Good times, bad times

Isn’t it odd that despite being surrounded by banks that, according to their advertising, are friendly, different, listening banks that put the customer first,
they all seem to treat us like pubes in custard. Isn’t it a shame that the same marketing company that were responsible for “Death” fags don’t get hired by the
banks ? The first time I see an advert for a bank that says “We’re into making money and you can help us, at your own cost. Possibly even your own life.” I’ll sign up for their special low interest account immediately, confident that they’ll never betray my ill-founded trust.

Unlike SMILE. Yes, smiley smile, the different bank. The friendly, human bank with whimsical quizzes on their web site. The spin off from the co-op that don’t have to bother living up to all the ethical stuff.
With a chuckle still in my heart after reading the hilarious, cynical quiz on the front page of smile’s website today I phoned them asking to transfer
some money from the credit card to my current account so that I can pay the lovely tax bill. The, very helpful, sympathetic and underpaid lady I spoke to told me that smile, couldn’t do it because they’d decided to cancel my credit card without telling me.

Well anyway, she was nice enough to re-enable it and sort me out. She was human and therefore the enemy of the bank.

So I went to the Wxxxxxx arms with Peter B. It’s still one of the only proper pubs left and despite the newly aquired slightly threatening atmosphere, aided by
the landlords incredible resemblence to “dodgy” dave courtney, it’s still refreshingly comfy and pubby. Only in a real pub could you overhear a conversation lik
e this:

“Feta. That Greek cheese, you can get it in great big blocks”
“yeah it’s about fucking 3 or 4 quid for a little block”
“You wouldn’t catch me eating that shit. Fuck that! Nah, I picked up a
lump a cheese. Massive, like that. Fucking massive, proper cheese. Cheddar.
Massive lump of cheese, that big right….3 quid.”
“3 quid?”
“3 quid.”
“Massive. I cut the cunt in ‘alf and give it to me sister.”

A good week really, despite Saturday. Most of Saturday was spent in Lewisham hospital with a friend who was in a bad way. On sunday things improved; Abby brough
t Jake round and we went for a walk on Hilly fields. Michele and I went over to my mum and dads’ afterwards and had a superb lump of lamb. Tina also came over and we all drank too much and chatted. Good stuff, although I needed to take monday off because the weekend was just too short. Weekends should be 5 days long.

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