Tuesday, December 16, 2008

The Wrath of Can't

It had to happen sooner or later; I'm non-specifically angry and bitter at the world again (more so).

I guess it's to be expected from a day that started sitting opposite tubeladygirl and getting blanked, and ended with a forced stay at work til 6.30pm, severe tube delays home, and a Large Northern Flatmate who had used the last washing up tablet that I wanted for my crap clothes.

I've finally succumbed to this shit weather. It's bearable when one's mood is high, but when you feel as wretched as George Bush's smug head and you feel as if life is like an Iraqi's shoes, you want to lash out at the biting wind.

I spent the weekend near Ipswich. It was very pleasant but I shan't go into such life-affirming detail. Instead I'll relate the phonecall I took from my Mum on Sunday, as my mates' five-year-old son tried to climb up my shrivelled hungover brain.

'A woman tapped me on the shoulder,' she said, 'when I was in (insert name of shopping centre just north-west of London. In Watford. Called the Harlequin.)'
'And?'
'She asked if I had a son called Fweng.'
'Oh yeah?'
'So I said I did, and she said she was Quentin's mother.'
'Quentin Eclampsia?' - A lad I was at primary school with.
'That's him. She asked me what you were up to, so I said you used to work at the BBC but got bored with it.'

Bless her cotton socks. In truth, my contract came to an end, and no amount of wrangling or all-out begging could convince anyone to extend it. She continued,
'And now he's an office manager selling plastic fucking bags to irritating bastards.'
'Oh lovely! Mrs Eclampsia had replied.
'And what does Quentin do?' my Mum asked.
'Oh, he's a doctor.'

That hasn't helped much. My jeans waistband is starting to nip at my stomach again, as my faith in crisps as a major food group takes hold. Work was more irritating than being chained up to David Cameron. And my novel (Ha!), my one chance to write myself out of my continual rut, is shit. It's torturous, it's lacking in something vital, it's a grammatical turd that won't get finished, let alone published.

A quick google search reveals that even my old childhood chum Dr Eclampsia has had a book published! Good for him!!!

Oh, and I think my friend, he of the single Polish lady acquaintance, hasn't replied to my text for a reason. He saw her a few days ago and said he'd put in a good word for me. Sadly, I have a vague feeling that he might read this blog, and may have taken umbrage at my conviction that I WAS DEFINITELY GOING TO SHAG HER.

But back in the real world, now crashing down to earth from my recent, inexplicable high (based on fuck-all), I'm reminded that my penis is best left in its jar, an ugly scientific curio.

On the plus side, I haven't got cancer. But I'm smoking enough to get it.

Humbug. Fucking life.

Grrrrr.

12 comments:

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

I'm glad you posted this. I'm feeling completely and utterly grumpy, miserable and I'm an absolute pain in the arse to be around today. And it makes me feel marginally better to know that someone else is utterly miserable and pissed off too. Hurrah for misery guts. Bollocks, arse and pig quoff.

Andrew said...

You think you have it bad, I managed to completely fail to purchase a 3/4 size pink classical guitar in Tottenham Court road today.

You selfish little(porky) bastard. Your father and I are livid, he's in the potting shed now penning a torrid missive to the BBC, either that or masturbating.

Fuck Quentin, he's a bender.

The Unbearable Banishment said...

Be careful of your next witticism, my friend. In the past two weeks, I've discovered that one good friend and one family member has cancer. Things really could be a lot worse. Humbug, indeed.

daisyfae said...

at least you're not curled up in the fetal position, fully clothed and shod, weeping uncontrollably in a scalding shower. that was me last sunday.

in my case? no fucking idea why. fuck hormones.

Dom said...

Crisps are not a food group. Eating properly is the first step towards feeling better. This is a scientifically proven fact. There are 3 major food groups:

* Sweet
* Savory
* Chocolate

Your pigging out on crisps means you're sorely neglecting the other two food groups which is probably contributing to your lack of mental well being. Might I recommend cocopops for breakfast for the chocolate food group and regular snacks of gummy bears to fill the gap in the sweet food group. This is a good, well rounded diet that should make you feel much better :)

Z said...

Fuck me, I thought this was a miserable blog and then I read the bloody comments.

No, I'm not going to be encouraging. I'm so sorry. I hope it gets better. For you (especially, after all I've been writing to you often enough to almost know you) and all your fed-up commenters.

C said...

I'm living on Pot Noodles :) And my plan is to start my most doomed diet yet on thursday, one week before christmas. I like a challenge me! Woo!

luna said...

Given how useless doctors can be in this country,I don't see what he's got to be proud of.

On the other hand,imagine you get the cancer and HE's the one who treats you.

So lay off the fags,OK?

Tuesday was just a crap day.Proof is I had aa crap totally crappy day: I went to buy some new bras.Enough said.The entirety of your female readership will understand how crap I mean.

luna said...

So crap I'm weeping in my cups right now hahaha

sas said...

He probably does most of his doctoring diagnosing via Wikipedia anyway.

i am not your freud said...

it's not unusual for doctors to publish books. i mean it's not a huge deal. god knows what my primary school friends became or will become... i have a feeling that you're over-criticising your book and you will never find it good enough. come to think about it, everything could have been better. it's always like that. just finish it and publish it! i'm sure a lot of people will read it.

fwengebola said...

PDEWYMO ~ Excellent. A gripe shared sorta makes you feel better. Hope you're feeling better, and what the hell's pig quoff?
Andrew ~ Did ou get te guitar? Not too sure how you know my Dad's cracking one out though.
UB ~ Oh jesus. Well that's cheery. I hope they're ok.
df ~ Fuck, really? Like that scene in Casino Royale? Hope you're feeling ok now.
Dom ~ Fear not; over Xmas I have eaten masses from all three new foodgroups, and I now feel sick.
Z ~ Thank you very much. Yes, they're all a little wierd here.
C ~ Why the hell are you dietng before Xmas???
Luna ~ Buying bras may be rubbish, but I dare say rather more entertaining to watch.
SAS ~ Pfft, who doesn't?
IANYF ~ "just finish it and publish it" - world's most flippant advice.