My birthday!
It is my birthday today.
I wne to Ronnie Scotts even though I can't afford it because of the CREDIT CRUNCH.

When I was at the bar, four 12 year old girls were throwing themselves at a 14 year old boy in a suit and converse trainers. I wondered how they got let in. Then ten minutes later the boy was performing as the lead singer in the band.

I flew into a violent rage. But he was very good.

the end
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 1:12, 4 replies)

I have noticed though
I am getting much more post than usual - finance companies trying to tempt me into taking out a loan with them, even though I am only just managing to pay things off now, and finally have little enough debt to stop working and go back to school....

They are quite eager for my application, which is funny, as when I apply they deny me because I no longer earn enough ... Maybe they are just bored and need something to do!

I am not really looking forward to being a poor student, but I suppose it is better than staying in full time employment - eventually I may actually earn lots of money! (In about 10 years perhaps!)
(Magrat rockin' your undies since, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 23:34, Reply)

My Top Tip for Surviving the Credit Crunch
Make all your worries disappear by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Be careful though, Tesco value lager may be cheaper per can, but it contains less alcohol, it's a false economy. I recommend a cheap gin, you can get 1 litre for less than a fiver at most major superstores.
( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 23:31, 5 replies)

The $2 shop down the road,
The one that sells everything (from lipstick to kids toys to kitchen utensils) for $2, has renamed itself the $2+gst store..... (yes, I am in nasty dollar land, so it would probably be the 54p+vat store for you guys, thanks to the nasty exchange rates!)

And two people from my nice wee country are coming to visit you all soon, so they are going to be stung very harshly thanks to the international dollar being so shit.

Curse you, nasty bank men!
*shakes fist menacingly*
(Magrat rockin' your undies since, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 23:24, 2 replies)

Possibly not the credit crunch, but..
I quit my job a few weeks ago. I had a pretty easy-going job at a restaurant in Hertfordshire - free food, free accommodation.. Life was sweet, basically.
I have always been under the impression that I can get a job anywhere, and be fairly picky about where I work (I'm a chef, and a somewhat experienced one, so in general I'm always in demand and have never been without work unless I've wanted to..).
It turns out, moving to Brighton in the middle of winter and trying to find work is not as easy as one may think. So far the best I have come up with is free accommodation and meals at a hostel so long as I clear glasses for them every busy night.

My advice? Pretend there is no 'economic chrisis'. I have just accidentally found a way to eat and sleep for free, whilst spending my few 'working' hours listening to Jurassic 5 and Sly and the family Stone.
(r0ach, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 22:59, Reply)

Avoid The Credit Crunch
A really drunk Mullered says...

Don't call 0870 numbers, spek nicely to your local massagge parlour and they'll give you the menu and a description of the girls over the phone.

Aslo, wanking is cheaper than whores.

Going to bed. Spannered.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 22:48, Reply)

as a father of four

It broke my heart the other day when I had to go back to my loving family and sit them all around a table for a serious chat. My wonderful missus Kay was there as were the kids, Alison 8, Petey, 6, and the twins Lori and Sami 3, imagine their look of utter shock when I informed them that due to the credit crunch I was going to have to let one of them go. *




Probably going to be Lori, lazy twat does fuck all about the place and bitches 24/7...



* may be nicked from sir Gary Larson


seriously though it's about time this shambolic effort at society ended. Arm yourselves, but try to see the funny side :) camping all year and eating wild boar ! wahoo
(The Cats Twat, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 22:45, 2 replies)

Whoops.
I was made redundant for the first time in the last 12 months in September. Nobody's too fussed about the arts when they realise they might lose the house.

Took the first job I could find, a real bastard of a job, where I find myself disliking people who I haven't met yet. All the same, I wasn't entirely delighted to hear today that 40% of the staff would be made redundant in the next 6 weeks.

Still, I bought all 6 Rocky films for £8 in Zavvi the other day.

Cashback.
(kccat does NOT look like Joe 90, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 22:42, Reply)

Woolies
I have the misfortune to live in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire. Not by choice, it's a shit hole.

It did make me laugh when Woolworths closed down, with their up to and above 50% off sale. The locals round here usually just steal whatever they want anyway.

(I always thought "Wisbech" was a verb anyway. As in "some bastard has wisbeched my telly")
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 21:52, 4 replies)

A friend who shall remain nameless...
... has just been told his lease car isn't being reposessed...

... because the leasing company can't afford to pick it up, and can't afford to store it if they do.
(gordonjcp, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 21:09, Reply)

Ethnic English Food

I live above a greasy spoon in Laandan. Its a lovely place which does the best chips, egg and beans in the known universe.

Run by a couple of lovely Greek couple who usually give me a free cup of coffee when I stop by for a chat.

The fella that runs the place was telling me that he noticed the kind of people visiting his goodly establishment were changing. Apart from the usual crowd of builders and bin men, there were now the occasional people wearing their Karen Millen twattery and generally looking as if they were having an enema administered before, during, and after their meal.

'Surely that's all good for business,' says I.

'Well, yes, it is,' says he. 'But the other day I had some cock muncher in here asking if we served authentic ethnic english food.'

'Oh?' Says I, never having heard the term used for a greasy spoon before. 'What did you say.'

He shrugs his shoulders, 'Well, there was only one thing I could do,' he says. 'I told him to fuck off... We dont want his sort in here...'

Call it a credit crunch, call it what you will, but its good to see those posh folk mixing with us lowly bottom feeders.

And its even more lovely to know that us lowly bottom feeders will always have our principles. Skint? Credit crunch? Makes no ends at all if you've never had any cash in the first place.

Mines a chip butty with brown sauce. Lurverly!!!
( SpankyHanky, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 17:27, 25 replies)

The credit crunch saved my life.
Some Crips just skateboarded by my house and shouted 'bang! bang bang!' at me.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 17:11, 3 replies)

I'm sorry to have to tell you this ...
I recently had the displeasure of having to make someone redundant for the first time in my not-so-long career of oficially "managing" colleagues.

Working for a very small company made it much more difficult, as we all work with each other in close proximity every day. And it's not like we have a crew of HR harpies to call on when we need to let go of a few faceless monkeys in sales.

The worst part was having to pretend for a short while that it was just a review of his position, and until the end of the consultation period there would be no final decision. But the decision had been made, and the poor guy just wanted a clean break.
So we kept it as short as possible and bunged up the severance payment as much as we could.

He took it fairly well though (probably better than I would have done). And we're helping him with his CV, contacts etc.

Business is picking up a bit now, but it couldn't get much worse than the last 3 months of 2008. Hopefully we won't need to let anyone else go.

Sorry for lack of funnies. To make up for it, here's a semi-topical joke from Sickipedia:

I got sacked from my job at the beauty salon yesterday.

I don't understand: all I did was give her a 'facial'...
(cheez is feeling ergophobic, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 16:19, 2 replies)

What's going on?
I have to say it's surprising how serious this all sounds - EVERYONE's talking about it. I haven't even noticed a change, nor do I know anyone who's been affected. It's almost as if it's a conspiracy to make us all feel a bit less in control. Either that, or it's because all of my friends rent and don't own cars...

Anyway, until I stop spending £6 a day on cigarettes hundreds of pounds on pianos I can't really ever complain about having no money :D
( valoukh newsgash.wordpress.com, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 16:04, 2 replies)

Always look on the bright side of life *whistles*…

Yes, I could go on and on about how I’m less well off, how the future is uncertain and everything is bleak...

Yes, I may have been last in the queue at Northern Rock, and after withdrawing the £1.73 that was left of my life savings I decided to invest them in Woolworths shares.

But I’m an optimist…I always like to think there’s a ‘silver lining’

For instance…I’m getting much more sex nowadays…I’ve managed to convince the missus that it’s the cheapest way to keep warm!

The only way is up!
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Wed 28 Jan 2009, 15:08, 3 replies)

I think im slowly gaining through the "crunch"
Im 23 (1st time poster long time reader) and moved back home about a year ago, so far my overheads are minimal and my job is secure. I work for a law firm, so the more problems every other business experiences the more business we get.... My other half works in insolvency so the more people go bankrupt the more work she does... Ive recently discovered that the credit crunch is affecting sales within a different devision of the company, its affected it so much that my mistress had to pay £300 for the exec suite in a 5* hotel rather than take it out of expenses... Oh the credit crunch, how it makes affairs more expensive.... (the me benfiting is because she pays for the room as her salary is quadruple mine)


On a side note, I dont pay gas, I dont pay electric, I dont pay water or rent... I just get pay rises and job hop gaining 25% per new posting, the credit crunch is forcing me to lie to perspective employers about my current salary so I gain a nice golden handshake in my first pay cheque.

Ive recently found that in the period of recession I have become somewhat of a rare comodity, my work skill set as versatile as it is not only makes me the object of many companys attention but also forces my employers hand into renogiating me salary rather than risk losing me to competitors...

So better salary, fucking the head of european sales in 5* hotels free of charge and generally having a responsibility free life.... god bless the credit crunch


I do have one gripe tho, I have only recently started working in the big city so the jump from lunch feasts for £3.00 at home to sub standard and minimalistic offerings for £7+ for the same meal have somewhat thrown me out a bit... God damn London... Making it worse I started working here when people used the credit crunch as a gimmic, so I would be hunting for a good eatery and attracted by the sign reading "Credit Crunch Lunch" only to discover its 3 squid rings and a tiny bit of salad for £7.50.... I can take the mrs out for happy meal 3 nights a week for that....
(zikki Is quickly making enemies, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 14:15, 36 replies)

Worry no more good people…

For I have found a way to ease your financial suffering during the credit crunch…

Hang on to your cash, and only shop in places where the staff are either:

a) Borderline brain dead, or
b) About to be made redundant (therefore just plain don’t give a fuck)

(You know the type of places I mean…McDonalds, PC-fucking-World, Virgin Media etc.)

Next, pick out whatever goods / wares you desire…then when it comes to the ugly business of paying, simply hand over a photocopied wadge of the picture below:



The till-monkey will be so shocked at having a real-life customer that they’ll never think to actually check the authenticity of the cash!

(or they just plain won’t give a fuck - see point 'b')

In fact, now I come to think of it…for the places mentioned above, something like this will probably do…:



And Viola! – free stuff! – Result! – ker-ching etc!

Happy shopping everybody!
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 28 Jan 2009, 14:00, 8 replies)

Do you want fries with that, Mr Flake...?

I’m not surprised this country is in the state it's in…

On Monday, my family had a busy evening on, and so did not have time to cook tea.

Normally I would get a takeaway, but in these times of ‘Credit-crunch-ery’, and after a barked order lovely request from the present Mrs PF, I was asked to demonstrate my 'in-touch-with-the-working-classes-ness' by stopping by a McDonalds to get something for tea on the way home from work.

The following incident happened during this one single visit.

In I stroll, in a general good mood. The atmosphere in the place, however, couldn’t be more accentuated if it had ‘Ghost Town’ playing in the background. I approach the counter and there’s nobody there. Eventually I am greeted by the cretinous, scowling lickspittle with no stars who welcomes me with a cheery:

“What?”

“Hello” I reply, “I would like two hamburger happy meals, a couple of quarterpounders with cheese, a regular fries and a ‘Smarties’ Mcflurry please?”

(Not the most complicated of orders I’m sure you’ll agree)

Cretin McSpack-a-cake, however, glares at me as if I have just debagged, squatted down and curled a whopping great walnut whippy on the counter…

She then just wanders off nonchalantly.

Cretin comes back after about 30 seconds and points a gnarled finger at the burger section: “We’re out of hamburgers. You’re going to have to wait” she spits.

I thought to myself: ‘That’s quite strange – it’s not as if they’re busy, or that ‘hamburgers’ are a specifically rare request, but hey-ho’.

“No Problem” I reply.

Mongtoid re-approaches till: “What did you want again?” She snaps.

Hmmm. I repeat the order. “Was that Quarterpounders with cheese?” She asks, looking strangely perplexed, with her eyebrows raised as if I have asked for a diamond-encrusted bucket of beluga drizzled with the love-sauce from 15 left-handed Lithuanian virgins.

“Yes” I state bluntly – losing a bit of patience.

“Well…..You’re going to have to wait for those too” She stammers, as I watch the globules of pus dripping from the pulsating mountainous mutation on the end of her nose.

I tut, and am promptly fixed with a glare that could wither titanium. My hopes for a quality meal are now somewhat depleted.

She then wanders off AGAIN. Nearly 10 soul-destroying minutes pass before the acne-ridden plebite ambles back in.

“Here you go – Two quarter-pounders, one regular fries, One happy meal”

“But I asked for TWO happy meals…and a McFlurry!” says I.

“No you didn’t!” She argues…fucking ARGUES with me!

“Yes.I.fucking.did!” I growl.

She then carefully and myopically inspects the screen on the till.

“Oh” she concedes.

“Actually…by the way” she continues:”I forgot to ask. What drinks with the Happy meals?”

“Grrrr…One ‘Coke’ and one ‘Fanta’…please” I reply.

“Still or fizzy Fanta?”

I pause…consider my options and the possibility of availabilty…and say: “Still, please”

...

“We haven’t got any still”

*rolls eyes* “Ye-fucking-Gods…Fizzy then!”

Finally, I have my ‘meal’ dumped in front of me, and due to the nature of the happy meals’ packaging etc, I am struggling to pick the lot up.

At this point, and as the steam starts to metaphorically hiss out of my ears, another employee, who, according to his uniform is also apparently ‘lovin’ it’, approaches me from behind the till, sees my distress, smiles, and says:

“Excuse me sir, would you like a large bag to carry that all in?”

‘At last!’ I think to myself, ‘I’ve finally found one single solitary McDonalds worker here who is not an Olympic class blithering Cro-magnon nincompoop!’

“Oh, yes, that would be great, thank you very much!” I enthuse.

“No prob…..” he says, before snuffling round under the counter and announcing: “Errrrrrm….no, hang on…we’ve run out of big bags…”

GAAARRRRGGGHHH! FUCK-A-DOODLE-ARSE-ACHE-ON-A-PLATE! I screech (in my head).

I then pay more than I would have if I had bought a (delicious) chinese takeaway…AND HAD IT DELIVERED, and stagger out of the place, fumbling through the door and into my car, only for the drinks to tip over on the way home and, much to my flakelet’s distress, discovering that only one of the ‘happy’ meals contained a toy.

And a shite toy at that.

Later, I found out that in that very ‘restaurant’, a man had recently got banned for (albeit drunkenly) pushing one of the tills off the counter in sheer frustration at the staff, and their inability to grasp the simple concept of serving.out.fucking.burgers.

When I was told, I understood exactly how he must’ve felt.

I hope the credit crunch soon manifests itself into a gigantic wrecking ball, demolishing that godforsaken dog-hole of a place that is McDonalds, Walsgrave, Coventry.

While the fucking wanktards that work there are still inside.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 28 Jan 2009, 12:52, 27 replies)

To be honest
it hasn't affected me as yet, I don't have any debts (but no assets either, except my trusty SAAB) so everything I buy is with cash anyway, so unless I lose a good few of my clients I should be OK.

Fingers crossed anyway.

Sorry for lack of hummus.
(Kip, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 12:27, 5 replies)

Credit crunch and footwear repairs
As any good businessman will tell you, a recession still means that there are opportunities to be had, as I discovered when I was promptly charged £5 for the cutting of a new front door key the other day. The task took my local cobbler all of twenty seconds to do thanks to his new fangled computerised key cutting machine. In the short time available, I noticed the stack of shoes behind the counter awaiting repairs.

With less money to throw about, the wartime mantra of "make do and mend" is being resurrected as a whole swathe of Britain's commuters opt to head to the nearest cobbler and have their expensive Rockports re-soled.

Amazingly enough, my local footwear rejuvenation specialist has a royal appointment - as confirmed by the large sign stating "Cobblers to the Queen!" in big letters behind the counter.

He must be good, the only remaining Bentley in town that isn't being repossessed belongs to him...

Anyway, I digress... This business opportunity is also being exploited by some of London's temporary "abode-impaired" community. They've noted that the workmanship of some of London's shoe repairers is well below par, apparently some unscrupulous cobblers will scrimp on sole material and allegedly file off the corners of the shoe accordingly.

Only yesterday I was accosted by a gentleman of the road offering me replacement footwear.

"Bigger-shoe sir?"

/coat
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 28 Jan 2009, 11:12, 5 replies)

Given some are moaning, some are being smug
And others are moaning at the smugsters, I feel perhaps that this answer is rather important:

b3ta.com/questions/skint/post16338

It speaketh of sense. Also, if you can find it, Legless' guide to student cooking is also a very good thing to read.

You can feed yourself well, and cheaply, with comparitively little effort, and inventiveness. The uses I've found for a bottle of reggae reggae sauce...
( jim_bob can herd cats., Wed 28 Jan 2009, 10:30, 3 replies)

Best thing thats ever happened to me!
Had to leave my old job in recruitment, as you would imagine sales recruitment isn't exactly a good place to be right now. I was commuting for 4 hours a day for a paltry salary to boot, and hating every minute of it! I've now got a job 5 minutes down the road working in the public sector, on 50% more cash, working about 3 hours a day! Quality! Plus, as all I have financially is debt not savings, a drop in interest rates is most welcome :-D
(megaskank, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 10:18, Reply)

Watch your money closely people...

~~~~~~~~ Repressed memory coming back…*shudder* ~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks ago I slept through attended a course on web security which culminated in the bulging climax of being told to ‘trust nothing, trust nobody, take nothing for granted’.

This point was hammered home by each of us being given what looked like a £20 note, but on closer inspection proved to be a rather obvious forgery (see what they did there?)

We were told we could keep the notes as a reminder to us all in these troubled times.

Deep joy. I felt safer already.

Anyhoo, fast forward a couple of nights later and (surprise surprise) I’m in the pub, sharing a dull-as-shit football match and a pint (or nine) with some chums…

At half time, all of my friends went out for a smoke, and although I don’t smoke, I didn’t want to look like a ‘Norman-no-mates’ so I went outside with them.

As we stood there, freezing our collective bollocks off as they tried their damndest to kill me through passive smoking, we whinged about this ‘Credit Crunch’ lark, and it’s effect on our ability to buy beer, cigarettes…pretty much fucking everything as it goes.

Mid-conversation, one of them spoke up: “This is all very well, but you’ll be alright, Pooflake…”

“What do you mean by that?” I enquired.

“Well, for a start you don’t smoke…and…you’ve managed to blag quite a good job, despite being as thick as an elephant sandwich…but most importantly, 'cutting back' won't matter to you because you’re already as tight as a pre-teen Nun’s flangeflaps that have been sealed with denture fixative…*comedy pause*…and staples!”

“Well I never!” I exclaimed, as everybody giggled at my expense and nodded in agreement.

(Now, it’s one thing to actually be a tightwad, even to know it yourself…but to be called one by your mates is slap-bang-out-of-order).

So…cleverly retorting in a way that would make Noel Coward glow with envy, I bellowed:

“You can all fuck right off!”

They then seemed to launch into individual virtuoso stand up comedy routines; with the subject in question being how I was as tight as ‘a duck’s arse’, ‘a gnat’s chuff’, and how ‘coal would turn into a diamond up my dirtbox’ etc.

...and the 'red mist' began to descend…

But instead of getting mad, I got into action and crafted a plan which was cunningly fiendish in its sublime brilliance.

I would do something. One.single.act…that would forever banish such slanderous comments from besmirching my good name once and for all.

I quietly asked one of my mates if I could borrow his lighter, and he duly handed it over. Then, in a well-timed moment of radically overblown amateur dramatics I announced to the chuckling throng:

“So…I’m a tight-arse am I?...Well…tell me then, you bunch of fucking twatcakes…would a tightarse do THIS?”

And with that, blinded by rage in the poorly-lit smoking area, I reached into my wallet, whipped out the ‘£20 Note’, and promptly set it on fire in front of them all, waving it about and cackling insanely before throwing it on the floor.

What followed was a perfect case of: ‘Set your faces…to stunned’.

Each one of them briefly stood completely still, mouth agape like a yawning dog turd in utter, total, incomprehensible disbelief at what was happening before them.

To my delight, one of them even dived on the burning note in an effort to stamp out the flames, but the damage was done. It was perfect.

In unison, they began to exclaim such comments as: “Fucking hell Poo, you chuffing mentalist bell-end!” and: “What the cock-potato do you think you’re doing?”

I milked the situation for all it was worth, trying to stifle the metaphorical ‘little wee’ as my wobbling frame began to buckle under the sheer prank-some joy at the way they had each fallen for my ruse.

Then, wiping tears of purest mirth from my eyes I chortled: “HAHAHAHAHAAAA! –– I had you going there didn’t I? You dopey fucking fuckers! It was a FAKE note! – but look at you, you sad bunch of insipid quimbeciles! Who’s the tightwad now eh?? MUUHAAHAAAHAAA!”

I then took immense satisfaction in pointing at their mong-ish morbid faces as they slowly tried to make sense of the situation.

Just as I was sure they were about to congratulate me on the jape-of-the-decade, my mate, who was inspecting the burnt cinders on the ground made the following observation:

“If this is a fake note, it’s a fucking good one”

…

“HA HA HAAAA……Wha..?” I said…and with that, I glanced down and watched as my mate picked up the charred remains of an incredibly-realistic looking £20 note…complete with metal stripe through the middle…and still-slightly-visible water mark.

Just then…alcohol-inhibited memories of just a few hours before suddenly began bollocking through my head…memories of going to the cashpoint…and drawing out £30…which consisted of a Pavarotti*, and…

A REAL FUCKING £20 NOTE THAT I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT!

ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!there aren’t enough exclamation marks in the world!!!!!

My entire face suddenly lost all muscle control and drooped floorwards as, with a heart heavier than Lisa Riley’s left breasticle, I painfully peered into my wallet for the painful confirmation…

…and saw the badly-drawn queen's face of my crap, fake £20 note merrily staring out at me from its comfy home.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” I screamed, with my arms flailing about like an electrocuted banshee.

The horror seered itself across my face like it had been burned on with a branding iron…

Of course, my mates’ shock and disgust instantly turned to jubilant, ecstatic joy as they howled hysterically, watching me quietly sob into a little pile of ash, and mumbling incoherently about ‘not being able to get the round in’, and ”It’s not fucking funny”.


I decided there and then…that I was never going to try and ‘show off’ again.


* £10 (tenner / 'tenor' – geddit?)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 28 Jan 2009, 10:17, 5 replies)

Current Bun
Things have got so bad I've had to read The Sun. For the £9.50 holiday tokens, you understand.

As this year I'm going on what I am calling my Pikey/Mormon holiday.

I'm taking my wife and young son, along with my wife's friend and her 2 youngest children, in a large extended family holiday.
As we walk the sandy beaches of Cornwall, I'm not sure if I should only respond to Elder Weejock or just buy a shellsuit and say innit a lot.

Still… with 2 wives, I am looking forward to both of them saying no to nookie.
( Weejock, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 10:10, 1 reply)

All to the good
I was made redundant at the start of the credit crunch in August last year...

...so I set up in business in competition with my ex-employer and now I'm in profit after 12 weeks of trading. I provide payroll for HR freelancers so I'm not really affected by the credit crunch cos firms still need HR bods even when the going is tough (to do change management and dealing with redundancy issues) and also when its good times.

I am also a Northern Rock mortgage holder and as I was on a MASSIVE fixed rate until January so I've even seen my mortgage go down by £500 a month.

And... I managed to get £2000 off the price of my second-hand car as the dealer wanted to get rid of all of his stock at cost to get some money back into the business - RESULT!

I know it sounds like I'm being rather smug, but I remember the recession of the early '90s all too well. I bought a house when interest rates were at 15% and ended up in negative equity within a year of buying it. I was made redundant twice in 2 years and was on benefit for a long time.

I have real sympathy for people who are suffering but I've come to realise now that the only way to be financially independent is to work for yourself with a good business model and plenty of honest graft. And don't get everything on credit - save for it and when you get it, it will be all the more satisfying!
(penrose your dog's got tits, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 9:23, Reply)

Wank Material
During the last recession I was so skint I was reduced to wrestling the cobra over the power shower pages of the Argos catalogue.

This time round Ive got access to the internet...

FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!!!

I might be skint, but thanks to the miracle that is the world wide web I can tug one out over the dirtiest, filthiest hardcore whenever I want...

So, Im a happy man...
( SpankyHanky, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 8:04, 2 replies)

Reality check
I think it's a paradox that, during this time of apparent financial difficulty, I'm actually managing to put money into a savings account for the first time in my life.

I earn £5 an hour.

I don't have a credit card or mortgage or car or hire purchase or an overdraft or a loan.

I pay my rent and child support and phone bill. I cook fresh food from ingredients I buy at grocers and butchers, and have the odd bottle of cider. I manage to go out for a couple of pints once a week. I buy my clothes and books from charity shops.

Basically, I live within my means.

I'm not saying everyone should live like me, but if people and businesses lived within their means, we wouldn't be talking about a recession.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 6:33, 17 replies)

My Bloody Valentine
Well I'm completely skint, but I paid money to go and see that film and it was a complete pile of shit. The fact that it was 3D did not even nearly make up for it. To make matters worse, the cinema was packed and the only spaces left were in the front two rows (like fucking 4ft away from the screen), so I now have strained eyes, a sore neck and £30 to last me until the 19th of February.
(geordiedave is reliving the time Southgate missed that penalty, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 2:56, 3 replies)

The other night:
Living in halls at uni isn't too bad once you get used to the noise, But I miss cooking at times (catered halls), so when I get a chance I like to experiment in the kitchen. The other day (after a long absinthe session on a different part of campus) I was hit by an idea. You know those "innocent smoothies", that just contain fruit? Maybe I could make one with meat! I realised I needed something that would blend up fairly well, so I got hold of some canned fish that was lying around.

The result was awful. Truly dreadful. We spent the rest of the evening daring each other to drink it, until we were joined by Simon. Simon is a lovely guy who just happens to be completely deaf in one ear. He loved it. He even said he found it "quite refreshing".

I'm thinking of marketing the recipe as "Herring aid".

This time next year, we'll be millionaires...
( MatJ LOOK, Wed 28 Jan 2009, 1:32, Reply)