Forgot to mention…

City of Vice was still bloody good last night, and what’s more it showed the Irish as the filthy despicable race they are and always have been…

Dirty Northern foods of the 1980s

Never one to be afraid of jumping on the nostalgia bandwagon, and as a reaction to the rash of programs on TV in which parents claim it’s the supermarkets fault their children are too fat to move without falling over, or that they suffer a near death experience when exposed to fucking peanuts, here’s a list of just some of the terrible processed foods I was fed as a child.

I suspect that you probably can’t even buy many of them now as they were essentially made up entirely of additives and would kill a weak modern child.

However, I’m now 6’4, weigh just under 15 stone and am highly intelligent, so Jamie Oliver stick that in his pipe and fucking smoke it.

Findus Crispy pancakes

Disks of long chain polymers encasing a mixture of PVA glue and MSG. covered in orange gritty bits. Horrific.

Potato Waffles

A matrix of deep fried potato starch-if you had 5 of them, you could build a cage for gorillas you could make out of mince (if you were the kind of child who’s parents didn’t buy you many toys).

Vienetta

Sheer, unadulterated sophistication. Looked upon by the middle classes in much the same way that Ferraro Rocher are regarded today by witless fat people in your office i.e. as the height of class and taste. Also in common with Ferarro Rocher, they tasted shit.

Ice Magic

A sort of chocolate flavoured plastic that set rock hard upon contact with air or liquid. In retrospect, probably better employed mending oil rigs rather than as an ice cream condiment.

Chicken Kievs

The fate of birds that offended Bernard Mathews. Pretty much just animal by products, mealed feathers and garlic butter.

Instant Whip/Angel Delight/ Chocolate mousses in packs of 10.

Curious chemical properties that caused milk to solidify like runny tiling grout.

Artic Roll

Bland, grainy ice cream, flavoured with Cillit Bang and encircled with a layer of tasteless sponge. There is no point to this food.

All the above were punctuated by numerous offal stews and other unlikely dishes created by my mother, who was under the impression that is was 1943, and we were still under blockade by German U-boats.

Despite this diet, I have managed to get into my mid thirties without any health problems and I am as strong as a fucking bull. So fuck knows what parents are doing to their kids these days to make them so piss weak….

I only do this job so I can put turkey on the table at Christmas you know…

There’s no need for this “can do” attitude bollocks. I find it an extremely unappealing character trait, especially on a Friday afternoon...

People yapping like small dogs and agreeing enthusiastically to random tasks is really not what I want or need in the run up to the weekend.

And why is it some people put such bizarre and disparate levels of conviction and effort into the tasks assigned to them?

For instance people seem to put as much, if not more effort into arranging the fucking milk rota/next piss awful works night out as they do for the entirety of their job remit. No real sense of priority there…Do these people have no perceptual filters?

I got taken aside by someone from another department earlier to request that I advise one of my staff members that they have not been contributing sufficient amounts to the milk fund.

I’ll tell you what, you fat cunt, here’s the 20p they owe, now get your face out of that nosebag full of pies and do your fucking job…

Its political correctness gone mad…

Is this real? Are we in the 1980’s again?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/education/patently absurd

It sounds like something that Richard Littlejohn would make up in order to wank himself into a frenzy over…

City of Vice

Watched City of Vice again last night. It’s bound to get some complaints, specifically because of a scene where black male police officer nicknamed “Jamaica Mary” tore the clothes of a young (white) transvestite, bent him over a bed and promised him he would “fuck him until the Devil blushed”. You never got that in “Poldark” did you?

There was also a scene where a man in a dress pretended to give birth to a wooden doll. It’s just as well I’m broad minded really, otherwise I'd have been a bit perturbed by it all. I think it certainly raises the bar for period dramas in general though and I hope it starts a trend to make them as offensively shocking as possible. I fully expect the next TV adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” to include a scene in which Mr Darcy sucks off a pig whilst dressed as Hitler or something equally controversial.

I missed the end of City of Vice as there was a plumbing emergency I had to attend to in the bathroom. Shame.

not murder, just self expression...

The only thing that stops me from creeping up behind the lisping genetic detritus that is Gareth Gates and caving in the back of his skull with a claw hammer then pissing on his corpse is that he would never know who did it, or why they felt such a huge justification for doing so.

As such, it would be no more than a wasted gesture. And not a murder, for surely no jury in the land would convict me (if on the off chance they do, please could any loyal readers (should any exist) please start a campaign to “Free the Fat Edgar One”, cheers).

I don’t know what this means, but I feel a revolution coming on…

http://news.bbc.co.uk/i/business/Bloated Plutocrats feasting on swans whilst the poor live in filth...

According to this the rich are getting increasingly fatter and smugger, whilst the poor are also becoming increasingly fatter, but also more dangerous and feral than ever before.

I’m all for tossing them a few hyper rich City types to them that they can tear to pieces, to prevent them from turning on lower middle class types like myself. More bread and circuses I say.

The pot and the fucking kettle

This fucking annoyed me...

After several decades of tacitly supporting the IRA, by providing funds, weapons and a refuge for murderers America has now decided that actually it’s Europe which is a “Platform for Terrorism”. I could take exception to almost every point made in the speech, however that would just be depressing but a few comments jumped out at me:

“We've put up literally hundreds of miles of fencing and barriers”, presumably on the grounds that terrorist obey “keep out” signs, or perhaps simply just don’t own any ladders

"People travelling from South Asia and the Middle East into Europe and carrying out attacks there". And they are probably taking the opportunity to catch a show on Broadway while they are over there. “By the beard of the prophet, now we have rid the world of more infidels, let us now watch some song and dance numbers”. Well that’s just “terrorism tourism” for you isn’t it? Like everyone else, they are taking advantage of the cheap flights and there’s no reason why they shouldn’t want to see “Cats” if they are in the area.

“I have to say the biggest threat comes from overseas, and one of the places we are increasingly worried about is Europe” I think you’ll find the biggest threat comes from your own blinkered pig fucking ignorance and appalling foreign policy decisions. Attempting to re-enact your Vietnam fiasco in the desert and alienating the entire Muslim world by charging onto the world stage like John Fucking Wayne was not a constructive move.

I was also slightly perturbed by the picture of Michael Chertoff (head of the very sinister “Homeland Security Department”) in which it appears that the security of the United States is in the hands of a paranoid, senile Albert Steptoe.

some tits and a car chase

I’m a simple man with simple, undemanding televisual needs. All I normally require for entertainment is some tits and a car chase. I think “Dog the Bounty Hunter” is a hard hitting political show and that the ITN news is serious journalism. Fortunately, as this is essentially the remit of channel 5, this normally works out very well.

I was however quite pleased with "City of Vice" on channel 4. Basically it was “Sharpe” meets “the Sweeney” but with added wigs and filth. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It stars the Emperor from “Star Wars” as well. He’s aging quite well, but does look a bit like an eagle with AIDS.

I’m planning to make a few changes to the blog in the coming weeks, to make it more like bear grylls's .

Anyway, this morning I was kayaking using a hollowed out log in the local pond, looking for sharks to punch when I caught and ate a parrot. I fucked it first of course.

I am a child of the 1970’s and 80’s

Of late I have found myself pondering the style of parenting those of my generation experienced with what is expected of parents in the early 21^st century (I have specified “early 21^st century” just in case one day in the distant future, many millennia away, due to various unlikely circumstances the only record of current human civilisation left will be Fat Edgar’s blog and this may help dating the archaeological record. What will they make of the world we live in?).

Certain things I remember from being a child, such as being given my first knife when I was 5 years old, would be unheard of now. I also distinctly remember being given a small crossbow (a real one made of wood and metal, not plastic) for Xmas when I was about 7. I used to be able to fire pencils through sheets of plasterboard at about 10 feet with it. Fucking lethal. It was on “Watchdog” a few months afterwards.

It’s not even as if my parents were particularly unusual in this kind of behaviour. On the contrary, they were very good parents. When we went on holiday to places like the Dales we were given our own little tents to sleep in, about 15 feet away form the main one our parents slept in. Can’t remember being abducted by any paedophiles, unless my mind has blocked that one out…

We were also given a rubber dinghy and told to play on our own in the rapids. In fact I remember that my dad was unusually caring and thoughtful for the era and advised us that if we were going to go out with the dinghy, to head upstream for the first half of the day, then we could rely on the current bringing us back in the afternoon.

How many parents would take their kids on holiday today and tell them “Go on, off you go and play “Deliverance” for the afternoon”. You just don’t get the same intensity of experience at a place like “centerparcs”…

Things that people claim are “music” but aren’t really

Things that people claim are “music” but aren’t really

Please note-this list is not exhaustive

• Whale/Dolphin “songs” – Awful, viscous fucking creatures that eat drowning fishermen and “talk” to each other in unpleasant high pitched voices (a bit like my dreams of pirate dwarves). And you always wanted to swim with them? You fucking freak. Is it any wonder that the Japanese try to kill as many as possible? Good luck to them I say-might wipe the smile off their fucking faces.

• World Music-A dreadful cacophony of discordant nonsense. If you wish to listen to “Flight of the Condor” played on bagpipes, or “Danny Boy” played on the fucking pan pipes and sitar can I please suggest that you get voluntarily sectioned? Thank you.

• "Stomp!" – Don’t get me started on those cunts.

• R n’ B – It’s just black people in shiny clothes warbling about gold jewellery and shagging. That’s not a genre, that’s just rubbish.

• Craig Fucking David – As above but even more so. Craig David was initially famous as the man who came second in the international contest for “Least sexually threatening black man on the planet” (Will Smith came first, Lenny Henry a close third). It’s nothing to build a singing career on really.

• Insipid pop music - Almost any current form of modern “pop music” that relies on a combination of insipid sexuality and/or cynical appeals to the burgeoning individuality of pubescent girls is by definition “the Devils work”. By this I mean the type of dreadful “girl band” started by the Spice Girls that has managed to reach it’s zenith with such dreadful groups as “Girl Aloud”. While I’m on the subject Boy Bands are just as bad-generally just four shiny little cunts on stools looking “moody” and “cute”. Faces you could punch all day and not get bored. Fuckers.

Increasingly, the only type of music Fat Edgar finds he can listen to is Motorhead.

Tipton Dave

Tipton Dave is a man I once met in Birmingham. I know he was called Tipton Dave because that was what was tattooed on the side of his head. The other side portrayed what was either a swastika or the SS lighting flashes. I’m not sure which and it seemed rude to stare.

Tipton Dave himself is (or was) an enormous mountain of a man. Aged about 60, he had a shaved head, scarred knuckles and forearms like 2 enormous hams. Curiously, the tattoos on his head were the only ones I could see (he was wearing a vest at the time I met him), as if he had decided that all other forms of tattoos on any other parts of his body were effeminate. Almost as if he was saying “only girls and fucking poofters have “ACAB” tattooed on their fucking knuckles, or bulldogs on their forearms. I’ve just got my fucking name on my fucking head. Beat that you fuckers. You know where to find me if you fucking fancy some. I’M TIPTON FUCKING DAVE YOU CUNTS!”. Or something along those lines anyway.

The reason I bring up Tipton Dave is because I think everyone who despises fools should behave more like Tipton Dave would probably behave, and less like nice well brought up people when faced with the sheer blinkered pig ignorance and idiocy of some of the startlingly fucking shit thick wankers there are out there. I’d like to relate a short conversation I had relatively recently to illustrate my point:

Fat Edgar was reading a book during lunch at his desk. He is interrupted from this small, jealously guarded respite from the stupidity of the world around him by the strident hectoring tone of the racist fish wife:

RFW (proudly): I’m reading a book too.

FE: Hmm? Are you really?

RFW: Oh yes.

FE: Really???

RFW: I borrowed it from my daughter.

FE: Well yes, there’s no reason to have your own books in the house is there? They just take up valuable space that could otherwise be used to display the charming ornamental plates depicting bullfight scenes you routinely bring back from your dreadful package holidays.

RFW: It’s got a blue cover…

FE: They are always the ones that get the best reviews, aren’t they?

RFW: It’s about a dog. I think.

FE: hmmm. Wonderful-it sounds heartwarming. Borrowed blue dog books. Everyday I witness your growth as an individual…

In case you were wondering the book was “The curious incident of the Dog in the night time”. She didn’t like it much in the end. "Full of numbers and stuff" apparently.

All I’m saying here is that rather than sit through this kind of absurd travesty of a conversation, when presented with comments like the above, simply think “What would Tipton Dave do in this situation?” and act accordingly. In this case simply by beating the person’s head against the wall repeatedly and shouting “How dare you interrupt my life, you disgraceful old sow?!” until the police arrive.

You might make some enemies, you might make some friends. You may very probably end up in prison. But, my God, surely that’s better than having to put up with this?

Look at my huge cock! Yeah! I’m a salesman and I am “Mr Fucking Bollocks!”

Don’t you hate salesmen? I fucking do. I work in a biggish office in a biggish company full of busy people. I don’t need some absolute arse to come barging in wearing a shiny suit and shouting. It annoys me. Especially if they are from London, as they almost always are.

What’s with these fuckers? They know nothing, they do virtually nothing and they act like fucking toddlers, barking boorishly into their (company supplied) mobile phones.

Just had one fly through the office with the normal fanfare: “Yep. Yep. Yep, can do, Can do, yep. OK Charles. Yep. EVERYBODY LOOK AT MY SHINY EAR COCK! Yep. Yep. Ciao Charles.”. Fucking twats…

Will you please realise that NO ONE CARES that you think you are Mr Bollocks. You glorified fucking barrow boy, you only got the job because you have no fucking shame and no one else wanted to drive up and down the M1 hawking substandard software to disinterested fuckwits. Can’t you see that? So don’t try and get all fucking alpha male on me sunshine…

I’ve asked the nice lady in reception if he can be allocated the fleet car that smells of stale cigarettes and BO. And he will be.

He won’t learn any lessons from it will he though? Oh well, you can’t have everything.

The absurdity of modern management

Once again FatEdgar has a new manager. To be honest, I don’t normally even bother to learn their names now. They come and go so fast. Generally in floods of tears.

Anyway, this one has come along with all kinds of vigour and unspecified “new ideas”, so we have had the same conversation I always seem have with new managers (in between a series of "meetings" they were attending):

NM: So Fat Edgar, what do you think we can do to improve productivity?

FE: The department is being run on a fucking shoe string-there’s been no real investment for years. Employ some new people. Oh yes, and fire the mongs please.

NM: OK, interesting ideas, but not sure we have the budget space for that.

FE: I had a premonition that I didn’t think you would have.

NM: Any other ideas what we could do?

FE: No, without more people we’re fucked. That’s the bottom line. Please don’t ask me to look at “other ways of working” or any other bullshit, because believe me I’ve got this as streamlined as possible. I’ve had to, you clueless cunt…

NM: Hmmm….Have you looked at other ways of working?

FE: No-I have just sat here like a fucking idiot for the last few years working as inefficiently as possible and improving nothing. I just whip the bastards to make them work harder until they start crying, then I sell their organs and boil their bones up for soup the feed the others.

NM: OK-I have observed the way this department works for approximately 12 and one half seconds and have decided that I now know it in its entirety and have formulated a better way to make it work. Please implement this immensely unwieldy and ultimately pointless plethora of procedures with great big glaring fucking holes in them immediately.

It’s no wonder we steal is it? Anyone who works in an office and who buys their own tea bags and stationary is a fool….

A lovely dream...

There’s normally nothing more fucking tedious than having to listen to someone else dreams, however I have decided to share one of last nights with you as it still leaves me with a warm fuzzy feeling and a huge throbbing erection.

Imagine, if you will, a dark dirty workshop lit by the dull red glow of forges. The workshop is full of twisted, evil dwarves fashioning the word “CUNT” out of sharp shards of glass, discarded cow bones and rusty, jagged fragments of metal.

They have been working on them for some time (possibly many months) and have a large pile of them now.

Now imagine Robbie fucking Williams tied to a chair in the freezing well of a cooling tower-he looks like a bit bruised and bloody as if he has been quite badly beaten. His eyes are bulging with fear and the bonds are quite tight, so he is struggling to escape.

Slowly we see the evil dwarves peering over the rim of the cooling tower, cackling and muttering in low voices whilst holding huge black iron cauldrons full of their work. There is a sense of menace, a sense of an as yet unknown purpose about their manner.

As if in slow motion the contents of the cauldron are then tumbling down the atrium of the tower, their sharp edges glittering and spinning in the air as they fall, gradually gaining speed.

As Williams looks up he realises each piece represents the same word and that word is now easy for him to read, and he knows its significance.

He knows that each word is a condemnation of his very presence in the world-he knows now why someone has chosen to do this to him.

Robbie’s mouth is now a desperate mask of despair, abject fear and terrible realisation. He hopes, in vain, that someone will care enough to rescue him.

No one comes.

Another year over, a new one begun…

And a happy new year to you all…

This year’s new years resolutions (so far) are as follows:

1. Do something about my apathy-This was thrown into stark relief for me last year when I was at the Great Yorkshire Show, and due to a series of coincidences I found myself a) having bought a machete and also b) finding myself within stabbing distance of HRH Prince Charles. Any man worthy of his salt from a previous generation would have used the opportunity to rid the world of a dandified, parasitic Crown Prince (and subsequently plunge Europe into the carnage of Total War) and yet I did NOTHING. My communist grandfather would be turning in his grave if he knew know I missed such an opportunity. I admit I thought about a spot of regicide, but then thought “Why bother? Why fucking bother?” Absurd isn’t it? Won’t let it happen again.

2. Learn to have less patience with fools. I still find I suffer fools, despite the fact that they are clearly a waste of genetic material and should be disposed of as such. I think our company’s yearly party (held later this month, rather than in the run up to xmas, in order to cut costs) will be an ideal opportunity to explore this. Although I find it increasingly difficult, I do manage to hold my tongue between the hours of nine till five and refuse to give in to the temptation to refer to people as cunts, however I suspect that outside these hours, and with the addition of copious amounts of alcohol this will become a moot point.

3. Robbie Fucking Williams. I can’t even watch him on TV without wanting to gut him like a fucking fish, so why not? Who would ever grieve for him?

4. Bomb Making. An increasingly valuable and desirable skill set. Must swot up on this as it seems that in our brave new world anyone who can create an exploding rucksack will never be short of gainful employment.

Here’s to a happy and prosperous New Year!!