e Squared
Page 15
From: Lorraine Pallister
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 14 January 2009, 15.45
Subject: Re: Big Bruv
Friday then. Just don’t try anything on. It’s just a drink. Not a reconciliation.
From: Harvey Harvey
To: Comfort Ajegbo
Sent: 14 January 2009, 15.56
Subject: Re: Help I need kind sir
Att: all_my_personal_details.doc
Hi Comfort
I’ve prepared a Word document containing my personal details. You’ll find all my bank account and credit-card numbers and passwords in there, as well as the other things you asked for such as passport and social security numbers. There are also some details you probably don’t need (my Dr. Who site logon info and such like), but I thought it was better to have too much rather than too little. I also put in my home address, employer details and phone numbers. And my mum and dad’s number is in there too because I often spend my weekends with them. I didn’t include my PIN number, but just in case you need it, it’s 1234. I made it easy as I have a terrible memory! If there is anything else I can do, give me a call any time of day or night. I am very worried about you, Comfort, and making sure you’re safe is now my number-one priority.
I await news.
Harvey
From: Ted Berry
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.06
Subject: Montana
Well, aren’t you the comeback kid? Took Crutton and Gold through your Montana idea. Gold went the color of bleached pine. A definite positive—always like to have a suit nauseous at the prospect of the presentation. Crutton was immediately sold. Loves you as one of his own, geezer. Top marks.
One question between you and me: how much input did Harvey have in the idea? He’s been increasingly AWOL lately, mentally speaking, and I’m beginning to suspect he might be one of my poorer decisions. Yeah, I do make them from time to time. Is this one completely off with the fucking fairies?
By the way, I’m taking DC to do a few rock walls tonight. Discovered a gem of an indoor climbing center in Manor House. Fancy hauling yourself up with us? You could do with some conditioning, you lardy tosspot.
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Brett Topolski
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.32
Subject: couple of small dilemmas
Life definitely on the up. Lorraine has agreed to meet for a drink and the Berry/Crutton Axis of Evil thinks sun shines out of my arse (which, incidentally, is growing increasingly flatulent. Is that a function of middle age?). TB, whom I will from hereon refer to as MMT (My Mate Ted), has even invited me to go climbing with him and Crutton. Should I say yes? I’m carrying a little extra weight these days and I’m likely to embarrass myself about six feet up.
Other dilemma: MMT asked me what I think of Harvey Harvey. My guess is he’s considering giving him the heave-ho. Should I hit him with the truth, i.e. that Double H is a thoroughbred freakoid who belongs in (preferably heavily padded) residential care, or should I take pity and save his certifiable arse?
Yours in moral turmoil,Liam
From: David Crutton
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.34
Subject:
Ted is taking me climbing tonight. Nip out to Lilywhite’s and get me some suitable gear. You know my sizes.
From: Brett Topolski
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.41
Subject: Re: couple of small dilemmas
Rock climbing: I’ve seen you shimmy up and down several drain-pipes. Beer gut or not, you’ve clearly got the genes of a mountain goat. You’ll be fine. A few preparatory sit-ups might be in order though.
Harvey Harvey: you know what to do. Your guilty anguish ever since the thing with the thing shows you have at least the vestige of a conscience. Sounds like the kid needs a little care in the community and Allah (who is, it goes without saying, grrrrreat) has designated you as his district nurse.
Gotta go. You know how Vince gets if he misses happy hour.
Brett
PS: Don’t hold out too much hope when you go out with Lorraine. Probably just wants money—you owe her a small fortune, don’t you?
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Ted Berry
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.47
Subject: Re: Montana
Thanks for the big-up, Ted. I’d love to come climbing. Always been a sport I’ve fancied a stab at. Do I need any special gear/knowledge of knots?
Harvey: I’ll level with you. He did play a role in developing the Montana idea (though I led the way, obviously). He is an odd-ball, but he’s mostly cool. Definitely someone you should keep around because he could deliver massively one day. You never know where the next “I’d like to Teach the World to Sing” is going to come from, do you?
From: Ted Berry
To: Liam O’eefe
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.50
Subject: Re: Montana
Ta, geezer. I respect an honest opinion. I’ll mark HH down as one to watch. No gear needed for later. Just bring tracky bottoms and nerves of high-tensile steel—I take no prisoners when I’m on the face. And I’ll do the knots, thanks. I like you but I’m not gonna trust you with my life.
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Harvey Harvey
Sent: 14 January 2009, 16.57
Subject: You owe me
If Ted says well done on “our” Montana idea, you might want to say thanks and give him your most inane grin. He was being pretty down on you, so I gave you more credit than you’re strictly due. I’m nice like that. Anyway, our relationship has now entered its Godfather phase. As in: “Someday, and that day may never come, I’ll call upon you to do a service for me ...” Could be anything—crashing on your sofa, a lift to the airport, making the body of my first-born son fit to be seen by his mother. Just be prepared.
Don O’Keefe
From: Dotty Podidra
To: All Staff
Sent: 14 January 2009, 17.05
Subject: Interns?
Any interns free to help David practice knots? Former scouts/girl guides preferred.
Dotty Podidra
Assistant to David Crutton
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: All Staff
Sent: 14 January 2009, 17.08
Subject: Interns?
Any particularly sturdy interns free to sit on my ankles while I do a couple of hundred ab crunches?
From: Harvey Harvey
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 14 January 2009, 17.15
Subject: Re: You owe me
Thank you, Liam. I’ll be happy to do you a favor whenever you ask. I can’t think why Ted isn’t happy with me though. Any ideas?
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Harvey Harvey
Sent: 14 January 2009, 17.17
Subject: Re: You owe me
Not a clue, you mad fuck.
From: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: All Staff
Sent: 14 January 2009, 17.55
Subject: Tonight’s performance
Would everyone attending Yossi’s premier of Jinglonia please make their way to reception. The performance will commence in five minutes.
From: Róisín O’Hooligan
To: All Staff
Sent: 14 January 2009, 17.57
Subject: Re: Tonight’s performance
Yes, do hurry along. A word of warning though: I’ve been obliged to listen to the warm-up. Jinglonia, AKA Now That’s What I Call Shite. Bring your iPods, people.
Róisín
Reception
From: Ted Berry
To: David Crutton, Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 14 January 2009, 18.00
Subject: Where the fuck are you?
Sitting in the Cayenne waiting for you. Come on, guys, there’s simulated rock to conquer.
Sent from my iPhone
F
rom: Dotty Podidra
To: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
Sent: 14 January 2009, 18.07
Subject: Milton mercy dash!
Are you ready? We’d better go now or we’ll miss visiting hours.
From: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 14 January 2009, 18.09
Subject: Re: Milton mercy dash!
I’m ready. I’ve ordered the JPG jacket in pink AND taupe and I’ve put together a goody bag of male grooming products. Would you describe his skin type as “greasy” or “combination?”
From: Dotty Podidra
To: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
Sent: 14 January 2009, 18.10
Subject: Re: Milton mercy dash!
More like “bruised.” Just bring both. Cab’s waiting.
Thursday
Mood: horny for a little MILF magic
blogass.co.uk
Posted by Tiga
15/01/09, 10.39 GMT
Does anyone know how I can get my mum sectioned under the Mental Health Act? (My mum could tell me because she’s a lawyer, but obviously she’s the last person I should be asking!)
My mother has gone totally mad. It’s official. She’s pregnant (at 45!!) and obviously she’s producing literally gallons of hormones that are affecting her sanity. Last night she went completely over the top. She wants to stick one of those electric ankle bracelets on me just because I’ve missed a few weeks of school (which is totally pointless and I tried telling her I get a much better education from hanging in the Real World, but you try making a mad woman listen to reason). My friend (can’t name him for legal reasons) has a bracelet and it’s actually quite cool, but it’s part of his probation order and it was fitted by a qualified policeman, not by his own mother. The only reason she didn’t actually put it on me last night is that my dad was supposed to bring it home with him but he didn’t show up because he had to go to hospital with a head injury. When she found out where he was she went ballistic. She was screaming and shouting and calling him every vile name including fucking cunt. How do you think I felt hearing that? I mean, obviously he’s a total twat, but he’s still my dad.
Actually, My Preggo Mum is the subject for a whole other blog, which I will write as soon as I get a minute. I mean, isn’t her mental behavior proof that it’s clearly unsafe for a woman of her age to be knocked up? And what were her and my dad thinking? I mean, actually “doing it”! That shouldn’t be allowed, not at their age and not when there are children in the house. I’m mentally scarred just by the thought of them huffing and puffing away. What hell would I be going through if I actually walked in on them and saw them at it?
Comment posted by littleDinkDonv: You think you got it bad, Tiga? My mom still hasn’t let me out of my room. It’s been two weeks now. She put me in here cos of my blue hair so I cut it all off and now she says I look “obscene” and that I can’t come out till it’s grown back. “How long do you want it, bitch?” I yelled. I have to yell cos it’s through the door and she’s got a sofa rammed up against the other side. Anyway, she didn’t reply. She just shoved a picture of Cloe Bratz through the gap. It’s gonna take months to grow that long, but she totally doesn’t care. I’d make a break for it, but I’m too weak. She’s feeding me on her crazy Hare Krishna diet which is totally yuck and also completely unhealthy. I need protein. And carbs. And sugar. Last night I begged her for a Wendy burger or Oreos or anything properly nutritious. I’m wasting away, down to 174 lbs. “How thin do you want me?” I asked her. She shoved a picture of Barbie through the door. Someone out there has to help me. Please!!!!!
Comment posted bv Woody:
You sound like one horny teen, Tiga. I do like ‘em young and under the thumb of a “strict” mom. I’m rubbing myself now at the thought of your bondage games. Any chance of posting some jpegs of your sweet self, preferably with Mommy? Gotta go and “take care of business,” doll. Back soon.
blogass.co.uk
Posted by Hornblower
15/01/09, 17:48 GMT
Crépuscule dans le Périgord Partie 81: A la Recherche du Temps Perdu?
Après le dejeuner I stumbled upon Papin dans la cave. He had opened my last bottle of Château d‘Yquem ’89 and was settling down to a glass of this superlative sticky. I couldn’t find it in myself to chastise him. Le vieux paysan surely hadn’t the faintest clue that the case had cost me over €400—as far as he is concerned, du vin c’est du vin c’est du vin. I decided to join him and in the dank cool of the cellar we savored the finest dessert wine known to humanity.
“Pas la meilleure année, mais tu as du gout pour un trou du cul,” he opined. I thanked him for the compliment and then our thoughts turned to times past.
“Londres doit être plein de pauvres cons comme toi,” he observed. “Ca te manque tout ça?”
Do I miss London? Do I miss being at the epicenter of the tourbillon creatif? Do I miss the adrenal thrill of the quest for creative excellence, l’esprit de competition amical of the awards season, the parties replete with cocaine, supermodels and stars of popular music?
No, I told him firmly. London advertising was becoming staid and predictable when I left. “The Scene” may miss me, but I do not miss it.
“Putain de merde, si des enculés comme toi continuent à venir dans le Périgord, je vais devoir déménager à Londres,” he exclaimed.
Trust me, Papin, I told him, keep well away. London would eat an unworldly naïf like him alive.
“Au moins là-bas je pourrai brouter le cresson de ta femme. Elle va pas revenir, n’est-ce pas?” he said.
No, I ruefully agreed, Celine will not be returning. And as he drained the last of the bottle into his glass, I once again marveled at the preternatural insight of this paysan rugueux.
blogass.co.uk
Posted by Desperate
15/01/09, 18.04 GMT
Is anyone out there?
I’m blogging. I’m actually talking to complete strangers on the internet, but I have absolutely no one else to turn to. No one. At all.
I’m a mother of two, with another on the way. I’m forty-five years old. I shouldn’t be pregnant, should I? But, God help me, I am and, though I’m not in the least a pro-lifer, I can’t get rid of it.
I am having second thoughts though. I had my first scan today. “I think it’s a boy,” the doctor told me. “That’s not its penis, you idiot,” I replied. “The little sod is giving me the finger.” And I swear I wasn’t seeing things. I’m studying the printout now and there it is: a barely formed fetus giving me a stiff middle digit.
Just like its bloody sister, then. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call her Daisy. (Actually, I always wanted to call her that, but my husband—let’s call him Dick-insisted on a Jewish name to rile his grandmother, an obnoxious woman with views on Jews that would have made Himmler queasy.) Daisy is out of control, a foul-mouthed, oversexed truant (she thinks I don’t know about the love bites on her inner thigh, but what responsible mother doesn’t go into her sleeping daughter’s bedroom with a household torch and turn back the quilt?). Is it unreasonable to want to keep tabs on her? Does fitting her with an electronic ankle bracelet make me a bad mother?
And does wishing a lingering and painful death on her father make me a bad wife? This is the man who’d sooner be performing ridiculous macho daredevilry up a fiberglass rock face than at home carrying out his basic paternal duty of tagging his daughter. Am I wrong in thinking this isn’t a woman’s work?
I am only trying to do my best. So why am I being persecuted by feelings of guilt and failure? And why am I even writing this? Is anyone actually reading it? Does anyone give a damn?
Comment posted by Krishna Mom: Keep the faith, Desperate. My girl shaved her head so I’ve locked her in her room until it grows back. And while she’s up there, the fat little slut can lose about 60 lbs. Tough love. Krishna knows it’s the only way.
Comment posted bv Klint: I have the perfect solution. I gave my
poppet a cell phone for Xmas. She loves it. It’s pink and fitted with the latest camera and mp3 gizmos. What she hasn’t figured out is that it’s also got GPS so I know exactly where she is 24/7. (Go to www.spyonyourkids.com. Complete peace of mind for less than $200.) If she goes within 100 yards of her stoner boyfriend’s trailer, I’m on him with Total Magnum Force. (Go to www.guns-4-u.com. Complete peace of mind for less than $500.)