Guardian All Ears 19th September

Possibly the fastest All Ears I've ever done - completed in record time while desperately attempting to make the 14.30 to Portsmouth Harbour en route to the Isle of Wight - talk about skin of the teeth - you can almost seee the sweat!

(article by Michael Holden)
Not for the first time I was stuck in a queue marvelling at how the preparation of a mild stimulant-coffee-takes far more time than one could possibly hope to save through the sensation it eventually delivers. If you’re not even buying coffee and you’re stuck behind people who are then a further irony is that the frustration you feel is like taking some some kind of cheap hit in its own right. The women in front of me, one of whom was pregnant-the other with a child of about 4,-were hesitating over what type of coffee they might eventually buy when the little girl interrupted them
Girl “Can I have an orange juice?”
Mother “No, because they’re very expensive here. You can only get the big ones.”
Girl “Oh.”
Woman (finally deciding) “I’d like a decaff latte please. I’ll get her an orange juice.”
Mother “Oh no.”
Woman “I don’t mind.”
Mother “Really?”
Woman “Yes, unless she’s not allowed.”
Mother “No, it’s fine.”
Woman “What are you having?”
Mother “Latte. But I’ll pay for that seperately”
Woman (seizing a snack) “I might have one of these.”
Mother (prenatally alarmed) “You’re eating peanuts?”
Woman “I read some new research. It says they’re ok.”
Mother (offering change) “Let me get the orange juice…”
Woman “No. Because then that wouldn’t be a present from me, and want it to be a present.”
And so it went on, as they tied themselves ever deeper into an aimless knot of protocol, wound at my expense.

All Ears 12th September

(Article by Michael Holden)

Some conversations are not so much overheard as inflicted. I was in the countryside dependent a infrequent bus service that arrives so seldom, takes so long to get anywhere and consists of a bus so small that not conversing with your fellow travellers is not an option. It would be like trying to ignore a fellow astronaut. And in the case of the only other passenger on my journey-an elderly astronaut with some strong opinons about the local opticians.
Man “Been into town?”
Me “Not this time.”
Man (undeterred) “Been at the opticians..”
Me “Oh?”
Man “My wife’s in China. All I have to do is send her the prescription and she’ll get the specs made up there. I make it very clear I only want the test and they take me for an idiot!”
I made a face that said ‘opticians-bastards-what can you do?’ and he continued.
Man “I turn up on time and they keep me waiting for twenty minutes. I have an appointment of course but that means nothing to them. They do as they please. I won’t accept that. Eventually I summon the manager and I say you hav wasted my time-now I shall waste yours!”
Me (genuinely curious as to how such an approach might play out in the high st) “How did that go down?”
Man “Like the preverbial -but what could they do? I am the customer. They offered me ten pounds off. Big deal! My time is my own. They cannot squander it. I will take their time. This is the onyl way to respond!”
I retreated to a nod. He carried on.
Man “Seen the paper today?”
Me “No.”
Man (admiringly) “The mayor of Doncaster-he’s a real maverick. But don’t get me started on Gordon Brown.”
I wasn’t about to. I looked outside and it had stated to rain.

All Ears 7th September

More scary madmen, some drug paraphernalia & a guest muppet! - am realising I may have to ration 'mobile phone action' in these pictures in future as it's cropping up very regularly although it means I'll probably be able to draw one in my sleep now - (a very useful talent you haters!) : )

(article by Michael Holden)
I was about to exit a cubicle in the toilets of a large public building when I heard a man come into the bathroom and start speaking into his mobile. He must have thought he was alone since what had started as a whisper soon rose to yell that bounced of the tiling as he stammered with long-feremented rage over the issue of a posted letter-while I took detailed and clandestine notes and wondered what he looked like.
Man: (hissing-as though he had been stepped on) “Yessss! I posted them the, ‘welcome to your new home card’... Two hours ago. Yes, yes and that’s the reason you’re phoning is it? To see if I’d done that?”
There was a pasue while he absorbed more of whatever was coming over the phone, until he could take no more.
Man (shouting) “This is part of the reason I’m so irritable! The whole context of why I’m irritable is that I understand that there are lots of things to do...Now one of those things, I agree is sending them a ‘welcome to your new home card’... but there are a lot more things, more important things...
He listened again and paced around the room before responding.
Man “ We should have drawn up a checklist of things that need to be done! That’s why I’m so angry about all this-rubbish -about a card! If there’s one thing I’m aware of... is..is because there’s lot’s of things on the agenda ...”
Man (more placatory) “I understand that you’re not as young as you used to be but there are lots of things to remember.... Right, right...Yes!”
There was a long pause, and then he really went for it.
Man “Well I’m, I’m furious and I’m furious about this because there are lots and lots of other things to think about. It’s high time to sort things out-given the change of circumstances...It should be decluttered, It is important now . I’m moving now. I know there’s an echo! I’m leaving the bathroom!”
And he did.

All Ears 29th August

(Article by Michael Holden)

Hotel bars are strange places-venues for people who should never have met. That said, the two men I found myself seated next to at a long bar in a place that raked back in alcohol prices what it saved you on a room, seemed well acquainted.

Man 1 (concerned) “You like running though?”

Man 2 (sadly, as though bereaved) “I love it’s just it’s…got a bit out of hand.”

Man 1 “You’ve injured yourself?”

Man 2 (confessional) No. I just think I’m taking it too seriously. I entered a race a few weeks ago, a 6K thing, for charity. I won.”

Man 1 “So?”

Man 2 “Well-it was like a fun run-but I sort of misread it, and went full tilt. I was out on my own from the beginning. Soon I was so far ahead I was passing stewards who were setting stuff up. And I started to have a go at them, saying they should get their act together.”

Man 1 “What, and you stop running to do this?”

Man 2 “No. Just look back and shout really.”

Man 1 “Right.”

Man 2 “I’m not proud of it. I can see now that I’d gone mental.”

Man 1 “Well that’s the main thing.”

Man 2 “I crossed the line and there was no one there, I felt very strange”

Man 1 “I imagine death to be like that.”

Man 2 “And there was a steel band playing the theme from Blake’s Seven.”

Man 1 “Jesus.”

Man 2 “Then a photographer from the local paper and asked me if I’d cross the line again so he could get a picture.”

Man 1 “What did you do?”

Man 2 “Well I refused.”

All Ears 22nd August

This week's pic involves Metallica allusions & one of the most terrible puns known to humanity but the temptation was...too strong! Many apologies

(Article by Michael Holden)
It’s all very well, the warm weather, but the same streets which people ordinarily walk down briskly are now thick with folk indulging in the pleasures of the season-and for the second week running in this column-that means food. This time I was after a sausage sandwich but noticed that the woman ahead of me was queuing to the extreme left of the stall. I stood behind her until a man walked up and commented on the odd arrangement.

Man “Is this the queue?”

Me “Yeah, but I don’t know why it’s here…”

Woman (tense, defensive) “I’m queuing here, because I don’t want to get smoke IN MY FACE!”

One of the cooks handed her a sandwich and she walked off, face intact. The chefs then started talking amongst themselves about the song that was fading out on the radio.

Cook 1 (Eastern European accent) “What do you make of that. Pretty rocky eh?”

Cook 2 “Nah…”

Cook 1 “You like Metallica?”

Cook 2 “Nah.”

Cook 1 (undeterred) “They make an album with an orchestra.”

Cook 2 (smug, sarcastic) “Wow.”

Cook 1 “The full orchestra.”

Cook 2 “Yeah?”

Cook 1 “It is fantastic. The album with the orchestra is the same album they make themselves before without orchestra. It is so good, sometimes you cannot tell which album you are listening to.”

Cook 2 “Yeah?”

Cook 1 (the futility of his enthusiasm beginning to dawn) “You like Metallica?”

Cook 2 “No.”

Cook 1 “Still, you should listen to the album.”

Cook 2 “Nah.”

Guardian All Ears 15th August

(Article by Michael Holden)
Near where I work the pattern of lunchtime activity has been affected by the arrival of a van a couple of weeks ago that sells Burritos. Everyone has gone nuts for this and the queue snakes halfway down the road. Ordinarily I would be reluctant to take part in such a phenomenon, but the food’s too good. I was in line the other day when a woman from further behind came up and started talking to the woman in front of me as though I wasn’t there. I held out my phone quite conspicuously between them and recorded what they were saying. They didn’t notice. They had better things to think about.

Woman 1 “Nice Day!”

Woman 2 “Yeah.”

Woman 1 “Big queue. I’m really, really, really hungry”

Woman 2 “ But they are quick.”

Woman 1 “Still on for tonight?”

Woman 2 “Where is it?”

Woman 1 “You know the roundabout? I’m on the other side of the roundabout. Call me when you get there.”

Woman 2 “The roundabout?”

Woman 1 “It’s not that far down. Literally go past the roundabout, straight down the road and that’s my building.”

Woman 2 “What time?”

Woman 1 “Sevenish?”

Woman 2 “Are you going to text Kate?”

Woman 1 “I’ll email her.”

Woman 2 “And then email me.”

Woman 1 “I’ll email you.”

Woman 2 “How are we gonna get there, walk?”

Woman 1 “We could get a cab, between us.”

Woman 2 (turning to the grill, distracted by the scent) “I can’t decide what to have.”

Woman 1 “I’ll leave you to it. Here’s me gabbing on about tonight and your just like-Burrito…”

Woman 2 (like Homer Simpson) “Burrito…”

Woman 1 (slightly disgusted) “See you at seven then.”

Guardian All Ears 8th August

Couldn't resist the 'We Will Rock You' bus because of recently being obliged to walk past the hideous gold Freddy Mercury statue on Tottenham Court road & thinking that I'd rather have my teeth pulled or get gang raped by badgers rather that sit through that dross...*shudder*

(Article by Michael Holden)
Some people become so disposed to talk about themselves that even when they are discussing something else, what they’re really saying is about them. The mobile phone though has elevated self-referential drivel to a higher plane. Nowadays you hear people giving blow by blow commentary on the stupefying minutiae of their existence while-and this is the truly staggering part-someone on the other end of the phone pays attention. I was at a bus stop with a crowd of people the other day when a teenage girl started yelling into her phone while endeavouring to stare down the rest of the queue by sporting a look of complete hostility that suggested looking back at her might be a fatal mistake.

Girl “It’s the same argument. I go into the room and say something and she says something to me and then I walk out and then she calls after me and then I go back in there and tell her what I think and then she tells me to fuck off.”

She circled the bus stop like a foul-mouthed, polyester planet and when she passed me again she had moved on to the subject of exactly what was happening to her.

Girl “I’m at the bus stop. Waiting for the bus. I can feel the air on my face, the wind like, I don’t mind it. It ain’t too hot. I can’t see the bus. Oh God, I’m just waiting for the bus now, how long can it take for the bus to come? ”

She made another orbit and, as she returned, succeeded finally in catching someone’s eye.

Girl “Oh my God there’s a man looking at me, he’s fucking looking at me!”

This led to other people looking at her, a fact she effortlessly absorbed into her self-obsessed yodelling.

Girl “Now they’re all looking at me! What the fuck is wrong with people? Where’s the bus. The bus is coming! I’m gonna get on it. The bus is coming now!”

It came and she went upstairs. I stayed on the lower deck and felt old.

All Ears 25th July

Faintly uninspiring colour scheme this week - sorry!
(BTW for further ruminations on rural unpleasantness check out the genius 'Hard Life in the Country' by the Fall - wonderful stuff!)

(Article by Michael Holden)
Spend most of your life in the city it’s easy to drum up the notion that out there in the countryside everyone’s more laid back. Go there though, and the truth reveals itself soon enough. People in the country are as demented as anyone else, it’s just that you have to go there to find them. The problem is species wide. Our malice knows no postcodes, I thought, as I watched people unravel in the reception Portakabin of a campsite in the middle of nowhere.

Site Manager (addressing three women) “You ain’t staying here. You’re a group.”

Woman 1(the eldest) “We ain’t a group. We’re a family.”

Woman 2 “She’s my auntie.”

Woman 1 “We just want to put her tent next to ours.”

Site Manager (enjoying himself) “Then you’re a group.”

Woman 1 “She’s got a baby-get the baby!”

Woman 2 motioned to a young man who had been loitering in the car park who then entered the office holding up a baby.

Woman 1 “See!”

Site Manager “I says you’re a group, and we can’t have no groups. Baby or no, that’s the end of it.”

Woman 1 “You’re out of order!”

Site Manager “Yeah, well listen to this. They ain’t staying here, and you can pack up and leave and all.”

Woman 1 “You can’t do that!”

Site Manager “Get out of the office, get off the site.”

Woman 1 “I ain’t standing for this.”

She marched out past me yelling at the other as they walked.

Woman 1 “Get Alan on the phone and call Dean. Get ‘em the fuck down here!”

I thought it best to leave before Alan and Dean turned up and kicked the life out what was left my esteem for humanity.

Guardian All Ears 19th July

(Article by Michael Holden)
I was early for an appointment on what felt like a busy morning and so I ducked into a pub. A pub that, was selling beer for less than two pounds a pint and had thus become a haven for those more thirsty than employed, in this case two old chaps who were asking the barman what plans he had to avoid spending the rest of his life where they had elected to spend theirs.

Barman “I’m going to Paraguay.”

Man 1 “Paraguay?”

Barman “There’s no beaches or anything. It’s landlocked.”

Man 1 “Jesus.”

Man 2 “Are you coming back?”

Barman “Maybe.”

Man 2 “You’ve to finish your studies?”

Barman “Yeah.”

Man 2 “Good lad.”

The barman walked away, doubtless thrilled with his commendation and the two men talked amongst themselves.

Man 1 “You know I’m on the disability now? Sixty pound a week.”

Man 2 “Is it your feet?”

Man 1 “Aye. They’ve turned against me.”

Man 2 “I woke up with one shoe on and one shoe off the other day. I might give up drinking.”

Man 1 “You’d be missed.”

Man 2 “How?”

Man 1 “Well, you’re the town drunk.”

Man 2 “Am I?”

Man 1 “Yeah. Like Lee Marvin, in that film.”

Man 2 “What film?”

Man 1 “The one where he’s fucking drunk!”

All ears...rough version

This is the slightly cruder version (was described as a bit too 'gratuitous' so i removed the grope & hoisted the pants up!) - to be fair it's very rare I have to change anything for this job, & am probably secretly pleased at being censored (slightly)

see previous post

Guardian All Ears 16th July

NB this illustration has been toned down for public consumption because the original was thought to be a bit rude for a Saturday morning - I'll maybe stick the rough version up if you're all very good boys & girls... x

(Article by Michael Holden)
On a boiling afternoon I tried to catch the breeze coming through the open door of a bar where outside drinking is forbidden. Other drinkers huddled into the microclimate, among them an expectant father and his friend.

Man 1 “I got there for the last two hours of the pre-natal thing.”

Man 2 “Christ, how long are they?”

Man 1 “All day. There was no way I could handle that, so I came late. I’d only been there five minutes when I called one of the others a prick.”

Man 2 “How did that happen?”

Man 1 “They were talking about epidurals and painkillers when this bloke pipes up and says, ‘Why are we giving them so many drugs in childbirth? We’re breeding junkies!’ The woman in charge tries to tell him that’s not how it is but then he starts saying, ‘What happens in Africa, where they don’t have all these drugs?’ I said, ‘they die, you prick!’”

Man 2 “How did that do down?”

Man 1 “I think most people agreed with me. There’s a lot of thick people out there, having kids though. Another bloke, in his 40’s asks, ‘when you say they wake up every three to four hours, is that at night too?’”

Man 2 “Shame you can’t give ‘em the lessons before they have sex, might put ‘em off. It’s all well and good, these classes, but by the time these people have knocked each other up, the damage is done.”

And then the master race got back to their cider.

ps

All Ears 4th July

I enjoyed channelling the 'grim polyester clothes' this week - I also seem to pick up a regular fag smoke motif in these pictures (see last week too)
- bad for health but nice graphic device (maybe they could use that as the warning on the packet...just a thought)

(Article by Michael Holden)

In a newsagent’s one lunch time I watched two men-colleagues presumably-already buckling under the conflict between the hot weather and their grim polyester clothes strain yet further as the conversation turned towards the fact that one of them was soon to be wed.

Man 1: (about to leave the shop but stopping his tracks) I need cigarettes!

Man 2: I thought you’d stopped smoking?

Man 1: (rejoining the queue) I did but I started again, the stress of the wedding and all that.

Man 2: (forlorn) The wedding that I’m not invited to…

Man 1: (patient but angry) We’re only inviting sixty people, it’s not a big do.

Man 2: Yeah, but still…

Man 1: We’ve been through this. I’m under enough stress. I don’t need you, now, giving me a hard time. I know you’re not coming. It wasn’t my decision, I feel bad about it, I feel bad about the whole fucking thing. So right now, if there’s one thing you can do to make me feel better, you could stop mentioning the fact that you’re not going. I wish I wasn’t going. Think yourself lucky. In a roundabout way I’m doing you a huge favor.

Man 2: (pathetic) I could help you organize stuff perhaps, lighten the load.

Man 1: (apologetic) It’s mostly her family

Man 2: I’d like to help.

Man 1: Yeah, and I do appreciate that. Twenty Marlboro Lights, please.”

Man 2: Where are you going on honeymoon?

Man 1: Spain.

Man 2: (in a weird way) Where exactly?

Man 1 (moving quickly to the door) Just…Spain.

All Ears 27th June

(Article by Michael Holden)
There’s a stage in most relationships, usually the beginning, when you’re quite happy to listen to what the other person’s saying because your emotions have temporarily inured you to the fact that what they’re saying, is bullshit. I was unchaining my bike outside a pub when I heard two smokers going through what looked like this phase of early courtship. Either that or the woman had genuinely been waiting to hear a load of whimsical drivel about visiting France, and this was her lucky night.

Man: “I love taking the ferry over there.”

Woman: (staring up at him as though each syllable were spun gold) “I’ve never taken the boat!”

Man: “Oh, you must.”

Woman: “I will!”

Man: “You drive away, and suddenly you’re on the other side of the road. You stop off, you grab a baguette, it’s magical.”

Woman: (quasi-orgasmic) “Yes!”

Man: “The differences are small, but yet so significant. It’s the little things. And the things you can’t describe. Just the unmistakable sensation that you’re in another country. Things seem different. Somehow better.”

I visualized him at Calais, gnawing on his French stick and wondered what kind of life he was leaving behind if he believed bingeing on carbs in a vile port was some form of progress.

Man: “I think their attitude toward alcohol is so much better than ours. They let the kids have a sip with lunch-and the whole sitting down to eat thing is tremendous-and they don’t have a problem with it.”

I thought about hitting him there and then, but realized that would only have strengthened his argument.

Guardian All Ears 20th June

Re. tiny dog phenomenon...they seem to have a bit of a thing for tiny dogs in New York but they usually seem to be owned by muscley gay gym bunnies (on Canal Street at least!)

(article by Michael Rosen)
I feel the tiny dog phenomenon to be a puzzling business, but when one of these benighted freaks starts attacking things several times its size I find their mad tenacity a joy to behold. It was precisely such a display of dwarf-dog fury that led to the following exchange between a pair of staggering drunks who had made the mistake of trying to caress one of these hand-held heartbeats and come of second best.

Woman: (getting as angry as you can without spilling your drink) “The fucker bit me!”

Man: (foolishly opting for admonishment over sympathy) “You should never have touched it. They’re not right”

Woman: (detonating) “He said it were alright!”

Man: (voice thick with self-made wisdom) “You can’t trust folk with these dogs. They’ll say ‘owt.”

Woman: “It started off licking me hand. Then it went for me. You heard it.”

Man: “Ask someone what their dog’s like and they’ll tell you it’s great, even while it’s got its jaws on you, they’ll be telling you it’s trying to make friends.”

Woman: (looking for signs of injury to her hand and finding nothing that might merit litigation) “Little bastard.”

Man: (making a huge but somehow valid leap of comparative reason) “It’s like the Krays. Their mum always said they was alright. Different story when they’re breaking your fuckin’ legs with a hammer.”

Woman: “What you on about, hammers?”

Man: “Dogs!”

Woman: (staring at her hand again) “Little bastard.”

Man: “Aye.”

Guardian All Ears 30th May

(article by Michael Holden)
Staying in a hotel and running out of ideas, early one morning I went to the gym hoping that the place might be empty. It wasn’t. As I came to terms with the unfamiliar and antequated fitness equipment and tried to visualise a routine that wouldn’t make me appear flimsy or idiotic two other men were well into their rituals, both of them were on the phone.
Man 1 (setting his handset aside to bark at an employee who had strayed into the room) “Are they’re any more towels?”
Worker: (wihout hesitation or concern) “No.”
Man 1 (into his phone, darkly) “This place is insane.”
Man 2 “If it’s anywhere it’ll be in the drawer of my desk. The big drawer. On the right hand side.”
Man 1 “I’m on the stairmaster, that’s why I’m panting...”
Man 2 “Keep looking.”
Man 1 “I need the entire schedule, not just mine, I need everything pertaing to everyone involved.”
Man 2 (voice straining under the weight of a dumbell in his other hand) “Keep looking.”
Man 1 (on the periphery of a tantrum) “I don’t care about that. Don’t mention it. It’s irrelevent. I don’t need to think about those things. Don’t bring them to me. It’s your job to resolve them.”
Man 2 (staring with admiration at the weight he moved) “Get Geoff to look, Geoff will find it.”
Strange, I thought, how these folk come here to work out while staying so relentlessly connected to others who are doing work for them. It was 6am. I felt wearied by the notion of what they might have acheived by lunch.

Guardian All Ears 23rd May

...I know all french teenagers don't have Amelie haircuts but what's a little bit of light racial stereotyping between friends...?

(article by Michael Holden)
I was in the corner seat at the back of the upstairs of a bus that steadily filled with passengers. Initially there had been just me and another man opposite and I watched him bury his head in a free newspaper as the seats around him filled up with teenage French girls. Oblivious to his predicament he read on as the girls talked among themselves and looked through an English/French dictionary before finally presenting the traveler with a question.

French Girl 1“Excuse me?”

Man (dropping his paper and looking out suspiciously at his interrogators) “Yes?”

French Girl 1 (slowly and carefully) “Do you know, which are the good parks, for feeding squirrels?”

French Girl 2 (for added emphasis) “Yes, the squirrels.”

The man looked seriously at them now, as though wondering whether this were some sort of joke, sensing this, one of the girls began to mime eating a nut, in the manner of a squirrel, but with a look of complete sincerity.

Man (unsure) “You can find…I mean, they’re pretty common. They’re, everywhere, you know?”

French Girl 1 (handing him a pen and paper) “List the parks.”
Man (unsettled further by the sustained gravity of the matter Well, like I say they’re all pretty good, for squirrels, I mean, hmmm.”
He made a list of four large parks in the city, good choices I thought, and then handed back the pad. The girls looked at the list approvingly. He went back to his paper, but you could tell things weren’t quite the same.

Guardian All Ears 16th May

Hmmm - men of a certain inclination & demographic... it's a fair cop!
In mitigation I'd like to point out I never wore white gloves, bandanas or bought Vick's Vaporub - as for Smiley t-shirts - wasn't it only undercover cops & Daily Mail journalists uncovering 'this evil Acid cult' that wore them anyway?

'you...think it's cool to wear a Smiley!' © Julian H Cope - well said sir!

(article by Michael Holden)

By inclination and demographic I am drawn to the concerns of men who can’t quite believe that they are now, irrefutably, adults. I was fortunate then to find myself sharing a bus with two such characters, probably in their early 40’s, one of whom had an urgent confession.

Man 1 “I hadn’t heard this tune in 15, 20 years. But I was obsessed with it like, back in the day. So I’m finishing my lunch and this bloke in the bar, setting up for the evening, sticks it on..”

Man 2 “Mental.”

Man 1 “Innit? I tell you mate a fucking chill went down my spine. I thought I was dreaming, then I’ve gone up and I’ve told him how I used to love this song but I never knew what it was and all of that.”

Man 2 “And what’s he said?”

Man 1 “Well he’s loving it. He’s one of us of course, went to all the same do’s. So I got on the fucking Internet, and this is the thing, you can buy it, just like that. Three days later the things come through the door except it hasn’t. The postman’s left it next door, they’ve given it to the wife so when I get in she’s got the envelope and wants to know what’s what.”

Man 2 “What’d you say.”

Man “Well I’ve told her, but there’s no way I’m sticking it on while she’s in ‘cos she’ll say something, start taking the piss. So I’ve waited till she’s gone out and wallop, I’ve cranked it up.”

Man 2 “How was that?

Man 1 “It was fucking awesome mate, like time travel. It made me wanna get right on it.”

Man 2 “So what you gonna do?”

Man 1 “I’m gonna wait till I’m on my own and do it again.”

Guardian All Ears 9th May

Big up for Greggs the bakers & sorry Darryl Hall, I think I've stolen your hair this week - but WHAT HAIR!!!!

(Article by Michael Holden)

Outside a pub I watched two men slouch across a picnic table. The first man was sober, his posture a consequence of fatigue perhaps. The second, through well dressed and affluent was on the cusp of being completely plastered, a stare of affairs that clearly caused his companion some concern.

Man 1 “How long did you stay off the drink for.”

Man 2 “Three days, more or less. Well we had some Rose on the third day. It was the kid’s birthday, that didn’t really count. Then I had a meeting this morning, had a drink after that, sat outside. Bumped into Chris, had some lunch. Popped over the road and now here we are.

Man 1 (looking at his own drink as though reckoning his own worthiness to pass judgement) “Well, best make this the last one then, for today.”

Man 2 (laughing) “Fuck off.”

Both men laughed a little, then settled down. Next, a man with a preposterously developed torso and open necked shirt strutted past. He looked ridiculous, an antiquated stereotype reborn. Other people at the pub laughed discreetly at him, the drunk man laughed loud enough for them all.

Man 1 “Quit, he’ll hear you.”

Man 2 “Who?”

Man 1 “That bloke.”

Man 2 “I’m not laughing at any bloke.”

Man 1 “So what are you laughing at?”

Man 2 “That bag.”

He pointed at a paper sack that was blowing down the street while his mate looked at him in some despair, seeing that his friend had attained the mindset of a veteran street drinker, even if he still had decent clothes.

Guardian All Ears 3rd May

(article by Michael Holden)
As warm weather breeds inertia so that inertia breeds an increased reliance on takeaway food, at least in my world. I was just inside the door of my local Chinese when the two women ahead of me continued a dialogue that was so off putting you could have written it down and sold it as a diet.

Woman 1 (Staring out the window, considering what would follow) “I won’t have any of the meat. I’ll just have the juice off of it.”

Woman 2 (Somehow blind to the disturbing nature of the suggested image) “Right.”

Woman 1 “I don’t like nothing too dry neither.”

Woman 2 (agreeing) “No.”

Woman 1 (apparently philosophical) “What we doing here anyway?”

Woman 2 (suspicious) “Eh?”

Woman 1 “How come we’ve come in here, instead of ordering it on the phone?”

Woman 2 (reassured) “It’s an extra pound.”

Woman 1 “What is?”

Woman 2 “If you want it delivered, it’s an extra pound, if the order’s less than fifteen quid.”

Woman 1 “You ever use the one in Mile End? They do the delivery.”

Woman 2 “No.”

Woman 1 “It turns up stone cold.”

Woman 2 (unaffected by these revelations) “Right.”

Their food was ready and they accepted it in great steaming bags while the woman behind the counter read out their order in confirmation.

Woman 1 (anxious to head off any misunderstanding) “Like I said, you have the meat, I’ll have the juice that it sits in.”

Woman 2 “Right.”

They left and I tried to place my order, but the menu seemed to have lost its appeal.

Guardian All Ears 28th March

Ok Ok - I've been in Africa for a month so this is very late...

(Article by Michael Holden)

I was in a large public building eating a sandwich at a group of tables occupied only by myself and the maintenance crew of the place who were enjoying a moment of collective leisure and discussing the covert self abuse techniques of someone they all new.
Bloke 1 (as though what followed were a scheme of great ingenuity)“She goes to bed and he says, ‘I’m staying downstairs to watch a programme,’ then he slips the DVD on. If he hears the stairs creak and she comes in, he flicks over to a documentary.”

Bloke 2 “Have you seen Dom though? He’s open about it. He’ll buy ‘em with her in the pub, I’ve seen it. The DVD bird’s come in and he says, ‘got any porn?’ She says, ‘ain’t you got enough at home?’ He asks her which one she fancies and she says ‘I don’t watch ‘em, I don’t care!’”
Bloke 3 (allowing the laughter to subside) “Who’s on Tuesday-Wednesday?”
Bloke 4 “When does Alan swap with Ursula?”
Bloke 1 “Tonight.”
Bloke 4 “The night shift bores me to tears.”
Bloke 1 “He loves ‘em. I’d rather do Saturday.”
Bloke 4 “Now, is he a shy person who prefers his own company, or is he a bit weird?”
Bloke 1 “He’s a bit weird.”
Bloke 2 (as though this might explain something) “I heard his dad was Lithuanian.”
Bloke 3 “He ignored me, and Tottenham won yesterday. When we were struggling he would talk to me more.”
Bloke 4 “He has put on a bit of weight.”
Bloke 3 “Yeah, but that’s no reason not to talk to someone.”
There was a lot of quiet nodding about that. Evidently Alan had better loosen up if wanted to get along.