» Job Interviews

Bruce Forsyth goes for a sales job
Way back when poor old me was... er.. poor, I had a chance at a fairly well paid financial sales job. My old man pulled some strings to get me the interview, and I went through a HR interview, an asessment centre and to my surprise found myself in the third and final interview with some of the sales big cheeses. I thought I was doing pretty well, being confident and clever, right up until the very last thing I said.

As we shook hands as we parted, the Sales Director said "Nice to meet you."

To which I cheerfully replied "To meet you nice."

I left red faced and feeling a complete prat. Surprisingly, I didn't get the job...
(Thu 20th Jan 2005, 11:53, More)

» School fights

The Last Laugh is on the IMD
Got the shit kicked out of me at school, on a routine basis by a trio of scally shits, on the grounds that my dad had a decent job and I wasn't thick.

But Ha Ha! The last laugh is on me. Because i'm not rotting in a grave.

#1 died joyriding into a wall aged 15.
#2 died in a pub fight aged about 19, with a spiked baseball bat through his head
#3 died as well, alas I can't remember how as he was less significant. So let's say he got anally raped by a goat until he bled to death, for comedy purposes.

Best bit is, as an Atheist I won't even go to hell for feeling cheered at their welfare state burden reducing deaths. Yay!

* Disclaimer: Whilst their deaths fail to sadden me, I didn't do it. Officer.
(Fri 10th Mar 2006, 16:38, More)

» Pretentious bollocks

Some actual bollocks, displayed for pretentious purpose - an art / testicle double whammy
The Tate Modern, the official English home of pretentious bollocks, features several modern installation pieces.

Loops of video are a favourite medium; usually abstract images fluttering around the screen and some nice trippy music.

I wandered into one such enclave out of which was emanating soothing classical music. 'Aha', thinks the IMD, 'a chance to sit down and get cosy with my cute French ladyfriend.'

Alas, no. The video was of a skinny, bearded man dancing merrily away in somebodys trendy artist's loft apartment, completely starkers save for a pair of trainers. Check one: We have bollocks, swinging away as they 'perform their own interpretation' of the music.

The 'art' element was the subtle irony that while the listener was cosseted by smooth strains of classical music, the dancer was in fact, raving his very visible hairy bollocks off to stomping techno music, which of course, the audience can't hear. Check two: We have pretentiousness.

I award myself a whopping 2/2 for my answer and therefore command you click...
(Wed 28th Sep 2005, 15:19, More)

» Messing with the Dark Side

I have the fear
I run an online RPG, with thievery, orcs and whatnot so beloved of social inadequates such as myself.

Consequently, I frequently deal with the dork side.
(Mon 24th Apr 2006, 11:22, More)

» School Sports Day

Skiving in the Posh Style
Ah... going to school in Hong Kong had many advantages for young boys, including huge snakes on the cross country track, never being cold in shorts and having pocket money larger than many locals monthly wages.

However, the downside was that one of the main sports was swimming. Swimming is *f-u-n*, when its after school in your apartments' pool and you're cooling off and mucking about. The fun rapidly disappears when somebody is timing you and making you do it at a fast pace in front of the rest of your class, especially when you are Sport Billy's retarded brother that they kept hidden in the basement.

Occasionally, for school swimming day, this involved the entire school. As the school pool wasn't big enough we'd get carted off to a local public pool, with concrete grandstands and no shade whatsoever. Now, much as I loved watching the popular kids swim around and recieve yet more undeserved adulation, doing it in the baking sun strangely lost all its appeal.

Now, my mate and I both happened, by dint of parental membership, to have access to the exclusive (i.e. no poor people) Aberdeen Marina Yacht Club. Which was about 100M from the concrete hell pit where the school swimming gala was. Not being good at sport, and thus not stupid, we realised in the confusion of unloading buses of schoolkids, two lads could slip away pretty easily.

As we sat, lounging in the far nicer, cooler and more relaxing pool at "The Club", sipping diet cokes, having a nice lunch and occasionally popping off to maybe play on the video games or a spot of ping pong, we spared a moments thought for the popular kids, baking and swimming, baking and swimming. Silly tossers.

Length is nothing without the membership card to let you in.
(Thu 30th Mar 2006, 16:10, More)