A conversation with a drunk…

Dear Lovers,

The other night, I was walking back along the Strand.

What I didn’t expect to see was a utterly smashed man ‘suited and booted’ standing pretty much in the middle of street urinating. As I approached I decided that this behavior was just ungentlemanly and I won’t tolerate it, especially since I was holding it in until I got to Oscar Wilde’s portable toilet.

So I gave him a rollicking “That’s disgusting, your disgusting”. Obviously at distance from being sprayed. He muttered some threatening grumbles about how he was going to fight me, as he fought to try and not urinate on his own heavily polished soon to spoiled ‘smart’ shoes.

I then advised him of the portable toilet near the Oscar Wilde monument and he preceded to take one step forward and one step back.

I received a thumbs up from a passerby and some friendly people started taunting the unlucky drunk chap. Not noticing a friendly woman filming me and him, I started to give him a lecture on responsible drinking and responsible weeing, as he started to hug a homeless woman in a wheel chair who was having non of it and set her uber-passive dog on him. It was all a very British-like.

It reminded me that in Japan, it’s actually legal for businessmen to urinate in public. I think we should stand up more against this ‘suit and booted’ aggression on our streets! Then this afternoon, a pleasant weekend stroll to a city centre cafe and a walker crashes into the back of me, huffs and tuts and then continues to storm around the corner. ( Hey, I’m walking ereeeeeee)

So I shouted out I did;

“Hey, you walked into me….!”
Walker turns and looks behind at me, while continuing to walk at speed..
“Yeah but I didn’t say anything”
How fun it would have been if he crashed into the Scientologist standing in front of him at that point!
“Yeah exactly, you walked into me and tutted buddy. Have a nice day”

This aggression will not stand!

X S

Sea by Roosevelt (The song that saved my summer)

Roosevelt’s Sea is the song of my summer. It will forever remind me of the sunny season — creeping into a groove that could accompany any spontaneous road-trip to the seaside.

Son of German city Cologne, Roosevelt takes you on a magical journey with innocently placed reverbed lyrics, dance orientated synths and unashamedly funk guitars all layered over the strongest of grooves. He plugs into the very reasons why I love music. Sea transports you to a beach where you dance under hazy purple skies — far from the reality of the cramped Camden boozer he has just delighted.

Roosevelt pulls all the strings to make even the most awkward amongst us dance, forgetting all social inhibitions and reminding us that life is good. The secrets of a perfect summer day have never been so obvious.

X A

Mondays are rubbish!

May or may not have sent this to HR by mistake….

Hello,

I would like to complain about the boy that sits next to me ?????? ??????.

This afternoon, when I was having a rest from the screen after working the whole day. He decided to take the date stamp and stamp my wrist. I now have today’s date stamped on my wrist in red ink.

I think that not only will it stay for a couple of days, and be out of date. It is also a waste of company resources.

I knew that he had done it on purpose as he smiled afterwards and didn’t apologise.

Yours Sincerely,

?

Public Transport.

Back when we were fearless little geniuses Sanch used to slide down escalators on the tube. I remember one particular episode which resulted in a fetching luminous, white, comb-shaped gash on his knee – it was pretty deep. Anyway, I digress. I don’t think there was ever a time when he attempted this. Holy. Shit.

Mental.

Kx

A Quincy.

True Story.

I was recently reminded of a fascinating tale involving Quincy Jones, the legendary record producer. The story starts with Quincy attending a high society dinner party. It reached the time in the evening where he had to excuse himself to use the host’s lavatory. After some time had passed — without a word to the host or any other guests — Quincy left the lavatory and walked straight out of the front door and down the driveway.

Taking the 'Quincy'

Five or ten minutes later the doorbell rang and the host opened the door to find Quincy’s butler standing in front of him with a toilet plunger in one hand. The butler introduced himself and explained that he had arrived to unblock the toilet. He made his way to the lavatory and went about his business before leaving the party. Neither the butler nor Quincy were to return.

From this day onwards, when you block a toilet with a huge poo, please be informed that this is called a ‘Quincy’. I recently did a ‘Quincy’ myself. I really wish I had a butler with a plunger though.

Much Love,

SanchX