Farewell Gift.

I was remembering an old friend I hadn't seen for a while, Mark.

Mark was tall and handsome but in a very fair, Mike Hawthorn sort of way. He was from the valleys. Hard drinking, rugby boy. I surprised to learn he had a softer side, very artistic and an amazingly accomplished pianist.

What made me smile this morning, was a story he once told me about a rough valleys couple. The 'man' had come home drunk one night, woke his partner up, insisted she cook him something then beat seven bells of shit out of her until she complied with his sexual demands. That night, after he fell asleep, she packed her bags and left him.
That was after she deposited a well aimed 'dump' on his chest.

I'm Good I Am!

Today, I'm going to be boring.

Before.

During.

After.

All it takes is a little dismantling, clean up with vinegar, and re-assembly using PTFE tape and boss white.

Gay Boys Look Away Now!

Here it is. Conclusive proof that I'm not gay. A brown velore sofa.

Bad Day at Work. (one for the boys)

Every now and again, you get a day at work, when nothing works. Usually if something fails there’s a way around it. If more than one related item fails things start to get interesting. If this results in workers running around in a semi panic, it often induces someone to get out his mobile phone and play the end credit music to the Benny Hill Show over the tannoy.

Flat steel strip is stuck in the machinery. It has to be nibbled out. The nibbler lead is too short to reach from the socket to the problem. An extension is found but it’s got no fuse. A fresh fuse is put in and the nibbler is connected but it just jambs onto the strip because the blades are poorly adjusted…etc. If the process stops it’s an instant £7,000 penalty.

Sometimes this kind of thing goes on for hours. Adrenalin stops you noticing the passage of time.

Eventually, everything settles down.

You have time for to relax for a spot of lunch. Toss a ready meal in the microwave and slam the door.

It’s at this point the ‘door open’ button pings out like a bullet, the full length of the mess room and disappears under a table.

Pillow Talk

It’s the little things that one remembers from a budding romance. Like the clash of teeth the first time you kiss, or the first time one of you farted either loudly or obnoxiously.

Or the physical stage when you get to say those immortal words, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry……this has never happened to me before…” whether due to impotence, premature jizzing on her dress or just simply pissing the bed.

Never forget the little things...........It’s what romance is all about.

Remembering a Pivotal Moment.

On the outside, nothing changed. Business as usual.
Inside, something worn and damaged but which I believed was basically good, died.
It festered for a while then turned to dust. Inert dust.
On the outside nothing changed.
But the inside was unrecognisable.

We’ve probably all had moments like this.

Operation Poodle Purge

I decided to throw out, only those items the poodles had pissed on.

Philips Go Gear Continued.

I was on the verge of taking my Philips Go Gear debacle to director level, when this card dropped through the letter box.

Now, when I receive a card entitled, 'We have a parcel for you.' I'm inclined to think someone has a parcel for me. It would have been nice if they'd let me know it was coming so I could have had a third day off to collect it but hey, at least they've decided to send me a brand new item to make amends.

I drive all the way to Cardiff. In truth, I was going there anyway.

It seems I'm not the only one confused by the card. The City Link guy goes to look for my package and comes back, points to the top right hand corner of the back of the card and says, "Sorry mate, we're supposed to be collecting a package from you."
Shortly there after, I again, had business in Cardiff so I dropped the package off for them. It was complete with a copy of the proof of purchase and a letter explaining all that had gone before and saying that, should they screw up again, this was going to director level.

The City Link employee goes off in search of my parcel.
He comes back empty handed. Meanwhile, Tickers, fitted with a working MP3 supplied by a more reliable manufacturer, is practicing dance moves, encouraged by the obvious security camera.

"I'm afraid I can't find it."

Tickersoid, "That's because it's right here in front of me, see?......You're collecting it from me, apparently there's a little tick in a box on the back which says so."

"Oh, in that case can you fill in this form for where it's going to."

Tickersoid, "No I can't, because you came to collect it from me, I didn't solicit this delivery, in fact, the first I knew of it was when your card arrived."

Missing City Link guy wanders off to find better trained colleague.

I'm beginning to loose the will to live........

Son, We Gave This a Lot of Thought.

We're chatting at the bar of Harry Ramsdens at Mermaid Quay, in Cardiff. Waiting for our fish and chips.

Tickersoid, "So your ex husband is Jewish?"

English Rose, "No, what made you think that?"

Tickersoid, "Your son's name, Aaron."

English Rose, "Oh......well...... you see, we were expecting a girl. She was going to be Rebecca. When he turned out to be a boy, I picked up the book of names, looked under boys and Aaron was the first one."

Wow!

Oh, For Fucks Sake!

Long story short.

• Tickers buys MP3.
• MP3 doesn’t work.
• Tickers calls manufacturer, who after going through the, 'what has the stupid customer done wrong now procedure' advises me to put it in the box with out accessories and stick the receipt to the outside and wait for their courier. I’m told not to post it, they have to use their courier.
• Wait in all day courier doesn’t come.
• Phone manufacturer arrange new day.
• Courier collects MP3.
• Receive letter from repairer requiring proof of purchase.
• Phone repairer, tell them receipt stuck to outside of box as requested.
  

Tickersoid, “But I did exactly what you insisted I do. I’d have sent it by post with the receipt inside the box.”

Help desk. “I’m sorry sir, but you shouldn’t have sent the actual receipt just a copy. The receipt must have been lost in despatch.”

Tickersoid, “But you insisted on this courier not me.”

Help desk, “I’m sorry sir there’s nothing we can do unless we have a receipt.

• I ask them not to return the player for two weeks whilst I organise a replacement receipt.
• Tickers obtains receipt. Photocopies it and sends to repairer within 4 days.
• Two days later, courier arrives with boxed MP3.
• Inside is a note saying they’ve returned it unmended because they didn’t receive proof of purchase.
  

But what makes me beside myself with annoyance, it that the box, has my original fucking receipt, still stuck to the outside, just how I sent it.

Stoopid

fucking

retards!

Ecology - The New Religion.

If you want to make any difference to global meteorological conditions, you could try dressing like a hippy, strapping antlers on your head and dancing around a pole.

Alternatively, you could avoid using the ‘stand by’ facilities on your electronic equipment.

I’m sure both methods are equally effective.