Dad's Got Kidney Stones...

...which is insensitive of him to say the least. Free lifts to work are completely out of the window for next few weeks, and whilst he struggles through a simple out patient procedure, I've got to get up 45 minutes earlier to catch the bus. That's 5 whole snoozes on a standard alarm clock.

Talking of work, there's been some exciting developments in the past month. I'm now 99% certain that it's Audi who employ me and not Aldi, although the fact both are German still leaves me with that indistinguishable nagging doubt.

Secondly, as of next week, 'Tommy the weird temp' becomes 'Tommy the permanent' in a new role. It's a radical shake-up, the likes of which haven't been seen on these shores since March 19th 2014. I am of course referring here to Cliff D'Arcy's use of the term 'biggest shake-up' in a headline about budgets and pensions.

It might just be me, but since my meteoric rise through the ranks of the German super power, the good folk of Nottingham have acted much warmer towards me. Just take a look at these lasses waving at me when I was on the bus yesterday. I almost felt rude Instagramming them and not waving back.

#nofilter

In preparation for my job I also got a new hair cut at the weekend. It's a Side Parting - as is the trend these days. The response after three days has literally blown me away. Locals stop as I was walk past them, often nodding and saying 'hair Greatrex', which I know means they think I look great.

One even made me a plaque for my new desk at work. Unfortunately spelling isn't too hot this north of London and it actually reads 'Herr Greatrex'. Every time I see it though I'm reminded of the blonde haired, blue eyed Aryan who handed it to me and I feel so proud.

Other than that it's been a pretty quiet month in my life. I am glad, however, that lent's coming to an end. This year I plumped for the unconventional taking up of smoking on a full time basis. I have to say I've noticed a drastic decline in my general health, and also find myself with less pocket money for sweets.

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Calling All Office Fans

Who's been to the Coventry Conference? Ah yes, the fictional Coventry Conference, co-ordinated by the equally fictional Eric Hitchmough . A man whom I've never fictionally met, or even seen, yet know so much about. From his little withered hand, the wanking claw , to his signature catchphrase, ' I don't agree with that in the workplace !' Eric is... and that is what I want. If I've lost you, I can only assume you're not quite the fan of The Office that I called for in the title of this post, or I'm not the writer that I think I am! Allow me to explain... T he Office is the single greatest sitcom of all time, sure, so it makes sense for it's legion of fans to have a social outlet to congregate and quote the show to their heart's content. The Facebook group ' Do You Not Know Who ERIC HITCHMOUGH Is' , DYNKWEHI , provides such a platform. With it's mix of quality quoting, imaginative imagery and creative commenting,...

My (Albeit Brief) Career In Clips...

...charts a young thespians journey, half a decade in the making. But whom? Well, to answer that question I refer you back to the first word in the title...'My'. From humble advertisement beginnings to voice-over work, through charity and live action gigs, what you're about to witness shows the diversity, dare I say genius, that I've sprinkled on an array of roles. Legally, I must say that I don't own the rights, nor will I ever, to any of these pieces of art. Oh, except for the last one, which I conceived, relentlessly planned, shot and acted in myself on the tightest of budgets. Enjoy... 1. Background Filmed during one night in a museum , unlike the lying Ben Stiller franchise, I got my big break in a 'supporting artiste' role. You won't have to keep your eyes peeled for long, as I nonchalantly dominate the picture from 00.04, even if I do say so myself. Fleeting glimpses follow, but don't let that distract you from the real scene stealer at 0...

The Difficult Second Blog Post...

...wasn't all that difficult to write, truth be told. Whether or not it makes sense, or can pass the 'Why the hell have I just read that?' test, is another matter. It's the story of a man (me) who was forced to play uncle to two little girls (my nieces) by their mother (my sister) and her father (also my father). The backdrop for this story is the city of Coventry , and the names of those two little girls? Gareth and Rosalita (pictured).* Gareth, named after the brilliant legal mind Gareth Peirce , herself a woman , is somewhere between the ages of 2 1/2 and 3, whilst Rosalita, named after a singer maybe, can be aged somewhere between 0 and 1. My dad and I were simply there on a weekly visit, helping out where we could. The day passed without any major incident which I, and probably only I, put down to myself. We spent the morning at the park before having lunch at Coffee Tots . On returning home we attempted to play Elefun Snackin' Safari: The Silly ...

Tommy 2.0

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