Owner: this quintessence of dust URL:http://thisquintessenceofdust.blogspot.com Join Date: Fri, 05 Oct 2007 11:31:59 -0500 Rating:0 Site Description: In the year 2000, I invented the phrase "beefy showers", the use of which is spreading among television weatherpeople. Since then, nothing has happened. Site statistics:Click here
right up to the sky 2007-11-12 18:03:00 On the news this evening, some muppets were asked to describe a fire. They were asked because they are members of the general public, who happened to be near the fire when it happened. The fire was close to the site being developed for the 2012 Olympic Games, so the media almost wet themselves enough to put out the flames before they had a chance to ask retards to describe it. Said one woman: "I've never seen anything like it before." Said one gentleman: "There was smoke - it was like there was something in the sky." Said another: "The smoke went right up to the sky."In despair that even the news cannot offer sanctuary from the plebs who get up every morning and go to work just so that they can play Scrabulous on Facebook and wait until they've saved up enough money to buy a Toyota Yaris, I went for a walk. In the ten minutes that I spent in the freedom of the city streets, I saw a pensioner relieving himself against the lamp post outside our neighbour's house, witnessed a mother he
scrabulousy (adj.) 2007-11-26 17:02:00 I have been playing too much Scrabulous on Facebook recently, to the point where I am currently engaged in 32 games, only six of which are against people I actually know. The problem with this is that the world is full of cheats - the kind of people who lose appallingly in a game where their best-scoring word was "bum", only to miraculously in the rematch grasp a latent understanding of Latin and draw on their knowledge of every two and three-letter 'magic' word in the SOWPODS rule book.This is particularly annoying when a word can be played which the Scrabulous dictionary - and probably all dictionaries - deem not to be a word. Such as "windypops". This is obviously a word. My mum used to say it all the time when I was small, and I've heard her say it more recently to other small people on the production of an evidently satisfying burp. These people are not oompa-loompas, by the way. My mum is not Willy Wonker. They are children. And if children can understand the implicit meaning
don't put down the good people at the NHS, let them put you down 2007-12-03 19:49:00 I am sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, wearing one of those gowns that tie up at the back. A nurse appears. She hands me a pair of socks. "They're flight socks," she says. She actually calls them flight socks. "You haven't had anything milky to drink since 6am?" she asks. I ain't getting on no plane, fool. You ain't drugging me Hannibal. "No," I tell her.Earlier, in my own bed, I heard a woman being interviewed on Radio 4 about her love of nuts. Apparently, her favourite nut is like a coconut. I forget the name of it. "These nuts really are special," she said. "After a bit of scrunching, you are rewarded with a lovely milky taste." And they had edited in some scrunching noises. A previous item included a representative of the governing body for professional bridge players. I forget the name of it. He was complaining that players no longer adhered to a dress code. Some gentlemen had so strayed from the game's tacit code of conduct that they had let themselves be seen wearing s Read more:people
hair control 2007-12-13 08:31:00 On the advice of a former colleague, I got my hair cut today in a Balham barbershop.I walked in, and an Eastern European lady guided me into a plush leather chair. "Vot is this?" she asked, grabbing a big clump of my boosh between her fingers. "Nice hairs."I asked her if she could "tidy it up a bit". She looked confused and called over to a girl behind a counter."Senka," she shouted. "Come here please."Senka approached us."Vot to do?" asked my hairdresser.Senka began to toy with the back of my neck. "It is like fuzz," she said. "Taper it."Senka's underling, with renewed confidence, then proceeded to give me full value for my 12 pounds.I now look stunning - kind of like Ian Curtis just before he hanged himself.
two first names 2008-03-11 14:40:00 The most constructive thing I did today, while eating a King-Size Twix, was try to remember everyone ever who had or has two first names:Michelle Ryan (the Bionic Woman)Meg Ryan (the actress)Fiona Bruce (the BBC newsreader, sometimes more Bruce than Fiona)Emma Leonard (the jeweller and teacher)Robyn Lewis (the journalist at large)Ruth Kelly (the transport secretary)Larry David (the creator of Seinfeld)Chris Martin (Gwyneth Paltrow’s two husbands)John Paul (the ex-Pope)Neville Neville (the father of football’s the Neville brothers)Frank Roy (the MP for Motherwell and Wishaw)Lenny Henry (the Chef)Thierry Henry (the footballer)Humbert Humbert (Vladimir Nabokov’s pervert in Lolita)Frank Bruno (the WBC Heavyweight Champion 1995)Lennox Lewis (the WBC Heavywieght Champion 1993)Muhammad Ali
fantastic Mr Foxtons 2008-03-06 08:25:00 Dear Mr. Young, Many thanks for your e-mail. I found the language excessive, however I have called the board company and asked them to remove the board urgently. If it is not removed in the next 24hrs please could you let us know and we will chase it up. I would not advise you putting it through our window. Best Regards TomFrom: chris young [mailto:cruciverbus@hotmail.co.uk]Sent: 04 March 2008 19:57To: FOEmailSubject: IdiotsIf you do not remove your sign from 22 Ramsden Road by 9am Saturday 8 March, it shall be hand-delivered through your shop window on Saturday afternoon, you Mini-driving pricks.
i am not an animal 2008-02-15 13:57:00 Late last year, me and a friend - let's call him David - devised an idea for a sitcom: I Am Not An Animal, set largely in the offices of a trade magazine called Taxidermy Now (whose main rival is Taxidermy Tomorrow). We sent it to an agent... who hasn't called us back. As an American might say: go figure. We sent the agent episode one. What follows is "episode three" (to my knowledge, episode two does not exist).EPISODE IIICharacters: Simon Smith (editor of Taxidermy Now magazine); James Partridge (reporter); Dave Way (reporter); Karen Jones (reporter); Sindy Taylor (sales executive); Andy McFly (sales manager); Julian O'Connor (photographer); Harry Carpenter (reporter); Barbara Columbus (sub-editor); Terence Turner (homeless man); Charlie (kebab shop owner); Barry (security guard); Vince
London is my Oyster Card 2008-02-13 15:57:00 In 2003, London Mayor Ken Livingstone introduced the Oyster Card system to the capital's transport network. Today I learned how to use it. You place the card ON the reader, rather than swiping it.This made my morning.
PIN number 2008-02-09 13:20:00 Dear Mr Young, Thank you for your message received via the feedback section of the natwest.com website. NatWest has a policy of continuous improvement and places great importance on customer feedback.The comments that you have made have been taken forward to form part of our discussions for future enhancements. We would like to assure you that we are committed to providing a first class banking service.Thank you for taking the time to provide valuable feedback as we are continually looking for ways to improve our services.Yours sincerelyxxxxx xxxxxWhen withdrawing cash from one of your branch ATMs in Hammersmith, London, I was instructed to enter my "PIN number". As I am sure you are aware, PIN is an abbreviation of "personal identification number"; so to ask for a "PIN number" is effectiv
singing lemons 2008-02-08 09:48:00 At the Old Bailey this week, a neighbour of the murdered teenage model Sally-Anne Bowman described how she discovered the body behind a skip. "I just felt I knew what I would see," she told the court, which was attended by the dead woman's parents. "It was not going to be a model or a mannequin. I just related it to the screams." Bearing in mind Bowman's professed occupation, these were an unfortunate choice of words.In Tuesday's Independent, within its story headlined "Tesco hits a new low with arrival of the £1.99 chicken", a TV chef named "High Fearnley-Whittingstall" appeared. I sent the paper an email titled "Independent hits a new High" to point out the mistake, but they did not respond, and the story still exists uncorrected online.This has all reminded me of a sub-editor I once em
it's probably called a coat stand, not a coat rack 2008-02-07 10:03:00 This afternoon I logged on to Facebook like someone with nothing better to do and discovered that I had one fewer "friends" than the last time I logged on, which was yesterday when I had nothing better to do. I admit that my initial reaction was one of despair, despite the fact that many of my Facebook "friends" are not friends at all, but largely associates, people who apparently once sat in the same classroom as me, and passers-by.I felt compelled to hunt down the missing person by a process of elimination, which involved scrolling down my "friends" list over and over again until somebody became conspicuous by his or her absence. After two or three minutes of this, I gave up, non the wiser and feeling rather ashamed; the kind of ennui one experiences after a bad wank.Yet the mystery of m
i am turning into Kingsley Amis 2008-01-31 08:33:00 Today I had the displeasure of reading this soul-destroying phrase, written by an advertising agency to describe its work: "... market-leading Next Thing Now communications solutions". This was evidently dreamed up by a prick or a twat. The prick would no doubt describe his penis as a "forward-thinking fornication faucet". The twat would likely define her womb as a "future-proof gestation window". If the prick and the twat mated, their offspring would not be a human being, but a "consumer". And this little boy or girl would mature into a "media-savvy customer" who "interacts with brands across multiple channels" - "in a highly competitive and increasingly crowded marketplace". I hope to God the prick is impotent, and the twat barren.It is not only media agencies and their like who are guil Read more:turning
, Kingsley
bin it/bint 2008-01-30 10:58:00 The highlight of my day: the immigrant lady who pours tea in a corner of the office asks me: "Would you like a free banana?" There was a heap of bananas on a rack. All of them were bruised, but I took one anyway. This seemed to please the lady, who confirmed that the fruit was past its prime: "The bananas go off tomorrow. We must bin them." I have since inspected the foodstuff more thoroughly, and have decided that it is only fit for consumption if accompanied by plenty of custard. I do not have any custard, so I shall probably leave the thing on my desk and let the cleaners make an executive decision over its fate. If the banana is still on my desk tomorrow, I might use it to poke out the eyes of the woman sitting behind me who, for the past two days, has been trying to install iTunes ont
on 28 January 2008 nothing happened 2008-01-28 16:57:00 I awake to find the vague idea that I might be slightly late for work forming in my head. I can hear my girlfriend's flatmate walking around outside the room. My girlfriend is not there. It is 08.25. The flatmate usually leaves before 08.25, and I need to enter the shower by 08.27 in order to leave the flat at 08.40 and arrive at work on time. I cannot emerge from the room until she has left in case she sees my nipples. It is her flat and the last things she wants to see at 08.27 are my nipples. I could arrange a large towel around my body so it covers my chest as well as my nether regions, but this seems ridiculous. She would likely wonder what I had to hide behind the towel and become suspicious of my nipples. It is probable that a discussion about my nipples would ensue, and thus descri Read more:January
slick 2008-01-21 18:36:00 My body has developed heart palpitations. One morning last week, I came quite close to declaring to a bystander (who was actually sitting down) that I was having a heart attack. The incident has prompted me to register with a doctor in London, which gives the impression that I am worried about the situation, which I am, but not as worried as I am about the rapacious growth of hair around my nipples (the left teat - or the starboard superfluous bap nozzle to those facing my torso - is more hirsute than the right; they are both inverted [and both become erect when fondled, licked or sucked]); the disappearance of John Humphrys from the Today programme; and the mystery of whether animals successfully conserved for posterity will one day have evolved sufficiently to be able to either thank a p
logbook 2008-01-17 17:53:00 Chris: "That was interesting."James: "It sounded like you went in there with some kind of problem."Chris: "When I sat down a beetroot-flavoured-crisp-related noise emanated from between my buttocks."James: "Bloody hell."Chris: "I just produced what can only be described as a kaleidoscopic log."James: "Jesus Christ."Chris: "I saw every shade of brown in the palette."James: "Oh God."Chris: "But it all came out in one piece. I think it was related to the king prawn curry I had last night."James: "What the hell are you doing eating a prawn curry?"Chris: "It was nice. On Sunday I did a green shit."James: "I like the way you know exactly what day it was."Chris: "I'm referring to it as Green Sunday."James: "Have you told Helen about this?"Chris: "Yes. I told her I made an emerald poo."James: "I b
eat my words 2008-01-16 11:06:00 Apparently the Scrabble gods have asked Facebook to remove Scrabulous from its website. This is probably a good thing. Last night I was sitting on a sofa listening to an acquaintance of someone I like very much talk about something or other. The subject was a "bitch" with whom she once worked. I think. She may still work with her. As soon as I heard the word "bitch", my facial features discombobulated. I did not have a reflective surface to hand, and there was not one in my field of vision, but I imagine that the front of my head, which houses my olfactory nozzle, vision globes and tongue vestibule, appeared more sloppy than usual.As her words rambled on beyond the catalyst to my catatonic sophorism, atomic reactions and synaptic electrocutions conjured a Scrabble board in one of my brain
Polish coffee 2008-03-14 17:32:00 On my way to work this morning I entered a Hammersmith café operated by a kind Polish
man. I had been in the shop every morning this week, which meant that today, Friday, was my fifth time. Each day I had been served by the same man with nothing said between us beyond "hello", "hello", "a regular coffee with one sugar please", "one pound eighty", "thank you", "thank you", "goodbye" and "goodbye". But today the Pole had something on his mind.I entered the café. "Hello.""Hello," the Pole said."A regular coffee with one sugar please."My man went off to fulfil my order. Then he returned."It is you!" he said, excitedly.I sort of raised my eyebrows, and then regarded the coffee in the Polish man's hand. I certainly wanted to drink it more than enter into a conversation with this fellow."You we
too much information 2008-04-09 16:43:00 Last weekend I took my girlfriend to Bournemouth to meet my parents. She said she was nervous; I said she shouldn't be. Turns out I was wrong. The occasion began in a bog-standard manner. We arrived. Father questioned us about the traffic. We told him it was a bit chocker on the M25 but things cleared up after Basingstoke. He nodded. We supped tea. The small talk continued: cars, magazines, wine, champagne, beards. We ate spaghetti bolognese, which was not as nice as the girlfriend's. "This is nicer than Helen's," I said. Mother knew I was lying. "I cooked it from frozen," she said. So far so good.Later, in the lounge, I was showing mother how to download pictures to her laptop from an email. Helen had been nudging me for some time, but I ignored her, assuming she had developed a literally Read more:information
the old man and the turd 2008-04-17 16:31:00 While reading some prick in some trade rag use the cup from which Christ drank at the Last Supper as a metaphor for marketing - as in, "such and such is the Next Big Thing and interfacing with consumer touchpoints is the Holy Grail" - I was reminded of a particularly big shit I produced a few years back.I was circa 16 years old and my svelte appearance belied the fact that my body excelled at manufacturing premium bottom sausages. I had often remarked upon them internally, such as: "That was a big one"; "Fuck that's big"; "Fuck"; "Fuck me"; and "Wallop".The disconcerting thing is that the dishing out of such turbo plops is inevitably accompanied by dirty splashback, which is probably fine in one's own toilet but probably not in a latrine located within a French motorway service station. Lu
fuck me I am full of shit 2008-04-22 13:46:00 Last week The Guardian printed an article by Lisa Snowdon headlined something like, "I love shopping - I get it from my mother". News just in: a woman enjoys shopping. Devote a column to it: because, more news just breaking, she "gets it" from her mother, who also enjoyed shopping and was, it emerges, a woman.Instead of reading this article I again pondered the fact that I tend to produce massive stools like a mythic Greek toilet god called Christopholes Plopolopolous or the like.A former flatmate of mine, let's call him Paul Titchener, once remarked that the kitchen seemed to be running low on knives. Indeed it was; I had been using the utensils to chop up my turbo plops. The combination of my anal sausage factory and a poor-performing flushing mechanism in the upstairs toilet meant trips
balham schmalham 2008-04-26 12:48:00 Outside our flat in Balham this afternoon a white gentleman engaged himself in a fracas with a black gentleman. Amid their scuffle a bottle of aftershave was dropped on the pavement, where the receptacle broke and leaked much of its contents into the gutter. One of the men also jettisoned a plastic box of many-coloured pens, which scattered across the field of battle.As the latter-day gladiators broke off their scuffle to chase each other towards Balham's shopping hub, a passer-by resembling Larry David - of Curb Your Enthusiasm fame - stopped to survey the wrack. Grasping the pen box in one hand, he began to collect the discarded writing implements with the other, as if to demonstrate - through the act of housing red, black, yellow and green pens side by side - that people of different ra
blow job 2008-04-30 13:38:00 In the early hours of this morning, in the bed I have come to know as my girlfriend's bed, one of my feet detected a foreign object. After exploring the miscellaneous miscreant with my toes, I decided it was a harmless coathanger and began to sleep. I was stirred by an ear-piercing whirring noise. I lamely wondered whether Bruce Willis had been driving cars into helicopters again and one of them had fallen from the sky and into the bed. Then my left foot became very hot, and I was fully awake. There was a fucking hairdryer blasting red-hot air into the sole of my foot. I flailed with the duvet in the darkness but couldn't find the thing, or my feet. I gave up my search and realised the hairdryer's cable had become wrapped around my ankle, like a firebreathing anaconda. I manoeuvred some to
hoi polloi 2008-05-02 08:56:00 Many things, usually people, annoy me over the course of the day, and I tend to block incidents out of my head in an effort to remain sane, only to lie awake at night troubled by transgressions of human dignity that remain unresolved in my mind because I have obliterated the memory of their substance. To mollify my madness, I am going to try and write these things down.12.35pm: Hammersmith, London. A middle-aged woman and an older woman are approaching Starbucks.Middle-aged woman: "It's all coffee though isn't it, mother?"Older woman: "Oh. Is it? Oh."They walk away.
fuckwits 2008-05-07 15:28:00 This afternoon a 'chugger' - a charity mugger - stepped into my trajectory. He had a beard and a clipboard and that special disposition of people who have never had, and never will have, a job that makes them financially secure and emotionally and intellectually fulfilled; out of the corner of my eye I could see him swinging his arms around, like a monkey doing an impersonation of a TV character actor portraying a teenager who has smoked a bit of dope; his face looked like a cow that has just seen the cow in front of it electrified to death via high voltage to the temples and is wondering why there is a burnt-flesh smell coming from the cage it is being pushed into.I looked away as the clipboard-wielding time waster - who I think was working for Amnesty International - made it apparent tha
how to be sick without anybody noticing 2008-05-12 09:58:00 In the early hours of Sunday morning I found myself in the passenger seat of my girlfriend's car after consuming too much brandy at a Fine Furs and Feathers Hunt Ball. She had left the vehicle after reversing it into something. I had been instructed to not leave the car, and badly needed to be sick.I considered leaving the car to throw up somewhere nearby, but feared being spotted by other sophist
cunts; pissy, dawdling woman; massive old gay 2008-05-15 13:49:00 "Life is a tale told by an idiot,full of sound and fury,signifying nothing." MacbethAt a quarter past this morning's witching hour, I left a perfectly good bed to attempt sleep on the living-room sofa. One of the flats next door was hosting a party, and the sole admittance policy was that anybody could get in as long as they were a cunt who shouted their conversational inanities instead of speakin Read more:woman
, massive
"don't expect him to take full responsibility for entry" 2008-06-05 07:46:00 Some people need an instruction manual for everything. The people who live in the flats upstairs, for example, have failed to work out the purpose of the handle on the communal door. So, instead of using this item of door furniture to put the wood in the hole silently, these neighbours throw the door between its jambs with Mongoloid insensitivity to peace and restraint. What's more, in warmer weat
socks 2008-07-08 06:14:00 I dreamed on Sunday night that I was in a sock shop. I have never been in a shop that sells only socks, but here was a shop that did just that. I can’t remember the name of the shop. It was called something like Socks, or Sock Shop.It turned out that this particular seller of men’s stockings catered for the more salubrious gentleman. Each pair of socks was priced at £24, and it was this revel
a bogus journey 2008-07-23 08:19:00 I am walking through Balham in the middle of the evening and hear a man hail a friend with the words "hey, dude". He actually says "dude", and no one seems to mind. Not long ago, this gentleman would have been ridiculed for going out in public without wearing a hat. But now, hatless, he can shout "dude", so that it is heard beyond the boundaries of the bar outside which he is drinking, without a s
Recommend Site To A Friend
