Ach, post edited after many months of embarrassment. Shame that a rather fun endeavour ultimately descended into an utter boredom-led lyrical maelstrom.
The commenters have it right, though - although I can't believe any of them are still available to read after all these years..
Y'never know though, I might be back one day, just not this day. It's not easy coming up with new pub-related funnies these days, given that my 5-day-a-week pub attendance (as a pub-worker) has now been superceded (underceded?) by a mostly one-day-a-week limit.
Time will tell though...
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Friday, June 30, 2006
Still Here....?
Just popping in to see who's still hanging around...h'mmm, not many it seems.
Recent things that have caught my attention: -
1) Scottish people being harangued by the English media into supporting England during the World Cup.
My view on this? Why should we? As F.I.F.A. recognise us as two separate nations, why should we actively support any other team (and if we do, why should it be England)?
That'd be a bit like a German supporting the Netherlands, or a Spaniard supporting Portugal (or even a Brazilian supporting Argentina). It would be preposterous.
In no other place on earth would anyone expect someone to support their nearest and dearest (!) rivals in any sporting arena. Just because we are part of the United Kingdom, doesn't mean we have to fawn all over each other on the football fields.
Now we shall expand this a little, and look at the many Scots who are actively supporting whoever England are playing.
Now, this may seem a tad on the hostile side of things, but there is a very, very good reason for this phenomenon.
Television.
We in Scotland are forced to watch English television coverage of the World Cup, through the Scottish television company's lack of funds/enthusiasm.
Nothing irks me (and most other Scots viewers) more than watching these pundits and listening to commentators and anal-ysts witter on about the England camp and how they will win the World Cup, during a game between Argentina and Germany or Ghana and Brazil.
If these television programmes would concentrate on the game at hand, and project a sensible, un-biased viewpoint, then we in Scotland would be a damn sight happier.
2) Football-related again, I'm afraid.
Recently, a young Kiwi lad and his father were attacked in Edinburgh because the lad was wearing an England shirt. Allegedly.
In another incident, a disabled England fan was dragged from his car and beaten up for the same reason. Allegedly.
Now, I add the 'allegedly' to both statements, simply because there has been no corroborative evidence to back these stories up. No arrests, no prosecutions, no hardened xenophobes sent down.
Now, in no way would I condone these actions, true or not - they are a sad reflection on modern life more than anything else.
However, these incidents have been widely reported in the English media, at a time when over 500 England fans are arrested in Germany. The cynical amongst us could come to a few conclusions quite easily here, don't you think?
And before any enraged Englishman comments about the Scots and their Anti-English hatred, I'd like to draw their atention to a small news report that has probably not been widely reported, and certainly not raised in the House Of Commons: -
Click Here
The phrase "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" springs to mind.
Holier-than-thou? Me?
Recent things that have caught my attention: -
1) Scottish people being harangued by the English media into supporting England during the World Cup.
My view on this? Why should we? As F.I.F.A. recognise us as two separate nations, why should we actively support any other team (and if we do, why should it be England)?
That'd be a bit like a German supporting the Netherlands, or a Spaniard supporting Portugal (or even a Brazilian supporting Argentina). It would be preposterous.
In no other place on earth would anyone expect someone to support their nearest and dearest (!) rivals in any sporting arena. Just because we are part of the United Kingdom, doesn't mean we have to fawn all over each other on the football fields.
Now we shall expand this a little, and look at the many Scots who are actively supporting whoever England are playing.
Now, this may seem a tad on the hostile side of things, but there is a very, very good reason for this phenomenon.
Television.
We in Scotland are forced to watch English television coverage of the World Cup, through the Scottish television company's lack of funds/enthusiasm.
Nothing irks me (and most other Scots viewers) more than watching these pundits and listening to commentators and anal-ysts witter on about the England camp and how they will win the World Cup, during a game between Argentina and Germany or Ghana and Brazil.
If these television programmes would concentrate on the game at hand, and project a sensible, un-biased viewpoint, then we in Scotland would be a damn sight happier.
2) Football-related again, I'm afraid.
Recently, a young Kiwi lad and his father were attacked in Edinburgh because the lad was wearing an England shirt. Allegedly.
In another incident, a disabled England fan was dragged from his car and beaten up for the same reason. Allegedly.
Now, I add the 'allegedly' to both statements, simply because there has been no corroborative evidence to back these stories up. No arrests, no prosecutions, no hardened xenophobes sent down.
Now, in no way would I condone these actions, true or not - they are a sad reflection on modern life more than anything else.
However, these incidents have been widely reported in the English media, at a time when over 500 England fans are arrested in Germany. The cynical amongst us could come to a few conclusions quite easily here, don't you think?
And before any enraged Englishman comments about the Scots and their Anti-English hatred, I'd like to draw their atention to a small news report that has probably not been widely reported, and certainly not raised in the House Of Commons: -
Click Here
The phrase "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" springs to mind.
Holier-than-thou? Me?
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Back from the Dead!
Well, the previous post certainly confirms my thoughts.
Posting from a mobile 'phone doesn't work using the Blogger dashboard...even using an xHTML browser. Meh...
In other news: -
I haven't been posting recently because I couldn't really be arsed. (None of this "writer's block" bollocks for me! Non-arsed-ness it is, then!!)
Christmas is now firmly past us, and we're all happier for that I'm sure. In fact, it's almost Easter time, 'cos there's tons of Creme Eggs in the shops.
In fact, I have to concur with Scaryduck's discoveries of a few weeks ago - Creme Eggs are now indeed smaller than ever.
They used to be the size of ostrich eggs (hang on - that remnds me of an old story that takes the piss out of The Wife!) in the days of Wagon Wheels the size of, well, wheels on a wagon and Curly-Wurlys had to be carried on your back like a window-cleaner's ladder...
Ah, the halcyon days of youth right enough.
Right, enough of this buffoonery for now.
We'll take this one step at a time, and see how long and how far we can go. Likely as long s it takes for me to become not arsed again.
I bid you adieu, adieu, to you and you and you...
Posting from a mobile 'phone doesn't work using the Blogger dashboard...even using an xHTML browser. Meh...
In other news: -
I haven't been posting recently because I couldn't really be arsed. (None of this "writer's block" bollocks for me! Non-arsed-ness it is, then!!)
Christmas is now firmly past us, and we're all happier for that I'm sure. In fact, it's almost Easter time, 'cos there's tons of Creme Eggs in the shops.
In fact, I have to concur with Scaryduck's discoveries of a few weeks ago - Creme Eggs are now indeed smaller than ever.
They used to be the size of ostrich eggs (hang on - that remnds me of an old story that takes the piss out of The Wife!) in the days of Wagon Wheels the size of, well, wheels on a wagon and Curly-Wurlys had to be carried on your back like a window-cleaner's ladder...
Ah, the halcyon days of youth right enough.
Right, enough of this buffoonery for now.
We'll take this one step at a time, and see how long and how far we can go. Likely as long s it takes for me to become not arsed again.
I bid you adieu, adieu, to you and you and you...
Thursday, December 01, 2005
The DVDs People Will Release...?
I could not believe it when I heard today on the radio that they're set to release a DVD of the England 3 Argentina 2 football match played recently in Switzerland.
It was a friendly game! Not the World Cup Final!! This match counted for nothing, although quite a good game of football it was.
But then, I saw a quite good game of football on TV the other night between Doncaster Rovers and Aston Villa, yet they're not rush-releasing that for the Christmas market!
Pretty sad decision to release that DVD, to be honest...
But is it quite as sad as THIS??
Who decides these DVDs should be released? And more importantly, who decides to buy them?
It was a friendly game! Not the World Cup Final!! This match counted for nothing, although quite a good game of football it was.
But then, I saw a quite good game of football on TV the other night between Doncaster Rovers and Aston Villa, yet they're not rush-releasing that for the Christmas market!
Pretty sad decision to release that DVD, to be honest...
But is it quite as sad as THIS??
Who decides these DVDs should be released? And more importantly, who decides to buy them?
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Magnus Magnusson
If I told you there was a game starring Magnus Magnusson, you'd like it, right? I mean, it's Magnus Magnusson, isn't it?
What if I told you Magnus was pissed. From drinking bleach?
And that he has to piss on otters?
And not wasps. Or Electric Eskimos.
Would you play it?
How could you not?
Magnus Magnusson Pissing On Otters and not wasps or Electric Eskimos Game
Highest score wins a small portion of fuck all.
(Actually, it's a rather crap game, I just like the idea!)
What if I told you Magnus was pissed. From drinking bleach?
And that he has to piss on otters?
And not wasps. Or Electric Eskimos.
Would you play it?
How could you not?
Magnus Magnusson Pissing On Otters and not wasps or Electric Eskimos Game
Highest score wins a small portion of fuck all.
(Actually, it's a rather crap game, I just like the idea!)
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Anniversaries...
A year has passed. One year. It has been better than expected, I suppose.
I’ll never forget that fateful day, one year ago today, when my darling, beloved Wife came home from a not-so-routine Doctor’s appointment. We both knew something was not right (not just not right, but well, wrong..) but the Docs couldn’t figure it out.
Her right leg had become weak, meaning that walking long distances had become difficult – not painful, but just difficult. Her right hip was affected too. We thought it might be a trapped nerve or something like that.
Various tests were carried out, a couple of MRI scans and blood tests galore.
She came back from that doctor’s appointment, burst through our front door visibly shaking, and in floods of tears. Eventually she said the words that would change both our lives forever….
“I’ve got MS. Multiple Sclerosis.”
Much tears and soul-searching ensued. I spent a few sleepless nights, worrying about the future and what that might hold. I can’t even contemplate how The Wife was feeling through all this….she certainly coped better than I did.
After the shock had worn off a wee bit, we knew we had to face up to it. The nurse had told her not to look at all the MS websites, as they can give a somewhat false impression of the condition, and after ignoring her advice and checking some of them out, I knew I should have listened! MS is a condition that is different for every single sufferer, and some of the websites paint a very black picture indeed.
Anyway, a year has gone by. She is still fit, active, and full of life and is as strong as ever.
Her condition (I’ll never, ever call it a disease, like one of the nurses called it – that annoyed me somewhat!) hasn’t progressed much at all, and I for one think that that has much to do with the way she has combated this threat to her health.
She has an indomitable, indefatigable (© you-know-who…!) spirit of positive defiance that astounds me, and long may that last.
So, here’s to the next year – and whatever it may hold.
I’ll never forget that fateful day, one year ago today, when my darling, beloved Wife came home from a not-so-routine Doctor’s appointment. We both knew something was not right (not just not right, but well, wrong..) but the Docs couldn’t figure it out.
Her right leg had become weak, meaning that walking long distances had become difficult – not painful, but just difficult. Her right hip was affected too. We thought it might be a trapped nerve or something like that.
Various tests were carried out, a couple of MRI scans and blood tests galore.
She came back from that doctor’s appointment, burst through our front door visibly shaking, and in floods of tears. Eventually she said the words that would change both our lives forever….
“I’ve got MS. Multiple Sclerosis.”
Much tears and soul-searching ensued. I spent a few sleepless nights, worrying about the future and what that might hold. I can’t even contemplate how The Wife was feeling through all this….she certainly coped better than I did.
After the shock had worn off a wee bit, we knew we had to face up to it. The nurse had told her not to look at all the MS websites, as they can give a somewhat false impression of the condition, and after ignoring her advice and checking some of them out, I knew I should have listened! MS is a condition that is different for every single sufferer, and some of the websites paint a very black picture indeed.
Anyway, a year has gone by. She is still fit, active, and full of life and is as strong as ever.
Her condition (I’ll never, ever call it a disease, like one of the nurses called it – that annoyed me somewhat!) hasn’t progressed much at all, and I for one think that that has much to do with the way she has combated this threat to her health.
She has an indomitable, indefatigable (© you-know-who…!) spirit of positive defiance that astounds me, and long may that last.
So, here’s to the next year – and whatever it may hold.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Anyone here...?
*Opens door*
*Pokes head into room*
*Shouts "Hello? Is there anybody out there?"'*
*Waits for echo......*
*Hears "... ♪ on the horizon...orizon....izon....♪♪"*
.
.
.
*Shakes head, and closes door again, until tomorrow...*
*Pokes head into room*
*Shouts "Hello? Is there anybody out there?"'*
*Waits for echo......*
*Hears "... ♪ on the horizon...orizon....izon....♪♪"*
.
.
.
*Shakes head, and closes door again, until tomorrow...*
Friday, September 23, 2005
End Of Another Week...
Been real busy this past week or so.
The local seven-a-side league has started again, and after last season's wonderful achievements (we won the 2nd Division and the Champions Cup) I have resigned my post as Manager. Time is an issue just now...
The new season has got off to a bad start 10 goals conceded and only 1 scored. The 1st Division is going to be tough, right enough!
Moving on..
Had a visit from our mates Sneaky Les and Jeanette last week, and we went to see the neolithic burial chambers at Camster.
And have a deek at those clouds..!!
The Long Cairn
The Round Cairn
The Wife crawling into the passageway of the Round Cairn, with Sneaky Les in the foreground.
You'll notice that there are no 'photos of the inside...! There's a reason for this - no way was I going down that wee passageway..!
Anyway in other news, I was told 10 days ago that we'd be playing at the 3rd 'E-Rock Concert on the 24th (that's tomorrow!) so have been frantically trying to rehearse the new songs. It's not going well...
The last 'E-Rock Concert was a great success, raising cash for the local Nerve Centre, so hopefully this one can do the same. I'm shitting it already...!
A further point to consider is that tomorrow (24th) is The Wife's 6th Wedding Anniversary.
This means that all ideas of romantic candlelit dinners, and all that bullshit have been replaced by frantic rehearsals, and an evening for her which consists of going to a place she hates, sitting with a nervous, twitching, sweaty, probably not sober husband...!
Happy Anniversary, M'Dear!
The local seven-a-side league has started again, and after last season's wonderful achievements (we won the 2nd Division and the Champions Cup) I have resigned my post as Manager. Time is an issue just now...
The new season has got off to a bad start 10 goals conceded and only 1 scored. The 1st Division is going to be tough, right enough!
Moving on..
Had a visit from our mates Sneaky Les and Jeanette last week, and we went to see the neolithic burial chambers at Camster.
And have a deek at those clouds..!!
The Long Cairn
The Round Cairn
The Wife crawling into the passageway of the Round Cairn, with Sneaky Les in the foreground.
You'll notice that there are no 'photos of the inside...! There's a reason for this - no way was I going down that wee passageway..!
Anyway in other news, I was told 10 days ago that we'd be playing at the 3rd 'E-Rock Concert on the 24th (that's tomorrow!) so have been frantically trying to rehearse the new songs. It's not going well...
The last 'E-Rock Concert was a great success, raising cash for the local Nerve Centre, so hopefully this one can do the same. I'm shitting it already...!
A further point to consider is that tomorrow (24th) is The Wife's 6th Wedding Anniversary.
This means that all ideas of romantic candlelit dinners, and all that bullshit have been replaced by frantic rehearsals, and an evening for her which consists of going to a place she hates, sitting with a nervous, twitching, sweaty, probably not sober husband...!
Happy Anniversary, M'Dear!
Thursday, September 08, 2005
People From Dundee....?
Stumbled across some funny stuff on the internet over the years, and here's another example!
Be warned though, there are sweary-wordies, and a broad Dundee accent involved, so those of a nervous disposition shouldn't proceed....!
Just press the 'Play' icon!
*Edit - Content removed as now obsolete.*
-->
I know I wouldn't want to be 'June' when 'Aggie' get's her hands on her!!
*Many thanks to Dumpdee.co.uk for the laughs!This is the first time I've tried embedding, so let me know if it works or not! Got my fingers crossed!
Be warned though, there are sweary-wordies, and a broad Dundee accent involved, so those of a nervous disposition shouldn't proceed....!
Just press the 'Play' icon!
*Edit - Content removed as now obsolete.*
-->
I know I wouldn't want to be 'June' when 'Aggie' get's her hands on her!!
*Many thanks to Dumpdee.co.uk for the laughs!This is the first time I've tried embedding, so let me know if it works or not! Got my fingers crossed!
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Save Our Trees!
So, they've decided to cut down our trees (well, they're not ours, just the ones that are in the town square) because the birds are congregating on them, and shitting on the ground, which causes an awfy smell?
Jesus H! What are the council road sweepers for? Should they not be clearing the mess up, rather than just cutting down all the trees? Or even get rid of the birds! We could get a council cat to patrol the area. All it would cost is the frequent rescue fees from the fire brigade!
What purpose do these birds serve? W£hat the fuck are they for?
A couple of weeks of pot-shots from the local rifle club, and we'd be rid of them for good. But no, the council wouldn't spend their (or should I say, our) cash on cleaning the corpses from the streets, would they?
No, they'd far rather shift the problem sideways and just cut down all the trees.
Where do they reckon these flocks of starlings will go? Do they seriously think that they'll all just shuffle off back to their nests like a football crowd going home after an abandoned game? No, they'll migrate to the nearest group of trees, probably down by the riverside, where they'll continue to stink up the place.
Despite what it says in the above article, there's nothing wrong with the trees - they are pretty much perfectly healthy.
This is just idiotic council cost-cutting of the laziest kind.
Jesus H! What are the council road sweepers for? Should they not be clearing the mess up, rather than just cutting down all the trees? Or even get rid of the birds! We could get a council cat to patrol the area. All it would cost is the frequent rescue fees from the fire brigade!
What purpose do these birds serve? W£hat the fuck are they for?
A couple of weeks of pot-shots from the local rifle club, and we'd be rid of them for good. But no, the council wouldn't spend their (or should I say, our) cash on cleaning the corpses from the streets, would they?
No, they'd far rather shift the problem sideways and just cut down all the trees.
Where do they reckon these flocks of starlings will go? Do they seriously think that they'll all just shuffle off back to their nests like a football crowd going home after an abandoned game? No, they'll migrate to the nearest group of trees, probably down by the riverside, where they'll continue to stink up the place.
Despite what it says in the above article, there's nothing wrong with the trees - they are pretty much perfectly healthy.
This is just idiotic council cost-cutting of the laziest kind.
Monday, August 15, 2005
The End Of The Mini-Stalker Episode...
It came as a shock to us all...
A mini-stalker, appearing at our door two or three times a day, annoying us by hanging round and offering to help us with the garden, in return for the endless reinflation of tyres.
But, in scenes reminiscent of the Iranian Embassy Seige, the offending mini-stalker was hunted down like a wild animal, and banished forever from our door.
All it required was some welding gear, an irate neighbour and one small, ginger, mini-stalker!
Ahh, the peace and quiet is marvellous....
(I'm sure I'll tell the full story one day!)
A mini-stalker, appearing at our door two or three times a day, annoying us by hanging round and offering to help us with the garden, in return for the endless reinflation of tyres.
But, in scenes reminiscent of the Iranian Embassy Seige, the offending mini-stalker was hunted down like a wild animal, and banished forever from our door.
All it required was some welding gear, an irate neighbour and one small, ginger, mini-stalker!
Ahh, the peace and quiet is marvellous....
(I'm sure I'll tell the full story one day!)
Friday, August 05, 2005
Ya Gotta Laugh....?
Copied and Pasted directly from Overheard In New York!
And Lo! 'Tis funny...
Chick #1: I went back on birth control this month. I'm using the Ring, except I don't know if I'm using it right. I don't want to take it out every time we have sex.
Chick #2: Wait, you shouldn't have to take it out during sex.
Chick #1: That's what I thought. Except, maybe I'm using it wrong, but I had sex and then afterward we couldn't find it.
Chick #2: It can't get lost up there!
Chick #1: It went so far up my cooter. And I swear I must have put my whole fist in there to fish it out.
Chick #2: There's nowhere for it to go! It can't get past your cervix.
Chick #1: How far up is my cervix?
Chick #2: Well, depends how long your vagina is. I think everyone's is different. Maybe you have, like, a subway tunnel in there.
And Lo! 'Tis funny...
Chick #1: I went back on birth control this month. I'm using the Ring, except I don't know if I'm using it right. I don't want to take it out every time we have sex.
Chick #2: Wait, you shouldn't have to take it out during sex.
Chick #1: That's what I thought. Except, maybe I'm using it wrong, but I had sex and then afterward we couldn't find it.
Chick #2: It can't get lost up there!
Chick #1: It went so far up my cooter. And I swear I must have put my whole fist in there to fish it out.
Chick #2: There's nowhere for it to go! It can't get past your cervix.
Chick #1: How far up is my cervix?
Chick #2: Well, depends how long your vagina is. I think everyone's is different. Maybe you have, like, a subway tunnel in there.
Stalker Update...
Well, our mini-stalker problem hasn't got any worse. Or better.
Every day he's at the door, yesterday he arrived on three separate occasions.
I've told him not to ring the doorbell, as The Wife is on night-shift and was woken up by him at lunchtime on Tuesday. So now he just knocks on the door...
I've re-inflated his tyre three times, straightened his handlebars twice and put the chain back on three times. The last time the chain came off, I couldn't unravel it. He came back later that day with it all fixed. He'd done it himself...
I've told him that his front tyre has got a slow puncture, and to take it to the bike shop for repairs.
But why should he? Every time it goes flat there's some mug living in yon house over there who'll fix it for nothing!
I've tried asking why his Dad won't fix his bike for him, but he said that his Dad isn't a "biker person" like me.
The Wife is getting on my back about the constant interruptions, but she won't do anything about it! It's my job, apparently...after all, it's me he comes to see...
Trouble is, I don't have the heart to just tell him to "Fuck off and don't bother us again!"
Soft as shite? Me ?
You betcha....
Every day he's at the door, yesterday he arrived on three separate occasions.
I've told him not to ring the doorbell, as The Wife is on night-shift and was woken up by him at lunchtime on Tuesday. So now he just knocks on the door...
I've re-inflated his tyre three times, straightened his handlebars twice and put the chain back on three times. The last time the chain came off, I couldn't unravel it. He came back later that day with it all fixed. He'd done it himself...
I've told him that his front tyre has got a slow puncture, and to take it to the bike shop for repairs.
But why should he? Every time it goes flat there's some mug living in yon house over there who'll fix it for nothing!
I've tried asking why his Dad won't fix his bike for him, but he said that his Dad isn't a "biker person" like me.
The Wife is getting on my back about the constant interruptions, but she won't do anything about it! It's my job, apparently...after all, it's me he comes to see...
Trouble is, I don't have the heart to just tell him to "Fuck off and don't bother us again!"
Soft as shite? Me ?
You betcha....
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
...And About Time, Too!
Monday, August 01, 2005
Some Advice Please...?
Last Thursday, I think, there was a knock at the door. It was a wee laddie with his bike.
"Aye?" I says.
"Sorry tae bother ye Mister, but huv' ye goat a pump fur ma' bike..?" he says with a broad Edinburgh accent.
"Aye, I do! Here, I'll give you a hand."
So I go out, and his front tyre was nearly flat. I take my handily placed bicycle pump and proceed to reinflate his tyre. He was just a wee laddie, ginger hair and quite inquisitive. And really polite.
As I'm pumping the tyre up, he apologises - "Ah'm sorry fur comin' tae yer door, mister", to which I can only say "It's no bother". Well, it's not often you see such politeness from one so young.
So, bike back in order, he's off into the distance with the friendly advice - "Keep an eye on that tyre, it might have a slow puncture..." ringing in the late afternoon air.
At this point, I thought that'd be the end of it. I'd done my good deed for the day.
Couple of days later (Saturday), we're due a delivery of 2 tonnes of stone-chips for the garden, and they duly arrive in the morning. The Wife has arranged the borrowing of a 'borrow, and she arrives with it in the late afternoon.
So, with the garden all covered by the recommended groundcloth stuff, I proceed to shovel these 2 tonnes of chips, transporting to The Wife in the garden via the aforementioned wheelbarrow.
Halfway through this monumental (or just mental?) task, who should show up?
That's right, the wee ginger lad. With questions.
WGL - "What are ye doin', mister?"
TMBTB - "I'm shovelling these stones into the wheelbarrow, and taking them to the garden"
WGL - "Can I help?"
TMBTB - "Sorry, but no, it's too heavy for a wee laddie like you."
At which, he decides to start filling a pail with these stone-chips, and carry them into the garden. Next thing, The Wife has got him collecting the stones that have fallen on the ground (off my shovel!).
"Good!" I'm thinking. "That'll keep him out of trouble, and out of harm's way."
Even when we adjourned for a break, he still wanted to carry on. We had to tell him we were going for our tea before he took the hint. And off he went.
For a while.
Half an hour later, The Wife and I are back at it again, nearly ¾ done now, and from nowhere, he's back again.
As we're finishing off the job, and packing everything up, I hand him a pound coin. He seems really surprised at this, and grasps it tightly.
As he's cycling off, he says "Thanks for the pound, mister!"
"No bother wee man, you earned it!" I reply.
"OK, I'll see you tomorrow then...."
Me and The Wife were left just looking at each other.
And this morning?
The Wife goes to hang up some washing, and there he is. Again asking questions.
She comes back indoors, where I'm nursing stretched and sore muscles, and says "What are we going to do about him?"
Well, what can we do?
10 minutes later, it's raining and she has to go back out and take the washing back in again. He's still there. Asking questions.
He's everywhere, following our every move!
Fucking hell, we're being stalked by a 7-year-old !
So, my question to you all (or both of you, I've been checking my site stats!) is:-
How can we dissuade this charming, polite, inquisitive yet utterly annoying wee pest from haunting our every footstep, without causing alarm or distress?
"Aye?" I says.
"Sorry tae bother ye Mister, but huv' ye goat a pump fur ma' bike..?" he says with a broad Edinburgh accent.
"Aye, I do! Here, I'll give you a hand."
So I go out, and his front tyre was nearly flat. I take my handily placed bicycle pump and proceed to reinflate his tyre. He was just a wee laddie, ginger hair and quite inquisitive. And really polite.
As I'm pumping the tyre up, he apologises - "Ah'm sorry fur comin' tae yer door, mister", to which I can only say "It's no bother". Well, it's not often you see such politeness from one so young.
So, bike back in order, he's off into the distance with the friendly advice - "Keep an eye on that tyre, it might have a slow puncture..." ringing in the late afternoon air.
At this point, I thought that'd be the end of it. I'd done my good deed for the day.
Couple of days later (Saturday), we're due a delivery of 2 tonnes of stone-chips for the garden, and they duly arrive in the morning. The Wife has arranged the borrowing of a 'borrow, and she arrives with it in the late afternoon.
So, with the garden all covered by the recommended groundcloth stuff, I proceed to shovel these 2 tonnes of chips, transporting to The Wife in the garden via the aforementioned wheelbarrow.
Halfway through this monumental (or just mental?) task, who should show up?
That's right, the wee ginger lad. With questions.
WGL - "What are ye doin', mister?"
TMBTB - "I'm shovelling these stones into the wheelbarrow, and taking them to the garden"
WGL - "Can I help?"
TMBTB - "Sorry, but no, it's too heavy for a wee laddie like you."
At which, he decides to start filling a pail with these stone-chips, and carry them into the garden. Next thing, The Wife has got him collecting the stones that have fallen on the ground (off my shovel!).
"Good!" I'm thinking. "That'll keep him out of trouble, and out of harm's way."
Even when we adjourned for a break, he still wanted to carry on. We had to tell him we were going for our tea before he took the hint. And off he went.
For a while.
Half an hour later, The Wife and I are back at it again, nearly ¾ done now, and from nowhere, he's back again.
As we're finishing off the job, and packing everything up, I hand him a pound coin. He seems really surprised at this, and grasps it tightly.
As he's cycling off, he says "Thanks for the pound, mister!"
"No bother wee man, you earned it!" I reply.
"OK, I'll see you tomorrow then...."
Me and The Wife were left just looking at each other.
And this morning?
The Wife goes to hang up some washing, and there he is. Again asking questions.
She comes back indoors, where I'm nursing stretched and sore muscles, and says "What are we going to do about him?"
Well, what can we do?
10 minutes later, it's raining and she has to go back out and take the washing back in again. He's still there. Asking questions.
He's everywhere, following our every move!
Fucking hell, we're being stalked by a 7-year-old !
So, my question to you all (or both of you, I've been checking my site stats!) is:-
How can we dissuade this charming, polite, inquisitive yet utterly annoying wee pest from haunting our every footstep, without causing alarm or distress?
Saturday, July 30, 2005
At Last....Normality resumes...
Well, after a long, long summer of sport, including Sir Clive's disastrous 'English' Lions Tour of New Zealand, the collapse of Henman Hill (and subsequent rebuild into Muray Mound (WTF?)), along with Golf's wonderful, yet utterly predictable Open Championship at St. Andrews, the legend of Lance Armstrong winning 7-Tour-De's-in-a-row then quitting at the top, to England's dashed hopes after winning a few 20/20 matches aaginst Australia which had them triumphantly parading The Ashes before a ball was thrown in anger, it's time at last to welcome real sport back onto the daily calendar.
Welcome back the SPL!
Welcome back the SPL!
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Did You Miss Me?
Ach, I'm back....sort of...
Decided to take a rest from 'blogging, as I can't be arsed to be honest! Content recently has been a bit pish, and I haven't really been visiting the Blogosphere to catch up with things either.
Been reading a lot of these Internet Message Boards though, and there is some quality funnies to be found. Here's one someone else prepared earlier....(credits to 'AMW-r1ckw', whoever he is!)
"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline....
If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.
If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.
If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.
If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.
If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, telephone number, date of birth, credit card number and your mother's maiden name.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9 If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you are manic-depressive, it does not matter which number you press; no one will answer.
If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.
If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want.. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.
If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All of our operators are too busy to talk to you."
Now I could have done a wee diatribe about the futility of these damnable automated answering services, and how bloody annoying they are, and how the easy way to actually get to speak to someone real is to wait until all the options are read out and the call gets diverted to the one person who's actually really there....but I won't.
I'll try to be back soon.
Decided to take a rest from 'blogging, as I can't be arsed to be honest! Content recently has been a bit pish, and I haven't really been visiting the Blogosphere to catch up with things either.
Been reading a lot of these Internet Message Boards though, and there is some quality funnies to be found. Here's one someone else prepared earlier....(credits to 'AMW-r1ckw', whoever he is!)
"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline....
If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.
If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.
If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.
If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.
If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, telephone number, date of birth, credit card number and your mother's maiden name.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9 If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you are manic-depressive, it does not matter which number you press; no one will answer.
If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.
If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want.. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.
If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All of our operators are too busy to talk to you."
Now I could have done a wee diatribe about the futility of these damnable automated answering services, and how bloody annoying they are, and how the easy way to actually get to speak to someone real is to wait until all the options are read out and the call gets diverted to the one person who's actually really there....but I won't.
I'll try to be back soon.
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