Sunday, 27 May 2012

The Fattest Man Is About To Get Fatter

A new pizzeria has opened just a few streets away from where we live, and so Tony has decided that tonight we're going to try its pizzas, and see if it's worth adding the pizzeria to our list of favourite places to eat.
For Tony, the opening of a new pizzeria or fast-food restaurant is always a major event, because eating is probably the only that he has any interest in, and is the only thing - apart from drinking vast amounts of lager - that he does well.
My fat friend has always been a lover of the finest crap food money can buy, and when he heard that another pizzeria had opened for business, in our part of the world, I thought that he was going to literally explode with Joy.
Mercifully, he didn't explode, because Tony is my best friend, and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my days without hearing his vulgar jokes, his constant belching, and his opinion on all subjects known to man.
Anyway, after much contemplation, the Fattest Man In London has decided that tonight he's going to try a Four Seasons Special, which the pizzeria describes as a fusion of Italian hams, mushrooms, red peppers and charcoal-grilled chicken, served on a mouth-watering bed of fine Italian tomato sauce and mozzarella. I've decided to go for the same thing, but with an additional topping of sliced pineapple.
We're now waiting patiently for the hour to arrive, when we'll satisfy our hunger, and decide if the Pizzeria is going to be a regular feature in our lives, or if it should be avoided like dogs with rabies and people who work in insurance.

Sunday, 20 May 2012

Go North, Young Man

Tony has abandoned me this weekend, to visit a girl he met on Facebook, who lives in the north of England.
Before catching the early train yesterday morning, my fat friend showed me a photo of Helen, who hails from Yorkshire, and who is studying psychology.
I wasn't that impressed by Helen's looks, but if Tony is happy to be seen with such an ugly creature, then I'm more than happy for him.
God only knows what Helen will make of the fattest man in London, because when it comes to charming the women, Tony is in a class of his own.
But Tony hasn't gone north for nothing, and although he would like to indulge in some wild sex this weekend, the fact that Helen's father owns a pub may well be the reason for my friend's departure.
Anyway, because I'm all alone, and there's only rubbish on the television, I'm off to the pub for a pre-lunch drink, and to prepare myself for another week of glorious idleness.

Monday, 14 May 2012

One Foot In New York

We had a great evening in the pub last night - and thanks to Lyndsey and Shannon, from New York - Tony's dream of visiting the Big Apple could become reality, if the fattest man in London plays his cards right.
Our two new friends are visiting London with their parents, and after Lyndsey and Shannon charmed us with their natural assets, their father - Doug - was only too pleased to ply Tony and me with vast amounts of lager and whisky, in exchange for information on what's hot, and what's not worth seeing, in our fine city.
Of course, our knowledge of London soon impressed Doug, and after giving him and his wife a list of all of the best things to visit, he said that he was glad that he had come across two decent guys like us.
Now - and as you probably well know - Tony has been called many things in the pub before, but decent isn't usually an adjective that's aimed at him (fat, useless and lazy - yes, but not decent).
At the end of the evening we were all merrily drunk, and although Tony would have liked to have shared his bed with the delightful Shannon, he managed to resist forcing himself upon the poor girl, and made do with an exchange of email addresses.
Tony was more than pleased with his evening's work, and as Doug seems to be the sort of man who we'd like to have as a friend (he's apparently the owner of a very successful chain of pizzerias, and therefore very rich), Tony hopes that with his charm, and powers of persuasion, the pizza king of New York might pay for us to fly out to New York, as a way of thanking us for the hospitality and friendship we showed him and his family.
I'm not getting too excited about anything, but because Tony is always of a positive frame of mind, and he believes that miracles do happen, he thinks that in a few weeks time we'll be saying goodbye to London, and hello to New York.

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

From London To Wales

Tomorrow, Tony and me are off to Wales, on another cash-in-hand and ask-no-questions furniture removal job.
It means an early start, and a long drive before we get to our destination, but because our cash-flow is currently worse than that of a third-world nation (such as Greece, Spain or Portugal), Tony and me must make the effort if tomorrow night we want to be in the pub, drinking beer, and not stuck in our flat, drinking tap water.
Lifting heavy furniture can play havoc with one's back, and if the thought of crippling myself for a few tax-free pounds isn't bad enough, going to Wales hardly fills Tony and me with enthusiasm.
Tony said that he once spent a weekend in Cardiff when he was a small boy, and if he wasn't of a strong and robust mental character (they're his words), he would have ended up mentally scarred by the experience.
I reckon the boy's probably right, but at a push, I'd rather be going to deepest Wales tomorrow morning, than some other God-forsaken part of the British Isles (anywhere north of London falls into this category).
Anyway, if all goes well, and we're not mauled to death by any wild sheep, and our driver manages to get to where we're meant to be going, tomorow night Tony and me will be a few pounds richer - and probably very drunk!

Friday, 4 May 2012

Back To The Eighties

Tony reckons that the eighties was the best period of his life - with so many jobs on offer, the explosion of the property market, and the general feel-good factor that gave people a real reason to live. Also -as he rightly adds - beer and cigarettes cost much less than they do today.
It always makes me chuckle when my fat friend thinks about the past, because even if the eighties was a great decade, Tony hardly benefited from anything that was going on around him.
For a start, whilst there were thousands of job opportunities available, and unemployment was lower than it is today, the idle bastard didn't bother to get a job, because - as he often says - the stress of working for a living would probably be enough to kill him.
And the property boom? Well, Tony never invested in any property, because renting a flat or house - according to him - would have played havoc with his cashflow, and given him less cash to spend in the pub.
However, I think the boy is right about the feel-good factor, because as I stare from our window at the street below, I can't help think that most people look terribly depressed.
Anyway, the eighties are over, and nothing is going to change that. So now, we're both off to the pub to drink ourselves senseless, and try not to think about how much a pint of lager and a packet of cigarettes cost today, and how cheap such luxuries were all those years ago.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

The Fat Man Is Ready To Win!

Tonight Tony is playing in a poker tournament - organised by our local casino, and open to all poker players, young or old, male or female, amateur or professional .
To be fair to my fat friend, he's no fool when it comes to high-stake card games, and if he manages to steer clear of strong lager, avoids drinking whisky, and isn't distracted by any pretty girls ( that shouldn't be too difficult - because where we live, there aren't that many), Tony could be a thousand pounds richer, by the end of the day.
Tony reckons that gambling is what he does best, and that with his nerves of steel he has all that's required to beat the opposition, and boost our finances with some much-needed cash.
The boy has often thought about turning his back on England, and moving to Las Vegas, to carve out a career as a professional pĂ´ker player.
I told him that it's probably a lot harder than it really sounds, and that whilst the bright lights of Vegas seem appealing, behind every success there's a thousand failures.
Tony agreed with me, and realises that although south-east London is nothing like Nevada (never has a truer word been spoken), IT is home to us.
Anyway, I'll be cheering Tony on tonight, and making sure that he concentrates on what he does best, and walks away with the first prize.
HE says that he can do it - and when the fattest man in London is in the right frame of mind - anything is possible!