Overheard Conversations

We’ve all seen Iggy Pop selling car insurance and John Lydon selling butter, but The Residents selling me Vision Express? Now I’ve seen absolutely fucking everything.

Location: Mr Eggs Fish And Chip Emporium, Hurst Street, Birmingham
Time: Midnightish
Parties involved: Two young girls (one silent) and two young boys (one silent)

Girl One (let’s call her Tamara): (On seeing the boys enter) Hey, don’t I know you?
Boy One (Let’s call him Keith): Yeah, I’ve shagged ya!
Laughter.
Keith: No I don’t think so, love. Hey, you were on X Factor!
Tamara: No. No, no, no, we don’t talk about that!
Keith: Yeah you were! How did it go?
Tamara: Simon Cowell said I couldn’t sing, the cheeky cunt.

Simon Cowell, being tedious and disingenuous, yesterday

Daily Mail readers the home counties over are up in arms that sick perverted fucking rapist, Tony Langham, (where there’s smoke, there’s fire) is claiming he didn’t do it up that tiny girly when he did willfully, and with malice aforethought sex her (I’ve seen that he’s had his eye on Holly, Cindy’s [a woman who, on the motherhood scale, ranks just below Karen Matthews. Lest we forget she dumped Holly the day she was born and shortly afterwards, in a fit of pique, tried to smother her] daughter). Can’t the police check out her fanny for any spunks left in? I think they should do that, probably have to save it for Hollyoaks Later.
Elliott Bevan is a maniac. How long before he grows out of this purple patch (“Yeah, you’re in your purple patch mate. It’s where you become unimaginably attractive to women you wouldn’t normally stand a chance with. All ugly blokes get one.”) that he’s wasting? In a years tim he will be looking back on these halcyon days with regret, wishing he had sex with at least one of them, Sarah or Hannah. I’d probably have to go with Hannah. The capriciousness of youth, eh?

I couldn’t really find a picture to illustrate this, so enjoy this picture of a tiny kitten in a sort of frog helmet thing that may or may not have been photo-shopped.

Kitten in a helmet, yesterday

Location: Train from Birmingham New Street to Birmingham International
Time: 8.30am on a Monday in June, 2008
Parties involved: One business man, late forties and one chap on the other end of his BlackBerry.
Business man: Yeah, hi. I know it’s the first day of your honeymoon but these reports you did were insufficiently collated…

Two goes and four conversations in and I am already breaking my own rules. This was not heard by me but someone else.

Location: Girls toilets in The Rainbow warehouse, Birmingham.
Time: Late on 09/08/08
Parties involved: Two young hipster girlies.
Girl1 (Let’s call her Gethsemane): Have you seen him tonight?
Girl2 (Let’s call her Tithandianisi): No, why?
Gethsemane: He thinks he’s bloody it in his checked shirt.
Tithandianisi: Such a poseur.
The girls primp and preen in the mirror for a while.
Gethsemane: You look really nice tonight.
Tithandianis: Yeah, thanks.

Before anyone says anything, I know that this picture doesn’t really work.