Saturday, December 31, 2011

Film Review: Arthur Christmas.

I watched this with my Excellent Children, one of whom – Favourite Son (aged six) – will soon be taking a guest-spot on that film show on BBC1 with that Winkleman woman.

Me: I thought that was brilliant! [Glad of the 3D glasses that hid my irrational tears.]

Favourite Son: Yeah. It was really good. Except for the story. [Rolls eyes]

Danny Leigh must be shitting his pants.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Mood Swings #2

Mid-morning and I’m feeling just ‘blah’. I’m not happy, I’m not sad. Just existing, doing ‘work’ things.

Liam The Tosser walks into the office and a glorious surge of pure hatred courses through me.

Liam, in his skinny-lapelled date-rapist suit, with his intentionally lop-sided haircut that probably cost more than everything I am wearing. Permanently chipper Liam, with his studied non-regional accent and constant spring in his step. Liam, who actually calls himself ‘Liam’ when you just know his family call him ‘William’. Liam and his soft leather man-bag. Liam and his abysmal daytime-television gameshow-host patter.

Me: [Louder than intended] I fucking hate that cunt.

Liam’s stride falters a little, but he recovers and makes it to his desk.

Blonde Colleague:
You know he’s got a girlfriend?

Me: What? Fuck off. She must have a pretty high boredom threshold. And be happy to put-up with loads of abysmal indie CDs, shit craic, tender-stroking and ‘respectfulness’ when all she fancies is an inconsiderate bending-over the kitchen table. Poor cow.

BC: [Becoming quite animated herself] Doubt it. She’ll be one of those waif-types who never touch their face with their hands and buy their fucking floaty dresses from Ghost. She’ll be so fucking pale you wonder if she’s ever gone outside, probably never had a KFC bucket to herself ever and couldn’t put together an IKEA wardrobe to save her fucking life. She’s probably called Hermione or fucking Natasha or something. Fuck.

Me: “Godfafer Free”, “Not considered the best one”.

BC: Eh?

Me: That fucking advert.

BC: YES! Brilliant! That’s those two cunts right there.

Me: They probably go to charity shops together, not because they’re skint but because they think it makes them ‘charming’…

BC: YES. And voluntarily watch subtitled films with a ‘nice glass of rose’ sitting on a pile of fucking scatter cushions…

Me: What a couple of knackers.

BC: They probably read books.

Me: Yeah, alright. People read books. You need to get over that one.

We gather ourselves. I’m panting slightly. Blonde Colleague wipes a faint glow of perspiration from above her top lip.

BC: Any good?

Me: That wasn’t bad, actually.

I feel much better.
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