Why Are All These Boys In My Yard!?

Picture the scene. A  peaceful Saturday afternoon. Friends gather to enjoy some good times and some delicious beverages, before heading to the cinema to watch X-Men: Days Of Future Past. What could be more perfect?

SUDDENLY, DISASTER STRIKES!

My Sibling Unit (In-Law Version) bought himself a delicious bottle of Frijj’s fine Honeycomb Choc Swirl, shook the bottle and opened. DAIRY CARNAGE ENSUED! A veritable torrent of tasty milk treats inexplicably spewed forth from the bottle, showering him in sticky white…oh, I appear to have given myself the horn. One minute…

*ONE MINUTE LATER*

Back. Anyhoo, @miester84 is now wearing a borrowed t-shirt as @insensitivemind washes his soiled garments and myself and @bigfairyqueen can only sit and stare, shocked by the events which we have witnessed. Well, that’s not ALL we’re doing. You see, we’ve just emailed Frijj…

Dear Mr Frijj

I am MOST displeased. A few moments ago, I bought one of your delicious Honeycomb Choc Swirl milkshakes to enjoy with friends before attending a very important public event.

I shook the bottle, AS ADVISED, before opening. Imagine my horror as what I can only describe as a dairy volcano erupted from the black-clad plastic, covering me, the patio and my favourite battered green plastic chair.

I have now had to borrow a shirt from my friend and am concerned that given the change in my usual scent, my mother will now reject me and I will be be forced to die alone in the wilds of Yeovil.

I expect considerate compensation for this truly disturbing event and can provide pictorial evidence on request.

Please be aware that the images may shock the feint of heart, as I look as though I have been involved in a twelve hour bukkake marathon.

Yours sincerely,
@miester84

 

"Why am I drippingz vith goo?"
“Why am I drippingz vith goo?”

Hopefully they can resolve this matter and we can move on, putting this terrible day behind us.
The memories, I fear, will be with me forever.

Hallowe’en Fun? Just Say No!

It’s half past nine in the morning and i’m already angry enough to fling kittens into a mincer. Why?

Give this a read.

That’s a story from the Westcountry’s finest paper of news, the Western Gazette, detailing the Avon & Somerset constabulary’s hard stance on kids looking adorable and enjoying sweeties. Well, that’s how I read it.

Look, I know exactly what the problem is. Every year, while kids go from door to door, being unbearably cute and asking for chocolate, there are a few little bastards round these parts who hammer on doors, ask for cigarettes and cash and then wing a handful of eggs at any house which refuses them. The problem is that the police are entirely too lazy to deal with the perpetrators, so would rather cast a shadow of misery over the entirety of Hallowe’en.

The line which really grips my shit is “We would just like to remind people that if they intend to trick and treat – which is not endorsed by the constabulary”. Not endorsed by the constabulary. First of all, it’s trick OR treat, not trick and treat, you feckless halfwits. But more importantly, the fact that it’s “not endorsed” by the po-po is a polite way of saying “we would MUCH rather you didn’t do it at all”.

Balls to the police and their endorsement, or lack thereof. Balls to the little swine who’ve made a point of ruining Hallowe’en for kids who just want to blag enough free chocolate to send them into a diabetic coma. Balls to whoever designed that poster because that font is far too cheerful for such a miserable sentiment and finally, balls to anyone who prints it off.

Don’t misunderstand me, you’re more than welcome to ignore trick or treaters if you so wish. I’ll not quibble with that, because that’s personal choice. But by putting that poster in your window you’re MORE likely to get your house egged, trees covered in toilet rolls, tyres slashed, whatever. Because to the kind of git who goes out on Hallowe’en armed with a dozen eggs and a can of spray paint, that sign might as well read “MISERABLE TOSSER LIVES HERE! PLEASE DESTROY MY HOUSE!”

If you’re not against the idea of kids indulging in a bit of harmless fun, i’ve done my own poster. Stick one of these up in your window, if you like.

HalloweenPoster

Download a copy of this hastily thrown together abomination here.

If you do get anyone pushing their luck, call the police. If they’re not too busy designing a “Fuck Christmas” poster, i’m sure they’ll show up.

EDIT:

It has been pointed out to me by a few Twitter folk that the report states that extra police will be working on August 31st. That’s fabulous. They’ll be able to deal with any issues surrounding the Moldovan National Language Day. Not sure how it helps with Hallowe’en, mind…

Five Stages Of Phone Loss

Everybody is different, special, unique, which is something to be celebrated. But it’s nice to know that, no matter what, there are some things that make us all the same. Like losing stuff. I’ve lost my phone.

It’s infuriating. Not the actual loss, so much, but the crap that comes with it. Like stupid bloody questions.

“Have you looked everywhere?” No. I haven’t the time to look literally everywhere, this is a big old planet and we’ve not even plumbed the depths of the deepest oceans. Besides which, if I had looked everywhere I would have SODDING FOUND IT!

“Where did you lose it?” What a sodding question! You don’t know what the word “lose” means, do you?

We’ve all lost a phone at some point, i’ve no doubt. Most of the time, we find it again after a brief initial panic. We do that thing, where we have someone else call the phone and then wander about the house, listening for our ring tone.

“It’s ringing! Can you hear it!” NO, BECAUSE YOU’RE BLOODY SHOUTING YOU HALFWIT!

But then it turns up. Huzzah!
Mine hasn’t turned up.
I’m OK with this now, believe it or not. I’ve said my goodbyes.  I’ve been through the five stages of phone loss.
You know about the five stages, right?

1) DENIAL

ME: “Have you seen my phone?”

MARITAL UNIT: “You’ve lost it, haven’t you?”

ME: “No. I had it a minute ago, but now I can’t find it.”

MARITAL UNIT: “So, it’s lost?”

ME: “No, no, no. It’s just…misplaced”

MARITAL UNIT: “Lost then.”

ME: “Not at all. It’s here somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

MARITAL UNIT: “Lost.”

ME: “…you’re lost.”

2) ANGER

ME: “You’ve hidden it, haven’t you!”

MARITAL UNIT: “No. Why the hell would I do that?”

ME: “YOU HAVE! YOU’VE HIDDEN IT! YOU DON’T WANT ME TEXTING BOB! YOU’VE ALWAYS HATED BOB AND YOU HATE ME!”

MARITAL UNIT: “Calm down…”

ME: “I WILL NOT! I WILL TEAR THIS HOUSE APART WITH MY BARE HANDS! WITH MY TEETH, IF I HAVE TO! I WILL USE MY OWN FACE AS A SLEDGEHAMMER AND RAZE IT TO THE GROUND BEFORE I LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS!!!”

MARITAL UNIT: “Are you having some sort of episode?”

ME: “…you’re an episode.”

3) BARGAINING

ME: “Okay phone. You don’t like me and I don’t like you, but if you come out from wherever the hell you are, i’ll buy you a new Micro SD card. 16gb. Would you like that? Would you like a 16gb Micro SD card?”

MARITAL UNIT: “Are…are you trying to make a deal with your lost phone?”

ME: “I do what I must. I need my phone!”

MARITAL UNIT: “I could help you look for it, if you want?”

ME: “Thanks love. Tell you what, if you find it i’ll buy you a new Micro SD card”

MARITAL UNIT: “…what?”

4) DEPRESSION

ME: “I’ll never find it.”

MARITAL UNIT: “I’m sure it will turn up.”

ME: “No, it’s gone forever. I’ll never use a phone again. No-one will text me or call me for the rest of my life.”

MARITAL UNIT: “That’s a bit mu-”

ME: “They won’t, I tell you! I shall live a lonely, phoneless life! No more for me the hedonistic delight of the text. The giddy thrill of hearing the beepity beeps! The heart-pounding excitement of wondering who it is! The dizzying lows of realising it’s another PPI scam! WOE! WOE UNTO THE MOBILE-LESS!”

MARITAL UNIT: “Have you looked everywhere?”

ME: “WWWWHHYYYY?! WHYYYYY OH CRUEL AND HATEFUL WORLD!?!”

MARITAL UNIT: “I’ll fetch the sedative”

5) ACCEPTANCE

ME: “Fuck it. I’ll buy a new phone.”

So folks, any recommendations?