My ego satisfactorily stroked, I now delay the inevitable death of this blog to appease my puny worshippers! But do not get lax in your offerings, for I am a wrathful, vengeful god, and demand ritual sacrifice!!!

Back to more mundane happenings: Yesterday on t’ telly I saw a news report (I think it was on Newsnight) about Iraq “War” veterans protesting about the goings-on, supported by some old Vietnam “War” veterans. And I’d like to pledge my full support to these guys for coming out and saying what they did at the cost of being ostracised by the very hierarchical community (the Army, dumbos) that they are part of. It reminded me of, and I will share with you, the time when, as a young child, I used to hate eating any veggies (still do), so I’d take my plate and go sit in front of the telly. I would then proceed to surreptitiously, morsel by morsel, shove the offending veggies down the side of the sofa (Oh come on! We’ve all done it). Of course said veggies would dry up and shrivel, becoming practically so much invisible dust. Eureka, I’ve stumbled onto something here, I thought. However, this process could not go on indefinitely, as the pile of assorted veggies (and occasional inedible meat) started growing considerably faster than the arms stockpile of a Cold War nation (especially considering how much veggie was forced upon poor ole me). Matters soon came to a head. The sofa was identified as the epicentre of the wafting odours. Punishment was swift and long-remembered. And I started resorting to chucking veggies out of windows while strolling around with my dinner plate. Of course, the curry-soaked near-misses resulted in some wondrous patterns on the white outside walls.
Anyhow, the morale of this story is that you can get away with murder, but not all the time, and now it’s time for the soldiers to come out and tell the truth about their “defence of America’s Freedom” (why the capital F??).

Have been too busy partaying to keep up this blog. It has become a huge drag on my resources; a millstone around my neck. I feel I am no longer able to satisfy my demanding public, hence I wish to tender my resignation from this public office of great honour conferred upon me by you, my people. I have no desire to continue this blog seeing as I cannot give you my utmost attention and love. I’m sorry, but this blog will be no more. Adios, my friends, and it was good while it lasted, but all good things must come to an end.

Nah, that was just a cry for attention! Where’s all the comments? Nobody seems to even notice/mourn my absence!

There’s something funny going on today, I see lots of people dressed as elves in green clothing drinking some black, apparently intoxicating, stuff from pint glasses. Anyhow, we should be swinging down to Tracy’s Willy’s place for some drinks, because it’s Friday night, nothing special.

Job hunt’s not going well; at the job centre yesterday, the “helpful” suspicious interrogator looked hard at his keyboard and found me a “job”. I shall describe it to you forthwith:

Business Support Manager
Minimum of 5 years administration experience in public sector. Proven experience of leading and managing a team. Must be Educated (yes, with a capital E) to graduate standard.
£33,110 p.a.

Much as I like the numbers, I told him no inconsequential number of times in no uncertain terms that I was fresh and wet-behind-the-ears out of business school. So he says, “yes yes, apply to that one!” Bloody quota-filling, chair-warming, paper-pushing public sector employees. He wouldn’t last long enough to refill his coffeee or clip on his hands-free headset (what the fuck’s that about, Mr. “Donald Trump”) in private enterprise.

Just finished reading John Steinbeck’s ‘Of mice and men’ as part of my “Naz learns the classics” drive. I just now managed to find a copy of the Beeb’s “Big read” list of April 2003 and intend to read as many as possible, apart from other good ‘uns not mentioned (and avoiding the thick ones (hello Tolstoy!) as long as possible). ‘Of mice and men’ comes in at a respectable No. 52. Even better, it comes in at a very respectable 100 or so pages!!! A really good read, reminded me a bit of Catch 22 in the use of American dialogue, very simple story that somehow engrosses you. Must read.

Guess who cost me that?? Phone calls to China, that’s what. Yes, February’s phone bill’s just come in. I choose to blame everyone but me. But that’s not it. Texting cost me £22 (I’m not calling them “squideroonies” anymore, because that’s a cute name, and I’m fuming!). And to top it, I was charged 17.5% ABOVE all this, which was a further £30! I wish I could name this super-cheat company, but I’m afraid of legal repercussions, so let’s just call them company, uh, say,.. Voxaphone or something equally random.

It was Happy Women’s Day yesterday, although none of the men even batted an eyelid at it. We managed to do the shopping for Miss X’s House Warming PARTAAAY on SATURDAAAY!!! Also remembered that The Russian Speaker’s Society held a get together at a pub next to The Footage which I had planned to pop into after yesterday’s football. But forgot to. I haven’t met any of the folk so far, even though they send emails all the time!

Yep, that’s what it feels like to be in my shoes! That’s the feeling of being top cat, alpha male. Leader of the pack. Leather seats, mahogany desk. Havana cigars, 18-year-old scotch.

Gareth swung round to pick me up yesterday in time for the Champions League fixtures. We dropped in at Jessy’s to pick her up, but she was cooking something (always eating, that woman) so we went on ahead. Liverpool was on the big screen at The Footage. an eventful but goal-less first half later we were joined by Jessy, then Adam, then Miss X respectively. The pints were a-flowing, the peoples were a-talking and all was well with the world. Liverpool lost, and are out of the Champions League, Arsenal managed to hold Real Madrid and are through. Then headed home to feast on the fine chili con carne I had prepared earlier (in case we decided to go to Lara’s party). Went to sleep trying to watch ‘Mulholland Drive’ (I’ve only seen the lesbian bits) with a full belly and a sigh of contentment.

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Yesterday was boy’s day in, Ioannis and I watching Barcelona teach Chelsea and Morinyo some manners. What a sad loser he is! Whereas Ronaldinho was at his magnificent best, showing great discipline as well as skill, and coming up with a brilliant goal as he muscled even Terry out of his way! Fantabulousa! we had the fine company of Miss Stella (Maiden name Artois) and Freschetta pizzas that melt in your mouth.

Miss X and I might be going over to Lara’s for a Mexican Dindin party; her brother’s apparently gifted her something called a tepin or something which means flat grill to you and me. So it’s fajita time, burrito time and mescale time! It’s gonna clash with the Liverpool v Benfica AND Arse n all v Real Madrid matches though, hence I said we might be going over. I need to get the Hollywood game from Jessy so that we can play it at the party. If you haven’t heard of the board game, go out and get it now. Nothing short of an A-bomb (or Nana’s farts) can break up a happy family as effectively as that. Monopoly-Shomopoly. You have to travel across the board buying studios and tv channels, similar to “that other board game mentioned above” but there’s also an inner track you have to go round making movies, buying actors, actresses, directors and screenplays, and that’s how you make money. Terrificly bloodthirsty game.

I forgot to tell you guys that I booked my driving theory test this Monday. It’s due for the 20th, the Monday after the next. So I’m supposed to be slogging through the test books and whatnot, only, being a Mr. Know-it-all, I figure I’m going to sail through the whole thing anyway, so why bother? After all, I’m not likely to do a Jessy and fail, am I?

Oh, and I also forgot to mention Monday’s ground-breaking Chicken Alexander The Great Salad (patent pending). Somebody only wanted lasagne, but while it was cooking she had the chance to sample my special (not a metaphor).

Ingredients:

Required. Oh yes. Definitely. Becomes much more difficult without them.

Cooking method:

Open the packet of cooked chicken breast. Drizzle (you can pour if you don’t know how to drizzle) some olive oil into a frying pan and start browning the chicken pieces. Add croutons, or just tear up some bread, preferably the end slices because they are thicker. That’s what I did. Hovis medium, best of both. Keep shaking.

Meanwhile in another corner of the kitchen, open the packets of shredded lettuce and salad leaves. Throw them into a bowl (I used a cooking pot) and add pepper to it. Open the packet of grated cheese (ASDA sells a “Pizza and pasta cheese mix” with mozzarella, cheddar, pecorino and manchego cheeses). I had never even heard of manchego before, but it were brill! Toss them all together, and then chop up some pickled silverskin onions and chuck them in as well. I used around 8.

Jumping back to the chicken which you have been shaking all along, add some ginger and garlic paste, as well as a teaspoon of pesto. Mix well. Then dump the whole flipping deal on top of the rabbit food. Shovel some mayonnaise on top, as well as some balsamic vinegar and serve immediately.

Voila!! (French for “there you have it, you illiterate spawn of a good-for-nothing peasant”. Pronounced ‘Voy-Lah’)

Ioannis had a taste of it, and even though it was a day old he couldn’t help ranting and raving about the great taste. Go on Ioannis, tell ’em like it is.