Diary of a Dork - Articles of Sarcasm and Irreverence Read Online Free

something when my mum came
back and started shouting at me. It turned out that we were at a
petrol station and I had fallen over the hose on a petrol pump.
    *****

Parkie
pervert

    Hiya tiddly peeps!
The name’s Bob and keeping the park is me game, hence the name
Park-keeper Bob. People often call me Parkie Bob for short (or just
Bob if they don't know what my job is) though I remember many a
year ago they called me Pervie Bob until them horrible charges were
dropped due to a lack of evidence. Things were easy back then
before all this DNA profiling malarkey came into fashion and ever
since then the perks to my job ‘ave been disappearing down the plug
‘ole. And that ‘aint fair at all I tell you. Me old dear Marjorie
‘aint much of a looker or a goer these days so I has to get what I
can when I can.

    Most days I slowly
makes my way round the place picking up litter and placing it in my
black sack whilst keeping a sneaky look-eye out for a nice young
lady to gaze upon from afar. If I am wearing my favourite shorts I
might engage the said young lady upon a piece of brief conversation
about the weather or some such like. As she sits there nattering
away like a lemon I will be negotiating myself into a position that
allows maximum perversion at herself. Sometimes I have to make do
with only a peep through a button-hole or two but if I am lucky I
will get a full-on view of the cleavage and maybe even a bit of
side-boob if the weather favours it. 90% of the time I am at the
mercy of random chance but like I says before, I gets what I can
when I can and that’s that.

    After this
escapade is over I retire to my van which is usually parked nearby
and go to town on myself. A few minutes of shuffling around in the
back, empty me sack into a black sack and off I go again for
another of my usual rounds. With a fresh pair of shorts of
course.
    *****

Cable guy

    I have always been
a cable guy. Always. Well, at least ever since that day in school
when Biffo Jenkins dragged me into the toilets and wiped his own
shit all over my face.
    I wouldn't ever put up with that sort of bullying these days and my
commitment to buying good, high-quality AV cables is a testament to
that. Every time I go round my parents house I dread the moment my
mum says "let's watch some TV" because the cables they use are
whatever cheap shite that they got free with their DVD player or
whatever. How can my mum watch Santa Barbara like that? Laura
Simmons Asher looks like a horrible old hag on anything less than
gold-plated RGB SCART that was hand-crafted on the thighs of a
virgin Amazonion warrior princess.

Here are some examples of how good quality AV connections changed
the world:

The marriage of Prince Charles to Lady Diana Spencer in
1981 . I love Diana and have watched all of her films. That
piece of shit Charles wasn't good enough for her but that slut
Camilla Parker Bowles was just about his level. I once nicknamed
her 'Parking my Bowels'.

I found an old VHS recording of the wedding that had been
transferred to laser disc a while back. VHS is pure bullshit but
Betamax is like a god to me. Ever since Star Wars was released on
laser disc I have loved it. Anyway, I re-recorded the sound from
this laser disc copy and got it pressed onto vinyl because vinyl
has the richest, warmest and purest sound it is possible to get.
Anytime some pleb starts talking to me about BluRay this and BluRay
that I just wanna say "back off anus face and cram the poxy
Blu-bollocks up your arse".

So yeah, I got the sound onto vinyl and hooked it all up using my
custom-spec AV cables. Holy shitballing bastarding Christ almighty!
The moment I turned it all on I was just sat there agog at the
wondrous spectacle before me. Diana looked even more beautiful than
I thought possible. With all the extra clarity I could see the
queen talking to someone and after re-watching that section a
hundred times I was able to lip-read that she was telling Prince
Andrew that the corgis had shit