The Drunken Monkey Strikes Back

Shabba Wanks

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 09:40:00 +0000

So...as my adventure in what I've come to think of more with every passing day as a office based game of Big Brother draws to a close, so a brand new (and, ironically, the last) series of Big Brother starts.
Did you watch it readers?
Me and the wife tend to watch the opening show every year just so we can say "he's a dick", "Slaaaag", "ohmygod, she's not going to be annoying at AALL", and generally feel a little better about ourselves 'cos the fame hungry, untalented, human detritus that enters the big brother house is so low down the evolutionary food chain that it kinda makes us feel like the GODS OF ALL WE SURVEY.

And last night was no different.
Of the fourteen people that entered, only one of them stood out, to me at least, as a decent human being.
Can't remember what his name is, but he's a mountain of a man with one eye and no legs after getting blown up while serving his country in Northern Ireland.
Salt of the earth type.

Now I've said that, I expect he'll go on to prove himself to be massive wanker that I detest.

The rest of the housemates thou...what a shower of shit.
however, I'm sure the girl from Bristol said "oooh I'm a Randy Badger" as she entered the house..so that wins her a thumbs up from me.
Also, Davina appeared to have a MASSIVE camel toe going on.
which made me feel slightly icky at points.

It's (finally) my last day tomorrow.
Then me, Chadwick, Rubberdave, Lanky and the Seemunks are off to the pub.

I honestly dunno what's gonna happen to this 'ere blog after tomorrow...If I'll keep on writing it or not...
Fresh start 'n all that.

However, I HAVE said about a zillion times before and I always find myself coming back to you.
But..
If I don't.
Take care 'n that.

East Anglian Window Dressing

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 13:29:00 +0000

Day 4902 in the Big Brother House...
And we've reached the final week.

This mornin', to add irony to this weeks eviction, a stack of work has been given to DM who was hopin' to spend his last week in the house doing naff all except drink tea and not panic in the slightest about what to do next.

DM heads to the diary roooon to ask Big Brother exactly why he should give a shit.

Yes, Readers. This is it.
My Last Week.
And I'm doing ok...Head's held high and I'm not freaking out toooooo much about what the future holds.
Looking forward, mostly, to walking out of here on Friday lunch time and not looking back.
And then going directly to the pub.
To get pissed.
Nice.
Who's with me?

Then buying an awesomely awesome new telly.
and some Hen.
And, surprisingly, watching some football.
I've not thought much further than that, to be honest.

Interesting weekend behind us that saw me drinking far too much (even by my standards), playing some Red Dead Redemption (which I'm really preferring quite a lot to GTA4 as it happens), and wondering if 'Tina was going to start claiming Squatters rights on my sofa.
It amazes me that he'll STILL walk into my house, populated by myself, Mrs DM and the three lovely Monkey Jnrs, say a "Do ya mind?" and, before an answer has been given, strip down to his pants.

That shit was funny when we were in our teens...but now...well...it's a bit embarrassing.
However, it was made up for by my children covering him in toys and magazines and nappies and whatever crap they could get their hands on again while he slept.
Always cheers me up, that.

One Shit Does Plenty

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 12:55:00 +0000

Today sees me trying to be the master of mood swings
'cos I'm swinging between total giggling mania, feeling like a rat trapped in a cage and sheer...fuckin'....panic.

I also have a writers block that's about a mile tall and my level of self confidence to survive in the outside world is currently at 0%. So bear with me...
Oh Yeah. Today..I'm feeling The Fear.

Remember that bit in Fallout 3 when you leave the vault for the first time and you're blinded by the sun and then, when your eyes adjust there's this Massive open world in front of you?
'member that?
And how your first thought, as you took in the expansive panorama that was suddenly in front of you, was along the lines of "Yey ! I'm out...now the game can REALLY begin!"
Do you remember how then, as you snuck around the wasteland, you stumbled across a mission, or some mutants or a fireant...whatever...something that you were just not equipped to deal with at that point...
And you got TOTALLY Pwned...and you thought "aah Shizzle. This ain't gonna be easy asI thought"
Yeah? remember that?

Or maybe you made it to Megaton safe and sound and you wanted to fix them leaking pipes around the place but you weren't levelled up enough on the ole handyman skills yet to do so...
Or you decided that, after talking to that shifty stranger, you were gonna set the bomb off, but couldn't...
BlahBlah..etc etc..

My point, if I have one (which I might not. I am, after all, making this up as I go), is that this is kinda how I'm feeling this week.
I'm happy...elated almost, that the end is in sight and I'll be out of this particular office shaped Vault VERY soon..
But the thought of being free...and not having a job yet...or even having REALLY decided what I want to do when I grow up...do I want to carry on working in IT?
Maybe finally get that degree I want?
Write the book that I keep threatening to write?

So yea, I got these feelings of indecision, self doubt and uncertainty whilst feeling the full weight of family/mortgage/bills/ and other shitty grown up responsibilities resting firmly on my shoulders...and well...to put it frankly, dear reader, it's more than a little fucking scary when, y'know, you stop to think to about it.
It's like looking over a cliff that you know you've got to jump off soon while not being able to see what what's at the bottom.
It's like getting your balls on the windscreen on car when you're not sure if, y'know, they're actually doggers or if it's something you should be doing on Saturday afternoon in the Asda car park.

In short, I am relating a lot to Luke in Empire when Vader was kicking his arse all over Bespin and he jumped down one of those stupid exhaust pipes that little George seemed so fond of.
And, very shortly, I'm going to find myself hanging upside down from a car ariel waiting for Lando to arrive in the Falcon and wrap me up in a tin foil cloak.
But I dunno if Leia's heard me mental shout out yet.

Hmm.
In other news....
Red Dead Redemption and all the horse riding joy that lies there-in.
I simply CAN NOT BELIEVE that we have not heard from JW on this subject.

Discuss.

It's the most Mooogical time..of the year...

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 27 May 2010 09:51:00 +0000

Well. Here we are again. The End of May.
My least favorite time of the year.

It's the time of year when, ever since I was a weeee baaaain, the universe enjoys opening up it's wrinkled ring piece and farting it's most noxious marsh gas into my open mouth.
In case you're interested, I did some research and pulled up the past few years posts for this time of year. The more observant among you may notice a pattern (as opposed to slattern, as I originally typed...If, however, you DO notice a slattern then please share with the rest of us. thanks)

May 2009

Bit of a Year off from misery in 2008 as I was distracted by 'Team Snake and the Recording Studio of Doom'.
However, recently viewed video footage reveals that I look as tired and miserable as a flipping saggy twat that's been plunged into ice cold water after being pumped by Shatners Bassoon for days on end during most of it.

May 2007

2006 only goes back to August, I'm afraid.
Of course, my old "Enter the Drunken Monkey" (ooer) went back further but, due to shenanigans and bumcheese, that's all gone the way of the dogwank.

In short, I Hate the End of May.
It's always when I feel the lowest. It's always when I start punching myself in the spiritual face about how shit I am, how crap life is, wasn't I a massive wanker back in the day..
BlahdeBlahdeBlahdeFuuuuuckin' BLAH.

And this year...well...this year is proving to be the worst in a looooong time.
Staring down the barrel of redundancy
For reasons I'm a little unsure of, Skinter than a skint thing on skint day.
The Neighbours are vile and horrible and scum and should be killed to DETH (possibly with the wrong end of a spoon)
I still don't own Red Dead Redemption.
The Eldest turns Ten on Saturday (which makes her too close to being a teenager that boys will want to do things to for my liking)
and so on and so forth.

I really need a holiday.
And a big bag of Nelsons best herbal delight.
If anyone can assist with either, Please let me know..

Cheer up, DM...Cheer up.
It'll all be over by Jizzmas

UPDATE...and I've just had a letter from the PigFarm telling me that I'm being done for speeding. 36 mph on a country road. Whilst doing a good deed for the sister-in-law, no less. It just keeeeps on getting better.

On and On, South of Heaven.

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 20 May 2010 14:14:00 +0000

Now....
He kicks the door shut, shooting a glance around the room, holding a finger to his lips in the universal sign language that says "if any of you fukin' dicks makes a sound, I'll take great pleasure in executing every single last one of you in the most bloody and horrific manner I can think of...and, being that I'm the spawn of satan, that's pretty bloody horrific, let me tell you, sunshine!"
He puts his pointed demon ear to the door and listens to the unmistakable sound of heavily armed soldiers troop past...his hand slides down to the holster on his hip and unclips his machine pistol, flicking the safety off. His demon eye flashes red, he mutters under his breath, "Ok, you have my attention, you heavenly fuckwad. I swear on Stinkys' pubes that I'm gonna nail your nutsack to the cross for this.."

Two days ago...
A house party in Anytown, Suburbia. UK.
Downstairs, a thumping bass track...umm...thumps...various people dance as well as you can dance to a thumping bass track when out of your face on Scrumpy jack.
Amid the broken lamp shades, overturned paper plates and general detritus that a party of this type normally generates, a small drunken Teddy Bear sways on his small drunken feet, waving a beercan around in the air, "I tells you," he says in a drunken teddy bear voice,"hiccup...She's the most boootiful woman in the whole wide world...to see her..is to faaarkin' love her..she's an aaaaangel, she is. 'ere, you got a light?l"
Upstairs, a couple are making love. loudly. and energetically.
The very air around them crackles with cosmic electricity.She climaxes suddenly, loudly and then sits up, hair a mess and her face set firmly to stun.
He reaches up and pulls her back down and together they crumble into a sexy,moist,knackered heap.
"Ahh.." She sighs contentedly, patting him on the head when he rolls over to lights them a ciggie each, "That was loooovely"

Suddenly, bright light; REALLY Bright Light floods the house...like the house itself had suddenly been picked up and deposited inside an extremely large, comedy sized 100watt light bulb...
The Windows smash, acrid smoke fills the room, Unseen assailants are firing shots in the bed before the couple have even had a chance to reach for their weapons (of which they have many)...
Blinded by the light and multiple bullet wounds, He feels her being dragged forcibly from the bed...a deep, booming voice says "Mine, I believe..."
"FUUUUCK YOU!! I GOT AWAY! YOU'RE MEANT TO LEAVE ME ALONE IF I GETS AWAY, LIMPDICK!" He hears her voice yell, Pride swells in his chest, How he loves her...
"oh..." the Booming voice replies, "and that would be the case, you Would be free..if it was any angel but YOU...You see, You're special..Look, I even came in person..."
Forcing his pain into a folder marked "To Deal with Later", He climbs to his feet and,knowing he's facing the forces of heaven, for the first time in a long time, he allows his demon side to take the wheel and steer...
Surrounded and outgunned; His non-human eye glows red, Long, curving and viciously pointed horns extend from his forehead, "Give....Her....Back...." He snarls, hellfire flicking from his mouth "NOW!"
From within the light, the booming voice laughs the laugh of a parent chiding a disobedient child who is being unintentionally amusing, "tut tut....manners, young man....you're not half the demon your mother was, you know..No, you're young...weak...stupid..sub-human. In fact...You. Know. NOTHING!"
"Not half the demon my mother was..Heh..y'know that I actually take that as a compliment, don't you...Bill?"
"Oh Fuck off!"
A white lightening bolt shoots from the light and hits Him Dead between the eyes. He doesn't even see it coming... He falls back to the floor and doesn't move.
"Oh...you forgot this...." says the voice, throwing something onto the fallen body, "Archangels. Assemble...Get your feathered arses Back to up the Host now"
The light recedes,taking Her..naked, sobbing and bound with it...

One day ago....
He opens his eyes..."what the fuck was I drinking last night?" he groans..
Slowly, he lets yesterdays events seep in "aaawww shit" he sighs, "He found us"
He feels a weight upon his chest and reaches for it, puzzled. He feels a damp, cold furry lump, realising the horror of this final insult, His eyes squeeze shut.
He forces himself to open them
He forces himself to look.
At the damp, cold, furry disembodied head of Stinks; the Small Stuffed Bear that had been his companion since he was a babe in arms.
His friend.

Slowly, He climbs to his feet and starts to find his clothes. He dresses slowly, letting his mongrel human/demon hybrid body savour the strange feeling of the hellfire sealing his many wounds closed. He finds his weapons...and, prehaps more importantly, his cigarettes and ipod.
Before he leaves the ruined house, he carves the following into the wall with a finger.

"Barbas - Fucker with the beard took something of mine.Gone to get her back -Phenex.. ps..Great fuckin' Party!"

He zipped up his jacket and, tucking his bears head into his pocket, went in search of his bike. Muttering expletives as he went.

Truth is Blind

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 19 May 2010 14:40:00 +0000

Right, that's two job applications completed this morning and a third lined up for completion tonight.
Cooking with Gas, me...
I must be due some downtime.
Y'know..Chill out...relax....have a cadburys caramel..or something.
And, since Chadwick has taken the afternoon off and left me to my own devices, it's looking like it's going to be the first Two Post day in quite while.

This could, depending on what spills outta this here noggin of mine, be a good thing.
It could however, again depending on what spills outta this here noggin of mine, get fuckin' ugly.

I'm out of practice at this writing without a safety net lark, see...I have no bloggy posty plan.
No agenda.
I've just found myself with some time on my hands and a head full of nostalgia after moving the boxes around in the old attic quite a bit recently.
And, as usual, when I'm feeling all misty eyed and "oh what great days we had, Pip"..something always comes along to rub salt in the wounds that I've picked and scratched open.

The Salt, in this case, comes in the shape of the First Love of my Band life, Cock Goblins.
Or, to be more precise, Just how flipping weird it was listening to the first new Goblins song in fifteen years on Myspace last night.
Or, to be even MORE precise, just how flipping weird it was listening to the first new Goblins song in fifteen years that I'm not doing vocals on.
Don't get me wrong...
It's a cracking tune.
It's a cracking Cock Goblins tune.
I'm really pleased that Banana Jack and Smelly-Melly have written, recorded and uploaded it.
It's cool that the legacy is being kept alive.
I firmly beleve that a New Goblins Song is something that should be Celebrated like at the end of Jedi...

It's just that....well...I'm not on it.
And..and...
well..it's makes me feel a bit sad.

I ain't gonna lie, when I first listened to it last night, It felt a bit like seeing the girlfriend that you adored out on the town with another fella.
No, it was worse than that...It felt a bit like walking into the house you shared with the girlfriend you adored and HEARING that same girlfriend loudly shouting another guys name while some other fella (with name that's being shouted, hopefully) ruts away between her legs like a balding, sweaty ferret on speed.
in your bed.
Both feelings, I'm sorry to say, I've experienced before.

I then went and listened to it a further three times 'cos it's really bloody good and I felt ok.
and you should too by clicking this here link...

Yet this (and an afternoon of doing bugger all else) has made me wonder...
Could we, Said Goblins Of Cock, be like the Hells Angels or The Masons or Natwest and form Chapters/Branches.
Like, 'Goblins North (BJ and Smellen) and 'Goblins South (Me, 'Tina and hell, if I'm playing fantasy bands, even KT). We could have leather jackets with special patches, secret handshakes..Gnasher Badges..The whole f'kin show.
Then, when the planets were aligned, we could all hook up and, Just like a rock themed Mighty Morhping Power Rangers, form this super-sized Punk-Propelled, Indie rock & Hardcore Angst Spewing Cock Goblin'Bot for a super special kick-arse Gig...
Rockin' the house just like we did in the days off our youth.
A super special gig where the sheer power and force of a Reunited, Fully Armed and Operational Hate-Team could, ironically, bring about world peace and universal harmony.
And might even force that Simon from Primeval and Dougie from Stormwitch to put down the pies and pick up their axes once more.
Or, Jebus knows, sweet talk the Boys from Cage back into their leather strides just in time to release Psycho Johnny in time for Christmas.

No-one sends him christmas cards, y'see..

The naming of cats is a difficult matter

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 19 May 2010 10:24:00 +0000

Well.
This is all a bit weird, isn't it?
"What is, DM? For we, the reader, do not share the skullwindows you call eyes and, therefore, can not see what you see. Neither, 97% of the time, do we have any flipping clue what you're thinking about, you handsome sack of man, you" I hear you ask..

Have no fear, my blog reading, badger baiting bumboxes, For I shall tell you.

I need to do some minor scene setting and a "Previously..On DM's Desk.." kinda catch-up dealio first.
Just so we're all up-to-speed.
There's lovely.

Going back into what now feels like the dawn of friggin' time, DM (and a whole bunch of others) where informed that we were "AT HIGH RISK OF REDUNDANCY!" (dun-dun-daaaaaaaaaan)
Cue much shitting of pants, How-we-gonna-pay-bills, what the flip am I going to do with my life, who'll walk Chad after I'm gone etc etc panic attacks.
The Rumour mill kicked into Overdrive, as is the fashion in these situations, people started treating those painted with the MARK OF DETH like the social lepers we probably are...
and so on and so forth.
With time and distance (and a good CV), the panic calmed and people started (mostly) treating those of us that still bothered to pitch up every day normally again.
With me so far, reader?
You are?
Nice. I like that.

Cut to the end of last week. I got an invite to an "Outcome of Redundancy Process" meeting for Monday morning.
This is, essentially, the meeting where HR finally address the big fat elephant in the room and admit that, yes, You're actually one trillion %, no-bullshit, sorry about your damn luck, being made redundant.
So, like, it's an important I attend, right?
Right.
Especially as in Redundancies past, no-one's ever been seen again after this meeting.
It's like going to the great slaughter house in the sky...but, y'know, office based.
Ever seen Logans Run? Kinda makes me think of that.

They call it "Gardening Leave"
I call it "Get the fuck out of our lovely offices, you dirty shitbird. You're messing up the happiness, man" Leave.

However, I had Monday booked off for Daddy Daycare reasons.
But, being the stand-up type of dude that I am, I begged and pleaded and I sorted a babysitter out so I could pop into the office to attend the meeting that would DECIDE MY FATE.
Then it hit me...like a bag of spanners to the nutsack.
My desk contained approx ten whole years worth of SHIT (not literally).
Photos of the kids, Flyers for gigs, CD's, Action figures, pictures the kids have drawn..and that's before I even opened my drawers (ooer).
And I'm a bit of a hoarder, folks. Oh Yes.
In ten years, I can collect ALOT of shit.

So..Long rambling story shortish..I came into the office on Saturday and I spent a sad couple of hours clearing out my desk.
All that remains of the personality I stamped fimly on it's face is a single flyer for the first ever Rubbersnake gig stuck on the side of my VDU and my "Fat People are Harder to Kidnap" Coffee mug/Pen holder.

And frankly, it makes the whole place even MORE depressing than it was this time last week.
That's what's a bit Weird..

The Killer Awoke Before Dawn..

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Fri, 14 May 2010 09:05:00 +0000

He sat on the cliff top, his prized Indian Chief motorcycle was lying carelessly on the grass behind him...watching the ocean do it's thang whilst the sun slowly set beautifully behind the horizon..
He lifted his second bottle of Makers Mark to lips and took a long gulp...
If you were really close, you would notice a single tear sliding down his cheek.
But no-one got close.
Not anymore.
Not after her.
His black little heart that had opened like a flower under the sunshine of her love was now back to it's coal like state.
Burnt. Used. Black.
No-one cared.
No-one knew.

He lit a full fat Malboro and sucked the toxins deep into his puntured lungs...He knew all that was left for him now was what was waiting for him in the world below.
The world that was desperate to reclaim him, to wrap him up in it's warm devut of blackness. To use him as a blunt instrument in it's war against time and the world above.
"well...if I'm gonna go...Go with a smile.." he muttered, and reached into his jacket, dug out his ipod and flicked it into life.
He hit play with his thumb as he plugged the earpuds into his ears; the opening bars of The End by The Doors tinkled into life..
He sang along quietly and slightly out of tune..

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend,
The end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

This. is. the. end...

He stood then, on slightly shaky and drunken legs...The tears obviously flowing now from his one human eye..
And as the sun finally set beneath the horizan, he lifted his gun and pushed the barrel into the soft underside of his jaw; He looked to the heavens and, for a brief second, thought he saw a feathered wing vanishing behind a cloud.
He Sighed, "Fuck'em if they can't take a joke..."
He pulled the trigger.

His body fell...down...down...in the waiting embrace of ocean.
His soul...for what it was worth,
His soul went straight back to the world below.

But this wasn't the end of the matter.
Oh no.
This was just the beginning.
Just of something else.

Wizard Angst

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 13 May 2010 10:47:00 +0000

I had a dream last night.
it was mostly based around a meeting at work where people I've worked with over the years laughed and jeered (in a mostly friendly fashion) about me being made redundant.
Most of which I took in good humour and gave as good as I got.
Some I didn't.
After the jeering was done, we moved onto the next item on the agenda.
The merits of the very excellent Potter Puppet Pals (which me and Eldest Monks are slightly hooked on)

However, the slice of dream pie that I need to focus on was that sitting in the corner of the meeting room, looking as full of life and as stunning as I remember her looking the first time I saw her, was the ex-drummer/girlfriend combo, KT.
She sat quietly in the corner thruout the whole meeting, no-one else appearing to notice her presence..at first I found myself scared to look at her, ashamed of how I treated her back in the day.
But, slowly, cautiously, I started to risk a glance in her direction.
And each time I looked, she was looking right back.
Smiling her beautiful smile. The smile that makes you feel like you could fly .
She Glowed like she'd been eating Readi-brek.

The meeting ended and everyone got up to leave. I turned to face her, the urge to drop to my knees and beg her forgiveness for every bad little thing I did to her building, like a wave of panic, inside me..
For The lies.
For The cheating.
For The violent person I let myself turn into for a while back then.
For Letting her down.
For Breaking her heart.
The Need for her to know that I'm Not That Person.
Not Really.
Not Anymore.

I opened my mouth to speak..
"it's ok.." she said, smiling that smile..and walked past me, quickly entwining my hand with hers as she passed, "I know..."
And, leaving a light kiss on my cheek, she was gone.

and I was awake.
Feeling, strangely, Better than I have in a while.
Lighter.

Wherever she is, whatever she's doing...I hope that she does know.
I hope that she's happy.
Cheers KT. Sorry, I was a Dick.

Nancy Drew Did a Poo

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 12 May 2010 10:54:00 +0000

HOW COCKING COOL IS THIS?!?
If you answered VERY Cocking Cool Indeed, DM. Give yourself a shiiiiny.

And, finally, Rumours of naked photos of Emma "Hermione's badger" Watson are circulating the interweb. I have come across one (not literally) and can confirm that it looks 1000% legit to me...check it out for yourself..

Off to Vote?

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 06 May 2010 13:30:00 +0000

Go smoke a cock, you cock smocking cock smoker.

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 06 May 2010 09:10:00 +0000

I didn't get the job.

Now, I did consider posting that as an update to yesterdays post...
But then I thought, Naaah..I've got too much venom and piss and bile and RAAAAH about WHY I didn't get the job to leave it at that.
It would have been lax of me not to have at least a little bit of a whinge about it.

Flashback to last night....5:57 in the PM, to be precise..I'm driving down the road with two of my children screaming away in the back of the car (I'm pretty sure they were attempting to sing something in the style of a cat being beaten round the testicles with a brick, but that's by the by) when my phone starts ringing the ring of the phone call I've waited all day for.
Not being popular enough to wear one of those nobbing blu-tooth earpiece things that makes you look a bit of a dick, I satisfied myself with a muttered "Oh Cock and Balls" and let it go to voice mail.

Got in five minutes later and listened to a message that said, "Soz DM. They don wanna go further at dis time 'n ting. LOLZ LOLZ. Respec Init" (or something very similar, like wot the yoof speaks like)
So I phoned him back.
"What do you mean, they don't want to go further? With me? are they withdrawing the job? What?"
"You, mate"
"Right. okay...that's cool, to be honest I was kinda beginning to think that I wouldn't have liked the working environment much anyway...however, can I have some feedback on where I went wrong?"
And so began my journey into a world of "Fuccck off..REALLY?" incredulousness, minor outrage and disbelief.

As I can't be arsed to type the whole conversation out, I shall cut to the chase.
First, the positives...

I appeared to be confident and "a nice person" - So that's nice.
I shone in some areas of the technical questions but didn't in others - Which is fine. It's actually better than fine. I kinda knew that already and it was important to me not to bullshit them about my abilities.
The SQL guy thought I was sound and could work with me - He seemed quite a nice chap 'n all as it happens.
The HR chick dug my style - See yesterdays post and the line about movie star good looks and being hung like a race horse.

Now..the Negatives..

During the middle point of the interview, my body language went "defensive" - ummm..yeah..kinda what happens when two blokes you've never met before have spent the last half hour throwing rock hard questions at you and you're bricking it a bit. or is that just me? But, I can accept that...it's something worth knowing and something to be aware of, right? Right. Useful and constructive criticism. Not criticism for criticism sake...which is something I can't STAND, by the way.
When the interview started, after we'd introduced ourselves, I used an opening gambit along lines of "please be gentle, I've not had an interview in a million years" and we all laughed like at the end of a Thundercats or He-man episode. This, however, was taken as a "sign of weakness" by the guy who'd have been my manager - From what I can gather, he made his mind up at that point that I wasn't getting the job.
Later in the interview, it came up in the conversation that I was being made redundant - The same guy, apparently, doesn't like employing people who have been made redundant. Considers them "damaged goods" apparently. No, I am not making this up.

And that's it.
So..to review. I am not getting the job because:
1: For reasons outside of my control and along with 599 others in my company, I'm being made redundant
2: I opened with a jokey line to break the ice and get the party started.

My thoughts on this..it's simple, really.
Fuck 'em
Fuck 'em in their stupid arses.
I'm glad I didn't get it 'cos I've worked with narrow minded, opinionated cock-knockers like that before and I never, ever want to have to do so again.
Especially narrow minded, opinionated cock-knockers called DALE.
Which is a stupid name for a stupid person.
Dale from Chip 'n Dale: rescue rangers...Total Tool
Him from our Facilities Dept...an utter, utter numpty.
Dale Winton...you know when you've been tangoed (ooer)
Alan-a-Dale..couldn't play a decent lute solo for shit.
and so on.

Back to the drawing board, readers.

Fuckers Luck

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 05 May 2010 13:48:00 +0000

Things that I have learnt about myself in the last couple of weeks...

1: I may be a deaf, dumb and blind kid, but I sure write a mean CV
2: I'm pretty good at telephone interviews
3: but I'm not that great at face-to-face interviews/interrogations..in fact, I think I'm all kindsa SUCK when it comes to them.

See...I've not had THAT much real life interview experience.
Certainly not for anything like the level I'm at now.

Let's Review...
My first ever Saturday job at aged 15...My brother already worked there and the boss (now my step-father) was trying to get in with me mum.
My second Saturday job aged 16..In a big brand Supermarket..I don't even recall being interviewed. I applied. I started. End of.
My first ever "Proper" job aged 17...I was invterviewed by this bloke who was the father of a girl I'd gone to Primary and Secondary school with. He'd always thought I was sound. Possibly the best job in the world ever, this...it's where I first met Mrs DM, first worked in an IT department and had stupid amounts of (non-gay) fun with Banana Jack.
I left, aged 20 to become, of all things, a Baker...in the Bakery where 'Tina's little sister worked. Another Easy Interview....and another fun job.
after a couple of years baking, I was really struggling with the constant juggling act of being in the Cock Goblins (late nights and lots of booze) and being a baker (VERY early mornings and lots of hangovers)..
So I left and did some Temping for a while...drifted from job to job...
Then, got into IT for an insurance company thanks to two guys I'd worked with (one of whom was called JW, oddly enough..the other, Skids, was at the time, (badly)playing lead guitar in the 'Goblins) in my first proper job. Another easy interview.
**I lasted in that job a magnificent 9 months...during which time I smuggled KT into the office nearly every night shift for some on-the-desk rudeness, I broke a wrist and an ankle (thankfully, not during any on-the-desk rudeness), I developed a drink problem and a dependancy on amphetamines...
LOTS happened in a short space of time.
Then I got fired for being hungover or strung out all the time.
Oh..and for calling my boss a cunt.
And the HR woman a slag.
(Not that I'm one for burning bridges or anything, honest)

cue a nasty depression.

After a while, I started temping again...worst period of my working life, this...Broke; Dangeriously depressed;Shitty job after thankless shitty job; a drunk who couldn't afford to drink and was slightly too proud to beg althou not too proud to steal to feed a drug habit **
I treated a lotta people like shit over this period of time. Like, SO shit that I feel ashamed of myself just typing it.
People who were nice to me; People who desevered better.
These people will, most likely, never know how sorry I am about this as none of them is ever likely to speak to me again.
And I can't really blame 'em.

anyhoooo...THEN...I stumbled into my first job in the Evil Empire.
And the rest, as they say, is history.

So, you see...I've never really HAD to learn any interview skills.
I've just been mostly lucky.
Of course, movie star good looks and being hung like a fuckin' race horse has helped at times (I KID I KID)...
I am, as my father was before me, a Jack of all Trades and a Master of None.

Something which, I think, the people that interviewed me yesterday sussed out pretty cocking quickly.
and, once the blood was in the water, they attacked.

It's a weird place to be, to be honest. I have absolutly NO idea if I held my own or not (ooer)
I made them laugh. I answered the questions I could. I asked my own questions when I was given space to catch a breath...
I was brutally honest about who I was and what I could and couldn't do.
I'm pretty proud of that fact.
But I constantly felt like I was on the back foot and being backed, slowly, into a corner.

It was a terriffying yet incredibly exciting 50 minutes out of my life that I'll never get back.
And I hope I don't have to do too many more.

Bruce Wang

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 10:51:00 +0000

How do, ya bunch of bum wranglers?
This morning is swifty turning into the morning that never ends and, as I'm:
A: Being made redundant and, thus, not really in a working mood
B: Feeling a bit like sweaty, headachy crap

I thought I'd take some time out for my busy work-a-day world and write a bloody post.
Like back in the good old days.
and if you're not down with that...
I've got twooooo words for ya...*

So.
What's been going on in DM'sville, ya ask?
Waaaay too much to go into in one post, you little blog junkie perverts. THAT'S what.
However, here's a list of things what have happened in the past few weeks:

1: Kick-Ass, despite what Wil "Wesley Cock Crusher" Wheaton would have you believe, is a Top Drawer comic-2-movie..umm...movie; and I was not let down by it in the slightest.
In fact, I watched twice. In one Day. So There. I did not feel let down by the toned down violence in the slightest. I thought that what was shown was brutal enough for most non-comicbook and uber violence loving fanboy geek viewers. Mrs DM, for example. And, let's face it, My opinion is FAR More valuble than Cadet Crushers anyday of the flipping week, right? Right. Unless, of course, it's that time in Star Fleet with that mess with Nova Squadron**...
...Stops to watch tumbleweed bounce past...

(cough) This leads me nicely to....
2: Middle Monks announced last week that she wants to appear on next years Britain's got Talent.
I have given a firm "Not while I'm Alive, you won't" verdict...then I stopped..and I thought...and I added a "Unless you dress as Hit-Girl and Execute the all the Acts, the entire Audience and, finally, the Judges in the most bloody way possible but leave the crew, cameramen and Ant 'n Dec (due to that one time on SMTV:Live when Cat Deeleys nippy-nippy-nip popped out of her top to say hello and they were there...aahh great days)..cos THAT'S a Fuckin' Talent..." clause.

3: (Sit Down, JW..in fact, Sit down all gamers who enter here). I traded in my Playstation 3. For a Wii. And, Frankly, the Wii pisses ALL the PS3. I believe I can explain why...
Wii has a more fun and engaging UI (user interface, you non-IT dunder heads) - Like the Xbox, it actually makes you (and, in my case, the 3 children) want to play it.
It encourages "Quality Time" with the family...if only so they can laugh at DM's Mii going from skinny to Fat every day on Wii Fit.
In the space of the first week, we played with the Wii more than we'd played the PS3 in the few months I'd had it.
Yes, I will miss the Blu Ray player...and the VERY excellent DVD player on the PS3....but, other than that, I haven't (and won't) miss it at all.
Truth be told, it was God of War 3 that was the final nail in it's coffin for me. Utter Drippy Creampie'd Gash.
I was ever so let down.

4: Digital ComicBooks - a medium that has always left me cold and feeling slightly soiled after using. However, I am now strongly considering signing myself up to a unlimited Marvel subscription cos, let's face it, I'm gonna have a lot of time on hands in the next few weeks. And there's only SO much Wang tampering you can do before going blind...so I'm told. Anyhoooooo....

I'm bored now. It's nearly lunchtime...although not nearly enough for my liking.
You can go now.

* The two words being "Fish" and "Cakes"
** I actually think Wil is pretty ace...but Maaaan, Wesley used to get on my flipping nerves. Was on my list of "People I'll punch in the balls one day" for YEARS.

Great Boo's Up, Edmund

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 09:15:00 +0000

There's been a change of Plan.
Due to circumstances outside of my control, the proposed meeting of the Monster-Get-Pissed-Fast Social Club this Friday is getting a rain check.
Alternative date yet to be confirmed, but I expect it'll be either Friday 14th or 21st of May.
And will, coincidently, turn out to be the closest thing to a Leaving Do I intend on having.

I suppose all regular readers should be invited...

I will varnish with manfat and details when it's all firmed up...
OOER

Does anyone STILL fall for this shit?

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 07:33:00 +0000

I opened my inbox this morning to find an email with the subject:
HELLO!!!

and it read...

"Hello I am Gabriel Kante, the son of the late Ahmed Tidiane Kante, Former minister of geology and mines of the republic of Guinea. I write to seek your assistance in the retrieval of the sum of sixteen million dollars from a US Bank account belonging to my late Dad. I will update you in my next message comprehensively when i hear from you.
My email is wan.j@w.cn
Yours Truly,
Gabriel Kante"

Right, I thought...
1:) I can't believe people still try to pull this shit.
2:) Which suggests that some people are still dumb fuck enough to fall for it.
3:) I've not had one land in my inbox for a while...it would be rude not to reply.

So, reply I did.

"Wang - I am terribly sorry to hear about your father. I'm told that he was the best pink bassoonist this side of Shinfield.
Before we go further, I believe you may have me confused with someone else for my name is not I am Gabriel Kante. in fact, Kante is considered an offensive word in my culture, referring to the smell that emits from an unclean front bottom (ladies). My name is So P Titwank.
I would like to be of service and assist you in relieving the infideal US of sixteen year olds dolls. Anything for Ahmed. I have no need for money, being a multi-million $ and award winning cheese maker.
My marketing department have been trying to get our particular brand of bottom cheese into Guinea for months. Perhaps you could assist in this venture?

Wang, I have such heard terrible rumours of people being shafted right up the Gary Glitter by deals like this; Before we go any further, and I am aware that this may sound strange, but I am known for being slightly "Fishcakes", would you please send me a photo of yourself holding up a sign that reads "I have Bottom Cheese" ?

Upon receipt of this, I will happy varnish you in manfat and whatever else you require to make this venture a success.

Up yours,
So P Titwank (BCS)"

Let's see what happens.....

it's time to put down childish things..

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 14:01:00 +0000

Word on the street says that a lot of beer is going to get drunk next Friday (that's the 30th of Friday, JW).
A lot of real ale that makes you do proper grown up farts you could eat your dinner out of.
Yes sir.
Rumour has it, Jethro (and this might be of interest to 'BJ and 'Chardo as well), that it's going to be a cocking Mooooosive night and it's going to be the best laugh since, like, that time when 'Tina got his wang stuck in the zip of Psycho johnny's leather strides after listening to him go on and on about how nobody sends him christmas cards.

In fact, it could be the best night of your ralph little-lookie-likie life, if you play your cards right (oooer).
It's gonna be old school, no rules, shit-your-pants-we're-drunk, cooor - look at the norks on that my son, flaming sambuca downing, table top dancing, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, Night on the town.
It could very well be worth travelling from Yorkshire or London or Worthing or Grove for (you know who you are...)

If this sounds like the type of carnage you'd be interested in, drop me a comment or an email and I'll send you the details.

Update kinda thing...

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 10:45:00 +0000

Ok..so we're clear...
I'm, slowly but very surely, being made redundant.
Not my job.
ME.
It doesn't matter what lies and clever wording they hide it behind.
They are making ME redundant and not my very much still required role.
That's the bottom line although it's being dressed up in different clothes to make sure certain arses are covered, legally.

So. After thirteen years of employment, I'm back on the market.
and, my bloody god, it's a different place.
It's all "upload CV here" and "click here to apply"..which is cool, I'm good at that shit. It's just the last time I was looking for a job, it was all a bit more...umm...REAL and Labour intensive, I guess.
Know what I mean?
Pick up the job paper and start circleing with your red pen (ooer?)..that sorta thing.
I've been working for the same company for so long that I've kinda become institutionalised, I guess.
And I'm still trying to get my head round this real world thing.
BUT it appears that there's jobs out there if you want 'em.
Which I do.
So that's nice.

Still...it's Friday.
Weekend starts, for me at least, in 30 mins.
Me and 'Tina are taking a road trip out to Lankys pad in Oxford tomorrow to pick up Lord Lanks old Trace Elliot Bass rig to go along with Marts lovely new Fender Jazz Bass.
Saw us thru a lot of gigs, that rig has. It's nice that it's being kept in the family, as it were.
Then I believe the plan for the rest of the day is to get monster drunk on special brew (Tina's idea...not mine) and try to record some of the new tracks we keep talking about.

I've not tried programming the Alesis SR-16 while under the influence yet...so the drums could end up sounding WELL interesting.
Fingers crossed for that, eh.

Have a good weekend, readers.
Happy Dogging 'n that.

Wookey Watch: Day 1,000

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 14 Apr 2010 07:17:00 +0000

Today on Wookey Watch...

Jethro has been spotted in New York attempting to start a Jihad on Chairboy...

Dead End Friends...

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 10:03:00 +0000

Today is mine and Mrs DM's third wedding anniversary.
To celebrate this, I'm looking for a new job.
'Cos I got hit with a big ole slice of redundancy pie yesterday.

It was only a matter of time, really.
I mean, I've lost track of how many times I've been thru this process now...
and there's only, statistically, so many bullets you can dodge before one wings ya.

I'm not pissed off about it.
Not really.
The only thing I'm *slightly* miffed about is the dead weights that are being kept on instead of me who's spent the last couple of years with his face pressed right up against the fuckin' grindstone.
But hey.
That's not my worry...not anymore.
My face just doesn't fit with in the New World Order.
And, to be perfectly honest, I'll be glad to see the back of this particular branch of Idiots Cocks & Tits.
Especially the High level manager types that couldn't organise a game of soggy biscuit without using a bunch of buzzwords that some midget in a suit from Mothercare had said to them once.

That sounds bitter, doesn't it?....I am HONESTLY not bitter.

Kinda feel sorry for you chums of mine that are left thou.
'Cos, I've got this feeling...
You guys ain't gonna be in for a fun couple of years.

anyhoo..
Happy Anniversary to ME.
And to my super smashing great missus.

We'll be fucking off to somewhere sunny once the dust settles, hopefully.
So.
Take care out there, yer bandits.
'Cos this could be me last post
(again)

Your Dogs Got Tits

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 10:48:00 +0000

Watched what was very probably the best telly programme I've seen for a while last night...
Here's the blurb from the BBC.

Tourettes: I Swear I Can't Help It

In 1988, teenager John Davidson featured in a BBC documentary about Tourettes. At that time, few people had even heard of Tourettes Syndrome, let alone knew anything about the neurological condition which, at its worst, causes violent body movements and outbursts of swearing.
John was 16, and trying to come to terms with a frightening world where his language and behaviour was a constant form of offence to everyone around him.
In 2002, he took part in a follow-up film alongside 8-year-old Greg Storey, who had recently been diagnosed with Tourettes.
Now, seven years on, this film revisits both John (aged 37) and Greg (aged 15), and sees how their worlds have changed. Greg is now the same age as John was when he first took part in a documentary.
How does Greg's experience of being a teenager with Tourettes compare to John's, and how does John's life continue to change?

I first came across these guys (not literally) when the follow up film was shown in 2002, right around the time I was having my quiet little nervous breakdown, and I saw so much of myself in 8 year old Greg that it reduced me to tears. It wasn't that I suffer from Tourettes of course..it was more that he reminded me of another tormented 8 year old whose nice little rug of life had just been pulled out from underneath him and who was never going to be the same again.
I sat down to watch it last night, mind currently in a slightly fragile state, with a sense of trepidation...a fear that I was about to take another trip thru the looking glass curtesy of my stupid memory and random things kicking it off.
However, it was kinda awesome and a more than a little bit inspiring to see that 8 year old Greg has grown up into a wonderful, remarkable even, young man with a supportive family and good mates who is not ruled by his condition.

If anyone's interested, it's available on iplayer for the next seven days. It's funny, touching, informative and all sorts'a good stuff.

Wookey's Alive??!

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 08:00:00 +0000

This morning I recieved an email with the title, "JW found alive!"

Inside was this:

cue me doing lots of laughs.
Happy Friday 'n ting.

Please Sir...

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 10:20:00 +0000

Went to Middle Monkeys Parents evening last night.
I'll confess that while we were on the way there, I was suffering a bit from the old Mind clouds and was muttering about how parents evenings were a massive waste of time and utterly cocking pointless; that teacher dude would just spout out some ill-formed and generic opinion of my daughter that wouldn't reflect who or what she really was in the slightest.
Yeah...maybe I was carrying a little bit of personal baggage on my back yesterday. But that's a whole 'nother ballgame to be played another day.

Back to the Parents evening in progress. All in All, it turned out to be a good time.
She's better at maths than she makes out at home, her writing skills and her verbal imagery have improved by leaps and bounds over the past six months (which, me being a regular reader of her work, came as no surprise)...all in all, she's doing excellently.
Sure, she's not the Doogie Howser MD that her big sister is, but she's proving to be a little Engine that Can.
And I'm more than happy with that.

What was MOST excellent about Parents evening thou was the following:
Middle Monks has always been a bag full of cats at home. Full of mischief, back chat and energy. This is fact.
But, so far, at school she's been much more reserved and quiet (a LOT like her father, as it happens).
So...last night, I'm sitting there looking thru her exercise books and I find following..

In case you can't read that (took pic with the shitty cam on my blackberry), the teacher has written the dreaded "SEE ME" comment..
Under which my darling child has penned "Who's Me"
This is awesome as it shows me that she's being the middlemonks from home while at school.
All Middle Monkey, ALL the time.
it's a good thing.

Then, as if I wasn't pleased enough, at the bottom of her tray, I found a letter that she had written to her headmaster.
It read...
"Dear Mr Headbloke,
I am Mrs DM, Middle Monkeys mum. I am writing to complain about the school uniform. it is horrible. I worry that some boys will laugh at my daughter when she is on the trampoline as it's so nasty.
Also the clothes break a lot and cost me a lot of money. I hope you will think about the uniform or I will have to call the police because it is criminal.
Yours truthfully,
Mrs DM."

and, if that later wasn't fuckin' ACE enough in itself..
then the pretty bloody good (althou obviously done by an 8 year old) forgery of her mothers signature at the end closed the deal.

If you EVER need a study on Nature vs Nuture...look no further.
'Cos that kid...That Kid is without a doubt 100000000% mine.
And, in case you've not noticed over the years, I totally adore her.

Fangs for the memories

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 14:25:00 +0000

Series 2 of True Blood starts on FX tomorrow night...
And I can't flipping wait.
I've even made a note of time, channel and that in my sodding google calender so my blackberry will send me an alert in case I, somehow, forget it's on.
Oh Yes. I bloody well have.
Here's hoping series two is as good as the first.
I'd go as far as to say, right (and it's not something you'll hear me say often), that the first series was better than the book on which it was based.
So there.

In honour of this momentious occassion (and 'cos I feel as rough as a badgers ring after a night of fisting round 'Tinas..that's the badger.Not me. I'm not falling for that one again), I've got a four day weekend.
Four + Day + Weekend. = WIN

Catch you in the funny pages..

Down in one....down in one...

noreply@blogger.com (The Drunken Monkey) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 13:14:00 +0000

Last night I got a bit drunk.
On my own (cos the wife had gone out on a "leaving do")
At home.
I do not feel bad about this...No.
In fact, I fully intend on doing the same tonight as Mrs DM is working.

And, quite possibly, I'll do same again tomorrow.
Then, on Friday, I'm gonna get reeeeaaally shitcaked cos, y'know, it's Friday and it's rude not to.

Yup, the need to drink has me in it's vice-like grip and I'm letting that fucker squuueeeze.
I think this is mainly due to me promising myself that next week I'm going to start getting back into shape and attempt to get back down to my fighting weight, which means I need to lose almost a stone of beer gut.
I reckon that my subconscious is panicking and has decided it has to overindulge in booze, fags, chips and, very very possibly, pies & pork scratchings before it's too late.

Why am I doing embarking on booze free de-toxing gut shifting diet filled with the horrors of exercise, you ask?
Well...a number of reasons, really.
Despression and the need to kick myself out of one being the first and main.

Oh...and has anyone seen the trailer for the New Karate Kid movie?
I've spent ages thinking that it's going to smoke all sorts of cock...but now, I dunno...I quite like the look of it.