THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED

As if working seven days a week  , enduring Mr C's 'Tough Love' bipolariod management techniques and Frobisher's alterego Mavis publically ripping me to shreds every time I venture from the safety of my kitchen to deliver trays of spotless glasses and crockery to the bar wasn't bad enough . Cafe C has a new torture to make my working hours a living nightmare .
TRANIEOAKE
Oh yes , two blokes , two wigs, two glittery frocks , a karaoke machine and not a functioning vocal cord between them.
It would have made me weep if I wasnt tone deaf

TECHNOLOGICAL TANTRUMS

A work chum of the Beast was bragging of buying a Robot vacuum cleaner.The Beast is troubled by this on two fronts . Firstly being a bit of a puritan , the Beast values the cathartic experience of cleansing ones environment with a vigorous thrashing around with the dyson.
Secondly , the Beast has previously had a rather bad experience with autonomous gadgets.
A few years back I bought the newest gadget on the block , the Tivo TV recorder , it downloaded its own TV guide and made decisions about what programs to record for you by monitoring what you were watching/recording. (The prerunner for todays sky plus boxes)
It all started well enough , the Beast would have a nightly feast of comedy , sci fi and documentories that the Tivo had selected for my pleasure . Sadly this idyllic state of  being was not to last . Within a month the dratted object began developing a little personality  disorder of its own and started an obsession with crap teenage soap Hollyoaks . This became so bad that it began bumping things of my record list to record yet more hollyoaks repeats and omnibus editions untill it eventually refused to record anything else .................and do you know what..........the damn thing looked smug.....
The Beast decided on decisive action and scoured the manual and found a very well hidden option in the depths of the menu system where you could select a program and forbid that is ever recorded again .
Well this caused a mexican standoff for a couple of weeks were the devil box sulked and refused to record anything , but it eventually buckled and began recording my requests again .......but I knew all was not well , I used to catch it twittering to itself when I left the room , I could see it through a crack in the door , thinking it was alone , lights would flash , disks would grind and wirr and it would stop the minute I walked back in. I just knew it was plotting .Eventually the Hollyoaks recordings  started again, just the odd one occasionally and then it went completely bats and the whole total Hollyoaks wipe out  started again.
The battle ensued for months , forbidding Hollyoaks , the sulking , running down in the night to disconnect the blasted thing from the mains when I heard it twittering and plotting in the wee small hours.
Eventually I could take no more and a final trip to the dump bought the whole sorry episode to an end.
Now just imagine the havoc  a rogue autominous vacuum cleaner could wreak  , sneaking about tripping you up  , hiding in cupboards and flying out when you least expected it and attaching itself to various parts of you anatomy and giving you a very nasty suck..noisily mounting the Dyson  on the fireside rug whle you have the Vicar round for tea .As Mrs Pouncer would say....its beyond reason
This is one gadget the Beast will be giving a  very wide birth !
What paranoid luddite fantasies are you nurturing dear readers ????

NORDIC NAUGHTINESS

Not content with pinching our savings in the great Icesave swindle ,thus forcing poor Frobisher to earn a few  extra pennies to supplement his meagre pension desporting himself of an evening dressed as a lady. Those Zany Icelanders are at it again

On this occasion the devils are wafting a great cloud of volcanic ash over the UK .This has not only bought our aviation industry to a grinding halt .It will probably add insult to injury  and probably drop a foul mess all over poor Mr C's newly steam cleaned pristine back passage.

As an antidote to all this appalling behaviour The Beast scoured the interwebs for amusing facts about Iceland.
In short there don't seem to be any .....except (get ready to tape up those splitting sides)


ICELANDERS DO NOT HAVE SURNAMES

As I wring out my mirth moistened underwear , I noticed that the other interesting fact is that most of the Icelandic forbears came from Norway and Iceland has an abundance of fish
So we know how they amuse themselves on those long dark winter nights(Which last 20 hours)
***Gives knowing nod to Miss MJ***

 Miss Scarlets fish finger fan pales in comparison

GOING ROUND THE BEND

Easter , Easter , Easter , while all the rest of you are dossing about scratching your nether regions , gorging on cheap and nasty chocolate or aimlessly drifting round garden centres . The Beast was working (Well what a fecking surprise) . The Cafe was rammed Friday and Saturday daytimes and we were jammed solid for the Saturday Rubber Duck Cabaret Nite with an additional Hen Party of 25 shoe Horned in at the last minute for dinner and carousing .Beast cooked , the singers sang , Mavis bingoed and Mr C got plastered.
Easter sunday Beast scraped confetti off the floor and pondered the Easter mysteries , like how come no one bought me an egg......tight ass miserable bastards , but this was soon forgotten when it was announced we were off for a Cafe C visit to Thorpe Park the next day.
After a night of fevered excitement Easter Monday finally dawned , and Beast set off to rendevue with James Mr C and the girls in a car park off the M27 , where we coffee'd and set off .
The Park was busy when we arrived so we bought the fasttrack tickets so we could swan ahead of the polyester clad sweating masses and lord it at the front of the queue. I wanted to buy the really really expensive premium tickets , where I imagine being ceremoniously borne upon a gilded litter towards the front of the queue , with scantilly clad hand maidens scattering rose petals and silvered sugared almonds in my path . Sadly Mr C vitoed this suggestion in favour of more donuts and burgers.
The rides were great and my top three are as follows

Collosus . Its wicked , packed with loops and corkscrews and all with your legs dangling , getting a bit of air to your vitals :-)

Tidal Wave . I love this ride , you get soaked thru to your pants (Underpants for our colonial cousins)

Saw . Themed on the film franchise and features a vertical climb and drop over an overhang with plenty of loops , corkscrews and unexpected drops













There was even more thrills for one of our party as Thorpe Park is right in the flight path of the main take off runway of London Heathrow  .Poor James was nearly sick on the crappy 'backwards in the dark' rollercoaster . I think it was a case of over excitement from all those 747's and the like powering overhead . He completely blew his studied nonchelance when he breathlessly squeaked out an impressive list of statistics when one of those new double decker 800 seater Jumbo's lumbered into the sky to sarcastic hoots of derision from Mr C
We all had a marvellous day and were about the last people to be thrown  dripping from the park after just one last go on Tidal Wave.
What did you all get up to for the Easter weekend ???
Does anyone know how to get the spellchecker back , its seems to have dissapeared from the blogger toolbar ???

I just realised it wasnt collosus I liked best it was Nemesis Inferno , which was dangly ,loopy , corkscrewy fun

CATCHING UP

Beast has been a busy boy and not had much chance to do anything other than work and sleep . regretably I have missed competitions and not got round anyones blogs .  By way of making amends I have knocked up a foil hat(For IVD) and mashed it up with a tasteless household object(For MJ) , and that my dear readers is the best I can do for the next few days . So here we go

I HAVE AN ITCHY BUMHOLE - A REBUTTAL....GEDDDIIIIIiT ?????

As many a modern celebrity has found to their cost , what started out as just another rather dull evening rapidly went down hill on the discovery of  a vile slur suddenly appearing in the published media.

The Beast was pottering around at home , half heartedly perving over Seven of Nine in a rather dull episode of voyager   (Sad....yes , but one has to get ones jollies wherever they present themselves).
Suddenly a thought occured to me that Mr C was about to visit  , which I dismissed immediatley as nonsense as a) Mr C hasn't visited for months and b) Mr C's car is fecked at the moment . However dear reader , one should always follow ones gut instincts , and however improbable this may seem , I always know when Mr C is heading my way.....I don't know why , or how , I just do.
When the doorbell started manically ringing 5 minutes later , I knew I had missed my chance to switch all the lights out and hide under the stairs.
I opened the door to the usual whirlwind   . Mr C swept past and began talking ten to the dozen while routing thru the  the fridge and simultaniously banging and rattling the toaster , berating me that the cheap peace of crap didnt work , buy cheap buy twice  blah , blah , blah(He hadnt plugged it in ) , how the contents of my fridge would shame an anorexic blah , blah , blah(as he piled everything that was in there between two slices of butter slathered toast) , elbowed me away from  my PC while giving  loud demands for coffee (Not the cheap shit I usually give my guests - mind you) and complaining about my PC.
Then as suddenly as he arrived  , Mr C let out a loud belch , jumped up and ***POOF*** was gone , leaving nothing but a dirty plate , an empty mug, a few mayonaisy hand prints and a cloud of scathing insults buzzing in the air like hungry mosqito's to mark his passage.
It was five minutes later that a flurry of  sarcastic comments and supportive private messages started arriving from Facebook , as I suddenly realised to my horror I had left myself logged into Facebook , with Mr C at liberty on the PC .
Beastly Fartypants had procalimed to the social networking hordes the legend I HAVE AN ITCHY BUMHOLE
I would like to thank all those fellow 'Sufferers' for your support and  helpful advice and rest assured I will never reveal you affliction to the world FROBISHER and should I ever be struck down with an irrascible sphincter I will definatly boil an onion in milk and then stuff the squidgy mess in my pants or crouch gratefully upon a bag of frozen peas
For sure thats going to happen :-)

THE MANAGEMENT

Gentle reader , as you sit quietly relaxing with your herbal tea  , music of the 'easy listening' variety and the luxuriant aroma of pot pouri wafting around your ratty brushed nylon housecoat , spare a thought for poor Beast and Mr C wrestling with the rigours of managing the crew at Cafe C  , ensuring we provide Dorchesters premier entertaining experience.
Mr C had to quelle an attempted staff mutiny on Saturday and metered out a healthy dollop of 'Tough Love' to all concerned.......In a nutshell ,there was harsh words , sulking , trembling lower lips ,sending homes , a severe dressing down and a final reconciliation .
What was the Beast doing during all this argy bargy you may ask......stoically manning a smoking Panini Machine , marshalling a dizzying array of 'light bite' meals and wrangling the biggest heap of washing up you ever saw.
Saturday Evening's Cafe C Caberet Night was soon upon us . A solid 10 hours of wicked entertainment and wild partying . Our first act , local singer Peggy turned in a stirling performance before falling victim to Mr C's lethal 'Cock in a Frock' cocktail and had to be manhandled sobbing from the building and thrown with her guitar  into the back of a waiting Taxi .
This was followed in swift succesion by two Karoakeying Trannies (Their murdering of Bohemian Rhapsody was probably what set  a drink addled Peggy  a'sobbing.It certainly made me bilious ) and  a triumphant Crap Bingo with Mavis.
There was a short interlude before part of Local band the dinner Ladies took to the stage and finally to finish up a stonking evening , there was frenzied dancing to the marvellous mixing of DJ Richie T.


Many hours later As Mr C and James were about to close , one of the late arriving punters made a dash for the loo , had a volcanic gastric incident of the rear end variety , before fleeing the building and waddling off into a bright new dawn. On making this horrific discovery at 5 am , accompanied by exclamations of disgust and plenty of dry heaving the Management Comittee(Mr C and James , as our hero Beast was long ago tucked up in his bed , recharging ready for the morning clean up shift) decided to firmly close the lavatory door and sort it out in the morning.

I arrived fresh from a good nights sleep and an hours commute listening to the Archers omnibus , scurried into the Cafe and headed straight to the Lavatory to empty my straining bladder , on joyfully throwing the door open , I was nearly knocked over by the foul stench and then slowly took in the besplattered horror that was emerging from the fug .....  slammed the door pretty damn quick , wee'd in the garden and started cleaning the restaurant in complete denial of what was lurking beyond the green door.

James stumbled in about two hours later to assist with the cleanup and I realised I iether had to
1)take charge of the situation and 2)advantage of James's befuddled sleep deprived state
or
Face the horrific poo begrimed consequences myself.
Stopping briefly to trawl my memory for the principles of modern management I leapt into decisive action .

1.Frog marched James to the Lavatory door Strong Leadership
2.Shoved a cloth , mop , steaming bucket of bleach water and rubber gloves into James trembling hands Ensure the tools are readily available to do the job
3.Chirped Merrilly 'I am sure you are going to do a marvellous job' Encouragement
4.'As long as your careful where you tread and don't breath Coaching
5.I then held my breath ,
 whipped the door open and shoved the happless James in Strong Leadership AGAIN.....I am a natural at this
6.I Popped my head round the door when the choking had stopped and helpfully shouted 'I think you missed some over there ****Gesticulates wildly at nothing in particular*** On going feedback and engagement with the task in hand
7. And eventually held the bucket and made wild promises of  cups of tea as James completed his task and dry heaved(Attention seeking)  pathetically for a bit Typical post project empty management promises .
As Mr C says , Who was directing the cleanup operation by means of his messenger hand maiden Midge from his Second floor boudoire ,  Its all about team building