Congratulations are in order for my man, Stead. After months of hard work, boss-baiting and general arse-licking (which I hear he really enjoys), he's finally got the promotion he's been angling for. That means a decent pay rise and, more importantly, A COMPANY CAR!!! You may recall that he's been driving a Nissan Micra around for a couple of years, now. That's pretty bad, even by my standards.
So, yeah. As of Monday(ish) he'll be one grade ahead of me. Doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, since we don't work in the same part of the organisation, but I feel sure that he will take the opportunity to rub my nose in it as often as is sub-humanly possible. For my part, I will remind him that I, at least own my own car (could have planned that sentence better) and his is, at best, borrowed from the company. Which makes him some sort of sponger. A really limp one, I expect.
Anyway. Those best laid plans. (There's a great Eddie Izzard sketch about best laid plans... but I digress) Stead phoned me up on the way home to give me his amazing news. After his initial confusion about the amount of background noise the public transport on which I was travelling (the concept of which he is unfamiliar with), he soon got down to the important business:
"Dude," he said, "is on me tonight."
Now. Before I go on, I know how that phrase must have looked to those people who are unfamiliar with our use of the word 'Dude'. Pretty damn odd, I should think. I shall explain:
'Dude' is, of course used in place of 'Mate', 'Buddy' or 'Pal' in our circles. It is also used however , in place of 'Pizza'.
'Why?' I hear you ask. 'Why in God's name would you call pizza 'Dude'?'
Well there it is. Pizza Dude. The man who delivers the pizza is the 'Pizza Dude'. Hence, in our warped little minds, 'Dude' equates to pizza. So the guy who delivers the dude, is known as the 'Dude Dude'. Only we get our dude from the dude van by Tesco, which doesn't deliver. So we, as Dudes have to go to the Dude Dude to get the dude ourselves.
So that's sorted then. Clear? Good. I shall continue with my anecdote.
Fantastic. Someone's buying me dinner. I had a nice tuna salad lined up for my tea but, Dude - well that kinda wins hands down. And it's only right that the Stead, who now earns some grands more than me and gets to borrow a car from the company should pay. Only, and here's the kicker, when the time came to hand over the cash, Mr Now-I-Earn-Mega-Bucks-And-Have-A-Considerably-Better-Car-Than-You announced that he had forgotten his wallet.
So there it is. The type of person that our Stead is. Basically a sponging scumbag.
Seriously though... There's no-one more deserving of a Band 4 than my man, Stead. Not only does he actually do some work when he gets to the office, but he does it amazingly well. Congratulations, Dude.
There was something else as well. I'm sure there was. Something really important. But it slips my mind.
Oh yeah. That election business. I trust all you UK readers went out and voted. If you did, whatever your political views... well done. You've done your civic duty and you should be proud of your contribution to the wonderful thing that is Democracy. If not, and you don't have an amazingly good reason... well, quite frankly you don't deserve a government. You're obviously shite or intellectually stunted and should bloody well sod off.
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