On a moonless ,freezing night , an exhausted Beast gratefully snuggled beneath his (Pristine and fragrant ) duvet hoping for 8 solid hours of warm and peaceful slumber.
My hopes were soon dashed by the hellish insistent ringing of the bedside phone.
Was the house on fire ???
Had all Beasts relatives perished in a bizarre stewed apple related accident ???
Was this the long awaited call up to be the new Mr Madonna???
Sadly no , it was a bullish Mr C demanding I immediately cast the duvet aside , sprint to my Personal Computer , sign on to the purveyor of universal tat Ebay with all haste and order 50 squeaking rubber ducks.
All excuses and varied cursings and pleadings were brusquely brushed aside.
Cafe C required rubber ducks , the whole future of food related retailing in west Dorset depended on it and my feeble bleatings and general feckless shillyshallying were just typical , workshy , office lackey behaviour.Get a backbone etc etc
So eventually I capitulated , and stumbled off into the freezing dark .
Now The Beast's question to you is , what unusual requests have you fielded from beneath your duvet (This ought to be good).???
Well what a start to the week , not only did I get a Lemonade Award from Eroswings , of which I am enormously chuffed .
I also was talking to Mr C on the phone last night . Our conversations rarely last longer than ten minutes before Mr C tells me I am boring him and hangs up . On this occasion we had been chatting away for about 28 minutes and I was starting to get twitchy , so I eventually weakened and asked why he had stayed on the phone for so long........ I was told that as he was repainting the rubberised paint on the kitchen floor , that in the choice of talking to me or quite literally watching paint dry.....I was marginally less boring
I had to telephone a utility company today and got a very perky and cheeky young lady on the phone - which was great fun . It sparked off a few memories from the time I was front office manager at a 350 room hotel in London . My reception and cashiers desks was 'manned' by a number of spirited young ladies , filling in time before they went to university. Being rather more intelligent than me and somewhat unfulfilled by the work they spent most of their time plotting wizard wheezes to keep themselves amused and get me a carpeting from the uptight general manager .
The hotel was owned by a muti millionaire Iraqi family , who would descend upon the place with family and friends when in London . Altho it was a large hotel , they treated all the staff as if we were minor relatives and were always very pleasant and friendly . One of the old uncles used to make great efforts to find out any new staff member names and would make sure he said good morning to everyone by name as he floated thru the lobby en route for breakfast . He would never come and ask the person directly , but would go and ask someone else. We had a new receptionist start , as it turned out a hoity toity piece of goods who had a rather unfortunate superiority complex , and in particular kept moaning on about the arabs undressing her with their filthy heathen eyes etc etc. The other front office staff loathed her without exception. Predictably the old uncle came and asked one of the other receptionists her name , his English not being terrible good she had to repeat it and practice it with him a number of times till he got it right.
Next morning Uncle Ahmed floated past a mobbed reception desk , and hailed the miserable old trout with a jaunty 'GOOD MORNING BIGTITS
You can only imagine the indignant tantrum , resigning and general hilarity that followed.
Lets not burden ourselves with the inconvenience of truth , as none of us were present at Cafe C's inaugural Gay Social.....lets just make it up !
It has happened to us all at one time or another Dorset Poof's Night at Cafe C started so well. Frobisher was on dazzling form , exercising his razor like whit and sophisticated banter as he flitted sinuously amongst the merry throng , serving drinks and tasty nibbles . He leaped at the opportunity of showing off his superb coordination and finely honed athletic physique during the punishing games of Twister with the New Forest Lesbians. All agreed his presentation of Bona Bingo was poetry in motion. But inevitably his uncontrolled quaffing of the Cafe C legendary 'Screaming Orgasm' punch began to take its toll
By the 8th glass the urge to dress as Bette Davis became unbearable , by the 15th glass inhibitions had flown out the window and only base desires remained. For the protection of Beastbites more delicate readers , We shall draw a veil over the 'goings on' in the latter part of the evening.........
As the cold and unforgiving winter dawn broke over Dorchesters finest dinning establishment , a desperately hungover Frobisher starts awake to face whatever unsuitable liaison youthful enthusiasm and binge drinking has led him to this time
You girls have your handbags , the Beast has his ever present MANBAG.
"WHATS IN YOUR BAG BEAST " I hear you rudely enquire.
Rather than brusquely telling you to feck off and mind your own business the Beast has opened his heart (and indeed his bag) for your delectation and delight.
OK left to right we have
1.Gym Kit , water bottle and towel - Before Miss MJ makes nasty remarks , they are all freshly laundered.
2.Packet of smints and Cherry flavoured Soothers.
3.The Fake Rolex Mr C brought me back from Turkey - Mr Frobisher got a fake Armani , sadly for Mr F within ten minutes it stopped working and the face fell off - for once the gods have spat on that blighter Frobisher and Beasty is smiled upon by angels :-)
4 . My Electronic cigarette with spare rechargeable battery and a replacement nicotine thing.
5.My wallet and a green connecty thing (no idea what it is but its always been in my bag)
6.A lipsyl - Beast puckers kissable lips MWA.
7. A Cafe C unintelligible shopping list (Would you guess 5 Britneys means 5 Asparagus bunches - no ? well nor did I......and so inevitably I got told off , my long list of short comings were discussed at high volume and in tedious detail and I was banished to scrub things in the kitchen and ponder the fact I had let everybody down , worst of all let my self down , and spoiled everybodies day - harrumph. Later when it was discovered I had bought non organic carrots the shite really hit the fan :-(
8. My lighter.
9. My gym toilet bag - the contents of which shall for the moment be shrouded in mystery .
See that was dull , bet your sorry you asked now
For Mr E , a nice picture of a UK electrical appliance plug and a wiring diagram from the more nerdy elements amongst my readership
Oh well , despite months of testing , and every bugger on the planet supplying the Beast with cast iron sign off's which said things like
I have tested the new functionality and can categorically confirm it all works , to my expectations and you Beast are a genius etc etc
Predictably it all went horribly wrong
What the dear users meant to say was This is my brain , I couldn't be arsed to test anything , despite confirming , in writing ,that I did , and now cant understand why it doesn't work/I don't know how to use it , or why this company, or for that matter any other company would employ me
The Beast will now spend the next couple of days sorting out the mess.