13 December 2010

Sausages, Monte Carlo and Jo

So look, it's going to be a while before my sausages are ready so let's discuss a few things in the meantime shall we? Couple of things in particular if you'll indulge me? Splendid, then let's begin.

In a brief moment of reckless abandon I had my mouse clicking finger poised over the "Buy-in" button for the £1000 Monte Carlo thing at Dusk Till Dawn next week. In the end my reasons for passing up this opportunity to compete for many thousands of monies for two fold:

Firstly, I would not win. Granted this was the most persuasive of the two arguments. Secondly, I'm currently struggling with head aches at the moment that develop usually when I'm asleep, but sometimes randomly and can only be soothed by immediately crawling up in a fetal position and pleading to the Gods for salvation.

It's down to CO2 retention you see. I don't exhale properly as my breathing is shallow, and when I'm asleep and dreaming of that Valance woman this retention is accentuated, so I usually wake up with a pounding headache, soon relieved when I'm up and about and breathing more deeply, but sometimes not.

Unfortunately this can also occur when I'm playing poker. I concentrate so hard I don't breath deeply enough or I just forget. Suddenly just as I'm fixing to execute an awesome bluff my face becomes hurtsome and I cain't concentrate. My only course of action at this time is to immediately go home and assume the fetal position, or if I'm miles away from home I must suffer until it eases and sulk.

My nightmare scenario of course, is that I show up at Subway place and there's a lengthy queue, and while I wait patiently for my lunch I forget to breath properly and as I near the front of the queue I am in such agony that I have to abandon my breaded prize and go home. Dear Gah, the horror...I won't sleep tonight now.

Because of all this nonsense there was talk at the big house of my trying an NIV to ease my woes. This is a non-invasive ventilator. It's an airtight mask one straps round ones face in the night and it blasts air down into ones lungs and sort of sucks it back out again, opening up ones airways and essentially shouldering the burden of breathing which can be rather hard work.

I decided that this was not for me however and I'd rather have the headaches. But for now it will mean I'm reluctant to travel any further from my home than I could buy a Meatball sammich from a Subway place and return home while it was still hot, say 15 miles max.

And that is about all I've got to say about that so let's move on.

* * *

On a lighter note, it seems clear to me that Jo will win the Apprentice this time around. My reasons for this conclusion are threefold; firstly she represents two minority groups and the BBC are hysterically PC and will not want to risk upsetting the feminist movement or racial equality people.

In fact, she technically represents three groups as she's border line mentally retarded and I know the Scope organisation are keeping tabs on all the latest developments. I'm told they have already composed an uncompromising email to the BBC director general, CC'd to Alan Sugar and the actor who played the retard in the Machine Gunners (where you going now!?) reminding them to see the person not the disability.

Secondly, Jo has no education to speak of. This will be a major plus for her in the next episode when the remaining five candidates CV's are surgically dissected and their lies exposed.

Jo knows only one thing. She must get her point across. Jo will not put milk on her cereal in the morning unless she has managed to get at least three points across. It matters not what these points are, just that they are gotten across. This is a common trait amongst the stupid; talk a lot and loudly thus compensating for the lack of actual knowledge.

So there it is then...I'd given up on the show as Sugar had fired the lovely looking Laura and that wild bitch Paloma, but I'll see it through to the end now to see if I'm right. I suggest you do the same. She has the power of ignorance does Jo, this will appeal to Sugar as it his own defining characteristic and it won't allow her to accept defeat and I look forward to a world class speech of utter nonsense if it looks like her numbers up as she gets one final point across.

"NOTHING IS OVER! Nothing! You just don't turn it off! It wasn't my war!
You asked me, I didn't ask you! And I did what I had to do to win, but
wouldn't let us win! And I come back to the world and I see all
those maggots
at the airport, protesting me, spitting. Calling me baby killer
and all kinds of vile crap!
Who are they to protest me? Who are they?
Unless they've been me and been there
and know what the hell they're yelling about?"

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