Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Children Of The Damned.

I'm totally knackered. A weekend of almost constant drinking has disrupted my sleep routine and turned my liver to foie gras. I attended an in-law's 'end of summer' party on Saturday, which was attended mostly by what would be my number one of things to put in Room 101- Posh Children. I think this is related directly to Emu's Pink Windmill Show, where a bunch of posh kids would jump around like a bunch of hyperactive spaniels and sing 'There's somebody at the door!" repeatedly every time some desperately-needs-the-work actor rang the doorbell. I always wanted Grotbags to win, because she reminded me of my Nan, only my Grandmother isn't bright green, nor does she hang around with a crocodile. (On a related note: RIP Steve Irwin. You should've wore sunscreen, mate. It protects you from harmful rays.) No, the posh kids won. Also, I attended an all-boys' Grammar school, whilst being obviously working class, which developed in me a kind of inverse snobbery. If anybody 'talks nice', generally, I'll hate them straight away. So. I don't like 'posh' kids. They still call their mothers 'Mummy' when they're teenagers. They go to auditions. They like school. They play recorders.They have lisps and can't say the letter 'R' and have horses instead of bikes.
So, anyway, we turn up at this family party, and as soon as I've got rid of my coat (it was pissing it down), I'm off to the kitchen, as usual, to grab myself a beer when these strange 11-year-old girls start talking to me, whilst I'm rummaging around for a bottle opener.
"Oh, helloooo," says one particularly precious girl "You talk funnily, are you Australian?" She makes it sound as if being antipodean is worse than being a sex case.
"No, I'm from Birmingham, from Stechford, just up the road."
"Ohhh, so you're a 'Brummay' " The last word being an affected accent. Imagine that, a real live Brummie in Birmingham! How quaint!
GGRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, the rest of the weekend was better, but tiring, and it seems I spoke too soon about finishing the ArtsFest project. I must've had to re-letter the thing about eleventy times. They want the council logo bigger, they don't want it there, replace 'Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery' with just 'BM&AG' and back again. But, it IS finished now, and they like it that much they're replacing the designs on the glossy ArtsFest brochure with images from the strip. Which is nice. They've also asked me to join the Council Arts Dept.'s Artists database. And I finally got paid for some work I did for John McCrea, so all in all, I'm quite pleased with myself tonight. Watch some fucker spoil it tomorrow. Some fucker with an RP accent.

12 comments:

DanProject76 said...

As a kid I would have gladly strangled any/all of those Pink Windmill fuckers.

I blame THEM for Rod Hull's death!

jonni said...

Terribly sorry dear chap.

John McCrea eh? 'kin sweet.

jonni said...

Just had another thought - if you got to work with Garth Ennis through McCrea - that would bring ArseChampion just that little bit closer to reality...

Hunter McEvoy said...

Hold on, didn't that guy fight crime with the power of perversity in Hitman?

mick said...

I think ArseChampion has got legs! I'll get John to phone Garth and pitch it to him.
John used to be one of my tutors on the StripSearch scheme, and is always insanely busy (coincidentally, he's in the middle of a Hitman/JLA team/punch up, written by Ennis), which is why he gets his ex-students to help him out, like I did with the job for Walsall Health Council. Ahhh...the glamour of comics!!

Jemima said...

Fresh horses!

bb said...

Would it have been worse if they had asked you if you were a "Bruhm-eye" (heavy emphasis on last syllable)?

mick said...

I don't know. At least that would be a passable attempt at the accent. I'm not going to be patronised by some snot-nosed breadsnatcher. I've got the missus for that.

bb said...

boom boom

(that should perhaps be more accurately transcribed as 'bum bum', but I didn't want you to think I came here to comment about arses.)

steve said...

where do you work? i was looking out for you. is it Fonz leather garments?

mick said...

bb: You might as well comment on here about arses.Everyone else does.

steve: While I have been known to wear a leather jacket sometimes, and I am cool, unfortunately, I do not work at Fonz leather, I work at the pleasure palace that is called Dowding and Mills.
Surely the Fonz was only perceived as cool because he hung about with those fuckwits Richie, Ralph and Poxy. If he'd knocked about with, say, Jimi Hendrix, he'd have looked a right pillock.

I know his name wasn't poxy really.

Jemima said...

The spirit of Mrs Cunningham's apron has removed your sidebar, by the looks of it.