Pet Hate 97: The Copper Chopper Question

What are your pet hates?

  • Squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle?
  • Men not putting the toilet seat down for the ladies to use?
  • Being called a “translator” when you are, in fact, an interpreter?
  • Back-seat drivers telling you how to do your job because their third cousin twice removed showed them how to do it?

Here’s my latest pet hate.  To give you some context, I’m a member of several local affairs pages on Facebook thanks to my nomadic life.  Most of the posts are along the lines of:

  • Can anyone recommend a plumber/cleaning lady/oven cleaning firm round Jonesville?
  • What time does … shop close on Sundays?

But you can guarantee that at least once a week some nosey parker/rubbernecker will ask this classic, curtain-twitcher question:

What was the police helicopter doing over Bracknell/Redcar/Crowthorne/Scumbagsville yesterday evening?

Unless it directly affects you, why bother asking on FB?  Why not phone up the police public relations office if you are desperate to know?

This morning I saw this excellent tweet by Thames Valley Police in Bracknell in response to the latest “What is the police helicopter doing over Bracknell?” query on Facebook.

helipTVP.jpg

Good skills, Thames Valley Police, good skills!

Have an inquisitive day, won’t you!

Advertisements

The Back-Seat Driver: Part 94

The back-seat driver.  In German: der Co-Trainer. The armchair expert, Kneipenprofessor, who knows your job better than you do (because they saw this done in a movie or on YouTube).  The bane of my life, and quite possibly of yours, my dear reader.

Are you sitting comfortably?  Then we’ll begin.  Time to write through gritted teeth.  I shall wear a smile.  Here it is for you.

smile.jpg

Let me outline the background of this article for you.  Our church treasurer is of Welsh origin, but quite Germanic in his view that:

Ordnung muss sein.

The treasurer noticed a week ago that we had two large boxes at the back of church.

  • One for used stamps to donate to charity.  In the UK, pretty much every small business had an A4 envelope full of such stamps, which the secretary or office junior would then take once in a while to the local charity shop.  (You get the idea.)
  • The other contained a whole load of spectacles, also to give to a Third World charity.

Both boxes have never been emptied in the near seven years that I have been attending this church.

Never, never, never, never.  In seven (7) years.  Never, never, never, never. 

Let’s cut to the chase.  Last week after seeing the two un-loved boxes one time too many, I undertook to take both boxes with me to the local charity shop.  After I had taken the box of spectacles to the shop this morning, I sent out a round-robin to church members via Whatsapp.

We have taken our collection of spectacles for the Third World to charity shop.  They are very happy.

Within minutes, messages of unbridled adulation flood into my inbox.

You are the finest human being I have ever met.

Truly you are a blessing in my life.

I am filled with endless gratitude to you for your sterling efforts and endless, selfless devotion to the work of the church, and indeed, to the human race.

And much, much more.

I tell a lie.  I get one message from the treasurer:

Cheers, mate.

Other than that one, I then receive a bombardment of Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells messages from Billy, our “in-house” back-seat driver and giver of unsolicited advice.  He was challenging my decision to discontinue the collecting of stamps and spectacles.  I explain that, members of the congregation are grown-up enough to take their donations directly to the charity.  (Well, actually, Billy probably isn’t.)  He then combines his Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells comments with passive aggressive comments concluding in, “But of course, you’re in charge, and you you know best, and you probably have your reasons for your decision.”  (Think of when a woman answers you with “Fine.”)

(Yes, Billy, I do have good reasons, and I’ve just spent ten minutes of my life explaining the rationale, context, whys and wherefores thereof.)

Message after message, after message… after message… after message… after message… after message… after message… after message… after message… after message… after message…

“Billy must be bored today,” I sigh to myself.

In the end, Billy has the last word and informs me he is “far too busy to discuss this matter until tomorrow.”  A reprieve. I anticipate the next chapter at about 02:20 when he gets up for a night-time loo break.  I say the words that every ex-HM Forces person, every pads brat utters at least once a month.

Bl00dy civvies.

I then get on with my jobs at church:

  • Shiftin’ and liftin’ fifty stacking chairs back into the church hall
  • Writing a thank you card to Grasshopper for some highly amusing videos about protein powder
  • Nibbling a couple of small mince pies left for me by our catering team
  • Advising the catering team how to bake mince pies because that’s how my last church used to make them  (Er no thanx, I’ll leave that to Billy to butt in)

Have an advisory day, won’t you!

Image result for unsolicited advice

Troll of the Year Award

I have two pet hates.

  1. People who write passive aggressive posts on Facebook along the lines of: “How can anyone do that to someone who I thought as a friend????  I don’t want to talk about it.”
  2. People who post pictures of themselves holding up tubs of whey powder/fitness food and commenting along the lines of: “Day 87 of the New Me, New Body diet.  Disappointed that I only managed 529 of my target of 700 press-ups this morning.  Note to self: MUST TRY HARDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I confided the latter pet hate to Grasshopper yesterday.  Today Grasshopper sent me the following picture…

IMG-20181214-WA0018.jpg

Grasshopper is now officially a cad and a bounder.

Have a caddish day, won’t you!

Do you come here often?

Female Comebacks

Man: “Haven’t we met before?”
Woman: “Yes, I’m the receptionist at the VD Clinic.”

Man: “Haven’t I seen you someplace before?”
Woman: “Yeah, that’s why I don’t go there anymore.”

Man: “Is this seat empty?”
Woman: “Yes, and this one will be too if you sit down.”

Man: “So, wanna go back to my place?”
Woman: “Well, I don’t know. Will two people fit under a rock?”

Man: “Your place or mine?”
Woman: “Both. You go to yours and I’ll go to mine.”

Man: “I’d like to call you. What’s your number?”
Woman: “It’s in the phone book.”
Man: “But I don’t know your name.”
Woman: “That’s in the phone book too.”

Man: “So what do you do for a living?”
Woman: “I’m a female impersonator.”

Man: “Hey, baby, what’s your sign?”
Woman: “Do Not Enter”

Man: “How do you like your eggs in the morning?”
Woman: “Unfertilized!”

Man: “Hey, come on, we’re both here at this bar for the same reason”
Woman: “Yeah! Let’s pick up some chicks!”

Man: “I’m here to fulfill your every sexual fantasy.”
Woman: “You mean you’ve got both a donkey and a Great Dane?”

Man: “I know how to please a woman.”
Woman: “Then please leave me alone.”

Man: “I want to give myself to you.”
Woman: “Sorry, I don’t accept cheap gifts.”

Man: “If I could see you naked, I’d die happy.”
Woman: “Yeah, but if I saw you naked, I’d probably die laughing.”

Man: “Your body is like a temple.”
Woman: “Sorry, there are no services today.”

Man: “I’d go through anything for you.
Woman: “Good! Let’s start with your bank account.”

Man: “I would go to the end of the world for you.”
Woman: “Yes, but would you stay there?”

 

rejected.jpg

Have a flirty day, won’t you!

What a Guy!

Have you ever been invited to an interview and found elements a bit unusual and unexpected, eg questions such as:

If you were a piece of fruit, what fruit would you be?

What would you do if you unexpectedly appeared on TV as part of that interview?

Heed the words of Harold MacMillan, British Prime Minister during the Berlin Wall crisis.

When in a crisis, act as if you were not a crisis.

KeepCalm.jpg

Have an unruffled day, won’t you!

Scrapbook: Non-News Story

It’s been a quiet autumn night, so besides:

  • Alphabetising my book collection
  • Clipping my toenails
  • Reorganising my stationery box
  • Reading umpteen Wkipedia articles on the chemical content of planet Pluto

I decided to have a look through my scrapbooks.  Among the postcards, village church service sheets, train tickets and various till receipts, I found this excellent local newspaper non-news story from the Darlington and Stockton Times.  “Not our department” seems to be the name of the game.  Enjoy!

Non-News.jpg

Have a newsworthy day, won’t you!