The time I built the world's largest fun snap....

I saw a friend on FB ask if anybody ever got up to mischief born out of boredom while grounded, and it took me back many years to a time when my stupidity blew up in my face, LITERALLY!

I'd always wondered if fun snaps (pictured above) could be fun for teenagers like they were when I was younger. As a kid we'd lay them on the pavement and down back alleys waiting for somebody to trigger them like some kind of Goonies inspired booby traps.

Well one day I bought 6 boxes and stashed them in my room waiting for a rainy day so I could create my explosive masterpiece. I can't remember exactly why I got sent to my room, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to create my 'megasnap'.

I took a cardboard tube from a toilet roll and began to unravel the regular snaps and lay out the explosives on a sheet of paper. With every finished box I'd gently load the tube with more and more, and it was going great, until I finished box four that is........

I suppose in hindsight it was the weight of the combined snaps that began a chain reaction, and I vividly remember a loud BOOM, a bright flash, intense pain in my face and the smell of barbecue.

Grit was launched from the tube with such force that it embedded in my cheek, I'm not sure how hot it was but it most definitely burned like a bitch and I had visions of becoming the deaf English version of Freddy Krueger. My hearing was completely gone in my left ear and a strange buzzing in my right was probably the only thing that told me I hadn't booked a one way flight to heaven.

72 hours it took for my hearing to come back, my bedroom resembled the Sahara desert as there was that much sand/dust covering every surface.

I'm pretty sure I could do better as an adult, what do you think??

Percy uhhhh penis?

Ever read the paper and see that somebody has found a deep fried chicken brain or rat in their KFC bargain bucket? Are you fascinated when people find an image of Albert Einstein in a can of Pedigree chum? Me too!!!

Well today I had my 'moment' where I found something terrible in my food, and it came not from my nemesis KFC but from a far posher source.

I was off on a road trip and feeling quite peckish so I stopped at the local M&S food hall. When the actual FUCK did sandwiches require a second mortgage to purchase? I paid nearly £4 for a chicken and bacon sandwich, FOUR. FUCKING. POUNDS. Is the chicken famous? Was it the chicken that crossed the road? Did it have 4.2 million followers on instagram, lips like Mick Jagger and boobs like beach balls? Was the bacon actually parts of PEPPA and her family after their slaughter? 

Calm down Dave you're getting sidetracked.

I also bought a bag of sweet treats in the form of some percy pigs, don't tell my diabetic nurse because over the course of 10 minutes I inhaled the lot, by the lot I mean ALMOST the lot.

As I reached the bottom of the bag I felt something cold and shriveled, and my mind raced at the idea of what it could be.....

I withdrew my hand from the packet dreaming of it being a dead baby bird, my disgusted face on the front page of the Sunday Mirror, Sport or even better the News of the World and a 100k payout to spend on overseas holidays and fast cars, but no, what I got was this.

Percy's flacid and kerb stomped cock and bollocks. It looked like the private parts of one of those fat blokes in the videos (that I never get sent by my freak mates...) where they get kicked repeatedly in the junk by a 70 year old Dominatrix until their crown jewels resemble fucking roadkill. I suppose it could be the result of nuclear mutations from Chernobyl or Fukushima, but not entirely convinced.

No wonder Percy and Penny, the lass he's been porking for some time (see what I did there?) haven't had Pedro, Peter or Penelope join their merry family, his dick looks like it got run over by a fucking steamroller! Do I start a gofundme for Percy to have reconstructive surgery, or is that a little too personal? 

All I know is that I have STILL spent less time with a pig's willy in my hand than Rebecca Loos (actual pig, not David Beckham) if you're not sure look up 'Rebecca loos pig' on Google.

Until next time, friends.

Much love,

Dave x :)

How do they do it? Yes KFC (again!)

Let's start with a couple of niceties shall we?

KFC haven't got my order wrong for WEEKS, and so you know why? Because I fucking REFUSED to go! 

End of niceties.

First of all the fuckers tried to give me a medium drink, well that's not an option really is it pal? I drive up to the payment window looking like donkey kong on a kid's gokart, I'm taller than the dude on the headset whilst sat in my car AND he's standing on a fucking raised platform! I imagine I weigh more than his entire family (seen more meat on a vegan's shopping list)  and he probably heard my stomach rumbling before I left the house.

I place my order, being very careful to enunciate my words:

Me "Greetings and salutations! Please may I order a fillet box meal with GRAVY, yes that's correct G-R-A-V-Y. May I also please have a boneless banquet meal, also with G-R-A-V-Y, thank you good Sir, have a splendid evening".

I drove to the window, paid and asked for a receipt (please refer to exhibit A, a slightly creased list of culinary delights)

note: RG GRAVY, in fucking block capitals, TWICE!

Success! It clearly said GRAVY on the receipt, I was that euphoric I was like a dog with two dicks! But then the game of deaf, dumb and blind Chinese whispers began.

Employee 1: This man ordered 2 pots of gravy

Employee 2: You work on a boat in the Navy

Employee 3: I watched love island last night and the picture was wavy

Employee 4: I hunt wearing jeans

And then we got to the final chapter of our verbal pass the fucking parcel where employee 5 said "This cunt is getting beans".

Beans, beans good for the heart, the more you eat the more you f............ucking realise they taste NOTHING like fucking GRAVY! They don't look, smell or fucking taste similar, in fact they are so far apart I'm pretty sure Stevie Wonder could tell the difference.

How fucking difficult is it to distinguish gravy from beans? It's like mixing up a fleshlight (look it up) for a fucking strimmer! They are COMPLETELY fucking different.

Tomorrow I'll go to war with their customer services, they will offer me vouchers, I'll decline them because I'm pretty sure the barcode says 'extra spit on this order please' and we'll be back to square one because Kelly is like a fucking crack addict when it comes to that deep fried bullshit.

I will say that there are a couple of GREAT employees there, one of which is a family friend But he's never there when I get dispatched to that minging shitpit!

I'm becoming a vegan............ maybe.

Cambridge become world's richest club!

Cambridge united confirm that they are now the world's richest club after dwarfing revenue streams from such clubs as Milan, Barcelona and even Manchester city. But how did they manage such an incredible feat whilst only securing their place in the third tier of English a few short weeks ago?

You could be forgiven for thinking that they'd sold their soul to some rich sugar daddy, to be used as a plaything for personal amusement and the massaging of an ego, but what you'd likely not expect is that ACCIDENTAL design and innovation was behind their rags to riches transformation.

In an exclusive, we at Ramblings of a fat buffoon spoke to a club executive about this remarkable situation.

"We're still in shock really, it's fantastic for the club and will really help our push for European trophies." She said. "We were brainstorming for the 2021/22 home kit and had a number of sketches ready to go. One of the work experience kids accidentally dropped a bag of manure on the table as they walked past and a plague of flies, we're talking biblical proportions here, descended on the table and congregated on our designs in huge numbers. What we saw shocked us, and to be honest we initially had no idea of the implications of what came next. The flies were everywhere, but the one place they refused to go near was our favourite design. They were that repelled by the pattern of the new shirt they went against their own biological directive."

This led to the club contacting a number of scientists who confirmed that flies would not even land on that shit.

Further tweaking and development of the design uncovered unlimited applications including Cambridge united branded bin bags, horse coats and food coverings, but it didn't stop there, millions of shirts were shipped to countries with mosquito transmitted viruses and cases of infection dropped 97.8% overnight, and it is believed that the remaining cases were down to motorcyclists accidentally swallowing the bugs on their travels.

The club source also confirmed that various 'top' players from the powerhouses of Europe had already been phoning the Newmarket road stadium in anticipation of a bumper payday.

Messi, De Bruyne and Lorenzo Insigne are among the favourites to pull on the ugliest kit ever invented.

Old people.......

 What. The. Actual.Fuck?

Nothing brings the old folk into town like market day. It's like a zombie invasion, but you could easily outrun them because zombie Ethel's hip replacement is still causing her gip from beyond the grave, and Michael's eyesight is that bad without his varifocals that he'll be gnawing on that lamppost for days before he realises it's not some chunky lasses calf muscle. 

I kid you not, they are absolutely EVERYWHERE, they shuffle about like the world's shittiest ice dancing troupe that have forgotten their skates and the fact that there's no fucking ice!

I needed to withdraw some cash, so I went to the hole in the wall (ATM for you Trump loving, gun wielding American lunatics), and there was an old dear stood in front of me in the queue. I'm pretty sure that initially she tried putting her library card into the machine, because 4 minutes later she was digging around in her ridiculously oversized Mary Poppins like bag. 

Pot plant X
3 seater sofa X
Jim's false teeth X

Oh, there it is! she puts the card into the machine with the urgency of a Spanish shopkeeper at siesta time, and then proceeds to spend a good 5 minutes window shopping for fuck only knows what on the touchscreen.

I got to wondering if she could increase the withdrawal amount a penny at a time she took so bloody long, and then, after she's finished her business she spends another 12 minutes staring at the wad of notes in her hand like they were showing a movie. No wonder old people get robbed in the street, I'd have had time to take the cash off of her, go home, have something to eat, pop back with a bunch of flowers as an apology, place them in her arms and wander off before she'd have even noticed. 

They also delight in using their shopping trolleys to form checkpoint Charlie down every single aisle of the supermarket. I swear to god it's something they must talk about in the lounge of their old folk's home, meticulously planning it like a military operation. 

Betty and Frank, you take aisle 6, don't allow more than 1 able bodied person past every six minutes. Your topic of conversation will be prostates, extra bonus points for mentioning that Frank's is currently the size of a small meteorite and growing. 

Ethel and Bill, you're down pasta and cooking sauces today, I want you to slow that shit the fuck down, go down the route of bread costing too much these days, tell the world that you used to be able to buy three loaves for tuppence and you'd still have enough to visit a strip club and go on a round the world cruise. 

I know it's not all old people, some of them are decent enough to invest in mobility scooters! The problem with that is they passed their driving test when the fuel for the engine was a carrot or sugar cube and the emissions were scooped up with a shovel and placed among the fucking rose bushes. The fucking things seem to have just two speeds, comatose or fucking warp factor 11. Captain Kirk would have had trouble piloting one of those things, they peel off down the supermarket like it's Santa Pod, and they don't give a shit who walks in front of them, you're fair game, road kill.

I love old people when they are sat in chairs, I think they are adorable when they share their Werther's originals and tell us what it was like in the Crimean war, I just hate being stuck behind them in a shop. 

If anybody ever has anything they want me to write about I'm always open to suggestion, if it's something I need to experience before writing it I'm happy to do that too, just let me know :)

Dave out.

 

Viruses, lockdowns and mental health

Who here felt that their mental health suffered during lockdown? You did!?!? ME FUCKING TOO!

So let's talk about it, but first make sure you stick the kettle on, none of this microwaved tea bullshit I saw that American lady doing, that was fucking CRIMINAL!

Got your cuppa and some biscuits? (Cookies for those slower kids at the back) Good! then let's begin :)

THE VIRUS

Who would have thought that the first 'nuclear winter' we'd step out into wouldn't be because China or Russia had bombed us? I honestly imagined that one day I'd step out of my house and be confronted with dust, rubble and bodies everywhere. Never in my wildest dreams could I have expected that a virus, with a width 1/1000 of a human hair (Less if your hair resembles Homer Simpson's) could cause such widespread damage and destruction. I came home from work with a sore throat and slight temperature in March, and here I am almost 4 months later just starting to take my first tentative steps outside of my bubble. 

It soon became apparent that I didn't have COVID-19 but I had to continue to isolate just in case, and as I sat at home obsessing over the news reports and social media I had no idea how deeply this whole affair would scar me mentally. Initially I was swept along with the "It's no worse than flu" virus deniers, but I was wrong. Some people (read that as Kelly) will delight in me admitting I was wrong, it doesn't happen often, but here I was.......

As the death toll began to rise I received an email from work confirming that I was allowed to shield from the virus due to health concerns such as diabetes, a dodgy heart and the fact that I am still hugely overweight. I took this opportunity to stay safe, but I never really contemplated or expected the full frontal assault that would beging on my mental health by being locked away. 

Initially I was happy enough homeschooling Charlie, watching movies and playing CoD on the xbox, but I was sinking, and I never really realised it. To begin with I could shrug off the fact that I'd have to step outside and confront something that has now killed almost 600,000 people (Probably more because China DEFINITELY lied about their death count) You know, I had 12 weeks off, I was safe as I'd be at home cut off from the outside world. 

But being cut off was a disaster, I never appreciated the micro interactions I had with people in my daily life. Shaking a friend or colleague's hand when I saw them, giving out a big Dave hug to people when I could see they needed somebody to show them that things are ok, it was all gone in the blink of an eye (or an uncovered sneeze)

As the days ticked by I started to really feel isolated, even though I had my family with me. Days turned to weeks and I got closer and closer to a return to work, and that's when I had what I can only describe as my first ever panic attack. I found it hard to breathe, my mind raced at a million miles an hour, I was about to be thrown into the lion's den so to speak. 

I mean I'd not even been able to sit and talk to my mum and dad for 12 weeks, we had to drive their shopping off and leave it on their doorstep so they could avoid getting too close to us, and here I was, about to be sent back to a building with hundreds of strangers wandering past me, coughing, sneezing, not wearing masks and failing to use hand gel to kill the virus. 

It sent me into a spiral, I ended up back at the Doctor's office and he prescribed me new medication and signed me off of work due to mixed anxiety and depression syndrome. I felt like such a failure, like all of the hard work I had done to get myself back to 'normality' had unraveled right before my eyes, and worse still I felt no inclination to stop it. 

I am due back at work in 10 days, I am terrified about returning. I will go on record and say that the company I work for have been AMAZING, my manager has been incredibly understanding, and I am grateful for these things. But I'm now at an impasse, I can either take a 3 month career break with no pay, or I can return to something that literally makes me cry when I consider it. Being stuck between these options absolutely sucks, I can't afford to not be paid, but I'm mentally nowhere near ready to return, which of course sends me deeper into my thoughts, and that's not a good place to be right now. 

Why did I write this? Possibly to self therapise myself, but I also wanted people to know that they aren't alone. Even 6'4" lumps like me get upset, we get scared, we cry. It's all natural, it's all healthy, because if we charged headlong into everything without contemplation or caution we'd all be dead before we turned 3 years old. 

If anybody is struggling, you know where I am, you know how open I am, so come and talk to me. Use messenger, whatsapp, phone, fuck it even messenger pigeon, I want to be there for you. 

Stay strong.

Much love,

Dave xx

Beans and gravy (KFC again!)

So, about a week ago my wonderful wife decided to send me on another great adventure to your Ely restaurant, boy how I love that place!

As I approached I began to hear a distant voice, I slowed the car down and opened the window, I could still hear the voice but couldn't see anybody. I soon enough realised that it was coming from inside my head, and it was repeating the same 2 words over and over, get chinese, Get chinese, GET CHINESE, GET CHINEEEEEEESE!!!!!

But the wife had insisted I take what little is left of my soul and pick her up some chicken and recycled chips (fries for the American folk) so like a devoted (read as slightly terrified) husband I closed my window and drove up to the speaker.

To save time I have decided to abbreviate the KFC employee to FCO (Fried chicken overlord) and this, this right here, is how it went.

FCO: Hi, welcome to KFC Ely how can I help you?
Me: Hi, can I please have a LARGE fillet box meal.
FCO: What side and drink would you like with that? <---IMPORTANT -------<<<
Me: Can I please have GRAVY and a Pepsi max cherry
FCO: Not a problem, would you like to go large with that meal?
Me; (What I wanted to say) Well duuuuuh, I asked for a large meal, so no make it a regular.
Me: (What I actually said) Yes please, that would be super!
FCO: Anything else?
Me: Yes please, can I also have a LARGE boneless banquet meal. (Note LARGE!)
FCO: What side, dip and drink would you like with that?
Me: May I please have GRAVY, sweet chilli dip and a Pepsi max cherry.
FCO: Would you like to go large with that?

At this point I considered banging my head against the steering wheel, but my car is held together with prayers and best wishes so I decided against it.

Me: Yes please. 
FCO: That will be blah blah blah, please make your way to the next window. 

I arrived at the window and paid, I was asked if I wanted a receipt but thinking of the impact on our environment (Good old Greta Thunberg) I said no, and therein was my mistake.

I pulled up to the collection window and was handed two MEDIUM cups of drink, yes MEDIUM, now I'm siding with you here, I'm really hoping that customer care are compos mentis and you'll see where things are starting to unravel. I didn't ask for MEDIUM sized drinks Betty, or whatever your name is, I asked for LARGE!

Betty: Are you sure you asked for large meals Sir?
Me: yes, yes I am.
Betty: Well it says on the screen that you ordered 1 large and 1 medium meal
Me: I ordered two large meals, but hey HOLD ON A MINUTE! If I ordered two medium meals according to your screen WHY are you handing me 2 x medium?
Betty: Oh yeah! oops.
Me: (In my head) Yeah, ooops indeed sweetheart, now maybe you could concentrate on getting my order right and not dancing around the kitchen like you're having some form of taser induced seizure.

She then proceeds to hand me 2 x large drinks without a cup holder!

Me: Do you have any cup holders please? It's really difficult juggling 2 drinks whilst driving.
Betty: You need a cup holder?
Me: Yes please, if it's not too much trouble.

At this point I pulled away from the window and began my journey home. Therein lay my second mistake. I DIDN'T CHECK MY ORDER....... Now, a lot of friends have told me that I should ALWAYS check my order before I leave, but you know something? I believe in treating adults like adults, I mean after all, these staff members are entrusted with sharp implements such as knives and scissors, and I presume they also have to fry the chicken in boiling hot oil.

But no, because I'm an idiot I trusted these people not to get 2 simple meals wrong.

I got home and sat on the sofa weeping softly and rocking back and forth like some kind of escaped psychopath while my wife got the food out of the bag and handed it to me. This is where it went even further tits up.

Wife: No gravy again?
Me: Yeah, they had gravy.
Wife: So why have we got two pots of beans?
Me: Probably because a lizard with concussion is more likely to get my order right than the evil chicken overlords at that absolute den of stupidity.
Wife: Sorry, I know you prefer funerals than going to get KFC but I really fancied it.
Me: That's ok, can you pass me my sweet chilli dip please?Wife: No dip

                                                                    Picured: beans



I grabbed my phone, looked up the number for the restaurant and dialled it, the phone rang about a dozen times and I hung up. I'm glad they didn't answer to be honest, because had they picked up that phone I'm not sure that they would have survived the verbal armageddon I was about to bring down on them.

PLEASE don't insult me by saying you'll send in the area/regional coaches to teach them the difference between gravy and beans, if they can't tell the difference by now may I suggest you fire them all and put some of your chickens in charge for the future? My cat is 17 years old and currently licking her own arse and I'm fairly sure that even she could spot the difference between beans and gravy.

When are you actually going to take care of this restaurant and get them trained to a standard where they are equipped to notice subtle differences between oooooh let's say night and day, or maybe hot or cold.

Really it is an absolute joke of a place to get food from, and if my wife continues to send me I can see three potential outcomes.

1) Divorce, I end up living under a bridge in sarf london and strangers buy me KFC so I don't end up on drugs or alcohol.

2) My wife's murder. I'd hate to kill her, she's mostly a nice person, but she's pushing her luck by keeping on sending me.

3) I lay in the drive thru lane in a chicken suit screaming 'KFC is murder' until the nice men in the padded ambulance come along, scoop me up and let me wear the nice jacket with the buckles and straps.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FIX THE PROBLEM! I don't care about compensation, I don't care about the fact that yet again I went without the food I ordered, but I do care about my mental health, and I am about one missing or incorrect side away from going five alarm wibble again, and that wasn't very fun for me.