When plans go wrong
Posted on Friday, June 8, 2007I’m like a bastard at the moment. A headless bastard. I’m running around like a headless bastard with no purpose, no direction, no plan and of course, no head.
Why?
Is it a drug-induced frenzy brought on by too much brown mescalin and a pint of Wild Turkey?
No.
Well then, perhaps it’s an attack of burning vitriol provoked by the thought of Paris Hilton being permitted to serve her jail time in a Beverley Hills mansion? (The stupid bitch?)
Well, yes, I suppose it’s partially that, but there’s more.
More? Could it be the thought that Bertie Ahern is on the point of forming a government to give away what’s left of our national assets to his panhandling, scumbag, carpetbagger friends in the building industry?
Well, now that you mention it, there might be a sort of tenuous connection, but no. My problem, and the source of my rage, is quite simple really. I might have mentioned the giant pile of rubble at the bottom of my garden - a consequence of gigantic wall-knocking and floor-taking-out activity at the Bockschloss over the last few years. Well, I had a plan, which was due to happen today.
I was getting a mini-digger and mini-dumper delivered, and I was going to move all the rubble into one convenient heap. I was then going to extend my patio over it, thereby providing three benefits. A bigger patio, no rubble, and most important of all, a go at driving a digger!
But no. When I called to the machinery hire place today, having taken the day off, they looked at me sadly and shook their heads.
What? I said.
Machine, they said.
What about it? I demanded.
Fucked, they said.
Fuck! I said.
Sorry, they shrugged.
So there I am: fucked.
Stumble it!
June 8th, 2007
Yes, you’re fucked. They didn’t sound especially sorry about it either.
June 8th, 2007
don’t forget your shovel and all that….tis shite though especially after taking time off.
June 8th, 2007
Same ole same ole huh! Sounds familiar to me…..
June 8th, 2007
What!!!!!!! What!!!! You mean the dumper versus digger joust is off this w.e. Do you think the machinery guys got wind of your plan to push these machines to their limits around the vast Bockschloss lands. The Duke of Leinster will be very dissapointed. The good folks reading your blog actually thought you were going to do some work. What will the Wop or Filthy Richie think? Is it too late to hire the camels as we discussed?
June 8th, 2007
Look on the bright side, you can fuck off and drink beer for the whole day.
However, you could have been fucking off, drinking beer, and messing around on a digger too.
Now even I feel a little depressed…
June 8th, 2007
Fucking fuckers. Fuck.
June 8th, 2007
The term “mini dumper” made me giggle.
Sorry about the patio. Paris might be going back to jail, so all will be better.
June 8th, 2007
Get the Bock Missus and the Bocklets out labouring and tell ‘em this was life before the effin celtic tiger and that since the tiger has fucked off back to china they need to get into shape for diggin ditches cos before the year is out we’ll have no eastern Europeans left to do the shite work for us… or words to that effect… and appoint yourself as ganger.
In short? Yes, you’re fucked.
June 8th, 2007
Medbh: Yes. I’m fucked. Nothing for it but to go on the piss.
Aquaasho: Not to worry. I’ll take another day off and do Plan B
Ellen: It’s deja vu all over again.
QJS: I know. it’s shit.
Itinerant: Good. you understand what I’m going through. Good.
Badgerdaddy: Fuck-fuckers. Fuck them.
Sassy: Divided by a common language. Is this how Spanish and Italian came into existence?
Conan: Indeed. Fucked.
June 8th, 2007
hey if they still had chain gangs you could have Paris breaking up the rubble and Bertie shovelling the shit (into someone elses garden) it’s not like he hasn’t had enough practice. Another day another digger.
June 8th, 2007
Hey K, if I had my way, Paris would be under the fucking patio, but then again, I’m not Fred West. Sometimes, I have a little twinge of envy for Fred.