Category Archives: Humour

Deadly Attacks

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Yesterday, the BBC online news service contained two reports that demonstrate just how far we English have declined.

First of all was the report of an emergency 999 telephone call made by a man claiming he had been chased by a malevolent badger – which for the information of any town dwellers reading this blog, is a cute, shy creature about the size of a small to medium dog that feeds predominantly on worms and slugs!

Secondly, I read a report of another emergency call made by someone claiming a seagull had tried to rip a sandwich from out of his hand!

To think we once ruled the greatest empire the world had ever seen.

That’s as maybe but presumably our brave soldiers never had to contend with a regiment of highly trained badgers!

A Lament for the Past

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What is it with people and computers? Are we not capable of thinking for ourselves anymore?

A few days ago I went to collect some tickets from a place that I shan’t name for fear of offending the proprietors but let’s say it was the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee! In fairness it could have been anywhere in the world.

There were two people in front of me having their order processed, which basically meant picking up pre-ordered tickets. After an unbelievable 15 minutes wait I made my way to the desk and handed over my voucher containing all the pre-booked information, date, time, place, tickets required and their reference number. After 10 minutes of the guy staring at his computer screen, consulting with a colleague and asking me for further confirmation I eventually got what I wanted.

Why, why should this happen?  Surely, if a clerk places the company’s own reference number into the computer it should immediately come up with the relevant booking. It’s hard not to conclude that it was actually quicker to process orders in the old days, when orders and references were written down on index cards and then placed alphabetically in a box for easy reference. Nobody seemed to struggle then.

Another gripe. Why is it that bar staff no longer seem able to utilise basic mathematics? Not so long ago, a good bartender would add up the order in his or her head and take the money off the customer. I appreciate that computerised tills are useful since they do all the additions, print off receipts and help prevent employee theft and fraud but there are times when an elementary use of mental arithmetic or even remembering what something costs can be useful to the customer. Why is it that a bartender can’t even take the money for a single drink without first telling the customer, “I’ll be with you in a second” or “I’ll be right back with your check”?

Computers are all well and good and are no doubt necessary in this modern hi-tech world but it’s such a shame that the price is a loss of human initiative and imagination.

A Kind of Wisdom

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I saw a sandwich board on the pavement (sidewalk, this is America, sorry!) outside a Nashville bar earlier today. At the end of the invitation to step inside and enjoy their cold beer was the exhortation “You can’t lower heaven but come raise hell!”

I’d never heard the saying before and it may or not be original thought but it certainly brought a smile to my face.

It was early afternoon, I was working and so I walked past. Way back in the 1970s and 80s, working or not, it would have been difficult to ignore.

Maybe that’s what age and experience does for you! Good job really.

Rewriting History

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I recently read an article in the Independent newspaper on the subject of the battle of Waterloo and the forthcoming celebrations to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the British and Allied victory of June 18th, 1815. The writer said that the victory was of little importance, argued that the British (and particularly the English) played a small part and went on to say that the winning general was Irish.

It is of course fashionable, particularly among the country’s liberal elite, to question Britain’s achievements and wherever possible to belittle them and even to rewrite history, so it’s worth looking at those statements.

Waterloo, as Wellington himself said, was a “near run thing” and if Napoleon had won who knows what might have happened?  The whole of Europe was ranged against Napoleon, and his plan, born of necessity,  was for a quick victory in Belgium over Wellington’s British Allied army and Blucher’s Prussians before turning east to face the armies of Russia and Austria.

He almost succeeded and the fact that he didn’t was down primarily, in the opinion of most military historians, to the abilities of Wellington, the quality of the 20,000 British troops and 6,000 troops of the King’s German Legion under his command (totalling less than one third of his forces) plus the eventual late arrival on the field of battle of Blucher’s Prussians.

If  Napoleon had won the battle who is to say what the effect would have been on the morale of the Austrians and Russians? Would they have fancied their chances against his undoubted military genius? Might they instead have sued for peace? What would have happened to Europe? Who knows? It is, of course, mere conjecture

As for Wellington’s nationality, he was of Anglo-Irish protestant stock, born in Dublin and educated at Eton. He regarded himself as English and when referred to as Irish, due to his place of birth, he is alleged to have replied “If I had been born in a stable would that make me a horse?”

None of that is to derogate the Irish who contributed mightily to the history of this country and her former empire but it would be nice if certain modern commentators could at least give the English some credit.

NOTE: On the anniversary of the battle of Trafalgar I half expect some revisionist to declare that Nelson wasn’t English either – actually, when you think about it Horati O’Nelson does sound a little suspicious!

Clever Dick

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I was in Nashville recently and, during the course of my visit to a local bar, had the need to visit the establishment’s facilities. So there I was stood at the urinal, gazing, as one does, at the advertisements directly in front when one immediately caught my eye. Two words in large bold print followed by some narrative. Those words were “Dick Strong” and my laughter almost caused me, momentarily, to lose my aim, though thankfully not!

Intrigued, I read the advertisement, not knowing what to expect, although I thought perhaps it may have been an ad for one of those little blue pills or something similar. Anyway, it was nothing of the sort and, in fact, was an advert by a lawyer called Richard Strong who specialises in criminal law and in particular, the representation of those arrested for DUI (driving under the influence of alcohol).

I thought, what a smart guy. One for placing an advertisement in a place where those most likely to break that particular law are most likely to frequent and secondly in cleverly utilising his name. I googled (that’s officially a word now apparently) his website and read all about the man and his practice.

On the website he explained how, to promote his practice, he wanted to make the most of a name that during his youth, in particular, had been a predictable (no pun intended) source of much mirth and joking amongst his peers.

Well, it worked, Dick, and whilst I have no idea how good a lawyer you are, I sincerely hope that you have earned the reputation and riches that your imagination and wit truly deserve!

I Was Like!

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I was listening to a group of young Americans the other day which, actually, isn’t all that surprising since I’ve been in the USA for nearly a week now! In fairness, I’d like to clarify that statement slightly since I wasn’t listening in the sense of making a conscious effort but in the sense that I had no choice. The sound of conversation, as with most groups of people, particularly young (and dare I say, female) was fairly noisy.

The debate, lively as it was, seemed somewhat straightforward and simple consisting principally of a mere three phrases, namely “omigad, Iwaslike or aresum!” sometimes one or two at a time and sometimes all together but in no particular order. To add further variety an occasional “really” was added either as a question or as a point of emphasis. A clearly versatile word, it can be placed at either end of a sentence or inserted in the middle.

Such conversations seem to be best spoken loudly and quickly and at a high pitch. I have no idea what any of it meant and I’m not overly convinced that it was, in fact, strictly English but the users seemed to be able to understand one another, despite the fact that they all spoke at the same time!

Next time I’m, like, in a similar situation I must try and join in. Really, aresum!

A Man’s Game

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After a week of headlines of multi-millionaire footballers diving, spitting at one another, harassing referees and generally behaving like the cheating, spoilt brats that so many of them are it was refreshing to welcome back international rugby over the weekend.

I’m currently reading the autobiography of former England rugby captain Will Carling in which he describes how, the evening before an important rugby international against Ireland in 1991, the England players relaxed by watching the Arnold Schwarzenegger action movie, Predator.

During the following day’s match England forward  Mike Teague took a nasty hit and lay motionless on the pitch with blood pouring from his head.

Carling, full of concern for one of his team’s star performers, ran over to see how serious the injury was whereupon Teague, according to Carling, “looked up, blinked twice” and, staggering to his feet, quoted a Schwarzenegger line from the previous evening’s film,  “Aint got time to bleed!”. He was now fully focussed and, staring at his opponents, muttered another line from the film “Pay-back time!” England went on to win the match.

A bit of a contrast to the so-called elite players of the round ball game, I think you’ll agree.

Bad Losers

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Evidently Francois Hollande, the French president, has vetoed Belgium’s proposal for the issue of a special two euro coin to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the battle of Waterloo on June 18th.

You may consider the attitude of such a staunch supporter of the European Union to be somewhat surprising, particularly when the allied victory freed Europe from the tyranny of the French dictator, Napoleon Bonaparte, and led to over 50 years of peace on the continent. However, Hollande feels the coin might undermine European unity and would “risk engendering unfavourable reactions in France”.

Of course, the real reason for the President’s snub is that Bonaparte was defeated by a largely British force led by the Duke of Wellington and the fact of the matter is that, in spite of centuries of practice, the French have always been such bad losers.

I suggest that instead of leaving it to the Europeans, the British government should order the striking of a two pound sterling coin to commemorate the battle. On one side of the coin would be an engraving of a charging British grenadier and on the reverse a troop of fleeing French cuirassiers. That would really irritate his eminence, the French president, wouldn’t it!

Stadder’s Simple Land

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It’s always somewhat embarrassing when you realise that the lyrics to that catchy pop song you’ve been happily and loudly singing along to actually bear no resemblance to the original and that you have, in fact, totally misheard them. This was brought to mind the other day when I was playing “Pleasant Valley Sunday”, a big hit for the Monkees back in 1967 and a favourite in my collection.

As a naturally unworldly 12 year old I was convinced that Mickey Dolenz (oh yes, a lifelong fan, I can easily name all four members of America’s answer to England’s Fab Four!) was singing about a bloke called Stadder.

“Another Pleasant Valley Sunday, here in Stadder’s simple land”…………. certainly sounded plausible enough to me.

How was I to know, at that age, that the Americans had butchered our language and Dolenz was actually singing “here in status symbol land”! How was I to know, a mere child, that Americans pronounce status with a hard “a” instead of the soft (and correct, of course!) “a” of English pronunciation. Status is pronounced Stay-tus as in Stay-tus Quo not Stat-us Quo – I quite liked that band as well! Sad, I know.

I’m sure we all have our own stories to tell on this subject and another that stands out for me is a song by another excellent American band actually called “America”. They had a big hit in 1971 with a song called “A Horse With No Name” (I’ve got that in my collection as well) although I was convinced, when I first heard the song, that it was called “A Horse With No Mane”! You can see my logic though, every horse has a mane but not every horse has a name so why bother to sing about a horse without a name!

Anyway, going back to the Monkees. That band have mixed memories for me and I can well remember, a few years back, an ex-girlfriend of mine telling me that she was ending our relationship. I asked her why and she said it was because of my obsession with the Monkees. I told her that I didn’t believe her. Then I saw her face………..!

The Post

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I have noticed, over the last couple of years or so, that the Post Office seem to be employing  far more female postmen than they used to. In fact, more often than not, my post is delivered by women and a very good job they do too. (And why not?- women are more than capable of doing a man’s job-don’t be so patronising-why should men get all the best work? etc. Ed).

The problem is, I’m a little confused as to how to correctly  refer to our female postal workers.  Clearly, it would be sexist and politically incorrect to refer to a female deliverer of the post as a postman. So what do I call her?  I’m so confused that I’d even consider seeking guidance from the PC Police on this point.

After further thought it becomes obvious, think of Chairman and Chair! Postman and Post! She is clearly a Post. There, that settles it.

If she does well at her job (and why wouldn’t she? – men have no monopoly on excellence etc . Ed.) she could well advance to become head of an executive  committee within the Post Office. In which case she would presumably be referred to as the Chair of the Post or maybe even the Chair Post! How silly we are.