Saddleworth Beer Walk

The truck had come to a standstill. The first sheep had started climb up onto the back, where the digger was placed. Then more sheep flocked on. The police didn’t even intervene- the ratio of sheep to policemen was about 10-1.

Then they started to baa. The rest of the sheep- 90 in total- followed suit. They were bleating en masse. It was the most Orwellian thing I had ever seen…

For the last 34 years Saddleworth has been home to the Round Table Beer Walk: a day-long country march-cum-piss-up, an opportunity for beer companies from across the world to sell their products, and an excuse for locals to wear the most random outfits. I didn’t even know it was happening until the day before. Colin and 89 other Ex Hulme Grammar pupils were dressing as sheep. They were the biggest crowd by far- more than the nurses, firemen, army guys, or any other group. I stuck the fireman’s outfit on and went out to meet them. The outfits were basic but effective- 2 cloud shaped foam pieces, one on either side of the body, with a curly blonde wig and black tights.

The walk was long and hard. For those of you who haven’t visited leafy Saddleworth: it’s in th’ hills. Lots of hills.

We marched from Greenfield to Uppermill, where sheep began to clamber on top of phone boxes and passing vehicles, including a truck carrying a digger. An impromptu game of cricket occurred where a local team fielded against the sheep batsmen. Some ten-year-old kid got backhanded in the face with an over-sized plywood cricket bat, causing self-conscious, guilty laughter from all the adults. Colin jumped into a nearby garden to sample the grass and scared the crap out of some old lady’s little dog. He sprung at it from a nearby trampoline (on second thoughts, maybe she wasn’t that old…). One of the sheep had brought their own wooden fence that all 98 would hurdle over. After a few pints it got smashed to smithereens- not unlike the sheep.

The 118-style 70’s porn stars behind us were washing car windows to raise money. They found a time-saving method of working- getting Colin to jump at the windscreen and sponge it in with his wool body suit. He did this with a bus at one point.

The route led us through Delph and Dobcross, 2 places where I relentlessly get lost ever time I go there. Ironically, this is where I bumped into some movie expert from Salford Uni. I’ve known him since about ‘02. I was talking to him for so long that Colin had walked on a fair way. I had to get a march on to catch him up.

At one point I queued for a burger, which took nearly half an hour. After eating this I’d dropped so far behind Colin that it took me a further half hour to catch him up. This involved getting a jog on, which amazed people considering part of the walk went up a dirt track over a hill. I felt like a Royal Marines Commando. It was quality.

There is even evidence (a business card) to suggest I met Pete Snow, Vice Chairman of Christies cancer charity. I just about remember it.

After this Col and me did a quick reconnaissance mission, dropped things off, got changed and prepared for a night out in Oldham. One minor problem- Colin was wearing trainers. One other minor problem: I am developing a serious cocky streak.

We’d managed to get into Walkabout once. Then we went over the road to Littern for one, then Cuba Cuba and Vogue. I was having scotch on the rocks in each of these bars. In the Hare and Hounds I taught some fit bird to salsa, then dished her my business card. Then we headed back to Walkabout. Giant doorman “T” spotted Colin’s trainers the second time around, and in my half cut state I snapped, “fine. We’ll take our money somewhere else then.” And we walked off. Col got a taxi and I checked out Cuba Cuba again, just because I’d seen Danielle in there. (Okay, you can stop doing the Psycho hand-gestures and high-pitched screeching-violin noises…) She’d moved on- I guessed Walkabout as she’s been going there every week for the past 3 years.

In this space of time, I’d forgot what had happened in the last half an hour. I was walking through Walkabout’s door when this other doorman put his hand on my chest, stopping me. I was none the wiser. He basically told me not to give him attitude. I was apologetically humbled. The events of the last couple of hours came crashing back at me. I felt like I’d robbed a bank and then gone back and tried to cash a cheque.

Amazingly he still let me in- I kept the drinks soft after that- and I found Danielle. She was a little reserved but told me she didn’t want me to think I was ignoring her. Paranoia started to set in as the music was typically dreadful and conversation wasn’t flowing. I left her to talk to Kelly for a bit and noticed that Danielle and Nicola were fast falling out. (This is starting to sound like a woman’s blog. Let’s keep this interesting.) I was wondering if I could go back to hers again (even though I was utterly fucked) but her argument got out of hand. Nicola stormed out and Danielle followed her. I thought, fuck you. Let’s stir this up.

Jekyll and Hyde syndrome kicked in as I hammered out the text message: “I’ll take that as a hint then…”

She said that it wasn’t like that. We apologised to each other. I guess we’ll try again next week.

My Salsa student from Hare and hounds is also called Danielle. I can see what kind of texting mistake I’m going to make soon…

 

Touch One Advertising

I have just finished the shortest full time job in my existence. Touch One Advertising is an outbound face-to-face promotions company. It’s quite Americanised: There’s an almost evangelist warm-up session at 8 in the morning where employees are encouraged to shout, sing, stand on chairs, play games, eat junk food extremely quickly and generally make a complete cock of themselves. I’m fairly comfortable with this kind of environment, so I found this interesting.
If you are the kind of person who can turn a no into a yes, this could be the job for you. However, I have learned through 2 media sales jobs and loads of promo work with Key 103 that I cannot. I hate rejection and there is nothing I can do about it.

So traveling to Chester and getting women to take out membership at a hair salon was going to be difficult. First, I am a guy. I know nothing of women’s haircuts. Second, I am not a hairdresser. Third, and most importantly: If you can put up with being told no by women all day, I take my proverbial hat off to you. They may be saying “no” to the product, but regardless: they ARE saying no to YOU. As a single man, this is pretty much my own personalised vision of hell. I managed to make 2 sales on the first day, which was amazing. After this, I made nothing.
On the first day my trial assignment was this:

“Richard Branson has an island off the south coast of Cortez, apparently somewhere in the West Indies. They are called the Virgin Islands, and was originally colonised by the Danes His golf course is situated near the shore. His golf balls are damaging the coral reef around his island and ultimately damaging the environment. How many golf balls have affected marine life in Cortez?”

This was a ridiculous premise. Branson’s Airline is one of the most successful in the world and emissions from these planes massively outweigh the damage a few golf balls could do. Besides, it said on MTV Cribs that his speedboat-driving servant collects the balls.

I did speak to an oil worker who was very knowledgeable about the environment and said much that more damage is done to this environment by Philippino fishermen, who use dynamite on the reef to sell off the findings. Chinese deep-sea fishing boats and dredgers will also pull out anything from the seabed in these areas and sell it on. The oil worker said most damage done in these areas is caused by the need to feed Asia.

An interesting first day, I think you’ll agree. After this I was trying to sell hair VIP passes to women, and everything descended into chaos. It was freezing in Chester and people were reluctant to stop. One of the managers, Alexa, was a total bitch and actively discouraged teamwork. When she bollocked me for asking another trainee for advice, admittedly, I pulled a face behind her back. For such a heinous display of insolence, she rang me at about 10pm when I was on the bus after salsa. The first thing she told me was that she was disappointed in me. What. The. Fuck. First off, if I ask another trainee for advice, I could be learning everything wrong. God help us. Second, she’d found out from someone that I’d pulled a face at her. All this happened because I was talking to another trainee. I put the point across that I was talking about the job. Her response? “Don’t argue with me, Matt.”

Admittedly, I was fighting my corner. I didn’t do this kind of thing a year ago, but I don’t take anywhere near as much shit now. This call came after a shift when I’d made my first 2 sales. And she was disappointed.

Other misadventures inside Touch One included a stray Pit Bull walking onto the bus in the morning and only one woman stepping forward to evict him. It sat on the back seat of the bus like a human chav. I thought this woman was going to get her arm ripped off, but it let her pick it up. Also on my last day, while on the train with a rather nice girl called Chloe, I witnessed a dead horse in a field. I told her I was going to offer to go out and try and revive it, but that would probably have just been flogging a dead horse. She loved that joke. She concurred that Alexa was a bitch and told me loads of workplace gossip. Second by second I was convinced I needed to resign.

Yesterday Chloe got called back to the office and as a result I was left in Chester on my own, trying to pitch. Within a few moments I thought: What the fuck am I doing, in the middle of the street, on my own, trying to flog haircuts to arrogant women? I’ve not even got the chip and pin machine! The logical conclusion came to me a little later than you might expect: after an hour on my own I thought: Fuck this. I found my way to the train and got back into Manchester all on my own like a grown-up.

I explained to the director that I’d spent more than I’d made, I hated rejection and I didn’t think the job was right for me. To add insult to injury, the two sales I made had been back-dated in some way and payments hadn’t gone through. This meant that I didn’t get any commission and hence no pay for the whole week aside from travel expenses. It also meant that, as 2 women were using hair treatments that they hadn’t paid for, Touch One were getting the bailiffs to go after them. The director said if I found the right product to sell, I’d go far. I concur.

Danielle

On Saturday I did my first shift at C bar. I’m already a mate to the staff so I fit right in. There are plenty of girls and the dress code is casual. I like it there. Takes ages to pick up, but when it does the graft is hard and fast.

Afterwards we went to W bar for the last hour of the night. C shuts early- it’s considered a middle-of-the-night bar. After 2am C staff are the only people the Walkabout doormen let through. By this time I’d already hammered some JD and continued to do so once in there.
Bumped into Danielle, a girl I’ve been flirting with for the last 2 years nearly. For one reason or another we just never got together- we’d be with other people, or I’d be too shy, or whatever.

Tonight there was nothing stopping us.

“Come back with me, Matt,” she said. “I won’t try it on with you, I promise.”

Strange way of flirting, I thought. But I’d be grateful for anything she could do for me, as Edward Norton would say. Of course I went back with her.

This isn’t the first time I’d been to Danielle’s house. I finished uni in February 2005. I’d spent three and a half years there and I never got sex. Almost did a few times, but never really found the right situation.

When I left uni I spent a week looking for work. I dished out a few forms but didn’t really find much. On Saturday night my esteem, newly replenished from finally finishing higher education for good, was about to be battered senseless.

A friend of Danielle’s came to Walkabout with her. I’d met Adrienne the previous Halloween: I pulled her when I was glass collecting, dressed as a fireman. It was like the set of a very twisted porn shoot- Danielle was dressed as a nurse in white PVC and Adrienne was in full police uniform. I’d acquired the uniform from Heather, a flatmate from uni. Her then-boyfriend had been given the genuine fire services attire by a friend of his. Heather had told me he’d worn it for her in the bedroom and she just laughed at him and told him to take it off. So I was a bit sceptical about the effect it would have.

My scepticism was quickly erased: most women loved it. Danielle told me she LOVED firemen. I told her I loved nurses. Then she told me she had a boyfriend.

I kissed Adrienne before I even spoke to her. After this I ended up pulling about four other girls.
Danielle came back to me, and she was genuinely mad.

“Why are you being so nasty to my mate?”

I thought, who? I said, “What?”

“You are, you walked over there, you went with her, you walked round there and you went with her too!”

Who am I being nasty to? I remember meeting Emma, some stunner dressed as a Playboy bunny. Danielle had introduced me to her. But I didn’t kiss her. Danielle had an expression of utter disgust- she was genuinely mad at me for some reason. It took me weeks to figure out whom Danielle was talking about. The girl’s faces, outfits, and what I did with them, it was all a blur.

Danielle going mental at me had really fucked up my night. I felt like I couldn’t look at any girls. I felt guilty but I couldn’t figure out why. I started to construct an apology for next week, but I couldn’t because I could (already) only remember bits of the night.

Over the next couple of months I apologised, flirted, tried to get with her- shyness kept getting in the way. It looked like I just plain wasn’t going to get sex. I’d even had a lengthy text conversation with Danielle, which stopped for no reason at all. Then I finished uni.

The week I handed in my work, I shit you not- Adrienne came back into the bar. I pulled her again. She came to me just before closing time and stood on the foot rail, leaning over the bar.

“What are you doing later?”

No way. Why has she asked me this now? I gave her my number when she first met me. Why hasn’t she rang before? Another guy, maybe? Something wasn’t right.

“Not much.”

“D’you wanna come back to mine?”

She already knew the answer. But it was to be half three by the time I could get out of there. I
had all the glasses to wash and the floor behind the bar to scrub down. I was already fucked from getting about 6 hours sleep the night before: I’d worked the Friday night, then got up and gone to some building in Glodwick or somewhere where they were soon to broadcast a temporary community radio station. I wanted involvement. Then I’d been up all day, gone into Walkabout, glass-collected, met Adrienne again, pulled her again.

I necked a Red Bull at 3:30 and flagged down a cab. I was ringing Adrienne trying to find out where the hell Danielle’s house was but my battery kept dying, my pen was leaking all over my hands and notebook and the Asian taxi driver was taking the piss (“You’re supposed to be goin’ for a shag and you don’t know where she lives…”)

When I got there something was wrong. Adrienne let me in and Danielle was on the phone, arguing.

“That’s not the same person, Dan. Dan, that’s not her.” Adrienne’s explanations were falling on deaf ears as Danielle wasn’t backing down.

BANG BANG BANG.

Someone was at the door, and they wanted in. Admittedly, I shit myself. I wouldn’t have admitted it then.

BANG BANG CRACK.

A window on the door had been put through. Danielle was already on the phone to the Police.

“There’s kids in here!” She was yelling at the strangers outside while waiting to be connected. Then we heard the taxi drive off.

“Does someone wanna tell me what’s going on?” I was thinking, these people haven’t got a clue what’s going through my mind right now.

While we waited for the police Adrienne told me that there had been an argument at the taxi rank. It seems they’d followed her home. We were sat on the sofa, and the house was freezing. She told me she was a dance teacher, and she showed me a few grazes from the moves that she’d been doing. I thought, she looks way too young to be a dance teacher.

I went upstairs to wash the ink off my hands and when the police arrived I pretended I wasn’t there. After this Danielle took her fella Kev upstairs. This is when all the previous tensions- would I find the house, were we all going to get battered by local hoodlums, why had Danielle stopped talking to me, how long had she been with her fella- all of this gave way to one issue of discomfort- Adrienne wants sex from me. She doesn’t know I’m a virgin and I’m nervous as fuck. Me and Adrienne were on the lounge couch.

“Are you tired?” How weird is this? I’m with a fit girl and I’m trying to talk her out of sex. Am I just insane?

“Not really,” she said. This put the tension up a notch- there was no doubt she’d invited me for sex. She’d been dancing all night and it was past four AM.

We went upstairs.

“This house is freezing, Danielle.” I had to keep talking. I didn’t want so show any nervousness
at all.

“I know, its ‘cause I went out with the gas money! Ha ha!”

“You’ve straightened your hair haven’t you? Thought you looked different. It’s nice.”

Christ, I thought. That’s the most I’ve said to her in about 2 weeks.

In a few moments time I was waiting in a spare room with a single bed, and it was even colder now that I was only in designer boxers. Adrienne came in wearing a nightie and she looked beautiful. Something wasn’t right. Why was a girl this hot inviting me back with her? What’s the catch? The thought of having sex with her seems unlikely. If it was this easy, why hadn’t it happened before? But surely nothing could go wrong.

It wasn’t until we’d kissed in bed that I got the shakes. My cocky glass-collecting persona was long gone- she was looking into the eyes of a twenty-two-year-old boy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a virgin?”

I think she did. I can’t really remember what happened next. I just spent ages kissing her. I drew out foreplay- not because the books and columns in Loaded etc say you should- just because I was putting off what I was afraid of. She had a great body and I kissed her neck and shoulders and breasts and I sucked her nipples and they tasted great. She responded well and when she lay down I stroked her thigh. She had great legs. She took off her underwear and I stroked her clit with my fingertips.

I expected her to say, “what the fuck are you doing, you fucking ametuer,” and push my hand away from her. But she closed her eyes and her breathing become audible and heavy. I was studying her expression in the dark, convinced she was acting. After a few minutes I put two fingers in.

She wasn’t complaining. I had no idea whether or not she was just playing along with me, or even totally acting that it felt good. I was flexing my index and middle finger- something I’d got to work on two other girls. They weren’t anywhere near as fit as Adrienne though.

After a few minutes my wrist started to burn.

“Is this going to work?”

“Don’t stop.”

She was pushing her hips down onto my fingers and I increased tempo to match her.

“Don’t stop,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

Her insides started to suck on my fingers and she moaned when she came. My fingers were wet and the smell reminded me of times years ago- Gorton with Rachel, Stalybridge and Clayton with Christine…

Adrienne kissed me. “For a virgin, you’re fucking good at that, Matt.”

“I’ve done that before,” I admitted.

She started to stroke my cock. Meanwhile, Danielle was having audible sex in the next room. The stress and tension was too much. I wanted to explain so much to Adrienne but if I did she’d run a fucking mile. I was thinking about a million thoughts a second- something people still tell me I shouldn’t.

I never thought I’d lose a hard-on for a fit girl. I didn’t think it was possible. But I just couldn’t focus on the job in hand. I felt sick and terrified- if I fucked up in a situation like this, I could be wrong about anything. I had to cover my face. This was too much.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It happened with my ex a couple of times.”

Within minutes she was snoring loudly in my ear as I stared into space thinking, this changes everything. This is bad.

It took me months to realise that it was all nerves. There was nothing remotely wrong with me, and it wasn’t such a big deal. Eventually I saw it as a success- considering everything that happened that night, I still made her come. She even dropped me off at home!

It also took months to make friends with Danielle. After that we just kept not quite getting together. I was too shy probably.

Last weekend- 2 years later- Danielle pushes the envelope. She took me to her new home in Middleton. She tried to find the photograph of me kissing Adrienne the first time I met her, but couldn’t.

She took me upstairs. She was so into me that she kept saying, “I feel sick… Not in a bad way though.”

I couldn’t help asking about Adrienne. I reminded Danielle that she was going home with Kev and that Adrienne had left her car at Danielle’s house. She had to go back to Danielle’s.
“Yeah, but what you don’t know, is that she invited another two guys back that night. Then she got into an argument with them at the taxi rank, told them to fuck off, and they followed us home. That whole thing was because of you.”

“Oh, fuck…” This is like a fucking Hitchcock film, I thought. “Now I feel sick…”

I kissed Danielle again and fell asleep holding her. Everything was okay. I’ll probably have sex with her next week. She’s told me I can go round whenever I want. The next morning she even made me cheese on toast and paid for my taxi!

Getting Naked on Camera

The days leading up to Xmas 06 were mad, bad, obscene and freezing fucking cold. In the style of Irreversible and Memento, read in reverse of the insanity I was embroiled in through the medium of this email conversation to Tom.

-----------------------------

Hey mate,

Sounds like its goin pretty well for you at key. Before you know it you’ll be a real life ‘jock.’ It’s goin pretty well here too. Got promoted to mess manager which means I’m in charge of the living quarters, and after 3 days in the job we won the ‘best mess’ award for the first time. Good eh?! Bin doin loads of cool shit over the last few weeks too though. Gotta go know – instructor has just walked in. I’ll send another (longer) email when I get time!

Tom

From: “Matthew Tuckey”
To: thomasleecharnock@hotmail.com
Subject: Word Bitch
Date: Mon, 27 Nov 2006 17:52:06 +0000
Hey dude. Iv done so much mad shit recently…

Was at Virgin Megastore opening in Manc. Saw Richard Branson. May be
on d website Key103.co.uk by the time you read this…

Was at Stockport Light switchon. Gave away Key103 mugs which kids
were grabbing off me. Cracked the world’s funniest Joke: “look. I’m
being mugged.” Also gave away hot chocolate n pens, posters etc.
Stockport love us.

Gave away hangover cures for oz promotions (they borrowed us from
Key.) Nicked a few for myself which I intend to sell on d black
market. After this they invited us to apply. iv got a job with them
on wed- £10p.h! When I got back to key after hangover job, I was
talking to Nicksy explaining wot we were doing, n said I was testing it
by getting wasted in Oldham. He asked me to let him know how it
went. Theres a possibility I could be on air at sum point, he asked
me for my number… Think Ill text the show 2nyt n remind him.

The test night in question: got wasted in Oldham, wore lipstick by
being kissed really hard by a girl, smoked a cigarette (not
recommended), got semi naked in Vogue bar where I was breakdancing,
got my belt nicked off me by a fat bird, All my mates dispersed for
sum reason, wandered around lost, nicked food off someone who looked
familiar

Didn’t throw up and probably would have done without “lifeline”, but
still felt exhausted and a bit ill.

Was supporting Ditchy (drive home presenter) in Oldham a few weeks
ago, taking pics in liquid. Then proceeded to get a number off a
stunning blonde 17 yr-old hairdresser (who stopped texting me after a
week, the cretin).

Met Jason Herd from Herd n Fitz in the new apple store at
Piccadilly. I refrained from asking him to sign my body with a black
permanent marker tho.

Digitising Diamonds are forever as I type.

Oh, yes, and A girl I work with is doing a remake of The Full Monty,
so she filmed me playing the lunchbox. I had to get my cock out on
camera. Full frontal. I told her the whole point of that scene was
that the guy had a huge cock, so why pick me? but hey, it adds to my
legendary status. They’ll be blackmailing me with it in a couple of
years, but I won’t give a fuck.

Got my licence for flyering today, so no worries about being fined.

Iv just realised my head is killing me. Hate drink. Lifeline didn’t
work. need sleep… Tell us wot you’ve been up to mate.

Explanations for the above:

Tom is a Naval Airman I went to Uni with. I’m likely to follow him into the Navy due to the barren employment landscape that Manchester offers. 7 months after this email was sent and I’m still no “jock”.

The pics from the Virgin Megastore never ended up online for some obscure reason. I was pretty disappointed about that. Oh well.

I did end up on air talking to Nicksy. I’ve got it on tape, it’s pretty cool.

I eventually did end up vomiting violently from excess drinking. It was prolonged through the carbon in the product lining the stomach.

I now own my own copy of Sarah Lee’s Full Monty remake. I’m quite proud of my little walk-on part.

———————

You are probably reading the above thinking, What the fuck is this shit? Brain-damaged six-year-olds write better than this. Well, yeah. You may be right, and you’re not alone. I had this reviewed on Urbis.com, the online writing community. Here is a snapshot of the general consensus.

“Yeah, I think you pretty much just dressed up a couple of emails with a prologue and epilogue. Saves you the trouble of punctuation and grammar since it’s “just email”, eh?”

WORLD'S GREATEST FILM

Delete Entry?

Are you sure you want to delete it?

MY E-MAIL TO TOM

Just come up with an idea for an awesome film.

A company is about to go bust. However the struggling MD is determined to
stay operational and avoid insolvency. He owes money to loads of companies
who are about to force him out of business. In order to keep the bailiffs
away he comes up with an ingenious plan.

He hires a group of shady types to abduct the managers of these businesses,
i.e. the creditors. He then smuggles them on board the Sulaco, a ship
capable of traveling long distances through space. They are then jettisoned
to a distant planet known as LV426, A place of fierce weather and home to
the universe’s most terrible xenomorphing aliens, known for their ability to
gestate in the human chest, killing their host at birth.

These businessmen aren’t pushovers tho, they make the dragon’s den look like
“chicken nuggets” Marco from big brother 5. They take no shit. But tonight
they meet their match in…

ALIENS VERSUS CREDITORS!!!!!!

This time it’s war.

TOM’S E-MAIL REPLY

Ha ha – very good. Hows life at the insolvency service then? And what did you get up to at the week end? I went to Leigh again and then to Bolton with some mates and had the worst night out of my life. Spent too much, drank too much, didn’t get anywhere with any bird I spoke too. And to top it off, I had to pay 20 quid to get a taxi home. Fucking shite mate.