Rubbish@poker

PLO hands

2012-01-10T13:26:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year all.

I've decided to try and blog a few hands per month and hopefully someone will leave a comment. Posted these on RTR as well.

Couple of interesting hand on Terminal Poker.

We're playing 4 handed, DeadEquity is very aggressive over all three streets, the other two are Quite tight passive. Terminal Poker, if you haven't played on it before is like Rush Poker on Full Tilt. As soon as you fold you get placed into the next hand. Unfortunately there's only a limited number of players at the moment so quite often you are on the same table for several hands. Interestingly you do not keep the same position so sometimes you will have position one hand and the next you don't. This is true when five handed more than four. Anyhow, I'm in big blind and get a decent hand. Dead raises pre as I know he is going to. I choose to flat and see a cheap flop knowing I'm OOP but if I hit all the chips will be in by the river. I hit and choose to check fully expecting a bet and with the intention of re raising. My only concern is Untu who I have no reads on.

ElecPoker Game #11034483, €0.25/€0.50, Omaha PL
2012-Jan-10 19:56:48
Table 4-max Seat #2 is the dealer
Seat 1: untu73 (€58.20 in chips)
Seat 2: DeadEquity (€153.65 in chips)
Seat 3: Trollaaja (€37.04 in chips)
Seat 4: rubbish247 (€49.90 in chips)
Trollaaja: posts small blind €0.25
rubbish247: posts big blind €0.50
*** HOLE CARDS ***
Dealt to untu73 [** ** ** **]
Dealt to DeadEquity [** ** ** **]
Dealt to Trollaaja [** ** ** **]
Dealt to rubbish247 [Ah Td As Ts]
untu73: raises €0.50 to €1
DeadEquity: raises €2.75 to €3.75
Trollaaja: folds
rubbish247: calls €3.25
untu73: calls €2.75
*** FLOP *** [9s Tc 5h]
rubbish247: checks
untu73: checks
DeadEquity: bets €8
rubbish247: ?

And here's another one. Again Trollaaja I view as being quite tight and nitty. When he raises I'm happy to flat with 3 left to act. Nothing scares me on the flop so I'm always calling to see a turn card. Unfortunately, turn card leaves me in no mans land as I've now got no clue where I stand in this pot. Got caught in two minds whether to raise or call on turn. Clock runs down really fast on Terminal and when I didn't have a clue what I should do I really should have folded but can you get away from trips? River bet is aaaaaaaaaaarrgghh. What do you do?

ElecPoker Game #11040488, €0.25/€0.50, Omaha PL
2012-Jan-10 20:46:26
Table 5-max Seat #1 is the dealer
Seat 1: DaBeear (€70.45 in chips)
Seat 2: DukeOfDk (€100.20 in chips)
Seat 3: RUFrt12 (€243.35 in chips)
Seat 4: Trollaaja (€76.21 in chips)
Seat 5: rubbish247 (€76.60 in chips)
DukeOfDk: posts small blind €0.25
RUFrt12: posts big blind €0.50
*** HOLE CARDS ***
Dealt to DaBeear [** ** ** **]
Dealt to DukeOfDk [** ** ** **]
Dealt to RUFrt12 [** ** ** **]
Dealt to Trollaaja [** ** ** **]
Dealt to rubbish247 [Ts 9s 9d Qd]
Trollaaja: raises €1.25 to €1.75
rubbish247: calls €1.75
DaBeear: folds
DukeOfDk: folds
RUFrt12: calls €1.25
*** FLOP *** [6c Td 3c]
RUFrt12: checks
Trollaaja: bets €5.50
rubbish247: calls €5.50
RUFrt12: folds
*** TURN *** [6c Td 3c] [Tc]
Trollaaja: bets €16.50
rubbish247: calls €16.50
*** RIVER *** [6c Td 3c Tc] [8d]
Trollaaja: bets €49.50
rubbish247: ?

If any PLO champs view this please leave a comment.

All the best for 2012 folks, see you soon.

Legend.

2011-11-28T23:56:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm a Rugby guy this man was a Legend. RIP Speedo.

Another bink

2011-11-20T16:01:00.000-08:00

So I won this little tiddler.........

And here's how I did it...............

Or it would be if my stupid fooking blog would post the links but it wont.
Go to www.pokertube.com and you can view the tournament under the video section, duffer playing 8 game parts 1,2 & 3. I'm in parts 2 & 3.
Later.

Ancient

2011-11-09T23:14:00.000-08:00

My Daughter is now officially a teenager which by default means I'm now ancient.

Love you babes.

Alain Rolland

2011-10-15T03:27:00.001-07:00

Fuck off and die you French cunt.

Mixed games.

2011-10-13T04:21:00.000-07:00

Been playing a few of these recently and here's the latest results.

There's also a Badugi one I binked but I can't find the screen shot of that one.
Anyhow, Cymru am byth, let's stuff these Froggy bastards.

Can't be arsed

2011-08-17T04:21:00.000-07:00

Poker is getting me down big time at the moment.
That is all.

London rioting in photo's

2011-08-10T04:57:00.000-07:00

Especially for No Cash

Where has the time gone?

2011-07-09T02:31:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile.
Working like a dog at the moment so haven't had time to do fuck all. Still studying to become a plumber. About a third of the way through the course and am now awaiting a date to go on the first residential part of it.
Still working with Dave. He's just taken on a massive job, renovating a big fuck off house and I've been helping him. We're installing new bathrooms (two) and a new kitchen amongst other things. Also got several smaller jobs on the go so the two of us are spread pretty thin most days.
I've also taken on an evening job to pay for the plumbing course. I'm working for a logistics/freight Company as a fork truck driver.
As some of you will know I gave up smoking last year after 30 years and have been piling on the pounds ever since. When I started this job I had to buy a couple of pairs of 36 inch jeans because I had got so fat. I was even considering borrowing one of my Daughters training bras, my man boobs were getting that big. So, I'm working at this Company and one of the boys doesn't show so the Manager asks if I'll cover for this guy. I say "no problem, what do you want me to do"?
Quick background check, lorries come in, I unload them then people unload the pallets/cages and put the parcels on conveyor belts which are then sorted into towns/cities, re/palletised and sent back out a few hours later. I covered the guy who was unloading the pallets/cages.
I have never worked so fucking hard in my life!
After twenty minutes there was enough sweat on me to shave a bear.I went home that evening and could hardly walk from my car to my front door, I was so fucked.
I went in the next evening and asked my Manager if I could swap jobs with the kid who did the unloading. He laughed but when he realised I was serious came to a compromise. I still do a bit on the fork truck but now help whoever is loading.
In the last month I've lost over a stone in weight but also am now quite toned. My man boobs have gone and I'm in the same sort of shape I was in when I could bench press my own body weight. I've still got a bit of a stomach, drinking ten pints of Cider four nights a week doesn't help but I'm now back down to a 34 inch waist and can squeeze into some of my old 32 inch jeans. And I get paid to do this! If a health club guaranteed I would lose this much in a month I would have paid the World.
Talking of World, good to see the News of the World bite the dust. Gutter press at it's worst. If you live outside the UK and are unsure what I'm on about read this latest update.

Hardly played any poker recently, just haven't had the time. I did watch my old mucker Davy gravy online last Sunday though. Check him out.
Laters.

Osama Bin Laden Dead (warning - graphic photos)

2011-05-07T04:48:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you look at something in the newspapers or on the news and you think, why?

Why would anyone print a photo that disgusting or show images so obscenely graphic that your stomach churns at the mere memory.

This week has been all about the seedier side of the press. Every evening there's been lead items that I've had to switch the channels over because my twelve year old Daughter was in the room.

Every morning I read the paper then bin it in case my Daughter happens to have a quick gander and see something she shouldn't.

Earlier in the week I was upstairs playing poker and heard my Wife and Daughter scream. I rushed downstairs to find the pair of them transfixed on an image which made me feel physically sick.

Why would anyone want to show this on TV or print it in a newspaper?

Although it wasn't all bad!

Oh, by the way, Osama Bin Laden is dead unless you believe all the conspiracy theories that abound at the moment.

Royal wedding speeches in full.

2011-04-27T03:07:00.001-07:00

Read them here first.

Love car boot sales

2011-04-24T04:50:00.001-07:00

The books were 50p each as were the DVD's other than the Sons of Anarchy series 1 which was £2 and the CD's were a couple of quid as well.
I was looking on Amazon and the Super System books sell for £12-£20 a pop and I've bought both of them for 80p!
The plumbing course is going ok but I've come to a grinding halt at the moment. They only send you one module at a time which has four assignments to complete. You can only submit one assignment at a time and you have to wait for a code which enables you to download the next assignment. I've finished all four assignments in the books but have only downloaded and had one marked. They will not send the next module out until all four have been marked so I'm sat here twiddling my thumbs waiting for the lecturers to get their arse into gear before I can get the next module.
Poker is going so so. Haven't reached 100 euros yet in the HUSNG attempt, agonisingly stuck at the 90 euro mark at the moment. Have had some sickening bad beats and also some huge suckouts. Worst one against was waking up with KK. Blinds were 25/50 and oppo raised to 150. I re raised to 400 and he snap calls. Flop 345 rainbow. I value bet and he pushes all in. I'm pot committed at this point so sigh and call guessing he has either A2 or a flopped set. He turns over 2c6d???? Are you fucking serious???
Anyhow, played the same guy a few times and I've schooled him since that hand!
Almost forgot, bought this as well:

I've seen the one of them eating their lunch before but never seen this one of them kipping. Serious love spuds the size of Lions those guys. I hung it above my Computer so that when I'm getting beat after beat I can look up and see how easy I've got it.

Laters

So bye bye Miss American pie

2011-04-19T02:51:00.000-07:00

All American citizens are now banned from playing on-line Poker. Wow, just wow. So much for living the American dream. Amazingly their downfall is being attributed to one man. Step forward Mr Daniel Tzvetkoff, an Australian financial whiz kid rumored to be the Man behind the payment process scheme which has now backfired with spectacular results.
I must admit to being a little stupid here. What I can't get my brain around is how did Americans deposit on these sites and how did they get paid when they withdrew? The more I read the more I'm confused. Were Pokerstars, Full Tilt and AB really pretending to be pet shops and Golf ball suppliers?
Not only that but it also transpires that PokerStars were actually funding banks to process their American players deposits and withdrawls.
I intially thought this was all about taxing USA players on their winnings but it seems it has more to do with the three sites perpetrating a massive money laundering fraud. Full Tilt's traffic was reportedly down 48% on Sunday. Nice hand, good game, bye bye.
I sincerely hope all the USA players get their money back and are on the virtual felt sometime soon. Peace out.

Dwan: "Heard any more about Black Friday"?
Hellmuth: "No, who's starring in it"?

Meanwhile back at Rubbish Manor I managed a sixth last night for $100 and am trying to make a 1,000 Euros playing HUSNG's. Started off with 20 Euros and am currently up to 50. Will post some screen grabs later on.
Laters.

Back to school

2011-04-12T07:21:00.000-07:00

I've decided I need to do something productive with my life instead of fannying around on the poker tables and stumbling from one shitty job to another so I'm doing a computer course to become a Plumber.
My tutor reckons it will take 18 months, I'm hoping it will take a lot less. Got my first manual through a few days ago and have already read 200 odd pages of it and most made sense. It helps working with Dave who does a load of odd jobs for mates and I've picked up tons of shite off him.
Nipped down the car boot sale on Saturday and found these little bargains.

I've read the P J O'Rourke ones before but don't seem to have them in the house anymore? Haven't read any Michael Moore books so hope they're decent. Also, the Dandy Warhols CD surprised me. Most of the songs are nothing like "Bohemian like you" and I'm not particularly sure how to descrive them? The whole lot cost less than £7 which is a result.
And that brings us nicely into the nice little result I had on Saturday when I drew Ballabriggs in the National sweepstake at my local so had a cheeky tenner on him. Balla brought home the bacon for a nice few quid. Better news from that meeting can be found here . Hope and pray the young guy makes a full and speedy recovery.
Congratulations to my favourite fish Amatay who has somehow blackmailed his way into being a sponsored Pro. Even better news is Cos blagging a position as well. Could be a fun site to read over the coming months.
Laters.

Busy few days

2011-04-02T03:06:00.000-07:00

Went to the CIA on Thursday night to watch the Premier League Darts and what a fantastic night out. The atmosphere was akin to a Football match and when Phil "the power" Taylor and Barney went toe to toe it was awesome. Felt sorry for the Welsh guy, Webster, who got stuffed 8-1. I really think the occasion got to him. Bread of Heaven was being sung by the majority of the crowd and it felt like a Wales v England International. Here's a few photos.

As you can see we were quite high up. In fact we were as high up as you can get seeing as we had been given tickets to a box with a free bar. Lovely jubbly.

Next day I was playing Golf with a load of mates from my local. We usually play Christmas time but because of the snow we had to rearrange and this was the earliest we could all get together. I shot 32 points playing off 17, not bad seeing I haven't hit a ball for close on two years. Again a great laugh and quite a few beers afterwards.

Back in work next week for God knows how long.

Happy Mothers day to all my Mom readers, hope you have a nice relaxing one.

Laters.

Sssshhhhhhhhhhh

2011-03-26T05:51:00.000-07:00

Don't tell them I bought these three masterpieces for £1 at the local car boot sale.

I also bought these as well. Not sure if you can make them all out but there's a load of reading material so should keep me occupied for a while. Plus a few recent film releases which were £1 each.

Meh

2011-03-24T04:01:00.000-07:00

Out of work yet again.
Seems the Company I worked for have a container full of hard drives coming into the Country and they've been held up somewhere which means I have nothing to format. Shit happens.
Back to playing Poker allthough I do have to see a man about a job later. Probably going to work with Dave next week which should be fun.
Played Poker on Tuesday night at my local and some random guy sits down and asks if he can join in. As we had only just started and a few of the boys vaguely knew him we let him buy in. The game was self dealt and the first hand he deals he gets Aces! And so it went on. He hit flushes, full houses, everything you can imagine. Spookily though, only on his own deal. He also had the annoying habit of continually asking what denomination the coloured chips were. After about ten minutes it was obvious that he was fleecing us. I watched him like an hawk but couldn't work out if he was cheating or not. Normally we play until two in the morning but after this guy sat down we ended after the first game, which he won, at about ten thirty. After he leaves the Landlord says to one of the boys, "So, how did the magician do"?
Turns out the guy has a part time magic act and he specialises in, wait for it, CARD tricks. What a fucking wanker. It was just as well we found out after he left because if someone had mentioned that fact whilst he was playing I guess he would have had the shit kicked out of him. Hopefully he turns up next week where I'm sure he will have a warm welcome.
Wales play England in Footie on Saturday and latest news is Gareth Bale is out. Fucking great. Our one decent player is side lined. Looks like my 11-0 correct score bet for Wales is doomed but I just got 6-0, Bellamy first scorer bet matched at 1.8. Seems a massive price to me against a piss poor English team. Here's the latest betting for next England manager which could happen as early as Sunday.
David Beckham 10.7
Lord Stephen Fry 186.0
George Osborne 17.5%
Prince William 29.04
Jamie Oliver 250 calories
Colonel Gaddafi 4.2
Cheryl Cole 36/22/34
Sir Alan Sugar 1.6
Silvio Berlusconi 69
Chief Wiggum 911
My money is on Capello and Berlusconi doing a job swap next week.
Laters.

Cheltenham day 1

2011-03-15T05:47:00.000-07:00

I guess most of my readers know I like a flutter so here's my placepot for today. Follow them at your own peril.
1. 11
2. 2, 6
3. 4, 11
4. 10
5. 1, 6
6. 3, 4

Good luck if you're having a bet today.

Edit... 4 out of 6 races so a load of crap to be honest. Am working with Dave today so wont be able to post one up later. Probably saves me some money.

Where did February go?

2011-03-07T00:35:00.000-08:00

Jeez, it's been a while!
So what's been happening recently I hear you ask? Not a lot.
Played poker in January and made $2k but the disheartening part was making $1.8k in two days and $200 in the next twenty nine days. My sleep patterns were all to fuck. I was getting up at 15.00 to pick my Daughter up from school. Getting home and cooking her Dinner, me breakfast. Doing fuck all until 20.00 then playing a few tourneys through til 6.00am the next morning. By the end of January I'd had enough.
Luckily, I was offered a job with a Company I used to work for and took them up on their offer. This coincided with my Daughter opening up a spam e-mail and downloading a load of viruses onto my laptop. After fixing those she then went and done it again.
Then she managed to break the power cable so I couldn't get on the laptop until I bought another. Then she opened another spam e-mail and fucked it up again. It may come as no surprise to find that she is now banned from my laptop. Little cow.
So I've had an enforced break from Poker and am now chomping at the bit to play a few tourneys. I've also had an enforced absence from reading peoples blogs so I have a bit of catching up to do.
Anyhow, I've been trying to get on that fish, Amatay's, blog but for some reason it's turned into an "invite only" blog? I sent him a text about it and he sent one back saying he'd had a bit of bad news and had some stuff to sort out but would get on the case as soon as he could. It transpires that his new girlfriend out in the Far East has testicular cancer. My thoughts and prayers are with you Bud.
Later.

Change of career?

2011-01-24T18:15:00.000-08:00

Since January 1st I have found myself in the unenviable position of being a Pro internet poker player! This isn't because I'm any good at it. Far from it. Phil Ivey and Tom Dwan are hardly quaking in their $25k loafers. Amatay isn't ringing me up for lessons (though he probably should). It's more to do with the fact that poker winnings are now my only source of income.
After getting made redundant I worked with Dave for a while and did some temping but since Xmas I haven't bothered. Winning $2k in the first week or so of January didn't help. The last two weeks though have been rather sad. I wont bore you with the bad beats because you've read them in a million blogs and they get worse each time. Tonight I cashed for the second time in 10 days. I actually played worse than I have recently but managed to final table mainly because some guy went on a massive heater and took out about ten people in a row. Anyway, I have a week to make $1k and I'll carry on for the time being. If not I'll start looking for a proper job.
In other news I'm also doing a bookkeeper course. Unfortunately I have another eight weeks to go before I pass. I have worked in Accountants before and I wouldn't mind setting up a little business. A few of my mates, Dave included, have their own businesses and have intimated that they would be happy for me to do their books. Anyone know what the going rate would be?
Haven't been around too many blogs recently but will definitely be looking in on everyone soon.
I'm on twitter "rubbish2407" if anyone fancies being bored on a more regular basis.
All the best.
Later.

Feeling urgh

2010-12-29T03:24:00.000-08:00

Struggling at the moment with Man flu. Was supposed to go up my Mums who has been snowed in since the 17th but both me and the Daughter have been knocked for six. Obviously had to put in a Cricket metaphor with England retaining the Ashes down under.
Haven't done much this Xmas. Just the three of us on Xmas day although my Daughter does eat for Wales. Had a couple of mates over in the evening where we had a few beers and watched the Royle family. For those who haven't seen it then click the link below pronto. Best TV over Xmas by a mile. Without spoiling it I'll just give you one sample gag. Joe's wife Mary has died so he brings her urn over for Christmas dinner. Whilst they all reminisce about Mary someone brings up the time she won the fancy dress down the Feathers.

Jim: Yeah she made a great Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu.
Joe: Actually she went as Shaun Wright Phillips.

You can watch the whole episode here
Enjoy.

Right, off to give my Daughter a kicking on Mario Kart. Later.

Merry Xmas

2010-12-24T13:25:00.000-08:00

Hope you and yours have a great Christmas and a superb 2011. All the best and catch you all soon.
By the way, I'm on twitter now, rubbish2407, if you fancy an endless stream of crap.
Laters.

Bored

2010-12-06T03:06:00.000-08:00

Dave's Missus is ill so I'm stuck in the house with not alot to do.
Done most of my Xmas shopping on Amazon but still need to sort out a few things. Trying to get myself a new mobile but no one can tell me when my contract runs out? O2 and Carphone Warehouse are real twats of the highest order.
I have been watching this today though and it really is worth watching episodes 61-65 if you like rooting for the underdog. It is a poker programme by the way so don't waste 200 minutes of your life if you can't stand poker.
Talking of poker I'm currently doing okay on the $6 SNG's on Full Tilt and made a few quid this last week or so. Not having to get up at 4.30am is helping. I'm pretty sure I was sub-consciously getting it in bad when playing late at night because I knew I had to get up early and therefore needed to get to bed. Not anymore though.
I'm also doing the last man standing challenge on Boylepoker where the winner gets a buy in to the Western Open in February. Not sure how I'm doing but I'm still in.
Also off to Bolton in Feb for the APAT team comp. Not going to play but will be railing the RTR fish.
Another trip next Year is to Blackpool for one of the monthly comps the Blackpool Circus Casino is running. I love Blackpool. I'm not sure if any of my American readers or worldwide readers for that matter are aware but Blackpool is an unique place. Blackpool on a Sunday morning is the only place on the planet where the Women have a higher sperm count than the Men. That's a fact that my Blackpool partner in crime, No Cash, will no doubt atest to.
My main trips next year though will be Rugby orientated. Off to Edinburgh, Rome and somewhere in France other than that shithole that is Paris for the Welsh games. Also off to Leuven for their Seven's tourney in May. Got the biggest fish in the pond coming down to Cardiff for the England match. I shouldn't really say that about him as he beat me 2-0 heads up the other night. Fucker. Unfortunately my trips fade into comparison when you look what this dirty fish is up to next year. Some people have all the luck but in his case it's all the skill to have made a living out of Poker.
Right, off to Carphone Warehouse to whinge like a good one until someone sorts me out a new phone.
Laters.

New favourite team

2010-11-27T04:24:00.000-08:00

I've found a new footie team to support. Check out this blog. Awesome.
Off out to watch Wales get handed their arses by New Zealand. Could be the most embarrassing 80 minutes of Rugby ever. Luckily, I'll be so drunk by kick off I'll probably have no recollection of the game.
Later.

Just fan bloody tastic

2010-11-19T09:55:00.000-08:00

Supposed to be going to Leurven in Belgium tonight/early hours of Saturday with a posse of Rugby mates for a 50th Birthday bash. All day Rugby tournament at Leurven Rugby Club and a free bar in the night. We're even sleeping in the Club so it's drink as much Stella as you can and then pass out. One snag. Guess where we're flying from? Fucking Birmingham airport where all flights have just been cancelled.
I hope the guys who crashed are okay but why today you fucking twats?

Bidibot

2010-11-13T03:34:00.000-08:00

I had this comment from JT regarding my previous post plus one.

Hi there!

I'm honoured that you consider me the 2nd greatest poker player from Wales, I guess that means you didn't see me play the world open last night on channel 5!

Regarding my latest business, bidibot.com, I feel there are a few issues I ought to clear up. Firstly, users are able to place bidbots which places their bids for them whilst they are playing online, sleeping or just don't want to manually place the bids. They are able to select how many bids to use and at what price for it to be triggered.

The users involved in last nights crazy battle spend a lot on image building so they do not face much resistance in future auctions. The winner in the auction you talked about was user rje8686 and although he paid over the rrp for this prize his reputation as a fearless bidder has made him thousands of dollars of profit which he himself has posted his results on the twoplustwo forums.

We are currently awarding all new signups with 10 dollars worth of free bids to try the site. Give it a go ;)

Best of luck,

John Tabatabai

I know a lot of people have put links up for this site, I have gone one step further and registered. I can also confirm that I have succesfully bid for 3 x Tournament tickets for Poker Stars (1 x $22 and 2 x $11) and paid the princely sum of $1.01 for the three of them. Two have been transferred into my Stars account allready and the third should be there today. $1.01 is the least you can bid for any item.
Normally if something looks to good to be true there's a catch. This time there isn't. Click this link
and look who won the $11 Stars ticket at the bottom of the page and for how much.
Played at the local casino last night in a £15 freezeout (misheard my mate, thought he said £50) and came 7/103 for £70. It's play like that which will always leave JT trailing in my wake as Wales' No. 1 :)
Hope this clears everything up John and I await that $1k you and Pud promised me.
Laters.

Work life balance

2010-11-12T04:06:00.000-08:00

I'm just about to finish two weeks of the most mind numbingly, repetitive, boring work I've ever done in my life and I've absolutely loved it. No deadlines. No people to manage. No bosses looking over your shoulder. No meetings to chair or attend. No customers to appease. It's been fucking great. If only the pay didn't reflect how shitty the job was I'd ask if I could do it full time.
Next week I'm working for Dave which should be a laugh. He's got about five properties on the go and they are all in various stages of not being anywhere near finished so that he can rent them out. I'm not sure what he thinks I'm going to be doing but I plan on doing a bit of painting and reading the papers all day. The best thing about working with Dave though is no Monday mornings or Friday afternoons. I sometimes wonder how the fucker makes any money at all.
My Sister in laws Fiftieth tomorrow which means I'm going to miss Wales v South Africa as we are going to some Rick Stein Restaurant for food. I will, of course, sit there scowling all day wishing I was sitting in the Millennium Stadium but the one good thing is her Son, my Nephew, has started playing Rugby so I'll probably sneak him into some bar to watch the game.
Going to the casino after work tonight for a £50 freezeout. Poker has been a bit up and down the last few weeks so I'm hoping for a decent placing.
Next week, my Missus and I have to take my Daughter and eight of her mates to see the Harry Potter film. I'm absolutely fucking estactic about it. Next Saturday though I'm off to Leurven in Belgium for a fiftieth birthday bash. Now why couldn't my Sister in law have her bash at the home of Stella?
Later.

Bots - who would have them and other shameless plugs.

2010-11-10T16:57:00.000-08:00

I've just been on the Bidibot site which is something to do with John Tabatabai, the second greatest poker player from Wales after yours truly and it's all going horribly wrong for two guys. There's an $150 Betfair credit and two people, or more to the point, two bots have now bid over $500 on it. Yep, that's right, two bots have made bids of $250 each on an $150 credit. Bots, who would have them? I've had one winning bid and I'll let you know if I have any problems.
My Daughter was 12 today which means twelve years ago I was the drunkest man in Cardiff. Somethings never change. Seeing as I'm plugging Bidibot I might as well plug the best restaurant in Cardiff . There's actually a chain of them so there might be one near you. Pay them a visit, the food is superb.
Here's my favourite gamblers site . His footie tips are great and his basketball ones are better.
All the best folks and thanks for dropping by.

Sigh

2010-10-30T03:17:00.000-07:00

Running bad
Fast forward to 19.30 and you'll see how good I'm running at the moment. The guy who goes all in has a $50 bounty on his head and for some reason my Avatar keeps on defaulting to a fucking chicken.
Started looking for a new job on Tuesday and got offered two on Friday. Took one which is a four week contract but as my old company are still paying me I'm on double money for a month.
Later.

Just fooking typical

2010-10-26T14:14:00.000-07:00

Now I've got loads of free time I've decided to play loads of Poker and guess what, worst fooking run of my life. I must have had a 100 pocket pairs which haven't hit a set but all my opponents are hitting sets with alarming regularity. I've also bust out of more tourneys in the last two days with the best hand at the time of getting it all in, than I have over the course of the last year. Just fooking typical.
Spun £40 up to £720 over the weekend on a series of bets and put it all on Inter Milan on Sunday night. Rafa Benitez must be the worst manager in the history of the game. Just fooking typical.
Both my neighbours are relatively new and guess what, they've both got builders working on their houses whilst I'm at home all day trying to watch TV and play poker. Just fooking typical.
I've had to go into the City Centre a few times so I've been going on the bus. I fooking hate all this terrorist business. Years ago you could look at an unattended bag and think, I'm having that. Not now. Just fooking typical.
Anyway, I'm a bit worried about my Daughter. My Missus and I think she might be dyslexic. She asked if I could take her for a McDonalds today so I said I would if she could spell it. She said "fuck it I'll have a CKF instead".
Later.

Dublin

2010-10-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

Just come back from a mad weekend in Dublin with a few RTR fishes where we drank copious amounts of Guinness and played a bit of poker.
The main reason for going was the Boyles sports IPO which is Europes largest poker event. 1200 plus people turned up to play over the Friday and Saturday with the final running on Sunday along with the Irish Poker awards.
I turned up on the Friday and after a few pints in the pub across the road from my hotel, wandered up to the Regency for the two O'clock start. Unfortunately, it started at twelve and I was being blinded away. When I took my seat I looked at my first hand which was KK. It gets folded arounded to me and before I can say anything the Italian guy to my left says raise. The dealer informs him I'm to play so I raise which means he now has to. The guy two seats further around goes all in and I call. The Italians mucks his cards and I turn over my KK to his AA. A King on the turn and I fluke a double up and some. I then played through until ten or eleven in the evening when the blinds finally caught up with me. I ended up with 16k with the blinds 800/1600 and look down at pocket snowmen. A guy goes all in who I have covered so I snap call. He flips AK and the flop comes QQ2, J, J. Counterfeited by the fooking Ace. I bomb out next hand.
Amatay, Jak and Greekstein had all pitched up so we had a few beers, although Greeky who doesn't drink, played cards like the degen he is til redic o'clock.
On Saturday all the rest of the RTR fish were playing. Snake who I was bunking with pitched up early doors and we made our way up to the Regency around midday with Jak. No cash and his babysitter, a lovely degenerate called Paul, were already in the bar. Cogs, who wasn't registered to play, turned up next. Greeky ambled along with his man bag draped over his shoulder and casually mentioned how he had spunked £2k away the previous evening. Amatay dragged himself out of his wanking chariot about Six in the evening.
After all the guys had found their tables Cogs and I settled down at the bar for the duration. 52 minutes later we were joined by Snakey. And so it carried on until we were all sat around a table having more Guinness.
Several side events were taking place alongside loads of cash tables and slowly but surely all the degenerates soon whittled away. I stuck to my guns and continued trying to drink my own body weight. At some point we headed into Dublin City centre allthough I was totally gone at that point. I didn't last too long and was soon on my way home. No cash managed to convince a couple of girls that he and Snake were millionaire poker players. I think No cash was passing himself off as Tom Dwan and Snakey was Doyle Brunson. This may be a photo of No cash hooking the bird that Snakey eventually got to grips with later on, alledgedly.

Anyhow, after telling all and sundry that I wasn't drinking on the Sunday, I found myself at the bar about middayish and the fun and games continued. The boys played in a few other side events and Cogs, Paul and Jak all cashed in a 100 Euro head hunter. I found myself sat at the bar with Padraig Parkinson who is an absolute legend in Irish Poker circles. A few other guys pitched up including Neil Channing who was a top guy. He hosted the Irish Poker awards which Padraig won best blog for. He walked up to the stage and calmly told everyone that "I feel such a fraud as Jesse May writes my blog".
On winning Irish Poker personality of the year award Padraig then got up on stage and asked, "who the fuck votes for these things? I'd like to thank Jesse for creating me such a great personality".
What a top bloke.
We ended up drinking until the early hours with Amatay and Paul giving me a Poker lesson.
All in all it was a fantastic weekend with loads of Guinness and great company. Can't wait for next year.
Unfortunately I went to work on Tuesday and found out I had been made redundant. Fuck my luck.

Lost my blogging mojo

2010-10-11T12:34:00.000-07:00

Haven't really felt like blogging much this last month, not sure why. Wouldn't have today if it wasn't for the fact BBC2 are showing the most pointless programme in the history of mankind tonight. Here's a link in case you're not sure which programme it is but I can definately tell you the answer is, fuck no.
Later.

Been a while

2010-09-11T03:58:00.000-07:00

Been back from holidays for what seems a lietime now and still haven't written about it. A few other things have happened since and I should write a post about those as well. Maybe next time.
I'm nice and tanned after my Hols so I decided to go to the local pool to show off the tan. I was asked to leave by this lifeguard due to the large bulge in my Speedos upsetting some of the other swimmers. I pointed out another guy in similar trunks and asked why he wasn't being asked to leave. "Because he hasn't shit himself" he replied.
On to other business.
Cardiff City are on a roll. They beat a Portsmouth team which, whilst struggling this season, was still full of Premiership players. They've made the biggest signing of the season by bagging Craig Bellamy and are now the team to beat. They've also signed two players in the close season equally as important as Bellers. Olinfanjana on loan from Hull and Drinkwater loaned from Man Utd have been bossing the midfield. People I know have said that Drinwater could eventually take over from Scholes at Man Utd. Oli wasn't due to play today but after loaning Gerrard to Hull both teams have agreed that both players can play. Better news for Cardiff than Hull. You can back Cardiff at 1.64 which I have for £100. Nothings guaranteed but I like this bet. I've also had a little dabble on Cardiff, QPR, Scunthorpe, Peterborough, Sheffield Wed, Torquay and Rotherham, £7 to win £580 and a lay accumulator on Colchester, Hartlepool, Rochdale, Gillingham, Hereford, Lincoln, Morecambe and Northampton.
May have another bet later and if I do I'll post on here. Good luck if you bet on anything today.
Later.
Cardiff didn't start with Bellamy, Chopra, Boothroyd and Drinkwater but Oli netted the first and then his replacement, Rae, scored the winner. Great result with those big guns mssing. Tonight I've had a treble on Barca, Arsenal and Man Utd, short odds but returns 1.71.

Footie

2010-08-30T13:40:00.000-07:00

First bet of the year tonight, £50 on Atletico Madrid at 1.52. Posting a bit late as they are now 2-0 up. Sorry.
Will write a post up about the Hols soon. Had a cracking time, chilled out and ate and drank far too much. Lovely place and well worth a visit.
Laters.

Woohoo

2010-08-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

I'm away on Hols so have a good one folks and see you soon.

Mo the farmer

2010-08-12T07:23:00.000-07:00

Some of you may have noticed that the legend that is "Mo Mad dog Stoneskin" left a comment on my last post. Mo has been missing in action for the last couple of months because of his new job. I must admit I applaud him and his Wife for leaving the rat race along with a six figure salary behind and moving "Oop North" to become a farmer. I do however fear for their well being after every conversation I have with him. Take this one:
I get an e-mail from Mo the gist of which is;
Hi Rubbish, I've got two horses and I can never remember which one is which. Any ideas how I can tell them apart?
I suggest he cuts the tail off one and this works great until the other one got his tail caught in a bush. I then suggest he notches the ear of one of the horses and this works until the other horse caught his ear on some barbed wire. Finally I tell him to measure them and he rings me back all excited to let me know that the black horse is two inches bigger than the white one.
I popped up to see him the other day and his Wife told me he was in the barn. I walk in and there he is doing a sexy striptease in front of this big red piece of machinery.
"Fucking hell Mo, what are you doing"? I enquired.
"Oh hi Rubbish. Me and the Missus haven't been getting on too well so I went to see one of those therapists that told me to do something sexy to a tractor"!
I could go on but I wont.
Good to see you back Mo, hopefully there'll be a post or two from you soon.

Same old same old

2010-08-06T05:47:00.000-07:00

I've written a few posts but haven't published them because I couldn't get my sample spreadsheets to line up properly. Basically, I'm starting a gambling campaign this season with a £1k starting bank which I'm hoping to turn into a sizeable amount by this time next year. If anyone can tell me how to post spreadsheets then leave a comment.
In other news I've been off work for a few days with my Daughter. We've spent two of them on Mario Kart where I absolutely stuffed her. I've taken all her pocket money teaching her PLO and now she's sulking and playing Super Mario on her own. Loser.
I've just joined Boyles Poker mainly because there's a few RTR guys going to the Dublin Poker Open in October. Played 2 MTT's coming 13th in one for peanuts. Was a bit gutting because I was chip leader and hadn't had one decent hand all the way through. Lost one big pot when my AJ spades on a A 10S 2S couldn't get home against A2. A King on the turn gave me outs with any K,Q,J,10 and a spade. FML.
I hope Aaron Ramsay makes a full recovery from his broken leg so that Cesc Fabregas can fuck off back to Spain. Rambo, even at 17, is better than Fabregas now and will be the best midfielder Arsenal have had since Liam Brady. You heard it here first.
We're off to Madeira in a couple of weeks. Don't know much about the place other than praying to God that your pilot has balls of steel.

Anyone been there? Does the landing look as bad as the photo? Is there anything to do there?
Got massive tooth ache at the moment and just realised that I haven't been to a dentist for 30 years!
On series 5 of the Sopranos which I kind of remember watching. Have series 6 to finish with which I definitely haven't watched. After that I'm all out of box sets to watch. Anyone got anything they can recommend?
Later.

The Big G

2010-07-03T02:23:00.000-07:00

My mate Big G got married recently after going out with his Missus for sixteen years. Why? Fuck knows.
For his stag weekend we went here. Before you click on the link though carry on reading and see if you can guess what we did.
To be honest I didn’t want to do it. If I wanted to be scared shitless I would have looked at Mrs Rubbish naked. But it was G’s day so I went along like a brave little soldier. Twenty of us turned up with about eighteen of us wanting to go straight to a bar. G’s Brother didn’t help after telling everyone that the last time he had been here two people had been rushed to Hospital, one with a broken leg and the other with a fractured skull.
We split into four groups of five and our instructor made a great job of making matters worse. I was with G, Dave, G’s brother and his mate who was an enforcer for some drug baron in North Wales. The first thing our instructor says is “be prepared for all your worst fears to come true. I’m not going to lie to you, you’re all going in and it’s going to get messy. You need to listen to what I’m going to tell you because it may save you or your mate’s lives”.
He then gave us our instructions for the next two hours. When he barked them out we needed to follow them to the word or face the worst. To make matters worse we weren’t alone. The British Olympic hopefuls were there and everything was ramped up fully for their benefit.
The next two hours flew by. It was one of the best mornings I’ve ever had. We all went in several times but luckily no one got hurt. The Olympic crew were awesome to watch. At one point our instructor rammed one of them who was in severe difficulty to flip them over the right way. The course has jets which go from one to sixteen, we were on fourteen. It was frightening but exhilarating. If you ever get a chance then go, it’s a blast.
Did you guess where we went and what we did?
Yeah right.
White water rafting costs £40 for two hours and it’s the best £40 I’ve spent, except that one time in Prague but that’s another story. If you’re ever in Cardiff for a stag weekend or down for the Rugby and have a few hours to kill then I highly recommend giving this a whirl. The Olympians by the way were the canoeing hopefuls and the one that we flipped over by ramming him was under water for about thirty seconds. It’s that tough in places, even for guys who do this at Olympic standard.
The rest of a day was a real blast. A few guys who I haven’t seen for several years turned up and we did a bit of damage around Cardiff Bay. We finally ended up in our local where we drank until it was light and the Landlord cooked us breakfast. Happy days.
In the wedding G’s brother made a speech which was pretty cool and he told everyone about his Mums worst day with them all.
G has two elder brothers, both top blokes. The story revolved around G when he was still in school. He was sixteen at the time but was one of the best Rugby players around and there were maybe five or six boys of his age who all the top teams were looking at. Dave was actually one of the others. Anyway, G’s eldest brother who was a playing first class had just been layed up with a serious knee injury. There was talk that he might not play again and certainly no chance of playing first class or for Wales. Luckily this proved to be complete crap and he played thirty odd times for Wales but at the time it was really serious. G’s middle brother was playing the next tier down and due to a successful TV career, didn’t want to go any further.
The coach of the club he played for had watched G and wanted to get him before the big clubs landed him so he pitched up at G’s house and started sweet talking G’s Mum. She was dead against G playing at such a high standard at his age but his eldest Brother had played under this coach and put a word in. The fact that the middle Brother was also playing for the team swung it and G made his debut, much against his Mum’s better judgement, versus Bridgend.
Bridgend were rammed with International players and G’s opposite number was the open side flanker for Wales at that time. The game was quite nasty and mid way through the first half this guy took G out from behind, breaking his jaw in two places. G’s brother saw what happened and went for the guy. A huge fight broke out and G’s brother got knocked out in the melee.
G’s Mum was sat at home with the eldest Brother when the phone rang. A barely audible and murmuring G spoke first.
“Now don’t worry Mam but I’m at the hospital and my jaws broken”.
“I knew it; I knew I shouldn’t have let you play. You’re far too young to be playing at the level. Never again. I’m coming down there now”.
“No don’t come down Mam, I’m okay and Marks here”.
“Okay put Mark on the phone”.
“I can’t, he’s having a brain scan”.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat”.
Kids, who would have them?

Anyhow, Snake, DoV, No Cash, Mr O, any chance you lazy fuckers are going to update your blogs any time soon?
Later.

More World Cup

2010-06-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

I had a close call on Wednesday when my Wife came home early from work and nearly caught me watching the English match. Luckily I managed to get some porn on and whip my cock out in time to save any embarassment.
Other news and the English squad went to an African orphanage this morning. "It's good to put a smile on the faces of those with no hope, constantly struggling and facing the impossible" said Solomon Umboto aged 6.
Not sure about the impossible as Germany haven't looked that great. Neither have England mind so every chance of penalties.
Have a great weekend.

R.I.P. Football and Cricket

2010-06-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

When I first moved to Cardiff my boss at the time introduced me to his best mate from University. After a quick chat it turned out that his brother in law had managed a football team I had played for, he had lived in the next village across from mine and we had gone to the same Grammar School, albeit several years later in my case. We became firm friends.
One day we were having a few beers and this long haired idiot walks over and starts chatting to my mate. It turned out they were cousins and this kid tells him that he had just quit his job with the Council to spend some time touring with his band. My mate advised him against this and I’ll always remember him, bearing in mind he was probably in his early thirties at the time, imploring this kid to “think of your pension”.
I tell you all this now because that kid was Stuart Cable of the Stereophonics who was buried yesterday and remembering the conversation seems almost surreal.
When I was in my late teens there was a pub called the Globe which we used to frequent every bank holiday. The Stereophonics or, as they were called then, the Tragic Love Company, used to play there. Even though they were probably thirteen or fourteen at the time you could tell they had class and would go all the way.
I met Stuart a few times after that and he always used to take the piss out of my mate about the Council and pensions. He was a lovely guy and my condolences go to his family and friends. R.I.P. mate.
Onto other business. I’ve always hated the French and their attitude in the World Cup proves what I’ve always thought about them. Absolute wankers. I couldn’t believe it when they all walked behind the goals in the Mexico match. For some of them it’s their last shot at a World Cup and they behave like spoilt brats. If I’d been Thierry Henry I would have been begging Domenech to let me on the field and try to turn things around. Good riddance to the French wankers. England hasn’t been much better and Rooneys rant to the cameras just about sums up Professional Footballers. Fuck you all, I’m bigger and better than the lot of you and you shouldn’t ever forget it. Wanker should have been born across the channel.
My Daughter entered a sweepstake in School and picked out Chile which I’ve had a tenner on at 80/1. One time please.
Talking of the light of my life, she was picked to play in the School Cricket team in a competition at Sophia Gardens recently. I went down to watch and it was a great day out. She had managed to get into the first team even though she cannot catch a ball and bats as if she’s playing Baseball. They won their first two games quite convincingly and she even managed to take the most wickets in the second match when her underarm lobs enticed a series of batsmen to give her team catching practice. The third game was a disaster.
Under 11 Cricket is played by teams of Eight and each team starts with 200. For every wicket you lose five points comes off this score. Obviously, whatever you score is added on. Every person bowls one over and every person bats for at least one over no matter how many times they are out.
There were four groups of four and the last game was a winner takes all berth into the Semi Finals. These kids turned up, all in whites, and the first thing I noticed was seven of them had County badges on their Jerseys. Watching them bowl it was obvious that they had all been coached by their action and when it came for my Daughter to bat I feared the worst. This kid started launching balls down the wicket like Curtley Ambrose and it took all my will power to not walk on the pitch and give him a slap. In fairness to my Daughter she got her bat on the ball a few times and didn’t get bowled. I was well chuffed. The team scored 203 and the game was all over bar the shouting. The two kids who were batting when my Daughter bowled had a field day although, to be fair, all of them scored runs and they won by about fifty. Unsurprisingly they went on to win the whole Competition. My Daughter enjoyed it which is the main thing; if only she’d pick up the Golf Clubs I bought her, little witch.
Loads of other things I should really be blogging about but I’ll save them for another time.
One last thing, Jessica, should you read this I cannot post comments on your blog and can’t even read it half the time because of some “forbidden 503 error message”. Any ideas?
Later.

World Cup so far

2010-06-14T13:11:00.000-07:00

So the greatest show is back and I'm not talking about Big Brother. Been watching the World Cup religiously and I have to say that the relentless droning on in the backround is really winding me up. Why dont Mark Lawrenson and Mick McCarthy just fuck off?
I was watching the Cameroon v Japan game this afternoon and Lawrenson said "This game is really dull". I was sat there thinking "the only thing dull about this game is you, you boring twat". He then starts ripping Japan to shreds about their negative tactics when Cameroon were playing Samuel Etoo on the right side of midfield. Hello, are you watching this you stupid fuckwit?
That said the BBC coverage is killing ITV at the moment. Quick question, can anyone understand a word Emanuel Adebayor says? Quite disappointed with his ring tone as well.
I guess my first memory of the World Cup is 1974 and Johann Cruyff. Holland were awesome but West Germany had Der Bomber and Der Kaiser in their ranks. Gerd Muller poached ten goals and Germany won on home soil. I think my favourite team of all was the Brazil team of 82 with Socrates, Falcao, Zico, Junior, Serginho and Eder. Eder scored a couple of incredible goals including an outrageous chip against Scotland I believe. My favourite though was a volley against Russia. You can see them on this link
Anyhow, poker going good, work going shite, betting going diabolical. Don't think I've had a winning bet yet. Could be worse though, my name could be Robert Green.

Day three - Sunday - Newastle - Players, pints, boxes and fuck knows what else

2010-05-29T06:50:00.000-07:00

Sunday was supposed to be the big drinking day and midday saw us waiting patiently outside the pub for the doors to open. “Us” had shrunk from the Saturday with such lightweights (sic) as Mik and Pud disappearing along with Mair and Stan.
The first pint courtesy of Pud’s £360 chop went down like cold sick but things warmed up when the girls from the previous night turned up. No cash tried his hardest to blend into a potted plant as the girls he had endeared himself to the night before shot furious glances in his general direction. DoV was in full talk mode, questioning them all on their previous nights escapades like a demented Dad. Snake, Dd and Mr O chatted poker whilst I concentrated on not puking.
After a while we headed into the City centre for a few beers. On the way we nearly killed Keyser Soze when this gimp geezer limped directly behind our bus as the driver was reversing. We all screamed to stop and he missed this guy by inches who then broke into a sprint that Usain Bolt would have struggled to match. Weird.
We ended up in a bar called Players which had the cutest bar maids. DoV, Mr O and No Cash, all Liverpool fans so they reckon, then spent the next ninety minutes cheering for Chelsea against their team so that Man Utd wouldn’t win the League. Snake and I blanked the gay boys and talked Rugby. Dd went to the bog for a wank.
After a couple of hours and several Guinness we headed for some food. Opposite was a bookies so we had a couple of bets whilst waiting for a taxi. We were standing outside chatting with five of us looking down the road and No Cash facing us holding court when this girl walked past. Just as she drew level with the five of us who were facing the other way, No Cash looked at her and said “Jeez love, you’ve got the biggest box I’ve ever seen”. We all instantly turned around to see this girl carrying a Tupperware container which must have been 4 foot by 2 foot. Needless to say, in our pissed up state, it was the funniest thing ever. I guess you had to be there to appreciate it.
We headed back to the Casino and entered a £10 plus £10 bounty tournament which was just starting. The plan was to go mental at the start to get a load of chips and then set about trying to win it. No Cash took this to heart and went all in with Q 2 only for DoV to call him with AK. Flop KQ2, Q, X. DoV and No Cash hit the city centre first closely followed by Snake and Mr O. Chris, who had sat in the casino on his own all day, went next before Dd bust leaving me on my tod.
The tournament had been self dealt and unbeknownst to me our dealer had been Stumpy from the NPF. I only found this out as he got up and walked off after being eliminated and I noticed his name on the back of his shirt. For some unknown reason I then ended up dealing. This did have one advantage though, free Guinness. A few hours later I found myself on the final table. There was one man who I had been speaking to most of the weekend, Brian, who was a top guy, sitting next but one to me. Other than that, I knew no one.
I made a few nice plays, folded Jacks face up for some tight guy to flip over Aces. Eventually I ended up 4 of 4 with 3 times the big blinds. I shoved with A 9 to get insta called by JJ. Thank you and goodnight. Got sixty quid for fourth plus a further twenty quid in bounties.
By now it was one in the morning and I couldn’t be arsed to hit town. I spun twenty quid up to hundred on black jack before spotting Mike and Lou Saban. I chatted/bored them for a while and also chatted to the Kracked King guys for ages. About three O’clock DoV and Mr O walked in and things turned stupid for a while. Fuck knows what we were drinking but I can remember one round costing fifty quid.
Finally I dragged my sorry arse off to bed at six in the morning, another eighteen hour session to add to the two other mega ones I’d had this weekend.
The next day/five hours later, was purgatory. Mr O drove me, No Cash and DoV back to Blackpool. I had a quick cuppa with No Cash and Mrs No Cash who is far too good for that lunatic, before heading back to Gods Country. Eight and a half hours after leaving Newcastle I walked through the front door and collapsed into bed.
I honestly cannot wait for the next one!
Thanks to Big Mik for inviting me, hope I haven’t pissed on my chips for next year. A real pleasure to meet Pud, Snake, Mair, Stan and Chris for the first time. Hopefully you won’t run off like pussys next time? Also a pleasure to meet Mike and Lou along with the Kracked King guys and Stumpy and Brian from the NPF. Catch you next year folks. Always a pleasure having a beer with DoV, Mr O and Dd. When we hitting London you Northen Monkeys?
Finally, big heads up to No Cash for looking after me on the Friday night. Hasta la vista baby.
Later.

Day two - Saturday - Newcastle - 21 hours of bad beats, bad karma, Bud and Bulmers.

2010-05-06T07:06:00.000-07:00

Dave woke me up early from my slumbers in the arm chair and made a cup of coffee for us both.
“Fuck me Rubbish, you were pissed last night. You sat down there and were out cold within seconds. I tried to wake you to go to the spare room but you were dead to the World”.
I didn’t doubt him for one second.
Twenty minutes later we were out of his house to meet Mr O and DoV for our lift to Newcastle. Dave informed me that he was taking the poker serious and wasn’t having a drink until 8.00pm that evening. DoV pitched up first, dropped off by his lovely missus. Dave and I looked at each other and shrugged. Sometimes there’s no justice in this World. Five minutes later Mr O turned up and we were off.
DoV had thoughtfully brought a case of Bud with him. What he hadn’t brought was his wallet so we had a detour to go back to his gaffe. Not sure why a battalion of the Welsh regiment was waiting outside his house when we got there?
And then we were off. The time was 8.30am and we were on our first beer of the day, 12 hours earlier than Dave had planned.
Mr O put on some horrendous music and punched Newcastle in the Sat Nav or the Cogs as I like to call it. Ten minutes up the M55 and DoV blurted out that he knew a shortcut. I inwardly groaned. Mr O punched in the new details and we said goodbye to motorway traffic for the remainder of the journey. By now Dave, DoV and I were on our second bottle.
The shortcut was eventful to say the least. After driving through country lanes, following tractors for miles, turning up someone’s drive and nearly mowing down twenty people walking around a village fete we started to climb through some mountain range. I’ve subsequently looked on a map and I haven’t a clue which one it is.
The gradient of the road got steeper and the mountain side turned into a massive pine forest. The trees were huge, sixty or seventy feet high and as the road narrowed so did the daylight. The first thunderclap passed overhead like a sonic boom. It was so loud we all actually ducked. The rain started, a light drizzle which soon turned into a torrential downpour. By now we were driving in pitch darkness and even with the headlights on visibility was only a couple of yards. An electrical storm passed so close overhead that it knocked the stereo and Cogs out. A lightning bolt crashed into the forest illuminating the tree line and that’s when I saw them first. Seven maybe eight feet high, moving quickly, much quicker than we were currently driving. Dave saw them as well.
Another thunder clap burst overhead reverberating through the car. One of the beasts was now by the side of us. It must have been doing twenty five mph. Blood red eyes and fangs were the only visible parts of its body. You could smell death on its breath. Mr O crunched down a gear. We were losing momentum as the roads gradient increased. Through the back window I spotted four more of them, lit up by a huge bolt of lightning. They were gaining and would be on us in seconds. The one to our left hand side swung a huge claw/paw at the side of the car. We momentarily went up on two wheels. DoV screamed.
What am I on about? It wasn’t that exciting a journey. We got lost several times and then, three hours later, we were there. Fuck knows how?
Actually we went to the wrong Hotel first off which was a bit gutting because there was a three foot midget, painted entirely blue and dressed in a smurf outfit. The amount of fun we could have had with that guy. I would have paid him fifty to have been our mascot for a couple of hours, running around the casino bollock naked, screaming “Raise the River” over and over. As it was Dd had to do that himself.
When we got to our proper Hotel we had had four buds each and Dave and I had topped up nicely. We met Mik, Pud, Snake and Dd and after a super quick shower headed for the Grosvenor. Once there we met up with Stan and Tripz and our team was complete.
I haven’t played in many live tournaments so I’m not sure if the atmosphere was lively or subdued. I’m guessing it was electric. We all had to walk on as a team and I tried to get the Madness, One step beyond, song. Unfortunately the music had been predetermined but how cool would it have been for us to have done the Madness walk into the arena.
I know quite a few of the RTR boys have played live and Mik, Snake, DoV and No Cash knew quite a few of the people in the other teams. I sort of knew one other person there which was Stan’s Wife, Mair. Spookily I ended up sitting next to her. We had a bit of a giggle chatting away but poker wise; one hour started blurring into another. I do know due to texting Dave though that at 17.30 I had $18k in chips from a starting stack of $7.5k.
Quite a few of the guys exited early and after a while only DoV, Mr O and myself were left. I’m not saying I would have lasted into the second day had there been quite a few of us left but my heart wasn’t in it towards the end. I went out with Q9 on a flop of KQ9. I couldn’t tell you if I limped into the hand out of position or raised in the big blind. All I know is I ended up all in for a huge pot and the other guy turned J10. No miracle Q or 9 on the turn or River and that was that. DoV bombed soon after and we converged at the bar.
At some stage in the evening Gazza walked in with an entourage. He was immediately surrounded by three floor managers and within one minute they were all leaving again. Very wierd.
A couple of the boys were playing in the side event so six or seven of us headed back to the Hotel for a change of gear before carrying on. There was a hen night in the reception who had finished for the evening so I guess it was past 2.00am at this point. One of the girls was sitting on the floor with someone, who shall remain nameless, standing next to her. Why he said it I do not know. Maybe he was thinking of the "is that your feet I can smell" joke? Maybe he was hallucinating? Maybe he was reeally drunk but without warning he asked her if the smell in reception was because she hadn’t washed her c***. Several punches were thrown at this point and he was so surprised by this I honestly think he didn’t realise he was speaking out loud.
We ended up going lap dancing, I think because most clubs had closed. It was shit. That said, some of the boys seemed to enjoy it. Finally we left and went back to the casino. A few more ciders whilst railing Snake who was crushing everyone in the side event which he ended up chopping for £370 before heading off at 5.30am. A nice little 21 hour session for Dave, DoV and myself which absolutely killed me.
Day three to follow.

Day one - Friday - Blackpool - the legendary Tower lounge and the legend that is "Dave no cash"

2010-05-05T08:44:00.000-07:00

Travelling from Cardiff to Newcastle was starting to become a real problem. Flights from Cardiff would see me arrive a day early and leave a day after everyone else. Trains would take six hours and cost a small fortune. I also wasn’t sure of the start time of the tournament so guessed that I would have to leave Cardiff at six in the morning. Driving would logistically pose the same problems.
Eventually I posted an SOS on the RTR forum to meet up with someone on the Friday for a few pints and hopefully share a lift with on the Saturday. Luckily for me Dave “no cash” answered my call.
I had only met Dave once before but that was enough to convince me to jump in my car on Friday morning and head for Blackpool. Dave is one of these rare beasts that can drink his own body weight and he doesn’t care what is put in front of him. I’ve seen him start on Stella, move onto Guinness, have a swift couple of beers before ending with a few ciders. Add in all the Jamieson Whiskey he puts away as well and he’s a handful to go out boozing with. My kind of guy.
I got to Blackpool about two thirty in the afternoon and had a wander around whilst waiting for Dave to finish work. The one thing I can be 100% certain on is that at quarter past three I was in a pub called the Castle drinking my first Guinness.
I met with Dave shortly after that and we had a couple of swiftys in some Irish bars before heading for something to eat with another drink, of course. By this time I think we were on Cider but am not certain.
Next up was the legendary Tower Lounge. Legendary is their description not mine but it was interesting. It reminded me of the night club in the second Bourne film where the Russian assassin is drinking vodka surrounded by a load of gorgeous Women. The club is bouncing and the music is blaring out. He gets a call and walks out and it’s daylight. The Tower Lounge was exactly the same. There were stag nights, hen nights, drunks, idiots, the whole spectrum. We were drinking our third cider in there and I happened to glance at the main entrance. It was a glorious sunny day, six in the evening when you would expect it to be about midnight.
By eight o’clock we must have had ten plus pints. Everything was starting to get a bit messy.
I know we watched a Rugby match on the TV in a Weatherspoons pub and we got chatting to some girls on a hen night in another bar. At some point in the evening Dave suggested we head to the Grosvenor Casino to play some cash.
When the taxi pulled up outside the front door of the Casino I fell out. And when I say fell out I mean fell out. I crawled on my hands and knees to the bouncer who was stood shaking his head and used his suit jacket and tie to pull myself up. He wasn’t impressed and immediately told us we were too drunk to come in. I say “we” but he meant “me”. Dave tried to argue our case pointing out that we were so bladdered we were bound to do a few hundred at the tables. The bouncer was having none of it though so we headed back to the bars. It is at this point that I officially can remember nothing.
Where we ended up is unknown but I was sat at the bar speaking to some random people and Dave started playing pool. At some point Dave beat some guy and gave him a mouthful before doing a little winners dance in front of him. The guy took exception and swung the pool cue at him. Dave punched him and the guys mates who were stood behind Dave jumped in. Dave can remember curling up into a ball as these guys pummelled him and then being rolled out of the door by the bouncers. About half an hour later I walked out and asked him where he had been. Some wing man I am.
Dave thinks we called it a night at this point and headed back to his house. The time was unknown. From the little bits I can remember I guess we averaged two pints an hour up until midnight. Not the best way for the two of us to start the weekend off with a serious game of poker coming up and the reputation of RTR to uphold.
Day two tomorrow.

NPF Team poker tournament - an outline

2010-05-04T13:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you all know I was heading to Newcastle last weekend for the above tournament. Well, it was a mad weekend. To write it up in one blog post would take about ten thousand words and the patience of a Saint to read in one sitting. I'm therefore going to split it into a three parter.
Before I start I might as well point out that there is only two things I'm certain of:
1. I texted Dave "No Cash" at 15.15pm on Friday from a pub in Blackpool whilst I was having my first pint of Guinness;
2. In the 63 hours that followed I was drinking for 50 of them.
Twenty years ago when I was young, dumb and full of drugs that wouldn't have been a problem. In fact it was probably happening quite regularly. These days though, I'm too old to keep up with the young bucks and by God I'm paying for it now.
But now is now and last weekend is a blurred memory of Guinness, cider, poker and laughs. I wish I had taken notes every hour and then I could have done a chronological write up which might have resembled fact. As it is I'm going from brief memories and recollections which kind of happens when you drink solidly for 50 hours.
One thing I do remember though is the amount of effort the Newcastle Poker Forum went into making the event a great one. I'd also like to thank Mik from Raise the River for inviting me.
The tournament was an outstanding financial success for me as I'm now in a position to lease my name to the other nine members of the RTR team who managed, along with myself, to score the massive sum of zero points. Quite a few people there reckoned we were fortunate to have got zero. One thing is for certain, I'm there next year if invited.
Anyhow, I'll be posting what I can recall over the next few days. I met quite a lot of people and was pleasantly surprised to find that a few of them read this shit regularly and actually seem to enjoy it. The reports will take in twelve hours in Blackpool that I can't remember, a twenty one hour drinking session spoilt only by a game of poker and a further seventeen and a half hour session in which I won and lost some money. Interspersed in all this frantic drinking is a poker tournament, a three foot midget painted from head to toe in blue and dressed up as smurf, Paul Gascoigne, lap dancers, fights, seventeen Premier Inns, Snake cashing, getting hopelessly lost in Scotland (DoV), rimming, one liners, last longer bets which I may or may not be able to talk about (Mike, Lou?), dildos, personal hygiene issues, a Woman with the biggest box ever, bouncers with no sense of humour and a whole lot more. Strangely there were no guns involved.
Stay tuned.

Name change

2010-04-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

When I started this blog I didn't think for one second I would have to meet people who read it. The first time I did I discovered very quickly why "Rubbish@poker" was such a shite title.
"Hi, I'm rubbish, who are you?"
This weekend I'm on the RTR team bash in Newcastle and will be meeting people for the first time. With that in mind you will notice my Blog has changed title.
I had a few names in mind including:
Hi, I shagged Cheryl Cole up the arse
Hi, I'm Jeremy Clarkson's love child
Hi, I've got a 14 inch dick
Hi, I'm one for one on RTR do's
I've gone with "pleased to meet you" just to piss people off.
Random bloke - "Who are you mate?"
Me - "I'm pleased to meet you, now fuck off".
Later.

Newcastle nights out that I sort of remember.

2010-04-22T12:34:00.000-07:00

Next weekend I'm off to Blackpool and Newcastle on a Poker jolly with the RTR crew. I've only ever been to Blackpool once and I think I may have blogged about it before. I've been to Newcastle three times but can only remember two of them. How bizzare is that?
The first time in Newcastle was probably the best. Seven of us had decided to drive to Edinburgh for the Rugby. We set off on the Thursday but the snow was so bad we had to take refuge in Newcastle for the night. We stopped off in a place called Whitley Bay and found a cheap B & B for the night.
The guy who ran it was a good laugh and we had a couple of beers with him before heading off to a pub. The snow was coming down in a blizzard and we were just about to leave when he stopped us.
"Don't bother wearing coats boys, you'll get in the first pub, end up taking them off and someone will nick them".
We took his advice allthough walking to the pub in a foot of snow, shivering like fuck, I seriously doubted whether I would be taking a coat off.
I can't remember the name of the pub but as we walked in the heat hit us like a punch in the face and the first thing we saw was the barmaid dancing on the bar in a bikini. What a town.
The next morning we got up, seriously hung over. Dave and I had both decided that Edinburgh could go fuck itself and we were staying for the weekend. Big G agreed and that was that. We asked the guy if we could stay for a couple more days and he laughed.
"I've already reserved the rooms for you boys because I knew you wouldn't be going anywhere after a night out here".
On the Friday night we met a gang of Scots boys who were on a stag weekend and ended up having a laugh with them. After arranging to meet them to watch the match on the Saturday we ended up in some bar where Big G was chatting to this girl. In fairness G does allright with the Ladies but this girl was not having any of it and finally told him to fuck off as she was a Lesbian.
The next day we met the Scots in this pub and they dragged us off to another one because there were strippers there. The first two girls came on and did a lesbian show and you've guessed it, there was the girl who Big G had been chatting up. At least he knew that she wasn't lying and was a Lesbian.
Later that evening we fell foul of the local crime lord/drug dealer. G, who had the piss taken out of him all day, was dancing with this girl when some guy walks over and whispers something to her. Off she trots and G sits down with us whingeing like a good one. This girl starts arguing with some guy so G wanders over to see if sh's okay. This guy tells G to fuck off and a couple of big fuckers stand either side of G in a menacing manner. We are all clocking this and Dave nudges me and says "get ready".
One of the guys puts his hand on G's shoulder and he immediately elbows him in the face breaking his nose. The other guy gets a straight hand in the throat and he goes down gasping for breath. The crime lord stands up and pulls a gun on G and the whole place just stops. Unfortunately for this guy, he manages to pull a gun on the one person who had just spent a year in Rio and Sao Paulo, having guns pulled on him on a daily basis. G leans forward so that the gun is inches away from his forehead and questions whethe the guy has the bollocks to do it. Three hundred people are now watching this spectacle and we all stand next to G in a show of solidarity. This stand off only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like fucking hours. Eventually this guy laughs, puts the gun away and buys us all a beer. G pulls the girl and everyone lives to fight another day.
The second time I went to Newcastle is the one that I can't remember. I know it was a stag weekend and I know Dave and G were there. I also know that I had to travel up on my own because I had to work on the Friday on a concert. The only other thing I can recall is going to the Tuxedo Princess.
For those that don't know the Tuxedo Princess is a ship moored on the Tyne that has been turned into a giant Club. Three floors all playing dfferent music and these revolving dance floors that absolutely creased me, not once but three times. And always when I was holding about three pints. Other than that I can't remember fuck all about that weekend.
The last time I went was on another stag weekend. We went to Newcastle Rugby Club on the Saturday to watch Newcastle v Bath and and when we got to the ground there was a massive banner which read "MY DOG IS BETTER THAN MIKE CATT". Class.
Later.

Monday's

2010-04-19T12:40:00.000-07:00

A typical Monday.
Get up and hit the gym. Weights and then half hour on the running machine before a nice hot shower. My neighbour popped round earlier with a bottle of home brew, super strong, which I'll have this afternoon whilst watching a couple of DVD's. I've got a few spliffs already rolled for the Xbox tourney with the lads later on. After that I'll troll the gambling sites for an hour or so before watching some porn.

I fucking love prison!

Had that texted to me today and it would be funny if it wasn't so fucking true.
In the papers this morning is a story regarding Jon Venables. For anyone reading in the US of A who might not be aware, this guy perpetrated one of the worst crimes in living memory.
Along with his accomplice, Robert Thompson, they kidnapped and murdered a three year old boy. They were just ten years old at the time.
Now twenty seven, Jon Venables is back behind bars for downloading kiddie porn allthough I'm not sure you can call it prison. His cell is equipped with a flat screen HD TV, Nintendo game cube, gym equipment, music system, guitar, board games and a power shower.
What a fucking joke.
I could go on but I think I'll probably blow a gasket just thinking about the absurdity of it all.

Who decides these things?

2010-04-15T14:13:00.000-07:00

Watched a remake of V the other night which was okay. I suppose if you are going to remake an entire series then, in this day and age, a Sci Fi series would be the one you'd go for. But surely there are better programmes that have been made which could be revamped?
I never really watched Blakes Seven but I remember reading reviews where they slated the programme because the sets were so wooden along with the acting. And what about Buck Rogers in the 25th Century? Or Logans run or the Twilight Zone? My favourite though for a remake would be the Man from UNCLE.
And what about films? I would love to see an updated version of Jack the Giant Killer. Don't know if you have ever seen it but it always used to be shown on New Years Day for some reason. I think the Sinbad movies would also look good if they were made now.
When I was a kid I used to read the 2000AD comic (sad I know). There was one series about how humans had killed all animals so used time travel to go back to prehistoric age to kill Dinosaurs and transport them back to present time for food. Now, that would be a good TV programme. Who decides these things?

Arsenal lost to Spuds yesterday, kinda thought they would. The worst thing about this though is Would Be and Joppa have shut down their blogs. Real shame this as I'm guessing there was a lot of banter amongst those two on MSN yesterday and today.
I've noticed quite a few people have shut their blogs down recently. Tennyson has disappeared. So has Madame Nikki. Shame as I really liked their blogs. There was also one called happily after ever by a South African girl which ended abruptly. I always fear the worse when something like that happens especially when they live somewhere as violent as South Africa. Hope she's okay.

Anyhow, got any good ideas for remake TV programmes or films?

I'm still alive honest.

2010-04-12T14:29:00.000-07:00

Been missing in action for awhile now so just a quick post to promise to be on here a lot more in the coming weeks.
Work has been rediculously busy and I've just been so knackered I haven't bothered coming on here at all.
Poker has been non existant and I haven't played in two or three months. Of course this level of activty has been great practice for the RTR meet up in Newcastle next month.
Gambling was going great until two weeks ago when I lost £700 in three days. I then managed to claw most of ths back until I layed Tiger for a top five finish in the Masters and then suffered watching him luck out over four days to finish fourth and lose me another £500. I did have the winner of the National though for a few quid.
Apart from Newcastle I've got a stag weekend in May to somewhere as yet not decided or London if Cardiff City making the play off final.
I've also got two weddings and a Christening on the horizon. Basically, nice and quiet then for the next month.
It was my Mums birthday last week and whilst out shopping with my nipper she talked me into buying the Outnumbered series 1 DVD for her. Absolutely awesome if you've never watched it. Also been gettng super competitive on Mario Kart with her and we spent nine hours one Saturday racng each other much to my Wifes disgust.
Anyhow, got to get up in five hours so need to get some sleep. Hope everyone is okay and will be trawling your blogs over the next few days. Catch you all later.

Dublin 2010

2010-03-15T13:26:00.000-07:00

Another weekend in Dublin, another hangover from hell. Actually that's not true as I couldn't afford to get that drunk. Since Ireland have joined the Euro the prices have gone through the roof. Almost £8 a pint in most places which came as a shock.
Croke Park was pretty cool though even if Wales threw away another game. Lee Byrne was lucky not to get red carded and we conceded another two trys whilst down to 14 men.
Not sure when I'll go back to Dublin again. I used to go maybe three or four times a year but with the prices now I don't think I'll be going anytime soon.
I can remember when I first went and there were 40,000 Welsh fans there. That's pretty impressive when you take into account that there's only 3,000,000 people in Wales. Over 1% of the population going on the piss for a weekend to watch a Rugby match. Just to put that in perspective that would be the equivalent of England taking 750,000 people to Paris to watch a Footie match or America taking 4,500,000 people to Canada to watch the Ice Hockey. I'm guessing there wasn't even 10,000 Welsh out in Ireland this year.
Not much else been happening recently. Work is stupidly busy. Dave's missus had a baby girl last week so we've had a few beers to wet her head. Haven't done much else. Still sleeping like an hamster and still off the fags. Four weeks and counting.
Will catch up with everyone this week.
Later.

It takes all sorts.

2010-02-22T11:51:00.000-08:00

Dave rang me the other night for a cheeky pint after work so we met up in a bar we don’t normally frequent. We’re halfway through our first pint when a guy who we both vaguely know walks in. He gets a beer and walks over to where we are standing to say hello.
Although we both don’t know the guy really well we both know his girlfriend. She had been mates with one of Dave’s exes and was a real cutey.
Anyhow, we’re chatting away about nothing in particular and Dave asks how Jen is. This guy says that they’ve split up and he hasn’t seen her for a while. We offer our apologies and carry on making small talk about nothing in particular. I can’t remember how the conversation veered onto the truly bizarre but this guy managed to drop “yeah, Jen used to shit on my chest, the best bit was when she smeared it in” into it.
Dave and I stood there open mouthed whilst this guy then tells us that his current girlfriend refused to do it point blank and won’t even discuss it. With that, he finishes his pint and announces he’s off to pick up a Chinese and he’ll see us around.
We probably stood there in silence for about five minutes before Dave asked whether he had heard him correctly. I concurred and we drank our pints in an eerie silence before heading home.
A little later I started to think about this revelation and married Women in general. I’ve decided that Women fall into three categories. And I’ve got some high profile evidence to back my theories up.
The 90% Woman – these are your normal Married Women who you have to coax for weeks to get a Birthday blowjob. I’m looking at Tiger’s Wife and thinking no chance of a blowjob for him until Hell freezes over. His thirteen minute grovelling apology to his sponsors was probably the most cringe worthy piece of TV this year although it only held this record for a few hours until Eastenders live 25th anniversary show later that evening.
The 9.99% Woman – even after a few years of marriage these Women can surprise you by blowing you at a drop of a hat. Sometimes I look at Cheryl Cole and I can imagine her sidling up to you on the couch as you watch the Footie on a Thursday night. Twenty minutes later you’re sat there with a stupid grin on your face and a further half hour later you realise you’re watching the vicar of Dibley and the cheeky minx has flipped the channels over when you were concentrating on your money shot. The fact that Cashley deemed it necessary to cheat on Cheryl suggests the slimy, money grabbing piece of scum might be looking for that rarest of Women, the 0.01%er. Well, as luck would have it Cashley, you don’t have to look too far.
The 0.01% Woman – here’s a Woman who will shit on your chest and smear it in as well if you ask her nicely. When John Terry cheated on his Wife Toni for the umpteenth time she did what any self respecting Woman would do, packed her bags and headed to Dubai. But this wasn’t just some bimbo JT had bedded, it was an ex team mates girlfriend and friend of his Wife. And he hadn’t just bedded her but got her pregnant, paid for the abortion and given her an £80k sweetener as well. And this was all played out in the media just to add to the embarrassment of the long suffering Toni. But wait, three days after jetting to Dubai she tells the Worlds press that she has forgiven JT. She loves him more than ever and they are going to make another go of it. If Cashley wants’ someone to shit on his chest, I think we have a prime candidate.

Quick update

2010-02-16T08:24:00.000-08:00

Big thanks to everyone who has posted me best wishes or sent an e-mail, glad to say all is well. I’ve had the all clear from the Doctor in a roundabout sort of way. All my blood tests came back showing that everything was functioning as it should. My chest X-ray wasn’t so good which is no surprise seeing as I’ve smoked since I was a kid. I’ve got the first stage of COPD which sounds bad but I’ve lucked out by having it diagnosed so early. Bottom line is give up smoking and live to a ripe old age, carry on smoking and I’ll be fucked by the time I reach my mid fifties.
So, gave up smoking last Thursday and apart from having to leave the pub at half time in the Wales v Scotland game on Saturday for a fag or risk throwing my pint glass through the TV screen, I’ve done quite well. Stupidly though, I feel like shit at the moment. Stinking cold, migraine, chesty cough. If I carry on like this I might have to start back.
Also received more good news last week when my Daughter got accepted into our preferred choice of Secondary Schools. Chuffed to bits with that and I’ve promised to take her shopping on the weekend for whatever she wants. I’m hoping she goes for a greyhound but I guess it will be a game for the Wii or Ds. Might have to make sure we go shopping at Crayford.
Twickenham was a good laugh the weekend before last. Thirteen of us had a stretch Limo from Cardiff and managed to go all of ten yards before the driver crashed. Some girl cut him up in this Mini and when he jumped out her boyfriend who was in the passenger seat followed suit and started squaring up to him. Thirteen ex Rugby players then got out and squared up to this gobby little shit who very quickly shut up and sat back in the car with his tail between his legs.
Had a monster session on the Saturday, starting off in London Welsh and ending up in our favourite Irish bar in Brentford. Sixteen hours of Guinness and Strongbow just about finished me off. Glad I didn’t have the blood tests on the day after that.
Not done much this week but will be starting back training soon so that I don’t become a fat bastard now I’ve quit smoking. Will also be looking in on all my favourite bloggers and Mo.
Later.

Another tour

2010-02-05T00:54:00.000-08:00

I've been to the Doctors and Hospital for a barrage of tests and I get the results next week. Fingers crossed that it's nothing serious and I'm just a lazy twat. Still sleeping for stupidly long periods but that's about to come to an abrupt end. Off to London for the England v Wales Six Nations match in a few hours time.
I've been going to Twickenham since I was a kid and I've never seen Wales win there in all that time. The last trip two years ago I didn't bother going to the match and Wales won. Wont be going to the match this time so the omens are good.
There's a dozen of us making the trip which means as soon as we cross the the Severn bridge the average IQ of England will shoot up by 30%.
Apart from the Rugby we were supposed to be celebratng one of the boys 40th but his Wife is due with their first child anytime now and he's pulled out. Some would say he should have done that nine months ago! Personally I think he's a fucking lightweight. Dave is coming which is always value and there's a few boys who we used to play Rugby with making the trip as well so it should be a cracker.
There's nothing like a Rugby tour to get the adrenaline pumping. We normally have a bottle of Welsh Tequila which means it has to be drunk before you leave Wales. There's all the normal fines for being late, not having the proper attire (this weekends is Hawaiin shirt, red scarf and odd socks which just so happens to be my normal dress code) and of course the buzz circle.
Our game of choice is "Commander says" which is a little bit too difficult to explain here but you can take it as read that there will be a few pissed up idiots strolling through Richmond tomorrow afternoon.
My favourite England v Wales trip was when Wales were actually the home team playing at Wembley. I was working that game but met up with Dave and a few others straight after and we headed for the bright lights. About four in the morning we were in a bar in Kensington which was done out like a cave. By now there was only myself, Dave and big G left. The barman, called Mustapha, was chatting to us and Big G was working his charm on the barmaid who was Brazilian. Having lived there he spoke quite good Portuguese so they were getting on well. There was no one else there when this gang of skinheads walk in. Mustapha refuses to serve them and with that they start to kick off hurling a few choice racist comments his way. There was about eight of them and a hammering was on the cards but there was no way we were going to stand for that so the three of us got up and Big G got in the face of the ringleader. Before anything could happen this bouncer who none of us had seen before stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of the three of us. These skinheads all looked up at him and had second thoughts. This guy was huge, Black and looked fucking nasty. They turned and walked leaving us to breath a sense of relief. Mustapha was stunned that we had stood up for him and we ended up drinking there for free until eight in the morning.
The bouncer it transpired had sparred with Frank Bruno and was an established heavyweight in his own right although I don't remember his name. What I do remember is standing in front of him, poking him in his chest and calling him a big soft fucking bear. His laugh resonated off the walls so loudly I thought the place was going to collapse.
Finally, the Brazillian girl took us back to her place for breakfast and to meet her mates. Happy days.
Have a good weekend folks and catch you all next week hopefully.
Cymru am byth.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2010-01-25T13:33:00.000-08:00

Not sure what's wrong with me at the moment. Got home at four on Friday afternoon and went to bed for an hour. Woke up at eight on Saturday morning! Fell asleep in the afternoon for a few hours before going to bed early. Woke up a few times mainly because DoV was texting me about the RTR trip to Manchester. Slept for thirteen hours on Saturday night and then had a couple of more hours on Sunday afternoon. Went to bed last night about eleven to get up at five this morning. Out of sixty hours from when I left work on Friday to getting up on Monday morning I've slept for forty of them!!
I'm going to the Doctors tomorrow for a check up.
Stupidly, I don't feel ill, just listless. I'm not stressed at work. In fact it's one of the easiest jobs I've ever had and the pay isn't bad either. I'm not depressed, life's great. The family are all healthy so no worries there.
Really do not know what's wrong with me. Hopefully my Doctor will.
The WCBOOP kicks off tonight. I think most of the tournaments start at 10pm UK time which is a real pain especially since I could fall asleep on a chickens lip. There's a prize for best blog reports so I'm going to have a go for that as I haven't a chance of actually winning one of the tournaments the way my luck is going.
I've noticed a few other people are struggling on the virtual felt. I know what they're going through even though I only play for fun.
Will catch up with everyones blogs tomorrow if I'm awake long enough.
Later.

First break and I'm on $1400 chips with a 1000 still left. Had AK on a A9x flop. Got it all in against a guy with A7. Turn 9, leaving him one out. Yep, final Ace on the river for us to split the pot. Aaaaaaaaaargh.

2nd break and I'm on £3k, 343 left. Doubled up when my KK hit. Landed on Dales table and was chatting to him at the time on his live feed. Limped with AK and hit an ace on the flop. He said good luck and bet $500, I went all in and he folded before calling me all the twats going.

And out in 305th when my KQ on a KQx flop runs into KK.

Off to bed for another 5 hours kip.

Later.

Betting on the Scousers

2010-01-18T12:26:00.000-08:00

Not sure why I didn't bet on the Football at the latter end of 2009 but I've come back with a bang this year. As the title suggests, most of my bets have had a Liverpool connection.
Watched the Liverpool v Reading cup tie last Wednesday and couldn't see Liverpool holding on to their one goal lead and layed them at 1.1 going into injury time. Reading duly obliged with a 93rd minute equaliser and a further lay on Liverpool to qualify saw me clear £100 on that match.
Saturday and a sense of deja vu has Liverpool again threw away a one nil lead in the 90th minute, this time I was on at 1.12. Actually quite unluck as I layed the draw straight away at 1.07 and Kuyt missed a sitter.
Keeping up with the Scouse connection I also had Rooney to score anytime (and Lampard) and then lumped on Everton to beat Man City after having watched them stuff Arsenal the week before only to end up with a draw (another last minute equaliser).
My Liverpool betting sequence had started off a week previously with a massive bet on Ferrari to win the Formula one championship.
Okay, I can hear you all saying Ferrari, surely the quintessential Italian car manufacturer and fuck all to do with Liverpool. Well you're wrong.
Buried in the sporting press a week ago was this story which as soon as I read it prompted me to lump on.

Scousers join Ferrari.
“The Ferrari F1 team fired their entire pit crew yesterday."
This announcement followed Ferrari's decision to take advantage of the British government's 'Work for your Dole' scheme and employ some Liverpudlian youngsters. The decision to hire them was brought about by a recent documentary on how unemployed youths from Toxteth were able to remove a set of wheels in less than 6 seconds without proper equipment, whereas Ferrari's existing crew could only do it in 8 seconds with millions of pounds worth of high tech equipment.
It was thought to be an excellent, bold move by the Ferrari management team as most races are won and lost in the pits, giving Ferrari an advantage over every other team.
However, Ferrari got more than they bargained for! At the crew's first practice session, not only was the scouse pit crew able to change all four wheels in under 6 seconds but, within 12 seconds, they had re-sprayed, re-badged and sold the car to the Mclaren team for 8 cases of Stella, a bag of weed and some photos of Hamilton's bird in the shower.

It seemed a good bet at the time but with hindsight I may have blown that one.
Been really busy at work again and haven't been visiting that many blogs but promise to make a concerted effort to look in on everyone this week. I've also acquired a couple more followers and am now up to 51 so thanks to everyone who has signed up. This blog has been going for a year now so I've managed to gain a follower a week which I'm quite chuffed about.
On another note I signed up for the humour blogs listings a couple of weeks ago. I got an e-mail back saying my blog didn't meet the right criteria? Now, I wouldn't mind that except have you seen some of the blogs on that site? I guess they're saying that this shite isn't funny. Fair enough but neither are 90% of the other shit blogs you already have as members. Fucking wankers are having a laugh which I suppose is quite humourous.
All the best.
Later.

Poker and understanding Female speak

2010-01-11T08:53:00.000-08:00

Poker has been quite shite recently. Won a couple of hundred playing cash, broke even on STT’s and down about a ton on MTT’s. I’ve gone deep in a couple of tourneys but haven’t made a final table so far in 2010. Must try harder.
Had one ridiculous beat last week when my Ac Qc Jd 9d failed to get home on a Kc 10d 8c flop and some plum who had re raised me all in won with a pair of tens.
Saw a classic earlier on the same table when I folded Jx 10x 9x 8x on a Kx Kx Ax flop and two players got it all in only for an Ace to come on the river giving one quad kings and the other quad aces, Totally sick.
You’ve probably noticed these plastered all over everyone’s blogs so here is mine.

The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.

Also, Full Tilt have their FTOP’s running in Feb. Buy ins are too big for me but I’m going to try and satellite into a couple of them over the next few weeks.
One good thing to happen recently is my Wii fit age has reduced drastically. I’m now a year younger than I actually am which is bugging my Wife and Daughter no end. The three of us have been playing on it most evenings and it’s starting to get quite competitive. Last week My Daughter was off school due to the snow so my Missus took a couple of days off. Got home one evening and the pair of them had top scored on every game. I’ve managed to claw back top spot on the obstacle course and a few of the balance games but the witches are on it as soon as my back is turned.
I guess I shouldn’t be so competitive especially with my Daughter but I’ve never been known for being an ideal Dad. I remember the first time I had to bathe her. My Missus came in half way through and caught me swishing her around the bath with a big stick.
“You don’t bathe a baby with a stick” she screamed at me.
“You do when the water is this fucking hot” I argued.
“Argued” isn’t really the correct word though as I learnt a long time ago that arguing with my Missus is futile. Here’s what I have learnt in thirteen years of Marriage.
“Fine” – this is a word my Wife uses to end an argument when she is right and I need to shut up.
“Five minutes” – If she is getting dressed this means one hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if I have been given five more minutes to watch the game before cooking dinner.
“Nothing” – This is the calm before the storm. “Nothing” definitely means something and I need to be on my toes. Arguments that begin with “nothing” usually end in “fine”.
“Go ahead” – This is a dare not permission. I try not to accept but when I do the last word I hear before leaving the house is “Fine”.
“Loud sigh” – This is actually a word and is a non verbal statement often misunderstood by me. A “loud sigh” means she thinks I’m an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with me about “nothing”.
“That’s okay” – This is one of the most dangerous statements my Wife will make. “That’s okay” means she wants to think long and hard before deciding on how and when I will pay for my mistake.
“Whatever” – This is Her way of saying “fuck you”.
“Thanks” – My Wife is actually thanking me. I never question her or faint, I just say “you’re welcome”. “Thanks a lot” is totally different. “Thanks a lot” is pure sarcasm and she is not thanking me at all. I never, ever answer “Thanks a lot” with “you’re welcome” as this results in a “Whatever”.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it” – Another one of the most dangerous statements my Missus can utter. This is used when she has told me to do something several times but is now doing it herself. This usually results in me asking “What’s wrong?”. For my Wife’s response re-read “Nothing”.
Hope this helps someone.
Later.

New Years Eve, Wii fit and copious amounts of Port.

2010-01-01T14:21:00.000-08:00

Had a total blast on New Years Eve and only now am I beginning to recover.
Went out in the afternoon for a couple with some mates who were grounded in the night and one other who flew to Egypt early this morning. We had a good laugh and I knew at least one of them would be out later in the evening.
Grabbed a Chinese on the way home, she wasn't happy, before watching Doctor Who.
Dave, his Missus and their little boy came over about half seven and we set the Wii fit up. If you haven't got one then I can only recommend you get your arse out to the shops tommorow and buy one. They're fucking awesome.
When you first set it up for someone to play on they have to enter their age and height. It then does a series of tests where you have to balance and keep these lines matched up on the screen. It's basically a coordination test. After this is complete it works out your Wii Fit age.
I'm seven years older than I should be and three stone overweight which is a load of bollocks. My eleven year old was the perfect weight but for some reason was thirty three? My Wife. to her horror and mine, is sixty. Daves Missus who is a fitness instructor and six monthe pregnant was exactly the right weight for her age which mortified her no end. Dave was thirteen years older than he is and obese. It was at this point that I pissed myself.
We then mucked about for a few hours whilst Dave and I downed two bottles of port and a few cans. There's one game on there where you have to run through a series of obstacles, a bit like Sonic or Mario, but you're the one doing all the running. I've been on this constantly and haven't got past six hundred metres yet but when you add up all the attempts I've had I've run about 7k which is 7k more than I would have this Xmas.
My Daughter and Wife have started petitioning for Hula Hoops to become an Olympic sport, they've been doing it so much. Dave's Missus was pretty awesome on most of the games. Dave was fucking shite which amused me no end.
Seriously, if you haven't got a Wii Fit then get one.
About tennish Daves Missus went home with the boy and my Missus who doesn't drink decided she wasn't going to bother coming out. Result.
Dave and I headed to our local for a few more. It was bouncing in there and a couple of the boys had managed to get passes for the evening. We grabbed a table and proceeded to drink Guinness and port chasers for the next few hours. I'm not sure what time I got home but I do remember having to knock my next door neighbours house, they were up, and get one of them to open my front door as I couldn't get the key in the lock. Totally wasted.
Oh well, another one over thank fuck.
Later.
Edit......
winner, winner, chicken dinner.

Blwyddyn Newydd Dda

2010-01-01T06:30:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year folks.

Hope you all had a great Xmas

2009-12-28T01:48:00.000-08:00

So, Christmas has been and gone. Mine passed in a drunken haze but more about that later. Hope Santa brought you all what you were hoping for and you and yours had an excellent time.
I bought my Wife and Daughter a Wi Fit which had a mixed reaction. My Daughter and I can't wait to get on it but my Missus is a bit put out.
"Are you saying I need to get fit?"
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm no".
Sometimes you just can't win.
Stupidly, my Wife and I didn't wrap any of my nippers presents and label them from Santa. She is 11 so we didn't actually think she believed in Santa anymore. She did, up until Christmas morning but all the crap we had bought her soon took her mind off that.
I also managed to drop myself in the shit with my out laws. My Wifes nephew is 13 and has started playing Rugby for his School. We went there for Christmas day so I had rung him a week before to see what he wanted. Whilst we were chatting he mentioned he was playing hooker. For those that don't know, hooker is one of the worst positions to play in Rugby. You're totally unprotected in the scrums and the pressure on your neck and shoulders are huge. I bought him a scrum cap and weights to beef him up a bit. His Mum, my Wifes Sister, took one look at the scrum cap and asked what it was. I explained and her face sank. Neither her or her Husband had been to watch him and were both blissfully ignorant to what he was doing. Much tears ensued whilst I drank myself into oblivion.
That wasn't too hard either as Xmas dinner was scheduled for 7 pm. What the fuck is that about? I was starving by the time it was served and made a right pig of myself.
The Christmas parties have been fast and furious and I've been pissed since the 17th, not a record by a long way but pretty good for recent times.
The 17th was a few lads out for a few beers. I hadn't seen a couple of the boys for a while so it was a good laugh. We reminisced about the good old days, as you do, and moaned about the Wife and kids.
Friday night was one of our works do's. It was held in one of the roughest clubs in Cardiff so that if the shop floor boys got a bit out of hand the damage costs would be minimal. As a side note, where I now work is the only place I've had to sign a letter stating that if I get in a fight I would be instantly dismissed for gross misconduct. Yes, there really is that many idiots working in our place.
It went quite well though, no fights, a free bar and plenty of food. About midnight a few of us headed to the City Centre. I called it a night about two and after failing to find a taxi popped into the Casino. I started playing some three card brag/poker game and immediately was dealt a straight flush which paid 35/1. Lovely. It got to about four in the morning so I headed off, grabbed a McDonalds and jumped in a taxi. When I got home and unwrapped it I couldn't believe my eyes. The baps were solid, burger was black and no cheese or relish. Being that pissed, I rang another taxi and went back, slung the burger on the counter and asked the guy "what the fuck is this?" Eventually I got my money back plus another cheese burger with fries. After jumping in another taxi to get home it cost me £21. Fuckers.
I've just realised that if I go into detail about the rest of the bashes I went on this post would be fucking huge so I wont bother. I will tell you about my mate Dave though.
The pair of us went back to where we grew up and were sat in a bar when one of our mates reminded us about one of Daves finest moments. There's a fountain in the middle of the town centre and one night Dave, who had nicked a five litre drum of washing up liquid from work, emptied the lot into it. At nine in the morning the fountain fired up and by about five past the town centre was under five foot of bubbles. The town centre closed down, people thought the end of the World had started, traffic ground to an halt. It took five hours to sort it out.
Hope you all had a great Xmas and here's to a fantastic 2010. All the best folks and thanks for reading.
Later.

A day with Mo

2009-12-17T08:22:00.000-08:00

Went out for a meal with Mo and his Wife last night. Must admit I felt a little bit sorry for him. He had gone Christmas shopping for a pair of camouflage trousers in the afternoon but couldn’t find any. His Daughter wanted a pet so he went to a buy a Goldfish. The pet shop owner asked if he wanted an aquarium and Mo replied that he didn’t care what star sign it was.
We met up at Houston train station. While we were there he went to buy a couple of tickets to go to Paris with his Missus.
“Eurostar?” the guy behind the counter asked.
“Well my blogs quite well read but I’m no Will Smith” he replied.
He also had to pop to the Doctors.
“Haven’t seen you for a while” the Doctor said.
“I know I’ve been ill” Mo replied.
“What’s up?” asked the Doctor.
“I’ve hurt my arm in several places” Mo told him.
“Well don’t go to them anymore” the Doctor retorted.
“Have you got anything for wind?” Mo asked him so the Doctor gave him a kite.
The Doctor started giving Mo an examination.
“You’re going to have to stop masturbating Mr Stoneskin” she said.
“Why?” Mo asked quite alarmed.
“Because I’m trying to examine you” she answered.
After the examination she told Mo that he had quite a serious illness.
“I want a second opinion” Mo informed her.
“Okay, you’re fucking ugly as well”
After that we had to go to the Dentists.
“Say Aaaaaaaahhh Mr Stoneskin” the Dentist told him.
“Why?” asked Mo.
“Because my Cat’s just died”.
Most Dentists chairs go up and down. The one Mo was in was going backwards and forwards. Finally the Dentist asked him to get out of the filing cabinet.
We had to cut short that little visit though because Mo’s Wife rang him extremely upset.
“I’ve got water in the carburettor” she cried down the phone.
“Where’s the car now?” Mo asked.
“In the Thames”.
On the way back to the house we popped in London Zoo. There was this Monkey in the enclosure with a tin opener.
“You don’t need that to open bananas” Mo told him.
“I fucking know that” said the Monkey, “It’s for the custard”.
We spotted a guy trying to chat up a Cheetah.
“I think he’s trying to pull a fast one” Mo commented.
We were watching the penguins when one walked over to us.
“Have you seen my Brother?” the Penguin enquired.
“What’s he look like?” Mo answered.
“Get all your money on Liverpool this weekend” the Penguin told us.
One of the Zoo keepers was walking past so Mo grabbed him.
“That Penguin just spoke to us” Mo screamed at him.
“Which one?” asked the bemused keeper?
Mo pointed out the Penguin.
“What did he say to you?” the keeper asked.
“He told me to have a bet on Liverpool” Mo replied.
The Zoo keeper shook his head.
“Don’t listen to Trevor” he told us, “he knows fuck all about Football”.
Finally Mo and his Wife got themselves sorted and we went to the Restaurant.
“Can I take your Order?” the waiter asked us.
“I was just wondering” Mo replied, “How do you prepare your chickens?”
“Oh nothing special” the waiter said, “we just tell them straight out that they’re going to die”.
After reading the menu Mo ordered the food in fluent French. This came as a bit of a surprise as we were in a Chinese.
The food arrived and Mo started complaining straight away.
“This chickens cold” he informed the Waiter.
“I should think so” he said, “It’s been dead for three days”.
“And it’s got one leg shorter than the other”.
“Are you eating it or dancing with it?” the waiter enquired.
This Duck walked up to Mo’s Wife.
“Your eyes sparkle like Diamonds” he whispered to her.
“Waiter”, shouted Mo, “I asked for A R O M A T I C Duck”.
On the way home the Police stopped Mo.
“Can you blow in this?” he offered Mo.
“Why?” Mo fired back.
“Because my chips are cold” he said.

Tommy Cooper R.I.P.

Sex, drugs and sausage rolls or Xmas parties will never be the same now I'm an old bastard

2009-12-15T08:24:00.000-08:00

This is a long one so make yourself a cup of coffee, get out the hob nobs, relax and hopefully, enjoy.
I’m no oil painting to look at, more of a train wreck. I also get pissed pretty quickly although I can drink through that and last longer than most. These two setbacks mean that I always struggled to chat Women up because most of the time I was too pissed to talk and didn’t have the looks to overcome that obstacle. But what I lack in those departments I more than make up for by being intelligent, having a great sense of humour and endearing personality.
These traits come to the fore when you interact with the opposite sex over a period of time. Luckily I’ve spent most of my working life in offices and therefore have had plenty of opportunities to win Women over. Normally their first impressions are “what a prick”. After a couple of weeks its “he’s sweet” and a few months down the road after much joking, opening doors, making them tea and listening to all their problems it’s “Rubbish is brilliant”. You might say I’m a bit of an acquired taste but eventually I’ve had most of the Women I’ve worked with eating out of my hand. And that’s why I love Xmas works parties.
My first job was in an Accountants as a wages clerk. Having gone to an all boys Grammar School, I hadn’t really spent much time in the company of the opposite sex. I’d had a few girlfriends but I was very much one of the boys, playing sport and getting pissed. The Chief Accountant or whatever they’re called was a raging alcoholic and would turn up at eleven in the morning and be in the pub next door by half past. It was a pretty wild office to work in. The Daughter of one of the Secretary’s had just come second in Miss Wales and she clearly had inherited her Mothers looks. I was smitten with her, the Mother that is. She only had to snap her fingers and I was by her side like a little lap dog. The receptionist, a twenty one year old stunner called Rachel, hated this. I think it was because I paid her little attention and followed a forty year old Mum of three around, hanging on her every word. I was in the kitchen one day, early in December and Rachel followed me in and whispered in my ear “come the Xmas party you’re having it”. I thought she was threatening me being quite young and naive.
As it happened I couldn’t go to the Xmas do for reasons I can’t remember but Christmas Eve was on a Friday and we were due to work. One of the Accountants, an ex pro gambler called Mike, told me to catch the bus in because we were having a few drinks. I turn up at nine and there’s a can on my desk. By twelve we were in the pub. Rachel was wearing a tight little cocktail dress. She was quite tall and had lovely long legs. With her stilettos on she towered over me.
My favourite Mum disappeared quite early, though I did get a little peck on the cheek and this was Rachel’s cue to move in.
“Right Rubbish, now that she’s gone you have got five minutes to start paying me a bit of attention or you’ve had it”.
Mike leaned in to me “you jammy little bastard”.
Finally the light turned on and I realized what “you’re having it” meant.
There was one problem though. I lived miles away and if I didn’t catch the last bus I wouldn’t get home. Mike had landed a decent win on the horses so the beers were flowing. My last bus came and went. Finally Rachel grabbed my arm and informed me that we were leaving.
We got to her house and she disappeared upstairs whilst I slumped on the sofa. Five minutes later she reappeared to tell me that her Mum who was a nurse was working Xmas morning and would give me a lift. Sorted.
We went into the kitchen for a night cap and I noticed that her cocktail dress had ridden up ever so slightly giving me a tantalizing view of her stocking tops. Ten seconds later she was bent over the kitchen table and I was going like a little jack rabbit when her Mum walked in to make a cuppa. Time stood still. Her Mum froze in the doorway, chin on the floor before turning around to beat a hasty retreat. I almost mumbled “Merry Xmas” but thought better of it.
Rachel’s Mum woke me up the next morning and I suffered the most excruciating car journey ever. The drive of shame. She couldn’t really ask me if I had had a nice evening knowing I had been shagging her Daughter and I just couldn’t think of anything to say. It was purgatory. Welcome to the World of the Office Xmas party.
Fast forward a few years and I was working for a Finance House. The Office was situated on the top floor of the tallest building in Cardiff. On my first day I walked in and asked the Commissionaire where the office was and he pointed to the lift and told me it was the 23rd floor. What he didn’t tell me was that it was an express lift which didn’t stop at the first 15 floors. I was later told it was the fastest lift in Europe at that time although I’m not sure how true that was. I got in the lift and pressed the button and the fucking thing took off like a rocket. About ten seconds later I collapsed out of it a gibbering wreck. I never used that lift again.
Every day I would walk the twenty three flights of stairs to work. I’d wander up and down them for dinner and then walk down them to go home. It became a standing joke amongst all my colleagues.
And what a crew I worked with, Ian, the Branch Manager was the oldest and he was only thirty two. Other than two Zone Managers who were hardly in the office I was the only other male there. One girl, Liz, had taken a shine to me. She was dark haired, quite petite with a dirty laugh and nice rack. Most of the girls were of similar age and would gossip about everything and everyone. Their main topic of conversation was this punk girl who worked with us called Jo.
Jo used to turn up to work with different coloured hair every week. Bright orange, shocking green, you name it she dyed it that colour. She used to wear baggy tops and camouflage trousers years before they became de rigueur for the masses. Her make up was a mess. Black eyeliner and lipstick which made her look like one of the undead. That said, she was a lovely girl and had something about her.
On the day of the Xmas do everyone turned up with their glad rags on. All the girls looked the business in little black numbers and I even wore a suit for a change. We were sat around chatting when Jo walked in. The silence was deafening.
She had dyed her hair blonde and had slicked it back instead of its usual spiky style. Her dress was a tight yellow mini dress a bit like the one Liz Hurley wore to that film premiere but not quite as daring. A shapely pair of pins was revealed in a pair of fishnet stockings and a lovely pearl necklace highlighted a stunning cleavage. Not forgetting her punk roots she topped it all off with a pair of Doc Martens boots. The traditional war paint had disappeared and replaced with a flattering pinkish lipstick and understated eyeliner. She looked stunning.
Steve, one of the Zone Managers, turned to me and said, “Fuck me son, who would have guessed?” And he was right. Sara, the biggest bitch in the office let out a whistle, “Christ alive Jo, you look gorgeous”. Jo blushed which only made her look more attractive.
Not a lot of work was done in the morning and at twelve we all headed to the pub. Two hours later Ian and Steve nipped to Marks and Spencer’s to get some booze and we all strolled back to the office. I had a quick chat with Terry the commissionaire before walking to the stairwell. Jo was waiting for me in the lift.
“Rubbish” she called “get in the lift with me now and I’ll shag you stupid”.
With that she hitched up her dress to reveal she wasn’t wearing any knickers.
As much as I wanted to I just couldn’t step into the lift and mumbled some excuses before tackling the 23 floors on foot, berating myself every single step of the way. When I walked in the office all the girls were laughing. Jo had told them.
An hour or so later Steve gave me a wink and we sloped off onto the roof to smoke some weed. This was a regular occurrence and hey, we were on the roof of the tallest building in Cardiff so it wasn’t as if anyone could see us. Jo joined us and as we sat there smoking she slipped me a pill and said “take this now”.
Twenty minutes later I felt indestructible. We were all quaffing Champagne and playing stupid games and I excused myself to go to the toilet. When I walked out Jo was again in the lift. This time, probably because of what she had slipped me, I managed to grow a pair and got in the lift with her. We went down two floors before she pressed the emergency stop and got my dick out. A minute later Terry’s voice came over the intercom.
“Is anyone in there?”
“Yes Terry, it’s me Rubbish”.
“Fucking hell Rubbish what you doing in the lift?”
“I’m with someone Terry”.
“Who?”
“Can’t say”.
There was a slight pause followed by a snort.
“Okay mate, don’t be long and don’t make a mess”.
I’m not sure if it was talking to Terry or the fact that he had mentioned the lift but I started having a panic attack. Sweat was pouring out of me and I was shaking like a leaf. Within seconds I was the one on my knees begging Jo to get me out of there. The look of disappointment on her face would have given Shakespeare enough material to write a trilogy. Reluctantly she started the lift up and I fell out, straight into the toilet to puke my guts up. I walked back into the office to be greeted by everyone shouting “fore” at me. Everyone that is except Jo who was standing by her desk slowly drumming her fingers and Liz who looked like she was going to burst into tears.
“What the fuck is that about Steve?” I enquired.
Not even trying to mask his amusement Steve told me that Jo had walked in and casually told the entire office that she had enticed me into the lift and had started blowing me only for me to start crying like a baby and pleading with her to let me out. The fore was actually “four” relating to how many minutes I’d managed to last in the fucking death trap.
We all went for a meal in the evening and then hit a few clubs. I then experienced one of the most surreal moments of my life when Jo wanked me off in the middle of a MacDonald’s. I took her back to my place and made up for lost time and was quite pleased to find out in the New Year that she’d given me an 8.5 out of 10 rating for my performance between the sheets. Liz wasn’t so pleased as she spat out that bit of information. Jo left a few months later and Liz and I hooked up for a couple of years before parting ways when she took another job in London.
For twelve years I was fortunate enough to be employed in my dream job. I ran the ticket office for a famous sporting body and had, at times, fifty people under me. The Christmas parties were wild.
When the new Stadium was built we relocated offices and ended up in an office block with HSBC bank amongst others. I was quite friendly with one of the guys there and we decided on having an office block party. This was made easy because in the basement there was a pub. I talked the Manager into laying on a buffet and we all met up at three in the afternoon. It was a cracking day, socializing with people from other offices and the Manger made a small fortune.
I was seeing a girl called Mandy at the time who worked in a different Department. She was a bit of a Liz clone but barking mad as well. At the end of the evening the pair of us were sat at the bar talking to this Australian girl. Most people had fallen by the wayside at this point and I was flagging so we made our excuses and left. Oz followed us out and while we were waiting for a taxi asked us where we were heading. Has luck would have it she lived quite near to Mandy so we shared a taxi. When we got to Mandy’s house Oz jumped out and came in for a nightcap. We sat around the kitchen table drinking wine and Mandy started rubbing my balls with her foot. It wasn’t too long after that we were heading up the stairs, telling Oz to slam the door on her way out.
Not long later I’m lying in bed whilst Mandy did what she did best and the bedroom door opens. We both look around and Oz is stood there.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
I looked at Mandy who had her mouth full and she just shrugged so I willingly agreed and with that she stripped off and jumped in with us. A few hours later she climbed out of bed and stated that she was off home. Looking back it was quite bizarre but I wasn’t complaining.
When we got back to work I visited every office in our block making small talk with people I knew. “How was your Christmas, what did you get up to for the New Year, have you got an Australian girl working with you?” No one knew her. Fuck knows who she was but she’ll always have a special place in my heart.
Congratulations if you’ve got this far, hope you enjoyed my favourite Xmas party experiences. Feel free to share any of your own.
Later.

Decembers Poker post - back to normality tomorrow

2009-12-14T14:18:00.000-08:00

Been a decent weekend but could have been superb.
Played a load of PLO STT's on FT and cashed in 50% of them. Was up at 70% at one stage but had a few coolers. I've also satellited into a couple of the FTOP's events. Played the £50 PLO on Saturday night with $100k guaranteed.
Card dead for the first hour but managed to get a few hands after the first break. Got up to $27k and was going along nicely when I got involved in a hand I should have just folded.
Had JJ67 in the BB and first to act raised. Folded around to me so called. Flop came 8h9h10d. Checked and guy bets half pot so call. Turn is 4d and we both check. At this stage I've got him on AAxx possibly double suited and with two Jacks in my hand I'm thinking I'm ahead. River blanks and I check. He makes a shitty little half pot bet so I raise him all in. He insta calls with QQJJ. That crippled me and went out in 500th of 2300.
Played the Bloggerment last night, only a disappointing 13 others showed up. It never ceases to amaze me how one person just seems to run away with these. Last night it was Ter"Mair"nator who demolished the field. The tourney lasted 75 minutes which is a record. I bombed in 5th when my AQ was no match to Mairs 67. Mik was the funniest when his JJ was insta called with K10 for a K10X flop. You just knew that Mair could call with any two and hit. Heads up against her Hubby, Stan, it lasted one hand. Stan goes all in and Mair calls with complete air and hits a nut straight. It was Mairs birthday yesterday as well so congrats Hun, spend your winnings wisely because you wont run that good on Stars again for another six months.
I'm in another FTOP's event on Saturday so run good you twat one time. I'm also out on a works do on Friday so will be struggling big time.
Love works Xmas do's, big post coming up next which may or may not involve Copious amounts of alcohol, drunken fumblings, drug fuelled shennanigans in a lift, the drive of shame and threesomes.
Later.

Wrong place, wrong time, story of my life.

2009-12-11T02:11:00.000-08:00

Beads of sweat slowly raced down my back. Nothing unusual there as it was well over 100 degrees in the pub. Not bad for three in the morning. And I use the term “pub” in its loosest term. There were only two walls, either side, nothing at the front or back and a corrugated roof. The lack of walls and doors at the front and back was alleviated by the fact that the place never closed. The furniture looked like a three year old may have constructed it and probably had. The bar was inside a cage where the barman passed your drinks through the Steel bars. For the neighbourhood we were in though it was a classy joint. It could have been the Viper Lounge or Mahliki seeing as it was ideally situated directly in front of a shanty town.
Samba music blasted out of a make shift DJ platform, the bass ramped up so high that it reverberated through your body. Not so much as listening to the music but feeling it. Two girls danced topless on a table in the middle of the room, quite brave of them in my opinion as the table looked like it was held together with blue tac.
Five of us were sat on what could only be described as a picnic table made out of Lego. I can’t recall what Lager we were drinking but it was some bottled shite. I do remember the Cachaca chasers, a particularly nasty little shot peculiar to that area. The Lager was poured into plastic glasses, bottles not allowed. And it wasn’t poured in the traditional manner of holding the glass at a 45 degree angle and slowly emptying the bottles contents into the glass. The glasses were slapped on a table and poured as quickly as possible. There was a perfectly logical explanation for this as the barman only used his left hand; his right hand had a permanent tight grip on a shotgun draped over his right shoulder. The shotgun served two purposes as far as I could see. One was to detract undesirables which had obviously failed and the other was to camouflage the fact that his right ear had been cut off which also didn't work.
And the clientele were a real motley crew. Glasses weren’t allowed but every guy in there had a knife, machete or gun. I was waiting for some guy to walk in with a bazooka. There were probably thirty people sat about and apart from the two girls dancing I would say that the only other people not packing were Dave, Tony and myself. It wasn’t hard to spot either as most of the people had their weapon of choice placed on the table next to their drinks. Hardly any of the men were wearing tops, come to think of it neither were the women. I guess it looked like the inside of a plastic surgeons operating room there were so many scars on view.
Conversation was nigh on impossible because of the music which was okay because I was so pissed I couldn’t talk. Incredibly, behind the bar were hammocks with about half a dozen people sleeping. How they managed that I can only put down to the copious amount of drugs freely available. One dark haired beauty had caught my eye. She was quite tall, olive skinned, wearing a bikini top incasing breasts the size of small planets and intriguingly had a denim mini skirt on which barely covered her ten inch dick. I couldn't take my eyes off her/him.

Welcome to Rio de Janeiro Mardi Gras 1985.

In one of the greatest ironies the World has ever thrown up, My mate Dave had gone to the biggest Footballing Nation on the planet to coach Rugby for nine months. Big Tony and I had flown out for the Mardi Gras and what an eye opener that was. Luckily the team Dave was coaching had some of the most vicious bastards ever to take a Rugby field playing for him. One guy, Santo R.I.P. an extremely violent little cunt, had taken Dave under his wing and introduced him to the seedier side of Rio.
Dave had picked us up at the airport and by the time we reached his gaffe we had been held up twice. You could't stop at a red light without someone prodding a gun through the window and demanding cash. After a few days I was handing out £10 bills to anyone who approached me, regardless of whether they were holding me up or asking for directions.
People would be waving guns about like you would wag a finger when talking to someone and after a few days there you were so used to it that you became oblivious to the danger you were in. Until the night described above.
In all probability we would have been skinned alive had we not been with Santo. We certainly wouldn't have gone to that area of town by choice and would probably have left in a body bag. The cheap drugs and Cachaca had kicked in and the bird with the dick was looking like a Goddess. Santo was egging me on whilst Dave was screaming something about standards and gayness. Suddenly Santo sat bolt upright and grabbed his gun. Three guys walked in and casually gunned down the DJ. The barman opened fire, straight over the top of our heads and I hit the floor in double quick time. Within 30 seconds six people were dead.
After the gunfire had stopped and I opened my eyes, Dave, Tony and I just stared at each other. I lifted my head over the table and Santo and his mate were sat there still drinking as if nothing had happened. I do not think I've ever been so scared in all my life.
I mention this because Dave rang me yesterday. One of the boys who played for him has organised a 25 year reunion next year and Dave has been invited. "Fancy coming?" he asked.
"Go fuck yourself Dave", I replied, "once was enough in this lifetime".

It could be worse, I could be Mo.

2009-12-07T09:20:00.000-08:00

I came home from work tonight to find a Plumbers van outside the house. I actually sat in the car and said a prayer. God wasn't fucking listening though. The guy was sat in the kitchen dinking a cuppa. I said, "please tell me you're here because you've been shagging my Wife"? "No luck sorry Rubbish", he replied, "Your boilers fucked and it's going to cost you £1500".
That's just fucking typical.
And has my Missus a kiss and tell story regarding Tiger to sell. Has she fuck. I feel like dropping him an e-mail asking what's wrong with her because she's the only Woman in the Northern Hemisphere he hasn't boned, alledgedly.
Pokers going shit as well. Played one tournament on Stars the other night that summed it up. Four hours in and I make the final table of a $4.40 PLO tourney with 740 runners. I've beaten 731 people and for that I make $39.45. Not even $9 an hour. I've been getting e-mails from filipino street urchins taking the piss out of me for earning so little.
Played yesterday and I'm going along nicely when I get involved in a pot which would have given me the chip lead. I've got 10 10 9 8 on a A 10 6 flop. Guy bets, I raise, he re-raises, I go all in, he calls. He turns over A 9 8 7 for top pair and a gutshot straight draw. Turn A, river A. Fuck Stars.
I ran a quick poll last week to see why people don't comment. 53 of you are lazy twats which is fair enough. 64 of you think I'm a twat. I was a bit worried about that until I looked into it further and found that 63 of those came from Mo's IP address. The other one was my Mother.
On to my favourite fuckwit, Mo. He rang me up last week in a bit of a state. After calming him down the conversation went like this:
Me; "So what's up Mo?"
Mo; "Well, I found a young homeless girl out by my bins last night. She was dirty and didn't smell too good but underneath the grime I could see she was pretty and had a good body".
Me; "You didn't did you Mo?"
Mo; "Well, I brought her into the house and gave her a bath. As I was towelling off her naked body I became aroused and one thing led to another".
Me; "Tell me you didn't take advantage please Mo?"
Mo; "I couldn't help myself Rubbish. Before I knew it I was making mad passionate love to her. I was banging her so hard that a couple of times you'd have sworn she was still alive".

Later.

Lemmy - a hero?

2009-11-29T12:05:00.000-08:00

Lemmy from Motorhead once said "I know I'm gonna lose and gamblings for fools". Never a truer word said.
In my late teens a gang of us used to go to concerts at least once a week. Motorhead, AC/DC, Thin Lizzy, Black Sabbath, all the usual heavy metal suspects. I remember reading once that Motorheads back stage rider was 10 bottles of Jack Daniels, assorted sandwiches and a Brunette. Good forward planning I suppose. If there was a quiet night on the groupie front there was always the Brunette to fall back on, literally. Bet she earned her money the hard way.
I saw the Blue Oyster Cult at Sophia Gardens. We'd travelled down on a mini bus and one of the boys had got his hands on some Morrocan Black that was floating around. Ten of us smoked and drank a couple of bottles of Jack and some cans of Red Stripe. I remember sitting at the back of the hall and the opening chords of Don't fear the reaper starting up. I turn to my mate Dave, "Fucking hell, they're opening with this?"
He slowly shakes his head "This is the third encore Rubbish, you've been out for the count since we got here". Good shit that Morrocan.
After a while we started going to see loads of different bands like Sister Sledge and stuff like that. A couple of us even went to see a few Operas. Nothing wierder than watching an Opera jacked up on hard booze and cheap drugs.
One of my favourite bands in the 80's were the Stones when Keef was alive and Mick didn't need a hip replacement after he sang Jumping Jack Flash. Looks like Wild Horses could now be the biggest seller of 2009, sang by that ageing rocker Susan Boyle. How did the World become so fucked up?
Anyway, back to the great man and that immortal line, "I know I'm gonna lose and gamblings for fools".
A couple from Newport in South Wales won £45 million on the Euro Lottery about a month ago. The guy's birthday was a couple of weeks ago and he booked a floor in the St Davids Hotel for family and friends. Who was staying there but Motorhead so he invited Lemmy and the guys to the party because, like me, he was an aging metal head. Not sure if he had to supply a brunette for the boys to agree to turn up but I'd like to think that was one of their stipulations.
I've knocked up a poll alongside this post. I have 400-500 people a week read this crap and about a dozen people who leave comments. If you read this, click a button to let me know what you really think. Cheers.

Degenerates.com

2009-11-25T08:35:00.000-08:00

So the biggest and most wildy anticipated match up in Poker history as fizzled out in double quick time. After 32 minutes of outlandish bluffing, bad beats and cold decks, Joppa and Would be called it a day with Would be holding a $5 lead. Would be then proceeded to spunk it all off on a cash table therefore handing the win to Joppa. This situation is now escalating into the largest bitch fest since Jordan and Peter Andre split up with both sides claiming the win. I'm siding with Joppa but the jury is still out.
Now, don't think I'm being disparging by calling them both degenerates, that's their discription of themselves. And who isn't a degenerate these days, be it poker, gambling, shoes, chocolate pudding. Every blog I read has degenerate tendancies whether the writer realises them or not. I'm no exception but I'm ten times better than I was.
Five years ago my mate Dave and I are walking to a club when we turn a corner to see five guys kicking the shit out of some poor sap. We look at each other and give a resigned shrug before diving in. Dave takes two of them out and I floor another one. One guy starts unloading punches at me and I'm desperately trying not to get tagged when someone grabs me from behind. I quickly lean forward and then jolt my head backwards catching the guy flush. I quickly turn around to finish him off and stop in my tracks. It's only a uniformed copper doubled up with blood pissing out of his nose. Another copper comes from nowhere and takes me out with Dave protesting our innocence.
We get to the station, Dave and I plus the five pricks, ironically the guy we had jumped in to help had scarpered at the first opportunity. I'm charged with affray, GBH and assaulting a policeman. Dave and I are given a phone and told to make one call. Dave rings a mate of his who's a Barrister. I ring Betfair and have £150 on Arsenal unquoted at 4.8.
As it happens we were only in the cells for an hour. Daves mate turns up and raises hell. A couple of witnesses had also come forward in the meantime, one basically told the Police that we were heroes and should have got a medal. All charges finally got dropped against us but Dave still brings up my choice of call even now. My rationale was I was going to be in clink for a good few hours and the Arsenal game was an early kick off. They won 5-1.
What can I say, my name's Rubbish and I'm a fucking degenerate.

Quick update - the Challenge part two is up and running after Would Be admitted defeat. Interesting pic on his blog, stop by and have a gander.

Not well

2009-11-23T12:17:00.000-08:00

My Daughter's had the flu which now means my Wife and I have it.
Played the bloggerment last night but I had such a migraine I ended up bombing out in double quick time so that I could go back to bed.
Went to work today but was back home and in bed by 11.00am.
My birthday tomorrow and I'll be in bed all day again but not in a good way.
Back later in the week when I'm hopefully migraine, chesty cough, runny nose, free.
Later.
Edit:
My Wife and Daughter have come up trumps with series 3 and 4 of the Sopranos. This has only reminded me of a previous post though about that sanctamonious twat Christian O 'Connell and the theme tune World Cup. I was driving into work two weeks ago and he is on about the Final which is between Knight Rider and the Professionals. What a fucking joke.
Where was the Sopranos? "Woke up this morning and got myself a gun". How cool is that for an opening line of a theme tune.
Also, Hawaii five O? I bet you're all humming that one in your head now? And Miami Vice? How are these not in the final?
And of course the best theme song ever. The Bannana splits. How the fuck isn't that the best one ever?
Anyhow, thanks for all the get well soon comments and Mo, your blog's fucked mate, Karma.

Bloggerment - 15th November - the true version of events

2009-11-16T09:33:00.000-08:00

This is what happened. Don't believe anything else you might read, those RTR bastards make it all up.
Fifteen of the greatest Poker players and Dd assembled last night for the return of the greatest Poker Tournament outside of the WSOP. If $80 in prize money wasn't enough incentive, the knowledge of winning an event not even Ivey, Hellmuth, Antonius or Yorkie Pud has won in the past was surely motivation enough for the assembled Poker luminaries.
After a tense opening exchange where players jockyed for supremacy, 2008 APAT Champion, Mair
made a massive play, re-raising DoV (donking obliterates variance) pre flop with AcKc. DoV re-raised Mair all in with 6 4 off and hit quad 4's.
Next out was No Cash who jammed with Kings only to lose to DoV who hit runner runner 5's whilst holding 5 2, a fact made more incredible as they were on different tables.
Zagga exited next when DoV flopped a full house on a non paired board.
Unlucky thirteenth was Al Eleven, an American fish who commented in fluent Scottish.
Twelth was Kronsdat who, short stacked, went all in with AA to lose to DoV's 6 3 off when he made a river straight.
The big Boss went next overplaying QQ against DoV's 7 4 off.
The most remarkable performance of the evening went to Mik who finished in tenth, his highest finish since June 2001 when he managed a credible 8/17. Rumours that Mik had eight accounts on the go at that time are as yet unproven.
Weegem bombed in ninth when his flopped quads ran into DoV's fifth straight flush in a row.
Maybe the biggest surprise was Amatay reaching 22.00 without falling asleep. Another rivered straight flush, this time by Joppa, saw the wankmeister scuttle off to his pit early. This was quite a pleasing moment for yours truly who had a little side bet that JR would finish higher than the Watford Wank machine. A nice little $10k for moi although if the fish had won I would have been in to him for a years supply of tissues, a damn sight more than $10k I can tell you.
The Cloud departed next when his top set was no good against DoV's 4 high straight.
1tripz1 (whom I'm sure has a blog but I can't find it) crashed in sixth to a DoV 5 2 special.
Dd bombed next to your favourite blogger, when his AQ suited was no match to my 22 on a AQ2 flop (raise pre next time Dave and I might fold). This landed me another bounty, deep fried of course, from Scotlands finest.
Joppa bubbled in fourth, a remarkable achievement since he was 97 tabling at the time.
I went out in third when my raise on a AcKc x board was called by DoV with 2c3c for a standard 3 high rivered flush.
That left DoV and Kev heads up. The final hand was a corker. Kev, holding AcAd raised all in on a AhAs10h flop not realising he was miles behind. DoV snap called with Qh2d for a Jh turn and Kh river and an elusive Royal Flush, his 47th this week.
Notable absentees were Cogs, the Brighton badger, who has now taken over from Amatay as Britains laziest man and is hibernating until March 2010. Snake and Ant1966 were also missing allthough I'm still convinced they're one in the same (have you ever seen them in the same room)? Mr O , the only pussy whipped scouser, was another who failed to appear. No excuses next week fishies, RTR expects.
If anyone who reads this shite fancies a game, feel free to join us next week. Only thing you need to know is, if DoV raises, fold.
Later.

Another mad week

2009-11-12T09:15:00.000-08:00

So much for a recession. Work is so busy it's beyond a fucking joke now. Our order book is full right up to Xmas break and that's with us working between 10 to 20 hours overtime per person every week. Madness.
My Daughters 11th birthday yesterday. Can't believe how quickly the time has passed. My Missus is only 4 foot 10 (same size as Kylie by all accounts)and had quite a difficult pregnancy. Obviously, this meant I had quite a difficult one as well. Anyhow, she was in hospital for four days before my Daughter was born and I was starting to worry. Thankfully my Daughter came into the world on a Tuesday afternoon which meant I could go to Wembley on the Wednesday for Wales V New Zealand on the Saturday. Needless to say Wales lost but not even that could dampen my spirits and I finally came home on the Sunday, pissed as a rat, to a mouthfull of abuse. And that was just my Daughter.
Every Birthday since then has coincided with a Welsh match because of the Autumn Internationals so I've ended up missing loads of her parties because of work. Now that I'm out of that game though we've had a couple of great times the last couple of years and had a brilliant night yesterday. My Missus and I plus a few of my Daughters mates went to a Chinese called Cosmos. I mention this because it was absolutely superb and there is a chain of these places across Britain. If you fancy a great night out with amazing food try it out. I suppose I have to make the most of the next couple of years because it wont be long before she's down the pub dropping a few E's and downing Vodka red bulls.
Tonight is going to be quite a sad night as our neighbours for the last thirteen years are moving tomorrow. When we moved in Sharon and Barry had three kids in their late teens to early twenties who were a great laugh. Since then we've been to three weddings, six Christenings, countless Birthday partys, stag nights and hen do's and sadly one Funeral. Sharons Dad, Pat, had lived with them for years and was a true Gentleman. He had served in the Special forces during the war and had won a VC for his deeds. He died two years ago and since all the kids had married and moved out Sharon has wanted to move. Barry, in my opinion, hasn't, but someone has made them an offer they can't refuse so they're off to the sticks tomorrow. We're going around tonight for a few beers which could turn into a massive session. I'll be sad to see them go.
Wales play Samoa tomorrow night and I've got to take my Daughter to ballet rehearsals so wont get back in time to go to the match. Might give my new neighbour a knock and take him up my local. Just hope he isn't fucking English! Watch this space.
Later.

Please God

2009-11-07T02:10:00.000-08:00

Let Wales run good one time. Let us crush the mighty All Blacks with a vengance. Let Stephen Jones boot be true and bless Shane Williams with the speed and guile to dance around those Maori twats.

Guide me o thou great Jehova
Pilgrim through this barren land
I am week but thou are mighty
Lead me with thy powerful hand

Bread of heaven
Bread of heaven
Feed me til I want no more
Feed me til I want no more

Normal service returns next week.

Amen.

Off for a few days

2009-10-28T03:36:00.000-07:00

Been working six day weeks for ages now and then snoozing on Sundays. To be honest I feel like I'm in a bit of a funk and can't be bothered to do anything. But I'm off now until Monday with my Daughter so crazy Golf, ten pin bowling and doing my bollocks for two hours in a cinema watching some crap film beckons.
It's Halloween on the weekend which I'm sure you are all aware of. Halloween doesn't really mean much to us Brits, certainly not as much as it seems to do in America. My Daughter though, having watched Disney Channel for ever and a day, loves it. I'm guessing it's all the Scooby Doo, Simpsons and latterly, Witches of Waverley etc. that has fuelled her imagination.
Personally, I can't stand all the trick and treating so the first time my Daughter asked me to take her I wasn't overly eager. I think she was about five at the time and I'd got home from work to find her waiting for me dressed up as a witch. She had a pumpkin which she and my Missus had made a mask out of in one hand and a bucket for all the sweets she was going to get in the other. I told my Wife that there was no way I was dragging her around houses where I didn't know anyone and we agreed that I would take her to houses in our block.
We started off by knocking our neighbours doors but no one was home. There's eight houses in our little block and I know everyone quite well so we visited everyone of them. If anyone was in they were definitely not answering. I could see the disappointment in my Daughters face so we jumped in the car.
"I'll take you to the boys houses babes, they'll have loads of chocolate."
Not one of the fuckers was home.
I started ringing them.
"Where are you?"
"In the pub, where are you?"
"Outside you house."
"Why?"
"Got my nipper with me, we're trick or treating."
"that's why I'm down the pub!"
After an hour I gave up and drove to Tescos. By now my Daughters bottom lip was trembling and I could sense a full scale breakdown was imminent. We walked down the sweet aisle and I told her to have whatever she wanted. By the time we got to the checkout she had about £20 worth of sweets in her bucket. As we queued she looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes and exclaimed for everyone who cared to hear,
"This is the worst Halloween ever Dad!"
I couldn't help but smile since she was only five and this was the first time we had been trick or treating. The Woman in front of me burst out laughing but soon stopped when she saw the look on my little ones face. I quickly explained that we had been around loads of houses but no one was home.
"Don't worry love", she said to my Daughter, "let me get you something."
And with that she gave my Daughter a box of chocolates that she had just bought.
I protested but she was adamant.
Next up, the cashier walks off and comes back with a big bag of Halloween sweets, rings them through and says, "my treat babes".
The woman on the next checkout reaches over and places a Galaxy bar in my Daughters bucket, "happy Halloween", she offers.
Finally the Woman behind us says "Can you ring this through please", and gives my Daughter a big bag of Haribo lollys.
By the time we got home she had about £40 worth of sweets. I tell her not to say anything to her Mother about where we got all the sweets.
The next year My Wife takes her out and she immediately stands next to her car. My Missus looks at her and asks what she's doing? My Daughter says, "After last year Mam I think we're better off going to Tescos first".

Played a little poker last night. Won a few small buy in SNG's before bubbling on a $30 one. Hoping to play a bit this week seeing has I don't have to get up at redic O'clock for work.

I'm also halfway through my literary masterpiece. I'm hoping to finish it by next month so that I can post it throughout December.

Off to play Mario Kart on the Wi with my Daughter for an hour, little does she realise that her pocket money is at stake and I've been practicising.
Later.

My Daughter the genius part two plus the things you do for your mates

2009-10-23T06:40:00.000-07:00

My Daughter is now in the last year of Primary School and the Comprehensive we are hoping she will get into had an open day last week. What an eye opener.
The School is in the top twenty in Britain and had a 99% pass rate last year in “A” levels. What really knocked me sideways were the extra curricular activities it offers. We pitched up a little early and the School orchestra were playing a few tunes. They kicked off with a medley of Blues Brothers tracks which were awesome. This girl then gets up with an acoustic and bangs out “Wonderwall” which was absolutely incredible. These three boys, maybe 12 or 13, get up on the stage and play “Don’t stop me now” by Queen which was also spot on. The whole lot of them then play The Verves “unfinished symphony” which, Richard Ashcroft’s attitude aside, was so good that if you closed your eyes you could picture him walking down the street barging people out of the way.
The Head Master then stood up to say a few words before the Head Boy and Girl also addressed everyone.
The Head Boy was about six foot two and had played Rugby for Welsh Schools. In the last two years he had been on tours to Australia, France, Spain and Italy. The Head Girl was clearly more academically inclined but was part of the School choir who had toured Canada the previous year.
This spotty little oik then gets up. He was about fifteen and after droning on for five minutes he mentions that he is a member of the debating society. I’m thinking so fucking what before he then mentions that last year he had represented the School in Washington and the year before in Athens.
Lastly, this young girl stands up to say a few words. She had been the only kid from her Primary School that had gone to this School so had started on the first day not knowing anyone. She told us all how friendly everyone was and how she had joined the after school clubs to make friends. She was a lovely kid and emphasised just how friendly the school is.
After this we were all given a guided tour. The School was fucking huge. They had a purpose built trampoline area where these fourteen year olds were giving a demonstration. Some of them were incredible. I got talking to the PE teacher who I sort of know from Rugby who told me that he would be disappointed if none of the children in his class didn’t get a shot at the Olympic team in three years time.
By the time I left this place my head was spinning and I was wondering who I would have to bribe to get my Daughter in there. She’s definitely got a great shot though and I’m 99% certain she will be given the go ahead in February.
Last night there was a parents teachers evening in her Primary School. My Missus and I were sat talking to her teacher who was very complimentary about her. After about five minutes she said “you must be very proud” which sort of threw me a bit. My Wife and I agreed that we were to which the teacher said “it’s a great opportunity for her”, which really confused the shit out of me. After a few glances between my Wife and I we both asked “what are you on about?” The teacher shot us a puzzled look and said “Hasn’t she told you? Four pupils from year 6 have been selected to go to Comprehensive School one afternoon a week to study with year 7 pupils in English and Maths. Your Daughter is the only one who has been put forward to do both. From the first week of November she’ll be going to Comp on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons”.
My Missus and I looked at each other before blurting out at the same time “Which Comprehensive School?” to which the teacher made my entire year by saying the one we are hoping she’ll get into next year.
Proud, I hear you say? Damn right I’m proud. In fact I’m so proud I bought her a laptop this morning for her Birthday next month which I’ve just given to her. Obviously, this now doesn’t count as a Birthday present but I don’t fucking care. This School is so good it’s almost criminal that it’s a state School and not Private. With one foot already in the door she would really have to do something stupid to not get in there and I can’t see her doing that.
Anyhow, onto other business.
Mo rang me in tears last week. Turns out his Wife hasn’t had an orgasm since they’ve been married. They went to a Doctor who suggested they had a fan in the bedroom which would cool his Wife down and relax her. Being a tight bastard, Mo asked me round and gave me a beach towel. So, I’m standing there swinging this towel above my head and Mo and his Wife are getting jiggy but I can tell there’s not a lot happening from her point of view. After about twenty minutes Mo stops and asks me to change places with him. I’m not adverse to this has Mo’s Wife is quite tasty. Within two minutes she’s screaming the house down and is well on her way to her fourth orgasm. I allow myself a wry smile and turn to look at Mo who says;
“And that Rubbish my old Son is how you flap a fucking towel”.
Later.

Stuff I hate

2009-10-21T12:39:00.000-07:00

First off stuff that has been pissing me off recently or more to the point, one person. Every morning I drive into work and listen to the Christian O'Connell (from now on referred to as COC) breakfast show on Absolute Radio. A couple of weeks ago he did this thing where he invited listeners to ring in with their favourite TV show theme music and the top 32 went into a World Cup play off to find the best. The usual shows featured, Only Fools and Horses, Benny Hill, Grandstand etc. Anyhow. COC keeps on going on about how people are telling him what a great idea this is and how unusual it is and he laps it up saying it's how his mind works. No it isn't you fucking COC, Loaded have been doing this stuff for years.
I can remember Loaded doing a World Cup of biscuits with the final ending up between a Bourbon and a Chocolate Digestive. They also did one for bottled beers with Magners doing quite well.
Now COC is running the top 100 songs of the decade and you would swear he thinks this is the most amazing idea ever. No it fucking isn't you fucking COC, just flick through the MTV channels and that's all they do. 100 best songs of the 80's, 100 best rock songs, 50 best R and B songs. All programmes on now.
As you can tell I fucking hate COC with a passion but the musics good.
Now on to other stuff.
I don't watch much TV has it's so predictable and shit. One programme I do like is N.C.I.S. which now has a spin off, N.C.I.S. L.A. FFS, doesn't anyone have a decent idea these days? Law and Order has about a 1000 spin offs as does Star trek. CSI has two, Stargate has one. Life on Mars was brilliant but they had to spoil it with Ashes to Ashes. Doctor Who has Torchwood and the Sarah Jane Chronicles and if my Daughter was still up she could probably name another couple of spin offs.
Every cop show has the same tried and tested routine. Depressed, alcoholic, divorced cop tracking down a serial killer. Fuck me, not even COC could manage a top five serial killers of the 2000's as we've only had two yet every TV show has one a week. If TV executives are going to recycle shows can't we have the Sweeney in Space. Now that would be worth watching.
One other thing that's really pissing me off is work. It's now got to the stage where I dream about it. Last night I dreamt I was in Amsterdam with a prostitute. It was the middle of the afternoon and we're walking back to an hotel and I apologise to her and say "I have to pop into work for a minute". So there I am walking around our shop floor with this Thai bird and I go up to our factory supervisor and ask "how many doors we made today Mark?". I then start introducing this girl to everyone and then tell my boss "I'm staying in the Ibis but you can get me on my mobile if there's any problems", before walking off with this lady of the night. What the fuck is that about?

Missing in Action

2009-10-16T06:52:00.000-07:00

Haven't been about much due to work which is doing my fucking head in. I've sort of read a few blogs this week but haven't been able to leave comments. Promise to catch up this weekend although I do have to go into work tomorrow (Saturday) for 6 am.
Played absolutely no poker this week so I'm level which makes a change. Not had a pint for two weeks which is unusual. Got one more mad week and then should be back to normal.
Will post about it all next time.
Later.

Poker v Golf

2009-10-06T12:28:00.000-07:00

A few people have asked if I intend to write a post about poker. Well, I’ll let you all into a little secret known only to poker players. Poker is boring as fuck.
Furthermore, reading about poker is even worse because there’s very few ways of making the posts interesting especially if you don’t play poker.
Your average MTT (Multi table tournament) may take four hours to play and for three and a half odd hours of that you’re folding junk. That equates to one hand every eight minutes. Compare this to a round of Golf that takes four hours and if you shoot an eighty that would equate to one shot every three minutes. Plus you have the added attraction of pleasant scenery, a bit of banter from your playing partners and some exercise.
Take Saturday for example. The weather wasn’t particularly great but then again, when is it in Britain? Four of us tee off at eight in the morning and the 1st hole on our course is probably the toughest. 440 yards with a slight dog leg to the left and out of bounds on both sides of the fairway. Small lake in front of an elevated sloping green with out of bounds continuing on the right. The ideal way to play the hole is a drive up the left leaving no more than a six iron to the green. Anything longer makes the chances of holding the green non existent. Otherwise, you need to lay up on your second leaving a wedge in and hope to make your putt.
I nail a three wood into the perfect spot and have 165 yards left. I’m into my downswing when a rabbit runs straight across the fairway distracting me to the extent that I’m watching it as I hit the ball. Disaster. My ball bobbles about fifty yards up the fairway as my playing partners piss themselves whilst I throw my six iron at the offending fucking runt. Trying to regain my composure, I walk up to my ball and visualise my next shot. I have this pre shot routine where I stand directly behind the ball and pick a spot a couple of feet in front of it which is on a direct path to my target. It may be a clump of grass, a Bluebell or a divot. I then line the club head up with this spot and after a couple of practice swings I’m ready to do some damage.
There’s a split second when the club head makes contact with the ball which instantly allows you to recognise what the ball is going to do. A hook, slice, thin, fade, top, each shot has its own feeling. On this occasion, when my wedge struck the ball, I instantly knew I’d flushed it. My gaze followed the balls trajectory and there’s another split second when the ball starts falling out of the sky where the ball and its intended target merge into your plane of vision. It’s at this exact second that you know if your shot is any good. Mine was looking fucking awesome and the only thing that comes into consideration now is whether you’ve judged the distance correctly.
Okay, that’s not exactly true because when the ball pitches the green it can do a number of things. It can take a few bounces and roll twenty yards past where it landed. It can spin backwards, stop dead, kick to the left or right. A pro will know exactly what his ball will do. A hack and thrash merchant like me has no idea. Mine pitched, took a hop forward before stopping dead, two feet from the hole with a nice straight uphill putt for par. Shots like that make your round. The ball rolls off the green and you’re looking at a six. Leave it short and you’re in the water and looking at racking up a monster.
I make the putt and life’s good. No more thoughts of my fluffed second shot but a jolt of confidence from my superb third one.
Three and a half hours later I’m in the bar looking at a decent card and all’s well in the World. My mate Dave, notice a trend with my mates names, is one of life’s funny guys. If something stupid is going to happen to anyone then it’s him. The subject of first jobs comes up and Dave slowly starts shaking his head. Dave worked as a doorman for years and is, as we say in Wales, warm as toast.
“Have I ever told you about when I worked the doors at Barry Island?” Dave enquires. We all shake our heads.
To paint the picture for you all, Barry Island used to be a massive holiday camp. There were hundreds of chalets, several bars and restaurants and a couple of night clubs. To compound matters, it wasn’t really an Island but perched on the end of one of South Wales’ roughest towns. In reality it was a time bomb waiting to explode. Dave was there to make sure it didn’t.
Dave continued, “I’d only been there three days and my mate and I are on the door of the club when the night manager comes over the radio saying that someone is breaking into the rooms. My mate and I leg it down there and just as we arrive this guy comes flying out of a first storey window, which wasn’t open, and lands right next to us. We’re standing there with glass flying everywhere and this guy picks himself up, takes one look at us and is gone. We chase the fucker and finally catch him. He starts throwing punches and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s drugged up to the eyeballs so I get him in a choke hold. The more he struggles the tighter I hold him until he eventually passes out. So this twat is sparked out on the floor and my mate puts him in the recovery position. We’re just about to radio in saying we’ve got him when my mate looks at me and says “fucking hell Dave, he’s not breathing”. I bend down and take his pulse and there isn’t one. So I’m standing there, three days into the job, 20 years old and I’ve killed someone. I’m looking at my mate saying I don’t fucking believe this and he says to throw him in the pool and tell everyone that he’s drowned. I consider this for about a split second but realise no ones going to buy that shit and I’m going down for several years so I walk up to the twat and kick him as hard as I can in the stomach. Fuck me, he starts spewing everywhere. My mate and I jump back and are just staring at this fucking clown who suddenly springs to his feet, chins me and starts legging it down the road. I was so fucking relieved I burst out laughing. The cops caught him three blocks away and it took eight of them to arrest the fucker”.
By now the whole bar is listening to Dave’s tale, most of them with tears running down their cheeks.
Fast forward seven hours and I’m watching the Football in the front room. I fire up the laptop and enter a PLO MTT on FT (keep up with that did you?). After the first hour I’m doing OK. I haven’t had to re buy and don’t need an add on. Second break sees me with a below average stack. Third break is a similar story. Leading up to fourth break is where the tourney starts to hot up. I’m 34th of 50 with the top 27 getting paid. I scrape into the money in 24th place and then into the top eighteen in 15th. Four hours into the tournament I make the final table, 9th of nine. I’ve got $27k in chips and the next lowest has $110k. And here’s the crux of it all and the reason why I don’t post about Poker that much.
I can’t remember one fucking hand of note from four hours of play.
I eventually finish in fifth for $485 which is a decent sum but not as good as the $2k the winner had.
And here’s another thing that maybe is solely experienced by myself but, I’m guessing, probably shared by a lot of other poker players. The high of winning a few dollars lasts for a few seconds before the stark truth hits home. Tomorrow night you’re going to be doing the same fucking thing. And the night after, four hours of boredom for three seconds of happiness.
Give me a 125 yard wedge to two feet and Dave holding court in the bar afterwards any day of the week.

Random Rubbish again

2009-09-30T13:53:00.000-07:00

"ONE pound a week will supply water for an entire village in Tanzania", says Oxfam. So how come Welsh Water charge me twenty pounds a month for my four bedroom semi? The fleecing bastards.

How come rap artist Dr. Dre can use the 'N' word on his multi-million selling albums and win a MOBO award, yet when I used it at my Daughter's football match I was asked to leave the park? Once again, it's one law for the rich and another for the poor.

I was shocked to hear Home Secretary Jacqui Smith say that Britain's prison population has been ballooning for the past ten years. My God, has the world gone mad? Those people are there to be punished, not to be given 'thrill of a lifetime' experiences that most law abiding citizens can only dream of.

What's all this nonsense about that 66-year-old Romanian woman being the world's oldest mum? My mum's 77. Beat that!

Why is it that pubs won't serve me if I'm drunk, but McDonalds continue serving them fat fuckers? It’s hardly fair.

The person who coined the phrase "as different as chalk and cheese" obviously hadn't tasted Tesco's own cheddar.

They say football is a game of two halves. Not for me it isn't. I regularly down eight or nine pints whilst watching a live game on Sky TV in my local.

If, as Freddie Mercury claimed, fat bottomed girls make the rocking world go round, isn't it about time that the city of Newcastle received some recognition for its contribution to astrophysics?

Davina McCall says that dangling off a helicopter over the Grand Canyon on a 700 foot bungee rope was the most terrifying and dangerous thing she has ever done. She must be forgetting that she went out with Stan Collymore.

Avoid arguments with the missus about lifting the loo seat by simply pissing in the sink.

Housewives: When nipping out to the shops, remember to carry a stiff broom in the boot of your car. Use it to sweep the broken glass to the side of the road every time you have a minor accident.

Never leave home

2009-09-28T15:37:00.000-07:00

Without your wallet, watch and wits. Can't remember who told me that but they should have added mobile phone as well.
Sunday before last I'm sitting in my local with a couple of mates watching Man Utd v Man City. It's 3-2 in the dying minutes and I make the brave statement that Man City would equalise. This was met by a few snorts of derision and a "fuck off". So. I reach into my pocket and pull my Mobile out. Except it wasn't my Mobile it was my Wifes.
One of my mates asks what I was going to do with the phone so I explain that I was going to put my money where my mouth was and lay Man Utd. Unfortunately, as this wasn't my phone I couldn't because my Wife isn't a degenerate like me and doesn't have Betfairs number on speed dial. I then went on to explain that Man Utd would probably be trading at 1.1 which meant that I could lay Man Utd for £50 to win £500 if Man City equalised. One minute later they did.
After the laughter subsided one of the boys asked if I would leave the bet as it stood. I then went on to explain that I would now lay the draw for £100 to guarantee a profit. By this time we were in the 94th minute and the odds would easily have been 1.01 which would have got me £400 for the draw and £10000 for Man Utd or Man City.
For those that don't know, Man Utd scored in the 96th minute to win 4-3.
I've been on life tilt ever since.
So, to recap, never leave home without your phone. You can thank me for this piece of advice by sending donations to rubbish@fuckingeverything.com
In other news my Internet has been down for a week after my wife kindly downloaded a virus which has killed everything. I'm off work with the Flu which my Daughter has kindly given me. I've spent the last half hour trying to catch a mouse my cat has kindly brought home.
Will catch up with everyones blog tomorrow, promise.
Later.

A short story for you all

2009-09-18T06:34:00.000-07:00

Dave was your average 40 year old guy. Married, Daughter, decent job, mortgage, liked his Friday nights out with the boys and watching sport on a Saturday. He also liked his holidays.
He wasn't particularly enjoying Egypt though. 120 degrees in the shade was slowly wearing him down. Mustapha, the tour guide from hell, was absolutely killing him. There was obviously some race on amongst the tour guides as to which one could drag a pack of Westerners around the Valley of the Kings the quickest. Mustapha was determined to win in Dave's view as that was the only logical explanation for the speed they were going at.
His group were currently in a tomb with hieroglyphics on the main walls from the ceiling to the floor. Dave marvelled at the colours and the workmanship that had gone into producing something so spectacular. Mustapha was having none of it and was herding people on to the next room. Dave hung back and when the last person disappeared breathed a sigh of relief.
Quickly taking a bottle of water from his rucksack, Dave sat in the corner of the room and studied the drawings. The main wall was estimated to be over 3000 years old and the attention to detail was incredible. How did people from that civilisation ever create such fantastic artefacts Dave wondered.
A young boy walked in, maybe 12 years old, smiled at Dave and sat next to him. He pulled a sketch pad out of his bag and after studying the wall for a few minutes started drawing. Dave took another sip of water and offered the bottle to the boy who took a drink and carried on drawing.
Curiosity got the better of Dave and he peaked at the boys drawing. Whatever it was it didn't resemble anything on the wall. The boy carried on drawing so Dave tried to engage him in conversation.
"Hi, I'm Dave".
The boy looked at Dave and smiled, "I'm Frank".
Dave smiled back, "What are you drawing Frank?" Dave inquired.
Frank stood up and held the drawing to an area of the wall which had what appeared to be 4 slaves raising somthing off the floor using sticks with 2 cobras watching them. What Frank had drawn was a series of strips which resembled helicopter blades. Dave shrugged, "Can't see that sorry Frank" he replied with a degree of honesty.
Frank smiled again and sat back down to continue drawing.
And draw he did at a furious pace. Pages upon pages of intricate drawings, none of which resembled anything on the wall in front of them. Finally, after an hour or so, he stood up and showed Dave the drawings in the pad. They were of an incredible standard, something a Draughtsman or Architecht would come up with. Dave looked at them all in awe. Finally he asked, "What is it Frank?".
Frank smiled yet again, "It's a time machine".
Dave's jaw dropped an inch and for a second he was speechless. And then he laughed.
"Nice one Frank, you had me going then".
Frank grinned, "No really it's a time machine, can't you see it?". And he held the pad against the wall pointing at his drawings and the hieroglyphics but Dave couldn't see it. Not at all. Frank smiled yet again and handed Dave the pad.
"For you" he said and with that he turned and walked away.
Dave sat there for another few hours looking at the drawings and then at the wall but he couldn't fathom out how Frank had come to interpret them the way he had. Finally, Dave placed the pad in his rucksack and left.
Fast forward two weeks and Dave was back home. He'd spent the remainder of the holiday thinking about Frank and the sketch pad. Everything about Egypt would make sense if time travellers or aliens had been there 3000 years ago. Dave was fortunate to work for a Manufacturing Company. He had started out at the bottom and ended up as the Production Manager. Luckily this meant he knew how to operate all the machinery. With sketch pad in hand, Dave went to work on Saturday when no one was in and started making all the pieces from the drawings. Some were easy, straight lengths of Stainless Steel which he could shear on a guillotine. Others he had to program on a Turret Punch and manufacture out of Titanium. Others had to be folded on a Press Brake. Finally after 28 hours of non stop work Dave had everything done. Every drawing and diagram Frank had given him was complete apart from the last drawing of all which showed the completed machine. Dave loaded the Company lorry with all the gear and drove home.
It took another three hours to get everything into his garage after which Dave decided to have a rest before assembling it. Dave lay on the settee and imagined what he would do. A trip back to Egypt maybe but this time Egypt 3000 years ago so he could watch the pyramids being erected. Possibly a quick jaunt back to the beginning of the Universe to see if there was a big bang. Or even Christ's cruxifiction or would that be a bit to gross. Finally Dave realised he wouldn't get to sleep so he headed back to the garage.
Everything slotted together perfectly. 1000's of pieces of metal effortlessly joining without a screw or nut in sight. Dave imagined it was a bit like doing a 3d jigsaw. After only 30 minutes the time machine was complete. Dave sat in it and hundreds of little circular components, a bit like washers, merged together and formed an instrument panel in front of him. Dave pressed one and another hundred odd pieces floated out and formed into a replica of the Solar System. After a bit of playing about Dave managed to comprehend what most things did and finally after another hour he was ready. Dave turned the time settings back one day and quickly checked he had some money in his pocket so that he could go down the bookies and place a twenty team accumulator on the previous nights football which would net him a cool hundred grand. Just as he was set to go he looked up. Directly above him was one empty space, cog shaped, about 2 mm in Diameter. Dave glanced around the garage but couldn't see any components left. Dave shrugged and pressed the button and a gentle whirling sound started. Strips of Stainless Steel started spinning around in a arc and the garage became a blurr as thousands of Galvanised plates twisted at incredible speeds. Dave held onto a convenient arm rest that had popped out and just at the split second when he imagined the machine was going to transport him back in time there was a massive clank and within another split second he was sat on the garage floor surrounded by 1000's upon 1000's of mangled pieces of scrap metal.

Frank was sat in a office with his Mother and Father. In front of them was an empty table and chair. An elderly guy walked into the room carrying a huge file which he slammed on the table. He sat down and opened it, flicking through a few pages at a time. Finally Franks Father, who was also called Frank, spoke.
"Why are we here?".
They guy looked at them with undisguisable contempt. He slammed the file down on the table yet again and spoke.
"Do you know what Frank did two weeks ago? I'm guessing you don't so let me fill you in on recent events. Frank has broken just about every law imaginable"
Franks Mother, who was also called Frank, started to cry.
The guy, ignoring her, continued.
"Firstly Frank created a worm hole to the planet Earth. Have you any idea how catastrophic this could have been?"
Frank Jnrs Father, Frank went to say something but the guy waved a cursory hand at him and went on.
"The last question was rhetoric. When on Earth he then passed to an Human Being" he literally spat these words out and just to emphasise how much he hated Humans he spat it out again. "An Human Being, of all creatures in this Universe, your boy Frank gave one detailed diagrams on how to construct a time machine".
Franks Mum, Frank, started to sob hysterically at this notion.
"Do you realise the implications of this? A Human with a time machine which incidentally was also a space transporter, would cause unlimited damage to the Universe as we know it. In no time at all countless planets would be at war. Entire Systems would implode. Humans would try to take over everything. The Galaxy as we know it would be finished".
Frank Jnrs Mum fainted. Frank Jnrs Dad buried his head in his hands. The guy continued with his rant.
"When the worm hole was discovered we dispatched personnel but they arrived too late. The Human, whose name was Dave, can you believe that?"
Frank Snr shook his head.
"Well this Dave had actually managed to assemble the machine and had fired it up".
Frank Snr started to tremble.
"He didn't use it did he?"
The guy shook his head.
"Fortunately young Frank had left out the transjigamondo which as I'm sure you are aware meant the Time Machine not only wouldn't work but actually disintegrated. Our personnel stole the diagrams back whilst the Human was sat on his arse scratching his head and I think it's fair to say, saved the Cosmos."
Franks Dad nodded, Franks Mother regained consciousness and young Frank breathed a huge sigh of relief.
"You do realise what this means though don't you?" the guy asked Frank Snr. Frank Snr nodded as did Franks Mum. Young Frank didn't have a clue what it meant.
"As your Sons Headmaster and also career advisor I must advise you that Frank is a retard and his career options now seem limited to B & Q or Ikea".

Yes you've guessed it. Spent three hours trying to put a chest of drawers together for my Daughter only to find that the fucking thing hasn't got any runners for the drawers with it. Fucking bastards.

Favourite things cont.......

2009-09-16T09:58:00.000-07:00

Here's a couple more of Mo and my favourite things.

3. I'm a constant dayreamer. From the moment I wake I'm away with the fairies. Take today. Wake up and stand in the kitchenete making a cup of coffee while studying the trailer park. Of course I'm dreaming about gazing at the great pyramid of Giza or surveying the statue of Zeus at Olympia or marvelling at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. Quick shower where I pretend I'm standing under the Dunns river falls in Jamaica or the Angel falls in Venezuela or even the pissing down rain in the Brecon Beacons.
Quick wander down to the bus stop avoiding the chavs and tramps whilst dreaming of sauntering down Sunset Boulevaud or meandering down Magnolia Way or strolling along Swansea Bay. Bus journey, front seat taken by gimp couple in matching Japanese Emperor outfits, to work takes me past Council Estates with burnt out cars and boarded up kebab shops. How I long to take a bus past the Taj Mahal or maybe a boat trip past the Lighthouse of Alexandria or even a rickshaw along the river Taff.
Work sees me at my daydreaming peak. Today, for some strange reason, I've been singing Catatonias "International Velvet, Every second of every hour I thank the Lord I'm Welsh", to myself.
On the way home I dreamt of hiking in the Himalayas and safariing in the Serengheti and even snowboarding in Snowdonia.
My Wife has just made Welsh rarebit for tea which seems quite apt although I haven't a clue why?

When you list your favourite things you have to include porn dont you? Okay, I know I'm married and everything but that's the reason why. I believe sex is a bit like custard. I had 90% of my lifes custard intake by the time I left school and I think I probably had 90% of my lifes sexual experiences before I got married. That's not to say my Wife and I don't get all hot and horny anymore just that the gaps in between seem to get slightly longer each time. That's why porn is one of my favourite things.

4. Pubs. I love pubs. I could sit in them all day and quite often do on weekends. I have a couple of local pubs which I frequent. My favourite is a big Footie pub. It's awash with characters and there's never a dull moment.
After the game on Sunday I'm sitting at the bar reading the paper and one of the locals turns to me and says "What's it like to be able to read"? I thought he was joking but he wasn't. He then went on to tell me about how he left school at nine! His Dad made him work with him in a scrap yard. When his Dad died he got various jobs as a labourer on building sites all around Britain and now works on the roads. He's a superb guy and a great laugh.
And that's what I love about pubs because where else would I meet someone like that.

Another dinner time, another pub.
That's the best thing about a pub. They're not like your Wife where you get married and overnight become a one Woman Man. You can have a local pub but you are allowed to whet your appetite elsewhere.
Today I was in the Shotgun and Pellet. Dave the barman looked up from his wank mag and stretched a welcoming hand towards me. I declined to shake just in case he had declined to wash and pondered whether a bottle might be the best option. I settled for a cheeky little Babycham for starters and sat at the end of the bar.
"Long time, no see" Dave offered as an opening gambit.
He was quite correct, it was.
I'm lucky enough to work in an area with 126 pubs in a 200 yard radius. This allows me to visit each one twice a year. And that is the crux of the matter, pubs are not my favourite thing, stealing from them is.
"I think I'll have a pint of Stella and six shots of Tequila please Dave" I replied.
Dave shot a quizzical look, "all six for you Guv"?
"Yes please Dave and can I have them in those quaint Tequila glasses you have on the top shelf".
Dave reached up for them and placed them in a row infront of me. I could sense him eyeing me suspiciously. Could he possibly remember the last time I was in and half inched the yard of ale? I glanced about and spotted a sickly looking Yukka plant not two feet away from me. Quickly, I opened my laptop case, sans laptop, whilst fumbling in my pocket for my mobile. Dave finished pouring and stepped back to get a better view of proceedings. What he failed to spot was me dialing the bar phone number. The phone rang and Dave turned to answer. Quick as a flash six Tequilas acquainted themselves with Mr Yukka and six glasses acquainted themselves with the inside of my laptop case.
As I marched through the side door I could hear Dave shouting "hello, hello" into the phone. "See you in six months sucker" I silently mouthed as I walked next door to the Stripper and Tissue.

Favourite things

2009-09-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

The biggest tease in blog land, Madame Nikki, has asked Mo and I to list our seven favourite things. Mo, who is now down to posting one day a week because he’s a wimp, has asked me to do his for him. I’ve agreed because he’s bribed me with some beer glasses he’s stolen from one of his drinking holes. Here they are. Guess which ones are Mo’s and which ones are mine.
1.Without a shadow of doubt my Daughter is the favourite thing happening in my life. Every evening when I get home we have a conversation that goes something like this:
Me – Alright babes, what’s happening?
Daughter – nothing.
Me – What you get up to in School today?
Daughter – nothing.
Me – So what you’re saying is nothing happened in School at all today?
Daughter – Well (pause for deep breath), Mrs Davies gave us a surprise Maths test and I scored 20 out of 20 in it and Joe and Daniel had a fight and Daniel was crying and Emily isn’t speaking to Sasha who isn’t speaking to Megan who isn’t speaking to Bethan and Chris isn’t speaking to Josh and Debs Mum forgot to pack her lunch so I shared mine with her and we’ve got a School trip next week to St Fagan’s and Sophie and I have to do a project on the big bang theory and did you know there’s a Lab in Helsinki that has an Rhodium bar that is kept at absolute freezing temperature which is -273.15 degrees and it is the coldest place in the universe unless there are aliens that are conducting the same experiment and I was voted onto the School council today and they’ve stopped Spanish class so I’ve started to learn French and Eve had to see the Head Master because she swore and we’ve got a special assembly at Llandaff Cathedral next week and what’s for dinner, I’m starving?
Me – Oh!

I adore Public transport. No. I’ll go one further and tell you all that I love Public transport. Be it a train or a bus or even a tram, nothing can beat sitting amongst fellow Human Beings, taking in the sights and sounds and even the smells. Let me expand.
Today I caught the number 36. I eagerly scampered up the stairs hoping to take my normal seat in the very front row of the double decker. Nothing beats sitting in the front row, day dreaming that you’re actually driving the bus, flicking an imaginary indicator, honking the horn at some pathetic excuse of a taxi driver, carving up some old dear in her Citroen CV 1. Not today though. Two gimp teenagers had beaten me to it.
The Male was dressed head to foot in camouflage gear. Why does every other Male in London dress this way? Is everyone living out some desert storm enactment and I haven’t been informed. The Girl was dressed like a slut.
Across the aisle from me was an elderly Japanese guy dressed in full World War 11 Rear Admiral ensemble. He was furiously speaking into his mobile phone. My ears pricked as I tried to eavesdrop but I couldn’t fathom out if he was speaking in his native tongue or some form of pigeon English. It sounded very much as if he was saying “white devils on the starboard bow, dive dive dive”.
One stop away from my final destination the gimp couple decided to leave. Typical. I watched in awe as the pair of them sauntered off the bus and straight into the Groucho Club.
A tramp barged past me as I stood up to vacate the bus and fell into the front seat. He was dressed in a German Oberstleutnant uniform and looked like Richard Burton in Where Eagles Dare. He vomited on the floor before curling up to fall asleep.
God I hate public transport.

2. I love sitting in a pub people watching. Today found me in my favourite haunt, The Flick Knife and Crowbar. An hour for lunch only allows six pints maximum, I was on my fourth, casually reading the problem page whilst glancing furtively around the bar. There waas maybe a dozen people in there although there could have been a few more in camouflage gear that I hadn't spotted.
A young couple shared a joke over a bottle of Cotes Du Rhone. She elegantly flicked her hair back a wide smile engulfed her glowing countenance. He gazed lovingly into her piercing blue eyes.
Three skinheads guffawed over some joke, their Cider splattering the marble effect bar.
Two old fellows, their gleaming war medals pinned to their jackets, sipped their glasses of stout, their tutting and furtive glances towards the skinheads telling its own story.
Two professional types sat by the window. They swilled their Gin and Tonics around in their glasses as they quietly discussed some deal or other.
Four Secretarys skipped in giggling amongst themselves. They stood at the bar and ordered spritzers. Dave the barman expertly poured their drinks, sharing a joke with them. They looked at each other and started giggling like pretty Hyenas in lipstick and Prada. They took seats next to me and started talking about Dave. Their skirts rising up to mid tanned thigh. One adjusted herself in her seat giving a tantalising view of stocking top. I could take it no longer. I casually leant across and spoke.
"Oi will you four fuck off, the stripper is on in a moment and you're in my fucking way".

Rugby is the greatest sport ever. Rugby tours are even better. My personal favourite is Dublin and guess where I'm going next March. Yes, another tour to Dublin. I could write for hours about all the trips I've been on and maybe I will some day. My favourite though was 1998. First off our hotel caught fire and we were stood in the middle of the street at five in the morning in just our boxers. The firemen wouldn't let us back in so we're freezing our nuts off and this Woman appears from nowhere and invites us into her place. Spookily her place just happened to be a brothel. God, you just have to love Dublin.

More to follow tomorrow.

Is there something wrong with me?

2009-09-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

Tennyson ee Hemingway wrote a post a few days ago which got me thinking, is there something wrong with me? Here's the post in question. You should read it before you read the rest of this.
I've read it a couple of times now and also the comments and I'm guessing there is.
Basically, I've probably lived well over half my life (given that I don't take very good care of myself) and have absolutely no Female friends whatsoever. Is this strange?
Before you all answer this let me tell you about my background.
I was born in a small mining village in the Welsh Valleys. My best friend was born next door to me. His Mum is my Godmother. My Mum is his Godmother. I'm his Sons Godfather. He's my Daughters Godfather. I was best man in his wedding. He was best man in mine. I went to a small primary school when I was three. There were ten of us in my class, five boys, five girls. Apart from one boy who moved away during secondary school, I still see all the other boys when I pop home to see my Mum. I haven't seen any of the girls for years. Our school was so small I had to play for the Football team when I was seven. That year we won the school league and I still have the trophy I was presented with.
My best mate and I went to a boys only Grammar school when we were eleven. I played for the schools Football, Rugby and Cricket teams. I was also fortunate to have been brought up next to a Golf Course so have played Golf since I was ten.
During School I also had trials for the Welsh Schools Rugby team and Bristol City Football Club. Needless to say, seeing as I was in an all boys school, all my school friends were male. All my friends I socialised with outside school i.e. Rugby, Football etc. were male.
During my twenties and early thirties I trained four times a week and played Rugby on a Saturday and Football on a Sunday. Spookily, all my friends during this period of my life were Male.
Since I was seven years old, sport has been the biggest single factor in my life. Christ, I even worked for the Welsh Rugby Union for twelve years. I've got countless friends and they're all sport playing, Cider drinking Men.
At this point I suppose you're all wondering whether I've actually talked to a Woman since I left Primary School. And I guess this is the crux of it all.
I'll just point out that I'm not a good looking guy. All the guys from the RTR forum who have met me will vouch for that. But I have lots of qualities that Women like. I'm endearing, generous, witty, intelligent, charming, well read and I have a big dick! I open doors for Women as they walk into a room. I'll listen intently for hours on end about anything they wish to talk about. I'll pay them compliments and actually mean them. I was incredibly good at charming Women into bed. But inevitably after a night or a few days or even a month, I would run out of something to say because all I was really thinking about was who Arsenal would start with up front on Saturday.
And that's why I don't have any Female friends. I'm shallow.
And Men don't mind shallow especially Sports loving, cider drinking Men.
Then one day I met my Wife. I've never worked out why she married me. You'll all be stunned to learn that she is incredibly attractive. She's also very intelligent and has a top job. She's a published poet and an accomplished painter. We have nothing in common other than our Daughter yet we'll probably grow old together, her reading a book, me watching sport until I pop my clogs. She's the only Woman that I've been able to just sit with in silence and not rack my brains for something to say. And if I start talking about sport she nods and feigns interest in the same way that I do when she's talking about shite that I have no interest in. Maybe she's shallow as well? Maybe we're just well suited? Most of you would call her a Saint if you knew us. I count my lucky stars every day that we're together, fourteen years and counting. The only thing I can think of as to why we're still Married is that she must have lost a bet? The one thing I do know is that she's the only Woman I would call a friend.
Anyhow, is there something wrong with me? Feel free to leave a comment. I've got to go out now. I'm meeting my mate Sarah for a pint. I know she's female but she doesn't count because she's Australian.
Later.

Random Rubbish

2009-09-04T06:31:00.000-07:00

My Daughter started back to School yesterday, her last in Primary School, thank fuck. The last few weeks have been strange to say the least. She’s been having terrible nightmares where she’s gone to School on the first day and found that she’s had to sit on a table on her own. The poor little mite has been waking up crying and all sorts. I must admit it did start to worry me and it does tug at the old heart strings. Anyhow, first day was yesterday and she ended up on a table with her best mate. Unfortunately, she’s also on the same table as three boys which she now lovingly refers to as pigs.
All summer she’s been doing a project on big cats for her final year project. In fairness she’s had fuck all else to do has it’s been pissing down constantly. She turns up on her first day and hands it in. The teacher skims through it and then informs her that as it is her final year project she did in fact have all this year to complete it. Obviously she’s the only one who has done it bless her little cotton socks.
Off out tonight on a stag do. My mate and I started playing five a side a few years back with these guys who all played Rugby for a different club to ours. We've gotten quite friendly with them and now drink with them most weekends. We're all off for a "Gentlemans" do at their club tonight. I'm worried. There's only going to be two of us who haven't played for this club and therefore we're going to get some stick. Worse still, we're going to be on the stage at some point. Must remember to put clean boxers on.
Tomorrow we're having a drink around Cardiff. I'm going to have to try and get them down the bay at some point. There's a big poker tournament on at the Grosvenor and one of the poker bloggers who I avidly follow is down there. Rob "the Animal" Price is one of these guys who hardly ever blogs about anything other than Poker but I am gripped by his posts because of the amount of dosh he wins. The guy is a legend and it would be a shame, seeing as he is in Cardiff, to not bump into him and maybe have a beer.
I seem to have more American Mom readers now than Brit blokes so I'll big this blog up as well. Jessica at Bernthis has done a video for a company which if you visit will donate a dollar to an ovarian cancer charity. If you haven't read Bernthis then you're missing out on some funny stuff although her last two posts have been a bit eeeeeeeeeewwwwwww for us guys. She's also got some great videos of herself which I'm sure will have Amatay and JR reaching for the kleenex as they click on her link.
My favourite blogger Mo only posts once a week now because he's a sap and his Wife said if he posted anymore she'd cut his dick off. Without Mo's regular shite to read I've had to find someone else and luckily I stumbled across this blog. The Japing Ape writes some of the funniest stories I've read. Whenever I'm bored in work I jump on his blog and read his old posts. If you want a good laugh then he's your man.
Finally, one of the first bloggers I ever read and the biggest pervert on the planet is bragging on his latest post about winning his fifth Gatsby award. Well fish, your blog has been running for four years, mine has been going for seven months and I'm on my third (not that I'm competitive you understand). This time next year you'll be putting Ads up for me.
Later.

Never play sports when you're pissed

2009-09-02T03:14:00.000-07:00

I was reading Amatays blog and there was a comment likening him to Teddy Sheringham, he of little pace but quick mind. It reminded me of this.
Picture a cold, wet November Sunday morning. Yours truly had been out all Saturday watching Wales play Australia. A few drinks had turned into a massive session. Our last port of call in those days was a bar run by a mate of ours. At two in the morning we had headed into the downstairs bar to watch the boxing. I can't recall who was boxing but we left at five in the morning and ended up in one of my mates' house where we sat up all night drinking cider. About 10.30 in the morning my phone goes and it's the captain of the team I play for.
"Where the fuck are you Rubbish, we kick off in half an hour?"
My heart sank. I'd totally forgotten I was playing in a charity game that morning. And not any old charity game but one against Welsh Accademicals.
For those of you who know fuck all about Rugby, Welsh Accademicals is a side made up mainly of ex International players and students who play charity matches raising money for various organisations. I've included a link which shows just who has played for them.
I told the boys I had to go to play against the "Accies" and they all, to a man, spat their drinks everywhere.
"You're fucking bollocksed, you're not serious are you?" was the main response.
I went home to grab my boots, all the boys in tow who were busily calling everyone to come and watch, knowing I was going to fuck up big time.
I got to the changing rooms where everyone was already changed and warmed up and stood under the shower for five minutes before throwing up and getting changed. This wasn't actually a rare occurence, in fact it was a weekly one in those days.
We walked onto the pitch on that aforementioned cold, wet November Sunday morning and my heart sank a little more. The "Accies" team had Gareth Davies, Mark Ring, John Deveraux, Gwyn Evans, Adrian Hadley and, opposite me, Robert Jones. Rob Jones had only just retired from Intenational Rugby and had been on two Lions tours. I had been drinking for 24 hours solid. That was just the backs. The forwards had a few Internationals in it as well. There was also a crowd of a few hundred people there, most of them waiting to see me do something stupid.
We were playing on a parks pitch and the rain was coming down in sheets. The sky was eerily dark for eleven in the morning as if God was sharing in my ritual humiliation by setting the perfect apocalyptic scene.
The Accies kicked off and our prop gathers the ball. A ruck ensues where someone comes over the top and the Ref awards us a penalty. I'm stood there with the ball in my hands and the Accies, to a man, turn around thinking I'm going to kick. I think "fuck it", take a quick tap and am gone. I incredibly avoid a couple of tackles and find myself in open space. The crowd rise to their feets as I hog the touchline. I can hear my mates screaming "go on Rubbish" as I cross halfway. Gwyn Evans, another Lions player, was full back and I could see him covering across. Gwyn was probably in his late fourties and probably the oldest player on the pitch.
I pictured in my mind what I was going to do. Gwyn would have me by the twenty two yard line so I would ease up and then accelerate when he was five yards away, leaving him grasp thin air and me stroll over the try line to the acclaim of the hundreds of fans there.
I accelerated at the right time. So did Gwyn. He hit me full tilt, shoulder to shoulder, and sent me flying about ten yards into the crowd who were dispersing a lot quicker than I was as they could all see what was going to happen. As I slid through the mud I could hear a huge cheer. I lay there for a moment struggling to catch my breath and could hear one of my mates shout "Fucking hell Gwyn, you've killed him". A deathly hush fell about the pitch as I was helped to my feet. I slowly walked through the crowd and back onto the pitch where Gwyn was standing. He held out his hand and as I shook it he said, a bit too loudly for my liking, "you know what Son, you're very deceptive. You're a lot slower than you look!"
The crowd erupted in laughter as did the players from both sides. Walking back off the pitch to throw up didn't exactly endear me to the crowd either.
We got absolutely stuffed but it was a fantastic day. Not many people get a chance to share a pitch with their heroes and even though I was pissed out of my head I can still remember all the match. I'm guessing Gwyn instantly forgot it. Can't blame him.

In other news

2009-08-28T23:12:00.000-07:00

Bought Shameless seasons three and four off Amazon and season three was actually seasons one to three. I now have Seasons one and two twice (are you confused?). Well, if anyone wants seasons one and two drop me a line and I'll post them to you because that's the sort of guy I am.
Found out that I didn't win the Golf competition last week because it was the first gold leaf event I had entered this year and was inelligible to win. Really pissed off. Am teeing off in an hour and will be telling all and sundry exactly how I feel.
Had to put one of my cats down a few months ago and since then then other one wont come into the house for more than ten minutes at a time. I'm guessing it's shitting itself that I may take it down the vets and have it away. Because the weather is so shit I've got my mate to make it a kennel. I may post a picture soon.
My Wife and Daughter are back from Barcelona and they bought me a wicked Barca top. It's a polo shirt as opposed to a footie top but it's also a small as opposed to a medium. Bitches.
Having £100 on the following - Chelsea, Schalke, Spuds, Alkmaar and Real.
That's all.
Later.

Blind date

2009-08-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

San Diego Moms blog wants to know about blind dates. Here's mine.

My first ever job was in an accountants doing payroll and other boring shite. It was a good laugh there but I had to drive to work and I broke my arm playing Football so had to pack it in. This was during the Miners strike so I signed on the dole for the first and last time and would give my giro to the miners fund every Thursday. I could only afford to do this has I was working for my mates uncle. After six months of this I get summonsed to the benefits office and told in no uncertain terms that I had to actively seek work. At this time there were these things called Community Programmes which you could only work on if you had been unemployed for six months, which I had been. Mainly, they employed people to clean out canals and shit like that. Reluctantly, I travelled to Cardiff for an interview.
My mate drove me down and I sat in this office with this Woman who scared the shit out of me. She was really attractive in a designer suit, School teacher, glasses, Gestapo sort of way but her demeanour was more the Sir Alex Ferguson, in your face, hair dryer treatment. At the end of the interview I was offered the job on a twelve month contract but turned it down as I still couldn't drive. This wasn't good enough for Ms Davies who more or less threatened to ensure my dole was stopped if I didn't take the job. I knew I could sort out a lift until my arm came out of plaster so agreed. She then told me that I had to start the next day. So I went home, signed off, arranged a lift and turned up.
What a fucking disaster.
First off she gives me a bollocking for not wearing a tie. I'm then shown into this massive office with several desks and no one in there. I sit down and wait and wait and wait some more. By now it's nine o clock and the phones are ringing off the hook. Finally, with nobody appearing I answer one of the phones. The conversation goes like this:
Me, "Hi, Community programmes head office, how can I help you?"
Caller, "Where's my fucking wages you fucking twat? If there's no fucking money in my account by dinner time I'm going to come down there with a sledge hammer and fuck you up!"
Me. "Oh oh".
Ms Davies appears as I'm getting up to leave and takes me into the Directors office. He explains that the last load of people that they had doing the payroll were useless. In those days Directors were paid annually and these numpties had changed the payroll frequency to yearly for them but forgot to change it back. Subsequently, everyone had a years pay paid into their accounts as opposed to a week or months salary. They then tried to cover up what they had done and failed. Ms Davies had sacked all four of them and replaced them with me. At the time there were over 1500 people employed on these programmes.
This guy, whose name I forget, talked me into staying and my first job was to ensure everyone, Mr sledgehammer especially, got paid. I told the Director about this guy who informed me that over half the people cleaning canals and shit had been in prison which was why they couldn't get jobs anywhere else. Fucking great.
Anyhow, I got on with this guy ok but Ms Davies made my life hell. She was like a prison warden.
"Why haven't you shaved today? Tuck your shirt in. Don't come to work wearing jeans again".
I knew though that she couldn't do fuck all has I was the only person there who could do the payroll so I took the piss big time.
After about two months I'm called into her office again for a bollocking because I'd come in half hour late. She's ranting away and I'm staring out of the window thinking another ten months and I can leave this shithole. The Directors office was adjacent to hers and he used to sit there, rolling his eyes as I was getting shafted and basically trying to make me laugh. He was a top bloke.
There was a few regional offices and I dealt with them on a daily basis. There was one woman I'd talk to regularly about stuff. First off it was all professional but two months down the line it had become quite flirty. She rang me after this latest bollocking and after sorting out some payroll issues she asked me if I fancied meeting up for a drink. Being young, dumb and full of cum I agreed.
We met up the next night at this pub on the outskirts of Cardiff and she was nothing like I had imagined. First off, she was quite a bit older than me. I was eighteen and she was mid thirties. She had shoulder length brown hair and the most amazing blue eyes. She was wearing a charcoal pin stripe jacket and skirt, white blouse, with a clearly visible white lacy bra underneath and high heels. She didn't need the high heels as she was five foot eight without them and I'm a short arse. She was also sporting a magnificent tan. My first impression was that she looked like Ms Davies but with a personality.
We had a few drinks and I offered to drive her home. She suggested that we went to an hotel. I agreed. I wont turn this into a porn post but I ended up having the night of my life.
The next day I get into work all happy, albeit twenty minutes late and am immediately summonsed for my daily bollocking. I'm in Ms Davies office and off she goes on one whilst I stare out of the window. And then I saw it. There's a photograph on the window sill of Ms Davies and this woman I'd shagged the night before.
After her rant was over I gently enquired "Who is that in the photo with you?". Ms Davies shot me a what's it to you, you litle twat look and said "my sister, why?".
I couldn't resist it so informed her, with a big fucking grin on my face, "She's the reason I'm late, I shagged her last night". The Director, whose name I have just remembered was Mr Hooper, came flying into the office red with rage. "You fucked my wife last night?". My grin rapidly disappeared as he threw a punch at me. I stepped inside it, grabbed him by the throat and put him over the desk, right hand poised to spark him out. As I tried to calm him down by telling him I hadn't known it was his Wife, Ms Davies' Sister and she had asked me out and suggested we did the dirty deed, Ms Davies cracked me over the head with her stilleto. Fucking bitch. By now there were a few people in the office and I was bundled out, blood pouring down my face, with the pair of them calling me all the names under the sun. The stupid part of it was that they couldn't sack me because they hadn't employed anyone to help me so I was the only one there who could run the payroll.
I rang this Woman up to warn here and she laughed. Turns out she had been trying to leave Mr Hooper for ages and she hated Ms Davies.
I stayed there for another three months. The recently seperated Mr Hooper glared at me every single second. Ms Davies, who I found out had only been employed by Mr Hooper because she was his Sister-in-law and her rants only tolerated for the same reason, gave me a wide berth and no further bollockings. All the other staff treated me like an hero. Mrs Hooper nee Davies resigned and I never saw her again.
I've also never been on a blind date since.
Later.

Knackered

2009-08-24T08:41:00.000-07:00

The last week or so has been a nightmare.

My boss has been off so I’ve been covering him as well as doing my own job. Stupidly, my job was previously covered by three different people so in effect I’ve been doing four peoples work over the last two weeks. This has entailed me getting up at 5.00 am every morning and not getting home until gone 7 pm most nights. I’m absolutely fucking knackered.
The worst thing is my Wife and Daughter have been away and I’ve been too tired to capitalise. Last week they were in Devon and this week they’re in Barcelona. In all this time I’ve managed the grand total of four pints!
I could have gone to watch the Blues on Friday but fell asleep and didn’t wake up until ten in the evening. I had a ticket for Cardiff v Bristol yesterday but played Golf in the morning, sat down about noon and woke up at 4.30 in the afternoon.
Thank fuck my boss is back today.
I did play Golf on Saturday morning though in the Captains Cup and scored 48 points. Needless to say my name is now mud in the Club house. I’ve been dropped eight shots and my handicap is now down to what it was before I re joined this spring. There was also a pair event and my mate and I racked up 56 points. His name is mud by association.
Poker wise, I’ve been foolish enough to play when really tired and have dropped $500 in the last week. Looking back on the hand histories I think I’ve been unlucky but I was checking them half asleep so who knows?
Fortunately, I’ve won about £300 on the Footie so it’s not all bad. Would have been a shit load more had Inter won yesterday.
I started watching Shameless during the latest series and got really into it so have bought series 1 and 2 to watch. All I can say is it’s an awesome programme and if you haven’t watched it you should.
Talking of DVD’s, I bought a couple at a car boot sale a few weeks back and have just discovered that they are for a regional 1 player. I believe this is for USA settings so I’ve been tucked up. Bastards. Anyhow, the DVD’s are Munich and Deep Blue Sea so if any of my American readers want them, drop me a line at papster@fsmail.net and I’ll stick them in the post to you.
Hopefully everything will be back to normal, work wise and I’ll be able to post a bit more frequently after today. I'll also be catching up on my favourite blogs and promise to leave some comments.
Later.

This week again incl. Thursday

2009-08-12T16:16:00.000-07:00

I’ve got another three days off with my Daughter so here’s what we did today.

Went for breakfast in our new favourite café. I had a wicked full breakfast and she had a bacon and cheese toasty. Both were superb.

Mucked about in the house for a while doing the dishes, washing the floors, playing connect 4 for money before heading down to the Mega bowl for a game of ten pin bowling. I have to say that my Daughter isn’t too bad and with two rounds to go she was beating me by three points. It was at this stage that I did what any Father would do. I started sledging her.

For all the USA Moms who read this and might not be familiar with the term “sledging”, it’s normally used in Cricket by fielders trying to put the Batsmen off. It can be quite funny or can result in a punch up but is mostly in good humour. Needless to say, mine nearly resulted in me and my ten year old Daughter brawling in the middle of Mega bowl.

It started off with a “you’re just like your Mother when it comes to sport, crap” and was followed by a few “you lucky so and so” before ending up with an in your face “I’ll bet you a years pocket money you can’t hit that pin down”.

The pressure was mounting, my Daughter strode forward with one pin to hit, I hissed and in the instant before she released the ball reminded her that this was for £250. She stopped, gave me a look that could stop a buffalo in its tracks (learnt from her Mother) and rolled the ball down the lane. It took an eternity, veering from one side to another. Or so it seemed, with me willing it to miss. It didn’t. She ended up with a strike and a spare to win by fucking loads. What everyone was thinking has my Daughter did the most elaborate winners dance down the aisle, God only knows. I just sat there, hands in head, bemoaning my luck.

How the fuck can you lose £250 to a ten year old playing ten pin bowling?

Anyhow, after she stopped gloating and texting her mates, I took her for a celebratory McDonalds.

Tomorrow we’re off to Porthcawl for a game of crazy Golf, double or quits of course.

Watch this space.

Thursday............

Change of plans, we went to Barry Island instead.

I cut a deal with my Daughter over breakfast this morning that I would give her £125 to take to Barcelona and play double or quits on the other £125. Like the fool that she is, she agreed.

We pitched up at Barry Island at dinner time and headed straight to a chip shop. Fish and chips twice, freshly caught and cooked so the guy behind the counter reckoned, £12.

“You’re having a fucking laugh aren’t you”, I politely enquired? He wasn’t. They were nice though.

Strolled up to the crazy golf place and the attendant obviously knew that this was a grudge match worthy of a Ryder Cup when I pulled out my Ping belly putter and a Pro V1 ball. My Daughter was stuck with a £2 putter and a 2p ball. Advantage moi.

Lined my first putt up and stroked it through a myriad of obstacles to five inches. My Daughter seven putted. I almost felt sorry for her but quickly remembered that I had forked out £500 for her and my Missus to fuck off to Barcelona without me and was giving her another £125 to blow on crap. Beat her by about 70 shots.

We then sat on the beach front for an hour or so before heading back to Cardiff. On the way home she reminded me that her and my Missus were off to Devon on Saturday for five days to see my Wife’s best mate.

“We need to get Sian something for her Birthday on Tuesday Dad.”

Stopped off in Marks and Spencer’s to pick up a few things. My Daughter then proved that she isn’t stupid by cajoling me into buying a few other things and before I could even blink an eye, I’m £200 out of pocket. I pity the poor sap that ends up marrying her.

Tomorrow we’re off up my Mums for the day. Should be relatively cheap and the only gambling we’ll be doing is when we take our lives in our hands eating whatever my Mum has burnt.

The Poker front has been two steps forward, one step back. I’ve been hovering on a $150 profit on Full Tilt for about two weeks. Highest has been $200, lowest about $50. In fairness I’m not having much luck, Getting great cards and shite flops. One good thing though is the $100 bonus they’re offering which I’m eating into very quickly. Ladbrokes is about the same. I’ve lost about £10 but earned 600 odd points. Don’t think there’s any chance of getting to Gold Status this month but all points carry forward and I’m on 1300 so far. If I can get to 2000 then I should manage it next month.

I noticed Pud gave me another mention in his blog and I tried to leave a comment but couldn’t for some reason. So, if you’re reading Pud, cheers mate and hopefully we’ll have that beer on the next RTR piss up. And if you’re a poker player and are not a member of RTR, then why fucking not. Check it out because there are some great trips being lined up, notably Amsterdam and Dublin. Obviously, there’s a lot more going on that that though so sign up and start reading the forums.

Thanks for reading my drivel once again and catch you all soon.

Last few days

2009-08-07T12:18:00.000-07:00

My Missus has been working this week so I've had the last three days off to look after my Daughter.
Did fuck all on Wednesday has it pissed down all day. Well, not quite true. My Daughter did fuck all apart from watching TV and I did fuck all apart from play Poker.
Yesterday we went out for lunch to a cafe staffed entirely by people with Downs syndrome. I expected the worse but the food was actually superb. I had a chicken Jalfrezi which was as good as in any Indian restaurant I've been. My Daughter had a burger which was fantastic. We then mooched over the park for a while before my Missus came home and the pair of them fucked off to Bristol to see a scooby doo play?
Today we went to meet the Wife dinner time and popped into my favourite place, the Spice Route. They do a buffet which is all you can eat and have a tremendous selection of Indian and Chinese food. After stuffing ourselves my Missus went back to work and me and the girl went to see the Land of the Lost. What a brilliant film. And it has Anna Friel in it as well. The scenes with the T Rex are funny as fuck and it's well worth taking your kids to watch if you've got nothing else to do.
On the poker front I'm trying to clear a FT bonus and gain a Gold Star staus on Ladbrokes. Both are going well although I'm not really making any money.
The Footie season kicks off tonight and Cardiff are home tomorrow. I've had a offer of a ticket and I may venture down there.
I'm going to have a few bets this year and I'll probably slap them on here. I'll be starting off with a bank of £500 and betting 10% every time on doubles or trebles. I'll probably have a few accumulators as well and I'll try to post the bets up before they start.
Had a great hand yesterday for a $200 pot when I hit a straight flush against another guys quads. Can't find the hand history but it was a sweet feeling has the guy had been whining for ages. Needless to say, he went into overdrive after that hand.
On Sunday is the final of the RTR Paris Competition. It looks like a straight battle between Cogs and Snake and should be a good laugh. Next Competition up after this is a trip to Amsterdam. I'll probably enter but tank it as I get into enough trouble in this country without being left to my own devices in sin City. And that's my excuse and I'll be sticking to it.
Later.
Edit - have had £50 on Cardiff, Leicester, Northampton and Rotherham not to lose at just over evens. And a tenner on Leeds, Charlton, Rotherham, Bremen, Dortmund and Beyern at 16/1. Also had 5 x £1 trebles on away wins in Scottish Division 2. Good luck if you have a punt.
Winning start and bank now stands at £552.

RTR - DTD - OMG - WTF

2009-08-03T08:32:00.000-07:00

Just to warn you, this is a really long post!!!

Went to Nottingham on Friday for a weekend of drinking, Poker, debauchery and merriment. Here's my hazy memorys of what occured. Should you read any other blogs which may or may not print scurrilous versions of events, please remember, it only happened if there's a photograph.

Got up at 4.30 am on Friday for work. First of several mistakes this weekend, should have booked the day off. Got home about elevenish and informed Mrs Rubbish I was off to Nottingham which didn't go down to badly. Caught the train and had a can of Strongbow.
It was probably around about Derby when the realisation of what I was doing hit home. I was going on the piss with several guys that, not only had I never met, I hadn't even spoken to on the phone or MSN. I hastily drank another can whilst day dreaming of rooming with some combat 18 thug or ending up in a cell with some guy who informs me he's wanted in several countries for kidnapping and I just happen to be the spitting image of his accomplice. Luckily, I remembered that not only have I been on countless Rugby tours, stag weekends, jolly boy outings, Football trips and lads holidays, I'm also the biggest liability on these trips.
I got into Nottingham and flagged a cab down. Told the guy where I was staying and he drove 30 yards up the road, turned left, pulled into a lay by and pointed across the road. And for this the twat charged me £4.60. I've been on longer dodgem fucking rides. Walked into reception, still cursing, gave the girl my name and she looked at me blankly and said "no room in your name sir".
This is when I realised how badly we had organised this trip. Not only did I not know who I was sharing with but I didn't actually know anyones name! Thankfully I did have a couple of mobile numbers which had been e-mailed to me so I managed to get hold of one of the boys who said he'd make a call and two minutes later this guy walks out of the bar and says "are you rubbish?". I immediately realised what an absolutely shit name I have for this blog. Why the fuck didn't I call it Ace@poker?
"Hi, you must be Ace, how's it going?"
Much better. Or even, areyoutheguythatshaggedthatfitbirdfromhollyoaks@poker.
You could be standing at the bar and one of the boys comes up and says "areyoutheguythatshaggedthatfitbirdfromhollyoaks, what you drinking?". Instant legendary status.
Anyhow, I embarrassingly had to admit to being rubbish, the room got sorted and I hit the bar to meet the rest of them.
I should point out that we all post on a poker forum called RTR and the guys I met have blogs on my blogs list. In no particular order they are, DOV, No cash, Mr O, DD, Amatay and Cogs who doesn't have a blog because he's too fucking lazy!
Everyone had turned up by Five so we had a few beers and then headed into Nottingham to meet another guy called Longy. For some reason we all followed Cogs, maybe because he was the tallest? We crossed the road, sprinted across an eight lane roundabout, recrossed the road, turned left, turned right, walked another mile, turned the corner, nearly fell into a canal and then Cogs points across it and says "there he is". I was fucking amazed because Cogs had never been to Nottingham before. I'm sure he's half man, half Sat Nav. We had a few more ciders with Longy before getting a couple of Taxis to DTD. We had an hour or so to kill before we could register for the tourney we were playing on Saturday so we filled a cash table. This was where I got my first poker lesson of the weekend courtesy of Mr No Cash who raped me for £150.
After registering we headed back into Nottingham to a pub in an old Church. Cogs then carefully navigated us through countless back alleyways to a McDonalds where you could only buy meals and not single burgers? We then traipsed from one side of Notts to the other, passing about 60 pubs, to go to a Walkabout which seemed quite ironic to me. We spent a while in there and then decided to go to a pub across the road. This is where it all went wrong.
I thought five of us had walked into the pub so I stood at the bar and ordered five vodka red bulls. Turned around and I'm in there on my own. OMG WTF. Get my phone out and it's switched off so I drunkenly try to enter my PIN number and fail. Next thing, there a message on my screen saying "enter your PUK number"? OMG WTF.
So, I'm stood in this bar which is absolutely bouncing with five drinks I can't stand drinking, no way of getting hold of anyone and to round it all off, I'm absolutely wankered.
I neck the first drink and seriously consider calling it a night and getting a taxi back to the hotel when "your love keeps lifting me higher" by Jackie Wilson starts blasting out. This Woman wanders over to me and drags me onto the dance floor. I throw a few "Ace" moves and we end up having a couple more dances. The bar was playing classic 60's and 70's songs and I must admit, those are the tunes that get me going.
I drown a couple more drinks and have a couple more dances. This girl was with about five of her mates and had the boys been in there I'm sure we would have had a ball. Finally, her mates drag her off and I'm left on my lonesome again. OMG WTF. But the old "Ace", (beginning to like the sound of this name) animal magnetism was drawing the women in like moths to a light and two minutes later this woman strolls up and starts chatting away. I finish the drinks off, buy a Guinness and something for her and have another dance. Finally, we head off for a curry where I have another Guinness and a bottle of wine. OMG WTF. At half three I realise I've been on the go for 23 hours and need my bed so I drunkenly find the hotel and collapse.
That is my definitive version of the Friday night and unless there's photos, it didn't happen.
Get up about elevenish on Saturday feeling rough as fuck. Wake DD up to borrow some toothpaste and he hasn't got any. Please note that DD is a Scottish bloke and not some bird with a big chest. Wander down to Tescos for some fresh air before hitting the shower and then the bar.
The tournament we're playing doesn't start until eight so the last thing I want to do is go large on it. Unfortunately, this would probably have been the best thing I could have done. Slowly but surely everyone turns up except for DOV who is like an hamster on steroids. I tell Cogs my phone is fucked and I need a Carphone Warehouse. With that he's marching down the street with us all jogging behind trying to catch up. We crossed the road, sprinted across an eight lane roundabout, recrossed the road, turned left, turned right, walked another mile, wandered through a BHS, came out the other side into a shopping precinct, walk another half mile straight to a Carphone Warehouse. How the fuck did he do that?
The boys head off for something to eat, which I'm guessing you all wish you had made a sandwich and a stiff drink at this point but don't worry, only another 3,000 words to go. I spend an hour getting my phone sorted and head to the bar they're in. After forcing a cheeky cider down I start to perk up and DOV turns up about fiveish and tells us a story about a trip he'd been on to the Czech Republic. A dozen or so alarm bells start sounding off in my head as I realise I'm not the biggest liability on tour for once.
We head up to DTD and I plonk myself in the bar and order a £9.50 burger. OMG WTF. Luckily it was nice but £9.50, OMG WTF.
Two of the other boys on the RTR forum are there playing in an £300, two day tourney so a couple of the guys head off to rail them whilst No cash fucks off to rape some other poor suckers on the cash tables. By this time I reckon he's had 2 Stellas, 3 Ciders, 7 double Jamiesons and sodas, and is now on his third Guinness. Respect.
Ant, who I'm not sure if he has a blog and Mik are having mixed fortunes. Ant lost a big chunk of his stack when his KQ on a KK rag flop ran into AK. Mik was second in chips at the time. Ant finally crashed out about sevenish and joined us in the bar, Mik came over when they went on a 20 minute break and managed to talk for the entire 20 minutes without taking a breath once. I was really starting to struggle by this point and it got even worse when we were seated for our tourney and I found myself in the VIP room with the air con jacked up. Twenty minutes into the tourney I had to walk out because I thought I was going to collapse. Another twenty minutes later I was walking out when I played AA as bad as you possibly can. No cash ahd bombed out early and was on the cash tables killing everyone. Cogs was soon with him followed by DOV then DD. Longy called it a night and disappeared quite early. Mik bombed out of his tourney when his KK all in pre flop was called by QQ and AK with an Ace on the river. Absolutely gutting. Ant bombed out of the £50 and as he doesn't drink (gay?) drove Mik home (gay?). Mr O was fast getting blinded down in the £50 and eventually went out in 15th. I was really gutted for him has he was card dead on a very aggresive table. Amatay was chip leader or there abouts from when I started railing them with three tables left. It was at this point I got my second Poker lesson of the weekend. I don't think he was in trouble once. He made some great moves, folded at the right times and it became quite apparent when the final table sat that he was the man to beat. There was a young kid on the table who had roughly the same chip count as Amatay but everytime he made a move this kid would fold. Eventually, the two of them knocked everyone else out and Amatay shagged him within about five minutes of being heads up. £1645 for the win plus another £90 for the last longest bet between us all. The lazy fucker wont surface now until mid November.
By now it was three in the morning and I was seriously fucked. I lasted another hour or so before retiring to my pit.
Got up on Sunday and fucked off early to catch the ten o' clock train to Cardiff. Rail network was down between Notts and Derby which meant I then had to catch a bus. I, of course, missed my connection and was stranded in Derby for two fucking hours. Finally got home about fiveish last night.
I must admit I had a great weekend with the boys. Strange how eight guys who have never met each other can click and have a ball? Just in case you read their blogs, should you ever get to the end of this post, here's my take on them.

DD had the misfortune of sharing a room with me and I will forever be apologising to him when we meet up again. Great guy, steady poker player, very decent drinker and hopefully he hasn't got a camera. Top man and the one I spoke to the most. Where's my toothbrush and toothpaste you fucker? Looking forward to rooming with him again!!!!!!!!!!

Cogs is the South England yomping champion, six years running and his brain is powered by Tom Tom. Very agressive on the tables, very laid back off them. Really good company and I'm not just saying that because he laughed at my jokes. Was really pleased when he won a few hundred at cash on Saturday. Top geezer.

DOV is a fucking maniac. Talks at 100 mph to anyone within a 100 yard radius. Unfortuantely for him, all the talking takes it out of him and he's representing England in the Commonwealth games next time round in the daytime sleeping contest. Every tour needs a DOV who is going to gee everyone up and he certainly did that. Top guy and a brilliant laugh.

No cash is RTR's resident degenerate. Up til 6 am with DOV both nights but also up at 12 on the Saturday, in the bar, on Stella. Fucking awesome. Great cash player who spun £50 up to £350 in an hour on Friday and probably for even more on the Saturday. Learnt a lot watching him play. Definite candidate for a new liver in five years time. Him and DOV together were like Ant and Dec on Crack.

Amatay was the guy who I was most surprised with. I've read his blog for ages and I thought he would be an absolute nutter. I actually found him to be quite quiet and reserved. That said, fuck knows what any of them got up to on Friday night? Superb poker player and another guy I learnt quite a bit from by watching. I would really have liked to have sat next to him whilst he was on the final table and quizzed him on the moves he was making. Top bloke who still owes me for the last Ad I put up for him. Come on fish, you're fucking loaded. Really nice guy.

Mr O was another guy who was on the quiet side but with DOV in your face nobody really got a chance to get a word in edgeways. Spoke to him for an hour on the Sunday morning and he's a great guy though and drinks like a fish. Only draw back was he's from Liverpool. Had to leave him on Sunday when he started nicking hubcaps in the Hotel car park. Another top guy.

Longy was our Nottingham tour guide from hell. Him and Cogs walked us so far I'm three inches shorter. Didn't really get a chance to speak to Longy much but he's been a Poker Pro for five years which is quite impressive. Hopefully we can have an RTR trip somewhere else and Longy would be with us 24/7 so I'd get to know him better.

Ant and Mik seemed like a nice couple.

Only joking guys. Didn't really get to speak to them much, maybe next time?

If you've reached this far then you've got too much time on your hands. All the best and remember, what goes on tour stays on tour.

Later.

Buffy

2009-07-29T12:26:00.000-07:00

I'm playing poker in the front room last night and my Daughter is watching TV. She's flicking through the channels and the Simpsons is about to start. Clicking on the info button a message comes up with a description of the episode which was something like this:
Bart gets sentanced to three months juvenile detention where he befriends a girl called Ruby voiced by Buffy star Sarah Michelle Gellar.
My Daughter bursts out laughing and says to me;
"Look at that Dad, what a stupid name".
I look and say
"What, Sarah Michelle Gellar"?
"No", says my Daughter, "Buffy star Sarah Michelle Gellar".
After looking at her in bewilderment for a few seconds and realising she wasn't joking I pointed out to her that Sarah Michelle Gellar was the star of a TV programme called Buffy.
"But that's not what that says Dad, there's no punctuation between star and Sarah".
So I looked again and she was right.
"You should write to Virgin and complain" I told her and carried on with the poker whilst watching the Simpsons.
Get home from work tonight and first thing my Daughter says is;
"Well I wrote to them Dad".
"Wrote to whom" says I, confused?
"Virgin. Told them they should employ someone with a grasp of decent grammar".
I looked at my Missus who nodded in the affirmative.
"Yeah she has. She sent them an e-mail today".
Probably get an e-mail back from Richard Branson offering my Daughter a job as his PA now.
I've been playing poker on Ladbrokes this last week or so and the standard is dire. So next month I've decided to try to get to Gold status on there starting with £50. I managed to get 600 points this month and only played 1 table for about 10 hours in total. I need 3,000 points for Gold and 10,000 for VIP. The VIP scheme looks good, check out Soaps blog for the racing trip he went on courtesy of it. Would also like to run that £50 up to something decent before Xmas.
Off to Nottingham on Friday for a RTR meet up. Looking forward to it even though I'm still unsure as to where we are all sleeping. Entire wars have been planned quicker than this fucking trip. Personally, I blame super fish, Amatay. Feel sorry for Cogs who will probably end up sharing a bed with him.
Later.

A few questions

2009-07-24T07:05:00.000-07:00

This one's for Animal if he drops by or anyone else who plays online poker.
5c/10c, I'm dealt As Kc Jc 9c which is a very good starting hand. 1 caller, MP raises to 50c, I'm mp+1 and call everyone else folds. $1.25 in the pot and flop comes 8c 10c Qh giving me nut straight with numerous draws, nut second flush draw and straight flush draw. MP bets 30c which is weak in my opinion but don't want to scare him off so call. Turn 4c giving me second flush and still straight flush draw. He again bets 30c, I call, River is blank and he bets pot. I'm thinking he's trying to buy pot after two weak continuation bets so raise him all in. He calls and turns over Ac 5c and two rags.
Did I play this really badly or did he play it really well? Did he play it really badly and did I play it really well and was just unlucky? Can you get away from this after calling pre flop or should I have gone straight over the top of him? Am I realy Rubbish@poker? This hand has been bugging me all day.
Next one for everyone reading this nonsense, do you all think I'm only good for two and a half minutes in the sack? Come on people, it was a throw away line for comedic effect. I've even noticed people are now posting on other blogs feeling sorry for my Missus. Jeez, I can last at least four maybe even five if there's footie on the TV.
Would you spend it or hand it in?
Is this decent for online betting? Tiger to win US PGA 5/2, Roddick US Open 8/1? I've got £50 on it.
Is the only programme worth watching on TV; Two and a half men? Without Shameless, 24, Sopranos and the Wire, Television is absolutely shite. Is there something I'm missing? What do you all watch?
Am I a blog whore for putting up links to Amatays blog advertising enterprises? Will I rot in hell for aiding him in his quest for poker blog domination? How much does he actually get paid for all these Ads?
Finally, I'm halfway through writing a masterpiece about all the bloggers I read. Anyone want to read it?
Later.
Edit - big thanks to Rob "Animal" Price for his advice, took down a 197 runner, $10 rebuy. pot limit tourney on FT last night for $1485. Rubbish@poker my arse.

The perfect weekend

2009-07-21T11:21:00.000-07:00

The perfect weekend kicked off early with my Wife’s Birthday on Thursday. As is the norm in our house, I’ve been finding post it notes all round the house with messages of what she wanted present wise. I even woke up on Wednesday morning with one stuck on my forehead! So, Wednesday afternoon, I traipsed into Cardiff and bought her numerous DVD’s, perfume, a £35 fucking vase from Next, Nintendo DS games for her and my Daughter, flowers and a box of after eight mints.
By the time I got home on Thursday after work the mints were gone. Fucking witches.
Out on Thursday night for a curry and a couple of drinks and then back home for the best two and a half minutes she’s likely to have this year.
Day off Friday so popped up to see my Mum, Daughter in tow. I’ve been mates with the same gang of boys since we were in primary school together and one of them, Dave, has just become a proud Father of a little boy called Charlie. Went to see him for an hour and shot the breeze about the good old days.
Dave is one of life’s jammy bastards. Left school with no qualifications and now has the best job of the lot of us. Great singing voice. Good looking. He’s a right twat.
I grew up in a little village where there was one pub, one phone box, one post box, one bus stop and one corner shop. The corner shop was run by Mr Singh and his family. Every day, we would all pop in there, usually at different times, and greet Mr Singh with the same song. “Mr Singh, sing a song, make it simple to last the whole day long”. I’m sure you know the tune and will be singing it to yourself all day.
Mr Singh always smiled but was probably thinking what a bunch of pricks we were, especially after hearing it for the tenth time that day.
Mr Singh also had a stunning Daughter who was seventeen; we were all in our mid to late twenties at the time. One night Dave is walking home and Mr Singh’s Daughter and her mate are walking home at the same time. Dave starts chatting away and when he gets to his house invites her in for a cuppa. Five minutes later, Mr Singh’s Daughters mate walks past the corner shop where Mr Singh is waiting on the doorstep for them.
“Where’s my Daughter?” Mr Singh asks.
“In Dave’s house”, Daughter’s mate replies.
Now Dave’s parents were quite liberal and didn’t mind him bringing female company home as long as they didn’t scream the house down. When you walked in through Dave’s front door there was a living room to the left and Dining room to the right and straight in front of the door was the staircase. The doorbell rings and Dave’s Mother, who was watching TV, opens the door to be confronted by Mr Singh and his whole family. By whole family I mean, Wife, Son, two other Daughters, Two Brothers and wives, Parents and a few hangers on. The conversation goes like this:
DM (Dave’s Mum), “Hello Mr Singh, how can I help you?”
MS (Mr Singh), “I’ve come for my Daughter”.
DM “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean?”
MS “My Daughter, she’s here with Dave”.
DM “Which one, your eldest?”
MS “Yes”.
DM “I don’t think she’s here Mr Singh, she’s only seventeen and Dave’s twenty eight”.
MS “Her friend just told me that she came home with Dave”.
DM “I think her friend must be mistaken, I don’t think Dave’s even home yet”.
MS “No, she’s here”.
DM, Turning round and calling up the stairs, “Dave, are you up there?”
Dave, walking to the top of the stairs, stark naked with a semi on, in full view of Mr Singh and entourage, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaat, Oops”, before quickly disappearing only for Mr Singh’s Daughter to appear twenty seconds later, clothes in disarray, readying herself for the biggest bollocking of her life.
MS “Dave’s Mum, you and your family are banned from the shop for life”.
Oh, the good old days.
Woke up Saturday with another post it note on my forehead as it was our wedding anniversary on Sunday. Played Golf, pottered around the house then went for a meal with my Wife, Daughter and my Wife’s friends and kids. We went to a new Tapas restaurant and had a really good time. I picked up the drinks bill which came to £120 because that’s the type of guy I am. Got home about ten and Mrs Rubbish intimated that she fancied round two. I must admit so did I so after hearing the bedroom door close I was straight out of the front door and down the pub to watch the Amir Khan fight. Unfortunately he didn’t win in round two but it was a good tear up and he was a deserved winner.
My Daughter has been learning Spanish in school and her teacher must come from Barcelona because most of the lessons seem to involve stories about the City. My Daughter asked if we could go there one day and my Missus also fancies it. I’ve been there three times on lad’s weekends and have never seen more than the inside of five bars, one nightclub, the Nou Camp and a brothel. So, for our anniversary, I bought my Wife and Daughter a five day break there. It also includes a couple of trips to Tarragona which is a cracking place to go drinking and somewhere else that I can’t be bothered to look up. I’ve now accumulated more brownie points than I can shake a shitty stick at.
Sunday afternoon was another mates, Sons, Christening. We pitched up at the Church at one and it was like stepping back in time. All the boys I used to play Rugby with and get pissed out of my tiny brain with were there. The Vicar, sensing the Christening had now become a peripheral event, sped through the service and we were in the pub by one thirty.
Years ago, when we were all playing Rugby and in our prime, Sunday’s were the biggest day. We used to have a Super Sunday Cider Session in our local which always became a messy event. There used to be a happy hour there until two O’clock and at five to two the bar was heaving with everyone trying to get a last cheap pint. Many a time I’d be sitting down at five past two drinking cider out of a vase or a jam jar. It was a classy pub. Anyhow, before anyone could say “I’ve got work in the morning”, we were all on cider. My Wife and Daughter disappeared about fiveish, as did most of the Wives and children and I staggered home about nine in the evening, totally wrecked.
A fitting end to the perfect weekend.

The Evil Antagonists #64

2009-07-14T09:15:00.001-07:00

San Diego Moms blog has this challenge.
Make up a silly evil scheme. Even better? Dream up an evil antagonist and write a story about the dreadful thing he plans to do.
Here's mine.

I've never really got on with my next door neighbours. It's nothing to do with the fact that they are a pair of lesbian femnists who hate all men and would brain wash my Wife and Daughter given half a chance. It's more to do with them parking their camper van outside my house and spitting everytime they see me.
One is a freelance computer programmer and the other is a scientist with some Government quango. Quite often they'll turn up in my local pub and sit in the corner, snarling at all the men whilst drinking halves of real ale and smoking roll up cigarettes. Funnily, they'll sit quite contented watching football or rugby on the TV so, just to piss them off, we always flick the channel over to one of the MTV shows with some scantily clad babes gyrating around a blinged up Rapper who is telling us all to "slap our bitches". That's always guaranteed to send them into overdrive, calling us all pigs and how our day would come soon.
Saturday started off normally. I'm making breakfast and my missus is in the garden hanging up the washing. Out marches one of them who starts lecturing my Wife about how her hanging up the washing is empowering all men to do nothing domestically. My wife turned and rolled her eyes at me before nodding in agreement and engaging in conversation with her. Out strolls the other one, giving me a glare, before chatting with my missus. I'm just turning the sausages when this guy I've never seen before comes flying out of their back door and starts screaming.
"Why don't you two just stand there chatting while I make breakfast? That's just fucking typical of you. Let me do everything while you do fuck all".
And with that this guy storms back in their house slamming the back door behind him.
My missus walks in, shellshocked.
"Did you see that"?
"Very weird", I nodded.
All throughout the day we would hear strange ramblings from next door.
"Don't worry, I'll do the fucking hoovering shall I"?
"You two just sit there and I'll fucking mow the lawn".
"Is it too much to ask for a cup of tea you lazy bastards"?
My wife and I sat there in silence listening to the commotion.
"Very fucking weird" I said to the missus.
"Totally agree", replied the wife, "shall I go and talk to them"?
"Up to you, I'm off to the pub".
Next day I'm up early cutting the grass and Mad Mikey from my local walks out into next doors back garden, crying.
"Mikey, what are you doing" I ask?
"What am I doing, everything, that's what I'm doing whilst they sit there doing fuck all. Ungrateful bitches".
I look towards their house and spot the pair of them watching Mikey and I through the kitchen window. I look back at Mikey who now has tears streaming down his face.
"Mikey, jump over here and have a can with me", I offer.
"No time sorry, I have to make breakfast and then make the beds and do the washing because those two lazy twats wont".
And with that he's gone.
I walk back in the house, mouth down by my ankles.
"Did you just see that" I ask the wife?
"Yeah, was that Mad Mike"?
"Yeah".
"What's he doing there"?
"I have no fucking idea".
Yet again we listen to Mikey shouting and screaming all day long. The next day there's another guy in histronics over the slightest thing. And then another. A different guy all week long.
Finally, on Friday, I'm sitting in the front room and decide to fire up the laptop to play a few games of Poker. I've got this Wi Fi connection and I notice as I'm about to load Full Tilt that I've connected on next doors broadband. And then I notice a site open on my google bar so I open it up and it's a porn site. Strange I think, those two next door must be watching this. And it was strange because it was normal porn not lesbian porn which is what I would expect them to watch. Because I've got Vista the film they're watching is streaming slowly and it's only then I notice subliminal messages between frames. On further carefull studying I eventually begin to be able to read all the messages. And then I realised what the two fucking witches were doing. They had only created the first ever PMT simulation program and had copied it over porn films so that any man watching would wake up in the morning, an hysterical wreck, screaming and crying over the slightest thing. They had obviously been testing it all week and I guessed they were going to start downloading it so that every man on the planet who watches porn, which would be every man, would fall under their evil spell. Right, I thought to myself, I need to put a stop to this now. I got up and started to walk to the door when I noticed my Wife standing there.
"Allright love, what you doing with that shovel"?

Random rubbish

2009-07-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

Seven pm on a Saturday night and I'm sitting in the house, watching Grand Designs, typing this crap. What has my life come to?
Actually my life's all good. Wife and ten year old Daughter are on a Girlies weekend in Bath. Yes, that's right, my Wife has taken my ten year old on a weekend away with her mates. Shopping this afternoon, nice meal tonight. Tomorrow they're off to a health spa. So. I'm home, kicking back and relaxing. Problem is there's fuck all worth watching on TV these days. No Footie, Rugby, Cricket or Golf now Setanta has gone tits up.
Played Golf today. Paid my entry fee for this competition and told the guy I play off 28. He smiled and told me a maximum handicap of 18 for this comp. Still hit 38 points but that was not good enough for a top ten finish. Had it been off full handicaps I would have walked it and been lynched in the bar after.
Might go to my local bar after. Be wrong to not have a few pints when the cats are away, right? Either that or I might go to the casino to see if there are any Poker tourneys on.
Poker Tourneys on-line have been fucked up recently. AK on a AAQ flop, guy goes all in. 22 left, top 20 paid. Been going for 4 and a bit hours. I call and he turns over QQ. That one really pissed me off.
Pissed off with work this week. Been really busy and I haven't had time to sneak off and watch the Ashes which is just around the corner from me. So much for a recession. We're looking at taking on more staff and because of the location of where our factory is, miles from nowhere, we can't get anybody.
Anybody been reading Joppas blog? Fucking brilliant. Best bit was when he posted the photo from his last but one post but that's now disappeared. Even better was when Would be posted it as well. That has disappeared as well though. I've linked them but there's something wrong with my link to JR's blog and it takes me ages to actually connect to be able to read it. The link is on the side of the page though so maybe you'll have better luck getting on it. They also mention Bossanovas blog and his on running lack of an affair with the Ginger one. She actually started off as a Strawberry Blonde. My mate went out with a girl who claimed she was a Strawberry Blonde. He got so fed up with it he took her to B & Q one day and stood her in the paint section and said "now point out a tin that has the colour Strawberry fucking Blonde on it". They didn't last long.
I didn't last long watching Grand Designs and am now watching the Tour de France. I've actually been to two stages of the Tour de France, one in Brive and another in Toulouse. Both times you stand about for hours and then a blaze of bikes come flying past you at about 60 mph which lasts for 20 seconds and then everyone fucks off saying what a great day they've had. Today's stage has a 20km run in with a decent from 1500 to 500 metres to finish with and is a real heart in mouth, hands over eyes, I can't believe how fast these fucking idiots are going TV moment.
Mo ment ioned (see what I did there) on his blog about people watching and how your first impression is usually wide of the mark. I am a perennial eavesdropper and one of the funniest I overheard was in a pub a few months ago. These two guys had pulled these two ropey women sitting next to us and when they go to the bar to buy them a drink the one girl turns to the other and says "I'm going to be in deep shit now, What if my husband finds out?" The other, not even blinking an eye, says "What about me, I'm pregnant!". My mate, who was also eavesdropping, spat his cider straight across the table, which kind of gave away the fact that we were listening to their chat.
Oh well, quick shower and off out.
Later.

My Daughter - the genius in the family

2009-07-06T13:36:00.000-07:00

Poker sucks at the moment. Came 12th of twelve in the RTR game after my Jacks ran into Aces. What was galling about the whole thing was Snake came 4th and he didn't even play a hand. My get up and go, got up and went about 7.30 on Saturday morning when it was raining and I couldn't be arsed to play Golf. Just crashed out of a couple of MTT's so have given up for the evening. Know that if I go to bed I'll just lie there for hours, wide awake, thinking of all kinds of shite. Yet, sitting here in the front room, watching all kinds of shite on the TV, I can't think of anything interesting to write about. Well, apart from my Daughter.
I knew she was going to be intelligent because I am. Only joking, I knew she was going to be intelligent after this.
One day in school she had to write a story about childbirth and she asked me, "How was I born?"
"Well Babes..." said I, "the stork brought you to us."
"Oh," she said, "Well, how did you and Mammy get born?" she asked.
"The stork brought us too love."
"Well how were Granny and Grandpa born?" She persisted.
"Well darling, the stork brought them too!" I said, starting to get really fed up with my Missus lack of participation in my humiliation, which she's normally so good at.
Several days later my Daughter handed in her story to the teacher who read with confusion the opening sentence:
"This report has been very difficult to write due to the fact that there hasn't been a natural childbirth in my family for three generations."

My Mum was a Doctor, my Gran a nurse and my Mother in Law was a nurse as well so I've always hoped my ten year old would take up a medical profession when she's older. Seems she has started already.
Even though she hates all boys, good girl, my Wife's mate has a boy in the same class as her and she quite regularly goes round their house for tea. Tonight, Steves Mum brings her home, Quite perplexed to say the least.
"Whassup Andrea" I ask?
"I caught your Daughter and my little Stevie playing Doctors and Nurses just now" she blurts out looking extremely flustered.
"Oh" is about all I can muster, "I'll get Jen to talk to her when she gets home. I didn't think we'd be having the birds and the bees talk with her at ten years old but kids grow up so fast these days don't they Andrea"?
Andrea fixes me a glare and almost spits out, "birds and bees, your Daughters removed Steves appendix".

Anyhow, she brought her school report home today and she came top of her class. She speaks Welsh and English as fluently as a ten year old can and is learning Spanish. She excels at Maths and is on the top table in every other subject. The only negative comment was that "she can't throw a ball"!!!
I can live with that, just.
Later.

All going wrong

2009-07-03T06:57:00.000-07:00

Jeez it's been a shit week.
First off, I'm in the bookies last Friday night and the English U21 score came up. England were 3-0 up and I said to the guy behind the counter £if I was at home now I'd lay them". By the time I got home it was 3-2 and the game ended 3-3. £750,000 traded at 1.01 which means for every £10 you lay you return a £1000. Gutted.
Was also going to back Murray when Nadal was uncertain whether he was going to play. Didn't and Murray is now in the Semi's. Gutted.
Sportinglife run a piece about Martin Kaymer in the French Open (still up on their site), and I chose to ignore it. He shoots 9 under in the 1st round. Gutted.
Decided to play Poker seriously this month. Lost 7 STT's in a row before making a comeback to finish level. Then bombed out of 3 MTT's when KJ on a KJ5 flop ran into pocket 5's. Another one was 77 on an A76 flop where my oppo hit runner runner spades for a flush. Finally, last night, in a super turbo 200 runner shit fest on Laddies, I'm in a decent position and with the blinds going up quickly there's about four all ins every orbit. Front door goes and I fold J10, answer the door, come back to see that I'm all in against AA. Ticked call any instead of fold any. Worst still, I'm chat banned because some useless twat that I let play on my account was roundly abusing everyone on there. Gutted.
Anyhow, Raise the River are running tournaments every Sunday night for the next two months. Overall winner wins a trip to Paris. If you're a member I'm sure I'll see you on the tables. If you're not a member then why the fuck not? Cannot wait to humiliate that Super Fish Amatay.
Happy Fourth of July to all Americans that read this shit.
When my Daughter was five she had this American girl in her class (she's still there). This girl had been born in Hawaii, both her parents moved here to lecture in the University of Wales which just goes to prove how stupid Lecturers really are. She had only been there a term so the teacher decided to have a Fourth of July party for her, Cakes, squash and a DVD. My Daughter asks me the night before why the Fourth of July is so special so I tell her in my own inimitable way.
"Britain had been involved in lengthy wars with the Bastards (France) and Spain for several years. This had financially ruined the British Government so King George III imposed taxes on America to recoup some cash. The Americans weren't impressed and evetually they set up a congress headed by John Hancock and went to war with Britain. On the Fourth of July 1776 a Declaration of Independance was drafted and signed by 9 of the 13 States and was sent to King George III, meaning they formally broke away from British rule. Thus America became the United States of America and a country in their own right".
The next day my Daughters teacher asked if anyone knew why the Fourth of July was so special to Americans. My Daughter stood up and informed her class that "America sent George an e-mail saying they were not friends anymore".
If only life was that simple.
Later.

Headline news

2009-06-29T12:45:00.000-07:00

Farah Fawcett dies and is immediately relegated to two paragraphs on page 10 because Michael Jackson dies on the same day. How Unlucky is that?
I've been reading all the stories about Michael Jackson and frankly I don't know what to make of it all. Was he the King of Pop or a paedophille?
In 1994 Jordan Chandler, then 14, was paid $22 million in an out of court settlement. I wonder if a now 29 year old Jordan Chandler will ever spill the story of what happened at Neverland? In all probability, with a settlement that large, it will be a story he takes to his grave as well.
It also appears that Jacko is going to be buried in Neverland. Sounds like a Gracelands enterprise is rising out of MJ's ashes. $10 a head would certainly take a big chunk out of the rumoured $300 million he owed. And that in itself is one of the biggest stories. At the height of his career and on the back of selling 75 million copies of Thriller, Jacko was spending $30 million a year more than he was earning. How the fuck do you manage to do that? To put it into perspective, I would have to be spending $30,030,000, he was spending $75,000,000 a year or $1,500,000 a week. One and a half million dollars a week. And this was over several years not one year.
Furthermore, it's now rumoured he has a back catalogue of 200 songs that have never seen the light of day which will nett his kids $60,ooo,ooo. Whether that's each or between them hasn't been clarified but it will certainly keep them in masks for a good few years.
Another thing I've read is that when he was taken to hospital he was five foot ten, weighed eight stone and was bald. When I read this I immediately rang my grand dad. You'll be glad to know he's okay.
Madonna and Angelina Jolie are reputedely in an adoption battle for Bubbles according to one paper. Another reckons Gary Glitter has bid £1,000,000 for Jacko's hard drive.
Anyhow, in death as in life, nothing with Jacko is black and white if you know what I mean.
The press coverage got me thinking of who would have to die to knock Jacko off the front pages? I guess the Queen or David Beckham in Britain which is quite sad to admit. In America I would imagine the President popping his clogs would relegate “the king of pop” to the also ran section.
Worldwide, well that’s a different ball game. I can only think of two people who would dominate world headlines, Nelson Mandela and Mohammed Ali. Maybe Amatay leaving this mortal coil would send the blogasphere into meltdown, what with his burgeoning advertising and porn enterprise. Is there anything he hasn't got his fat little fishy fingers in?
Of course, it was quite refreshing to buy the Wales on Sunday, with the front page dominated by Gethin Jenkins and Adam Jones being hospitalised after late tackles from Bakkies Botha and Brian Habana. For those who don’t know this was the British Lions v South Africa Rugby match on Saturday. Good to know the Welsh press don't give a fuck about anything other than Rugby.
It has made a welcome distraction of not having fucking Jordan and Peter Andre on the front pages as well so God bless Michael Jackson for that at least.

The Daily Wit part deux

2009-06-23T12:21:00.001-07:00

1. the miracles of the credit card
2. the bulls the bears and the skunks
3. why did the zombie cross the road
4. 1001 ways to buy shampoo
5. should relationships have a black box of post-destruction feedback?
6. chemical castration
7. baby oil
8. Chicago style pizza
9. pudding
10. motorcycle jumps
11. sand in your bathing suit
12. stroking your ferret
13. packing tape
14. the subtle difference between zucchini and cucumbers
15. charity

The list above is the latest literary challenge from the Daily Wit. Yet again I’ve lucked out has it fits in nicely with last weekend. It’s also quite cool because lots of people have been asking me what Cardiff is like and more specifically, where I live. Read on.

The sun was streaming through the kitchen windows of Rubbish Manor. Unsurprisingly, for a Saturday morning, I was nursing a monster hangover. The swingers’ party at the Clintons who live at number sixteen had turned into all nighter. Brad and Angelina had tried to do a deal with Mrs. Rubbish and I as per usual but quite frankly the pair of them are starting to worry me. I know Ange had popped out a few kids but the first time I ended up in bed with her was a real eye opener. When she opened the conversation by explaining the subtle difference between zucchini and cucumbers I knew I was in trouble. I’m no slouch in the trouser department but I might as well have stood in the Channel tunnel waving a chipolata.
Luckily Bill had shipped a load of beers in and the pair of us settled down for the ESPN Chicago sports evening extravaganza. Six hours of the bulls the bears and the skunks. I admitted to never hearing of the Chicago skunks which upset Hilary who reliably informed me they were Chicago’s premier Lacrosse team which she had once played for. They lost 26 – 0 to the Texan Torquemedas and absolutely stank. Not sure if that’s how they got their name and to be truthful, I didn’t give a fuck.
The last I could remember of the evening was Hilary placing a plate of Chicago style pizza in my lap and taking the opportunity to give my love spuds a swift tickle. Bill reliably informed me the toppings were Magic mushrooms, oysters and ketamine. I hazily recall talking with Jordan and Peter from number twenty two regarding should relationships have a black box of post-destruction feedback? Beyonce from number nine piped up that she had a black box and that was the end of that conversation.
The sound of Bob next doors girls playing in the garden stirred me from my daydreams. I glanced out of the kitchen window to see the three of them squirting each other with hose pipes. Peaches and Pixie were ganging up on the least known of the three sisters, Pudding Margarita Truck Stop. They noticed me watching and stopped to blow me a kiss. Their lithe young bodies in skin tight wet vests immediately made me think of life in jail and chemical castration. Don’t know why? If you laid out each dick they’d sucked, end to end, it would be long enough to build a safety rail around Antarctica. I blew them a kiss back and put the kettle on.
Bill and Hilary’s goodie bag they had given each guest as they left was by the kettle. I peered inside before spreading it over the kitchen table (a similar experience to what I had done with Ange a few hours before). Ten grammes of coke, a dozen strawberry flavoured condoms, love beads, one litre of baby oil and two invitations to a charity auction on behalf of Robbie Williams now his career was finally down the pan. I cut some coke with my Platinum Amex card and rolled the invite up for a quick snort. The miracles of the credit card, I thought. You can cut your drugs with them. You can spray them with lacquer and use them to get into any hotel room in the world with a magnetic lock. Bill had even told me a story that the US Government had issued all their foreign diplomats with worthless Royal Bank of Scotland ones in case they were posted to third world countries that had no toilet paper. I’ve never had that confirmed but I think someone might be able to.
The sound of the kettle boiling helped me focus on the task in hand. I opened the fridge door and groaned. No fucking milk again. What was Mrs. Rubbish doing with it all? I looked at the plywood and knew I should have paid extra to have Thor stand guard. He wouldn’t have let her nick all the milk.
I threw on a vest and tracksuit bottoms and slipped on a pair of Adidas Sambas to walk down to Madonna’s corner shop and sex emporium, satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Pausing at the front gate to light a spliff I caught sight of something weird. Why did the zombie cross the road and start animatedly waving at me? I immediately reached an arm over my shoulder, just below my neck. Thank fuck I was packing. Tape was holding my Glock under my vest. I was just about to draw and blow the mother away when I realised it was that Posh bird from number two.
“Hi Victoria” I greeted her, “you’re looking well”.
“Hi snake hips, how’s it hanging?” she greeted me back.
“Yeah, I’m fine babes. Just nipping down the shop, you want anything?”
“No thanks, got to run” she replied and she actually did.
Fuck me, I thought, what’s her problem?
I watched her disappearing down the street at a rate of knots and turned to walk down to the shop. It was then I realised what had made Victoria flee for her life.
“Hi Paris, how are you love?” I asked through grimaced teeth.
“Hi Rubbish, watcha doing?” she enquired in a way that made me want to reach for my gun and do the whole world a favour.
“Why are you stroking your ferret?” I thought out loud, “Aren’t they vicious little fuckers?”
“It’s not a ferret” she implored, “It’s a pedigree Chihuahua. I bought it from Mr. Nixon at number thirty two”.
“Who, Dick?” I asked, “I hope you didn’t pay too much for it”?
“£97,000 grand but that’s cheap. Mr. Nixon assured me of that”.
I bet he fucking did I thought.
“What you doing today then Paris?” I asked in a small talk, take the hint and fuck off sort of way.
“I’m shooting a new TV programme. It’s called 1001 ways to buy shampoo and today I’m taking Daddy’s Lear Jet down to Tesco’s and paying in Kruggerands”.
“Well I won’t keep you then”, I interjected, seeing my opportunity to escape. “All the best”.
“See you Rubbish”, she whined.
“Lucky escape there Rubbish, you jammy bastard” a voice from high said.
I looked up to see Mr. Jagger the window cleaner polishing number tens bedroom windows.
“Yo Michael, how’s it going mate?”
Mick expertly slid down his ladder, reached over the garden gate and pinched my joint out of my mouth. He took a deep drag.
“Nice shit”, he spluttered.
"Where's Keef, Mick, I haven't seen him for a couple of days?"
"Jeez Rubbish, haven't you heard, that mad cat is in hospital".
"Yeah", I said, not really surprised, "What's he done?".
Mick took another drag and passed the spliff back to me. He savoured the taste for a second then went off on one of his rants which always brings a smile to my face. If there was any gossip then Mick knew it and boy, did he like to share it.
"You know the track at the back of the street, well Keefs down there totaly out of his head. He's had about fifteen Neptune's bollocks and five grammes of Thorazine and he's watching all these cool young cats going over the motorcycle jumps on their BMX bikes. So he goes home and gets his Kawazaki ZR Ninja and fires it up. The eye witness reports reckon he hit the first jump doing about 165 mph. They found his bike 400 yards away in a mangled wreck on the bank of the Taff. Keef washed up about thirty hours later in Swansea Bay. Over half the bones in his body are broken and they've got him drugged up on Haldol, Prolixin and Clozaril. He reckons he'll be back in work on Tuesday".
"Wow", was about all I could muster.
"Yeah wow", Mick continued, "You heard about Mr. Blunkett in number nineteen?".
"No Mick, what's he done?"
"Well, you know he's our MP?", I nodded and Mick continued, "He's only been sent to prison. He's been fiddling his expenses and he's only claimed for parachute lessons, a motorbike and a pair of binoculars. Six months he's got".
I mustered another "wow".
"Yeah and that old bat in number twelve".
"Mrs Thatcher", I offered,
"Yeah her, she's in hospital as well. Broke her arm whilst hanging out her washing. Word is something fell out of the sky and hit her. Could have been Keefs baffler so keep that under your hat because I've heard she's got friends in the BNP".
"You sure about that?" I asked.
"Well I haven't seen what hit her but Keefs baffler hasn't been found yet".
I shook my head and passed Mick the joint.
Mick took another big hit and went on.
"I went around that new birds house, you know, the one that's moved into the end house. Lady mental as fuck".
"Gaga", I interupted.
"Too fucking true she is Rubbish. Got me pissed on those cocktails, sand in your bathing suit I think they're called".
"Sand in your shorts I think you'll find they're called actually Mick".
"Yeah them, twenty seven of them I had. Absolutely wankered I was. Anyhow, she kept on asking me to poke her face so I did and then she flipped and started hitting shit out of me. Fucking crazy she is Rubbish".
By now I could feel my will to live ebbing out of every pore.
"Mick, I really need to jam mate, you have a good one".
Mick offered me the joint back but I declined. It was eight a.m. and I needed my pit. Fuck the milk I thought. As I headed back to the house I could hear Mick singing. It sounded like he was saying "I know they're only sausage rolls but I like them".
I couldn't agree more.

Fathers day

2009-06-21T13:18:00.000-07:00

Not sure why it's called Fathers day, just any normal day in our household. No breakfast in bed, no nice Sunday dinner (not true, was a nice Sunday dinner but I had to cook it as normal), no nice presents. Well that's another story in itself.
My wife suffers from Arthritis normally when it pleases her. For example, when she found out that Doctor Who was being filmed in the park opposite our house she spent two solid days painting the front of the house, windows included, just in case the camera panned onto it. Of course, this exertion means that she cannot iron a blouse or hoover for the next five years. So every morning I get up, iron a shirt for work and also iron my Daughters school uniform and whatever my Wife leaves out for work. Last year there was much muttering from the two of them because there were a few creases appearing. I get up last Fathers day, make the pair of them breakfast and my little Princess gives me my present. I shake the box and think maybe a dozen Titelist Pro VI golf balls. I open it up and find a new Iron and not the type you play Golf with. To say I was miffed would be an understatement. The reason, they thought the old one might be broken and I needed a new one. Fucking witches.
I wouldn't mind but for Mothers day, birthdays, Christmas etc. the pair of them leave post it notes all round the house with what they want. And being the mug I am I fucking buy it for them. Anyhow, I decided to play them at their own game this year and left notes with what I wanted. The pair of them paid no fucking attention whatsoever. I ended up with Quantum of Solace (already got it), two new shirts (pink) and a pair of trousers (not bad but one size too big).
My Daughter did come to the car boot sale with me today though. I bought a belly putter for four quid and spent another thirty quid on shit for her. Bearing in mind most things only cost a couple of pounds I'm not sure how I managed to spend so much.
Whilst writing this crap I'm watching Grosse point black. Great film which includes Motorheads "Ace of Spades". "You know I'm going to lose and gambling's for fools but that's the way I like it baby, I don't want to live forever". Superb lyrics.
I listen to loads of music and sometimes wonder where people get their lyrics. More to the point, why don't they ask me to write them. Take "Rockstar" by Nickelback. Fantastic song but one line does my head in. "I'm going to trade this life for fortune and fame". Surely "I'm going to sell my soul for fortune and fame" is more rock n roll. Hints of Devil worshiping and all that. Likewise, "too hard to handle" by Otis Redding, I always thought it was "too Hot to handle" because that's what I would have written. Another one that pisses me off is Robbie Williams, Let me entertain you. Cracking song and if I ever had a band, which I never will, then this would be the song I'd open a concert with. But, "He may be good he might be outta sight, but he can't be here so come around tonight". What was Guy Chambers thinking. I would have gone with "God may be good he might be outta sight, but he can't be here so worship me tonight". Much more megalomaniacal and more in suiting with Robbies persona.
I'm sure there's lyrics you'd all change. Leave a comment with which one's you would.
There's two songs that I think are lyrically perfect, You're so vain by Carly Simon and Boys of Summer by Don Henly. Feel free to add yours.
Later.