Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Merrie In-ger-lund
We were at a St George's Day-themed beer festival, the term 'beer' rather giving the lie to the fact that there was no beer available and the term 'festival' rather giving the lie to the fact that there was no beer available.
St George was there though: a nice enough gent in knight of yore costume, with ubiquitous cross motif and a dragon mascot in tow.
Over he came, to entertain the kids - my nieces to be exact. Both of them shrank away from him however. St George looked rather glum.
"Sorry mate," the sister told him. "It's because the last guy dressed like you fire bombed our neighbours' house."
***
Ok, but that's definitely what she should have said.
St George was there though: a nice enough gent in knight of yore costume, with ubiquitous cross motif and a dragon mascot in tow.
Over he came, to entertain the kids - my nieces to be exact. Both of them shrank away from him however. St George looked rather glum.
"Sorry mate," the sister told him. "It's because the last guy dressed like you fire bombed our neighbours' house."
***
Ok, but that's definitely what she should have said.
Labels: NEAR MISSES, TALES
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Attack of the killer tomatoes
Sainsbury's Basics tomatoes often come in warped cans, making them a bit of a pain in the neck to open. I had one particularly recalcitrant example of such a can today, which remained jammed shut even after I'd finally made it all the way round the rim with the can opener.
I was successful in levering it open, but the vibrant twang of the lid springing free was somewhat muffled by the fleshy squelch of it embedding itself in the middle finger and palm of my left hand (putting the cut in subcutaneous, as it were).
I asked Sam to buy me some plasters from the shop next door and drain the pasta, while I bled copiously into the sink.
Sadly, the plasters proved about as effective as a puncture repair kit aboard the Titanic, so I ate my pasta in tomato sauce (with traces of Dan) then wandered off to A&E on Euston Road.
"Tomatoes do come in boxes these days you know," said the nurse as she strove to glue my finger back together.
Next week: Dan slices his own head off while trying to assemble a sandwich from pre-sliced ingredients.
I was successful in levering it open, but the vibrant twang of the lid springing free was somewhat muffled by the fleshy squelch of it embedding itself in the middle finger and palm of my left hand (putting the cut in subcutaneous, as it were).
I asked Sam to buy me some plasters from the shop next door and drain the pasta, while I bled copiously into the sink.
Sadly, the plasters proved about as effective as a puncture repair kit aboard the Titanic, so I ate my pasta in tomato sauce (with traces of Dan) then wandered off to A&E on Euston Road.
"Tomatoes do come in boxes these days you know," said the nurse as she strove to glue my finger back together.
Next week: Dan slices his own head off while trying to assemble a sandwich from pre-sliced ingredients.
Labels: MOMENTS, NEAR MISSES
Friday, September 05, 2008
Getting ahead in computing
A.B. Computers, a very compact computer hardware shop in Coventry's precinct. Young Saturday worker (herefter YSW) behind the counter. In walks M.I.B. (my idiot brother.)
MIB: Excuse me...
YSW: Can I help you?
MIB: Yeah, I was just wondering: what does the "A. B." in A. B. Computers stand for?
YSW: Er, I couldn't really say...
MIB (suddenly hostile): Yeah, right! You think it's easy, don't you? Just tag on some bullshit initials so your shop gets first place in the phonebook!
YSW: ...
MIB: Well, I've got news for you: I'm opening my own computer place down the road. And it's gonna be called A. A. A. A. A. A. A. A. A....
(pauses, takes a deep breath, continues)
A. A. A. A. A. A. A. A. B. A. A. Computers! So go fuck yourself!
(Sweeps an armful of computer equipment of the shelf, onto the floor and leaves.)
YSW: ...
***
For once, I wasn't able to persuade Joe to go through with it. If I had, it would have been pretty similar to the above.
MIB: Excuse me...
YSW: Can I help you?
MIB: Yeah, I was just wondering: what does the "A. B." in A. B. Computers stand for?
YSW: Er, I couldn't really say...
MIB (suddenly hostile): Yeah, right! You think it's easy, don't you? Just tag on some bullshit initials so your shop gets first place in the phonebook!
YSW: ...
MIB: Well, I've got news for you: I'm opening my own computer place down the road. And it's gonna be called A. A. A. A. A. A. A. A. A....
(pauses, takes a deep breath, continues)
A. A. A. A. A. A. A. A. B. A. A. Computers! So go fuck yourself!
(Sweeps an armful of computer equipment of the shelf, onto the floor and leaves.)
YSW: ...
***
For once, I wasn't able to persuade Joe to go through with it. If I had, it would have been pretty similar to the above.
Labels: NEAR MISSES
