http://20six.co.uk/lemonsquash
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In other news
...the subs are all presently debating how to proceed with a news item about a bloke jailed for making use of a banana and a carrot with a young lady against her will (although not according to him). I have never heard the words "anal" and "pleasuring herself with a vibrator" (a video shown by the bloke to the court to prove that she was willing) being banded around the office so much. It's a bit too saucy for The Rag really, but the subs seem to be at a bit of a loss as to how to tone it down whilst retaining the pertinent facts. The news editor claims that she had already cut it down as much as she could, which has made me wonder about the protocol involved in asking a woman in her sixties exactly what was in the original piece.
To try to avoid bringing too much attention to it, one of the subs suggested giving it a deliberately mundane headline, and "putting it somewhere down the bottom". An ill-advised choice of words.
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1.8.05 11:59
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I am about to
...hand in my letter of notice to The Rag.
So...
Anybody got any odd jobs wot need doing ?
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2.8.05 11:53
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Myself and Nooma have recently been exchanging
...emails containing fun games. One of these games has been to come up with animal names that incorporate words for people's rudey bits (Nooma has named this game 'fannimals'). I have come up with 'owang-utan', and 'jaguarse', and Nooma has provided 'duck-billed platypussy' and the incredible 'poontangaroo'.
Can you think of any more ?
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3.8.05 10:29
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In the ongoing
...Hunt For Lemonsquash's Soul, I think I'm making some progress. I have recently caught up with some folk that I haven't seen for years, and this is always A Good Thing. Amongst others, there have been : My old travelling buddyWe met for breakfast after not seeing each other for almost two years. I'd not seen him before leaving to live in New Zealand, and had blown out our proposed last meeting in order to help a beautiful Irish half-cast choose an outfit for an 'I Was A Teenage Dominatrix'-themed party. Considering I'd been to a blog picnic the evening before, gotten rotten, lost in Walthamstow, and fell asleep on my mate's doorstep, getting up for breakfast was something of a trial. But worth it. He is now a barrister. Now, some of you may not believe this, but I almost went down this career path myself. If I had, there is a good chance I would now be minted - a corpuscle about to pass through the beating heart of the Big Smoke; rather than totally skint - an ingrowing hair on the little toe of the nation. But I was not envious. He seems very busy, but happy, and taking very middle-class holidays in France between the bouts of chaotic slog. But it was readily apparent that, though it suited him, it wasn't for me. And this made me feel at least a little at peace. He told me a great story though about how he'd accidentally walked in on someone at his workplace who was receiving a blow job. My mate didn't notice at first, and proceeded "Hi. Sorry I didn't knock, but I didn't think you'd be in. Anyway, I've brought FUCK... Sorry... Er... Bye". Exeunt. Would that that happened at The Rag. Actually, all things considered, I take that back. And next, my first ever girlfriend...
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5.8.05 15:11
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Another meeting I have
...had recently which has aided The Quest For Lemonsquash's Soul was with my very first girlfriend. She had been present at the beginning of my recent school reunion, and I hadn't seen her for about nine years. And admittedly, she did look as foxy as hell. We chatted for a couple of minutes, which was long enough to find out that she'd ejected no less than three bairns since leaving school. Cripes. None of her group of friends had shown at the reunion, so she decided to leave early. We exchanged numbers before she did, and agreed to have a nine-year catch-up at some point. So we met up last week, as she was holidaying quite near to where I live. And we had a lovely evening. Before anyone thinks, I am a 'by the rules' player, so there was no ulterior motive in meeting up (although she did - as I may have already mentioned - look exceptionally hot, which never hurts). She reminded me that we used to swap our answer papers at the beginning of history lessons, and I'd fill in all her blanks. I reminded her of a massive lovebite she once gave me, to which she responded that she always had had a big mouth. It was all quite sweet. However, it was also a little depressing in parts. For example, her ex-husband sounded like a total motherfucker. She hoofed him out when she was pregnant with their third after she found a tape-recorder in an extractor fan. She'd known to look for it as he'd bugged her and tapped her phone before. Now, she'd moved from our home-town to his, and as such lived near all his family. She started feeling cold-shouldered after the child was born, and phoned up his parents to find out why they had neglected to visit their grandchild. It became apparent that her ex had told everyone that the child wasn't his. Then later he requested a DNA test. She told him that she wasn't about to organise it or pay for it, as she knew full well the child was his; but she would turn up at the surgery when given a date and time. Apparently he was less keen to spread the news after the results vindicated her. But, despite expressing a little envy about my ants-in-pants lifestyle, she seemed happy. Especially now that ex-hubbie had been kicked into touch. And she had three mewling little parasites... sorry... adorable little angels to show for the last decade. Despite realising that I do not wish for such a life myself especially, seeing her made me feel a little at peace. We vowed that it wouldn't be another nine years before we caught up again. It's good to keep in touch.
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8.8.05 15:32
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Stuff that I
...could've blogged about, but haven't :
- an entire evening where absolutely every joke I made bombed
- trying desperately not to fart during a boring meeting
- escaped ducks
- inventing names
- offending estate agents
- Question's first shag
- Nooma's disasterous party
- a friend having his Johnson felt at gunpoint
Blee.
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9.8.05 10:58
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This is why one shouldn't
...field phone calls shortly after your newspaper has come out :
*Phone rings*
Lemonsquash : Hello, newsroom.
Woman : Hello, I'm calling about your article this week - 'County pay packets lighter than most'.
Lemonsquash : Oh right, ok...
Woman : The article says that the average hourly pay is £8.92 an hour.
Lemonsquash : A-ha...
Woman : It's not as much as that.
Lemonsquash : I'm not familiar with the article itself. Does it say on the piece who wrote it ?
Woman : It's not as much as £8.92 an hour, I'm telling you.
Lemonsquash : All the reporters are in a meeting at the moment, but if you like I can find out which one wrote the article, and get them to call you back in order to let you know the source of the statistic.
Stupid woman : It's nowhere near £8.92 an hour. My daughter gets about £5 an hour, and so do my friends.
Lemon's Head : This must be the most comprehensive wage investigation the county has ever seen. When did you find time to sleep ?
Lemonsquash : I'm sure that the reporter's source was reliable, but if you like I can...
Fucking Stupid Woman : It's not £8.92. It's more like £5. How can your paper print such rubbish ?
Lemonsquash : Well, like I said I haven't seen the piece, but if you take into consideration the higher salary brackets, then the average is bound to be pushed up.
Really Fucking Stupid Woman : I hardly know anybody that earns more than £5 an hour round here. I can't believe you printed that without checking.
Lemonsquash : Some people in the county will earn £20k plus, which will naturally push up the average. Some will earn £100k plus, which will also boost it.
Unbefuckinglievably Dense Woman : Most people earn £5 an hour. Your paper is wrong.
Lemonsquash : There would be little point in conducting a survey amongst all and only the people who earn £5 an hour with the intention of finding out what their average pay packet was.
I-think-I've-probably-made-my-point-about-how-stupid-the-woman-is-by-now Woman : I'm telling you it's something like £5 an hour. I can't believe...
Lemonsquash : Would you like me to get the reporter to call you ?
Woman : No.
Lemonsquash : Is there anything else I can help you with ?
Woman : No.
Lemonsquash : Good. Goodbye.
*Click*
*Phone rings*
*Lemonsquash thinks about going to make coffee*
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11.8.05 14:35
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As much as The
...Rag photographer is a lovely chap, I do like it when he's off work. And this is why :
Acting News Editor : Are you busy ?
Lemonsquash : No.
Acting News Editor : Would you like to go and investigate an alleged crop circle ?
Lemonsquash : Yes. Yes I would.
I wonder if this has anything to do with the power surges we've been having all morning.
I wonder if this is going to be the last Lemonsquash entry, and an early warning before the country is plunged into bedlam and destruction by increments.
I care not. It's sunny, and I have a camera. Yay Friday.
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12.8.05 09:49
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So I bravely ventured
...out into the countryside to investigate these 'crop circles'. The moment I saw them, I was stricken with a sense of deep foreboding. I went into the sickly yellow field itself, and felt my chest tighten, and I began to sneeze - a sure sign of the presence of something alien to my body. But don't just take my word for it - see for yourselves :  Terror!We went to see the local farmer who owned the field. He seemed edgy, and keen to get rid of us. We asked him about the circles. He responded "This isn't anything unusual. Sometimes crops just go down". Though claiming that he was in a rush to get his bundles of crop in "before it rains", we sensed from our twelve-fingered friend that he was desperately trying to save himself before others. He had all the hallmarks of someone stockpiling food in preparation for spending twenty years underground. I realised as he ushered us off his property that the "rain" of which he spoke may be more ominous that the regular precipitation that the slate grey clouds overhead promised.  Apocalypse!I think this is conclusive proof. It will be no understatement when the headline of The Rag next week - if there is a next week - reads 'ALIENS! ALIENS! ALIENS!'
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12.8.05 11:56
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Two things of
...note from the weekend. The first is that I have to work out some way of stopping myself from promising *anything* whilst I'm drunk. Saturday morning, 8 a.m. :
Lemonsquash : Yay. Saturday. Lie-in.
Sweet Ecologist : Or not. You're helping me move today, remember ?
Lemonsquash : Er... Yes ?
Sweet Ecologist : Ok, we have to be at my old flat by nine o'clock.
Lemonsquash : Oh shitting fuck.
Sweet Ecologist : You are happy to help, aren't you ?
Lemonsquash : Er... Yes ?
Spending the morning humping boxes and a washing machine wasn't what I'd had in mind for my weekend. It wasn't really what she'd had in mind either, so she stopped me and made me carry them. Groo.
The second thing is pushy parents. I had to go to take a picture of an eighteen year-old girl who's a bit of a musical prodigy. The article was to do with her harp playing, so I thought it natural to take a picture of her at the harp. For her mother (*spit*), this clearly wasn't enough, as she played *so* many more instruments. Could we fit a viola in the shot too ? And a grand piano ? The poor girl had probably been put on the stool the moment she was evacuated from the womb. She'd recently been abroad on various musical camps (we'll avoid the obvious joke here, shall we ?), so I told her that I hoped she'd had at least some opportunity to let her hair down. She giggled coyly. Her mother glared. The star of the show never got a word in. The mother then proceeded to try and force a list of things missing from the article on me, and I had to persuade her that it was probably best to speak to the person that was writing it. If ever I am stricken with the anathema of children, I would hope that I would never foist my failed dreams onto them. Her daughter did play a demon harp though, to be fair.
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15.8.05 12:48
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I have been rather
...distracted during the course of my employment. Sometimes by work, but mainly by blogging. As such, I've neglected my doctoring photographs and sneaking them past the subs duties. And now I only have two weeks left. Heaven's doughnuts. So today I've grafted one moustache and sideburns onto an originally clean-shaven punter. I might try and wangle some of my friends' heads into crowd scenes. Any other suggestions, dudes and dudettes ?
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15.8.05 15:46
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I have nothing
...earth-shattering to report, but there are a couple of odds and sods I could tell you about, I suppose : - I am moving out of the Odd Couple's house in a couple of weeks. In the normal course of things, this would cut my blogworthy material in half. However, the more attentive amongst you may have noticed that I haven't blogged about them for ages. This is partly because they've been away, and partly because I had a mild panic when I was given reason to suspect they knew about this blog. Jumping Jesus on a cross. - I went to the County Show yesterday to have lunch with Nooma. She was in attendance promoting the Heavy Petting Zoo (where she works). Here is a photo of her dressed as a cow :  It was shitting hot at the show, which I think should be quoted in the next edition of The Rag. We bought some crêpes, and ate them whilst listening to a woman who looks like the friend of your mother's who fancies herself singing in Welsh. This was a bit like purgatory. The entire show is like being at a festival, except without any of the good bits. Nooma is always good fun though, so the day was saved. We ate free pieces of pie and honey-glazed cashews, laughed at inbreds (who were multitudinous), and sucked helium from balloons. We had thought about buying guns, tanking up on cider, then firing indiscriminately into the crowds. But both of us had to work. - I had a to-do with a woman in advertising this morning over who got to use the better camera today. I argued that I needed the better camera as you can adjust the shutter speed, and I had to take an action shot, whereas she only had to take pictures of static cars. She argued that she preferred the better camera, which I didn't think constituted much of an argument. The entire time she was snotty and looked at me as if I had just fallen out of a dog. I am not one to descend to petty name-calling, as I'm sure you know - but she is a stinky lackwit fannybubble with a face like a slapped arse and all the personality of a ruptured testicle. That will do, for now.
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18.8.05 15:21
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As I am a formulaic kinda
...guy who thrives on routine, I am going to tell you some things that happened over the weekend. I was recently inspired by the lovely Babbling Bird to get myself a copy of 'John's Not Mad' from Ebay. Myself and Nooma watched this on Friday night after going to the pub, and laughed so much we almost shit. I think I must have an entire wing booked in Hell by now. We were told to turn it down by the Odd Male at one point, as we were laughing too much and being disruptive. It is worth adding at this point that it was Friday night, and the Odd Couple are both teachers and hence on holiday. The Odd Female often protests that they haven't yet grown up. I would argue that this is because they were both in their forties when they were born (for those who don't know, the Odd Couple are my age, which is late twenties). As a reaction to having been told off, Nooma decided to start playing their didgeridoo, and aimed it at the ceiling beneath their room. I received a text from her after she'd left. It read 'Suck my penis. Fucking cunt. x'. *Sigh* Also this weekend, I found a new house to move into. So, as of next weekend, I shall no longer be living with my adoptive - yet same-aged - parents. I am very excited about this. The new place has a massive garden with a view of the beach, and some trees at the bottom that would be good for making a den. If anybody fancies popping by for a barbeque, drop me a line. That's almost all of the news, except for almost making myself sick by eating a ridiculous amount of cheese in one go whilst showing off to Nooma and a friend of hers visiting from The Ants' Nest. I have learned two lessons from this : (a) showing off will often lead to your becoming unglued; and (b) there *is* such a thing as too much cheese after all.
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22.8.05 14:06
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I am moving house this
...weekend, and I'm very excited. Here are the pros and cons of my proposed move : Pros- There will be a huge garden. This will be ideal for all sorts of activities, such as croquet, rolling around on, hiding in, defending from marauders, and sitting in. And it mows itself. Not literally - that would be like some kind of crazy bot-fi (botany-fiction) dream. I mean that someone comes round to mow it, and we don't have to do anything. - I will be able to use more than one shelf of the fridge. When the Odd Couple were away recently, it was bliss to be able to buy lots of fresh stuff, and not limit my purchasing to my designated volume. When they returned, they dumped all of their camping gear and Duke of Edinburgh (oh yes) stuff all over the hallway and stairs; but before tidying any of it away, condensed my refridgerated stuff onto my shelf, leaving the rest of the fridge empty save one jar and a block of butter. The hallway and the fridge remained like that for a couple of days. This is psychologically interesting (think assertion of 'power'), but also piss annoying. There will be no more of that. My products will soon mingle in a multicultural fridge. - I will be able to relax in my own house without treading on eggshells, or fear of being offered "hot tips" by a man with a face like a slapped arse. - I will be able to get broadband, which I haven't been able to organise in the Odd Couple's house. This will mean that - for the first time in months - I will be able to read Menace's blog, which crashes my crappy work machine. It also means high-speed music and porn. High-fives all round. - We can decorate how we like. Bonanza. - Loads of other stuff that I haven't even considered yet. Cons- There are no cons.
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23.8.05 11:07
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So I decided that
...cooking dinner for the Odd Couple would be a nice thing to do. After all, despite my protestations, they are nice really and I'm grateful that they've let me stay (I reserve the right to be inconsistent). So I cooked up a big ole' ruby, and invited the Sweet Ecologist round to act as a defensive shield.
A pleasant evening was had, but my suspicions that I am not especially grown-up were confirmed. I was quite prepared to plop the food onto plates, and flop on the sofas with them in our laps. Not so - bodies darted about around me heating plates and bowls for the separate dishes, which slightly upset my semi-autistic 'cooking mode' zone. We sat stiffly at the table and commenced. They talked about painting and tiling. I made the occasional inappropriate joke (usually occasioning 'Lemonsquash - the adults are talking'-type looks). They talked about developing countries' infrastructure. I had the kebab skewer that I was wistfully playing with confiscated. I found the whole thing difficult to 'get into'. I wonder if this shows a lack of development on my part.
As the evening drew to a close, I thanked the adults for having let me stay up late, and returned to my kennel, where my day-dreams turned into night ones.
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24.8.05 10:25
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