Everyone will want one of these once the world knows my name! I might even be able to treat myself to some foundation garments that fit me when I’m famous. Bad bra and too tight top is not a good combination.

What am I hiding? (Not the tops of my massive arms, that’s for sure!)

Mongoloids
Some of the people I work with are complete mongs. As I’ve alluded to, I work across 2 bases, so my week is split 50/50 between them. That’s the theory. In practice I tend to spend more time in one because of the workload, so I only end up coming here (Base 2) one or two days a week.

We have “housekeepers” at Base 2. There are two of these ladies who job share, so they work alternate weeks. I came in this morning and Pam, who’s pretty thick, said “Oh hello, long time no see”, as if to say, “Where the fuck have you been, you lazy cow?”. She obviously failed to realise that it’s her that’s not been here, not me.

I hate being called a part-timer when I work longer hours than any of these bastards. I travel 30-odd miles to get here, arrive at least an hour before everybody else (during which time I blog away to my heart’s content) and they all saunter in at 9.15, complaining about the queues at Asda where they’ve just “nipped in” before coming to work. They then have a go at me for leaving before 5pm, despite the fact that I’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of me.

The world would be a better place without them. Pam doesn’t even make us toast. I think this is because she doesn’t know how to work a toaster, or a loaf of bread. She hasn’t got any eyebrows either.

Hot
Summer’s here in Britain (except Scotland I think). About fucking time too. We’re expecting temperatures of about 24°C today and it’s going to be sunny. I’m ashamed to say that I’m wearing sandals, no socks, and I haven’t even got nail polish on my toes. Disgraceful. My heel skin is in need of a bit of pumicing, but these sandals don’t show heel anyway.

At least I haven’t got my big, fuck-off flabby arms out though!

I do love the summer. I love that inability to control your temperature. It’s wonderful being so uncomfortably hot. Other people can’t cope though. At Base 1, I have to suffer the indignity of Park & Ride to get to work while there’s a huge construction project going on. I was on the bus the other day and this big, massive woman got on, sat next to a colleague of hers and said “I can’t wait till winter, I hate this weather”. I almost turned round and slapped her. If I’d have knocked some of her teeth out, perhaps she wouldn’t be able to stuff her face for a week or so. Consequently she’d lose a bit of weight and the insulation that’s making the ever-so hot 23°C temperatures we’ve had to endure for all of 2 days so fucking unbearable to her! Twat.

For my other thoughts about NHS employees and summer in general, you may wish to cast your mind back to:

Plastic spoons and used teabags, 17th February 2005
Farts, 26th April 2005
Tiger Tim Henman, 4th May 2005
Workplace stress, 13th May 2005
Summer bees, 24th May 2005
Summer madness, 8th June 2005

Periods
In the words of Tina Turner, Women of a certain age… well, I can’t remember what comes after, but all I know is that most women of a certain age (between about 13 and 45) have periods. I’m not getting into the whole menstrual cycle, PMS, butcher’s slab thing – it’s been done to death and it’s not interesting.

Women are a bit funny when they’ve “got the decorators in”: like I said, nearly every woman has periods, but even in a female-dominated workplace, most try to hide the fact when they’re having theirs. Not that I go looking, but there are telltale signs, the biggest one being, taking their handbag to the toilet. I don’t get that. I just get my toxic shock tampon from wherever it’s been mangled in my bag or desk drawer, and I go.

One of the worst things about periods, and ladies’ toilets in general, is the sanitary disposal unit.

These things stink. I don’t know what they use to clean them out, but it’s disgusting. You sometimes knock the foot pedal that opens the flap of doom by accident and you get this waft of death that circulates the entire lav.

Hang on a minute!
Hazlenut flavoured coffeemate? Why haven’t we got this in the UK????

Joke:
Q: What’s better – Parkinsons or Alzheimers?
A: Parkinsons. It’s better to spill half your drink than forget where you put it…

It was the League of Gentlemen’s Apocalypse and it was fucking top notch!

There was this bit where Mr Chinnery wanked off a giraffe….

Sorry, it’ll be worth the weight.

Edit: “Worth the weight”???? I meant worth the wait. Told you I was tired. I’m worth my weight in Pick and Mix – not Asda Pick and Mix, which isn’t up to much; real, proper Woolies Pick and Mix.

The cinema is a weird place.

I’ve just come back from one.

The film was good.

I shall contruct a full and creative post tomorrow. Too tired now.

I’ve been over to Leeds this evening. Driving back on the motorway, I saw two things worth comment:

Firstly, I was behind a wagon that was transporting Coffeemate – a non-dairy coffee whitening powder that is simply delish! I was left pondering how long it’d take me to use a whole wagon load of Coffeemate. I think it’d be approaching a lifetime.

The next thing I saw had me gasping in shock. It’s midsummer day here (is it midsummer everywhere in the northern hemisphere today?) and, I don’t know what bearing this has on things, but there was quite a good sunset over the Pennines around Huddersfield. Anyway, I noticed that a woman had stopped in the hard shoulder of the other carriageway and was taking photos of the sunset. How fucking mad is that? I know it was a good viewing point but with things flying by at up to 100mph, it’s probably not the safest. Daft twat.

That’s all for today; I’m too tired and it’s too late for me to be creative. Work is pissing me off and stressing me out and my tits look fucking terrible over at Connie’s knockerific contest.

Having assassinated a selection of British stars of stage and screen – plus Tiger Tim Henman and Sir Cliff Richard, not forgetting Sirs Ellen McArthur, Kelly Holmes and Tanni Gray Thompson – I thought I’d take a bit more time to nominate a few more twats from the British Isles for execution in my Snifferlution.

Are there any more left?

Of course there are!

How’s about:

Sir Paul McCartney
What an embarrassing bloke; it’s like having your dad acting the rock star. Everything about him is just wrong, wrong, WRONG! The way he wears trainers with a suit, the way he gives the victory v salute. And his music is crap.

Sir Bob Geldof
Git. He’s terribly embarrassing too. I feel he’s making a laughing stock of himself and consequently diluting the message about the help that the poorest nations of the world need.

St Bonio (aka boring old Paul Hewson)
Those glasses? Just fuck off. He and U2 lost all credibility after the Joshua Tree. I don’t really know how to place them – up their own arses seems most appropriate.

How does your garden grow?

“Well, not very well since I put that complete spack Tina in charge – she’s killed all my plants!”

Gardening
The simple Euphorbia has a lot to answer for. A few years ago, some friends gave me a sample to put in the garden after I’d asked what was good for areas where there’s not much sunlight; I was given some euphorbia cuttings.

I started digging up some of the border and weeding and stuf, to clear space for the new arrivals. That was about5 years ago and I feel as if I’ve not stopped weeding yet.

I was out in the garden today; cleared a load of weeds and lots of grass that grows in the borders from the lawn roots that grown under there. It was extremely warm and was glad when I finally gave up after three hours in the full heat of the day.

But then I had to do it. I had to ruin all my hard work for the day. There’s this plant thing that is quite effective, but has slightly taken over where it lives. So I decided to split it and put a portion in the border that I’d just cleared. I don’t think it liked having its root system hacked with a spade: neither of the two halves look particularly happy. Dead in fact:

So yes, that’s what I did today – broke my garden.

Ill-heath and the gardening Cakesniffer
Don’t believe what anybody tells you about gardening being good for your health, it’s a load of crap being spouted by the Church of the Seventh Day Titchmarshes.

First off, it makes you nervous wreck because you’re always concerned about being attacked by stinging insects and evil spiders or sucked to death by fucking slugs. Some of the things you find in the soil and beneath rocks would make you sick – straight out from a science fiction horror film. As a result, I have to wear a full biological warfare suit when in the garden, just in case one of these bastards touches me and infects me with its 0/6/8/100 leggedness.

Eeeeewwww!

I always get sunburnt when I garden. It can start off a nice cloudy day, then the next thing you know is you’ve lifted your head 3 hours laters, only to find that you can’t because the sun’s come out and you’ve burnt the back of your neck to a crisp. I’ve also burnt my arse crack and my forearms, but not my hands because I always wear gloves. It’s a winning look: bright red arms and white hands!

Fainting. I always lose track of time and forget to eat until it’s too late: I’ll stand up from a kneeling position and, after overcoming the pain in my neck and ears from the sunburn, I’ll feel faint and have to drop to my knees again. It’s quite difficult to stand when you’ve got all over body shakes and trying to get a signal into the house for somebody to bring emergency pastry supplies is almost impossible.

Immobility. I won’t be able to walk tomorrow and my shoulders will have stiffened up too.

So take it from me, gardening is rubbish.

For more images of my garden, please feel free to visit my Webshots gallery.

VAG in a …VAGina…VAGINA! Get it? No vagina in Sniffy blog!

Fuck it, don’t know what I bother for.

Anyway, I’ve set the default to Tahoma. It’s not a fontastic character, but it’s inoffensive and everybody has it installed on their machines. I say “everybody”, I’m not too sure about Macs: I had to endure an iMac in one of my jobs and it was more of an etch-a-sketch that would crash every 10 minutes and you had to bang and shake it to reboot before it’d do anything. I think its font selection was limited to: “Serious”, “Funny”, “Comic”, “Spazmo”, “Fucktard”, and “What you using letters for? This is a Mac, Mac users only use the mouse”. Luckily, it got stolen.

Secret messages
I’ve been writing a secret message to blog world and nobody’s picked up on it. It’s a good job I wasn’t desperate for somebody to save my life or something! Then again, I could’ve just called the police or written, “Oh, I think there’s an axe murderer coming for me! Please call the police somebody”, rather than leaving cryptic clues.

Let’s see what Sniff’s going on about…

You see?

EXTERMINATAMUNDOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Clickytastic.

For all of you who haven’t got VAG rounded thin, this is what my page should look like. Fuck it, it’s not even interesting and blood sugar’s too low.