Staff Outing - late_bland

Staff Outing

"Oh my f***ing God!"

Marxist Jim is back in the Bottle Shop. He has been away for a couple of weeks on a driving tour of the Californian vineyards (which struck me as being something of a busman's holiday; like"Sideways" with more swearing). He came back full of the sort of vim and vigour that only comes from a fortnight screaming at uncomprehending Yanks. The first thing he noticed when he came back was the smashed-up burglar alarm.

This is not why he is shouting.

"F***ing hell! I don't f***ing believe it! Give me the f***ing phone, you Canadian c***!"

Marxist Jim is excited. It's an alarming sight. He snatches the telephone from Vinnie and starts feverishly dialling with one hand, while the other brandishes this week's Time Out in my face.

"Will you f***ing look at that?"

I f***ing look at it. Gig listings. My blank look obviously infuriates him, because he jams a meaty finger at the page. "John Prine," I read.

"Exactly. John f***ing Prine (yelling into the phone) don't you f***ing dare put me on hold, motherf***er!"

Wisely, I and the rest of the staff creep away and leave Marxist Jim to his raging.

A short while later, Marxist Jim calls a staff meeting. He is smiling broadly. This makes me profoundly nervous. Marxist Jim only usually smiles when he's about to throw somebody through a window.

He folds his arms over his chest and beams. I brace myself and hope that the window isn't plate glass. "We're closing early tonight."

Three incredulous faces gape at him. Marxist Jim never closes early. Even if avian flu had wiped out every human in a 100-mile radius, Marxist Jim would insist on staying open just in case some lone survivor was to stagger by in search of Pinot Grigio.

"And if any of you f***ers have plans for tonight, f***ing cancel them. We're going on a f***ing staff outing."

Once I can pick my jaw up off the floor and get it working again, I manage to croak out a faint "Where?"

Marxist Jim's smile broadens. It is like being grinned at by a crocodile. "We are going to a f***ing John Prine concert." He looks at his three stunned employees, obviously expecting some sort of big reaction. We just goggle at him. "Oh, for f***'s sake. John Prine. He's only one of the greatest f***ing country singers of all time."

This just baffles the already confused Bottle Shop staff even further. Marxist Jim, a country music fan? As we struggle to process this information, Marxist Jim is standing smiling that terrible smile, obviously waiting for some sort of thank you. I feel I should say something, before he takes umbrage at our perceived ingratitude and starts breaking things. "That's very good of you, Jim..." I began.

"Think of it as your Christmas bonus come early. And you f***ers had better enjoy yourselves, or you might as well start looking for a new f***ing job." He wasn't in any way joking. A true philanthropist, that's my boss. I sometimes wonder whether I should do something more restful. Like joining the SAS.

Scroll forward to that evening. At 7:00pm the sign in the Bottle Shop door is flipped over from "OPEN" to "CLOSED" and Marxist Jim shoos Vinnie, Lucy and myself out into the night air. He carries a clinking bag of beer, which he proceeds to sink in a determined and methodical fashion on the tube journey to Shepherds Bush.

"Have you ever heard of this guy?" I whisper to Vinnie.

"Nope."

"I thought you'd know about that sort of stuff."

"Nah, I leave all that country shit to the Yanks. I'm Canadian, man. You know, Joni Mitchell, Lennie Cohen, the Tragically Hip..."

"Barenaked Ladies..."

"Fuck off."

We rock up to the Shepherds Bush Empire and Marxist Jim picks up the tickets. I check the price - twenty-five smackers. So much for the Christmas bonus. Then we're inside and Marxist Jim is elbowing his way through the crowd. He does a remarkably good job - then again, as when someone as big and scary-looking as Marxist Jim elbows you the sensible thing to do is to move out of the way, and sharpish.

We wait.

Lucy goes off and buys four pints of lager.

We wait some more.

Vinnie complains that he can't see the stage. I make that the observation that he should stop being so lazy and grow a few inches. He flips me the bird.

Still we wait.

Lucy comes back with the lager and, as if by magic, the lights dim and a portly chap in a black suit and cowboy boots comes onstage to riotous applause. Marxist Jim whoops. Vinnie, regarding the figure on stage with a critical eye, observes that he's a bit on the porky side. Marxist Jim doesn't take this well. "That's because of the chemotherapy. He's just recovered from f***ing throat cancer, you ignorant motherf***er. Now shut the f*** up and enjoy the show or you'll be going back to Canada in a f***ing pine box."

We all shut up. And we did enjoy the show. Turns out, John Prine is damn good. And the sight of Marxist Jim rumbling along to "There's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes" while openly weeping is not something we are going to let him forget in a long, long time.

The Bottle Shop recommendation for today: Robert Mondavi Winery Cabernet Sauvignon 2000 (USA). One of Marxist Jim's souvenirs from his Napa Valley trip. Full berry flavours, with hints of mocha and floral spices. Buy it with your so-called "Christmas bonus", and have enough left over for a one-day bus pass. Bargain. £21.99.

1.11.05 14:45

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To date 13 Comment(s) TrackBack-URL

(1.11.05 15:13)
all praise be at the 'john prine shrine'...

Snag (1.11.05 15:42)
Well yee-haw, pardner. Sounds like a terrifying evening if you ask me.

(1.11.05 15:45)
It was like standing next to a supposedly-dormant-yet-alarmingly-smokey volcano, only one which kept shouting "Yeah!" into my ear and making me spill my pint.

(2.11.05 11:12)
Oh dear God... I believe I encountered Marxist Jim in Napa. Some fucking-fuck Canadian was shooting off his mouth in the tasting room at Mondavi and your description of him sounds dead-on like this prick. I'm not a wine sort but had the misfortune of being assigned the job of taking out-of-town guests wine tasting recently. Ugh... I'll take rough and tumble biker bars over wine tasting rooms ANY day. Good story by the way.

(2.11.05 12:23)
BBR...
1. Marxist Jim is not the Canadian in the story. Canadians are neither Amrxist nor potty-mouthed. Fact.
2. There is NO such THING as a fucking-fuck Canadian. Fact. Indeed. *mumbles polites outrage*

3.Bland - another triumph. I peek at your blog daily in hopes of a n update. Well done. Also, might it be possible to get a better pysical description of Marxist Jim? A rendering perhaps??

(4.11.05 03:52)
If we aren't potty-mouthed, what do you call it then? I know some (perhaps may be one) pretty foul mouthed folk here in the frozen wastelands in the north.

baby_otter (7.11.05 14:17)
Looks to me, Late, like your blog is now causing fights to break out amongst your fans. Good effort, I say; good effort.

(10.11.05 00:34)
LaNut: OK, yeah, I bu-leeeve you. Although the fucking-fuck Canadian I encountered in the tasting room at Mondavi is all the proof I need that there's something wrong with those Facts!

(16.11.05 02:37)
No no no. No fucking-fuck Canadians. FuckETY Fuck Canadians...yes indeed.

As in " look at that fuckety fuck and his specail toque. Who the fuckety fuck doe she think he is?"

baby_otter (23.11.05 17:54)
LaNut, you appear to be writing with something of a Southern Drawl all of a sudden. Not surprising, then, that you're also confusing he's and she's. *ahem*

wjku@yahoo.com / Website (16.6.06 11:37)
Sehr nützlich, informativ und anschaulich!

John Tinsley (24.9.06 12:43)
Your blog is perhaps the funniest thing I've ever seen on the internet. So, where the hell are you, and Screw Lucy of course, now? I suppose Marxist Jim might have finally done you in with a bottle of Taylors Shiraz 2003 (Australia),An enticing mixture of ripe plum, blackberry, aniseed, spice with a hint of black pepper. Dark chocolate and black coffee characters add to the wines charm. It’s like a rich dark fruitcake with a good coffee. Emphasis on the "fruitcake". Please, oh please, don't stop. I'm addicted.

Dre / Website (15.12.06 11:06)
anschaulich!