What women say...

"Do we have any more kitchen roll?"

And what women actually mean...

"Go and get the kitchen roll that I know is in the cupboard".

Just get to the point already, it's not hard.

X Marks the Spot

You know that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where X marks the spot and Indy starts somewhat concidentally striking the floor in time with the librarian (who bears a passing resemblance to Albert Einstein) stamping books? It doesn't matter if you don't, I've attached it to this blog. Incidentally, I wonder what he'd have done if he'd been caught bashing a hole in the floor of a library "Yes, I'm sorry about the criminal damage officer but I simply must find The Holy Grail. You understand, don't you? Oh, you don't speak English. Do you understand an All-American punch in the face? Of course you do".

So anyway I've come out to have a coffee and a croissant this morning and I've just heard the exact same sound of steel striking stone; half boom, half crack, one third ping and a hint of bong. I know that doesn't really add up mathematically but you try attaching numbers to sound, it's not easy. 

I'm quite a curious guy anyway but now that I'm all jacked up on caffeine and all butter croissants (for which I was offered even MORE butter and jam for the additional price of fifty pence - "I'll take it plain, hen, I've got a wedding to save for") I'm like an adrenaline junkie trying to find another way to put my life in danger. "Fucking naked bungee jumping chainsaw juggling, yeeeeeeah, let's do that!".

I'm not sure where this journey will take me (or where the blog is going to be honest, it started off so much differently) so if you don't see me for a while I've sent my journal charting my quest to one of you in the post. Use it to come find me but be wary of any hot, blonde, friendly German women who try and seduce you for your secrets; you should definitely give in to her temptations though because hot, blonde, friendly German chicks might be Nazis in die straßen but they're freaks in die blätter and I wouldn't want to deny you that experience; besides, I want to see the look on your face when you discover she had sex with your dad too!

https://youtu.be/dvywOjh_hdY

I'm fornever blowing bubbles

Because I'm in the 'wearing rubber bands on my braces' stage of getting my teeth all straightened out, I occasionally find when I put them on that my saliva has formed a bit of a seal - the kind you need when you've got a little plastic (I've just realised I don't know what they're called?) dipstick for dunking into soapy water to blow bubbles from.

And it got me thinking how cool it would be if I had Fairy Liquid (other washing up liquids are available) for saliva; I could just spit into the sink when there was dishes needing doing and for laughs I could blow teeth shaped bubbles. 

The knock at the door

So I'm standing in the kitchen after getting home from work and I've just dunked a chocolate digestive in a cup of tea when there's a knock at the door.

My door never goes. Well, not never, but rare enough that it's the next best thing.

I open the door with the nearly finished biscuit still in my hand and discover a woman standing there with a clipboard and automatically I'm thinking "charity" while preparing my excuses for not signing up to a regular direct debit.

"Mrs Thompson?" she asks in a strangely quiet voice and I'm thrown for a second while I try to remember if that's the same person that Scottish Power have been sending bills to at my address.

It takes me a second but I realise I'm in the clear at least as much as Scottish Power are concerned so I say "Yes, I'm Mrs Thompson..." and look at her quizically for just long enough to be awkward for her before saying "Nah, I'm just fucking with you, there's no-one here by that name!".

Gregg's Macaroni Pies - No sympathy

I have zero sympathy for people who are unhappy at Gregg's doing away with their macaroni pies because Gregg's have been doing this to me for years and not one of you thought to start a petition to save the maple and pecan swirl, the caramel and pecan shortcake (there's a pecan pattern developing here) or the third thing whose removal upset me - not enough to remember what it was but enough to remain bitter about.

With all that being said, allow me to paraphrase Martin Niemöller here...

First they came for the caramel and pecan shortcake, and I did not speak out—
Because I did not like caramel and pecan shortcake.

Then they came for the maple and pecan swirls, and I did not speak out—
Because I did not like maple and pecan swirls.

Then they came for something else, and I did not speak out—
Because I didn't know what it was.

Then they came for the macaroni pies —and there was no one left to speak for me.

Spelling sympathies

I totally sympathise with people who struggle with dyslexia. There are certain words in the English language that absolutely should be spelt the way they sound.

Take "yacht" for example. What sort of narcissistic self loathing society do we live in where we could spell something exactly as it sounds but decide to fuck with people by making 'ach' an 'o' sound?

The Boaby

I was having a laugh with a boy from work yesterday about my rapidly approaching stag party after he sent me an email with a picture of a man stuck to a lamppost with little more to keep him warm than a bobble hat and some cling film.

He said "Idea for your stag do?"
I replied "Just give me something to keep my extremities warm!"
He said "I'll find you a thimble"
And I said "From your collection at home?"
He replied "My old man used to tell me "You can only pish with the cock you've got!"
I said "And my old man used to tell me "Son, with great power comes great responsibility!"