scareeman

The big news isn’t really big news at all, well it is to me, it’s huge news. Essentially, I’ve found somewhere to live in ‘Ackney. In addition to it being cheaper than I’d hoped there is a small gated garden where I can safely park my black bitch bike and it’s in the same block as IC. I went and saw it last night and apart from a few very minor niggles (it’s not enormous and the bedroom is sans windows) it’s perfect.

There is one hiccup in all this mind, I’ve sold my flat, sure, but I don’t know when the fucking sale will be completed. The gaff in ‘Ackney is free in 3 weeks and I have to grab it now, so I may be in the ridiculous situation of being Piqued-Two-Gaffs for a couple of weeks with the chance that the sale on my flat might fall over on it’s botty and I’ll wind up losing a bleedin’ monkey in dead rent. Strike a ruddy light.

After I posted yesterdays sweat infused bile I went back on the tube to get my passport from Victoria. Ignore what I said yesterday about the tube being preferable to outside, by 2pm it was diabolical, I was like a joint of beef running clear juices though, unlike brisket, muttering and sneezing from the perpetual hay fever I’ve had since Monday, and still have as I drip over this keyboard.

I arrived at the passport of office and was sent to a window containing a fucking weirdo. The guy was enormous, huge, but spoke like a 6 year old girl with a lisp and took, it seemed, a great deal of pleasure in extending the last word of any given sentence. He pronounced my surname for about 10 seconds looking directly in my eye, this caused me to snigger so he snapped, ‘what’s so funnnneeeoi,’ which served to perpetuate my stifled guffaws. My only option was to lie and said he had pronounced my name wrong, he stormed off to get my passport then returned to examine the finished article and my face with such contorted concentration I lost my composure again. I was curtly informed to keep a straight face so he could make sure he was giving the passport to the real owner and then stared at me so intently for about a minute my fucking blood ran cold. It was harrowfying, all my laughter extinguished by what I can only describe as sheer menace.

Feeling frankly violated I shuddered off to get the tube back home, I was too traumatised to make it back to the office, I took a bath and set off at 5.30 pm for my final tube excursion. By the time I arrived at Old Street I was wetter than Kenneth Williams and the sheer heat of the evening did nothing to help.

The 55 turned up late as usual, my heart sank when I saw that it was sardine-packed, a couple of people got off and the doors opened so I could get on. A wall of heat struck me in the chest; it must have been almost 100 degrees in there. The driver looked at me with an expression reserved for a chap at peace with his impending execution, I think he was out of his mind. A forest of elbows and knees erupted as the blob of passengers tried to preserve what space they had forcing me to stand by the driver who on any other day would’ve barked at me to move further down the bus, instead he looked at me and smiled weakly.

Due to the traffic I was like this for half an hour, mercy came at Shoreditch church where half the bus emptied and I was able to get a seat upstairs. It was only then I realised the fucking heating was on.

After calming down at IC’s for an hour as she packed, we went to visit my new (?) flat at the bottom of her block before nipping out for cheap cocktails and bar snacks at a local. Lovely it was. It was still 20 degrees when we got home; actually, if it wasn’t for a spot of booze I’ve no idea how on earth I’d have slept. Thanks booze.

Right, I’ve a weekend without IC, and you know what that means lads, eh?! That’s right! When the cats away get depressed and drink wine on your own. Actually I’m saving that for Saturday. Tonight meeting with some mates in Clapham and Sunday Dad and I going to Brands Hatch to watch overgrown children drive very fast. Chart, (gorgeous) tune and may your weekends be free of maggots.

NO. ARTIST SONG TITLE LAST WEEK WEEKS ON
30 Franz Ferdinand Can’t Stop Feeling NE 1
29 Green Day 21 Guns NE 1
28 Hollywood Undead Young NE 1
27 Marilyn Manson Arma…Geddon 24 9
26 The Twang Barney Rubble NE 1
25 Florence And The Machine Rabbit Heart 28 2
24 Empire Of The Sun We Are The People 17 8
23 Gallows The Vulture (Act 2) 14 12
22 Fightstar Never Change 25 2
21 Placebo For What It’s Worth 15 9
20 The Maccabees Can You Give It 27 2
19 The Enemy Sing When You’re In Love 21 3
18 Freemasons Heartbreak Make Me A Dancer 16 5
17 The Manchester Orchestra I’ve Got Friends 12 5
16 Linkin Park New Divide 23 5
15 Enter Shikari Juggernauts 11 7
14 Marmaduke Duke Silhouettes 20 2
13 The Yeah You’s 15 Minutes 18 3
12 Kings Of Leon Notion 13 4
11 Graham Coxon Sorrow’s Army 8 7
10 Silversun Pickups Panic Switch 19 2
9 Gallows London Is The Reason 6 4
8 The Gossip Heavy Cross 3 7
7 Blue October Dirt Room 5 6
6 Depeche Mode Peace 9 4
5 Baddies Holler For My Holiday 4 5
4 Maximo Park Questing Not Coasting 7 3
3 Billy Talent Rusted From The Rain 10 3
2 Shinedown Second Chance 2 6
1 Yeah Yeah Yeahs Heads Will Roll 1 5