In the five years in which I have been intermittently writing The Trash Whore Diaries, I have introduced a motley crew of bizarre characters to you, delineating their idiosyncrasies, extolling their virtues and ridiculing their vices. Who can forget such mavericks as Paul Macklin - knife-wielding, Yardie-slashing, cop-hating psycho - and Alex Dick - ginger-haired, sexually predatory, odious yet hilarious prick? Today’s blog is dedicated to one such Trash Whore legend, a guy who back in the day starred in more than his fair share of blogs. Long-time readers of this weblog may recognise the name of Dave Bradley. To the uninitiated, he looks something like this:
I could explain the context of the fotograph but I don’t see the point, for the picture itself tells you all you need to know about Dave Bradley. Four years since the scoundrel last appeared in The Trash Whore Diaries and two years since I last set eyes on him, Dave Bradley is back by dint of an appearance in today’s Press & Journal. We’ll get to that story in a minute, but first, allow me to refresh your memory by reprising some of Bradley’s more memorable cameos in this weblog…
26th June 2002: My marketing mentor at the office was a certain Dave Bradley, the same Dave Bradley who had played bass for Sirius at our Elgin gig, despite not knowing any of the songs, before proceeding to go skinny dipping in the North Sea. Today he was wearing a suit, talking like a toff and looking like a yuppy competing with his brothers for a share of daddy’s inheritance, desperately trying to look sophisticated in order to impress. But like all good personal sellers, there was method in his madness as I was soon to discover. Dave had only been with the company for ten days, but already he had been promoted. He had a certain flair that both endeared and endangered him to the public in his quest for bites. I sat down on the other side of the table, picked up the extra handset and listened in as Dave dealt his dodgiest lines to members of the unsuspecting public. He had decided to appropriate an eccentric upper-class accent for the purposes of his job, and it went something like this: ‘Oh hello! Is that Mrs Smith? Oh jolly good, marvellous! I’m Mr Bradley from… and I’m carrying out some market research in the Bridge of Don area for a competition we’re running next week giving homeowners the chance to have a luxury kitchen installed at no cost at all. Now let me see, I’m just looking up your details on my fictional computer in front of me… ah yes – you’re the property owner and your kitchen is over five years old, could you verify that for me? What do you mean you’re not interested, not interested in what – a million pounds?’ The woman starts to explain why she is not interested and it is at this point that Mr Bradley hangs up. He is rude, obnoxious, over the top and a complete maverick. Yet somehow, it works.
1st July 2002: Dave Bradley is definitely madder than an FCUK condom. Today he was perfecting his fone technique, which involved calling up housewives and trying to sell them kitchens by introducing himself as Mr Bin Laden, Michael Caine, Mr Spam Javelin or, best of all, Mrs Haemaphroditey. The rest of the morning passed quickly, with Dave trying out a number of stupid voices on unsuspecting fone victims, his best one being ‘The Constipated Yorkshireman’. He also did his best to slip into the conversation, wherever possible, the fact that he’d ‘Just cracked one off.’ That boy needs therapy, he really does.
11th July 2002: Dave Bradley lost his job last nite, and it was in unusual circumstances. It wasn't his punctuality or his lack of respect for managerial authority that got him into trouble. And it wasn't even his fone manner - calling people up and telling them he had a colostomy bag and was a raging paedo had nothing to do with it. No, it was a lot simpler than that. David Bradley lost his job because he wrote 'No Brains' next to Billy's name on the whiteboard. It wasn't unusual for staff to have nicknames added beside their formal monickers - Dave was 'Bradders' or 'Tosser', Darren was 'Dazza' and I was 'Sickboy'. The problem with labelling Billy 'No Brains', apart from the cruelty of the insult, was that his was the only nickname that had been added to the board… And so it was that on 11th July 2002, Mrs Haemaphroditey found his/herself unemployed again after just four weeks as a kitchen telesaleser. But like a bad kebab, I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of the smooth-talking scoundrel in the days to come.
16th July 2002: Dave returned to work today, one week after he was given the sack for making fun of Billy No Brains. The kebab did indeed resurface for sloppy seconds, just as I had predicted, and it was ranker than ever….Mr Bradley celebrated his return by announcing to those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end that he was calling from The Floating Fortress Of Doom and had a colostomy bag attached to himself. After a week away from the office, Bradders was madder than ever. The psychotic look of pleasure that wells up in his eyes when torturing his victims over the fone has to be seen to be believed. I wouldn't want to be his pet hamster.
17th July 2002: Behind Stevie, sitting at a desk of his own, is Dave Bradley, known to everyone else in the office - and himself - as 'Tosser'. Tosser Dave is drinking beer and foning householders on his sheet to inform them that he is a small Brazilian frog, and would they like a luxury kitchen installation at no cost anyway?
22nd July 2002: There's also a new manager, Paul, who is assisting Alex and possibly trying to tame the deranged beast that is David Bradley. Today he was 'The Second Coming of Jesus Christ', doing research 'into your anus' and a friendly telesaleser who promised Mrs Lamb that he wouldn't fleece her for a kitchen. Most of Dave's off-the-cuff comments went unchecked until Paul had the misfortune of calling back a potential customer who was puzzled as to why the previous gentleman had said 'You may have seen our company before on Crimewatch.' Every circus needs a clown. It's just a shame for the residents of Aberdeen and Tayside that we got Pennywise.
28th July 2002: The Essex girl, who had never had the pleasure of Dave Bradley before, was astonished by his fone manner, especially when he started informing members of the public that he had a dripping penis and would they like to smell his cheese?
3rd August 2002: Dave Bradley, a performing seal whose name may be frustratingly familiar to you, was sent home from work on Thursday for misbehaving yet again. It wasn’t a member of staff he had insulted this time, but a member of the public who had the pleasure of learning that ‘My name’s Dave and I’m a wanker’ as well as some gooey details about the pre-cum developing in Dave's boxers. Fooling around in front of Paul is one thing, but when the branch manager is in the room it’s career suicide, or at least it would be if Dave had a career to live for in the first place. As a salesman, Bradley is pretty average, but as a morale-booster for the rest of the staff, he works better than any hot coals team-building exercise. Telesales is not a job; it’s a means of venting your frustrations on the rest of society
6th December 2002: David Bradley, who is back within the fold for the fifth (or is it the sixth?) time. To the public, this means receiving more calls like this: ‘Hi, my name’s Mr Bradley and I’m doing market research into your redneck community...Let me just check – you own the property, the kitchen’s over five years old and you love the cock, am I right? What do you mean you don’t understand? Are you retarded or just senile? How old is the kitchen? It’s hardly quantum physics. Jesus Christ, I’d better go – a building’s just fallen down.’
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. (Incidentally, if you enjoyed that selection of vintage me, might I suggest you check out the TWD archives. Sure, some of it’s more immature than an aborted foetus but it’s also damn funny in places, if I say so myself.) In the four years since Dave Bradley last disgraced The Trash Whore Diaries, our paths have crossed on occasions, such as the nite I witnessed him eating omelette ingredients before sticking his fingers down his throat and making himself sick, frying up the resultant vomit and eating it for a £200 bet. Having not seen hide nor hair of Dave in over two years however, I thought he’d either grown up and gotten a proper job or been tracked down and slain by an irate telesales customer. Imagine my surprise when I opened up the Press & Journal this morning to find a fotograph of Dave Bradley being dragged across a lawn by his legs accompanied by the caption ‘Student James Provan’s friend David Bradley pretends to eat grass as a human lawnmower.’ The story (which can be viewed in full here) noted: ‘An Aberdeen student whose film about making pancakes was seen by thousands on the internet and then millions more on US TV is to have another one of his clips used in an advertising campaign. James Provan's video showing him getting out of bed and cooking up his favourite breakfast treat last year became one of the most popular clips on the website You Tube, which allows users to upload their home movies. Now the 24-year-old computer science student's latest opus is to be used in an US TV advert for an internet service provided by media giant Time Warner. Filmed in his parents' garden in the Aberdeen suburb of Milltimber, the animation shows a leaf collector sucking leaves off a tree and includes him pushing his friend along the grass as if he were a lawnmower….The Aberdeen University student's films have now been seen by about 3.5million people online…Producers of Good Morning America, one of the most popular TV shows in the US, contacted him after You Tube put the clip on the website's main page.’
And here it is - the clip itself, featuring Dave ‘Lawnmower‘ Bradley:
People, places and governments may change, but Dave Bradley will always be a tosser of the highest order. And I can’t pay the boy a higher compliment than that.
I could explain the context of the fotograph but I don’t see the point, for the picture itself tells you all you need to know about Dave Bradley. Four years since the scoundrel last appeared in The Trash Whore Diaries and two years since I last set eyes on him, Dave Bradley is back by dint of an appearance in today’s Press & Journal. We’ll get to that story in a minute, but first, allow me to refresh your memory by reprising some of Bradley’s more memorable cameos in this weblog…26th June 2002: My marketing mentor at the office was a certain Dave Bradley, the same Dave Bradley who had played bass for Sirius at our Elgin gig, despite not knowing any of the songs, before proceeding to go skinny dipping in the North Sea. Today he was wearing a suit, talking like a toff and looking like a yuppy competing with his brothers for a share of daddy’s inheritance, desperately trying to look sophisticated in order to impress. But like all good personal sellers, there was method in his madness as I was soon to discover. Dave had only been with the company for ten days, but already he had been promoted. He had a certain flair that both endeared and endangered him to the public in his quest for bites. I sat down on the other side of the table, picked up the extra handset and listened in as Dave dealt his dodgiest lines to members of the unsuspecting public. He had decided to appropriate an eccentric upper-class accent for the purposes of his job, and it went something like this: ‘Oh hello! Is that Mrs Smith? Oh jolly good, marvellous! I’m Mr Bradley from… and I’m carrying out some market research in the Bridge of Don area for a competition we’re running next week giving homeowners the chance to have a luxury kitchen installed at no cost at all. Now let me see, I’m just looking up your details on my fictional computer in front of me… ah yes – you’re the property owner and your kitchen is over five years old, could you verify that for me? What do you mean you’re not interested, not interested in what – a million pounds?’ The woman starts to explain why she is not interested and it is at this point that Mr Bradley hangs up. He is rude, obnoxious, over the top and a complete maverick. Yet somehow, it works.
1st July 2002: Dave Bradley is definitely madder than an FCUK condom. Today he was perfecting his fone technique, which involved calling up housewives and trying to sell them kitchens by introducing himself as Mr Bin Laden, Michael Caine, Mr Spam Javelin or, best of all, Mrs Haemaphroditey. The rest of the morning passed quickly, with Dave trying out a number of stupid voices on unsuspecting fone victims, his best one being ‘The Constipated Yorkshireman’. He also did his best to slip into the conversation, wherever possible, the fact that he’d ‘Just cracked one off.’ That boy needs therapy, he really does.
11th July 2002: Dave Bradley lost his job last nite, and it was in unusual circumstances. It wasn't his punctuality or his lack of respect for managerial authority that got him into trouble. And it wasn't even his fone manner - calling people up and telling them he had a colostomy bag and was a raging paedo had nothing to do with it. No, it was a lot simpler than that. David Bradley lost his job because he wrote 'No Brains' next to Billy's name on the whiteboard. It wasn't unusual for staff to have nicknames added beside their formal monickers - Dave was 'Bradders' or 'Tosser', Darren was 'Dazza' and I was 'Sickboy'. The problem with labelling Billy 'No Brains', apart from the cruelty of the insult, was that his was the only nickname that had been added to the board… And so it was that on 11th July 2002, Mrs Haemaphroditey found his/herself unemployed again after just four weeks as a kitchen telesaleser. But like a bad kebab, I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of the smooth-talking scoundrel in the days to come.
16th July 2002: Dave returned to work today, one week after he was given the sack for making fun of Billy No Brains. The kebab did indeed resurface for sloppy seconds, just as I had predicted, and it was ranker than ever….Mr Bradley celebrated his return by announcing to those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end that he was calling from The Floating Fortress Of Doom and had a colostomy bag attached to himself. After a week away from the office, Bradders was madder than ever. The psychotic look of pleasure that wells up in his eyes when torturing his victims over the fone has to be seen to be believed. I wouldn't want to be his pet hamster.
17th July 2002: Behind Stevie, sitting at a desk of his own, is Dave Bradley, known to everyone else in the office - and himself - as 'Tosser'. Tosser Dave is drinking beer and foning householders on his sheet to inform them that he is a small Brazilian frog, and would they like a luxury kitchen installation at no cost anyway?
22nd July 2002: There's also a new manager, Paul, who is assisting Alex and possibly trying to tame the deranged beast that is David Bradley. Today he was 'The Second Coming of Jesus Christ', doing research 'into your anus' and a friendly telesaleser who promised Mrs Lamb that he wouldn't fleece her for a kitchen. Most of Dave's off-the-cuff comments went unchecked until Paul had the misfortune of calling back a potential customer who was puzzled as to why the previous gentleman had said 'You may have seen our company before on Crimewatch.' Every circus needs a clown. It's just a shame for the residents of Aberdeen and Tayside that we got Pennywise.
28th July 2002: The Essex girl, who had never had the pleasure of Dave Bradley before, was astonished by his fone manner, especially when he started informing members of the public that he had a dripping penis and would they like to smell his cheese?
3rd August 2002: Dave Bradley, a performing seal whose name may be frustratingly familiar to you, was sent home from work on Thursday for misbehaving yet again. It wasn’t a member of staff he had insulted this time, but a member of the public who had the pleasure of learning that ‘My name’s Dave and I’m a wanker’ as well as some gooey details about the pre-cum developing in Dave's boxers. Fooling around in front of Paul is one thing, but when the branch manager is in the room it’s career suicide, or at least it would be if Dave had a career to live for in the first place. As a salesman, Bradley is pretty average, but as a morale-booster for the rest of the staff, he works better than any hot coals team-building exercise. Telesales is not a job; it’s a means of venting your frustrations on the rest of society
6th December 2002: David Bradley, who is back within the fold for the fifth (or is it the sixth?) time. To the public, this means receiving more calls like this: ‘Hi, my name’s Mr Bradley and I’m doing market research into your redneck community...Let me just check – you own the property, the kitchen’s over five years old and you love the cock, am I right? What do you mean you don’t understand? Are you retarded or just senile? How old is the kitchen? It’s hardly quantum physics. Jesus Christ, I’d better go – a building’s just fallen down.’
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. (Incidentally, if you enjoyed that selection of vintage me, might I suggest you check out the TWD archives. Sure, some of it’s more immature than an aborted foetus but it’s also damn funny in places, if I say so myself.) In the four years since Dave Bradley last disgraced The Trash Whore Diaries, our paths have crossed on occasions, such as the nite I witnessed him eating omelette ingredients before sticking his fingers down his throat and making himself sick, frying up the resultant vomit and eating it for a £200 bet. Having not seen hide nor hair of Dave in over two years however, I thought he’d either grown up and gotten a proper job or been tracked down and slain by an irate telesales customer. Imagine my surprise when I opened up the Press & Journal this morning to find a fotograph of Dave Bradley being dragged across a lawn by his legs accompanied by the caption ‘Student James Provan’s friend David Bradley pretends to eat grass as a human lawnmower.’ The story (which can be viewed in full here) noted: ‘An Aberdeen student whose film about making pancakes was seen by thousands on the internet and then millions more on US TV is to have another one of his clips used in an advertising campaign. James Provan's video showing him getting out of bed and cooking up his favourite breakfast treat last year became one of the most popular clips on the website You Tube, which allows users to upload their home movies. Now the 24-year-old computer science student's latest opus is to be used in an US TV advert for an internet service provided by media giant Time Warner. Filmed in his parents' garden in the Aberdeen suburb of Milltimber, the animation shows a leaf collector sucking leaves off a tree and includes him pushing his friend along the grass as if he were a lawnmower….The Aberdeen University student's films have now been seen by about 3.5million people online…Producers of Good Morning America, one of the most popular TV shows in the US, contacted him after You Tube put the clip on the website's main page.’
And here it is - the clip itself, featuring Dave ‘Lawnmower‘ Bradley:
People, places and governments may change, but Dave Bradley will always be a tosser of the highest order. And I can’t pay the boy a higher compliment than that.
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