Wednesday, 27 April 2011

One Hell Of A Weekend

We've just come back from our annual trip to the coast, and to be honest, we had one hell of a time.
The boy Tony seems to lose his aggressive edge when he moves out of London, and seems more relaxed at the seaside, where he says he feels like he's in another world.
We were joined by our mates Glen, who had his iron bar with him, and Andy, who spent most of the weekend wanting to fight with anybody who even dared to give him a dirty look.
The lager flowed, the cheeseburgers were great and the pizzas were fantastic.
We all stayed in a cheap hotel that overlooked the beach, and although it wasn't a five star affair, we found the hotel comfortable and welcoming. Of course, we left the hotel in the middle of the night, because we had no intention of paying for our rooms, because our unemployment benefit only just pays for our lager and cigarettes.
Anyway, as Tony said as we left like thieves in the night, we left our rooms tidy when we left, so apart from the fact that we haven't paid our six hundred pound bill, the hotel owner hasn't really got that much to complain about!

Sunday, 10 April 2011

Tony & His War Games

Tony's been up all night playing on his games console. He reckons that since last night he has killed literally thousands of other on-line players, and now his ranking has risen to that of three star general.
I haven't seen the boy so excited for such a long time, and as I write, he's dancing around with joy, having just killed another player in New Zealand, who was beginning to get the better of him.
I've told Tony that his health will suffer if he continues to deprive his body of sleep, but as he rightly says, being unemployed, he can spend all day in bed tomorrow, when everybody else goes to work.
We're now getting ready for our usual Sunday lunchtime trip to the pub, where we'll indulge in six or seven pints of strong lager, and then grab a couple of cheeseburgers on the way home.
Tony then plans to continue his war against the rest of the world, with him telling me that he won't sleep until he's reached the rank of Supreme Commander.
I think it's going to be a very long day...

Thursday, 7 April 2011

Thirsty But Surviving

Summer has arrived early in London, and as I write, Tony's got his head out of the only window in the flat, and is looking at the pretty women passing by in the street below.
He's planning a trip to the park later, to see just what's on offer in the line of twenty year old female tourists, and to see if he can sweet talk any of them in going to the pub with us tonight, for a few drinks and perhaps a little bit of rough sex after in the comfort of our stinking but homely flat.
Of course, he hasn't got much hope, because being as fat as he is, he tends to sweat heavily when ever it's hot, and most women find the sight of him dripping in sweat a bit of a turn off. He just says that the ladies don't know what they're missing, and if they're looking for some action with a real man, then it's only men like him who can fit the bill.
Personally, I'll be going to the pub very soon, because the sudden rise in temperature has left me feeling very thirsty.
Tony reckons that a regular intake of  cold, strong lager is the only way to stay cool and avoid dehydration in hot weather, and that if his trip to the park is a waste of time, he'll be joining me at the pub sooner rather than later.
He's now just dousing himself in cheap aftershave before setting off on his scouting mission, and I'm just off to the pub for ten pints of strong lager, if I'm to avoid dying of thirst.

Sunday, 3 April 2011


Tony is well and truly excited. And why? Because since he opened an account with a social networking site, he now has sixteen new friends.
Now, every morning before we go to the pub, he logs into his account, to see what his new friends have got to say for themselves. I must admit that I've never seen the boy so happy, and as he rightly says, the internet, apart from the double cheeseburger, has got to be one of the greatest inventions of the last century.
Personally, I can't see what pleasure he gets from communicating with complete and utter strangers in Australia, China, Canada and Germany, especially as he hates most people who aren't British, and finds trivial conversation a waste of time.
Still, as he says, Sally from Dallas sounds like a real bundle of fun, and if all goes well, he reckons that by the end of the year he'll be flying over to America, to see what Sally is really like.
I didn't mean to upset him, but as I said, Sally is probably just being friendly, and doesn't really give two fucks about a fat, foul-mouthed, unemployed, lager-guzzling bastard like him.
He says that jealousy is a terrible thing, and if he's got sixteen friends, that's fifteen more than I've got.
We're now off to the pub to discuss the matter further, and more importantly work out how a man like Tony, whose fortune amounts to thirty-five pounds and fifty pence, is actually going to pay for an airline ticket, to get him to Dallas (and back)!