So on Tuesday I’m back in the gym where I do shoulders and abs and I would like to stay and do some back too perhaps, but I have a toilet to block. So I pick up as much blue paper towel as I can and stuff it in my pockets (blue paper towel of “please do not put blue paper towel in the toilet as it may result in blockage” fame) and I head for the cubicle.
In the cubicle, I throw the blue paper towel down the toilet, flush the toilet, flush the toilet again, take a piss for good measure, flush the toilet a third time. At this point the blue paper towel is stuck there and the water is overflowing. I walk out and the guy who’s queuing outside walks in, takes a look and walks out again.
Under the illusion that my job there is done, I head to the showers, where I wash my hair, shower and empty two full containers of shampoo and shower gel on the floor. I walk back to the toilet to inspect the mess, only to realize that I have to try a lot harder than that. A cleaner guy is there, he has simply pulled out the blue paper towel that was causing a minor blockage and the toilet is working perfectly fine.
Undeterred by this initial failure, but realizing this just won’t do, I make two decisions: a) to get hold of some cement, b) to ask blog readers with plumbing experience for the best toilet-blocking techniques.
Well actually, as it’s becoming apparent that the sabotage so far has only affected the poor cleaner who’s had to stick his hand down the toilet and replace the shower gel a lot more often that he imagined when he left his little village in Venezuela to come to London and chase his dream (of scrubbing gym floors), I now decide to take the advice of a blog reader from last week and do away with a gym towel each day. I go to that particular gym 4 times a week, and yes fine, 208 towels per year will not make a huge dip in their budget, but it’s a start.
And because I have no intention of taking these cum/sweat/blood soaked towels at home and use them there, I’ll just stuff one in my bag every day, take it out, and put it in the bin right outside the gym.
On Wednesday morning on the way to work I accidentally pick up a copy of Metro and as I go through it turning each page and folding it neatly before moving to the next one without reading it (it’s very satisfying neatly folding a newspaper along the crease – well, I get my kicks out of it anyway), I come across the following picture.
From what I can gather (and I’m not that perceptive), this shows us the contestants for the new series of the TV show The Apprentice. I am not here to discuss the TV show The Apprentice, which I have absolutely no fucking interest in, but I’m here to discuss the picture. Well OK, in brief the show is a competition amongst 16 monkeys to get a £100,000/year job. And this has to do with being good in business, which I personally find a skill as enviable as being good at skinning dead children.
Anyway, these people in the picture have decided that this is what they want to do with their lives, so who am I to stop them? What I want to do is make comments on the way they look and how they’re positioned.
(By the way I know this picture is quite small, I couldn’t find another. If you can, please send).
OK, so look at the guy number 1 (the guy sitting down in the middle, wearing the pink tie) . He’s in the centre of the picture (well, if you ignore the old geezer who runs the show), he has the best lights on him, he’s the best looking. How do you think he landed there, in that prominent spot? Is it because he’s the smartest, because he’s the most competent, because he’s the richest? No, it’s because of his looks.
Who cares who wins this fucking show, this guy has already won. So what is the fat guy (to the right of the woman in red) lurking behind in the shadows ends up landing the job. Our guy doesn’t give a fuck: he gets served first at the bar, he gets all the girls, he gets the best restaurant table.
Now please also look at the other two guys on the front row (sitting down, either end), yes, they’re the only other good looking people in the game. Not as good looking as the middle gay - who the producers would have been insane to position anywhere else - but better looking than everyone else they're hiding in the back. And here are close ups of the guys discussed, and some of the other losers.
Painfully good looking middle guy:
(Of course I stole that from somewhere – can’t remember where – but I like it a lot. Anyway, I’ll type it again cause I want to close with that, to leave a lasting impression).
Appearance is fate.