Thursday, 24 January 2008

More cock, please!

I had a rubbish upbringing.

Maybe even a bad one. At least, that's the conclusion I should really start to come towards. Alright, I was slightly sheltered. Maybe. Either way, I don't seem to be inclined to do the many things people do that seem to be the norm these days.

To elaborate. I'm not naive. I've always understood for many years that there are many rotters out there (I know, rotters, who says that anymore, eh?) As well as all the rubbish things peple can do, there's the one choice of cheating on your loved ones and generally causing a bit of heartache in the process. Remorse and guilt possibly included. Yep, it existed and bollocks to the perpetrators.

Alas, it seems to become evidently clear that these people are no longer in the minority, if they ever were. I was happy in the knowledge that I had known a couple of folk here and there who needed a good slap in those regards but now it seems to be everyone around me, good mates, included. Brilliant.

Some of this is down to gossip, other times, from their own mouths. The former is obviously suspect here and there, but the knowledge of the latter renders it more believable. And when someone announces they've been floating their wares elsewhere away from the other half as innocently as if they're asking if you want another pint, then I'm sorry to announce I'm at exasperation point.

When did this become the norm? When did it become totally ok to disregard everything good you have and risk it? No doubt the excuse of "they cheated too" or "I'm a bad person" may come up. Excuses, and rubbish ones at that. There's probably also the classic "everyone else is doing it".

Well, not quote. I'm not. And I never will. Many thanks to my parents for giving me a conscience, much appreciated. And were I in a relationship, I'd be too damn elated to want to cock it up. Or, up the cock elsewhere.

Maybe it's just arrogance and this need to take risks. I don't know, maybe it's pure selfishness and "bollocks to everyone". All I can say is, looking from the outside, I've what these acts result in, suicide being one of them.

So to clarify: If you cheat on a loved one/other half/spouse etc: You deserve a flogging and a repetitive stapling of genitalia. Whatever you're gender.

And yes, if you are a mate reading this and are currently indulging in the above, I already know about it. Sorry.

Thursday, 3 January 2008

Running Up That Hill

The most important thing about a new place to live is not the house/neighbours/localmicroclimate/crumpet, but of course, the pubs. Granted,when seeking new accomodation, it should really be a given to try out at least 20 local establishments (if there are that many) within walking distance beforehand to assist the decision. City folk-no excuse. And let's face it, if you're closer to the cowpat than you are the congestion charge, then pleasant locals are abound.

Whilst I am happily getting used to the idea I live in Earlswood and not Redhill (nuts to the postal address - Earlswood has more of an English ring to it), I have to remember that Redhill has many drinking places in it's immediate environs, most of which I've been warned about. Luckily, I have about 7 pubs within a ten minute walk from my gaff that does not require me to go into Redhill's dark and evil locality. Wonderful.

Any rightful drinker should try out these at haste, especially when one, The Joshua Tree, employs their housemate. Alas, no football and many golfers would have me running a mile.
The Old Chestnut is too local, if you get my drift, so that's out. The first one I tried is the Garibaldi, slightly up a hill towards the common. Off the beaten track (read: no pub crawlers). It's small and furthest away out of all of them, but hardly far. And already a result, Iwould say.

Football is a guarantee, especially if it's United. And even though there's a match on the tellybox once in a blue moon, it has a fairly respectable Crystal Palace contingent. Double wahey. Ok, the landlord's a Liverpool fan, but his general niceness excuses this slight misdemanour. And with camra-friendly beers, we have a winner.

Just need the internet, and I'm done.

And a housewarming threesome, possibly.