Where the hell have I been? Glad you asked…

Well hello there.

Yes, ’tis I.

It’s been over a month since I’ve written a post, but there is a pretty good reason for that.

Nothing has happened to me.

Seriously.

As most of you will know, I was made redundant at the end of February which, to be honest, wasn’t a big deal for me.  I knew it was coming and I had made peace with it.

I'm fine

But my inspiration to write and poke fun at life stems from actually being out there and interacting with the dribbling masses of the world; all the bastard commuters, the idiots I worked with (and for), and the shuffling zombies that made every day a living hell.

So it transpires that, without these pointless creatures of vacant thought and stupidity, I have no muse; no poo from which I can pick the peanuts of inspiration and laughter.

“So find another job you lazy twat!” I hear you cry.

It’s not as simple as that.

“Why not!?” I hear you ask, rapidly losing interest.

Well, that’s something I can’t share with you yet for reasons I can’t go into, but rest assured there will be a post in the not too distant future where my dam of diplomacy will burst and wash away the brown and lumpy scum that has been building up over the years.

eyebrow raise

So this has left me having to take a different approach to how – and what – I write.  A lot of my posts have been a re-telling of an event (or events) that I have either seen or experienced first hand; seeing the funny side of someone falling over, or losing their shit.

Occasionally I rant about stuff in life that generally annoys me, but my bread and butter is the sheer lunacy of daily life around me. Something I don’t have a lot of….for now.

In fact, my whole blog began as mere Facebook status updates detailing the weird and wonderful commuters I shared 3 hours a day with.  It was only through peer pressure that I decided to convert it to a blog.

You may have noticed that I’ve recently started writing about TV show addictions, visits to the supermarket and innuendo-laced lunch dates with friends which, when you consider how far I’ve come, has been incredibly hard and often difficult to swallow.

Well, now my focus is shifting.  I don’t have commuters to berate.  I don’t have work colleagues to face palm myself to, so instead I have to rely on what I see, hear and do as an unemployed bum.

Over the next year I anticipate some new muses (or is it musi?), so bear with me.  All in good time…

Until then, I’ll keep filling these pages with my utterly mindless wank.

Thanks for sticking with me….it’ll be worth it 😉

Ryan Reynolds grin

Aren’t you excited?

Signalling a failure

This morning my train terminated after two stops due to some signalling failure further down the line.  

I wasn’t annoyed at all, considering I was running late this morning and had run around like a headless chicken trying to get to the station on time.  

Still, there was nothing I could do. My train was terminating and soon I was going to have to get off my warm, virtually empty train with the comfy seat, and stand out on a frosty platform to await a packed sardine tin of a train that everyone else was going to be getting on.  

But, as expected, the two people over the aisle, who clearly didn’t know each other, decided to bond by mutually moaning and whining.  

I could go into detail around the guy complaining about the price of tickets and the fact that he only needed to go one more stop blah blah blah…but it was what she said that made me smirk.  

“What I don’t understand is why they don’t just go back to manual signals. All these computerised electronic signals; all they do is break down”.  

A fair point, I thought to myself.  

It’s not like there are literally thousands upon thousands of varying types of signals up and down the country is it? That would suggest that, somehow, railway capacities, schedules and speeds have increased over the years…which is nonsense.

His reply was brilliant, if not a little understated,  “They just don’t have the staff”.  

Really? They don’t have, like, a billion staff members to man these signals day and night? That’s ridiculous… I’m writing to my MP.  

Surely there’s an opportunity here to tackle our unemployment issue in Britain. I’m sure there are loads of people out there who’d love nothing more than to stand out in the cold, right next to a live rail, risking being hit by high speed trains, for hours on end, for minimum wage.    

And will it be a set salary for this job? Surely it should be graded somehow based on geography? The signals at Clapham Junction are far busier than, say, Coombe in Cornwall.  

And what if someone falls asleep on the job, or is close to a high score on Angry Birds? Surely then it could be said that we have a signal failure…only this time with no advance warning sent ‘electronically’.  

Manual signals indeed. What next?

Should I wash my clothes on a mangle to avoid the inconvenience of a washing machine breakdown, or go to a library if my ISP let’s me down and I need to look up one of britains quietest stations to contrast Clapham Junction?  

Sorry love, you’re talking bollocks.