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I've been having a bit of a problem with the old nut recently - nothing scary like walking around with a knife, staring at people in bus stops, just been gazing at my shoes a little bit too often. Got given the happy pills (Have it
) and asked if I wanted to to see a councillor 
"I work for The ****ing Council, that's half my problem you retarded old quack" says I. My cool, calm and collected GP replied - "A Counsellor you dick" (I'm sure he called me a dick )
So yesterday I bowled up to a rather depressing looking building, in a reasonably depressing street, in a generally depressing city Pushed the buzzer, one of 5, it was the only one with any type of label on it, and that was a ripped off bit of some kind of sticker. "Come in - Bzzzzzz, sit in the waiting room I'll send someone down. I'll not go into detail about the waiting room but it was supremely depressing, un believable. They'd tried to make an effort and got it completely wrong, blue plastic chairs and a plastic coffee table would have been ok, this room had a faded, partial, 1970's, draylon, purple suite.
Craic was I waited for 40 minutes, was just about to bail out, remembered I had the power of the mobile phone and rang reception (2 floors up
, but ya naar) Loads of kerfuffling and within seconds my counsellor (let's call her "Sally" from now on) come bursting into the room full of apologies and dragged me by the hair into an even more depressing little space. Same decor just tiny, with a box of tissues next to my horrible chair, I felt guilty through the whole session for not crying as the tissues looked quite expensive. And then I had some Sallying, quite good as it goes and I'll be back next week.
Anyroad - was telling my mate at work about the whole 40 minute wait business and she was taking it all very seriously, the *******
and said "Maybe they do it on purpose to see how you nutters react" honest, she said that, she's nearly middle management as well 
"They've probably got cameras on you and everything" (I can see her negotiating to buy the footage to sell on to Ch5) I said I didn't care anyway.
I expected to wait a bit anyway, hadn't brought a book but spotted a lot of magazines, not piled actually but kind of scattered. Their topics ranged from home improvements through to quantum mechanics via tropical fishkeeping. I went straight for the 2003 copy of Shooting Times, I've been thinking about giving it a go recently. I was drooling over photographs of beautifully engraved guns, and kind of squirming due to the fact that my knees were rund me neck and there was a spring up me arse.
"My Mate" at work said - "If I'm right, and the cameras were rolling in that room, madboy, you're ****ed
Does that make sense?
) and asked if I wanted to to see a councillor "I work for The ****ing Council, that's half my problem you retarded old quack" says I. My cool, calm and collected GP replied - "A Counsellor you dick" (I'm sure he called me a dick ) So yesterday I bowled up to a rather depressing looking building, in a reasonably depressing street, in a generally depressing city
Pushed the buzzer, one of 5, it was the only one with any type of label on it, and that was a ripped off bit of some kind of sticker. "Come in - Bzzzzzz, sit in the waiting room I'll send someone down. I'll not go into detail about the waiting room but it was supremely depressing, un believable. They'd tried to make an effort and got it completely wrong, blue plastic chairs and a plastic coffee table would have been ok, this room had a faded, partial, 1970's, draylon, purple suite. Craic was I waited for 40 minutes, was just about to bail out, remembered I had the power of the mobile phone and rang reception (2 floors up
, but ya naar) Loads of kerfuffling and within seconds my counsellor (let's call her "Sally" from now on) come bursting into the room full of apologies and dragged me by the hair into an even more depressing little space. Same decor just tiny, with a box of tissues next to my horrible chair, I felt guilty through the whole session for not crying as the tissues looked quite expensive. And then I had some Sallying, quite good as it goes and I'll be back next week.Anyroad - was telling my mate at work about the whole 40 minute wait business and she was taking it all very seriously, the *******
and said "Maybe they do it on purpose to see how you nutters react" honest, she said that, she's nearly middle management as well "They've probably got cameras on you and everything" (I can see her negotiating to buy the footage to sell on to Ch5) I said I didn't care anyway. I expected to wait a bit anyway, hadn't brought a book but spotted a lot of magazines, not piled actually but kind of scattered. Their topics ranged from home improvements through to quantum mechanics via tropical fishkeeping. I went straight for the 2003 copy of Shooting Times, I've been thinking about giving it a go recently. I was drooling over photographs of beautifully engraved guns, and kind of squirming due to the fact that my knees were rund me neck and there was a spring up me arse.
"My Mate" at work said - "If I'm right, and the cameras were rolling in that room, madboy, you're ****ed
Does that make sense?
an drive u mad
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