User blog:Jamie.hodgetts/March In A Nutshell.

By March in a Nutshell, I don’t mean to literally march into a nutshell because, well, you just wouldn’t fit.

In the past month I have entirely failed the 100 Day Song Challenge (my 100th day was scheduled to be Thursday 13th March.) Turned out I couldn’t even get into the most basic of routines, posting one Facebook status per day.



I have accidentally offended a number of Christians by suggesting that somebody would find a much better use for a prayer by asking God to give him a longer penis to allow him to have sexual intercourse with himself. I was actually rather surprised to find out just how many people see my status updates, by the number of complaints, praises and threats I got in return… hashtag feeling proud?



I went out for the first time in a long time and drank more alcohol than I think I ever have in my life. I really wasn’t the most expected night of my life.



We met a Pakistani cricket lover called Hiroshima, Sanjit or Vagazzle, I don’t quite remember. He travelled over to the UK four years ago leaving his parents behind to join his brother, sister and cousin, who I don’t think he actually sees anymore as he says he is lonely. He is a nightly alcoholic in an unhappy marriage, who can be found in the Wharf Bar in Walsall, so if you’re single and looking for Pakistani love, there’s where to go!



He offered to give me his mobile number, feeling incredibly sorry for him after hearing his story and having no intention of contacting him ever again, I agreed. So I typed his number into my phone where he then asked me to call the number to check that it was correct. I did so completely forgetting that this would give him my mobile number in return until his phone started ringing and I saw the magic eleven numbers appear on his screen. He bought me a JD and coke that tasted like it was actually going to destroy my oesophagus. We then went outside to accompany him during his fag-break, where he informed us that he ‘needed a wee’, so we chanced our statues and ran whilst he was saying his prayer to Allah to thank him for relieving him of his waste. It was after this that I peaked in my regretment of giving him my mobile number as I ended up with a total of 15 missed calls from him.



On one of the calls I attempted to answer to end the harassment. I quickly apologised for ditching him and created the excuse that my mom had called to tell me that the cat had died. After around 30 seconds of me talking very quickly in a forced traumatised, high-pitched voice I then realised that I had missed the call.



After our running with Sanjit, we attempted to visit a nightclub which turned out to be closed. So we continued our walk until reaching a Yates’ Bar, which from outside, looked like an old people’s home. Walking passed the OAP Bar we came across a mother and her son who were both very intoxicated. We over heard the son suggesting they went to an Irish bar (I misheard it as ‘Orange Bar’ from the drunk slurred words.) So I asked him where the said Orange Bar was, who seemed very keen to give me some very accurate directions.



So we set off on our travels towards the Irish Bar, where upon arrival we were greeted by two stereotypical pub living alcoholics, a very drunk bald man appearing to be in his early twenties and another drunk, this time a woman who was wrapping her arms around anybody she considered to have a penis.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">The young bald man appearing in his early twenties then kindly helped me finish my drink, without me even having to ask for his assistance. By this I mean he lifted my vodka and coke from my hand and took a large mouthful. The barmaid with a mouth that I imagined to be the same size as the other drunken woman’s vagina confronted the young bald man appearing in his early twenties and politely, but very loudly asked him to leave the bar and informed him that it wasn’t very polite to take other people’s drinks. Personally I couldn’t give a shit about what had just happened.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Once we decided that we had had enough to drink at the Irish bar, we set off to try the nightclub once again. Sadly, but not regrettably it was still closed up so we agreed to give the Yates’ Bar a try. After being in there for around 10 minutes, we saw more fat camp gay men than old people.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">We were then evicted from the OAP gay karaoke bar, by an incredibly camp bitch of a man who wouldn’t even allow us to leave with a bottle, so we headed back to the Irish bar. Once there and two drinks later, I was asked to get a Blue Lagoon cocktail, where the polite barman replied with “what the fuck is that?!” Having no idea what one was either I ordered a “Woo Woo” cocktail, which was shockingly actually quite nice.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I then received a rather blunt education – even an Irish bar must close on St Patrick’s Day!

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">So with the bars closing and nowhere else to go, we found salvage at the 24hour Tesco Extra. There we purchased another bottle of vodka and a bottle of coke for me, with plastic cups of course, and a 4pack of Coopersburg cider.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">From Tesco we seeked the usage of playground swings, and where is a better place for swingers than the Walsall Arboretum? Well, second to Cannock Chase of course.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">We gained entry by jumping over the wall and fence walking towards the play area, with no lighting, giving us a perfect reason for not seeing the open gates beforehand.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">We then stayed at the Arboretum until half three in the morning, before deciding it was getting late and we required sleep. So we headed back to my house where we continued drinking until I realised that if I drank anymore I was going to throw up, which I soon realised was inevitable either way.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Embarrassingly after some time had passed I then fell asleep, leaving my friend feeling more uncomfortable than a nun, well… in the company of the Incarace staff I guess.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">By now, I’m sure the fair few of you, who have actually bothered to read this far are thinking, “well I thought this was about his month, not just praying for a bigger nob and a stupid song challenge…”

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">So we’ll continue our March into a Nutshell or whatever I called this pointless thing.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">In the last month I also discovered that an ice-cream scoop is a half decent replacement utensil for drinking/eating/slurping soup. Well, I say soup but really it was an Oxo for dunking bread.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">By half decent, I mean it worked fairly well, up until I actually tried consuming my Oxo. At that point it would have been far less messy to dunk the end of your cock into it and try to slurp it through your japs-eye. You may think that it wouldn’t be messy at all. Although impossible, I wouldn’t be able to not make a mess if I dipped my bell-end into liquid that was boiling in a kettle 2 minutes prior to that moment.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I also had a printer explode on me!

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I’d owned the printer for 12 months, but it had never been used due to incompatible software with my PC. I decided to try it on my dad’s laptop to see if it would work…

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">It came up ‘PRINTING’ on the printer screen, more than it had ever done before. It then said I needed to buy new ink (remember it has never been used!)

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Then it refused to print as it said it had no ink left at all!

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I opened the printer to see what was going on to find the inside of it flowing with ink!

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">All of the cartridges had just emptied themselves inside the printer… Fucking thing!

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">So that was my March in a Nutshell.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">You may well be thinking that I don’t do much with my life… Well you’d be right! That is really all that has happened.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I do hope you’ve learnt a bit about me…

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Tara!

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