Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Wee Bonny Crumb

Being a poncy, softy southerner to whom the expression 'north of Birmingham' may as well be spoken in Swahili - I am rather apprehensive over the fact that I'm flying to Glasgow today. I've never been to Scotland before but I hear that it's very very cold. I am also fairly concerned about running into one of these little bastards, who look as if they give a nasty nip.

To fit in I am planning to wear a string vest, swig from a bottle of whiskey and loudly chant the lyrics to a couple of Marti Pellow songs. However, once the business meeting has finished I will have to venture out onto the mean streets.

Any survival tips?

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

I'm too nice #3

Monday – 5.45pm, just got home after shite day.

*ring ring, ring ring*

Crumb – “Hello?”
Unknown – “Hello can I speak to an M. Crumb?”
C – “Speaking”
U – “Hello Mr Crumb, I’m calling on behalf of Abbey”
C *jovial and hopeful* – “Abi Titmuss?”
U *laughs* – “No, the building society”
C – “drat”
U – “You have been identified as being eligible for a supersmart, winner takes it all, top notch, fucking great credit card”
C – “Thanks for calling, but I am afraid I’m not interested.
U – “Can I ask why not?”
C *perturbed* – “I just don’t want a credit card, thanks.”
U – “Do you have a credit card at the moment?”
C – “I am afraid this I am not prepared to continue this conversation.”
U – “Thanks for your time”
C – “Good bye”

Monday – 5.48pm, after shite day and aggravating phone call.

*ring ring, ring ring,*

Crumb *turns down stereo for a second time in the same track* - “Hello?”
Unknown – “Hello, is that an M. Crumb?”
C – “Yes, can I help you?”
U – “I’m phoning on behalf of Abbey, how are you today?”
C – “I was having a bad day and it appears to be getting worse”
U *undeterred* - “You have been iden…”
C – “Let me stop you there, I have just this second had this conversation with one of your colleagues.”
U – “What, just now?”
C – “About 3 minutes ago”
U – “Can I ask what the outcome of that conversation was?”
C – “She asked me if I wanted a credit card, I said no thank you. She then tried to ask why that was….”
U *interrupts* “And why was that?”
C *continues* “…..and I was marginally more polite to her than I am about to be to you, good day”

*hangs up*

Leave me alone you encroaching wankers!
Why am I too nice!!!???

Friday, July 23, 2004

The Friday Fuckwit!

#12 Katy Hill
Slighty Goofy, One-I-Made-Earlier, High Moral Ground Fuckwit

Katy Hill, the ‘whiter than white’ former Blue Peter presenter enjoyed a great deal of publicity in the early stages of her career by proclaiming herself as "the ultimate virgin." As; "One of the few women to get married in white and was justified in doing so."

A vicar’s daughter, Katy gained a huge amount of respect from many sections of society for preserving her virginity for ‘The One’.  Fronting the BBC’s oh-so-British children’s flagship show was the perfect vehicle to promote herself as a role model for young women throughout the land.  In an industry where attractive young women may be preyed upon and could use their looks to further their career, her belief to remain true to the custom of her religion was commendable and she finally married her childhood sweetheart Andrew Frampton in 1999.

Sadly the marriage lasted 2 years before they split. But hang on, having rammed her purity down our throats for years Katy immediately sexed-up her image, was appearing in lads-mags within minutes and was dating fellow TV presenter Trey Farley within weeks.  This doesn’t make Katy a fuckwit but it is a fine advertisement for the benefit of sex before marriage. Why go through all that hassle for the sake of a fumble?

Last week Katy and Trey married in Tuscany. Once again the wedding was whiter than a polar bear’s bedroom. The hypocritical fuckwit wore pure white, her husband-to-be wore white, the flowers were white, and the whole affair looked as though some mad fool gone berserk with a paintball gun loaded with tip-ex.

Having initially taken such a strong line in publishing her beliefs, how on earth does she have the audacity to hold such a high-profile second wedding? I am sure Katy is reaping the royalties from the magazine photographers who were invited. How godly.

Don’t get me wrong, I hope they’ll be happy, I really do.  But the question is; will Katy simply remarry every time she fancies a shag?  I’m sure that D list TV presenters don’t get paid that much, is poor old Reverend Hill going to have to splash out on more weddings for his daughter every time she gets a bit randy?

I’m no angel.  I’m no virgin.  But at least when I tie the knot it will be for the right reasons, not a matter of principle. 

Thursday, July 22, 2004

While The Cat’s Away
My good lady is working up in Birmingham all week this week.  She departed in the early hours of Monday morning and is not expecting to be home until late on Friday.
Ever the opportunist, I couldn’t help being attracted to a rather fruity prospect when I nipped over to Sainsbury’s yesterday lunchtime.   I was confronted by a display of ‘LOOSE PINK LADIES’ on special offer. 
I think I am the sort of guy that would be ever-ready to entertain a loose pink lady, the looser the better in fact.  Well I ask you, what self-respecting, red blooded, heterosexual male could refuse?
However, just when visions of Michelle Pfeiffer in Grease 2 were ripe in my mind, my hopes for a rather spiced-up lunch break were dashed when I realised that ‘Pink Ladies’ are actually a brand of apple, rather similar to a Braeburn.
Stop toying with me Mr Sainsbury, you old tease.   

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Ignorant Bitch at the Bar
On Saturday evening I was fortunate enough to be visited by his Pencilness for a night of drinking and general merriment.  Sadly (and as the post title suggests this is the basis for the up & coming, drawn-out, mildly amusing anecdote) on the same evening I had the misfortune to stand next to……a right Ignorant Bitch at the bar.
Our first port of call was the ear-bleedingly loud ‘Henry J Beans’ where we ventured with our equally all-round great mate Bryn.  It was busy.  I am nearly 26, loud and busy is becoming an increasingly big problem for me.   I tend to favour not busy and loud. In fact, I tend to favour country pubs with beer gardens next to babbling streams.  I digress. 
I went to the bar to buy the second round of drinks, a bottle of Nastro Azzuro for Pencil, a bottle of Becks for Bryn and a pint of Fosters for me.  I’d say that the average serving time in a proper, well-run pub for these liquid goods would be around 3 and a half minutes.  To give Henry J Beans the benefit of the doubt, they may have been able to accomplish this within this timescale had it not been for Ignorant Bitch at the bar.
The barman nearest to me at the endless bar was serving a group of 4 ladies standing just along.  I walked up to the bar and stood next to Ignorant Bitch who was already waiting.  As the barman finished serving the group he acknowledged me.  I knew he was going to come to me next, but I knew that Bitch had been waiting longer.
So as he approached me and opened his mouth to say “Yes Mate?” I gestured to my right and said “This lady was first” 
Lady?  Ignorant Bitch more like.
She didn’t thank me. 
She didn’t look at me. 
She didn’t respond in any way to my courtesy. 
She then proceeded to order a range of cocktails.   The barman gave me the occasional sympathetic glance as the minutes slipped by, but it didn’t make me feel any less angry.  Once again, proof that I am often too nice. 
I hate her, and if I ever see her again I will tie her up, transport her 6 miles down a country track laced with sharp gravel and steal her shoes.

Monday, July 19, 2004

Today I will mostly be playing
It's rather good.  I beat it by being Susan Harper from 'My Family' but it's darn clever nonetheless.
Guess the Dictator and/or TV Sitcom Character

Friday, July 16, 2004

The Friday Fuckwit(s)!

I proudly (if reluctantly) present this weeks offering, beautifully crafted by my good e-pal Unlucky Man.  “Reluctantly Crumb?” I hear you ask, “Why so?”  Well folks, I am reluctant because it is far, far better than anything I have ever come up with on a Friday!   

#11 Dominic Littlewood & Kristian Digby
Obscure, Smug, Daytime TV, Property Ladder Fuckwits


Illness recently subjecting me to the harrowing horror that is daytime TV, I was witness to many fuckwits of the highest order (or lowest, depending on which way you look at it). But picking between two first-class cuntcocks has proved impossible: 
‘Circus boy’ Dominic Littlewood plays up his cheeky-chappy Essex car dealer background to grating Dick van Dyke-esque proportions, in so doing demeaning everything that is good about the vastly misunderstood county I regrettably share with tossers exactly like him. 
Just in case this wasn’t soul-destroying enough, the BBC pair him with 'camp Head Prefect' schoolboy Kristian Digby, the plum-in-mouth ‘clever’ one for the ladies, doubtless as a foil to Littlewood’s laddy antics. 
Consequences are just as hilarious as you can imagine. Unfortunately. 
Together the two, most definitely less than the sum of their insignificant parts, present ‘To Buy Or Not To Buy’, in which successive annoying undeservedly rich couples are wheeled out to turn their over-deposited noses up at a string of perfectly good properties supposedly put forward by the ‘expert’ duo. 
Yet probably the most important purchasing decision of these peoples’ lives is merely background fodder to the spectacle that is the presenting double-act’s ‘improvised’ ‘banter’ as they eavesdrop on their ill-judged comments. 
Buying property’s difficult enough without these interfering imbeciles. 
The biggest ‘negative equity’ I’ve ever heard of was the day the acting union saw fit to hand cards to these two ‘Blind Date’ rejects. How I long to see some irreparable subsidence crack down Digby’s smug, twatting public-school face and see the entire market crash directly onto Littlewood’s insincere, mockney, folically-challenged temple. 
With greats like Allsopp, Beeny and Lamb already straddled atop the property presenting ladder, I urge these cowboys to fuck right off down the rungs to the gutter from which they came. 
You heard me right, lads: go on, fuck off.  

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Pasta is Shit

I am baffled as to why I am clearly in a minority when it comes to disliking pasta.
Anyone who likes it is absolutely wrong and I am right.

Now, some arses as promised...

One for the gentlemen

And one for the ladies

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Civil Faulty

So Brown is going to cut about a zillion civil service jobs? Well I'm not surprised.

I exaggerate, but the public sector organisation for whom I work appears to have about 10 staff per job. I come across many lazy, overpaid jobworths at high level on a daily basis. I also speak to many hardworking individuals at a lower level who are underpaid and quickly become disillusioned and lacking motivation. These people then move on, often to the private sector. The staff I refer to are often young and forward thinking people.

As a result public sector organisations will never be able to retain the quality of staff that the public services require. They end up employing perhaps 10 staff to do the work that 5 or 6 specialists could complete. If they want less jobs they will need to start paying new young staff wages that are comparable to the private sector and not make them feel as though they are dogsbodies whose duty is to serve those bigwigs above them.

Rant over, bit serious today. Will compensate by talking about arses tomorrow.

Friday, July 09, 2004

The Friday Fuckwit!

#10 Holly Valance
Suntanned, Reversed Charged, Down Under Fuckwit

I’m a red blooded male. And it’s probably fair to say that I enjoy (from time-to-time) looking at and drooling over sparsely dressed ladies. I confess to being a regular reader of magazines such as FHM and Loaded and I have been known to watch the odd soap opera purely based on totty content.

Having said all that, I’d like to think that I am selective over which pin-ups I pay attention to. I am not dazzled by flesh and I like the lady to sound as though she has more to offer than a large set of jugs. I find that many of the tarts served up by the aforementioned magazines simply do not ‘float my boat’. However, some gents like the brasher lady and obviously get turned-on by the slapper look. Each to their own, that’s fine.

Then there are those 'media babes' than I just cannot understand. Those with no visible talent, not especially good looking and have still made it into the British media despite coming from the other side of the world. Step forward Holly Valance.

“Do I have to spell it out?” ponders Holly in her contrived, antipodean manner. Well, yes love, quite frankly, you do. Can’t understand the fuss myself.

Kiss off.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Weath-er Without You

You know the myth that all French people stink of garlic and all Americans are overweight -(that is a myth right?) Well I always thought that it was a similar terrible cliché that us Brits continuously talk about the weather.

But it isn’t a terrible cliché, it is absolutely true. And I am as guilty as anyone. So much so, I am now writing about it.

Having said that, I just want to make it clear that I am not the sort of bloke who would use an expression like “Nice weather for ducks”. Equally I am not the sort of person who walks into the office each morning and moans about the weather. In fact, we seem to have more than our fair share of people like that in my office. They are the same people with whom every single Friday, without exception, I have this conversation:

Crumb – “Good Morning Gertrude, how are you?”
Gertrude – “I’m fine thank you Crumb – glad it’s Friday!”
*Enter Dennis*
Crumb – “Hi Dennis, are you okay?”
Dennis – “Yeah Crumb, I’m cool – glad it’s Friday!”

In fact it is not just Friday that they manage to get away with this:

*Wednesday Morning*
Crumb – “How are you doing Gertrude?”
Gertrude – “Not bad thanks Crumb – I’ll be glad when it’s Friday!”
Dennis – “And how are you Crumb?”
Crumb – “Pretty good Dennis, yourself?”
Dennis – Yeah, not bad - only two more days to go after today!”


So I feel sorry that there is nothing more significant in my life to blog about at the moment apart from the weather, but for fucks sake, we wait all year for long summer days and what we get? Gale-force winds, driving rain and flood warnings. It’s July. This ain’t fair.

The dark winter months have a bad effect on me. I don’t mind the cold or the wet, but it’s the darkness that gets me down. So because I’m a pretty miserable git from Mid October through to March I like to spend my summer being happy. But I’m not happy, I’ve had enough.

Give me sunshine!

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

A Small Point I’d Like To Flag Up

Euro 2004 has finished.

Tomorrow it will be two entire weeks since England were eliminated.

Now take the flags DOWN.

And here’s one in the eye for all those flag-toting chavs, a letter spotted by my lady and written by Robin Tilbrook of Bath:

“The first two lions on the English crest came from William the Conqueror and are supposedly called Rollo (after a duke of Normandy) and Maine (after the region that became the department of part of France). The third lion was added by King Henry II to represent the duchy his wife, Eleanor, came from and is called Aquitaine. So, in an ironic fashion, our English lions are all French.”

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Dear friends and readers.

I dreamt about my blog last night. I’m not sure this is good. When I woke up this morning I reflected on this and decided that it must mean that I have not been devoting enough time to it recently. I blame Big Brother as I usually sit down at the computer about 10pm to post, read other blogs and to leave some comments. I have also been quite pissed recently so this has certainly contributed – (especially last Thursday – hence no Fuckwit last week – sorry x)

So here we go with a week of effort (apart from Monday!)

Return of the Ta-wunts

I am sure that regular visitors to TMC will have been waiting for the latest news from the facilities team here in my office. For those who are not up to speed on this – the facilities team have a habit of sending ridiculous group emails to the entire office about meaningless things. In the past they have brought us such gems as – “a slice of ham has been taken from a fridge”, “a paper napkin has been taken from a buffet without permission”, and (my personal favourite) – “all staff must keep the windows shut over the summer to prevent scouting wasps from entering the building”.

Well, they’re back with a bang…

Dear All

On Monday evening, 5th July 04, the cleaning company will start a new method of cleaning, in an attempt to raise the standards of cleaning across the buildings.

The Flow Cleaning system will involve cleaners moving through the buildings in team formation. Starting at one point in the building, flowing along the floor, to staircases and then completing the other floor area.

Bins will be emptied, vacuuming and dusting will all take place at this time. This will ensure that areas are not missed and new cleaning staff receive active training.


Facilities Team.

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