Budget Reports

I had just sat down to my lovely chicken and rice dish from the conveniently placed Japanese foodery when Jelly turned up, a bit earlier than usual. I said, “You’re a bit early Jelly,” and he replied, “It’s never too early for Jelly”, and I had to agree. We delighted once again in the resplendent faux Egypt age of the pharaoh style architecture of the Paramount, although the mirrored columns were more than an echo of New York’s infamous Studio 54 in the 70’s. Why, I almost expected tanned, gold-panted, blonde-headed boys to be cascading down the stairway presaging a night of wicked fun and debauchery. But soon I was back in reality. I texted Butter to find out “where he was at” and he replied in text, “On my way c**t.” He has a way with words that one. When Butter arrived he mentioned how he could really do with a black-bottomed snake (or words to that effect). We all laughed heartily, as we have done so many times before at the excellent wit and aptness of his statement. “You’re telling me,” I chortled. As usual, I couldn’t finish my dish and had left some leftover rice on the table. Jelly started taking exquisite photos of the scenes around us. They will be coming out soon in his forthcoming, exclusive photo history of the paramount called, I Paramount or The Arse of Paramount: A Photographic Rendition of the Age of the Food Court. It was his black and white photograph of the single grain of rice that moved me to tears. “You can see the whole world in a simple grain of rice,” I opined and the others didn’t say anything, like they hadn’t heard me at all. But I had heard me and that was all that mattered. Jelly left early due to work commitments leaving Butter and I to chew the fat. Unfortunately, halfway through a foul-mouthed tirade against the confinements of the working paradigm, Butters noticed that his soon-to-be former supervisor was sitting at a nearby table. I reassured Butters that he had said nothing out of order and all those bastards had it coming anyway. But when at last we parted, and I looked at his thin figure striding in determination back his job at the Department of Unearthly Delights, I wondered how long it would be before he paid dearly for his rash words at Paramount and borrowing money from his gainfully employed, fellow chaps Jelly and Peanut.

Two Little Boys, Two Big Toys

After a flurry of counters, reschedules and "sorry, happy to do a lot of things but I won't do that!"s, Jelly and Peanut bit the pillow and agreed to connect as couple. Butter is a handy lubricant, and Mayonnaise always welcome, but both knew that there'd still be no shortage of "man-mayonnaise", flowing like a white wee geyser, if just the two of them came. Neither Jelly nor Peanut had attended White-Wee Night, had Butter or Mayonnaise? An Action for future Paramounted.

The Paramount was again surprisingly busy (The frequent mucky tummy Jelly had suffered (Chaps? Chappette? ACTION - P, B and M to update J on health of their bellies and recties post-Paramount cuisine in past visits)from previous Paramount Food Court visits (thinking of you Chine) hadn't turned people off? Or is the ironic wink-wink-nudge-nudge charm felt by the chaps for the Paramount shared by others? Or, most disconcertingly and most likely, do people actually and genuinely feel comfortable in this filthy hole?)but Jelly, early to the party, secured a cosy patch outside Wanka's, welcomed the masses and massaged himself waiting for Peanut, who sauntered in with his now-usual cardboard cup of Cockaido meat and juice. Jelly got Bulgogi, no more be said.

The mood of the meeting fluctuated. Initially there was passionate frenzy, the standard arousal brought about by the pastel silk-stocking glare of the Paramount Food Court. Then came an awkward silence, before hunger set in. Peanut was ravishing, Jelly was ravenous, and soon both snouts cavorted in their respective troughs. Juices were mopped up, arses wiped, cocks shaked, tears shed for absent friends, and then bitter mocking of those filthy scabs Butter and Mayo. At this talk turned to work, its futility, and indeed all of life's malignant uselessness. Jelly spoke of the despair of getting a new job, as all jobs are shit, the next just as shit as the last, but because the present is so shit you've got to try and get out, however shit the options. Both agreed that the only highlight in a life of work is the very small window when offered a new job, before starting the new one and learning it's just as shit as the last one, but that small window is so alluring that we try and try again, failing again, failing better. It's all shit and all useless.

Mounting the mock-marble staircase, reaching its summit, Peanut again gushed forth about Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, the joke now about Peanut's repeated reference to Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, the joke now about Peanut's repeated reference to Peanut's repeated to Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, the joke now about Peanut's repeated reference to Peanut's repeated reference to Peanut's repeated reference to Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio...

ACTIONS:
1. Butter and Mayonnaise to update Chaps about their activity on White Wee Night (Due Date: Next Meeting)

2. Peanut, Butter and Mayonnaise to update Jelly on health of their bellies and recties post-Paramount cuisine from past visits (Due Date: Next Meeting)