*cheer* Greg Dyke is publishing his memoirs! To quote "What is really frightening is that Blair still doesn't believe or understand that what he did was fundamentally wrong" I'm afraid I'm a subscriber to the Greg Dyke view.
Meanwhile, Mr Bush completely snubs Michael Howard. (see: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/3608006.stm ) This is an interesting move and I wish I still had the link to the "my name is georg bush" flash created by Dr Parsons (genius but extremely strange satirical internet cartoonist) because it about sums it and him up! In my opinion, whist I don't specifically subscribe to one parties views or anothers (I am a mix of different policies / opinions), in this instance Micahel Howard represents my view. In the same way that Greg Dyke represents my view of the whole affair. Now, Michael Howard is a political representative, and he represents MY view as a citizen of the United Kingdom and Bush snubs him. Bush, bless his cotton God fearing socks, has by way of a snubbing Mr Howard, snubbed me and my political view.
So, what will Bush do if he gets into office and we vote Blair out? Is he going to be rude and snub all the people of this country because we dissed "my friend Tony"?
So, while writing this, I do a good long search and finally find the genius that is Dr Parsons saved on another site, here for your viewing pleasure is how I would sum up Mr Bush and his relationship with Mr Blair, enjoy! http://www.milkandcookies.com/links/4082/
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Thank you, Doctor
Today is the day that I saw my doctor, my own doctor. It's been, hmm as she said, around 3 years since I last saw her. She said that she was impressed I had managed to last three years without medication and that, as a manic depressive, its pretty impressive I've been able to manage my own illness without too much difficulty (with the exception of now). When I said I should have come to her 3 months ago when I first started to go down, but that I had hoped I would pick back up and after a few weeks of not picking back up I just continued to slip, she agreed. She said that at least I had managed to recognise the slope and whilst I had gone down it, I had obviously not quite reached the bottom and it was a good thing I had been able to recognise my state, before I slipped lower.
She asked me a ton of questions, the usual kind of thing that they have to ask you as standard "are you feeling suicidal? Do you feel like there is no hope?...." etc etc. This time, however, she didn't suggest that I go see the "quack" straight away. Usually they shove you off to see the head shrink witch doctor immediately for assessment which determines if they will continue to feed you with the drugs that you require to restabilise your mind or suggest that you "take up a hobby to help settle your mind" instead.
I'm quite glad I don't have to go and see the quack. I'm overly mean, I think, about psychologists. I know that many of them do a great job and that they help a lot of people but I have to say that the ones I've dealt with so far have all been completely and utterly barking mad. OK so coming from someone who is diagnosed as barking thats a bit rich but, well, they are! They are a bit like teachers, if you have ever socialised with teachers you will understand what I mean :P (no offence to any teachers out there but I was talking to a friend last night on the phone who has been entertaining teachers for the last couple of weeks and I offer great sympathy to her!). I've also taken matters into my own hands, and today I am swining the lead myself - I called in to say "I have to go for an x-ray they don't re-open till 2pm so I won't be in today, see you tomorrow!" Sod it, they can all do it and get away with it all the damn time, its about time I had a day off for myself.
So here I sit, eating my Tesco sandwich (another story to tell about Tesco too but that can wait) and today begins the start of a course of Fluoxotine (Prozac).
The last time I didn't initally get to see my own doctor, I saw another in the practice (but then subsequently got an appointment with my own doc) and I was given Seroxat. I have to say, in my humblest of opinions, that drug should be removed from the face of the planet and never ever prescribed to anyone ever again. It was horrible. I know that it has helped some people but by God what that stuff did me was awful.
It made me feel lousy ALL the time, I had blinding headaches, I had somnolence (sleeping ALL the time) and when I tried to stop taking it, I had horrible withdrawal symptoms. I didn't know what they were until I was finally off the drug, when the penny dropped. I went cold turkey too, I realised they were doing me no good, but the Doctor had said "this is much more effective than prozac" when I had asked for Prozac again. I had tried to push for Fluoxotine but had been brushed aside and given what I was given. I wasn't very happy with that particular doctor for the way she treated me - I felt she just wanted to push this new drug on me and she has since made similar decisions where my mother is concerned. I did wonder if she was on a back hander from the drug company!! Anyway today I said to my doc, "ok that IS prozac right?" she said "yes, fluoxotine" and I said "thank God, I couldn't bear to go back on that other stuff!" She asked what it was, and I told her Seroxat; the response made me very happy "ahh no we don't prescribe that so much any more"
Anyway for information about one of the forms of depression (to which I can answer yes to all but one of the questions on the "if you score 5 yes on this you are depressed" list go read this http://www.nimh.nih.gov/publicat/bipolar.cfm#bp6
She asked me a ton of questions, the usual kind of thing that they have to ask you as standard "are you feeling suicidal? Do you feel like there is no hope?...." etc etc. This time, however, she didn't suggest that I go see the "quack" straight away. Usually they shove you off to see the head shrink witch doctor immediately for assessment which determines if they will continue to feed you with the drugs that you require to restabilise your mind or suggest that you "take up a hobby to help settle your mind" instead.
I'm quite glad I don't have to go and see the quack. I'm overly mean, I think, about psychologists. I know that many of them do a great job and that they help a lot of people but I have to say that the ones I've dealt with so far have all been completely and utterly barking mad. OK so coming from someone who is diagnosed as barking thats a bit rich but, well, they are! They are a bit like teachers, if you have ever socialised with teachers you will understand what I mean :P (no offence to any teachers out there but I was talking to a friend last night on the phone who has been entertaining teachers for the last couple of weeks and I offer great sympathy to her!). I've also taken matters into my own hands, and today I am swining the lead myself - I called in to say "I have to go for an x-ray they don't re-open till 2pm so I won't be in today, see you tomorrow!" Sod it, they can all do it and get away with it all the damn time, its about time I had a day off for myself.
So here I sit, eating my Tesco sandwich (another story to tell about Tesco too but that can wait) and today begins the start of a course of Fluoxotine (Prozac).
The last time I didn't initally get to see my own doctor, I saw another in the practice (but then subsequently got an appointment with my own doc) and I was given Seroxat. I have to say, in my humblest of opinions, that drug should be removed from the face of the planet and never ever prescribed to anyone ever again. It was horrible. I know that it has helped some people but by God what that stuff did me was awful.
It made me feel lousy ALL the time, I had blinding headaches, I had somnolence (sleeping ALL the time) and when I tried to stop taking it, I had horrible withdrawal symptoms. I didn't know what they were until I was finally off the drug, when the penny dropped. I went cold turkey too, I realised they were doing me no good, but the Doctor had said "this is much more effective than prozac" when I had asked for Prozac again. I had tried to push for Fluoxotine but had been brushed aside and given what I was given. I wasn't very happy with that particular doctor for the way she treated me - I felt she just wanted to push this new drug on me and she has since made similar decisions where my mother is concerned. I did wonder if she was on a back hander from the drug company!! Anyway today I said to my doc, "ok that IS prozac right?" she said "yes, fluoxotine" and I said "thank God, I couldn't bear to go back on that other stuff!" She asked what it was, and I told her Seroxat; the response made me very happy "ahh no we don't prescribe that so much any more"
Anyway for information about one of the forms of depression (to which I can answer yes to all but one of the questions on the "if you score 5 yes on this you are depressed" list go read this http://www.nimh.nih.gov/publicat/bipolar.cfm#bp6
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
The Plastic Land Bringeth Joy
It's really funny how one simple phone call can actually lift one's spirits. Everyone is away on holiday (vacation) right now, I'm in the office with my "new" assistant - the "old" assistant (and one half of the trendy two) is off sick. Funny how she is too sick to come to work, yet apparently she has a gig tonight *rolls eyes*.
Anyway, while the boss has been away, he has completed negotiations and finalised a contract with a band. The band (American) signed the contract while on tour in Europe and now we have to pay them the money from the advance. Well, part of it is legal costs which have to go to a lawyer - to cut a long story short, I can't authorise payment until the manager of the band instructs me as to how he wants this dealt with and the instruction has to come from him not his lawyer. This is a stupidly tricky piece of legalese. Surely, if the lawyer is representing the band, then the lawyers instruction is enough? Apparently not. So after much scrabbling around I finally find the telephone number for the lawyer.
I call him on a number I assume is an East Coast number. The answering service tells me to call another number with another area code that I instantly recognise as an area code for the wonderfully opulent LaLa Land. I call the number, to be answered by this broad West Coast accent (including overuse of the word Awesome! or should that be ahhhsum!). The first thing that comes out is the "OMG I LOVE your accent!" /sigh yes dear I am merely a non specific home counties English accent, surely you have visited this land and heard it before?
The next thing that comes out is "OMG You are an Angel, I'm gonna buy you a car!" /sigh yes dear you can buy me whatever the hell you want but just email me the confirmation OK?
The third thing to come out is the "OMG I love you sooo much I'm on the line with my business manager who is telling me the band have to stop spending money because I can't afford this any more and now you have just told me we are getting $xxx amount of dollars! Thats just ahhhsum!" /sigh riiiightt ok whatever, just send me the damn instructions so I can clear this crappy work off my desk so I don't have to be stuck doing every other bastard's job for them while they are all swanning it away on holiday or swinging the lead off sick and let me get on with my own bloody job! I hang up the phone after giving him my details while hearing him yelling “OMG that’s just so ahhhsum, what an angel an annnngeeelll.” Tee hee! As fake and false as La La land is you have to hand it to them, they keep each other happy over there with all that false “You are awesome” crap and I have to admit the call did lift my spirits briefly so maybe there is something in it!!
Anyway, while the boss has been away, he has completed negotiations and finalised a contract with a band. The band (American) signed the contract while on tour in Europe and now we have to pay them the money from the advance. Well, part of it is legal costs which have to go to a lawyer - to cut a long story short, I can't authorise payment until the manager of the band instructs me as to how he wants this dealt with and the instruction has to come from him not his lawyer. This is a stupidly tricky piece of legalese. Surely, if the lawyer is representing the band, then the lawyers instruction is enough? Apparently not. So after much scrabbling around I finally find the telephone number for the lawyer.
I call him on a number I assume is an East Coast number. The answering service tells me to call another number with another area code that I instantly recognise as an area code for the wonderfully opulent LaLa Land. I call the number, to be answered by this broad West Coast accent (including overuse of the word Awesome! or should that be ahhhsum!). The first thing that comes out is the "OMG I LOVE your accent!" /sigh yes dear I am merely a non specific home counties English accent, surely you have visited this land and heard it before?
The next thing that comes out is "OMG You are an Angel, I'm gonna buy you a car!" /sigh yes dear you can buy me whatever the hell you want but just email me the confirmation OK?
The third thing to come out is the "OMG I love you sooo much I'm on the line with my business manager who is telling me the band have to stop spending money because I can't afford this any more and now you have just told me we are getting $xxx amount of dollars! Thats just ahhhsum!" /sigh riiiightt ok whatever, just send me the damn instructions so I can clear this crappy work off my desk so I don't have to be stuck doing every other bastard's job for them while they are all swanning it away on holiday or swinging the lead off sick and let me get on with my own bloody job! I hang up the phone after giving him my details while hearing him yelling “OMG that’s just so ahhhsum, what an angel an annnngeeelll.” Tee hee! As fake and false as La La land is you have to hand it to them, they keep each other happy over there with all that false “You are awesome” crap and I have to admit the call did lift my spirits briefly so maybe there is something in it!!
Road Tax And The Manic-Depressive
Which of the two categories below do you fit into?
Scenario:
It is the first day of the month your car is due to get a new road tax disc at the end of the month. One week before the road tax is due, the MoT (Motoring Organisation Test for road worthiness – its illegal not to have passed this test in the UK) is due on the car. Therefore, to buy the road tax disc (illegal not to have one in the UK too) you need your certificate of insurance, a valid MoT certificate and the log book (legal documentation proving ownership of the car) belonging to the car.
Normal Person:
At the start of the month, ensures they have the insurance certificate and car log book together ready for the arrival of the renewal notice (also required to buy the road tax disc with). A few days before the MoT is due, they book the car in, take it and have it tested. If it fails, they have 2 weeks to do the repairs and have it pass before the car is deemed an outright fail. So, they then have time to book it in for repairs if it fails. If it passes, they just have to sit tight until the renewal notice comes in the post.
Once the renewal notice arrives, they go to the post office taking with them the insurance certificate, the MoT Certificate, the Log book and the renewal notice. They hand the money over, and get a nice shiny new tax disc.
Manic Depressive Person:
At the start of the month, begins to think “ok shit I have to get the MoT and tax sorted this month but its ok I’ve got 4 weeks to do it in.”
The month moves on, and it gets to around the 19th and this is when the following starts to play out: Shit its the 19th, where the hell did the month go? The MoT is due in 2 days I’ve not even booked it in – crap if the renewal notice arrives before the 21st I might be able to get away with the old certificate. Wait. Where is the old certificate? I know I put it on the bedside cabinet last year so I would know where to find it this year. I think the logbook is with it too.
On the 20th; Shiiiit I really have to do this, I know I can do this – its fine calm down, you can do this, you know you can; take deep breaths and stay calm. OK so bedside cabinet, look there first. Ok its not here. Shit its not here. Shit shit shit shit shit where the FUCK did I put it? It HAS to be here, if I don’t have the logbook I’m completely and utterly fucked they will come and clamp the car and tow it away. If they do that I can’t get to work, if they do that I can’t get to Mums and take her shopping and she can’t cope without the support and help of my driving. It’s Dads old car, Christ he would turn in his grave if he knew this is how I was treating his car he wouldn’t let me drive it when he was alive and now I know why, its because he was right I am just a total fuck up of a person and I don’t deserve to be alive let alone have something as responsible as a car or a mortgage. Fuck, he was so right I really am a total and utter fuck up of a person, what the hell can I do to change that I need to change that I can’t go on living like this my life is a huge fucking mess what the fuck am I going to do now? I can’t change, I am just me I just have to accept that I am a complete fuck up and incapable of doing something so fucking simple as getting myself organised to do something as fucking simple as renew the road tax on the car. I hate that he was right, I hate it, I spent all my fucking life trying to show him I was not a total fuck up and then in the last year of his life I proved him soooo fucking right that even on his deathbed he was telling me what a fuck up of a person I am. I’m screwed. Oh wait, there it is. PHEW. Ok so here’s the log book, the old MoT cert.. now where the fuck is the insurance document – this is last years document. Fuck it I have to call them and get a copy, argh tax office won’t accept a fax copy as proof of insurance for renewal. /sigh ok well there is that theory of use the old cert and the insurance cert to get a new tax disc then sort the MoT out next week. OK ok you can do this, you can cope, just take deep breaths, deep breaths, right ask John at work what the name of that garage is up the road and take it there for the MoT test. Ok so it’s booked in for 2pm today. Right. Fingers crossed it passes, maybe if it does I won’t feel like such a total waste of human space on this planet.
So, which one of the two do you think I am?
Well all I will say is, I have to sign off now, the MoT test is in an hour, keep your fingers crossed for me that it passes or I have no fucking clue how the hell I’m going to deal with having to find a mechanic to do the work at a reasonable price before Friday when the tax disc is due. Oh and the copy of the insurance certificate still hasn’t come in the post *sigh* welcome to my world, the world of a manic-depressive; Oh and yes, I really DO think that fast and in sentences of that length when in the middle of a panic attack.
Scenario:
It is the first day of the month your car is due to get a new road tax disc at the end of the month. One week before the road tax is due, the MoT (Motoring Organisation Test for road worthiness – its illegal not to have passed this test in the UK) is due on the car. Therefore, to buy the road tax disc (illegal not to have one in the UK too) you need your certificate of insurance, a valid MoT certificate and the log book (legal documentation proving ownership of the car) belonging to the car.
Normal Person:
At the start of the month, ensures they have the insurance certificate and car log book together ready for the arrival of the renewal notice (also required to buy the road tax disc with). A few days before the MoT is due, they book the car in, take it and have it tested. If it fails, they have 2 weeks to do the repairs and have it pass before the car is deemed an outright fail. So, they then have time to book it in for repairs if it fails. If it passes, they just have to sit tight until the renewal notice comes in the post.
Once the renewal notice arrives, they go to the post office taking with them the insurance certificate, the MoT Certificate, the Log book and the renewal notice. They hand the money over, and get a nice shiny new tax disc.
Manic Depressive Person:
At the start of the month, begins to think “ok shit I have to get the MoT and tax sorted this month but its ok I’ve got 4 weeks to do it in.”
The month moves on, and it gets to around the 19th and this is when the following starts to play out: Shit its the 19th, where the hell did the month go? The MoT is due in 2 days I’ve not even booked it in – crap if the renewal notice arrives before the 21st I might be able to get away with the old certificate. Wait. Where is the old certificate? I know I put it on the bedside cabinet last year so I would know where to find it this year. I think the logbook is with it too.
On the 20th; Shiiiit I really have to do this, I know I can do this – its fine calm down, you can do this, you know you can; take deep breaths and stay calm. OK so bedside cabinet, look there first. Ok its not here. Shit its not here. Shit shit shit shit shit where the FUCK did I put it? It HAS to be here, if I don’t have the logbook I’m completely and utterly fucked they will come and clamp the car and tow it away. If they do that I can’t get to work, if they do that I can’t get to Mums and take her shopping and she can’t cope without the support and help of my driving. It’s Dads old car, Christ he would turn in his grave if he knew this is how I was treating his car he wouldn’t let me drive it when he was alive and now I know why, its because he was right I am just a total fuck up of a person and I don’t deserve to be alive let alone have something as responsible as a car or a mortgage. Fuck, he was so right I really am a total and utter fuck up of a person, what the hell can I do to change that I need to change that I can’t go on living like this my life is a huge fucking mess what the fuck am I going to do now? I can’t change, I am just me I just have to accept that I am a complete fuck up and incapable of doing something so fucking simple as getting myself organised to do something as fucking simple as renew the road tax on the car. I hate that he was right, I hate it, I spent all my fucking life trying to show him I was not a total fuck up and then in the last year of his life I proved him soooo fucking right that even on his deathbed he was telling me what a fuck up of a person I am. I’m screwed. Oh wait, there it is. PHEW. Ok so here’s the log book, the old MoT cert.. now where the fuck is the insurance document – this is last years document. Fuck it I have to call them and get a copy, argh tax office won’t accept a fax copy as proof of insurance for renewal. /sigh ok well there is that theory of use the old cert and the insurance cert to get a new tax disc then sort the MoT out next week. OK ok you can do this, you can cope, just take deep breaths, deep breaths, right ask John at work what the name of that garage is up the road and take it there for the MoT test. Ok so it’s booked in for 2pm today. Right. Fingers crossed it passes, maybe if it does I won’t feel like such a total waste of human space on this planet.
So, which one of the two do you think I am?
Well all I will say is, I have to sign off now, the MoT test is in an hour, keep your fingers crossed for me that it passes or I have no fucking clue how the hell I’m going to deal with having to find a mechanic to do the work at a reasonable price before Friday when the tax disc is due. Oh and the copy of the insurance certificate still hasn’t come in the post *sigh* welcome to my world, the world of a manic-depressive; Oh and yes, I really DO think that fast and in sentences of that length when in the middle of a panic attack.
Monday, August 09, 2004
And neither do we...
I had to add to the posting, seeing as I am here; this has to be immortalised and posted here to remind me of the humour of it. So, sleepily coming to in the morning with the radio blaring at me with its music and speech and undertone of “WAKE UP” last Friday morning, the voice coming out of the radio was not that of the male DJ but that of President George “Dubya” Bush creating his latest gaffe in a speech about terror;
"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful - and so are we," the US president told a high-level meeting of Pentagon officials.
"They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people - and neither do we."
Oh how I laughed. He really IS a dork isn’t he? OK so public speaking is not an easy thing to do, and if you find it hard you damn well stick to the script, you do not piss around and decide to ad lib at will – especially when you’ve done it so many times previously. He is running for another term in office and that’s the kind of gaffe he makes? If he makes that kind of gaffe in a speech what’s he like in the office eh? "Bring me a cawfee" coffee arrives to be followed swiftly by an "I meant TEA!" - what happens when he gives the order to press the big red button? "Press the big red button now!" *presses the button to nuke China* "Damnit I meant the GREEN (send aid to China) button you idiot!"
How does he expect people to believe he is an effective communicator in the office when he can’t even read a bloody speech from a pre-prepared paper carefully put together by his PR gurus (wonder if it’s Alistair Campbell’s brother working for Bush *grin*).
The US Election trail does amaze me; I was listening again to the radio and all the mud slinging from both sides the "Kerry didn’t really earn his purple hearts he just applied for them himself!" and the "Bush is on anti-depressants and is a megalomaniac" (like we didn’t already know he is a megalomaniac?) to then discover that the actual election isn’t until November! It’s only bloody August and we’ve already had almost a month of this “campaign trailing” and gesticulation over each camp. Christ alive we have another 3 months of this mud slinging crap to go through yet. I don’t know that Kerry would be any better in office than Bush, but I do know that I’m sick of that grinning twat we have in office here in the UK sticking his head up Bush’s arse and licking it while ignoring the people who voted him into office to represent them. I’d like to see Bush go, I’d also very much like to see Mister Blair go too, even though I’m not sure the opposing parties are anywhere near ready to take over.
I’d also like to see Miles Copeland re-incarnated and Mo Mowlam to have a meeting with Mr Bush, Mr Blair and Mr Copeland – just to have Mr Copeland and Ms Mowlam discuss the ways to deal with terrorism in the 21st century. Yelling “bomb the bastards” sure as hell isn’t working – you just have to see the video evidence from the beheadings to know that.
"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful - and so are we," the US president told a high-level meeting of Pentagon officials.
"They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people - and neither do we."
Oh how I laughed. He really IS a dork isn’t he? OK so public speaking is not an easy thing to do, and if you find it hard you damn well stick to the script, you do not piss around and decide to ad lib at will – especially when you’ve done it so many times previously. He is running for another term in office and that’s the kind of gaffe he makes? If he makes that kind of gaffe in a speech what’s he like in the office eh? "Bring me a cawfee" coffee arrives to be followed swiftly by an "I meant TEA!" - what happens when he gives the order to press the big red button? "Press the big red button now!" *presses the button to nuke China* "Damnit I meant the GREEN (send aid to China) button you idiot!"
How does he expect people to believe he is an effective communicator in the office when he can’t even read a bloody speech from a pre-prepared paper carefully put together by his PR gurus (wonder if it’s Alistair Campbell’s brother working for Bush *grin*).
The US Election trail does amaze me; I was listening again to the radio and all the mud slinging from both sides the "Kerry didn’t really earn his purple hearts he just applied for them himself!" and the "Bush is on anti-depressants and is a megalomaniac" (like we didn’t already know he is a megalomaniac?) to then discover that the actual election isn’t until November! It’s only bloody August and we’ve already had almost a month of this “campaign trailing” and gesticulation over each camp. Christ alive we have another 3 months of this mud slinging crap to go through yet. I don’t know that Kerry would be any better in office than Bush, but I do know that I’m sick of that grinning twat we have in office here in the UK sticking his head up Bush’s arse and licking it while ignoring the people who voted him into office to represent them. I’d like to see Bush go, I’d also very much like to see Mister Blair go too, even though I’m not sure the opposing parties are anywhere near ready to take over.
I’d also like to see Miles Copeland re-incarnated and Mo Mowlam to have a meeting with Mr Bush, Mr Blair and Mr Copeland – just to have Mr Copeland and Ms Mowlam discuss the ways to deal with terrorism in the 21st century. Yelling “bomb the bastards” sure as hell isn’t working – you just have to see the video evidence from the beheadings to know that.
See! I said see you Monday or Tuesday!
Sigh, another week passes without a completed piece of writing here. Well, I did say “Monday or Tuesday” I just didn’t say WHICH Monday or Tuesday *grin*
OK I’ve been threatening to tell what my triumphant news is for the last few weeks. On 15th July 2004 I dragged my boss off to a dingy office in South West London hidden in the back of a car park near a post office. Inside the staircase led up to a grotty reception area, where we were instructed to “fill in this questionnaire and help yourself to tea & coffee. Once complete please return the questionnaire to me and your method of payment”
We duly filled in the questionnaire, downed several mugs of coffee and smoked about 10 cigarettes each while scribbling down our inner secrets on the “questionnaire.”
How long have you smoked? How many a day do you smoke? Why do you want to quit smoking?
Yup, we were sitting in the offices of “Alan Carr’s Easy Way” (to quit fags and be free from the evil weed forever – it’s a miracle cure!). We handed over our credit / debit cards to be drained of £195. Soo working roughly that it’s a fiver for a pack of tabs.. that’s oooo 39 packs.. or 780 fags.. or roughly depending on how many you smoke a months worth of fags. Working on the basis that you smoke 20 a day the other 8 or 9 packs a month are the ones that are for 8 or 9 nights out in the pub where your pack of 20 gets diminished by the “occasional” smokers who just want to “cadge a fag – I’ll buy some in a minute, honest!” Or even for the odd night when having drunk like a fish, staggering around in the early hours of the morning and the sad realisation that you didn’t just “drop your fags and lose them” you smoked them all so you need another pack. Yup a 20 a day-er will easily do 39 packs a month.
We gulped our coffee, sat nervously in reception, which had roughly enough space for about 5 people – the “class” or “session” could have up to 12 people in it, and smoked our cigs wondering if we had enough fags with us to last the session (I had ¾ of a pack and another full pack in my bag “just in case”). Then we were off! Sent down the stairs to an oddly large room (looking at the outside of the building one would not imagine that room was that big!) with reclining chairs in it. Down we sat, were handed copies of the book “Alan Carr’s Easy Way to Quit Smoking” with several pages and paragraphs duly highlighted in orange (appropriate considering it matched the colour of the nicotine stained walls) and instructed to read the relevant paragraphs.
We all nervously looked around at each other, lighting up and wondering WTF we were doing there. Some late arrivals came in (3 together!) and then the session began. We were told to smoke as we normally would; to make ourselves at home (my home does not have a recliner chair or walls THAT colour!), kick our shoes off if we wanted (shyeah right I’d let my bare feet roam free on that nicotine stained sticky carpet!) and most of all, to relax. Relax? RELAX? I’m about to have my comfort stick, my reason to take a break away from my computer at work, my one hand playing at Player V Player computer games (take a toke and smoke that Albion caster till it’s toast) was about to change forever.
So, we were told this would last 5 hours. 9 of us at £195 a pop.. that’s £1755 for our session alone, there was another session on the go at the same time. Do I begrudge the cost? At that point in time, I didn’t. Now, I actually do and wish I’d bought the video instead – maybe that wouldn’t have worked as well, who knows, but maybe I should have spent that much money after I’d tried with the man himself via video.
We had an Australian “girl” telling us that she used to smoke 40 a day and that she believed in the Alan Carr method so much she had made it her career. Somehow, I just didn’t believe her. For a start the way she was holding the cigarette in her hand simulating smoking during the session just seemed so completely unnatural to her.
It made me doubt the validity of what she was saying when she was talking about the stuff that all smokers know about and that anyone who has never smoked has completely no idea about (the outright panic when you want a cigarette and can’t find your packet or can find the fags but can’t find a damn light!)
Well 5 hours later, we stubbed out our last cigarette, threw our fags onto the pile of cigarette packets (I even emptied my bag and took out the “just in case” unopened full pack) and threw our lighters into the big square box full of lighters and walked out of there as non smokers.
I felt great, and then I went home, sat in front of my computer and instantly had a major craving. That was the place in my home where I smoked the most. I had a choice, get off my arse, walk the few hundred yards down the road, buy a pack and a lighter and smoke or not. Well I’m a lazy bitch; I couldn’t be bothered to do that, so here I am today still a non-smoker.
Do I recommend it? Sure. It’s a pretty good method and the stupidity is that it’s a logical and straightforward approach. There isn’t any of the “don’t smoke you stupid dork” approach or the “how stupid were you to start in the first place!” or any of the “here is what your lungs will look like when you die! You selfish bastard your lungs could have looked like this *insert picture of clean lungs* and you could have donated them to some other poor unfortunate bastard who smoked so much they had to have a lung replacement!”
I’m sceptical by nature, and even though I instigated the boss and myself spending 5 hours in a gross place, it was worth it. The craving has mostly gone, sure I get the odd whiff of smoke from others in the office that smoke and think Mmmmmm (not bisto!) but I know that if I take even one drag on a cigarette I’ll be doomed (besides I need to at least get 31 days out of this program to get my money’s worth!!!). The boss called last Monday on his way back from Scotland yelling down the phone at me “You’ve been smoking haven’t you!?!?” to which I replied “I take it you fell off the wagon then?” At least he had the decency to say “yes” and not lie. He refused to go back for a back up session (you get 2 free back up sessions as long as you fail within the first 3 months) and has now buggered off to Scotland for 3 weeks holiday.
I’m considering buying the video from Amazon and having it delivered to his Lairdship in Scotland *grin*
So there you have my triumphant news! I’m no longer a smoker! HOORAY! If you are interested, the place to go see is Alan Carr's Easy Way web page (right click and open in a new window.. of course I STILL have not worked out how to make it do that for you itself) They have offices around the UK and in other parts of the world too.
~ Mully
P.S: Oh and the funny stuff IS coming, as soon as I can work out how to scan these pictures and make them smaller…
OK I’ve been threatening to tell what my triumphant news is for the last few weeks. On 15th July 2004 I dragged my boss off to a dingy office in South West London hidden in the back of a car park near a post office. Inside the staircase led up to a grotty reception area, where we were instructed to “fill in this questionnaire and help yourself to tea & coffee. Once complete please return the questionnaire to me and your method of payment”
We duly filled in the questionnaire, downed several mugs of coffee and smoked about 10 cigarettes each while scribbling down our inner secrets on the “questionnaire.”
How long have you smoked? How many a day do you smoke? Why do you want to quit smoking?
Yup, we were sitting in the offices of “Alan Carr’s Easy Way” (to quit fags and be free from the evil weed forever – it’s a miracle cure!). We handed over our credit / debit cards to be drained of £195. Soo working roughly that it’s a fiver for a pack of tabs.. that’s oooo 39 packs.. or 780 fags.. or roughly depending on how many you smoke a months worth of fags. Working on the basis that you smoke 20 a day the other 8 or 9 packs a month are the ones that are for 8 or 9 nights out in the pub where your pack of 20 gets diminished by the “occasional” smokers who just want to “cadge a fag – I’ll buy some in a minute, honest!” Or even for the odd night when having drunk like a fish, staggering around in the early hours of the morning and the sad realisation that you didn’t just “drop your fags and lose them” you smoked them all so you need another pack. Yup a 20 a day-er will easily do 39 packs a month.
We gulped our coffee, sat nervously in reception, which had roughly enough space for about 5 people – the “class” or “session” could have up to 12 people in it, and smoked our cigs wondering if we had enough fags with us to last the session (I had ¾ of a pack and another full pack in my bag “just in case”). Then we were off! Sent down the stairs to an oddly large room (looking at the outside of the building one would not imagine that room was that big!) with reclining chairs in it. Down we sat, were handed copies of the book “Alan Carr’s Easy Way to Quit Smoking” with several pages and paragraphs duly highlighted in orange (appropriate considering it matched the colour of the nicotine stained walls) and instructed to read the relevant paragraphs.
We all nervously looked around at each other, lighting up and wondering WTF we were doing there. Some late arrivals came in (3 together!) and then the session began. We were told to smoke as we normally would; to make ourselves at home (my home does not have a recliner chair or walls THAT colour!), kick our shoes off if we wanted (shyeah right I’d let my bare feet roam free on that nicotine stained sticky carpet!) and most of all, to relax. Relax? RELAX? I’m about to have my comfort stick, my reason to take a break away from my computer at work, my one hand playing at Player V Player computer games (take a toke and smoke that Albion caster till it’s toast) was about to change forever.
So, we were told this would last 5 hours. 9 of us at £195 a pop.. that’s £1755 for our session alone, there was another session on the go at the same time. Do I begrudge the cost? At that point in time, I didn’t. Now, I actually do and wish I’d bought the video instead – maybe that wouldn’t have worked as well, who knows, but maybe I should have spent that much money after I’d tried with the man himself via video.
We had an Australian “girl” telling us that she used to smoke 40 a day and that she believed in the Alan Carr method so much she had made it her career. Somehow, I just didn’t believe her. For a start the way she was holding the cigarette in her hand simulating smoking during the session just seemed so completely unnatural to her.
It made me doubt the validity of what she was saying when she was talking about the stuff that all smokers know about and that anyone who has never smoked has completely no idea about (the outright panic when you want a cigarette and can’t find your packet or can find the fags but can’t find a damn light!)
Well 5 hours later, we stubbed out our last cigarette, threw our fags onto the pile of cigarette packets (I even emptied my bag and took out the “just in case” unopened full pack) and threw our lighters into the big square box full of lighters and walked out of there as non smokers.
I felt great, and then I went home, sat in front of my computer and instantly had a major craving. That was the place in my home where I smoked the most. I had a choice, get off my arse, walk the few hundred yards down the road, buy a pack and a lighter and smoke or not. Well I’m a lazy bitch; I couldn’t be bothered to do that, so here I am today still a non-smoker.
Do I recommend it? Sure. It’s a pretty good method and the stupidity is that it’s a logical and straightforward approach. There isn’t any of the “don’t smoke you stupid dork” approach or the “how stupid were you to start in the first place!” or any of the “here is what your lungs will look like when you die! You selfish bastard your lungs could have looked like this *insert picture of clean lungs* and you could have donated them to some other poor unfortunate bastard who smoked so much they had to have a lung replacement!”
I’m sceptical by nature, and even though I instigated the boss and myself spending 5 hours in a gross place, it was worth it. The craving has mostly gone, sure I get the odd whiff of smoke from others in the office that smoke and think Mmmmmm (not bisto!) but I know that if I take even one drag on a cigarette I’ll be doomed (besides I need to at least get 31 days out of this program to get my money’s worth!!!). The boss called last Monday on his way back from Scotland yelling down the phone at me “You’ve been smoking haven’t you!?!?” to which I replied “I take it you fell off the wagon then?” At least he had the decency to say “yes” and not lie. He refused to go back for a back up session (you get 2 free back up sessions as long as you fail within the first 3 months) and has now buggered off to Scotland for 3 weeks holiday.
I’m considering buying the video from Amazon and having it delivered to his Lairdship in Scotland *grin*
So there you have my triumphant news! I’m no longer a smoker! HOORAY! If you are interested, the place to go see is Alan Carr's Easy Way web page (right click and open in a new window.. of course I STILL have not worked out how to make it do that for you itself) They have offices around the UK and in other parts of the world too.
~ Mully
P.S: Oh and the funny stuff IS coming, as soon as I can work out how to scan these pictures and make them smaller…
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