Welcome to SimonTalksRubbish! Thursday 15.35pm 30/6/2005
Another stupid advert on the telly, this time for British Gas. It features some kind of salt-of-the-earth, average Joe gas flame muttering between uhm's and er's about how disheartening it was to be treated "like a number" by his gas provider. All this despite paying less for his gas. It may surprise this bright spark but all businesses do in fact treat customers as a number, because that is exactly what we are. Every company logs its customer under a number, the doors to our houses have numbers embossed upon them, our credit cards are numbers, we were born on a number. For fucks sake this stupid little blue flame has got me so bloody riled I just can't take it any more. I haven't had a cigarette for a week. The last time I was drunk was Saturday for crying out loud. I'm absolutely bloody fucking fed up with it all.
Tuesday 13.11pm 28/6/2005 
When are Patsy Hewitt and her blinkered cronies going to realise that these quit smoking campaigns just aren't working? We now have another one, which was actually launched last year but is now being given a second chance. Its funnier than it is worrying: children giggling and snorting, ominous smoke spewing forth from nostrils and mouths. Normally I wouldn't mind this kind of scare-mongering, its practically ingrained in every form of media today anyway, but did the tikes need to be so damn ugly?
Sunday 9.24am 26/6/2005
Well here I am, at work on a Sunday morning, having to listen to French people whinge about how difficult it is to log in to the Eurostar website. Its 9am on a fucking Sunday for christ sakes! Sad, sad little people. This week has been a complete disaster. I missed my flight to Madrid because of a fire alert at Liverpool Street. I've unwittingly managed to spend last month's pay in less than a week. Had a guestlist pass to see Dimitri From Paris at a club in Ladbroke Grove which I had to pass up because Ronnie was too pie-eyed to get on the train... at 7pm. Spent Friday night alone and sober in front of Big Brother. Last night was quite nice though. Tino and Marianne have just moved into a stunning little flat inside a converted brewery, and we celebrated by getting absolutely sozzled. Oh yes, and I have officially given up smoking. Whoop-de-fucking-do.
"Dimitri From Paris"Monday 15.28pm 20/6/2005
News since the middle of last week: purchased ticket to NYC, watched Friday the 13th for the first time, met Ellie at Simple Simon's for a Biddendens, went to Brighton and got completely twatted for Rachel's birthday, bought season 3 of Frasier on DVD, hit the roof upon discovering that my Greek guestbook (above) has been raped and pillaged by invading Russkies.
Wednesday 12.40pm 16/6/2005 
"Wine is a luxury, cherry tango is a necessity!" - Makosi to win!
Tuesday 17.52pm 14/6/2005
The other night I cosied up with a bottle of posh bourbon (kindly donated by Jonathan) in front of the telly, and watched a movie called 'Bless the Child', a boring exercise in knee-jerk, jump-out-of-your-seat orchestral thrashing and dodgy special effects. But what really riled me, once I had awoken from my inebriated ten-minute slumber through the film's hum drum final set-piece, was Kim Basinger. Who is this woman? Where did she come from? What is she? Why is she? Seriously, ask yourself this question. Its quite the bamboozle.
Sunday 17.04pm 12/6/2005
This weekend I went to Paris again to hang out with Natalia where we lazed about her house catching up on news, discussing grades (I got a 2:1) and moaning about French professors. We watched 'Out to Sea', much to my insistence and Nat's chagrin, which was monumentally awful. However it was the last film that Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon did together, so we laughed out of respect. The next day I met Beth and Clement outside the Pompidou to drink cider in the sun. Unfortunately I dropped a bottle of red wine. Fortunately, torrents of the stuff trickled down the square towards a group of mime artists demonstrating against capitalism, where a large pool gathered, and yes, the unassuming fat girl sat right on it. We laughed, and we laughed, and we laughed, and we...
Thursday 12.46pm 9/6/2005 
Well, for the past week I was rather embarrassed about a growth on my arse which I thought might be piles. Imagine, then, how furious I was when after suffering the gross indignity of pulling my bum cheeks apart in front of a doctor this morning, I was told that it was in fact a 'Perianal Haematoma', which is neither cancerous nor hemmarrhoidal, and will just disappear of its own accord in a few weeks. Apparently its caused by squeezing out a big poo which can rupture a blood vessel. I'm sure the Colonel is responsible. Also, sad news today as my grandmother's dog Tuppy had to be put down. Being the only dog I ever really enjoyed the company of (he was incredibly thick), there'll never be another mutt like him. I decided to cheer myself up by going to S Club 8's (formerly the Sexy Cunt Juniors, above) website, only to discover that they too, have been put down :(
Monday 17.57pm 6/6/2005
After a whole week of working full-time at Eurostar, a well earned break was needed. On Friday I joined Anna, Ellie and Andressa in Covent Garden for drinks, before Ana and her boyfriend arrived and managed to lure me into the night, past the last train back to Putney. We went to Los Locos, which is still the cheesy den its always been, and had a blast. We mineswept an impressive array of colourful drinks, and boogied on down to S Club and Sean Paul. The following morning, after three hours of sleep I somehow managed to get to Waterloo, still drunk, to join Elina and Gools for our trip to Paris. By 2pm we were drunk/stoned on the bank of the Seine, glugging 1 euro vino, waving to tourists and stuffing our faces with ham and Boursin. We then fooled around on the statues in the Tuileries and lolled about aimlessly for a bit before stumbling into the Tribal Cafe for beer and cous cous. Of course, by 2am we were in the Alcoholics Pub, which is still teeming with winos, hippies and crazies. As you can see from this picture, it has been renovated. All the dead ivy has been removed and apparently the place is called Le Connetable. Quite a surprise! We left at 6am, bummed around all Sunday, then got drunk at the Eurostar terminal on free gin in the business lounge. Another bottle of cheap wine was opened on the train, the perfect way to end a brilliant weekend. Until half of it ended up in my lap.
"Le Connetable/Alcoholix Pub"Monday 11.46am 30/5/2005
Yesterday I spent all the money that was supposed to buy me food this week, on cheap alcohol at the Works. Got absolutley mothered, danced like a retarded chimp, had drink poured over my head by Vanessa, rolled around on the pavement outside with Celine, came into work this morning looking, and smelling, like a crack-addled wino from Detroit. Same old, same old.
Sunday 11.40am 29/5/2005 
Above is a picture of the marvellous Paris Hilton, moments before her skull is impaled on a rusty pole in Warner Bros' 'House of Wax'. A stupid, plodding mess of a movie, of which this scene, and some brilliant set design, are its only redeeming features. Even though there were only ten of us in the cinema, the applause following the heiress's terrific demise was rapturous. To give you an idea of how bad this film is I shall quote Dumb Teenager #1 just before he gets offed, pointing out the remarkable resemblance between a building and a candle. "The whole thing's made of wax! Like, literally!" Waxing lyrical, indeed.
Saturday 9.53am 28/5/2005
Yesterday I drank wine with Anneka in front of Big Brother 6. I'm quite happy with the choice of contestants, favourites are Derek and Mary, the gay political advisor and the witch. Today I'm going to Hammersmith to drink by the river with Scott and Marsha, before going to see House of Wax with Julia. A few nights ago I had a drunken chat with Sandra on MSN, which resulted in the purchase of a return ticket to Madrid in a few weeks' time. Hilarious, but now I'm very broke. This is quite a boring entry, and this summer will be much the same as I am now working full time at Eurostar. Roll on, eviction night.
Wednesday 1.33pm 25/5/2005
Since Saturday Ive had a whopping four KFC meals, and today I think I shall have another. I got a little worried about this unhealthy habit so I went to KFC.co.uk and had a quick peruse through their nutritional information guide. Well, can you believe it, that their coleslaw contains more fat than anything else on the menu. My bird flu platter has now been successfully greenlit, without the need for an unnecessary 'five-a-day' portion of veg.
Monday 15.12pm 23/5/2005
Well, Cannes was brilliant. But enough of that. Let's discuss Eurovision. I went to the 5th birthday party of Popjustice.com in Leicester Square the other night, where Richard X was DJing and I chatted to someone out of that recently deceased boyband, V (charming bloke) The big screens were lit, the contestants strutted their stuff, and then the voting came. Javine, who performed a proper stomper, came third from last. Moldova's grandma banging a big drum was criminally ignored. Even Bosnia-Herzegovina's brilliant tranny trio Femminem received only a handful of points. I was sickened and disgusted by the cheap displays of bureaucratic cross border bonhomie which has become customary amongst Scandinavians and the Balkan states. How extraordinary that for the first time in Eurovision history, the Turks gave points to the Greeks, and all twelve of them too! Or perhaps its because they so desperately want to gain partnership within the European Union. Fix! I mean just look at Greece's entry (left), a dog's dinner who sang as if she had a spoonfull of chum in her throat for vocal chords. And as for Greeks in general, well, they're little shits who...
Thursday 11.38am 12/5/2005
Severe hangover. Feel very sick. French exam that I have not revised for in two hours. Bollocks!
Monday 11.23am 10/5/2005
On Saturday I'll be catching my cheapo Ryanair plane to Turin before I go to the Cannes film festival by train. Whilst there, I plan to steal the famous Turin Shroud (left) and, in pure Mr.Bean style, replace it with a recently smeared piece of loo roll. Judging by the consistency and colour of my excrement over the past few days, I'm convinced I can pull this off. On Thursday I will have my last French exam. I shall finally be free from the shackles of essay deadlines, printing credits and word counts. Rejoice!
Sunday 14.09pm 8/5/2005
Lots of black poo today, I must stop drinking red wine. Last night I got a pair of saucy text messages from an old boss of mine. What does one do in these situations? Im flattered, of course.
Friday 10.03am 6/5/2005
Well this week has been shaping up rather nicely. Got to see Scott and Anneka who I haven't seen in a very long time, Scott's going to be buying a house and Annie isn't planning on coming back to England after all, shame really. Chatted to Gerry from TROMA who won't be going to Cannes but has promised to help me out in finding a job in NYC, which is great but I don't think he understood the visa restrictions. I can't stand it, its not like Im a gyppo or latino hobo, why won't they let me into their shitty country? Today I'm going to have lunch with Julia who landed a role in the new Silent Hill movie, its incredible, she's not even an actress but it goes to show that if you're a big enough fan, and look stunning, you get there eventually. Also going to catch up with Naz before I go back to Canters. As usual she wants to meet up for a 'coffee', which will no doubt entail a trip to Starfucks. I cannot let this happen.
Monday 12.11pm 2/5/2005
Good news! The BBC have finally axed cretinous toddler telvision show 'Balamory'. No longer must we put up with Ritalin addled two-wheeler Penny Pocket, the ominous Miss Hoolie, speed-freak Josie Jump (left, with Hoolie and noose) and that sweaty palmed old nerd in the pink kilt. We don't want England's children to be raised on insultingly banal programmes about hicks in wheelchairs living in yellow and blue houses in Scotland. They should be told to dress in leggings and boob-tubes and sing songs about sex and french kissing, a message charmingly delivered in the BBC's very own 'I Dream'. Yet again, almighty Tessa Jowell has stomped out the kind of derivative, unoriginal and quite frankly disturbing programming that gives our great nation a bad name in countries like Korea and Holland, where they'd lap up any old shite so long as its pretty and behind a glass screen.
"GCSE Answers + Dwarf Throwing"Saturday 1.05pm 30/4/2005
Yesterday I handed in my production dossier, diary, essay and did the film presentation, so now all I have left to do is a French exam before my Uni life finally comes to an end. After twelve hours of alcohol abuse I was reduced to a sweaty, jabbering moron, doing some of the worst dancing this side of Strictly Ballroom, to the S Club Juniors' One Step Closer. I was a complete idiot, and I spent �50 on snakebites, fags, tequila and whiskey. This has to stop!
Thursday 13.45pm 28/4/2005
Last night I went to the Venue and got absolutey blotto. Amazing. This morning Danni told me about how she woke up with pubic hair in her mouth. I could tell you some more disgusting stories that this lovely Essex girl has told me, but for the majority of them I have been sworn to secrecy.
Monday 12.22pm 25/4/2005
This morning I spent a whole hour making a delicious yoghurt made with raspberries, banana, ice cream, milk and full fat cream. I then ate a whole jug of the stuff, assuming that by eating so much healthiness in such a short space of time, I would be fully geared to complete my dissertation today, without the need for lunch. Of course, 5 minutes later my head was in the toilet bowl. Like several tonnes of jam roly poly in a cement mixer, the stuff went everywhere, the pink foam reminding me of cartoon legend Krang (left), who somehow must have been responsible for this.
Sunday 11.49am 24/4/2005
Wow. Well what can I say? I'm starstruck. I just had screen legend Charlotte Rampling on the phone (The Night Porter, Zardoz, Great Expectations) who wanted to buy a ticket from Paris to London, but due to a technicality I couldn't carry out her request. I was a hairs breadth away from confessing how much I enjoyed 'Orca: Killer Whale', but I probably would have lost my job.
Thursday 17.33pm 21/4/2005 
Here are some screen captures from a recent chat I had with Miriam in Dharamsala, the one on the top right is of a Tibetan monk who was sitting next to her in the cybercafe. How odd. All day today I have been in the library, getting my essays out of the way before Andressa comes to Canterbury next Friday, which is when all my work must be handed in. A few hours ago I bumped into Asslan, a friend who I rarely see these days who I met in my first week at uni. Tomorrow I am purchasing tickets for my birthday booze-up in Hamburg. As my past and future collide in this cinder block nightmare filled with dirty books and fresh faced first years, slowly but surely I begin to crave the life of London. My fifth phase in life: Twentysomething, is fast approaching.
Tuesday 9.52am 19/4/2005
I am extremely hungover. No wait, still drunk. Oh dear, so why is this? Last night myself, Rachel and Danni went to PopYaCherry at the Works, and got slaughtered, not surprising as this wonderful establishment used to be a tannery. In fact as regards raw flesh, random savagery and the stench of freshly flayed offal, it still is one. So anyway I don't remember a lot, except for a rather peculiar incident which occurred upon our return to the Chalet. Danni announced/wailed, whilst we were still in the taxi, that she had lost her shoe. After much drunken panickery, we gave up, exited the vehicle, and found it UNDER THE CAR. Even now, I still cannot fathom the
relevance of this blog entrycause of this phenomena.Sunday 11.53am 17/4/2005
A very busy week, involving appearing on Joan Rivers' new TV show, a crazed cab driver, a job interview for a director/producer's personal assistant position, getting turned away from a modelling agency for "having A look, but not THE look", getting sozzled at the Works and comparing feet with a random girl called Em who I then snogged, and, well, just general alcoholism really. Im sure there are lots of other interesting things I could fill you in on, but then as by now you should know, the little tea-strainer in my skull is not as retentive as it once was.
Monday 10.50pm 11/4/2005
On Friday night I went drinking in Covent Garden with Ellie Cook, who I havent seen in bloody ages, and her chums Jamie, a set rigger, Carly, a manicurist and Kurt, a photographer. The potential for really interesting conversation was soon lost however, thanks to alcohol and deafening Rn'B music. Carly did dog impressions on the dancefloor, Jamie enlightened us about how he once vomited over a girl whose cleavage was so big it retained the entire spillage, Ellie puked under the table, emptied a glass of wine in Jamie's crotch and when we left I started banging my head against a lorry. For no apparent reason whatsoever. On Saturday I went to see Melinda & Melinda with Julia in Fulham, which was a little disappointing. Hopefully we'll get our flights to Nice sorted this week. That evening I went to a house party with Mel and Mike, hosted by this radio dj/commentator who released a song called 'Glad to be Gay' back in the 80's. The theme was 'Dysfunctional Family' and Mel stole the spotlight by, well, wearing nothing at all. Yesterday I saw Lynnie's ex-boyfriend's band Lyka and another band called The Amelie's, terrific stuff. Alas, I can go on no more, as Jon has called me and I must bog off to the studio now.
Friday 12.54pm 8/4/2005
Staying in London for a few days, and quite a lot has been going on. Its always good to be back, especially when there's a possible job as a director/producer's assistant in the pipeline. Time to rinse those free tickets, paid holidays and lounge passes at Eurostar methinks. Im outta there! Last night I went to a poncy bar in Holborn and met Danni and her Essex friends. Together we nicked a bevy of expensive beverages, a belt and a copy of Cosmo. That'll teach 'em for trying to turn me away at the door. Tomorrow Im going to a house party in Tooting with Mel and Mike. I'm a little worried as apparently it will be full of old men in drag.
Monday 18.44pm 4/4/2005
Yaaawn... Ive decided to rejuvenate my flagging popularity at Eurostar by actually giving a shit, and its worked quite well so far. However Im rostered for a shift tomorrow so let's reserve judgement and be realistic here, okay? Oh dear. Internal monologue and rationalisation, I really am pathetic. So, as for other news tidbits, I shall see the Dark Lord for the last time, tomorrow. We are going to celebrate in style by watching Chopper Chicks in Zombie Town. And then he shall be off, off and away to Japan, where Im pretty sure he'll stay for a very long time. Its those girl's undies in vending machines, I know him too well. Also, I went to Paris for a 12 hour binge with Barbara from the States. We drank plenty, embarrassed ourselves with pint glasses in a posh bistro, hid brie behind security cameras, stole flags and tried to break into the Place de Vosges. Elswhere, the Pope has kicked the bucket and Rachel Stevens' new single only debuted at number 10 in the charts. A sad day for mankind.
Friday 13.34pm 1/4/2005 
Behold, the legendary Rachel Stevens, who has a single out this week! Today a chav was barrelling down the hill and expected me to get off the pavement so that he could continue his crazed gambolling. Of course I didnt 'negotiate' (see what I did there?). So he skids right in front of me, rears his ugly bling laden mug to me and mutters a word which, even now, sends goosebumps down my spine. Yes folks, its official, I am a 'goth'. I know that some of you have had your suspicions, but now you can happily put them to rest. After all, I am what I am, and nothing can change that. Chav on bike, I salute thee.
