Sunday, 26 December 2010

Thank God It's Over

That's another Christmas out of the way.
Tony says that next year he's going to cut out Christmas lunch altogether, and just spend all of the time at the pub.
It was he who prepared this year's festive lunch, and although at the time the idea of turkey burgers and chicken pizza sounded great, when the food arrived at the table yesterday, I thought twice. Of course, I thanked the fat bastard for his efforts, but to be quite honest, even if I was a dog, I would have thought twice before tucking ino the food that was served to me.
Tony just laughed and said that thankfully we had loads of strong lager and whisky to fall back on, and that at the end of the day, it's not as though we're going to die of malnutrition, because we ate nothing all day yesterday.
Thankfully it's been business as usual today, and after eating a disgustingly unhealthy breakfast, we managed to sober up enough at lunchtime, to nip out for a couple of cheeseburgers.
It's  not been a bad Christmas, despite her downstairs keeping us up all night with her loud reggae music and her kids running wild. Tony says that he hopes that they get deported in the new year, and that a decent English person moves into the flat.
We're now off to the pub to spend what's left of our unemployment benefit.

Thursday, 23 December 2010

Almost There!

Tony is full of beans at the prospect of seeing in a new year very soon.
I must admit that I always get a bit sentimental at this time of year, and like to look back at what I've achieved, and what I wish I had achieved.
Of course, this year has turned out like the previous three other years - just a constant succession of complete and utter failure, punctuated by the very occasional high spot.
Here, in London, in our shitty, damp flat, we're still unemployed, still good-for-nothing, and still blaming others for our problems.
Tony says that God has punished us both, because we speak our minds, and don't mind if we offend people with our outspoken views.
Last night, whilst in the pub, Tony started to compile a list of things he would like to achieve in 2011. The list was, of course, very short, and after a few minutes, he gave up completely, and turned his attention to knocking back as many pints of lager as he could, before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
So it's business as usual for The Boy Joy, and for me, and we only hope and pray to the one above that the lager continues to flow, the burgers will still taste as great as ever, and that all immigrants will be deported back to where they came from.
We're now off to the pub!

Sunday, 19 December 2010

Dreaming Of Sex, But Not A White Christmas

Tony has been in a very strange mood today, and this morning I thought that he was bordering on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Not even a couple of double cheeseburgers and ice cold lagers could cheer him up this lunch-time, and although he now seems to have got over his bout of depression, I've decided to keep a close eye on him over the next few days.
It seems that he's frustrated by the lack of sex in his life, and after discussing the matter in-depth whilst dining on the finest burgers our money can buy, he announced that he hasn't had a single sexual encounter throughout the whole of 2010.
Of course, I told the boy that sex isn't everything, but if he wanted to change things, perhaps he should start by losing a few pounds (twenty would be a good start), cut back on the drink and cigarettes, and learn to moderate his language, especially when he's trying to woo the ladies.
He looked at me and said that he can't do anything about his bad language, because he says that he suffers from a medical disorder, which means that he swears when there's no real reason to do so. He then added that he's more than happy with his weight, and that if potential girlfriends are put off by his disgustingly overweight body, then it shows just how shallow people really are, because as he added, behind the blubber, there's an eighteen carat heart of gold. Finally, it's out of the question that he cuts back on the drink  and cigarettes, which he says are the only things, apart from Arsenal football club, which keep him going.
In the end I agreed with him, and said that women would only get in the way of him enjoying himself.
We're now off to the pub to end another glorious week of idleness, where we look forward to getting completely hammered, and upsetting a few non-English passers-by!

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Albanians, Bosnians & Other Eastern European Delights

Where we live in London, it seems that there's a massive number of Albanian and Bosnian immigrants, who spend their days wondering around in large numbers, and generally making a nuisance of themselves.
Of course, a lot of them have come over here to work on building sites, but as Tony rightly says, he'd rather trust a British labourer any day, compared to those that seem to be flooding in to our country from Eastern europe.
Apart from the fact that they refuse to speak English, they also seem to enjoy spending long evenings in our pub, talking loudly, swearing, and stinking the place out with their body odour.
Tony reckons that if things continue like this, he's going to seriously think about changing his drinking venue.
I agree with him, and last night, asked Sid the landlord if there was anything he could do to keep the bastards out of the pub. Sid sympathised, but all the while they're handing over loads of cash for drink, he said that business comes first, and that perhaps we should remember that Bosnians had a hard time in the nineties, when they were subjected to a civil war, and that therefore, we should be a little more understanding.
Well, Tony said that he had never heard such a load of fucking crap in his entire life, and wonders if Sid has undergone a massive personality transplant, because when it comes to racism, he's not usually shy in making his thoughts heard.
Personally, I blame it on the fact that it's almost Christmas, and that Sid has obviously taken it upon himself to show goodwill to all men.
Tony agrees, and says that Christmas is a funny time of year, and does strange things to people, but come the new year, he's certain that Sid will be back to his old self.
We can only hope and pray that he's right!

Monday, 13 December 2010

Fire In His Belly

The boy Tony is well and truly back on his feet. The final phase in what he refers to as "his coming back from the brink of death" was this lunch-time's meal of a double cheeseburger, well-salted fries and a few cans of cold, strong lager.
This afternoon he has been staring out of the window, and shouting obscenities at passers-by, who clearly don't appear to be of British origin. He's also been ranting and raving about the government, and says that tonight, he hopes his beloved Arsenal destroy the beast that is Manchester United.
I admire the boy, and reckon he's right when he says that doctors are a waste of f*cking time, and that only a calorie-saturated cheeseburger is what's needed to get one back on their feet, after a serious illness.
He's got that old mindless thug cum foul-mouthed bigot look back again, and as he says, tonight he's going to get well and truly hammered down the pub, and if Arsenal lose, he'll lash out at the first non-English person he comes across.
All in all, it sounds like a pleasant evening is what lies ahead of us, and I praise the Lord that my only mate in the world is well and truly back on form.
It's a REAL Christmas miracle!

Saturday, 11 December 2010

A Sick Boy

The boy Tony hasn't been very well these last few days, and after having spent three days confined to his bed, he's only just started to move around.
He blames his illness on the fact that he's unemployed, because the government doesn't pay us enough benefits to be able to buy fresh fruit and vegetables, which as we all know, are crammed with vitamins.
I reckon he's not wrong, and have told him that if people like us are expected to use our beer money to buy oranges and apples, then it's a very poor state of affairs indeed.
As Tony says, lager, whisky, cheeseburgers and cigarettes are the priority for us, and if we've got to sacrifice our alcolol intake in the name of staying well, then it's just another kick in the balls for unemployed people.
Of course, he's right when he says immigrants and political refugees get well and truly looked after by our government, whilst British people like us are being treated worse than the very lowest form of life.
We're now off to the pub to enjoy a few pints, and celebrate the fact that Tony is still alive.

Thursday, 9 December 2010

An Alternative Christmas Lunch

Roast turkey is off the menu this year for Christmas day lunch. Tony says that preparing and cooking the traditional Christmas day lunch is just too much hard work, and if last year is anything to go by, I agree with him.
We've both had a serious discussion concerning the subject, and reckon that this Christmas we'll probably dine on turkey burgers, chicken topped pizza and roast potatoes, all of which will be washed down with cold lager and cheap red wine.
I must say that my mouth is already watering at the prospect of such a meal, and I congratulate the boy for coming up with such a wondeful menu.
He says that he could have been a chef at one of London's finest restaurants, and says that people who stick to the traditional turkey have no idea how to live.
I reckon he's right, and agree with him when he says there is no place in our lives for tradition.
We're now off to the pub to enjoy a few pints, before calling it a day, because all of this planning has left us feeling completely worn out.

Tuesday, 7 December 2010

American Candy

Tony was on top form in the pub last night, and he left with a real spring in his step, after spending a few hours with Candy - a 22 year old student, who comes from Florida.
Of course, Tony loving all things American , was immediately taken in by the delightful Candy, and although she's due to return to the States before Christmas, he reckons that he's going to keep in touch with her, by internet.
I've never seen the boy so full of joy, and he reckons that if he plays his cards right, he could end up moving to Florida, and settling down over there.
Of course, I told him he'll need to get a job, but as he said, if it means being near to Candy, it wouldn't bother him if he worked in a hamburger restaurant. Now, I know he loves burgers, but spending eight hours a day cooking and serving the things is something else. Also, he's no good at taking orders from superiors, which obviously would be a bit of a problem if he got a job in a fast-food restaurant, at the very bottom of the career ladder. He agreed that his violent temper may stop a few potential employers from hiring him, but he says that every man should be given a chance.
Personally, I can't see it working, and considering he has a criminal record as long as his arm, and hasn't even got a passport, I reckon he'll still be here this time next year.
The boy knows I'm right, but just hates to admit defeat.

Monday, 6 December 2010

Things To Avoid: Bing Crosby, Alcohol-Free Lager & Fish Burgers

It's THAT time of year again. You know, when people live, eat and drink Christmas. And to be quite honest, Tony and me find it all so very tiring.
There we were in the pub last night, discussing the finer points of world politics, the Arsenal match, and saying how great our pizzas had been (I had a chicken special and Tony went for an Hawaiian), when some sad bastard decided to put White Christmas by Bing Crosby on the juke-box. Tony asked Sid the landlord if the offender could be ejected from the pub, on the grounds that people like us shouldn't have to put up with such slushy crap, whilst knocking back vast amounts of lager and whisky. Sid understood our plight, but said that everybody was entitled to choose what music they listened to, and as the customer is always right, there was nothing he could do about it.
The boy Tony reckons that Bing Crosby is right up there with alchohol-free lager and fish burgers when it comes to things that should be avoided like the plague.
I reckon Tony is right, and so when the offending customer's next song he chose to play was Last Christmas, by Wham, I think he had every reason to unleash a tirade of foul-mouthed abuse.
The customer got the message, and after finishing his glass of orange juice, made a hasty exit.
To be fair, Tony has more or less got his violent temper under control, thanks to the anger management course he attended last year, but as he said, Bing Crosby and Wham would test the patients of a saint, and so he had no regrets in giving the customer a dose of the Tony Joy treatment.

Saturday, 4 December 2010

Pick-pocketing For Beginners

Tony reckons that professional pick-pockets must be rubbing their hands with glee, as the festive season approaches.
I can see what he means: shops, pubs and public transport crammed with stupid tourists, all too distracted to notice that their hard-earned cash is being deftly taken from their pockets and bags.
The boy regrets that he never learnt how to pick-pocket, and says that in the next life he will make sure that he gets his slice of the pie, and even if he has to train 24 hours a day and 7 days a week, he will return as a professional pick-pocket.
Of course, Tony can be proud of the fact that he is already a petty thief - shoplifting being his speciality - but as he says, whilst it's rewarding to walk into a shop, steal a pair of jeans, and leave without paying, it would be even more rewarding if he could help himself to other peoples cash, without ever being caught.
Cash is King, as he often says, and even I would admit that a nice bundle of twenty or fifty pound notes would come in handy every now and then, to help pay for the cheeseburgers and lager we so dearly love to eat and drink.

Friday, 3 December 2010

A Good Deed

There we were, Tony and me, in the pub last night, enjoying a few whiskies, when the ambiance of the evening was ruined by the arrival of a Japanese family, who were clearly lost, and in need of some guidance.
We don't get many Japanese tourists in the pub, partly because we're way off the tourist-trail, but also because our pub is very anti-land-of-the-rising-sun, and all things and people who hail from Japan.
Sid the landlord was disgusted was the father of the family tapped Tony on the shoulder, and in very poor English, asked how to get to Regent Street. Well, of course, Tony doesn't like to be bothered when he's drinking whisky and talking about football, unless it's a matter of life or death, which in this case it certainly wasn't.
To be fair, and because he was in a good mood, Tony politely told the Jap to go and ask a policeman the way to Regent Street, when he would have normally unleashed a load of foul-mouthed abuse. The Jap smiled and before leaving, asked Tony if he could take a photo of him and his family, so he could show his friends back in Tokyo what a typical English pub looked like.
Tony was more than willing, but as he never does anything for free, insisted that he was rewarded with a couple of whiskies for him and me, together with a few beers. The Jap seemed more than pleased to oblige, and even joined us at the bar, to toast the Queen and all things English.
Even Sid chuckled at the scene that unfolded before his very eyes, and when the Jap had left, he agreed that although he hates the slitty-eyed b*stards, he's more than happy to take their cash from them.

Wednesday, 1 December 2010

No Festive Joy Around Here

This year we won't be bothering with a Christmas tree, because Tony reckons that we haven't got a lot to celebrate. I've told him that we've got our health, we've got a roof over our heads, and although we're unemployed, we've still got hope.
He admires my spirit, but is adamant that Christmas will be off the menu this year, and that anyway, it's only for kids.
Of course, we will still go to the pub over the festive period, with a view to getting hopelessly drunk and causing trouble along the way, but there's no way we're going to be decorating the flat with garlands and plastic holly.
I think the boy is right when he says that it's been a tough year, and I agree with him when he says that during the lowest moments of 2010, it's only been strong lager, cigarettes and cheeseburgers that have kept us going, when other people would have given up all hope.
Now we're off to the pub for a few pints of liquid therapy, and maybe a game of darts...