So, today I had to go for a 5 hour assessment to find out whether I get to the next stage of police recruitment. I'm still traumatised by the whole situation. Considering I deal with anti social behaviour on a daily basis, am bloody good at dealing with people, write loads of reports and am confident in my abilities, I turned into a great big incompetent buffoon who writes and talks a big pile of steaming shit. I don't actually know why a stand up comedian type person would want to become a police officer. I think it's all down to my inherent nosiness and desire to see bizarre things and meet strange people. Clearly this is an unreal expectation - I can see that but heck......it'll be a laugh, surely! Samuel Pepys had interesting things to write and that's why his diary got famous - hell, he wrote about the Great Fire of London. What have I got to write about? Some poor kid on the ferry today who had been lumbered with HECTOR as a name! What would possess a woman in this day and age to call her bleedin' kid Hector. Clearly she didn't want him and intends for him to get beaten up at school every day.
...but I digress, in order to achieve success today I bought 4 new pairs of underpants but then couldn't decide which to wear so I could achieve my goals. In an attempt to establish one pair as being 'lucky' I asked a number of people which of the 4 sounded most lucky - red/white stripes, pink with white spots, red with white spots or white with blue spots. I figured the blue ones were most 'policey' so chose them. Due to the horror that was today I now suspect blue spots are not lucky at all. Damn me and my assumptions. Will choose another pair tomorrow for my stand up tomorrow night in Bournemouth and see if things are better. By God I'll find out WHICH of these godforsaken pants are lucky if it takes me the rest of my life (or the next 3 days perhaps).
Sketty (30 September - ?)isn’t a 17th Century English naval administrator or Member of Parliament. Furthermore, she has never met King Charles II or King James II. This may be due to both being dead at the time of her life. In fact, this isn’t so much a diary but the unedited spewings from the brain of one of the Century’s leading cretins. Some of it may develop into comedy unless I get to spend time in a lovely facility where someone will give me dinner.
Tuesday 6 July 2010
Monday 5 July 2010
So begins my new Diary
So, hey...first entry in a new blog. I wonder how Pepys started his diary. Note to self - must read the Diary of Samuel Pepys or even Google it. One thing's for certain, I bet he didn't have to go for a paddle in the sea with his elderly dog in order to let the waves wash the streak of globulous diarrhoea from his arse end. I did. Myself and housemate Steph in fact. The globulous lump didn't immediately wash off and with a fair amount of dismay we realised we were going to have to help the situation, so with the long plastic ball throwy stick thing we scraped away in full acknowledgement we were standing in a flow of diarrhoea-ry sea water. Great.
So, went to visit Steph's insane father. I call him Wazza but that's not his name. Funny thing is, he answers to it now. This is a typical conversational exchange with him:
[Location: in my car for I am giving everyone a ride to the local pub for some lunch]
Wazza: Is that your umbrella?
Sket: Erm, yes. It's on the back shelf in my car so yes, yes it is indeed my umbrella.
Wazza: I've got a good umbrella if you need one.
Sket: Well, thank you but I think we've already established that I've got an umbrella and it's on the back shelf of my car. It's also incredibly hot and sunny so there really isn't any need to have an umbrella led discussion.
Wazza: [muttering about umbrella based ingratitude]
Actually, now that I note this brief conversation I realise it is NOTHING compared to some of the conversations we've had with him.
I'm going to leave it here. I've got a very important 5 hour assessment for a new job tomorrow and should really be preparing and showering. Procrastination is a wonderful thing (in the loosest sense of the word 'wonderful')
So, went to visit Steph's insane father. I call him Wazza but that's not his name. Funny thing is, he answers to it now. This is a typical conversational exchange with him:
[Location: in my car for I am giving everyone a ride to the local pub for some lunch]
Wazza: Is that your umbrella?
Sket: Erm, yes. It's on the back shelf in my car so yes, yes it is indeed my umbrella.
Wazza: I've got a good umbrella if you need one.
Sket: Well, thank you but I think we've already established that I've got an umbrella and it's on the back shelf of my car. It's also incredibly hot and sunny so there really isn't any need to have an umbrella led discussion.
Wazza: [muttering about umbrella based ingratitude]
Actually, now that I note this brief conversation I realise it is NOTHING compared to some of the conversations we've had with him.
I'm going to leave it here. I've got a very important 5 hour assessment for a new job tomorrow and should really be preparing and showering. Procrastination is a wonderful thing (in the loosest sense of the word 'wonderful')
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