The Dog'sbody Dreadnought

“I played a gig in Cardiff last week and had a run in with the Welsh Mafia; They made me an offer I couldn't understand...”

John Cooper Clarke

So yet another dreary week at work commences with the usual queue and disgruntled mutterings under my breathe aimed towards the fellow commuters, whom decide that for one reason or another they want a return ticket to town and pay by switch/credit card. That coupled with the huge influx of new commuters who drive from their nice leafy suburban homes on the outskirts of the city; only to use and overcrowd my only freakin' means of getting to work as a way of avoiding paying a couple of pounds for parking! Why should I get so perturbed by this? Well- yet again, I arrived at the station in plenty of time only to queue like a twat and miss my train (again). The poor fellow in his grotty little booth looks exasperated as he tries to make sure everyone gets their ticket on time. There is one superhero of the ticket selling, who’s name escapes me (I don’t know how-I never knew it in the first place) and he rather cleverly pre- prints the tickets! Genius! This way he has only to take the money. I don’t think that a chap with his superior common sense will be working for Mersey Rail for too much longer though.

Of course, you would think it would to be quite reasonable for me to board the train without having first purchased my £2.55 ticket. Alas, the once a month clamp down on “ticket dodgers” means you are treated to a SS type grilling at your chosen destination when you can’t produce a valid ticket. For those whom know me well enough know of my getting-caught-without-a-ticket tale of woe from my youth. Suffice to say I don’t want to go back to that dark place….

Anyhow- in summation of this weekend’s festivities went to see the Fall supported by the most excellent John Cooper Clarke. To be brief –it was great, but a rather large consumption of booze has left me with little to no memory of the night. My usual delayed hangover was somewhat stunted though this time with a carefully timed pint in Liverpool as I took Luke to the station. Good to see the old boy-though on our much too infrequent rendezvous my poor, poor liver cries in pain –as if a thousand voices had cried out in terror, only to be followed by silence….

Common theme running through my head today- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job- I need a new job. I’m 29 in May and I still hold the position of a dog’s body. Anyone who knows of anyone who is looking to hire a sarcastic, scruffy, pedantic, smart alec, cheap, hardworking and untalented schmuck to work for them- please forward on their details to me. .