delmorpha.com

How Do,

As some of you may know of me, i’m a first aider in our workplace. Not a qualified doctor, not a paramedic, not even a nursey….just a first aider.

Though first aiders are trained in all aspects of ‘initial treatment’ from bandages and plasters right through to CPR, I very rarely get much interesting to do apart from the odd severed finger (please see previous post, a finger of fun…).

Anyhows, i’m going off track here, what I want to tell you is that I got sent on a course last week. Because i’m trained as a first aider I should have been sent on a 2 day refresher course but because my boss paints us all with the same brush, he thought I must be a spaz like the rest of my colleagues and sent me on the full, initial 4 day course for begginers.

Although I was pissed at the prospect of ‘re-learning’ I favoured the following points…

• 4 days out of the factory (paid) is much better than 2 days out of the factory (paid).

• I was getting petrol money for the journey to and from every day, even though the training centre is closer to my house than my actual workplace.

• I got to be a swot!! I fully remember pretty much the whole course from the first time around, so theres not going to be anything I didn’t know……

…..WRONG!

Though the basic bandages and shit were still white, still cheap and still the same to put on, which I excelled at while the security guard I was paired up with for the week kept dropping his then running after it while it unraveled along the floor like a fucking andrex puppy with a pissing labotomy, the main bit- the important bit- the lifesaving bit- the CPR (mouth to mouth and chest compressions for some fucker who’s not breathing incase you don’t watch casualty) has changed!!

It used to be “3 rescue breaths into the mouth, then 15 chest compressions, then 3 rescue breaths into the mouth, then 15…etc”

We all sat on the floor with our rubber, ‘dead’ dolls and the retired biddy nurse taking the course (who looked like she needed some urgent fucking medical attention) said

“Now who has read their books and knows what ratio of rescue breaths to chest compressions we give?….” looking around like a smug Aunt Fucking Bessie

Books? Books? Phhht….I’ve been here and got the T-Shirt love. I’ve put fucking plasters on cuts, me. I have washed countless bits of shit out of my mentally handicapped colleagues eyes. I wiped my arse on the book after my morning shit this morning, Pensioner love, because I know everything about first aid..

So Florence Knightingale here puts his hand up…..and made a proper cunt of himself!

“Yeah, it’s 3 rescue breaths to 15 chest…”

Mother Theresa stopped me mid-sentence, “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!”

“Ya fuckin’ what?” I replied, almost like I had just recieved an ASBO.

“It is NOT 3 rescue breaths to 15 compressions, it’s….”

She looked around the room at the rest of the people sat at her feet and lifted her arms like a mass hypnotist. The entire room (apart from me who was red as fuck after my chav-like outburst) all chanted like Fucking schoolkids “2 reessccuuee bbrreeaatthhss ffoorr eevveerryy tthhiirrttyy cchheesstt ccoommpprreessiioonnss”

That wasn’t a typing error, they just all said it in unison but dragged it out like kids in a classroom say “ggoooodd mmoorrnniinngg mmrrss ssmmiitthh”

This made me feel even more shite. I was the one trained first aider on this course and the rest of the shit for brains knew more than me!

So, I took a deep breath and politely questioned, “I thought it was 3 to 15?”

Biddy nurse replied “It used to be but they changed it 3 years ago…it’s more effective this way.” And smiled as if she were the fucking fountain of knowledge itself.

I then questioned again, “I’m sorry but if this is the way we are trained to save a life, don’t you think it would have been a better idea to try and get it right the first time? It seems like something you don’t want to try experimenting with too many times…”

HA HA!! One all!!

“W e really don’t have time to discuss past failings! If you notice on your dolls in front of you…..”

And it was over. I think i’ll try and swot up the next time I think I know more than everyone else. As it happened, I passed the course nice and easy so I couldn’t give a shit now.

Biddy Theresa got one more kick in the dentures, however, when she spoke to a wood worker (who wasn’t unlike Lenny from ‘of mice and men’ ie- a retard)  in the ‘wrong tone of voice’ on the last day and he started crying, put his coat on and walked out. This had never happened to her in her years of training and, subsequently, she lost the St John Ambulance a lump sum of government funding for failing to pass a pupil.

(I’m gonna call that 2-1 up! - cheers Stuart)

I hope she dies soon!

Keep bleeding same-heads, Horseys got the plasters!!

Till next time peeps,

H.

In February of this year I was fired on the first day of my employment with a company in London developing something called TV2, effectively Broadband TV Gameshows that could be played for fun or prizes, and everything looked good as they had some major corporate backing from some of the bigger ITV game shows. I wasn’t fired for being a massive cunt either, like you might expect, I was fired for not showing up on the first day due to a family crisis and could not make the journey to London on the Sunday, requiring a few extra days to arrange my relocation; not a massive request you might think, especially with the week they’d given me to “up sticks”. I wrote a blog about it, posting the email response I got with my termination in February, modifying their rather phallus like logo into a rightful Cock and Balls.

In any case, whilst sifting through my usual job results, crap special offers and other bullshit I have to delete on a daily basis and I spot an email from The Cock and Balls Project. I wondered what the fuck those cunts wanted and had to say in an email entitled Cock and Balls Project Recruitment. I opened it up with baited breath…

Dear David,

My name is Herman Goering and I am Head of Recruitment at the Cock and Balls Project. I
recently came across your CV on Monster.co.uk.

The Cock and Balls Project is the company behind WeDigCocks, the world’s first “Cocks2″
Network. We are a multi award winning leader in the development and
commercial exploitation of broadband entertainment.

Our team is made up of the cream of video game industry talent who, not
content with life in the console industry, have traded in their years of
experience for a role within a dynamic and exciting firm where their
skills are enjoyed by millions of viewers each and everyday.

Based in the heart of London’s Soho we have a relaxed and yet explosive
office with no dress policy and in a good location for shops, bars,
clubs and restaurants.

We currently have a position available for “Broadband Entertainment
Software Developer”.

Our corporate website is www.CockandBallsproject.com where you will find the above
position listed in the Recruitment section. To view our “Cocks2″ Network
please visit www.wedigcocks.com. We currently have a selection of
interactive shows that you can enjoy and we are currently expanding our
horizons to meet a global audience.

It would be great if you could look at the two websites to see if we
would be of interest to you as a potential employer and then give me
some feedback one way or the other.

Please be assured of my best attention should you require any further
information about us in the meantime, and I look forward to hearing form
you.

Kind Regards,
Herman Goering

I could’ve just wrote “Go fuck your own arseholes you bunch of cunts” and this would’ve been a more than fair response but I chose a more eloquent reply.

Herman,

You sacked me from this role on the very first day of my appointment as family trouble meant I could not get to London on the Sunday prior to starting, and even though my many attempts at contact were in vain, my “unannounced” no show sent “shockwaves” through your board of directors. Even if I was interested in the position still, which I most definitely am not, I hardly think it would go down too well if you suggested rehiring me as I was obviously the best candidate at the time. My second choice has quite obviously had a short tenure suggesting your non-compassion as a company was actually a blessing in disguise!

It would be great if you could have a look at my website at http://delmorpha.com/the-cock-and-balls-project.htm and let me know what you think of me being a potential employee and give me some feedback in one way or another.

Regards,
David

I’m yet to receive a response…

So I landed in Calgary on Friday PM to be meeted and greeted by Mike, which was amazing to see him for the first time in nearly 12 months. We’re waiting around for his housemates to pick us up and I’m introduced to the wonderment that is Tim Hortons coffee. Mike had said many times about how great it was when we were in Korea and it really was a refreshingly good cup of coffee.

Being Friday night we picked up some beers and settled in back at his place with some hockey (this is Canada after all), some beers, a pitcher of a Bloody Mary made with Clamato Juice called something I can’t quite remember and a shot of Rye before bed!

I’m awake at 6am in any case and after watching TV for a few hours everyone is up and ready to head out on our road trip. We were heading up to British Columbia to see one of Mikes friends new baby, and using it as a good excuse to drive through the Rocky Mountains.

The trip was dramatic and breath taking throughout; the sheer mountain faces were far more extreme than anything I have ever seen before. I was surprised at the lack of barriers on the roads in some areas given the drop on the other side, but it was probably just my anxiety attacks and paranoia kicking in for the most part.

Eight hours and several funky stops later (see The Last Spike and The Enchanted Forest pictures in the images section) later we land in British Columbia; Kamloops to be precise… and don’t forget the Tournament Capital of Canada part. Seriously… they had an enormous plaque honouring its title and this became the rolling joke throughout the whole of our stay there.

So we meet up with Mikes friend Sebastien who takes us to the renovated house were staying at, only for him to have forgotten to mention it has no running water or no toilet. It also used to be a crack den (seriously) and had a plank of wood nailed across the back door instead of a lock. Two words escaped our mouths; Fuck That! We hit up a Motel instead, probably the wisest $300 we spent on the trip!

The next day we headed over to Sebastian’s house and tried to find something that was still open to do in The Tournament Capital and of the list of things on the Tourism Kamloops website, a trip to The Centre of the Universe seemed like the obvious choice… I mean how can you pass up that opportunity when you’re 4500 miles from home!?

A phone call later and we find that there’s a $10 a head cover charge to visit and reading the website there isn’t a sign for us to take pictures next to. Still, this is the Centre Of The Universe, how can it fail to be awesome??

An hour or so later the 8 people and a baby, 2 cars are approaching Dead Mans Valley and to me it feels like exactly that. We had 50km to go of narrow winding roads on the edge of mountainous terrain, in between Native housing. The whole build up felt like something out of The Blair Witch Project or Texas Chainsaw Massacre, not helping my already fragile and anxiety-ridden head. We passed a Christian graveyard of stick crosses which was probably the point at which I snapped and began to freak out.

To most Canadians, this was probably a little too stereotypical for anything bad to happen, but baring in mind everything I have been led to believe is plausible in movies and being so far from home, it was just a little much. The journey along the trail was intense enough, but passing by huts with deer antlers nailed to them like trophies, through a creepy ass forest and mountain trail was sending me down a pretty dark spiral. We even hit a patch of fallen stones that pounded the bottom of the minivan, just like what would normally puncture the fuel tank!

After the longest 50km drive I’ve ever been on in my life we arrive at a Y in the road, with a sign in red paint hand written the word “resort” going down and a hill to the right. For all intent and purposes, it could’ve been written “rEsoRt” with a backwards R and in something looking suspiciously like blood. As we take a left into the resort a pickup truck comes storming down the right path and continues in the direction we’d come from.

We pull up to a wire fence and the resort looked particularly un-resorty… well, certainly by my First World standards but this is supposed to be nature after all. Sebastian and BJ get out the van, and again reminiscent of a bad horror movie they start shouting “Helllllloooo” as a couple of dogs appear barking like mad. “This is it…” I thought “..I’m about to die”.

A woman appeared from the house on top of the hill, who fortunately had good North American teeth welcoming us. Had she have had anything less, I think I’dve been done in Canada right there! She explained a bit about the Centre of the Universe and told us where that, and the waterfalls were. We weren’t allowed in the gold mine as it was too dangerous to go alone and her husband I guess wasn’t around. The best bit? She gave us an discount to view The Centre of the Universe at $60 for the 8 of us instead of $80. I mean how excellent is that?!

So we drive up the other path, round the S bends like she said to the barbed wire fence. The paths lead into forest and a hut, and to the view on the left from The Centre of The Universe. As far as views go, it was pretty impressive; $60 impressive? Probably not, but it was pretty tranquil and relaxing up there. Having stood on top of Ska Fell for free after an exhilarating hike through non-horror movie terrain though, this certainly felt like we’d been conned!

The overall experience of The Centre of the Universe was a massive letdown given the cost in mental fatigue, petrol for a 400km round trip and the awesome $60 discounted price for the 8 of us. Even the Amazing Waterfall 3km away was a suckfest, given the one I had seen on our way through the Rocky Mountains at Crazy Creek. Thankfully, the journey back through the Rocky Mountains was even more breathtaking than the journey there, making up for things.

So… you want to see The Centre of the Universe without paying $10 a head for the privilege?? Ok, ok… here it is:

What? You look almost disappointed…

As Amy said to me… “WTF… is that not just a rock with money on??”… and to which I responded “Thats EXACTLY what it is!”. Hey ho… maybe it’s supposed to be symbolic!

Tax if you earn £25k a year

Tax if you earn less than a glass of water

Finally… a fucking tax break that actually effects me in a positive way whilst ensuring low paid and underskilled “scroats” get hit at their purses instead! Its about time things started to even up even if it is just a little…

According to Fool, the break even point is £16k, but realistically this is going to hit people on minimum wage the hardest. To be honest I’m not quite sure is the best place to be penny pinching from but I welcome a tax increase that will take more from the Eastern Europeans that come here to work those exact jobs and avoid giving anything back to the country they’re sucking dry.

So, if you earn minimum wage, unlucky… you’re going to be paying more tax next year to support.. well… your own kind. Shut the fuck up moaning before you start.

Not be a condescending twat but maybe you should’ve tried harder at school, paid more attention in class or studied a little harder in the evenings instead of sucking dick for crack. Or maybe, just maybe you were conceived with a weak sperm and your parents were brother and sister… if minimum wage is all you’ve been managing for the last few years, it might be worth asking them….

In any case, look at it this way; according to an email I’ve just received from QPS Graduate Recruitments, the average salary in the UK is £24,000 meaning you “dodge” around £3,000 a year in tax compared to the Average Joe… and you’ve probably had the audacity to call students “tax dodgers” in the past haven’t you… you fuck!

Yesterday was a bad day. Mentally and Physically draining. Having arrived in work shockingly early I attempted to work on the  data take on job I have to get finished this week to no avail. Having already mentioned coming home to do it, I packed up my shit and brought it home to work in the peace and quiet of my own office.. our office isn’t exactly the ideal environment for concentrating on coding!

In any case I worked pretty much no stop from about 2pm until about 11:30pm running my code, removing whatever element was found to be fucked, then rerunning. 26500 of 70000 records later my brain was fried; I stared at the TV and almost blanked out. I’d been staring at code and spreadsheets for 15 solid hours and the monotony of this task had taken its toll on my brain. I got into bed and began my Voyage into Tripout City.

Something wasn’t right and I began to freak out. My brain, tired yet under-stimulated began to race from the mixture of caffeine and cake in my system. I’d felt this before but not since I was a child; it was the foreboding enclosure of a nightmare.

I began to feel very aware of myself and my own existence and the fragility of it was what my mind was set on making clear. A mixture of anxiety and fear set in and I knew I was destined for a rough couple of hours. I got up and had to find something to stimulate my brain for fear it might explode.

I paced repeatedly around my front room and could hear the ringing of every electronic device left on standby. Even the feint noise of the pipes knocking was enough to intensify my experience causing my distress. I was going to be sick.

I ran to the bathroom and dry heaved.  It was coming but it wasn’t there. I sat on the toilet seat, head in hands, and gain the intensity of my own existence crept in. A thousand what-ifs rushed through my head and then the inability to conceptualise the end point of my life. I turned around and began to throw up.

I crawled back into bed and curled up behind Amy, attempting to concentrate on anything other than this self awareness but the questions kept coming and I didn’t have the answers. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I was unaware of the exact point the mood left me but it did like a great weight of my shoulders. Somehow I felt myself click back into place like I’d been sedated back in with reality.

It has been one of the most intense experiences of my life, as strange as that sounds, and not one I would like to revisit any time soon. I’m still working on this data throughout today again but I’m having regular fresh air breaks and trying not reduce the amount of caffeine I’m having. I still feel well and truly freaked out by the whole thing though - the brain is a funny thing!