Friday, March 26, 2004

I Think We're Alone Now

This was Giacomo and Giovanni Tocci. And it's a fucking good job they got on.

These conjoined twins lived around the turn of the 1900's and shared a lower body. I don't feel to guilty about taking the piss out of them either, because they milked it for all they were worth. At one point in their lives they reportedly brought home $1000 per week. Which I guess back then was a fair few squid.

One arse, one knob. Bloody hell!

I love that time when I get home from a hard day at the office and I can go and relax on the bog and enjoy the peace and solitude of a 45 minute shite. Collecting my thoughts, reflecting on life, trying to remember what the hell I ate. It wouldn't be half as enjoyable if there was a member of my family sitting next to me. Moaning "I have to share this intestine and you are abusing it." or "My half of the arse is getting cold."

And I can't help wondering whether this these guys ever had a wank. "Shut your eyes bruv, I've just got to quickly crack one off." Imagine the squabbles "Oi - it's my turn - you used it last!" or how about "You're using my hand!"

It's nice to finish off the week with a post about a close-family 'unit'.

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

Nowt but Napkin Nonsense

I received the following email this morning from the facilities team at work. The message was sent to each of the 200+ people in our Bristol office:

"Hi all

With regret this email is a complaint regarding catering for meetings.

A buffet had been placed in the breakout area today and within 5 minutes the plates and serviettes had been unwrapped and a serviette taken. The meeting in question had not yet broken for lunch.

Can we stress that if you have not ordered or are part of any meeting that involves a buffet lunch please do not handle anything related to the buffets until the meeting has resumed and the buffet clearly finished with.

This is seen to be inconsiderate and to some staff/guests, rude. I hope you will cooperate with these requests as I am sure you would not like your guests to visit the organisation and leave with negative thoughts on the professional services we are trying to provide."

Well glaze my nipples and call me Rita - No! Not a serviette!

Okay I take the point - but we are paying this person a fucking salary! I wonder why unemployment figures are down? What's more this is the same facilities team who refused to send a circular email when my car was dented in the office car park!!

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

South American Forks

Despite it being bizarrely screened 5 months after bonfire night, I enjoyed Gunpowder, Treason & Plot - the BBC's recent dramatisation of the events leading up to the Gunpowder Plot. It got me thinking about the conspiritors, what they stood for and what drove them. Something that perhaps is overlooked when we annually nuke the smeg out of a oversized ragdoll on November 5th.

We all know how it goes don't we? A bunch of pissed-off Roman Catholics decide to barbeque James I and his parliament in retaliation to the oppressive anti-Catholic laws being applied. At the time Catholics were being persecuted and many were butchered at public executions.

So hold on a second, surely they had more of a point than they are credited with? I mean, it all sounds fair-do's to me. Is it any wonder that they rose against this oppression? So why to this day are our children, and even our Catholic children, encouraged to believe that it was Fawkes et al who were the only baddies? There is never the suggestion that the King was a fascist dictator.

And are there that many differences between Guy Fawkes and Che Guevara? Guevara led guerrilla warfare and violent revolutions - fighting for the rights of the oppressed. The image of his face is an international freedom icon. He is a man commonly recognised globally as a hero. The British equivalent is dragged around the streets in a pram that's missing a wheel whilst wearing a coat made out of a carrier bag, shoes that don't match and a shit hat. Then we toast him.

Monday, March 22, 2004

What is the world coming to...?

Yesterday afternoon I was walking out of my local Asda store when I was approached by a scruffy lad in his late teens.

"Got a light?" He asked.

At first I didn't realise that he was addressing me, so I initially disregarded him. Then eye contact was made.

Realising I was the target of the enquiry I replied: "I beg your pardon?"

"Got a light?" He repeated.

"I'm sorry, no." I confirmed.

"Well fuck you then." said he.

I kept walking. I didn't look around. I was not nervous as such, but uncomfortable and angry. I can't help but ponder why I sometimes hear right-minded people defending pikeys like him.

Friday, March 19, 2004

Piss Off, You Warbling Cretin.

The most irritating telly twunt since Jeremy Spake?

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

"Guess who's cooking tonight"

It has been driving me mad since this series of Footballers Wives began. Where do I know that guy from? Conrad Gates. Hmmm.

Well, I've found his CV online here. It seems he's appeared in loads of shows over the last few years - but I don't watch any of them. He's done loads of stage work - but we don't go to the theatre that often. Can't be that then.

I might be wrong (I can find no evidence on the interweb to support this), but as I've said before I've got a pretty good memory for shit like this. I reckon he is the guy doing the cooking in that Old El Paso ad with the irritating cow on the phone. ("Did You Get That? Aromatic Spices")

99% sure of it, so I'll call you later (if I'm still alive).

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Language Update

Many thanks to those of you who are busy promoting the expletives of yester-year. It's working.

Chris Tarrant last night used 'Hogwash' on Tarrant on TV and I also saw an advert with some geezer walking through a sewer who says 'Poppycock'.

Keep up the good work!



Transcript (from memory) of a telephone conversation I had earlier today.

My phone rings:

Me: "Hello, Mighty Crumb speaking"
Mrs Rude: "I want to speak to Mr Ledger"
Me: "I'm sorry, there is noone of that name in this office"
Mrs Rude: "oh, this is typical...........(prolonged silence)............Is this the (organisation name)"
Me: "It is, yes"
Mrs Rude: "Well, can you put me through to Mr Ledger?"
Me: "As I say, I'm afraid there is noone of that name in this office"
Mrs Rude: "I was told to ring Mr Ledger on this number."
Me: (growing frustrated) "I can only assume you have been misinformed as we do not have a Mr Ledger in this office"
Mrs Rude: "............silence..........it's about a bodywork repair to his car - X123ZZZ"
Me: (craftily checking car fleet database) "Yes, I can see from my system that we do have that car in our fleet"
Mrs Rude: "And do you have a contact number for it's driver?"
Me: (smugly) "I am unable to give you that information due to data protection. Can I ask you to phone our insurance claims handlers?"
Mrs Rude: ".......silence.......I just want a number for Mr Ledger"
Me: (now lying) "I do not hold that information on my system. Can I just put you through to our claims handlers?"
Mrs Rude:"It would be easier if you gave me the information, or just put me through to Mr Ledger"
Me: (cross) "How many times? There is no Mr Ledger in this office. I cannot give you an employee's personal information due to the data protection act. This office does not deal with this type of query and we pay an out-sourced supplier large amounts of money to deal with people like you. Here is the number for our claims handlers".
Mrs Rude: "I thought you said you were going to put me through?"
Me: "I lied, Do you want the number or not?"

It just shows how important first impressions are. If she had opened the conversation with 'Hello' or 'Good Afternoon' then I would probably have helped her and the whole conversation would have been over in seconds. Instead she wasted my time and her own by whingeing on about something that was neither my problem nor to my interest.

Friday, March 12, 2004

I really hate the over-use of ‘inverted commas’.

People tend to needlessly ‘scatter’ them around in emails ‘as’ if they are going out ‘of’ fashion.
Often they encourage the ‘reader’ to place emphasis on the ‘wrong’ words.

Most ITV weather presenters do the same ‘thing’ when they speak.
The worst culprit being ‘Chrissy’ Reidy.

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

The Chocolatest Journey

I am on a diet. This is subliminal torture.

Yesterday whilst driving to work I stopped at a set of traffic lights behind a Saab 93 ‘Aero’.

I then drove along a dual carriageway behind a Toyota ‘Picnic’.

I was then stopped at a second set of traffic lights when a ‘Double Decker’ bus pulled up behind me.
(This is getting silly.)

Finally I parked in the office car park next to a Ford 'Galaxy'.
(For goodness sake)

It honestly happened. I would not have been at all surprised if on the way home I had collided head-on with a sodding Vauxhall CurlyWurly.

Monday, March 08, 2004

For fxxk's sake...

Over the weekend I heard on the news that had the Leicester City footballers banged up in Spain received ‘better guidance’, then the 'situation could have been avoided'.

Well precisely, I mean, how on earth are footballers supposed to know that rape is illegal?

Saturday, March 06, 2004

What goes through people's heads just before...

...they walk down the train to wait by the door, ages before it is due to stop?

Okay - on a busy commuter train I can understand it. People, and especially those running late, want to make sure they are at the front of the queue to hop off a make a dash for work. They obviously get the train daily and can probably time to perfection the art of standing-up, putting on their coat and strolling to the end of the carriage to beat the rush. A little anal perhaps, but I can forgive them.

I'm talking about people who do this on half empty trains or on weekend services. The other day I was in a carriage with 5 other people on a train leaving Bristol Temple Meads heading for Cardiff. I was getting off at the next stop, Filton Abbey Wood. So it would appear, was the fat wierdo sitting three seats in front of me.

I reckon it takes about 7 minutes to get from Temple Meads to Filton but, even before the train has got up to speed, Matey-boy is on his feet and stood by the door! There are about 16 spare seats between the door and the next person on the train! SIT DOWN YOU TWUNT!! He stood there, waiting to get off for the entire journey. Even throughout a further 3 minute delay where the train stopped to let another through.

Are these people an odd breed of train-spotter? Instead of spotting trains do they spot stations? Or is it a form of posing? Standing up, proving that they know the area, and that their bearings are so good, that even before the next station is announced by the conductor, they already know?

I'm not sure what it is, but I find it bizarrely amusing. Especially that when the conductor reported that we were pulling into Filton I was able to stand up, pick up my bag, make my way along the carriage to the CORRECT side of the train and step onto the platform before odd-boy. I glimpsed him looking rather embarrassed that he hadn't even realised he was waiting by the wrong door even after the train had stopped. He followed me and two others off the train, last in a 'queue' of 4.


Wednesday, March 03, 2004

Words we all should use more – Part 1.

We live in a society far more tolerant of blasphemy than in years gone by. As a result many cracking words have fallen out of use.

I say that it’s time they made a return.

Therefore the next time you open your mouth to utter “What a load of shit” or “That’s crap”, please refrain and take a moment to select an alternative from one of the following choices:

1. Claptrap.

2. Balderdash.

3. Hogwash.

4. Poppycock.

5. Codswallop.

Tuesday, March 02, 2004

The con is on.

Yep, and don’t we all bloody well know about it?

Jesus, have you ever known a television programme to be advertised so much? An ad between every show on BBC1 and 2, (no doubt 3 and 4 as well). radio ads, flaming great billboards. I hear that the BBC are also commissioning t-shirts, wellies and toothpaste. You can even take your pets down to local ‘Hustle’ stations where BBC representatives will spray the ad onto the side of your dog.

And what’s all this shit about giving catch-lines to TV programmes? I was astonished to learn that the show is simply called “Hustle”. Not “Hustle, the con is on”. Needless to say, I will not be watching.

Monday, March 01, 2004

House Key

I had to share this inspired email I received from my good friend Bonobo Love on Friday. I have a spare key to his house...

Dear Mr Crumb

I'll be coming up to Bristol on Saturday and will have to vist your house to pick up my house key as I have no house key for 71 Trouser Street, and I believe you have a house key that fits the desciption of my house key. I desperately need my house key as my house needs a key to open the front door attached to it. Using the house key you have will enable me to open up my house via the door.

"Where's your house key Bonobo?" I hear you ask. Well its been given away to my lodger to use so that he can use it as a 'house key' in order to unlock/ lock the front door behind him in the mornings and in front of him just before going to bed at night time. Therefore it is impreitive that I burden you with my presence around Midday, or maybe even earlier in order to pick up my house key or a house key that resembles my house key, or any house key that by sheer coincednce can open up the front door to my house.

If I cannot find the house key to open my door through my constant efforts as described, then I will have to sit outside my house (sans key) and read a book.

I thought of reading 'Women' by Charles Bukowski. With no house key, Charles Bukowski is a favourable alternative.

Also, as a third option I could listen to Adamski, the famous skinny drug addled techno- wizard from the late 80's and early nineteen nineties.

"No house key? Try Bukowski and Adamski." I would say to passers by, whilst sitting on the step outside my house. In the cold.

Please e-mail me back or contact me via oujiaboard to find out if this is ok for you over the weekend.

Many tanks, light aircraft and armour piercing mortar shells,

Bonobo x.

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