Noise. Noise. Noise.
You try and work around it. Focus. Concentrate. But all around is this piercing sound. You look down at the page in front of you. Why does it take so long to finish these things? You’ve done them before, many times, they should be easy, but this time it’s a struggle.
The noise continues. Why won’t it stop? You consider the fact it might just be in your head but that would mean admitting to some kind of mental illness. And only mentallers do that. Or do they? Would anyone sane admit to mental illness? But would a truly mental person even know they were mental to admit to it? How does anyone know who’s mental these days? There’s seems to be a lot of them around.
Noise. Again.
You press down and the nib breaks on the pencil. You push the top and more lead comes down. It’s too small though and when you try to write it falls out. Repeat. The same. Repeat. The same. You move your head from from right to left, there’s a satisfying clunk in your neck. You rub your beard, your face with both hands. Sigh deeply.
There’s that fucking noise again. This time you can’t ignore it. You get up, go to the source. Before you get there it happens again. It’s maddening. Infuriating. You feel like punching holes in walls. Only walls are too hard. That only heightens the frustration. You get there. Pause.
Noise. Argh. You find the culprit.
“Hello, my name is Neil and I’m from Global doors and windows and -”
“Fuck off, Neil”.
It stops.
If only all unwanted noises were as easy to stop.
I’ve told the kids to fuck off many times, but to no avail.
Ok, so the baby probably doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but the other one is nearly 6 for christ sake.
If Neil calls to my door he’ll be leaving with some new recruits.
why didnt you ask Neil to sell you some double glazing you dopey tart.
See, if you were Chinese you’d only have the one kid because they’d have taken the youngest one away for kindling or something.
I don’t need double-glazing. I need to disconnect my doorbell.
oooh get her with her fancy doorbells.
For fucks sake be proactive and stick a notice on your door saying that cold-callers will be decapitated or something. And can someone please explain the recent phenonomen of people trying to sell me “art” on my doorstep. If you are reading this you cunts don’t get arsey when I call it a picture, you may have done two years at art college but your “pictures” are on a par with my 8 year olds.
I got it from Knobs & Knockers, Ibanez.
Pish – I hate those art selling cunts. Fuck off with your giant folder.
Thanks be to jebus for earphones Twenty, because listening to some of the people on public transport (whether you want to or not) is the equivalent of a jackhammer straight to the temple.
Cure – on loud.
Either invite them in and lock them in a cupboard, or pretend to be an Insuance salesman – they’ll soon pass the word round.
hehe maggot, that’s a great idea.
“your double glazing offer is very interesting, almost as interesting as my new scheme, it may sound like a pyramid scheme but I assure you, it’s a win-win situation”
alternatively
“hmmm thats an interesting offer Neil, but have you heard the good news?”
“no.”
“Jesus is coming.”
And what was bastardface doing ? Make him work for his orphans!
He was out the back…
Try this one
“Am I glad to see you mate – Kerry Katona and Mary Harney are in the spare room demnding a threesome and I’m on my rags”
A friend of mine knew a divinity student who invited the Jehovahs in for a cup of tea and had a serious debate re the bible with them. Word soon spread and when they visited his street they skipped his house. So go and buy/steal a set of brochures and sample windows and invite them in to discuss the merits of your product over his.
I’d actually like Jehovahs to come in so that I could poke holes in their religion.
Twent, just back from holiday and got the chance to read the buke. Overall it is very funny but I am very worried about you as I think you use the line “I don’t take a newspaper”. I am amazed that a phrase I have only ever read in papers like the torygraph and FT is used by you, the “Brendan Behan of the internet generation.” So where does this phrase come from….
Ah, doorbell. I thought it might have been one of those anti-teen devices shops are using, and you magically had the aural sensitivity of a sixteen year old.
I had one of those Spanish art blokes call over on Christmas Eve! And the art was crap, alright. I wonder if they’ve ever, ever made a sale.
Twenty has gone very quiet – I fear Kerry an Mary have lured him into the spare room. Poor Twenty, he’ll never be the same man after this. He’ll become bitter and twisted.
Twisted certainly – he’ll need a chiropractor
We should write to the Irish Times about his plight.
A double glazing guy told me once he could arrange finance and I said “great, even though I’m on the dole?”. I never heard from him (or any others – you must go on some list)again.
You’re right about him going very quiet though – ever since the “don’t take a newspaper” post.
Perhaps he’s gone to “do lunch”…
I got calls from some fucker selling “huskvarna” garden shite.
I live on the third flooe; dumb fucks
Maybe that Mormon Missionary woman has had a change of heart and kidnapped him Tinman?
What a way to go … being a mormon, she wouldn’t even let him smoke a delicious major afterwards, and he’d have to use the missionary position
Jaysus he has gone very quiet hasn’t he….or maybe the mormon missionary woman has read the book and is trying to become one of those “marvellous cunts” he refers to at the end of the buke…
Perhaps he has gone to supplement the meagre returns on his book by selling art/doubleglazing/kitchens door to door. He maybe in your neighbourhood right now!!
tee hee.
The psychology of avoiding these people has gotten a little crazy…
Girl from Eircom rings,
“are you happy with your phone bill??”
“Yes, its fine thanks”
“Would you like us to make it smaller?”
“No thanks its fine, I’m sorry but I am very busy”
Real Conversation.
To build on PP’s idea perhaps we should suggest a few alternative occupations for Twenty if his career as an author doesn’t work out….Prison warder with bastardface as his guard dog would be my advice.
drrriiiinnnnngggggggggggggggg…
ddddddddrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggg….
dddddddddddddddddrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggg…
ddddddddddrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggggg..
Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock!
Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock!
Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock!
Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock!
Did you not do this one a couple of weeks ago ?
Window sales cunts. They are a real pane in the hole. Not as bad as the phonetic frenetic sausage jockeys trying to conduct their business over the phone. These fuckers are pure concentrated evil, always managing to ring you at most inconvenient and off your guard moments. They fill me with uncontrollable rage. I look like the guy from the old PC game Doom after deciphering their first syllable on the dog & bone. Anyone got a spare claw hammer? I’m seriously thinking of manhunting a whole department of them.
Whats the collective noun for a bunch of Sales persons?
Cunts
He lurks, then pounces, that pad footed panther of Timing
It’s suddenly occured to me that perhaps Twenty is all of his own commenters.
Like in Fight Club.
Close jothemama, but no cigar.
Twenty is Morgor, Johnny5, maggot and me. The rest are real.
Sorry, I almost forgot. He’s also Bald Devil.
Must …. buy …. three …. BOOKS!
Yes I have broached the sock-puppet theory with Mr Major previously, it is still a considered suspicion of mine, I must say. Mind you they do say it makes for the most interesting conversation don’t they?!
Twenty, have you ever noticed how the noise thing particularly affects writers?
Monkey Balls, you’re nearly right, but Johnny5 is actually Jesus reborn.
He’s turned into a bit of a cunt after being crucified.
Sock puppets – not me anyway. And there really aren’t any people using more than one name.
Johnny5 is AIDSJesus.