June 18 (Friday): Two Jasons. I think by rights I should have woken up this morning with a hangover. Luckily though, it didn’t happen. As per usual (yawn) it’s a slow moving morning, especially as I really want to catch the repeat of Big Brother, even more so after GMTV gets in on the act reporting the police are now getting involved on the violent altercation. Unfortunately being the early hours it is an almost totally censored version of events, meaning the broadcast version doesn’t really reveal much.

As per the last few days Phoebe appears on MSN around 8.20 and I say “hi� and finally get around to asking her out. She is happy, she is good and a date is set for the first Saturday in July (her first available date). Things look good, to say the least.

At work everyone is buzzing, England cheers us up. At lunch time we head to Yates while Stevo tells us about Portugal for the hundredth time.

As Hirameka are all in town plans are hatched to go out tonight. To be honest, I remain exhausted but feel obliged to take up the rare opportunity for us to hang out as a group/gang. Stevo makes hints about coming along but as I call around at five to see what’s going down he loses interest in joining us. On TV is Denmark v Bulgaria in the most insane venue/stadium in history: both ends appear to be made up of rock faces. Denmark win 2-0 but it’s not as if I actually watch any of it.

I head to Chris’ for seven where his parents are putting on dinner for us. It is so cool, his parents are the best! We indulge and enjoy and by the time we is done it is beginning to get late. We call round Mark’s and meet up in the Playhouse for nine where we see Italy leading Swedan 1-0 (only for them to end up drawing 1-1). We stay in the Playhouse for one and then head to the Hogshead. Some people from work are out tonight and I bump into Ivan at the Hogs. He’s on the Stella/wifebeater. Myself, I am struggling to finish my first drink when everyone seems to be on the third, it’s going to be one of those nights. From the Hogs we head straight to the Arts Centre to start early. We arrive well before time and the place is next to dead. The DJ is playing “classic� indie tracks from way back in the day. My phone beeps just before midnight and it is Sarah going “can we just go back to being friends?�. This gets dragged out and I spend probably my first hour of the Arts Centre club in the middle of the dance floor sending text messages and emails from my mobile phone. It gets dragged out and at one point I am going “why talk about other men when we’re out? Don’t mention the fucksticks� to which she replies “what are fucksticks?�. My only response to that can be “one day I’ll show you�. I look up from another horrible text message rally to see that the club is still really dead even though the music has gotten better. Around 12.30, with things looking slow, Mark makes gestures to chip. I think everyone is in agreement and I leave also to the apparent bemusement of Ben, Chris and Tom who I thought were coming also. Oh wells. We leave and consider the pros and cons of purchasing a kebab but ultimately we wimp out. I get in too early but still find myself awake to 3 AM away.

np: Estelle - 1980

my view of Rooney's second goal 

Thug life. Football in the Wig & Pen 

June 17 (Thursday): Today begins badly, at around 4 AM I wake up from a dream about Azmei. It is basically a recurrence of her leaving Friday except this time she wilfully leaves without saying goodbye to me, in fact looking over to Chernobyl and smirking at the fact that I am unable to come over and say “goodbye�. She looks over at me as if she really couldn’t care less. I guess this is my worst fear. When I wake up I feel like I have been punched.

I am up at 6.30. Ah, it is free listing day on Ebay so I am busy. If you’re ever up this early you can watch GMTV and the guy on there is the biggest wanker going (John Stapleton?). He is Alan Partridge plus fifteen years, exaggerated with confidence and conviction, he serves no purpose and yet is an award winner. Please go away.

I am so tired. Pre-work I touch base with Phoebe on MSN. Seems I had best begin researching Lutheran theory.

Work work work and Stevo is back from Portugal which is the best distraction. I am so tired. Louise tells me the Big Brother house has kicked off and sadly that is the highlight of my morning. At lunchtime we head to the Hogshead but wind up in the Hospital Arms (what’s that about?). Portugal sounds very fun. Stevo makes claims about going to England games instead of Wimbledon games from next year onwards and he is serious. Never being to be the voice of sense, I try to point out otherwise to him.

Sarah texts me. She asks if I want to go out for a meal. Ouch, that’s not a good idea. I procrastinate as per me and then she texts “I guess that’s no then�. I don’t know what to say. I finally get around to telling her she freaked and she asked me why, when really I thought it was obvious. She requests examples and I unhappily comply. It is something I have kept it to myself, which is rare for me. Now thinks get sticky and I only wind up feeling like a fucking bastard, over the space of two texts she goes from “sorry I won’t bother you again� to “I really don’t want to lose you as a friend�. And she makes a big point of making sure I have not let slip what she has told me, I suspect its something even Azmei doesn’t know. It goes quiet and it ends in limbo, I really do not know what to do.

4.30 arrives (not before time) and we chip and head to town for England v Switzerland. The original plan was the Wig & Pen for “atmosphere� but Stevo leads the pair of us on a wild goose chase before we wind up there anyway. We arrive and outside is a police van full of geared up coppers, it looks like they’re expected a riot. We enter, half expecting not to be let in. Inside it isn’t actually all that busy, we get a couple of Stellas and watch the latest shower of shit. It is really full of people who fancy themselves, to whom I am not overly warmed by. Stevo feels likewise. We mass debate and suggest the place might be better christened the Chav & Pen. England look piss poor (when I/we can actually see the game). It is freaky because the small screen TVs are five seconds ahead of the big screen TVs and I find myself damn near breaking my neck swapping my view between the two. In da house is Pete Brame, Colchester’s own superstar from Pop Idol or Talent School or whatever that lame BBC show was called. Eventually/finally England score and it is planet Wayne Rooney unsurprisingly. There was a perverse satisfaction in seeing the goal go in five seconds before the pissed up masses.

I leave the game at the 70 minute point to go to my session this week. I needed this at the start of the week, I have a lot on my mind. I finally spill Sarah’s apparent “secret� to someone and sought advice I guess. The good doctor placates me and ensures me that all concern is not my fault. I have never been this animated in a session before, maybe the alcohol helped it. Apparently it seems I take on too much emotionally. Maybe, I don’t know, it’s a world gone mad to me.

That ends and I head home. Texts are sent and plans have been made to go out tonight. I call Ben to see what he’s doing and it seems I have an hour to get sorted out (the meet up is at 9pm, Playhouse, ouch). I pop into Chernobyl for a piss and walk home with two England fans singing behind. Why on earth do I feel intimidated? It’s the complex of the suit. I get in around 7.50 and Ben is over at 8.20. I really needed a bath but there wasn’t enough time. I was hoping to avoid letting Ben into the flat but when he calls round I am half naked and can’t really leave him outside. We stagger into town (but not before Ben tells me to take the Millwall shirt off). The 9pm Playhouse doesn’t meet, this is a meet up of the eternal latecomers. Ben slopes into Edwards for a dump because the Playhouse ones are wisely closed off (too much information).

We notice in Edwards that hearing France were winning 1-0, suddenly the score is Croatia 2 France 1. It becomes apparent maybe we should be paying more attention to Croatia all of sudden.

Eventually we all meet up and the night kicks off with a whimper. I don’t know about the others but I am shattered and slightly drunk and really not in the mood. And this comes after suggestions are made of going to the indie night at Route/Root. Ben is first to drop of the flies. Give him his dues though, he does make the effort with three long toilet trips. France score and tie their match 2-2 with Croatia, all looking good for England all of a sudden. Some fool suggests we head to the Hole In The Wall. As ever its horrible, I cry. A couple of piss heads insinuate aggro and I cringe. Eventually I jump ship as the others actually DO head for clubbing at Route/Root. I stagger home pissed and hungry, semi defeated. Sometimes you know when you are trying too hard.

I hope to get home for Big Brother to see the Victor v Emma bitchslap contest. Sad truth, I would have preferred to have watched that than go out. Such is life. Instead its more Sopranos VCDs. Life in the fast line. I find when I get in I am staggering around the flat like ET when pissed. Still managing to type this drivel but.

np: Big Black – Bad Penny

June 16 (Wednesday): Today is Mark’s birthday. Again I wake up early but feeling good. Good vibes, Good Friends (the one where Joey has got no health insurance). I listen to Douglas Coupland I have downloaded over night over the internet and it is fine, just like old times. With a spring in my step I get ready for work and find I am set much earlier than is required (probably due to my current hygiene boycott). I check my phone and Sarah sent a text message just before midnight last night, I cringe. I nearly ruin my PC looking at porn, a program decides to attach itself to my internet connection and attempt to charge me at premium rate (worryingly right now I may be on premium rate although I have performed many measures/steps to ensure I am not). I reboot and MSN comes on and Phoebe is online. I check in and it is fantastic and I think the feelings are likewise as her screenname changes from “Just Sad!� to “Papa Lima� (whatever that means). It later changes to “AARGH...damn computer� but that’s beside the point. We discuss the Edward Hopper exhibition at the Tate and she says “I guess you will have to show me what you mean when we go�, exactly what I’ve always wanted to hear. Sadly I have to chip to work and leave it but things stand so fine. I walk with real gusto and today on Radio One Moyles is on, taking the piss out of Aled for having a Lego robot.

It’s another pathetically hot day in Chernobyl. I spend most of the morning over the road and it is so much more better, were I still there I suspect I might still have a career. I’ve started hanging out more with Louise at work now. I text Mark happy birthday, wondering if I can blag myself into any celebrations somewhere (ho ho).

For lunch I head to town with Louise and we get McDonalds. I text Phoebe to tell her I’m having her favourite (well, one of them). Back in the office Barlow makes comment “that’s not Atkins� and I just say something stupid back but at least it is assertive (ho ho). My phone beeps and it is Sarah asking how I am. Curtly I reply “I’m fine�. She later texts again, asking me if I “want to go for a drink Monday�. I guess I’m not making myself clear. Luckily I have an escape clause, it is England v Croatia Monday, I half invite her to that but she doesn’t seem keen.

The afternoon is unendurable and I get fucking nothing done in the office, the green house climate is just too much. I look around Chernobyl and hold my head in my hands, what a fucking joke. There is no fire escape and no ventilation, not even a decent window to open. I keep staggering over the road for a breather. I begin to consider calling health and safety somewhere to improve conditions. As the bag lady points out, the only cool place in the office is the toilet. It is one big fucking toilet.

Just before leaving work I get a back twang, which is worrying because to date I haven’t had any problems with my back (unlike most people I know). I’m getting old.

Five o’clock does not come soon enough and I tear home to see Spain v Greece. It’s a bit of another schnorer, Spain look ok and the better team but Greece slug it out and scrape a draw they don’t really deserve. All in all it is a pretty eventless game, to which I can barely remember the goals (Spain’s was from sloppy defensive errors and Greece’s was a good move, if mis-hit), just the many opportunities Spain had to snatch a winner at the end. That and the wanker of a coach the Greeks have. Passion my arse, poser more like.

Today I have received my first itemised O2 phone bill (charge to me £2.50, ka-ching!). My bills have been double the expected and yet I barely use the phone for calls. Worryingly there are several hundred one second calls on my bill all at a charge of 10p each. I do not recognise these numbers, I have no idea what is happening but I am being charged for it. If a private investigator was to pick up this bill they would think I am crank calling people and hanging up on them. Honest guv, I’m not.

Between games I have so much to do but I am so shattered. I attempt to watch the remainder of my Curb Your Enthusiasm DVD but it is fucked and the screen is covered in digital crackles, and that is when I am lucky enough to get it working at all. For some reason my HBO DVD box sets all do this, you will not believe how angry/frustrated I have gotten at my Sopranos DVDs. I also email my CV to a good accountancy personnel firm, I can’t achieve what I want at my current firm given the facilities I am offered/provided.

I cook bad eggs.

Game 2 is Portugal vs the Russian Mafia. Now this is a game. Despite the empty seats to the right (what’s that about?) there is a genuine atmosphere to this one and when the Portuguese take an early lead (7 minutes), it is looking good for a thumping. Surprisingly it doesn’t arrive but this is a proper match, the keeper gets sent off and then a fan makes it onto the pitch to have a pop at an official. The second half isn’t thrilling stuff, Russia with ten men hold fairly tight. During half time my phone beeps. I am beginning to dread that noise now, every time it happens I shudder. Yes, again it is Sarah with a message more random than the last. Portugal hit the post in the 63rd minute and all is forgotten in preference to excitement, Portugal begin to look good. Still, Russia frustrate them and eventually super sub Ronaldo sets up Rui Costa for the second and a very laboured 2-0 win.

Tonight is a good night, the pond life sisters return to the Big Brother house live on air and there is a John Coltrane documentary on BBC1. However that gets disrupted when Sarah hits me on MSN at 11pm.

np: Dinosaur Jr. – Whatever’s Cool With Me

June 15 (Tuesday): Another uncomfortable awakening. Actually the morning is nice and the day is sedate. I go into work next to fuming, thinking too much about my discussion with Griggs yesterday (re: Barlow) has just enhanced the chip on my shoulder. And that can’t be good. I get in and Sunny is already, his usual self whining about how badly he did in his exam. I cross the road with precaution but I get a good reception from Seymour (if not Ivan). Barlow then comes over and requests a draft for Pipeline. I hand it over just knowing I’ll see that fucking thing again soon. Louise back and she’s a bit hesitant about her exam also, strange days indeed. Today Chernobyl is unendurable, I officially have the worst desk in the office. By way of responding to this in the office, I am really letting my personal hygiene go until they buy me a fan. Hey, I can play at pikey. It gets announced that the office will be closing at 4.30 Thursday so we can get home to watch England play Switzerland in time, which is nice.

At lunch time I wander round town with Louise. It provides mild yuks. The afternoon is a strain though, Chernobyl is likely to fry both my mind and body this summer.

Home time doesn’t come too soon and within minutes I am home watching Latvia vs Czech Republic. Wow, could I care less about a match? Latvia are our mates though, they put Turkey out. Even that though can’t make me interested in the game. Latvia take the lead just before half time against the run of play, which stirs some interest. The Czech Republic look OLD! And frustrated, they really do have the run of the play and should thump Latvia with all the opportunities they get. Eventually they score a scrappy equalizer and the inevitable winner goes in.

Next is the eagerly anticipated Holland v Germany game. I fancy Holland in this tournament and this is the match most likely to kick off, in more ways than none. The game sadly doesn’t match up to the hype and I actually briefly fall asleep, waking up when the Germans score a lucky fluke free kick (typically) I lose interest. Holland look gash, rumours of players not talking to each other is horribly evident. I actually begin tidying my flat and finally putting things back into order post exam insania.

At halftime I check my phone and there are texts from Sara, Azmei and Sarah. Sara is asking me for advice on her latest wanker boyfriend, how can I possibly express how little I give a fuck? Azmei is asking for the fourth time (and fourth time I don’t answer her) “hope you’re not missing me too much, what is the office like without me�. And Sarah is asking if we’re still talking but annoyingly she uses text language “stl tlkg� which trivialises things too much for my taste. I ignore all three texts, choosing not to answer any of them. Talk about hassle.

The second half begins and Holland have a little more life in them thankfully and this is consummated as Van Nistelroy scores one of those goals he is SO good at scoring. Hey, I hate the cunt (and that was before the Cup Final) but can’t argue with anything when it is against the Germans. It all ends at 1-1, both teams looking a right shower of shit.

I really need a bath but by way of protest at the shit sweat shop (ho ho) working conditions at work I remain a greaser.

Wham! Two more texts come in, Sarah again (“I guess we’re not talking then�) and Phoebe (“bad day�). However I didn’t think it would end there and Sarah hits me on MSN as I am watching Big Brother, tonight memorable for Victor’s quote of “have a Coke and a smile and get the fuck out of here�. Whenever people get close to me I feel like I am being stalked and immediately push people away as far as possible. I limit the damage and lie so as not to hurt her feelings, which I really feel is wimping out. And now I feel like an arsehole for fobbing her off. Would the world please leave me alone for five minutes.

np: Seaweed – Go Your Own Way/Losing Skin/She Cracked

June 14 (Monday): A very hot day. First day back walking to work and not getting a lift to work with Azmei. I wake up totally disorganised, so much to do, so little time. I really don’t want to go to work today. At 8.30 Azmei texts “don’t forget you have to walk to work�. I ignore it, I’m an arsehole. To be honest though, I am happy to be walking to work again, it is good exercise. And I get to listen to the radio every morning again. Regardless, I still faff about my flat and leave at 8.40 for a 25 minute walk meaning I will get to work late.

Work is ok. Again I am stuck in Chernobyl on my own but I just put on the radio on my phone and it puts a bit of life into the dead office. Actually, the whole business is dead, Seymour is out playing golf so therefore the partners don’t want to be around the office, be seen to be the one responsible. I see Griggs first thing and he looks at me very sheepishly for reasons I don’t know.

I stagger to town at lunch and buy the Sonic Youth DVD. The kid in HMV tells me how cool my purchase is (therefore I am so cool?). I walk around town on my own on a lunch break for the first time in ages. I see the girl/lady/woman I fancy but Azmei said “was out of my league�. We make eye contact but I look down, shame as I am in my suit and looking very good. I don’t bother with lunch, I honestly don’t really feel hungry and today is supposed to be day one official of the great Atkins restart. Sarah texts me to tell me she is bored. Just what I always wanted to know. I ask he if she’s been texting Griggs (ie why he may have been sheepish) and she skirts around the issue. I tell her if she is going to doing that “we cannot be friends� and I stop replying to her messages. Around this time Phoebe texts and it makes my day.

I begin the afternoon at work watching my Sonic Youth DVD on one of the company’s laptops. It is fantastic, the 1992 period was the greatest year in music for me and the videos for 100%, Youth Against Fascism and Sugar Kane look better than ever to me. Early afternoon Griggs calls me into his office for a meeting, a general state of the union address, “you’re almost qualified, where do you see yourself?�. “An overpaid office junior because you fucks aren't progressing me� is what I don’t say but perhaps should have. It turns out Chris Barlow is slagging my work again (funny, he is the only one of four partners to do so) and it really appears to be working against me, hiccupping my career. He also says I am not assertive enough. This coming from the man who does one thing, forgets it and then does exactly the opposite thing, you can use the Jedi mind trick on him, a man who divers beyond belief to the point he’s been labelled by colleagues “the doddery old fucker�. Helpfully, Griggs suggests that in such a situation I tell him to “fuck off�. Yeah I could really see that, me telling the humpiest partner to “fuck off�, I would soon be out the door. We quickly get into specifics and I finding myself whispering as I am shouting Griggs down, does an angry whisper make a person sound like a psychopath? Once more I feel discouraged, as if all I said is akin to banging my head against the wall and that, as usual, I am working against management rather than with them. Griggs reviews a job of mine and it is basically him being fussy and pedantic, teaching me to suck eggs. I wonder sometimes how much of this I bring on myself but surely…..how can they expect me to work wonders when half the day I can’t see my fucking computer screen because the sun is shining on it too much. Before leaving for home, I dust off my CV.

I get home in time to find Phoebe on MSN. Her screen name is “Just Sad!�. That’s not good. We talk for a bit and it is fantastic, did she stay behind at work to speak to me? I hope so.

Today is Nina’s birthday but I can’t make it out, I’m not accepted by that clique. I need to bath and much more anyways. As I get in Denmark are already playing Italy. I love Denmark but the game is a bit of a snorer, save for heroics by Denmark’s keeper (being a fellow goalie I can appreciate his efforts, ho ho). Chris begins MSNing me and subsequently all attention is diverted away from the game. By now, the Sonic Youth DVD has made its way onto my tv, I just want to see a younger Kim Gordon in a pink catsuit in the My Friend Goo video.

I am still deep in MSN with Chris as Swedan v Bulgaria begins. No one fancies Bulgaria initially but they soon prove a troublesome test to Swedan. That wanker Ljungberg scores a faggy tap in just before half time and as expected Swedan begin to take the game. Henrik Larrson then quickly adds two goals and its proper bo Swedan. I don’t really give this game my full attention either, I’m self conscious because I still have not bathed. Azmei sends me another text that I ignore, this time a multimedia message of a balloon saying “hi�. I’m an arsehole. In the meantime Ibrahimovich scores a penalty struck equally as well as, if not better, than Zidane’s perfect penalty last night. And then a fifth flies in (Albecht) and Swedan look good. It is a fantastic evening, come 9.45 it is still satisfyingly light.

Sarah logs in on MSN and tries to contact me but I switch off, pressing the Appear Offline option (the little red man). Its all too much hassle for me at the moment, I’m losing to the will everything. Bed ways is best ways.

np: Christina Aguilera - Fighter

the television we watched England v France on and that wanker Zidane 

mum and dad's back garden complete with palm where we watched England v France 

the Holland on Sea coast. chilled 

June 13 (Sunday): I wake up just past 5 AM. Insomnia, I can’t get no sleep. I go back to nod and reawaken around 9 AM. I am feeling so low after last nights MSN session with Sarah, been down this road before, how come all females I meet are insane and they always spill their guts via MSN: Alice, Sara and now Sarah, wackjobs. These things really do effect, get me down and today I can’t get out of bed, instead I have a fucking headache and I lie watching Curb Your Enthusiasm (although it is a classic episode where Larry’s last minute obituary for his “beloved aunt� gets published as “beloved cunt�).

My intention for the day is to go to my parents to watch the England v France game. I wasn’t intending to go there this weekend but I have left some stuff I have sold on Ebay behind (the selling swag CDs is going really well). The day is saved though when Mark texts asking me what I am doing for the game, HE IS BACK! Words are said and moves are made to watch it together. I go round his house and blag dinner and hang out with his brother Steve, who is the funniest person in Colchester, this (along with the Blitters) is the act that could have saved Gringo Records. Steve tells us a joke about a man having a tapped out with and taking her to doctors, the punch line being “she either has Alzheimer’s or AIDs. Take her to the woods and leave her there, if she makes her way back, don’t shag her�. We chip off and head to Clacton/Holland. Today is the best.

We arrive home and Mark gets to see my parents modest crib (in comparison to his). Shortly after we arrive there is a knock on the door, it is our neighbour Cecil/Cyril checking whether we are burglars. Now that is neighbourhood watch! I don’t know how handy Cecil/Cyril would be, he doesn’t even recognise me. What a brave man. Before Croatia and Switzerland kick off we go for a wander to the beach. It looks fantastic, it makes a good day even better.

Croatia vs Switzerland is a genuine shower of shit, it makes our group look so easy. If we don’t fucking thrash both these sides we don’t deserve shit from this Euro 2004.

Between games I check the Millwall website and it turns out that Division One will now be called “The Championship� and each division gets a bump in number meaning this coming season Colchester will be in Division 1 and the old Division 4 will now be Division 2! The world has gone one more step insane. I also receive an email from Azmei: “HOW ARE YOU? HOPE YOU ARE OK AND KEEPING WELL. I HAVE MY FONE BACK BUT IS OUT OF BATTERY. I WILL TEXT YOU FROM TIME TO TIME AND I HOPE YOU WILL TEXT ME. WE HAVE BEEN THRU' ALOT AND BEEN THRE FOR EACH OTHER, I KNOW I HAVEN'T SAID IT BEFORE BUT IT MEANS ALOT TO ME. YOU CAN'T GET FRIENDS WHO WILL LISTEN TO PROBLEMS. WE HAVE BOOKED TICKETS FOR THE PAKISTAN TRIP. COMING INTO THE OFFICE TOMORROW TO GET NADIA'S FOTO, WILL SEE YOU TOMORROW. TAKE CARE.� I am unmoved, especially as I have her sister texting me again, all doom and gloom.

Stevo then telephones from Portugal. As he said, he has got into the game and he is phoning me, his football mate “Millwall�, to impress his friends. So cool.

Post crap match, me and Mark proceed to cook dinner badly and then it was England v France. It is actually a really good game but we hardly look good. Of course when Frank Lampard scores we look SO good. And Wayne Rooney really lights up the show (and our lives) and the Sol Campbell/Ledley King is the stuff of winners. Our team is solid and professional, impressive. And then we get a penalty. You could see Beckham missing it coming a mile off but I wasn’t too concerned, whereas the world was predicting a 1-1 draw I was predicting a 1-0 win to England, so at least the penalty miss was preserving that. And then Sven-Goran Erection substituted Wayne Rooney in the most arrogant of gestures imaginable (yeah, points in the bag hey Sven). When France got the free kick in the 90th minute you could see them scoring a mile off, which was made especially worse when the kick did look saveable but James. What gutted me more was now how my 1-0 prediction had given way to the nations 1-1 prediction. However, Gerrard then plonked a back pass similar to the one Maradona handballed in 1986 and James should have been sent off when he hauled the frog down for the penalty. Zidane scored the perfect penalty (see that Beckham?) and I could only laugh in disbelief, quietly satisfied everyone’s lame/boring prediction had gone tits up. I have the perverse mind of a tabloid writer (maybe it’s island mentality) but when we fail like this it is kind of “like told you so� when you watch the faces of those overpaid arseholes who blow it regularly for England. I’m not the biggest fan of Sven and this shows it. Realistically though, France were the better team but we did (until the last minutes) stand tall/strong and put in a performance worthy of victory. Its not like we were put out though. Mark is more vocal on me on the subject, I feel I have just become jaded for having seen this happen so many times. For me, losing 3-1 to Australia was worse than this and this cannot compare to the World Cup when we just curled up and died for Brazil. We’ll be all right.

I get home to find Emma on Big Brother throwing a wobbler at Victor, my black hero. Big Brother is fantastic. These are good times.

np: MF Doom – Tick, Tick

Saturday ends horribly as I MSN with Sarah until 1AM sunday. Too much information and all sounding like a horrible recurring dream, nothing new or original just a whole load of baggage dragging her down and me also (as I listen to it and allow it to effect me).

Again, I am the confident to a lady who doesn't seem concerned she is boring me to death.

It's like history repeating itself

June 12 (Saturday): I’ve got in a bad habit, again I wake up at 6.00 in the morning thinking half of the day has already gone by.

By seven I am functioning so I figure I may as well watch the last episode of this series of the Sopranos. This series has been fantastic, the Sopranos has far from jumped the shark. The clipping of Adrianna in the previous episode remains the most shocking and emotional thing to happen in the series. It is interesting to consider that now instead of being lovable rogues, the characters are now just portrayed as horrible cunts. The demise of Steve Buscemi’s character was inevitable but the build up and delay was horribly excruciating. The series was really good, avoiding a horrible cheesing closing, instead resolving this chapter and introducing incident that will swing open consequences for a huge new season (rumoured to be last). It is heartening to see the season ended with Tony coming so close to being humbled but managing to stay afloat on his feet. My hero.

random thought: I FUCKING HATE THOSE ROBINSON’S FRUIT SHOOT ADVERTS WHERE THE KID IS PLAYING SPORTS AND MAKING AN EFFORT TO MAKE HIS TEAMMATES LOOK BETTER. ARROGANT LITTLE MUSSY.

It’s a pissy shitty day and really I can’t be arsed to get out of my bed let alone step outside. The post arrives and there is a thud. Did I order something? Result! It is Kat Kitten from Universal who has sent me a Get Up Kids CD which so far I am really liking. Eventually I stagger out to Sainsbury for a paper and to PC World for some CD-Rs to burn and sell on Ebay (ho ho). What else do I do? Fuck all. I prepare to do some grocery shop at Asda and Sarah surprisingly texts, thought I’d fucked her off. So I do that, do the Asda thing, bump into Matt Ripley in Asda (always a pleasure, never a chore but sometimes a labour) and rush home to watch Portugal v Greece and the start of Euro 2004.

Portugal v Greece at times strikes me as being how the Cup Final should have been. Great team in red v crap team in blue. However, in the cup final the blue team should have shocked with an early goal, bundled a second through a penalty and then sat with ten men behind the ball as Ronaldo attempts all his faggy fancy shit to no avail and old man Figo (Keane in the cup final) humbled into looking like the old wizened man that he is. So, despite the late goal from spaghetti hair (as was), it ends Portugal 1 Millwall…I mean Greece 2.

Second game, Russia v Spain. Don’t care about this one either. I watch it basically through one eye. Apparently there are lots of Russians out there, I think I heard they’re second best supported behind us. All I know, I fear the Russian Mafia (but again that is just from watching the Sopranos). Saw Abramovich there. Spain win softly 1-0 when they should probably have slapped (scared of the Russian Mafia I guess). Neither of these teams look like winners either. Basically it has all started with a whimper instead of a bang.

Sarah keeps texting and then Phoebe finally texts also, just before 10pm. She tells me she hopes I have had a better day than her and sweet dreams (again). And we all know what we thought about that last time. It’s too much hard work.

np: Soweto Kinch – Elision

the "great" view I get walking to work 

June 11 (Friday): Azmei’s last day, not a day to celebrate. To be honest I have been dreading this day coming for a month. First things first though, I have to get up. Miraculously I wake up on time. And without a headache/hangover! I am however fully clothes and freezing from the window being open all night. Didn’t I used to have a duvet on my bed? I look up and my light has been left on all night and so has my tv and DVD player. I see my PC and I was fucking about with it on the internet last night, hope I didn’t do too many bads. I didn’t however switch Soulseek off for some stupid reason and it appears that when I got in last night I was playing Johnny Thunders “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory� on Media Player. Other than that though……tip top! I have some breakfast cereal (seems I bought milk on my 2.30 am trip to Asda). This immediately plays havoc with my insides so I again take my throne and just as I do the window blows and my front door flies open, I think someone is busting in! Seems I left my front door open/unlocked all night also. I hold my head in shame as shame exits the other end also. I am a bit dizzy, there probably still a bit drunk. Whoops.

Azmei picks me up as per usual and we head into work. Unfortunately Lindsey strolls in with us also, so it’s a quiet one but then again I am hung-over anyway. I get into work and Ivan appears to be dying (well, very hung-over at least). Funny, I feel tip top. That is until Cris grabs and gets me to do yet MORE work on Pipeline. Ruins my day and makes me very busy. Slowly throughout the day memories of last night flood back, assisted by Ivan who has little interest in working today because of his hangover. We talk at length in Chernobyl and I proud tell him too much about recent events in JGRAM WORLD, I am way too open. I am also stressing it because I believe I may have sent a dubious text message to her following a really great text message (“we should go out, a beautiful girl, an awesome man……�). Texts start flying in though. Fucking Sara, Chris and Sarah, all asking stupid questions and each time me thinking it is a text from Phoebe. I am curt to all and very rude (a bit).

At lunchtime we head to the Hogshead for lunch. A lot of us go and we’re eating and the state of my insides, I am dying for some cooked metal product. Still I am waiting for a text message and still the usual suspects keep texting me what I do not want to her. Especially when Sarah sends me a text I had sent her about “putting out� asking me what I mean (“oh yeah, I forgotten I’d sent that one�). All lunch I am annoying and a bit of a wanker, too much nervous energy and probably too much alcohol left in my blood stream. We have a slightly long lunch and eventually trudge back around 2.30. Azmei leaves soon after we get back. I don’t feel like going over to the main office (from Chernobyl) to say “goodbye� but obviously I was hoping she’d come over so we could say a proper goodbye. Didn’t happen though, Louise (my replacement) took her away. My replacement in more ways than one I guess.

It puts a dampener on the rest of the afternoon to say the least, the blues hit and I get FAD (Friday Afternoon Depression). Ivan comes over for more chats and Drew comes over also, suggesting another firm piss up already (for Friday 2 July). Spirits rise at 5 to 5 when Phoebe replies to my text earlier in the day apologising for any potential faux pas. Why was I worried? As I prepare to go home I decide to call Azmei. I thought she might be coming back as she left her framed photo of Nadia, her pride and joy, behind at the office. I phone Azmei but get her answer phone. I leave some kind of message but I am too cold to get emotional, too cold to show any feeling/meaning. I leave a short message and feel like crying. A few seconds later the phone rings and its Azmei going “it’s me�. She tells me “bye and thank you� and other stuff which doesn’t really register and this is why I think I have alexithymia sometimes (and not the chaos creating version). I trudge home slumped. I see Frances as I walk up Butt Road and I must just look totally pathetic if you don’t know the story.

I arrive home and the flat has that post-exams quiet to it, career related exams are infinitely more stressful than straight educational exams, the rewards are more tangible and failure more costly. So, with that in mind, when those are over you find yourself at a resounding loss for things to do and things are suddenly deathly quiet. Bonus though, George has finally posted the final three episodes of series 5 of the Sopranos to me. I have cereal for dinner and I settle down to watch them. Once more I am shocked by what happens in the programme. The evening pans out beautifully but once more I am stuck in like an open-prison prisoner. Big Brother is tonight’s main source of yuks but then I go and fall asleep before 10pm hits and I miss the double eviction into the BB bed-sit. I look at my phone and there is a text message from Azmei saying “I hope you are ok and not missing me too much�. Kick a Jason while he’s down.

np: 4Hero – Star Chasers

grim old Edwards 

so this is what its like inside Club Forin 

June 10 (Thursday): Wha’ happened? I awaken free from exam stress ready to return to work proper. Able to anticipate all questions ahead of me, before the leaving the house all answers are/were well prepared. Azmei picks me up and it is great to see her again. Our walk into work together is fantastic, the pair of us are buzzing and we talk at great speed and length all the way to the office, it feels fantastic to feel us two feeling excited about things again. Work is a slight drag though, I am alone in Chernobyl and bored for it. I dig into work but it is just not enough so instead I waste large chunks of the morning doing exam talk with Louise. Again, I am unhappy at work.

Here’s something new though, it appears the firm has discovered some chartered (ie qualified) 25 year old woman who is about to join the firm. And this coming when a few months ago the firm seemed obviously overstaffed and somewhat top heavy. After my initial gut reaction of “cool, she might be fit!� it suddenly dawns on me than she is likely to leapfrog me. To this, I am alarmed.

In the evening I have my session and I have so much to talk about discuss. It isn’t overly productive, just a long session of me getting things off my chest. It was kinda funny how the doctor took me to one side just before the session start saying “I know England is playing this time next week, do you want to re-arrange?�.

So, tonight it was Azmei’s leaving do at Ask. Sadly I have long been blasé about the whole situation and to be honest I don’t put much effort into it. I did look around the clothes shops at lunch and find some nice stuff but it was just a bit too expensive for an occasion I am not really overly interested in celebrating. Instead I wore the top I bought back in January for that leaving do. And what’s more, I didn’t find it in my clean clothes, instead I locate it under a pile of other stuff. The term “buy yourself an iron� came to mind.

I meet up with Ivan and Andy in O’Neill’s for a pre-drink (going there straight from the session). Yalla yalla, I just turn up frazzled (a current recurring theme for me) and attempt to join in but only to limited results. Eventually we turn up at Ask, in an attempt it seems to be later than Andrea, who usually arrives last in an attempt to be the bell of the ball. She still beats us though, to being late.

Again I get lucky and get to sit at the meal with Azmei and on my other side is Ivan, I joke about being the “golden ticket�, best laugh I get all night as I slowly get drunker and drunker and space out further. The food is good and I am hungry. Ivan is pissed and talking for England, mainly to the bosses. Thanks to the gobshite, I also get to eat a good proportion of his meal also (hey, everyone is commenting on how much weight I have lost). Things swing but I really don’t get far with Azmei, I really think she would have had a better time sat next to someone other than me (although she did call me over as we took our places). There is presentation and she gets her gift, does a speech and nearly cries and I am really touched by her emotion. That soon passes when desert comes. Still starving I scoff my own in seconds and then Ivan gives me his. I then notice Azmei has left half hers and it is a half desert I get to down. There is also champagne sloshing about as John (Heddle) has bought some to celebrate his becoming a grandfather. Champagne tastes so good.

The mean ends and Azmei’s sister Sarah turns up. As we leave the table I take a flower and give it to her. Smooth criminal, she tells me no one has ever given her a flower before. However, I am too wankered to impress further. We wander over to Edwards (eventually) and I am now far from my element. And what’s worth no one is acknowledging my existence it seems, fair play really as I am so drunk I am pretty much incapable of string any sensical conversation together. Ivan is more drunk but to his credit, when bollocksed he can get gobby and very entertaining. And I watch him at the bar talking to Lindsey closely, as Andy has grabbed Azmei and Sarah to talk and all in all I am envious of everyone basically for their simple ability to talk to girls when drunk. I promise, I never intended to get drunk tonight. Sarah eventually starts talking to me but I get ratty and start a minor rant about her pissing me off last Thursday. It probably wasn’t as bad rant as I imagine (she kept texting me afterwards) but still I know how I can become a monster when drunk. To the left there is this slosh pup/disco tart with the shortest skirt imaginable on. I keep pointing her out to Sarah, I am an arsehead. Eventually Azmei comes over and I don’t what to say so I just hug her for quite a long time (she later tells me).

Slowly people get picked up/off and a lift home or two is offered to me. I however see tonight as an opportunity to go to Club Forin and it ends up with Seymour leading me and Andy there. All the way I talk shit to them about the country (I always choose the most inappropriate times and states to raise work issues with them). Seems my piss poor performance this first half of 2004 has been noticed and now I am being handed over to Andy for mentoring and that I “will be earning ten grand more than you are in a couple of year’s time�. Can I quote that?

So, I leave the country and go into Club Forin. Oh, its as horrible as I remember. Early on I am grabbed by a lady called Rio. She takes me to a corner for a dance and asks for the money. Seymour said he could pay for this one (“reward for working hard on the exams�) and embarrassingly, as she has already started stripping off, I have to send her over to him for the payola. She does her thing, her tricks. I’m too pissed to experience it. I remain limp (whoops) and I think she registers this and says, to quote, “I’ve got a right one here�. Hey, hey, HEY! Whatever, this is soon forgotten when she rubs her tits in my face. I do my usual Q&A thing with the dancing when I get bored (embarrassed) and there it ends. I return to the table with Griggs and Seymour. Seymour enjoys many dances but Griggs doesn’t any. A blonde girl recognises me from last year and starts talking to me (poor her, “I’m too pissed love� and its not worth hustling me, I only have a fin in my pocket). I take some pictures with my phone of the dancers and I get told off. I am also spending lots of time texting Sarah for some reason. Chucking out time comes and I am relieved. Seymour goes to me “so you’re back at work tomorrow then�, I was at work today, Jesus Christ that just sums up how invisible and irreverent you become when stuck over the road in Chernobyl.

I begin walking home and stop off on the way at Asda (guess how I got there……) to get some water so I don’t have a hangover in the morning. That was freaky. As I leave I see the girl with the disgustingly short skirt. Slag. I don’t know what I did when I got in other than lose my mobile, find my calculator looking for my phone and finally I find my phone again. Wanker. If you ever meet, please don’t get me drunk.

np: Morrissey – You Are The Quarry (LP)

my bedroom floor. I really need to tidy up and stop drinking bottled water. 

June 9 (Wednesday): I awaken in hell, this could be Cambodia. It is 5 AM and it has never been warmer in such low hour. I awaken with a right eye migraine, it feels like my eye is going to pop and explode. I check my right ear, I cannot hear from it. What have they done to me? I decide, times being what they are, grin and bare it and attempt some kind of order in this chaos (and LAST MINUTE REVISION!). Eventually I need a dump. I hit the toilet and the fucking overflow pipe falls off the cistern, no wonder I’ve been experiencing leakage. Water pisses over my bathroom floor and I panic. Today is a disaster. And that’s not it, I head to my living room and the motherfucking fucking light bulb goes. I panic and pop too many vitamins and minerals, there must be quite the chemical and herbal imbalance in me today. I also pop three Pro Plus pep pills and started bouncing about the flat (those things actually work?). I panic to Sara via MSN and by the time I am leaving, I am nervously laughing about things (not least because my head is clearing up and my hearing coming back). And I could sense immediately a nice “against all odds� story was building.

Despite leaving later, today I get to Chelmsford earlier, actually being one of the first people there. Don’t know why, the A12 wasn’t any clearer and neither was I. I am so early in fact the study/revision CD/tape is still playing whilst I’m in the car park, not that I am taking any of it in. By nine I am listening to Moyles and he’s making me laugh again today, I must appear to be a nutter. His tedious link is Setting Sun by the Chemical Brothers and that puts me in a better mood, so does the Scissor Sisters (Laura, ace tune). Again I swap texts with Phoebe and today she is the only person to wish me luck, points scored yesterday now are lost (yes I am that fickle). I am quite late getting into the exam hall, today I remember to have a piss before going in and I think I benefit by not seeing any familiar faces before going in (I remained focused and in the zone as a result, ha fucking ha). I take my seat and look around and watch as some people struggle to find their desks. This I don’t understand, how the hell are they supposed to pass these difficult exams when they are too thick to find their desk, they’re numbered sequentially surprisingly. And a difficult exam it is. The two compulsory questions are a nightmare and I make notes and quickly skim over them. The options are somewhat kinder (actually on topics I know and address at work!) but still my personal exam is top heavy on waffle (bullshit) and perhaps/probably too light on actual tax computation and figures. I punch my way out of a paper bag though but I have no idea on what the final result on this will be. All I know is that ACCA set a difficult exam.

As I emerge from the hall I again feel frazzled. I am relieved those are over so I celebrating by bombing home like a motherfucker down the A12, I love driving fast. And I love my car. I think Focus’ are not only the natural heir to the ultimate Essex car the Escort but there is also an air of SUV wannabe to them, I genuinely think so both in the shape and the way they handle, it’s a smooth comfortable ride (now hopefully Ford will read this and send me a new one). Within an hour of the exam’s ending Phoebe texts me she rules. Chris also texts me to say someone has said he looks like Jude Law. You’ve seen my Blog, you’ve seen the picture, make up your own mind.

So, I hit Asda and encourage a post exam treat. I buy UEFA 2004 by EA for Playstation 2. Don’t know how I’ll play it though, I’ve currently dumped so much shit on my sofa I can’t sit down or reach the Playstation. I also get the Curb Your Enthusiasm DVD, I want to be kranky but in a funnier way so I want to pick up some tips.

We play football at six and tonight there is no Stevo or Seymour so it’s just me and Ivan from the firm, which means we have ringers, which means better players. Hard game again, against Birkett Long. Inside the hall it is ridiculously hot and I am sweating buckets which is something I never do. I actually have a fairly good game and at half time it is the same old story of us being unable to score. I make the half time score 3-2 to them but Ivan insists he has scored a hat-trick already and its 3-3. That’ll do. Second half we have a good spell and after I drop a few clangers we find ourselves 7-5 up (not including the mysterious third goal Ivan claimed). This is of course them without Jev on, who takes it easy and as soon as he comes on he thumps and soon they are right back in it, gradually turning the corner and taking the lead. Annoyingly I make some great saves but equally I let in a number of fucking stupid soft goals, usually from Jev. At the end of the game I make it 12-9 to them without the mysterious third first half goal. Inside the changing room the score line reaches 12-11. Ultimately again we should have won but everyone seemed to be having shooting nightmares and Andrew, back for his first game in about five weeks after breaking ribs, wasn’t as usual. I now smell bad as my result.

Random thought: I fucking hate the fact that people have in the past accused me of being mean spirited just because I failed to compromise to their way of thinking/acting. Slimy fucks pointing fingers for not getting their ways.

OK, one bath later and both Sarah and Azmei start texting me. Tit for tat, I think I piss Sarah off when I make a similar kind of remark/swipe as her last week. And Azmei is kidding no one other than herself with regards to what she is doing, I quote.

Come 10.30 now in the evening and it is unendurably hot and I have drunk my flat dry. I fucking hate summer. Big Brother is on and Victor in the diary room is pure hip hop poetry. Obviously at first I thought he was an arrogant but the guy is hilarious, he can only be the adopted kid of a suburban white middle class family to be THAT poetic and rebellious. Sweet dreams chicken.

np: Beastie Boys – Pass The Mic

June 8 (Tuesday): I wake up after a really restless night. I find have slept on my tv remote and mobile phone. The sheet has come off my duvet and the duvet itself appears to have turned inside out within the cover. And I had a dream I was eating a giant marshmallow and when I wake up, my pillow is missing (ok, I made that one up). I’m in a weird mood; I’m laid back but pseudo panicky. I feel absent minded but carefree, so what if I forget to take pens, someone will lend me a pencil case.

I drive the A12 and get the Chelmsford by 9.00, a full hour before the exam. Whoops. I sit listening to Moyles, attempting last minute revision. Moyles makes me wet myself and I am way too relaxed (I think the St John’s Wort is finally kicking in). Sarah, Azmei and Phoebe all text me wishing me “good luck�, points scored there girls (yes I am that fickle). I wear my Millwall shirt for the sitting to look like Captain Thug the accountant that should really be in Portugal today. Prior to entering the exam hall I see a few faces I recognise but I’m too twitchy to indulge any of them. The exam begins and the questions seem funny. My approach is poor, I am making too many notes on the question paper and soon I realise that I have wasted half an hour of the three. Maybe the fact the first question is about a zoo throws me, I AM AN ACCOUNTANT JIM, NOT A VETERINARIAN. I also look around and wonder “what do the invigilators do for the rest of the year?� The exam actually turns out to be fucking hard and I write twenty pages on audit in three hours only making the minimum of my answers up on the spot.

After the exams I remain too twitchy to indulge my acquaintances. I drive bemused, half confident and half confused. The radio is good stuff though, scarily playing great songs by people beginning with the letter S, and this is not on purpose. Indulging in the Sugababes, Scissor Sisters, Strokes doing “Someday� and Rachel Stevens soon turns me around. I got into Sainsbury to continue the S motif and buy Strepsils for my Sore throat. I Stagger around in my Millwall, larging it hoping to look like a Shoplifter (and definitely not a Shirt lifter). When I get home, Ivan texts asking if I can play Soccer tomorrow. I answer “Sure!� The afternoon is a dead lose, the Sweltering Sun and heat renders me incapable of further Study for tomorrow’s tax exam. Whoops, this is really needed. I can’t concrete though, as when I arrive home my groundskeeper obviously wants a conversation and I obviously don’t. He is Strange, Simple and in this heat probably Smelly. Call me a Snob but I defy you to do any different. I now expect him however to Scratch my car and dent it with his Shovel Spade as soon as I return to work. Further from this, in the afternoon to proceed to pester Sara on MSN instead of any tax revision. I am too laid back. And thus ends today’s paragraph of incidents beginning with S.

Phoebe texts in the afternoon telling me that my text about the exam (“I’m an accountant not a vet!�) made her laugh out loud. I now realise the last ten text messages logged in my phone are all from her.

Whoops, I take the rest of the evening easy (ie do not pick up a book)

Today’s blog has been brought to you by the letter S and the number 100%

np: Folk Implosion – Free To Go

June 7 (Monday): another slack day except tomorrow is the audit exam. I make the mistake of waking up way too early this morning and combine that to the fact that it is the warmest/hottest day of the year so far, it can only equate to nausea.

The morning is a real dead zone with regards to study. I bug Sara on MSN for a bit and I find I am annoying myself, let alone how much I must be annoying her. I can’t be arsed to study so instead I lie butt naked listening to the audio CD of the course. Once that’s done I don’t really feel any better so I begin to worry. And what is the recurring theme of revision recently: watching Woody Allen films. Today’s selection is Everyone Says I Love. Begs the question: what ever happened to Gabby Hoffmann?

Lunch arrives and I leave the house. I make the hard choice between Asda and Tesco (the latter) and stagger out in the zombie mode which appears to have taken me over today. I must look a right state: crap beard, greasy hair, steamed up glasses, red faced, wearing crap polo shirt over old Millwall shirt cos I'm embarrassed by it. Still, I’m hot as I have a great smile.

In the afternoon, in the stifling heat, I do manage to make some progress. Again I am skim studying, which is a half arsed method of revision involving looking at questions and going “yeah I could answer that� as opposed to actually attempting the questions. All peace is shattered around 4pm when Marceline Diskant and Greg Kitten hit me on MSN, which is the most welcome of distractions: human contact, great on a day like today where I am unlikely to actually speak to another living being.

I haven’t heard from the Grammar Boys over the course of the weekend which now makes me suspicious and paranoid, especially after one emailed me at the weekend to tell me how the other is “at it again�.

Stop the presses: Tom has emailed, and like Chris, reckons B is lonely. The world is a stinking place sometimes, like a fool I text her to some response, half hoping she doesn’t reply at all. However Dad also gets in touch and he went to the hospital today and the lump in his neck is nothing to worry about, which ultimately is the main thing that counts at the end of the day.

Going through my textbooks I come across a post-it note stating: “my life feels like I am trying to memorise a Douglas Coupland book off by heart and I’ve been trying to do so and catch up for nearly ten years�.

This evening is smouldering; I really wish I had a bird to be with on this kind of night. I give up on revising shortly after 9pm with the plan standing at: Audit 50%, Tax 21% and overall 36%.

np: The Jesus Lizard – Show (LP)

here is Bohemian Grove. It's doing very good these days 

Chernobyl: it looks nicer than it is 

June 6 (D-Day Sunday): I wake up screaming (not quite but y’know). I had a dream about Stevo crashing over at my flat (as he does) and totally taking it over, going through all my stuff (including my diary) and causing so much havoc we end up smacking the shit out of each other. Once that was over (I won), I hear my neighbours (two older ladies) telling me off, telling me that I am a bad/loud neighbour and that is why people are moving out (two flats are currently up for sale after the one that sold for £95,000 a few weeks ago). From there one of the ladies takes me out for a Sunday dinner and she gives me advice akin to my shrink. Don’t like it.

Once up, I immediately MSN Sara. She makes light of all my woes and I’m not overly amused. And worse she tells me in text message language “sweet dream = shag me�. I am so gullible.

Bad news: my belly button is dripping. I don’t know why, I don’t know what I did. I guess I’m ill.

I can no longer study/revise in the flat (Bohemian Grove) so I opt to sneak into Chernobyl (the office) and work from there. It goes so so but can’t I go one day without seeing Colchester’s equivalent of Ian Huntley and Maxine Carr? I also see Lindsey, who is cheekily parking at the office on a Sunday. Looks like she had been shopping with her, limited fun to be had there I’d imagine. I also find Stevo has left me a Panini Euro 2004 sticker book and stickers which is equally as cool as it is weird. He the man! Things soon go a bit pear shaped when it turns out I have forgotten to bring some very important stuff so back home I head but not before procrastinating and pumping up my the rear tyre on my car and buying a day old sandwich for lunch from Tesco. Back in the flat I MSN Sara some more, being a bit arsey and a bit of a tosser. This continues when I text her from the office when I get bored mid afternoon. I text Azmei too, I basically text anyone except Phoebe for whom I can’t think of anything good enough to say. I suspect I really piss Sara off by texting her “sweet dreams� and “fuck me� when she is obviously with her (latest) boyfriend. Ho ho.

However by five it is Disney time, they are showing Dragonslayer on BBC2, which I don’t recall being overly good but it fuck it it’s got the guy from Ally McBeal embarrassingly young and naïve starring in it. EXCEPT it gets postponed due to the fucking tennis.

I’m struggling to gauge just how well revision really is going and the time is coming when it needs to be on as in two days time they shall begin. The progress per my Excel revision plan states: Audit 39%, Tax 21% and Overall 30%. However I will make the 50% target tomorrow on Audit but is gaining 11% in one day really an accurate measure of accomplishment/achievement? I dunno, so instead I bid on a Region 1 copy of Ciao! Manhattan on Ebay. Very gay.

All this though, it’s nothing because Phoebe texts in the evening to tell me how cool the new Virgin Alice Cooper/mingers advert is, which I told her was cool. Pretty good. And ironically a Julia Stiles film is on tv tonight.

The day ends with me laughing my tits off at Steve Claridge at Weymouth. He should never have left Millwall. Or gambled two million away but that’s another story. It is almost 10pm and it is SO WARM!

np Mike Watt – Chinese Firedrill

June 5 (Saturday): wake up, it’s a beautiful morning. I study some and then head home (in Clacton). There, I pretty much do fuck all. I’m an obvious grump and don’t really want to talk to the olds about anything. As per usual I just watch their Sky and eat their food. England are on (main reason for visiting) and they look good, beating Iceland 6-1. Afterwards we have a barbecue and I feel bloated (in a bad way). At some point mum tells me dad has found a new lump in his neck and that they’re off to the doctors Monday. They’re also off to Cyprus Tuesday. I’d rather bury my head in the sand. Instead I watch American Splendor yet again, its a lot more safer than real life and I find it easier to associate with a cranky old grump.

I make it home early for an eventless Saturday (short weekend but big longing). Can’t be arsed to study so instead I watch some show about how the USA is an empire and it’s a good thing. I guess the former is true so why dispute the latter (I’m looking at you Michael Moore). Yuks occur afterwards when they have the Big Brother task live on tv and Marco throws up live on air. Jackass! And a major bonus for the evening, I find my passport! Look out world. Beyond that though, I fall asleep and lie back and think of England. These are times.

np Death In Vegas – Girls

Media Player Play Count Top 30 (on my parents PC)

1) Slint - Ron
2) Cave In - Anchor
3) Willie Williams - Armagideon Time
4) Helmet - You Borrowed
5) Kings Of Leon - Molly's Chambers
6) Manic Street Preachers - From Despair To Where
7) Manic Street Preachers - The Masses Against The Classes
8) Arab Strap - The Shy Retirer
9) Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Stop
10) Manic Street Preachers - There By The Grace Of God
11) Beatles - Cry Baby Cry
12) Manic Street Preachers - Faster
13) Nina Simone - Ain't Got No/I Got Life
14) Beatles - Hey Bulldog
15) Nirvana - Turnaround
16) Breeders - Cannonball
17) Gil Scott-Heron - Lady Day And John Coltrane
18) Anjai - Strawberry Mousse
19) The Blitters - Eating Your Brains
20) Nirvana - Mexican Seafood
21) Breeders - Freed Pig
22) Blonde Redhead - Symphony Of Treble
23) Pharcyde - Passin' Me By
24) Hole - Gold Dust Woman
25) Tarwater - The Watersample
26) Beyonce - Crazy In Love
27) Red Hot Chili Peppers - My Friends
28) Miles Davis - Summertime
29) Black Flag - Drink, Drive, Kill
30) A Tribe Called Quest - Award Tour

June 4 (Friday): I wake up swimming in pessimism. Last night was a drag, I guess I take things hard and overreact inside but still no one likes being made to feel like Mr Irrelevant do they. I really worry more than ever these days over how girls perceive me, god they seem to enjoy boring the hell out of me telling me their life’s stories. In Anything Else Woody Allen says “I have this belief that too much rejection causes cancer�. Maybe.

Today I am at home and it’s with the intention to study, focus and pass. However I just know that once the tv gets turned on I will be lost from study. And it happens almost immediately, I switch on the telly as soon as I wake up and it never gets turned off. Still, I do skim study, which in itself is alarming as it isn’t really a very productive way of learning/revising.

I jack in for lunch and head for Asda. I check my emails and Chris has had B texting him. I’ve emailed her a couple of times recently but she texts only him and not me. This lingers and prolongs my slump (exam season sends me insane anyways). Asda will probably be my one sole area of entertainment today (poor state of affairs) so I really make the most out of it (loser).

I come back to an email telling me that I am “a disgrace to the Ebay community�. Jesus, the guy should see me in everyday life. My kingdom for some horse....or a place in the Big Brother house.

However, I am back in touch with Phoebe today so that will make any bad day better although as I type this Soulseek has gone offline, restoring my row of bad luck.

Friday afternoon depression (FAD) arrives. I watch Woody Allen movies again instead of revising/studying. For some reason to me there is a real ring to watching Woody Allen movies on Friday afternoons, I think it is because I can equate it to watching Broadway Danny Rose whilst skiving off college when younger and watching Hollywood Ending whilst on holiday in Sacramento last year, both on Friday arbos. These films have a warm brown glow that is timeless and are seeped in subtle dry wit much akin to myself (ho ho). Anything Else particularly touches a nerve, the way Jason Biggs is with Christina Ricci and yet she keeps rejecting him point blank 100% until it serves her needs…..did Woody write this movie with me in mind?

Friday night in, my god that is tragic. It begins with me watching Reefer Madness and glancing out of the window watching the night transform into gold (from a summer’s evening’s weather sense).

I am loving Big Brother, I don't want any of them to leave the house. Stuart is a floppy twat though, be cool if he got the boot. Kitten can't leave, she's a stupid cow but she keeps arguing with everyone and it’s priceless. Ahmed's arguments are great too, especially the one he had with Marco. Also keep Nadia in, she's well funny, she looks rougher by the day, poor bloke. Plus Emma is so thick, she makes me feel like Stephen Hawking. However though it is Kitten that gets the boot tonight and by the end of the interview with Davina (looking good these days by the way) she is looking uncomfortable and squirmy to the point that she is about to have a breakdown. They say contestants get screened before psychologists before going in, well then how the hell did she get through? Plant!
Shortly after I receive a text message wishing me “sweet dreams� and it makes my day complete. Sweet dreams.

np Kelis – Rolling Through The Hood

Wow, I just got flamed by email (a flame email). Do people actually still send them?

Depressed.

June 3 (thursday): Ouch. I'm officially worried, my fortunes appear to have taken a down turn. I can't really take much from today. I woke up at 4am screaming. No, that's a lie, I just woke up at 4am. Azmei gave me a lift to work and I placate her in conversation all the way. Poor old Lindsey got neglected in the process and basically walked away from us in the same manner in which I once got condemned for. Unfortunately right now I would rather talk to her than Azmei, I feel I'd get more sense. I actually had a good day at work, I feel back on form and useful again, fortunately I went a day without talking to certain bosses. I played games today and didn't bother to text Phoebe and right back at me, she didn't bother to text me. Read into that what you will. Lunch was spent wandering around like a loser, my god I have become so reliant on having someone to walk around with. To cheer myself up I purchase this months Loaded.

Tonights session was dubious at best, I'm once more no longer telling the truth (or at least all the facts) and Iris is (unintentionally) talking down to me I feel. I accept all blame, except I'm the only one pointing fingers. I reeled back quotes to her from Drew and I embarassed myself to hear the words trickle from my mouth. She asks me "why do you bother talking to anyone at your workplace, they all sound so obnoxious". I am really so confused, what on earth am I doing wrong in life when I am actually so good/right/decent?

I didn't tell her I was going for a drink with Sarah tonight, I thought it might give her the wrong idea. And talk about wrong ideas. The drink made me so angry. We wound up in the Hospital Arms, full of old people but at least quiet. Partway through the drink some other fucking Asian mug phones her from some internet singles/matrimonial website sounding soppy and arrogant all at once. I'm left hanging like a Muppett as she goes outside to hear some bullshit. I point out the internet is for geeks and paedophiles and then she launches into another tale of some other dot head and how he is trying it on and she is asking ME what is he playing at. I stop short of saying "he's trying to fuck you, like all men who take women out". No, instead I just stay polite and fume (embarassingly I feel myself going red). Women can be so fucking ignorant and insulting. Won't put up with that again. It's a horrible sight to see a woman remove her personality and replace it with a cunt.

np Nick Cave - People Ain't No Good

June 2 (wednesday): Another day another doughnut. Good start, Azmei gave me a lift into work after all and Lindsey wasn't around to fuck up our conversation. Lindsey looks bad, she's already a keep fit freak and now she's getting smaller and smaller (in a bad way) and absolutely worst of all, she still looks really sad, down and depressed for it, as if she's accomplishing something difficult only to realise it is an empty resolution/accomplishment. I haven't spoken to her since February now (elongated strop on my part) and I feel really bad about it, even worse now than when she blew me out back in February. Otherwise at work though it is a good day. I'm back on Pipeline Maintenance (another one of Barlow's started but not finished projects) and it goes well. Ivan seems to be acting as interpretor/middle man between me and Barlow these days, which is a less than ideal way to be but I just can't work with him when he (Cris) has such a low opinion of my work. Stevo is about and as per the scheme of things were are going bollo at each other, hurling abuse and bitching eachother out. We argue about Lord Of The Rings for no reason. I text Phoebe and for a second day she gets back to me, texting laughs at me. She adds the most sense to the arguments with "how can you argue over that, there is only ONE ring". At lunchtime I stagger around town with Azmei for a bit but we've drifted now and are unlikely to ever recoup the great friendship we had six months ago now. Fun times continue back in the office though when I pick up the new issue of Maxim and it has a free whistle inside it. Everytime now Stevo pisses me off, I blow him off. This is officially my new rape whistle. Luckily he fucks off early afternoon and I'm left to finish Pipeline in peaces.

At six we play a big league match in five-a-side against Birkett Long. Annoyingly Andrew phoned in early and laughed it off, leaving us a bit in the lurch but still we were fairly confident. There is a good atmosphere pre-match but soon it is revealed that we don't have much more than Ivan on for us tonight. And this with us having six players and them only five. We take a very early lead and things look immediately good but slowly they gradually roll up a good store, unfortunately seeing me let in, once more, too many soft goals. Just before half time we pull back to 5-6 and I'm already waving for half time. Unfortunately they get another and then disaster as Jeremy puts on through my legs for an own goal and then he gets stolen on the edge of the area and Jez thrashes one past me making it 9-5 at half time. I improve in the second half (wanker) but we barely score and eventually the game ends, not before time, at (at least) 14-6 to Birkett's. In order to win the league we really needed this one. Now, I guess we are in with a slight chance providing a good/big win against Anglia Grain but that's not really likely at all unfortunately.

Post match spirits were once more low again and I have to post Ebay sales and get groceries. I've restarted Atkins but it is all just shooting through me, so I am now back on cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Cinnamon Grahams are currently doing football CD-ROMs so they're cool. I get in just past eight and manage to revise solidly.....until 8.30. I peruse the old tax papers and I soon clock that every paper has a VAT question and a waffle financial advice question, so there is some light of optimism suddenly showing (I must text Phoebe with this to help raise spirits elsewhere too). So my revision progress currently stands at: tax 12% audit 23% and overall 18%. I love it when a plan comes together.

np Johnny Thunders - You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory

June 1 (tuesday): Good day. It begins with Azmei picking me up and soon we're having an argument and not talking as we (and Lindsey) walk to work in silence. Before leaving the house I was watching The Sopranos to see how professionals argue with their women (ho ho). We're fine though really, its just a sad time, today is one of only five days remaining of me and Azmei being in the office together, these are bad times. Work is actually pretty fun. Seymour is off on holiday in America and whenever he's not around nor are his fellow partners, so when the cats away.... Stevo is in and on good form, we hurl abuse at eachother all day which is fucking funny, we shout the worst things imaginable at eachother and its just funny when it really ought not be. Today I brave and decide to text Phoebe after yesterdays email failure. I gather enough confidence by mid morning (after telling anyone who will listen about her) and send it around 11.20. I get no response, my heart sinks and my world plunges. At lunchtime I wander into town with Azmei and as we reach the corner of Head Street and Crouch Street my phone beeps and just as I am reading who the message is Mark's mum suddenly appears and starts hitting me with an umbrella to get my attention. Yes the text is from Phoebe and spirits rise sky high. The rest of the day is fantastic and funny and work is the most enjoyable it has been in a long time, even to the point I actually work a little late!!!! When I get home I attempt to revise/study but it doesn't go, doesn't work. I go over the text books a bit and things begin to look encouraging but as soon as I pick up a tax past paper I practically fall asleep. In the meantime I am listening to Sonic Youth MP3s and feeling that it is their time again. My study percentages for today are: Advanced Audit 22% Advanced Tax 12% and Overall 17% but most importantly 3 texts from Phoebe. Yes! At the very same time England play Japan at football and draw one-one, fucking pathetic. Time to sleep and awaken from this bad dream.

np Superchunk - Late-Century Dream