holidays

Here we are again, holiday time. When most of us can get away from work, except me, who else.
Sitting minding my own business outside of Scandals bar in Can Picafort last week what should pull up in front of me, a pool car, was it someone spying on me maybe. I know I can be a bit of a whingeing bugger, but hey, there are limits.

Talking of cars, I see that Tricky Dicky has bought another car. Has he got a rich woman hidden away somewhere? I've also noticed that he is the only man I know whose cars top speed is higher than his own I.Q.

Swine Flu; the truth.

One of the most talked about subjects on the news lately has been the supposed outbreak of swine flu. As usual all sorts of stories fly around the world, saying this will happen, that will happen, it's all a load of rubbish.

Can I first say, I am obviously not a doctor, therefore I have to take notice of the Government health warnings which say that some of the first symptons of swine flu are excessive sweating, severe body odour, fatigue and chronic laziness. The advice therefore is to keep well clear of the CSU offices!

Also I've heard on the grapevine that the IT department have been swamped by over 6 billion dodgy e-mails about swine flu. Silly buggers, don't they know they all come from spam!

SUPERDON, the optomistic pessimist

This is my very first blog, at the ripe old age of 59 years and 364 days! Apologies in advance for any cock-ups I make.

This first blog is dedicated to a person from work who hides behind the name of Superdon. We all know who he is and we all have names for him, too rude to write here. Here at a bulk-handling terminal on the North-east coast, no clues allowed, Superdon has created quite a reputation for himself as a seller of dodgy cars, remember the phrase Jehova Rover SD1, a heavy user of lumps of black carbon stuff found underground, a wearer of a dodgy blue suit, and a speaker with a natural flair for for depressing the most optomistic of us mere mortals at work. He came to us as a former crane driver, starting at the top job of Control room operator and working his way down to Terminal Manager.

I'm told, hearsay again, that he is now an expert at the mindnumbing and suicidal inspiring game of Solitaire on the computer. Obviously taught to him by his predecessor, who was the world's premier player of this moronic game.

Although I've always got on quite well with him I think, he is not the sort of person you would want to bump into one night down the back streets of uptown Redcar, the phrase 'being stabbed in the back' springs to mind, so I'm told. As a shy, quiet person I can only report on hearsay you understand, being forthright and speaking my mind doesn't come easily to me, unlike some of the gobshites on 'B'shift I could mention.

Did you see superstars Graham and Ruth on Sky TV the other night? I don't know about you but I don't think I would be bragging about screwing myself to the garden shed. How stupid is that. Knowing those two the only screwing being done would be of the pornographic kind!

Now that my application form is in for my winter fuel allowance, my prescriptions are free, and my eye tests cost me nothing, I'm starting to enjoy the idea of retiring. There are so many things you can do that you cannot do because you work. Going to classes for millions of different subjects like Spanish, breadmaking, larn yersel Geordie, and much much more, going somewhere whenever it takes your fancy, and holidays whenever you want them. It will be even better when I get my bus pass, I'll be able to go on trips with Mick, to see the sights of Houghton-le-spring, Consett, and way-out places like that.

That's all for this time, watch out for more character assassinations soon.