Adrian Is London

Everyday?

2008-08-05T08:08:00.003+01:00

For the time being I'm giving up stand up. Instead Ive felt the urge to write a script grow inside me like Ive just been Face Hugged, but the story idea's I'm toying with sound rather similar.

1) The world is about to end in a horrible black hole kind of way and a guy has to return a kid to its parents so they can kill it before they are pulled apart by the atmosphere being sucked into the aforementioned black hole. If you hadnt already guessed this would be a jet black drama.

2. The world is about to end in a horrible black hole kind of way and two guys are trying to find somewhere to die. This would be a comedy.

I just thought to myself my favourite stories are where the world is about to end or it already is ending in a massive extinction event. But most end of the world fiction has two problems,

1)Its always about solving the situation and usually follows the president or someone else nobody gives a fuck about.

2) The world is usually saved by the above penis.

The only fiction that comes to mind that does the opposite are Zombie movies and a Canadian film called Last Night. Other than that, the black president will save the day (Vote Obama).

So I want to do something where the world ends. And by world ending I don't mean that society collapses (something people so addicted to society can't differentiate from true global apocalypse) I mean the planet itself gets chewed, fried, drowned, frozen, beaten and battered.

Another common misconception is that we wouldn't know about it until maybe the day before. This is of course nonsense. While yes a solar flare could happen with no warning and frying us in our own fat could happen at anytime but the chances we wouldnt notice before is close to zero. Odds are, we would have months of warning if not years to get ready to meet our makers (one maker would not have been enough). In those months and years humanity would take all the extremes you can think of. Anyone who was ever to rape someone would go out and fuck anything that could not fight back, people would steal all the shit they now don't have time to work for, massive partys as big as entire countrys would start and probably end in blood shed as the stress and pressure erupted. The time between the revelation (sorry to sound so biblical. But thats probably one of the first big apocalypse stories isnt it?) and the actual end would be the most insane and extreme period in human history.

The last great misconception is that the end of the world event itself would be sudden. The world would instantaniously dissapear in a blinding light and that would be it. Even if a meteorite hit we would have hours and hours to wait until death came along and took us for a ride. In the case of a black hole it would take a while as the last of humanity ,who didn't drown thanks to gravity pushing the sea around like someone getting into a bath, would gather on the highest ground imaginable and wait for that same gravitational pull to remove parts of their body slowly.

So after that digretion, I reckon the only way to make a script worthy of the greatest ever ticking clock. With all this happening and all the emotions that rise from the thought of garenteed death, I reckon the only option for a script is obvious.

It has to be funny as fuck.

Moderate severe deppresion and scaring small children.

2008-07-17T19:36:00.002+01:00

Today I did an internet quiz binge. Here is the lowdown on what I am.

1. Moe from the simpsons.
2. Mentally, Dress size 14.
3. A severely moderate depressive who scares children between the ages of 6 and 9.
4. An independent film maker.
5. A left breast.
6. A stallion in bed yet rubbish at talking.
7. Spiderman.
8. 67% more Unintelligent than average.
9. Irish.
10. A girl, in a quiz that predicts your gender based on your answers. 50% chance and I picked the manly blue square over the girly red circle and they still fucked it up.

The accuracy of these quizes is astounding, as I am indeed a suicidal breast who is so thick she gets the orders wrong in moes taven whilst on the side making films only assholes in berets understand. And I am also secretly spiderman.

On that note, I will go back to watching Tim Burtons Batman. So far I have noticed 2 gaping plot holes. This is going to be a very average evening.

Photos

2008-07-16T16:36:00.003+01:00

I hate having my picture taken inside an overly complicated block of plastic surrounded by children screaming about how their dealer has shoes they really want.

Clapham post office was far to busy for a Wednesday. Sitting in one of those photo booth things I felt like I was going to the toilet with a curtain covering the wrong bit. Trying to get the right position on the screen so some Hungarian guy will let me into his country next month was all the more challenging because no matter how many times I re took the picture I always looked like someone who hits you because I love you.

Now, for absolutely no apparent reason here is a list of things I have found on my bedroom floor.

1. A copy of edge purchased because I had a job interview at their publishers and wanted it to accidentally spill from my bag to make me look like the real shit. Unfortunately I never got a chance too so now I'm stuck with an overly complex coffee table wannabe on my bedroom floor.

2. Joop after shave, given to me by my brother in law. At first I thought he was against smelling nice, but then I realised he was against smelling like a group of guys with matching named t shirts with "azzas stag doooo" ironed on by their parents before covering Amsterdam in 8 different kinds of vomit.

3. A game cube controller. Thrown at the floor after realising I spent the whole of the 14th of July 2008 playing Super Smash brothers. Please take me back Katie.

4. H. G Welles The Time Machine. Yet to be read. I will probably not understand a word of it and feed it to my vegetarian house mate.

5. a 2 pence coin, this has no earthly value. I did not notice dropping it, and its not worth picking up. Its not like I have high standards or anything, Id wipe the popes mouth for a fiver. 2p just is not worth going down onto the floor next to....

6. An unused, open condom. I cannot be the only one to try unrolling the whole thing just to see if it would make a serviceable sock?

7. I am Legend, the book by Richard Matheson. Great book, probably not helping my new psychotic urge to see the human race devoured by some kind of monster so I can finally become the post apocalyptic hero I was always destined to be.

More tomorrow, and every day, for the rest of my pitiful life.

Its been a while. Again.

2008-07-15T19:50:00.003+01:00

I stared at my blog for a full two minutes. I would have said ten minutes for dramatic effect but then I would have stretched credibility claiming I stared at the same screen for the same amount of time it takes to watch half a Simpson's episode. And it would have made me sound like a thicky, which is sometimes the point of this blog but today is not one of them.

I had started, but never finished, seven blog entrys. All pretty much saying the same thing. But the situations as to why I'm saying it changes. Sometimes Im up north, some times Im happy, some times I unhappy.

Well, I'm going to finish it today. And one every fucking day for the rest of my life. Quality is no substitute for quantity, you should always aim to be mediocre because then the only people you can disappoint are your parents. And they probably never did any better.

Me and Katie broke up. This is becoming an unfortunate update but I guess this is the last time I will mention her on here until the first time we awkwardly run into each other whilst I shopping in Selfridges about to buy my new supermodel girlfriend a dress that costs more than a house (that I can afford thanks to my new job as "spoilt inheritances cunt"). Or more likely, she turns up having lost a little weight, wearing a dress that costs more than a house with her arm around a man who has actually been into space and gotten paid for it.

Actually, now I want to go through it. See how when your writing on the fly things can change? I may even talk about the holocaust later.

The break up has probably happened before. Not exactly like this, because it is hard to believe exactly how I did it and if I told you I could never look you in the face. Needless to say two conversations happened.

1) The man said something really stupid, that he knew was really stupid, but said it anyway and continued to say stupid things until dawn even though he knew that everything he said was stupid but thought that maybe if he keeps saying stupid things he can get out of the original act of stupidity.

2) To explain how stupid he was and to get out of a backed in corner, the man said something even more stupid, but this time he wanted it to come out better. "Like if Charlie Kauffman did it". But we are not all oscar winning screenwriters.

So thats that then. Lesson learned. Don't ever, ever say stupid things. Especially if they are stupid.

All if fair in love and war, except the people directly involved.

See you tomorow. And everyday. Unless I forget, and this last line becomes a flat out lie through lazyness.

I would throw up if I could afford to eat.

2008-04-25T17:01:00.002+01:00

Me and Katie are back together. My dicks fine. Right, on with the hate.

http://london.bnp.org.uk/

Watch this video.

Ok, once you have stopped vomiting, watch it again and replace the word "Local" with the word "white".

Why can't any politician just talk like a normal person? Why can't Brian Paddick just say we should vote for him because he is a gay copper and therefore, must know more about the hardships of life than Boris Johnson and Ken Livingstone? Why can't Boris Johnson just start doing stand up comedy rather than get into a job where he will probably ruin lives? Why can't Ken just, for the love of god, stop talking out of his arse.

And why can't the BNP just say, they don't like brown people, they don't believe the holocaust happened (regardless of what documents written at the time, witnesses and survivors have to say on the matter) and the reason why they do not like the UK anymore is because occasionally they have to share their seat on the bus with a guy from china.

My beliefs im going to keep to myself for now (although I have to say the BNP give children cancer) I just want someone in politics to call someone else a dick. Just once. "Well, I respect my opponent, but he is incorrect" is horse shit. "Your a dick, everything you stand for makes me want to be violently sick on you, and if I did it would probably improve how you smell you blithering thundercunt" is what I want to hear in the house of commons. Why do you think its called the house of commons? Where the hell did all these fucking private schooled, personally and aesthetically ugly people come from? They where the kind of kids at school who if you saw them in the playground chances are you would already be beating up. If your saw their face in the toilets you would just have to stick their face where the poo goes because they are so full of shit.

Nobody voted for our primeminister. Not one person. "But thats how the system works...." fuck that, its broken when some guy who looks like Golem after a few to many bowels of porridge has found himself incharge with not a single vote for him.

Who is the alternative? I used to be naive enough to think the Lib dems could win one day. But they won't because THEY DON'T DO ANYTHING. The only thing they are good at is keeping things quiet, like they actually have someone running for mayor, and who the new bloke is thats running it.

Why has there never been a black politician in charge of any of the majors? America is very, very close to beating us to it. America, a country where in Alabama its illegal to tickle someone with a feather duster on tuesday. Is it that they would never have a chance of winning in this country? What does that say about us?

"If theres a new way, Ill be the first in line, but it better work this time"

Adrian is nerd

2008-03-11T09:05:00.001Z

Hey, ive decided to start telling people what I think of things.

www.adrianisnerd.blogspot.com

Enjoy, or not.

A new interest.

2008-02-27T15:45:00.002Z

Im not going to bore you with details of the last few weeks, all im going to say is I no longer live in the middle of the hairy streets of east London, now I live in clapham.

And now I know what poverty is. As I was playing my xbox 360, eating my massive plate of food, I could not help but think if this is the poorest im ever going to be Im going to be very very lucky.

Iam, rather unlucky. In a little over two weeks I am to be circumsized. Again. This time, I will be fully conscious, and the doctor in charge says that when he is finished with my dick it will look like an egg in a cup.

Sigh.

I have decided to set myself a challenge, as I have somehow gotten myself into roughly three thousand pounds worth of debt since september 2004 Ive decided to get out of it. Here is a list of avenues I have explored.

Donating Sperm. This may get in the way of my dick surgery, but hopefully they can see me before I let a short indian man mutilate my willy.

Paid surveys - Boring, but if I do fifty surveys i get fifty quid!

Becoming a mystery shopper - a tenner for going into a shop. Yippy.

Medical experiments - a hundred quid a day? booosh.

Ill do a proper brief laters, when I have time, right now I have to....go visit a cup.

yippy.

2008. out of breath

2008-01-28T03:55:00.000Z

I aint updated in a while, because.......all I do is things.

When I get a chance to do nothing, Ill be back.....

2008

2008-01-05T12:53:00.000Z

I have some resolutions, that this year I will keep, and this year will not leave me financially crippled (im still suffering the financial effects of meet me to this day) nor depressed because I cannot hope to meet them. Some of these I have done before succesfully, but have become sloppy of late, due to the fact it tastes lovely.

1. Drink more water. My piss has to be the same colour as an unwell simpsons character.

2. Stop eating shit. I do not mean, the slang meaning of shit which is "everything" nor do I mean the literal "poo" meaning. I'm of course refering to, shit food.

3. When I find myself at home, to spend at least an hour a day writing something. Even if it is nothing, it is something. Even if I find myself writing this blog, its something.

4. To be constantly reading a book.

5. Stop squandering my cash on crap, and instead plough my earnings into socially acceptable activitys, more gigs, more shows, more comedy, more....outside.

New years, I got raped by a guy called Morris.

Christmas? I shared that with a bathroom full of pants.

I have to run now, as my 1st resolution is trickling down my leg.

Adrian is moist!

One month.

2007-12-28T04:07:00.000Z

I havent been here in a month, this is rubbish, I tried to kick myself but i only ended up falling in a puddle.

Anyway, this could be a long blog.

Matley, the Alfred to my Batman, the transexual prostitute to my Eddie Murphy (minus the sex), the Hopkirk to my Randal, the Mother to my children, turned up in London. He looks like a homeless man and kept babbling about setting fire to a small girl by the name of Silvia. He has not changed a bit since uni. We went to see Ardal O'Hanlan, who was funny but after previously seeing Richard Herring for half the price and twice the funny I could not help but leave a little dissapointed. Also, the ass hat next to me did not laugh once. Instead he kept making a "heeeeeee" sound. It was not followed by another "heeeeee", just one, long, "heeeeee". This sound burrowed into my brain, and was only made worse when he said (seemingly to know one) "He is so right, we do collect bubble wrap, heeeeeeee".

Soooooz (who has the best spelt name ever) came to see me later. At uni, soooooz was the Stephen Fry to my dumb child, the Carol Vorderman to my....dumb child, you get the idea, her knowledge on dating and careers was invaluable (even though I spent uni mostly single and jobless). We went out for Chinese where we both natted about everything we have done post Uni (I left out the part about a guy walking in on me taking a shit just before I met her. Didnt wave this time. I hate missed oppurtunitys). She has taken up the hobby of fox hunting, I tried to inform her that it has been illegal for the last two years but then she hit me over the head with a teapot.

We went to see Stewart Lee, which I insisted we sit on the front row because Iam indeed, that asshole. My reasons at the time where more honourable, I had never sat at the front of anything before, and of course sitting at the front made it better. Thats why people do it. But its not better of course, because only cunts want to sit at the front of a comedy gig, and that is what I was for that evening.

Then, I needed to wee. Half way through. Dam you penis, ive been so nice to you recently...

I stould and left, and of course he noted my exit. He thought (or at least made out) that I was offended by his material about islamic women at weight watchers (Little did he know, that if I really was offended I would simply got my dick out and pissed on his shoes). When I returned, now a little bit lighter and not about to vomit piss out of my strained cock, he noticed the slayer t shirt.

Lets just say what happened next, made me want to cry, making tears run down my slayer t shirt.

I went to Suffolk to see my family, as my work had taken my christmas I had to take the oppurtunity to see someone friendly before the big day. My cousin Aron is a comedy genius. Here is why.

"I ripped the ear off a cow once. Yeah, we where tripping, and doing things to cows, and I ripped its ear off. It was alright though, it moo 'd a bit. But yeah. Ive killed three cows."

He followed this, by possibly the greatest justification for my obsession with Mario.

Me - "I dont know who i got my girlfriend, I love mario, who is in essence, a fictional fat italian plumber. My flat is a shrine to him, and as cool as he is, its not exactly a positive trait is it?"

Aron - "Yeah, but, loads of people believe in god and stuff".

My cousin Owen was also there, visiting from America. He is a college student, who uses words like "freshman" and "Vagine" just like they do in the films. In fact, the films appear to actually be based on college life pretty closely, frats do have assholes in them, jocks do indeed hate anyone wearing glasses and my cousin owen knows what the bucking broncho is.

And now so will you.

Basically, fuck a girl up the ass, and then half way through tell her u have aids.

That is possibly the worst thing you will ever hear. Needless to say, American colleges sound like places that should stay in the movies.

My parents gave me guitar hero 3 for christmas. It is the greatest gift I have ever recieved, as it has single handedly kept me sane during my night shifts. One time this week, i got an erection for no reason and that was pretty cool, but guitar hero 3 still wins because it has Slayer on it.

But it suddenly became the worst gift Id ever recieved on boxing day when my flat mate and her parents turned up to find me standing on my bed, halfway through Iron Maidens run to the hills. I have decided since that quite frankly, i dont care because I didnt get a christmas this year. Granted Im not a christian, but im in this for the fat. And Adrian is yet to recieve some kind of heart disease inducing meal.

Katie is returning tomorrow, so Saturday will become the highlight of my week simply becuase I get to talk to someone, and not only that, someone who lets me sleep in her bed. Compared to the company ive been keeping recently (zero except for Danny, who was once a model apparently) it would be like eating nothing but mcdonalds for a week then someone giving you a banana.

Oh, and I bought a 360. Well, not so much bought, as traded in hundreds and hundreds of old items for the new hd ready goodness. My gamer tag is TragicPumbaa, come play me at something.

Now I must go play Phoenix Wright....or I could do some work.

Adrian Objects!

Return of the tiny notebook.

2007-11-30T02:37:00.001Z

I have just purchased a pocket sized notebook, with a hard cover, which i will carry on my person every day.

Adrian is an amateur comedian once more.

But this time, I will do away with the over use of the word fuck, yet use it when I want, I will get out of my habit of writing toilet based stories and more importantly, I will tell people what I think....about stuff.

I have quit smoking. I rang NHS direct tonight, through desperation, I needed to smoke more than I ever had in my life and I needed to talk to someone. Desperatly. The woman I got through to, smokes and could offer no help to me.

Sigh.

I cannot wait for the day I just dont think about smoking.

I cannot wait.

Being English

2007-11-27T04:21:00.000Z

I am incredibly English. I am so English, I cannot stand the fact that I am English, I always feel like I need to apoligise, I feel awkward very easily and my general outlook is not very rosey, more grey with a tiny hint of doomed.

And yet, as English as I'am, Ive found myself looking positivly towards my future and I have made some decisions.

1) I have discovered that most jobs in the things I'm trained for are complete arse.

2) To get these complete arse jobs, all I have to do is make it look like I want one more than the other guy.

3) To get in with your boss, all you have to do is make sure for the 2 minutes of they day they see you, you look very very busy, and when you do get a chance to speak to them hope to god your fucking Stephen Fry.

To make it in the buisness I have found myself at the bottom of, you have to be...driven and ambitious and REALLY want to do it. Ive discovered, that Im only in this job, because I havent had a single thought of what I actually want to do seriously, for ten years. The last job I genuinly wanted was to be a policeman. Then I discovered I would be rubbish at that, because id probably have a problem with shooting innocent brazillian men (sorry to paint you all with the same brush, but you are all cunts anyway, that whole shooting thing was the icing). Since then Ive toyed with the idea of directing movies (dream everyone had) but nothing serious. Then I found myself doing media, then I found myself doing uni, then I found myself here....it all seemed to flow quite nicely.

But I dont want to do this forever. There is probably good money down the line in this, but I just don't want to do this or anything Inflight do when Im thirty.

So here is a list of the things I most want to do in the world.

10.

Make video games.

pro's - Ive played so many, I must have learnt something. Fairly imaginative bloke, I think Id be good at this.

Con's - Same bollocks i have to deal with here, only this time involving loads of coding I could never understand and literally weeks of boredom.

9.

Run a pub.

pro's - Ive been in so many, I must have learnt something. Fairly imaginative bloke, I think Id be good at this. Id be my own boss.

Con's - Every pub has that group of old men that get scared when they see a black guy. Also, Id never have a life outside the place and Id probably get punched. Alot.

8.

Work in a video shop.

Pro's - Watch DVDs all the time! free popcorn! Be a nerd forever! Whoopee!

Con's - working in a video shop is not at all like you think. You spend more time getting screamed at by people because they returned a dvd on time but you didnt scan it in because you where getting a blow job. Ive already done this one....an incredibly gay man (wearing an incredibly gay t shirt, which proclaimed how "Iam incredibly gay". Not me, Him, it proclaimed he was....oh fuck off).

7.

Become an astronaut.

Pro's - I would never, ever have any trouble with women ever again. Any argument that came up, "Look, I know you think youve had a long day....".

Con's - Space is called space because theres nothing up there. Nothing. Not a single thing that could keep me alive, like my favourite atmospheric elements. Plus Id probably have to get better than a D at gcse Science.

6.

Become a fire man.

Pro's - See above. Plus the pole.

Con's - This one has to much of my favourite asmosphetic elements. Plus I could never live with myself if I ended up in a calendar.

5.

Become a spy.

Pro's - Absolutely none.

Con's - Even if it was like Spooks or Bond (which I doubt, i bet its incredibly boring apart from maybe once a year when someone accidently eats the cyanide pill in their tooth) you would still spend most of your time in a tuxedo, which is rotten.

4.

Become the Interlectual crowds new favourite author.

Pro's - I would get paid to wirte stuff. Clever people would love me whilst most would never have heard of me.

Con's - I would become a cunt.

3.

Become the head writer of a succesful sitcom.

Pro's - I would get paid to write stuff. Clever people would hate me whilst most would love me.

Con's - Few, worst I can see is not being able to get work again and being forced back into this kind of job.

2.

Stand up comedian

pro's - Stand up is fucking fun when it goes well, travel, meet people, spend most of my working day in bed. Have time to write, have time to do everything AND get all the attention i crave. Id be my own boss. Based entirely on talent. If Im just not good enough, at least Ill know to stop.

con's - When it goes badly, all you want to do is find your mum and cry until she makes it better. How would I ever tell people about this without them thinking Im either an arrogant prick or delusional? Based entirley on talent. I cant blame anyone for me fucking it up.

1.

Singer in a metal band.

Pro's - Pretty sure the best thing in the world is growling down a microphone in front of hundreds of teenagers who think your the tits even though your thirty and wearing cargo shorts.

cons - very few long term prospects. Pretty sure the most uncool thing in the world is growling down a microphone in front of hundreds of teenagers who think your a tit because your thirty and wearing cargo shorts.

There, these are what I want to do. If you made a ten year old write a list, Im sure at least half of these would be on their list too.

Dangerous jobs have to go, so there goes 9,7,6 and 5 (that does include owning a pub. I would be killed). Number 10 would be cool, but I dont have the computer training, or the patience, or the money to get into that now. You couldnt drag me back to 8, and 4 and 3 seem almost impossible right now, 4 especially.

That leaves 1 and 2, and I cant sing.

Whoop.

How to use an elavator at work without looking stupid.

2007-11-16T14:28:00.000Z

1. If you see the lift going down from a floor where important people reside, run away before they see you and get the opinion you are the lazy person you really are.

2. Never ever think you are alone. It is very easy to think your safe to check that you still have a penis. But if caught, they won't see a man who is insecure in the extreme about his genitals, they will see a man with his hand down his pants.

3. Do not fart. Even though from the second you enter the lift you will want to fart more than ever before. If you do fart, do not precede it with "Listen to this, to good to miss, turn on the radio show *fart*".

4. If you do not know the person in the lift, say hello and wait for them to start the conversation. Do not enter the lift saying "Have you ever bought broadband?". They will probably fart.

5. Try and find a box to carry, so if your boss finds you, at least you look like you have a reasonable excuse.

6. Do not use the lift if you need a wee desperatly, anyone in the lift will assume your a morris dancer and hit you over the head.

7. Don't eat in there. This is code for "I can eat AND stand still at the same time, Im the kind of guy you want to give important jobs too".

Change.

2007-11-14T13:22:00.000Z

BT own all the phone lines in the country. Thats close to 80 million phone lines. Now, lets say ten percent of that number, always have some kind of problem with the phone line. That is 8 million. now lets say that 8 million phone bt. How in the blue hell are BT expected to pay 8 million people to answer the phones? That insane. And this is the problem. BT have a monopoly in the market, making it impossible for anyone to get anything done. I have paid them almost two hundred quid and all i have to show for it is a bit of paper. Any ideas? Some things, like this do not change.

However, things do change, as does my situation. I think I have a girlfriend now, which I never thought would happen again, and what she see's in me is anyones guess, but this does put things in perspective and I have a new found drive to do all the things I should be doing.

For example, recently Ive resurected my attempt at mainstream writing success "socials" my forty five minute drama about social workers. I first started doing it after living with a social worker, and watching so much West Wing I decided to make my own. This was the most rewarding thing ive ever written because not only did I get to say what I wanted politically (which I love doing, at length, to anyone who will ignore me for long enough) and I get to do the other thing (be funny) without the pressure of doing it all the time. I loved writing it, but got sidetracked with comics that Ive lost the urge to write, and a book which i never even got started. My plan is to write, write, show someone who can spell, re write, show someone else who can write, completely re write, then send it to the bbc writers room where it will hopefully get past the initial 10 pages test BUT get rejected with feedback (so I can make it better).

My other aim, to start doing stand up again is going sort of well. Ive written a long list of subjects and now I have to find the time to just sit in my room with a tape recorder and just keep talking about it to myself until I say something funny, then write it down.

I feel a need to get out there and make it. As soon as possible. A life of opening tapes is not the worst way to go, but I crave the writers life of working from home and occasionally getting a cheque.

Whoop./

My name is Adrian, hear me fart.

2007-11-11T10:51:00.000Z

I went home. Not to my flat in Canning Town (oh no, that would be to easy) and here are the obstacles that got in my way.

1)My old land lord taking all my money. This meant that on the morning of my travels (after a week of nightshifts) I had to travel to Walthamstow and claim my money back. The claiming was easier than I thought it would be (It would appear the shyster carrys massive wads of cash with him at all times) but walking through Walthamstow with £700 in your pocket is absolutely terrifying.

2) making my way to the trainstation to discover that I had missed cheap time and a ticket to Northallerton was £150. Que swearing.

3) Waking up on a train to Edinbrugh, with a ticket to Edinbrugh which cost £80. Que Adrian wondering why he decided in his sleep deprived head going to Edinbrugh would be the best idea (he imagines that it went something like "Fuck yorkshire, too expensive, im going abroad").

4) Thanking the heavens that the train stopped in Darlington, where he could atleast get a very long bus home.

Things that happened to me whilst at home.

1) My friend decided it would be a good idea to, over the medium of text message, tell my dad I wanted to be deep inside him and hear him moan. My dad replied "I expected better of you son".

2) Spent money on things I do not need.

3) met up with friends not seen in a while.

4) talked about a certain person, who by the sounds of it needs a good flick in the testicles and a therapist.

Things I have done since getting back.

1) Not slept much.

2) Played with the things I don't need.

3) Only been home once since.

And here I'am, pennyless, at work, wondering how the christmas weeks will treat me and my bank account. good lord.

Go Adrian go.

Adrian and the balloon.

2007-10-22T17:44:00.000+01:00

There is no balloon in this blog, I just wanted to attract those of you who have been demanding more balloons in my blog.

I went to the theatre with my dearest Mum the other night and several things struck me as strange.

1. Christian Slater can act.

2. Nobody complains when he throws hard objects at them.

3. The Lion king theatre can hold over two thousand people, and in the crowd you can occasionally spot a man in a tuxedo surrounded by a familly from stratford wearing sports wear. The man ussually looks quite uncomfortable.

4. At no point during either play, did the characters appeal to the audience for interaction in any way. Not a sinlge "no he isnt". This took some getting used to.

5. The seats are made of the hardest substance known to man, covered in the sharpest fabrics ever divised. They could have used those seats as weapons in the war on terror.

6. Even though most of the cast of Swimming with Sharks where bruised thanks to Christian Slater throwing things at them for two hours, he still got a standing ovation.

7. Even though the bloke who played Scar in the Lion king actually fell what must have been two stories, Pumbaa and Timon got a standing ovation, whilst Scar got booed.

8. Not once, did I get a standing ovation.

9. Women have suddenly become completely unmissable. In the last week I must have looked at at least a thousand bottoms, at least five of them I would have quite gladdly kissed, whilst the rest I would at least have a conversation with.

10. Women dressed as Lions have bottoms I would like to kiss.

now, I'm going to rant alot, about goth clubs (for those who read this quickly, it did not just say golf clubs) . Because they annoy me. The other night, whilst I was at the theatre with my mum, my friends where attempting to get into a goth club called Slime Night. Slime Night would not allow them in, because they where wearing jeans. Here is a list of reasons why Slime Night did my friends a favour.

1. Goths, Goth nights, Goth pubs, Goth anything, most of the time, sucks. In fact, you could replace the word goth, with cunt and it will probably mean the same thing.

2. Like I said before, Goths are ussually very, very thick. Yet they don't ever see how thick they are.

3. They don't have a sense of humour. The goth scene in itself, is over the top and ridiculous in nature and should at least merit some self depracation some of the time. Instead, they take themselves very, very seriously. Being around of goths could be likened to standing next to the conservative party after they lose an election.

4. The elitism of the Goth scene makes me want to gag. A scene that supposedly celebrates freedom of choice, diversity, all things that are not in the mainstream, to the point that if anyone, god forbid, decides they want to wear a fucking orange t shirt and buy an Amy Whinehouse CD they are beneath them (and before you say anything, I love all people who wear orange T shirts. They are lovely).

5. The music, as I said before, is terrible. Truly, horrible. My taste in music is terrible in itself, but at least mine does not include a keyboard. The worst thing to happen to music since funk.

Basically, the whole scene, makes me want to gag. It makes me want to go anywhere else. Slime night will not be recieving my custom, unless Im with a good group of people who can show me how wrong I'am. But something tells me im right on the fucking Money. I don't want to make any judgements about people, and I will of course give any self proclaimed goth the time of day, but as yet I'm yet to actually meet one I genuinly like who has never grown out of it.

BT, are also on my hitlist today. After spending what must now be ten hours on hold, I decided to cut out the middleman and go directly to the BT offices near my work. Here is the conversationI just had.

hello sir, how can I help you?

I would like to see someone please.

Do you have an appointment?

No.

Who are you here to see?

Anyone, the problem is, that no matter how hard I try I cannot get anyone on the phone.

Sir, Im afraid the only way is to do it over the phone.

Thats kind of the problem, I need to contact BT so I can get a phone.

Well the only way to get a phone, is a phone.

Im paying for a phoneline! Im paying you! Im paying for a phone line I cannot use, unless I speak to someone. I can't phone you unless I have a phone line, you see my problem?

Use a pay phone

Thats what Im doing, but I live in Canning town, if I spend longer than three minutes in a phone box I could be killed.

Well, for my sake I think you should get to a phone in Canning town and wait.

Adrian exits.

This is rubbish. Ive stould in phone boxes for hours. I want to use my phone. Is that so wrong. Apparently it is, and BT emplyees would rather send me to my death than just let me go upstairs and see someone.

Adrian has left the building, covered in shit.

Be banished foul fuck!

2007-10-19T11:33:00.000+01:00

I had writers block. I did'nt think it existed, but it does. But now its gone, and how.

Ive started writing a short film called "Morris has no friends". Its about a dinosaur. Ok it isnt about a dinosaur, the plot should be pretty obvious. Ive stopped trying to write stuff like the West Wing, because quite frankly Im not that smart. But I can raise a chuckle, and thats all Im gonna do.

Tonight Im going to see the Lion King with my Mum. I like to say Mum rather than Mother, Mother makes me sound like im forty. I hate it when I hear kids calling their Mum "Mummy". Thats just shit, and makes an already whiny child sound unbearable to my northern ears. Other sounds I cant stand...

1) Really, over the top well spoken voices. Being well spoken is good, but when you start to sound like a creaky door or a hollywood villain you should have your head slammed in a creaky door and then get shot by a hollywood villain.

2) Rachel, my housemate, when she screeches. Ive already jumped out my window three times because of it.

3) Alan. He just makes horrible sounds.

4) My own voice. In my head I sound like a cool laid back surf dude. Outside it sounds like a car horn.

5) Musicals. Good god.

6) Alarms. They are very unpleasant.

7) My Chemical Romance and Avenged Sevenfold. There is something very wrong with these two groups of people. And Id bet they all have lumpy genitals.

Alright, this isnt exactly the most entertaining of blogs, but its been so long since Ive written and completed anything that this is enough for now.

Adrian is back

Children.

2007-10-06T23:07:00.000+01:00

For exactly twenty eight minutes on the tube I was sitting directly opposite a young girl, who spent the entire journey lifting up her dress and scratching her crotch. There is only so long you can stare at a tube map.

Whilst eating a meal with a friend, I saw a little boy drop kick a little girl in the face. The little girl laughed.

Walking to the tube, a little girl was screaming "But I want a wee wee" over and over again. I dread to think what she did to deserve this inhumane punishment.

Despite all of these, the women (yes, ive been meeting women. Not girls. Women) I meet have displayed signs of brooding. At the age of 22-23. This worrys me, especially with the news that several of my school friends (well, the people that folded me, and used my bottom as a chair seat) have had children of their own. What worrys me more, is that on facebook I have ranked rather highly on the "Would make a better father" catergory.

The ravens are circling, and I'am faced with the uncomfortable thought that one day, I could have a child. I dont want a child. I dont get on well with children. Even when I was one. Lifes cruellest joke, the most fun you can ever have ever is also the direct cause of...itchy, indestructable children.

Why couldnt I have been born a plant pot? Or a fish bowl or something. Then I could just sit, all day long.

Sigh.

Destiny

2007-10-05T02:38:00.001+01:00

After the havoc of moving, and exhausting the conventional methods of meeting someone you do not know, I decided to go for the unconventional.

For the few people who occasionally read this blog, I have set myself the task of meeting the queen. After sending requests to meet via post, snail mail and once turning up at Buckingman palace and being told that the Queen does not have a door bell, I had almost given up. I even looked on Facebook, and found that she has over 20 profiles set up. I thought that these could be just fakes, but then I thought that the Queen must surely recieve so much attention in the forms of messages and wall posts that she must emply over 20 people to run her facebook...face.

But then, I found her engagements calendar, the Queen herself will be re opening the royal festival hall on Tuesday. There is my chance.

Now, the few people who read this, I need your advice. Jumping over the fence and trying to grab her hand would probably get me shot. How in the blue hell do I get to say hello to the Queen? In this situation?

I leave this with you.

Well I believe you, but my Tommy gun don't.

2007-10-04T05:18:00.000+01:00

Heres a list of eternal truths, Iam making up on the spot.

1. If you are in a lift with another person, all your thoughts and conversation openers are replaced with farts.

2. Most racists go along the theory that they know best because theyve met 'one'. Claim you have met 'two', and watch as the little skin head crys.

3. Lazy men do not hold their penis when they wee. However, the lazy man will probably wash his hands anyway, so he doesnt have to do it again before a meal.

4. The greasier the hair, the less you can trust them. This goes for any proffesional.

5. News readers have no soul, as they probably murdered someone to get themselves in that seat.

6. There is something very weird about how people see life in London. They seem obsessed with showing how....established they are. Whereas I have the bad habit of being self depracating to the point of embarresment, other people seem to be at the other end, maybe even a little arrogant. The eternal truth? Southerners, are full of shit, and muffins.

7. the news has finished capturing.

8. I have to go.

9. Now.

10. Is a nice round number.

2AM Lunch

2007-10-02T01:40:00.000+01:00

It was only a matter of time before people at work would discover this blog. It was going to happen, and I was foolish to believe that they would never discover it. At first I thought they would find it boring, and if they did discover it, abandon it after one read. However, it would appear that they now check up on it, for all I know they could read it daily. Why? why in gods name would they want to read what I think? Are they huddling around the computer, laughing at me? Storing witty lines reffering to specific points I may have written, to subtly mock me when im unaware but the rest of the room gets the seemingly invisible joke. Or is this yet another paranoid delusion, similar to the ones I have spent the last week dispelling from my mind and replacing with tits (never in my life has a female body part taken such extended residence in my minds eye).

Regardless of this added pressure, I have decided to dance as if nobody is watching, and write as if Alan isnt reading this. Ive devised a list of the five worst things that can ever happen to you at a cinema.

1. You die.

This would feature pretty highly on any list of worst things, but is ussually discounted. I am including it here, simply because we have all heard that particular PR spin. "Some guy in Phoenix had a heart attack during a screening, and died, and thats when I knew the films works", we have all heard this from someone and I bet many directors and marketing people are simply giddy at the premature death of one of their customers, so they can sell the film as so scary it kills (unless the film was the new Toy Story, which would be very strange). The chances of you being one of these people? Incredibly low, seeing as Im sure, everytime someone has said this its been absolute balls. Unless Steven Speilberg, during a screening of Jaws, waited till the lights fell, then Tasered a random man from phoenix till his heart exploded all over his rib cage. Then your death is a distinct possibility in the name of movie marketing.

2. A child.

You go see a film, and a child is there. He is probably weeing, whilst punching a smaller child, who is crying, causing you to miss the one and only line of dialogue in the new Gus Van Sant film. We have all experienced this, well ok, this exact scenario has probably never been experienced by anyone, but we have all sat in a cinema, with a child, who is weeing/crying/shouting/laughing/breathing far to much. It doesnt matter if you have booked tickets for the advanced screening of Death Cunt 4 (and I hope you are not the type who would book advance tickets to a film called Death cunt, even if George Clooney is in it) somehow a child willbe inside, pissing all over the screen. Im not sure if there is a legal way of dealing with this, all you can do is avoid going to a film your far to old for, or just run for govorment and ban all children. Just ban them.

3. "The projectionist has gone out for a spliff".

Once, I attended Austin Powers: The spy who shagged me on the first day of its release. I was fifteen, and of a mind set where the funniest thing that had ever happened ever, was a fat man getting bitten on the arse by a dog, so the new Austin Powers film could only be the greatest film ever made, by the greatest minds of our generation. However, mid screening, the film started to play backwards. Seeing what had just happened, again was bad enough, but seeing it backwards was to much. The projectionist had fucked up, and this destroyed me, and made me the failure Iam today. Obviously, your average projectionist is not as portrayed in Last action hero, a lovely old man who will be friends with small children without having sex with them. Your real projectionist, wears a Leftover Crack t shirt underneath his name badged uniform, and spend most of their time getting stoned and masterbating over pictures of women getting stoned.
This can only lead to disaster, and you can expect your viewing pleasure to be destroyed, by a cunt. Less likely with the introduction of digital technology, but chances are in your older cinemas, your could miss that vital scene in Atonement, because the pubescant shit bag is getting a blow job on your car.

4. You went to see a UWE BOLL film.

This is horrible. Even if you just want to go to the cinema as an excuse to sit in a dark room with a member of the opposite sex, Uwe can make a man sterile from a hundred paces with his movies. Avoid at all costs.

5. "What just happened."

We are all friends with at least one idiot. And chances are to some of your friends, you are the idiot. One way to tell who is the idiot, is go watch a movie, and see who utters "Whats going on" first. Whilst this is an innocent enough question, and people should never be persecuted for being baffled, this question, and the explanation make both asker and answerer miss what happens next in the movie. Then two people ask others what just happened, and then all four miss the next bit, so all four ask another four, and before you know it an entire cinema full of people has absolutely no idea what the fucks going on. The bourne films are the worst for this.

So, how do you stop this? Go watch Harry Potter, or Saw, but then, if you see Saw a marketing exec could kill you....or if you see Harry potter a child could wee on you...

You know what. Just do not go to the cinema. Do what a real movie fan does, download it before its release, and complain about it on IMDB message boards. Done.

Cryptic Message number 4 - You cannot write this shit. The coincidence of the matter is astounding. The same day? two people, on the same day, the same time? Both meeting me, How the fuck did that happen?

Adrian is finished.

Relaxation in Canning Town

2007-09-25T14:39:00.000+01:00

As mentioned in my last blog, I am an uptight, neurotic, paranoid person who can create an awkward situation out of seemingly any situation, and tends to say the wrong thing, mainly because I try to impress people. In the last 24 hours I have tried to relax, and follow other examples of not thinking as much about things that would ussually mess with my head. Here is what I have done.

1. Watched Sharpe. Fictional or not, the man dealt with some prime shite in his time. Last night he helped out a guy with no face, and killed some people. There was no scene of this man sitting in the dark, lighting candles, and weeping to a Katie Melua record.

2. Whenever a thought of paranoid horror enters my head, immediatly think of tits. This is both fun and a genuinly good self help tip.

3. Talk with people I would never have tried talking too. When I go to a shop and the assistant actually says hello and seems to not have had their brain removed, I talk back. Worst thing that happened? A guy on drury lane now thinks im a vet. But who cares! I could be a vet!

4. Wearing a ghostbusters hoody with shorts. Your as young as you dress according to many a mid life crisis suffering arse.

5. Started writing a sit com about a man who is uber paranoid, awkward, and eager to impress. This is proving the most rewarding, as I get it all out of my system, and can write about a man falling asleep on the escalators.

6. Not running to the toilets to let off some steam, rather don't create any steam in the first place, because as a human, if a part of you is actually letting off steam then you should see a doctor. Apart from when your fresh out of the shower on a cold day. Thats just awesome. you feel like a superhero.

But deep down, Im still terrefied of everyone. 24 hours a day i feel like the guy in the prison yard who gets by cos he makes the dangerous peoples tea and can tell the occasional funny. But hopefully this will go in time.

For now, i go back to work, for once, that does not seem quite as daunting.

Adrian stands, and exits the room.

An elephant, a giraffe and Adrian walk into a bar.

2007-09-20T12:54:00.000+01:00

Horrible things I have seen and witnessed and experienced.

1. Buying a copy of the sun. Whilst the naked lady pleases my penis, the rest of the paper upsets my head. They hate polish people, which befuddles me, as having a strong opinion on a nation of people is a little like having a strong opinion on socks.

2. I sat in wee. On the tube. I didnt smell it due to the general tube smell of feet, crisps and despair, and when I realised, as to not alert the entire train, I was forced to sit in the wee until my journey ended at stratford.

3. Letting my second chance fly by. Cryptic as this is, Im going to leave it at that.

4. Asking Rachel Ballard (my new flatmate) for a lesson in all things sexual. I asked because it has been so long, chances are my first performance is going to be rubbish, so any help I could get would come in handy. The night ended on an awkward note.

5. getting to buckingham palace, yet being told the queen wasnt in. And then laughed at. Alot.

6. Being told by a random pub patron "Don't kiss the pig, cos she may bite your face off". I have no idea what this means.

Same shit, cleaner toilet.

2007-09-16T13:28:00.000+01:00

Last night I met an old friend (Bart, the man who wanted to make a film where Jesus got killed. Twice) In Camden right next to a born again christian. Of all the places to spread the message, this poor fellow decided a street awash with goths, punks, metallers and me would be the best place. Christianity needs a better marketing department. I saw another in Stratford, busily trying to convert a group who appeared to be a mixture of Muslims and Sikhs. They did not look happy about that. I tried to tell him this, but then he saw my T shirt and told me that unless I change my ways Im going to burn. Even god has a fucking dress code.

Anywho last night we went to a particularly tacky gothic pub just off the high street, and a twat sat near us and started snorting tobacco. Later he commented that, his parents new he wore black, but its ok, because they cannot stop him. Of course, he is a mid twentys guy, who really needs to move out and stop being a tit. He handed me a leaflet, which advertised a goth night. I started to think maybe he was alright, until i saw a genre of music I had never heard of. EBM. I asked him what that was, and he looked at me as if Id just shat on his shoes. I then questioned the policy of no jeans, which he described as a way of keeping shit heads out. I realised that I was wearing jeans, and he had not thought that maybe, shit heads also have the ability to not wear jeans. It isnt like without jeans a shithead will melt, or explode. I told him this, and also suggested a much more suitable "No shit head" policy, which I believed would be much more suitable. He again stated, that would not work. I replied that he is a shit head, and he is not wearing jeans, so the policy is flawed. Well, I wish I said that, instead I went quiet whilst Bart started to diffuse a situation. I joked I liked arguing, he stated seriously he liked fighting. I went for a wee. Quickly.

I found myself in a strange situation, If God wont let me in with my T shirt, and a few kiddy idiot goths wont let me into their club, where the hell can I go?
I have to go clothes shopping.

The queen has yet to reply to any of my contact attempts. After work, im going to pop round her house and see if she is in.

Inadequate.

2007-09-15T16:18:00.001+01:00

Things I have seen this week in London.

1. A woman holding a spleen. (Shepards Bush. Apparently she was selling Yoga lessons. Badly).

2. My penis. (I see it everyday, it makes me smile, and cry)

3. Stratford (a turd wearing a suit).

4. A man who used to be in Home and away, who looks like a pissed off fish and appears to work in an office on Tottenham court road. What a horrible existence.

5. A resurgence of my own demons. At the worst, possible time. Literally. Its up there with needing a shit in space.

6. A burning bin. I havent seen one of these...ever.

7. A shop that doesnt sell muffins (if you live here, you will know how amazing this is.

8. A man, screaming "crazy" whilst standing perfectly still. Possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen.

9. Camdem, where I learnt that whilst my sexual history is a one note song, at least Ive never done most of the things a girl I met has done.

10. Three seperate police cars, going to three seperate emergencys, in the ten minutes it takes me to walk to the tube.

This week I have been feeling mostly inadequate, so to combat this, Iam going to read more, and think less.

I think to much, and this week I thought to much at the worst possible time (really, it was like realising your gay when you just got a job leafletting for the aryan network). So Im going to think less. Starting now.

*dribble*

0 Week.

2007-09-03T23:28:00.001+01:00

Things I have found on my home street of Barking Road in the delectable Canning Town.

A man with his boxers and trousers around his ankles, covered in vomit, snoring.

A clump of human hair.

Police tape attached to my front door. (More on this later).

Chips.

Broken glass.

An empty medicine bottle.

An incredibly homeless man.

Half eaten Mcdonalds (which must anger the incredibly homeless man).

Flowers tied to a lamp post (and not in a nice way).

A McDonalds (Morgan Spurlock had the best month of his life).

Half a tennis racket (maybe the owner was so good at tennis they only need half).

I found these, when I was walking home this morning. In the ten minutes it takes me to walk from the tube. I told my flatmate what I found and all he could say was "WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BRING ALL THIS SHIT INTO THE FLAT?". Obviously he missed the point.

London is unlike anywhere ive ever lived, on Saturday night I ate Lebonese food for the first time (which was completely unexpected, as I wasnt even aware the Lebonese had such amazing food). The people I had dinner with, thought this was amazing (the one Lebonese member of our party however, had never had a yorkshire pudding, so morally we are equals). As I walked down Edgeware road, looking for the restaurent it was as if I had stumled onto an Arab metropolis, brightlights, hookahs full of funky smelly smoky stuff and more beards than faces. At one point, I was the only white person I could see, and all of this excited me like nothing ever before. Everything I have ever wanted to try, do or see, is here, and if there was something that I cant find here, I live within half an hour of four airports. I live exactly twenty three seconds away, from a shop that sells fruit until midnight. Why I would need a mango at midnight I do not know, but maybe I could buy one at midnight to eat at 1am when it isnt open. Oh thats a bastard, what If i want a mango at 2AM but the shops shut? What a shit shop!

A few nights ago a man died outside my flat. He got hit by a car, and crushed against a lamp post. This is horrible. However, a policeman asked me if I saw anything and would like to make a statement. I was at work at the time, but it was nice to be asked. I felt like one of the characters in Law and Order who leads them onto another character who leads them onto finding the killer. only I didnt lead them anywhere. Although, I did talk to them in my pants. Fuck the police!

My attempts to meet the queen have been zero. I have spent the last 7 days working nights. Which is code for copying lots of tapes, and watching arrested developement at 4am over what would equate to my lunch. I have found however, a postal address that aparently goes to the Queen directly. This is of course, complete bollocks. However, after looking for a website that details her majestys royal movements, no such site appears to exist.

I do not want to stalk the queen, but I will meet her. I will.

Adrian, youve Had!

Aim Number 1

2007-08-31T00:29:00.000+01:00

Whilst eating a fine curry with friends, and reminiscing about the past that I have just put behind us, and the future that lies in store, I thought to myself a couple of things.

1) It has been a while since I had a wank.

2) Iam going to be living in the same town as the Queen.

I dont want to speculate whether there is a direct correlation between the two, but I did decide, that as a fellow resident of the nations capital, that I should at one point meet the queen.

In theory, this sounds entirely do able. let me explain.

Considering how many new people meet the queen every day, and considering how many new people average Joe/Josephine meets in a day, statistically it is more likely for me to meet the queen, than it is to meet you (assuming your not a person I have already met). Why should it be so hard to meet her?

"Security to stop nutters" says Patrick Fox, a man with endless knowledge on the subjects of Dr. Who and The preacher comic book series, and therefore should have a more "anything is possible" attitude.

If you think I'm insane, let me ask you this. If the queen lived in your town, wouldnt you want to meet her?

Any suggestions on how I achieve this aim, please send them my way. Otherwise, wish me luck good people.

Bed.

Prologue

2007-08-29T14:51:00.000+01:00

For those who do not know me, my name is Adrian.

Nice to meet you.

For the last twenty two years I have been a resident of small towns, where the most dangerous thing you could do was have an argument with a tractor. I spent my university years in Aberystwyth, a town which did not change my relativly naive views of the world. Now Iam about to move to our nations capital city. London.

Some things that various people, newspapers and conversations ive over heard on trains (and by overheard, I mean jamming my ear against their seat through noseyness) have left me with the following impression.

1. Real people do not live in London. Only those with knives for hands who pay £205000 a week in rent live in London.

2. Everyone of these knife mutants are incredibly rude. Some mutants fart on the tube.

3. Every band that tours the country goes to London, inspite of the knifey mutants.

4. I should be careful of terrorists, because terrorists don't like me. Even though, I have real human hands, and if they should be blowing up anyone, it should be those pesky mutants.

Regardless of these either valid, or insane pieces of advice, on Saturday I will officially be an essex girl (but with a penis), an eastender (but with a better plot) and a working man (who works in media, much like the cashier works in marketing). I look forward to seeing you. All two of you.

In my next blog I will publish a list of aims for the next 12 months (based around the academic year) if you have any suggestions, feel free to email me. Optimistic I know...

I leave you.