At last, an anecdote, last night I went on a trip to my local boozer. It’s a Weatherspoon’s so hardly traditional but definitely common. Every type of person goes to Weatherspoon’s. Ours has a disproportionately large number of Alkies and Rasta’s as it is right next to the bookies, I don’t know where the Rasta’s come from.

Last night was curry night as it is at every Weatherspoon’s across the country. We arrived to find only one spare table; all that was on it was a big pouch of tobacco. We decided to sit there anyway regardless of my warning that it could be a nail bomb. It turned out to belong to an old man called Pat. We could hardly deprive Pat of his favourite seat; after all he had been there first. My friend bought Pat a drink and this got him talking. It was a bit tricky to understand Pat, I thought maybe he was a drunk but he hardly touched his drink, it seems he was just old and showing it.

First Pat told us that he needed to sit there so he could see the reflection of all the exits in the pictures hanging on the wall opposite. A bit paranoid but perhaps he just hates to miss his mates.

A long ramble follows about a Swiss lighter that turned out not to work, this bit reminded me of a long surreal Tommy Cooper sketch.

Then Pat starts telling us about his days in the service. He had been at Dunkirk; Malay in 49 and Palestine at some point. He told us about two skeletons he had found in Malay, one of them was wearing stockings all very interesting.

When Pat started talking about Palestine things got a bit weird, he told us he hated Jews just as our Jewish friend from Canada arrived, we chuckled at his timing. Little did we know things were about to get a lot weirder Pat started telling us how he had been court marshalled for shooting a man, in the back. He got away with it by changing the gun barrel and doing something indecipherable to the bullet. O.K. so now we are sitting with an anti Semite, old age, war criminal.

Then Pat starts showing us his knife, he used to be a farrier and used it to trim hooves, my friend Pete thinks he’s saying he uses it to cut Jews but this is an understandable mistake at this point. Apparently Pat is allowed to carry a weapon as it has his name on it! (This is when we discover Pat’s name)

Pat finishes by telling us all the animal species he would like to annihilate, these include: mice, ants, cockroaches and foxes. He poisons foxes with phenol sulphate and cuts off their tails you know.

We make our excuses and move tables, a little bit nervous of upsetting the old psycho. Other amusing things that happen; Seven policemen raid the pub and arrest two shoplifters hiding in the ladies loo; I make two angry men laugh by farting very loudly at the urinals.

Weatherspoon’s a microcosm of the English condition.

I was in my work canteen earlier and a lady from one of our French partner companies was making a cup of tea. She spoke English of course as do most Europeans, even if they pretend they don’t. (Often a problem with the French in France, they expect only French to be spoken there) Anyway she had some difficulty in working the coffee machine and asked for help, a colleague of mine helped her and started up a conversation in French. Well everyone was very impressed and I heard lots of admirable comments on how clever he was for some time afterwards. No one thought to say anything about our Spanish cleaner who was replacing the creamers at the time, no one has ever thought to ask her how many languages she speaks. In London language ability seems to exist in reverse correlation to earnings, I guess that’s why my colleague is so special, he’s rich.

Yesterday I saw twice, a man who has recently been in the news as he is fighting in the Royal Court of Justice for the right to be fed and watered by his doctors when his degenerative brain disease is so advanced that he no longer has any of the recognisable features of an alive person. He looked rather glum, which is hardly surprising. I wonder if he will be much happier if he wins.

Since my girlfriend went to Greece I am regularly late for work, this is because she isn't there to kick me out of bed; I also sleep better without her fidgeting so I’m getting lots more sleep but no sex.

I live in London, London its dog eat dog and it quickly educates in assertiveness. I've only been here six months, if I look around me I can see the fruits of my wrath; a free web cam because my computer was delivered late; upgraded broadband due to a concerted campaign of complaining about the reliability. I’ve had two promotions in my new job and two pay rises. This is all pretty healthy for me; I used to be a bit of a people pleaser. But I know this can be dangerous.

At work I sit next to a warning, a veritable ghost of Christmas future. The debt collector in my company when not busting the balls of a poor unfortunate debtor, complains constantly, always on the phone and she always demands action. She complains about her decorators; the colour of her paint; they haven’t plastered the way they were told; you can’t get the right shower rail. She complains about the kids in her street, her neighbours BBQ’s, rubbish, her neighbours wife’s high heels and there choice of flooring. (The heels make click click noises) I have no idea who she complains to; she asks them to write letters. Her moral crusade consumes her and it rules her life, all her actions must fit with such strict rules life is hard. This lady complained to her bank because they gave her four pounds too much interest, the bank had to recalculate the whole countries portfolio.

As a kid, my street had a complainer; we called him, with irony beyond our years, Happy Jack. He complained when we played football outside or shouted. I remember one time I rolled a golf ball towards his gate, slowly, the moment it touched his gate he shot out of his door shouting. When Jack died no one discovered his body until the social workers came to visit weeks later.

I am now fully aware of the meaning and origin of Algorithm. Puff Dragon has enlightened me. I'm not sure on his description of Analy Retentive, not nearly Freudian enough. It leaves me worrying about the dragon's house mates.

Well I logged back in succesfully I think remembering the password the next day is another crucial hurdle succesfully hurdled.
Thanks for the comment, first commenter, Jon something, nice to meet you too.

I'm more than a bit surprised that I got a comment, I have been trying to find my blog for the last ten minutes using google, even typing in chunks of txt, nothing. Google’s mythical algorithms failed me.

Algorithm is another word I use way too much considering I'm not fully sure of its meaning, I think its just a more mythical version of formula.

Could I create a multi million dollar international racing series in 20 ish countries called algorithm 1, and have a wife a clear foot taller than me. I really should admire Bernie Eccleston more but I have a strange suspicion that he wanks over his wife while she’s asleep.

It begins, this is the first entry in my blog and my first ever blog. Already regretting going for the boring gray colour.

The title isn't that snappy either but I find its best to plough through these early stumbling blocks. I read in a book that today that inaction due to getting caught up in such details is a sign of being analy retentive and was so appauled that I could be A.R. that it could have alot to do with me doing this blogging anyway. Previous to that I had no clue what so ever what analy retentiveness realy was except somthing you call house mates who piss you off.

My girlfriend realy did go to Greece today, I live in London so that is a bit of a blow, she is coming back as she is only working as a rep, well i have to go down the pub now as wet friend has arrived. (its raining)