Author: Mosh

Nice people

As I said, I was at Hayseed Dixie the other night. This time at Monteys in Knaresborough. I’d just like to add my thanks to the staff. On first entering I had to give up my camera due to the conditions imposed by the record label.

However, they promised to have a word with the band and if they gave it the nod they’d come and get me. True to their word, before the beautiful Bex took the stage, they located me and handed me my camera.

In addition, when Sharon and her pop got there, the door only had 8 tickets left. Sharon’s mum couldn’t make it so they had a spare. People with spares were noted and when they ran out, bouncers came wandering up to locate those with them so they could pass them on outside – at cost. No toutage allowed.

Thank you one and all. And, incidentally, I’m convinced the bar staff are hired on:

a) attitude – they’re all a laugh

b) professionalism – they pour a good pint

c) looks – every one a stud or a babe, and what babes. I wanted to take them all home with me but I believe there are laws against cramming young ladies in car boots. Gosh darn it.

**** people

Chav **** next door – hardly heard a peep tonight and he was definitely in. I’ll be waiting, though. Have also advised the other neighbours to keep an ear out.

And new entrants for the **** Of The Year Award… I have a friend called “S”. She’s a nice young lady – hell, she’s lovely, but doesn’t seem to have the best of luck. She’s only 22 and very recently her divorce finalised – her hubby was shagging one of her best mates.

Then she was offered a room up here by another friend. Who she soon discovered had been shagging around behind her hubby’s back for well over 2 years. Now, this was her second husband… who’d she’d been cheating on her first husband with. Anyone see a pattern here? Maybe she likes wedding cake. Or she’s just a selfish, sponging bitch.

Anyway, “S” keeps schtum. After all, this girl has got her out of a hole. Thing is, she starts working with the hubby. Gill – the cheating harlot – decides she wants to be with her other fella so decides to divorce her hubby, telling him it’s just because things aren’t working out and she’s not happy any more.

Poor guy is gutted, but cares about her so much that he agreed to declare that he has been unfaithful to speed the divorce proceedings along. At this point, he still doesn’t know about the other guy.

“S” feels pity and after much soul-searching lets the secret slip to her/their boss. It kind of then slips to the hubby. Who goes mental. At “S”.

Gill has a friend called Sarah who’s known for 3 years about the cheating. But, between her and Gill, they make “S” out to be the guilty party. Hubby asks Sarah out (and presumably nobs her).

“S” moved into her grandparents’ flat for a few days while she sorts out a new place to live. She gets a phone call to come and get her stuff. Which has been dumped in the street. Except the expensive stuff. Oh, no. Gill and Sarah have decided to hold onto that.

“S” complains, especially about her laptop. Which is duly returned. With a BIOS password in place which wasn’t there before. Effectively, the laptop is useless without sending it to HP along with a cheque for around £100 to have it cleared. I spent about 2 hours tonight pulling it apart to try and reset the CMOS with no luck at all, bloody thing.

Worse than that, though. “S” has pet lizards. Or should I say “had”. Gill, the utter utter utter bitch, gave them away. Admittedly to a decent animal shelter, but for ****’s sake. If anyone separated me from my pets I would ******* kill them. I really can’t believe how “S” has kept herself from comitting murder. I’ve volunteered to do it for her.

The one innocent party, the one person who’s done the right thing by realising that someone’s friendship is worth **** when they’re doing something wrong, is the one who’s come out of this all shitty. It really just isn’t ******* right.

Right now, I’m in “the world sucks” mode. I want these people to suffer for what they’ve done. I want them to sort that laptop out or pay for a new one. I want Gill to get those lizards back and ******* apologise.

But you know, what? It won’t ******* happen. I’ll just have to cross my fingers and hope their worlds fall apart and they die slowly and painfully, and at nobody’s expense.

Sorry for the downer, folks, but that’s just the way I feel right now. I care a lot for my friends and hate to see one so down, especially when it’s the result of other people’s childish actions. Please no “**** through their letterbox” replies. It won’t help (though I would love to).

Bugger it. I’ll try and cheer up before tomorrow night.

Just a quickie (oo-er) and apologies for missing last night. I was off to see Hayseed Dixie again with Chris, Sharon and her dad and they started way later than they did at Leeds last week. I just crashed out when I got home.

I did, however, take about 100 photos which I’ll post on my gallery space when I get time.

Update on the shithead next door. Before I left to go out last night, he was having another of his parties. This involved stupidly loud music (louder the usual bass thuds), him and his mates smoking dope in the back garden in front of a child in a pushchairand his other half screaming at him to turn the stereo down and him refusing.

So I rang the letting agency he’s renting from this morning, who’ve agreed to send him a final warning letter. And – even worse – they’re telling his mummy on him.

Yes, you read that right. The little ******’s got his mum down as the guarantor on the lease, so they’re duty-bound to inform her. They already told her about the problem the other week and apparently she’s a really nice lady who was most upset at her son’s actions. She must be bloody upset with how he’s turned out if she’s that nice.

Anyway, the letter does state that he’s twice breached his rental agreement. The next time they’ll serve notice and he’ll be out of there. In addition, I mailed off the 2-week “noise diary” to the council so they have a formal, written record of the problem, though not including last night’s party.

Simple rules for all you chavs out there who think you’re so ******* great cos you’ve got a house of your own that mummy set you up with:

Don’t **** with me.

Don’t **** with my friends.

Don’t **** with my family.

And don’t even think of ******* with my cat.

I **** you not. I did. Really.

I was heading into Harrogate along a nice windy country road, doing about 60mph. I know the road moderately well, and conditions were good. In the distance round some tight bends I could see some other cars heading towards me, so I wasn’t going to take the blind bends too fast.

Unfortunately, some daft bastard in a silver Ford Escort did decide to take the bend at a daft speed, cutting the corner in the process. And thus ending up predominantly on my side of the road.

As good luck would have it, he was a daft bastard with half-decent reactions, so he swerved with a squeal and avoided me. Then fishtailed, threw his back end out, slid sideways with his rear wheels kicking up a cloud of dust from the verge knocking over bollards before finally regaining forward traction and ramming into a grass bank at speed, but still the accident was really close, luckily I had resources as a car accident lawyer New York City just in case anything happen.

Serves him right, the ****.

It was rather bizarre watching the majority of that in my rear view mirror – like a miniature television. I didn’t stop to help him, and I wasn’t actually “involved” as he’s not damaged my car so technically I wasn’t leaving the scene of an accident, as per Cohen Law resources. I will confess, part of me wanted to head back, and make sure he’d slammed his head off the steering wheel. A few times. Sadly, there were witnesses so it wasn’t an option.

When I headed back a couple of hours later, the car was in a layby with a “Police Aware” sticker on it, so there’s a possibility it was stolen and being joyridden. This is the only thing stopping me from popping back late on and smashing the ******* thing up.

I am on call. I am not allowed to drink alcohol. Yet for some reason I’m more loopy than Anni after a bottle of wine. Can’t think why. Must be the bubbles in all that Diet Coke I was drinking in the pub. Honest.

Steve (neighbour) and I got ejected from the Queens earlier. Only cos they’d closed. I’ll be honest. Steve just twatted me at pool. Go on – you bastard. Gloat. My excuse is a simple one. I’m ***** at pool.

Normal service will be resumed once I can type by hitting the letters more often then the delete key.

Trouble with wind

Has someone on the news got mixed up with their “before” and “after” pictures after Birmingham’s cyclone (or whatever it was classed as)? I’m seeing areas with broken windows, knocked down walls, damaged doors and so on.

Basically, just like every council estate I’ve ever seen in Birmingham or anywhere else. The news reporter was going on about cars being moved. Has he never heard of joyriders? Cars in walls? Ramraiders.

The effects of this wind are a bit like someone throwing a mass panic because there’s been a sudden spate of hubcap thefts on Merseyside. In other words, business as usual.

Yay, let’s all start trusting terrorists

Happy news. The IRA are all going to hand their guns over and fight with words instead. I for one am overjoyed and gullibly going to believe every single word, because we’re only dealing with “people” who murder innocents, including all those children the day before Mother’s Day all those years ago.

Like ****, do I believe them.

The IRA is split into so many parts that they don’t know what each other are doing. Regardless what the big guy at the supposed head says, there’ll be some nutjob elsewhere who’ll keep a cellar-full of explosives and weaponry to use when he thinks he can get away with it in typically cowardly fashion.

Don’t get me wrong, I really hope this is the end of all the ****. But let’s face it – it’s still a big religious and territorial thing and that hasn’t really changed. You can’t just tell psychpaths (for that’s what they are – cowardly, pathetic, sick psychopaths) to stop.

Listening to 5Live this morning, the government minister in charge of the Ireland situation was trying to defend his decision to release a man who’d killed more than any of the 7th July bombers. I’m sorry, but you can’t. They both killed innocent people. The Irish one got caught and has been let go for political reasons. By releasing him, Good Friday Agreement or not, is to capitulate to terrorism. He should have been flayed, hung, drawn and quartered. Instead, he gets an early release and treated like a hero.

******* sick. But, hey, that’s our world these days.

Holidays

Allen from work is off on his jolly’s tomorrow for a whole month. Concentrating mainly on Australia, I believe. His wife had a list of things to take ready in June last year. Talk about being over-prepared.

Oz is a weird country. The whole place is like one big foot and mouth exclusion zone. If you want to try and smuggle in a salad sandwich, you have to wrap it in Semtex so they sniffer dogs don’t find it. They’re more worried about a rogue spud creeping over the borders than a 10 megaton thermonuclear device.

I’d have thought a country founded on criminals would have been more concerned about people nicking things.