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.

No it'SNOT!

If you know me then you'll know I am a very calm, logical and carefree kind of guy. And you'll also know that what I just said is a MASSIVE fucking lie!

EVERYTHING irks me lately, since my hairline started heading south to relocate in my nostrils and ears I have been getting increasingly cranky. I'm not lying either, all of you young thundercats will end up having similar issues, where you look like you've eaten a hedgehog, sneezed and its fucking bristles have popped out of every orifice leaving you looking like an angry sea urchin with a pot belly.

Let me first start by talking about a fucking magical incident that happened at my unnamed place of work today.

I was stood there minding my own business ensuring people could go about their daily business when a customer approached me at a rate of knots. He was clearly in a right mood so I braced myself for the upcoming tirade.

It went a little something like this:

Me: Good morning Sir, is there anything I can help you with today?

Captain lycra: Yes, yes there is! Did you know that there are no plastic bags by the vegetables?

Me: Yes Sir I did, we are trying to help save the environment from its impending death, we are cutting the amount of single use plastics we have in store. 

Captain lycra: Well that's fucking ridiculous! How am I supposed to transport these carrots home?

Me: Well, and here's just a suggestion, maybe you could put them in that bag on your back? It's only 3 small carrots and I am pretty sure you could fit a 3 bed apartment in that thing.....

And it was at this point I noticed something dreadful, the man had a droplet of clear snot hanging off of his septum and the more bothered he became the larger it got.

I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to see if I could make this shiny globule touch the floor. I began talking to him again.

Me: Greta Thunberg told me us that we need to save the environment so that future generations can enjoy the joy we experience from snowball fights and building a giant snowman complete with a carrot nose.
Captain lycra: Well I think it is fucking stupid! 

Me: And can you imagine how hard it will be to scuba dive with your view obscured by tons of plastic?

Captain lycra: I don't go scuba diving......

Me: Neither do I Sir.

Captain lycra: Then why are you bothered?

Me: I'm not.......

Captain lycra: but..........

With every word I spoke he got redder, and the snot drop got bigger and heavier. Gravity began to play its part and it was soon hanging precariously above his top lip.

Me: And don't forget all the dolphins that are eating carrier bags thinking thinking they are jellyfish!

Captain lycra: Jellyfish???

at this point he turned slightly and the snot became truly mobile, it swung around like some kind of crystal ball on a chain, and this is where it got really bad.

It connected with his chin! It formed a liquid crystal arc from nose to chin, and I figured he was till unaware......

Until he licked it! That was it, I was retching inside and in danger of throwing up on his bicycle clips and hiking boots, and then he did it again! I have never been so revulsed in my entire life. I felt so ill at the sight that I didn't eat breakfast for at least 20 minutes.

Bloody grim.

I'm never drinking again!

What's up fuckers?

Yes, I know I have been a little bit absent again, but it's not my fault! Nothing really interesting has happened to me for a while, so I figured I'd go back a few years to a company party, and the reason I barely drink any more.

This is the story of how I pretty much gave up alcohol entirely.

I used to be a BIG drinker, I mean fucking silly amounts of alcohol, and it has led me on all manner of adventures, from wheeling a Christmas tree around Cambridge city centre to nearly getting arrested for all kinds of stupid fuckery.

I figured that seeing as it was Christmas I may as well push the boat out and have a couple of pints of cider while I waited for my colleagues to arrive at the restaurant. Well this proved to be mistake number one, because if you know me I tend to drink rather quickly. I'll down a pint in around seven seconds and used to drink 4 pints of lager straight from the jug in around a minute (I never claimed to be clever)

Well, those 2 pints of cider were gone before anybody had arrived so I figured I'd go the same again. I was now 4 pints in after maybe 30 or 45 minutes. People began to arrive and we sat down to eat, being the greedy fat fuck that I am I ordered the biggest mixed grill you have EVER seen. There was enough dead animal on that plate to feed a starving wolf pack.

I drank more cider and a few beers as we ate, and at this point I should have slowed down. When I'm headed towards drunk my gums go numb and I start talking more shit than I ever imagined possible. I was starting to slur my words, and people were beginning to ask me if I was ok......

OK? I'm fucking invincible!

After the meal we moved on to a bar and I vaguely remember ordering a tray of 20 various shots. I believe it consisted of bacon flavoured vodka, jagermeister, goldschalger and a bunch of other random shit. I also kind of remember drinking most of them myself in rapid succession.

It's at this point I get a little bit hazy.......

I think* I walked off, somebody had told me that there was a meteor shower happening that evening so I went and laid on my back in a puddle as the rain fell by the bucket load. I gazed up at the sky, the clouds peppering my face with droplets of icy cold water, and as this was going on I don't think I even questioned why I couldn't see any meteors.

I took a slow walk home, I think I was walking sideways, because it took me a good 45 minutes to complete a 5 minute wander. When I walked through the door I was full of Christmas cheer, but unbeknownst to me, a chemical reaction of epic proportions was taking place in my guts.

Kelly happened to comment that my T-Shirt was on inside out (How? Not a fucking clue) and told me that I was more drunk than she had ever seen. No problem I thought, I'll just sit on the sofa and let the effects wear off. Well I suppose I may have fallen asleep with my head facing the ceiling, because the next thing I heard was "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaave!!!!" and I opened my eyes with a startled jolt.

What's that above my face? Was it some form of spirit? Was it a portal to another dimension?

No, no it fucking wasn't, it was vomit, a lot of fucking vomit, and gravity was about to teach me that what goes up truly does come down.

SPLAT! The fucking rainbow yawn crashed down on my face with the force of 2 Hiroshima bombs, I had bacon, lamb chop and black pudding lodged in my eyes, and it burned like I'd been pepper sprayed by the police.

Bluuuuurgh! The second launch was released, I tried to move my head, but it was no good, it crashed down on my face, went up my nose, in my ears and coated the sofa and wall.

I stood up, bits of my dinner fell off me like body parts off of a leper and dropped to the floor.

'Dave, don't FUCKING move!' was Kelly's command, but I wasn't mentally or physically capable of hearing what she said, so I ran. I made it to the bottom of the stairs before the next wave of nausea hit me, I held my hands out like a fucking hungry orphan and attempted to catch the contents of my stomach as they spilled out of me, but even my massive bucket hands wasn't enough to do the trick.

I dragged myself up the stairs as quickly as I could, but it was painstakingly slow progress, and the new carpet was taking the brunt of it..... (Did I mention that the carpet was less than a week old?)

I got into the bathroom and put my head over the toilet bowl, I sat there shell shocked for a good hour before I realised I'd eventually have to move. Kelly had already told me to fuck off if I thought I was getting in bed so I came up with a genius idea.

I slept in the bath, the only problem was I'd not finished puking, there was still gallons of beer and mushrooms, sausage, chips and some form of green slime that to this day baffles me as to what it was.

Every time I did another rainbow yawn I'd turn the shower on, wash the chunks off of my clothes and go back to sleep. I did this all night and through the following morning until maybe lunchtime. When I could finally move I slowly made my way downstairs, Kelly gave me a dirty look, and refused to speak to me for two days.

I swear to god it was bliss, but the feelings of guilt knowing that she must have had to clean up all of that mess while I about died in the bathroom haunts me to this day. So, the moral of the story is this......

Don't be like Dave.

Cheers!

'KFC Ely, you'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy'.

Stick the kettle on, make yourself a nice cup of tea and have a couple of biscuits (yes cookies you American oddballs) because I'm about to blow.

Pond dribble: Welcome to KFC drive thru, can I take your order please?

Me: Why yes, yes you can my good man! I'll have the following.

1 x Large fillet box meal with a thigh piece, gravy and cherry pepsi max.

1 x Large boneless banquet meal with sweet chilli dip, gravy and cherry pepsi max

1 x Fillet tower burger

1 x Large cherry pepsi max

And finally some corn.

Pond dribble: No problem, please come to the first window.

So I drive forward 10 fucking yards, my heart already dropping out of my ass because I know that my happy day is about to be murdered by imbeciles.

Me: Can I just check both meals are large.

Pond dribble: Neither are large sir, did you want large?

Me: Yes please, that's why I asked for large meals, it was the very first thing I fucking asked for!

Pond dribble: "Oh right........ and there's a 15 minute wait for chicken"

Me: Oh, fucking joy!


I drive round to the collection window and am confronted by the most impossibly cheerful cunt I have ever met.

Happy cunt: "Here are your drinks, we have plastic straws!"

Me: (to myself) I bet you have fucking plastic scissors too you fucking clown shoe. "Can I have a cup holder please?"

Happy cunt: "We only have the holders for 4 cups, and you only have 3 drinks"

Me: "Well I have 3 drinks......."

Happy cunt: "But this holds 4 teeheehee!"

Me: "CUP. HOLDER."

Happy cunt: Have you tried our new supercharger dip? Teeheehee!

Me: No I have not, I just want sweet chilli please

Happy cunt: Are you suuuuuure? Teeheehee!

Me: SWEET. CHILLI.

My food arrived in less than 3 fucking minutes, they said 15 minutes, how long has my chicken been fuckimg hanging around for? I reckon I got the reheats from yesterday fucking lunchtime.

I swear if I wake up in the middle of the night with the shits I'm going to squeeze some of my runs out into a fucking tupperware box and leave it on their fucking doorstep!

And they forgot my fucking corn, the absolute fucking wankpuffins!

KFC twitter feed, get fucking ready!

Men's mental health

So let's talk some more about men's mental health. I'm saying this because us guys find it very hard to show what we have been taught is 'weakness' when that couldn't honestly be further from the truth.

- Ever feel lonely even though you're surrounded by colleagues, friends and family?

- Ever feel like you don't deserve to be happy and that you're worthless?

- Ever cry without any idea whatsoever as to why?

You do? Well allow me to let you into a little secret........

ME TOO!!!

But you know something? It's not just you and I, no no my friends, there are millions of us out there. We're there fighting back the tears in public, we're putting on a brave face and we're trying to fool people into thinking that we're the stereotypical macho men that don't have a care in the world all in the name of being the 'alpha' sex.

Well you know something, the only person we're kidding is ourself. We're not weak because we cry, we're not tragic because we are drowning in our own thoughts, not even close.

We are HUMAN, and some of us are tricked into the inky blackness of depression, others are just dropped smack bang into the middle of an ocean of despair, but it's not the end of the road my friends, all is NOT lost, in fact I want to tell you that it is the exact OPPOSITE!

Depression is the beginning of a huge journey of self discovery! At first it will make you feel like you can't win, it will make you doubt yourself, it will make you paranoid but at the same time not give a shit, and it will make you believe that you can't ever escape, but you CAN and you WILL!

Depression and mental health issues aren't the boss of you, they aren't in control, they are merely an obstacle that we need to overcome.

There is no shame in raising a metaphorical hand and saying with confidence 'I NEED HELP' it is perfectly ok to not be ok, but you know what isn't ok? What's not ok is leaving yourself not being ok, because you deserve better.

Everybody battles this disease differently, some people get a Doctor's appointment and are put on medication, others are offered counselling and the opportunity to talk to experts that can help you to process your emotions, to file away your triggers one by one, and some people need all of the above!

Along the way you'll suffer knockbacks, you'll cry because the wind is blowing in the wrong direction, and you'll wake up wondering what the point of anything actually is. This too is ABSOLUTELY normal for your situation, depression will try and trick you into hating yourself, but that's all it is! It is a chemical imbalance in our brains that exaggerates negativity, it causes our happiness to be shrouded in a primordial fog, but we never leave, we are still there, completely intact and ready to be rescued.

Please remember that it's NOT forever, please understand that you're NOT alone, if you're feeling awful drop me a message and I'll be there right by your side, if not in person then in spirit, and I won't abandon you.

There are some amazing support services out there, ranging from the Samaritans to family members, friends and GP's

Use them, lean on them for support and they will lift you when you are feeling like you're losing.

It took me a long time to understand that my tears and sorrow didn't make me less of a man, and once you understand that you'll be on the right path and headed for better times.

Much love,

Dave.

Gullible fools!

So, a lot of you know that I don't tolerate stupidity very well, it ranks right up there on my 'go fuck yourself' list. I'm just not good at hiding my disdain when people do or share stuff that is so clearly bullshit that I want to repeatedly bash them in the head with a fucking coconut.

From viral posts telling you what percentage Hobbit you are, to not understanding basic app permissions, it all makes me want to drown you in a bowl of chicken and sweetcorn soup, but it's not just me, there is a queue behind me a mile long willing to do the same.

So without any further fuckery, and no further fucking ado let us take a look at a few of my favourites.

1) 1 like = 1 prayer.

Dave says: Don't be a fucking soggy biscuit. I'm pretty sure that God DOESN'T EXIST, but if he does happen to then I'm pretty sure he's not going to save a child because Barbara and her mates gave a post the fucking thumbs up! In fact I would imagine that God is probably face palming at your stupidity. I mean it's a noble thing to click a button to notify a deity that there is a child in mortal danger, but no, just fucking step away from the device.

2) The facebook starting to charge for usage post.

Dave says: Even though Mark Fuckerberg has repeatedly told these lemmings that he's NEVER going to charge the user for accessing Facebook you still get these fucking oxygen thieves dropping some copy/paste bullshit that will make them exempt from paying the weekly/monthly/yearly fee. Don't be a fucking dingbat, all you're doing is spreading lies and dimwittery.

3) The let's see who reads my wall post.

Dave says: No Betty, just fucking NO! Please copy and paste this message and drop a reply saying where we met. Oh Betty, you poor fucking deluded fool, do you REALLY want me, one of the most awkward, devious, shit stirring bastards in history telling your friends and family where we met? I'm obviously not going to say 'work' so it's either going to be a brothel or the local STI clinic, take yer fucken pick you dickhead!

4) The Facebook spring clean!

Dave says: Oh, that's great news! I survived the culling of the knuckle draggers and now I will continue to be subjected to your fucking waffle about the price of bread, the fact your girlfriend is so beautiful (I have news for you, she's a fucking swampdonkey) Am I supposed to be grateful that you want to continue spying on my life? Fuck you tarquin you nosey cunt.

5) The I'm deactivating my Facebook account next week post.

Dave says: Yawn, this is the 47th time this weekend you've threatened to go away and leave me in peace! Stop making empty promises you fucking tease!!! I know you're going through a tough time since you lost that £5 off pizza hut voucher, but let's not get carried away, you're going to make it through, in fact if you shut the fuck up I'll give you a few quid and you can gorge yourself on a large stuffed crust with Tuna and Skittles. 

6) The quick! MESSAGE ME! post.

Dave says: If you have a serious problem then by all means ask people for help, we've all been there and could do with sharing some good or bad news, but don't just say 'I give up' and then not reply to Cheryl, Mavis and Julie's comments saying 'Oh babe, what's wrong?' and definitely DO NOT say 'inbox me' you fucking lazy piss stained tramp's shoe, if you want to talk to me then you fucking message me you lazy cunt.

7) The hard man post.

Dave says: Ok Gary we get it, you're sick of ISIS murdering people, we are fucking upset about it too, but I'm pretty sure that you being outraged on Facebook is not going to bother them for the following reasons.

- You only leave your parent's basement to go for a piss or to visit the job centre.
- The most powerful gun you've ever held, let alone fired is a fucking light gun on your PS fucking 3. 
- You don't own a passport, so the closest you're getting to Syria is the front door of your parent's house. 
- You're a fucking 6 stone coward who breaks bones when you yawn, so get back in your fucking box, ok Gary?

8) The MLM 'friend'

Dave says: Oh, Hi Barbara! I haven't heard from you in 15 years, how are you doing? Oh riiiiight, you're now selling the sweat from the ass crack of bumble bees, and you want me to become part of a highly successful, super motivated team of like-minded people who want to earn £50000 a day and by only working 3 days per week! I've seen claims that the products of these fucking MLM companies can cure CANCER, yes you read that right it can CURE CANCER! No healthcare professional, no research chemist and no hospital have ever found a definitive cure, but if I eat 3 spider legs dipped in moose shit 5 times a day for three months my tumours will be gone and I'll be competing in ironman triathlons? SIGN. ME. THE. FUCK. UP. Orrrrrrr, you could just fuck off and leave me alone.

Thanks for sticking with me thus far, but I want to close out with an extra special fucking moron that I encountered a few years back, I won't be telling you her name because I feel it is unfair to single out somebody for being so wonderfully stupid that she'd lose a game of scrabble to a brain injured weasel, isn't that right Sue?........ ooops.

9) The Facebook messenger conspiracy.

Dave says: I was told that Facebook are taking over the world. They are infiltrating our home day by day and will eventually control our every waking moment.

Sue: Dave, you shouldn't install facebook messenger, I fucking won't be.

Me: Oh right........ Why not?

Sue: They ask for access to your microphone, camera, contact list and gallery, they do it so they can see everything you see and hear everything you say.

Me: What makes you think that?

Sue: Well why else would they need access to all of those things?

Me: Well Sue, and I'm just guessing here....... Maybe, just maaaaaybe it's because you can make voice and video calls via messenger, that's why they need access to your Mic and Cam, and they need access to your contacts so you can errrrrrr contact them I'd imagine. Oh and finally I would imagine they'd need access to your gallery so you can send 300 fucking selfies a day of your fat ass to your friends.

Sue: Eh?


Honestly this shit drives me insane.

Just a couple more things, no you don't look 18 years old, you are not 140% awesome, you won't die aged 303 years old due to eating deadly nightshade and I am pretty fucking certain your name doesn't mean heroic unicorn in fucking sanscrit you absolute stark raving cuntburger.

Love you all really, but if I kill you it is probably due to shit I have covered above.

The most wonde.....

That's what the song title implies, right?

It really can be the most wonderful time of the year, but at the same time it can bring with it an emotional, financial and psychologically testing time too.

Think about it, the strain of keeping up with the trends of toys, tech and fashion for our children can make paying important bills tricky, Kelly and I have experienced this in years gone by, and it has certainly taken an emotional toll on us as we've scrimped and saved and gone without to keep up with the spending levels of friends and family.

Many people have lost loved ones around the festive period, and this time of year drags up painful memories of loss, it can cause feelings of isolation and loneliness to resurface year after year, these people experience this every year at a time we're all losing sight of what's important, because as I said above we feel duty bound to bankrupt ourselves to get the 'best' presents. And while we're doing this we're forgetting to look after number 1, so that we can better look after others.

Well let's think about all of this a little.

The other day I was talking to Katie (14 years old) and she was telling me about her friend that goes to America for a holiday every single year. They were having a conversation and Katie mentioned that we were going camping in Cornwall for our summer vacation. As puzzling as it was initially Katie's friend's eyes LIT UP at the idea of camping! "I wish we could do something like that, my mum and dad spend a fortune doing the exact same thing year in year out and it gets boring!"

And that's a huge point I'd like to make, the best memories are those things that are out of the ordinary, you get a new £5000 watch every year and it isn't a thrill, you get something like that once every few years and WOW! The BEST memories come from feelings and emotions, not from expenditure.

Another thing Katie said to me is that some of her friends feel unloved by their parents, and that she'd rather have the family life she does than all the money in the world (she is so wise for her age) and to hear that brought tears to my eyes (that I can feel creeping into the corner of my eyes as I type this)

So my point......

Make memories this Christmas, don't be suckered in by the adverts that draw you into a materialistic world. Playing a board game together and laughing until your stomach muscles ache and it feels like your face needs medical assistance. We don't NEED to spend a fortune, we tend to feel pressured to.

And while I'm talking, let's touch on how people feel at Christmas.

I know as well as anybody the HUGE psychological strain of Christmas, a time where everybody is upbeat and buzzing around like worker bees, going from shop to shop collecting the nectar to make the hive happy. So why is it that I often feel tired, emotional and generally hollow at this time of year? I mean how can anybody feel depressed at Christmas?

Well let's be honest, it's not like we can help how we feel is it? Depression doesn't have a set pattern, the triggers are different for everybody, in fact for a lot of people there are simply no triggers at all. This can lead to growing frustration and feelings of guilt that we can't explain, but that then soak into our soul dragging us deeper and deeper into the murky darkness that claims the sanity of so many good people each year.

What can we do to fix it? Well first of all I think we need to accept that we can't control how we feel directly. We can rationalise the fact that we're not intentionally feeling like we're worthless, but yet we still do. The key to fixing it is obviously different for each person as no two cases are ever the same, but we can take steps to help drag ourselves out of this fog before we fall too deep.

- Talk to people, a problem shared is not necessarily a problem halved but it is a problem that isn't hidden any longer. If people understand that we are struggling then they are more understanding of why we want to hide under a blanket and let the world pass us by.

- Go and see our doctor. It goes without saying that medication DOES work and I know this because it has helped me on numerous occasions. BUT, yes that's a big but, it doesn't always fix us completely. So get out, try to fight those feelings of isolation, and talk yourself into going to see auntie Barbara and uncle Maurice, even though their house smells of old people and boiled cabbage. The less time we spend hiding the easier it becomes to keep socially active.

- Smile, yes I know this is a contentious point but stick with me. Bang on a stand up comedy show you like, talk to a friend that makes you laugh like a maniac, do everything within your power to remain positive. It's not easy I get that, I have told many people to fuck off when they've told me that positivity fixes depression IT DOESN'T, but it can certainly help us to battle it if we buy into it.

Well, if you've made it this far I thank you, as it is fairly long winded, but at this time of year more than ever we need to keep on top of our own health. I want you all to have a great festive period, but I also have a huge favour to ask before I go.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE check in on somebody you know is, or has in the past, struggled to cope with mental health. If we can all just check up on one person in this situation then we improve the quality of life for somebody with just a few simple words, don't tell them to snap out of it, don't ask them what they have to be depressed about, just say something like this.

Hey __________,

Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and to say that I love you and value you as a friend. If there is EVER anything you need, or want to chat about over a coffee then drop me a message and we'll get it sorted.

You are loved,

Dave x

It's that simple, and a message like that could LITERALLY save a life. The smallest action can have the biggest impact if it is genuine and comes from the heart.



Merry Christmas to all of my beautiful friends, if you need me you know where I am, I'll even have my phone with me on Christmas day, and NOTHING is more important to me than knowing that the people I love are safe and well, so drop me a message if you need to talk, shout HELP! if you're struggling and I'm there.

I love each and every one of you,

Dave x

Fast food..........

Yeah yeah, it HAS been a while..... well suck it up buttercup!

Let's just get into it, because I'm sure you don't want to hear about all the mundane things in life. Oh I did hit 40 while I have been away, and I can confirm that life does indeed begin at 40, if life consists of bad back, an even shorter fuse and not being able to trust a fart ever again.

There are few words that when strung together make me both incredibly happy and angrier than the Hulk after he's been given a parking ticket for overstaying by 47 seconds.

"Hello, and welcome to......."

Fucking drive-thru's are the bane of my life, they sucker you in with their tasty wares, and then they decide to fuck with you on a level that makes your spleen ache.

Why is it that when they are given that fucking headset they wear they suddenly think that they are the captain of the fucking starship enterprise? Get me my fucking burger or you might find it a struggle to Klingon to life! (See what I did there? That was a proper nerdy geek joke)

Well just lately KFC has managed to really get under my skin, they are fucking masters of it, I don't even know where you go, or who you get trained by to hit the levels of absolute fucking gormless that they achieve.

My love/hate relationship with KFC goes back almost 18 years, since a fateful day when they gave me chicken that turned me into a double ended fucking fountain, I didn't know whether to sit on the toilet with my face in a bowl or vice versa, all I know is that I ended up in an Essex hospital on a drip because I pissed and shat out 93% of all the water in my body leaving me looking like a fat Dorito that has been left out in the sun.

"Hi, KFC Ely, what do you want?"

Well first up you little fucker I'd appreciate some fucking manners, but seeing as I have a sneaking suspicion that you have the IQ of a melted wellington boot I'll not push my luck.

I placed my order, it wasn't huge, but all four of us were eating.

1 x Large fillet box meal with a thigh piece, gravy and a Pepsi max cherry.

2 x Large boneless banquet meals with gravy, sweet chilli dip, and Pepsi max cherry
1 x Zinger tower burger

1 x Large popcorn chicken

Fairly easy order right? Well no, no it fucking wasn't, because as soon as you present your bank card they FUCK YOU AT THE DRIVE-THRU.

It's like they play an unintentional game of Chinese whispers. What you say gets passed down a line where it becomes so fucking warped and distorted by the time you collect your order you're not sure whether you'll get your food or an elephant leg umbrella stand or three tickets to fucking Les Miserable.

So what did I get??? Well let me tell you, it wasn't even close to what I ordered.

The fillet box meal came with a drumstick instead of a thigh, the beans were in an espresso cup, yup beans, I mean they look similar to gravy, right? They had run out of Pepsi max cherry and it was all served in a bag as they had run out of boxes.

The boneless banquet meals came with no pepsi max cherry, 1 x gravy, 1 x beans (both in espresso cups) NO sweet chilli dip and served in a bag.

The Zinger tower burger came out with no fucking tower! My hash brown was completely missing, it was more a fucking bungalow burger, oh and it was missing the 'Zinger' part too because it just had mayo.

On the plus side they did manage to get the large popcorn chicken right, even though it was served in two small boxes because they had run out of large boxes too. Oh and did I mention that they had also run out of large cups? So we then got 3 x medium soft drinks and 3 x soft drinks served in fucking coffee cups!

I actually wonder how businesses manage to run with the sheer incompetence that is displayed by these mother fuckers.

And to top it off I reckon they may well have played football with the chicken, because the following morning I could have shit through the eye of a fucking needle.

Fuck you KFC, fuck you in the eye.

Lost...

I have always used my blog as a form of therapy, I try to keep it light, because, as the old saying goes "Laughter is the best form of medicine". But is it? Is it really? Or is it just a facade that we use to mask how we truly feel?

Take my world, aside from the whole 'episode' of depression I went through late last year (2016) I seem perfectly back to normal right? Well that, if I am perfectly honest, couldn't be further from the truth.

I am broken, I am lost, I am scared, I am struggling, drowning in a sea of self doubt and anticipated failure in my future. I struggle to see a day where I will have a successful life, in fact, if I am perfectly honest I am sure I will NEVER have a financially successful or emotionally stable world that I can be proud of.

Let me first separate family from emotion.... I love my wife and kids more than anything in the world, they are my reason for battling through a week of crushing loneliness fought inside my own head. They don't know the struggles I face internally unless I allow them to, and I am unwilling to do so because I don't need them feeling a fraction of the torment I do. I get emotional because of my family, I feel love and pride, I feel angry when somebody upsets them and I feel sad when they are sick or in pain. But the emotions that course through my veins on a daily basis are all to do with them and yet nothing at the same time.

A few weeks ago I was talking to somebody with whom I share a mutual friend, and I was informed that this mutual friend had turned around and said that "Dave can't be depressed or struggling, he's got a missus and children" now this really took the wind out of my sails. This comment was made by somebody that I have invested a lot of time, emotion and energy into to try and keep their head above water as they dealt with their own struggles, and it made me so fucking angry.

So, just because I have a wife and kids I don't know what depression is eh? I don't know what it is to struggle? HOW FUCKING DARE YOU! Did you ever stop to think that a huge part of my instability, self doubt and brokenness is BECAUSE of my worries about the future of my family? I worry about putting food on the table, I worry about providing financial stability for my children and wife, something that you are utterly clueless about because you live at home, have 3 meals a day cooked for you, and haven't got a fucking clue how the world works once you step up of your mum and dad's basement.

You think that it is easy running a family? You think it is a divine right of marriage to be happy, in control and always on the front foot. You've got a fucking rude awakening coming your way if that is truly what you think.

The battle in your head and your heart is not won the day you say 'I do' or when you hear the first cry of your newborn child, the battle never ends, the darkness keeps pushing away, eating into what happiness you manage to hold.

For the last 5 months I have tried to hold myself together, tried to put on the front of 'big, fat jovial Dave' the guy who has a sense of humour, never lets things get him down for long, but I am losing that fight. I spend hours each night trying to work out why I can't keep on top of myself, trying to find that well paid career that will enable me to spend more money on the kids, taking them places, doing fun things at the weekends, and never worrying about whether we can afford to do it.

All of my life I have been told 'You couldn't do that David, that's not the right job for you' and you know what? I heard it that often I subscribed to it, I felt sure that the advice I was being given was correct, and that I will never amount to anything. That shit is hard to shake off, and it is even harder to deal with when you don't have the drive and direction to correct that thought process.

But the older I get, the more I realise how much time I have thrown away just surviving, I have no career to speak of, I am on the bottom pay scale in a job that if I am honest I now dread going to every day. I appreciate that people at work will read this and might even think I am ungrateful in my attitude, but I need to be honest with myself as well as other people if I am to ever overcome this huge hurdle that is before me.

The crushing weight of depression briefly left me back in January/February, but it came back soon after, and it is eating away at my very soul. I don't want to be a failure, I am not wallowing in self pity, I am simply lost, and I have no idea how to find myself. I have tried medication, I have tried meditation, I have tried fresh air, I have tried so many different things, but still that cloud follows me. I write this as another wave crashes over my thoughts, smashing my fragile self onto the rocks of self doubt and even self loathing.

As I said above, I love my family dearly, but as odd as it sounds I hate my life. Kelly and the kids are a bright spot in an endless horizon of darkness, I cling onto that light, but it gets harder every single day. I'm so tired of the internal struggles on a daily basis, I don't talk to Kelly about things because that's not fair. She'll read this and most likely be angry because I am spilling my guts in public so to speak, but talking to those you love most is also the hardest because you want to protect them from what you feel, what you see when you close your eyes.

Some people will read this and possibly think I write for attention, and in the past I have, but I promise you that this post and the previous one about the same subject is far from that, it is just a way of getting some of what I feel down in words, and hopefully allowing others to see what they are feeling isn;'t something they are going through alone. If what I write offends you, or makes you think less of me as a person then I get that, if it makes me less of a man then so be it.

The fog is getting thicker, it is getting more and more oppressive and it is all around me. I will keep looking for a guiding light, a direction and a purpose, but right now it feels as if it is completely and utterly out of my hands and my reach.


Much love,

Dave.

My battle with depression (mental health week)

Hi :)

So I know people come and read my blog for a laugh, usually at my expense.... but today I want to write about something that has affected myself and my family in a way that I never could have realised, because I didn't see it coming.

I am talking about depression, anxiety and all the other shit that comes with these awful afflictions. This week is Mental health awareness week, and I believe that the time is right for me to share my experiences with as many people as possible. This is not a viral post that you have to share 1000 times or your dog will get diabetes, but I encourage you to share it if you wish. If me opening up to what happened can help even a single person spot the 'markers' that precede depression then I feel I am doing the right thing.


So here goes, and my apologies, it gets kind of dark in places.

Depression is like walking through cobwebs, at least it was for me. One web would hang on as I brushed by, then another and another, they kept clinging to me, building up and building up until they got to be too much for me to handle, and they dragged me down to the ground and refused to let me rise. Sure sometimes I could drag myself back to my feet, but sure enough more and more webs would tangle me up and I was back to the floor. The problem comes in the fact you don't notice them building until it is far too late, and then unless somebody else spots your problems you are in a whole world of trouble.

I had noticed some abnormalities in my life for sure, I became argumentative (Yes, more than normal) I was so horrible snappy and irritable with those whom I loved the most and I became more emotional than I could understand. Of course, being 'Big Dave' I wasn't depressed, I mean how could I be? I'm the one always cracking the jokes, winding people up in the name of entertainment.....

I still blame myself for not spotting how much I was falling, people I was close to at work had begun to notice small changes in me, a wonderful friend caught me bawling my eyes out in the warehouse and having dealt with depression and extreme anxiety himself got me to thinking maybe there WAS something going on with me. So I went home early that day, and I sat on the sofa feeling angry at my lack of emotional control, but I still wouldn't fully accept that I had anything any worse than anybody else.

I looked at my issues, and aside from a few bits at home, and being bored at work (sorry management) I was fine, wasn't I? So why did I feel like an abject failure? Why, even though I have the most amazing family did I feel like I wasn't good enough for them? It came to a head one night after a huge argument at home, I went out and I drove for 7 hours straight, I drove to Ipswich and back on a loop, to Cambridge for no reason whatsoever, and I didn't stop crying the whole time.



Let's change direction for a bit, How do you spot depression? Check out this picture below, can you see any obvious signs of struggle? Do I look like somebody who literally hated who I was? Do I look like somebody that was going to cry through entire comedy movies because of absolutely no reason whatsoever?

This picture was taken in Kings Lynn, I had already considered stepping in front of a train that morning as I absolutely believed in my head that my family would be better off without me. I am welling up with tears at my stupidity for ever feeling that, because leaving my family to cope without me would have been horribly tough on them, and they'd literally have been clueless as to why I actually did it.

The rollercoaster of euphoria and then absolute emptiness was taking its toll on both family and friendship, I was pushing away the very people I should have embraced, but although I knew I wanted them to be a part of my world I didn't want to be a burden on them, I was almost ashamed of being at that point where I should have stood up and shouted from the rooftops

I NEED HELP!


But I didn't, I suffered in silence, lashed out at kindness and generally came close to throwing away everything I had worked so hard to achieve. This was my biggest mistake, I see it now. 

Suicidal thoughts flooded my brain over the coming weeks, trains, pills, jumping....... All of them fleeting thoughts, but real enough to at some point bring a calmness and logic to an illogical situation. But I guess I still had a thin layer of self preservation because although I walked along the tracks I never walked on them. I really struggled with whether to include this information, I hate the thought that Katie might have read this and worried, so I spoke to her and she understood my need to be honest, for a 12 year old she is wise beyond her years.

It was after sitting by a level crossing for an hour watching the trains go by that I had a bit of a eureka moment. It finally clicked that I couldn't do this by myself, I needed professional help before I reached the very bottom and was trapped forever. It took a good week or so to get an appointment because I wouldn't mention suicidal thoughts to the Doctor's receptionist, I was sure that my kids would be taken into care or that I'd be locked away in some form of padded cell and force fed so I couldn't hurt myself with cutlery. 

When I finally managed to go and see the Doctor I burst into tears (again) but he was so good to me, he clearly understood how I was feeling, why I was feeling it and how best to begin unravelling my tangled emotions and thoughts. There was no judgement from him, he believed me, he wanted to help, and THAT was the most liberating moment I had felt in weeks. We talked about medication, emotional triggers, contributing factors and many other things, but I still withheld how desperately low I was.  Our weekly meetings to check my progress restored a percentage of my sanity, but I was still far from fixed. 

At home the kids would avoid me, because I was verbally horrible to them, I'd shout at them for no reason, and I still regret that to this day, all I can hope is that they understand it wasn't coming from me, it was coming THROUGH me. Kelly and I were also constantly at each others throats, I became so disinterested in anything she had to say or asked me to do that I left her a whole pile of life's dirty laundry without an explanation. 

She thought I was faking it, there's no escaping that. She honestly believed I was doing it to get time off of work, and her logic was that because I was 'happy' on the xbox chatting shit with friends and became depressed and withdrawn when things needed doing, that I was just shirking responsibility. The xbox, and talking crap with mates was my safe space, I had no pressure on me, and I could escape from those horrible feelings for hours at a time. 

Financially the time I was taking off of work was also a massive burden on Kelly, it was the best part of 20 weeks that I was off of work, and statutory sick pay doesn't go very far in this day and age. Thankfully a few of Kelly's friends who had partners and parents that had been through the darkest of times and come out the other side, and they explained perfectly how I was feeling, why I was behaving the way I was, and that eventually it would get better. These people know who they are and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for their messages of support to myself and Kelly. 

As the weeks passed and Kelly got to understanding that I was really unwell she learned to adapt, she took the extra strains of daily life on and I am so grateful for that, because I literally had no strength either mentally or physically to deal with things. One day she sat on the floor and hugged me for almost an hour, she didn't say anything, she just held me while I cried myself into a stupor.

Eventually things began to improve, but it took 3 different types of medication and trial and error with dosage before I began to be able to process the most basic of emotion. So I guess that sums it up, I know I have bleated on for ages and it has been far from humorous, but I really felt the need to share this, to let people know that it CAN be beaten, it is a battle that is worth fighting, because the alternative is awful.


 
I need to put on record my gratitude to my family and friends that I put through hell at times, I thank you for your support, your understanding and your patience. I thank my wife for not beating me to death in my sleep because I was so horrible. I thank my amazing children for giving me hug therapy when I was in the doldrums.


If this resonates with you, if you feel even one or two of the things that I have mentioned above then please look out for yourself. I will always keep an eye open for friends during their darkest days, but sometimes they disguise it well, just like I did. NEVER BE ASHAMED of reaching out to somebody, never think that you are alone. If you're in a bad place look for the light, it may be a friend, it may be a hobby, it may be a bottle of pills prescribed by a doctor, or a counselling session, hell it may be all of these things, but ASK!


Here is a link to the mental health awareness website, it is full of resources that may be useful to somebody. 

https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/campaigns/mental-health-awareness-week

Normal service will resume with my blog at the beginning of next week, I don't do serious often, and I thank you for reading this much.

Love you all.

Your friend,

Dave.

Gullible as fuck....

gullible

ˈɡʌləb(ə)l/

adjective

1. easily persuaded to believe something; credulous.

   
   

   "an attempt to persuade a gullible public to spend their money"

   
   

Why are some people so absolutely lacking in common sense that they can't see through a scam or a viral message that is utterly false? These fucking spunk trumpets form a sadly ever growing community of people that should be tethered to a balloon and left to float off into space. They serve next to no purpose other than for the amusement of people who are more intelligent than a brain injured cow.

But Dave I hear you ask, what the fuck do you mean? How can people be THAT fucking stupid? It surely isn't even possible!?!?!?

Sadly it is, some people are so gullible you could sell them any cock and bull story and they'd blindly follow it like a lemming off of a cliff.

So let us take a quick look at some of the shit people tend to believe.......

THE FAKE COUPON

Ah yes, the fucking fake fucking coupon....... A favourite myth of many a fucking mouth breather. "OMG LOOK!!!!" "They are giving everybody a voucher worth £___ because it is 25 years since a pigeon got run over in their car park".

But they aren't, are they? You absolute fucking bumhole, how much would it cost a company like Aldi, Tesco or others to give everybody that clicked 'accept' a voucher for this much money? I mean are you really that stupid that you think it is going to happen? They don't even let you use your loyalty points for fucking fuel, so they are hardly going to give you a fuck ton of shit for nothing are they?

Give your fucking head a wobble you retard.

THE RANGE ROVER GIVEAWAY

Do you honestly think for one fucking second that you're getting a free Range rover? Do you not find it amazing that each time this fucking 'competition' appears it clearly states 'for the FIRST time in Facebook history' even though this message seems to appear every 3 fucking weeks?

Just tell us what colour you'd like in a comment, wave a tampon above your head for 30 seconds and recite the Lord's prayer backwards in Swahili and you could be a winner! Only you're not going to be a winner are you? You know why? Because the page that supposedly is Range rover's 'official' page has 258 likes! Of course it isn't fucking genuine, but you knock yourself out trying to win an imaginary car.......

In fact, want to buy some magic fucking beans? I have only 47000 left, they normally retail for £8000 each but I will do you a deal for just £20 each!

Just comment with your full name, sort code, bank account number and mother's maiden fucking name.

Do you even realise how big of a disappointment you are? Not only to your direct family, but to the whole of humankind!

                                         
                                            

                                        FACEBOOK ARE GOING TO CHARGE YOU!

Oh yeah, it's official alright! You're officially a gullible cock juggling thundercunt. How many more times is this going to surface? How many more times do I need to fucking point out that it is and always will be a fucking hoax? I am so tired of watching idiots tripping over their tongues in blind panic that they might be charged for using this shit that it is becoming very tiresome. The only charge you should receive should be through an electric fucking chair for so fucking simple!

THE UGANDAN LOTTERY

Anybody falling for this one needs sealing in a fucking giant tupperware tub and burying alive. Don't worry, we'll leave instructions to dig you up in 40 years, and hopefully by then they will have a cure for fucking stupid.

The premise is simple, you are emailed by a random 'lawyer' who tells you that you have won $42 billion UGD. Sounds fucking amazing doesn't it? All you need to do is send £10,000 to a generic Ugandan bank account that has been set up with a false name and address to 'unlock' the funds and hey fucking presto you'll be fucking rich!

The problem comes when

A) The money doesn't appear in your bank within 72 hours
B) $42bn UGD is converted to approximately £42.50 and a packet of crisps.
C) you sold your vital organs for the 'arrangement fee'
and
D) You have probably already accidentally nailed yourself to a fucking tree because you are an actual fucking idiot.



So to sum up.........

Why are people so fucking stupid these days? I mean I could literally be a fucking millionaire if I had no conscience. I could scam fools left right and centre out of their hard earned cash, milk tokens and probably even their shoes if I wanted to. But I can't bring myself to do it, because it would be taking advantage of the people I hope will become fucking human shields should world war 3 break out in the not too distant future.

God bless the gullible, not only do they help others get rich, they also provide us with countless hours of fucking entertainment.

If any of these apply to you and you know me personally I would request that you come and find me either at home or at work so I can slap you in the chops for being a fucking dime bar.


Next up will be cyclists, I hate those fucking pedal powered fucks!

Speak soon :)