Flagging
Just sent a semaphore message to another ship that we’re out of tinned meat but I got flagged for spam
Don’t ring us
Now this is another male/female thing so all you feminists who don’t like being told what to do and when to do it, look away now.
It’s just a note to doctors about us men really. I’m not talking about countries where you have to re- mortgage your granny so that you can have that breast implant (“just the one side please, old people are worth so much less these days”), where your doc has to be nice to you because you’re the paying customer. I’m talking about the good old, much maligned, National Health Service in the UK where, funnily enough, we are all paying customers but you wouldn’t know it if you tried to ring for an appointment here. There’s a ‘system’, I’ve discovered, and it goes something like this:
If you’re pregnant, have small children in need of injections, elderly or just a female with unresolvable issues, please press 1.
If you’re male or anything resembling one and are not sure whether this is an emergency, please press 2 and hold for a very long time or preferably, don’t bother us. Tch tch! Can’t you see we’re very busy? Really!
I once foolishly decided after a heavy cold, being the inconvenient man I am, to seek advice for an alarmingly noticeable drop in hearing. To my mind this seemed not entirely unreasonable given that freelance piano tuning is how I get to eat. Getting past the receptionist is an ordeal in itself.
“Is it urgent?”
Hmm, self-diagnosis time … is my being able to provide for my family important? Hmm… no, I suppose not now you mention it. If I rang with pains in the chest I’d get the same same question. Weeks later a brief examination revealed ‘nothing wrong’ in spite of the fact I was very aware that all was not normal.
Could I get an appointment with a specialist?
Good God man, I’ve looked into your ears, what more d’you want? Alright then, go and see this lady.
‘This lady’ gives me a hearing test, tells me my herring is ‘down’ and tries to sell me a herring aid with the line that ‘no buggy likes admitting they have a herring problem’.
I HAD A HEAVY COLD! I’M JUST BLOCKED UP! (I’ve had time to make my own diagnosis by this stage in the game)
And you’re sure you’re not pregnant? That sometimes messes up your faculties. Your name is Hilary after all…
Ah! It is, isn’t it. I may use that in future.
Lord Byron wuz ‘ere
Just sold a sketch to the Treason Show. Living in a small town where comedy is limited to people tripping over or the antics of the omnipresent duck population as they suicidally choose to lead a string of babies over pedestrian crossings regardless of the traffic light colour, this is no mean feat. Had I realised sooner that writing was something I’d get into, I’d have chosen a more cultured place with cosy pub snugs where like-minded jokesmiths drink beer under the guise of bouncing ideas off one another. It’s the kind of place where you could easily imagine seeing a blue plaque on a house reading “Lord Byron stopped here for a cup of tea October 27th 1803, thought about writing a poem and said, ‘nah, sod it, I’ll have some tiffin instead.’ ” So yeah, quite chuffed but still looking out for a drinking writing partner.
Christmas Angel charity single
Okay, I admit it, I like this song. Mainly because I wrote it but also because it’s probably going to be as annoying as Slade and Wizzard every year from now judging by the response so far, but it will be raising funds for clean water projects. So please buy it all ye post-modern closet cheese-lovers.
Only 79p to help stop some kid being raped when going to fetch water from the local stagnant pond? And in return I get an irritating-because-I’m-an-atheist-though-actually-damn-you-likeable song? Yep.
Thank you. Merry C…an’t say it yet.
And we’re back
Okay, time to crank up the word thing again. I’ve been a busy boy writing this year’s no. 1 Christmas hit single, specially created to drive people insane. We’re recording it this coming Saturday and boy, I’ll be glad when it’s ‘in the can’!
There are so many stories attached to it. It started a few years back when I heard someone on radio say, “If you manage to write a Christmas hit single, you’re made for life” and I thought “Yeah, I can do that and I’ve no pension so why not?” Wrote the thing, liked it, teenage kids hated it … so it must be good! Others thought so too and the upshot is, we’re going to do it as a charity fundraiser.
I hadn’t appreciated though, that just writing a song is not enough. I’d assumed I’d play it to someone and they’d do all the rest. How wrong I was. Birthing involves parenting, I now realise.
” Does the solo need to be swung or straight?”
“At bar forty-eight, is that supposed to be an A flat?”
“I don’t know, maybe, I can’t notate music… I only made it up … it’s just what the computer printed off.. why is everyone asking me questions I can’t answer? Waaah!”
It’s a beautiful contrast to the world of writing that people want to run with what you put in front of them. It’ll be even more beautiful if it does raise some money for clean water in developing countries too. I can only think as far as getting a decent take done on Saturday but…
WATCH
THIS
SPACE
FOR “CHRISTMAS ANGEL”
Listen up.
People accuse me of being manipulative
but on no account must you listen to THEM.
Lonely?
Join thousands of singles today!
Here’s some Bostik and a large pile of old 45′s
1431 and all that
Here’s a little comp entry we did a while ago. The comp was, of course, won by a professional media-type TV producer but it’s not about the winning, it’s about spending your low /non budget in the pub instead and doing the best you can with what you have. Had.
Has anyone told Clarkson?
Must admit, I hadn’t noticed this slightly surprising news in the headlines. If you’re taking the car through the tunnel though you might want to check the exact date. It would be a shame to waste money on a return ticket.
Old people are everywhere. As well as getting in your way, they can teach you basic forms of communication. Like words (for like starters?)
Get off the internet yourself kiddo. Go and have a proper relationship before the species dies out and stop clogging up bandwidth your parents are probably still paying for.
A Nice Cuppa
I’m looking forward to this world cup like a child waiting for Father Christmas and wondering if any of you Yankeedoodles think you’re going to spank England’s bottom at ‘the beautiful game’ (footy please, not that horrible soccer word) on June 12th. It’s very hard to call as I suspect the US ‘win-at-all-costs’ mentality might well catch us off guard and we’re quite fond of the odd capitulation in the spirit of fair play etc. Empire, for example; not wholly English but you get the gist.
My mind drifts back four years to the last attempt at glory when some very unsporting Portugese gentlemen took it upon themselves to spoil the England party. I wouldn’t have minded quite so much if I hadn’t wandered into the back yard afterwards with a beer for solace only to hear the strains of my favourite Queen song being massacred at the nearby pub karaoke. The great thing about football is there’s always, next game/season/competition if it all goes wrong. The great thing about karaoke is … well … someone may care to enlighten me …
I was out in said back yard yesterday practising my keepy-uppies just in case a last minute call came through from the FA saying that the England manager desperately needed a middle-aged man as a standby striker. I managed to do eleven with my insane border collie snapping at the ball so I think I qualify. Video evidence can be provided.
Well good luck to South Africa, I hope the tournament goes well and good luck to all world cup fans. But not too much, that simply wouldn’t be cricket. Talking of which we’ve just won one world cup so let’s bag a second!
COME ON ENGLAND!
Newshound
A couple of amusing things caught my eye this week. I love that the skeleton of a dog was found on board King Henry VIII’s favourite ship , the Mary Rose, and that Tudor seafarers didn’t allow cats on board believing they brought bad luck (the ship sank). All those evil Tudor cats yowling with delight, “that’ll learn ya” from the shore line.
Being a bit of a sticky-tape-fix man myself, my hero-of-the-week award (an unspecified length of string) goes to inventor Robert Harrison who captured some stunning images of earth from 21 miles high by gaffer taping a camera to a weather balloon. This Wallace and Gromit-esque feat means that the newly formed British Space Agency can pack up and go home now space has been discovered by a Brit. Come back when you chaps have designed a less cringeworthy logo. Honestly!
Stats 1
More people are killed by falling coconuts than in shark attacks. Be careful in the fruit and veg aisle people.
Paw relations
Cat: You’re looking at me as though I shouldn’t be crapping in your garden.
MG: You read my mind. Well done.
Cat: And …
MG: … and now I’m thinking …
Cat: … where did I put my air pistol?
MG: Not quite.
Cat: Phew!
MG: It’s in my pocket here but the neighbours can see us.
Cat: Oh.
MG: Mm.
Cat: Is … your dog friend around?
MG: He is.
Cat: Only I know how much he likes to eat these things.
MG: Look, the whole point of me getting a dog was to stop having my garden being used as a cat toilet.
Cat: But now it’s a dog toilet.
MG: Yes, but somehow that’s infinitely more acceptable and I can’t quite fathom why. Except that I hate cats.
Cat: Not as much as cats hate you.
MG: No, that would be a tall order.
Cat: I’ll go now then.
MG: Good.
Cat: But I will be back when your idiot friend isn’t paying attention.
MG: Bring your friends, why don’t you.
Cat: Cheerio Loser.
MG: Cassumfrassumrassumrickrastardly! …. Oi!
Fluffy bunnies
Happy new year and all that. So what is it now it’s not the noughties? The Teenies? The decade in which we all have a crisis of self-confidence and skulk about? Not so different a decade then perhaps. It seems to have started well in Midgetgemsville; walking home from the party with Mrs Gems it began to snow and was all romantic-like under the street lights. As we skipped along I said I liked the word ‘flurries’ because it was like a mixture of ‘fluffy’ and ‘bunnies’ (I’ve decided that if alcohol gets me, I’ll be one of those happy drunks, not the angst-ridden dull sort). Anyway, skirting the sick on the pavement, we made it home and the new woodburning stove was soon aglow with the piles of rejection slips and there was even some mulled wine left over from the teen party we’ d left going on here. So yes, those Teenies, they’re not half as bad as people think! Enjoy, and if you haven’t hopped about for a while … go on, you know you need a new year’s res.
Oh Blog
Oh blog, you’ve become a little brother,
A pain in the bum I HAVE to babysit
Yes, yes, I know, I started it
You were once fun but now you’re … other
and a bit too much – responsibling?
The thing that gets me down the most
is talking to myself each post
but hey, since no-one’s reading let’s
make libelous comments, pranks and threats
and wait for knockings at the door
from yankee agents extraditing
Yes! So much more exciting times ahead!
I’ve done you blog. I’m off to bed.
Class
I’ve just been to one of those self-assertiveness classes. I’m not entirely sure why .
My daughter just started back at school. I asked her what class she was in and she said, “One you can’t ever begin to aspire to you lard-eating excuse for a father “
Prawn yawn
Hmm, possibly time to regurgitate the old blogness. I’ve been busy teaching a posse of lobsters to limbo… created some low shellfish team I can tell you. That was a crab joke. I’ll go away again.
Boooooooooogle
I wonder what the inhabitants of this place think about being observed so closely:
Call me old fashioned but if someone puts a step ladder up outside your house and begins to photograph everything, wouldn’t you call the police? I’ve just been having a look at this street view thing and it looks like a great tool for planning where to dump your getaway car or casing some remote joint ( not recommending you do). There are unblurred number plates and faces all over the place and at one sign in Norfolk reading “Farm Access Only”, that sinister black car has obviously driven along their lane to capture everything they have in their yard.
Give it a couple of years and with any luck the entire UK will look something like this if enough people complain.
Hands up now, who trusts multinationals to have their best interests at heart?
Optimists
Apparently tomorrow has been labelled ‘Blue Monday’ as it’s allegedly the most depressing day of the year. So I’ve joined the Optimists Society’s campaign to counter it with a bit of a lift – no, not the elevator emergency button – and this came to me:
How do you get four optimists in a mini?
two in the front, two in the back.
How do you get ten optimists in a mini?
Five in the front, five in the back?
How do you get one hundred optimists in a mini?
Tell them it’s only half full .
Take me to your loser
Noticed this strange pattern while looking at satellite pics of fields near me today (it’s that or listening to paint dry here). Could it be crap circles?
Spirit of Mrs Richards
Anyone thinking of a hotel break may want to BEWARE OTHER GUESTS! Here is a selection of some customer reviews found on booking.com. None of them mine I hasten to add but who needs to attempt comedy writing when you have the moaning British public, God bless ‘em.
Chipped and hairy toilet seat in room – vvbad.
corridors were far too hot.
could have been told were things were in the hotel . had to look and get lost, moore comunication needed
Hotel was having lift built which put TV room out of use & reception upside down.
It is not exactly a complaint but the hot water was extemely hot,it was scalding.Great for adults but for the elderly or children it could be dangerous.It nearly burnt me and I was in Catering all my life so I am used to handling hot plates etc!!!.\
Very dissapointed with the room which was pokey, airless, hot and at the
back of the hotel, event though it was top price. The baathroom had a
floor that was collapsing, and the seagulls woke us at 4:30am since we
couldn’t sleep without the window wide open. The dinner was poor and
relatively expensive.
the lift wasn’t working but staff did not inform me of this and i had to find out myself. i could have been stuck in the lift.
Full length mirror opposite Toilet in shower room, slightly disconcerting!
The town seems to be full of disaffected youth who like to mock tourists, especially as the sun goes down.
ants as stated
