Tuesday 8 September 2009

Dad's Army

61 visitors since I posted the last entry and only 16 comments? Thank you for those that commented and fuck you for those that didn't. You shower of shit. I work my fingers to the bone writing this for nothing and you don't even bother commenting. And to answer Herr Docktor Clay, I imply you are an Evil Nazi Doctor, simply because you are an Evil Nazi Doctor.


The Evil Nazi Herr Docktor Clay explains his 'Doomsday Device MKII' to head Evil Nazis

With Brodsworth now finished for another year, I began work with Onsite again on Monday. I worked out it is almost exactly two years since I first worked for them on the Barbican site in York. All the old familiar faces were there: Lauren, Lord Sir Stanners, Alice and Wincey Willis. We are working at Nostell Priory outside Wakefield, it's Sir Stanner's country pile, he uses it as a summer house for siring himself upon the local wenches and virgins. Mind you, trying to find a virgin over the age of twelve in Wakefield is pretty tricky. He was showing me the front of the building today and I asked him which window was his bedroom, he said 'Second floor'. I asked which room on the second floor. He said 'No, all of the second floor.' In all seriousness, we were chatting about the house and Stanners said that it was too big to live in and he'd get paranoid that someone was having a party somewhere else in the house that he wouldn't be able to hear it.

Dudes! Where's the party at? No, Seriously, which room are you guys in?

In other unrelated chats, Wincey was telling us how to get a seat on a train. The method is to carry a bottle of piss with you and sprinkle it on yourself as you enter the carriage, this way no one will want to sit next to you for the duration of your journey. Whether he'd actually tried this out or not, he didn't say. Other funny things that happened over the last two days included a man with a 20 ton truck full of Aggregate who pulled up at the side of the site and asked me if we'd ordered it, I told him no, we were taking the stuff out rather than putting it back in. In sadder news I did something today that I never done in eight years of being a field archaeologist: I broke my trowel. That's right. It was a sad day for the 4" WHS that had accompanied me to Iceland. Like all archaeologists, I'm rather attached to my trowel and wept buckets for its demise. Actually, I didn't I just said some thing like 'bollocks' and used Wincey's instead.


The all new WHS 4" for excavating around corners!