Kévin

So this Saturday was pretty much an utter washout for about a hundred reasons, but let’s just start off with the events only a few hours after it started.

Living in a city centre flat it’s not unusual for cunts druken clubbers to press the intercom every so often at unsocial times in the night. The sound this thing makes is probably louder than the fire alarms, but thankfully I have developped a tolerance of about 1 or 2 buzzes before I wake up with a shock and that shit drops like it’s hot when I’m woken up.

At 3.21 (I remember this as I used it as a part of a venomous rant) it started buzz Buzz BUZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ I literally jump out of bed, slammed my foot on the floor in shock and ribs screaming out like I just been punched. I came up to the intercom and blasted out WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKING WANT, IT’S THREE-TWENTY-FUCKING-ONE IN THE MORNING?!?!?//1/1/1/ONEONEONE she replies I want to speak to Keith, I know he lives on this road, I need to speak to him! I’ve just been mugged and I want to speak to Keith! at this point I enabled tolerance mode, he’s not in this flat, I think he’s either 4 or 1. Do you need the police? she replies No, I want Keith, I want to speak with Keith. Which button are you so I don’t press you again, Keith lives on this street! I tell her I’m the second button to the top and I leave her to it.

She continues to sound the death siren on my intercom regardless. At this point tolerance mode is starting to ware thin, I offered assistance, it was declined, ignored and she’s clearly pissed as a fart.

The next person she gets is the woman below me, who is actually rather nice (she cleaned the entire public areas from ground to top floors carpets, tile floor and dusted with no question just for the sake of it). Much like my greeting was WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, IT’S THREE FUCKING AM, WHAT ARE YOU STUPID?same conversation ensues "I want Keith *blah blah* lives on this street *blah blah*" she mentions the mugging thing, the lady down stairs offers to ring the police which is declined. Like me she then left her to it.

Yet, still continues to buzz every flat in the building. Now I’m already savage about this as she’s got as much help from two random strangers she could ever need chucked it in our faces and is continuing to annoy us, even though it appears Keith either doesn’t fucking live here or he’s not in if he did. It’s also not considering that I have to be up in 90 minutes for work and same thing with the flat below as they both work weekends as well.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BUZZ* *BUZZ* *BUZZ* (and repeat).

I’m just about to pick up the intercom and read her the riot act when the window below opens up and the woman below (who is quite Spanish) basically tells her how it is.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING? IF YOU DON’T WANT THE POLICE THEN FUCK OFF, FUCKING BITCH IT’S THREE AM, GO AWAY, HE’S NOT HERE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, STUPID BITCH" she retorts BUT I’VE BEEN MUGGED DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND I WANT KEITH, HE LIVES HERE, ON THIS STREET, HOW LONG HAVE YOU LIVED THERE? KEITH HAS LIVED HERE LONGER THAN YOU HAVE" now by now I probably would have poured a kettles worth of boiling water on her head, I totally understand that she’s in a shitty place right now, but we tried to help her and actually it’s her problem and not ours that she got mugged. The arguement contnued for another 15 minutes with highlights of FUCKINGSTUPIDFUCKINGBITCHFUCKYOU and KEITH HE LIVES HERE ON THIS STREET.

By about 4am she finally fucks off, where she went who the fuck cares, but maybe she sobered up enough to go find a copper. I know the woman downstairs called them, but at that time on a Saturday morning the ETA for any emergency service is somewhere around an hour by phone. I managed to get less than an hours sleep after that and I was not feeling being awake when I woke up again to go to work.

To and from work I was just hanging, I couldn’t get my brain to spark and it was pretty much information in, garbage out.

Once I got home this over-all tiredness on top of everything kind of made me crack a bit under the pressure. I was lying in bed, well, the sofa as my airbed popped on christmas day and I worked out that for yet another month I’m going to have £150 less than I need to basically exist (because it’s not living I’ll tell you that now). This month is pretty bad, I worked out I can’t watch television for the remainder of the month as I don’t have the electricity to spare (I’m on a pre-payment meter) now when you don’t have any money at all to go out and do things Television is about all you have to keep you from going insane.

I also had only £10 for my food budget, so I sat there feeling guilty because I spent £5 on a taco kit and beef from Tescos as it meant I basically had only enough to buy 40 sausages and 2kg of chips from Iceland (£3) followed by a few instant noodles (at 10p each), toilet roll (ASDA Smart Price) and a few deoderants and shower gells (again all cheap Smart Price stuff) to live off for the rest of the month. It also got to me that I don’t have a pair of socks that isn’t 2 years old and without holes in them, I haven’t bought a new item of clothing probably since 2009 and I pretty much have no social life to speak of.

So I kind of sparked last night and I kind of decided that I have no other option but to stop paying for the debt that is keeping me down still. This means that basically I’m going to have to make an appointment with the CAB to see about IVAs or possibly even Bankruptcy as I can’t keep on top of it any more.

I’ve cut my budget as far down as I could, I’ve even cut in to essential items, I’ve sold as much as I possibly can on eBay, I’ve had to take my car off the road and I might even have to get rid of it and it’s affecting my mental and physical state so severely it’s not healthy to continue like this. But when the end of this month hits and these companies don’t get their cash it’s going to be an onslaught of harassment from debt collection companies which means I’ll basically be scared of picking up my phone again.

I have to ask why does my life have to end up so shit? There must be some kind of logic to this, because I work hard enough for it not to be shit (6 days a week and on call 24/7). But here I am getting ready to cook saussage and chips which I’ve been eating for over a month now.

But on the brightside I have at least lost nearly 2 stone. So there are few positives.

So about to make an effort to go back to work tomorrow, seems like a good plan really. But not really looking forward to using another car to travel down that particularly unkept road in similar conditions.

This is that fight or flight stuff they talk about, stupid instinct. Other than a pointless fear of nothing I managed to not only buy a strawberry cheese cake, but I also seriously ate the whole thing like a fatty. So much for losing a stone!

Today I lived life on the edge by watching Aladdin, good times!

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

So this morning I receive a call, the man is clearly barking mad, or at
least this is what it transpires to be for about 30 seconds before it
clicks in, this might be a wind up. Imagine the following them
parts in a highly posh voice and not completely verbatum.

Me: Alroite m’luver* Hot Balloon Flight Corp Ltd, Kevin Speaking, how can
I be of help?
Them: Calvin? Yes?
Me: It’s Kevin.
Them: It’s Harrold Double-Barrelled Surname!
Me: Hello!
Them: I’m looking for a balloon flight, like that Richard Branson chap!
Me: *SORRY YOU’VE NOT CALLED VIRGIN LAUGH HERE*
Them: I’m looking for a valentines flight!
Me: Well unfortunately I don’t have one on valentines day as we are fully
booked, however, I can do a voucher for a flight on a later date.
Them: I don’t want a voucher, I would like a flight! Can I book a flight
and I’ll call it a valentines gift!
Me: Alright, we start off from (price) for M-F AM vouchers…
Them: (price) QUUUUUIIIID THAT’S AMAZING!
Them: I want to book a ballon flight to Paris, can I fly to Paris?!
Me: (phone on mute) I have a fucking wind up here.
Me: I’m sorry we can’t fly to Paris I’m afraid, we can only fly up to 10
miles from where we take off.
Them: I want to fly from my estate in Leicestershire to Paris!
Me: Unfortunately we can’t do that I’m afraid, it’s not possbile.
Them: Richard Branson did it around the world!
Me: (wtf pause) …. (more blank space) I’m sorry that’s not possible
with one of our ride flights..
Them: Calais!
Me: Unfortunately that’s not possible I’m afraid.
Them: London!
Me: Unfortunately that’s not possible I’m afraid.
Them: Paris!
Me: Unfortunately that’s not possible I’m afraid.
Them: So what can I do for valentines?
Me: As I have advised I can do a flight voucher for another time,
however, we wouldn’t be able to do what you have asked for. Is there
anything else I can do for you today otherwise I will need to terminate
this call.
Them: Vienna!
Me: I’m sorry I now have to terminate this call, thank you for calling
good bye.

After I got off the phone I said, that sounded like a piss poor radio
prank, and more than likely to be from the countries shittiest local radio
station, Heart FM.

The prank was neither cleaver nor funny, so it had to be them!

We later listened to the call again, did a google on the name he used and
low and behold it was Heart FM out of the East Midlands. Supprise.

I found the washed up looking never have beens on Facebook. Now I ponder
revenge. Suggestions?

* = Definately not verbatum, but quite local.
Related Twitterings: here and here.

edit: missing some ‘T’ action up there..