It's been a while

Thank you. Friends, family, randoms off the street, despite the fact that the blog hasn't been updated for several months now, i'm still getting about two people visit it every day. Where as these figures won't really worry Bill Gates, they are more than sufficient to massage my fragile ego.

Apologies for the delay and rest assured there is plenty for us to catch up on...

She Winked at me!

So how did you two meet?

Technology is making it easier and easier to meet people, helping to bridge the burgeoning gap created by societies rapidly diminishing social skills.

It's all about supply and demand, identify a problem and come up with a solution, if it works you will make a lot of money, it really is that simple.

Problem: When out socialising with companions, I spot a pretty lady. I want to approach her and express my feelings but I lack the confidence to do so.

Solution: Alcohol

Problem: I meet a pretty lady in a night club establishment, we share conversation and a kiss and kindly she gives me her number. I wish to pursue the matter the following day, but in the cold light of sobriety concerns set in that perhaps she won't feel the same way and a phone call will only end in awkward rejection. What I want is a way to find out how she feels, without leaving myself so exposed.

Solution: Text Messages

But still it's not enough is it. Alcohol can give you unfounded confidence and text messages can distance you from the pain of potential rejection, but still you wish, you hope for an easier way to make that initial approach and cushion the emotional body blow of unrequited affection.

Solution: Online dating

Having previously viewed people that 'resort' to the Internet to find companionship as sad bastards, I finally realised that I am indeed a sad bastard and instantaneously logged in. I have not looked back.


Firstly I can confirm that a lot of what you have heard is true, most of the people on these sites are wack jobs. There are a lot of very young single mothers...a lot. Most of the messages come from women living hundreds of miles away wanting to chat and then you get people like 'randyrose' messaging you.



Aged 57 she lives 86 miles away in Leicestershire, is retired and enjoys sunbathing topless, a nice bathroom and hot young guys with a nice bottom.

Needless to say I have yet to correspond with 'randyrose', or indeed a number of other ladies who have messaged me on the site, some of which became quite hostile because of this.

If your a girl on one of these sites, it's much, much worse. An attractive lady will easily get 40 messages a day, many of which, and I'm being completely honest here, contain proposals of marriage.


If your a guy, this is actually a good thing as although a girl will get 40 messages a day, very few will be from someone in their desired age range and proximity and I guess most importantly from someone that seems normal.

This can make you quite a desirable commodity in the online world, but be careful as everything is not always as it seems...

The Perils of Online Dating

Sorry I don't do oral on a first date...

In the interests of Science, I thought that I may get some blog worthy material out of trialling a bit of the old online dating malarkey. I mean what have I got to lose, best case scenario I get a date with a lovely young lady, worse case scenario I get an amusing anecdote.

So where to start? As this was my first foray into the wonderful world of online dating, I erred on the side of financial caution and chose a site called Gumtree.com where it is completely free to upload your profile.

For those of you unfamiliar with Gumtree, is was initially set up to provide Antipodeans with free information on rooms to let in London. It soon became hugely popular and extended it's services into other areas such as jobs, stuff for sale and dating.

It really is the cowards dating dream. It costs nothing, you don't have to use your own name, they can hide your e-mail address and most importantly you don't have to go through the probable rejection of approaching a female and getting turned down.

So I uploaded a profile, just giving the basic details such as age, occupation, interests, as well as a bit about the sort of girl I was looking for i.e. preferably still breathing, with a general level of symmetry in bodily features. There was no photo of me attached, as explained I am a coward.

So that was it, very simple, just took a couple of minutes and then it was time to play the waiting game. I had uploaded this in the morning and checked my e-mail box later than day, there were no new mail. So I checked Gumtree, sure enough my profile was up on the site, but such is the popularity I had been pushed down to page five and was now underneath the listings of hundreds of other online predators.

So I refreshed my profile to put me back in the first position. My lack of a social life that weekend was going to give me a real positional edge over these other losers. While they squander their day socialising and living their life, I could refresh like crazy.

And it worked, kind of, as this morning upon opening my inbox there was a fresh e-mail awaiting my perusal. I have literally (bar the name) copied and pasted this below, I promise it is genuine:

HI mate

1stly I hope you wont be offended by this email.I am a 27yo, fit bi lad looking to give bj to str8 guys. I am str8 looking and have a hot mouth and can suck till completion. Just sit back and need not do anything in return.

Genuine offer and if u havent had a guy suck u before , its very horny! Try it guys give better bj than gals! I am in NW central London.Hope to hear from u.

Matt

I mean look at the misuse of grammar, completely unacceptable. In addition to this, he seems to have skimmed over the fact that I was looking for a female, still beggars can't be choosers...no apologies 'Matt' but you are not quite what I am looking for and both our quests for online love/bj's must go on.

Next stop, online dating via a Social Network, ladies of Facebook prepare yourself...

Ignorance is Bliss

Out of Sight Out of Mind...Until you View the Photos on Facebook.

One Friday night a couple of weekends ago, I was enjoying myself at a friends wedding, merrily working my way through the £1,000 tab that had been put behind the bar, when I received a text from my housemate.

It read, 'where are you, we're having a massive house party?'. My housemate was on a night out with his mates and in addition his brother was staying with us, as he and a load of his friends were in England as part of a round the world trip, the capacity for carnage was rife.

I was momentarily disappointed that two fine social events had collided in my normally sparse calendar, but didn't give it too much thought as I was having a splendid time at the wedding.

Having stayed overnight in a hotel, I returned to my house mid afternoon on the Saturday. The house seemed to be in fine fettle and certainly there was no evidence of the anticipated carnage. All the attendees had already left and my housemates were pretty cagey when I asked how the night was.

The only feedback I got was, 'it was all right, just had a few beers'. I put this lack of enthusiasm down to them being hung over and being pretty jaded myself from my own festivities I didn't spend too much time pursuing my line of questioning.

A few days later, surfing through the pages of the social network site Facebook, I came across these photos on my housemates brother's profile page:

So...a load of men came round my house and for some reason walked around my living room topless.

So many questions, so scared of the answers...in the end I decided it was best to just live in blissful ignorance. Permanently terrified, blissful ignorance.

I have 164 friends...

Keep your friends close and your enemies on 'Limited Profile'.

Yes I am of course referring to the Social Network 'phenomenon' that is Facebook. For me it started off innocently enough, my friend posted a load of photos on the site of a recent group holiday to Krakow. I wanted to see them and get a copy so I signed up and sure enough it was an excellent way for him to distribute these photos easily to the 11 people that had been on the holiday.

Impressed by the ease of use, other friends soon signed up and we all became 'friends' within the Facebook community. I then noticed someone at work using Facebook and thought it would be just super if they became a 'friend' too. Then I got to thinking, gee I wonder who else I know is using the site?

I have had quite a nomadic life, I was born in Kuwait, lived the first three years in Canterbury, then bar a brief spell in Kensington during the Gulf War, lived Bahrain until the age of 15. On returning to England I located to Surrey, went to University in Nottingham and now live in London. In addition to this I have worked for three companies, all with hundreds of employees.

Not surprisingly I have met and lost contact with a huge number of friends, colleagues and class mates. So I typed in the name of my best friend aged 10 and sure enough he was on the site, so I sent a friend request and we became friends. I looked at the friends he had and there was more people I used to know, so I sent them friend requests too. I soon became addicted and searched for as many names from my past that my memory could remember and sent friend requests to them all. As it stands I have 164 friends...what a load of bollocks.

I hate myself and I am sure I am not alone. Have you found yourself asking someone 'how many friends they have' and then smiled smugly when the total is less than yours? Have you had your ego dented when they reveal they have more friends than you?

Because that is what it all boils down to, ego. What started out as a simple desire to view some holiday photos, has manifested into a quest for cyber social domination and we haven't even begun to mention the stalking!

Yes you start off searching for your current friends and a couple of people who's number you have lost, but how long was it before you typed in the name of an ex girlfriend? Ah there she is, the bitch, looking real smug in her photo. Lets look at a few more of her photos, great she got fat I win, or no she finally shifted those last few pounds God I wish I was still with her. Wait a minute who is this guy she's with in all these photos?

Quickly check the relationship status, she's in a relationship with Steve. God he's a handsome man, like something out of Greek mythology, the bastard. Still what do I care, I'm with someone now and I'm happy...sort of.

Because it does make you think, doesn't it and worse of all it gives you to opportunity to reaffirm those fears. There's a few instances when, praise the lord, she's now a minger and it looks like the relationship ending was the best thing that could have happened to you. But the instances when she looks radiant and stunning and oh so happy with her current squeeze, stir the seeds of jealously inside you and make you think what if?

Still it's may not be that bad, she only looks that good because she has had one of those 'artistic' photos taken. Who are these cretins that get the professional photo's taken for their profile? What are they trying to achieve, yeah the photo may get you a date, but the guys still going to run for the hills when he sees you in the flesh. Maybe they think that once they get the chance to know them looks won't matter, after all personality is what really counts. Idiots.

Because of course you can use the site to get a date if you want. You can do an advanced search for single girls in your area to match whatever criteria you feel is important. You can search for 17 year old girls in London who' favourite film is 'Titanic' if that's what floats your boat (pun intended). 'Looking for' is one of my favourite settings, with 'Friendship' an option commonly chosen. I know your looking for friendship love, you have 325 friends!

And on that note, who amongst us can honestly say they haven't accepted a stranger or possibly worse someone who has actually wronged you at some stage as a friend, just to bump up the numbers. Are you someone that searches for people with the same name as you and invite them to be a friend, wow your crazy kooky, on the one hand I detest you but at the same time I can confirm that there is currently no one else on the site called Alex Cornford. I know because I have checked.

I remember when I first got a mobile phone, I would check the bugger every two minutes to see if someone had texted. If it had been days since the last text, I would actually be depressed. I eventually grew out of this phase, that was until Facebook came along. Now I have to log on whenever possible to see if I have any messages, or more importantly Friend Requests. Oh the dizzy excitement of a friend request, the momentary anticipation of who it may be from. Is it a former girlfriend, maybe a mysterious and gorgeous stranger, nope neither it's Bill from the finance department we spoke once when I needed sign off on a form, still I will accept him none the less, now there's 165 'friends'.

And that's another worrying thing, it's not just your mates that are using the site, everyone is. Your potential employers are using it, just imagine you have sailed through the first two interviews just to have it all scuppered by your boss to be perusing your profile and taking offence to a photo of you with your arse out. As for your current employers, if they are looking at your profile it alerts them if your online, so be careful between 9-5 you workshy bastard.

I guess that's what the privacy settings are for. I have got the proverbial Fort Knox settings for my profile after one particular friend request came through. I work in the online industry and deal with hundreds of people, helping them with their requests. A number of them have gone to the length to look up my name on the site and sent off a request to be my friend, literally after exchanging one business related e-mail dialogue. This scared the hell out of me, I didn't want every weirdo out there having full access to my personal information and most importantly current address. It was at this point I realised just how many people are viewing all my details and potentially how damaging the photos of me having vomited on my jeans could be.

So where do we go from here. No doubt I will continue to use Facebook and continue to check my updates page periodically at morning, noon and night. Hopefully I and the rest of society will soon get bored, I am already hacked off with all the 'fun' new updates such as the 'moods' monitor which very usefully relays details on how your mood has changed over time. If I used the dam thing, it would show that I got pretty pissed off just about the time that they released all this crap. Maybe then I can concentrate more on physical communication with the people who are actually in my life, rather than sending desperate pleas for a signal of acceptance to some bloke I knocked about with at the age of 10 who now lives in Kuala Lumpa.

Fisticuffs, Shaving Foam, Soiled Sheets and a Parrot

Rome wasn't built in a day, but Croydon on the other hand...


It was a Friday and I had taken the day off work as I was heading down to Brighton to attend my good friend Russel's stag do. We had all paid 220 pounds up front for a 'crazy' weekend package that guaranteed fun, fun, fun.

Money was a bit tight, but luckily my chum Simon was driving down and offered to give me a lift, all I had to do was meet him at Croydon. For those of you that have never been to Croydon, I can confirm that it is the armpit of London. Advertised on the 'Croydon' name boards at the station, is that Croydon is the home of the Nestle factory.

That's their claim to fame, the highlight, that the city boasts a factory. How many Japanese tourists do you think they have stolen from Buckingham palace with that pitch? Still the lift was going to save me about 20 pounds sterling, so I couldn't complain.

I left my house at 14:00 and arrived at Croydon at 15:00. I had been instructed by Simon to meet him at the Blockbusters, which he reliably informed me, was a couple of minutes walk from the station.

15 minutes later I was in the heart of the Croydon beast, with no Blockbusters to be seen.

On the Seventh day God rested, talk about early retirement the lazy bastard, get your arse back in the office on Monday and sort Croydon out. It transpired that I had passed the meeting place 10 minutes ago, the reason for this being that Blockbusters had now closed, no doubt making way for a trendy Yate's wine bar.

Any way I finally found Simon and we set off on our way to Brighton...well for five minutes anyway. As we head down a motorway steam starts to emit from Simon's car.

Simon turns to me, 'that doesn't look good', I agree with him. The hazard lights get switched on and we pull over to the side of the motorway, the lack of a hard shoulder makes this somewhat precarious.

We both stand in front of the bonnet, there is a hell of a lot of smoke coming out of it and privately, as I suggest to Simon that he flicks open the bonnet, I worry that the car is on fire.

As I bravely stand well back, Simon pulls the catch and opens the bonnet. Relief, there is no sign of fire but the smoke is undoubtedly a cause for concern. Neither of us know a thing about cars, but we stare intently trying to ascertain exactly what has gone wrong. Luckily even an automotively challenged individual such as myself could diagnose that the water tank being completely empty may be a contributing factor to our dilemma.

I ask Simon when he last put any water in, 'I don't know' was his reply. Are you a member of the AA or RAC was my next question, 'No' was the answer...bollocks. We were in the middle of nowhere , it was 15:30 in the day and we had broken down on the motorway. Friday rush hour was closing in, but luckily I need not worry as my comrade leapt into action declaring that he would go and fetch us the water the car so desperately needed.

So I sat on the grass verge, confident that with automotive liquid replenishment we would soon be on our way. 45 minutes later Simon returns, a large plastic McDonald's cup in each hand.

'What's that, couldn't you get a bottle of water?'
'It was all they had, dam the government pressure stopping them serving the supersize portions'

So he pours both cups into the tank, the water level is still well below the 'minimum' line. We get back in the car, Simon turns the ignition and now the car won't even start.

It's now about 16:30 and the road is getting pretty busy, it's wide enough for two cars but is still pretty dangerous. Simon doesn't want to call his dad, because he will get told off for automotive neglect. Instead he frantically calls round his friends to see if any of them can give us a tow. Eventually he gets through to one, but he is at work so won't be able to get there until 17:15 at the earliest.

17:45 - several near collisions and a hundred dirty looks from fellow drivers later, our saviour arrives. Despite not thinking to put water in his car, ever, Simon did take the precautionary measure of keeping a tow rope in his boot. Unfortunately it was more of a tow string and it soon became apparent that someone was in danger of losing a bumper. Subsequently we ditched the car in the nearest residential area and ran. Simon's friend kindly gave us a lift and three hours later I was back at Croydon station.

Having purchased the 20 pound ticket, we were on our way. We got to Brighton at about 19:00 and instructed a taxi driver to take us to the Blue Lagoon B&B. He had no idea where it was, this was not a good sign.

The Blue Lagoon was situated on the outskirts of Brighton, no different really to any local dive, except they had a parrot in the corner. I believe the rooms were modelled on a leading Korean sweatshop, with seven of us in each. It was the first time I had slept on a bunk bed since the age of 12.

Still I was just happy to finally be there and quickly unpacked my stuff and shot down to their pub for a pint. Soon after the taxi's arrived to take us into town. Two of Russel's fiances Stevenage born and bred uncles had come down for the weekend and I was to have my first conversation with one of them in the taxi.

The majority of us knew each other from working in sales for a publishing house and as we regaled on the good old times, Uncle Steve chimes in with,

'I work in sales selling time shares. I'm the best salesman in the world, I've never met anyone that is as good as me.'

There was a brief silence, there was no humour in his voice, he clearly thought this. We ignored him and continued to chat amongst ourselves.

'I'm brilliant at sales...'
I couldn't take it any more and retorted with, 'Listen mate, you bored us the first time with that.'

He didn't like that, but at least it shut him up. Uncle knob heads introductory opening aside, the rest of the night went swimmingly with a good time being had by all. We all returned to the Blue Lagoon in small hours, intoxicated to the level one would expect for a stag do. But the fun was not to stop there.

My good friend Ollie thought he would play a humorous jape on Simon and crept into his room in the dark of night. Having rummaged through a bag, he located some shaving foam and proceeded to coat the facial regions of his target.

All of a sudden Simon walks into the room. Ollie does a double take, if Simon was there then who was he spraying with shaving foam? It was Russel's other Uncle 'dangerous' Dave, who he had only met 4 hours ago. Simon, with full knowledge that it was Dave still thought that Ollie was onto a winner and grasped the shaving foam from his hand and went about finishing the job.

Dave's eyes open, he sees Simon standing over him and with both hands goes for his jugular. Everything kicks off and somehow it all bundles out into the corridor. Everyone is trying to calm the Uncles down and explain the 'innocent' mistake that has occurred. Intoxication levels don't help and when Uncle Steve thinks that Russel is siding with his friends over his soon to be extended family, he loses it and swings for Russel. A couple of us pull the Uncle back and he falls to the floor and is swiftly booted to the head by Russel's protective younger brother.

Eventually and amazingly it all calms down and everyone returns to bed, myself and Simon areluckily sharing the same room as the Uncles, thank god I was drunk.

We arise the next morning about 9:00, the same time that uncle Dave in his infinite wisdom had booked the paint balling for. Tensions were still high, Ollie decided that the rest of the weekend would go a lot smoother if he was to leave and jumped on an early train home.

Russel insisted on the Uncle's additionally making an early departure and although they proclaim that there was still unfinished business, they agreed to do so. I was in the room as Uncle Steve was packing his bags. Still incensed that he had been kicked in the head, he explained that he had been bullied until the age of 14. It was then that he decided to take Karate lessons and much like sales, this was an area in which he excelled. This noble vigilante then hunted down anyone that had wronged him and proceeded to gain retribution. He had swore to himself that no one would ever get the better of him ever again, which is why he could not simply forgive Russel's brother.

I was then to learn just how 'dangerous' Uncle Dave was and how close Ollie was to losing his life. Apparently Dave usually sleeps with a knife, well in fact both Uncle's do, dating back to their camping days. Also Dave has a mild sleep walking problem and can sometimes become quite disorientated, something I would imagine can be quite precarious when one sleeps with a blade.

Steve said his goodbyes, the silver lining being that we would now have more time to close a few of his big timeshare deals. I relayed this new information to Russel, both Simon and I thanked him rooming us with the Chuckle Brothers.

He claimed that he had no idea they were like that, something we may have believed if he hadn't been with his wife to be for 7 years. Still the remainder of weekend went off without a hitch, that was until Sunday morning.

Simon, clearly learning from past experiences had rubbed a mars bar into my hair while I was sleeping. It looked like I had soiled my sheets and we were due to check out there and then, this could scupper my chances with the barmaid downstairs. A taxi was booked promptly and we managed to escape with deposit in tact.

The wedding is in two weeks, in Stevenage, should be interesting.

And They Say Chat Up Lines Don't Work...

Where did I put my medication?

I was out drinking in Ealing one Friday after work with a mate of mine when he explained that his girlfriend was heading down to see him.

I was having a good time and wasn't too happy about being given the choice of either being the third wheel or heading off home early. However, my concerns were premature as this fine fellow had asked his lady to bring along a friend, huzzah!

Cometh the ladies, cometh the conversational opener. My mates girlfriend made an immediate b line for him, leaving her friend and I to make our own introductions.

I was being set up with an attractive young Asian girl and having been isolated from the group the pressure was on to deliver.

Opening dialogue unfolded as follows:

'Hi I'm Alex'
'Hi I'm Farrah'
'Hey Farrah, how's your Sister Nearer?'

Despite being early in the night I was never to recover from this Dating haymaker to her sensitivities and it was to be a very long night.