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i had become quite the professional. seemingly it annoyed everyone that i drank more, did less work and ate more curries but still managed to out-perform them (actually, i don’t have a clue why curries has anything to do with it either – perhaps i just wanted to mention the fact..)

it took a little while but i soon became the ideal exec – young, eager and full of spunk (using the american term of course. mind you..) i was fully prepared with mints, breath fresheners, aftershave, a hanky for drying sweaty hands after hours of driving and acid tablets.

oh, that’s antacids, not acid tabs (saying that, i once took speed before attending an interview and turned up a day early. i didn’t get the position..) anyway, this was an almost guaranteed sale as they were part of an umbrella organisation – so all i had to do was not fuck up..

i was late for the presentation because the parking meter only accepted old fifty pence pieces and had to find some. after locating this weird black market i took my medication, mints, scents and then entered the building. it goes wrong from here..

the lift was coated in copper. helpful, because i could check my tie and hair before conducting the sale. yet i thought it wise to, erm (yes, men really do think like this..) have a good fart before arriving at the floor.

in the usual bloke manner, i clamped my penis shut, arched my spine, threw my head back and strained. actually, i’ve just thought, how do women fart? what do they clamp? the women i’ve known have farted by accident – if i did that i’d be sitting in a pile of shite..

anyway, it looked a bit odd in the reflective interior. still, i was now prepared and looking forward to a couple of grand profit for myself.

the lift door opened and i was greeted by three middle managers. although, they had shocked faces and seemed to be looking past me. that’s when i noticed the back of the lift was glass and i was in full view of a bus load of old women not twenty yards away from me..

stewart d: we were lucky last night, after that guy wanted to beat you up.

a guy wanted to beat me up?

yes, the big fella, after you farted.  it was quite early on in the evening.

a bloke wanted to beat me up due to a fart?

well it was a particularly bad fart..

it has become clear that my father’s difficulties usually surround nightspots .. or the chinese [refer to here as this was also an in/out of context statement.]

this isn’t a racist comment, he abhors any level of racism. in fact he once said to me that one shouldn’t dislike a person for what they are but for what they do – i was ten years old at the time and this wisdom has stayed with me forever.

it’s just that, if he’s involved in a bizarre situation, there’s usually someone of chinese origin present [refer to here as this was also an … never mind.]

it first started when, as a young man, he would eat in a chinese restaurant and rather than pay he would do a runner (if you haven’t done this then it comes highly recommended as in almost every circumstance the chef would chase you down the road with a meat clever.) yet my dad would always leave his rugby kit behind and have to collect it the following day with his apologies and payment for the meal. in fact, this particular restaurant had become so used to his inane ways that they eventually stopped chasing him because it was certain he’d turn up the following morning for his kit anyway – therefore you’re left with the scenario in which a person (my dad, unfortunately) would bolt down the road for absolutely no reason what so ever..

also, we once attended the best chinese restaurant in kent. it was usually very busy but this weekend in question was especially so. waiting for the first course was reaching the hour, until my father came up with an ingenious method of obtaining efficient service. grabbing a spoon and a wine glass, he then proceeded to bang the two together - our food arrived almost immediately. try it for yourselves, you’ll either get fast service .. or chased down the street with a meat clever..

additionally, he was once the governor of a large prison which included a substantial chinese population. during a meeting with the board of visitors the difficulty of communication was raised and it was suggested that a sign be created in which standard phrases be made in both chinese and english. my dad suggested that they also be numbered so the chinese could actually ask us for a number 9, 23 and 57b..

it didn’t go down well.. one of the board members complained he was being racist and it was offensive to the entire chinese population. the area manager knew my father and saw the comment for what it was – what do you think i should do? she asked. the reply was um, fuck off..?

leaving college and gaining employment, i found myself at AppleExpo 95. with ten thousand visitors attending over three days it is the premier UK exhibition for all things Mac-related.

following a lovely roast lamb and salad sandwich with my boss we discussed work-related issues for twenty minutes and then slowly walked back to our stand. nearing the toilets, i explained i needed a piss (well, i didn’t use those words exactly..) and excused myself.

after washing my hands i looked in the mirror and noticed a 1×6cm leaf of lettuce, perfectly centred, hanging from my chin..

my boss was pretty gross. one time someone broke into her car, stole her belongings but then left her huge underwear in a long trail down the road. and, at my ‘welcome’ lunch, i almost stated that she had a large amount of mayo residing at the edge of her mouth – i’m glad i never said a word as, seemingly, she always ate like that.. she’d also eat packets of crisps with a vengeance and once thought aloud whether she was either addicted to the potato chips or the salt (i remember thinking perhaps it’s because you’re just a big fat scouser..)

anyway, she obviously allowed me to spend thirty minutes, among thousands of people, wearing a weird green goatee and without saying a bloody thing. she was subsequently fired from her job (but i don’t think it had anything to do with the lettuce..)

normally i would hate myself for looking so stupid. instead i just pointed at myself in the mirror and laughed manically – it cleared the washroom in no time.

i had now entered a new era. i promised myself never to be caught in acts of stupidity. with hindsight, what a stupid thought..

the cleaner left a note today, said she isn’t coming back. it was her first day. i know you had something to do with this..

it wasn’t my fault. my father should have informed me that he employed one. instead, waking at the crack of noon (as usual), i found an unfeasibly tall woman polishing the furniture. so i just got the vacuum out and assisted cleaning the house whilst we both exchanged uneasy stares and never said a word to each other the entire time (admittedly i was only dressed in my underpants..)

to explain the next unfortunate cleaning employee i must introduce phil, my fathers friend and colleague. phil muff (the name has been changed so not to sound like bill duff at all..) was also a prison governor but, seemingly, spent his entire life drinking, eating crap and shagging anything warm..

the women he brought home were horrendous, i dubbed one of them ‘the elephant woman’ as her facial features were so disproportionate (it was difficult to ascertain where her face stopped and her body began..) he spent hours in the bathroom even though, after years of self abuse, he had a face like a scrotum.

anyway. i awoke one morning badly in need of a piss. i would say it was the worst i’ve ever needed to go but pissing on bromley south train station was worse and i’ve also taken a piss on the bed twice (not in the bed, but on the bed.) and once in my brothers house..

you remember that time i asked for the sheets to be washed because i spilt the..

dai, you pissed on the bed didn’t you..

yes.

so, up until that point in my life, i needed a slash more than ever but phil was in the bathroom and wasn’t coming out anytime soon. i had a crises on my hands (or in my hands..) i didn’t want to go outside only to be faced with the neighbours over the hedge and try to conduct a normal conversation whilst steam rose before me.. again..

i hit upon an idea. we kept the empty milk bottles near the sink so i grabbed one and disappeared down the cellar. on my knees i was so happy to relieve myself but a problem occurred – i had just filled a pint glass and was nowhere near done. it was crises upon crises.

clamping shut my foreskin, i ran up the stairs, opened the door and prayed no one would be present. my father probably would have me sectioned as my knob now looked like the size of a melon..

i grabbed a second bottle and returned to the basement to fill another ¾ pint. whilst managing to do this unnoticed i wasn’t about to make the mistake of being caught with two steaming bottles of piss – so i decided to leave them there and discard the contents after college..

it was the first thing on my mind when i returned from my lectures – and they were gone..

the cleaner left a note today, said she isn’t coming back. it was her first day. i know you had something to do with this..