Carry On World
Monday, January 17, 2005
International disasters come and go, but it's trivial crap like bubble wrap simulators and Supper with the Stars ("Where fame meets food") that compell me to end my blogging silence.
G's now insisting on Keith Harris and Cuddles (an extra charge for the monkey) attending her 30th birthday dinner. I think i'd prefer fatima Whitbread, Snorbitz, Lennie Bennet and The Pasedenas. I'll have to start building that extension.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Now, this is cool. Bubble wrap always reminds me of bank holidays in the 70's and early 80's. All my relatives would come around to my parents and we'd have M&S meringue nests with raspberries and ice cream. I always hated them (the dessert, not my family) but the packaging was excellent.
There's a mad cul-de-sac in Clowne, an otherwise unremarkable town/village in Derbyshire. Every single one of about 50 houses looks like a project created by trainee electrcians with no taste. Despite being pretty tacky, it's well worth a visit. A mini Las Vegas transplanted onto a cluster of semi's. Watski would love it.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Quentin and Dolly often call to see us on Saturdays. Quentin has a coffee whilst Dolly (who's two and a bit) amuses herself the best she can in our child unfriendly house. This usually involves trying to eat flowers, kicking over my cd's whilst cackling darkly and constantly looking like she's about the to knock the fish tank over (though G may also say I look like that occasionally).
Despite our house being completely bereft of Early Learning Centre gear. Dolly seems to find these visits fairly enjoyable and for some reason she finds "Silly Billie Rich" quite entertaining. indeed at some points it appears as though I could easily become the Peter Kay of the 2-3 year old comedy market, though my routine does err on the side of slapstick and makes the Chuckle Brothers seem like something from the "South Bank Show".
At about 10am this Saturday came "Quentin's knock", (that is a certain style of knocking at the door- not some ancient disease). Through the frosted glass of the front door I could see Dolly's red/pink coat. I stomped doorwards utilising several my vast array of "comedy" voices "OH NO! IT'S THEM!, WE DON'T WANT THEIR SORT AROUND HERE!!" etc etc I finished off with an inspired move. I lifted up the letter box and shouted "GO AWAY SILLY BILLY!".
I opened the door to see a slightly confused looking Postman awaiting a signature for a parcel.
Suffice to say G who'd witnessed this spent most of the rest of the day rigid in some sort of laughter induced coma.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Mum took us out for a meal last night. Resteraunts are pretty hard to come by in this town, but I must say This place served up one of the best meals I've ever had. Duck salad to start followed by Lamb. Then a delightfully gluttonous dessert that was actually a selection of all the other desserts on the an enormous plate.
In a town full of kebab shops this place is a real find. Well worth splashing out on, especially when someone else is doing the splashing. Well she was celebrating a small premium bonds win - I wasn't aware they were still going!).
Monday, October 25, 2004
At our local supermarket a notice from the Police has been posted. It is now illegal to sell flour and eggs to anyone under 16. Apparently the youth of the town aren't induldnging in illicit Yorkshire Pudding and pancake making parties. These items now form the arsenal of any self respecting trick or treater and Mischevious Night prankster.
Mischevious night has always been more about being a general pain in the arse than mischevious. When I was younger the main activity was taking peoples gates off. Hillarious. IT should probably be renamed "Just Plain Nasty" night.
As much as I hate it I can't help wondering haven't the Police got better things to do?
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
When I returned home this evening, it quickly became clear I'd brought along an uninvited guest. A blonde
It ran though our Lounge/Dining area and straight into the kitchen and did a quick tour behind the Cooker, washing machine and fridge. Using my previous bat prevention experienced I "isolated" the area and by then G could just about speak and managed to say "Get that fucking thing out of my house" I opened the back door and he scurried out into the cold wilderness of my back garden.
G then asked me what it was (she'd thought it was a squirrel? Presumably some sort of killer squirrel judging by her reaction). I explained that it was probably someone's pet and that we should ask around to find it's owner. After knocking on about five doors we found out he belonged to the little girls who lived across the road, they hadn't realised "Hague" had gone. They came across in a search party which included his little pal "Charlie". The search was fruitless, I almost suggested that a dog may help in the search, but quickly realised that we'd probably find eight pieces of "Hague" rather than a whole one.
Of course G is now in the throes of guilt. I've suggested that she goes on some sorting of "finding Nemo" (but with vermin) type quest, but she's not feeling that guilty.
I'll keep you updated.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
I got a call the other day from a customer on a mobile. There appeared to be interference on the line, and there were big gaps in the conversation. "You're breaking up" I said. Anyway, we managed to complete the call and he arranged to come into the office the next day.
Imagine my horror when he arrived and it was immediately clear that there wasn't a problem the phone line, but he'd got a pronounced stammer.
Back in the eighties I had a Saturday job as a silver service waiter. All the staff were pretty used to various feeble jokes from customers usually to do with the white gloves we had to wear., usually the jokes were snooker based. This was also at a time when speech impediments were considered fair game as a topic of comedy, mainly thanks to Ronnie Barker in "Open All Hours".
I was serving at a wedding and one of the guests said "C.. c.. can I have some p...p..p....p.. peas... p...p.please". I of course presumed this was a "comedy" stutter and giggled and shot the customer an indulgent smile. Of course it was a real stutter, and I probably ruined that persons day.
She should have told me to "p....p..piss off".