"If you write it, they will come"

Which is probably what Hugh Hefner reassured his editorial team back in the early days of Playboy.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I started to write this blog (such a geeky nerdish word). I wasn't sure if anyone would get what I was on about, I know it ain't War n peace, but you know what I mean. I've never doubted my own abilities, I am a waiter after all and we are a masterful and all powerful group of individuals. But as I wasn't getting a thousand hits a day I was disappointed. I have since reigned in such high ambitions. Seriously, talking to yourself is bad, but talking to yourself via the Internet is sadder than looking at yourself in the mirror and calling yourself "Big Guy!"

But like the new kid at school you have to go and find friends. I pushed the random button and what a Pandora's box of bitterness and swearing was revealed to me. Old Bitter balls, Toast, Troika, Fat Sparrow, Fat Mammy Cat, Kav, Conortje, Paddy etc all became my new bestest friends. Little Miss Manuel however is convinced you are all just grooming me for bad sex and are going rob my dinner money off me. She works with kids with behavioural problems and is offering to take you all on as clients over the summer to turn you all into good little citizens. It's something to think about.

As I start the third month of the the very excellent tome that is WELL DONE FILLET, I am again feeling reflective. This is in part due to my near death experience today. Whilst out cycling this afternoon I found myself heading up a tight little street with a car coming towards me. No worries thought I, a little shimmy to the right and we'll all be on our way. Not to be! One badly executed maneuver later and there I was lying in the middle of the road with a frigging Fiat Punto chugging towards me. The car driver managed to stop with a comfortable 5 yards to spare. Thank the Sweet Baby Jesus it wasn't a Range Rover, an ironic death would be just my luck. The lady in the Punto wound down her window and asked how I was. Thanks love, I'll just untangle my bike from my groin, no need for you to get out. She got rather impatient as it took me a moment or two to get my ass together and drag myself to the side of the road.

There was blood. My bike was all bent out of shape. And my manly man bag was ripped. And all because I had clipped the wing mirror of a bloody Volkswagen Polo! I dragged my sorry bent out of shape ass and bike home and phoned Little Miss Manuel for some love and sympathy. She arrived round and almost seemed disappointed that nothing was broken. I was then marched by the ear out to the car as LMM wanted to visit the scene of the accident. She burst out of the car in a fury popped the wing mirror back in place, removed my note with my phone number on it and got back into the car muttering something about "growing some balls". Nice.

Any way I survived. I looked death in the face and my life flashed before me. And you know what? I regret nothing, and wouldn't change a thing! Up yours, grim reaper.

So comrades, it is Mayday after all, here is your WELL DONE FILLET review of the month.

I had two weddings to deal with in April, one at work which went like a dream. The other wasn't so hot due to the rock star shenanigans of my friend. I am constrained at what I can say to customers at work but not on here. Cunts, like the one who booked for Christmas days after Easter. I shared my recipes for penis and horse. Where else would you get that? Teachers pissed me off as did Satan's bum chum Raul. I introduced you to the Management, not that they like being called that. I was taught a new phrase for fat birds by Emily. Smoking or the lack of it has caused me to swear more often than normal. And cultchie types were given advice on how to handle themselves in public. And never ever send your food back. All in all we all learnt a little something this month. Which is always good.