Saturday, 31 March 2012

Those Rich Americans

Last night Tony and me spent a wonderful evening in our favourite pub, thanks to a cash-rich family from the U. S. of A., who wasted no time in plying us with drinks, in exchange for some friendly banter and friendly advice.
My overweight friend, Tony, simply loves all things American, and he took a real shine to Kathy, who was the eldest of the two daughters accompanying her parents on a tour of our fine country.
Kathy thought that Tony was cute, with his bulging stomach, cheerful patter and witty jokes.
Kathy's father - Jim - said that it was great to find a fine pair of guys like us, and that we're the sort of people who give the English a good name.
Now, that made me chuckle, but as Jim continued to buy us beer all night long, and tell us that we were welcome to visit him in Denver, from where he hails, Tony made sure that he didn't cross the line which separates decency and indecency, by making sure that he didn't make a play for his daughter.
I fancy a trip to Denver, and when we exchanged e-mail addresses with our new friends, Tony told Jim that we'll be taking him up on his offer, and look forward to visiting him soon.
Jim smiled, and said that it was a great idea, and back home he has so much he wants to show us.
All we need to do now is get a job, so we can earn some money,and buy ourselves a couple of plane tickets.
Tony says it's possible, but to be quite honest, the thought of getting a job sounds too radical for me, and that whilst Denver sounds great, the benefits of being unemployed are so much better!

Thursday, 29 March 2012

Looking For Hyde Park & Paella

So, as the first of this year's summer tourists start to trickle through the pub's doors, Tony and me can only hope that we don't have to put up with too many like those we were forced to endure last night.
It was a family of four, from Spain, that caused us a few problems, wanting to know the best way to get to Hyde Park, and whether or not paella was on the pub menu.
Sid, the landlord of our favourite pub, explained - very slowly, so the dumbest family on earth could understand - that although he likes to dabble with international cusine (pizza, cheeseburgers & pasta), sadly, there's not much for demand for paella in south-east London. And as for Hyde Park, well that's easy: Turn right out of the pub, continue along the road for six miles, and then turn left. You'll see Hyde Park, just in front of you, in all its natural glory. And fortunately, it's not difficult to miss, because it's big and green.
The family soon left, realising that we're not the most friendly people on earth, and made the immediate mistake of turning LEFT as they left the pub.
Still, as Sid said, if they continued for six miles, in the opposite direction, they would have ended up at Heathrow Airport, which isn't such a bad thing, because there they can hop on a plane, and fly back to where they belong!

Sunday, 25 March 2012

An Ideal Job

As another week of glorious idleness comes into view, Tony and me often think about what we would like to do for a living, if we ever gave up unemployment, and decided to go back to work.
The choices, of course, are endless, but despite the promise of earning big money in the city, flying all over the world as an airline pilot, or thrilling the crowds as a professional footballer, Tony reckons that nothing can be better than working in a pub.
He says that it's the combination of serving beer, engaging in idle chatter, and bringing pleasure to his customers that would make running a pub an ideal job, and allow him to make use of his charming personality, and his natural gift that he says makes him a people person.
Tony did actually once work in a pub - just before he became an professional non-worker - and although he sees himself as pub-manager-of-the-year material, he's probably the last person you'll want to see behind a bar, if you're dying for a drink, and just want a bit of peace and quiet.
Sadly, Tony was fired from the last pub he worked in, because being a hopeless alcoholic, who always likes to have the last word, and doesn't like it when someone tells him that the beer he serves is crap, the people person that he claims to be actually turned out to be a fine example of a short-tempered thug, who likes to grab customers by the throat when they say something that he doesn't really agree with.
Still, Tony says that he's now a different man, and because he's a little wiser, calmer, and less volatile, there's no reason why he can't relaunch his pub career, and bring a little happiness to a pub near you - soon!

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Dreaming Of Foreign Shores

Tony says that a holiday would do him the world of good right now, and after spending all morning on the internet, he reckons that a trip to New York would do wonders for his flagging morale, and help bring some much-needed cheer to his life.
I told my fat friend that the idea sounds great, and that a place as vibrant as New York would certainly inject some fun into our lives.
Sadly, however, we don't have the thousand pounds that's needed to take us away for the four day break, and unless a miracle occurs in south-east London, we won't be getting to see New York, and all of its attractions.
Of course, miracles DO sometimes happen, and as Tony rightly said, God works in mysterious ways, and even though he may not have done us many favours up to now, he could be preparing to change our lives, by giving us the cash that will get us a couple of plane tickets to America.
Personally, I very much doubt that, but because Tony is convinced that divine intervention is the only thing that will send us on our way, he's now off to our local church, to say a few prayers, and and ask the Almighty one if not only he can get us to New York, but if there's any chance that we can go first class.

Sunday, 18 March 2012

Mystic Marion Says...

Tony has just finished having his tarot cards read, on the internet, by a medium who claims that for just ten pounds she will predict the future.
According to Mystic Marion, Tony's employment situation may change in the summer, when the chance of a lifetime presents itself, and will be too good to refuse. However, he needs to pay close attention to his health, and could benefit by taking up some form of excercise. Finally, a stranger will visit Tony at the end of the year, bearing gifts, and bringing with him some startling news that will change Tony's life forever.
Tony reckons that it's the best ten pounds he's ever spent, and after Mystic Marion's assessment of what's to come, he now feels like a new man, and although he hopes that she's wrong about him finally getting a job, he also hopes that the gift-bearing stranger will bring him a new video games console, the latest wide-screen television, and a plane ticket to Las Vegas.
Personally, I think that Mystic Marion is a charlatan, who enjoys taking money from people like Tony, only to give false hope in return.
Still, if Tony is happy, then that's a good thing, and although he could have spent his money on something more useful - like a couple of pints of lager, and a packet of cigarettes - he says that from now on he's going to keep a close eye on his health, and to shed a few pounds, he's seriously thinking about taking part in this year's London marathon, because, as he says, a fat man is a man without a future!

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Boring Peter

Our favourite pub is in the same road as a large insurance company's local office, so it's no surprise that every lunchtime a few of the insurance company's office workers like to invade the pub, where they can enjoy a drink, and talk amongst themselves about work, life and death.
It's a routine that makes Tony and me laugh, because the workers in question have to be some of the most boring people we've ever had the misfortune to meet, and sadly spend our lunchtimes with.
For instance, one of the gang is a spotty geek called Peter, and whilst he may be a good lad, who looks like he may have a promising career in insurance, he is an extremely dull individual, who likes to spend his precious lunchtime drinking nothing stronger than orange juice, whilst talking to his equally uninteresting colleagues about his sexual fantasies.
Well, needless to say, and as Tony told Peter, orange juice may be good for us - crammed with its various vitamins - but sometimes a pint of lager followed by a couple of large whiskies would be more beneficial, especially if the thought of spreadsheets and annual projections seem too much to handle.
Peter laughed a very girlish sort of laugh, and looking at Tony, he said that if he wanted to turn into an idle, fat bastard, who spends most of his time in a pub, then he'll probably give up the orange juice, and follow my fat friend's advice.
Needless to say, Tony grabbed Peter by the throat, and I reckon he would have gladly inflicted much suffering on him, had not common sense prevailed, with Tony realising that throttling an office worker is not good for his already stained reputation.
Happily, Peter got over his brush with death, but since the incident neither he or his tedious friends have returned to the pub, to talk about insurance, whilst seeing just how many pints of orange juice they can drink in an hour.

Monday, 12 March 2012

Hot-Dogs & Dirty Dogs

So, Sid's international buffet (see previous post) was a blazing success Friday night, with the pub packed with loads of new faces, all keen to sample the fine food on offer, whilst enjoying a drink - or two.
A family of French tourists somehow found their way to the pub - even if we're off the tourist-trail - and wasted no time tasting what Sid described as some of England's finest snails, deep-fried in English butter, and garnished with French garlic. If the smiles and ooh la la's were anything to go by, our French visitors were certainly impressed by Sid's culinary skills, which the man himself reckons would make him a three-star chef on the other side of the Channel.
Tony reckons that food is the new sex, but is certain that whilst he, himself, enjoys the finer things in life (double cheeseburgers, pineapple-topped pizza and jumbo hot-dogs), there's no way he would ever let food replace an evening of wild sex, with one of the many female dogs who frequent the pub, and are not the sort of girls you would want to introduce to your parents.
Still, I reckon that the boy's right, and whilst I enjoyed munching on Sid's fine selection of Italian ham and cheese, I enjoyed even more taking Jill - thirty-something, and divorced - back to our flat, to show her that wild sex lives on in south-east London, and is even better than Sid's Italian-style meatballs.

Thursday, 8 March 2012

Going International, In London

Tomorrow night, Sid, the landlord of our favourite pub, is having another one of his international buffet nights, to show the rest of the world that here in south-east London we know a thing about fine food.

He's also hoping that he attracts a few more foreign customers to the pub, because he reckons that tourists are usually cash-rich, and he would like to see some of that cash passing over the bar, in his direction.

Tony and me have already had the "pleasure" to take part in one of Sid's - as he calls them - Festivals Of Fine Foods - and to be quite honest, the French may love such stuff, but people like Tony and me think that there's nothing better than cheeseburgers and frozen pizza.

Of course, our taste in food is guided by our financial circumstances, because being unemployed, there's no way the boy and me would be able to afford a plate of deep-fried snails, followed by garnished frogs legs, and accompanied by a fine bottle of 1968 Bordeaux.

Still, I'm not complaining, and as Tony rightly says, even if we did have the money, given the choice between snails or hot dogs, he thinks that snails should be left as mother nature intended them to be - and that's sliding along in a garden, and not providing lunch for the French!

Saturday, 3 March 2012

Welcome To Scotland

So, thanks to our recent furniture removal job, which took us as far north as Glasgow, the boy Tony and and me are a few hundred pounds richer.
It was the easiest money we're ever likely to earn, because although we were paid to unload a furniture removal lorry,we made sure that our two colleagues, a rather dull pair of individuals called Mike and Peter, did all of the heavy lifting, with Tony and me handling nothing more than five pounds in weight. At one point Mike became quite agressive with us, saying that unloading a lorry requires teamwork, but Tony soon put the dreary bastard in his place by telling him that the boss never mentioned anything about working together, and anyway, with our delicate backs and ageing muscles, it was best if they did all of the heavy lifting.
Of course, once the job was done, and the customer had thanked us for our efforts, Tony and me left Mike and Peter and took ourselves off for a drink in a nearby pub.
At first, the lager we were served was warmer than the welcome we received, but after downing a few pints with the natives, we were soon laughing and joking with the pub's lager-swilling and whisky-guzzling customers.
We would have liked to stay longer, but boring Mike and Peter said that they wanted to head back to London before it got dark, because Peter has trouble driving at night.
Needless to say, our colleagues drove all the way home, whilst Tony and me continued to drink ourselves merry in the back of the lorry, whilst both agreeing that whilst Scotland may not be the best place to spend a Friday morning, it's certainly a lot better than Wales!

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Life's Just Great

Today, we opened the two windows in our flat, for the first time since the end of last summer.
It's just great to know that spring is on its way, and that we no longer need to be in our shitty flat, somewhere in south-east London, breathing in the same dirty air, that's been circulating in our hovel of a home for the last six months.
Tony always gets a real buzz when the window-opening day arrives, and this year, like all of the others, we celebrated this wonderful occasion by drinking vast amounts of lager and smoking cheap cigarettes.
There's nothing better than the odour of diesel fumes, the noise of constant traffic, and the foul-mouthed swearing of drunken passers-by to remind us that there is a world outisde of our den, which is blocked out during the cold, winter months, when our windows remain firmly shut.
We're now off to the pub to drink more lager, and prepare ourselves for tomorrow, because we've both got ourselves another cash-in-hand, no-questions-asked job lined up, which involves travelling to Glasgow on another furniture removal job.
It should be fun, and if all goes well, we should be back home tomorrow night.