Sunday, 29 January 2012

Tony's Friend: Part 2

We've just waved goodbye to Tony's friend, Alan, who has been with us since Saturday morning, and will not be sadly missed, as he heads back to where he comes from, and where he will hopefully stay.
Manchester is welcome to one of the biggest scumbags I've ever had the misfortune to meet, and although Tony reckons I'm being a bit harsh on his friend, even he secretly admits that he made a terrible mistake allowing such an individual into our home.
Needless to say, Alan arrived empty-handed, claiming that he's probably the poorest man in England, and that if it wasn't for kind-hearted people like us, he would have given up the will to live years ago.
He then proceeced to consume our entire stock of lager, smoke all of our cigarettes, and eat all of our frozen pizzas.
But if wiping out our supply of alcohol wasn't enough, Alan then decided last night to get very drunk at our favourite pub, upsetting most of the other customers in the process.
Even Sid, the landlord, said that on a scale of one to ten, Alan probably ranks at number zero in terms of people who he'd like to meet again.
I've ordered Tony to delete Alan from his list of friends, on his Facebook account, and have warned him that the next time he thinks about inviting another stranger into our home, unless the stranger in question is female, slim, twenty years old, and very sexy, I don't want to know!

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Tony's Friend

Tony has just announced that one of his friends is coming to visit us this weekend.
Alan, from the north of England, is one of Tony's many friends that he's made since joining a very well known social networking site.
I asked Tony if I could take a look at Alan's profile, and when I saw what the man had to say about himself, I can't for the life of me think why Tony would want to even give our address to such a person, let alone allow him to stay with us during a forty-eight hour period.
Alan, from Manchester, describes himself as one of life's losers, who hasn't worked for years, and who enjoys nothing more than drinking very strong lager, watching football, and fishing. He's also been married three times, has six children, and describes his religion as atheist. Alan ends his rather glowing self-portrait by stating that he's interested in the occult, religious sects and films starring Clint Eastwood. He also mentions that he joined the networking site because he feels that the internet is the gateway to a better class of person.
I can see why Tony has invited Alan to stay with us, because as the boy rightly says, people who confess to liking strong lager and football have to be worth meeting, don't they?
Personally, I predict another terrible weekend ahead of us, and only hope that Alan decides to stay at home, or better still, joins a religious sect, and spends the rest of his days in a place far away from London.

Saturday, 21 January 2012

A Weekend Without Beer

Today, I had planned mouthwatering cheeseburgers and fries for lunch, followed by a trip to our favourite pub, where I was looking forward to downing ten pints of lager, whilst watching football on the pub's big-screen TV.
However, since Tony blew all of our cash last night, playing roulette at our local casino, I've spent most of the day wondering where my next meal is going to come from, whilst sat in our flat, with nothing stronger than water to drink.
Of course, the boy has avoided me all day, leaving the flat very early this morning, telling me he was off to see if he could get his grubby hands on some much-needed cash, to try and get us out of the mess in which we now find ourselves.
I've already told the fucking idiot more than once that money doesn't grow on trees, and if he thinks that the streets of London are lined with cash, he's going to be in for a bit of a shock when he finds that all they're really lined with is dog shit and empty cigarette packets.
Personally, I blame Tony's gambling problem on his father, who was also one of life's hopeless losers, who succesfully steered his own family to financial ruin, by blowing all of his cash on backing disabled racehorses.
So now, thanks to Tony inheriting his father's genes, unless the fat bastard DOES manage to find any money that might be lying around, it looks like that this weekend is going to be another shit few days in the already very depressing life of Dave Cooper!

Monday, 16 January 2012

For Rent: Luxury Apartment With Blocked Toilet

With the Olympic games being held in London this year, Tony reckons that there's a fortune to be made from the thousands of tourists who will be pouring into our fine city, to watch the various sporting events.
The boy has already decided to rent our flat to a Dutch family, who he met in the pub last night, and who are coming to London in the summer, especially to watch the games.
To be fair, the father was very drunk when Tony proposed our river-side apartment, with twin en-suite bedrooms and a spacious lounge, and wasted no time in handing over a hundred pounds, which Tony asked for as a deposit on the apartment. The man then said that he would meet us today to visit the apartment, and to sign the contract.
Of course, we both laughed as we waved goodbye to our friends from Amsterdam, a hundred pounds better off, and having taught an old man the lesson that drinking too much beer can lead to financial hardship.
Needless to say, we blew the cash on cheeseburgers and ice-cold lager, before returning to our flat, which is nowhere near a river, and boasts only one toilet, which is permanently blocked.
Sid, the landlord of our favourite pub, reckons that we're just a wicked pair of bastards, but because we invested most of the hundred pounds into his pub, and are his most loyal customers, he also said that he only hopes that our property rental business continues to grow!

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

Meet Tom & Dick - Our Friends From Belgium

We had one hell of a time at our favourite pub last night, thanks to an evening spent with a couple of Belgian truck drivers, who just happened to be in the pub, looking to unwind after a day spent driving around south-east London.

Tom and Dick were impressed by the friendly atmosphere of the pub, and as the four of us set about knocking back copious amounts of ice-cold lager, Tony and me soon realised that we were in the company of some very serious drinkers.

Of course, being unemployed for the last four years, our financial situation is worse than pathetic, but thanks to Tom and Dicks generosity, the boy and me didn't have to worry about paying for any drinks, which is always something that brings a smile to our faces.

Tom and Dick both spoke better English than most of the dross we see in the pub every day, and entertained us with disgusting jokes, filthy anecdotes and sordid stories, which left Tony and me rolling on the floor in laughter.

We eventually finished the evening with whisky and more beer, before Sid, the landlord, brought our evening's session to an end.

Tom then asked us if there was any chance if he and Dick could sleep at our flat, because they hadn't had a decent night's sleep for ages.

Naturally, we would have been only too willing to allow our friends to get some much-needed sleep back at our flat, but as Tony rightly said, before we parted company, although Tom and Dick were more than great company, there's no way in the world we want a couple of fat, stinking, foreign truck drivers spending a night with us, unless, at a push,  they're of the female variety.

I think Dick muttered to Tom that we were just another pair of English bastards, who had taken advantage of their kindness.

Tony just laughed, and after giving Tom his opinion of all things Belgian, we both ran as fast as we could, back to the flat.

Friday, 6 January 2012

A Well Deserved Rest

Tony and me have got the new year off to a flying start, by moving some furniture for a guy we met in the pub this week.
Of course, since it's four years since either of us have worked, our bodies didn't easily react to the strain under which they were put, and at one stage, as I carried a terracotta flower pot up six flights of stairs, I wondered if the physical pain and suffering was ever going to end.
The boy Tony seemed to enjoy himself more than me, saying, as he grappled with a kitchen table, that there's nothing like a bit of hard work to put one in the mood for a refreshing pint of lager.
I can't say I agree with him, and said that I don't need to put my body through hell, to have an excuse to drink.
However, the man was very pleased with our work, and even paid us a bonus because we didn't break anything of value. He then suggested that if we're interested, he has another job lined up for next week, although this time it involves going up to Manchester.
If it had been London, we would have said yes straight away, but as Tony rightly said, Manchester is fucking too far north, and travelling for miles from home means having less time to spend drinking.
Still, we've kept the guy's number, and we're now off to the pub to reward ourselves for a job well done, after which it's cheeseburgers for lunch, to be followed by some much-needed sleep.

Monday, 2 January 2012

It's Written In The Stars

We've finally recovered from the mother of all parties, which saw us into 2012 with loud music, lager and frozen pizza.

Tony and me had one hell of a time, and as the dust has finally settled on 2011, we have decided what we're going to do, and not do, in the coming year.

Tony has already got a real spring in his step this morning, after reading his horoscope, which promises "an exciting year ahead, full of new challenges, and love from an unlikely source."

The boy laughed when he read out loud about his chances of love in 2012, saying that long-term relationships aren't his thing. All he wants, he added, is a woman to fuck every now and then, without the need to buy her expensive presents, take her to a restaurant, or constantly bombard her with compliments.

Neither of us are looking for new challenges, because being long-term unemployed, we have nothing in life to aim for.

I think Tony mentioned that he might look for a job, if our financial woes continue, but after drinking excessive amounts of lager at the new year's eve party, he changed his mind, and said that stable unemployement would play havoc with his lifestyle.

I reckon that Tony's right, and even the thought of working makes me feel ill.

So, for us, it's life as usual, and although love may come from an unlikely source, unless it brings with it free beer and cigarettes, we're just not interested!