Tuesday, January 17, 2012
You broke it, you bought it
Brrrrrtt...
Click
DAN: Hi Joe.
JOE: Hi Dan, how's it going?
DAN: Good, except I can't find any bloody coffee in this shop.
JOE: Which shop are you in?
DAN: The pound shop.
JOE: Ah. Of course, all the stuff in there comes from other shops which have gone into liquidation. So when you're shopping there, what you're buying is other people's broken dreams.
If he has a point, I don't see it. And I'm becoming increasingly desperate for coffee
DAN: And?
JOE: And coffee happens to be one broken dream that flies off the shelves pretty quickly.
***
Happily, one broken dream that hadn't flown off the shelf was the DVD of Merlin (1998), with Sam Neill, Miranda Richardson, Helena Bonham Carter, Rutger Hauer et al.
Whenever I see such an impressive cast list, I'm reminded of Island of Fire, a poor Taiwanese film which featured most of the hottest actors of the time, as they owed the producer a favour for getting them out of trouble with the Triads.
After sitting through all three hours of the DVD yestereve, I felt that I'd pretty much got what I'd paid for.
Click
DAN: Hi Joe.
JOE: Hi Dan, how's it going?
DAN: Good, except I can't find any bloody coffee in this shop.
JOE: Which shop are you in?
DAN: The pound shop.
JOE: Ah. Of course, all the stuff in there comes from other shops which have gone into liquidation. So when you're shopping there, what you're buying is other people's broken dreams.
If he has a point, I don't see it. And I'm becoming increasingly desperate for coffee
DAN: And?
JOE: And coffee happens to be one broken dream that flies off the shelves pretty quickly.
***
Happily, one broken dream that hadn't flown off the shelf was the DVD of Merlin (1998), with Sam Neill, Miranda Richardson, Helena Bonham Carter, Rutger Hauer et al.
Whenever I see such an impressive cast list, I'm reminded of Island of Fire, a poor Taiwanese film which featured most of the hottest actors of the time, as they owed the producer a favour for getting them out of trouble with the Triads.
After sitting through all three hours of the DVD yestereve, I felt that I'd pretty much got what I'd paid for.
Labels: BUNKA, CLAN, THE CREDIT CRUNCH, WORDS
Monday, March 28, 2011
A mug's game
A few weeks ago, something entirely unprecedented happened: I took a punt on a horse and it actually won. Proud was Dan as he swaggered into William Hill to collect the Saturday night beer kitty.
On the back of that, I decided to throw a few quid at the Cheltenham festival and see what came of it. Nothing outrageous, just a few pounds a day and cash my winners at the end of the week, see if I break even or even (heaven forbid) turn a profit.
First day, first race: winner; second race: winner. My goodness, I thought, how long's this winning streak going to last?
My answer came in the third race of the day when my chosen jockey dismounted his horse rather prematurely (not to mention spectacularly) and got trod on a few times by the rest of the field.
This setback notwithstanding, my spawny luck just about lasted the week and I made a profit of around £40, enough to pimp my new dive with a Playstation 2 (second hand) and a copy of Grand Theft Auto 3 (likewise).
***
Dan zooming across the Callahan Bridge from Portland to Staunton Island in a stolen sports car, suddenly realises he's made a classic 'Brit abroad' mistake and is in the wrong lane.
Wow, that's dangerous, I thought, somebody could have got hurt...
***
GTA3 is a very addictive game, but I'm more worried about the potential consequences of my Cheltenham success. The Aintree festival is looming and I may find it hard to stay out of the bookies.
Gambling is a very slippery slope and, as far as I can see, there are three stages:
1. You've got a pound change left over from your shopping so you spend it on a scratch card.
2. You take a punt on a horse you like the look of.
3. You're sitting in a piss-stained bamboo hut in the middle of some god-forsaken jungle, holding a gun to your temple with hordes of locals, screaming with bloodlust, wagering large sums of money on you blowing your brains out all over the wall. Your best mate is sitting the other side of the table with his underpants on his head and he can't stop crying.
Just before pulling the trigger, you recall that pound change in the shop and experience a moment's sadness, wondering what life would have been like if you'd bought some Jaffa Cakes instead. Then you remember that the price of Jaffa Cakes has gone up and they now cost £1.09.
You shake your head briefly, and pull.
On the back of that, I decided to throw a few quid at the Cheltenham festival and see what came of it. Nothing outrageous, just a few pounds a day and cash my winners at the end of the week, see if I break even or even (heaven forbid) turn a profit.
First day, first race: winner; second race: winner. My goodness, I thought, how long's this winning streak going to last?
My answer came in the third race of the day when my chosen jockey dismounted his horse rather prematurely (not to mention spectacularly) and got trod on a few times by the rest of the field.
This setback notwithstanding, my spawny luck just about lasted the week and I made a profit of around £40, enough to pimp my new dive with a Playstation 2 (second hand) and a copy of Grand Theft Auto 3 (likewise).
***
Dan zooming across the Callahan Bridge from Portland to Staunton Island in a stolen sports car, suddenly realises he's made a classic 'Brit abroad' mistake and is in the wrong lane.
Wow, that's dangerous, I thought, somebody could have got hurt...
***
GTA3 is a very addictive game, but I'm more worried about the potential consequences of my Cheltenham success. The Aintree festival is looming and I may find it hard to stay out of the bookies.
Gambling is a very slippery slope and, as far as I can see, there are three stages:
1. You've got a pound change left over from your shopping so you spend it on a scratch card.
2. You take a punt on a horse you like the look of.
3. You're sitting in a piss-stained bamboo hut in the middle of some god-forsaken jungle, holding a gun to your temple with hordes of locals, screaming with bloodlust, wagering large sums of money on you blowing your brains out all over the wall. Your best mate is sitting the other side of the table with his underpants on his head and he can't stop crying.
Just before pulling the trigger, you recall that pound change in the shop and experience a moment's sadness, wondering what life would have been like if you'd bought some Jaffa Cakes instead. Then you remember that the price of Jaffa Cakes has gone up and they now cost £1.09.
You shake your head briefly, and pull.
Labels: IMPENDING DOOM, PSYCHE, THE CREDIT CRUNCH
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Over-egged the breakfast
I awoke yesterday morning full of hope for a glorious day, full of worthwhile learning, sparkling discourse and personal triumph.
This zealous state of mind lasted approximately 30 seconds. As I went to turn on the bedroom light, I was rewarded with total inertia. The credit on my electricity token had evidently run out overnight.
My thoughts turned to the matter of my breakfast. Generally, I prepare an espresso over my camping stove and boil an egg to take with me and have when I get into college. However, the fridge was out and I had three eggs remaining, the extra two of which I was loth to waste.
So I boiled all of them and today I am left with a hitherto-undiscovered respect for chickens: while they squeeze out the eggs nineteen to the dozen, here am I struggling to rid myself of three.
This zealous state of mind lasted approximately 30 seconds. As I went to turn on the bedroom light, I was rewarded with total inertia. The credit on my electricity token had evidently run out overnight.
My thoughts turned to the matter of my breakfast. Generally, I prepare an espresso over my camping stove and boil an egg to take with me and have when I get into college. However, the fridge was out and I had three eggs remaining, the extra two of which I was loth to waste.
So I boiled all of them and today I am left with a hitherto-undiscovered respect for chickens: while they squeeze out the eggs nineteen to the dozen, here am I struggling to rid myself of three.
Labels: NASTY TEETH-CLENCHING CONSTIPATION, THE CREDIT CRUNCH
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Mushoku
With bugger all else to do with my time other than sit around dividing my giro by fourteen in my head and playing Joe at Scrabble, I decided to pay a visit to the Education Show at the NEC in Birmingham.
My aims:
1. Find new career and life direction.
2. Mump a few bags of stationery and other freebies.
When I arrived at the NEC, there were all sorts of education types pushing round granny trolleys, having either stocked up on cutting-edge textbooks, CD ROMs and whatever else for their youthful charges at the various exhibiting stands, or (more probably) having mumped more stationery than you can shake a stick at.
Dishearteningly, there was one of those enter-your-details-print-off-a-badge arrangements at the gate. Sod, I thought; I don't think I can handle the stigma of going round with a badge that says I'm unemployed, a word I usually associate with suspected arsonists in the Mainichi:
Let's see what I can come up with.
Name?
Your starter for ten...
Daniel McKeown
Company?
Bugger. Er...
Charming
Occupation?
Series of check boxes. There's one marked Other. Home and dry.
Not quite- a box flashes open.
Please specify
Son of a-- this is a witch hunt.
I type in None of the above. The system gives up on questions and prints me out a badge that reads "Daniel McKeown - Charming." I skulk into the show, horizons and pockets wide open.
My aims:
1. Find new career and life direction.
2. Mump a few bags of stationery and other freebies.
When I arrived at the NEC, there were all sorts of education types pushing round granny trolleys, having either stocked up on cutting-edge textbooks, CD ROMs and whatever else for their youthful charges at the various exhibiting stands, or (more probably) having mumped more stationery than you can shake a stick at.
Dishearteningly, there was one of those enter-your-details-print-off-a-badge arrangements at the gate. Sod, I thought; I don't think I can handle the stigma of going round with a badge that says I'm unemployed, a word I usually associate with suspected arsonists in the Mainichi:
Let's see what I can come up with.
Name?
Your starter for ten...
Daniel McKeown
Company?
Bugger. Er...
Charming
Occupation?
Series of check boxes. There's one marked Other. Home and dry.
Not quite- a box flashes open.
Please specify
Son of a-- this is a witch hunt.
I type in None of the above. The system gives up on questions and prints me out a badge that reads "Daniel McKeown - Charming." I skulk into the show, horizons and pockets wide open.
Labels: THE CREDIT CRUNCH
