Thursday, 26 May 2011

A Fucking Salesman From Hell

So there we were tonight, enjoying a few glasses of whisky, a packet of cigarettes between us and a couple of cheeseburgers each, when the telephone rang.
It was some smooth talking salesman asking if we had ever thought about buying a holiday home on the south coast of Spain, where, as he explained, it never rains, and the temperature is always a lot hotter than back home in England.
Well, Tony was most upset that our evening in front of the television was ruined, especially as we were enjoying one of our favourite war films, where loads of germans get killed, but as hard as he tried to get rid of the salesman, the guy at the other end of the line was having none of it.
In the end, Tony told the caller that Spain does as much for him as a dose of venereal disease, and since global warming has well and truly fucked up the climate, he was fairly certain that it was hotter in London than in downtown Madrid. There was a slight pause, before the salesman realised that he was on a hopeless mission, and wished Tony a pleasant evening.
Still, it's not the first time that our evening's entertainment has been ruined, as only lasy week, whilst we were watching a documentary about the sex lives of badgers, some bastard called to see if we were interested in buying a very sharp set of kitchen knives. Well, to Tony, it was an opportunity not to be missed, and since he's taken delivery of the said set of knives, I can confirm that I sleep a lot safer at night, knowing that Tony is in the room next door, armed to the teeth, and ready to stab the first fucking intruder who even thinks about breaking into our shitty fucking flat.

Saturday, 21 May 2011

Jim's Coming Home

Tonight, down at the pub, we’re having a welcome home party for Jim, a dear old friend of ours, who has finally been released from prison, after completing his sentence for attempted murder.
Jim is much admired by all in the pub, and so as not to take the shine off tonight’s party, Sid, the pub landlord, is making it a private affair, with outsiders definately not welcome. Tony reckons that Sid has made a good move, because as he says, we don’t want outsiders coming in, and ruining what is going to be one hell of an evening. And as the boy rightly says, Jim needs some time to adapt to his freedom, without being surrounded by the usual dross and scum that come in through the pub doors on a friday night.
Sid has supplied a buffet, which very generously he has paid for, as his way of welcoming Jim back into the fold. We’ve live music planned, and to top the evening, we’ve got a stripper booked, because we reckon Jim has probably missed more than anything the sight of a nice bit of female flesh, whilst he was banged up, four to a cell, in prison.
Glen and his iron bar* will also be joining the party, together with our other old friend, Andy, who is actually up in front of the judge himself next week, on a violent conduct charge. Of course, as Tony says, Andy will be proved innocent, because once again, the police are just being vindictive, and have no real evidence that he beat the hell out of a guy that accidentally bumped into him in the street.
Our mouths are watering at the prospect of Andy getting off, because as Tony says, it’ll be another excuse to have another party!
*Our friend Glen never goes anywhere without his iron bar, which he likes to use to settle disputes, whenever the need arises.

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Those Sexy American Girls

We had a great time today at the pub, partly because Tony and I drank until we couldn't stand up, and also because we met a couple of young and ready-to-try-anything students, called Carly and Kelly.
The two students told us they came from the west coast of America, and when Tony heard that, I thought he was going to wet himself.
Of course, you might well know that Tony loves all things American, from cheeseburgers to Coke, and Kojak (the original series with Telly Salavas) to Budweiser, so when our two admirers introduced themselves, he was halfway to heaven, thinking about how he was going to educate the delightful Carly (I went for Kelly) in the art of rough sex and beer drinking, back at our flat.
Unfortunately, because of our morning's intake of strong lager and whisky, neither of us were capable of sex on the sofa, and we had a hell of a job even trying to make conversation with the two girls, who kept on repeating that we were the cutest guys that they had ever met in a long time.
Tony wasn't that bothered at the end of the day that a potential fuck had passed him by, because as he said, and indeed as he says quite often, sex is wonderful, but beer, whisky, and cigarettes are just so much better.
I reckon the fat bastard is probably right, but deep down, we're both annoyed that Carly and Kelly slipped out of our grasps without even a hug and a kiss.
Such is life!

Monday, 9 May 2011

No Money, No Lager & No Cheeseburgers!

Tony and me have just come back from the pub, because we've both had too much to drink, and because we've both run out of cash.
A lack of money is just one of the problems associated with being unemployed, and as I stare out of our window, at the shitty London street below, I think I would do anything right now to get a decent double cheeseburger and fries from our favourite fast food restaurant. Tony says that people like us just don't get a fair deal, and that being unemployed is like being a murderer or drug-dealer, because we'll always be spat on and shit upon by society.
I reckon that he's right, and although we've both been unemployed for for years, I sometimes wonder how we manage to survive day to day, on our diet of burgers, cigarettes, strong lager and whisky.
Somebody in the pub the other day had the audacity to suggest that we both get a job, and stop feeding off the state like two disease-ridden parasites. Well, of course, Tony was having none of that, and after pinning the fucker against the wall, he gave him a well-deserved beating, before returning to the bar to finish his pint.
Everybody in the bar just loved Tony's show of violence, and although he would have liked to stay around to milk the applause even longer, we both had to do a runner, because as Tony rightly says, whilst it was satisfying to get so much hatred out of his system, he didn't want to hang around too long, because there was a decent football match on the television, which he didn't want to miss.