Breakfast: An etymological debate

As discussed in my previous post, I haven't been sleeping lately, and this led to a somewhat interesting (for me at least, but as previously discussed, psychosis may well have set in by now) discussion, is it possible for someone who doesn't sleep, to eat breakfast?


Now wikipedia defines "Breakfast" to be:

"Breakfast (literally meaning "breaking the fast" of the night) is the first meal taken after rising from a night's sleep, most often eaten in the early morning before undertaking the day's work."

So from this, one would logically surmise that no, if breakfast is the first meal you eat after rising from a night's sleep, literally "breaking the fast of sleep", then no, someone who does not sleep cannot therefore eat breakfast.


But fuck that, I like breakfast. Breakfast is probably my favourite meal of the day, whether it's a full on fry up, a sausage and egg muffin (no, not a McMuffin, fuck McMuffins, although to be fair they are a facsimile, and are by far the best thing McDonald's serve, so maybe not fuck them, just a little heavy petting maybe...), porridge or whatever, I'm not gunna let no pinko-open-source-commie wiki take that away from me.

This is actually what you get if you google "pinko open source wikipedia communist". There are other results, of which we shall not speak.

So to the good old Oxford English Dictionary we go, which defines breakfast as:

"The first meal of the day; morning meal"

Aha! Saved by good old British etymology. The first meal of the day. The morning meal. I can once again go back to eating breakfast without the worry that it's been stolen from me by my insomnia.

Suck it wikipedia, shove it where it don't shine pinko commies!

Wait, see, now I have a problem with that definition as well, "the first meal of the day". Now if I was to grill me up a fat porterhouse with chips at 12.01am would that be breakfast? No it wouldn't. Yes, technically it's a new day, ergo this being the first meal of said day it should be defined as breakfast. But it just isn't, not because it's a steak, I'm a firm believer that any biological or mineral substance digestible by the human body (and some not, god knows I've been to some dodgy burger vans in my time) can be eaten at any defined and undefined meal times. If, if, I had been asleep, and woken up to cook and eat that, I would have then defined it as breakfast, yes, but if without that clause then we're destroying the very fabric of the "midnight snack". So it would appear that I've come back to having to define breakfast as a meal requiring sleep prior to it, which is bullshit.

Bullshit bullshit bullshit bull...shit bullshit

See, when I used to work night-shifts, when I got off at 6-9am, breakfast was what I referred to as the meal I had then, in a dodgy looking but quite pleasant and quaint little cafe in a industrial park in Dagenham (that also served Guinness and Jamesons at said time, which wasn't altogether unappreciated), before I went to bed. But again, this leaves me with a definition that is time-based, again something I want to get away from.


Another definition of breakfast I can find, is:

"To refer to a meal composed of traditional breakfast foods (eggs, oatmeal, sausages, etc.) served at any time of day."

Again, no dice, whilst lacking in a time requirement, and no stipulation as to whether or not sleep is required, it's main fault is in it defining the food that need to be eat, to which I cannot stand. Everyone knows cold pizza for breakfast is godly, and I won't have that besmirched, and I'm damn sure no one would define pizza as a breakfast food. Well, with the exception of one service station in Guildford that serves a "breakfast pizza" of which I would warn anyone who posses either taste-buds or a digestive tract to steer  well clear of. The same goes for chili, or last nights special chow-mien and house curry. The alternative would be to define all foods to be breakfast foods, but that would mean every meal would be breakfast, if I can't define it by time or sleep, and the last thing I want to do is remove the lustre of that glorious meal. 

This breakfast pizza looks nice, the one of that fateful day...did not

So I find myself at an impasse, in an existential state of  both eating breakfast all the time, some of the time, and none of the time, at all times.


Yup...psychosis is definitely setting in...

Sleep, those little slices of death, how I miss thee, aka: Insomnia, and my adventures therein

So as of right now, Tuesday the 10th of April, 6.25am, I have been awake for roughly 8 days, give or take "nodding off" for 20-40 minutes here and there, before then it was a 4 day stint, 5 before that, and so on for the past 3 or so months, and it's amazing how that changes your outlook on life. By "change your outlook on life" I don't mean it in that it "makes you appreciate the little things" or "gives you more respect for people" or any other namby-pamby, Hallmark card certified way, I literally mean the way you physically view the world.


For starters trying to fill that inappreciably massive void left by a complete and utter lack of sleep becomes almost a neurosis, a game, a hobby and an obsessive desire all rolled into one. At first it's not so bad, you have plenty of time to catch up on your backlog of TV programs and movies and reading and the like. But you'd be surprised how long 14 episodes of House DON'T last when you cram them in back to back over the course of one day/evening/night, and yes, I know it's roughly 14 hours, but that's from the perspective of someone living your average 18 hours awake, 6 hours asleep schedule, when you're looking down the barrel of 192 hours, 14 hours is a piss in the ocean.

Word to the wise, don't image google "piss in the ocean", apparently there are pornstars who's name's contain the word "ocean"

And that only works for the first two or three days, because after that my friend, your ability to concentrate goes out the window quicker than Tiger Wood's bit on the side when his wife get's home. After three days you'll find you phased out halfway through a paragraph in a book and have to go re-read it, but by day five you'll notice the end credits rolling on The Big Bang Theory, whilst swearing to yourself you'd only just started watcing Scrubs five minutes ago. Nope, you've just phased out through 2 episodes of scrubs and 2 episodes of The Big Bang Theory, and possibly even an episode of Glee (if you're lucky) and not even noticed it. Ironically I have found something of a cure for this, caffeine. At first I abolished all caffeine intake in an attempt to try and return to regularly planned sleep routines, that was two or three insomnia cycles back now, what I have learned is that I am going to be awake no matter what, and with sweet sweet caffeine I can just about maintain levels of concentration above a ritalin lacking ADHD suffering 4 year old on a week long Cherry Coke binge.  

Just like this, only with a beard, and with the physical strength and mass to actually go through the walls said 4 year old would bounce off of...

So with that in mind, you can kiss goodbye to anything like learning a new language, or skill or likewise, which was one of my first ideas. Finally decided to get round to learning Spanish on YouTube, and I shit you not I'm surprised I didn't get an e-mail from them asking me why I'd watched "Learn Spanish - Lesson 1 - Basic Needs" like twenty-thousand fucking times before I went back to watching people brain themselves on skateboards.


The other problem you encounter is that your "down time" is now during the day, the day is when you can do stuff. Let me tell you, there isn't a piece of flat-pack furniture currently unassembled in my flat, nothing is broken any more, no piece of electrical or mechanical equipment not taken apart, fixed and fiddled with, no carpet unhoovered, no painting unhung, no route to and around the local park/cemetery/shopping centre/etc, unwalked and unplanned on Google Maps. But for the most part these are all tasks only accomplishable during the day, whilst I have no problem hoovering at 4.30am, my neighbours would pitch a fit, as well as this being prime TV time.


Talking of "prime TV", I've been watching a lot of new programming lately, and I have three burning questions, 1: What in the name of sweet fuck is a "Snooki" and why have people allowed it onto television. 2: What in the name of inglorious fuck happened to children's TV? Maybe I'm looking back on it through rose-tinted glasses, but come on? 3: Someone get Gloria Hunniford off the TV, she's old and need's a rest.

Please, make it go away...I'm fairly certain this is why they invented shot-guns...

But I digress, so night becomes your "active" time, a time slot you have to try and fill with something, if you've gotten over the attention span issues, there's always pre-downloaded or recorded television and the like, but I tell you now, they don't churn out episodes anywhere near fast enough to keep up with constant, relentless grind with which I get through them, same goes with books, good ones atleast, I still refuse to re-read the  copy of "The Da Vinci Code" I accidentally purchased drunk (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it), it shall sit on my bookshelf, unread, for all eternity (or until I move) as a warning against buying shitty books, and as a punishment for being shitty, a literary naughty corner if you will.


You see, there's a decided lack of 24 hour and Late Night places in this country. In the US, there's always some 24 hour dive bar or diner you can go kill a few hours at, but the exception of the odd Casino, something out of the question due to a certain lack of monetary funds, and "Massage Parlours", something out of the question due to a certain presence of dignity (and also a lack of monetary funds) there's shit all to do in this fair town we call London.

No one looks this happy in a casino at 6am...

Which makes no sense, because you see I've been doing a little research. When you put together the amount of people suffering from recorded cases of Insomnia (I'm guessing there's plenty more unrecorded) and people working in industries outside of the normal "open hours" of most venues, most cities on this planet pale in comparison with good old London town. Why has this not been rectified?


So with those out the window, and not wishing to disrupt anyone else with your endless awake-ness, you become a goddamn one man unstoppable behemoth at tetris, solitaire, pac-man and the like....

Seriously, do NOT fuck with me at solitaire any more...if that's even possible

Secondly, another thing you start to notice, is you start talking to yourself, and more-so to inanimate objects, possibly a sign of the onset of psychosis, I grant you, but it's entertaining and gives you something to do. 


Now I've always kind of been one for this, many a time I've found myself calling myself a "stupid bastard" for putting a irremovable part of something I'm putting together in place before I need it to be irremovable, or a "silly wanker" for dropping something heavy and hard on something I didn't particularly want something heavy or hard dropped on. But at some point you start discussing your television viewing schedule with the remote control, or asking your pantry whether it thinks you should have used normal paprika or smoked paprika in whatever it is you're cooking...

To be fair this image is a little dishonest, no one ever calls me anymore

Which is just plain stupid because it's ALWAYS smoked paprika...

5 piece of piss recipes every man should know how to cook...

In no particular order, although I would say a good Chili is right at the top of what a man should be able to cook, along with steak...

5. Spaghetti/Tagliatelli Carbonara

• 3 Rashers of Bacon/4 Rashers of streaky bacon (or panchetta, if you're feeling fancy, or haloumi if you're a mentalist herbivore), chopped 
• 100g of grated cheddar cheese/parmesan/pecorino/double Gloucester/whatever you fancy or a mixture thereof 
• 4 or 5 medium sized mushrooms (I prefer chestnut mushrooms, but porcini, shitake or your own personal preference works fine), chopped 
• 1 large beaten egg 
• 350g of spaghetti/tagliatelli (about enough for 2 people) 
• A little olive oil or butter to fry 
• 1 largeish clove of garlic 

Piece of piss recipe, stick the pasta on, in salted water, while that's cooking stick the bacon in a frying pan with the oil/butter (If you're using fresh pasta, you're gunna wanna put the bacon on first, and when it's almost done then start the pasta). Lightly crush/bruise the garlic, whack that in there, when the bacon's about half done, chuck in the mushrooms. Beat the egg, mix the cheese in with it, once the pasta's done, turn the heat off on the bacon-mushroom mix, take out the garlic clove, and using tongs or a spaghetti spoon, move the spaghetti in with the bacon & mushrooms. Pour over the egg and cheese and use a fork or tongs or whatever, to mix all the three together, you might need to spoon in a bit of the water from the pasta to get the right consistency, you want it saucy, but still thick. And bosh Spaghetti Carbonara (technically al fungi, but pff).


4. Cheat Chili

• 1 Large green pepper, 1 large red pepper, chopped 
• 2 medium onions, diced 
• 3-4 large cloves of garlic, crushed/minced 
• 6-8 medium mushrooms (again I prefer chestnut) 
• Tin of red kidney beans (or half of red, half of white if you're feeling fancy) 
• Large jar of good quality ragu 
• 500g of minced beef/lamb (there is no herbivorous alternative...there just isn't) 
• 1 heaped teaspoon of chilli powder (or more, depending on how you like it, you can use shop-bought, or make your own, my recipie's underneath) 
• 2 heaped teaspoon of smoked paprika (only one if you're using my chili powder recipe) 
• 1 heaped teaspoon of oregano (don't include this if you're using my chili powder recipe) 
• 1 bottle of pale ale 
• 2 table spoons of balsamic vinegar 

Chuck the peppers, onions and garlic in a saucepan with a couple of glugs of olive oil, when they start to just cook, chuck in the meat. When it's brown, whack in everything else, except all the beer, half fill the jar of ragu you used and pour that in, drink what's left. Now you can cook it on a medium high and have it all done in 20 minutes, but I promise you if you cook it slow and low for an hour or more it'll just get better and better...Serve it with rice, jacket potato, crusty bread, on it's own, anything works...

Chili Powder recipe

• 3 Ancho chillies, 3 Cascabel chillies, 3 dried Arbo chillies, all stemmed, seeded and sliced

• 2 tablespoons of whole cumin seeds 

• 2 tablespoons of garlic powder 

• 1 tablespoon dried oregano

• 1 tablespoon smoked paprika 

Stick the chillies in a frying pan with the cumin seeds on a relatively high heat, until you smell the cumin seeds start to toast, 5ish minutes, take off and let cool. When cool whack them in a blender if you have one, or you can use a pestle and mortar, and just grind it all up into a powder. If you DO use a blender/food processor, leave it a couple minutes for the powder to settle before you open it up, and be careful when you do, otherwise you'll get it in the face, and this stuff is like friggin' mace...

3. Super-crazy-mental Garlic Spicy Meatballs

• 10 bulbs (Yes, BULBS) or garlic, separated, peeled and crushed with a wooden mallet (or a garlic press, but where's the fun in that?) 
• 4 tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce 
• 8 tablespoons of Tabasco sauce 
• 4 well beaten eggs 
• 500g of lean minced beef 
• 6 tablespoons of heavy cream 
• 2 sweet mayan onions (if you can get them, any sweetish onion will do 'tho, or shallots) 
• 250g of dried breadcums 

Whack the garlic in a frying pan with a glug or two of olive oil, fry until soft and pungent (this will stink your fucking kitchen out, make no mistake), add the shallots, mix them in and take off the heat and let cool. In a large mixing bowel mix the rest of the gear together, add the garlic and shallot mixture and with (relatively) clean hands mould into golf-ball sized...well...balls. Fry in the same pan as the garlic, although you'll probably have to add some more oil, browning on all sides until cooked through. Stuff 'em in your gob on their own or serve in a bolognese sauce...

WARNING: Do not cook/eat these bad-boys before going out on the pull, or if you think you're gunna get "jiggy with it", coz you will stink of garlic...

2. Cheese stuffed, bacon wrapped jalapeños

• However many jalapeños you want to make 
• Enough cheese to stuff said jalapeños (cheddar works best, pepper-jack is good too for extra spice, anything that melts really), grated/crumbled. 
• Enough bacon (preferably streaky) to wrap your allotted jalapeños

Slice down one side of the jalapeño, scrape out the seeds and membrane, stuff with cheese, wrap with bacon. Easy as that. Cooks best over a BBQ, but under the grill works as well. Can mix it up by stuffing with the above chili and wrapping with finely sliced haloumi, or for a veggie option (if you're into that kinda twisted shit...) stuff with veggie stuffs...I dunno what you eat, and wrap with fake bacon (if that's not sacrilegious) or haloumi...


1. Chicken & Chorizo Jambalaya 

• 1 tbsp olive oil 
• 2 chicken breasts, chopped 
• 1 onion, diced 
• 1 red pepper, thinly sliced 
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed 
• 75g chorizo, sliced (works best, although any smoked/spiced sausage is ok) 
• 2 tbsp Cajun seasoning (Most supermarkets do it with their curry powders and the like, some are better than others, I know it's technically cheating, but the stuff's pretty good to have knocking around) 
• 250g long grain rice 
• 400g can plum tomatoes 
• 350ml chicken stock 

Heat the oil in a large frying pan with a lid and brown the chicken in a bit of oil until golden, remove and stick it to one side. Tip in the onion and cook until soft. Then add the pepper, garlic, chorizo and Cajun seasoning, and cook for 5 mins more. Stir the chicken back in with the rice, add the tomatoes and stock. Cover and simmer for 20-25 mins until the rice is tender (might need to top-up with boiling water, keep an eye on it). Fine on it's own, or you can stick in a tortilla and have a Cajun-burrito...

Hungry, Hungry Hobos

Today I had an idea for a game show:

..."Hungry, hungry Hobos" (alternative idea: Hungry, Hippie hobos)

This game show would be much like the classic plastic-hippo-based board game, except it’d be televised and have genuine hobos and food.

Seems pretty logical to me

The more I thought about this idea, the less it seemed like the mad Monday morning ramblings of an office-worker losing the plot, and the more it started to seem like the work of a mildly deranged genius (if I do say so myself … and I did!)

I started considering the basic setup for the show. I settled (for now at least) upon the idea of having four contestants (none hobos*) who would have to answer some kind of question based round, the results of which would indicate who could choose a hobo first. Once each contestant had selected a hobo, a large circular pit in the centre of the stage would be unveiled (possibly using some kind of sliding floor mechanism (see, the volcano base in “You only Live Twice”), the four hobos would then be released into the pit together with, say, one burger. They’d then fight over said burger (or half eaten pasta salad, whatever takes your fancy really, they’re unlikely to be picky). Whoever manages to get and ingest the food, wins the show for the contestant who chose them. There’d have to be some kind of prize for the contestant, the hobos ought to be happy enough with somewhere to sleep and the possibility of some food. The winning hobo could also perhaps win some drugs or a new jumper or something, to add a further incentive to win.

"Here, have some almost new boots, you've earned them, hobo!"

After this I got to thinking who would host such a show, and that’s when one name sprang to mind, and when it did, I realised my plan had legs, and that, put in the right hands it could run far. The name that sprang to mind was Noel Edmonds. I think that needs no explanation, it was a job that he was practically born for; he’d be perfect for it.

I rest my case

There could also be a section which showed a bio for each hobo, with stats and a catchy name, so that people could get to know them and have favourites etc. (see, Gladiators or Robot Wars) …. Imagine if you will, A steely grey background with bolts around the edge and perhaps some rusting/discolouration. On the left side of the screen appears a super-imposed picture of a hobo, slowly revolving in a 3D fashion, a name plate slams down above his head “TOOTHY JOE” (or some such name, can work on that later). Then, on the right hand side of the screen, further plates of metal with information about “Toothy Joe”, his age, height, weight, significant medical details (alcoholic, addicted to Crack etc.) and finally a short paragraph about his life, where he used to live, favourite sleeping spots, any interesting facts really.

"Hi, welcome to the show, I hope you're as hungry as you look!"

And that was my idea, and I maintain that it could work … especially if I can get Noel Edmonds to agree to it … if not, I’ll need to find someone else I guess ….. Perhaps Brian Blessed.

*… Ok, just typing this up I’ve thought up a new variation that could be done for charity, as a Christmas special or just for the amusement of the masses … Celebrity episodes, where, the hobos take the place of the contestants and pick celebrities to fight for something, maybe some airtime, maybe some cocaine or crack ...that part needs thinking about ……… Maybe I could just look them in a cell for a week with minimal food and just have them fight over a tube of stale Pringles, while the vacuous studio audience cheer and bay for their blood like a pack of ravenous wolves!

……. Either way it’d make brilliant T.V.

Ah, the life of a spy...

"Is it like they it is?" you ask. Or would ask, if you knew what it is I do for a living, and you'll never until I retire (or am retired). Is it like they say it is? They say it's about adventure, and action, and daring, and heroism. They say it's about man slipping through the defenses to strike a blow for his nation - an expert, an ace, a triumphant example of individual cunning over the blindness of a lumbering enemy institution. A tribute to just how skilled and intelligent and charming one man can be. A special one, prone to excess, living outside the meaningless rules that confine the rest of you, hiding in plain sight or rarely needing to hide at all. Gun in hand, heart on sleeve, girl on arm - who wouldn't want to be spy material? But of course, it's not really like that at all.

It might look like that from where you're sitting, but you'd be mistaken. I might appear confident when spoken to, but in this job the fight against paranoia is constant and draining, because if you become paranoid then you're finished. I might be alone this evening, but I'm always just one piece of the machinery, because you can't accomplish a thing by yourself in this business. I might get to enjoy fine dining sometimes, but it's purely incidental. I might be highly skilled, but the skills I possess aren't exciting or glamorous. I've never thrown a punch in my life. I don't blow things up. I just acquire information.

And I don't hide in plain sight. I don't hide at all. I just live in the blind spots that everyone has - the places you would never look because you assume - you KNOW - nothing could be there. You can fit quite the little career in a blind spot. We all operate on the reasonable notion that we can make at least a small set of very basic assumptions about people based on their outward appearance, and we live our lives based on this, and this is exactly what I exploit. There is nothing observable about a good spy. There will always be people you can't make any accurate assumptions about at all, not even the most basic ones, because their exterior and interior simply do not connect in a familiar manner. There will always be freaks, existing outside the visible spectrum, and I will always be one of them (and it will always make me good at what I do). But we're only freaks if you find out about us, and you won't find out because we appear normal and nobody ever looks twice.

I cannot be found, even if you know exactly what to look for. How do you look for someone you would never notice? You don't - you just don't notice them. It's fundamental.

And it's not glamorous, despite what you may assume. You can't assume. A man in a suit is probably roughly what you'd think he is, but there's a chance he isn't - there's a chance he's almost anything, and that is what I have to be because that's how the world works. The people who get things done are the ones who slip past while everyone is staring at a cliche. But being a freak isn't for everyone. To permanently be half in the shadows, to never truly find that sense of community that we all inherently crave. To keep family and friends (if you even have any) at arm's length. To sacrifice so much of value in service to a career.

Who wouldn't want to be spy material?

You probably wouldn't.

I mean, if you're at all qualified it's almost impossible for you to get the attention of a waitress in a restaurant...

My Theory of Infinite Fridays

Hangovers and coffee lead me to ponder strange concepts, here's an example:

Firstly, we must accept, as an axiom, that: Thursday is the new Friday

If this is the case, then Wednesday is the new Thursday, Tuesday the new Wednesday, Monday the new Tuesday etc etc.

However, considering that Thursday is the new Friday, it follows that, Wednesday is Thursday and Friday, Tuesday is Wednesday and Thursday, Monday is Tuesday and Wednesday, Sunday is Monday and Tuesday, Saturday is Sunday and Monday, Friday is Saturday and Sunday, and, Thursday is Friday and Saturday.

Following this process through to its logical conclusion, every day of the week is simultaneously every other day of the week, in short, every day is Friday.

… Furthermore, this means that every day is Saturday as well, which leads me to question why I'm at work on the weekend.

Me, pondering

I am an inherently unhappy person...that's why I'm so happy...

I will never die fully fulfilled...

I will never fly in a SR-71 Blackbird.

I will never see Cash, Hendrix or Muddy Waters live.

I will never hang out with Sinatra, Martin and Davis Jnr. in  a dive bar in Vegas.

I probably will never own a '67 Dodge Challenger R/T Hemi , let alone drive one. I will never be in an episode of House, never play harmonica on stage with Dylan, never play for London Irish or spar with Rocky Marciano.

I am also inherently dispositioned  to be unhappy because I will never meet "that special someone", statistically speaking. I will never have enough money, statistically speaking. I will never "find my perfect career", statistically speaking, or even find a lager I can fall in love with, "statistically speaking".

I'm never going to score the winning touchdown at the super bowl, the winning try at the Rugby world cup, or the winning goal at the Fifa world cup. I'm never going to meet Steve McQueen, Bob Marley or Bruce Lee. I will never sleep with Monica Belucci, Dita Von Teese or Zdenka Podkapová. I wont win Le Mans, see the Earth from space or rugby-tackle the Pope.

These are all things that I that if I had one wish, just ONE, I would think about asking for.

But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

That's why I'm a happy person.

There are loads of photos and pictures and shit dotted around the net, sporting "inspirational" quotes, from the likes of Muhammed Ali, Bruce Lee, Marilyn Monroe and so forth, spouting crap like "As long as you have a dream, you can reach it" and "The only thing stopping you from reaching your number one wish is yourself."

Bollocks.

Chances are, your dreams are unobtainable, hate to be a kill-joy but it's true. I know my dreams and wishes are, I can never reach that peak, so I don't go chasing ghosts and shadows to try and get there.

That's why I'm always happy, I'll never do any of the above, so I don't have any over-arcing benediction with which to hold myself against, I never achieve something worth being proud of, but then turn-around and think to myself "But yeah, you still haven't got that yacht yet."

That, in so far as I have been able to ascertain is the secret to being happy. It's all about the here and now, fuck 2 years down the line, you might be dead by then. If your life right here, right now, is worth being happy about, if that joke you just heard made you chuckle, if that picture of a midget uppercutting a tranny made you smile, if tramp on a bus just said something funny, if a creationist just made a fundamental scientific error and you laughed about it,  if you just had a glorious shit, wank or game of solitaire, that's it. You're happy.