Tuesday, October 18, 2011


I went to the gym yesterday evening, and was quite literally amazed at what I saw. No, it wasn't a beautiful woman in skin tight gym gear, sweat glistening off her firm, perfectly shaped breasts. Nor was it a very muscular man lifting weights so heavy that it literally defied gravity. In the changing room, after my shower, there was a man stood at the mirror,naked, holding a hair dryer, blow drying his testicles.

I was transfixed. I have never seen, or in fact known, of a man using a hair dryer to dry his pubic hair. Now even for the hairiest of men, such as a soft porn star from the seventies, even with a large growth of testicular pubic hair, and with the hair dryer at the maximum heat setting, the hair would be dry after no more than a vigorous twenty or thirty seconds of drying. But this man was drying the area for about five minutes! Five minutes without moving the hair dryer away from his testicles, perhaps to his head and then back to his testicles, to dry his hair and scrotum at the same time in a kind of 'multi dry' procedure, thus speeding up his exit from the gymnasium.

It wasn't so much the fact that he was blow drying his testicles that amazed me. It was the fact that it was a packed changing room, and he clearly had no shame what so ever about what he was doing. I get a bit embarrassed just being seen naked by another man in the changing room. I would have been a bit self conscious, if not massively embarrassed, had I been seen in a similar activity to this man. It then got slightly weirder.. He stopped blow drying his testicles, and then leaned in close to the mirror, to style his hair. 'Fairly normal' I thought, 'maybe he is embarrassed about being seen drying his nads, so he's trying to act normal, by doing normal things that you would do in the mirror.'

Wrong. He then returned to the hair dryer, and began drying his anus.

He oozed disgustingness, so much so, that I think I have possibly invented a new word to describe him. Is disgustingness a word? Who knows. Either way, he was it.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

I Hate Dog Nerds

I decided to get myself a dog roughly 11 years ago. She's called Molly, and is a Golden Retriever. Although, to be fair, I think the breeder had stretched the boundaries of the trade description act, as she should be known as a Non Retriever. She never brings anything back.Ever. As dogs go, she's pretty useless, but is still part of the family. I take her for a walk to the local park every day, but the park is where my problems lie.

The park is populated by what i'd call 'dog nerds.' They are the sort of people who's profile picture on Facebook consists of them and their dog in some sort of amusing costume. They buy their dogs jumpers for the winter (God only knows how dogs kept themselves warm all those years before humans invented dog coats), and they talk to their dogs in a high pitched voice, similar to that of a 3 year old Alan Carr.These are the people I try my very, very best to avoid, but somehow, like some sort of dog nerd magnet, they always seem to tag on to me. And I mean always.They walk around as if we're old friends, with an un-nerving ease, matching me pace for pace.

Annoyingly, their conversation is limited to pet based topics. They ask the same old questions, always about dogs. If I was to say something run of the mill like "When are you going on holiday?", or "The weather has been poor of late, hasn't it?", I fear they may beat the shit out of me, for breaking the 'dog nerd dialogue' code. I am however unlikely to say "The weather has been poor of late", because I was not born in the 1800's.

Every conversation follows a routine pattern, and I can never be bothered to enter into them. Normally I just give one word answers, praying my phone will ring to give me an excuse not to talk to them, and I never, EVER, make eye contact.

And this is the basic thread of their conversation, dogs, every single time we start talking. Well, when I say we start talking, they start talking, I just increase my walking pace to just short of a trot, in an effort to leave them behind. But they almost always try and keep up, so to anyone looking on, me and the dog nerd look like we're in some sort of friendly,speed walking club. We're not. I hate them.

Next time I hear the immortal words " you don't mind if i walk round with you?", my answer will be "yes, I do mind". I will Judo chop their dog, and then run off in the other direction letting out an evil laugh, praying my idiot dog will follow me, so I don't have to walk back to fetch her, cursing my idea to judo chop their dog, run off in the opposite direction and let out an evil laugh. 

That is the end of my rant. I'm now off to get a picture taken of me and the dog in matching bumblebee outfits, it's time I updated my Facebook profile pic.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Money Money Money

The title to my second blog entry is not a reference to Abba, but merely an effort to make the subject quite clear to anyone who may come across this. It's about money by the way.

in the Fire Service at the moment, there's a lot of talk about our pension scheme being totally ripped apart. A bit like all public sector jobs to be fair. I've tried to read the leaflets handed out by the government on their plans for our pensions. I have read each page carefully,  then realised I haven't understood any of what I have read, so I have read them again. There's lots of long words that I have no idea of their meaning, so, to put it into simple terms, we have to pay about £160 a month more, for an extra 10 years, to get less at the end than we do now. Hmm.....I'm no pension expert, but I would say that's not the best deal. I'm 32, so my pension is a long way off, but by the time I come to retire at 60, i'll have paid enough into my pension scheme to buy a large country house, but what i'll actually get back will be enough to buy a medium sized wendy house.

Then I thought about how much I actually get paid. As a Firefighter of 14 years, I'm on about £27,000 a year.   It's not a bad wage, but some argue that all emergency services should get a lot more, as they do quite an important job. Then I saw an article in today's paper, and I have now found a new career, which I shall be applying for immediately.

This new career is as a Tube Driver. Their job involves operating a lever which makes the train go faster or slower, pressing 2 buttons, one for 'open doors', and one for 'close doors', and reading a wide range of signal colours (when  I say wide range, I mean red and green.) Not the most complicated of tasks. They don't even need to know where they're going, unlike taxi drivers, with their incredible 'knowledge', or as it's called these days, 'SatNav'. A Tube driver's elongated taxi follows a fixed route, denoted by a series of fixed rails and fixed tunnels. They don't even need to go to the trouble of knowing what station they are coming to next, as a woman with a stern but slightly sexy voice tells them and everyone else on the train. So, how on earth are they now getting a pay rise, to take their salary to above £50,000?

Next thing you know, librarians will be taking home enough money to buy all of the books ever written, but in gold leaf, that bloke who stands at roadworks in the dirty beanie hat with the 'stop/go' sign, turning it round roughly every 45 seconds, will be earning around £60,000,  and if you have 5 stars on your badge at McDonalds, you'll be rubbing shoulders with Richard Branson before you know it. Mind you, he's abnormally short, so you'll probably be rubbing shoulders with hips.

However, there is one massive disadvantage of being a Tube Driver, which I guess is why they are worth £50k.They spend so long down in the dark, damp tunnels, alone in their cab, their whole life now revolves around tubes. Everything they do or say involves tubes. They must wear boob tubes, only eat tubes of smarties, and only view life though YouTube. Oh, and you will be spending weekends outside major shopping centres, holding aloft placards, warning customers to 'Mind the Gap.'