Celebrity Spotting In London #2

I'm not a man of the people. My tastes are better than yours and this is reflected by the fact that I don't associate with the hoi polloi. They're not good enough for me. Oh no. Instead, I only keep company with the rich and famous. As noted below, myself and Howard Moon are best buddies. We hang out all the time, get drunk on tequila slammers and lech over nubile young women.

My other, completely famous and completely better than you, friend is Bill Bailey. He lives just down the street from me and we often, 'accidentally', bump into each other in the street. There we have a pleasant discourse on many a varied things and then we part. I often ruffle the hair of his small child and say some reassuring things whilst playfully punching his shoulder. Thus, our lives our enriched and all contributes to making me much better than you.

Overheard workplace conversation #1

Person who seemingly talks for 9 hours straight: “I’ve often thought about fostering. There’s good money in that you know”.

I believe that this is the exact sentiment that the foster services are looking for.

My Shameful Romance

I have a terrible, life-shattering confession. What makes it even worse, should such a thing be possible, is that it proves Ellie correct. I laughed at her words of wisdom first uttered many moons ago. I mocked, poured scorn from a great height all over her and revelled in my quite evident superiority. Allegedly, I may have been wrong. So, for the record, and for posterity,

My Chemical Romance are actually rather quite good.

There. I've said it. I've even started to admit it in public. It's quite liberating to get it off of my chest. My only problem comes in trying to justify this assertion to others. The way I see it is that if one can forget the stereotype (Yes, I know, who'd've thought that people deal in unsupported hearsay and mock and despise things because they feel they should? God forbid they should listen to something and then make a considered judgement) then MCR are good at what they are peddling: easy-on-the-ear, perky pop-rock with a bit of a sense of humour. More importantly, they also love to embrace the grandiose and over-the-top. Forget the imagery of the Black Parade, the badly dyed hair and the legion of 15 year-old girls in black eyeliner who make up the MCArmy and listen to the catchy, catchy music. My personal favourite from the latest album is Sleep, but for the uninitiated here's I'm Not Okay.

However, all is not lost. Whilst falling head over heels for Gerard et al. I was pointed in the direction of Ziltoid The Omniscient. It seems that Devin Townsend is not really happy sat at home playing with his new sprog all day and that he needs something to do now that he's seemingly officially disbanded SYL so he's filling his days with Ziltoid. And that can only be a good thing.

A celebrated man amongst the guerneys

Perhaps my railing against Brook Street was a little premature – they are not the devil incarnate and they do not gain pleasure from my frustration. In fact, they are terribly helpful and have been frightfully proactive in getting me a job. They are so damn good that I was only out of work for 4 days. To me, that is a miraculously short amount of time as I had visions of spending the best part of 6 weeks lazing around the flat in my undercrackers playing computer games. I'm not saying that these were bad visions, but I still had them.

What is my new, fancy temp job, I hear you all roar? Well, I'm a clerical administrator in the NHS. The title is not quite as grand as my previous one - Business Analyst - but then again this time I am a mere data-entry chap. No real responsibility and no real difficulty in what I do. Referrals are sent from all manner of people and I check to see if the patient is on the system and then make a referral for them. If they aren't on the system, I then have to register them. Despite the lack of challenge, I'm enjoying it as the people I work with are a lot of fun and I do get a great sense of satisfaction from being a part of the NHS. I like to think that I'm only one level below doctors on the 'important scale'. In fact I'm often asked, at very short notice, to take over particularly complex operations when surgeons pop to the toilet. I don't charge for it – that would just be mercenary.

Oiseau-cide

I like to think that I’m patient, godly and generally better than anyone else - I have more time than others for the needy and for all of God’s little creatures. However, let’s be honest: I’m a small, petty, occasionally violent man. And what is at the root of my impotent rage? A sodding bird. A little, brown, beaky, chirping bird. And by god does that bird make a racket. None bastard stop. It regularly wakes me up at 6.30am and only stops at the precise moment when I get out of bed to make breakfast. It’s like it is watching me.

To make matters worse, this so-called bird is a master of disguise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. I peer menacingly out of the window, ready to give my tormentor a foul glare, and it’s not there. How can I kill something that I can’t see? There is a neighbourhood cat, but it’s a fat bugger and is more interested in lazing in the sun than catching dinner.

So, in the vague hope that the bird is an avid reader of my blog, I give in. You’ve won. Congratulations. Now please stop. I’m out of the house pretty much all day so you can tweet and twitter all you want then. You could even start at 7.30am, but please, not before. I’ll even kill that cat for you to prove my fealty. Just please stop.

Temp Agencies and Megadeth

A likely combination, no doubt about it. What prompted Megadeth's inclusion in this post and promotion to title - an honour not to be taken lightly - is that I've just witnessed something terrible. The 'Deth have a new album, called United Abominations, coming out soon and for some unknown reason they've decided to include on it A Tout Le Monde. Despite the fact that they originally put the song out a good 13 years ago, they have (well, Dave has) seen fit to re-record it with t'old Scabbia from Lacuna Coil. I'm not terribly impressed. Moreover, I was under the impression that Lacuna Coil were Italian, but Scabbia's accent is thoroughly American. It would be unfair to blame her change in voice on Dave Mustaine, but hell, he seems to be responsible for all the ills in the world, and by that I mean he left/was kicked out of Metallica and that set off a chain of events that culminated in the fall of Communism and the War on Terror, but I'm going to place this at Dave's door. Look how he trembles! However, I must admit that I do like the new guitar solo. But I am a bit of a sucker for them.

And on to more important, material matters: Temp agencies. Here I was, ready to wax lyrical about how wrong my friends were, that they were not connected to Hell or Satan in anyway, and BAM! I'm disappointed. I suppose I should have expected it - I imagine that when evil tempts people, it gets their hopes up and then dashes them right at the last minute. But I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened was that they'd arranged an interview for me yesterday morning at 10am. The job would not have set the world on fire but it was for a decent length of time and would've paid me a fair whack of cash. So I turn up in my (only) suit, nice and early, introduce myself and sit down in the waiting area when, lo and behold!, I get a 'phone call from the temp agency telling me that the company in question, Adam Phones, had promoted from within and that they'd cancelled all interviews. Great. Now whether the blame lies with Adam Phones or the temp agency I know not, but I'm going to blame both of them. That way no one escapes the damning effects of my glower.

That was yesterday. Today, I'm going to more temp agencies and beg for work. In theory this should be easy as I'm willing to do pretty much anything in an office. I'd even be the fitty who's employed solely because they're easy on the eye and has to spend every day being leered over by fat, middle-aged men. I can do that. I'll even flutter my very long eye-lashes at them. Dammit, they could even smack my ass as I walked by as long as they did it with a cheeky grin.

Oh dear, what have I become?

The wandering wanderer returns...

It's been a while. Probably over two months. But I've returned. Like a once victorious warrior returning to the scene of his greatest battle to relive former glories and reassure himself that he can hit such majestic heights again, I'm back on t'internet.

More importantly, I'm jobless.

At the moment, there is nothing lined up between now and September and this is worrying because now I've moved into a new flat I have a proper amount of rent to pay as well as these things called 'bills', which seem to crop up with increasing regularity. To remedy being made homeless, I'm soon to be debasing myself at the feet of Recruitment Agencies. People who are more experienced in their ways than I tell me that their employees are the devil made flesh and the their buildings are sin made stone. I'm slightly more optimistic than that given my naturally cheery disposition but no doubt I shall soon be lamenting their in ability to get the (four month) job of my dreams.

Come September, touch wood, I will begin what can legitimately be termed a career. If I manage to keep blogging between now and then - and the likelihood of that is directly related to 1) how long I stay unemployed for 2) whether the place I end up working at has the Internet and 3) whether or not I can get away with blogging at work - that'll be a bonus. When I start my 'proper' job (I feel so snooty yet so pleased to call it that) I will almost definitely stop blogging. My job will invariably become my life and to write about no doubt very private and very confidential information will result in being fired. I don't want to that.

So, on that bombshell I'm off! Till next time, 'loyal' readers (my mum and random passers-by). Oh, one final thing, the eagle-eyed among you may have noticed that I've added a little gamercard thingy to the left. So, if anyone else happens to be on Xbox live, add me. I'm online a lot more these days and I've only one friend at the moment. If it stays this way, my bitter tears will cause my 360 to short-circuit and no one wants that.

Celebrity Spotting In London

Oh yes. I'm basking in the bright lights in the place where the streets are paved with gold by the power of association. Someone might have seen me today on the Northern Line (Angel Tube station, southbound platform) stood in the same vicinity as Howard Moon! Well, I saw him swagger down the platform towards a very full train. And swagger he did! Chest puffed out, legs slightly apart and with a knowing look on his face. It was actually him. He did look a little drunk, but I didn't go up to him and smell his breath or anything. I also, desperately, tried to think of a Mighty Boosh related comment that I could shout out in a witty manner. The best I could think of was

"The first 40 mins of your live DVD is shit! Then it gets mildly better"

But I didn't, because I'm kind and because I wasn't sure how sober he was and how he'd react. He did look a bit like a tramp, although I suppose that's the general look that Howard Moon goes for. Nice clothes with an unkempt face.

As if that wasn't enough, I've had even more excitement this week - I went to an all-day assessment centre on Thursday (I'll reveal more when I know how unsuccessful I've been) and today I went to the Good Impressions conference at the British Museum. Yes, it's about medieval seals and yes, I'm no longer in any way related to academia, but it was good fun and interesting to see what other people doing in the field of sigillography (honest!).

Deep Space Homer

Default might be the two sweetest words in the English language according to Homer - and I'm not sure that I'd disagree with him - but I reckon tax rebate ranks pretty highly as well. An unexpected boost to the old weekly wage certainly makes me happy.

Almost a month in London

And it has, literally and figuratively, flown by. I'm now settled into my temp job - which carries the rather high-falutin' title of Business Analyst of Corporate Finance - and am continually astounded by the level of organisational incompetency that surrounds me. Don't get me wrong, the people I work for are lovely, lovely individuals, but don't seem too hot on the old 'explain what to do' side of things. So I'm briefly told what to do, and generally it's amazingly straight forward, so I do it. I then found out that I've made a mistake because I've not done something that they didn't tell me so I didn't know to do it. Ace. It just ends up wasting my time and theirs.

More impressively, I've been applying for lots (read not that many) jobs. This is good, apart from the fact that if I get through the online application stage, I imagine most of them will want face-to-face interviews before they pay me money. That means I'll have to show my knowledge of the company and the service line I'm applying for, and I don't really know how to do that. I mean, I can look at the company's website until I'm blue in the face but I don't know how to go that extra yard. Does any one have any sage advice? If you do, and it results in me getting a job, a drink shall be yours! Several, in fact. Cannot say fairer than that.

Right, I'm going to return to the tired predictability of my day. At this time of night it usually involves making sandwiches for lunch time and ironing a shirt so I'm not forced to sit topless in the office. Many of the women where I work do cat-call and beg me to remove my clothes and reveal my rippling, buffed, hairless and tanned torso, but I resist. Were I to reveal 'the pecs of all wonderfulness' then no one would get any work done, and we don't want that to happen. I save that for Friday evenings in the local Wetherspoons.

Conspiracy Theory #457

Did Jelle Klaasen, Vincent van der Voort and Michael van Gerwen deliberately play pants so they could speed up their transition to the PDC? This crazy theory is bolstered by the fact that it was in the players' contracts that this year's semi-finalists had to come back to the BDO in 2008.

I really don't think they played rubbish on purpose but the thought of the PDC must've been a spectre looming in the background, gnawing away at their tungsten. To be honest, I've no real idea why I support the BDO over the PDC. It's probably because it's only the BDO tournament that's on terrestrial TV and it's not at the beck and call of Stan James and other advertisers. But those advertisers bring money and the money, ultimately, has 'made' Barneveld and the other Dutch chaps to swap sides.

What I want is for the stupid divide to end, so all the super-best darts players in the world can play against each other and provide completely spanking entertainment for everyone. Maybe that could be achieved if it became an Olympic sport. Laughably, I reckon that that is less of a pipe-dream that a PDC-BDO unification.

My first week in London

Well, I'm coming to the end of my first week in London. Possibly surprisingly, it's been rather good. Work's been lined up for next week, with the potential of it lasting until the end of March, and the open day at Coutts was very useful if a little dull. To top things off, we're nicking wireless broadband off of the neighbours. Excellent. That's the only thing that free however. London is as prohibitively expensive as you think it is - apart from a dwindling bank balance, I've little to no material goods to show for my profligacy.

I probably shouldn't say too much about the job I'll be doing as I've had to go through stringent security checks just to get it. No doubt it won't be as exciting as it all sounds, but I can pretend that I'm dealing with matters that are of international importance. And if you read in the news that world is coming to an end, you can bet that I'll be responsible for it.

The people at Coutts are wonderful at selling themselves. I really want that job now, and not just because of the quite impressive starting salary. All that stands in my way is an intimidating assessment day in the middle of February. Hopefully, that'll be one of many as I've now finally got around to applying to lots of graduate jobs. I've thoroughly realistic expectations and don't believe that I'll get all/any of them, but I feel a lot better for actually having done something about my lack of career.

The Big Smoke

That's my destination tomorrow. It's a little nerve-wracking, moving to London with not much money and no job, but it'll be an experience. Hopefully one that leave me with scars, mental or physical. I'm working on the assumption that it'll be easier to get a job in London with a London address than without a London address (if that makes any sense) and that I'll be super-motivated to get me some gainful employment when the result of not working is living on the streets. Super.

An upside of the move is that my blog should no longer to be home to incessant posts about computer games. Instead, I can carry on whining about jobs, the cost of living, the people, the weather, the gangland violence, the tube, terrorists, racists, government, NGOs, the Daily Mail &c. Loads of stuff. The world is my oyster! Preferably sans grit. I don't know how much access to t'old Internet I'll have in London Taan - I believe that's how its pronounced - so posting may be sporadic. Then again it may not be. In fact, I'll probably post on Thursday documenting my Open Day with a banking firm and telling all how it was scary and that I asked lots of stupid questions ('What do bankers do?'). So, hold tight, don't move, cross your legs and be ready for Thursday.

Hopefully.

Comedy Gold, courtesy of Shane Warne:

In response to t'old Collingwood bantering away, Warne hits back with

You got an MBE, right? For scoring seven at the Oval?

The look on Collingwood's face was priceless. He had no response and looked thoroughly embarrassed. Well done Warney!

Update 21.08: Some more sledging by Warne directed again at Collingwood.

Oh yes, before I forget...

For those interested, I had a lovely Christmas and the wedding I went was very nice indeed. Those adjectives are pretty bland and don't do justice to the two events and for that I apologise. For those who have the privilege of being my friend on Facebook you can see pictures from the wedding on Ellie's profile.

Two posts in 10mins? It'll make me feel better when I don't post for 3 months.

See-Ya! Again.

Has a year flown by already? My word! I even managed to miss my blog's birthday which made it an understandably grumpy so-and-so. Still, my forgetfulness aside, let us turn to the important things in life - those who have died. Let us celebrate their deaths in list form and then let us mock those who haven't died by suggesting that they should have. Much like I did last year.

The Internet, being the best thing ever behind Tournedos Rossini and Gin and computer games and other things and people, makes this process quite easy. In fact, it makes it terribly easy. Look: click on this link and you can see the deaths that the people who write Wikipedia have deemed worthy enough to mention and chronicle. And we shouldn't argue with them because eventually they will take over the world as that website will become our only information source. Don't scoff at me! It's true. All the children and undergraduates of the world are using Wikipedia to do their homework and essays. IT'S ALL WE KNOW!

Even b3ta have got in on the act by creating an image challenge to suggest who should die in 2007. That's almost like me suggested who should've died in 2006.

Where do I go from here? Should I carry on and turn this into a yearly thing? Part of me says, resoundingly, 'NO!'. That's the lazy side of me. Even the much repressed energetic side is apathetic. So, in honour and deference to me and my sides, here's a truncated list that's based on little thought:

Deaths:

James Brown
Saddam Hussein (He'[wa]s not he Messiah, he'[wa]s a very naughty boy. I can see the t-shirts now.)
Steve Irwin

Should Be Dead:

Pete Doherty - the reasons for this are evident. Basically, I don't like him and his junkie ways and he gets to knob an internationally famous model. When I'm high on intravenous drugs, I only get arrested for beating up people for their money. When he gets arrested, he gets let off!

There we go. Get your mutton chops around that. I'm off to drink orange squash and eat steak.

The Price of (a) Wii

Thankfully, the store at which I work isn't really like the one above although this has been the case when discussing the Wii. I'd imagine that something ridiculous like 60% of the phonecalls over the past 3 weeks have involved me telling people that if they've not pre-orderd then it's highly unlikely that they'll be able to get one from us. And because of this insatiable desire for this year's must-have Christmas present (if it's not the Wii then it's the (preferably pink) DS - either way Nintendo are quids in) we can basically charge what we like for it. To make matters worse, we get away with it as well.

I don't particularly like the fact that we're forcing people to buy deals that, under normal circumstances, they would not choose themselves. So I try to sympathise with them and admit that the prices are a little steep but that this is their only chance of picking one up for little Timmy or Samantha (or whatever their kids are called) before Christmas. This last point might well be a falsehood, but most people aren't willing to turn down the ones we have in order to try and find a better deal elsewhere. But I still toe the company line and spout all the wonderful sales-pitch guff that I have to spout so that we, as a business, can make a profit and that they can reward us with a Christmas bonus of £7! Take that you City workers you!

What are the prices I hear you ask? Any other time of the year, and assuming that there is plentiful stock, the console ships with Wii Sports for £179.99. Our first, and cheapest deal, was £369.97 and for that you received the Console, the aforementioned Wii Sports, Rayman Raving Rabbids, Super Monkey Ball, Monster 4x4 World Circuit, a 1 gig memory card and some sports accessory things - a tennis racket, golf club and steering wheel into which one could fit the Wiimote. The next, and last, deal was a whopping £429.99 and for that you could choose any 5 games you wanted with the console and Wii Sports and there may even have been a 1 gig memory card thrown in with it.

Those were the only two bundles on offer.

The lesson from all of this, if indeed there is one, is try to pre-order early with a reputable firm. And by that I mean a company that specialises in computer games if a computer games console is what you're after. For example, Nintendo have a much better relationship with Game than they do with Woolworths or PC World, so it's not too much of a surprise when the latter ring you up on the 19th December to tell you that you'll not be getting a Wii in time for Christmas (a terribly sad story told to me today by a man on the phone). Moreover, pre-order two and flog one on eBay. That'll pay for the rest of your Crimbo pressies!

Update 23/12/06: Reading this post again, I've realised a mistake - I'm pretty sure that in the above deals one would also receive an extra Wiimote but not a nunchuk. Moreover, and more importantly, the lesson, which I failed to state properly, was that if you want to avoid being ripped off and being forced to pay through the nose, pre-order. Glad that's cleared up.

I'm so sorry...

The risk of Aids can be halved by circumcision according to a recent, groundbreaking study.

The head of the WHO's Aids/HIV department? Kevin De Cock.

A Prize For Me!

Yesterday's Wii launch went very well indeed, mainly because the 129 consoles we had in were only for those who had pre-ordered. Thus, there were no real problems and no crush when we opened the shop. That's not to say that we (Wii?) were not busy. Quite the contrary. But it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

In order to make things a little more exciting, there was a little competition in store among the staff with the winner receiving a prize (unfortunately with little ceremony). The big question was how much money would the store take pre-tax. Yours truly was the first to step up to the plate and BANG! knocked it out of the stadium! A mere 10 hours after guessing (we opened at 7am so I got there at 6.30) I was within £200 of the actual figure and I was the victor! Woo! My guess, for those interested, was £38,500. The reward for my outstanding slice of luck was a promo copy of Tony Hawk's Project 8, something I've wanted to play for a while but haven't wanted to fork out cash for.

A guilty pleasure follows: I also picked up Viva Pinata. Those animals are just far too cute for their own good and, thankfully, the gameplay is surprisingly deep. I don't really need a job for the next 8 months. I could just do with finding a way to get someone to pay me to play computer games. Game almost do it, but not quite.

Video of Jordan - makes me all hot and sweaty

No, not that Jordan!

Guitar Hero 2 was released on Friday (24th) and all the reviews, apart from saying what a wonderful and well thought out sequel it is, have commented on the increased difficulty. And boy they're not lying. To honest, I was slightly underwhelmed by Misirlou and Psychobilly Freakout. Yes, they're difficult to 5* but I 3*'d 'em first time on Expert. Institutionalised, Hangar 18 and Free Bird, on the other hand, are disgustingly difficult. And yet there are people who waltz on through them without even starting to suffer from tendonitis.

I thought that Jordan would be a different. It's insane. I'm not actually sure that the guitar solo is playable. Even when taken to the practice room and slowed all the way down. But no, people obviously have bionic fingers. Still the fact that the chaps at Score Hero haven't topped 88% pleases me. It proves that the song is indeed completely mental. I wouldn't expect anything less from Buckethead.



The above video is by quackadilly. He deserves credit for this noble attempt.