Mild Substance Abuse at Work

A while ago at work someone was giving away these pint sized cans of Rockstar energy drink. I had had no breakfast and had a lot of work to do before I could have lunch, so I thought this would be the ideal thing to keep my performance up until I could eat. I downed the can and went about my business. I soon found myself feeling very hot and sweaty, and it was just me. Nevermind I thought, continued with my work. At the time I thought I was being normal but my colleagues later said I had a crazed look about me as I did shedloads of work at lightspeed. I even postponed lunch because I was getting so much work done it seemed a shame to interrupt it. Eventually though I began to feel a bit odd and sick, my hands had begun to shake uncontrollably and my mind was racing through a million thoughts a second. I forced myself to go and eat something before I passed out. I sat in the canteen at work, looking out of the 6th floor window, and noticed something which I had noticed plenty of times before, but it seemed more significant now: Chimney pots, there are hundreds of chimneypots on the surrounding houses. I did a quick count and estimated I could see well over 1000 chimney pots.

I didn't feel quite right again until 8pm that night. It was weird, but I did kind of enjoy it, even if I did suspect I might implode.

Cos I Like Fights n' Darts Dun I!

I might have stereotyped women in my last post. But that's their own fault for buying into the stereotype, literally. Here's a stereotype of men that I saw in the manliest place in the world, The mens toilet in a pub. Firstly its from Nuts magazine, which is the media's attempt to do what Heat did to women. Nuts, because the media people decided that was a nice sophisticated name for a magazine (They should have called it Cock, it would then appropriately label the reader as such). The rest of the poster ticks all the other male boxes. Hint that subscribing to this TV channel will make you more attractive to the ladies? Check. Fights? Check. Darts? Check (Pretty much the only sport where being morbidly obese improves your accuracy). They've also included a typical thuggish man who has had the crap kicked out of him and still looks 'ard. He's probably a racist too because he has 'Power' scrawled on his chest, which probably said 'White Power' before they photoshopped it.

I have watched the occasional fight, and the occasional game of darts, I even have limited personal experience of both. But presenting them to me in a post apocalyptic style before civilisation has actually collapsed is just wrong.

My Favourite Banker

One evening I happened upon this most unusual sight: A wonderfully attractive girl reading the Financial Times. I'm glad I saw this. Previously all the gorgeous girls I've seen on the train have been reading Heat magazine or one of the cheaper substitutes. It restored my faith in the female kind that they're not all addicted to celebrity gossip crap that is made up by a 'journalist' who has a rapidly approaching deadline, some photos of a celebrity, and no story whatsoever.

I've tried to read the Financial Times, it's particularly dull, mainly because I have little to do with the financial industry because that too is dull. At least until they realise they've been lending money they don't own to people who can't pay it back, then its quite amusing to watch them running around shouting 'Don't Panic!'.

Of course there is always the possibility that she selected this paper because it is pink, and is just looking at the pictures.

Golly Rights!

When I was little there was a well known character called Golly, that wasn't his full name, because his full name included a racial slur. Golly was a friendly chap, forever smiling and for some reason associated with jam. Pretty much every child had a Golly doll, it was normal, who wouldn't want a novelty soft toy version of a happy black man with an afro? Its better than a soft toy version of a pasty faced ginger man, thats just scary!

Anyway, imagine my surprise when browsing the wares in the local 'Might-as-well-be-a-pound-shop' to find my old friend Golly chilling out on a mini PVC sofa. He has found a safe place to hide, hardly anyone actually makes it to the back of this shop. So, there's little chance of him being spotted by the PC brigade and removed from society in an act of cuddly toy ethnic cleansing. His character has almost totally been assasinated, but I'm glad to see he lives on. Hopefully one day soon he won't have to hide like this, one day he will be considered equal to all the other soft toys. Poor Golly.

Sometimes Pigeons Fail Too

People often ask why you never see baby pigeons. I myself have seen baby pigeons, they're fat ugly creatures and you're lucky if you've never seen one. They tend to stay in their nest until they're grown up because they are lazy. One thing I have never seen is the accidental death of a pigeon. So often they sit in the road tempting fate but they always seem to escape unharmed. When I'm stood on the train platform watching the pigeons strut around on the tracks as a train approaches, I'm sure I'm not the only one anticipating some hardcore wheels-on-pigeon action, alas we're always disappointed. So imagine how left out I felt when I got to the station one morning to find a pigeon that failed, and I wasn't even there to see it...

Drumroll Please

With my change in job came a change in my commute. Unfortunately I now rarely find myself viewing the vast human diversity of the Northern Line, restricted to the rather dull and normal District Line. There are still the occasaional odd things though. Like this man, travelling with a drum. I hope he already has more drums at home, playing one drum alone would be a bit boring and really annoying for his neighbours. Maybe he is transporting a set of drums one by one because he doesn't have any friends with a van. He looks distinctly studenty, thats the sort of thing students would do to get the maximum out of their discounted travelcard. He definately can't afford a haircut. Maybe if he played his drum on the train he could raise enough funds for a haircut. I'd give him 50p if he was honest about it.