When I was in year 10 I think it was, we had to fill out a form on some computer programme which told us what job would be perfect for us when we left school. This computer programme, which I seem to remember was called Kudos, decided that the perfect job for me was Sign Maker. That's right, someone that had just decided in his options to give up anything DT related, and had also given up Art, would be right at home in a job which, if I rose far up the sign making ladder, could eventually land me a massive £19,000 a year. Naturally, I still salivate at the thought of this career. Second place if you were wondering, went to me becoming a Stage/Floor Manager at a Theatre or Television Studio. That was a pretty good call by Kudos, to be fair. I'm at least interested in that kind of industry.
Anyway, back to the point. What I am wondering dear reader, is what the hell did the guy who has the easiest job in the world get? I don't really care obviously, it just links in nicely for me to tell you what the easiest job in the world must be. If you are wondering what the easiest job in the world is, it is quite simply Head Buyer for TK Maxx. Or maybe Chief of Sales. I don't know what the exact job title would be but he or she undoubtedly has the easiest job in the world.
If you are unfamiliar with TK Maxx, it is a shop which for the most part, has the highest turnover of complete crap you have ever seen. My Auntie thinks it is brilliant for its cheap clothes. but 99.9% of clothes in TK Maxx are horrendous. The reason they are there and selling below RRP is because nobody else wanted them. The thing is with TK Maxx, and its supporters, is that they only ever mention the clothes, forgetting that at least a quarter of the store is made up of other completely useless shit.
Whenever I go in there, I generally flick through a couple of T-Shirts, note they are all still completely defunct of any redeeming features, and then I head to Africa. Before visiting the garden. And then the library. And then Toys 'R' Us. All within one aisle of each other. The last time I was there I looked at some funky African style tribal mask (made in Spain!), a stone snail for the garden, a book by Chantelle from Celebrity Big Brother a few years ago and then some Wizard gaming figures which comprised of 3 characters in robes which all looked suspiciously like another far more famous wizard franchise. Still...only £5.99!
My question is ... who buys this crap? I mean, really? Really? REALLY?! The fact it was in the store means that people do clearly buy this stuff and although it has no redeeming value whatsoever, does sell. Thus, I can only assume the Head Buyer for TK Maxx has the easiest job of all time. I assume he buys stuff on a simple question and answer survey:
1. Would they buy it for themselves?
Yes - Pass.
No - Proceed to question two.
2. Does it have any redeeming qualities?
Yes - Pass.
No - Buy it for TK Maxx.
I assume that is how items are bought in bulk for TK Maxx. I could be wrong, he may just ask the seller to describe it and if they start with, "Well, it's a bit shit really..." Then it gets added to the company credit card.
So there you go. Head Buyer of TK Maxx. They sell crap. As a result, it's the easiest job in the world.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Friday, 26 March 2010
The Australians
Here is a sketch about stereotypes...
Steve: All right Bruce?
Bruce: Ah, g’day Steve. How’s it going?
Steve: Not great. I just read an article about how people stereotype Australia.
Bruce: Oh i hate that. They have these ideas about us and...hey can I get you a beer?
Steve: Ah cheers man. Fosters?
Bruce: Or 4X.
Steve: Nah, Fosters for me.
Bruce: There ya go.
Steve: Ta.
Bruce: So stereotyping?
Steve: Yeah...oh I’ve just noticed your hat.
Bruce: Ah check out those corks. Quality, eh?
Steve: It’s great! So how’s Sheila?
Bruce: She’s good, yeah...oh hang on that reminds me. Sheila! Could you put some more shrimp on the barbie?
Steve: And the kids?
Bruce: They’re great. Out every day with our kangaroo, Skippy. Solving crimes, that sort of thing.
Steve: Oh that’s cool.
Bruce: So what about you?
Steve: I'm going to watch Crocodile Dundee later.
Bruce: Nice! I love Crocodile Dundee. Great documentary.
Steve: I’ve also got my trip to Uluru tomorrow with the family. Meet the old Aborigines.
Bruce: Yeah! Nice. I love Ayers Rock. And how’s Sheila?
Steve: She’s fantastic. Absolute ripper. She’s swimming with Flipper at the moment and then tomorrow when I’m at Uluru, she’s going to be singing at the Opera House.
Bruce: Oh that’s cool!
Steve: With our old mate Rolf Harris!
Bruce: Awesome!
Steve: Yeah, not before we see the little one play the Dame Edna 7th Annual Beach Volleyball tournament though. Should be cool.
Bruce: Excellent. So anyway have you been watching the cricket? Or the rugby?
Steve: No, Sheila’s been addicted to bloody Neighbours and Home & Away the past few days. Plus the koala’s keeping us up. It’s just not getting on with the platypus at all.
Bruce: Ah that’s a shame.
American: G’day boys!
Steve: See this is what I mean!
Bruce: Stereotyping! We never say that. I suppose you think we have knives like these on us all the time too.
American: Ha! That’s not a knife! This is a knife!
Steve: What? Jesus! That’s a gun! Get your podgy finger away from it!
American: Huh?
BANG
Steve: All right Bruce?
Bruce: Ah, g’day Steve. How’s it going?
Steve: Not great. I just read an article about how people stereotype Australia.
Bruce: Oh i hate that. They have these ideas about us and...hey can I get you a beer?
Steve: Ah cheers man. Fosters?
Bruce: Or 4X.
Steve: Nah, Fosters for me.
Bruce: There ya go.
Steve: Ta.
Bruce: So stereotyping?
Steve: Yeah...oh I’ve just noticed your hat.
Bruce: Ah check out those corks. Quality, eh?
Steve: It’s great! So how’s Sheila?
Bruce: She’s good, yeah...oh hang on that reminds me. Sheila! Could you put some more shrimp on the barbie?
Steve: And the kids?
Bruce: They’re great. Out every day with our kangaroo, Skippy. Solving crimes, that sort of thing.
Steve: Oh that’s cool.
Bruce: So what about you?
Steve: I'm going to watch Crocodile Dundee later.
Bruce: Nice! I love Crocodile Dundee. Great documentary.
Steve: I’ve also got my trip to Uluru tomorrow with the family. Meet the old Aborigines.
Bruce: Yeah! Nice. I love Ayers Rock. And how’s Sheila?
Steve: She’s fantastic. Absolute ripper. She’s swimming with Flipper at the moment and then tomorrow when I’m at Uluru, she’s going to be singing at the Opera House.
Bruce: Oh that’s cool!
Steve: With our old mate Rolf Harris!
Bruce: Awesome!
Steve: Yeah, not before we see the little one play the Dame Edna 7th Annual Beach Volleyball tournament though. Should be cool.
Bruce: Excellent. So anyway have you been watching the cricket? Or the rugby?
Steve: No, Sheila’s been addicted to bloody Neighbours and Home & Away the past few days. Plus the koala’s keeping us up. It’s just not getting on with the platypus at all.
Bruce: Ah that’s a shame.
American: G’day boys!
Steve: See this is what I mean!
Bruce: Stereotyping! We never say that. I suppose you think we have knives like these on us all the time too.
American: Ha! That’s not a knife! This is a knife!
Steve: What? Jesus! That’s a gun! Get your podgy finger away from it!
American: Huh?
BANG
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
The Best Invention Of All Time
A while ago, I was sitting with my brother (that shows it was a while ago; he doesn't live with me anymore) and we were watching something on TV when I had a thought. It wasn't particularly interesting but I thought I'd ask my brother for his opinion on the matter.
So I casually asked him what was the best invention of all time. My answer was pretty good, so he'd have to go some way to top it. If you can think up one now then that'd be cool. Play along at home. Just have a think.
Anyway, he thought for a moment. And by a moment, I mean a good 30 seconds of contemplation. Before delivering an epic speech that I was not expecting.
"Time." He said finally.
Yes, he can be a clever little shit sometimes.
He went on... "Because, think about it. There is no such thing as time really. I mean there is, but no way of measuring it. We invented that. We came up with seconds and minutes and hours. How long does it take to get somewhere? Time. How old we are. Time. How long something takes to cook. Time." He went on in this vain for far too long and my mind wandered for his last few minutes praising the advent of time.
My mind only reconnected with the real world when he had finished and I had him utter, "why, what were you thinking?"
Now, before I tell you my answer, I don't think it needs to be explained. When compared to my brother's answer it may not really look as though I had put as much thought into my own question as he had, but in its own way, I still admire my almost naive approach to conjuring up what I believed (at least prior to asking my brother), to be the best invention of all time.
What was my answer I here you ask?
A toaster.
So I casually asked him what was the best invention of all time. My answer was pretty good, so he'd have to go some way to top it. If you can think up one now then that'd be cool. Play along at home. Just have a think.
Anyway, he thought for a moment. And by a moment, I mean a good 30 seconds of contemplation. Before delivering an epic speech that I was not expecting.
"Time." He said finally.
Yes, he can be a clever little shit sometimes.
He went on... "Because, think about it. There is no such thing as time really. I mean there is, but no way of measuring it. We invented that. We came up with seconds and minutes and hours. How long does it take to get somewhere? Time. How old we are. Time. How long something takes to cook. Time." He went on in this vain for far too long and my mind wandered for his last few minutes praising the advent of time.
My mind only reconnected with the real world when he had finished and I had him utter, "why, what were you thinking?"
Now, before I tell you my answer, I don't think it needs to be explained. When compared to my brother's answer it may not really look as though I had put as much thought into my own question as he had, but in its own way, I still admire my almost naive approach to conjuring up what I believed (at least prior to asking my brother), to be the best invention of all time.
What was my answer I here you ask?
A toaster.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Facebook Rant
As I write this, my internet is down. Yeah, I know you are reading this and thinking, “But this is a blog on the internet, how is your internet down?” Well, I was sad enough to open Microsoft Word and type my thoughts down in frustration. I then copied and pasted the words into a blog when the internet decided to try again.
I get really frustrated when the internet is down. I guarantee half the people who just read that sentence thought, ‘sexually frustrated?’ and thought they were being original. You weren’t and you’re not. It just pisses me off that it happens when you are actually busy working on something like a collaborative script with someone and you are conversing over the medium of Skype about it and then the internet goes ‘Ehh...’
Useless. Bloody useless.
Although I like the fact that sometimes it happens for only 20 seconds and it makes my blood boil. Suddenly I think the world owes me something for this amazing creation that can give me any knowledge on any subject in about 5 seconds. When it doesn’t, I am stunned and angry and generally mocking its ability.
Okay so there is a lack of anything funny so far I grant you. So I shall talk to you about Facebook. And in particular Facebook Chat.
Jason Timms pops up. ‘Hi.’ Fuck off Jason Timms. We never spoke at school. I only accepted you because I was vaguely intrigued as to whether you would end up as a binman in Staines like I thought you might. ‘What you up to?’ I said fuck off Jason Timms! If I wanted to talk to you I would have replied by now. My status circle thing is green which means I am here and I can see it. I just don’t want to talk to you.
‘Fancy coming out next week?’ Jason! Please! Shut up! You know what? Fine. I shall respond. Just to reject your invitation. ‘No. Fuck off.’ Then I press enter. Jason Timms has gone offline. What!? Bullshit. I call bullshit that Jason Timms has gone offline Facebook. Everyone else is still online. All 62 people with nothing better to do than be online and on Facebook. Bullshit would he go offline before I have verbally berated him. No I’m not having that. ‘Fuck you Jason.’
Jason Timms is back online. ‘What?’ Ah crap. Thanks Facebook. Now Jason Timms, ballbag though he is, wants me dead. Thanks a lot Facebook. I’ll go offline. Oh a comment on a picture! Oh Facebook. I’m barely in it and it isn’t about me. Surely you can see that. They are having a conversation about how immense that night was. I don’t even know three of the people talking. STOP SENDING ME NOTIFICATIONS ON THAT ONE SODDING PICTURE.
In fact, if I like something when bored, that is not an invitation for two other people to have a chat on that status that goes on the whole night. I don’t want 22 notifications telling me they are still talking. Who is Dave Westbury and why does he want to be my friend? I don’t care if he drives the uni bus. I don’t get the uni bus. REJECTION. Ooh a message. No! No! Fuck off Jason Timms! Yes, I went offline, because I realised you were going to be a tool. Oh no. You don’t want me at your party anymore. Boo fucking hoo.
A notification. Ooh two notifications actually. Girls! Stop talking on that sodding picture. Ooh an event invitation. Jason. Seriously. You just told me how much you don’t want me there. Don’t go inviting me just to piss me off. What the-? You have invited 363 people? You’re whole friends list? For pre-drinks then town? Do you want your house intact by the end of it? And how are you planning on taking 363 people to town? Mate, it’s Bournemouth not a blitzkrieg. I’ll click maybe attending. That means ‘No’ 90% of the time, if you’re wondering. Another friend request? Dave! Dave Westbury! What the hell? You know I just rejected you. I’m going to reject again. And next time the police will be getting a call. Don’t go adding me again you freak. Go to bed. You shouldn’t be up now anyway. What’s this? Two page requests? One group request?
No, I do not want to be a fan of Rocky Balboa. No, I do not want to become a fan of dead baby jokes. No, you will not change your name to Frankenstein if myself and 999,999 others join this group. Stop being a tit and grow up. What does the group say? You’re 32. Dude, seriously. I don’t think that’ll make me think you’re ‘cool’ or a ‘wacky kinda guy’ who ‘appeals to the kids’. I’ll just think you’re a tool. Like when that 50 year old bloke skateboards down the high street with his top off and Oakley sunglasses. I don’t think ‘Ooh nice. That looks like a fun mode of transport. Maybe I’ll give it a go. ’ No, I tend to think, ‘Cock.’
Generally he’ll then stop his skateboard having gone past me. He’ll turn and remove his shades. “Is that you? You want to school with my son I think. Jason Timms?”
Seriously Facebook. Fuck you.
The internet still isn’t back up as I finish this...but this has been very cathartic. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
---
And that is what I wrote last night.
I get really frustrated when the internet is down. I guarantee half the people who just read that sentence thought, ‘sexually frustrated?’ and thought they were being original. You weren’t and you’re not. It just pisses me off that it happens when you are actually busy working on something like a collaborative script with someone and you are conversing over the medium of Skype about it and then the internet goes ‘Ehh...’
Useless. Bloody useless.
Although I like the fact that sometimes it happens for only 20 seconds and it makes my blood boil. Suddenly I think the world owes me something for this amazing creation that can give me any knowledge on any subject in about 5 seconds. When it doesn’t, I am stunned and angry and generally mocking its ability.
Okay so there is a lack of anything funny so far I grant you. So I shall talk to you about Facebook. And in particular Facebook Chat.
Jason Timms pops up. ‘Hi.’ Fuck off Jason Timms. We never spoke at school. I only accepted you because I was vaguely intrigued as to whether you would end up as a binman in Staines like I thought you might. ‘What you up to?’ I said fuck off Jason Timms! If I wanted to talk to you I would have replied by now. My status circle thing is green which means I am here and I can see it. I just don’t want to talk to you.
‘Fancy coming out next week?’ Jason! Please! Shut up! You know what? Fine. I shall respond. Just to reject your invitation. ‘No. Fuck off.’ Then I press enter. Jason Timms has gone offline. What!? Bullshit. I call bullshit that Jason Timms has gone offline Facebook. Everyone else is still online. All 62 people with nothing better to do than be online and on Facebook. Bullshit would he go offline before I have verbally berated him. No I’m not having that. ‘Fuck you Jason.’
Jason Timms is back online. ‘What?’ Ah crap. Thanks Facebook. Now Jason Timms, ballbag though he is, wants me dead. Thanks a lot Facebook. I’ll go offline. Oh a comment on a picture! Oh Facebook. I’m barely in it and it isn’t about me. Surely you can see that. They are having a conversation about how immense that night was. I don’t even know three of the people talking. STOP SENDING ME NOTIFICATIONS ON THAT ONE SODDING PICTURE.
In fact, if I like something when bored, that is not an invitation for two other people to have a chat on that status that goes on the whole night. I don’t want 22 notifications telling me they are still talking. Who is Dave Westbury and why does he want to be my friend? I don’t care if he drives the uni bus. I don’t get the uni bus. REJECTION. Ooh a message. No! No! Fuck off Jason Timms! Yes, I went offline, because I realised you were going to be a tool. Oh no. You don’t want me at your party anymore. Boo fucking hoo.
A notification. Ooh two notifications actually. Girls! Stop talking on that sodding picture. Ooh an event invitation. Jason. Seriously. You just told me how much you don’t want me there. Don’t go inviting me just to piss me off. What the-? You have invited 363 people? You’re whole friends list? For pre-drinks then town? Do you want your house intact by the end of it? And how are you planning on taking 363 people to town? Mate, it’s Bournemouth not a blitzkrieg. I’ll click maybe attending. That means ‘No’ 90% of the time, if you’re wondering. Another friend request? Dave! Dave Westbury! What the hell? You know I just rejected you. I’m going to reject again. And next time the police will be getting a call. Don’t go adding me again you freak. Go to bed. You shouldn’t be up now anyway. What’s this? Two page requests? One group request?
No, I do not want to be a fan of Rocky Balboa. No, I do not want to become a fan of dead baby jokes. No, you will not change your name to Frankenstein if myself and 999,999 others join this group. Stop being a tit and grow up. What does the group say? You’re 32. Dude, seriously. I don’t think that’ll make me think you’re ‘cool’ or a ‘wacky kinda guy’ who ‘appeals to the kids’. I’ll just think you’re a tool. Like when that 50 year old bloke skateboards down the high street with his top off and Oakley sunglasses. I don’t think ‘Ooh nice. That looks like a fun mode of transport. Maybe I’ll give it a go. ’ No, I tend to think, ‘Cock.’
Generally he’ll then stop his skateboard having gone past me. He’ll turn and remove his shades. “Is that you? You want to school with my son I think. Jason Timms?”
Seriously Facebook. Fuck you.
The internet still isn’t back up as I finish this...but this has been very cathartic. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
---
And that is what I wrote last night.
Sunday, 14 March 2010
A sketch - The Chat
So I have had a disagreement over the inclusion of a sketch in a radio show. I think it's hilarious. They don't think it'll work. Judge for yourself.
Note that the two main voices sound like lower class chav style voices.
The Chat
Ringing...
Dazza: Hello is that-
Jase: Dazza?!
Dazza: Jase? IS that you?
Jase: Oh mate! How’s it going? What’s up man?
Dazza: Oh this is mental! Haven’t spoken to you in what...a while. God!
Jase: Yeah so what’s going on dude?
Dazza: Well you know, this and that. Got a new bird on the go. Clarissa. She’s top man.
Jase: Ace.
Dazza: Yeah and err...living in Weston Road. Nice little place there. Hooked up the old hi-fi the other day. Pretty sweet.
Jase: Nice, nice...
Dazze: So what about you Jase, me old man? How’s it going?
Jase: Oh mate! Oh mate, OH MATE! What can I say? Life is good! Got a kid!
Dazza: A kid?
Jase: Yeah! With Gemma. Felix. He’s cute as hell. Ah man.
Dazza: That’s great! Proper good, dude.
Jase: Yeah...oh God we should have a beer!
Dazza: Yeah, that’d be awesome. Oh man! My old buddy Jase on the phone! (to someone else) My old buddy Jase! Come say hi..come on.
Lisa: I don’t want..hello?
Jase: Haha! Oh God! Hello?
Pause.
Dazza: Me again mate! Oh that’s Lisa! Work colleague. Oh she’s scowling at me now. Proper scowling! Ah she’s mental.
Jase: Classic mate, classic.
Dazza: Yeah! So where were we?
Jase: A beer!
Dazza: Yes! Do you still know Ricky B?
Jase: Yeah.
Dazza: Text him man. He’s got my number. I mean I should probably be telling you about this thing anyways.
Jase: Oh, I guess so then. What’s the deets?
Dazza: (suddenly serious) right we need an ambulance over to 43 Wellington Road. Possible cardiac arrest. 50 year old male with breathing problems and we need an ambulance there quick.
Jase: On my way.
So that's it. Maybe I'm biased but I think the punchline is really pretty strong. But I want to know...It doesn't make to much difference as I'm taking it to Edinburgh but yeah...
Note that the two main voices sound like lower class chav style voices.
The Chat
Ringing...
Dazza: Hello is that-
Jase: Dazza?!
Dazza: Jase? IS that you?
Jase: Oh mate! How’s it going? What’s up man?
Dazza: Oh this is mental! Haven’t spoken to you in what...a while. God!
Jase: Yeah so what’s going on dude?
Dazza: Well you know, this and that. Got a new bird on the go. Clarissa. She’s top man.
Jase: Ace.
Dazza: Yeah and err...living in Weston Road. Nice little place there. Hooked up the old hi-fi the other day. Pretty sweet.
Jase: Nice, nice...
Dazze: So what about you Jase, me old man? How’s it going?
Jase: Oh mate! Oh mate, OH MATE! What can I say? Life is good! Got a kid!
Dazza: A kid?
Jase: Yeah! With Gemma. Felix. He’s cute as hell. Ah man.
Dazza: That’s great! Proper good, dude.
Jase: Yeah...oh God we should have a beer!
Dazza: Yeah, that’d be awesome. Oh man! My old buddy Jase on the phone! (to someone else) My old buddy Jase! Come say hi..come on.
Lisa: I don’t want..hello?
Jase: Haha! Oh God! Hello?
Pause.
Dazza: Me again mate! Oh that’s Lisa! Work colleague. Oh she’s scowling at me now. Proper scowling! Ah she’s mental.
Jase: Classic mate, classic.
Dazza: Yeah! So where were we?
Jase: A beer!
Dazza: Yes! Do you still know Ricky B?
Jase: Yeah.
Dazza: Text him man. He’s got my number. I mean I should probably be telling you about this thing anyways.
Jase: Oh, I guess so then. What’s the deets?
Dazza: (suddenly serious) right we need an ambulance over to 43 Wellington Road. Possible cardiac arrest. 50 year old male with breathing problems and we need an ambulance there quick.
Jase: On my way.
So that's it. Maybe I'm biased but I think the punchline is really pretty strong. But I want to know...It doesn't make to much difference as I'm taking it to Edinburgh but yeah...
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Coins
I am sorry for deserting you for so long my dear faithful blog readers, of which there are perhaps five? Maybe less. Maybe more. How vague.
I have been very busy performing in a play, writing up a film idea (very excited and pleased with that) and planning to take a sketch show to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. in fact you can follow that particular blog at:
http://performanceterrorists.blogspot.com
I know, I know. It just kind of trips off the tongue doesn't it?
Anyway we shall see how that goes in due course.
For now though, I'd like to speak to you about coins. That's right. Coins. And why oh why can we not get them from the cash machine? the amount of times I have gone to the cash machine to get money out for a friend I owe...only to then have to figure out how exactly we will change the ten pounds into six pounds fifty because he has no change.
My solution is basically having coins available to fall out the machine at your request. It's genius. It's not particularly funny in any way, I just thought I'd bring it up.
I may even have mentioned it before but I'm not sure. So here it is again. It's the future!
Maybe.
Possibly.
Probably not.
Oh.
I have been very busy performing in a play, writing up a film idea (very excited and pleased with that) and planning to take a sketch show to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. in fact you can follow that particular blog at:
http://performanceterrorists.blogspot.com
I know, I know. It just kind of trips off the tongue doesn't it?
Anyway we shall see how that goes in due course.
For now though, I'd like to speak to you about coins. That's right. Coins. And why oh why can we not get them from the cash machine? the amount of times I have gone to the cash machine to get money out for a friend I owe...only to then have to figure out how exactly we will change the ten pounds into six pounds fifty because he has no change.
My solution is basically having coins available to fall out the machine at your request. It's genius. It's not particularly funny in any way, I just thought I'd bring it up.
I may even have mentioned it before but I'm not sure. So here it is again. It's the future!
Maybe.
Possibly.
Probably not.
Oh.
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