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Bottled rant, 6d/bottle - A Most Illuminating Tale
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters
Date: 4.38 am, Sunday 25th January, 2004
Subject: Bottled rant, 6d/bottle
Security: Public
Music:Thomas Dolby - The Key To Her Ferrari
This is weird. I've been avoiding writing here like it is homework. I've played darts, refiled mp3s, cleaned my room a dozen times and even sat with Oscar composing pointless haikus:

The cat has no cash.
Not even clinking loose change.
No pockets, you see.

Writing these haikus
Because we don't want to sleep
Is a waste of time

And now I sit down and say it's time for a nice long post, Terry disconnects the broadband.

Quick update. I've been living in either very interesting times or very boring times. New year was spent in Nailsea, pictures and odd notes from which can be found here. Meeting Nicola again was wonderful. I still don't have a job. I still haven't had a haircut. I have finished two new works of art (titles and photos to follow). I have transferred all my domains to one provider, which led to all my email being down for about three weeks, which was refreshing. I'm in the process of rebuilding my website, which is almost complete. Just the photos page to go. I haven't written anything worthy.

Yesterday I sat in all day waiting for my dad to call and take me to work with him. "I'll call you in the morning" he says "and tell you when I'm due in." Fair enough. At noon I wonder whether I should have lunch or wait to have it with him. By six, I know he's not coming but I don't even dare go out to the shops in case he calls. All day I stopped myself beginning anything bug because he'd be calling. I'm not normally this subservient to my dad but I know my mum's away for the weekend and I wanted to be nice to him.

Three of my housemates went out last night to a "T" party and I helped Oscar with his costume. He went as Earl Grey. They'd missed their train and returned to the house and had another cup of tea and were leaving for a second time before anyone even asked if I'd like to go. One more on the rejection pile.

Dad called at noon today. I didn't mention anything but it was clear he hadn't realised he had said Friday. So we travel down to Greenwich and Surrey Quays. Easy QD repair job at UCI Filmworks Greenwich to keep them going until the proper job on Monday. We met a man with a baby who had lost his car in the dense rainforest of vehicles. Quick overpriced Chinese and then we were off to UCI Surrey Quays which is rough as fuck. We walked in past no fewer than five security guards. This is at 6 ish on a Saturday night when most of the kids coming out really are kids. The docket said the job was to fix a hole in the wall by screen four. So we found screen four and asked an usher where the hole was. He pointed behind us and moved a poster aside to reveal a hole smashed in plasterboard approx two feet in diameter. He pokes about for a few moments, checking the fixing methods. As we are on the way out he says to one of the bouncers "Who did you throw through that wall?" jokingly.

"How did you know it was me?" said the bouncer.

There really had been a fight resulting in one irate punter being thrown through a wall.

After that it was just a quiet trip up the north circular and home, but there is something else I need to say. My dad has an irritating habit of telling stories and talking to everybody. As much as I hate to admit it, it does embarrass me. And today I finally realised why. He will tell, to anyone who will listen, embellished stories. Not exaggerated but embellished to make me the centre.

He tells a story of me sitting on the trailer chatting to a traffic warden who was giving us a ticket, when I said nothing more than "oh well". He did all the talking.

He will tell tales of my life as if he were there.

And the most recent, he has come out with a tale of me being bullied at school and him calling in a local heavy to sort the bullies out. I feel whiny to say this, but I find that embarrassing, insulting and patronising. It makes me angry. It never happened. I do not remember any of this and he made me try to admit that I had just forgotten. I was not bullied at school. And even if I was what business of his was it to do something like that? He's therefore either lying, stupid or arrogant. And today it came up for the third time and I almost hit him.

The only thing that prevent this was the thought that he must be stupid and I should pity him. On the trip back north of the river, he was talking about the day and said "...and then you said to the bouncer 'who did you throw through here?' and he said to you 'how did you know it was me?'...


But then I came home and I've watched Goldmember and had a bit of a chat to Susannah and washed my new light fitting and played some more darts and drank some wine and ate bread and honey and I feel much better. Now I just need to send this so I can justify going to bed.
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User: benparker
Date: 4.43 pm, Monday 2nd February, 2004 (UTC)
Subject: Libel!
I'm sure I ever said half of what was on your website. But then again, I was probably drunk. So I couldn't prove it. Damn.

What-ho by the way. The pixies in the interwebnetwork made me track you down.
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