Django Strikes Back

Guess who's back?

2007-09-26T17:05:00.000Z

Me! Haha! Yes after months lost in the wilderness i have finally returned, and as i am about to move into a new flat I shall (with my new trusty Laptop) update you once more (irregularly as always, no doubt) with the sideshow that is my life.

Love and kisses.

El Grand Morto.

If it looks like, smells like...It is....

2006-09-13T07:50:00.000Z

Right, so as you all amy have noticed i've been a bit slack on the electronic-communications front recently. This is mainly due to the new rules at work regarding internet usage etc. It seems that the new IT directives have been written by an ex-member of the Waffen SS, as we are pretty much limited from using any site but the BBC, and *Shock Horror* NO PERSONAL E-MAIL TO BE USED!!! The upshot of this is that I have to do all my interent cruising at home. Therein, Guys and Guy-esses lies another problem.
The Anglo-Polish war of 2006....
As some of you know, my home has been subject to a gradual Eastern-European invasion over the past 6 months. Now the tally runs at 4 Poles (Polish people, not telegraph poles obviously) and my house mate (who, incidentally has a Polish/Croatian/ Albanian Father) so at the moment it feels a bit like a internment camp for refugees, but without Wycliffe Jean (boom-boom!). One of the polish guys has fucked about with the PC and installed a Polish Firewall/Anti-virus program which again, seems to have been written by a member of the Waffen SS (anyone searching the internet for Waffen SS and Poland in the next few weeks is gonna come STRAIGHT to my site hehehehe!) as it disconnects the interent every time I try and access MOH, Limewire, Gracenote and generally pretty much everything with the exception of his bloody chat software that he uses to talk to his fricking servant wife back in peasant-ville. (Can you tell i'm slightly anoyed by this?)

So I unistalled it...............!

He wasn't very happy about this for some reason.

Apart form this, we had the bad news that Cameron

has asthma, although the doctors are confident that he will grow out of it in a few years, just means he gets a bit wheezy when he's been running about too much. (That'll be every day then!) However it doesn't seem to affect him greatly and he's still a lovely (but cheeky) little monkey.

He's at that stage now where when he does something naughty and you consequently tell him off, he just loks at you, smiles and says "Uh-oh!". I tell you, the Teletubbies have a lot to answer for....

Aside form this myself and my friends had a very, er, interesting experience recently which relates to the title of this post. At work last week one of my colleagues showed us a picture taken in a field on the outskirts of town. This picture (and the subsequent story) told of a virtual plantation of cannabis! My other friend from work got the day off work just to go and check it out (addicts, huh?). Myself, I waited until I finished work and went to check it out with Neil and another colleague from work.
To get to the site in question we had to drive to the outskirts of town and walk for about 15 minutes up a very steep hill through a forest, but when we got there we were greeted by a scene that can only be described as breathtaking, it was like a scene from the Leonardo DiCrapheadio film, The Beach.

Immediately we set about collecting the tops of the plants where the buds were, and attempting to resist the urge to to run through the field naked, sqealing with delight.*
As we did this we kept hearing the occasional rustling noise, and giggle, which betrayed the position of fellow explorers within this field.

As we did this a few groups of teenage kids arrived and told us that the crop had been there for a few years, but for some reason the rumour about it had only spread round S over the last week. They also warned us about the farmer who owned a shotgun and two large Alsatians and wasn't afraid to use either of them against potential trespassers (mind you ALL farmers in my experience own shotguns, and also own very large dogs. I think this is just something that they get given on passing out from agricultural college, along with a phrase book with helpful phrases such as "Gerroff moi land" and "See them Sheeps...?") which resulted in a frantic stampe for the path as soon as any dog walker appeared on the other side of the hill.
Once we'd collectively collected a good bin-bag full we decided to leave. Now theoretically we should have spotted the obvious thing about this field. For one we were all amazed that such a large crop (the pictures do not do it justice, this field was easily 5-6 acres) has never been busted by the Feds, especially when talk had been rife around town for at least a few days. The trouble was we were all too blinkered by the existence of such a wonderful thing, as one of my friends replied when i texted him a picture: "How did you find the keys to heaven?!!" (Another friend from Bristol offered to come up bringing a transit van with him!). But in hindsight we should have been thinking the obvious. The field was nothing more than a very large crop of Cannabis Sativa, or in laymans terms, Hemp. Yep, we were fooled by the THC-free sibling of the Marijuana family. To get high off this stuff would have meant smoking the whole damn field!

Oh well, it probably did us a favour anyway, especially seeing as i'd not touched the stuff in months, if it had been real we would either have been Drug Barons by now, or dead in a ditch! Hahaha!

*Especially seeing as there were other people about. This is not behaviour befitting of a 26 year old really.

Apologies...

2006-09-08T07:52:00.000Z

Been really busy at work doing some God-awful project shit so not had time to update. However, the good news is I am downloading some awesome new pics this weekend which means you can expect a proper post on sunday (probably!). To all my loyal fans/friends please do not be disheartened, I might even get back on MOH at some point too!

Au Revoir,

Mort.

A Different Life

2006-08-03T23:02:00.000Z

I was working the bar as I do most other Thursday nights when low & behold someone I hadn't seen for about 4 years came in and stirred a memory long forgotten. It was a lass I was kinda seeing for a while whilst at uni (not for very long, we had a few dates and that was about it, I ended up getting back with one of my long-term uni ex's instead). She was avery pretty girl, but she was always a little indescisive, and besides I wasn't really over the aforementioned ex so it came to naught. Anyway, after we broke things off she very kindly informed me that her parents were ex-pats living in Bali and that I missed out on many potential holidays there (yes, thanks for that...). Apparently she is just about to start up a dive-school in Bali (where she lives, she must be the only person on Earth who lives in Indonesia and visits Scarborough on her holidays!) and so I was cordially invited to go out and visit, if I so wished.

Am I the only one who wishes that sometimes life turns out dufferently?

I forgot to get her e-mail address in the end so this entire story is pretty pointless now isn't it?

Bugger.

I Am Well Aware............

2006-07-25T22:16:00.000Z

................that I haven't posted for a while now, the trouble is i'm a wee bit busy at the mo. I have realised that I am beginning to show signs of "Corporate-Boy" syndrome, where by the sufferer begins to actually work hard to meet his quarterly targets (120% so far, three days left!) and I have applied for a job "Upstairs".

Not many people return from "Upstairs" and those that do are changed forever. I have decided to grab the Bull by the horns and apply for a job outside my usually snug comfort zone (It's a product officer's position in the marketing department). From now on i'm working for "The Man".

Please don't hate me!

My new image? Maybe, i've always thought there was something pretty fly about pin-stripes and a bowler hat!

Toodle-pip!

Moving swiftly onwards....

2006-07-03T09:57:00.000Z

After the emotional nature of my previous post I feel that I must now once again dive back into a slightly happeir frame of mind. The following post will be full of all the other pics I have taken, some of them being quite funny (I hope!).
So far my time here has been pretty cool (with the exception of England being robbed blind by a bastard Argentinian Ref (they can never accept that we kicked their ass in 1983) and that posing-wanker Christiano Ronaldo, grrr) I have met some cool people and eaten lots and lots of the most gorgeous cakes you will ever see (Mmmm cakes and pies!).

So here are a few pics:

My bro looking like Action Man in his uniform.

My Bro's mad-ass dog, Pepper, some funky hybrid of Labrodour and German Shepard apparently.

The lake where we walked Pepper a few times.

Me and my Bro on a roller-coaster at Heide Park. On Sunday we went to this massive theme park and it kicked ass. Got on all the rides at least twice which was quite cool, althogh i'm not sure my brother liked the one called "The Scream". Basically it cranked you 200ft up a big pole then dropped you for a 2 second free fall. WOOO!

Said "Scream" as seen from underneath as carriage drops.

Me & Marc on the tabogan ride, good action shots, eh?!!

A big bad-ass Rhion beetle which I found whilst at mr bro's Battery Dine-out. Cool!

Trip To Belsen

2006-06-30T11:43:00.000Z

As promised here are the pictures from my trip to Berlsen Concentration camp, and the surrounding area. Hopefully this will demonstrate to you just how evil mankind really can be. 30,000 Jews were murdered here, along with 60,000 Soviet prisoners of war. Besides these, countless homosexuals, disbaled children, and political prisoners perished too at the hands of the nazi regime. What I learnt truely shocked me.

The first pic marks the entrance to the site, the second was taken inside the small museum on site, it's some actual clothing worn by a Jewish prisoner.

Seen above is the monolith memorial and an inscription from the huge wall that surrounds it.

Wooden cross originally erected in 1946 by survivors and families along with a shot of the interior of the hall of silence. Note Star of David marked out on the floor. This building was very thought-provoking. It was constructed of stainless-steel and had a glass roof, but inside it was deathly silent.

The previous pictures show Anne Frank's Burial, the main Jewish Grave marker and the stones which mark individual family plots.

The original buildings were all but destroyed by the British forces who liberated the camp, for one reason they were riddled with Typhoid, but also because the troops were so sickened by the atrocities they saw, they didn't want to leave any reminders. All that remains now are these Heather covered mass-grave sites which bear the number of dead that lie inside them.

A short walk away form the main camp is the Soviet Prison of War Grave which marks the site of the former prisoner of war camp. If it were possible, these poor souls were treated even worse, often being left throughout the winter months with no protection from the elements. Many thousands died of exposure and hypothermia.

The previous pics are from the soviet grave-site. The fourth one is the grave of a Georgian or Ukranian Woman who became a Guerilla fighter and fought during the Warsaw Uprising, before being captured and interred at Belsen, where she perished.

The final set of pictures I will post are from the military rail station literally 2 mins walk from my brother's house. This station is now used by the NATO forces to load/unload armoured vehicles, and so it is not used for public transport. During the war this is the point where almost all of the prisoners were brought in by train and dropped off before having to walk about 3-4 miles to get to the camp. Anyone who felt out on the way was shot. At the station the original ramp has been preserved and an original box-car used to transport people is displayed. These usually contained 40-60 people, and as you will see (with me as a scale) this must have been horiffic.

The Fatherland

2006-06-26T12:18:00.000Z

So here I am guys, in lovely Germany. I must say (even though I have been here before, all be-it a fair few years back, 1989 to be precise) it is a beautiful place I am staying in, but I can't help feeling slightly caught up in history. My brother is based in Bergen-Belsen, and the NATO camp is in factt the remenants of a Training camp from WWII, most of the buildings having just been updated. The block next door to my bro's flat still has the outline of the massive eagle which used to hang above the door, and there is a huge marble swastika in the randhouse which has to be kept covered at all times.
More dramatic however is what lies just 5 mins down the road. Anyone who knows about the war may recognise the place name as somewhere where truely horrific acts took place, for Belsen concentration camp is literally within walking distance, just through the forrest. I will go there this week to look around, not sure how i'll feel about it all really. In Bergen which is the main town I saw a commemorative tree planted to remember Anne Frank who perished in Belsen, along with thousands of other Jews and POW's so the whole area is pretty spooky.

Will try and upload some pics from my phone this week too, not to be maccabre you must understand, but just to share my travels.

Mort, in a slightly retrospective mood, signing off.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

2006-06-24T22:23:00.000Z

Some of you may know, others might not, but tomorrow evening I fly out to Germany to spend two weeks in football heaven. Due to this fact I won't be about too much to share my witty writing talent with you all. Also, I can't be arsed to write a decent entry because i'm using my parents computer which only has dial-up connection (come back broadband, all is forgiven!!!) so each page takes three and a half days to load.

Adios Amigos.

Oh yeah, almost forgot......COME ON ENGLAND!!!

Just ask yourself one question. What would Magnum P.I do?

2006-06-12T10:06:00.000Z

Well firstly apologies for not leaving a suitable post. I noticed that lots of the regulars visited and refrained from leaving a comment.....(don't worry I won't shout at any of you)...but than it wasn't really a commentable topic.

Right, lets get down to busines then shall we? Sitting comfortably? Good......

The weekend:
As most of you may have noticed, the World Cup has started. Now I am aware that not all of you are fans of football, so if I occasionally digress into a short rant about the beautiful game, then please bear with me, it might lead somewhere comedy. Then again it might not....

So I watched the England match at home on Staurday. This was probably the first time i've watched an England world-cup game at home since 1990, as usually I would go to the pub with my friends, or at least i'd be working in the bar (which is actually quite good fun, as then I can drink just as much, but also get paid for the privilage! - Note to self, never give the address for this site to my boss...). However, as I was having my usual Cameron-Day I had to stay in. At first I was a bit disappointed with this. Not because of Cameron obviously but if he decided to be a handful it would ruin the game, so my plan was to tire him out as much as possible, in the hope that he would fall asleep at 2 (Kick-off time) and sleep through most of the match. My plan backfired a little as we went into town early on Saturday and I put him in his reins for most of the trip, which he loved as he could totter about and be generally as nosey as possible, the trouble was he fell asleep as we got home (at about mid-day) and slept for 1 & 1/2 hours. Whoops! My fears, however, were not to come to fruition as he was a realy good boy and actually spent most of the match sat next to me on the sofa just chilling out.
On Saturday evening I went to work as usual. When I got there the bar was rammed full of drunken idiots blowing horns and singing football songs. O.k. i'm as big a football fan as the next man (unless of course the next man is Lama....!) but it really pisses me off when it's world cup time and the bars hammer out all the old England world-cup tunes. Most of them, at best, are truely atrocious (possibly with the exception of "Three Lions") with the rest just being an horrendous audible assault on my ear-drums.
The situation wasn't helped by the fact that my boss was shit-faced and was therefore fully in the swing, blowing his horn (ooh-err!) and dancing about like Stephen Hawking with Fire-Ants in his crotch). Still it's the world cup.....
After work I went out to the club and got thoroughly hammered, finally walking home at about 3.30am with my mate Jamie and his brother. We took a little diversion via Mucky-Mick's burger house as I was ravenous, despite the name it is a quality little burger joint tucked away next to the train station and it's open until about 6am. He only cooks to order so Jame and I had Double cheeseburgers, onion rings and hash browns which was just what I needed after a night on the lash. By the time I got home it must have been 4 in the morning, at which point, after being far too amused by poking the fat spider on the stairs with a straw, I decided to e-mail C to see how she was. Got the reply today and when i read my efforts, I instantly realised why typing whilst blind-drunk is asuch a bad thing....I kept SLIPPIng in anD OUT Of caps lettERS and sellping thnigs worng. Ho-hum....

SUNDAY:

Got woken up by a mixture of the hangover from hell, and the fiery furnace that was radiating through my unprotected bedroom window (mental note: finally purchase a blind now that it is summer..) at 10am. Got up quite quickly though as was looking forward to a day of playing footy in the sunshine. When I got down to the park, however, I discovered that there were only 5 of us playing, which was kinda disappointing, so we had to enroll some little kids into the game instead, which is always amusing. Especially when you get realy cruel and just toy with them before shooting from about 40 yards and watching the 3 foot dwarf in goal get fired back about 5 metres by the force of the shot he attempted to save (evil, I know...).
After this I went to Bridlington*

**

for a mate's birthday barbeque and got well and truely smashed again. Not bad for a weekends work I think.

* Possibly even more scummy than Scarborough, if that is possible. Just imagine Beiruit-by-the-sea with less tea-towels and more amusment arcades.

** O.k so this is actually Scraborough, but Brid is full of weirdo's like that guy. Hmmmm, nice speedos my friend!

R.I.P Big Man

2006-06-04T02:12:00.000Z

Very depressing week this week. One of my all-time musical heroes passed on to the great Sound-system in the sky. The Great Desmond Dekker died of a heart-attack a week-or-so ago and the world will truely be worse off for this. Des, you were a legend. Nuff said.

In his words:
"Dem a-loot, dem a-shoot, dem a-wail, in Shanty town...."

You shall live on in my ska-filled dreams matey.

Oh, woh-uh-oh, woh-uh-oh, Mysterious Girl....

2006-05-17T10:14:00.000Z

What follows is a detailed description of the rather odd events surrounding the time after I got home from work yesterday.....

So I got home from work last night and my house mate told me that some strange blonde-girl was waiting for me upstairs. Initially I was a little excited, after all, this sort of thing doesn't happen to me (contrary to what some of you may be thinking!) despite my obvious charm and wit... So cautiously I climbed the stairs, only to be confronted by a sight that chilled me to the very core of my soul. Stood outside my bedroom door, in a litle pink dress was none-other than............

PARIS HILTON!

O.k. so it wasn't exactly the real, living-flesh Paris Hilton, but none-other than a cardboard cut-out of said bimbo. To be honest I wasn't really sure what to do with her. In my opinion (as anyone who has read my previous posts will understand) I find her one of the most vaccuously cretinous air-heads that this planet has ever deemed fit to survive birth. The whole thing about IT-Girls fills me with a burning rage, the like of which is akin to that fella in "Something about Mary" who went nuts when his ear-phones were taken off. At the moment i'm in two minds as to whether I should sacrafice her in some manic pagan-ritual by burning her on the beach and revelling in her ashes (I fear this may get me a long holiday in a psychiatric ward). Or I could sell her on E-bay (the profit idea is looking to be a favourite at the mo), but for the time being she is stood in the corner of my room. Now most of the lads out there are probably already on the verge of logging off because of my comments so i'm going to find it very hard to see my next point....
This morning I awoke in a bit of a tired daze, and the first thing I saw in the gloom of my room was that she-devil peering down at me from the corner of my room. I tell you, I almost evacuated my bowels all over the bed, which is not exactly what Oasis had in mind when they sang "What's the Story, Morning Glory". So in light of this I have decided to put a big hat over her face, and drape a few ties round her neck in a vain attempt to shroud her from my eyes. If she was brunette things might have been different, but I am now resigned to the fact that i'll probably end up using her as some sort of punch-bag.

On A Lighter Note:
Several things in the news have kept me amused these past few weeks. Firstly there is the story of the guy who has been cycling round the world for the past 40 years. After all this time he decides to visit our blessed shores, and so he arrives in Portsmouth one spring morning. So what kind of example of good ol' British hospitality does he get? Yep, within minutes of stepping off the boat some chav half-inches his bike. Quality. Only the best welcome from Blighty, eh?
Personally I think it was some kind of revenge act by a daring group of Militant Cycle-offiandos after this story emerged last year:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/devon/3720224.stm

So as you can see there is a a cycle-war being raged across the globe, and none of us were aware of it! I think this conflict needs to be brought to the attention of the common man so that we may better understand the plight of those locked into this bitter struggle.

Adios amigos....

Good / Evil

2006-05-12T20:41:00.000Z

So apparently my blog site is 62% Good:

and only 38% Evil:

So I guess I just need to work harder on the old Evilness, eh?

Nobody F*cks with the Jesus!

2006-05-03T08:24:00.000Z

Righty-ho, I have decided to bow to the pressure and update my blog before the constant baying for news makes my ear-drums pop like a 14 year-old boy at a wet-tee-shirt competition. Once again it is my work-life which is taking the fore-front and will therefore take a verbal battering in the following section. (O.k. so technically it isn't verbal if it's written is it? Damnit i'm so pedantic I even argue with myself!)

So, work update:

* I didn't get the dream job I was hoping for, but at least the fact that I went through to the second round, so-to-speak, gave me a bit of gumption to look further.

* I have been forced at Biro-point to divide my allegiances between Mortgage Direct and Investments Direct. From my point of view this is only because the annual statements are due to be produced so the normally busy phone lines will go mental, and they need an extra monkey to help out.

To be honest I was a little pissed off about this at first because I didn't really want to start having to learn new processes and-the-like, but i'm getting used to it, and as I have no choice, it's a case of put-up or shut-up.

(You may have noticed that my preferred punctutaion symbol today is the hyphen, I have already used it a mere 12 times already. From now on I may make this an interesting aside to my blog; Mort's punctuation mark of the day! You're all right, I am quite sad aren't I?)

Sooooo.......

The Bank holiday weekend passed without too much drama. I was meant o be going camping on Sunday but C had to cancel (For very good reasons though) so instead I decided to treat myself to another rare beer session. Incidentally I REALLY need to start going out a little more regularly as my hang-overs are getting worse...more on this later....
So Sunday started with another Mammoth Grudge-football match. The season kicked off for me and my pals the other week when we hammered out mate's team in the first game of the season. (We've been playing these regular summer-sunday games for 3 years now) As I may have mentioned before, this is always wicked as the guys we play against have far more natural talent available, whereas we always put in the gutsy performances and seem to work better as a team. Plus they are all quite big-headed so it's ace when we stuff them, which is what we id this weekend, beating them 20-19, although we were 20-16 up at one point and wasted countless easy chances. (Is it me or have I gone all Sporty on you all, stop me if I bore you...!)
After the match I went home to get ready before meeting my mates down the pub at 3pm to start the days's drinking. After many-many beers and a few games of killer* we started staggering up the valley and into town where we had great amusment entertaining my mate Rob's dog Gino. The poor mutt had been kept on a lead all throughout the day as we were in pubs, but now he was in his element as we threw massive logs which he attempted to drag back to us. At this point he decided to try and commit suicide by launching himself across the road, right in front of an on coming car, apparently he'd seen a plastic bag on the other side which was too good to miss....cue 10 very drunk 20-somethings, all with looks of absolute horror on their faces chorusing "Noooooo" like a slow-mo from an action film, as the poor animal almost became roadkill.
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur to be honest, but I do remember being in a club at one point.....!

So. That's it, my life up-to-date. Be safe in the knowledge that the next entry will be my usual rambling list of shambolic complaints, but I will leave you with a new feature;
Larvae of the week!

This week, I am pleased to inroduce you all to one of my favourite insect larvae, the Leather-Jacket. Larvae of the Crane-fly (or Daddy Long-legs, see more hyphens) this creature is the bane of keen-gardeners everywhere. So let's not keep you waiting any longer, here he is, the Leather-Jacket:

Next week: No 2. in our series, The Tsetse Fly!

* For those that don't know it's where loads of people put in £1 each and take it in turn to pot a ball on the pool table, if you miss you lose a life and you only have 3 lives, last man standing takes the pot.

Walking down the road, with a ratchet in yo' waist, Johnny Too Bad, oi oi.

2006-04-27T08:36:00.000Z

Hi there Mort-fans, yes I am fully aware that it has been a while since our last Tango, but hopefully I shall now rectify that lenghthy absense with another stunningly inciteful, and witty blog-post. Failing that, I will waffle and rant stupendously, and only pick up a few random hits from people clicking on the wrong Google link. To ensure this happens I will now include a few words in a vain attempt to ensnare unwary search enguine users, so apologies in advance. (Personally I just think it will be quite amusing when the spotty, pre-teen porn mongers come here and find no erotic pics to whack off to!)

Massive Tits:

Huge Cock:

Gaping Hole:

Enormous Shaft:

So if you logged on here looking for porn: UNLUCKY!!!

Et tu, Brute?

2006-04-05T08:14:00.000Z

So another weekend has been conquered by the slow-marching army of time, *sigh* and yet, despite the fact that the year is moving fast, we seem to have left the weather far behind us.

Now I know.... that it's pretty out-of-character for an Englishman to discuss the climatic conditions of his sovereign-soil, but what the hell, I haven't got much else to write about today, so here goes nothing.

It's April, right? I have several electronic gadgets which tell me this; My computer at work, my mobile-phone, Teletext, my phone at work etc, and my undying faith in these pieces of precision engineering means that I find it very difficult not to believe what they are telling me to be the correct date. And yet, every morning for the past 3-4 days I have been tentatively stepping out onto the street only to be confronted with air that is colder than Condoleeza Rice's inner thigh.

This morning... we had frost. Yep, frost. In April. For the love of God it is practically summer time, I shouldn't have to be wearing winter clothing every time I go out for a sly death-stick at work!
Yesterday Afternoon... we had snow. Not just a quick flurry, but an hour-long blizzard, followed by a few hours of positively balmy spring-sunshine.

And throughout all this, us minions of the Great Queen Lizzie are being told that there will be a hose-pipe ban this summer. Yes, apparently our reservoirs are at an all time low, and no, silly, it's got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that approx. 50% of the U.K's domestic/commercial water-supply flows through pipe-systems which are more than 50 years, oh no, it's because we're not getting enough rain any more.
So there you have it folks, the U.K is soon to be in a desperate strangle-hold of the worst drought for decades.

Therefore the following plea goes out to all my international friends... forget Ethiopia, forget Somalia, Bangladesh, and all the other third world countries resigned to the evil grip of drought & famine, instead I call upon your mercy as providers of aid. This summer, why not donate just $1-2 a week, yes you heard me right, as little as $1-2 a week to help people like Mr Kenneth Ponsonby-Smythe of Cretindon, Kent. Mr Ponsonby-Smythe had been a keen gardener for 35 years, and his flowers were always talk of the village fete, but then the winter rains failed to come and every new summer brought another hose-pipe ban. Soon, his precious brood of prize-winning Geraniums and Chrysanthemums began to shrivel and fade, until now, all he is left with now are empty flower-beds surrounding his 22 bedroom mansion in what used to be called "The Garden of England". So this summer, whilst you may be out enjoying the glorious weather, spare a thought for the thousands of gardeners across the U.K. Gardeners like Kenneth Ponsonby-Smythe who are unable to pour away gallons of water each year in a vain attempt to keep their precious lawns emerald green. So please donate just $1-2 a week of your money to help keep Britain Green.

Thank You.

I have added a new feature to the navigation bar on the right hand side. Someone at work sent me a cartoon a couple of times, so I linked the address and it is now a permanant fixture. The cartoon is called Cyanide & Happiness, it's very funny I assure you, and they seem to update it quite regularly so feel free to follow the link for a bit of daily mirth. Oh, and thanks to the people at Explosm.net for unwittingly letting me copy their link just to make my blog look good!

Wednesday, Bloody Wednesday

2006-03-22T13:41:00.000Z

Aloha all. I got myself set up for a massive work related rant today, but I don't have the heart anymore so i'll spare you all the dull details.....

IRK OF THE WEEK:

Why do buses randomly change the prices that they charge? I usually pay £1.25 for the privilage of sitting on a packed bus full of the following misfits:

1) Scum-Bag Scroaty School Kids who haven't got an ounce of manners in them. Last week I had to wait while a prosession of teen arse-holes paraded from the back of the bus to get off, practically every one of them kicked Cameron's push chair on the way past, and not one of them stopped to let me get out. Grrrrrr. And i've been relyably informed that murder / assualt is illegal? Is there no justice?

2) Ghetto Mothers who are usually 14-19 and the type that use their children's prams as a handy wind-break when lighting up a cig. These invariably congregate at the front of the bus swapping tales of "Our Baz's" latest appearance in court. They seem to spend the rest of the time screaming / swearing at their kids in the vain hope that threats of violence are going to stop little Darryl from shouting "Wanker" at all the old people. Mind you, when his mothers' favourite phrases include "Fuck Off" "Twat" and "Wanker" you tend to see why*...

3) Dribbling weirdos who rock back and forth and have haircuts like Lego-men. I've got nothing against the mentally affected people of this world, but sometimes I wonder why half of the sunshine -bus people you see round Scarborough are allowed out without assistance. There is one guy, for instance, (locally known as Wet-man because of the healthily greasy sheen of his hair) who spends the entire day sat on the floor in the middle of town. He obviously hasn't had a shower for approx 5 months.

4) Old People, they generally seem to be under the impression that they have the divine right to everything. Last Friday I had been stood at the bus stop for about 20 mins, just as the (very busy) bus pulled up, an old woman appeared and tried to climb onto the step before I did. Now usually I would have waived her ahead of myself anyway. I like to think that i'm quite a polite person, I hold doors for people, let older people sit down at the front of the bus, let people pass on, say, a narrow path rather than shoving past them, sometimes I even let my housemates use the Sky TV remote, but it really pisses me off when old people EXPECT preferential treatment. Fuck-off, you are all going to die a lot sooner than I so you can wait a bit, my time is more precious....

5) The Guy who also rides the train, you know the one, you finally get a carriage / seat on the bus all by yourself, you whip out your copy of "The Lost Continent" by Bill Bryson, on goes the i-Pod, you're all set for a blissful journey into literary heaven, when some smelly freak comes and sits next to you and starts to talk to you. My usual method of defense against this (on trains, anyway) is just to ignore said fool until they get bored and talk to someone else, but on the bus there is no safety. Whoever is responsible for designing the seats on buses could only have been a double leg amputee, and with a a waist size that Karen Carpenter would have been proud of. So when one of these nutters plonks their (invariably) over-sized ass next to yours, you know you're in for a torrid journey. A fornight ago one of these wierdo's (he could have fitted perfectly into catergory 1 too) sat next to me. Stared at me silently for about 5 minutes, before uttering one of the most intellectually taxing statements that had ever befallen my ears:

"I like cats"

I mean honestly, what was I supposed to do? Well I did what any other sane person would do and asked him to move his legs so that I could sit somewhere else.

(And you wonder why I collected the United Nations International Man of Tact award for the third year in a row?)

* They also have a certain penchant for repeating the phrases "Blatantly" "Know what I mean" and my personal favourites, "To be fair" and "Like" as many times as is humanly possible in one sentence. They also come out with such grammatical wonders as adding the word "Me" to EVERY VERBAL OFFERING (as one of my friends overheard in a club the other night) as "That DJ, Peter Piper, is shit me." (what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Can anyone out there please calculate exactly what the utterer of the above sentence actually meant?)

Good News: England won the third test, and drew the series. Well done lads, you've done us proud.

All's Quiet on the Mort-o Front

2006-03-11T10:18:00.000Z

It is Saturday morning and I am sat at work. I've got a busy day ahead of me because straight after work I have to go to a kid's birthday party (where Cameron is) and wait there before rolling back into town for about half two, so many, many buses to catch, grrrr.

I've just had the biggest ignoramous I think i've ever had on the phone. We request "Certified" copies of people's identification when they are opening a mortgage account. The reason why we odn't take original documents anymore is that we have a large office that seems to have several Black-Holes in, where many a customer's Passport has disappeared in the past, so now we try to lessen the risk.
Anyway, this lady called today asking if she could just send in her passport, I gave her a brief run-down of why she couldn't and what she woukld have to do to get a certified copy (basically get a photocopy signed by a professional/regulated person, i.e. a Police officer, solicitor, Bank Manager, Government Official, Doctor, etc). She then told me that she didn't know any of the above examples and wantyed me to give her the dictionary definition of "a Professional person".
I put her on hold, swore like a fish-wife (whilst going to find a copy of our customer information booklet) only to return to the phone to find a very bemused customer talking to herself. Apparently the original customer had hung up (thank God, because I was worried she might have heard me saying all the rude, but highly justified things that I said about her) and a new customer had come through, heard my automatic greeting and presumed that someone was on the other end of the phone. Very bizarre, but also highly amusing. *

Fun Link of the day:

http://members.home.nl/saen/Special/Zoeken.swf

*Aplogies for the crap post, but I don't have much time, and can't think of anything too exciting to write.

Idle Chit Chat

2006-03-01T11:50:00.000Z

Does anybody else get really annoyed with soaps & teen-soaps? I stopped watching Neighbours regularly about a year or more ago now, but it still manages to rile me like no other programme on t.v. Hollyoaks has the same effect, which is why I stopped watching that about 6 months ago. There are several reasons for this.

1) Everybody is far too healthy.

Everyone seems to be a perfect specimen of the human race. Nobody smokes, drinks or uses recreational drugs. Now I know these are supposed to be "Family Shows" but I hate the way that if any indvidual appears on these programmes and does smoke or drink, they are portrayed as a rebellious scum-bag, often with evil intent.

2) People get away with bullying too easily.

When I was at school, if some other kid started to have a go at you there were generally two courses of action available: Tell them to F*ck off, beat them up, get someone bigger to beat them up*, or be a wuss and tell the Teachers.
In Neighbours (and also Hollyoaks) why do you often see a character getting bullied by the most weedy looking idiot you've evr seen, and all they do is submit to them! For the love of god fight back!

3) The plot never moves on.

Like I said, i've not watched either of these shows for a fair while, but the other night my house-mate was watching Neighbours. The story was exactly the same as it had been 12 months ago, with the exception of the introduction of a few more hags. (Does anyone remember when Neighbours used to have fit women in it? And for the ladies, didn't it used to be full of buff men like, oh I don't know Drew, or Jason Donovan....er, o.k, point taken..)

So there you go...

Most of my celebrity-based rants are (I think) quite valid. All they seem to do is whinge and moan about stuff, yet they have everything handed to them on a plate. Take a look at the list at the bottom of this page and I think you'll agree that if ever there was cause for me to be given an international License to Kill and a free sniper rifle, then there's no better time, quite frankly.

ON ANOTHER NOTE...

Recently i've been studying for my CeMAP qualifications at work. I won't bore you all with detail, but it's basically a financial qualification that covers evrything from Tax to Mortgage lending. Now I sat and read all about the UK tax system yesterday and all I can say is, Is there anything left that our government won't tax? You spend your life working hard to earn money. This is taxed. You put what's left of this money into a savings account. This is taxed. When you die, you cannot simply pass on your belongings to your family, because, wait for it, you'll be taxed! So even when you're dead-and-buried the Government still want to get their greasy-overpaid paws on your hard-earned money. (Which, as I previously stated, has already been taxed!) Would be interseting to hear from you guys in the states, Oz, Holland etc as to your opinions on your respective tax systems.....

Website of the week:

www.subservientchicken.com

Tell him what to do and he'll do it. If he doesn't like it, he'll tell ya!

Regards, Mort.

Oh, and I almost forgot, for those that may be interested, Cameron seemed to like Pancakes, and he also likes Marmite. Just like his old man, good lad...

*Of course I would like to mention that Mort does not condone violence of any sort. Unless it is against any of the following:

Vernon Kaye (crap DJ/TV presenter)
Chris Moyles (Self-obsessed DJ)
Colin Murray (As above)
George Bush
Julian Clarey (There are only so many innuendos you can make about being a Chutney-Ferret, give it up man)
The entire cast of Friends (except the monkey)
Mel Gibson (Stop changing history mate)
Tom Cruise
Ricky Ponting
Paris Hilton (Do I have to specify why???)

Anybody know?

2006-02-13T11:28:00.000Z

Managers, discuss...

What is the point of managers, or more importantly "Team Leaders"? Our manager seems to spend 50% of his time in meetings, discussing Lord-knows what, 35% of his time on e-Bay, or looking up new Hotels he can go and stay at, and the rest of the time worrying about which of our customers we are/aren't calling back. He is consistantly in a bad mood, doesn't have a Scooby about our criteria or procedures, so once again, I ask you, what is his role?

Now I thought about this for quite some time over the weekend, and after a brief discussion amongst some colleagues whilst in the Cig-hut, I came to the conclusion that we would be better off with an inflatable boss, kinda like that Automatic pilot in 'Airplane'.

Now I wouldn't mind any of this if he actually seemed to be busy from time-to-time, but he never is. Occasionally we hear rumours that he is looking at some sort of spreadsheet, but I think this is all a ploy.
The most annoying factor in all this is the fact that he constantly berates us for spending work time on the internet, when he spends upwards of 2 hours a day looking for shite on e-Bay. Pot, Kettle, Black?

Nice link, seems he has even more problems than I do:

www.workrant.com

Found this link which is a bit waffly, but explains why we SHOULDN'T bash our bosses (In the verbal sense of course, although I have often have had to refrain from carrying out the physical variety)

http://www.wpsmag.com/content/templates/wps_article.asp?articleid=360&zoneid=33

On a lighter note, I am beginning to thoroughly detest my house-mate's Girlfriend. She works in the same building as me, (now on maternity leave, however) but despite being pregnant she was always in the cig-hut smoking her arse off. I'm not one to preach (!!!) but it disgusts me to see pregnant women smoke. The unborn child has no choice in the matter and it is just plain, and somewhat lethal selfishness that makes these people do what they do.

But this is not what annoys me the most. She used to irritate me no-end because she had such a big mouth, and wouldn't shut up when all you wanted was a quiet smoke, but it is even harder to bear now that she is constantly round the house.

Example:
I usually get home from the bar on Saturday nights between 11.45pm and Midnight, unless I go out, but that event gets rarer every week. I am ALWAYS tired because I have Cameron on Friday night/Saturday day, and I look forward to Sat nights after work because I don't have to get up early the next day, like I do every other day of the week. This means I can stay up watching TV until (Literally) the cows come home. The trouble is, for the last 4 weekends I have come home from work to find this fat, sprawling mess on MY sofa. She does not pay rent. She does not even live here, and she certainly doesn't pay for Sky, so why is she on the sofa every Saturday night? Why? Because she wants to wait for her Boyfriend to come home from his regular piss-up. Can't she just go home? Can't she just wait in his bedroom?

For the last few weeks i've been seeing a young lady, and pretty much the only evening we both have free, to, er meet, is Saturday, so she usually meets me after work at my house, but how am I supposed to entertain my guests with Jabba lording it up in MY front room? Now this doesn't just go for female guets, what if I wanted to invite some mates back for a post-pub games session? She may well want to kill her child by smoking but I shouldn't be expected to, and considering our house is a smoking house, i'm damned if I (And all my mates who also smoke) am going to be forced into the back-garden to smoke, just cause she is there!

Grrrrr. Thoughts anyone?

Caramel Pockets!

2006-02-02T15:27:00.000Z

Big bag of quality Streets got put on our desk today. I for one was quite excited because it's not often that we get given anything (My suspicion is that we are being buttered up for, oh I don't know, increased targets, redundancy, or maybe manditory executions) but this quickly turned to paranoia.

Anyway...

So I selected a few choice sweets including one of those purple ones with the caramel and hazelnut in. The actions that followed have pushed me into realising that I really need to improve my memory because i put this sweet into my back pocket before going downstairs to eat lunch. Ten minutes ago I wondered what the lump in my pocket was, so I tentatively inserted a few fingers into the aforementioned pocket, only to discover the mangled remains of the sweet, and a pocket now firmly gooed up with Caramel.

Idiot.

Jam Sarnies, amongst other things....

2006-02-02T11:11:00.000Z

So today my packed lunck consists of:

6 Jam sandwiches.

I hate the end of the pay month, probably because i'm invariably skint, hence i'm trying to save money by bringing packed lunches to work. Trouble is I didn't do a proper shop so I don't have any fruit, crisps, yoghurts etc, so jam sarnies it is!

Our Company is currently running some customer incentive to take up Life assurance, called "Wish You Weren't Here". If you agree to a fact-find call from the L&G rep you could win (steady...) £150 holiday vouchers. The resultof this scheme is that we had to decorate our office with a holiday theme. Mortgage Services chose Australia, Investments picked Spain, so what did my manager choose I hear you cry?

Wait for it....

Blackpool.

Yes, that scum-pit of Stag/Hen night debauchery in the North West of England. This has meant that we have the narrowest scope for creativity, I mean what on Earth can you do to represent Blackpool, apart form the Tower and a few Donkeys? Aussie decorations? Barrier Reef, Ayres Rock, Boomerangs, Kangeroos, Surf Boards Beer, etc etc. Spain? Paella, Flemanco, Castanets etc etc. So apart from a large cut-out of Blackpool tower and some photo-shopped images of the staff on donkey-back we were at a loss. My idea of printing pics of famous people from Blackpool was o.k. until we searched for these celebs and found the likes of:

Keith Harris & Orville *
George Formby **
Robert Smith from The Cure
Les Dawson ***
Peter Purves from Blue Peter. ****

Hardly A-list is it?

The only two internationally recognised people born in Blackpool were Frasier's Dad from the US sitcom, and Sir Stanley Matthews, the Footballer, and he's dead now anyway!

Cool site of the week:

http://www.almostnakedanimals.com/

It made me giggle anyway.

FOR INTERNATIONAL READERS:

* 80's kids tv entertainer, had his hand permanently inserted into the arse of a large, green duck-puppet. Nuf said?
** Played a Ukelele in the 1940's, of "When I'm Cleaning Windows" fame.
*** Comedy Genius, sadly departed.
**** Blue Peter is possibly the most awful childrens programme ever, he was a presenter of this show in the 80's.

Last Weekend

2006-01-18T12:23:00.000Z

I had a pretty heavy weekend last week. I was supposed to go through to York on Saturday because it was a friends birthday, but I pulled out as it would have cost a fortune. (All day in York on the Sauce, plus a return Train fair = Easily £60-£70, pah!)
So instead I went to Vivaz to see a Ska-covers band who i've seen many times before, and they are usually very good.

BIG SHOCK:

Now I read an article which said the'd got a new laed singer, fair enough I thought, these things happen. Thing is though: SHE WAS FEMALE!!!!
Now, before you all go biting my head off for being sexist, I have nothing against female singers, even in the Ska game (Selecter were quite good), but it just didn't work here i'm afraid so i left pretty much unfullfilled.

The Next Day:

Was our staff day/night out from the bar. Now we started this session at 2pm. Can't remember much, apart form singing "Stand & Deliver" by Adam & The Ants with one of our bouncers in a Karaoke pub.

Not very proud of myself, I can assure you.

Ta-ta!

Is......?

2006-01-18T12:19:00.000Z

2006 any different from years 0-2005? Well, no not really.

I mean, who are they trying to kid? Say for example your T.V breaks down after a few years use, so you go to the shop to pick up a new one. However, lo-and-behold, you end up with an identical model that came with a slightly different name. What a con.

What would be intersting is if, say for example (bear with me) you woke up on Jan 1st 2007, and the sky was yellow. That'd be pretty nifty, no?

Hallelujah - 2006

2006-01-18T11:55:00.000Z

O.K so i know it's about half way through January, but as you can see i've been pretty damn lazy so far this year and have yet to update the ol' blog, so here goes.

New Year:

New Year's eve was top this year. I travelled down to Bristol the day before with the litle fella in tow. Well, I thought seeing as he is over 10 months old now, it was about time he met the rest of my family, so my long-suffering Dad agreed to drive up to Scabs and also drive me back with Cameron. Now this turned out to be quite a refreshing experience for me as i'd never been on such a long journey with the wee-man before. For the better part he was very well behaved, except he kept throwing his toys down the side of the chair, then crying because they weren't in his hands anymore! (Yeah, I know, Kid logic, eh?)

Anyhoo, the general visiting of relations went quite smoothly, but I discovered several intersting things:

1) Cameron REALLY likes Old people. Especially if they are wearing wooly jumpers.

2) Red sofas + whole bottle's-worth of baby vomit = Not Good.

3) Kids are eternally amused by tupperware bowls.

New Year's Eve

So my lovely parents agreed to baby-sit Cameron on New Year's Eve, so that i could go into Bristol and get stupidly drunk. (Yeah, I know, you're all asking yourselves how i manage to be such a responsible father...!)
I met up with some friends and we all went out to a few bars before finally meeting some other friends in a small, under-ground club, which basically resembled an old smugglers celler. We all stayed there until about 1.30am, before things got REALLY intersting...

The plan was that we were all to return to my friend John's house for a massive house party, so (for no apparent reason what-so-ever) everyone decided to walk to his house, but in about thirty different groups. John and I took a very long route, so we kept getting phone-calls from our other mates (Who'd already reached the house to find nobody in) asking where we were. at this point we walked past to Scratty looking Chav lasses (Appx age 16) who asked us to buy them a drink in a bar callled Mackies. Being well-and-truely in the Christmas (and any other types) spirit we agreed, and told them to wait at a table while we went to the bar.
Now I know what you're all thinking, probably several things actually, ranging from:
"You're at it again you dirty sod!" to: "They're under-age!" or possibly: "You managed to speak to a chav without killing them?"
But, have no fear....

John and I ordered our two pints of Stella and promptly walked straight out the bar (Still carrying our pints) and set off once again for his house. A few minutes later we could faintly hear cries of "Ere, you two Di*kheads, come back 'ere, aw man!" etc etc.

He he he he he, what a jape, eh?!!!

Intersting Fact:

John had a rather novel approach regarding decorations on his tree. Amongst other things, he had: Half a red onion. Some Lego trees. A Leek.

How Christmassy, eh?

Boxing Day, Infinity & Beyond....

2005-12-28T13:01:00.000Z

Another year, another mammoth shift at the bar on Boxing Day. For those not familiar with the boxing day celebrations in Scarborough I will now attempt to describe to you exactly what goes on.

Bascially the whole entire town goes out on the lash at aboutt 11am, right through till the clubs close. Traditionally it was called Ladies day because (I Think) it was meant to be a celebration day for all the women of the town who, after a hard day slaving over the stove on Christmas Day, were allowed (!) a day to rest. In years past the men and women used to go out in big groups and were not meant to talk to each other, but this rule has since been passed over.
I don't particularly mind working on Boxing Day (This is my 4th year doing so) because i usually get double time (after a 12 hour shift, you do the math!) so it balances out the requiremnt to serve the biggest and widest variety of arses the planet has ever created.

Not much trouble this year though (which is probably a good thing as the bar I work in is very small so it wouldn't take much to turn it into a western-saloon style brawl) except the usual bunch of 'hilarious' comedians who spend all day going from pub-to-pub doing nice things like crimping one off in the urinal/toilet floor/friends hand. My only highlight was the argument i had with one idiot in particular who kept shouting at me to serve him. I told him to f*ck off because I was talking to an ex-colleague of mine at the time, and that i'd serve him in my own sweet time. After a brief, but comedy interchange he eventually conceeded and aplogised. Damn. Can I not have fun anymore?

Total Drinks Consumed at work:

Beer = Easily 12 bottles.
Spirits = Just a meagre 12 shots of JD & Coke (3 at-a-time in pint glass, honestly boos, it's just coke...)

Still, I didn't feel drunk at the end of the night so not bad eh?

after this I had every intention of going home to sleep like Rip Van Winkle, instead, I got talked into staying up until 6am by my very drunk Kiwi house mate, to watch the live Cricket between the Aussies and South Africa...

So here I am, it's Wednesday afternoon (Just) and i'm back at work again (Doing next to nothing). If anybody manages to discover where Christams went, and what exactly happenend to it, can they let me know please?!!

Adieu!

The run up to Christmas

2005-12-28T12:09:00.000Z

Well, is everyone feeling good now that the festive season is finally (almost) over? I for one am. I've never been the biggest fan of Christmas (I warn you now this is gonna be the moany bit, I promise to lighten the mood shortly) but it seems to get worse and worse each year. This year I managed to shorten the length of time that i spent at home, instead I spent most of the Chritmas period at either of my two jobs. So here I am, back at work, and it really sucks, big-time that it all seems but a distant memory.....

Christmas Eve & Christmas Day: The Highlights.

Christams Eve started well enough, (despite the fact I was at the Building Society 9am-12) but far too early for my liking. My total level of productivity for my three hours at work can be broken down as thus:

1) Bucks Fizz (Glasses consumed) = 5.

2) Cakes / Biscuits / Snacks consumed = Far too many.

3) One game of Trivial Pusuits won (Nicely done considering my partner and colleague left early at 11, leaving me with the prospect of defeating the combined investment two, and Mortgage Services one on my own.)

4) Time spent actually working = 30 seconds to transfer the single call I received.

Following this mammoth work-effort I went home to lie on the sofa for as long as would be humanly possible before I went to the bar in the evening to work again. But, no, my peace could not remain unshattered as my boss asked if I could be in for 3. We haggled, and I went in at 4 and spent the rest of the day serving arseholes their Christmas Cheer. Bah-Humbug!

Christmas Day was better mind you. I picked Cameron up at about 10am so that he could spend some time at mine opening his presents. I'm not sure if he knew what was going on, but he must have realised something special was going down, despite the fact that it was his first Christmas. After I opened all his pressies for him, however, he proceeded to take great interest in the watch I am currently wearing (Bit of a story to this, all my watches are either broken, or have flat batteries, can't be arsed to sort them out so recently I started to wear one of the "dead" ones as a kind of Useless Accessory). In fact he got so engrossed with ti that he didn't want to play with his toys, he just wanted to smash my watch against some of the things i'd bought him!

After this I went to the local pub to meet some friends for a few cheeky wetners, before returning home ready to give the Kiwi-elements of my household a damn good thrashing on Brian Lara cricket. Day over.

Total Alcohol Consumed by end of night:
Wine = 1 Bottle
Champagne = 1 Bottle
Beer = Appx 5 pints
A few cheeky JD & Cokes too.

The Infamous Christmas Party

2005-12-19T13:13:00.000Z

So, Friday was our staff do from work. Cue oodles of drunken debauchery, and a whole night spent trying, oh-so-hard not to tell the execs what you really think of them...
The evening started pretty much as last years did. About 20 of the guys from work, including me, went to my colleagues house at about six for pre-party drinks. When i say pre-party drinks I mean that we had to work our way through a 6-litre container of our wicked crimbo-punch, which considering the fact that it contained about 4 litres of alcohol, was no mean feat.

Needless to say we were all quite merry by the time we set off for the hotel where our party was based (this occured only 1 hour after we started at my friends house!).
Stopped for a quick snifter in the bar round the corner from the Royal Hotel, none of us wanted to arrive until the food was served, damnit!

The Juicy Bit...

So I was wasted. Yep, completly mortalled from god-knows-when onwards. The party really got into full swing about half way through the meal, when my work mate Andy decided to see just how many party hats he could "wear" on his head / face. Personally i don't think that 18 is a bad attempt....
Following this I spent most of the night wearing a comedy Moustache which was in the cracker, unfortunately I have now seen some of the pictures of myself and considering i was wearing a suit, I looked like a young Hitler at the annual National Socialist Party Christmas bash.
By Nine P.M the casualty list was a s follows:

1) One of the, er, larger Female member's of staff had already flashed her arse, boobs and front bum. Classy lady, eh?

2) One member of senior staff (married) seen disappearing with an ugly admin girl.

3) My mate quinny (for first time in history being allowed out without his wife) sat on sofa surrounded by several lasses looking like a cheap Hugh Hefner.

4) My large cigar, broken into three pieces and completly un-smokable. (I did make several attempts to smoke it anyway..!)

5) Dessert. Everyone missed it because we were too busy getting drunk and smoking cigs by the bar.

Pretty much everything was a blur after this. I took a spare change of clothes to go out in, and at about eleven I decided to change inro said outfit. Five minutes later I was back in my suit because I realised that I rather liked it! Cue many a strange look from people who saw me in both attire!

AND FOR THOSE WHO THOUGHT I'D END UP WITH SOME BUNNY-BOILING PSYCHO-WOMAN...

I didn't, so there. *Rasp*

Late nights and Mate's fights...

2005-12-12T11:40:00.000Z

Wow, what a quality weekend! After getting up early on Saturday (Not a problem because I had Cameron anyway) I began to watch England V Pakistan in the first one-dayer. What a cracking match it was too! In fact it made me completly forget about the events of the night before which left me in an awful mood.

THE NIGHT BEFORE....

Got home with Cameron and at about 7 i went to pick up my wages form the bar as usual, before popping to the shops for some bits & Bobs, but mainly for electric. Our house is on a meter you see and you need to put money on a little blue key every week. Now this particular night we had a few problems. I thought that the 30p left was of normal credit, but apparently it had already gone over to the emergency fund, so the £5 I put on got swallowed leaving us with 30p of electric (still there? Bear with me, for I know this tale is a tad boring) and meant that we couldn't rely on the emergency fund this time. Got home, fed and bed Cammy before ordering a pizza which finally arrived at about half ten. I'd managed to get half way through this, and started watching the episode of Lost which i'fd taped when 'Click' all the lights, the TV et al turned off. Which left me in the pitch darkness with a bolognase pizza that i couldn't see, and no entertainment so I ended up just going to bed early. (This was after my house-mate Brett came home from work before going out on a mad, midnight mission to find electric, needless to say he had no joy!)

SATURDAY...

Saturday afternoon was mint after Cameron had gone (Woah, calm down there, it wasn't BECAUSE he had gone, i'll explain if you let me..) because i spent three hours watching Soccer AM which i'd taped (yet more joy for the Sky owner, Soccer AM rocks) before going to work.
Work was heaving because all the mutants from the local factories were on staff nights out before Christmas. Great. Bar opens 7pm, I stroll in at 7.30pm, by ten-to-eight the bar is packed out with all the dregs of Scarborough's Society. Strangely though, no Burberry in sight for a change....

Decided to go out after work, met my three mates and went to "Red Square" and we promptly wasted £7 between us on the Pepsi chart quiz. (WE gambled on Rap/Hip-Hop for three points, hoping that my expertise might come into play, little did we know that Pepsi consider DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince of Bell Air as Rap and/or Hip-Hop, well can YOU name 6 records that they released, I think not.)

After this brief forray into semi-pro gambling we made our way to the club, Studio One, initial signs looked poor as when we entered the club they were playing Destiny's Child. It's supposed to be Indie night for Christs-sake! (This changed shortly after our arrival, probably due to the 300 requests that we lumbered my mate Bex, the Dj, with.)

So, Brief overview of night:

- All my mates were wasted except Mark, very rare that indeed, he's usually incoherrant by 10!
- My friend Shaun got all morbid in his drunkness, complained he couldn't pull (even though he's very good-looking in my no-I-am-not-gay opinion)
- Ended up staying in the club till 4am trying to stop Shaun abusing pretty much everyone.
- Got conned into buying a drink for a lass at work (No, NOT one of THOSE lasses) who promptly placed an extra order for her friend, which i had to pay for as well! Cheeky Mare!
- Left the club shortly before Shaun abused the WRONG person, who then proceeded to swing for him in drunken comedy fashion, wish i'd not missed that, ha ha!

Ah well, you're only young once, eh?

Mort's Little Bits of Wisdom...

2005-11-28T14:49:00.000Z

Never underestimate the worth of spending an entire day watching nothing but "Meet The Ancesters", "Scrapheap Challenge", "Top Gear" and "Time Team".
This is why Sundays were invented.

"Man shall do no work on Sundays, Man shall lie on his Sofa and ignore his mobile phone, so long as he has tea to sustain him." Mort, 2005

O.k. so half of these programmes should only be safely viewed by either by those:

a) Over the age of 60.
or;
b) who wear pattern-knit jumpers on a day-to-day basis, and drink Horlicks regularly.

But i find these types of things rather interesting. Even at the ripe ol' age of 26. You still laughing? Oh Pi*s off then!

Snow, amongst other things.

2005-11-28T14:27:00.000Z

So we got some snow on Friday, cool. I love snow, it certainly hammers home the realisation that Christmas is just around the corner, and generally makes everything look a bit nicer. Maybe that's because Scarborough (and all the other crappy towns of this beloved kingdom) turn from Littered-Grey to pristine white.
Trouble is, being on the coast means that the snow doesn't hang about for long, mostly due to the sea-air having too much salt in it. So the snow promply disintergrated by Friday evening, which was a shame because I wanted Cameron to experience his first taste (Not literally) of snow.
I also wanted to go sledging, he he he.
Last year we were pretty lucky, as we got our usual New-Year blizzard in about Jan/Feb and it stuck about for around 3/4 days, and was reasonably deep in places. Me and a few friends decided to go sledging as we'd spotted a few good places the year before. Towards the end of the day we were walking back across the top of North Bay (Behind the Alexandria Bowls centre for those familiar with Scarborough) when i decided to have one last, suicidal tabogan run. So with no form of warning to my friends, what-so-ever, I dived over the cliff. Imagine the scene, the cliff itself consists of a good 45ft high, very very very steep grassy cliff, this runs down to flat-ish plateau about 25ft wide, followed by a second drop, about 15ft high which falls on to some more grass criss-crossed by paths, followed by the road.

Ooops, Big Mistake....

...Is what I thought as I screamed down the cliff at approximately mach 3.5, partially due to the speed I found myself travelling at, but more importantly that I was rapidly approaching the bottom of the first slope, and the blissfully oblivious couple who were walking upon it.
Luckily (depending on your idea of luck) i missed them both, (although if you were the Man who looked like he suffered a coronary as a result, I apologise now...) and continued my death-ride across the flat towards the second drop.
Now it was at this point that I realised what little planning I had carried out before this escapde. Being partially aware of the law of physics, I now recognised that i was about to become air-bourne, and that things were going to get a bit painful. Very soon too.
Sure enough i hit the lip of the 2nd drop. Whilst my sledge continued down the hill, I continued through the air, flailing wildly before smashing down to earth just short of the road. On my arse. This hurt quite substantially really.

Another Comedy Weekend

2005-11-21T12:51:00.000Z

Well, another week down, another weekend full of comedy stories. It looks as though choosing not to go out after work on Saturday may have well saved my life. Although saying that, imminent death stalks me at every corner...

It all started when...

........a few weeks ago i made the critical error of sleeping with someone from work (Yeah, O.K big I-told-you-so's coming from Flora, Nettie, et al..) whilst heavily under the influence of that most famous of mind-ruiners: Jacky D. Now contrary to every piece of sanity I can ever muster, I "docked" at said "Port", again a week or so later, once again, under the influence of alcohol.
At the same time as this I had been flirting (innocently, of course) with another young lady from the same building (you can see where this is heading, right?).
Now this weekend saw the marriage of the boss of the department that BOTH these lasses work in, and so they were all out merrily celebrating the reception to the wedding. Unfortunately (genuinely unbeknown to me) Lass # 2 (flirt-girl) as I shall refer to the 2nd woman, asked Lass # 1 (the one i had slept with) if it was (and I quote): "O.K if she went into town to meet Martin" because, as she eloquently put it, "wants to f**k him". Well as you can imagine, this caused a little scuffle.

I got my lift to work this morning....

.....whilst being given a dramatic reconstruction of the aforementioned events (I was at work at the time, and went home afterwards to enjoy a DVD, was not aware of all this talk of being sh**ged!). Apparently my (wasted) boss had to step in to pry the Harpies apart.

Am I proud of my actions?

NO, not really.

Is it big or clever having two grown women fight over you?

Most definately it is!

Still Batman Begins was good...!

More Annoying Bar-Customer Stuff.

2005-11-11T13:09:00.000Z

Wow. Previous levels of stupidity have been surpassed....

Example 1:

"Do you have any I.D, i'm sorry to ask it's just that the police are really cracking down in this area and I want to be cautious and not get a £3000 fine"

response "Ugggh, no, I don't carry I.D coz i'm 19 (I hope some of you found that comment as rediculous as i did) anyway (points to fat old woman at back of group) that's me Mam, so she'll tell you i'm 19."

Great, well now if she can just PROVE to me that youare 19, oh forget it.....

Example 2:

Girl walks into bar (no this is not a crap joke ending in "Ouch") with about 8 mates. She is wearing a big badge which proclaims to all that she is "18" We ask her for i.d, she does the obligatory rummage through handbag & purse (why do ALL people who have been I.Ded do this when they know full well that they have NO I.D?) before proclaiming "I haven't got any sorry, but i've got this! (Points at said badge).
Right, so has this badge been officially issued by the government? No? Bugger off then....

Another Day, Another Year Older

2005-11-11T12:56:00.000Z

So yesterday I was 26, pretty funky, huh?

You see i exist in that middle ground between those people who constantly worry about their age, and those that don't care. Sometimes i do actually panic that the last 8 years of my life seem to have whizzed by at substantial pace, but most of the time I don't really care. For instance i'd pretty much forgotten it was my birthday up until the day before!

The trouble is, now i am the wrong side of 25. Officially i can no longer refer to myself as young. I have to act as an adult (or at least people expect me to, yeah right). And I have found myself losing patience with anyone under the age of 18. Yup, that's right i now hate teenagers. O.k. to be fair I have hated teenagers since about 2002, but now my hatred has increased dramatically. Now i know that we all used to be teens, but is it me or are they getting worse? I think i finally recognised the moment that i turned into my Dad, it was two nights ago. I was sat watching Magnum in the front room, it was about half-eight at night, when suddenly I could hear some little tossers arguing in that oh-so-cultured tongue of Scarborough-Chav (Think cross between Mancunian and Neolithic Man). At first I wasn't particularly bothered but they persisted and it was loud, so i looked out the window to see three teen-scumbags perched on my front-garden wall sharing a fag and a can of Carling. "Right" I thought, "I hope you've not got comfy you little twats" and so off I went to the front door to tell them to piss off.

And so my gradual progressive transformation into a middle-aged man continues.....

Everyday feels like a Monday....

2005-11-07T10:45:00.000Z

Yeah, I know, they are not the correct lyrics, but I don't think Morrisey is going to be suing me just yet...

The Weekend...

I didn't really do a great deal this weekend. Cameron's teeth were playing up on Friday night so I didn't get much sleep, he was upset all day on Saturday too, and wasn't eating mounds & mounds like he usually does, so I was a little concerned. Ended up falling asleep on the sofa with Cammy asleep upon my chest (cue cutesey "aaah's" from all female readers). Got woken up by his mother calling to see if i could meet her in town to drop Cameron off, trouble was when I got there her phone battery had died so I had to parade up and down the centre of town in the freezing rain looking for her.

(In situations like this I would have preferred to be looking for a man. No offence ladies but we tend to think in a more logical manner. If the role had been reversed I would have stood somewhere where the prospective 'finder' could have seen me easily i.e. in the middle of the street, by the big shopping centre. Where did my ex-partner stand? In a crowd of children, outside a random shop. Great.)

My Boys Did The Business...

Nice little away win for Bristol Rovers in the F.A cup. Yes, I support a team in the English 3rd division. No, I don't really care about the Premiership. In fact it's quite refreshing to me because I can take a abjective point-of-view when the arguments start to fly in the canteen following the weekend's Premiership matches. Still annoys me that so many of my work colleagues 'support' teams such as Manchester Utd, when they've never even visited the city, let alone spent any portion of their lives living there.

Pub, Glorious Pub...

No interesting tale sthis week folks, work was dead on Saturday night so went home early.

Drama of the weekend..

The remote control to our Free-view box packed-up on Saturday morning. Now something as trivial as this shouldn't have affected me in all honesty, but after 2 months of getting used to having about 20 (steady) channels to flick through, I was mortified at the prospect of having to watch Council Tele! (Okay, I admit that all I really missed was the history channel.)

Some people stand in the darkness, afraid to come into the light...

2005-11-01T11:09:00.000Z

I don't feel too good today. I went out for a wroks do last night and didn't get in until 5am. Enough said I think.

On a lighter note I seem to have the theme tune from Baywatch stuck in my head. Great.

Willy Wonka's Vodka Factory

2005-10-31T12:21:00.000Z

Went out after work on Saturday night. Was only supposed to "have a few". I think things went horribly wrong, when, after being at work for only 30 minutes, I accidentally poured one triple Smirnoff too many, and was therefore forced to drink it myself. At that point it was too late to go back, and three hours and many, many, many more vodkas later I was more than a little tipsey! So, anyway, off to Studio One I went to meet my friends, but by about half one I was quite wasted, and in a bad mood (probably due to the vodka) so decided to leave. As i was about to get to my front door I got texted by a mate and ended up at their house watching "Charly and the Chocolate Factory" and drinking strange Polich Vodka until 6am, what fun! Still, at least i got an extra hour in bed and my Mum & Dad were under the imprseeion that i'd come in at about 2am so no arguments there.

A Weekend well spent...?

2005-10-31T11:07:00.000Z

So I survived the parental visit at the weekend without having to knaw my own arm off, quite impressive I think!
It's not that I don't like seeing my parents, it's just that after 8 years of living on my own, they tend to stress me out a little, for reasons which i shall explain. For example, my mother is semi-neurotic, and a minor obsessive-compulsive. Whenever she visits she feels the need to clean my kitchen to a ridiculous level. I have a dishwasher, yet she still felt the need to wash up three times over the weekend. After that she rooted around in the cupboards and fridge, hunting for stuff that might be out of date. Now being the sort of person who isn't really into eating rotting food, I do tend to throw said items out, I don't just leave them there until my mother visits, although saying that I might do that from now on just to keep her busy!

With my parents being up, I had Cameron all weekend, and so we decided to take a trip to Whitby on Saturday. Now, if you've never been to Whitby, imagine the most backward small-town ever, then stick it next to the sea and fill it with inbreds. (Aplogies Al, I know you're one of the few without webbed toes.) But interestingly enough (if you didn't know) the town was featured in Bram Stoker's book, Dracula, largely due to the Gothic Abbey which over-looks the town from the cliff tops above. Every year, just before Halloween, the town is transformed as Goth Weekend is celebrated. As much as Goths usually annoy me, (not all of them by the way, I do have some close friends who have gothic tendancies) I found it rather cool to see hundreds of people wandering about the old market dressed in full Victorian Ball-garb, but I still wonder why they ALL wear those ridiculous boots with 6 inch soles (and about three tons worth of buckles and straps), surely not very practical for walking on cobbled streets?

Why Does Our Bar Attract Mutants?

2005-10-28T08:13:00.000Z

Right, time to introduce you to the double-edged sword that is my working life. I have two jobs. Yes i work with the mortgage stuff during the day, but by night I am also an intrepid bar tender. Now there are some advantages to this, the main one being that I receive some extra money every week. The trouble is that as i've already made clear to you, I hate customers. Now this hatred is not limited to my mortgage customers, oh no, I will not be discriminatory in my dislike of the general public. In fact I usually meet a higher proportion of imbeciles behind the bar.

Let me give you a few examples of the scum, low-lifes and wastes of biological material that haunt our establishment:

Example # 1: The Guy who came in last night...

And guess what the first words were that tumbled from his smack-riddled mind?
"Bend over for me"
Fair enough, so he may have been attracted to my boss, but I don't think Sam took this very well (Sam is a man by the way), so he warned the lad to calm down and drink his drink. After harrassing several customers we decided to chuck him out, but as we were escorting him to the door he cried, "Aw, don't chuck me out, go on, i'll shag you!"
Oh well if that's the case, i'm sorry we ever considered throwing you out, just give me a tick to lube up....
Frankly i'm surprised Sam managed to keep his temper.

Example # 2: Identification

I love I.D-ing potential customers. Yep, it gives me great satisfaction to watch a group of Under-age oiks spend ten minutes deciding who looks oldest, only to have their hopes dashed on the rocks. But this has led to some very funny moments.
Once we had a lass who looked about 12, we asked for I.D and she promptly handed over her sisters passport. Unfortunately for her the girl I was working with (who also asked for the i.d) was good friends with said older sister..... DRINK DENIED!

Another comedy moment arose when I asked another lass for I.d. She replied that she didn't have any. To this I said that I couldn't serve her (there's no way i'm going to suffer a £2000 fine just so some little tosser can get pissed on a bottle of Smirnoff Ice before throwing up in a hedge / sleep with some spotty, Burberry bedecked twat called 'Gav', or some other Chav-name), to which she replied "Well I ain't got no I.D but i've got a Tattoo!"
Oh, really? Well that's alright then, how about a quadruple Jack Daniels?
Moron.

Why Do.....?

2005-10-26T12:33:00.000Z

...Old people feel the need to count out each individual coin whenpaying for goods at a shop? This is even more annoying as:

a) They're always, always, clearly holding a note of some kind which could be used to pay and therefore speed up the transaction.
b)I always get stuck behind one of these decrepit fools when i am in a rush to get somewhere.

I mean, come on, just because your time on this mortal coil is short, doesn't mean you have to waste everyone else's life.

...Bus drivers now seem to operate like taxi drivers?

Went to catch the bus to work the other day. Stood at the bus stop for about ten minutes waiting for the bus to arrive. Now I was under the impression that buses stop automatically at major bus stops on their route, or at least they will when some people are clearly waiting there. No, apparently not any more! As I stood at the Kerb, looking expectantly at the approaching bus, he just decided to keep driving! I had to chase him down the road because he seemed to think that I was supposed to flag him down! Maybe this practise is limited to the town I live in, or maybe i've inadvertantly offended the local bus-drivers union, who knows. But I would be interested to learn if anyone else has shared this situation.

...Birds suddenly appear, everytime, that you are near....

...Customers lie, so much, & so badly!

O.k. so I was late for work this morning because my usual lift decided to drive off to work without me (thanks for that) & the very first thing I have to deal with is a customer complaining because "I was supposed to call her yesterday to complete her application".

Well, no actually I wasn't, you F**king moron, what I said to the lady in question (when I spoke to her on Wednesday morning) was that as she had not receieved a quote, I could not do the application, & therefore she was TO RING ME when she had received it. Easy enough to understand, you would have thought? Especially seeing as I do not have psychic powers (I know, i'm sorry, I guess I just couldn't be bothered to learn) & therefore cannot possibly tell when she receives her post.....Idiots, all of them....

More soon....

The Joys of Fatherhood

2005-10-26T09:55:00.000Z

Being a Dad certainly has it's rewards. Sometimes. Well, no, i'll be fair, it is a fantastic thing trying to get your son to say Dad before he says Mum, in the vain hope that you win the Arms Race that is Baby's first words. So far Cameron (my son, if you hadn't guessed) can say "Da-da-da-da-da-da-da", but i'm getting a little concerned because he seems to be saying "Mu-mu-mu-mu-mu-mu-mu" too. (Incidentally this is not pronounced "moo" but more like saying "Mum, but without the last 'M'.)
Now I was under the impression that children always said Dad first because it was linguistically simpler, this I no longer believe as if he keeps up the "Mu-mu-mu" business it will not be long until he can say "Mum".

Another joy of Fatherhood is my childs sadistic sense of when is the right time to want to play. 6pm - Fine. 4am, not so good. So this morning i found myself rooting around my bedroom floor for Elmo so I could keep the wee fella occupied long enough to send him back to sleep, and when that failed I ahd to resort to singing "Grand Old Duke of York". Three hundred renditions of this later, he slept. I was too tired to dance a victory jig at this point, so i just looked forward to my remaining 1 hour of sleep.

Another Tuesday Morning...

2005-10-25T16:29:00.000Z

So, the first caller of today seemed to be missing a few sandwiches form his picnic hamper. He didn't even know which lender he was with, and he was also moronic enough to not know his account number. You'll be surprised how often this happens. My instinct tries to get me to commit their address to memory so that i can hunt them down for sport at later date. The only trouble is that the current government (and general social morals) frown upon this sort of action. Shame really.

By the way i've been here for over an hour, given that idiot his balance (he called my colleague less than 5 mins later to ask the same question...!) and then spent the rest of the time writing this. Ha!

Let there be light....

2005-10-25T16:00:00.000Z

And so, Mort looked down on his world, and he saw that it was good.

For those of you that don't know me, (almost definately all of you!) I am technoically incomptant when it comes to Computers, so you'll have to excuse all the typos and the dull layout.
So why, being a techno-cretin have you created a blog, I hear you cry? Well, I got quite bored at work, so the purpose of this blog is to reassure the world (well, alright, about 3/4 of the U.K population) that their money is safe in the hands of banks & building societies. What i mean by this (as you may discover) is that for the last 3 months I have done pretty much Chuff-all at work. Yup, nothing, nadah, zip. Well, apart from arrange the odd mortgage anyway (stop me if the excitment gets too much) so hopefully this blog will inform what exactly the fine people in financial institutions across the globe get up to, on your money!

Day 1

Hmmm, got up far too late again. Did my usual trick of S**ting myself as I realise that i've turned both alarms off, and the 5 min, post sleep-nap turned into 3/4 of an hour.
Never underestimate the power of weetabix......
with bananna on top they kick ass. I defy you all to find a better breakfast treat (o.k. i'll admit my baby son's cereal is quite tasty but then i'm not supposed to admit to eating that stuff).
So then, with my morning ritual of breakfast, cuppa tea, fag (all whilst staring at the news on t.v.) over I left the house with some trepidation as to what work has in store for me.

Amusing things customers say...

2005-10-25T14:57:00.000Z

My God, sometimes I am amazed at the things our potential / existing customers say. The following is a reasonably accurate transcript of a conversation I had about ten minutes ago....

ME: "Can I take your name please so that I can then transfer you through to the correct advisor?"
Customer: "Michael"

Well o.k, fair enough, that was a bit of an ambiguous question, but we do usually deal with surnames here. (You may think i'm being harsh here, but wait, the idiocy continues in fine form.)

Colleague (after answering investment queery): "Can I take your name so that i can send this information out to you?"
Customer: "Michael" (At this point I think we're seeing a pattern..)
Colleague: "So i'll be adressing this to Mr Michael then?"
Customer: "No, my name is Mr Lo**ll" (Name change to protect identity)
Colleague: "Right, so shall i address this to Mr Lo**ll, then?"
Customer: "RG16 2AY"

Why he thought it necessary to talk like this I have no idea, needless to say it took my friend about three days to get the required address out of him....
*Loads shotgun and makes note of said address*

Things I have done today...

2005-10-25T14:48:00.000Z

Activity:
Played with Bull-clip.

Time Spent:
Virtually all day!

Activity:
Attempted to avoid bosses vision whilst toying on internet.

Time Spent:
All Day!

Activity:
Anything completely unrelated to work.

This I have managed to do ALL day!

I hope some of you are reading this at work and thinking, "Lucky Bastard" well, yeah! Ha ha!

The Staff Canteen

2005-10-25T11:44:00.000Z

One of my more common whinges will be based around the service / choice offered by my staff canteen. Get used to this because it's going to feature regularly.

Look, I know it's October, and Halloween is not far away, but do we really have to have Pumpkin with every fricking meal? I think not. Now many of you may think that i'm being particularly unfair about this vegetable, well bo**cks to you all. I hate it. It's evil.
There is a reason why this veg only appears for about 2 weeks every year you know!

Aside from this, today i decided to have the pasty. This was probably a bad idea as i've had it before but it was nasty. (Well it was either the pasty or frickin Pumpkin.) And today it was nasty. Now i usually eat immense amounts of food, but today i didn't even eat half of it. How poor is that?

Apologies to the lad I almost killed

2005-10-25T11:02:00.000Z

During another infamous work football match last night I inadvertantly mullered one of my colleagues. I thought it was a fair challange (I got the ball didn't I?). I don't think his various injuries reflected this however. He didn't get up for ten minutes. We still lost. Typical

UPDATE

I have just found out that I broke the lads wrist, or at least when he fell he broke his wrist. Muchos guilt coming my way. Will have to get a get-well-soon card methinks!

N.B I am not a violent player by the way, although I will forgive you all for thinking this.