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Polish coffee
2008-03-14 23:32:00
On my way to work this morning I entered a Hammersmith café operated by a kind Polish man. I had been in the shop every morning this week, which meant that today, Friday, was my fifth time. Each day I had been served by the same man with nothing said between us beyond "hello", "hello", "a regular coffee with one sugar please", "one pound eighty", "thank you", "thank you", "goodbye" and "goodbye". But today the Pole had something on his mind.I entered the café. "Hello.""Hello," the Pole said."A regular coffee with one sugar please."My man went off to fulfil my order. Then he returned."It is you!" he said, excitedly.I sort of raised my eyebrows, and then regarded the coffee in the Polish man's hand. I certainly wanted to drink it more than enter into a conversation with this fellow."You were here before," he continued.I could not raise my eyebrows any further."You came in," he insisted.It was true, I had been in the café every day this week. Perhaps I was encountering another Desc...
More About: Coffee

two first names
2008-03-11 20:40:00
The most constructive thing I did today, while eating a King-Size Twix, was try to remember everyone ever who had or has two first names:Michelle Ryan (the Bionic Woman)Meg Ryan (the actress)Fiona Bruce (the BBC newsreader, sometimes more Bruce than Fiona)Emma Leonard (the jeweller and teacher)Robyn Lewis (the journalist at large)Ruth Kelly (the transport secretary)Larry David (the creator of Seinfeld)Chris Martin (Gwyneth Paltrow’s two husbands)John Paul (the ex-Pope)Neville Neville (the father of football’s the Neville brothers)Frank Roy (the MP for Motherwell and Wishaw)Lenny Henry (the Chef)Thierry Henry (the footballer)Humbert Humbert (Vladimir Nabokov’s pervert in Lolita)Frank Bruno (the WBC Heavyweight Champion 1995)Lennox Lewis (the WBC Heavywieght Champion 1993)Muhammad Ali (Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr)Annie Lennox (the musician)Laurie Lee (the writer)Hugh Laurie (the actor and pianist)Bob Dylan (Jesus Christ)Jesus Christ (Bob Dylan)Dylan Thomas (the poet)Cliff Richard ...
More About: Names

fantastic Mr Foxtons
2008-03-06 15:25:00
Dear Mr. Young, Many thanks for your e-mail. I found the language excessive, however I have called the board company and asked them to remove the board urgently. If it is not removed in the next 24hrs please could you let us know and we will chase it up. I would not advise you putting it through our window. Best Regards TomFrom: chris young [mailto:cruciverbus@hotmail.co.uk]Sent: 04 March 2008 19:57To: FOEmailSubject: IdiotsIf you do not remove your sign from 22 Ramsden Road by 9am Saturday 8 March, it shall be hand-delivered through your shop window on Saturday afternoon, you Mini-driving pricks.

i am not an animal
2008-02-15 20:57:00
Late last year, me and a friend - let's call him David - devised an idea for a sitcom: I Am Not An Animal , set largely in the offices of a trade magazine called Taxidermy Now (whose main rival is Taxidermy Tomorrow). We sent it to an agent... who hasn't called us back. As an American might say: go figure. We sent the agent episode one. What follows is "episode three" (to my knowledge, episode two does not exist).EPISODE IIICharacters: Simon Smith (editor of Taxidermy Now magazine); James Partridge (reporter); Dave Way (reporter); Karen Jones (reporter); Sindy Taylor (sales executive); Andy McFly (sales manager); Julian O'Connor (photographer); Harry Carpenter (reporter); Barbara Columbus (sub-editor); Terence Turner (homeless man); Charlie (kebab shop owner); Barry (security guard); Vince (IT man).DAVE IS SLEEPING ON THE SOFA IN SIMON'S OFFICE. GEORGE HARRISON'S I'VE GOT MY MIND SET ON YOU IS PLAYING. THE MOUNTED MOOSE'S HEAD IS MOUTHING THE WORDS. THEN THE MOUNTED STAG'S HE...

London is my Oyster Card
2008-02-13 22:57:00
In 2003, London Mayor Ken Livingstone introduced the Oyster Card system to the capital's transport network. Today I learned how to use it. You place the card ON the reader, rather than swiping it.This made my morning.

PIN number
2008-02-09 20:20:00
Dear Mr Young, Thank you for your message received via the feedback section of the natwest.com website. NatWest has a policy of continuous improvement and places great importance on customer feedback.The comments that you have made have been taken forward to form part of our discussions for future enhancements. We would like to assure you that we are committed to providing a first class banking service.Thank you for taking the time to provide valuable feedback as we are continually looking for ways to improve our services.Yours sincerelyxxxxx xxxxxWhen withdrawing cash from one of your branch ATMs in Hammersmith, London, I was instructed to enter my "PIN number". As I am sure you are aware, PIN is an abbreviation of "personal identification number"; so to ask for a "PIN number" is effectively to ask for a "personal identification number number". This makes no sense, and is thus rather idiotic. As far as I am aware, all of your ATMs in London carry this incorrect wordage, while most ...
More About: Number

singing lemons
2008-02-08 16:48:00
At the Old Bailey this week, a neighbour of the murdered teenage model Sally-Anne Bowman described how she discovered the body behind a skip. "I just felt I knew what I would see," she told the court, which was attended by the dead woman's parents. "It was not going to be a model or a mannequin. I just related it to the screams." Bearing in mind Bowman's professed occupation, these were an unfortunate choice of words.In Tuesday's Independent, within its story headlined "Tesco hits a new low with arrival of the £1.99 chicken", a TV chef named "High Fearnley-Whittingstall" appeared. I sent the paper an email titled "Independent hits a new High" to point out the mistake, but they did not respond, and the story still exists uncorrected online.This has all reminded me of a sub-editor I once employed by mistake. On one occasion he typed up a picture caption, which should have read "singing lessons", with the words "singing lemons". On another he referred to the London Stock Exchange a...
More About: Lemons , Singing

it's probably called a coat stand, not a coat rack
2008-02-07 17:03:00
This afternoon I logged on to Facebook like someone with nothing better to do and discovered that I had one fewer "friends" than the last time I logged on, which was yesterday when I had nothing better to do. I admit that my initial reaction was one of despair, despite the fact that many of my Facebook "friends" are not friends at all, but largely associates, people who apparently once sat in the same classroom as me, and passers-by.I felt compelled to hunt down the missing person by a process of elimination, which involved scrolling down my "friends" list over and over again until somebody became conspicuous by his or her absence. After two or three minutes of this, I gave up, non the wiser and feeling rather ashamed; the kind of ennui one experiences after a bad wank.Yet the mystery of my deserter continued to trouble me. Perhaps I had offended this person? After all, having become enraged earlier in the week by other people's insipid status updates - which included allusions to ...
More About: Rack , Stand

i am turning into Kingsley Amis
2008-01-31 15:33:00
Today I had the displeasure of reading this soul-destroying phrase, written by an advertising agency to describe its work: "... market-leading Next Thing Now communications solutions". This was evidently dreamed up by a prick or a twat. The prick would no doubt describe his penis as a "forward-thinking fornication faucet". The twat would likely define her womb as a "future-proof gestation window". If the prick and the twat mated, their offspring would not be a human being, but a "consumer". And this little boy or girl would mature into a "media-savvy customer" who "interacts with brands across multiple channels" - "in a highly competitive and increasingly crowded marketplace". I hope to God the prick is impotent, and the twat barren.It is not only media agencies and their like who are guilty of such inhumane nonsense - this prattle has even descended into the mind of the humble weatherman. Last year, BBC London weatherman Peter Cockroft illustrated the significance of the first syll...

bin it/bint
2008-01-30 17:58:00
The highlight of my day: the immigrant lady who pours tea in a corner of the office asks me: "Would you like a free banana?" There was a heap of bananas on a rack. All of them were bruised, but I took one anyway. This seemed to please the lady, who confirmed that the fruit was past its prime: "The bananas go off tomorrow. We must bin them." I have since inspected the foodstuff more thoroughly, and have decided that it is only fit for consumption if accompanied by plenty of custard. I do not have any custard, so I shall probably leave the thing on my desk and let the cleaners make an executive decision over its fate. If the banana is still on my desk tomorrow, I might use it to poke out the eyes of the woman sitting behind me who, for the past two days, has been trying to install iTunes onto her Mac. Her job title is publishing manager, yet she seems to spend most of the working day scratching her cunt, in between fascinating interlocutions with members of the sales team that tend to...

on 28 January 2008 nothing happened
2008-01-28 23:57:00
I awake to find the vague idea that I might be slightly late for work forming in my head. I can hear my girlfriend's flatmate walking around outside the room. My girlfriend is not there. It is 08.25. The flatmate usually leaves before 08.25, and I need to enter the shower by 08.27 in order to leave the flat at 08.40 and arrive at work on time. I cannot emerge from the room until she has left in case she sees my nipples. It is her flat and the last things she wants to see at 08.27 are my nipples. I could arrange a large towel around my body so it covers my chest as well as my nether regions, but this seems ridiculous. She would likely wonder what I had to hide behind the towel and become suspicious of my nipples. It is probable that a discussion about my nipples would ensue, and thus describing them I would negate the purpose of the camply arranged towel. I could get dressed, but that is simply wrong. I would then have to get undressed within seconds of having got dressed. This is a...
More About: January , January 2008 , 2008

slick
2008-01-22 01:36:00
My body has developed heart palpitations. One morning last week, I came quite close to declaring to a bystander (who was actually sitting down) that I was having a heart attack. The incident has prompted me to register with a doctor in London, which gives the impression that I am worried about the situation, which I am, but not as worried as I am about the rapacious growth of hair around my nipples (the left teat - or the starboard superfluous bap nozzle to those facing my torso - is more hirsute than the right; they are both inverted [and both become erect when fondled, licked or sucked]); the disappearance of John Humphrys from the Today programme; and the mystery of whether animals successfully conserved for posterity will one day have evolved sufficiently to be able to either thank a person for his or her ancestors' good deed, pat a person on the back (perhaps with a flipper or gloved paw), or erect a monument to the human race (perhaps an iron sculpture of Paula Radcliffe doin...

logbook
2008-01-18 00:53:00
Chris: "That was interesting."James: "It sounded like you went in there with some kind of problem."Chris: "When I sat down a beetroot-flavoured-crisp-related noise emanated from between my buttocks."James: "Bloody hell."Chris: "I just produced what can only be described as a kaleidoscopic log."James: "Jesus Christ."Chris: "I saw every shade of brown in the palette."James: "Oh God."Chris: "But it all came out in one piece. I think it was related to the king prawn curry I had last night."James: "What the hell are you doing eating a prawn curry?"Chris: "It was nice. On Sunday I did a green shit."James: "I like the way you know exactly what day it was."Chris: "I'm referring to it as Green Sunday."James: "Have you told Helen about this?"Chris: "Yes. I told her I made an emerald poo."James: "I bet she was happy."Chris: "She was driving."

eat my words
2008-01-16 18:06:00
Apparently the Scrabble gods have asked Facebook to remove Scrabulous from its website. This is probably a good thing. Last night I was sitting on a sofa listening to an acquaintance of someone I like very much talk about something or other. The subject was a "bitch" with whom she once worked. I think. She may still work with her. As soon as I heard the word "bitch", my facial features discombobulated. I did not have a reflective surface to hand, and there was not one in my field of vision, but I imagine that the front of my head, which houses my olfactory nozzle, vision globes and tongue vestibule, appeared more sloppy than usual.As her words rambled on beyond the catalyst to my catatonic sophorism, atomic reactions and synaptic electrocutions conjured a Scrabble board in one of my brain lobes. My opponent - let's call him Kingsley - had played the word "itch" horizontally. It was my turn. Yes, that's how Scrabble works, you fools. It was my turn; I had previously played the word...
More About: Words

hair control
2007-12-13 15:31:00
On the advice of a former colleague, I got my hair cut today in a Balham barbershop.I walked in, and an Eastern European lady guided me into a plush leather chair. "Vot is this?" she asked, grabbing a big clump of my boosh between her fingers. "Nice hairs."I asked her if she could "tidy it up a bit". She looked confused and called over to a girl behind a counter."Senka," she shouted. "Come here please."Senka approached us."Vot to do?" asked my hairdresser.Senka began to toy with the back of my neck. "It is like fuzz," she said. "Taper it."Senka's underling, with renewed confidence, then proceeded to give me full value for my 12 pounds.I now look stunning - kind of like Ian Curtis just before he hanged himself.
More About: Hair , Control

don't put down the good people at the NHS, let them put you down
2007-12-04 02:49:00
I am sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, wearing one of those gowns that tie up at the back. A nurse appears. She hands me a pair of socks. "They're flight socks," she says. She actually calls them flight socks. "You haven't had anything milky to drink since 6am?" she asks. I ain't getting on no plane, fool. You ain't drugging me Hannibal. "No," I tell her.Earlier, in my own bed, I heard a woman being interviewed on Radio 4 about her love of nuts. Apparently, her favourite nut is like a coconut. I forget the name of it. "These nuts really are special," she said. "After a bit of scrunching, you are rewarded with a lovely milky taste." And they had edited in some scrunching noises. A previous item included a representative of the governing body for professional bridge players. I forget the name of it. He was complaining that players no longer adhered to a dress code. Some gentlemen had so strayed from the game's tacit code of conduct that they had let themselves be seen wearin...
More About: People , Good , The Good

scrabulousy (adj.)
2007-11-27 00:02:00
I have been playing too much Scrabulous on Facebook recently, to the point where I am currently engaged in 32 games, only six of which are against people I actually know. The problem with this is that the world is full of cheats - the kind of people who lose appallingly in a game where their best-scoring word was "bum", only to miraculously in the rematch grasp a latent understanding of Latin and draw on their knowledge of every two and three-letter 'magic' word in the SOWPODS rule book.This is particularly annoying when a word can be played which the Scrabulous dictionary - and probably all dictionaries - deem not to be a word. Such as "windypops". This is obviously a word. My mum used to say it all the time when I was small, and I've heard her say it more recently to other small people on the production of an evidently satisfying burp. These people are not oompa-loompas, by the way. My mum is not Willy Wonker. They are children. And if children can understand the implicit meani...

right up to the sky
2007-11-13 01:03:00
On the news this evening, some muppets were asked to describe a fire. They were asked because they are members of the general public, who happened to be near the fire when it happened. The fire was close to the site being developed for the 2012 Olympic Games, so the media almost wet themselves enough to put out the flames before they had a chance to ask retards to describe it. Said one woman: "I've never seen anything like it before." Said one gentleman: "There was smoke - it was like there was something in the sky." Said another: "The smoke went right up to the sky."In despair that even the news cannot offer sanctuary from the plebs who get up every morning and go to work just so that they can play Scrabulous on Facebook and wait until they've saved up enough money to buy a Toyota Yaris, I went for a walk. In the ten minutes that I spent in the freedom of the city streets, I saw a pensioner relieving himself against the lamp post outside our neighbour's house, witnessed a mother...

beware of the dog
2007-11-03 00:08:00
In March, we were burgled. I subsequently purchased an alarm to dissuade the thieves from returning - they kicked in the flat door, which snapped horizontally at the hinges, allowing the blighters to lift the bottom of it like a big flap (they must have been cat burglars), crawl beneath and make off with our television. But the alarm remains in its box, down the side of the sofa. It looks plastic and rubbish and was couriered from Scotland. So I have devised an alternative system.What I need is a stuffed dog. We cannot buy a live dog because the flat is too small to keep a pet. It is so small that when my parents first visited, my dad, searching for the toilet, left our abode, which is on the ground floor, and made up the communal staircase to the flat above, believing that we surely owned that bit of the house too; my mother had to collect him, and usher the confused man back down the stairs and into our very small toilet.Thus the guard dog must be stuffed. He or she will ideally b...
More About: Beware

smoking backwards
2007-10-25 00:10:00
I am not usually prone to hypochondria, but I seem to have caught a dose of the malady from my flatmate who, when I enter our abode having popped outside for a quick cigarette, wraps his scarf around his mouth and shouts, through the woollen garment, "I'm catching cancer! I'm catching cancer!". He also claims to be able to smell the cigarettes of people smoking on the street when he is in his bedroom (which does not have a window facing the street, and which is 40 feet from the nearest window that does).Normally, I am unconcerned that I smell like I am dying, but yesterday I convinced myself that I had shortened my life by at least three days on the discovery that I was smoking a cigarette backwards. When I first lit the pleasure stick, I had stumbled, but thought nothing of it. Further down the road, I became acquainted with a neighbour's shrubbery. Having righted myself, I detected a strange taste in my mouth; my tongue told me I was eating an unfortunate, partially cooked hedg...
More About: Smoking , Backwards

75 per cent of London thinks I'm boring
2007-10-20 13:01:00
God, I'm boring. I always suspected this was the case, and last week I had it proved to me. Having submitted a slightly edited version of my 'fuzzy logic' post to thelondonpaper, they printed the thing in their Talk section, where a reader becomes a 'columnist' for the day (my byline was "Chris Young, 28, is a dancer from Balham"). At the bottom of the column, there is a number for readers to text in and vote on whether they want "more", or whether they think the writer is a "bore". Following the publication of my 400-word ramble on beards, 75 per cent of London decided that I was a "bore". Needless to say, I had voted "more", which cost me 35p. Perhaps I annoyed some hairy men. Or maybe people just don't like dancers from Balham.The fear is that I have already become as boring as my father, who can clear a room not only on the basis that he bears more than a passing resemblance to Saddam Hussein and the serial killer Fred West, but because his 'dad talk' can out-dad the mos...
More About: Cent , Boring

ross kemp saved my life
2007-10-13 17:56:00
I have been banned from Facebook, and it's the best thing that's happened to me since I joined Facebook. The website's administrators deleted my account after I sent the following message to the former EastEnders actor and TV presenter Ross Kemp: "Ross, I just watched your programme, Ross Kemp on Gangs, on Sky One, the episode where you travel to Poland and report on the country's football hooligans. When you took a policeman's pepper spray in the eye, you acted like a big girl, flapping your arms about and screaming. Phil Mitchell would never have acted like such a girl."It appears that Kemp is a sensitive fellow, and evidently complained. I thought it served him right for declining my friend request. Although, having made friends with Sir Patrick Moore - the Facebook Sir Patrick Moore, not the real Sir Patrick Moore, who plays his xylophone in Pinner when not observing the galaxy, rather than piss away his life on Facebook - I'm not sure what's real any more (see "this is n...
More About: Life , My Life

life is like a kebab, you never know what you're going to get
2007-10-11 01:07:00
Life is full of surprises: some mammals, including the duck-billed platypus, lay eggs, instead of giving birth to their young; certain species of bird, such as the mighty penguin, cannot fly; painter and television personality Rolf Harris makes an astonishingly effective cameo as a street artist on Kate Bush's incredible 2005 album Aerial ("A little bit lighter there, maybe with some accents," he says, as Bush laments the coming rain's inevitable destruction of our man's creation); and some men (not me) are able, apparently, to lactate from their nipples (on the subject of which, the American singer Tori Amos is pictured in the accompanying booklet to award-winning album Boys for Pele suckling a pig).I returned home one evening this week to find my flatmate - who trained as an architect, is employed as an architect, and takes great pride in describing himself as a "professional", while pointing out to me that, because I trained as a journalist (although I am not one), I am offici...
More About: Life

this is not a pipe
2007-10-03 21:52:00
I am a dick. Why? Because I have made "friends" with "celebrities" on Facebook. This is probably the most pointless thing I have ever done, alongside painting the radiator in my bedroom orange, purchasing a Swedish policeman's motorcycle helmet on eBay, sitting through 118 minutes of Stealing Beauty because the Sunday Sport TV Guide promised me a "glimpse of Liv Tyler's little rascal", and committing the first thirteen lines of Shakespeare's Richard III to memory. Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by... Oh, shut up. Who fucking cares?At the time of writing, I have 203 "friends". Among them are Harold Bishop from Neighbours, James Dean Bradfield, Dr Emmett Brown from Back to the Future, James Byron Dean, Leonardo (of Ninja Turtle fame, not the Renaissance painter, architect, mathematician and philosopher), Buzz Lightyear, Bananaman, Al Pacino, the Pink Panther, Postman Pat, Han Solo and Chewbacca. I did make friends with The Almighty. In the "how do you know...
More About: Pipe

vespula vulgaris
2007-09-28 21:32:00
I was walking to work yesterday when an insect landed on my head. I had seen the fucker fall from the sky, had felt his weight upon my temple, and could now see him out of the corner of my left eye. He was wearing yellow with black stripes - a wasp. I tried to brush the thing off with a flicking motion of the three largest fingers on my left hand. He would not move. I flicked again, this time emitting a quiet "euuugh" sound from my mouth. The fucker was rooted, and then he stung me. "Christ fucking cunt," I said, finding the beast's thorax with my fingers and pulling him free.My hand opened and the stripy cunt was on the pavement. The poison was already spreading from my temple towards my eye socket, and my head felt noticeably larger. By this time I had stopped my steady progression towards the place of my employment and was shuffling from side to side, broken. Some men with fluorescent jackets were working above, laughing. Were they laughing at my massive, poison-filled head? The...
More About: Pula , Vulgar

sweet dreams
2007-09-21 00:25:00
Last night, I had a vivid dream. I was in a non-specific apartment talking amiably with my neighbours, with whom in real life I recently had an argument; I was aware of a car parked outside - I could see it through the window; then the apartment caught fire - I escaped; outside I realised I had been in a holiday apartment - there was a swimming pool and people lounging on deckchairs; I met my friends - they complimented me on my sunglasses; it was very hot, I was getting sunburn, so I dived into the pool; when I surfaced, I was awake.I awoke in a good mood. I don't often remember my dreams, and when I do, I forget them quickly. Because this dream had remained with me all day, I decided to interpret it with an online dream translator.The translator starts off quite positively. "Enemies: To dream that you are dealing with the enemies [my neighbours] represents a resolution to some inner conflict or waking life problem; Friends: To see your friends in your dream signifies aspects of y...
More About: Dreams , Sweet , Sweet Dreams

i think therefore i am (paranoid and vain)
2007-09-11 20:16:00
I'm on Wandsworth Common, preparing to leave the bit of grass on which I have been sitting, packing the pockets of my shorts with my various paraphernalia, which include a newspaper and a pen; but not the newspaper: my pockets aren't that big. I notice a young lady walking towards me. She seems to be smiling at me. I can't really tell because the cheap women's sunglasses I bought from Boots on Oxford Street last week to avert a sun-combined-with-other-people-induced breakdown are struggling to cope properly with the big ball of fire in the sky; I am disappointed with their sun-glare-stopping capabilities but sufficiently convinced of their UV protection for my eyes - they came with a European quality-assurance certificate - for me to continue to don them without too much regret. Is she smiling at me? I should smile back. But what if she isn't smiling at me and I smile at her and she doesn't smile back? Anyway, she's likely got a boyfriend - an utter dogtosser, probably - so w...
More About: Paranoid , Vain

fuzzy logic
2007-09-04 23:31:00
Last month I began to grow a beard. Yet four weeks into the facial furnishing, I utilised my Gillette Mach 3 to remove the fur. This followed an alarming and tacit acceptance into the world of the bearded man, and subsequent (likely subconsciously deliberate) sabotage of my mouth-muffler.Three weeks into the liberation of my chin follicles, I was quite pleased with the result: the hair was acting as a perfect cover for the double chin I inherited from my grandmother, and it fermented a willing illusion that I was entering the realms of manhood previously explored by the likes of Tom Selleck, Carlito's Way-era Al Pacino, and Father Christmas.But then I noticed a remarkable phenomenon. Bearded strangers were smiling at me on the street, like we were masons greeting each other secretly through the covert hail of the lip Caterpillar. One gentleman in Hammersmith was particularly disturbing. I was waiting at a zebra crossing, and he was standing at the opposite traffic lights - spreadin...
More About: Logic

my Hotmail porn spam
2007-09-03 19:46:00
1. only severe farmer ass fucking innocent girls merely (jake lucio)2. right mature playing in office times (napoleon norah)3. out exotic teen girl handles three squirting poles price (shirleen randolf)4. greater shy young chick is banged by drunk father self (truda arthur)5. stats granny 69 yo jumping on young ccooocck stage (debi barny)6. kong-ho fucks (mable lemanski)7. babe wuith fakie titcs fuckied with muitant v cocvkk celose up (chattable atkinson)8. quite fabulous news! she well knew the portions of the entered the field (aldon debra)9. expect brunette drilling with dildo home (franklyn mikel)10. battle had been the adorable girl next door playing among (carlina chambers)11. hiding place our impregnable fortress of naughty tteeeenn taking a fat cxck in her shiny twat he she12. blonde tteeenn spreading for a dildo them who survived the (rickard jarrett)13. tanned teoen gets her cunt fuceked by gigyantchockk (inframammary carter)14. viazgra intended to aid in stimqulating the ...
More About: Spam , Hotmail

zippy
2007-08-23 00:37:00
So I get back to my desk and happen to glance down. My flies are undone. This is made worse by the fact that I'm wearing my jeans with button flies, and the buttons are particularly large and shiny, so they stand out like foil milk-bottle tops left out for starlings to swoop down and peck to pieces.The situation is exacerbated by the office, which is staffed largely by women. I take another glance: the opening to my trousers are agape, like the mouth of some bird-eating plant. Because I happen to be wearing my 'I'm Feeling Fruity' boxer shorts, the bird-eating plant looks like a particularly dangerous Amazonian rainforest specimen. I pull the bottom of my shirt over the offending, any-which-way-but-loose pantaloons. Has anybody noticed? Has there, dare I even think it, been a sighting of my Old Chap? I console myself with the thought that my journey from toilet to desk would likely have gleaned no sightings due to my walking style, which is free of the kind of hip movement that ...
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