Ladies and Gentlemen, All bets are now closed.
Pay up please. Pay up...
Saturday, December 1
Friday, November 30
Sticky Post - NaNoWriMo
All bets are on for my NaNoWriMo Attempt. Simply comment with a forfeit I have to do if I fail to reach 50,000 words. However in the extremely low chance that I reach the target you have to do the bet instead!
If I fail to reach 50,000 words by November 30th:
- Linda wants me to write a highly praising article about her.
- Mr Fab wants me to perform a video Karaoke version of American pie
- Dale wants me to write a post about my failure of NaNoWriMo and 2 other failures of my choice. He also wants me to praise for once managing to finish NaNoWriMo
- Sandy wants me to give up being cynical for exactly one post and give a happily-ever-after ending for each of my characters (a la my Harry Potter sequel post, which was (apparently) hilarious).
Money, Forfeits, blog post, adverts, video clips, the possibilities are endless. Just keep it light hearted and keep it legal. Otherwise I promise to do anything you ask, providing of course I fail to meet target. Ladies and Gentlemen, please your bets.
Wednesday, October 31
Cap Comp
For my Halloween Wordless wednesday I present something truly scary.
Free links to anyone who can make this funnier or scarier!
Tuesday, October 30
The NaNoWriMo forfeits
During the month of November, I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo, the outrageous quest to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.
This has 2 Fringe Effects
Firstly, this blog may remain largely dormant throughout November, but then you should all be used to that by now.
Secondly, all bets are on! In order to give me an extra kick up the backside I'm letting you play along at home.
Here's how it works. You pledge to do something should I get past the 50,000 word mark, e.g. If Simon finishes the novel I will...Write a praising blog entry, pay him some money or run naked down the high street. Make sure it's something that wouldn't haunt you for the rest of your life incase I actually reach 50,000 words.
However if I fail to reach 50,000 words then, and here's the bonus, I carry out the pledge instead! E.g I write you a praising blog entry, I increase your bank funds,and I scare small children In Bristol Town centre.
I will of course abide by the rules of NaNoWriMo completely, and will validate any success by decorating my blog with the NaNoWriMo winners badge.
And best of all, the odds are highly in your favour. Only 17% of people actually complete NaNoWriMo, and I've never finished anything in my life, except maybe second helpings at dinner.
So make a pledge today. We can play this game together.
Saturday, October 27
Eek-Mail or How the Internet almost got me fired
I always thought it was an urban legend. After all no one really did things like that, no one could really be that stupid.
Of course, I always pride myself on being the exception to any rule.
I had a client who couldn’t get to a phone so we were communicating exclusively by E-mail. This was a definite benefit as I had to turn her claim down and I wouldn’t have to listen to her yell at me.
So in a concise professional email I explained the reasons we were repudiating the claim.
An hour later she replied.
To: Simon@theOffice.bizReview and get back to her? What, does she think I’m in customer service or something?
From: Client@HerHome.com
Subject: Ref Claim
Dear Simon (Hey! We're on first name terms now. )
i understood that the externals were covered but believed the internals to be covered under accidental damage. Please review and get back to me.
Dutily, I asked my senior to repeat what she had already said and emailed the client back, adding a couple of in-depth explanatory paragraphs and signing off with - ‘I trust this explains our position,’ the polite way office workers have of saying ‘Shut the f**k up.’
Twenty minutes later she replies, again.
To: Simon@theOffice.bizAs you can imagine, I was somewhat annoyed by now and my idea of a nice weekend was one that didn’t involve her. I clicked reply, and stared at the screen for 20 unproductive minutes while I worked out what there was left to say.
From: Client@HerHome.com
Subject: Ref Claim
Simon (not Dear Simon any more I see)
I am well aware that my externals are not covered but believed the internals to be so. Please review and get back to me.
Have a nice weekend.
Finally, I gave up and emailed my senior instead.
‘I have explained this repudiation to the insured twice and she still keeps insisting we should be covering the internals.I clicked send and watched as my e-mail disappeared into the bounds of cyberspace. There was just one problem. I hadn't changed the address. I’d just sent it sent straight to the insured.
Maybe you can explain this better than me?
She works week days so we can only contact her by e-mail.’
Naturally, I did what any internet savvy person would do in this situation. I panicked. For a brief, horrific, moment I longed for a simpler time before technology when I could have got my hand stuck in a postbox whilst trying to get the letter backI was overcome with nerves, I'd screwed up. I'd made a classic stupid mistake and sent a mildly insulting e-mail straight to the person I was mildly insulting.
I had a desperate and inexplicable craving for dark chocolate.
A moment later she replied,
From: Client@herhouse.comI jumped up, stabbing for the off button as if my monitor contained a naked picture of John Goodman, ridding my screen of her cyber-terrorism. Gingerly, I rang my senior and reported the mistake, checking the number twice before I dialed. And then I left the office.
To: Simon@theoffice.biz
Subject: Ref Claim
I think you meant to send that to your supervisor.
I'm working from home on Monday if you'd prefer to talk on the phone.
But as I walked home, the last words of her reply stuck in my mind like a record suffering from an ugly scratch.
'Do have a nice weekend.'
Roll on Monday
Wednesday, October 24
Taking note
I have a stationery fetish. More than that even. I'd call it an Obsession but I think Calvin Klein has that copyrighted.
After the book store, the library, and the private club down the road, the Stationery store is my favourite place in the world. You can drop me off in a stationery store and happily pick me up 5 weeks later, and I'll still have a tantrum and refuse to leave.
I love stationary. I love ink flowing from a pen for the first time, I love the smoothness of unsharpened pen and I love the perfect white of a blank sheet of paper.
And most of all I love notepads.
There is something magical about a new pad. You've felt it no doubt, that thrill page that runs up the arms and into the brain like a pair of athletic earwigs, when you open to the first clean page. Every new pad has the potential for greatness. By the time it has run out of pages it could contain a best selling novel, world changing philosophy, or the recipe for Kentucky fried chicken. It could be the pad that changes the world.
It never is though. A few pages in my writing stumbles into an messy four word pile-up, marring the beauty of the canvas. Leaves are torn out, floating to the ground as if ripped from a tree by a frustrated October Wind. Over the pages my handwriting decays until it reads like a intoxicated man declaring his love of underwear. The bindings bend and clog with the fragments of torn pages, the corners crease, the ink runs, and before long my dream pad has become a collection of half finished to-do lists and stick men doodles. In short, the notebook is no longer any good for anything except… well... notes.
Every single pad I’ve ever brought has gone this way, and I've brought a lot of pads in my life. Every new idea is too precious to live on the same pages of as a failed endeavour, so I buy a new pad to nurture it in, and put up fences so it won’t be disturbed by the neighbours. Then, like always, the idea falters and gets left on shelf to ferment, the pad once a infinite canvas of possibility now reduced to emergency toilet paper.
I've never made it to the last page of a pad. In fact I'm pretty sure I've never made it to the tenth page of a pad. My Bookcase has a whole shelf devoted to unfinished notepad, crammed in side by side. I get through more pads than a pre-menstrual woman, and have less to show for it. I wouldn't be at all surprised to discover I’m single handily responsible for Global Warming and...
Wait! That's a great idea! What if there was one person who wrote so much rubbish and wasted so much paper that he caused the ice-caps to melt, and whole nations to be flood, and became public enemy number 1. Living as an outcast on the edge of society, fighting for every scrap of paper, writing to keep himself alive for another day...
Quick, somebody get me a new notepad....
Sunday, October 21
The 3 sides of James Blunt - James Blunt Does Sesame Street
If you ever wanted proof that Children's TV is getting worse then look no further.
They've shown our children horrific explosions, Japanese Animation and hardcore animated violence.
And now, with the shock value dying out, they've gone for the most horrific, most shocking thing left in the Universe - James Blunt.
Saturday, October 20
Claims, Stains and Octogenarians
On my first day in my new job, I handled this claim.
'My husband was in the bathroom when he fell and banged his head on the cistern, which cracked, pouring water over the floor. I rushed to help him, and stepped on some cracked porcelain. I did not notice this until I had walked into the bedroom, and my foot had bled on the hall and bedroom carpet. '
Now despite what this blog may make you believe, with its sparkling, acerbic wit and Oscar Winning mood swings, I’m actually quite sensitive. Really! Try tickling me!
When I read the claim I felt like I was in that bathroom. It was my boyfriend on the floor, me in shock, trying to stop the water, trying to help him, running to the bedroom for the phone, my heart racing, the blood spurting from my foot unnoticed as a hero ignores his mortal wound until his damsel is saved.
And besides, they were old, sweet people. They needed my help. They wouldn’t lie to me.
My senior looked over my shoulder. 'Yeah right.' he said, 'like you wouldn't notice you had a bloody big piece of porcelain in your foot.'
Now you may think the odds of someone faking this are somewhat slim.
'Forsooth Roger, I find myself rather tired of one's bedroom carpet.'But the more claims I've handled the more I can imagine it. In the last month I’ve had people claim their stolen 18 year old Television was HD ready, their burnt down council flat was full of priceless artworks, and their defrosted freezer was stocked with Caviar and Salmon. Every day someone is trying to screw the company out of money. And my job isn’t to help people as you may expect. My job is to work out who is lying.
'Tis true Maria. I believe, also, that the lavatory be naff.’
‘Rather naff indeed.'
‘You know, one believes we can purge of the twain with one stone.'
'Mercy, no?'
'Verily, with naught but a head-shaped hammer and a vile of blood. Hurry now, bring me forth a knife and one's Home Policy Booklet.'
After all, who knows how many people sit at home every night, plotting to commit insurance fraud.
'Geeze Brian, what we going to do tonight then?'But maybe you think that I'm being too cynical about this. Maybe you think that deep down Human Beings are honest, kind people.
'The same thing we do every night Peaches, try to defraud our Insurance.'
Well my naive friends (who I must come 'visit' one day) let me give you one more example.
A few days ago I was called up by a lovely, old Gentleman, the kind who hands out sweets in the bus queue. With a wonderful chortle he told me that his wife had been saving up £2 coins. But the purse she was saving them in had 'gone missing.' This sounded perfectly reasonable. Old people often save up change at home, it keeps the queues in the bank short, and the glass jars market afloat. They are also famous for losing things: normally their memory.
Then I asked how much money was in the purse.
‘About £800,’ he said.
For those who don't know, a £2 coin is roughly the size of a quarter, 1 1/8" in diameter and 1/8" in height. It is the largest coin in the English currency. Yet his wife apparently had 400 of them in her purse. Call me cynical if you must (in fact I rather enjoy it) but I find that hard to believe.To give some idea of scale, a pile of 300 £2 coins would reach up past my waist. Any purse containing them would have a volume of over 40 cubic inches and weigh over 8lb. It’s not the kind of thing you take with you when you go go to Waitrose to buy a new glass jar. Losing something like that would take a highly concentrated effort, detailed planning and, at their age, a forklift truck.
And so he's cheating us, claiming for more than he lost just like everyone else who ever made an insurance claim, including me.
And yet, knowing that he has cheated us, I’ll pay him the money. I'll sign the cheque and move onto the next liar, cheater or master criminal.
Because that, after all, is my job.
Saturday, September 29
A Brief update...
To be honest people I just don't seem to have any urge to write at the moment, and am finding it startlingly hard to be funny, even the word startllingly just isn't as funny to me as it used to be.
I've started a new job recently and don't seem to have as much alone time at the moment to create either. And besides, the new season of the Simpson's is back on.
But don't worry, as soon as i'm back on form I'll visit y'all and let you know.
I mean geeze, if I don't start putting ad's on here again soon I'm gonna run out of money....
Wednesday, August 22
Harry Potter and the Endless sequel
There was a campaign in Waterstones, when the final Harry Potter book was released, to encourage J.K.Rowling to change her mind, and write more Harry saga's.
I'm curious, as book 7 ends 19 years in the future, after Harry has grown up and married Ginny, and long after Voldermort has been destroyed, exactly what kind of novel worthy adventures Harry can possibly have...
Harry Potter and the Wand of Impotency
They lay in bed. A heavy silence hung in the air as if the room had been hit with the silenco curse. He bit his lip, and looked up at the ceiling. Next to him Ginny sighed and rolled away. It had been the same for the last month, everything was going wrong. His spells had been shooting off too early, his attention wandering, his duties unfulfilled. Clearly he been cursed, but who by and why? And could the blue pills really make everything ok again....
Other releases from Bloomsbury and J.K Rowling
- Harry Potter and the Parent teacher Conference
- Harry Potter and the prostate exam
- Harry Potter and the Christmas Shop (Also available in Latin)
- Harry Potter and the Babysitter's Club
- Harry Potter and the Mid Life Crisis
- Harry Potter and the First Born's Special Announcement
- Harry Potter and the curse of tax return
- Harry Potter and the noisy neighbours
- Harry Potter and the Scooter of Mobility
- Harry Potter and the Three Wands Home for Elderly Wizards
- Harry Potter and the Size 40 Briefs (Cooper Green)
- Harry Potter and the Faltering 401k (Linda)
- Harry Potter and the lazy hair folicles (My Reflecting Pool)
- Harry Potter and the Overcrowded Medicine Cabinet (My Reflecting Pool)
- Harry Potter and the Damned Kids Who Won't Stay Off Of His Lawn (WebMiztris)
Previous Posts
Friday, August 17
Forensic fotos
The sailor in the famous photograph of the Times Square kiss, when Victory was annouced over Japan, has finally been identified as 'Glenn McDuffie.'
He was identified, by a forensic artist, from the bones in his forehead and the shape of his ear.
If they can identify you by your forehead bones imagine what else can they identify you by...
Gentlemen, it might be time to get those pictures back off the web.
Thursday, August 16
5 Reasons to be Nice to Telemarketers
The Moaning meme is haunting me.
Being a telemarketer, I have been thrown into Room 101 by my fellow Memers so often that I’ve had an escalator installed. This attack on telemarketers seems somewhat harsh, so I have taken it upon myself to defend my profession.
With my sales skills, I should be able to end the unfair prejudice for ever.
5 Reasons to be Nice to Telemarketers
- We can afford our own alcohol.
Every person in a call centre is one less person on the street begging. Being of a higher class than the homeless however, we do our begging via the phone. And unlike the street-beggars we tell you straight out where your money is going – we’ll be buying alcohol so we can forget the hellish way we earn a living. - We hold back the evil advance of McDonalds
If we weren't calling you we'd be flipping burgers. And, with our brilliant sales skills, healthy eating wouldn't stand a chance. - We offer free counseling
Where else can you find hundreds of people who actually expect to take your abuse? In fact, we wait till you’re at your most stressed before ringing, just so you can scream, swear and threaten us until you’ve released all your tension. And we take it all with an empathic smile. It’s only after you've hung up that we start swearing back. - We call your parents more than you do
It's us who listens to their meandering stories, us who waste our lives away as they hunt for their paperwork, us who help them remember their birth days, us who coax them back to sanity in a gentle but firm tone of voice... - We call your parents more than you do.
Once we get them talking they tell us everything...
Be nice the next time we ring you, or we be ringing the tabloids instead...
And if none of that works …
Previous Posts
Photo provided by millieudrop on Flickr
Wednesday, August 15
Evil Breeders
I phoned a man at work yesterday called Mr Dack.
First Name Donald.
I can only hope he's forgiven his parents.
Other Quickies
Monday, August 13
5 Reasons To visit Britain
Britain!
Home of Cockney Dialects, drive-by insults and David Beckham's right foot. (His left foot lives permanently in his mouth) But Johnny-Foreigner knows only a little of the wonders of the island that formed, robbed and lost the empire. And as a Brit, it is my job to educate you.
Culture
Britain is a Cultural cauldron, and boasts some of the finest minds of our time, most of which are in maximum security prisons, or have been shot, lest they open the average punter’s mind and cause a revolution. To make up for this the country mass produces bland commercial literature and music, under such names as J.K.Rowling and the Spice Girls.
Theatre is the UK’s primary cultural export with almost all their best plays are exported to Broadway where they are rapidly improved and made more glamorous by American Producers.- Shopping
British is a haven of brand name shops, it’s high-streets being identical to every other high street in the Western World, at three times the standard retail price.
The shopper after something different may treat themselves to the fashion styles of Marks & Spencer or Primark, the stores largely responsible for the Unique British Fashion which has alienated it’s residents from the rest of the fashionable world. 
Cuisine
Despite its reputation, British cuisine is the finest in the world, serving anything from beef pies to chicken pies and everything in-between.
Having no style of its own, Britain has stolen several others and claimed them as its own, and a typical British pub will serve anything from Curry to Pizza under the banner of ‘Good old-fashioned home cooking’ which is another way of saying ‘burnt and stodgy.’
England is especially proud of its meat, which is ‘home grown and bred,’ and as such prey to a large number of diseases, such as Foot and Mouth and BSE. As such British Cattle are now almost as mad as the home grown and bred British Residents.- Weather
Where else in the world can tourists enjoy 12 hours of glorious rainfall every day and yet still have a hosepipe ban?
The British are obsessed with the weather; it is their most common conversation topic. However, with typical British reserve they refer to monsoon rains and artic blizzards as ‘a bit wet,’ and ‘a bit cold’ respectively. It is believed that the British have over 30 different words for rain, most of which are unprintable. 
People
From the Inbred royals, to the underground beggars, the people of Britain are what make it great.
Locking themselves away in the homes, they emerge only to earn money, either by work or mugging elderly civilians, which they use to get drunk. Alcohol is the main social outlet, and a major reason for Britain’s rapidly growing population.
Don't forget to sample some of our watered down ales to make your stay complete!
Tomorrow we might not be here.
More Feature Lengths
Sunday, August 12
Why I'm Getting Old... Part 6
You know you're getting old when:
You leave the club early enough to get home and watch BBC Four
Monday, August 6
Thursday, August 2
Monday, July 30
Monday, July 23
... and the gang of spoilers.
With the most anticipated book of our generation finally released the world is full of spoilers, people desperate to ruin your good time by telling you how the book ends long before you get to the last page.
Here are some tips to help avoid them.
- Fasten your windows shut with a locknigus Fastenus spell, or lock them, whichever is easier. This will ensure no Owls can get it with your friends spoiler letters.
- Cover up all views of the outside world using your old Harry Potter Posters, magic capes, and Sticker Collections.
- Look your door and barricade the letterbox. Book 5 should fit snugly.
- Unplug the TV, Radio, and telephone.
- Switch of your enchanted computer box.
- Keep all fireplaces burning to prevent the use of Floo Powder.
- Finally, Cover the house in an impenetrable spell like the one surrounding Hogwarts. ensuring that no one can apparate in and yell the ending at you.
Friday, July 20
... and the duped masses
Just change 'kids are' to 'Finacee is' and you get an idea of what I've got to do tonight!
Thursday, July 19
Walk this way
Recently, I’ve been trying out some techniques to improve my Self-esteem.
For example, rather than staring at the pavement, I now hold my head up high as I walk down the street.
The result seems to be that I trip over a lot more...
More Quick Hits
Moaning Meme Moaners...
The moaning memes are coming in thick and fast! Mostly thick though.
Here's some of the people who've got a load off their chest already! Will you be next?
Join the revolution...
Tuesday, July 17
Home Remedies
Inspired by this site, which recommends holding a raw steak against your eye, or imagining cigar smoking women, I have decided to recommend some alternative home remedies of my own.
It’ll be nice to know I’ve made the world a better place.
Corns
Corns are useful for guitar playing, but only if you strum with your toes. They are normally caused by ill fitting shoes, so to prevent walk everywhere in slippers. It may also help to start using a plectrum as well.Depression
Forget paying out for expensive anti-depressants or counselling. As Jean-Paul Satre could tell you, depression is ‘other people.’ Avoid them! Mix up 2 pints of larger with 6 shots of Vodka and soak your throat and stomach repeatedly. The depression should temporarily disappear within 30 minutes to an hour.Hay fever
Hay fever is caused by breathing in pollen to which the body is allergic. Thus, to avoid hay fever, stop breathing.Head lice
Head lice are parasitic creatures much like us, and can be killed the same way. Varying methods for removing Head Lice are lethal injection, firing squad, or hanging.Poor Sex Life
However, the most effective method is suffocation. Hold your head under water for an hour, or until all the head lice have floated to the surface.
Go to your e-mail and open the first e-mail entitled ‘Do you want a Bigger Penis?’ Take with a credit card. Sex should improve within 6 – 8 weeks.Tooth-ache
(May have side-effects if you’re a woman)
Toothache is caused by cavities formed by bacteria.
Detol kills 99% of bacteria. Dead.
Gargle 3 items a day until the symptoms disappear.
Previous Posts
Monday, July 16
Moaning Meme
If you've ever listened to people talking on a bus you'll know that most of what they say is negative. They talk about things they hate, people that annoy them and boyfriends that let them down before they even think about mentioning the 'nice things.'
All of us do it. We find it natural, when with a friend, to moan. In fact a recent study has shown that the most effective form of human bonding is moaning and gossiping.
Yet our blogs, the social tools of the 21st century, are populated by memes listing our 'favourites,' or our 'blessings,' or our 'funniest' moments. In our efforts to be readable we have denied others the one thing that makes us interesting - our whining, moaning, complaining selves.
And so I am pleased to present the first ever Moaning Meme! The meme that will teach us all a bit more about each other and ourselves
It's time to spread some Personality...
The Moaning Meme
5 people who will be annoyed you tagged them.
4 things that should go into room 101 and be removed from the face of the earth.
- Handbag sized dogs - it's a small, annoying, yapping creature with teeth, not a fashion accessory
- Charity canvassers
- Blog Entries that begin "I have nothing to say today..."
- Reality TV - the arrogance. The sheer, sheer arrogance!
- Gang up and gossip about people behind their backs
- Act unnecessarily camp as a way of defining themselves
- Share the graphic details of their last visit to the toilet
- Almost any American Sitcom...
- Drunk Bristolians
- I need more therapy
RULES
Finally remember, cynical is sexy.- Link to the original meme at freelancecynic.com so people know what it's all about!
- Be as honest as possible, This is about letting people get to know the real you!
- Try not to insult anyone - unless they really deserve it or are very, very ugly!
- Post these rules at the end of every meme!
At least that's what I'm hoping...
The best of the Cynic
Wednesday, July 11
You're addicted to grub...
Food, like crack cocaine, is addictive.
I say this from first hand experience. I am not overweight because of a genetic disposition or a poor metabolism. I am not overweight due to a sedentary lifestyle or poor self-esteem. I am not even overweight because of global warming. I’m overweight because I eat too much.
If you put a plate of chips in front of me, and an ounce of heroin in front of Pete Docherty, the result would be somewhat similar, except Pete would probably know when to stop. If you give me food I will eat it until my belly fills, my heart panics, and people begin to ask me if I’m pregnant.
The other difference between myself and a heroin addict is that the junkie, a drain on society, gets free health care, free counseling, free morphine injections and a free appearance on Trisha when he is a ‘reformed sinner.’
The fat person on the other hand, who drive our economy with their purchases of custard doughnuts and Garfield Comics, get ridiculed, teased and a lifetime membership to Weight Watchers.
Something must be done to readdress the balance. So as it seems that only bad people get help for free, is the change the publics image of food addicts. I will have to beat BMI the bad boy way.
Locking myself away, I’ll gorge on takeaway and watch day time TV. This is pretty much what I do now anyway. But as my funds are swallowed up, and I can no longer fit in my work clothes, I’ll need alternative ways to fund my habit.
You’ll see me raiding the Post-Office on pension day, forcing old ladies to give me their snacks and sweets. Their pension money, will be exchanged for food at a ‘shady’ corner shop after sun-down.
The paranoia will build. I’ll hoard food in my bedroom, liquefying and injecting it directly into my upper bowel for an instant hit. In desperation I’ll lie outside Burger King, rummaging through the bins, threatening to sit on people unless they give me their take-away.
Before each meal I’ll snort salt, rub pepper into my gums, inject vinegar into my veins and smoke a rolled up sachet of tomato ketchup, then shovel the food quickly into my pre-condimented body.
And finally, in desperation when no other source of food can be found to satisfy me, I will grind up my leftovers, mix them with talcum powder and sell them by the ounce at a massive profit.
And then, after selling my soul, gaining 10 stone and earning an eternity in hell, the police will arrest me. In a court appeal I’ll be psycho-analysed and put back on the street with free counseling, free medical support, and free samples of slim-fast!
Fat is back. Viva la Revolution.
Wednesday, July 4
Caption Contest - Toad Work
"My work likes to find new and exciting ways to motivate it's employees."Friday, June 29
Caption Contest Winners
Only Two Winners today,
In Second Place it's Skittles with -
"There will be a raid on Barbie's townhouse at midnight."
And in first place it's Jams O Donnell with -
"Tune in to ESPN tomorrow for another bout of full contact Rock, Paper, Scissors."
Congats Jam! Here's your prize!
The Original Action Man!
Thursday, June 28
Y is for...
Because the calls for my office are routed through our head office, located somewhere in the Mars' wastelands, we are trained to repeat back details in the phonetic alphabet, making up for the lack of quality on the lines.
This has the unfortunate effect of making us sound like we're telling a bad joke about Uncle Charlie doing the Foxtrot in Quebec, and quickly, most of us make up our own phonetic replacements, E. g., A for 'allo 'allo, b for boxers, c for culinary... Sticking to the original phonetics can cause problems.
For example, a few days ago, a new girl was reading back a number plate to a customer. It was a Y plate and she used phonetics, beginning with 'Y for Yankee.'
For some Freudian reason however, she replaced the 'y' in 'yankee' with a 'w.' The result was somewhat unfortunate.
I know a girl who needs to make up her own phonetic alphabet... It would seem however, that she has other things on her mind.
Wednesday, June 27
Caption Contest
"His mother warned him his hand would stay that way if he kept it up."Winners announced on Friday....
Meme Update
Linda and Angelika added the 5 Things Meme!
I'll give you a cookie if you go check them out.
Will not actually give you a cookie.
Tuesday, June 26
Number 5, not just robot...
I've only gone and been tagged again. Whenn seems to have it in for me...
INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:
THEN answer the following Questions:
What were you doing 10 years ago?
- I was in grammar school, blissfully unaware that such a thing as real life, bills, and memes existed.
- Unpacking in my new flat after I moved to Bristol and wondering if I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I hadn't. I'm still waiting for that to happen.
- Twix bars - Double the pleasure
- Milky way magic stars - Chocolate with smiley faces! What more could a guy need.
- Cheese and Onion sandwiches - Anything to make my breath smelly.
- Toast - Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner
- Bananas - mmm Bendy...
Generally speaking I learn lyrics faster than I learn band names. To name but a few...
- Sweet child of mine – Guns and Roses
- The Masterplan - Oasis
- Somewhere that's Green - Little shop of horrors
- The Show Must Go On - Queen
- Johnny be Good - Chuck Berry
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
- Have a Massive Wedding to please my hunky
- Give some to my family so i can stop worrying about looking after them when they get old.
- Go book shopping
- See every musical on the West End (Always better than Broadway)
- Suddenly discover I have many more friends than i thought I did.
- Tending to assume I’m always too busy to do menial things like housework
- Buying cheese and onion Sandwiches
- Hating trash TV yet being strangely addicted to it
- Re-editing a post 2 or 3 times after I’ve already posted it.
- Mentally judging anyone with a more interesting life than mine as shallow
- Writing
- Editing my writing
- Making money writing
- Designing beautiful, intricate websites to host my writing
- The normal stuff everyone else likes, theatre, cinema, gym, scaring small children e. t. c.
- My baby clothes
- My really baggy asis t-shirts
- Speedos
- Anything with a 30" waist
- A used condom
Do you mind? My dad reads this blog! Oh you mean like toys? Not like ‘toys’….
- My Mobile Phone – Buttony
- My PDA – Shiny
- My bookcase – Knowledgey
- My IPod – Musically
- My PC – Crashy
Old Memes
Monday, June 25
Animal Slights
After noting the various ways to deal with street canvassers, I saw a method on the streets that, to be honest, I just hadn't thought of.
Animal Rights Campaigner( to passing woman)
Excuse me Mam, Sign our petition?
Now why can't I be that honest?
Woman
No Thank You, I think you're all deluded! Now why can't I be that honest?
Friday, June 22
Caption Contest Champions
There were so many great entries in the caption contest that I'm going to have to award the best three. And even then I'm stuck as to who to chose...
So in third place for sheer 'Smile Factor' we have Lissa
"Honey, I wash the car today and it didn't cost me anything."
In second place for the caption most fitting to The Freelance Cynic, it's Skittles
"They were so religious they even had their car baptized!"
But in first place, awarded for the most amount of effort put into a Caption contest, (and because my Dad likes it) it's Danielle with this delicious ditty
"Wanted to Fish
That was my Wish
Boat in the shop
But I wouldn't be stopped
I was glum
Already had the chum
I'll be a star
If I fished from my car."
Congratulations Danielle! Here's your Virtual Gift!
(Psst, An additional award for a great line that didn't quite make the top three but made me laugh like a horse for a while, Cmanlong's "Q was slipping." This car didn't float."}
Thursday, June 21
Begging your attention
Whilst walking through London a panhandler came up to my friends and I with this wonderful request,
"Sorry to bother you guys but can you spare some loose change so I can buy a balaclava and a gun, and make some real money?"
Based on the amount of money we gave him that day, I'm sure he's doing just fine...
This blog now allows search engines to index your comments! A great easy way to build up your links and improve your page Ranking!
Wednesday, June 20
Readers' Caption Competition No 7
"When the Native Bristolians Drank, they found it funny to give tourists misleading directions..."
Winner will be announced on Friday!
Monday, June 18
[Un]Intelligent Design
A respected argument for 'God's existence’ is 'Proof by Intelligent Design.' I.e. 'When we look at the world around us it looks designed. We do not know anything that looks designed which does not have a designer. Therefore there must be a designer, and we will call that designer God.'
I'm not sure why we should call the designer 'God' rather than, say, ‘Cecil.’ But then I’m not a Philosopher; such things our beyond my intelligence.
The proof is logically sound and infallible. I often wonder why it isn't used in courtrooms, 'When we look at the Defendant we see he looks guilty, therefore...'
The difficulty with ‘Proof by intelligent Design’ is that many things which appear designed also appear ridiculous.
Take me for example.
Every day go through an almost identical routine. Firstly I lock the door and leave my flat. A few moments later I unlock, go back into the house and check the windows are shut. I leave again, then turn back and check the lights are switched off. I exit once more, go back to double-check the door is locked, and then, finally, I head to work. I'll be halfway there before I realise I left the iron on.
This is not intelligent. In fact, I am less proof of ‘intelligent design’ than I am proof of a ‘vicious joke’. Something, it seems, is wrong with the theory of intelligent design.
Evolution, however, is just as disappointing. My morning routine, should have evolved out of existence decades before 'the iron' even existed and been replaced by a stronger, manlier gene that closes the windows before leaving the house and understands the off-side rule without needing a 'Shoe shop' analogy.
The fact that my paranoia still exists says evolution no longer works, and it is no longer only the ‘fittest genes’ which are being passed on to the next generation. Almost anyone can have children now, (even ugly people get laid thanks to Friday night 'happy hours') so natural selection fails and the gene pool gets weaker with each generation.
Evolution must evolve to survive, and I've got a horrible feeling I’m the outcome of evolution’s evolution
Having established I am not the fittest of the species, Darwinian selection has decided to end my bloodline, not in the conventional way (Death), but with the last weapon left in it's belt. It is, after all, harder for a man to reproduce when womanly bits make him feel as horny as a castrated camel.
Yes, homosexuality, it seems, is nature’s counter-attack to the Weekend pub crawl.
And suddenly the idea of a creator God with the IQ of a Texican President sounds surprisingly good to me.
I'm left with two conclusions. Either I'm a failed product of Darwinian selection, or I'm the creation of a 'God' who forgets his keys a lot and considers 'worrying' one of the beatitudes. 'Blessed are the worriers for they shall be ever late to work.'
Either way, 'When I look at things around me they appear to be entirely discouraging. Therefore...'
Logically sound remember...
Infallible...
Do you have any examples of unintelligent Design? Is evolution a gift left to us by an alien race? Comment and tell me what you think?
Posts that make you go 'Hmmm...'
Fired Beef
Michael Weston tried to stand up, but was held down by the dead Brazilian Hooker he was tied too.
Outside the cows were roaming, forming a pattern. He wondered if it was going to rain.
Using CIA techniques, he released his wrists. A small motor whirred as he walked to the window. It hadn’t occurred to him that there was a camera. It should have. He was, after all, in the Big Brother house.
The cows were forming lines. They made a shape on the grass like the letter, ‘Y’
The hooker had been cleaning the bathroom. He’d been called to scan for terrorist threats.
The bovine formed a circle, ‘O’. Then a ‘U’. Now it was an ‘R’. Then an ‘E’, the shapes flowing into each other.
She’d torn his shirt off with her teeth. He’d forgotten about the suicide-pill glued to the top button. Shame really. She’d done a great job on the taps.
An ‘F’, an ‘I’, an ‘R’
The camera whirred again. 'Management’ had seen everything. Killing hookers was one thing off duty. But on 'The Job' the rules changed.
On the field outside the cows formed an ‘E’ before moving one last time. The ‘D’ glared up at him from the grass, and mooed.
Throwing his badge from his pocket, he left the house.
He had but one thought in his mind; it was true what people said, the CIA could control cows…
This story is in honour of and sponsored by USA Network's Burn Notice. To find out why Michael really gets fired click to the home page and read all about it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)