This morning I had an audience with the Lord of the Fuck Ups
January 15th, 2009
So there I was, getting on the 8:45 train to Bournemouth, you know the one with “Bournemouth” written on the side. When the Lord of the Fuck Ups approached me…stumbling around the station with two enormous bags. He proceeded to ask me in a diginified and stately manner,
“Mate, does this one go to Bournemuff?”
To which I wittyly replied
“Yeah”
To which he retorted
“You sure this goes to Bournemuff?”
I repeated myself
“Yeah”
After the cut and thrust of reasoned debate we got on the train and he sat on the seat in front of me. Now ever since waking up, my single focus was getting on that train so I could fall asleep again. I realised this was going to be impossible when my nostrils caught a whiff of the Lord’s cologne, a smattering of Lynx with the overwhelming aroma of stale beer. It swiftly became clear that the Lord was smashed…at 9 in the morning. I hasten to add this was confirmed when he opened another can of lager.
As the train rolls merrily forward, I think I’m out of the woods, but when the train leaves Brockenhurst station I realise I’m in the New Forest both metaphorically and literally when he requires my counsel once again.
“Mate, how long till we get to Bournemuff?”
Quick as a flash I came back with
“15 minutes”
I get the obligatory confirmation
“You sure it’s 15 minutes?”
I confirm
“Yeah”
Now bare in mind it’s 9am when the next line is uttered
“Better be, I’ve gotta be in court and arf nine”
It was at this time that it all fell into place. But before I summarise how much of a fuck up this chap was, I must divulge the final piece of dialogue between myself and the Lord.
I thought I was home free when he quizzes my vast life experience, why else would he hire me as his personal assistant.
“Mate, are these clothes smart enough for court?”
I replied
“I don’t know, I’ve never been”
He was taken aback and asked
“You’ve never been to court?”
Now with my brief but enjoyable time with the Lord I assumed going to court was not an unfamiliar experience for him. But I found it amusing that he either had been to court before and had forgotten the required attire, or the even more amusing idea that he’s never been to court before and doesn’t know and is annoyed with me for having never been to court before and not knowing…As it happens he quite clearly wasn’t dressed for court….
So lets wrap this up. Here we have a man, drunk and still drinking, getting on a train at 8:45 to go to court…in a different county…at 9:30, wearing a denim shirt, jeans, trainers and a black tie which looked like a 5 year old tied it. This my friends was the Lord of Fuck Ups.
ha ha qaulity mate, he's probably in prison right now inflicting his cocktail of lynx and stella on his inmates.
the train commute is full of weirdos and people in their little cliques and having to sit in the exact same seats.
i want no part of this.
Haha ace.
On a side note: Denim shirt will always equal fail
Seriously if I was him I would be more concerned with the being drunk than whatever he was wearing!! He could rockup in an Armani suit, pissed, it would probably have the same effect as turning up dressed as the Marlboro man with a tie tied by some scared school child he apprehended on his way to the station. You know to make himself presentable.
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