just a couple of stops before mine I gently tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the station sign as a gentle reminder to her not to nod off otherwise she'd miss her stop. Not a thing to do when pissed. I think she appreciated the gesture and busied herself with her mobile phone and then make up.

On the point of missing a stop. There is no place worse for me than having to get off at West Norwood station. It is for me the biggest pain in the arse for a few of reasons. It is a shit hole of a place during the day let alone at night in a drunken haze. There are no handy cab firms anywhere near the station let alone any licenced cabs waiting there for the commuter. West Norwood happens to be far enough to contemplate not to walk home but teasingly to do so if one is brave enough. It is however very much an uphill climb home. I've done it. It took an hour of fast walking.

So it was one evening that I ended up at this crap hole of a place. Pissed off again that I had nodded off and pissed off that I knew I could walk home but I wouldn't as the area is of the most unsavory variety at that time of night. Pissed off that that was the last train. Pissed off that there were no cab firms around. A moment of genius occurred when I spotted an Indian Restaurant. With hope and faith that this place would be a sanctuary for me and a place to call a cab off I headed. Upon entering the rather plush place I was greeted with some very polite waiters to kindly told me the restaurant was shut. It didn't matter to me as all I wanted was a cab. It was then that one of the guys asked where I was headed. So I told him to which he said that he was going in that direction. Saved! As we set off he asked me how much I would normally have paid for the journey so I truthfully told him and he accepted my offer. As stopped outside my flat, and I handed over the money I asked him if he was going back to the restaurant, he gleefully told me that he lived only a couple of streets away and he was off home! Talk about making money out of someones misery! At least I got home safe. (Penny pinching bastard!).

Pubs

Whilst on the road to recovery from a particularly nasty cold I pondered the meaning of "The Local". This is in reference to ones local drinking establishment. The pub. In my case, quite reluctantly is the Sports and Social. For many years it has courted controversy, you know the kind I mean, sex, drugs and rock and roll. Heavy boozing until the early hours once upon a time was common. Besides all of that, not a bad place to drink. Not great for the singletons amongst us until Thursday/Friday night where some of parliament's finest female researchers and pals congregate in what most describe as an old man's pub. In fact for most of the week it is very much that. An old mans pub.





This got me thinking. What constitutes a local pub. What are the ingredients to make a pub a local. So recalling some of the conversations I've had over the past few years with everyone from my Dad to friends who have established themselves in certain pubs for a number of years I came up with a list of what makes a local, a local.

• Dimly lit atmosphere


• Smoke hovering permanently at approximately five feet above the ground


• Juke box with the most modern music around the late eighties


• A knarly old bloke with no teeth who is already in the pub before opening time


• Ornaments on the walls of things that nobody can squarely identify but look old


• Worn out carpet usually a patterned red, but can't really make out as it is too dirty


• Mens toilet on the ground floor and womens toilet upstairs


• Pub food


• Foreign student working behind the bar hardened by regular abuse from the mid afternoon drunkard


• The mid afternoon drunkard


• Ales served that you've never heard of before and nor have the regulars


• Toilet door that doesn't lock properly


• Worn out darts board


• Bunch of mates you only ever see in the pub
• Musty, damp smell of cigarettes and spilt beer

These are some of the things that make a local pub. Perhaps what I've listed desccribes a fantasy local pub. No actually a stereo-typical local pub.

Is there such a bad thing as a local pub when some of the more modern outfits seem more like hospital wards or hotel foyers? Don't know. All I know, is if you feel welcomed, happy to spend a night in one place without getting hassled, get pissed that night and no-one bats an eye lid the next morning about your shameful antics the night before, then its good enough for me. Rock and Roll!!

Life on the Edge

An interesting term that. One more commonly used for rock stars, stunt (wo)men, and people who jump off buildings with parachutes. Base jumpers.

Lets look a lttle closer to home though. There are people who are expert at what they do for a living. The ability probably comes naturally to them to a point where its second nature to them. This tends to breed complacency. Which breeds the desire to to something stimulating. I know a great many intelligent people who spend there time after work seeking there thrills in one way or another. Take one example. Getting hammered every night and waking up the next morning with an almighty hangover and still doing there job as expertly as though they were sober. Then there are the people that hoover up huge quantities of Columbian marching powder and do exactly the same. People who have sex with different people every night. There are other people that play sports or read or do group activties. For the majority of people I know it just doesn't quite cut it though. What is stimulation? What is thrill seeking? The science bit makes these things explainable but I for one do not wish to approach this subject from that angle. It takes all the fun out of it.

Does anyone remember the buzz out of getting drunk or high for the first time? Yes most probably it felt nauseous. After which it gets better and better and better. People who relax by taking drugs or drinking are regular normal individuals that get a thrill in a different way to other folk who prefer to watch TV or read a book. What I'm particularly fascinated by is why some people push the boundaries of getting high to an extent that it becomes dangerous. Is it about seeking ones limitation? I think its a little more simpler than that. Whether its doing drugs or drinking lots it really points to something else. Hands up who enjoys their job? A few people here and there. I raise my hand as I have a fulfilling job. Who thinks a job is an obligation? The majority of people will raise their hands to that. The trouble with working is that the majority of peoples lives are spent in a constrained environment without much ability to express ones self. Some people do feel shackled. How many people can't wait for the end of Friday to go out and have some fun? Again loads of people. Why? Because people see it as a reward and go out and get hammered to the point that the precious weekend that they had is spent recovering from Friday. What if those rewards are given during the working day and so there is less of a need to get mashed at the end of the day? Am I suggesting that people take a quick line here and there? Or a few pints every couple of hours? No. Rewards come in different forms. Its really up to people to find them out. That in itself could be reward enough.

Why do I mention all this? I work for an organisation where the drinking culture is massive. The majority of people I know drink at my local drinking establishment day in and day out. All social activities centre around one place. There is no such thing as a lunch time drink. Its a "anytime you like" drink. People have been reprimanded for drinking all day before but it never changes the habit. Personally I think it is a shame this happens. Does anyone do anything about it? No.

Going for a drink doesn't have that same sense of occassion in that place anymore. Celebrating a birthday or something like that would have made no difference. Except that those people who normally don't buy rounds would.

I used to have a friend of mine who used to go mad on E' s and coke every Friday night. Working out a quick calcuation that amounted to about one hundred and fifty quid for a night, well a night and day. That's a lot of drugs. I have no problem with the kind of drugs that were taken, it was the quantity. That was too much. Interestingly though this person now lives a relatively Buddhist life. Healthy eating, no smoking, drinking once a month, goes cycling out in the country etc. What fascinates me is what was that trigger that made them stop such a life style and replace it with one apparently less stimulating? I'll have to ask that question one day.

I know of a person who is retiring soon and I must admit it got me thinking. What will I do if I get to that age? Spend my days in the local boozer from dawn till dusk? Or will I use my time wisely? More importantly, do I have to wait that long to make that decision? I do wonder sometimes how much people of my age/generation spend on things that only give us a quick fix and a hangover.

Seeking thrills for an otherwise unstimulating life.....

Lifts, ladies and booze

Lifts in the building that I work in are rubbish. Since the absence of distinguished VIP's in the building, the whole place has been maintained by bits of string and glue. Every week, there are problems with the lifts. They either don't work, go to the wrong floor, or don't arrive when you press the buttton to go up or down. Normally this is highly irritating. This time around however, it worked a treat. A very attractive Business Relationship Manager happened to be waiting for the lift yesterday afternoon. Small talk ensued. As we entered the lift I exclaimed how poor these lifts were (what a charmer eh!) and how they were prone to breaking down, as she press the button for the ground floor. The doors shut and a short way down the lift stopped working! Miracle. Opportunity fell upon me. A moment to flirt, and perhaps to cheekily ask her out on a date amounted to me jumping up and down to somehow get the lift going again. Oh dear.

The team pub crawl got under way late afternoon. Starting with a merry band of five, which culminated in half of the department cramming themselves into a small bar. I think I managed pint five before heading off home. Except I didn't. A convinient phone call from a friend in the Sports and Social, (considered to be my local drinking establishment) led me to join a merry band of friends on quiz night. Strangely the rest of the night from there on in became a little hazy.

Kebab, and home. Yes, yes, my voluntary ban on kebabs has been lifted. And what a kebab. Seven quid's worth of juicy chicken and lamb flesh.

Incidentally, the lift started working after jumping up and down like a lunatic.

The Night that Never Was

Much anticipation and expectation was held for last night. A good friend and colleague who rarely goes out on the lash decided to do so last night and made mention of it in advance. The reason for joining our merry band was not to see Kumar get hammered, although that happened anyway, but to make it an occasion. That never was. The usual suspects were strangely absent on this particular night. The Fox, Pickle amongst a couple of others. Even that well known bar fly, my mate Dave, seemed reluctant to party on with us.

Things spiced up a little with the presence of Lembit Opik, oh and I almost forgot, and his partner. Damn. What's her name? What a cheek(y) I can't remember her name. Gabriella something or other. Ok. One Cheek of the Cheeky Girls. How did he do it? I must say, she is indeed a very attractive woman. She wasn't immediately recognisable, but noticing Lembit with a lovely lady, and putting two and two together (pre-ninth pint adds up to four) it could only have been the aforementioned lady.

Probably one of the most disappointing moments of the night, and I largely blame myself for not been as sharp as I normally am, was the moment my mate Recess Monkey introduced me to an amazingly attractive lady. No. Not the other half of the Cheeky Girls but a very attractive lady indeed. I woke up this morning a little disappointed for missing the chance to shine. Brain clearly not in gear.

Even more annoying that I hadn't managed to avoid my local kebab shop last night either. I woke up this morning thinking that kebabs had taken over the planet until I realised that one of two things happened. Either my cats had got fed up of waiting for dinner and decided to open up a kebab restaurant or that as I had no feeling on my face that I did not know where my mouth was, I took the scatter gun approach to eating. Some parts of the food must have been on target as the familiar morning after, whoops I've eaten a kebab taste made itself familiar. Looking at the aftermath of the battle of kebab, it was a bloody battle and a devastating scene.

Balls as Big as Asteroids.

Not exactly the Profumo affair...

Who'dve guessed it old that old party animal hopeless Lembit smooching with one hit wonder and one half of the Cheeky Girls Gabriela. I feel sorry for Sian Lloyd although a couple of mates of mine who have met both Hopeless and Sian suggested that they were as bad as each other and that perhaps their personalities off screen matched that of a hippo with constipation. These TV personality types, Pah! As for Hopeless, I've had first hand experience of his slightly arrogant alter ego. I digress.

So it looks like the Sports and Social may indeed be graced once again by Hopeless and his new bit of crumpet soon enough.

One most amusing bit of the interview with Sian was her following observation of the House of Commons:

"Lembit is a real barfly and there's a massive drinking culture in the House of Commons. The drinking is beyond what most people would even begin to comprehend. It is hard core."

No shit love! I'd never have guessed it.....

Stalker again....

Yes. I'm still not worried about this lady rather obssessed with me. This time a phone call at 4.27am. As luck would have it I was out having a couple of lemonades with 2darts senior, Ma 2darts and Guiness (family friend). Having consumed copious amounts while listening to the local singing talent, "Black Elvis", I got home for some urgently needed zzzzz's. I anticipated a peaceful sleep and the phone rings. No way! 4.27am! Stalker! Damn.

Speaking of Black Elvis who captures all the knee jerking epileptic fit simulating crazy kind of dancing in all its original glory, the music was a little loud for the size of the pub. I mentioned this to my mate Guiness to which the response was, so that people outside would hear it and then might be enticed in to coming in for drinks and amusement. If that were true then it really would be a honey trap of some magnitude. Whilst the regulars are slowly becoming deaf, the people outside are oblivious to this damaging effect. Initially they would walk in with the delight of seeing Elvis gyrating and swinging his hips and they'd buy a drink, after which they might comment a little about the volume of the music to each other. A few drinks later, they may glance to the sound engineer as if to hint at turning the music down. A few more after that they can't hear a word. At all. Next time I'll bring in the ear plugs.

Another theory could be that the owners of the pub are a little hard of hearing. As they make the judgement call, they have the last word.....and Elvis too.

A great night though made all the more amusing by the loud music promoting misunderstandings, mis-hearing, missing my mouth with the beer. Oh, and speaking Beerglish by the end of the night.

Christmas Party

Useful tip when going to a christmas party not on a friday night. Book the following day off.

Great party. I behaved myself (for once). I even resisted an offer of a snog. How grown up of me is that?

Far too much of the fun juice and made the devastating decision to follow the fellow party goers to the pub. Far too much hooch there although I got a better understanding of my fellow workers. Its nice to get an insight especially out the work arena. I think a once a month thing should be in order.

Kebab followed as is my tradition. Forgot to buy cat food so will have to make the extraordinary trip to the pet shop of dubious practices.

Forgot something at work so will have to make that journey too.

Hot date set for tomorrow night. Actually I thought she'd blown me out. Not quite the case thankfully. Patience man. Patience. Hopefully that may go well as she is very, very attractive, GSOH, and likes much the same sort of thing that I do, but in moderation. Wish me luck!

Old Age - (re-edited for the slightly sensitive person)

It must be a sign of maturing. I'm lying in bed nursing a hangover. Not a headache. I never get one even after having been on a massive bender. Nope, just the wasted feeling. Now I know what older people feel like when the old vino becomes more potent than it was several years back.

Actually while I'm on the subject of boozing. Last night seemed a very odd night. Oh hell, the whole week has been colourful to say the least. Lets start with the training course. I got in late, spent the first half an hour pissing about trying to get my head together. The course went well and I took the course trainer for a beerski. I should have left when he did, but of course me being me, I stayed for more. Then I spotted this really fit babe that I'd met some weeks back with her flat mate who's a top bloke. I sat with them for a considerable time. Two extremely pleasant people to indeed.

Some time later <> walks in with barely a hello to begin with and Foxy followed shortly after looking as glamorous as ever. The two seemed to have some kind of comedy act going on. Both blonde and a little dizzy that evening. I continued talking to my new chums until the fit babe had to leave. I sat for a while longer until I realised I hadn't spoken to the other two. So with that I brought along new chum and Joe the Sparky who I mentioned to them earlier that sexy babes Foxy and <> were at the other side of the bar. It kept the girls entertained or should I say the other way around while I played darts.

The next thing I know, another lady friend of mine pulled me to one of the poshest dinner party events I been to for a long while. Not only that but I was waited on hand and foot. Christmas dinner was brought to me along with free booze and a pudding. I stepped out to visit the loo and found myself a little lost. When I eventually found my way back Foxy and <> called out to me. Somehow they had managed to blag their way into the event too. I've missed a little detail. All three women are friends with each other. The only problem was that my lady friend had fallen out with the other two, or should I say the other way around. Note to ones self. Never, ever get involved with a bunch of squabbling women. Terrible. Not only that but I had every intention of going to a friends party that evening. But the ladies were not so keen to release their pawn (me) in their battle.

So to summarise the week. I nearly ruined a wedding, I've been stalked, and I've been used and abused. How low can a bloke feel eh?

Actually the wedding bit turned out really welll for my mate Sweetie. Seems a good heart to heart with Big Nut about his seeming upsetting antics has got them back on track. So there must have been method in my accidental madness. I glad they are happy again. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself too well if it got cancelled. I'm not so sure about attending the wedding though.

CHAMPIONS!!!

My mate Dave and I became doubles darts champions again last night. We both played rather well although if it wasn't for some bloke who decided to take a picture as I was throwing my last dart to wrap up the second game, it would have been better. Best of five and a 3-0 thrashing. I took the first game and my mate Dave the other two. I couldn't believe we won at first. I'd like to thank my parents, my sister, my friends and especially Big Nut for some meditative councilling throughout the match and to the opposing team for which we could never have achieved what we did.

As true champions we celebrated in the only way my mate Dave and I know how. Result this morning, hangover, kebab all over the living room floor, recollection of unwanted attention from some amorous soul.