My Tradesmen, Jokers in Disguise

November 30, 2007

Step 1) Install new 50 Watt kitchen spotlight bulbs, old ones to dim
Step 2) Realise current fixtures can only cope with 20 Watt bulbs
Step 3) Darkness, hair burnt
Step 4) Electrician quotes for new spotlight fixtures to cope with 50 Watt
Step 5) Pocket £600 lighter, burnt again.

Me: “So what actually are you doing”
Sparky: “I’ll use these units with a transformer”
Me: “A transformer, where does that go?”
Sparky: “Don’t worry, its hidden, you won’t be able to see it”
Me: ” So it’s a transformer in disguise?”
Sparky “Yes”

Hmmm, I might have possibly have been taken for an expensive ride, but at least I have Megatron hidden in my ceiling.


Christmas is Coming – The goats are off to Africa

November 27, 2007

Last year, with my blessing, Mum bought me an African goat, not actually for me you understand, but to help a poor African farmer. I didn’t even get a thank you goat note. I trust the farmer made best use of it and enjoyed many a baked goats cheese souffle with piquant red onion and not wasted it on just providing milk for his family and stuff.

“Another goat for Christmas this year, to add to the herd?” Asked mother.

“Charity begins at home this year Mum, I have just moved into my new house remember? So unless that goat knows how to renovate old floors boards, plaster and build a loft conversion then frankly I am not interested”*

Maybe I can send the farmer a gift list this year? The brochure would read – This year there are many struggling corporate workers in the UK, house prices have gone through the roof, do your bit to help them, can you do one of the following:-

Build a 56” TV from goats shit and rain water?

Build an espresso maker from mud and bamboo?

Build an American style fridge from a dried up well and a goats skull?

I look forward to your gifts

*I am not a heartless shit and have done my bit this year raising £3000 for the British Heart Foundation. No goats or African farmers were hurt in the writing of this post.


Punter TV – Fast Food for the Soul

November 26, 2007

“Punter TV” is Strictly Come Dancing, X Factor, and I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here. Like fast food for the soul, I am overwhelmed by a temporary feel good factor, which will soon disappear and leave me feeling sick and full of self loathing.

As I tighten the belt around my arm, slap my vein and get further jacked up on Ant & Dec, MSG (from my takeaway), and my second bottle of Rioja, the worry that I might be damaging the spark in my synapses fades into a hazy blur.

I shouldn’t feel guilty about deleting parts of my massive brain. I wallow in the comfort that six million (current viewing figures) other people are also destroying their brains, and the other 54 million are probably out binge drinking. I promise myself that next week I will read a book instead.


Public Transport – A Class System.

November 22, 2007

Occasionally I am forced out of the leather clad, air conditioned bliss of my car and on to stinking, vomit stained, graffiti decorated public transport. My nearest main train station to my Royal Borough town is Slough so the genetic quality of the passengers cannot be guaranteed.

My owl like vision (ignoring my lazy eye, short sightedness, astigmatism and colourblindness – maybe its me with the genetic issues?), honed in a vacant seat. The once plush blue velour double seat stood out like an oasis in a seat wilderness, tempting me in to quench my sitting down thirst.

I sat down and familiarised myself with the immediate surroundings. It seems I had sat next to an escaped genetic experiment. Try and imagine a walrus that had mated with that big happy genie from Aladdin – this lady was the result, she had lost the blue skin though. She was so fat and so bald I was half convinced it was a post-op Big Daddy.

“Sweets Mummy Sweets, sweets , sweets sweets” shrieked the woman’s toddler.

“Why is you always asking for sweets, why can’t you be asking for chips or somefing”

As this distant descendant of Jabba the Hut continued to verbally abuse her child..

“Shut up innit, I don’t need your bullshit today”

I foraged deep into my “bag o’ bovverds” to try and find some sympathy for the obvious terrible socio-economic background she had come from, but the bag was bare.

I will write to Great Western trains to suggest they operate the carriages in a tax bracket system, 40% at the front, working your way down the carraiges to the unemployed on the roof, thus meaing I wouldn’t have to suffer such an unpleasant journey in the future.


Antony Worrell Thompson, Pug Faced Ginger Tosser

November 20, 2007

Antony Worrell Thompson (AWT), you are a pug faced ginger tosser. In absence of a feedback page on your website(http://awt.websir.co.uk), and I am not sure I know your home address (apart from AWT, Henley on Thames, feel free to send him post), I will leave my feedback right here.

I was visiting the Windsor Grill with my future in laws. We sat down for some pre dinner drinks, as I sipped on my G&T the restaurant plunged into darkness. At first the emergency candles created an atmosphere but then it was, well, just dark.

So now, the Polish waitress, who hadn’t really grasped the English language, could no longer rely on our pointing at the menu to communicate, due to the darkness. I mooed like a cow to signify my chosen dish but wasn’t sure what sound a mashed celeriac made, so my vegetable choice was down to her. Needless to say the wrong food appeared along with a random bottle of wine.

The head waiter had been drafted in from another restaurant owned by AWT, as the the other head waiter was apparently sick, hopefully not in my food. Was he experienced? No. Rude? Yes. As the evening progressed the comedy of errors worsened, culminating with the Pole (who had pretended not to speak English all evening), questioned me in a well pronunceated voice as to why I hadn’t left an e-tip via the chip and pin machine. As punching waitresses is frowned upon in this town I paid up and left.

So AWT, next time I come (you really think there will be a next time?), and you want to fleece me for Steak and Mash (or however you dress it up on the menu), I will bring my night vision goggles and brush up on my Eastern European Language skills.

AWT, sort it out! You pug faced ginger tosser.