No work this week. Just loads of expense. After careful consideration about whether or not to sell my car, I decided not to. I need it for my fun adventures on the M25. And besides, I like my little roller skate on wheels.
But this month is car month. Tax, MOT, and insurance are all due by the end of the month and as we all know, you can't get one without the other. So I took it round to the garage and ended up having a long chat with the nice man. He asked me what I do for a living and I ended up telling him all about being made redundant, looking for work, trying to freelance, the difficulties of it all and he said what most people say - "have you thought about doing something else".
I explained that I like what I do and I don't want to do anything else. Having said that, I wouldn't mind being an MP. All that sleaze and free money. Plus you only have to turn up a few days a year, disagree with what the other side say and fall asleep. Garage man sympathised but it didn't reduce the bill at all.
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Wednesday 22 April 2009
Friday 17 April 2009
JUST CALL ME MAX CLIFFORD
I've been on the phone to a reporter at the News of the World today. Being skint does funny things to your morals. That, coupled with a woman scorned is a seriously bad combination. Let me explain...
My friend Claire got involved with one of her clients about a year ago. Not the most professional thing to do but they got on, he wooed her by text and phone calls and the next thing I know she's in love with someone she's never met. An unexplained phenomena that I can relate to. Turns out he's a Z list celebrity. Possibly even Y. He's a member of a very successful 80's band who are still around today. Consequently he's loaded.
He flew to London to meet Claire, and despite the fact he has a serious height defect (slightly taller than Jimmy Krankie), they embarked upon a relationship. He flew her up and down the country, they stayed in 5-star hotels and he showered her with gifts. Some months later she got a call one morning from an irate woman professing to be his wife (turned out it wasn't his wife - just his girlfriend of 2 years that he'd omitted to mention).
Claire was heart-broken. She managed to maintain a professional relationship with him but was devastated by the deceit. The harassment and phone calls from the girlfriend went on, whilst the tiny pop star continued his declarations of undying love for Claire. A few months later she got a call from the tiny pop star's best friend (a woman) telling her he was beside himself, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him and if only he could turn back time (it wasn't Cher).
Then he contacted her. She listened to what he had to say. About how he couldn't stand losing her (it's not Sting), how it had been the worst few months of his life, how the girlfriend was history and how he'd never met anyone like Claire and realised what a terrible mistake he'd made. He'd do anything to win her love but he didn't have a clue (it's not Lionel Ritchie either). There was no going back for Claire and she told him as much, but wanted no ill feeling. A week later the nutty girlfriend was back on the blower telling Claire to stay away from her (tiny) boyfriend or else. Turned out he still hadn't found it in his heart to dump her - especially since she now had a terrible illness. Tradgedy. And no - it wasn't one of the Bee Gees. Or Steps.
So Claire is a woman scorned not once, but twice and that's how I found myself on the phone to the the News of the World. She wants revenge. I want a holiday. We have evidence in bucketloads. But they only offered 5 grand in the end. Not worth losing your job over, or indeed your integrity. Selling a story on someone to the papers is not a cool thing to do. I don't think Claire would have gone ahead with it for any amount of money. And I wouldn't usually have encouraged it, but to cut a long story short, I lost my mind. (Nope - not Spandau Ballet either).
I'm going to have to think of another way to make a fast buck. I don't think Claire has heard the last of him though. I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my toes.
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My friend Claire got involved with one of her clients about a year ago. Not the most professional thing to do but they got on, he wooed her by text and phone calls and the next thing I know she's in love with someone she's never met. An unexplained phenomena that I can relate to. Turns out he's a Z list celebrity. Possibly even Y. He's a member of a very successful 80's band who are still around today. Consequently he's loaded.
He flew to London to meet Claire, and despite the fact he has a serious height defect (slightly taller than Jimmy Krankie), they embarked upon a relationship. He flew her up and down the country, they stayed in 5-star hotels and he showered her with gifts. Some months later she got a call one morning from an irate woman professing to be his wife (turned out it wasn't his wife - just his girlfriend of 2 years that he'd omitted to mention).
Claire was heart-broken. She managed to maintain a professional relationship with him but was devastated by the deceit. The harassment and phone calls from the girlfriend went on, whilst the tiny pop star continued his declarations of undying love for Claire. A few months later she got a call from the tiny pop star's best friend (a woman) telling her he was beside himself, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him and if only he could turn back time (it wasn't Cher).
Then he contacted her. She listened to what he had to say. About how he couldn't stand losing her (it's not Sting), how it had been the worst few months of his life, how the girlfriend was history and how he'd never met anyone like Claire and realised what a terrible mistake he'd made. He'd do anything to win her love but he didn't have a clue (it's not Lionel Ritchie either). There was no going back for Claire and she told him as much, but wanted no ill feeling. A week later the nutty girlfriend was back on the blower telling Claire to stay away from her (tiny) boyfriend or else. Turned out he still hadn't found it in his heart to dump her - especially since she now had a terrible illness. Tradgedy. And no - it wasn't one of the Bee Gees. Or Steps.
So Claire is a woman scorned not once, but twice and that's how I found myself on the phone to the the News of the World. She wants revenge. I want a holiday. We have evidence in bucketloads. But they only offered 5 grand in the end. Not worth losing your job over, or indeed your integrity. Selling a story on someone to the papers is not a cool thing to do. I don't think Claire would have gone ahead with it for any amount of money. And I wouldn't usually have encouraged it, but to cut a long story short, I lost my mind. (Nope - not Spandau Ballet either).
I'm going to have to think of another way to make a fast buck. I don't think Claire has heard the last of him though. I feel it in my fingers. I feel it in my toes.
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Friday 3 April 2009
ANARCHY ON THE M25
As the world leaders met for a crisis summit in London and anarchists waited for photographers to turn up before throwing a computer through an RBS window, I was en-route to leafy Godalming for two days work.
I left my house at 7.15am and it only took four and a half hours to complete the 50 mile journey. FOUR AND A HALF HOURS!!! I had spectacularly underestimated the power of the M25. As I sat there helpless, I was engulfed with the stress of letting my friend down (creative director of the agency I was trying to get to) and overwhelmed with frustration to the point of screaming. A complete waste of energy and it didn't make me feel any better.
When I eventually got to Godalming it occurred to me that it would have been quicker to fly to north Africa. The things I do to earn a crust. Next time I'll book into the local Travelodge. Do they have Travelodge's in prosperous Godalming? Probably not but I think I saw a Premier Inn.
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I left my house at 7.15am and it only took four and a half hours to complete the 50 mile journey. FOUR AND A HALF HOURS!!! I had spectacularly underestimated the power of the M25. As I sat there helpless, I was engulfed with the stress of letting my friend down (creative director of the agency I was trying to get to) and overwhelmed with frustration to the point of screaming. A complete waste of energy and it didn't make me feel any better.
When I eventually got to Godalming it occurred to me that it would have been quicker to fly to north Africa. The things I do to earn a crust. Next time I'll book into the local Travelodge. Do they have Travelodge's in prosperous Godalming? Probably not but I think I saw a Premier Inn.
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