Fudge Packer: The Musical
13th March 2004
 
Hello idiots. The irritating password screen is still in place because my fiendish plan to block unwanted readers using "special techniques" has failed miserably. This means I am going to keep it there until I can think of a better idea (please send a better idea). There's no rush though, I'm kind of enjoying this. It's like I'm running an exclusive club or something.
 
And speaking of things and stuff, make sure you check out the excellently-freshen Planet Jerky "spin-off" website Totally Agus. It documents the life and times of Jerky's Dublin-dwelling hairy student crony, Agus. Bada-bing!
 
Mr Jerky AKA Veston Pance
 
 
Monday 8th March 2004:
Called the electricity company about my £244 bill. I would have done it sooner, but I could not be bothered waiting on hold - at least not until now anyway. Apparently, my bill will be recalculated and sent to me very soon. Bunch of cunts, I bet someone was intentionally trying to screw money out of me because am I a "sucker" who always pays his bills. Fucking idiots.
 
Tuesday 9th March 2004:
My shower has suddenly broken. I had to run a bath full of water that was cooling down quicker than it was coming out of the tap. I'm going to call the property management people as soon as I finish work tomorrow. I want to see some fucker hang for this!
 
Wednesday 10th March 2004:
Cursed and screamed upon discovering three new bills waiting for me at home. Luckily, none of them were trying to con me this time, so that's okay I suppose. However, I'm not sure why the water board think that I as a consumer would be interested in a "magazine" which appears to be based entirely around the subject of water. Fuck off please, I'm not the waterboy.
 
Later, Mr Beardo (pictured here guzzling a "terrifyingly tasty" alco-pop) informed me that some idiot had called him anonymously and threatened to knife him as part of a dispute over a girl. Said idiot didn't show up and I knew he wouldn't. If a guy really wanted to stab Beardo, he would just come over and do it, not call in advance to make a fucking appointment. And don't forget, this is Crawley AKA All-Mouth Jumped-Up Fanny Boy Central. Here, threatening to stab someone and then not doing it is like saying "Good morning" or offering someone a cup of tea.
 
To make matters slightly worse, my MSN nick at the time of hearing this news was "YOU'RE ALL GOING TO GET STABBED" (I had set it days before). Apparently, Beardo's mother saw this and thought I was taking the piss out of the current situation. Hahahahaha, oh man.
 
Thursday 11th March 2004:
I have noticed that EVERY time a sportswear-clad townie scumbag or an angry-looking ethnic minority walks past me in the street, I hear them spitting on the floor once they are behind me. "P-thoo" is what I hear. I'm not really sure how this works, but by spitting near someone, do they think they are making some kind of statement? It can hardly be a coincidence. Does this guy then go home and say "HAHAHAHA I TOTALLY INSULTED SOME STRANGER'S HONOUR TODAY HAHAHAHA" or something?
 
In other news, I got my recalculated electricity bill today. It has been lowered to a more-reasonable £110 (around £27.5 for each month). Go team Jerky!
 
Friday 12th March 2004:
The "contractor" who was supposed to fix my shower has not called me to arrange things. I tried calling the property management cunts about it yesterday, but they would not pick up the phone. They don't work Saturdays so I'll have to wait until Monday to call again. Bah! When the contractor finally does come round, it will be on a weekday while I'm working. I don't want to take a day off especially, so I have no choice but to trust him with the agency's set of door keys.
 
Nothing got stolen last time, but to be safe I will make sure not to leave any cash lying around. Also, I will casually leave my comically-oversized 30kg dumbbells lying on my living room floor as a gentle reminder not to fuck with my shit. Check this out!
 
Saturday 13th March 2004:
Fuck-all is happening this afternoon so I'm going to tell you about The Internet's Oswald. Oswald is a Dutch guy who loves gold too much. He loves gold more than anyone I've ever met. To prove this, I have somehow obtained an entry from his top-secret journal for you to read. He'll no doubt be pissed-off with me for showing you this, but I don't care. I am right to mock his love of gold. And what's he going to do about it anyway, kill me using GOLD? I'm not a fucking cyberman, Oswald.
 
Zaterdag 13 Maart 2004:
Didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Instead, I laid awake, screaming about how much I love gold. Oh man, I fucking love gold. The look of it, the feel of it, the taste, the texture... I will go into this in more detail on IRC later. This afternoon, my naked brother and I injected each other with heroin and then yelled at some windmills. Fucking windmills!
 
Next week: Breadvan's Journal.
 
© 2004 MR. JERKY