Posts filed under 'Ian'
Me: Hello?
Pig: You f*cking b*stard, I am going to find you and f*ck you up good and proper sunshine. You will find me at the other end of the boot that is going to be kicking your a*se good and proper.
Me: Is that Kev?
Pig: When you wake up you will f*cking fear me. I will be the first f*cking thing on your mind, son. You will sh*t your pants at the veru sight of me and I will be on your case twenty four seven you just watch.
Me: In that case I’m gonna need to buy some more pants.
Pig: You what?
Me: If I’m going to be cacking my pants every, what, hour or so then I’m going to need much, much more boxer shorts and they aren’t cheap.
Pig: No you don’t seem to…
Me: And I don’t get paid for another fortnight so is there any chance you might be able to hold off until say November sometime? Actually no that’s a busy month for me. And then there’s Christmas, ooo it’s all adding up. Could we possibly I know you were hoping for like now but would you mind waiting until the end of January?
Pig: END OF JANUARY?!?
Me: I’ll have to pay for Christmas and then there’s the boy’s birthday and he wants a party and everything. I’m not the richest man in the world and then having to save up for a sudden onslaught of terror brought on by a mysterious caller who is threatening to make me empty my bowels several times a day, well it’s a bit of an inconvenience.
Pig: Look just forget it, alright?
Ian: No come on, don’t be like that. I’m totally up for it however you just have to give me a little more time.
Pig: It’s not worth it. If your hearts not in it.
Ian: My heart is in it. Don’t be like this
Engaged tone.
Ian: This is why I never answer calls after, on or before 9pm.
October 25th, 2011
So, you’re struggling a bit for money at the moment. It’s Christmas shortly, in a couple of months, everyone is vying for your money. Your hard-earned pennies aren’t going to cut it and when you look in the mirror all you can see is stress lines from the constant pressure. It does make you wonder why people do this to themselves year after year. What on earth could you do to make ends meet?
You could record a pop song! It doesn’t even necessarily have to be one for Christmas because from now until the end of time there will be either an X Factor-ite clogging up the charts with some dodgy cover or anti X Factor block party. What you need is something catchy yet generic that once it has outstayed its welcome can be used on countless amounts of radio jingles and television advertisements.
Do you think the Beach Boys were looking to sell small cheeses when they were singing Barbara Ann? That Glen Campbell was hoping that, years later, a bank would poach his song and change the lyrics to something savings accounts? No! Some are unfortunate, most are just plain wrong. If your song has a plain chorus or title like ‘I Want It All’ by Queen or ‘Just What I Always Wanted’ by Mari Wilson then obviously some advertising cohort is going to find and destroy your song for their own benefits.
Still, your benefits will be money lining your pocket, no matter what your voice and tune have been set against. This is where the poor line starts; do you want to join the back? Quick, think of something that you know people will need or that they say often and then draft a little cheeky something or other. Add percussion, piano and maybe some bass and watch as the cash rolls in.
I am off to write my song ‘Give Me Your Number’ which I’m hoping will be used to advertise both dating websites and even the police service. Watch this space.
October 19th, 2011
The location doesn’t matter, mainly because I don’t remember that particular detail. All I do know is that a couple from the music quiz I go to on a Tuesday evening decided that they wanted me to get them some cinder toffee. It was a specific kind and brand of cinder toffee though, not just any old nonsense. I set about looking for this because I’m not the kind of person to give up on a quest especially when essentially set by strangers.
I think I found a shop and inside was the cinder toffee I was looking for. As I leave the shop the street disappears and I appear to be in a castle. I’m dressed like the Prince of Persia. I appear to be the Prince of Persia and so, dropping the cinder toffee, the person playing the game moves me. I can’t control any of my limbs. They walk me through a door without anything on the other side and so I fall down to my death.
It was a little more grim than usual even with the cinder toffee. Still, at least I don’t dream about lemonade and cheese and onion toasties.
October 18th, 2011
Let’s have an update of today so far.
Today started very early, in fact it began at the beginning of today. Today around 12.00am I was stood in a club jigging about like a possessed pogo stick on a washing machine because it was the very last night of Stonelove in Digital. That doesn’t mean anything to anyone else but it was a little bit sad-inducing. Today continued a little further, involving more swaying and air-punching and drinking, until approximately 3:30am where I retired to the floor of a dark room and was stirred just after 7.00am this morning by a tiny man.
The tiny man was deposited at a public centre for tiny people. I received good news from the man who I often see on the bus, who having spoken for over a year at irregular intervals I still do not know his name, whereby he confirmed he had finally got a job after endless months of searching. His journey only lasted five minutes yet it was long enough to convey my hearty congratulations.
Just after 9.30am I believe I may have been misinformed by the connection between drinking a lot of water and a high metabolism by a member of staff in the coffee shop on the corner. Nonetheless I bought a dark swirling cup of juice and headed to work where a buffet for a member of staff leaving for another job greeted me. I resisted for the first hour and a half before tucking into a selection of mini sausages, mini sausage rolls, onion bhajis, slices of pizza and various cakes.
I ate so much I didn’t need a lunch, so I left the tins of food in my drawer and went for a walk doing a few chores along the way. I narrowly avoided the chuggers around Grey’s Monument (that’s a real word) and bought some bottles of water for my boss who isn’t feeling very well. I looked for a particular song on my i-pod however the random shuffling was against me; I was met with a plethora of catchy numbers as a compromise.
Currently I sit at my desk wearing shades to draw attention to myself. How about that?
September 23rd, 2011
Good afternoon and welcome to another fine edition of Eating on a Budget.
This week we look into the firm, fine and frisky line of soups on offer for the general public. In particular has been singled out the minetrone soup from the Soupreme range.
At first glance it looks like sick yet reach further into the soup and more amazing pallets come into view. Through the murky red liquid appears little strands of noodle, then more vegetables, like mariners clutching to marshmallows for dear life in a raging sea. At once my face is shocked by the inclusion of taste; this meal, if you can call it that, is delivering on more fronts than was originally thought.
As with the beans and sausages this was tackled without the aid of bread and so, spoon in hand, I devoured the beast whole with a satisfying smacker of my lips at the end. Satisfied, hmmm, well the hunger had left my building but it was still rapping on the window looking for loose change. Not that it wasn’t filling just the experience fell short of what I was looking for.
Still, the price was superb; for less than 40p you can go through what I just went through. It gets a thumb and a half for good measure – 6 out of 10.
September 22nd, 2011
It’s been far too long and I love too many products without sending another piece of correspondence to spread the madness. Cap your peepers at this little sweetheart of a letter:
Dear Weetabix Suppliers
How do you start a letter such as this? Where do you begin to convey how much you like someone’s product? Is there a perfect beginning, a way to build up to it or should you just launch into the superlatives? Well that’s my nonchalant start out the way.
Your products are amazing. How’s that for a superlative? I eat Weetabix every morning because it tastes excellent and there’s no other cereal I would prefer to eat, that is apart from Ready Brek. On occasion I do like to have a bit of Ready Brek, especially on cold mornings. I even went so far as to turn my previous box of Ready Brek into a person. So every day I come into work Mr R. Brek greets me with a cheeky smile. You might think that’s a step too far but I say it’s not enough! It’s never enough. As soon as those chilly mornings start coming back closer to Christmas I am going to bag me a box. Whether or not that one gets turned into a person I’m not sure. Perhaps Mr R Brek would like a friend or a companion; I haven’t thought that far ahead…
But anyway a big fat YES to anything Weetabix-related. I even noticed that you can get bitesize Weetabix and you can bet a stack of napkins that I am going to invest the next time I find myself in a supermarket.
I’ve drawn a little picture of Mr R Brek to accompany this letter. Please pass it around to anyone who might be interested.
Yours Faithfully
Ian McIver
September 21st, 2011
September 20th, 2011
That’s me. Yeah. You can scorn with your piercing, angel-like eyes but deep down I know what I did and I am more than comfortable with it. There is not one drop of guilt in this frail old body, no sir. I was like a boxer and I pummeled those socky wocks good and proper. You would have done the same, possibly, probably, about fifty or so years ago. Maybe.
I wear a lot of socks, who doesn’t? With wearing comes tearing, so the saying goes, and I have come across a lot of holes in my time. Nobody likes holes. I refuse to back down when it comes to holes. I refuse to admit defeat and move onto the next pair of socks, so what did I do? I looked those suckers in the eye and gave ’em what for. That’s right.
I took one of their kind. I took one that had a hole in itself and cut that sucker up to pieces. Then I sewed the remains to the insides of the other socks with holes and all the while I was laughing, laughing, laughing like a happy chicken. It was a lot harder than I thought it was however I persevered and in the end I came out with some odd-looking socks. Yes, I now have some strange-looking apparel for my feet. Luckily they spend most of their time in shoes so I don’t need to make excuses.
If only I could mend shoes, now there’s an idea…
September 14th, 2011
In preparation for the forthcoming Papples album I have been working on some new material. It’s been a hard process, especially with the second half of the Paps being so far away, and one which has taken its toll on my fragile little mind. I had a strange daydream where I imagined that within a woman’s face I saw another face and that I decided that the face within the face was the face of a woman who I should be going out with.
So, in the dream obviously, I ditched the woman with the face and went looking for the woman with the face within the face. When I eventually found this particular woman I relayed the story to her in a musical format, plucked sheepishly and played ever so badly on a ukulele. Then when I woke from my daydream I started writing some lyrics down to describe this event.
It’s a shame the lyrics weren’t very good though. In their broken down, half-arsed way they show potential. I hope to harness that potential like a sloth and whip it soundly to bed:
You wouldn’t believe the journey I’ve had
It’s been a long time coming
My face is a little jumbled so I hope you don’t start running
It’s a curious story of sorts
Let me dabble in your thoughts
I’m looking for a thesaurus
I’m not quite ready for the chorus
I was seeing this girl, she was freckled to the max
This was important, I’ll keep to the facts
One day I looked into her eyes and missed and hit her cheek
And tracing lines between the spots I couldn’t help but peek
There traced was a face
That was your face
Your face was on her face
It had to be a sign
CHORUS
Your face on her face
It was unquestionably yours
Your eyes under her eyes
I shouldn’t say anymore
How do you find a face
You’ve seen on another face?
It’s a Herculean task, make no mistake
I’ve powered through cinemas
Supermarkets and streets
I’ve sieved the shops and churches
At the expense of my feets
Every nightclub in the area I have scoured
Every bouncer overpowered
I get thrown out a lot for knocking on the ladies
“I’m just handing round a drawing man
Not trying to make babies!”
CHORUS
I picture you in fragrant meadows
Red dresses and silk
Hiding under brollies, sipping Irn Bru
Napping under quilts
The fact that I have found you
Despite all of the odds…
Actually now that I get a good look
If I’m being true
I was expecting something more
Give us your number and I’ll get back to you
CHORUS
Little known fact: This post contains more ‘faces’ than any other post ever posted.
September 13th, 2011
Yeah. It’s very modern to put your hand up and tell everyone what’s wrong with you, in fact it’s downright encouraged in an office because it gives everyone something to talk about in-between the dull emptiness of everything else.
I unfortunately don’t have a very interesting addiction. At the moment I cannot help but scour amazon.co.uk for cheap cds. Not that I ever have any time to spin the damn things, which is what doesn’t make sense. Why go to the trouble and expense of searching for and buying the things when I never seem to have any time to listen to music? My I-Pod has about as much space as a seedy garage so no luck there. I’m even considering buying a personal CD player (like everyone had in 1997) however the last one, as well as me being a bit cack-handed with the discs themselves, seemed to scratch everything I put into it.
I should probably give in and download it. I don’t want to though; I like the swathes of CDs lining my shelves, well I would if I had shelves. They’re all currently jammed behind books and that because I decided to move things around in my room recently. So if I had shelves, long shelves, I would lovingly stare at them for hours and hours.
Honestly I would.
P.S. This post started off as something completely different.
September 12th, 2011
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