So you thought it would be a good Idea?

Hello friends of internet-land. Firstly I would like to apologise for my lack of digital presence. It has indeed been around 8 months of dwelling, self loathing and if I may be so bold as to mention I also released my ramblings onto the digital medium that is Kindle store. I now make my return to where it all began. The holy church of the Beardless Messiah.

So you thought it would be a good Idea?

The last year was somewhat a monumental disaster of sorts but dependent on your mind set it can be seen as quite amusing and certainly an improvement on two years ago! 

Take January 2014 for example, two years ago. Some may say I had a dark start to last year but the year before was far worse. At about 10:30pm on the 27^th January 2014, I stood on a bridge, full of Captain Morgans finest. I remember thinking to myself now this is going to be a good idea. You see I was going through a kind of “Cobain” stage. I couldn't get hold of a shotgun though, as cash generators in Walsall, don't really cut a prophet dealing arms. So I seriously thought about things and came to the conclusion, a bridge jump into the canal would be a wizard idea! Now, as you can probably guess, my attempt (as half arsed as it now seems) failed miserably. As I regress back to the moment, I realize I failed for two reasons. One, I only jumped from 18 feet. Two, I jumped ass first. I remember thinking to myself, there are only two possible outcomes to this situation. I will either die and be found by a tramp, then subsequently become his life spooning partner after he has stolen my shoes (this is genuinely why I removed my shoes first! In all of this I didn't want a homeless guy stealing them!) great to see I prioritize but I have always had a thing about people wearing my shoes. The second possible outcome will be, A failed attempt and this will hurt like absolute hell. I will tell you without delay. The second option was the winner and it wouldn't have taken a Monty Hall paradox expert to see that coming. The thing that I did not count on, whilst standing on the bridge edge, just about to jump, for some reason, singing Hall & Oates – Out of touch. Yet again not sure why, I just bloody love Hall & Oates. The thing I absolutely did not count on was what, at that point would be my final thought. Now when people do something stupid like this, because let's be honest it is dumb. People ask the same question. “What was he thinking?” I will answer that question now, the moment, the second I stepped off that bloody bridge and started to fall, that little bloody voice in my head, that we all have. Simply said. “You've changed your mind haven't you?” the answer to that question was “Yes, but you could have told me that before I jumped to prat!” Allow me to tell you this, if you've jumped already, changing your mind is kind of a pointless thing. I suppose you are thinking now, well it's ok, you can just swim out! Well yes! If I hadn't been a 29 year old, who can't swim (I didn't learn, because I am scared of piranhas!) The overall outcome was a bruised ego, what I thought was a broken ass or as I so eloquently put it at the time, my ass has gone all Christopher Reeves. I also broke my leg, which was and always has been incidentally screwed, now it's even worse. Most of the time I walk like a leper with a loose leg.

I think the most important lesson I have learned is simply this, life is precious and short enough as it is. So don't jump of a bridge and break your ass! If you do make rash decisions, make light of them when you come through them. You will come through them, life may be contaminated with faecal matter sometimes but smile! It could be worse, you could be related to Justin Bieber.

The Things That Haunt Us

                Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, It really isn't nonsense you know, I will tell you what it actually is! It's a word my father used to use as a get out of giving me pocket money clause. He used to add it to his silent fine print after I washed the car and mowed the lawn, he would then ask me to spell this out. I would never be able to and now one father pocketing my pocket money. Before I go to far, I don't want you to think this is me having daddy issues, I am getting to the point but as some of you know it takes me a while. 

              My pocket money was so valuable to me, growing up in the 90's we had things that were then the most amazing items a child could own. I for one remember my earliest obsession was the 1994 Merlin Premier League sticker collection. remarkably I hate football now, call me nuts but it all just seems too much effort. I mean there is picking a team to support, If I had to pick a team I would base it solely on there team emblem, Sounds nuts right. Manchester United - The Red Devil, an all powerful, mythological man, capable of remarkable things. Norwich - A Canary, lives in a cage and is distracted by it's own reflection in a mirror. Point proven? then you have to buy a shirt, learn songs, which incidentally I haven't had to do since my 'Give me oil in my lamp' of 1992. But the stickers they were a thing of playground excitement throughout the school. This is the only time in your life that coolness is based on the size of your visible pile. Every day was a day of dealing in the corner, striking deals for shiny stickers with your go to guy, but this was soon to become a thing drowned by the popularity of somethings else..

For those of you that don't know these are Pogs. that's right a large round spray pained circle of wonder. Pogs were absolutely amazing. I mean apart from the worlds least creative name (which I later discovered stood for Passion-fruit, Orange & Guava) and was named after a Hawaiian juice. I was torn to pieces, almost as much as when the green ranger left power rangers... Was I meant to say spoiler alert? anyway these bad boys sucked my pocket money like George Michael in a public toilet. I suppose in reality whilst I am typing this, I realise how obsessive Pogs actually were, I mean I ran Pog circles in the play ground. Imagine if you will bare knuckle boxing but with very angry children and in Matthew Whitehouse's cases very emotional (he got very teary when he lost in a game of winner takes the slammer) This got stopped by the crazy dinner ladies and before we knew it our Pog phase was done. 

We needed something new to carry us into high school. What would it be? Then it appeared. It wasn't something new, it was something old, yet remarkably improved but somehow still as shite......

This was it. It was back and this time it was all about the tricks baby, It was show time. There were days when we had 20 or 30 of the finest Yo'ers around practicing. I Had worked so hard rocking cradles and walking the dog. I, in my own head was a yoyo master. I knew what to do. I organised a Yo-yo competition and the teachers lapped it up. They gave us the hall and even offered to judge. I had just one week to prepare, so I developed a strict training regime. I even drank a raw egg and went for a run the day of the competition. Well, that helped Rocky win. 

The competition finally came and I was on stage, people cheering with every trick, one by one I could feel the room electrifying, it was time for my grand finale. Trouble was I hadn't practiced a grand finale but felt confident enough to go for the 'Around The World' trick. I down motioned fiercely, the YoYo started to spin and I yelled "Shall we go around the world?" the whole room cheered as i motioned forward. the Yoyo spun once, twice and thr...Oh fu... The yoyo at this point could take no more strain, still spinning and flashing L.E.D lights detached itself in the exact direction of Ms Gaton. 

Three days later, after ms Gaton had returned to work as the bruising around her nose and eyes had started to ease, We all had an assembly, in which we were told that YoYo's we now banned. This made me quite unpopular for a week or so but this was nearing the end of 1999 so I started spreading viscous rumours to the more docile kids about how the world would end and they would catch the millennium bug. After that the other kids just focused on crazy apocalypse Adam and friends and before I knew it the 90's were over and pocket money no longer existed. Unless I got a job......  

Oh and it took me three hours of repeating but I got my pocket money every week when I learned to spell Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, may be an evil word but it got me my pogs.

The How To Guide For The Socially Awkward Part 2

          The second part in my pointless series of nonsense is another how to guide. This time I take a look at the socially awkward event that is the art of socializing and conversation. In my opinion this is one of the most difficult yet supposedly natural things to undertake. I myself am a great fan of talking in fact it is one of my only skills. Letting me start talking is the worst decision since the BBC offered Jimmy Saville his own show! I mean I could give an Pain killer a headache. Saying that put me in a room with 30 strangers and give it half an hour at least 28 of them will want to kill for for saying something inappropriate.

          I think firstly we should take a look at introductions. The most important part. We are in a room full of people that we feel we must mingle with and impress, but take into account on any usual day these people are just the morons that we avoid like they have Ebola. So initially when somebody approaches and extends a hand, Do not panic! This is a crucial moment and they are just after an initial ice-breaker as it's the common thing. There was one occasion where I was narcotically challenged when somebody extended the hand of welcome and my response, due to my paranoid state was to take a sort of crouching tiger hidden dragon pose. In my defence I thought he was trying to punch me in slow motion. So now we have established that the handshake is a friendly gesture and not reduced speed kung fu, We are to meet their hand with ours. But BE CAREFUL! This could get weird. You certainly don't want to shake the hand and look like you are softened by the tender touch and always give a right leg up-swipe before the shake, shaking hands with a hand the feels like a trifle with fingers is never a pleasant experience.

        Now you have broken the first barrier, It is time to begin conversation. the person will say something like "Hi, I'm Jeff" all you have to respond with is simple. "Hi my name is....." greeting done right? Well not if you are socially awkward. Some of us like to break the second step with a POW!! We instantly think, Now is the time to give myself the nickname I always wanted at work and then respond with.
"Hey, I'm Rob...But my friends call me Dragon Lord" This in itself poses only two possible outcomes.

Scenario One, Person says "Great to meet you and leaves abruptly only to warn everybody else at the party that you are mentally impaired."

Scenario Two, Person Says "That's cool, how did you get that nickname?"

I mean you have just called yourself dragon lord and believe me, the answer "Because I am the lord of dragons" Just gets you back to scenario one! So avoid the nickname introduction unless you keep a lot of bearded dragons (had I been quicker on my feet, I may have used the bearded dragon excuse.)
Now if you are lucky enough to have made it to the all important level three, The conversation. You have to be on your guard, if your not your brain will mess with you. for instance, this tried and tested technique, 100% absolutely never works. If your prospective new chum pulls out a picture of his/her children and tells you about them and you happen to have children too, then perfect common ground right? Well yes... Unless you have a messed up sense of humour. Do not under any circumstance pull out a picture of your two children and wait for the obvious, following due politeness question.
"what are their names?"
please do not answer that question with this.
"I don't know, they aren't mine. They are just two kids playing in a paddling pool. I was walking past a house and I just took the photograph."
People have such a guarded sense of humour nowadays, in my opinion the Yew Tree investigation ruined sick jokes for us all and destroyed ice breakers for ever.

If the person turns out to be intolerably boring on the other hand and you find yourself wanting out like an Austrian in a basement. Then in it is your time to decide whether you go the polite route, which in my opinion never works, you know the "Well, I have to get going" and you always get "Oh well just drink this other drink and listen to me babble on about how much I love sellotape" in response.
Now is the time to come into your own, All you have to do is use my method of getting away from a boring idiot. Simply use this.
"Oh you love sellotape? You know what I love most? Night time, It's when I come alive most. You see I feel ready to tell you this now. I am a vampire, I'm 137 years old and I am looking for somebody to paint the immortal coil with," Smile in their direction and watch a piece of them die inside as they seemingly start to believe you are clinically insane. If on the off chance he/she laughs it off, seal the deal by really getting into character. Move into dark corners and his at strangers wearing crosses, if all these things fail, grab a slice of garlic bread from the buffet, take a bite and pretend that your insides are melting.

Shorty after this your new 'friend' will have disappeared inside a minute and you will be home free. If he/she sticks around then you may find they aren't as boring as you initially imagined, either that or they are more deranged than anybody could possibly conceive.

This has been my how to guide for the socially awkward and part three will be on relationships.

Why Orlando Bloom broke my Ankle!

Laying on the bed feeling a wave of fear overcome me, I look towards the nameless female who has made her way to a computer. The fear gradually turns to a curios confusion, as I ask myself ‘Where the hell am I? who the hell is that? and what in the name of Thor’s hammer have I done!.

"Good Morning Colin" The girl, (which is a term I use loosely at the moment due to voice that resembles Lou Ferigno with a throat infection) husks. Another wave of fear consumes me, which in retrospect should have been my first indication that something is wrong; this girl cannot even remember my name is Rob! I mean what a catch! After what could have been my best performance she thinks my name is Colin! Colin! I mean seriously who is called Colin?! Usually your dad’s best friend who you call uncle Colin who is far to fond of tickling you! Yeah, that's right. That's Colin.

"Morning...Um, oh Fu.... La, Em," look for clues, look for clues! You are in her room, she has photos everywhere, there must be a name! for the love of HA!

"Morning You...How are you feeling" I ask with an edge of cockiness as if to say “did I rock your world?” whilst thinking myself some sort of lothario.

“My name is Sammy!,” she glowers, “In case you needed a clue it’s written there in rainbow colours on the wall!"

HOW THE HELL DID I MISS THAT!!! it wasn't exactly subtle

"I'm googling you" she mutters

"what?"

"I am googling you!" she repeats.

Panic washes over me (what the hell did I do?).

I clamber out of the small, stale-sheeted single bed and make my way over to the computer and glance at the screen, on which the search bar simply reads;

‘COLIN BLOOM!’

Google displayed 15,000,000 results and pictures of a middle aged man that you absolutely would not let babysit your children. It all came rushing back to me. I knew what the hell I had done!

I was usually able to remain calm but this moment I was slightly panicked as I looked at the screen again I noticed a second and third tab open! Daily Mirror Submit your story tab three THE SUN TELL US YOUR TALE. I knew I had to make an escape and quick. My mind flashed over the entire night before

***

The pub, the music, mainly the alcohol and the question that Jonesy had asked me, "so, who to are you gonna be tonight?" in his low Newport accent.

You see we used to play this game, that almost never worked. You pretend to be related to somebody famous and then your friend attempts to befriend the DJ then he convinces the DJ to join in the game and announce the famous person’s relative is in the room.

The plan had come together perfectly that night. I was Colin Bloom, Orlando Bloom’s half brother (that he probably doesn't even have) and ten minutes after the announcement one person, one lonely rotund woman, with crossed eyes and a weird toe, approached me, kissed me and asked me to leave with her.

I spun fables that would make Aesop proud! how me and O (Of course being his brother I wouldn't call him Orlando) play badminton and how we were always being hounded by the press and how I had recently been photographed with a woman whose name I wouldn't mention, (mainly because I was too inebriated to think that quickly. She looked so impressed, I started to believe my own crap. It was all there like the night was flashing before my eyes. I will refrain from reminiscing the intimate details, mainly because, as far as my recollection goes, it was short and very scary, I remember hearing things that I haven’t heard since Linda Blair had a crucifix in hand.

***

I looked around, I had absolutely no idea where the hell I was. I knew I was in Bristol and in a room that had the aroma of feet and pizza and I needed to get out, ASAP.

This woman was aggressive looking and I’m sure I remember her telling me she recently won a darts trophy.

“Erm,” I'd forgotten to look at the wall again.

"Sammy!" she growled in a voice that was thickening to a point that was beginning to sound like the Kurgan from Highlander.

“Yes, I know," I said, (another lie) "Where's the bathroom?”

"Out of here second door to the left.”

Now was my chance, only one problem now remained, I am naked and I cannot locate my clothes. Problem.

"You wouldn't have happened to have seen my clothes this morning?" I asked.

“Oh yes, they're down the side of the bed, Don't worry though there’s nobody in so just walk around as you are, not planning on running off now are you Colin?"

I will be honest at this point I felt that the question she just asked was uttered in a tone that lead me to think she really meant "If you try and leave, I will find you, curse your offspring and bite off your winky in your sleep."

I have no problem admitting my fear, as I answered "No, Just need a tinkle" I mean who says tinkle apart from dad’s over-tickly friend! I was becoming a Colin! The moment I walked out of the feetapizzaria I found myself on a weird small corridor, naked and looking for a solution. I tried the first door to the left, It was open. Phew!

I walked in to a tidy room that smelt like vanilla (I always find the scent of vanilla distracting).

Focus I need clothes. On the end of the bed were some denim shorts and a t-shirt, I was desperate, cold and I needed clothes so I scooped them up, along with ankle socks from the base of the bed and headed to the bathroom.

Okay, Get it together Rob, let's be methodical! Get dressed.

So I squeezed into the denim shorts and T-shirt.

Upon realising the denim shorts are size 8 girls hot-pants, and I have on a big fat gypsy wedding belly top, I start to wonder if the day could get any worse. I snook out of the bathroom and made my way to the nearest exit. I try the door to my left. It's locked. I need a key! By this time I am almost giving up on atheism and ready to begin praying until I realise whilst looking out of the window on the kitchenette that I have found myself in, that I am not that high up.

I have a lightbulb moment; back to the room where I acquired the clothes. I quietly open the door and hmmm Vanilla! Stop it! I head for the window I open it as far as I can but it only opens about 16 inches. I take a deep breath step onto a rickety bed side cabinet and start to lower myself without thinking of the consequences.

About five minutes later I find myself regretting this decision. "It didn't look this high from the kitchen" I am hanging out of a first floor window fifteen feet above the ground wearing a belly top with All This and Blonde too written across the centre and a pair of hot-pants that are now revealing a testicle and what seems to be a crowd of students with Iphones tweeting and hashtagging my left nut! Surely this was it, my low point. As quick as that thought tiptoed across my mind "OI! What the Hell are you doing" It was the call of the Kurgan! I had no choice! I had to drop, I thought happy thoughts and prayed for some kind of help as I fell.

I landed and hit the ground. Not thinking about the pain, I started to do some kind of weird Quasimodo like run as my legs wouldn’t quite work properly. I just legged it and hoped for the best. I looked like the worlds worst drag queen as my panic started to subside and I was walking down what was now a quite busy Bristol high street that seemed completely focused on me. As I limped through the town I breathed with relief. I could see my hotel, the discount Travel Lodge. It looked so beautiful like a close-by, Lenny Henry endorsed nirvana. I felt a slight ease come over myself until I suddenly thought about one more thing. I had what was possibly a broken ankle, a bruise the size of a house-brick on my behind, I'd lost my clothes, my phone and my wallet all because of an elaborate lie. I had to stop.

I made a pact with myself, I will never lie to a woman again.

Never Fake a Fatal Illness

So we all get ourselves into sticky situations sometimes right? As you have probably guessed this happened to me a fair amount of times of the last 30 years. It isn't as if I go looking for trouble. Sometimes I have an honest heart and then all of a sudden a metaphorical bomb hits me and my sense of morality was thrown in the bin.

I have obviously been in many pickles throughout my life and I am talking about general life difficulty now, rather than my life and its series of unfortunate events. When I think about difficulties I really just think about one time. November 2005, I was 20 years old, fresh faced and cocky, in a relationship and just moved into a new house. Trouble was I couldn't really afford this house on my salary and really needed a second Job.

At this time in my life I was a chef and not a bad one, just catering didn't pay too well and I was terrible with finances. I knew I needed a second job but I had one of those moments where I stopped and thought, I know! I will get a job in IT, Basically because my dad thought I was a computer genius due to the fact I could copy and paste without using a mouse. So I decided it was high time I brushed up my CV to include some of my other acquired skills (I had literally just that moment acquired them)I embellished and polished some turds here and there and deleted every catering job, consequently replacing them all with mid-profile IT jobs at low end businesses. I distributed my CV to a few requestees on the job centre website and sat tight with disillusioned hope.

About 3 weeks later, to my absolute disbelief I had managed to pull off an interview. A letter sat waiting for me upon my return from the restaurant, it was from south Staffordshire water inviting me for an interview! This was it I thought! No more kitchen crap for me. Over the coming days, only having 5 to prepare, I prepared myself, practicing answering questions. I even brought a brand new suit and before I knew it the big day had arrived.

I remember the day so clearly and for reasons that will become obvious quite soon. I recall the smell of urine and weed on the bus and the sweat on my palms, before I knew it I was in a waiting room ready to be seen but feeling pretty calm at this point. I was called into the interview room, it was a large office quite dark and sitting opposite me were 3 sour faced middle aged gentlemen who infused fear and faeces together, pushed them up into my stomach along with my testicle and one grunted sit.

Now as far as my recollection to this goes the first 15 minutes of the interview went swimmingly, I remember saying to myself at one point.

“keep calm and don't mess this up and you've got this job”

All of a sudden a bomb shell and I am not talking a small bombshell, I am talking an A-Bomb falling directly onto my crotch! It started with this question.

“Tell us about ASP. NET”

Now the problem lay within. I had absolutely no chuffing idea what he was talking about. Now most people in this situation have only two options. Option one, Answer honestly that you don't know and hope for the best or alternatively, option two, make up an answer and hope for the best. Now I think even you yourselves can know that instantly I decided on option two but, do you know how we all have that little voice inside our head? Now do not get this voice confused with the one that told Ted Bundy to start collecting hammers. I am talking about that reasonable voice that offers little words of wisdom in our greatest times of need. Well my friendly voice, decided to poke in his big fat nose right as I was about to make up an answer.

“Psst, OI! Rob. It's me your rational side” I heard it say

my internal monologue responded

“What? It's kind of a bad time!”

it had no interest in how bad a time it was it proceeded

“Well, you know how you are thinking about making up an answer?”

“Yes” I excitedly said back

“Well, I have a third option, because if you make up an answer, you're going to look like an ass!” it said proudly

“Ok...let's hear it”

“Well, I want you to fake a stroke! You remember the advert”

now I remember thinking what an awful idea, but unfortunately whether or not I thought it was a bad idea or not I had already started to slur my speech, drool and allow my arm to start to fall. Oh my Christ!! What am I doing I thought! Trouble was I had started so I had to complete now. Think back to the advert.

F that was face, check. A That was arm, S that was speech. I started to slur and drool a little just to add some conviction. T oh crap, what was t. Then again that bloody voice.

“T throw yourself on the floor”

The next thing I knew, I was in the back on an ambulance, The interview panel were following behind. I had got myself into some situations but I am in an ambulance, pretending to be catatonic and it's quite difficult because at the moment I am being poked and prodded by two paramedics. When we arrived at the hospital I was subject to an array of tests and I had no shortage of support from what now seemed to be my best friends the interview panel and I needed to get out of here. Surely this has to be slightly illegal I remember deliberating. I had to pick my moment perfectly whilst still trying to fake having some weird sort of locked in syndrome but in reality, I still had a little panic in case these guys were just with me to see if I knew the answer to the question.

Two hours later, yes that's right I lay there for two hours! There was just one left. I heard the magic words.

“I am going to have a cigarette, but I will be right back”

He finally left the room, as quickly as I could I scooped up my shoes and darted for an exit. I ran like the wind, I ran and ran with a feeling of guilt and exhilaration. I finally found myself walk in the front door where upon I was asked just one question.

“Well, How did it go?” Lisa asked full of enthusiasm

the only response I gave was

“I didn't get it, I think I was over-qualified to be honest”

The How to Guide for the Socially Awkward

       

          As some may have guessed I am not a stand out, fits into societies norms kind of guy. In fact I am terrifically awkward. So I have decided to compile a series of how to manage in seemingly normal situations that the awkward among us may appreciate.

Riding A Bus

       Now I know you are already thinking what a pile of nonsense, do read on. Getting on a bus is possibly one of the most awkward scenarios for a socially challenged person, There is a thought process involved that challenges the mind at every turn. First and foremost you are presented with waiting for the bus. Now do you sit down? Well this depends on who is already sitting down. If for instance seated and hunched smelling of stale urine is a nervous looking pensioner. You may only sit dependent on how you are dressed. If you are heading to town in a pair of comfortable trousers and a hooded top. BEWARE! This lady has only 3 pleasures in life, Tea, Meals on Wheels and Crimewatch. Trust me when I say the moment you sit, old Mildred will then clutch to her back as if it contained the last of the rationed butter in 1941. Now dependent on your location you have to mind your surroundings. In my local area we have people that encroach upon our bus stops. They are unidentifiable, They are seemingly you and extremely Caucasian at first glance but when they speak, oh boy! They talk about bears and blood an awful lot. It's beyond me and they have a fetish for stabbing people up! I believe we should have these humans eradicated possibly some new strain of myxomatosis and let them wipe each other out. 

      A new conundrum awaits with the arrival of the bus, providing you are already waiting for it. I personally guarantee if you are not you will miss it. How do I know? Well as soon as you start to run for the bus the driver spots you in the worlds biggest mirror. Waits for you to almost make it and think, this time I have you. He will then proceed to close the doors and move the bus 4 inches from the platform, looking at you only to gesture that he cannot open the doors as he has pulled out already. Bus drivers the world over. You will pay for this. One day your bus will break down and you will require assistance. I will approach you as if to help, tell you I know the problem and then kick you in the shins before I walk away smiling.  Anyway, now the bus has arrived and you are being British and doing what every good Brit does, You have formed a queue. Hold on a moment there is a swarm of morons just pushing there way on to the bus. You deal with this in the appropriate way. The only way there is. You tut! you tut at each and every one of them.

      So you make it on to your rush hour bus but you are now faced with the ultimate in problems you have to sit next to a person. This is a choice that should not be just rushed into. This person is going to be your companion for what could be the entire journey. Never and I mean never sit next to the person wearing the Bluetooth headset, he will be a loud, obnoxious idiot who wants to announce his enormous success to the whole bus, my friend here is a PTT (a Public Transport Tosser) avoid at all costs. Also I may add DO NOT sit next to the attractive girl, She is more than likely going to start doing her makeup and will get very elbow unfriendly. The most important person to avoid on a bus is the person who looks like he is talking on the phone but in fact, he does not own a phone. He is clinically insane and believe me when I say this, There is one on every bus and he IS the reason people put bags on the seat next to them. My suggestion look for the person who is sitting on the outside seat with a carrier bag or two. They will be getting off soon and you can enjoy your journey.

     If I may add at this point after 9pm do not sit at the back of the bus. Once somebody asked me for a lighter and then took out a spoon. I know it was Birmingham but that was a little bit too much. Finally under absolutely no circumstance get on a bus with an angry looking driver. He will drive like an insane person, open his doors only to swear at other drivers and stop at every other stop to read his bloody newspaper.

That was my guide to riding a bus.   

Maybe Inappropriate but...

              I have always had a strange relationship with people, I think that it's things like, I refer to other people as humans whilst talking to them, which is apparently is a rather odd thing to do and also I have a tendency to say things to certain people and fail to notice that their reaction is that of a person that has just witnessed a cult burning a witch for the first time. I am told on a regular basis that I have no filter. Unfortunately this I can't argue with, but I do choice to rub icing on that description and usually state.
"I am just saying what everybody else is thinking."
knowing that quite possibly nobody at all is thinking anything of the sorts, and what actually happened was that the voice in my head shouts at me.
"Make a holocaust joke!"
My mouth instantly regurgitates the most inappropriate arrangement of words you could possibly imagine. My mind seems to have some sort of trolling vendetta and refuses to hide it in any way.

            If you can think of absolutely anything you shouldn't say whilst in a relationship, I can personally guarantee that I have said it. When asked the question do I look nice, Generally rule one is there is only one answer, that answer i should always be yes. My thought process says yes, my logic says yes, my interfering nonsensical unfiltered mind chose to send the following signal to mouth.
"No, you look a bit like a rugby player in a dress"
Not a good answer! I once worked in a restaurant in Birmingham, Now firstly let us get one thing straight. TV chefs and the shouting. It's all very dramatic, my kitchen was a very fun place and you would usually find me dancing like a moron to Footloose by Kenny Loggins! any way as usual I digress. We had a new waitress start as part of our Christmas recruitment. A German girl, very quiet, very timid, very pompous and cantankerous also to a young chef with a warped sense of humour very easy to maybe play a joke or two on.

          After her third day, I hadn't spoken to her at this point. I was planning on playing a small joke on her maybe with a rat in the bin yard and she would scream blah blah, you get the picture. For some reason thought engine came straight into practice the moment she went to introduce herself. I turned and shunned her smiling with my back to her. I walked out the back and explained my plan to the head chef, who incidentally thought it was as brilliant as I did.

The next day the waitress approached the head chef and asked him if she had offended me in any way. This is what we agreed he would tell her and did.
"It's nothing you personally have done, It's more everything your kinsman. You see Rob is Jewish and you are the only German he has ever met. So naturally he blames you for the death of his grandparent"
This woman was so gullible, I mean she tried to make so much effort to communicate for a week and I just got further into pretending to be a Jew. I even brought a Kippah (a Jewish skull cap) from ebay and started wearing it whilst referring to people as buby at every opportunity. I must say after a week I did tell her it was a joke and we became very good friends and she is aware that this is being written.

People for reasons as mentioned generally see me as Marmite personified. I mean as a younger person my filter-less mind was seen as cute in some respects, apart from the time I appeared on a childrens TV show in 1995 on BBC one called why did the chicken? and decided to embrace my moment in the spotlight apparently that was not so cute, also what did that 9 year old child just say on television?

Eccentricity is the key to life

         

          As I have mentioned in a previous blog my father was always a very eccentric being, if I was to be completely honest my dad is a Slartibartfast kind of strange, but never fails to amuse me. This said I think all great people are slightly odd are they not? Take Nikolai Tesla for example, remarkable man, yet completely bonkers. I think my dad takes odd to brand new levels and the harder I think the more out there he seemed. Lets get into a little more detail about my father, as I have already mentioned his throwback 70's look, I feel that I should mention my dad has been married 6 times and every time he mentions his marriages I await his repeat line.
"oh yes, I've had 6 successful marriages."
Saying that some of the things he does still leave me rolling with laughter the minute he has left the room. You can more or less guarantee certain things with my dad. One of these things is that every single time he visits the first conversation starts exactly the same way.
"If I won the lottery..."
He has subsequently finished this sentence with the following things

• I would buy a massive farm (my dad has the agricultural experience of an agoraphobic withe extreme hay fever.)
• I'd buy 3 houses and rent two of them out. (only if he has watched some kind of relocation TV show)
• I would have all gold teeth. (I loved this one because honestly imagine Leo Sayer with golden pegs)
• I'd make a film, not a porn film. I'm too old for that. but an art film like the shawshank redemption.
• I'd buy Tesco and that would show them

Now that last one requires some explaining. Another stigma my dad has is when he first discovered email he started emailing every complaint about everything to everybody. He once emailed the television show Dr Who and started the conversation dear Dr Who! then went on to ask if he ever considered carrying an actual screwdriver because of the issues he had with wood and his electronic device. He went into varied detail and even explained how to get a damaged screw out. The one day on my fathers journey through the information super highway he showed me an email he wrote and I just thought I would share that email with you now.

to: customer.service@tesco.co.uk

Subject: I thought every little helped?

Dear Tesco,
                I have been a customer of yours now for many years and I have always found you to be reasonable but as of late I have found you are no longer as customer driven as you once were. I have been buying your home brand teabags for a great deal of time and I was absolutely disgusted to realize that you have reduced the quantity from 18 to 16. I now lose two cups of tea for every 16 pence I spend. I demand an answer otherwise I will be shopping at Morrison's in future. Although they only offer 14 tea bags for the same price it is a question of taking the moral high ground.
Kindest Regards
Steve (blanked out) 

PS I have recently noticed your chicken nuggets have also shrunk in size is this a farming issue and will they return to normal size soon?

Now this is 100% real and serious. My dad was so disgusted that he did not get a reply that he has boycotted Tesco for 3 years! He still talks about this now and his disgust and is still planning a petition! only because he has now found a website you can build petitions on. 

I have found that the internet has only encouraged my father in his ongoing eccentricity and god help me he has already discovered online dating! need I say more. The section that says Tell us more about you he took to mean exactly that.

Tell us more about you.

Well my name is Steve, I was born in a small town outside of Birmingham called Great Barr. It was a wonderful place to grow up and as children we used to play out until all hours in the morning it was that safe. Lately though it has become very rough. You couldn't go out after dark now for fear of being touched up or mugged. When I was 15 we moved to another part of Great Barr because my dad got a new job which almost doubled his wages but he used to make me work with him on weekends and I didn't like that. It set me up for the real world though. When I was 18 I got married the first time (I've been married 6 times in total and all successful) we moved into a wonderful home, it needed some work, which I undertook myself and I also built a porch, So we could put the shoes in it. It was nice. In fact it was a lot nicer than the house I live in now although I am decorating at the moment. There was a sale on at Wilkinson and I only paid 2 quid for the paper. so I thought that's cheap and brought all of it even though I only needed 4 rolls. So if you need any Blue Liney wall paper let me know. I drive a car and I have never ran anybody over or had a serious accident so you can tell I am responsible. When all my mates were drink driving when I was younger I didn't join in but also I loved by the pub so I didn't have to drive. If you have any questions just send me a message. I am nice and not a killer or a vegetarian.

This was quite possibly the best thing I had ever seen anywhere on the internet and on that note I say dad! I salute you and your oddness!