Spot the difference.

Lovingly stolen from Old Holborn's gaff.

Can you spot the difference? One is an unelected, unaccountable, grasping opportunist who attracts the enmity of millions, the other is a charismatic and entertaining public speaker with flamboyant taste in camping equipment.

Too Soon?

Having already booked my spot in hell, this is most likely just to upgrade me to the superior room when I turn up, but I can't read this story:

An investigation has been launched after two horses died in the paddock at Newbury amid fears they were electrocuted by underground cabling.

Without thinking of this:

How management works.

A woman in a hot air balloon realised she was lost. She reduced altitude and spotted a man below. She descended a bit more and shouted: 'Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago but I don't know where I am.'

The man below replied, 'You're in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You're between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude.'

'You must be an Engineer,' said the balloonist.

'I am,' replied the man, 'how did you know?'

'Well,' answered the balloonist, 'everything you have told me is probably technically correct, but I've no idea what to make of your information and the fact is, I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help at all. If anything, you've delayed my trip by your talk.'

The man below responded, 'You must be in Management.'

'I am,' replied the balloonist, 'but how did you know?'

'Well,' said the man, 'you don't know where you are or where you're going. You have risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise, which you've no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fucking fault.'

An oldie, but a goodie.

A Christmas Message.

From Sir Norman Tedium-Custard, Head of Department.

Dear Staff,

It is at this time of year that I find myself looking back over the past twelve months at the challenges we have faced and the progress we have made. This year it is a matter of considerable pride to me that this department has performed in the best traditions of the civil service. We have been given a number of new policies to implement by our new coalition government, all of which we have been able to studiously ignore whilst persuading the minister that we're doing exactly what he wants. The fact that we've been able to do this whilst significantly increasing the tedious form filling required by our customers and stakeholders and ensuring that our most vital staff are the ones staring down the barrel of job cuts, thus entering the festive period with a wonderful feeling of dread, shows that this department is well ahead of the game.

I appreciate that some of you are fearful about what the future holds, but as I said we're all in this together. Well, you are, I'm not. I've decided it is now appropriate for me to spend more time with my pension, chalet in Chamonix and beach house in Bermuda, so at the ripe old age of 55, I'm taking retirement in the new year. I'm looking forward to pottering about the garden, supervising the staff as they re-plant the orchard, repoint the paving around the swimming pool and put a new roof on the stables. Don't worry, I'll have plenty of work to do, especially when I take up my six figure sum, three day a month non-exec post at MegaCorp in the spring.

I would like to take this opportunity to welcome my successor, Dame Greta Arseclown-Um Bongo who is moving up from the second in command position in the Department of Equality, Diversity and Political Correctness. I'm delighted to relate that she's already informed me of her intention to completely change as many of our systems of work as possible in as quick a time as possible, whilst at the same time cutting back on the training resources available to you and making the new policies completely impractical for your daily work lives. I know that she's a strict disciplinarian who will not accommodate any dissent or debate while she is ruthlessly following her own agenda. It promises to be an exciting time.

All that remains is for me to wish you an agreeable winter holiday period, free of overt religious overtones, unless you are not Chrisitian, in which case I'm sure the department will spend a good deal of time and effort promoting the deity of your choice. Eat moderately and plainly, or you may find that our colleagues from the Dept. of Health have no option but to withold treatment from you should you become ill. The same goes for drink as well, so it is best avoided. I am hopeful that you all manage to get your families around you, and hope that you bear in mind your diversity training when old Uncle George starts making his racist comments over the Iceland Christmas buffet which I'm sure all you little people bung in the oven for Christmas.

And please remember, if you do have to smoke at home over Christmas, that you should exit your property and walk to the end of the garden path so as to comply with the policy in place at work. I am a senior civil servant and thus know what is best for you.

I'll be eating, drinking and smoking like some deranged Regency period socialite, but then private medical healthcare cover for life is part of my settlement.

Have Fun!

Sir Norman Tedium-Custard.

Who is at fault?

I had either the good fortune, or bad fortune, I haven’t made up my mind yet, of listening to some half-wit chuntering away on the wireless last night.

The poor old sod was stuck in his car on the M6 near Wigan in the snow, having travelled about a quarter of a mile in about three and a half hours.

One feels a degree of sympathy, as it would appear that our transport system is, once again, completely unprepared for the winter weather we tend to get in winter.

My sympathy began to waver when I heard his plaintive cries about lack of action, lack of information (it’s snowing, you’re on the motorway, traffic has stopped, use your imagination – in this case a jack-knifed HGV) and that calls to the Greater Manchester Police non-emergency number had resulted in referral to the Highways Agency. Well, it wasn’t an emergency, so that sounds about right to me.

Apart from it could have been an emergency.

You see, despite advice from a copper with scrambled egg all over the peak of his cap, the usual stuff, you know, ‘the weather is very bad, do not travel unless it is a matter of life or death’ that was given out that afternoon, this man was in his car with a colleague of his who was eight and a half months pregnant.

No, he wasn’t taking her to the hospital in an act of fraternal solidarity. He was giving her a lift home, and found himself stuck in the snow, with a very pregnant woman, returning from their office Christmas party.

My sympathy evaporated quicker than a Scottish footballer playing in a Qatari world cup match when I discovered they were estate agents.

So, senior copper says stay at home, and what do you do? Take your pregnant colleague out into the snow to attend the office shindig?

And you have the nerve to demand to know who is at fault for your current predicament?

OK, here’s how you find out. Whilst you're sat behind the wheel of your immobile car, the fuel tank indicator needle inexorably drifting to the red ‘E’ as you keep the engine running to power the blower, look up at the centre of the top of the windscreen. Just tilt that mirror until you see a face in it. That is the person at fault, you utter, utter mong.

Brevity.

Question:



Would a mass cash withdrawal bring down the banks? 

Answer:



Yes.


Next question?

And they say the BBC is being dumbed down. . .

Politicians = stupid.

This popped into my inbox today. It is likely to be a) old, and b) apocryphal, but that doesn't make it any less amusing.

A Washington, DC airport ticket agent offers some examples of why the country is in trouble.

All are from people involved in Government in one way or another:

1. I had a New Hampshire Congresswoman ask for an aisle seat so that her hair wouldn't get messed up by being near the window.

2. I got a call from a Kansas Congressman who wanted to go to Capetown. I started to explain the length of the flight and the passport information, and then he interrupted me with, ''I'm not trying to make you look stupid, but Capetown is in Massachusetts.''
Without trying to make him look stupid, I calmly explained, ''Cape Cod is in Massachusetts, Capetown is in South Africa ''

his response -- click.

3. A senior Vermont Congressman called, furious about a Florida package we did. I asked what was wrong with the vacation in Orlando. He said he was expecting an ocean-view room. I tried to explain that's not possible, since Orlando is in the middle of the state.

He replied, 'Don't lie to me, I looked on the map and Florida is a very thin state!''

4. I got a call from a lawmaker's wife who asked, ''Is it possible to see England from Canada?''
I said, ''No.''
She said, ''But they look so close on the map.''

5. An aide for a cabinet member once called and asked if he could rent a car in Dallas. I pulled up the reservation and noticed he had only a 1-hour layover in Dallas. When I asked him why he wanted to rent a car, he said, ''I heard Dallas was a big airport, and we will need a car to drive between gates to save time.''

6. An Illinois Congresswoman called last week. She needed to know how it was possible that her flight from Detroit left at 8:30 a.m., and got to Chicago at 8:33 a.m.

I explained that Michigan was an hour ahead of Illinois, but she couldn't understand the concept of time zones. Finally, I told her the plane went fast, and she bought that.

7. A New York lawmaker called and asked, ''Do airlines put your physical description on your bag so they know whose luggage belongs to whom?'' I said, 'No, why do you ask?'

He replied, ''Well, when I checked in with the airline, they put a tag on my luggage that said (FAT), and I'm overweight. I think that's very rude!''

After putting him on hold for a minute, while I looked into it. (I was dying laughing). I came back and explained the city code for Fresno, Ca. is "FAT" (Fresno Air Terminal), and the airline was just putting a destination tag on his luggage.

8. An aide to Senator John Kerry called to inquire about a trip package to Hawaii. After going over all the cost info, she asked,

''Would it be cheaper to fly to California and then take the train to Hawaii?''

9. I just got off the phone with a freshman Congressman from Alabama who asked, ''How do I know which plane to get on?''

I asked him what exactly he meant, to which he replied, ''I was told my flight number is 823, but none of these planes have numbers on them.''

10. Senator Dianne Feinstein
called and said, ''I need to fly to Pepsi-Cola, Florida. Do I have to get on one of those little computer planes?''

I asked if she meant fly to Pensacola, FL on a commuter plane

She said, ''Yeah, whatever, smarty!''

11. An LA Senator called and had a question about the documents she needed in order to fly to China. After a lengthy discussion about passports, I reminded her that she needed a visa. 'Oh, no I don't. I've been to China many times and never had to have one of those.''

I double-checked and sure enough, her stay required a visa. When I told her this she said, ''Look, I've been to China four times and every time they have accepted my American Express!''

12. A New Jersey Congressman called to make reservations, ''I want to go from Chicago to Rhino, New York.''

I was at a loss for words. Finally, I said, ''Are you sure that's the name of the town?''

'Yes, what flights do you have?'' replied the man.

After some searching, I came back with, ''I'm sorry, sir, I've looked up every airport code in the country and can't find a rhino anywhere."

''The man retorted, ''Oh, don't be silly! Everyone knows where it is. Check your map!''

So I scoured a map of the state of New York and finally offered, ''You don't mean Buffalo, do you?''

The reply? ''Whatever! I knew it was some sort of a big animal.''

Oh, this conversation again.

One of the delights of late October, beyond putting razor blades in 'fun size' Mars bars (and what, may I ask , is fun about a small Mars bar?) and lacing dib-dab with laxative for the little tykes who come round trick or treating, is the annual debate about the changing of the clocks.

Argument 1: They should stay on BST, because people feel safer in lighter evenings, and, errrr, that's it.

Argument 2: They should stay on GMT, because kids in Scotland who walk to school (I thought that was banned, because of all the paedos hanging around on street corners, plus it harms car sales) might get run over in the dark mornings, it is fine for them to get run over in the dark afternoons though, and a few Scottish farmers won't be able to see their cows in the dark.

Solution: Give Scotland its own time zone, plenty of other countries manage it ok. Besides I understand there's already a ten year time difference between Scotland and England anyway.

Must we listen to this ridiculous waffle every year? The chances of a change are effectively nil, you may as well have a debate about whether Tuesday following Monday is a satisfactory arrangement. It's only an hour FFS, don't we have slightly more important things to worry about?

A few pointers.

Been a little busy this week, but there are a few things which have rattled my cage over the last few days.

Conservatives:

Very well done on your posturing over the EU budget. Gosh, you are my heroes. What is going to happen if you don't get your way? Are you going to refuse to pay? No? How about giving us a referendum asking whether in light of the cuts being made to the domestic civil service we want to contribute to an even more bloated, wasteful, arrogant and unaccountable European one? No? How about meekly giving in and coughing up more our money, even though nobody has ever had the good grace to ask us if we want to be members of this ridiculous club? Yes? Thought so.

Be a good bunch of chaps and chapesses, and fuck off. Come back when you've grown a pair.

Stupid people on radio phone in shows:

Stop blaming the bankers. Yes, they screwed their business up, but it wasn't them who bankrupted the country, it was the politicians. They didn't come running when Woolies went under, no rescue package was put together when MFI hit the skids, they were nowhere to be seen when Zavvi disappeared. Yet somehow, they had to ride to the resuce of the shareholders of the bank when they spectacularly failed to exercise any control over the people they had appointed to run the business in the first place.

The value of your shares can go up, as well as down. Well, unless those shares are in a bank, then they can only go up. The taxpayer wouldn't stand me my debts if I pissed my wages up the wall on the roulette table, so why should the banks be any different?

Cold callers calling my phone:

Fuck off. If your product or service was that amazing, I'd be calling you. It isn't, leave me alone, don't get all huffy when I tell you to fuck off. You applied for the job, them's the breaks.

Charity muggers knocking at my door:

Fuck right off. I'll give to charity on my own terms, thank you very much. I certainly won't give to charities who have already had their hand in my pocket courtesy of the Inland Revenue. And I'll be damned if I give to a charity who then uses that money to employ some mercenary to try and make off with more of my money.

Utility companies knocking at my door:

Fuck right off and die horribly. That is all.

Stupid people at supermarket checkouts:

If you haven't been able to figure out how to use the self-service jobbies by now, please go and use the checkout with the friendly young lady sat at it. She'll take care of you. However, don't act surprised when, having stood there like a mong for five minutes whilst the nice young lady has scanned and bagged your items for you, the nice young lady asks for payment in return for the bags of produce sat in front of you. Try having your wallet out and ready.

Righteous people at checkouts:

I take the plastic bags every time because I have a need for them. Don't sneer at me. I use them to pick up the shit my large dog leaves lying around the park when I take her for a walk. Or would you rather I went out a bought a supply of plastic bags? No. OK then, I'll leave it where is so your kids can play in it.

There's a whole bunch of other people who piss me off, but I've had enough now. I'm off for a cigarette.

Pip-pip.

Where to start?

A few days of silence broken by a roaring avalanche of stupid.

I’ve been trying to think about how I could split these up into separate posts, but sod it, I’m sure some common thread, beyond stupidity, will reveal itself before the end of the post. I make no apologies for sourcing entirely from Nanny Beeb, the tone is so wonderfully patronising.

Right so, exhibit A:

Newly qualified young drivers should be banned from night-time motoring and carrying passengers of a similar age, Cardiff University researchers say.

They said such "graduated driver licensing" for those aged 17-19 could save more than 200 lives and result in 1,700 fewer serious injuries each year.

I didn’t start driving until I was fairly old, I’d certainly left uni before I got my licence.

There is no doubt that young people are much more likely to be involved in an accident than older drivers. But I would submit that it is lazy to attribute this solely to their age. Surely the biggest factor in this statistic is the question of experience?

We already have this crazy rule whereas a learner is barred from driving on a motorway with (in the main) a professional instructor at hand, but once they pass their test, which has no element of motorway driving in it (I’m assuming the theory test does, I never took one) they are free to go and drive on the motorway with no supervision at all. The answer to this is not to say ‘you can’t go on a motorway until you’ve been passed a year’ the answer surely is to make this an element of the learning and testing experience.

Without the experience of driving in the dark, with passengers, on the motorway, towing a trailer or a caravan, any driver is likely to be at increased risk of having a prang when driving in that situation.

Merely bringing in a rule that says ‘no driving in these conditions until you’re twenty‘ will surely only serve to postpone the vulnerability of not having that experience.

Young people can’t be trusted is the message here. More restrictions are the answer, because it looks like you are doing something. Even if that something will actually do nothing to alleviate the problem.

It’s not just on the roads, either:

A study of 10 to 11-year-olds in the area revealed that almost one in five was clinically obese and that more than a third were overweight.

What’s the cause of this then? I’ve transposed the headline and the first paragraph here.

Fast-food outlets could be banned from operating near schools in Medway as part of an effort to cut child obesity.

Right, so it is nothing to do with the wholesaling of school and public playing fields for development, nothing to do with the constant warnings that your children can’t leave the house without being hit by a car, injected with drugs, playing hopscotch on the high speed rail link, buggered by the nonces hanging around the bushes at the end of the street, stabbed, held at knifepoint until mobile phones and MP3 players are handed over or inducted to the Hare Krishnas.  It is certainly nothing to do with the state telling mothers that they’re worthless if they don’t go back to work as soon as the stitches have healed or both sets of parents that it would just be better all round if they let the State bring up their children for them.

These kids are fat, not because of the above, but because there’s a place selling chips near the school. The Righteous have declared this to be the case, therefore it is fact. It is unfortunate that these businesses will have to close, and these people will lose their jobs. It is unfortunate that the people who work in these places are probably poor and just above the poverty line themselves, but despite all the Righteous bleating about helping them, they really couldn’t give a toss. They’re not thinking of you today, they’re thinking of the chiiiiiiiiiildren.

Despite the attempts of successive governments, children are actually very creative problem solvers, especially when it is a problem close to their hearts that needs solving. So when you read;

In 2008 Waltham Forest Council in east London set up a 400m exclusion zone around schools, parks and youth centres to tackle child obesity

I’m willing to bet that the kids were very quick to identify the fried chicken shop that was 405m away from the school gates. It certainly betrays a clarity of thought sadly absent in some of our politicians and civil servants.

And whilst we’re on the subject of fat (have you seen what I’ve done here? God I’m good!):

The British RMT union has criticised the boss of Stena Line for making comments calling British workers "fat" and "tattooed".

Fair enough, it seems only fair, I criticise the RMT on an almost daily basis for being petulant, childlike Communist fantasists. I’ve seen many workers who are British, and many of them are fat. Many of them are tattooed. A good number are both. An equally good number are neither.

Pim de Lange said he was quoted out of context and has apologised.

Oh, Pim. That’s your second mistake there. Never apologise. Those Righteous bastards never do, so why should you?

But Steve Todd, head of maritime at the RMT, has called for a fuller apology.

Naturally.

Mr de Lange's comments appeared in a Dutch newspaper, in which he also said it was hard to find British workers who were young and fit for the job.

It’s all because of those fast-food restaurants near the schools, you see, Pim.

He later said in a statement: "I regret any offence caused and apologise."

But Mr Todd said this did not go far enough.

Not nearly far enough.

"RMT is demanding a full retraction of all the statements he has made and a full apology to all British seafarers for his behaviour," he said. “We are also demanding that he be stripped naked, flogged, dragged on a hurdle through Harwich town centre to the docks, before being keel-hauled on the trip back to Holland. Once there, his remains should be ground into dust, mixed with some petrol in a glass bottle and set alight before being thrown through the window of his house, where his wife and kids will be bound to large objects of furniture, unable to escape the ensuing conflagration.”

I might have made that last bit up.

Bloody RMT, it’s perfectly acceptable for them to make everyone else’s life a misery, but as soon as someone suggests that on occasion it might be an idea for one or two of their members to pass on the odd bacon roll and perhaps be a little more discerning in the subject of body art, it’s the end of the world.

I thought you were supposed to be big roughty-toughty sailors, picking the weevils out of biscuits, pouring hot tar down hatches, drinking huge amounts of rum, all buggers’ grips and golden rivets? Don’t be so fucking precious.

Who's who?

One's a dangerous psycopath who believes he is infallible, obsessed with telling people how to live their lives and that they're being watched, the other is the Pope.

A lolz.

I'm not entirely sure what's going on here, I'm led to understand it is someone who is off to post off their vote for either Ed Balls or Diane Abbott.

Either way, it's very funny.

The Numismatist.

Sometimes you almost have no option but to stand and applaud the inventiveness of people. Some people are born bullshitters and do it with such style and panache, that despite the bullshit being so obvious, you can only stand in awe-struck admiration.

I have just been witness to one such master outside Sainsbury's. One of the local wino population, a middle aged Scottish gentleman (and why are they always Scottish? Are they born Scottish, or does the accent come with the job?) greeted someone using the cashpoint very warmly, shaking him by the hand and enquiring as to the gentleman's health.

You've no doubt realised that the design of the reverse side of our coins changed recently and when a collection of all denominations are placed together they make up the design of the Queen's coat of arms. This chap embarked on a tale of how he was a coin collector and only needed one coin to complete the collection of this design, and any assistance the gentleman at the cash point could offer in this venture would be warmly received, like pal.

When asked which coin it was he needed to complete his collection, the Scottish man did blot his copy book a little by admitting that he did not remember, but went on to recover by saying that any donation would be scrutinised to ensure that it was not a duplicate of a denomination already present in this collection, and that if it was, it would be passed on to a worthy cause.

Wonderful stuff.

The whole tableaux was set off nicely by the sight of his mate inspecting the dog ends dropped outside the door and giving a little shriek of delight when he discovered a filter cigarette that had only been half smoked which he proceeded to cannibalise into a roll-up made with a fag paper which was hopelessly wet.

Unknown, unshaven, slightly blurred around the edges, Caledonian numismatist, I doff my cap to you.

Bloody Hell

Osama Bin Laden's former cook and driver has been sentenced to 14 years in prison by a Guantanamo Bay military tribunal.

He must have a been a bloody terrible cook.

The One That Is Looking For The Pound. . .

A few little farty about things tonight.

Firstly, thanks for the supportive comments in the previous posting. I fear, given the vitriol flying around my workplace and on facebook at the moment, that I am in a small minority.

Secondly, it would appear that the BBC have lost the pound. I know it’s worthless now, but even so, you can stick your euro up your arse. I fail to see the point of converting one currency we don’t use into another we don’t use, they might as well have quoted the amount in Bolivars.

A US television producer has pleaded guilty to attempting to blackmail US chat show host David Letterman over his sexual affairs.

Robert Halderman was charged after threatening to reveal all unless paid $2m (1.47m euros).

How odd.

Whilst we’re using the BBC as a source, what in the blue hell is this?

The UK has donated £1m ($1.5m) to South Africa to buy condoms in a bid to combat HIV and Aids, as the nation builds up to the football World Cup.

In other words, ‘Taxpayer gives a million quid to the South Africans so they can give visiting fans for the world cup the green light to screw pox and HIV ridden whores.’

Well, I suppose it’s supporting private enterprise. I wonder why they've not quoted that amount in Rand? (About 11 Million).

Meanwhile in the Garden of England:

A professional gambler has been found guilty of running a £34m pyramid scam that targeted people on low incomes.

At least 8,000 peopled "invested" a minimum of £1,000 into the scam, with a guarantee that within two years they would get a return of five times their initial outlay.

And how would he return the investment?

Kevin Foster promised high returns on a number of gambling and network marketing schemes.

So, in effect, you give him a thousand quid, and he’d go down the bookie and pick the horse. No doubt he’s a naughty man, but a fool and his money. . .

Oh yeah, £34 million quid, that comes in at around 433,093,417,303 Lao Kip. Just in case you're interested.

In Ankara, the Turkish PM has been putting ideas into the head of Cameron and Brown.

Indeed, it’s probably best to avoid the whole subject of cartoons and Ireland at the moment.

There's obviously something very hurtful about satire, especially if you are a self-important politician, or protecting God and his prophet(s). I always thought that one of God's most defining qualities was his omnipotence. Let's face it, if he can make his lad turn up in a jar of marmite, then surely smiting a cartoonist or two is a walk in the park? I'd leave him to get on with it, if I were them.

People might think I'm nuts, but I like to think it's Jesus looking out for us.

Yes, I think you're nuts. It looks like he's trying to hide from you, not look out for you.

Situation normal, we're surrounded by cretins, shysters, mentalists and simpletons.

The One That Is Rounding Up. . .

A few little things which have flashed across my radar screen over the last couple of days.

Firstly, I was very sad to hear of the death of the Georgian luger yesterday. Apparently the sliding track at Whistler has the reputation of being the fastest in the world, and one of the more dangerous. There have been a few grumbles that the teams haven't have had as much practice time on the track as they would have liked. That practice time wouldn't have made any difference, despite the best efforts of the organisers to make the track as safe as possible, this accident happened on a corner which no-one expected to be dangerous.

Of course danger is a relative term when you look at sporting events like the luge, skeleton and bob. They are three, frankly, ridiculous sports and not ones that I personally can get excited about, but every competitor knows that when they step onto the ice, there is a very real risk of serious injury or death and damn do I respect their guts.

Secondly, a suggestion was made by a friend of mine that if the three disgraced proto-criminal MPs do use the parliamentary privilege defence when they pitch up in court, they should also be charged with incitement to riot and revolution. That sounds like a fine suggestion to me.

Thirdly, I was going to make a point about the futility of these body scanners (which I hate) at the airports if the PC brigade bring their illogical pressure to bear over the religious sensibilities of Islam, but Leg-Iron has beaten me to it, and does it better than I ever could.

Finally, Leona Lewis who won Britian Has The X-Factor and Talent in Amounts That Would Have Made a 1970's One Hit Wonder Vomit Through Laughter, has proved herself to be a true diva by stamping her little foot over the choice of the food at the forthcoming Brit awards. Well, Fiona, or what ever your name is, you could always have chosen not to have eaten it, y'know.

How sad that the younger generation in this country see the option of bans as a proportionate and primary response to things that they have objections to. I have no strong feelings on the subject of foie-gras, there are just so many more important things to worry about. But when you go around trying to institute bans on things, don't come weeping to me when something you want to do, eat, say, practice or belive is banned, you've brought it upon yourself.

The One That Has A Joke. . .

Well, it's more of a parable really. Anyhow, it dropped into my inbox this morning, so this means you've probably read it already.

One day a florist goes to a barber for a haircut. After the cut he asked about his bill and the barber replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The florist was pleased and left the shop.

When the barber goes to open his shop the next morning there is a 'thank you' card and a dozen roses waiting for him at his door.

Later, a policeman comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The policeman is happy and leaves the shop.

The next morning when the barber goes to open up there is a 'thank you' card and a dozen doughnuts waiting for him at his door.

Later that day, a college professor comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The professor is very happy and leaves the shop.

The next morning when the barber opens his shop, there is a 'thank you' card and a dozen different books, such as 'How to Improve Your Business' and 'Becoming More Successful.'

Then, a Member of Parliament comes in for a haircut, and when he goes to pay his bill the barber again replies, 'I cannot accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The Member of Parliament is very happy and leaves the shop.

The next morning when the barber goes to open up, there are a dozen Members of Parliament lined up waiting for a free haircut.

I don't think there's the need for further comment.

The One That Wishes British Breakfast TV Was Like This. . .

Now this is public service broadcasting!

The One That Would Just Stop Building Giant Goats. . .

. . . and other oddities.

A few things have tickled me and annoyed me today.

Firstly, for the 24th time in 44 years, a traditional giant straw goat in the Swedish town of Gavle has been burned to the ground by vandals.

In 2001 some bloke even travelled all the way from Ohio to burn it to the ground and was sent to jail for his trouble. It seems to me that this goat burning is becoming a tradition in itself. The local council need to engage some sort of celebrity to do it and bring in the crowds. Or they could, y’know, just stop building giant goats.

In a day of strange animal stories, a bullock in Birmingham has decided he doesn't fancy being someone's dinner and so has done the off from an abattoir in the city. Only to be shot dead by armed police.

Perhaps they thought he was a terrorist? I wonder if the coppers involved will be suspended pending an investigation? Is that for whenever they discharge their weapons, or only if they shoot humans?

Meanwhile people flying into Prestwick obviously didn't check the 'yes please' box on the booking form and cough up an extra £30 to Ryanair to make sure they actually landed on a runway.

Of course tourists are apparently as guilty as causing inconvenience to snow as snow is as guilty of causing inconvenience to them.

Irony of ironies, it appears that endless eco-tourists are fouling up the Antarctic. Reading the report, it appears no-one owns it. Excellent. Perhaps we can set up our own Libertarian utopia. We'll claim the land for ourselves, it'll be a bit chilly, but on the plus side there'll be all the penguins you can eat.

It's obviously a very slow news day. Yet that doesn't stop the BBC who drove me up the wall this morning. I don't know why I do it to myself, but I was listening to Radio 5 who had an interesting segment on PPOs (Prolific and Priority Offenders) and a programme that has been introduced to try to break them out of that cycle. There were a couple of offenders who have been on the scheme for some time and it actually sounded like quite a promising idea. Of course you couldn't follow the thread because they kept interrupting with updates from the High Court because Boy George had had his appeal to vary the terms of his licence so he could be a contestant in (used to be a) Celebrity Big Brother refused.

It's amazing, most people are glad to be out on a tag, and he wants to be locked up again? He's claiming discrimination of course, is it bollocks. Would Joe Public be allowed in the normal Big Brother house house with a tag? No. I don't think C4 would touch it, and the Probation Service would not be happy about the suggestion.

What else can the media leap upon on a slow news day? Ah yes, the internet. Specifically facebook. Firstly there's some bloke who has escaped (perhaps that should just be walked out) from an open prison who is 'taunting' the police on Facebook. He's a naughty man, but this is what happens when you have a judicial system like ours. I kind of admire his chutzpah.

That's it from me for a few days. Xmas activities mean blogging and intermong use will be virtually non-existent for the immediate period. Please allow me to wish you a non-sectarian, non-denominational, racially, gender and sexuality neutral winter public holiday period.

Please eat moderately, drink responsibly, engage in thirty minute's exercise every day over the period and keep celebrations to a minimum so as not to offend anyone who decides to worship (or not) their deity/god/sky pixie in a fashion different to you. Please wear safety equipment when engaging in mirth with Winter Public Holiday Period crackers and keep small items contained within away from young children. Please bear in mind it is winter, so if you are going outside, wrap up warm and watch your step on icy pavements, which would have been gritted by your local authority had they not had to spend the money on making sure your diversity was properly valued.

Indeed it is probably best if you just sit quietly with a drink of water in a shatterproof container, with a clean, dry cloth to hand in case of spillage, and some government pamphlets.

The One That Is Wishing You A Safe And Elfy Christmas. . .

The following little nugget dropped into my inbox:

Some Health and Safety advice relating to Carol Songs this Christmas.


The Rocking Song

Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;
We will lend a coat of fur,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you:

Fur is no longer appropriate wear for small infants, both due to risk of allergy to animal fur, and for ethical reasons. Therefore faux fur, a nice cellular blanket or perhaps micro-fleece material should be considered a suitable alternative.
Please note, only persons who have been subject to a Criminal Records Bureau check and have enhanced clearance will be permitted to rock baby Jesus. Persons must carry their CRB disclosure with them at all times and be prepared to provide three forms of identification before rocking commences.





Jingle Bells

Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way

A risk assessment must be submitted before an open sleigh is considered safe for members of the public to travel on. The risk assessment must also consider whether it is appropriate to use only one horse for such a venture, particularly if passengers are of larger proportions. Please note, permission must be gained from landowners before entering their fields. To avoid offending those not participating in celebrations, we would request that laughter is moderate only and not loud enough to be considered a noise nuisance.





While Shepherds Watched

While shepherds watched
Their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around

The Shepherds Union has complained that it breaches health and safety regulations to insist that shepherds watch their flocks without appropriate seating arrangements being provided, therefore benches, stools and orthopaedic chairs are now available. Shepherds have also requested that due to the inclement weather conditions at this time of year that they should watch their flocks via cctv cameras from centrally heated shepherd observation huts.
Please note, the angel of the lord is reminded that before shining his / her glory all around she / he must ascertain that all shepherds have been issued with glasses capable of filtering out the harmful effects of UVA, UVB and Glory.





Little Donkey

Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road
Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load

The RSPCA have issued strict guidelines with regard to how heavy a load that a donkey of small stature is permitted to carry, also included in the guidelines is guidance regarding how often to feed the donkey and how many rest breaks are required over a four hour plodding period. Please note that due to the increased risk of pollution from the dusty road, Mary and Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent inhalation of any airborne particles. The donkey has expressed his discomfort at being labelled 'little' and would prefer just to be simply referred to as Mr. Donkey. To comment upon his height or lack thereof may be considered an infringement of his equine rights.