Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Depressed

Tony is currently suffering from depression, and not even the offer of a lunchtime drink and a few of his favourite cheeseburgers can do much to raise his spirits.
He says that it's normal that he's depressed, because when he looks at his life, and what he's achieved, he reckons that his time on earth has been nothing short of a tragedy, and that he feels that he's being persecuted for being a foul-mouthed, obese layabout.
Somebody in the pub said that the church can do wonders for people like Tony, but Tony reckons that religion may be a great healer, but he doubts it can do much for him, considering he's an atheist.
Personally, I've seen him like this before, so I know that in a few days he'll be back to his old self, and bouncing around full of joy, and looking forward to getting drunk at the weekend.
Until then, it's best to leave the fat bastard well and truly alone, and let him wallow in his misery.
So now I'm off to the pub on my own, to enjoy a few pints of strong lager, and then I'm off to my favourite fast food restaurant, for a couple of double cheeseburgers and whatever else my limited budget can pay for.

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

The Boy Is Back

Tony is safely back in London, and as we prepare for our first trip to the pub together since he left, he says that it's great to be back home.
Apparently, he spent a good few days with his son, Ray, but apart from that, he reckons his trip to the coast left him feeling depressed and isolated.
I reckon he's right when he says life in a big city is much better than spending one's days walking along a promenade whilst breathing in the sea air, which everybody kept telling him is good for one's health. Well, of course, Tony has never been much of a fitness freak, so walking miles and miles every day for the sake of his health seems such a waste of time. He prefers to walk just a few hundred yards to the pub, sit on his favourite stool, and down excessive amounts of strong lager. Now, THAT may be bad for his health, but as he rightly says, he's been drinking heavily and smoking excessively for god only knows how many years, and he's never felt fitter.
Okay, he admits that he's obese, and has got a terrible cough, but apart from that, he reckons that his diet of lager and cigarettes hasn't done him any harm up to now.
I'm just glad that the fat bastard has made it back in one piece, and now to quench his thirst, and indeed mine, we're off to the pub for at least ten pints, and then off for the finest pizzas our money can buy.

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Off To The Coast

The boy Tony is leaving London for a few days, and heading to the Kent coast, so he can spend some time with his son, Ray.
Tony split up with his partner a few years ago, after a turbulent relationship, which Tony describes as "the worst few years" of his life. Still, he's proud of his son, and is glad that his boy is already beginning to resemble his father. It's true that Ray is a chip off the old block, and although he's only six, his obesity is there for all to see, his use of foul language can only be admired, and although he's only young, he's already got a taste for strong lager and cigarettes, which Tony reckons will prepare his boy for the harshness of life, when he gets older.
I reckon Tony's right when he says that only the fittest survive, and that places like London can only harden people to the harsh realities of life.
Tony's also looking forward to getting some fresh, sea air into his lungs, and above all, he's getting really excited about taking a train to the coast, which he says adds to the romance of the situation.
As I know only too well, Tony just loves travelling by train, because as he rightly says, you can drink yourself senseless, stare out of the window, and just enjoy the ride.
Bon voyage you fat bastard, and come back soon!

Sunday, 13 March 2011

A Perfect Opportunity...

The royal wedding is just under two months away, and although Tony and me are very anti-royal, Tony reckons that with all of the millions of toursists pouring into London to get a glimpse of the occasion, the opportunity for him to indulge in a bit of pick-pocketing will be just perfect.
He's already worked out his plan of attack, and reckons that if everything goes well, he will be a few thousand pounds richer by the end of April.
I must say that the boy is really coming on well with his new career, and although he agrees that theft is wrong, it always brings a smile to his face when he thinks about how easy it is to earn so much cash, without much effort at all.
Of course, he knows that there will be a massive police presence at the wedding, but as he says, the average English policeman is no match for his stealth.
Anyway, as Tony says, if the government paid us more unemployment benefit, and gave us an occasional bonus, people like him wouldn't have to turn to petty crime. Once again, the boy has hit the nail on the head with his analysis of the problem, and I can only agree with him when he says that only the government is to blame for the increase in crime.

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Dreaming Of Summer

Tony and me are looking forward to summer, when, as Tony says, "the days are hot and long, and the lager is cold and welcoming."
Also, this year, summer is going to be extra special for us two, because we're going to spend a few days at the seaside, to get some decent air into our lungs, and forget about our problems back here in London.
Sid, the landlord of our favourite pub, is organising another weekend away on the coast, and if last year's trip is anything to go by, this year's outing is sure to be something special.
Of course, some people think that unemployed people like us have no right whatsoever to go on holiday, but as Tony rightly says, everybody is entitled to a break every now and then. And what's more, we are contributing to the cost of the weekend, with everybody else who'll be joining us.
July seems like years away, but as I write, Tony is next door going through his collection of t-shirts, to see if he still fits into any of them.
The boy is well and truly excited about the trip, and says that a bit of sea air, fights with complete and utter strangers and then going on the rampage through the town centre are the sort of things that make a holiday a holiday to remember. Also, this year, our mate Glen will be joining us, so mindless violence and heavy drinking will certainly be on the menu.
We're now off to the pub to get ourselves into the holiday mood.

Sunday, 6 March 2011

A Walk In The Park

The great thing about where we live in London is the fact that not too far away there's a small park, which Tony calls "a little bit of the countryside, in the middle of a concrete cesspit."
The boy never ceases to amaze me with his poetic descriptions of life in the city, but I reckon he's right when he says that it's a real boost to know that just across the road, there's a place where we can go, when we want to get "back in touch with nature."
Of course, the park has always been a favourite place for Tony, because it's there where he enjoys nothing more than attacking yuppies, in the middle of the afternoon, in the name of pleasure. He's also been known to spray racist comments across the war memorial, and when he's really drunk, run half-naked through the park's lake, screaming obscenities at the top of his voice.
We're eagerly awaiting the arrival of springtime, because then we can take our barbecue to the park, grill a few sausages, drink heavily until nightfall, and then return to our flat completely relaxed. Unfortunately, the police usually don't quite agree with our idea of having a good time, but as Tony says, all the while we're unemployed, we're always going to be persecuted.
Still, as I write, my mouth is watering at the prospect of our first outdoor meal of the year, but in the meantime, we're just going to have to make do with a few more indoor meals, until spring finally gets here.

Friday, 4 March 2011

Five Glorious Years

The boy Tony and me have been celebrating the fact that we've both been unemployed for five years.
We once worked for the same commercial bank, held good positions, and earnt a decent salary, but after the bank was sold, our jobs went, and now here we are, unemployed.
Of course, as Tony says, we could waste the rest of our lives thinking about the past, but that will never bring us our jobs back. NO, NO and NO! So we decided a long time ago to give up looking for work, and instead indulge in our favourite pastimes of drinking, smoking and eating cheeseburgers.
As Tony says, we're a burden to decent, hard working tax-payers, because it's people like them who pay for us. But as I said, quite frankly, I don't give two fucks, and regret that I never took up unemployment earlier in life.
As I write, the boy is next door getting ready for our trip to the pub. Tony and me both enjoy our daily drinking sessions, because as he says, if it wasn't for strong lager and vast amounts of whisky, we wouldn't have much to live for.
Now I'll drink to that!

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

Our Blocked Toilet

This week has not got off to a good start.
Firstly, that lot in the upstairs flat kept us up all night with their loud music and constant shouting, which Tony reckons in unacceptable in a civilised country like England. He quite rightly says that if people like them want to play their bongo music, and scream and shout whilst stomping their feet heavily on their floor (our ceiling), then it's best that they return to their native africa, where that sort of thing is the norm.
And now, if that's not bad enough, our toilet is blocked!
The boy Tony has already had a go at repairing what he calls the "flushing mechanism," but admits that plumbing is not one of his strong points. The stench has now become unbearable, and as I write, Tony is trying to contact our landlord, a greek gentleman who goes by the name of Stavros.
Unfortunately, Stavros is nowhere to be found, so in the meantime, to mask the smell of Tony's bowel contents, we've deciced that we're going to get a couple of cheeseburgers each, bring them back to the flat, and use the smell of them to counteract the odour coming from the bathroom. Of course, it's only a temporary measure, but as Tony says, it's better than nothing.
Fortunately, our mate Glen is coming to see us tonight, and although, like us, he knows fuck all about plumbing, I'm sure that when he gets his hands on Stavros, he'll look forward to giving the greek bastard a good beating, which Glen reckons is long overdue.
We're now off in search of our burgers!