Bucko's World

Having survived a pummelling from a pensioner nurse who, having proceeded to pull me into positions a contortionist would have thought you’d skipped a page to get to, then tried to push the business end of an Echo Cardiogram scanner through my rib cage, I sit bruised and battered in front of PC, breathing as shallowly as possible to mitigate the excruciating pain from my broken ribs, determined to enjoy a free afternoon away from work with some online shopping. I have a list of CDs and DVDs in front me, and I’m determined to leave no Amazon Store untouched in my quest to order them. All with the new Frost* album blaring from my PC speakers – nice!

First though a quick visit to First direct just to check out the cash situation. This is something I rarely do. Having been made redundant almost two years ago I’ve found that the huge cheque that was forced on me as I left those lovely people at Equitas Towers has more than alleviated any financial worries I may previously have had.

And so I’m sure you can all understand that it came as a bit of a shock to me when, approaching the second anniversary of my payout that I find myself without funds. This is a moment for consideration, rumination and cogitation. And going “Oh Fuck! I’m broke!”

In doing all of this I try to work our where all the money has gone and I must confess that the answer is quite frightening. Because dear reader, all I have left to show for my money is: an axe, a pile of bricks, and an £11,000 debt…….

Exhibit 1: The Axe

Now here is a warning to all of you who like to surf the net into the wee small hours with no regard for your health, or indeed in this case, wealth. I seem to vaguely remember a curry and beers, then red wine, and then waking up with the imprint of a keyboard on my face. “Bollocks,” I thought, “I hope I haven’t spent huge sums of cash ordering obscure Spock’s Beard and Marillion ephemera off strange people on e-bay.” Fortunately the answer to that question is “No.” Unfortunately the answer appeared the following Wednesday when my neighbour, a lovely old dear by the name of Anne, called me in and said she had a parcel for me. “You’ll have to pick it up yourself as it’s rather heavy” she said, indicating a large triangular shaped box propped up against the wall. O-kay……

My heart was in my mouth as I unwrapped it layers of cardboard. Inside, rather disappointingly I may add, was another cardboard box – why don’t they just make the first box thicker? I tore away at this one also, a sense of fear, excitement and extreme curiosity gripping me as I went. As I finally pulled the cardboard away and sighted what was inside I was struck by a wave of nausea and disbelief at what was contained inside. Lifting out the contents and examining it closely I feared for my mortgage, my sanity and, once my wife saw the credit card bill, my nackers as I held the priceless object aloft. It appeared that I had bought Brian May’s Guitar.








Brian’s “Red Special” in my very own living room





You can probably imagine my relief then when, on closer inspection, it turns out that Brian has simply been kind enough to make me my own copy his of his legendary “Red Special” guitar, and even thrown in his signature on the headstock for good measure, just in case it was mistaken for the genuine article. And a beautiful object it is too. It is stunning to play and has a range of tones to die for all whilst being less ubiquitous then you run of the mill Les Paul or Strat. Lovely. The damage from all this loveliness? £500.00
Exhibit 2: A pile of bricks





Kitchen – not easily redeemable for beer vouchers





Ok, so the pile of bricks has been very nicely arranged and has windows and everything, but the £12,500 I put towards it can hardly be got hold of at short notice can it? Even so, it must be said you can rustle up a pretty mean lasagne on it’s inside and we did manage to get 20 mates in there recently with plenty of elbow room for all………….

Exhibit 3: An £11,000 debt




Mazda RX8 – A thirsty bugger





And finally my pride and joy. My winning blue rocket ship powered by the engine from a Klingon Interceptor. Or as Jeremy Clarkson put it “an engine so smooth it doesn’t run on petrol, it runs on double cream”. I hope not. At 18 MPG it’s bad enough paying for the petrol, how much a tankful if it was M&S’s finest? Worse still, I bought the car on one of these option schemes and for a tiny deposit and a monthly payment the beautiful beast was mine. But here’s the rub. When the three years are up if I want to keep it, I have to stump up £11,000, or give it back. And guess what? Having just checked my bank account I don’t have £11,000……

So what happened to all this money? The only thing I seem to own is the guitar, and I’m buggered if I know where the rest of it went – it seems money just disappears while you’re having fun!!
And so there you go. A warning to all you with a fat redundancy cheque in your pocket and without a worry in the world. Be careful, you’ll only go and spend it!