1/4 There were no decent April Fools gags in the media today.

I'm Alan Verage and, as indicated in My First Post, I am a reasonably normal person. My name isn’t even a Googlewhack as of today and this is probably the most remarkable thing about me.

“Your search - "alan verage" - did not match any documents.”!

Wow.

I don’t listen to BBC Radio One and haven’t in years as the incessant voices of cool hip people who, in most cases, are older than me, just aggravate the fact that I already think that music is too loud. I suddenly went from cucumber to square and love listening to the current affairs on Radio Four. When John Humphries is accosting some poor politician (“poor” being an ironic slur), I laugh along jauntily. I even know some of the main characters at Willow Farm on The Archers.

Neeson phoned me today. He has a first name - not Liam - but his last name stuck and I would find it difficult calling him anything else. We speak everyday and would be lovers if it weren’t for the fact that we are both married and prefer taco to sausage. The call is the same regurgitation of where we are going, what we’ve been doing and why the bloody hell aren’t we working for ourselves?

In some ways, Neeson has already made a jump into self-employment as he is a courier for a City-based firm. But, as he is still working for a company, he still gets the ball-ache for a controller, or another driver, or for one of the staff in the pharmacies he delivers to.

All sorts of prescription drugs are passed through his hands on a daily basis and, were it not for the various proof of deliveries available, I could see a bag of Viagra or Prozac turning up on eBay.

Neeson:___Geeeezer (For international readers, geezer starts with a hard “G”)

Alan:_____Alright mate! Did you get online last night?

Neeson:___Nope. Ended up at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.

Alan:_____Did you?

Neeson:___Did I what?

Alan:_____Eat all you could?

Neeson:___Kind of. I got caught up in a crispy duck crisis and couldn’t eat anything else - I had fourteen pancakes smothered in that sauce shit.

Alan:_____Plum.

Neeson:___Yeah, that’s it.

Alan:_____No - you are the plum!

Etc, etc. These conversations aren’t exactly verbatim but it’s what I can remember at the end of the day and, after a day like today, it’s pretty hard to stay focused. I’m on day one of the year long project and already am thinking of other things that might make me happier! No! I must stick to this.

Ooh, good news… saw a nice job advertised today for luxury products and have sent off the CV and covering letter stating that I think I would be the tits at that role. Obviously didn’t put it like that but I’m still psyched at putting my name about a bit.

Also spent the evening at a comedy club in a poxy little arty-farty theatre. Drank rum and coke and am kind of happy that I wrote some of this before going out as the spell checker is taking a battering at the moment. I hate US spell checkers. It’s a fucking "S", not a "Z", in organisation.