Job. MkII.

I require a chap/chapess with a serious geek thing who is interested in electronics and computing, who can program passably in C, and knows Ohm's Law, and is going to be treated like shit and come out the other end a bloody genius. They need to realise that life is hard, so is work, and that they are fucking useless, but wish to better themselves.

I would really like someone who knows what they're doing who wears their underpants outside their trousers and can change in a telephone box, which is what we've asked agencies to send us.

The problem is that we can't find the people because the stupid bastards put their CVs on a web site to which only bastard job agents have access. Said job agents then make sure we get sent folk who fit any description other than the one we're looking for, because they think they understand. They do NOT.

Back in the day it was possible to find someone who did not think that the world owed them a living. Nowadays the yoof think that the world does, and the only reason people work is to pay their fucking benefits.

There is nothing wrong with learning stuff on the job, and having the benefit of some top-rate chaps who know what they're doing, from whom to learn, and in return be sent to the stores for a long weight or a new box of sparks for the grinder. And having the piss taken mercilessly. But at the end of it they'll be useful.

FUCK knows what they teach people at Uni these days. I suspect mostly its how to justify getting in 10 minutes late then making coffee and microwaving toast before discussing football or what pile of shite was on telly last night. Those folk need not apply.

But if someone wants to work and is willing to learn and isn't as thick as two planks, and his mates have a problem with him/her having the bollocks/tits to go for it instead of going to Uni to do a degree in washing teatowels, I'll come with them to the pub and put their mates right for them, with my trusty bat.

Any questions such as "how much holiday/money/statutory sick benefit do I get?" will be greeted with the bum's rush. We're not a charity. We want to know what you can do for us. At least I'm honest.

Find me someone.

An Ode To Ed. And Ed. The metre is 8-6-8-6 so it fits most hymn tunes. Off you go.

Oh Ed, you make me laugh so much, so long and loud. My glee, when you so proudly say your piece on Twitter, or TV, is boundless, dearest Ed, for though I think you mean so well, we're all in the same handcart here, careering down to hell.

From time to time you come up with another hairbrained scheme, I don't know where you get them, but I do suspect your team of "experts", mostly unpaid kids from uni, tech or worse, with aspirations to a job or hands in public purse.

"Let's stop the evil bankers!" is your latest battlecry. I snork out loud as I then hear Ed Balls firmly deny he told the Bank of England chief to shut up yesterday; he did though, cos I heard him, so it isn't just hearsay.

"And Labour will start two more banks, competing with the rest," you do so make me chuckle, Ed, but surely, right, you jest? Two wrongs don't make a right, you know, no more than do two Eds. I sometimes wonder if you pair retire to separate beds!

So dearest Ed, continue as you are, and never change. That Cameron must thank his lucky stars, and find it strange that he could never lose the fight, not even to Farage, not even if the girl McCann was found in his garage.

Oh Ed, you fill me with delight as bumbling through the day you find another silly, stupid, foolish thing to say.
If you become our next PM, I swear I'll eat my hat. I wish you well though, keep it up. You adenoidal twat.

Wittering

I don't care if you read this.

SNORK

Owen

I wonder about a tweet I had in response to a comment I made about the ubiquitous "bedroom tax". I more than wonder. I fret. Nay, not even fret. I am INCENSED.

I was not offensive. I have issue with the term "bedroom tax", as it isn't a tax, and it's a paradigm whereby left-leaning folk stir up hatred of the governing parties.

@RealPengy I say your obsession with semantic pedantry outweighs any compassion you might have and in real life you’re probably revolting


There was said response. It came from a Mr Owen Jones, who has made a career out of writing inflammatory leftist propaganda, who has a large following of what might be termed "partisan fuckwits", and who looks like he was fed with a catapult as a child. And not too competently, either.

He blocks everyone who doesn't agree with his views, viz. that the state owns yo' ass, and that anything you do, think or say is rightly from the state itself. Hallelujah.

To this I respond thus:

Owen, you Welsh fuckwit, you carbuncle on the backside of humanity, you pathetic excuse for one of God's own children, if you ever, EVER, badmouth me, my goats or my children again, you'd better make sure I don't know where you live.

CUNT.

Job

Techies

Know C, C++ C# for Windoze and embedded C for Microchip Micros (incl dsPICs and PIC32s), SQL, shit like that?

Know your way round an oscilloscope, Eagle CAD (6 layer stuff), basic electronics (nothing scary), bit of maths like simple algebra and basic calculus?

Want a job in Nottingham, permanent or contract?

Trans folk, poofs, women, wogs, muslims etc all welcome. English is the first language.

No lefties or others who think the world owes them a living. No bullshitters, you will be found out in minutes. No agents.

£30 p/h to start rising rapidly (or you get sacked) depending on performance.

Ping @realPengy if you want more info.

Pooves

I don't tell stuff like this. But I'm going to.

I were brought up to have some morals. No idea what. Mainly to do with not getting involved with hard drugs, such as LSD, which was a bit shit TBH. Shagging one's sister was frowned upon, that kind of thing.

When I were a lad pooves were fair game. We'd call them pooves. As you do. I still do. I don't like the word "homosexual" much.

I don't have a problem with pooves. Many folk who are my friends, and pooves, will attest to that.

But, in a Max Bygraves stylee, I want to tell you a story.

I was 17. I worked in Woolies (the shop), part time. One of the managers (and in those days it was like being a supervisor in Maccie D's) said we should go out for a drink.

So we went out for a drink. He was a bit older than me. Probably 40. Good-looking chap. We went to a pub and I said I'd have a cider. He got me a big fuckoff Bloody Mary. Must have had ten vodkas in it.

Anyway, I was 17, as I have just said (listening?) and he was significantly older, like 40 (listening?).

So, he then started the stuff that you'd expect from someone who was 40 when you're 17, and I was a good boy and was sick all over the seat of his car, which I then stole, and broke the diff box off, and he became angry. I then puked all over him, as well, and luckily at that point the landlord came out of the pub that I'd managed to "park" the car in, and called the police.

There is nothing wrong with consenting sex between two adults.

17 year old boys do not fall into the latter category.

That's what I think.

Wind in thy neck.

Con

It appears that I am a twat. This has not come as news to me; however, it appears that someone (in fact a couple of someones) have thought I was referring to them when I mentioned recently an old denizen of Twitter, one Lord Credo.

I wasn't referring to them. Lord Credo, real name forgotten in the mists of time, billed himself on Twitter as "a government comms guy" in the Tory thingy, so it can't have been that long ago. He was a likeable fellow; I thought so anyway.

He was a con artist. I met him once or twice in Olde London Town, where he would regale his fans with stories of derring-do, and give them snippets of insight into the government. Or not, as he was actually an unemployed con man.

He never had any money on him. So he never bought a round. This, I thought, was pretty clever. He also never worked for the government. He also never had any snippets of information.

If he'd stuck with taking the complete piss out of the kind of people who like to hang around the famous and important (which I would hate to do), he'd have been a bit of a hero.

Unfortunately, he didn't stop there. He conned his way into one lady's affections, and another lady's wallet, which makes him a cunt.

Shame. He'd have been up there with Ponzi, Bernie Madoff and 100 Nigerians if he'd stuck to what he was good at. Heroes all, playing on people's greed and stupidity. What's not to like about that?

Anyway, for the record. The penguin offers its sincerest apologies to anyone who was properly hurt by the Credo. Truly sorry. If either of his real victims would like me to tweet their name and that it wasn't directed at them in any way, please do so. I wouldn't mention them by name otherwise. I like both of them.

*Continues to laugh like a drain at those wannabee hangers-on who thought he was the fame and fortune they were looking for. Bwahaha..*