June 21, 2021

Son, if there’s one thing that you need to know, one simple thing that will keep you safe in this big, horrible world it is this: Don’t get a second Covid-19 jab on the same day you cut down your anti-depressant medication by a quarter. Your body is going to hate you very much for the entire weekend.

But there is bright news, son. It is this: You will feel 90% fine the time Monday comes around and you are back working.


pox ridden

April 8, 2010

I have some kind of lurgy. It involves a damnable sore throat, which in turn is covered with ulcers. It’s all very nice. In fact even nicer is when one of the bloody things bursts. Like the big one did.

Any doctors out there wanna take a punt at what it is?

People have hummed and harred and said I should probably be off work, but hell, I just know I’d be missed terribly, and besides I’d go stir crazy if I didn’t go in. For example, it’s nice for one to enjoy some kind of interaction or banter with the one’s work colleagues. Of course, the only thing you get from a bunch of computer geeks is “Morning”, followed eight hours later by “Bye”. Obviously, none of them ever looks you in the eye when talking to you, but it is nice that both words are said in an almost friendly fashion.

the shame

March 27, 2010

If you suffer from cold sores, you’ll probably spend a lot of time trying your best to avoid them. You’re ashamed of yourself when you get one. You’re a dirty whorebag of a slut for ending up with herpes simplex, and you shouldn’t be seen in public. Basically, you should die.

Or at least, that’s how I feel about myself when I get one. So I’ll do anything to encourage the fuckers away as quickly as possible.

I find that lysine seems to help keep them controlled pretty well so that they’re not as intrusive (or rather obvious) as previously. Of course, as with all of this sort of thing, your mileage may vary. I take a single 1000mg tablet a day. They come from the health food shop.

This morning I discovered that I was running low on tablets, with less than a week’s supply remaining. So I figured that I’d pop into town and pick up another tub of them. Manfully striding into town I make straight for the appropriate shop and start scouring the shelves. Obviously, along with every other shop in the world, nothing stays in one place very long, and this time was no exception. The lysine was not where it was previously. However, being male, I’ll be damned if I’m going to ask a any shop assistant for, ahem, assistance.

Eventually I caved. I looked really really hard. But all I could find was cod liver oil, candied pineapple chunks and whey protein. I didn’t want any of those things. So, with shame in my heart, I asked the shop assistant.

“Hello!” I said.

“Ooh!” She said, “you scared me.”

I guess I had loomed from out of a different part of the brightly lit shop and into the ten feet of personal space around her, so that’s fair. I’d scared her with my obviousness. Damn me.

“I wonder,” I asked, “do you have any lysine? I’ve looked everywhere and I’ve been here for about a week.”

At this point the assistant, bless her, looked upon me with sad eyes. She reached and took my hand and patted it sympathetically.

“Awww… lysine,” she cooed, and continued in a whisper, “of course. We keep it behind the til.” And she wandered off, my hand still in hers, towards the cash desk. Part-way there she stopped and turned to me, and again, in a conspiratorial tone said, “We do three sizes. Five hundred milligrams in sixties, a thousand milligrams in sixties and a thousand in hundred-twenties.”

As far as I knew, lysine is some kind of soya protein and not really something worthy of hushed voices and gently-gently customer treatment.

“I may as well take the big tub,” I said.

“Awww, bless you, ok,” she smiled and shrugged and fished around behind the til until she found the packet. As she put the price through the til, I had a nasty feeling that I’d just about managed to escape without her pinching my cheek and ruffling my hair.

To quote from some of the higher quality Sunday papers, I paid, made my excuses and left.

with friends like these…

February 22, 2010

Buz says:
Alf says:
Buz says:
Seems I have a hot date with the wife and kids for lunch now… you are welcome to join us at Morrisons if you wish
Alf says:
No no, you go on your hot date with your family
Buz says:
Alf says:
I’ll sit and cry in my car
Buz says:
Alf says:
In a lay by
Buz says:
Alf says:
and take paracetamol until the pain goes away
Buz says:
Ok. Neil’s got some in his drawer if that helps…
Alf says:
Ooh, ta

the gordon the ramsay’s(tm) the f the word(tm)(c)

December 22, 2009


some really cheap “cooking bacon bits” from Tescos
sage, torn
white pepper
chilli powder
mustard powder
onion powder
garlic powder
ground coriander
an egg
some oil
some butter
salt, black pepper
a tomato
a gherkin or 7
mashed potato


Cook the hell out of the bacon bits in the oil, they’re cheap and need telling.
Add all the herbs and spices whilst the bacon is frying and mix it up good, biatch.
Drop in a knob of butter, just to keep the calories up.
Slice the tomato and when the bacon is getting good and crispy, drop that in to cook.
When that’s nearly done, drop in the egg to cook. You can leave it fry or mix it so it scrambles.
Once done, season with the black pepper and salt if it’s needed, to be honest it might not.

Dump the whole lot onto a big pile of mash, with gherkins on the side, and eat the bastard.

fruit, healthy healthy fruit

December 2, 2009

I went to Asdas today and purchased from their “Wholefoods” section a bag of “berry mix” (their trendy lower caps, my quote marks).

In 100g of product, which is all that was in the bag, there are 311 calories.

Admittedly, there is nothing on the packet to make you think that this shit is good for you, but a look down the list of ingredients (which is mainly vegetable oil, sugar and something called “deflavoured pineapple syrup”) shows that possibly you’d get more enjoyment and less of that calorific value out of a Snickers barMarathon.

(Oh yeah. Hi by the way. I’m back).

the thing is…

June 15, 2009

I am told I must wear spectacles.

But if I wear my glasses to work at the computer, being long sighted, I can’t see if anyone is wandering towards me expecting me to do yet more work.

Therefore, I don’t wear my glasses, hide when people approach, avoid too much work, and submit reports and documents with spelling mistakes in tehm.