Last thought of February
Category: Business
Travels with the Pernickety Dickhead
It is unfortunate but true that, for about two years between the ages of 21 and 23, I was an absolutely insufferable tool who would send snotty, condescending letters of complaint at the slightest provocation. This fact was recently brought to light when I raided my correspondence folder for material for a Virtual Winston Pub Quiz and found that almost everything in there was a shameful tirade to one company or another dating from the years 2005 to 2007.
Due to popular demand, I will now open up this archive of horrendous antisocial behaviour to the public for your enjoyment.
Job Search
It would be quite fair to comment that I have done a bit of everything in my time on earth. Everything from washing machine repair man to fashion guru, I’ve been there, I’ve certainly done that and quite frankly I not only bought the damn t-shirt but procured the whole rack of clothes and displayed them in front of a multi-national crowd full of bigwigs and industry types.
So, what now? Where can someone with my set of skills possibly go except into space? It truly is the final frontier. I don’t know, it seems a bit too final to be shooting myself off into the unknown in the hope of finding a line of employment that could possibly compete with my bustling CV of “endless success”.
Last night I was trying to think about what else I could do, something that was within my grasps on planet earth which would negate the requirement for interstellar space travel (I’ve seen the figures and it is a smidgen too costly for me coppers) and do you know what my best idea was? What surged to the front of my mind to take centre stage, all my attention?
Ant mechanic.
I was going to use my tiny man hands to fix tiny ant vehicles. I would put those years of “experience” fixing washing machines to help our friends, the ants, to get back on the road after serious accidents and engine failures. I’ve got discounts and payment plans set up for regular customers. There’s Bonbon in the back, he’s good with people and ants, and looks after the place when I have to make deliveries. Running a successful garage isn’t just about fixing stuff after all, it’s about customer service, a friendly face and lashings of car air fresheners.
I can’t tell what’s a good idea anymore. I may have finally *finally* gone over the edge in a barrel. That is, unless one of you could suggest something new that I could try?
Extrance
A new year needs a new you with a sick haircut and a bad ‘chude. Unfortunately as all the barbers are shut at the moment you’ll have to make do with clipping away with a pair of scissors yourself and hoping for the best.
We can, however, help you with your ‘chude. I bet you’re so tired of all this “help each other” and “be nice to your neighbours and fellow humans”. What you want to do is put your fist in the middle of everyone’s faces and then laugh about it afterwards when you’re shoving Cadbury’s chocolate fingers up their exhaust pipes. Pipes.
The Extrance is a brand new thing for 2021. It’s an entrance that’s also an exit, so it’s totally confusing. How can one thing be another, you may ask yourself, that’s impossible. Well you’d be right but thankfully our boffins have managed to come up with the impossible and it’s available to pre-order right now.
Plus the ‘x’ makes it sounds modern and sexy.
It may look like a simple opening yet when you are within the presence of the Extrance the sheer power emanating from it will blow your socks clean away, right off your feet and into the streets, even if you’re wearing shoes. Find someone you dislike and make them walk through the Extrance. They will be immediately confused, unable to move because of the bewildering nature. Then, when they start to work out what’s happened, you press the button on your secret keyring and blast them from the hidden speakers in the Extrance’s frame with both barrels of Menendez-filtered Techno Jazz from our in-house band, X-Trance, right into their ear pipes. Pipes.
You’ll leave them dazed, deaf and possibly demented. The Three D’s as we have taken to calling it. Triple D to the max. The Extrance has so many possibilities from hilarious ruses at birthday parties to spamming the nincompoop at the office party. Your friends will whoop and cheer when they realise you’ve set them up with this year’s hottest item. They won’t want to miss out.
They come in a whole range of sizes and colours, from snooty green to snotty yellow and turdy brown, we’ve got the whole rainbow covered.
Pre-order now and receive a free ‘Entrance’ sign to go on your Extrance. The ‘n’ secretly peels off to reveal an ‘x’ underneath. Nobody will ever know, the fools.
From Kevindo Menendez – a name you can trust!
Fine Dining
Hello, hello and a little more hello for you. Where have you been? Hiding indoors like the rest of us? Well, that doesn’t surprise me. There hasn’t been much reason to go outside apart from flicking wet slush at unsuspecting pensioners. Not that I do that of course, I see other people doing it.
Anyway moving swiftly on, I know what you’re here for. Within the confines of the recent Government legislation there are a lots of things we can’t do but there are also still things we can do. Our chefs have been working tirelessly to try and cultivate a menu which speaks to the now, the then and also the could be. They have put together the very finest in cuisine, delivered and served at an arm’s length. Tonight I will be serving you from 50 feet away using these rugby goalposts as social distancing chopsticks.
Take a seat in this somewhat grungy corner (did anyone hear sirens or was that just me?) and I will show you all of the goods we have on display for you today.
FIRST COURSE
House Cured Whetstone Maxipads
with spangled beets and swish turkey slaw
~~~~~
Bovril de Foie Gras
served with rubber jelly, champagne border collie and brioche aspirin
~~~~~
‘Borough Market’ Textile Nosecups
stuffed envelope prawn sparkle, cracker anus eye tingles,
organic cheese sentences and bad omen gin stockings
~~~~~
Little Billy’s Seafood Cocktail
dour elderly gent’s fist, Cornish crab wank cloth, spiced avocados,
elvis prawns with knickerbocker sauce and questionable dialogue
MAINS
Corn Fed Goose Helmet
truffle handspans, “spicy” mashed wishes and a prickly tomato porcupine omelette
~~~~~
Salmon Pavement
crushed armpit flap cake, glazed grandma and vermouth kisses
~~~~~
Saddle of Welsh
rolled in profanities and oblongs, served with a fine tart of fish whimsy and tap dancing
~~~~~
Pan Fried Cod Quoins
clingfilm, nosebleeds, elbow hair cassoulet and sulking parmentier
DESSERTS
Poached Warlock Pears
nightmare ice dreams, dark chocolate snifters and dust
~~~~~
Outrageous Stripper Macaroons
belly buttons, dandruff and creme brassiere lace
~~~~~
‘Thick Love Island’
goths, turps, masala Anglaise with soft gnomes and almond kerfuffle
~~~~~
Shoe Polish Cheesecake
with a mascarpone and flirty Aswad sauce.
Yes madam, the menu has had to be compromised and shortened. It’s a shame really because the lipstick smear puffs were a big hit last year and we have been dying to try out a new flavour of jaunty anagram steak towers. Still, it is what it is. If you are still deciding I can fetch you some refreshments from the drinks pit? Absolutely. I’ll be back in a jiff.
Splashing out
I don’t like Black Friday. I don’t like that it’s an American thing that makes no sense here, and I don’t like that it’s a ridiculous incentive to buy stupid crap I don’t need, and I don’t like that it causes stampedes of morons to trash shops in the hope of getting a bargain on a games console. I don’t like Black Friday.
So when Black Friday rolls around I take a principled stand and refuse to take part. My morals are stronger than my desire for bargains. Or so I thought.
This year I happened to be doing some Christmas shopping online when I hit on the Amazon list of Black Friday deals, and something turned my head.
I couldn’t resist. I was weak. I bought it.
I splashed out a totally unplanned £5, and now I have a pack of five adhesive cable clips in a range of sizes to keep all my wires tidy at the back of my desk.
Im not proud of it. But at least, when my standards slipped, it was for a just cause.
Badvert
I don’t know if you’re familiar with Toffifee. It’s a sort of over-packaged nutty caramel confection that a distant relative might buy a grandparent for Christmas, or that might be the only product you recognise if you visit a German supermarket.
In a move common to all European confectionary when it’s advertised in the UK, Toffifee released a new TV advert a couple of months ago that has somehow made it on to the airwaves without anyone involved realising that it looks at least 30 years out of date. Presumably nobody involved in the entire campaign had any sense of irony.
This post isn’t really about anything other than my need to share with you just how naff the whole thing is.
Lending a Paw
If you’re going to do something nice you best do it standing like a titan.
After helping the doggos earlier on this year with my walk around my flat, which sounds about as strenuous as a trip to Waitrose, I have decided to further the cause and lend a paw to someone who needs my help.
This is Sunshine and he is a star in waiting.
For a blind breed of unknown origin, he has a whole lot of charisma at his disposal. Sunshine or “the Moose” as he has affectionately come to be known (nobody can remember who gave him the nickname although I am still adamant that it was me) claims to not be able to see out of either eye, a fact that still has not been proven. I have asked him several times and he refuses to answer the question.
With all this potential it seemed like a waste to let him hide in the shadows of obscurity so despite handing the task to Reuben over the summer holidays, the task of raising his social media profile has been passed to me. I have begun this with his own Twitter account for “hilarious” posts about doggo things and photos of him looking like a dog, something the internet goes CRAZY for I am reliably informed.
Comments such as, “you really need to get a girlfriend, Ian” and, “what are you doing with photos of my dog?” have been ignored because currently only I can see the greatness that has been under everyone’s noses.
I also feel obliged because, in a way, the Moose is my spirit animal in that he eats just as fast as I do and is forever looking for more things to eat. Who am I to ignore a fellow gluttonous brother? I have promised to myself not to let any of my horrendous toxic masculinity leak into his cheery disposition, nor any of the wonderful photos of his viso/volto. Trying to keep it under wraps has been very difficult especially with the sheer volume of packets of sugar that I keep downing all at the same time.
I gave him a swish Twitter handle and Twitter responded by giving us a pretty generic name. You can follow Sunshine at @TheMoos90645566 for all the moosing around you (that’s YOU) can handle.