I have also eaten a bag of ready salted baked crisps. I found them to my liking.

Today I was discussing people who lie with my immediate work colleague Gemma. It transpires that she used to lie about things all the time when she was little. By her own admission they were far fetched lies in order to garner some attention. This leads me to wonder if her real name is actually Gemma.

It got me thinking about the worst lies I have ever heard, and I'm 100% certain that they all came from Gareth Thomas, my arch-nemesis. The funniest one was when he told three different people three different stories. He told me that he played football for Swansea U-21. He told someone else that he played for Cardiff U-21. He told yet another person that he played for Wales U-21 and subsequently had a few caps to his name. He obviously didn't stop to think that one day us three might amalgamate our stories and discover that he had been lying to us.

It all started with Steven Paul Allen protesting at our insistence in purchasing kebab paraphenalia. He stood outside and was heard to shout various insults aimed at our food. When we departed the shop, Steve was surrounded by these kids, aged 12-16. They were trying to converse with him, but Steve was having none of it, telling them to "Fuck off home to your parents". Naturally one of the kids said "My mum died 3 weeks ago", which is a classic line that I must have heard a thousand times before. Suffice to say these kids were all mouth and no trousers, but one day they will get themselves into a really bad situation and (hopefully) one or more of them will die as a result. It's the best we can hope for. Fucking little bastards.

Last night I returned home from having a curry with my friends. It was 11:30pm to be exact. As I reversed into place on the driveway, a badger ran out from the bushes and started sniffing around in the glare of my headlights. Then he ran up to the door of my car and started pawing at the door. When I got out of the car he sat next to me, looking up. I looked at him for about 10 seconds or so then said "I'm going inside now". He nodded in agreement and dashed off into the bushes.

In fact when I was born I just popped out and had a little look around without making any noise. The doctor had to slap me on the bum to make me cry. My Dad once remarked that I didn't cry again until I was about 3 years old. It was probably when I fell off a playground roundabout and cracked my head open; or possibly when I fell off the garden wall after trying to push the envelope too far in terms of wall balancing.

So I got my 500Gb external HDD, it was delivered yesterday but no one was home so Mum went and picked it up in the evening. Classy. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet, I had to leave early in order to purchase cakes and crisps for the work people. my desk was nicely decorated when I arrived in, and I also have a helium balloon attached to my chair which draws attention from almost everyone.

I've had loads of Facebook messages on my wall, which is nice.

I don't believe in luck really. So that's that.

So for my birthday I am getting a 500Gb external hard drive. This may seem a rather geeky present, but it is becoming very necessary for me to increase my storage. I am going to begin filling it with music. Then downloaded TV shows. Then movies. It's going to be the best external HDD in the history of mankind, and everyone is going to want a piece of the action.

Tomorrow night, to celebrate my birthday, I am going to one of my favourite restaurants. At this place they do Chinese, Japanese and Malaysian food. A bit of a fusion if you will. And it's "All You Can Eat" (or AYCE). This is ace. However, they get you on the drinks. That's how they make their money. I was contemplating taking a hidden bottle of coke, but then I remembered that I'm not a tight bastard. It's nice when your memory kicks in.

All the while that I was watching, it made me think of the tripod-like aliens of War Of The Worlds, with their death rays. Obviously the helicopter did not have legs, it was the beams of light that helped me to make that tenuous connection.

It was one of the best things I have seen in a long time.

I was also going to write in detail about how boring other people's blogs are, but I really don't have the energy now. I had typed out this whole diatribe detailing why it bothers me that people never have anything interesting to write about, and I suppose it was therapeutic as I was writing it. It was also therapeutic deleting it, letter by letter. I just want to read something that makes the writer stand out from the rest, but nothing ever surprises me. All I see are the same stories told a thousand times:

"I've had enough with so-and-so". You'll still end up going back to them though, won't you?

"Here is something I read in the newspaper, isn't this awful/great?". Copying and pasting an entire article and only adding one word at the bottom like "Ludicrous!" does not constitute an original post. And even if there is some original text in there, I can make up my own opinions about matters without having to sift through your poor spelling and sub-par grammar, only to be confronted by an aribtrary view that I could have taken off the back of a cereal box.

Interviewer: "So Gordon, how do you plan to cut tax increases without a serious knock-on effect?"
Gordon Brown: "Well it's not so much how, but rather wh..... Say, this is a lovely sofa, simply gorgeous! What is this? Suede?! I haven't seen a suede sofa in a very long time"
Interviewer: "Yes, it's nubuck suede, very observant. Thanks very much for your time".

Masterful swerving at it's very finest, I'm sure you will concur.

So how can you become a masterful swerver? I don't have the answers. I don't even have the questions, I just wish I had more of the ability to swerve. I tend to enter into a conversation without any regard for my own swervitude. For example, when trying to engage in a meanigful (and flirty) conversation with a female:

Her: "My boyfriend has that same t-shirt..."
Me: (Slightly taken aback at the 'boyfriend' revelation) "Oh, he must have good taste then"
Her: "No, I hate it"

So before I get into the real meaty stuff, I would just like to remind you that it is not frowned upon in these circles to listen to "free jazz".

Today I have been listening to 60's Reggae, namely by Harry J. Allstars and The Upsetters. I find it rather benefical to a happy state of mind.

So there is this little yellow light on my dashboard now that indicates a problem with the Computer Controlled Emissions System. I spoke to the car dealership and they informed me that it is not the end of the world in LED form, rather that a service should be booked on it soon. It's almost as if my car knows what is going on, because there is a little sticker in the top right corner of the windscreen stating "Next service in Jun 2007 or after 18,000 miles". Now, seeing as I have done roughly 16,885 miles, it looks as thought a June service is on the cards. What a time for things to go wrong, eh? I couldn't have planned it better myself. If it was an episode of Coronation Street, you would not have been able to script such an occurrence. Certainly not on my watch.

Also, I have finished watching the first series of "The Office: An American Workplace" and I must say that it is very good indeed. I think the girl who plays Pam Beesly (the American version of Dawn) is very attractive. I wouldn't mind having her working in my office. She could lose the fiancee though, what an ugly scenario that would create.

I am now downloading the entire second season, and when that's done I shall obtain the entire third season. This is in lieu of an actual DVD collection, which I will purchase once it becomes available on these shores.

Here's a joke to round things off.

On Friday night I experienced the heady heights of The Smuggler's Inn, Coulsdon. I had been invited along by Paul Rodgers (again, not the singer from Free and Bad Company), so naturally I accepted the challenge. It was quite good actually, had a pint of Guinness and then noticed they had Doom Bar on tap. It was then that I decided that Doom Bar would have to be supped.

Got home just after midnight and thought it would be nice to catch up on some sleep. So I slept in until 11am. I didn't even have a shower until 4pm, that's how lazy I felt. Then I went out on Saturday round my friend Matt's house to have a 4 player Xbox 360 session.

The session went extremely well. We took a break for curry, then reconvened. Pro Evo was the game of choice, and we played a marathon. Colin and I demolished Matt and Alan comprehensively in all bar one match. It was an emphatic victory which led to some very tense moments, created solely by Matt and Alan. They are bad losers. Colin and I are now the proud co-holders of the accolade of "Co-Champion Of The Universe - May 2007"

Then on Sunday I woke up at 8:30am on the dot, had a shower and went to Gunwharf Quays in Portsmouth. I didn't buy that much stuff, but this was probably a good thing because I am saving money at the moment. The plan to buy new work clothes did not come to fruition and instead I bought two Derren Brown DVDs and Season 1 of The Office: An American Workplace. It is much better than I expected. I also bought this new moisturiser by Neutrogena. It's really good in all fairness. Really good.

I feel decidedly efflorescent this afternoon. After a somewhat shaky start to my day, I am now coming into a good spell of form which will allow me to progress alongside the challenges that today promises to bring.

I woke up with a stinking hangover. Last night, see, I went out in Reigate for a skinful due to one of my colleagues leaving. There is a recognised method for sending off old friends, and that is by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Here is how the whole debacle unfolded:

Arrived home circa 6:15pm. Had a quick snack then got picked up by Paul Rodgers' Father in his motorised conveyance (it is here that I choose to point out that this particular Paul Rodgers did not provide lead vocals for the 70's rock bands Free and Bad Company; Nor did he recently join a reunited Queen on stage for a few gigs). We arrived at The Priory via the cash machine placed within the block work of Barclay's bank.

It was £1.50 on selected drinks in The Priory. I dissuaded myself from purchasing my usual tipple of Guinness as this was charged at full price (£3.00 per pint, I ask of you). Given the agreeable price reduction, I instead opted for a crisp pint of Foster's. Paul Rodgers was on the Carling, which was also 150 of your Sterling pennies.

We met our friends, they were situated towards the rear of the pub in what can only be described as "free license to use a marquee gone mad". This was most beneficial to us as it provided a warm and friendly atmosphere, replete with chairs on which to park one's rump. At one point they started screening last night's main event, Tottenham Hotspur versus Blackburn Rovers. I am not a huge fan of either team, but I do like some of the individual players (Dimitar Berbatov, Jermaine Defoe, David Bentley, Matt Derbyshire, to name but a few). When Tottenham equalised, Sam Bush was taken aback by the loud screams of agreeance and proceeded to knock his pint over, soaking my jeans considerably.

Apart from this, things continued unabashed and I went on to consume 9 and a half pints of lager. Paul Rodgers' Father picked us up and was kind enough to drop me home. When I entered the homestead I was inebriated to a high degree, one of the highest degrees. I had half a glass of milk, brushed my teeth and went to bed.

Whilst asleep I had many a strange dream. Unfortunately no nice dreams about the girl from work with the pretty face. I awoke at 5:15am and evacuated my bladder and consumed a pint of H2O and two ibuprofen caplets. I then returned to bed for a remaining two hours.

After a shower I felt slightly better, but still a bit groggy, like a pirate would feel. I filled my car with the finest premium petroleum gasoline and proceeded on my way to work. Once at work I sat down and wobbled a bit. Then Carl Wright suggested we sample some breakfast, which turned out to be more than a suggestion and much more of a partaking of food.

I felt a good deal better after this, and now I am efflorescing with the best of them.

So when I returned to my abode I was really in the mood for listening to music so I stuck on We're From Japan!'s album "48 Minutes, 07 Seconds Then Open Air" and laid down on my bed. Before I knew it I was drifting off to sleep with all the lovely dreams that it brings. I was awoken by a knock at the door. "Do you want any dinner?" came the voice of my mother. "Not yet, I'm having a whale of a time" I replied.

At around 7pm, over an hour since I began my music listening regime, I ventured downstairs and consumed a plate of spaghetti bolognaise with Quorn mince and mushrooms. I like that Quorn stuff, it's well livid. Then I settled down to watch the Football (Man Utd V Chelsea, don't you know) and ate a bowl of Kellogg's finest Ricicles. The match was extremely boring, so at 8:20pm I made the decision to go to bed. I didn't feel particularly tired at the time, but I thought I would re-enact the music consumption from earlier on.

For starters, I've always been keen on Sony products. They just work well. I had a peek in The Sony Centre on Monday. It was quite helpful but still quite confusing. Par example:

One TV has the codename KDL-32V2000U, it's a 32" bad boy with an HDMI port on the back for connecting a PS3, which I will purchase in the near future. This TV sounds rather good doesn't it?

Well, you'd be wrong. There's also the KDL-32V2500 which is exactly the same screen size but it has an extra HDMI port on the front for easy access, perfect if you've got two HDMI enabled devices, and the contract is far better at 7000:1 as opposed to the measly 3000:1 of the other TV.

Both TVs are the same price as well, which makes it virtually impossible to distinguish between the two unless you check it out online. I refuse to talk to the people who work in the shop because they're idiots. This guy who tried to talk to us said "You get 10% off the price, but you have to put down a 10% deposit". I said to him "So you basically get a discount to use as the deposit" quite matter-of-factly. He replied with, "Well no, you get 10% off the price of the TV and you have to put a deposit of 10% down when purchasing". I just agreed with him because he was clearly a donkey nonce.

And now it comes to the harder part. I would ideally like a TV that goes up to 1080p (progressive scan) as opposed to 1080i (interlaced) because this is what the PS3 goes up to and I would love nothing more than to play GTA 4 in full 1080p. It would be almost as good as getting it on with the girl at work who I have sex dreams about all the time. And if she plays video games then that's even better. I would marry her.

We entertained ourselves by playing football, having BB gun wars and making a general nuisance of ourselves. We even went to the cinema in Sutton to watch Rookie Of The Year. It had that kid who would later be Kevin in American Pie, you know the one. He spunked in a pint of beer and then Stifler drank it. Good times.

We threw a few water balloons out of the window. I don't know what we were trying to achieve by doing this, but it seemed like a good idea to a bored 9 year old. I spotted an elderly woman traipsing up the road and I prepped my throwing arm.

As the old woman passed my house, I chucked a particularly large water balloon out of the window. It had all the accuracy of a cruise missile. I landed square on top of her head and the resulting H2O explosion soaked her through to the bone. She was livid.

She stormed up to the front door and began knocking furiously. By this point my friend and I were cacking ourselves. We peeked out of the window to see if my Mum had answered the door, but surprisingly enough she hadn't. The old bat was still knocking like a woman possessed, but to no avail. She failed to notice the doorbell hidden amongst a jungle of ivy leaves. If she had seen the button then we would have been for it, that's for sure.

After finishing work at 1730 hours, I drove back home for a spell. Whilst I was residing in my homestead I had a shower, some dinner and played my guitar. Then I walked down the road and into Reigate itself. When I arrived in the heart of the town, I made my way to The Bell. I sat in The Bell reading the music and arts section of The Guardian, dated Friday 4 May. I also listened to my iPod until Paul Rodgers arrived. I consumed a pint of Guinness, then Steven Paul Allen text me to say he was going to The Priory. Paul and I left and made our way to The Priory, it was here that we met Steven Paul Allen, Ben Phillips, Ging and Chris Cooke. Steve's Tash came along a short while later.

During my tenure at The Priory I consumed six pints of Guinness. Then there was talk of going back to Ben's house to play Super Mario Kart on the SNES. So we did. We got a taxi to Ben's house via Steven Paul Allen's car and Chris Cooke's residence to obtain a sleeping bag and beers respectively. Then we arrived at Ben's house.

I made a head start on some Stella and Ben loaded up the SNES. He boasted that he was "The Tetris Master". I put paid to that by comprehensively beating him. He tried to make out that he was too drunk to play at his best, but I disregarded this twaddle and continued beating his face into the screen. Steve fell asleep. We played a bit of Street Fighter 2: Turbo, but I was pretty cack. I only managed to beat Ben twice, which was shameful in the extreme.

Then we watched Peep Show and when that was finished I walked home. It took me just over an hour and I had to suffer fools whilst walking through Redhill. One charming young lady shouted "I fucked your Mum, she was a bit greasy though. I shagged your Dad too, he was well small". I replied with a simple: "You've got a lovely mouth on you", and walked on my way whilst she was left trying to come up with a witty riposte.

I woke up around 11am and was asked to clean the decking. During Autumn and Winter it had collected an algae-like film on the surface and whenever it got wet it would become dangerously slippery. I could see that this would lead to many an accident. So I broke out the pressure washer and set about cleaning the muck off of the decking. This took a lot longer than expected. In all I spent over 3 hours doubled over trying to remove the caked on shit off the wood. This would impinge on my wellbeing the next day.

In the evening I ordered a pizza and watched The Matador with my brother. It was good.

The combination of drunken walking and decking cleaning resulted in my back aching. I spent most of the day lounging around watching TV. I went out in the evening for a drink, then when I returned I watched Broken Flowers which was rather boring and cack. I fell asleep halfway through and when I woke up I felt really weird and evil. I simply had to go to bed.

Went to Sutton to waste some time. Bought Smoking Aces and The Destruction Of Small Ideas by 65daysofstatic from HMV. Then as we were walking past The Sony Centre I joked that I was going to purchase a HD TV. I very nearly did too, a 32 inch jobby. Very nice it was, and it had 10% off and 12 months 0% finance. I was very tempted, and my brother wasn't helping. He was barking orders at me: "Buy it! Buy it! Buy it! Why aren't you buying it?". I forced myself to leave the shop, but now that I look back I wonder if if was a bad idea to walk out on such a deal. Perhaps they'll have another 10% off day at the end of the month.

Beat Marc Haridimou at Kingfisher by a comfortable 4 point margin.

Added to the list of people that I don't like.

Added to the list of "Things I Do In My Oh So Valuable Spare Time".

Derided James the Temp.

Watched videos of Brazilian legend Zico in action.

Watched a video of Rivaldo being a tosser.

Watched and listened to "3 Is A Magic Number" more than 3 times. Not so magical now, eh?

Arranged an evening drinking session with Paul Rodgers, Marc Haridimou, Jonathan Joseph and Steven Paul Allen. Steven Paul Allen is bringing his Ed. I like Ed.

Please be advised that in an effort to "support the cause" Steve will be moving back in to the Lease recovery team, potentially until the end of June.

Once the Postcodes are allocated, we will need to support Steve by all helping out with his area.

During Steve's time in the Lease recover team, it may be possible for those of you who have started the training, to sit with him for additional coaching.

I would like to take this Opportunity on behalf of Paul and myself to thank Steve for his continued efforts and to you all for the support you have given during the transition period between the two systems.

Thanks

Earlier I spotted Steven Paul Allen listening to his magical playlist of wonderment. His earphones were well and truly stuck in his wingnuts. I thought it would be hilarious to play a practical joke on him.

I called his phone from my phone, even though I sit bloody well opposite the little blighter. My phone, if you will be patient enough to listen, has not been set up properly. When I call people it just comes up with a blank screen, whereas if my phone were in order then it would appear on the recipient's phone as "Ian Dulley". This was to prove the basis for my merry little prank.

I drop called his phone. I let it ring for two whole rings, then hung up. Steven Paul Allen was alerted to this and proceeded to reach for his phone to mute it, when it promptly rang off.

Success!

A couple of seconds later I repeated this prank. It was hard to keep a straight face because I could sense his increasing annoyance. As the phone rang he removed his earphones and began to mutter under his breath. I took this as my cue to end the call and decided to hang up.

Steven Paul Allen noticed my mirth and presented me with a disgruntled "It was you, wasn't it?"

This morning I peeked out of my driveway to see if any cars were coming, and there was a massive gap for me to pull out into. It was bloody massive, I tell you. So no sooner have I pulled out than this knob jockey in a black S5 comes steaming up behind me, from out of nowhere. He started riding inches away from my rear bumper, which is pretty ineffective considering we were sitting in a long line of traffic caused by the junction at the level crossing.

As soon as there was the slightest snifter of an opening, Audi driver pulls up alongside me and attempts to cut in front. Sensing his bastardly behaviour, I kicked it down a gear and flew back into pole position. The chump was sitting behind me looking decidedly pissed off. I smiled at him in the rear view mirror. Then he does the unthinkable.

He pulls into the right hand lane at the start of the one way system and bypasses roughly 6 cars to make it to the lights. I sent a psychic message to the van driver at the front of my line, I just knew that Audi driver was going to cut in front and shave approximately 7 seconds off of his journey time.

I have warned you already, Audi drivers are prepared to pull any stunt if it means that they arrive at their destination even 1 second earlier. It's a compulsion of the highest order.

So anyway, to my dismay van driver is not quick enough off the mark and Audi driver slings into first place, leaving me a lowly 8th. I thought the battle was lost. I slinked round the corner and prepared to turn off to the left, when another Audi driver pulled up alongside and wanted a piece of the action. I stopped him from getting in front and he had to slow right down and indicate to get someone to let him in. To my absolute joy no-one let him in. Classic cool.

So a mild victory over a silver Audi helped to sweeten the deal somewhat. As I ventured up the road to work, I caught myself thinking about that time that I stopped the silver Audi from cutting in front of me, that was a good time. All of a sudden I caught sight of the black Audi S5, he had dropped his kid off to school and wanted to get back on to the road. I powered myself in front and slowed right down, creating a 3 car tailback that prevented him from joining the main road.

I pulled into work with a huge grin on my face, it has set the day up nicely.

So yes, it is very much Wednesday. Nothing has happened this week apart from the fact that I only found out yesterday that this impending weekend is of the "Bank Holiday" flavour. I like this very much.

In our first year Simon had done some photography work for a local Skate Shop. The name escapes me, but it was something contrived like "Awesomely Rad" or something. After completing his photography work for this company, he was rewarded by way of a "Long Board". This is a type of skateboard which is longer in appearance and physical stature than the typical "Short Board". I often wonder how things would have panned out if someone with a larger vocabulary had named these skateboarding related items.

Simon's Long Board resided in our cupboard under the stairs. Neither Simon nor myself had much skill in riding this monstrosity. It was not until Chazz got wind of the Long Board that we actually started to experiment (non-sexually) with the wheeled plank.

So this one time, right, we were up drinking. Simon, Chazz and myself, that is. Someone suggested that we obtain the Long Board and go for a late night skate on it. I was virtually cacking my pants, as I had only ever ridden the Short Board variety. We lived at the top of a nasty hill. It would be a challenge for sure to ride this Long Board in our non-sober states, especially when you factor in the hill.

Chazz had first dibs, and he blew us away with his ability to stand on the board whilst it was in motion. I tried my hand at it, and to my surprise I managed to stay on. Huzzah!

Simon opted to lay down on the board and proceeded to fly, head first, down the hill. He attempted to use his feet as braking devices. This served only to wear down his trainers into a tiny nub of rubber and suede.

Over the course of the session, we all became intimate (non-sexually) with the board riding physics. It progressed to the point where we had exhausted a car park and challenged ourselves to a long run down a steady decline. I tried my hand at it and could only make it part of the way before the fear factor set in. I had to abandon ship. This wasn't too difficult as I wasn't really gunning it.

Chazz put us all to shame with his tomfoolery, and Simon still insisted on riding it like a street luge. This worked to his benefit, and it was very amusing watching him pull his "concentration face". I always maintained that his "concentration face" could be similar to his "climax face". Alas he has never climaxed in my immediate vicinity.

On another run I made it quite a bit further, and I was going like the clappers. Again, the fear factor set in eventually and I simply had to get off of the board. I jumped and began running in mid air, prepping myself for the landing. I landed at a much faster speed than I can run, but I managed to stay on my feet miraculously. No animals were harmed during the alighting of the skateboard.