Date: Friday 18th Dec 2020
Location:MYOB
Specifically: Ditto
Mood: Is there anyone around who would like to volunteer to be chased through the countryside being shot at with a crossbow? I think it would help to cheer me up a bit. Thanks
KARMAKHANIK
OK who’s good at sums? In fact who’s crap at sums? It doesn’t make any difference because even the most number blind, mathematically incompetent clod couldn’t make a mistake with the following. Here we go. Add the following numbers...
£480.00 Cam Belt
£040.00 MOT
£260.00 Service
Who got £780?? well done! Same answer as me actually so we’re all OK so far. However, I have very recently discovered a strange religious cult known as the ‘Karmekanicz’ who would pour scorn on our answer. Why? Because according to their calculations the above figures add up to £1242.24. I know! Thats what I thought - Excuse me? Pardon? What? Fuck off and pass me your calculator
Tap tap tappety tap tap. Hmm nope - I’m still getting £780. How on earth did you arrive at £1242.24?
Karmekaniz man is looking at me like I wouldn't know cow shit from cauliflower (I would - the horse shit tastes *better) “Well”, he says (‘well' + slight pause = sure sign of an incoming fib) when we took a closer look ‘under the bonnet’ so to speak we found you needed a new winkle piston, a carbon decontraconical filter and two of those new corona injectors. We also found the brakes were showing slight signs of wear and only had a couple of years left in them so we thought - best be safe and replace the lot including the disks, we also found a few specks of dirt on the sills so it clearly needed a good clean in order to reduce the chances of corrosion.
I see and you didn’t think to mention this? Or ask if I wanted the work doing before you actually started?”Nah didn’t see the point, it needed doing so we thought we’d take the initiative and get on with it - save you a lot of bother in the future”
Serious head on. Why is it that garages seem to get away with this? Buying and fitting parts you didn’t ask for and then expecting you to believe they were only acting out of consideration (not because they are into creative car repair or anything). I can’t remember the last time I arrived at the checkout in the local supermarket only to find I had been followed around by a store assistant saying “you were looking a bit pale there so I’ve just thrown in a couple of extra loaves, a joint of meat and a jumbo pack of porridge” You obviously need them so I took the liberty of adding them to your shopping” “That will be an additional ten pounds thank you”
*And how would you know that unless you had er......you know
NAIL
For me one of the great benefits of owning a motorhome is that I never forget anything. When I was a homeowner, as in traditional bricks and mortar, I lost count of the times I was out somewhere and realised I’d left something at home or forgotten to do something before I left. I wouldn’t say I was particularly forgetful but lets just say, you wouldnt want me as a best man at your wedding, that is unless you wanted a belting excuse to remain single “I’m sorry sweetie I love you to bits but since the ‘BEST MAN’ (shouted into my face in front of the congregation to make a point!) forgot your ring we’ll just have to put our wedding off for a while”
“yes love he has caused a lot of grief and I will be sure to have strong words with him (when I hand over the balance of his bribe money)
Actually I was a best man once, many moonies ago. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, even more so because I didn’t really want to do it in the first place. In fact when I was asked by my friend Paul I actually refused. How did I end up doing it then you may ask? Bottom line (a suitable position for someone who made a complete arse of himself) because I suffered from a condition known as SLOBS (Shifting Loss of Backbone Syndrome) a debilitating condition caused by any situation requiring courage and bravery. Sufferers have been called many names over the years from the little known ‘cringeling’ and ‘dunghill’ to the virtually extinct ‘fazart’ and pudding heart’ to more modern colloquialisms such as ‘spineless little twerps’ and “yellow bellied tossers”
So why did I say “no” to my then best friend Paul? More to the point, why in the name of thunder and lightening did I eventually agree?
At school I was never a victim of regular bullying but like many people I experienced it occasionally. One of these times was at the hands of one Dennis Malia (who I’ve spoken about in a previous posting), an ugly brute and a thug who surprised everyone by growing up to become a fully qualified even uglier brute and a brainless thug! One day he had a go at me behind the science labs at South Grove School. I have no idea why - but, as is the case with most bullies, there probably wasn’t a reason at all. He had hold of me in a vice like grip with one hand while slapping and hitting me with the other. Who was observing this from the other side of a high wall but Paul goodness-me-I-appear-to-have-shat-myself Bray. Did he appear sympathetic? Did he go for help? Did he try to intervene?” No. This puerile little shit stood there roaring with laughter. He laughed so hard he was bent double, almost to the point of collapsing in a heap on the floor. I was feeling utterly humiliated as it was (PGMIATHSMB was not the only observer) but felt even worse with my so called ‘friend’ drawing attention to my plight with his incessant laughter. Paul Bray I hope he sees this and understands why I can still remember his actions to this day!) was certainly appropriately named - braying like a donkey and acting like an ass.
Please note that the donkeys name has been left out to avoid law suits and embarrassment. PB can go fuck himself - he’s long overdue for it.
Oh dear I seem to have perambulated off. Be patient while I place myself back on the tracks and continue on (which will probably be quite expensive now judging by the distance I’ve wandered off in).
Actually there is just one more thing. I did once make a serious boo boo in connection with someones wedding - a total strangers wedding at that! My first job after leaving school was at a mens outfitters called John Temple. It was on the High Street in Rotherham, sold tailored clothes on the ‘tick’ to people who always seemed to be “looking for a suit for work” (despite the fact that they were obviously based on the factory floor and wore overalls) and the manager was a cunt (and no I’m not sorry I didn’t throw in a couple of stars and a bleep in there somewhere the bloke was a bastard).
To encourage sales, and to emphasise the fact that we provided a personal service, any clothes that didn’t quite fit were taken to a small alterations (alts) shop run by three delightful ladies. I often spent ages down there just chatting and it was a welcome change from the patronising attitude of the shitty staff at John Temple.
One Saturday the manager Chris ‘Bastard’ Brazier (sorry I shouldn’t use words like Brazier) had been a little over zealous in promising a customer that we could lop a couple of inches off his turn-ups in time for his wedding that afternoon. I was tasked with bringing them back from the alterations shop muchos quickos. The ladies placed everything; jacket, waistcoat and the precious trousers on a hanger and I set off back to the shop and the customer, who by now would be waiting eagerly for his freshly altered accoutrements. All went well until I got to within about 20 yards of the shop. That was when I felt that the hangers contents seemed lighter than they had previously. Instinctively I moved the jacket aside. Oh no! No,no,no,no! I looked at the trousers and there they were. Gone! As luck would have it I suddenly found myself enveloped in a huge cloud of smoke lined with pink stars as the wedding fairies appeared and replaced the trousers just precious seconds before I entered the shop. I let out a huge sigh of relief, handed the bloke his pantaloons and went home to pluck the cash from my money tree, enjoy a nice long dreamy sleep from which I am awakened by Emma Watson who cooks my dinner while I sit in awe as moonbeams shine down upon me in the early evening light.
If only eh?
“Here he is!”
“I’ve lost his trousers”
“What!?”
“I’ve lost his trousers” They were on the hanger when I left alts now they’re gone!”
Mr B (insert B word of your choice)
Wearing the face of a man expecting a pat on the back but instead receives a mighty blow to the head.
Customer (sitting)
Instantly shifts forward in his seat as if he had performed an emergency stop during a driving test. Eyes have parted company from there sockets and his mouth is in the shape of a large saucer.
Neil (Assistant Manager)
“I’m very concerned about the customer but I better not show that I think this is bloody hilarious” type Gasp”
Kate (Cashier)
Patronising “must ingratiate myself with the manager by making Dave feel like a shit” type gasp”
Me (Junior Sales and soon to be unemployed staff member)
I don’t remember any more, except that this probably wasn’t a good time to ask for a pay rise. Of course I had to go back and retrace my steps but no luck the trousers had well and truly disappeared. The groom was given a new pair though how well they matched with the rest of his outfit I’ve no idea.
And with that it’s back to where I came in! The bit about being forgetful. So ..... I was pleased to have Hymie’s presence while out taking photos. Forgot my full frame 35mm ‘No, because Hymie is holding it! ‘Forgotten a memory card’ No! Because Hymie has it in my photo drawer! Bursting to go but left behind my portable wee container ... er........... maybe too much information, best move on eh?
Having said this I do still experience slightly weird moments where I think “Oh no I’ve left my bleep [thing] at home” before realising that my home is only a few yards away in the car park and I don’t have a two hour journey to retrieve whatever it is I’ve forgotten. The joys of van life.
BARNEY & THE STABLE SCOFFING RACEHORSE
I've promised Karen I’ll look after Barney while she attends a hospital appointment. Which consists of a little treat in the way of sugar free mints, chucking a pile of straw (or is it hay? What’s the difference?) into his stable, offering him a couple of carrots and finally giving him his feed. I’m a bit concerned about the latter. He’s in a bit of a mood today nodding his head up and down and kicking the stable door. He wants out, but I know that if I try to take him he’ll be over the hills and far away the moment he sniffs the air. I enter the stable but have barely taken my hands off his feeding tub before he kicks it against the door, then has another go and kicks it over altogether spilling much of his feed on the floor. I finally get him settled and then quickly fasten the stable door. Horses generally have a pleasant temperament and Barney is a sweetie but they are large animals. A kick from one of them would at least double the number of bones in your average leg.
I nip over to say ‘Hi’ to Vinnie while I’m there. He says ‘Hi’ back; well, he has a general sniff in my direction which either means “pleased to see you” or “if you haven’t bought any food go away and allow me to carry on licking the paint from my stable door” I still wish I knew what that was all about, perhaps horses just like licking things. Perhaps next time I’ll bring him a 99 - those things with the flakes sticking out of the ice-cream. I’m sure Ali will be pleased! I’ve gained quite a reputation as someone who knows a thing or two about ‘improving a horses diet! The last meal I prepared was 3x McDonalds beefburgers for starters, meat vindaloo for mains and washed down with Newcastle Brown Ale (because it is very important that yer equine bro’s get their fluids!). In fact I think I’ll prepare a meal just like this next time I see Vinnie. I can’t wait to see Ali’s face! She’s always said that if I needed anything she would be happy to get Sean to run me out of the farm!
And thats it, Barney fed, Vinnie greeted, job done! But today there’s a stranger who’s camp (or is it ‘in camp?’). A new horse, a foal, clearly only a few weeks old. On closer inspection theres a note, ‘feed me’. I look around and find a bag of food. The directions tell me to
add 3 scoops of meal to 1 parts of water. I do as instructed and leave the food along with a few carrots and an apple in case it (I dunno what sex it is and I’m not poking around under the fuselage to find out either) wants a snack later on.
Just as I’m passing by later on I notice the food is untouched. I try stroking the foal but it seems cold to the touch and unresponsive. Probably still getting used to its environment or perhaps a little uncomfortable around strangers. Also, Judging from the dryness of it’s stable it appears it hasn’t ‘been’ so to speak. I decide to leave it until the morning and check again.
Right on cue I receive a message from Rachael asking if “I’m safe and warm”. “I will be when I get back to Hymie I tell her” but also express my concern that I can’t seem to get the new foal to eat anything.
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