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.

So You Caught The Gay?

Ok, so we are all a little judgemental at times, some more than others after doing a heart felt in depth rant yesterday I thought I'd continue with a more relaxed jovial piece today. So as I said yesterday, we are a planet of people who like to judge others. So I thought I'd try and educate you a little on the truth behind gay people.

Firstly and probably most importantly. Being gay is not a disease!  You cannot catch 'the gay' if a gay person sneezes in your general direction.  This also applies to sharing cups. But if you find your self fancying a bum, you were probably born gay and have just been hiding in the closet with Aslan and friends.

Lesbians are like normal people!  Cue shocked face! They don't all like gold sovereign rings and darts. I am even sure if one said to another that they look pretty they are just paying a compliment in a friendly way and not planning a buffet down in the secret garden.

Gay people do like musicals but so do most straight people. Especially men! I for one am a straight man and enjoy nothing more than a night of Jesus Christ superstar, at times I even sing along.

Gay people are not judged by God. Do you want to know why? Because God doesn't exist! And if he did I am pretty sure he'd love nothing more than a night down the district.  The Bible says that being gay is wrong. Let me ask you. If you believe that the bible is real, did you happen to apply to hogwarts at any point in your life, because let me tell you. Harry Potter is far more believable than the bible.

Lesbians don't look like men! Ok some do but let's face it, some men spend so much time doing their hair, they may as well be a woman. In actual fact some of the most stunning people I know are Lesbian!

So let us all embrace the campness life has to offer. Live free and fun and more importantly become hardened to the ignorant opinions of others. Be proud of who you are and embrace life. Put on some Abba and dance like a fool around your living room.   

Finally. If you're out and about and you meet a gay don't worry they probably, almost definitely don't want to turn you! If they shake your hand they aren't using special gay code for "Hey, fancy a Dutch rudder?" It's just how they say hello, mainly based on the fact they are just like you and me!

Secure preference doesn't define a person. How we treat others defines a person.

This short and what may be pointless piece is for somebody who is inspiring and always smiling. Thank you for always listening to my nonsense and being a fan of the beardless messiah.

It's A Chefs Life

         Television has sugar coated and if not in some cases glorified what it means to be a chef. I was a chef for a very long time and I think for all of those budding chefs out there you should read before you consider a career that will drag you into the pits of despair.


         So you're a budding young chef are you? You have watched Masterchef and become inspired by the colours, panache and finesse that goes into every plate. Well I suggest you start recording every episode because you are going to need something to watch at 1am when you return home from work and all that is available on television is shopping channels, the third re-run of family guy and the news but with a little fellow in the corner who looks a bit like a pervert who is waving his hands way too much. I think the first fact you need to face is, You better like washing up and cutting up salad! You will be doing this for a very long time but this isn't the only trauma you have to face. You see in the catering world, there is no such thing as bullying. It's more priming you to become a vicious tongued, crazy person who cares not for the politically correct.


       You will on a daily basis be so exhausted your legs will start to make you believe they no longer like you. You will hold more scars than Charlie Bronson and get used to the phrase. "You look tired!" you will not only feel tired but you will also realise that your week is not coming to and end. You may have seen the angry shouting and ranting of the television chef from time to time. This is not usually the case. In fact you will usually only see this at 2 points.

Point One: You have cleaned down the entire kitchen and 2 minutes before you are about to leave for the comfort of your sofa and whisky bottle, some absolute moron will order a well done steak.

Point Two: If you have forgotten to do the food order for the busiest day of the week and the head chef finds out.

Apart from these two things it's pretty much anything goes. Now do you like Redbull? if not give it a week and a can of this silver coated battery acid will seem like Taylor Swift just Snapchatted a picture of her Garden of Eden. Like your food? Not any more you don't. You will eat sandwiches, crisps and sweets, This is now your diet! Ask yourself how do you react to practical jokes? I am not talking cling film on the toilet either. I am talking a whole team of people who dedicate their entire working life to not only find your inner most fears but exploit them at every turn. Don't like spiders? You will find them in your shoes, your car and you may even find yourself covered in them by some of the more dedicated and creative of chefs.


      Now you got into this for fancy and pretentious food right? WRONG you will cook what's on the menu, you will cook it fast, you will make sure it doesn't poison anybody and then you will throw a trees worth of parsley on it and call it garnish! Now the important part, the waitresses/waiters. Just do NOT even bother, you cannot have a relationship with these people. They are trained liars! They are actually paid and trained to be truly nice to everybody but as you know they are wonderful to the guests, the moment they step into that kitchen, it is like somebody urinated in their pockets and told them it's raining!

This is a true introduction into your first steps into catering. If a chef tells you he is happy, he is lying. The words term 'Happy Chef' is as oxymoronic as the term 'Honest Woman'

Ps You will bleed, A lot!

How Movie Obsessions got me arrested

I remember as if it were yesterday some of the wise words of my father growing up, he always had something to say and it usually sounded completely insane. For instance; I must have been no older than 5 when may father graced me with his first memorable words of wisdom;

“Son, when you get older you are going to find a woman but if you come home and find that she has suddenly developed the ability to sit on a broomstick and take flight, that my boy is a warning sign!”

My dad was a very blunt man, short in height with hair that added on about three inches, he looked very much like Sylvester Stallone in cobra, Especially when he got experimental and decided highlights were the way forward, he very quickly died these out though days later with a Grecian 2000 black shine hair dye and closely resembled the man from Soul Glo in coming to America every time it rained.

My dad had everything figured out and always had an uncanny ability to bring a smile to my face even if some of the things he came out with were completely crazy. If I had to pick a top 5 things my dad has said.

• Look! O.J Simpson on every channel! I'm a bloody fully grown man! Why would I want to watch cartoons.
• When asked “Do you want a bag for that sir?” replied “No you're alright son, I've got one” whilst directing his head in my step mothers direction
• Whilst Watching the matrix “You'd think he could have thought of a better name than Neil”
• David Copperfield the magician or the one from Charles Dixon
• On receiving his first ever text message. It's like a letter and a phone call all wrapped into one!

I loved my dads sense of humour, It was a little twisted at times and when I think of him and some of the lessons he taught me it takes me back to being 12 years old. I was a scrawny little streak of nothing, with ears that made me look like a wing-nut and obsessed with the world of cinema. I had three favourite films. The Rock, Mission Impossible and Con Air. Mission impossible being my movie of choice as every kid wants to be a spy at some point right? I vividly remember this one Saturday morning, mid June and my friend Mike had came around to see if I wanted to play football, we used to play on the grounds of my old school and then hide the ball and pretend to be Ethan Hunt from Mission Impossible!

After an hour or so of pretending to play football and reaching the conclusion there was nobody about, it was time for our mission Which We had already chosen to accept. We had stashed a socket wrench set and some heavy duty rope from my dads garage in the bushes. We proceeded to the roof, now before judging you have to admire the creativity of two twelve year old boys for the next part, I mean we had already prepared ourselves with hairspray to detect any lasers that may cause us problems and maybe delay the task in hand. We proceeded to remove the skylight window and attached the rope to a protruding part of the roof. The other part of the rope was lassoed around my waste encroaching very uncomfortably into my area. It was time! Mike began to lower me down as I sprawled out mimicking some odd star fish in the air, it was kind of like the snowman just without the slushy at the end. As I found myself about five feet off the ground, I felt something I'd never felt before as I heard a voice say,

“What the hell are you doing?”

I felt my rear cavity close up to the size of a small ant and Mike had heard it too, he at this point dropped the rope and obviously ran, I fell to the floor, right before the legs of a Policeman. He was a tall, intimidating man and I had no idea what the hell to do. So I got onto my knees and thought, I know! I put my hands above my head; I had recently watched bad boys and that is exactly what the bad guys had to do. He shook his head and scooped me up. I remember basically being dragged out of a door and then for some reason I asked the policeman if he would let me go if I gave him my sweets. 12 years old and I think I am some sort of autistic Godfather by trying to buy off a copper with cola cubes and daddies herbals.

The next thing I know me and Mike are in the back of a police car and I turn to Mike and ask him.

“Do you think we can pick these locks?”

Knowing full well neither of us had practiced this yet, we'd just about mastered hitting a balloon with our Fk1077112's (elastic band shotgun to normal humans). We tried to reason with the police, in retrospect my reasoning technique wasn't wise, I tried humour with a touch of charm and blurted out.

“If you can let us go, I will tell you were the Bombs are” and chuckled to myself.

Luckily enough this was pre 911 and I only knew about bombs because I had watched face-off not long before.

Before long we were at the local police station, the fear that was now overwhelming was slightly overshadowed by our pride that we thought we were going to be interviewed by government agents turns out that was far from the case and the only thing we actually got close to whilst at the station was whilst being interviewed, there was a bad cop but the other guy wasn't a good cop, He was equally as much an ass as the first.

Now there is this thing with me, it still exists today, I may sometimes not know when to quit, this was certainly one of those times. When the red button was pressed and the tape started recording after every question asked I would strictly only answer.

“Cartwright 201084”

You see I also loved war films, I thought the name and number thing applied to police stations as well as P.O.W camps. I kept this up for a good half an hour until they marched me to a cell and slammed the door behind me, only after I had of course snapped out of my gulf war syndrome.

After about two hours of being incarcerated and doing push-ups whilst only stopping to check if my hair was growing at the rate of Cameron Poe in Con Air, The door finally opened and my dad was on the other side. I remember the look on his face as I explained exactly what me and mike had been doing. I recall his face holding back a grin and the as the father he was, and not wanting me to get myself into further trouble he chose to lay upon me this.

“Son, I have spoken to the copper outside, I am going to be honest, as your dad it's only fair. It doesn't look good. You are looking at 5 years in a youth offenders.”

My heart almost stopped and my eyes well up, he knew he had me so being a loving father he carried on.

“You have to prepare yourself, nobody is going to look after you and you are only small so you will almost certainly get bummed, just try and relax though because if you fight they might like it.”

Stony faced he looked at me and my lip was going and as my face was ready to explode into a well of tears, He stood up, headed towards the door and said.

“Now get up, lets go home. Never ever get in trouble with the police again and most importantly DO NOT tell your mother, you know she gets all Deidre Barlow about these things.”

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.