Follow the adventures of Brewed Boy as he tries to save Londoners from the evil clutches of rubbish coffee.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Nick was my customer. He is an architect. A bi-polar architect. A homeless, bi-polar architect. He takes the train to Terminal Five to spend the night in a Richard Rogers building. He tells very funny and very dirty jokes.
A middle aged man walks into a doctors surgery for a check-up.
The doctors says: "You seem to be in good shape but you have to stop masturbating"
"Why?" asks the worried man.
"Because I am trying to examine you."
A man goes to a fancy dress party with a condom on his face.
A young girl comes up to him and asks what he has come as.
He cackles a lot. Drinks Stella. Draws pictures of what my van should look like. He wears wellies with the heels cut out. He chats up every girl on the street and tells tales of lost loves. He was Asbo'd out of Wimbledon for riding a bicycle naked to entertain a crowded pub. I told him to go away recently because I needed to "focus". "OK. You focus and I'll fuck off!". He trudged off cackling away. I haven't seen him since and I miss him.
"I'll give you 70p for a coffee."
"Sorry they cost two quid."
"But I can buy one over there for 80p."
"Yeah but that's Nescafe."
"Coffee's coffee mate. You aint gonna sell any at that price."
A nice Scandinavian bloke bought me House of Flying Daggers on DVD though.