I've just put two empty Pepsi Max Cino (fuck you, I like it) bottles in the pink recycling sack. Although, truth be told, I have my doubts about exactly what's going to be recycled here. I suspect that some guy in a big warehouse somewhere, takes all the pink sacks, rips them open and tips them into a skip, where they are then added to the other landfill shit that is being buried in our green and pleasant land. It's all about ticking boxes. Trust me, I work for the Government and my entire fucking job is about ticking cunting boxes.
I work in security. I'm a qualified security auditor. I have certificates. But I've been told, don't actually go out and do security audits so that we can prevent terrorists, eco-warriors and the like from getting to our deep dark secrets, just tick a few boxes. Bunch of arse.
Anyway, I've been told to tick boxes. On paper, we're doing our job. We're making society safer, we're protecting assets, we're 'MAKING A DIFFERENCE'. Oh, if only. Bunch of cunt.
Just spent ten minutes looking through some old photos that I found whilst looking through my drawer for something. Photos of my Grandfather (the nice one) and my father (the white one). Came to belated realisation that both of these people that came before me had their own lives, dreams, hopes and regrets. Realise that the next time I see my Dad I need to ask him about his Dad. Reason? Because one day, my Dad will be gone and I'd love someone to ask me about him. He's my hero. Yes, he's an aggravating old bugger who likes to carp on about whatever topic of the week is currently annoying him, but he 's my Dad, so fuck it, he's allowed.
One day, I'll be him. Apart from the 'Dad' thing, cos I haven't got kids and I'm unlikely to have any. But apart from that, it is my duty to carry on the 'Leonard' line until my inevitable heart-attack-related death and be a right annoying bugger who'll piss on anyone's parade just to irritate them. So, just to sum up, I need to ask my Dad about his Dad because it's important.
The Gentlemen's Club is currently being taken to Cannes to see if the Director can get some financing to make the fucker. Poster and tagline available at www.zenfilms.com