All posts in category: Life

Legs eggs and stupid regs

April 19, 2019
Animals/Pets Food & Drink Friends Life Sex
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Why...

Is Easter so weird? In reality of course it commemorates the trial and death of Jesus Christ. Yet in a deft bit of marketing mixed with heathen tradition it has become all about birth, sex, spring and chocolate eggs. Of course to kick all this off we have all the Mardi Gras parades, the hottest of which is of course the Rio Carnival. I have the utmost respect for the Brazilian Catholic’s. They managed to turn the beginning of 40 days of fasting mixed with sackcloth and ashes into a bacchanalian extravaganza. In fact during the carnival things really do go with a bang. The amount of cocaine consumed is so vast that there are discernible traces in the air! No wonder even your grannie can samba for a week non stop.

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When I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you

Why...

Are we surprised at the contempt in which politicians hold the voter? There was a comment the other day on the radio from a frustrated Brit who mewed: “If my vote really meant anything they would take it away.” The honest answer is, no need... it’s simply ignored.

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I can happily eat quiche, but will never be seen wearing sandals or carrying a manbag

March 29, 2019
Animals/Pets Fasion Health & Beauty Life Work
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Why...

Do some men allow themselves such sartorial sins that they verge on crimes against humanity? The disappearance of men in sandals was one of the few blessings of the Dark Ages. And yet there seems to be a renaissance of this fashion disaster made worse by the adoption of wearing these atrocities with white socks. Who on earth outside mung-bean-eating tree-huggers thinks this footwear is acceptable? Puh-lease don’t bleat they are good for walking. They are not. All they do is present lunch to various ants, centipedes and any other carnivore creepy crawlies. Unlike ladies dainty tootsies, men’s hooves are unsightly things that should not be exposed... mine are known to scare children and horses.

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Just show me ... don’t write it

March 22, 2019
Entertainment/Media/Arts Life Sex Technology
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Why...

Have written instructions survived? Whenever I buy anything, I am required to download instructions or manuals as if the digital video age never happened. You can download a video on everything from how to get to the next level of Minecraft, to poaching a peacock, or sticking false eyelashes on your goldfish; so why can’t all instruction manuals be videos? Yes, if I really want to get down to the minutiae of how my MP4 player can change the space time continuum or my mobile phone will connect with the dead, I can read up on the fine print. However, 90% of people (and 100% of normal ones) simply want to know the basics of how their latest toy works. So please, let’s just have a video showing me? It would certainly make buying the odd sex toy more interesting! Part of the reason I find digital currency so complex is not the theory of having a secure method of payment outside of the clutches of government or banks but the assumption the guy in the street understands how to actually go about the process. It’s Gobbledigook. Double gobbledigook if you tried Das Coin and the electronic WebWallet nonsense via NetLeaders. In an age when FaceTime, Zoom, Skype and Instagram are the communication medium of choice, why am I still asked to download a PDF on how to work a camera! I mean it’s a camera. Visual medium. Which bright spark in marketing thought: “Well, once we have sold this, let’s send a booklet to read that’s a couple of hundred pages long....” Show me how and I might even buy some of the bolt in extras like telephotos etc.

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If you don’t want to do it, screw up badly ... once

Why...

Do people moan about doing things they hate? Don’t like washing up? Drop a few tea-cups or leave a couple of cornflakes welded to a plate. Hate spring cleaning? Dribble drops of eggshell enamel onto the dog’s head. My father, when asked to change his first nappy (and they were toweling ones back in the day) gagged at the smell then promptly flushed waste and nappy down the loo. He blocked the drains for an entire apartment block and was forbidden from ever changing my diapers again. Result! At school I found playing cricket matches a waste of four sunny afternoon hours. Dragooned into playing against another school because I was a half decent bowler, I swapped the ball for a tomato. Splat! Cricket whites covered in red spots. I was called to the housemaster, told I was a disgrace to the school and as punishment I would never be allowed to play cricket again. It took the acting skills of De Niro to look thoroughly upset, rather than punch the air for joy.

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Say what you like about Trump... at least he understands deals need to close

Why...

Has the great European jaw-jaw resulted in a draw-draw? When the history of Brexit is eventually written, no matter on which side of the great divide you stand, the sheer lack of understanding by politicians as to what a clock is, will stand as a supreme lesson. I cannot think of a peace treaty let alone a deal negotiation which has taken two years... and that does not look like it’s long enough! At the time of writing this blog, it seems like the negotiation is going into extra time to prevent everyone throwing their toys out of the pram. Yet, so far this chit-chat (note: with our friends and allies) has cost the British taxpayer on expenses, travel and outside consultation fees around £600m. Nearly a billion dollars and it’s got nowhere. That is in itself such a monumental achievement I have to pinch myself whilst re-reading my own text. To paraphrase dear Winston, “Never in the field of human negotiation has so much time been wasted at so much cost by so few to the utter bewilderment of so many...” Like him or not I suspect the UK might have saved a fortune by asking perma-tanned occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to thrash out a deal for a fee of say £100m, with a £100m bonus if he could wrap it all up in the time it takes the English cricket team to play a test series. Sadly, La Donald had just got another job when this all started so we might have needed another slippery deal maker. Anyone know what happened to the other Donald, Don King?

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Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery - it’s breach of copyright.

February 21, 2019
Entertainment/Media/Arts Finance/Law Life
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Why...

Have these little blogs been sprouting up elsewhere? Recently I may have been suffering delusions of grandeur as a bunch of themes from my recent missives seem to have been turning up in the wider press in a number of musings of weekly columnists. Of course it could simply be that great minds think alike and fools seldom differ. However recent posts about the Oscars (Oscar night... just has me riveted to my seat, January 24th) and hidden car rental charges (Extra! Extra! Read All About it... Actually we’d rather you didn’t which is why we put the extra costs in the fine print, January 5th) have both popped up in British national newspapers. So if you are a bored columnist itching for a quick answer to your highly paid weekly article... sod off. Otherwise I shall be forced to ask the advise of my litigious Japanese lawyer Mr. So-Sue-Me. Of course these regurgitations of my latest ramblings could be pure coincidence in the same way as those columns which have included ideas might find their articles repeated here... quite uncanny!

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Warning - The earth is flat and dinosaurs never existed

Why...

Am I fascinated by life’s Don Quixotes, hopelessly charging at windmills. My son, (a certified commercial pilot) was accosted recently by someone trying to persuade him the Earth is flat, Australia does not exist and vapour trails are really chemical sprays created by NASA to fry our minds..... If you are bored, whiling away ten minutes with the terminally loopy is quite fun. Never try and disagree. Arguing with the terminally deluded is pointless. Much more fun is to appear shocked and ask for more details. I am simply amazed at the pigheaded resilience these theorists can display with the information now available, which so easily punctures their balloon. A quick trail of the internet on conspiracy theories is only really disturbing when you realise these people can vote.

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POA... the dumbest words on any advertisement!

January 19, 2019
Fasion Health & Beauty Finance/Law Life Technology
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Why...

Does any advertiser not understand that POA/ Price on Application actually stands for Pisses Off Anyone? When idly leafing through a six-month-old copy of Country Life at the dentist, I am amazed at the practice of sticking POA against the price of some of the houses advertised for sale. Same for when I pour over my monthly car porn magazines and fantasise about which classic car I might buy when my ship comes in (and after I have suitably bribed my wife with whatever retail therapy most floats her boat). What is the logic behind Price On Application? It’s an immediate turn off. Is it because there is such heat in the market that from day of publication to day of printing that prices will inexorably rise? I thought in terms of property, that was illegal and called gazumping. You always agree a price with the vendor that’s as fixed as an airline stewardesses smile. We live in a digital age. Prices can be checked and compared in a nano-second. Is the advertiser insinuating: “So, pay attention here. Most of you great unwashed, don’t get your hopes up. You cannot afford it and I simply cannot be bothered to talk to anyone before I know he or she has the readies to cough up the ludicrous sum I don’t dare print.” This is appalling customer service as it forces me to pick up a phone or log on to reveal this nugget of information. My time is being wasted by this ludicrous printed version of the dance of the seven veils. Don’t be coy Mr. Advertiser. Show me what you got! On occasions when bored (usually when waiting at airports) I give in to the devil in me and ring the offending advertiser: “Good morning. I wonder if you would tell me the price you are asking for the ‘Gilt-Palace-Nightmare’ in Dubai or ‘Please-stop-and-arrest-me-gold-plated-yuk-wagon’ advertised in the current edition of Shiny Things I can’t Really Afford?” When given the number, my unerring response is: “That cheap! No wonder you did not want to advertise the price as it shows how little you know about market value.” Sit back and then listen to a ten-minute barrage of self-important claptrap. It passes the time before boarding.

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Extra! Extra! Read All About it... Actually we’d rather you didn’t which is why we put the extra costs in the fine print

Why...

Does a budget deal end up costing me more than the major players these guys are meant to be undercutting ?! I recently rented a car for a week in London. Using the magic of the internet I found a car rental from a hotel near Heathrow airport at a significant discount to the normal agencies. It was so cheap I was half expecting a pony and trap. I should have smelled a rat when I picked up the car. There was a near forensic search for scratches dings and dents. And it was raining. I just wanted the car, signed and jumped in. On returning the car the inspecting agent swore blind a tiny blemish caused by a minor stone chip or possibly a large wasp entitled them to deduct £220 from my deposit; making the car more expensive than it’s major brand competitors, most of whom would see a minute stone chip as normal wear and tear and not subject to a ludicrous additional cost. It will cost zip to repair. Car is black. A touch up pen. 15 seconds. Moaning in the cab that drove me to the terminal (another extra cost as the supposed shuttle bus was less regular than a 12 year old’s brushing his teeth). “Happens all the time mate. They seem to find dings on practically each return. Every punter I collect complains. Not as cheap as you think, should take a taxi...” This has made me wonder if this nano nitpicking can be countered. The car was empty when I collected it and I was told there was a like for like policy but I returned it half full. Can I drain the excess fuel please? I want a refund for the microns of cotton rubbed off my trousers by the rough seat upholstery and a new set of soles for my shoes having scuffed against the pedals. Oh....and the £1,200 deposit they forced me to make because I declined to take out their sky high insurance ( the standard hefty extra hidden cost) is meant to be back in three working days. But if it takes three weeks, you think I get interest? Pah, as likely as a tap dancing oyster! And no I am not irresponsible. I have a global rental car policy that pays ALL INSURANCE CLAIMS on rental cars for a premium of under £100 a year. This gnat scratch will be my first claim. I bet when I mention the name of the rental company they will be excluded from my renewal!

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🎶You can’t always get what you wa-ant ... 🎵but if you try sometimes, 🎵you just might find You get what you need🎵

December 14, 2018
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Friends Kids/Family/Relations Life
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Why...

Do we let the little green-eyed monster ruin our lives?

Jealousy is a one-way emotion which if you can turn into a two way one can become a source of deep satisfaction.

No doubt at Christmas you are a little irked that Aunt Lottie saw fit to give you a pair of socks printed with reindeer’s antlers but gave her other favourite nephew a Rolex.

True, but in exchange for the Rolex would you really want to be cousin Nathaniel? No. So let it go. You can always get your own back in subtle ways; like asking Aunt Lottie for dinner and sitting her next to someone with opposing political views. Then just serve her something she hates, sit back and watch the show.

I was never a great athlete at school and was more than envious of the sporting prowess of some of my peers until time for the annual Crick race, a 19-mile run that only the very fittest were allowed to enter. It was a huge badge of honour to be selected... in my view to run until nearly dead.

My crocodile tears at being told I had not made the cut were soon dried as I watched the runners cross the finishing line with pain and exhaustion etched over their chiseled features. One up for the couch potatoes!

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Why do so many movies keep me in the dark

October 19, 2018
Entertainment/Media/Arts Life Technology
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Why...

Are Directors so obsessed about shooting in the dark? In a fit of masochism and boredom I decided to watch the latest Star Wars extravaganza, Solo, on a plane. 85% was shot in the dark. I hardly could make out anything (except the actor playing Solo had all the verve and personality of a week-old halibut). Now all that darkness might look uber cool on a screen wide enough to land a Millennium Falcon on, but puh-lease.... more and more people watch movies on TV screen tablets or even smart phones. Dark Don’t Display. This is a classic case of creatives sticking heads up collective arses and ignoring reality. To see all those effects on tiny screens needs brightness. Here is a tip for the major studios. You want a few extra $ million in downloads? Shoot an entire picture during the day!

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I spy with my little eye... well anything I want if I’m a Russian

Why...

Do we all act surprised and indignant that our Russian friends have been peeking into our electronic in-tray. It was ever thus. Ever since Neolithic man discovered he could use an empty coconut shell as an eavesdropping devise and hear his neighbors in the next cave having sex with a Mammoth, we have all been snooping on one another. Let’s face it. Most of what those Russkies tap into is either boring or irrelevant. And if they could actually influence an American election with a couple of tweets as opposed to the $1 billion Hillary and Donald used to batter the electorate into submission, campaign managers and spin doctors should all be made redundant. For the West it’s perfectly OK for 007 to surreptitiously bump off a double agent or photograph the head of the secret police in bed with a nun to blackmail him, but it’s completely outrageous if Putin’s Dzhemys Bondski gets one over on us. If there is one heartening thing to come out of all this, is that the GRU (formerly KGB) aren’t very good. Assassinations go awry, and if the rumours of Trump Golden Rain on Obama’s bed are true, so what? Trump seems unblackmailable! The GRU launched a spy ring of young girls in the 2000’s working at MIT who were so unutterably incompetent that the FBI didn’t bother to arrest them. Tatiana and Lyudmilla (cover names Tiffany and Chablis) even put sticky notes on their computers with their passwords as remembering them as well as the names of the best nightclubs in town was too much for the vodka addled brains.

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Your call is important to us... because we are charging you suckers $1 a minute to wait till we bother to answer

Why...

Do I bother trying to track down customer service? Nearly all consumer product company websites are designed to keep the customer service email and call centre numbers harder to find than spotting ‘Where’s Waldo’. If I do find the telephone number in the haystack of info, rise early and call in the first seconds of opening time, I always seem so unlucky! As if by magic, that very day it appears everyone else is doing the same thing. “Due to a high volume of calls...” Translate that into: “Due to lack of us staffing this place with enough people to bat away the volley of complaints raining down on us like arrows in the battle of Agincourt, we will at least make money out of you suckers by increasing call capacity to 1,000 idiots at $1 per minute so we can make $60,000 an hour doing nothing but reading the papers.” To add insult to injury these customer call centres are usually located in Nowheresville Uzbekistan, Mongolia or possibly Scranton. Get through and you might as well talk to an aardvark as all you get is a script with no room for nuance or common sense. In addition I am sure most of the call centre staff would have more chance, blindfolded, pinning the tail on a donkey, than into a map to identify where I am calling from.

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Old Mother Hubbard

September 13, 2018
Animals/Pets Food & Drink Kids/Family/Relations Life
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Why...

Is my freezer always at bursting point with stuff I will never eat? When I go shopping I seem to buy not only for my wife and I but for the freezer... like it’s an actual person who needs feeding. “Ooooh, lark’s tongues. I’ll put those in the freezer. Yum, anchovy and chocolate mousse. Looks so interesting. I can freeze it.” The result of all this largesse is my fridge is crammed full with stuff that in the cold light of day I don’t want to eat. Conversely, I feel guilty about throwing out food, so this abundance just sits there.

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Love me, love my dog

August 31, 2018
Animals/Pets Friends Kids/Family/Relations Life Sex
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Why...

When you come to my house do I suggest you don’t criticise my dogs as I won’t judge your children (at least not out loud).

Now I completely accept some people don’t like dogs... in the same way I accept that some people believe Elvis Presley is alive, well and riding Shergar across Area 51.

The thing about dogs is their love is unconditional. Even Hitler’s pet Alsatian Blondi no doubt thought Adolf a loveable chap who fed him scraps and gave him a splendid kennel complete with a swastika weathervane. That pooch was always pleased to see Mein Fuhrer, even after a hard day’s genocide.

In fact dogs are the ultimate sycophants. They laugh at your jokes, look at you admiringly, even perform tricks on demand... of course in return they expect to get food and shelter.

Dogs have indeed come a long way from their wolf forebears and many are more metrosexual with clipped nails and smart coats than flea infested hunters of old. In fact were man to become extinct in a haze of radioactive mushroom clouds, I’m afraid man’s best friend would follow pretty shortly afterwards.

The idea that Pepe the Chihuahua would survive in a post apocalypse world is farcical unless the radiation allows him to develop thumbs to open any tins of Kanga Chunks that he might uncover in the ruins of the post atomic blast.

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It’s all about service

July 13, 2018
Food & Drink Kids/Family/Relations Life Travel/Nature
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Why...

Do hotels with four or even five stars find the basics of what is expected so hard to deliver? The Porter. When I pull up in a taxi or my car, why is carrying my bags into the hotel a spectator sport? A porter should be there. No excuses. Instead, nearly all hotels are perfectly happy for me to lug cases inside when some spotty teenager dressed like an organ grinder’s monkey then expects a hefty tip as he wheels my bag from reception to the lift. I always enjoy pulling out a note then tearing off a third and saying... “That part is my share of taking these out of the car to reception.” Internet. If I am paying a decent price for a room don’t piss me off asking to pay an additional $25 a day for Internet. It’s grossly expensive and just appalling customer relations. WiFi is now as basic a requirement as electricity, aircon and hot water. I was recently charged for internet and then given a download service of less that 1 MBPS. For those luddites reading this, it means even a simple presentation document takes so long I would need a shave and a haircut by the time it finished downloading. Unless I am actually in Africa, watching BBC News Focus on Africa is as pointless as last year’s football results. If I am in Stockholm I could not give a toss about basket weaving co-ops in Laos, but more likely a terrorist attack in London. BBC, CNN and other news agencies seem to be mostly advertising monologues for third world dictatorships. You just get endless reports from parts of the world that are as relevant to my life as Morris Pole Dancing. If you are a five star hotel with an International clientele shell out the few extra pennies to allow us to watch rolling news (Sky News for the English... and Russia Today for those who like fairy stories before bedtime). Perhaps if I should just thank Reception on check out for such interesting news channels and offer to pay in Matabele gumbo-beads when presented with the bill? Bathroom. As I wrote before (here) I don’t wear glasses in the shower so print shampoo, conditioner and shower gel in big letters and have enough lights around the mirror to let a woman do her make-up. Bedroom. One switch by the bed to turn all the lights out.

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Do you wanna be in my gang?

June 22, 2018
Finance/Law Food & Drink Life Politics Sex Technology
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Why...

Do we seek solace mixing with people who on joining a group or club revert to stereotype? “I never want to be a member of a club which would let me in,” may be a classic Groucho Marx line and a cliché but for good reason... It’s true. I have been very lucky to have been invited as a guest to several clubs and they break down into the following seven categories. Back to school There are a handful of Gentlemen’s Clubs in London holding a male only policy. They are all in Pall Mall and St. James and distinctly different to other Gentleman's clubs that can only operate by having scantily club members of the opposite sex. The London Gentleman’s club is really just public school (private school in the US) for boys who never grew up and miss nanny. The place runs on old fashioned rules. The Nanny organises the social desk and membership fees but that’s the only woman you will see. You better turn up in a tie, shoes polished, nails clipped and hair brushed. Yes, you can drink, but do not get rowdy. Most of the food is what I call nursery menu. A perfect lunch would be: Windsor soup, Steak and Kidney Pudding, Jam Roly-Poly, & Welsh Rarebit. Conversation through the meal with other members sharing your refectory style table equally as stodgy and bland. This is followed with a port and a snooze reading yesterday’s The Times. These throw-back establishments work on handed down privilege, who you know and how you behave. I am sorry to delude new members who have fought their way up in society through hard work and brains to join but… Old Biffo and Squiffy in the corner still look down on you as nouveau riche; the same way they dismissed Johnny Foreigner as a new boy at Rugby or that boy with the flash watch as parents “working in trade”. Back to Basics Health clubs. No frills. Over sophisticated gym equipment and eye wateringly expensive juices, drinks and rabbit food. Staff preachy and superior with bodies buffed to within an inch of their lives. Off peak these caverns of sweat are filled with the bored and rich. These poor souls have nothing else to do except cheat on their partner and sneak off for plastic surgery to show the results of all the dieting and training they pretend to follow. Peak time it’s just an overcrowded dating agency. Back to the Future The Lovie playroom. Media based haunts are filled with overloud voices recalling their last meeting with Brad and Angelina, how genuine the Spielberg’s are and what a shame about Amy’s drug abuse. Always in slightly seedy parts of town set up by failed media wannabes who see this as their entree into the glitterati. The propeller head equivalent of techy clubs are full of earnest members trying to convince you to invest in some crypto crapto currency or hint they might get you into an angel start up fund with guaranteed returns. “So, you’ve invested yourself,” is a sure-fire way of getting rid of them... and leaving you with absolutely no one to talk to. Pointless. Back to the Wall The exclusive nightclub. Exclusive because there are only so many people willing to spend £10k a year for membership to an overcrowded noisy hell-hole that charges prices that are an insult and a door policy that admits only good-looking people with an IQ quota the same as their shoe size. To make it worse should you be insecure enough to have to order a five litre bottle of vodka or a jeroboam of champagne for £1,000, the staff bring attention to your vulgarity by having sparklers light up the bottles as they bring them to you and alert everyone else in the place who is tonight’s soft touch. If you have to go to one for a night of drug fueled fun, you never want them to have your real name anyway. Always make sure someone else is the member. Back in the saddle The Horsey Club. Filled with overweight florid faced men and woman who bray when they laugh. If you ask for the bridal suite it’s a large room full of saddles, riding crops and Gucci buckles and the last place you’d want to spend your honeymoon. If you can separate the bullshit from real horse manure you might get a good tip on a horse. The Back Nine What can I say about a golf club except I don’t want to join one. Ever. It’s a chance for you to dress up like an extra from a Blaxploitation movie, though ethnic minority representation still remains low. Members may slice their tee shots to the left or right, but politics is invariably to the right. I speak with some experience here when in Myrtle Beach a club member made the mistake of asking me my opinion on abortion. “The obvious answer is it is not really a man’s decision; though if it were men who got pregnant, I suspect termination would be so easy it would come from an ATM machine. “No religion recognises a miscarriage or the trauma that causes. So, until they do they cannot go on about the rights of a foetus.” He pulled a gun on me and called security to eject the “limey liberal pinko”! Back Inside There is a great line in the TV series set in a woman’s prison Orange is the New Black with a character greeting a new inmate saying… “Welcome to the 1950s”. The speaker is not referring to the building or facilities. But to the clubs. The Narco Mexicans stick to one group, The Neo-Nazis another, right down to the Nepalese Horse thieves or Belgian child molesters. Everyone has a group. It’s basic. It’s for protection. So, on that note console yourself that Bernie Madoff is not the wife of some 6’6” ex Cripps member but closely closeted with some other fraudster both cheating at monopoly but a least paying protection money to keep their balls.

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There ain’t no cure for the summertime blues

June 15, 2018
Animals/Pets Fasion Health & Beauty Life Sex Travel/Nature
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Why...

Is the colour of summertime really blue? Well, OK apart from the obvious colour of the sky and the sea. Let’s start with profanity. Yup. The redder the thermometer the bluer the language. It is beyond me how anyone in my youth managed to drive in the heat without air conditioning and not to lob a thermonuclear device into the idiots in front trying to read a road map. Remember those… only men could read them and only women could fold them while doing twenty miles an hour with an indicator that had been blinking for an hour. In London, on the days it gets really hot, a blind person cannot go on the tube. Reason? You cannot transport animals in a temperature over 30c (86f) and the subway regularly reaches 34 (93f). So whilst it was fine to gently poach a commuter, it was illegal for a guide dog to ride the tube! Aircon (again a blue colour) is so critical for comfort. How do London Black Cabs who again have no Aircon, not understand that in the summer they just give ground to Uber?

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In the old days we cooked real food and made our own entertainment

June 8, 2018
Food & Drink Kids/Family/Relations Life Sex
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Why...

Do some people in their sixties plus go all starry-eyed when harking back to the days before the microwave and streamed entertainment?

“When we were young, we played cards,” they moan.

So giving your kid a regular gambling fix is better than subliminal history via Vikings and The Tudors or world class fantasy literature of Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings?

“The family stuck together and entertained each other,” they pontificate, sniffing at Netflix, Amazon, Sky, etc...

“Which is why in some remote regions your husband, your brother, your cousin and your uncle were all the same people,” I reply. This is even an argument to allow easy access of porn to occupy Uncle Ernie rather than him insisting on a game of doctors and nurses with his niece and nephew.

However, I do accept that building a tree house, riding a bike without a helmet, a game of conkers or walking unaccompanied to school did generate a dollop of risk. No one I grew up with got away without a broken limb... if not two.

“And we had such innovative games. So much more involving than just a video screen.” True but...

I remember being given an Atomic Energy Lab from a toy company called Gilbert that had a small sample of polonium and uranium! At seven I had fuel driven planes whose propellers regularly tried to sever my fingertips, steam engine trains with boilers heated by methylated spirits (so you were stoned before your fingers got third degree burns) all jumbled up with catapults and a wicked gun called a Johnny 7. This little darling had seven different missile firing guns each capable or poking out an eye or pissing off the next door neighbour’s cat.

I never wore a seatbelt and quite often steered the car sitting on my father’s lap. (Please note we never had an accident... we saw dozens).

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All posts in category: Life

Legs eggs and stupid regs

Why...

When I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you

Why...

I can happily eat quiche, but will never be seen wearing sandals or carrying a manbag

Why...

Just show me ... don’t write it

Why...

If you don’t want to do it, screw up badly ... once

Why...

Say what you like about Trump... at least he understands deals need to close

Why...

Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery - it’s breach of copyright.

Why...

Warning - The earth is flat and dinosaurs never existed

Why...

POA... the dumbest words on any advertisement!

Why...

Extra! Extra! Read All About it... Actually we’d rather you didn’t which is why we put the extra costs in the fine print

Why...

🎶You can’t always get what you wa-ant ... 🎵but if you try sometimes, 🎵you just might find You get what you need🎵

Why...

Why do so many movies keep me in the dark

Why...

I spy with my little eye... well anything I want if I’m a Russian

Why...

Your call is important to us... because we are charging you suckers $1 a minute to wait till we bother to answer

Why...

Old Mother Hubbard

Why...

Love me, love my dog

Why...

It’s all about service

Why...

Do you wanna be in my gang?

Why...

There ain’t no cure for the summertime blues

Why...

In the old days we cooked real food and made our own entertainment

Why...