October 29 (Friday): Speak And Spell. Today begins with the foulest mood and it starts out so bad. I awaken at 7AM and outside it is still dark and I am still fucking tired. So, what is there to do? Curl back up back to sleep. I eventually murmur around 7.30 and Sara hits me on MSN. As I type, reply to her shit with barely one eye open she wonders why I’m not acting shitty and being sarcastic while she goes on and on about this new furry coat that she has bought and can claim back from work. Things hit a low point when she mentions the poppers on the coat and I go “you like poppers” and she calls me “gay boy”. At this point I probably ask if I can bugger her and she tells me “no” and accuses me of getting in a strop because she says she won’t have sex with me. Whatever, I can currently barely open my eyes let alone my pants/trousers at the moment. We begin telling eachother to “fuck off” and she tells me to leave her alone this morning and I go “maybe I should leave you alone full stop”. She logs off but comes back for seconds and thirds, accusing me of being an “arrogant self-obsessed prick” (not for the first time) and I begin to wonder “really, what is it that I do wrong?”. She also adds “you can really be hurtful sometimes”. I tell her that “I’m sorry” and she says “you don’t mean that” so ultimately I can’t win any fucking way in which I play it. And in the meantime, this is really consuming time and eventually I only manage to get out/leaving for work at 8.55.

When I get into work, I wander around like the waking dead. Looking out of the window of Chernobyl I swear that I see Woody Allen drive past in a car and then a woman walks past that looks exactly like Peter Cook (except female of course).

At lunchtime, the hallowed pay cheque (no BACs for us) is taken into town and banked. I breath a sigh of relief as I have just managed not to go over my £1400 overdraft limit and Natwest will be off my back for another four weeks (until next month when I go over because the insurance cheque will hit). Generally on pay day some of us all go for a meal and today’s eatery of choice is the Marquis once more. I manage to ponce lunch of Stevo again (like a proper deadbeat) in exchange for him tearing out a picture of Millwall (well, Liverpool) crowd violence from Tuesday out of The Sun (seems I make better deals than Trump).

The afternoon is a general Friday afternoon, everyone working on half arsed efforts and people whinging about pay vs the budget blah blah blah. When five o’clock the usual thing of timing the girls leaving against the exact time on the speaking clock gets performed and tonight the girls are late leaving, the speaking clock beeping at 5.00.20 (5 o’clock, no minutes and twenty seconds). Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.

After work, Stevo drags me into town looking for an apology gift for the staff the Bricklayers Arms in Wimbledon where a couple of weeks Stevo went on the rampage. Sadly for him he fails to find an apt gift or card (although an Alan Titchmarsh calendar almost does the trick. Oh my, if I had to buy a gift every time I upset people when I was pissed, I’d be handing/giving out more gifts than Father Christmas. For my troubles though, Stevo gives me a lift home and it’s the start of my Friday night!

When I get home I find my broadband download booty for the day and there is a video file called “SNL Funhouse – Mr T”. Jesus, some fiend has taken the eighties Mr T cartoon and re-edited it to make T look like an out of work, confused, crackpot who accuses everyone of being guilty. It’s fucking hilarious!

Now, most people save themselves up for Friday nights and proceed to do it large. Myself however, I wind up playing FIFA 2005 on Playstation 2 once more and I finally win the Championship as Millwall in league mode on Semi-pro level (wanker). I finish the season 27-10-9 (W-D-L) with goals at 81-44 (F-A) with 91 points with second place on 76 points. Satisfying? Well it means I am able to unlock Collina as a referee! Fuck me I need to grow up and get a girlfriend.

And it seems I’m not the only one as I find Acton online on a Friday night also and he sounds grumpier than I am (remember, I just won the Championship!). He tells me how all his housemates have just gone out with his ex-girlfriend. Ouch, that gotta hurt!

For some reason, Azmei decides to text me tonight and she tells me that she has managed to get a new job up there in Leicester (this following what sounded like a dream job that she already had). I congratulate her and squeeze out some nice nice but tonight’s highlight (sadly) is the South Park movie on Channel Four. Oh man, this film is fucking great! So great, that I fall asleep during the first advert break! If Ian Dury was here right now he’d go “what a waste”.

And in the words of new Mr T “drink your school, stay in drugs and don’t do milk”.

np: Royal Trux – Inside Game