…except Fat Jim, because he is an utter utter cunt.
We had a lads weekend in Bognor a couple of weekends ago. Yes, yes, I know, I really do live the life of Riley. Anyway, I usually drive to these away-day weekends, but in this case managed to convince Fat Jim to drive down so that I could get a train straight into London on Sunday for yet another Christmas Party.
I left my bag with him on Sunday morning, and headed off to London for a day of drinking and merriment.
Monday I was off work on holiday but had developed the man-flu. At 6pm my bag had still not arrived. I decided to text Fat Jim.
“Any danger of a bag delivery you cunt?”
“I’m at home now, you can come and get it if you want to?”
“Fuck off. I am sick! Bring it over tomorrow.”
Tomorrow evening arrived, and I was still in my sick-sofa, consumed by man-flu.
“Are you coming over with my bag then or what?”
“Cards on the table Angry, I gave you a lift to Bognor, and your bag a lift back. It’s here if you want it?”
“Are you kidding me? I am dying and I want my Sonicair toothbrush!”
“I’m not joking”
I decided to get it tomorrow, when I was well enough to leave the flat.
I was in the office catching up on all the work I would have pretended to do on Monday and Tuesday and decided to instant message Fat Jim at his office.
“I need my bag, when can I get it?”
“When do you want it?”
“Now you fucking arsehole!”
“It is in my car, at work, with me”
“Can you drop it at my flat on the way home?”
“No, heading out straight from work, you can come and pick it up if you want to?”
Fat Jim works on the other side of town from me, so this meant a 20 minute round trip in the middle of the afternoon, on a day when I was catching up from two days out of the office.
“You fucking cunt. I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Keep your mobile handy as I’m not coming in”
And off I went. Upon arrival at his offices I called him on his mobile. It range several times and then went to voicemail. “Jim you fucking fat cunt! Get down here now so I can get my bag!”
Nothing.
I rang again, again it went to voicemail. “I’m outside your fucking office you fucking piece of shit! Where the fuck are you?!”
I went into reception. “I’m here to pick something up from Fat Jim, the stinking workshy cunt you employ in Marketing.”
“I’ll just contact him Sir”
He went off to make calls.
“I’m afraid I can’t reach him, he must be in a meeting.”
“Can you reach someone who sits next to him? He’s massive, he must sit next to everyone?”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Right. Can you give him a message for me?”
“Sure, let me write it down. Go ahead.”
“Fat Jim, Will you please get the bad Aids and die you useless fucking cretinous cunt.”
“Err..OK. Would you like to leave a number?”
“No, he’ll know who it is from.”
And that is how I wasted an hour on the Wednesday before Christmas.
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Alan · December 29, 2006 at 8:45 am
Methinks you have pissed the poor chap off somewhat Angry lol…
marycub · December 29, 2006 at 10:26 am
he deserves all that abuse and more…
greavsie · December 29, 2006 at 11:22 am
What you need is one of them man-bag thingies. It’s all the rage…
Fussy Bitch · December 29, 2006 at 12:27 pm
Have you got it back yet? Crikey, at least tell me you have a spare toothbrush, the imagery is making my brain hurt.
Cliff · December 29, 2006 at 12:53 pm
Not heard bad Aids in a long time.
Fat Jim’s a cunt.
Brilliant post.
Sam · December 29, 2006 at 4:47 pm
Did you sit in the back of the car? Could you fit in the front beside him?
How fat is Fat Jim?
Will · December 29, 2006 at 5:43 pm
That’s typical Fat Jim. Damn his eyes.
Murph · December 30, 2006 at 6:17 pm
I love a Christmassy post at this time of year.
snowcrush · December 31, 2006 at 2:05 am
Note to self: never agree to babysit Mr. Angry’s bag…
Doris · December 31, 2006 at 12:38 pm
You were right to be concerned. He could have been making use of your bags contents in the most depraved manner, hence his reluctance to make the effort to return it. While you fumed in reception he was probably wearing your pants on his head and doing something unspeakable with your sonicair toothbrush. And laughing.
f:lux · December 31, 2006 at 3:36 pm
Did you get a ransom demand?
ebbye · January 2, 2007 at 4:02 am
You are hysterical!
Fat Jim · January 2, 2007 at 10:06 am
Oh dear, oh dear.
One day I will provide the “real story”…….