Flexible workspace

We’re all on the lookout for a flexible workspace these days. Somewhere you can just sit down, maybe order a latte, open your laptop and, I don’t know, edit a podcast or grow a hipster beard or something.

The other day, while exploring an area I hadn’t visited before down in the sub-basement of the 1930s part of the building at work, I found an excellent flexible workspace and wanted to share my find with you. Here it is.

As you can see, it’s pleasingly raised above the general floor level, offering a sense of superiority and a view over all the people working nearby (or water heating machinery; I think it was mostly water heating machinery and sewage pipes you could see from here). It also has many useful features:

A light, so the workspace has excellent all-over lighting levels
A railing, so it’s very safe
A calming white/grey colour scheme
A red pipe

Obviously I’m claiming first dibs on this, and will be moving in there first thing Monday with my laptop to grow a podcast and edit my beard. But if you want to book a slot yourself, just get in touch.

Wilmot in the Wild

The time is here. The time is now.

Look at the time. Now we’re late. What were you thinking?

As we have pirouetted into both a new year and a new decade we need to address a massive problem that has been in plain sight all this time and nobody has bothered to address. Luckily I have the brass cohonies to step up to the plate and plok that sucker right out of the park (what?) unlike everyone else.

Chris’ personal hero and best friend, Gary Wilmot, hasn’t been seen much recently. In fact the last time I saw him anywhere was around 2010 when he was playing the role of ‘guy in a tuxedo’ in some production of Chicago. You know, because he can sing and dance, and everyone loves him as a showman and all round entertainer? I expect his plate is full of meaty morsels however I want to bring him back to where Wilmers really shines and that’s on the television.

Here’s my idea – ‘Wilmot in the Wild’. It’s a light entertainment show, perfect for the 6:00pm to 8:00pm Saturday evening slot. Each week a series of contestants, those lucky members of the general public, are given some clues as to the whereabouts of where Gary Wilmot is hiding. They follow the clues to more clues and it’s a gigantic treasure hunt where Wilmers is the pot of gold waiting at the end. The first contestants to find him win a luxury hamper and get to perform a duet with Gary, on stage, at the local karaoke bar. We move around to a different city each week so we can really take in the sights up and down the country. The hampers can offer various local produce. I can even get some of my meat balls in there to really seal the deal in a wigwam.

Wilmers will, as a bonus, secretly stalk the contestants as they look for him with a view to offering a post-modern take on the gameshow format. He will also interview passers-by, usually dressed in a hilarious disguise, so nobody knows who he is.

This cannot fail. With the right financial backing I know that I can get this project up and running in time for the Autumn schedule. Start sending your money right now, please!

Bean Grab – Jan 2020!

Look everyone, look over there…
Just there, you see that green bit, yeah, just behind that… no left a bit.

Haha, whilst you’re all looking over there I’m sneaking off to Chris’ statistical bean cupboard and pinching one. What are you going to do? You’re off looking at that thing over there.

Got one!

Whats that? You cant see it? Keep looking… Yeah just behind that bush….

Suckers.

Valentine’s Day Done Right

Valentine’s Day is on the horizon and you are going to get smothered in smushy, awful paraphernalia whether you like it or not. As a single man I remain immune to the charms of it (which is a mantra I repeat to myself when I’m crying into my cornflakes) but there are others who will have to fall in line. When I say fall in line I mean buy as many presents as possible for your significant other. I know what you’re thinking though, there is something missing and you can’t quite put your finger on it. There’s a romantic meal for two waiting in the wings yet you still haven’t found the right thing to finish it off.

What you need is something to seal that deal in that wigwam, you know the one I’m referring to. How do you tart that three course menu up in a timely manner without breaking the bank? You need Kevindo Menendez’s Love Baubles.

‘Love Baubles‘

Hand-crafted from the most sensuous part of the pig, the eyelids, Kevindo Menendez’s Love Baubles are what are missing from your Valentine’s Day; a dozen mouth-watering spheres of sweaty, meaty goodness generously licked with the mystery of our seventeen individual spices. Guaranteed to lighten and brighten up the most abysmal of romantic meals, you can prepare them any way you like.

‘Love Baubles’

With one or two of these in their mouth, your girlfriend, wife, boyfriend or significant other won’t be tempted to break up with you. He or she won’t believe the taste sensation going down his or her throat. It is the perfect aphrodisiac to put everyone, and I do mean everyone, in the mood for love.

‘Love Baubles’

You will be the king or queen of the love ball. Your partner will rescind into sexual bliss. Crack off a couple of these and you won’t need those petrol station flowers you were planning to buy at the last minute. Do us all a favour and purchase Kevindo Menendez’s Love Baubles.

‘Love Baubles’ ‘Love Baubles’ ‘Love Baubles’ ‘Love Baubles’

Fill up your trolleys and your stomachs. It’s got the Kevindo Menendez guarantee! Available in both the freezer and seasonal aisles at all good local supermarkets.

December Done Right

It’s too late to turn back now. We’re all going to be smothered in Christmas in three weeks’ time so we may as well accept it and get on with our lives. When I say get on with our lives I mean buy as many presents as possible from the internet in the hope that they arrive in time. I know what you’re thinking though, there is something missing and you can’t quite put your finger on it. There’s the tree in the corner of the room; it looks lovely, almost perfect. It isn’t quite finished, is it?

What you need is something to seal that deal in that wigwam, you know the one I’m referring to. How do you tart that tree up in a timely manner without breaking the bank? You need Kevindo Menendez’s Pork Baubles.

‘Pork Baubles‘

Hand-crafted from the most sensuous part of the pig, the eyelids, Kevindo Menendez’s Pork Baubles are what are missing from your Christmas; a dozen mouth-watering spheres of sweaty, meaty goodness generously licked with the mystery of our seventeen individual spices. Guaranteed to lighten and brighten up the most abysmal of trees, you can hang your Pork Baubles straight out of the packet and, on the big day itself, put them in the oven to accompany your Christmas dinner.

‘Pork Baubles’

With one or two of these in his mouth, Dad won’t be tempted to interrupt with another of his terrible jokes. Grandma won’t believe the taste sensation going down her throat. Mum can use the leftovers to throw at unsuspecting cold-callers trying their luck around the festive period.

‘Pork Baubles’

Don’t bother with another tiresome turkey, keep your dull as damp donuts gammon in the freezer and don’t even turn the oven on if all you’re going to do is try to feed me parsnips again. Do us all a favour and purchase Kevindo Menendez’s Pork Baubles.

‘Pork Baubles’ ‘Pork Baubles’ ‘Pork Baubles’ ‘Pork Baubles’

Fill up your trolleys and your stomachs. It’s got the Kevindo Menendez guarantee! Available in both the freezer and Christmas decoration aisles at all good local supermarkets.

I’m flattered but…

Chris, mate, dear old friend of mine. How long have we known each other now? Something in the region of (properly) 24 years? Would that be a fair assumption? You’ve seen me in some pretty awful states. I’ve watched you try to get a refund for the worst steak pie ever cooked and served to human beings. I wrote you a song about a cheeky chaffinch whilst hammered on strong cider. We drove to the South coast of England, twice, ten years apart. We’ve recorded five number one albums together as everyone’s favourite quirky pop duo masterminds. You bought me a ticket to see the band Cake live. I once sent you a sandwich in the post, with Kev as the filling.

I could do this for a very long time.

I want you to know though, and I do mean this in the nicest possible way, I want you to be aware that I could not give two shits about your zodiac business.

Following my shining example, you decided to strike on your own in a new career. This should be commended because it’s never an easy thing to do (see all of my jobs over the last five years plus). Who would have thought you would have chosen astrology out of all the possible jobs available to you? I would have pinned you down as a dog shiner or a soup tester, maybe a road botherer. You may even have cut it as a moose wrangler, not that there are many mooses in the Royskopp area.

I want you to stop emailing me about zodiacs though. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want anything about star signs cluttering up my inbox or my junk folder. Send it to those who want to believe in bollocks that has absolutely no bearing on their lives whatever. Please feel free to indulge those gullible enough to accept that a vague explanation of their existence printed in a newspaper or a book on a daily basis is actually all about them and not beige enough to cover one twelfth of the population.

If I keep getting your emails I may have to contact the police or, worse, your dad who will ensure that you never get a proper key to use the gates at his house. Please stop.

(Photos provided courtesy of “fucking about” with my Windows phone)

Lord of the Rings – The Game

As I have wallowed in video games for the last thirty years or so, it would be prudent to describe me as some kind of a master or genius. I have devoted a large portion of my life to putting blocks in place, shooting demons in the face and running around two dimensional landscapes dressed as a plumber; I am sure we are all aware of the delights of Italian Stereotype Brothers – Deluxe Edition. So what’s all this about, Ian? Why are you wasting one of your valuable posts with this bin bag of erudite chunder? There are tons of video games about Lord of the Rings. Go look for them you sad sack!

And you’d be right, there are, but none like the one that I am proposing. What the world needs is another rubbish one-on-one fighting game and I plan to elbow my way into the market using J.R.R Tolkien’s celebrated characters. I’ve seen the films a few times and I’ve read the graphic novel (sorry, adult comics) of ‘The Hobbit’ so I know what I’m talking about. I don’t even need to change the name because the title includes a bad pun that I can use for hilarious comedic effect.

Rings. Lord of the Rings. You have fights in rings and they’re fighting to become the best of the best i.e. the Lord, that Lord of all the others. And they may get a ring to celebrate the fact that they’ve won and they’re the Lord of the Rings. You get me? Shall I go through it again?

So we nick some fighting engine from another game, slap together some rubbish drawings of Frodo and the like, throw in some backgrounds near a castle and a volcano and then sell it on steam for £50.00. Steam. Steam? Steam. Who wouldn’t want to see Gandalf decking a tag team of hobbits? We can pretend that the ring has made them all go crazy and on the way to the Crack of Doom they stop for a bit of a punch up. Yeah. See? It all makes sense when I’m in charge. This is the right thing to do because kids can only connect with stories if they’re in some kind of media. The books are way too long and the films are decades (!) old now, nobody wants that. I can re-educate the nation through my shonky video game idea.

Chris, I know you’ve never played one before but a video game is similar to a board game but on a screen and there’s no dice.

Also if anyone wants to invest in my idea I’m going to need six million pounds.

Steve Stevingtons is hittin’ the big

Last year, my flatmate Steve Stevingtons left his job.

“You’re crazy!”, I told him. “It’ll never work!”

Steve Stevingtons simply smiled to himself, an enigmatic look in his eye. My protests – delivered at full volume and more or less constantly whenever he was in earshot over the ensuing months – never seemed to sway him. “There’s no life out there!” I’d shout. “You’ll starve! You’ll waste away to nothing! You’ll end up on the streets!”

Steve would just shake his head, and go back to tending the little plants in his window box.

I was a fool, of course, but I didn’t know it back then. I should have guessed. Steve Stevingtons had a plan. Since that first day, and continuously soundtracked by my heckles and shouts from the other end of the flat, he’s crafted himself a business empire.

Now the whole world is chowing down on Steve’s Leaves. We’re all getting our fix of roughage and wholesome nutrients from Steve Stevingtons. His commercial dominance is starting to rival that of Big Frank. And believe me, I will never doubt him again.

Pouring
Beans

Category: Business