Grumpy Old Landlord
Don’t Look Back In Anger
The other day I left my bar in the hands of my very capable Australian bar staff and decided to go for a wonder. After recent events in the news I thought I’d go in to town to see the frankly brilliant British public cleaning up. Then I thought…rioting, high inflation, Tory government, and mass unemployment…Have we not heard this before? You see a wise man once said
“When England was a kingdom, we had a king. When we were an empire we had an emperor. Now we are a country…we have Margaret Thatcher” Just insert any of the Prime Ministers in the last few decades and you get the idea.
With the country seeming to have ‘no future’ (something the Punks screamed about in the 70’s) again don’t see it as I’m complaining because I am in a career Cul-de-sac that’s making me poor, miserable and brain dead, I’m complaining because surely, we must’ve moved on since the 70’s! Yes, we don’t see any more ‘Charlie says’ adverts (which is good, because I think that watching England lose to Germany in the World Cup was a better) but luckily it seems that we have at least moved on work wise.
Work, work, work it’s a four letter word we all have to deal with. We are just another cog in the machine, where we drive on and on but rarely achieve anything and then we are paid sod-all for it. When I were a nipper (before my grumpy days) I had aspirations and dreams of becoming a Spaceman, disappointingly there was not a NASA recruiting office in Slough so that went out the window. Before becoming the greatest landlord of all time (in my opinion) I was in the ‘paperclip game’ I spent days on end looking out of the window, thinking of opportune moments to skive and just how many ‘toilet breaks’ I can make in one day without people thinking I had a problem. Most of the people I worked for had the IQ of your average Hollyoaks actor, they’re the kind of people who try and make the office a fun place to be in, the same kind who thought it would be a good idea to re-route a phone call to a local bank to a Mumbai call centre first, then to Manchester. Clearly I wasn’t suited to pen-pushing so a decision was made by the Gaffer to give me the ol’ tin tack. When I was getting fired I realised that me Gaffer must have been that lad who, on the first day of school wet himself when he were 11, so he was always known as that kid who wet himself throughout school. Not a nice person and he enjoys it! To be fair, at least he’s not French!
