Inventive ways to waste other peoples time.
Since Christmas - festival of shit - I have decided to spend a considerable amount of my waking time drunk. I like being pissed because it makes me numb to the shit that surrounds me. I feel insulated from the crap that clutters my existence. Immune from the bullshit that is now so common place in everyday life that I don’t even notice it anymore. I’m a happy drunk. Being pissed stops me from punching people that live in a separate reality to me, it stops me strangling arseholes, it keeps me sane.
Don’t you fucking hate double glazing salesmen?
If society has a bottom rung then that is it, selling fucking windows to morons who seem to be genetically programmed to say “Yes, I’m a total fucking idiot. Please come around to my house and waste 10 hours of my time before getting me to give you twelve grand for windows knocked up by armies of Albanian’s in Morecambe for 50p each”.
Sell windows. I’d rather sell my arse ……
Pissed at home and some bastard calls me out of the blue about fucking UPVC windows; Am I interested.
Frankly no ….
UPVC windows hold no interest to me at all. I know nothing about them. I want to know nothing about them. I want to know nobody who knows anything about them. I don’t care.
However …. half a bottle of Shiraz seemed to have implanted me with some sort of empathy with a guy who falls into the latter category. He knew a lot about UPVC windows. And I mean a lot!
Was I worried about rising electricity prices; well yes!
Was I worried about burglaries in my area; well yes!
Did my windows need painting; well yes!
Did I want to save on my heating; well yes!
Was I in tomorrow morning; well yes! (fuck! That was the empathy kicking in)
To cut a long story short after I had got a bit too carried away I could not back out. But I had a whole evening to get the bastard back!
Next morning got up and picked out the gayest clothes I could find. Purple roll-neck jumper, beige chinos, suede shoes.
Had breakfast. Opened a nice bottle of Chardonnay I had in the fridge.
Eleven thirty comes. Bit pissed.
See some shitty white Vauxhall Astra park on my drive. Guy in a Top Shop suit gets out with a clipboard under his arm. Looks like a bouncer who takes on a slightly less aggressive role in daylight hours.
As he came down the drive I went to the kitchen and poured half a glass of water into my crotch and watched as a big pseudo piss-stain took hold. That will do nicely.
Answer the door with a flushed expression on my face, rubbing piss-stain and talking in very effected pseudo gay accent.
“Ohhhh. Hi. Do come in Gary, I’ve been dying to meet you”
They say first impressions last, and an overly affected pissed bloke in a purple jumper and recently piss-stained trousers seemed to do it for him.
I shut the door firmly behind him.
And so went two and a half hours of his life. Have you ever seen the “Uncle Monty” figure in Withnail & I. That’s what he got.
I could see that he looked uncomfortable from the off, and as matters progressed I could see him anxiously looking towards the door. Particularly when I tittered and touched his knee when he asked me (stupidly) if I ever got a draft through my back entrance as it seemed to be in a poor state of repair (Oh! Too right Gary!)
I offered him a glass of wine and in the end he had to accept. I feigned interest in the interest free credit deal and offered him another. It was a male bonding point. We were both about to sign a contract so lets have another manly drink, like men do!
In the end I ran out of ideas. Backed out of the deal and in desperation to get rid of him made a clumsy drunken pass at him.
He left in a hurry.
As he reversed off my drive I called the police and gave them the number of that shitty white Astra - the one with “Fat wanker windows“ written on the side you can‘t miss it. If they found him he would have been borderline on a breath-test. I hope he passed.
Here endeth the lesson Gary. Don’t waste my fucking time; and I won’t waste yours.
I have many inventive ways of wasting other peoples time.