Diary of a Dork - Articles of Sarcasm and Irreverence (3 page)

I was riding in
the car with my mum and we stopped off somewhere for some reason. I
got bored and decided to get out and go on an adventure and explore
things. I started sneaking around some strange objects when I
noticed that there was a funny smell around the place. Suddenly I
got attacked by a big snake that started spitting at me. I fell
over and started wrestling the snake but it had got a tight hold on
my legs. I thought I was going to die or something when my mum came
back and started shouting at me. It turned out that we were at a
petrol station and I had fallen over the hose on a petrol pump.

*****

Hiya tiddly peeps!
The name’s Bob and keeping the park is me game, hence the name
Park-keeper Bob. People often call me Parkie Bob for short (or just
Bob if they don't know what my job is) though I remember many a
year ago they called me Pervie Bob until them horrible charges were
dropped due to a lack of evidence. Things were easy back then
before all this DNA profiling malarkey came into fashion and ever
since then the perks to my job ‘ave been disappearing down the plug
‘ole. And that ‘aint fair at all I tell you. Me old dear Marjorie
‘aint much of a looker or a goer these days so I has to get what I
can when I can.

Most days I slowly
makes my way round the place picking up litter and placing it in my
black sack whilst keeping a sneaky look-eye out for a nice young
lady to gaze upon from afar. If I am wearing my favourite shorts I
might engage the said young lady upon a piece of brief conversation
about the weather or some such like. As she sits there nattering
away like a lemon I will be negotiating myself into a position that
allows maximum perversion at herself. Sometimes I have to make do
with only a peep through a button-hole or two but if I am lucky I
will get a full-on view of the cleavage and maybe even a bit of
side-boob if the weather favours it. 90% of the time I am at the
mercy of random chance but like I says before, I gets what I can
when I can and that’s that.

After this
escapade is over I retire to my van which is usually parked nearby
and go to town on myself. A few minutes of shuffling around in the
back, empty me sack into a black sack and off I go again for
another of my usual rounds. With a fresh pair of shorts of
course.

*****

I have always been
a cable guy. Always. Well, at least ever since that day in school
when Biffo Jenkins dragged me into the toilets and wiped his own
shit all over my face.

I wouldn't ever put up with that sort of bullying these days and my
commitment to buying good, high-quality AV cables is a testament to
that. Every time I go round my parents house I dread the moment my
mum says "let's watch some TV" because the cables they use are
whatever cheap shite that they got free with their DVD player or
whatever. How can my mum watch Santa Barbara like that? Laura
Simmons Asher looks like a horrible old hag on anything less than
gold-plated RGB SCART that was hand-crafted on the thighs of a
virgin Amazonion warrior princess.
Here are some examples of how good quality AV connections changed
the world:
The marriage of Prince Charles to Lady Diana Spencer in
1981
. I love Diana and have watched all of her films. That
piece of shit Charles wasn't good enough for her but that slut
Camilla Parker Bowles was just about his level. I once nicknamed
her 'Parking my Bowels'.
I found an old VHS recording of the wedding that had been
transferred to laser disc a while back. VHS is pure bullshit but
Betamax is like a god to me. Ever since Star Wars was released on
laser disc I have loved it. Anyway, I re-recorded the sound from
this laser disc copy and got it pressed onto vinyl because vinyl
has the richest, warmest and purest sound it is possible to get.
Anytime some pleb starts talking to me about BluRay this and BluRay
that I just wanna say "back off anus face and cram the poxy
Blu-bollocks up your arse".
So yeah, I got the sound onto vinyl and hooked it all up using my
custom-spec AV cables. Holy shitballing bastarding Christ almighty!
The moment I turned it all on I was just sat there agog at the
wondrous spectacle before me. Diana looked even more beautiful than
I thought possible. With all the extra clarity I could see the
queen talking to someone and after re-watching that section a
hundred times I was able to lip-read that she was telling Prince
Andrew that the corgis had shit all over the balcony.
I was so amazed by everything that I almost forgot to pull one off
over Diana.
Justin Bieber at the Apollo
. I totally love this guy. He is
pure talent and he is a good, Christian role model for kids. Whilst
they are all out drinking cider and having crap sex under the
see-saw in the local park the Bieberster is making a cup of tea for
his mum so they can both sit down and watch Santa Barbara whilst
discussing who shot JR. Bieber knows JR was an a-hole but he
doesn't ever say that sort of thing in front of his mum. In fact he
wouldn't ever say it because he is a good Christian boy.
I rung up his record label and asked if they could send me a vinyl
copy of his work. The person I spoke to was some young wise-ass who
barely even knew what I was talking about. I was so angry that I
farted down the phone at him and hung up. It turns out he aint
released anything on vinyl so I had to suck it up and get the
CD.
To make up for having to listen to a CD I gave my cables an extra
polishing. And it wasn't no cheap polish either but the good stuff
that usually only gets used for special occasions. I also arranged
some mirrors so that all the acoustic warmth gets reflected back to
the source.
5 hours later and I was ready. And for the love of Pete and his
hairy dragon chin was it good! Boy Bieber sounded FANTASTIC!
Throughout the course of the album I got to know the little shit
all over again and, no word of a lie, every time I closed my eyes
it was like the little fucker was right there in the room with me!
NO JOKE. Every time he sung a chorus I was right there with him,
flying around his vocal chords like a flying thing. I could hear
everything and I swear I could even hear his balls dropping a
little bit during the last song.

*****

Wotcha to my
fellow Brits, hej to the Swedes, bonjour to the French and tag to
the Krauts. I wanted to include other languages in this greeting
but the online translator I was using only allows three
translations a day unless you subscribe.
I feel it is time that us Brits and Europeans make a stand for
ourselves and show the Yanks what we are all about. There are only
so many news articles about guns, republicans and gun-carrying
republican cops that I can put up with before I put on my clogs,
straighten my beret and eat a corned beef sandwich. So, in an
effort to show off how cultured Europe is here are some things that
the Yanks would be jealous of if they actually bothered to get a
passport and visit us.
Morris Dancers - An ancient British tradition dating back to 500BC
(Americans take note - no that date isn't wrong, the world existed
long before 1776) where a bunch of hairy-chested and manly men who
were very masculine performed deadly rituals and swung dangerous
weapons around in front of a big fire. They might not look like
much but just look at the outfits - the white clothes point to a
solid scientific background and those bells are made from sharks
teeth.
NHS Dentistry - An idea that Prime Minister Obama is currently
trying to steal from us. You have all seen that Simpsons episode
where Lisa goes to the dentist and gets those braces with a cage
over her head, right? EVERY SINGLE BRIT HAS THOSE FROM BIRTH. It
means if we ever went to war we could just close down all our
weapons factories and headbutt the enemy soldiers to death. Eating
tends to be a problem though which is why so many British teenagers
look so malnourished.
IKEA - A small Swedish shop that sells high-quality bath taps. It
doesn't sound like much but the taps are made out of recycled dog
poo and, as us Brits are a nation of animal lovers, there is an
almost infinite supply of the stuff for the Swedes to buy. IKEA is
raking in the money now and the mighty unelected EU bureaucratic
diplomatic machine will be slapping them with a 98% tax rate any
day now and passing the money onto feckless Greek banks. It's all
the German's fault y'know.

BMW - The world's
largest manufacturer of over-sized model cars, this German behemoth
of a company churns out toy cars of such high quality and attention
to detail that many people mistake them for the real thing. Many an
urban legend exists about these wonderful contraptions though you
won't find any of them debunked on Snopes.com. One such legend
tells of an amateur magician that tried to fool a room full of
media studies students who had just finished watching the entire
series of Too Fast 2 Furious films. It didn't end well at all (the
magician's trick that is, not the films).

*****

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