Monday, 7 November 2011

A pandemic of pretention

Essentially then, this is Genesis. The first daily update of what will hopefully be many.

Cast off the shackles of the daily grind, rest those weary bones and follow The Quillers nib as he takes you through the journey that was Monday, 7th November 2011. Unless you're a colonial sort, in which case the journey that was Monday, November 7th 2011 (I am rather wonderful in catering for those that sin against the natural British order of things).

I wanted to kick off the blog with an amusing image of sorts. Something visual that we can all appreciate. And rather delightfully the chaps using the blocks toilet came up with a pearler, addressing the paper towel pandemic spreading across the floor tiles:

Lovely. Didn't realise there was such wit amongst us number crunchers.

Right then, to business.

Rant of the Day

Now that the cowardly caterpillar known as Pemberton Inkwell has scurried back into his chrysalis to feed off mouldy fruit and Cadburys produce, like the proverbial butterfly The Quiller soars majestically free. Armed with the tools to strike down those that annoy, bite back at that which is frustratingly stupid and mock those that don't get inside jokes and movie references.

So basically hypocritically become that which he set out to destroy. Ah, but from behind the safety of a cloaked identity!

Maybe I should wear a mask when I post this? You know, really get into the character and spirit of the thing. Oh well, I guess i'll just make do with posting naked from the waist down for now.


How does that make you feel? It's ok i'm only joking. OR AM I? Could you live with yourself if I was? Do you feel dirty? Are you going to take a shower? Can I watch?



Lets get to the news of the day. Well, as my esteemed and noble lunching colleague (he will become an integral part of this daily broadside, but for now lets just call him The Lord Daffodil of Wales) was absent today and I am as poor as a church mouse hooked on Edam, I had to forage around the empty lunching tables for a discarded rag to browse. And alas, The Quiller had to make do with a copy of The Sun (the Gaddafi of newspapers - brash, unpleasant and full of holes).

So what have those pesky Greeks been up to today then? Has the global world as we know it been irreparably damaged once more? Well, lets see. Page One - Celebrity Gossip. Page Two & Three - some nonsense about unclaimed tax and a bint with her tits out. Page Four & Five - X Factor. Apparently, Timmy Mallett has lost to some fop haired little shit who got right pissed up and we are not happy. And I thought on a show where it's the great, sober British public who vote anonymously and N-Dumbz judge talent, it was all about the music.

Ah, here we are on PAGE SODDING FIVE, along with the shocking news that our Government have unscrupulously purchased £750k of Olympic tickets (£745k on the beach volleyball final for Berlusconi and £5k on the rest). Seriously, what the fuck? On the verge of global oblivion, but lets pretend we're ostriches and discuss which disaffected, fame hungry, future priory breakdown, Reveal story-selling arse we'll be voting for this week, eh? Jesus, if it's come to this we may as well start printing this every day:

And yes, it is us that causes this. Because whatever you want to say about the daily rags, the most important item on them is the little price tag on the front page. They are selling us their product. And what the most popular papers report on reflects the subject matter closest to Britain's heart. 

If we, the common people, continue to ignore that which is most pertinent to us, choosing to lay back on our laurel beds (all paid for on the plastic, of course darling) and like Nero choose the distracting twangs of the X Factor violin over the swelling flames of social and economic turmoil engulfing all that we hold dear, we may find that heart will suddenly cease to beat and there will be no NHS or kings horses left to patch it back together again.

Quote of the Day

Following on from our first Rant of the Day, here comes a lesser but still irritating gripe.

I was having a relaxing meal out with the wife earlier. A table in a small enclave of the restaurant all to ourselves, a glass of something fruity and a few moments of peace and quiet. Lovely. 

Then a couple with two small tots rock up and sit opposite us. Not a problem in itself, although as the disclaimer on the front end of this blog eludes to, The Quiller is strictly 18's and over.

So these...troglodytes (and I use this word in its most purest of forms) descend into mindless natter and bouts of texting tennis. All the while leaving tot one to yell randomly in the high hair - 'Mine! Want! No! Benefits!' and such - whilst tot two runs around in and out of said enclave with a toothy (or less) grin.

What? Seriously, what THE FUCK is going down here then? Exactly how is a restaurant with waitresses carting hot food about and patrons with full jugs of age restricted liquid an appropriate place to dump your gassy, shout-machines? I didn't realise we had chosen to dine at the local play pen. Does this rule apply across the board? Can I bring the cats along then? They can be a bit of a pain as well you see,  always wanting food and attention. This way they can run riot for an hour while we unbuckle our belts - and hey, if they shit in the sugar bowl it's the restaurants problem. We'll just make a vaguely apologetic face and if that doesn't work we'll ask them whether they have any cats, and therefore they can't know just how much effort it is raising them in today's world.


And this is what brought to mind our first quote of the day. Quipped by a professional ranter in his own right, Russell Howard, who was remarking on the clamour by mothers to ban fast food adverts 'before the watershed' if 9pm.

Ban the adverts? No, ban your fanny until you can look after what falls out of it.

And so dear reader, we have reached the end of our tour around the rage that was today. I hope I have tickled your laughter slippers just slightly.

I appreciate that today's post has been a little long winded in getting to the various points. I am still working on a regular format that will hopefully take effect as we start carving out a familar path as the weeks roll by, and this should hopefully add the necessary reins to our blogging horse.

What i'm thinking of adding so far is as follows:

Daily - Quote of the Day and Rant of the Day, probably Joke of the Day, though I might just go with a picture of Ed Milliband trying to look fierce whilst making an attempt at a point

Monday - Weekend Sports round up

Wednesday - An attempt at a webcomic satirising the main news of the week

Friday - A kind of 21st century 'Wanker of the Week' where we pick out the tossiest tosser of the week-that-was and throw stones at them because we could do their job standing on our heads (holla, my brothers from other mothers)

Saturday - movie review and discussion night due to the GLOBAL MELTDOWN and lack of cinema funds or friends with cinema funds, movie review night will probably be whatever tat Film 4 is peddling or whatever I can dig out of the DVD cupboard.

Obviously, the main aim is to write everyday and share some of the writing. So that'll take priority once I get a decent hosting site to link it in.

And more besides. I don't want to restrict the flow at this stage but i'm also very conscious of this becoming a chore for both sides of the computer screen.

Please feedback and comment, it will be appreciated. Failing that, Facebook (Pemberton Inkwell) and Twitter (@ The_Quiller - I spoke with Ricky Gervais last night!!) pages are up and running, and I will start to check them regularly once I get into a regular swing, so catch me there.

And so on the morrow, young parchment mites.

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