#I Am A Lone Wolf...except for my assistant of course...she's with me

Last night I went to see The Eels at Somerset House. Not only did they rock my socks off with such greats as a metal version of "I Like Birds", and a happy mimosa-esque version of "My Beloved Monster", but my assistant was co-incidentally there, so we had an accidental team outing.

Which was nice, as she has recently resigned and we've never had one before so it was cool to get one in before she leaves. Anyway, in her honour, here is a picture of us rocking out:

I am not a VIP

This weekend, my good lady wife and I went to the Wireless Festival as a freebie from my work. It was meant to be a client schmooze-fest but as no-one can make my good lady wife schmooze our clients, I easily stayed well clear of it. Which was nice. Not as nice as being in the VIP section though!

Festivals to me have always been about slowly getting stinkier and skankier over 3 days until the musicians leave and everyone sobers up to the grim/magic reality of what they've done and goes home too. It's an epicly bonding experience, and anyone who has shared in the stinkiness you all created together that weekend will have a connection with you that others just won't. Being a VIP at a non-camping London festival however is not that experience. At all.

First of all, day festivals are just lengthy concerts in my opinion. Not that there is anything wrong with that, they're just not festivals, and I wish everyone would stop saying they are.

Second of all... VIP! I've never been a VIP before, so maybe (definitely) I just have no sense of perspective on the matter, but it was vaguely life changing. Not especially in a good way though.

What VIP meant in this specific event was that we had our own entrance, and then our own private section of Hyde Park to "chill out" in. It was basically a big, empty outdoor club, with some amount of class to it. There was also a free hot and cold buffet and a BBQ you could visit only once, as well as a massive bar, DJ, and clean toilets (which really were the highlight festival goers!).

The thing is the hot and cold buffet was basically unlimited free chicken and chips, strawberries and brownies, and cheese and meat selections. The chips and brownies were good, the chicken not so much. And the cheese and meats (which is what I decided to crazy on) were some crazy weaksauce bullshit. It was like someone was specifically trying to keep us all aware that VIP was a title we bought for this event, and not something we earned. The cheese was a massive gooey mess that was pretty impossible to serve yourself from, and the meats were folded in the strangest way so as to keep an almost frozen consistency even though it was pretty hot out there. I still ate shit loads of it though, don't worry. I learnt very clearly that day that as much as I love blue cheese, a mouthfull is too much.

And then there was the BBQ! The staff on it were clearly bored as fuck - they would do anything to engage you in conversation - which of course basically only amounted to them giving you extra food from the BBQ. If you can call an area with no flames in sight a BBQ. I luckily had a hotdog (with free extra chilli), which was about as good as I expected from a festival. Everyone else had burgers though, and as much as it amused the shit out of me, the fact that the buns were so stale they fell into little tiny pieces as soon as anyone bit into them was kinda not funny.

And then there was... the bla bla bla sucked... stupid slanted dancefloor..... bla bla bla unfair.

See what a snob I have become after just a half day in the VIP section? I swear that shit is contagious in a bad way - the couple times we ventured out into the festival we were confronted with a feeling of stinky scary people ruining our good times. I'm usually amongst the stinkiest, but for that Saturday, I was too good for regular folks it seems.

God forbid I ever go business class, I'll become a Posh cunt overnight I have no doubt.

Viva economy class

I had a dream...about being told off by my mum for holding a girls hand

I had this weird nightmare last night which was unlike any I've ever had. It was a dream about cheating on Kathy. Although by cheated I actually just mean held hands with another girl. And by another girl, I actually mean a girl who was in fact Kathy, but in my dream she was playing the part of a distant ex.

The sleep-fact she wasn't Kathy only became clear to me when my mum came out of her house and saw me holding hands with her and asked me what I thought I was doing. And how I could be such an asshole to Kathy. And then she gave me her disappointed face.

It dawned on me in a rush that what I was doing was not cool, and that I was getting married so it was doubly not-cool. And then my asleep brain tried to work out if it was better that I was not yet married and sleep-doing this, or if I was in fact jeopardising my whole awake-future by dream-hand-holding-whoring around. My asleep brain's panic grew and grew and I pushed the non-Kathy Kathy away and went to go tell the "real" Kathy.

The anxiety and panic I felt about telling her and realising I had ruined my life etc was more terrifying than anything I can remember. Even moreso that my many many nightmares about snakes and spiders. Stupid fucking snakes and spiders, one day you will rue the fucking day you messed with my... oh yeah talking about something else.

So then I woke up and felt immense relief that it was all a dream.

I realised this morning my brain was having a pre-wedding talk with me:

DON'T CHEAT! YOU WON'T LIKE IT!

Thanks brain.

Steve Vs Freddy

Steve Vs Alligators

Steve Vs Monsters

It's just cheese on toast

Today I was taken out for lunch by my work. I had welsh rarebit to start, and then a side of garlic bread with cheese on it. So cheese on toast followed by cheese on toast.

Today is a good day.

Steve Vs Zombies

I don't like mustard...

...yet I just bought a sandwich which contained almost nothing else. Am I stupid? Yes, yes I am. It's not my fault though, it's a fucking disease (no, not an STD).

I have this serious problem called Lunchtime Pity. If a place makes terrible food, or has shitty staff, I feel bad for it.  So I eat a lot of terrible sandwiches, and get served by a lot of crappy people.

I love sandwiches though, so I couldn't be fucking with myself (no, not masturbating) in a worse way. I just want some bready deliciousness motherfuckers. Why can't I have it? Why can't a delicious place hire terrible staff? WHY? I blame the government.

Pogonophobia

I looked at the bear and smiled. His grizzled face was all teeth and fur, but I was not afraid. I didn't run, curl up into a ball or try and spray bear mace in his stupid face. Instead I slowly raised my right hand and waited the appropriate few seconds before saying "Dude don't leave me hanging". The bear fell onto his four paws and grunted at me, before bouncing back upright and slamming his paw into my hand. There was no satisfying slapping sound as it wasn't really skin on skin, and he damn near tore my arm off, but holy crap, it must have been the greatest high five of my life. "So...." I continued, thinking this bonding moment gave me some level of camaraderie with this hairy beast "...you like gaming?". The bear dropped to all fours again and made a thoughtful rrrr sound, much like a confused dog might. He stepped forward and I resisted the mighty powerful urge to back off (the effort of which made sweat break out down my back) and then circled around. He wandered off back into his cave and I breathed out in amazement and relief. I picked up my shit and turned before I heard a roar. It was the bear berating me. He had a wiimote in his mouth.

Feel Better

Imagine a lake. You are standing on the shore barefoot, luxuriating in the dewy glorious grass on your skin and the sunshine on your face. You stare at the water and feel peace. It's cool and calm and still. It makes you shiver with it's infinite complexity and unity. The light reflects and gets you in the eye for but a moment. When you look back you see a fish swimming on its own near the surface. It is ambling back and forward, seemingly aimlessly. It darts this way and that, up and down. You don't know how but you can tell this fish is happy. It comes closer and you see a flash of green in front of it. It's a huge frog with purple spots on it's back. Its paddling in short quick bursts in front of the fish, dashing left and right. You worry for the frogs safety for a moment with the fish in pursuit and then contemplate how the fish could eat a frog that big. Does it have teeth? You feel a splash on your bare feet and the frog jumps out on the shore in front of you. He looks up at you and flicks out his giant tongue. Is he mocking you? The fish is a few feet away floating motionless, swaying with the minor current. He must be really hungry for this frog you think. Just then the frog ribbits loudly and jumps back in the water. Plop! He slaps the fish with his freaky hand and the fish swims off. Idly. The fish swims back and forth and the frog chases. They make a big loop in front of you, tumbling up and down in the water, appearing and disappearing under the blanket of liquid gold. They pause when they are in front of you and the frog ribbits again loudly while floating. His tongue flicks out once more and this time you are sure he's being cheeky. You suddenly realise with your whole being that they are playing it and they want you to join. A smile cracks your face and your soul wide open and you jump in the water. It's warm. You're happy. All is well.

The Revolution

The revolution will not be televised, because we cut the television cables and shot down the satellites. Seemed like a massive waste of time, research and military apparatus, because without television no-one knew there was a revolution going on, so no one joined in. So we didn't reach critical mass, and the people didn't rise up as one - they just started looting once they realised the police were otherwise engaged. We took over the Houses of Parliament, but there were few MPs there, so when we announced that we had taken power it seemed like a hollow and meaningless victory as no one heard us. Someone suggested using Twitter, so we executed them immediately. Of course the military soon stepped in, as once the powerful television lobby realised that the internet was becoming our main form of entertainment (even in the short run) it searched out the remaining MPs and got them to agree to martial law. So in the end we were first against the wall.

The consequences of us rising up to take the power back was that this countries civil liberties were eroded further for many years in an attempt to curb this sort of futile rebellion in future.

The next revolution will not be televised either. It will be on the internet though.

Drinker's Remorse

I'm a poison
That creeps under your skin
I'm a rot
That start's when you begin
I'm a darkness
That wells up deep inside
I'm a fear
From which you cannot hide

I'm a sickness
That's breaking you down
I'm a disease
That's making you drown
I'm a hunger
That makes you want bad
I'm a need
That destroys all you had

I need help
But more than you can give
I need hope
That someday you can forgive
I need life
To give me a fucking break
I need last night
To not be a mistake

A series of jokes written for Giants that only they would understand

An Englishman, an Irishman, a Scotsman and a Giant are all standing around talking about Quantum Physics. The Englishman says "Once Cern is working properly, everything will change". Just then a plane flies past and distracts the Giant, and when he turns back to continue the discussion, he realises he is all alone.

Two Giants walk into a pub. The first one says to the Bartender "Where've you gone then?"

A Giant goes to the doctor and says "Doctor, Doctor, I feel like I've accidentally crushed to death everyone I've ever known or loved". The Doctor says nothing.

"Knock Knock"
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH"

This years New Year's resolutions are gonna be sweet

Hot diggity, it's almost the new year. I would say that this year has flown by, but really it's this decade that's disappeared down the toilet without time to regret the flush. I remember the Millenium New Years like it was yesterday. Or last year at least. But not 10 years ago, no fucking way.

Anyway I digress and as I have an important announcement to make, I gotta stick to my point, so listen up motherfuckers. From next year until 2013, there are no consequences to your actions. No-one will remember them, no-one will talk about them, they essentially won't exist and by implication will never have happened. You know why? Because this decade was the noughties, and soon we'll be in the teens of this new millennium, but we don't have a word for 10-12 years old (and don't say tweens, as the Tweenies has blurred that definition well past being salvageable). And if you can't describe it, you can't talk about it.

So when we reminisce in years to come about life at the dawn of the third and final millennium we'll all be like "Remember the noughties! Ahh weren't they exciting times. Shame they ended in the recession, but that nationwide jumble sale at the end of '09 really sorted that out. And then the Teens! Remember the day Obama challenged Palin to a cage match and whopped her silly? Or when Ussain Bolt hit 8ft 6' and finally admitted to eating those magic beans? That shit was awesome". See no mention of 2010-2012 at all.

Get ready for some motherfucking, totally awesome complete historical anonymity. I'm sure there will be times for us all in the coming few years when you think "Maybe I shouldn't be doing this, maybe someone will remember and call me up on it later", but don't heed those times. I'm telling you, we're free from all responsibility for the foreseeable future. Start tunneling into your neighbors house and annexing rooms while they sleep. Start releasing hamsters into the sewers in massive numbers so they overtake rats as the rodent of this millennium. Get morbidly obese or anorexically skinny and blame it on organic food. Say "Hot diggity" at the beginning and end of everything you say. Wear a blind fold and walk around with your hands out feeling your way into dangerous and regrettable situations. But have no regrets! As soon enough, you won't remember when or even if you did all these things you would otherwise be ashamed of.

We're finally free, hot diggity!

I Fucking Love It

So for once the public seems outraged in the right direction. The army is telling the BNP to fuck off and stop damaging their image, the equality commission is making the BNP make membership open to anyone of any race, and Gordon Brown is saying he could take them in a fight (verbal of course). On top of that, people are jumping on the bandwagon to call the Daily Mail (or at least one of it's top bitches) homophobic because of some shite she wrote. There is even a goddamn petition that people are signing, apparently without having read the article. Hoo ra.

I don't think I can remember another time when the people being backed into a corner by the press were scum. It's always "the BBC did this" or "Labour did that". For once, for one beautiful moment (now), the BNP and the Daily Mail are taking flak. Fuck yeah. Nice one media bastards, you kick some ass.

Now all we need is for someone to come out with proof and a causal theory that says that all BNP members read the Daily Mail and we can finally shit all over them as one. And oh what a wonderful day that will be.

Bees - can't live without them, can't stop them dying. Stupid bastards

The one thing
You will never see
Is compassion in the heart
Of a bumblebee

Flying furballs
Defying science
Buzzing around
Filled wtih defiance

No better than
Bees with no bumble
But still more proud
And a lot less humble

Black-yellow-black
Stripey stupid lines
Accidental freaks of nature
So ill defined

Impossible choices

You get on a bus and go upstairs. At the front of the bus on the left there is an old man who's turned the seats into a stall selling ice-cream and lemonade for buttons and bottle tops. He has a policy that if you high-five him you get two for the price of one. At the back of the bus is a man who has brought three sheep on board with him. The one in the middle is wearing a straw hat, and the ones on either side are eating it.

Where do you sit on the bus?

I say, I say, I say

Q: Who could possibly hate Kevin Bacon?

A: Pig farmers. He distracts from the central bacon agenda.

Stumble, you might fall

Yesterday I was walking down the street when I saw a lady trip over the door frame as she exited a shop. I lurched forward as she did, and she apologised to me when she immediately got her footing back, and I carried on walking.

The thing is, I first thought that it was odd that I jumped forward in order to catch this lady from falling, as that is really not my way. Not that I'm a bastard, but jumping to action just doesn't sound like me. So I thought about it closer. I saw her take a step, I saw her catch a foot on the door frame and that foot twist half inwards, I saw her arms jerk up to catch herself and her hands go palm forward to cushion her fall. I saw all of that, as if in slow motion. So I went back and checked my internal logs for each part of my body, and see what I was doing while she was doing what she was doing. I discovered the strangest thing. When her foot twisted, I felt empathy and imagined what tripping was like. And my foot twisted. And my arms went up. And my palms were forward. I'm pretty sure I even let out a little gasp. So upon retrospection, I think I unconsciously mimicked her tripping. I think I saw her do something and instead of reacting to what she was doing, I simply remembered what it was like to do it myself and accidentally did that. Hmm.

I wonder if maybe it's just that wherever she goes, people copy her. I mean she did say sorry straight away so maybe she's used to it. Or maybe it's some weird curse she's living under. Or maybe I'm just too empathetic. Or stupid. Who knows.