BETAMAXNOMATES

Tis' the season. As hack features writers and panel show wankers remind us constantly it's That Time Of The Year Again: the photocopying of buttocks, the copping off with 'Carol from Accounts' (it's always 'Carol from Accounts'), the drunken dressing down of the boss, yes, it's the 'dreaded' office party.
I had my office party last week - except that I don't work in an office, I work in a house, which may lead you to expect maybe a 'house party' and all the wacky PG-13-rated hi-jinks that entails. Not so. Our office party followed a more traditional route wherein everyone got together for a meal then went for a few drinks and on to a club. Except that we did it in fancy dress. And except that I was violently ill after the meal and couldn't drink for the night. Seriously, going to a nightclub sober: is there anything more chilling to the human soul? Maybe. Maybe if you were sober, sick, six foot seven, and dressed like this. On a normal day I'm a kind of human flypaper for dipsos, pillheads and the generally insane; on Friday night I became an almost messianic figure for the mentally unbalanced. If this sounds like it might have been fun on some kitsch, ironic, 'oh, isn't it all so ridiculous' kind of way, I assure you it wasn't.
The highpoint of the evening for me however, unlike poor Stigmund here, was the obligatory Kris Kindle... probably because I'm such an emotionally stunted materialist I can only connect with things and not people. Just thought I'd slip that in there... anyway, moving on. The person I bought for never showed up so their gift (a novelty alarm clock, ho ho hum) ended up trampled on the floor of a pub somewhere while I walked away with - and I don't think I'm overstating this in the least - quite possibly THE BEST PRESENT IN THE WHOLE WORLD EVER. A wise man in olden times (Jesus, or maybe Shakespeare) once said that the pen is mightier than the sword. Darn tootin'! Have you seen the infomercial? That motherfucker goes through a can! And it writes upside down! And, using only a short length of twine, some baking soda, and a blasting cap, makes a pretty nifty home-made explosive. I've no idea how to use a fountain pen and, if I'm being honest, I'm not particularly interested in using this to write with; really I just want to stab it into as many objects of varying size, strength and texture as I can to truly test the meaning of the phrase 'virtually indestructible'.
Before I go, if you haven't heard this album yet, check it out; for the time being anyway, you can download it for free here. Not sure if it's quite the masterpiece some people have claimed it is, but it is rather good - which is probably the best we can expect from a singer who desribes his group as 'not so much a band, more a concept'. Betamax out.