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Showing posts with the label Comedy

Sparkalaphobia - The fear of glitter.

The most dangerous season of the year is approaching far faster thanot you realise, ando with it comes a great fear and danger.
There are a lot of people who do not like Christmas for a number of reasons, the worry of affording presents for their families and the debt that it may incur. For others a lonely time and a sad time to reflect on the people they've lost.  But for me it's the irritation of glitter on bloody everything.  It’s not the actual glitter that irritates me, but the fact that it doesn’t every stay on the object it’s been placed on. And although I try to avoid it at all costs, I always end up with some of it stuck on my face.
I never know it’s on my face until I have that moment when I’m talking to someone, and become aware they are looking at me, but focusing on one particular place on my face, and I think "That's odd, why are they looking at me like that?"  And then I go to a mirror and look, and there is, glitter all over my face, and I look like a…

My Awkward Moment

I stood up and announced to my work colleagues with confidence,"Did you know a moment is actually a realmeasurement of time?" I paused for a moment to add impact, and the office fell silent. I was enjoying my moment of attention, and the fact that I, and I alone knew the information I was about to deliver. “A 'moment' is actually three minutes."
I sat back down in my office chair, happy to have passed on my wisdom. Information that I had no doubt would be passed on by the people present to their friends, they would enjoy their moment also, and would remember me for having shared this with them originally.  "No it's not." said Patrick "What?" I was taken aback, I was not expecting to be challenged. "It's not three minutes. It’s one and a half minutes actually." He continued. "It definitely is three minutes." I replied. I was standing up again, I did not expect to be standing up again this quickly. I expected to still be si…

The Cupboard of Doom.

The cupboard of doom. I know what you're thinking, it sounds like a really disappointing Harry Potter story. But is not. 
It's actually the place I most fear in our flat. 
Although perhaps fear is too strong a word. Annoyed by. Irked. Irritated by.  It's like that thing you forget exists, and then you remember and it really irritates you all over again.  It's bloody Piers Morgan. Some people don't like their spooky attic or cobweb filed loft, for me it's the narrow cupboard just to the right of the cupboard under the sink. That's where the food containers and plastic boxes live, and the leftover containers from the Chinese takeaway, waiting patiently for me to open the cupboard door so they can all jump out at me, like a toppling Tupperware tower of terror. It happens every time. I forget until the very moment the door swings open, but then it's already too late, a plastic tsunami engulfs my feet, and I have to spend the next five minutes trying to match up the…

Boris the bear

Boris is a bear. 
My son Oscar's bear. He’s had him since he was one, I can’t remember who bought him for him, but he has been a constant companion since that day. 
I can’t even remember why he is called Boris – I don’t know if Oscar himself named him, or it was chosen for him as a tribute to the Mayor of London, or the Russian President from the early nineties. There is no real resemblance to either, although the London Mayor Boris has the reputation of being as woolly headed as the bear Boris, I’m sure the naming of the bear wasn’t Oscar’s first attempt at satire though.
When Oscar was around three he suddenly gave Boris a voice (The bear, not the Mayor or Ex Russian President), the only way I can explain Boris’ voice is a high pitched but growly, which I suppose is exactly how you would expect a small bear to talk, if small bears could indeed talk. “Would you like any ice cream Oscar?” “Yes please.” “Me too.” said ‘Boris’ from behind me as I reached into the freezer.
I turned to Oscar…

Arm Wrestling a Student

I never expected the night to turn out like this. 
It's not something you expect when you start off going out for a 'quiet drink' before a big day. You don't think you'll end up arm wrestling anyone, and certainly not someone who you don't actually know. 
But this is how I found myself at the end of the night, arm to arm, locked in combat, with a student. A large student at that. And I'm really not the arm-wrestling type.

I was in Brighton, I was on the planning team of the works summer away day, and I went with the event organiser, another man named Chris. We agreed on a quiet drink before going back to our rooms to prepare for the next day. But the plan had changed. Drinks had been drunk, and shots had been consumed.
I stepped out of the toilets and heard Chris, the other Chris, say "He'll do it!" pointing my way. I looked over and Chris, who was sitting down, looking far too unaffected by the levels of drinks that had been consumed. What …

Horses

Who is Smirrell?

I’ve had many nicknames over the years, Pringle, Poodle, Pricey, but this is the story of my first nickname, and how it would come to affect me one day later in life when I least expected it.  So where shall I begin? When I was young we lived in a small quiet cul-de-sac.   At the end of the road was a tiny patch of grass, it wasn't a park, there were no swings or slides, and was about the size of a small school football pitch, which was exactly the boys around my age used it for. The older kids I had been playing with moved away, which left me playing on my own, kicking the ball repeatedly against the wall, like a small footballing Steve McQueen. Then one day another boy appeared who lived in the next Street.  He was about the same age as me, ten, and  was called Mark,  he asked to join in, as you did at that age, and I said yes okay then,  as you also did at that age. We played for a few hours.  And then again the next week. And the week after that.  And so it continued. We usually played…

Shopping Bag

Road Rage

We'd found the house we were going to move to in lovely picturesque Ely, and just had to head back to London to start the packing nightmare.
We'd been joking all weekend about the lack of traffic, and enjoying actually being able to drive a car, not stop start stop start driving in constant traffic like we were used to in London.
We'd bought coffee and I put them up on the roof while I moved my coat from the passenger seat, and climbed back inside the car both of us smiling and happy, a real sense of calm over us both.
I took a sip from my coffee, too hot, always slightly too hot.
We edged out of the car park and into a line of cars at the lights. No more than 6 cars.  "This is probably like gridlock to them all" I joked  And as I laughed I made eye contact with a man in a white van. He was near the back of the queue, but was the car closet to us as we edged out of the car park, looking to join the flow of traffic. I looked down quickly so he didn't think I was…

Interrogation

Toilet Troubles

The toilet was broken, and I was the man to fix it.   I knew I could fix it. I was mostly sure I could fix it. The plastic pipe letting the water into the cistern had stopped working, and I had already bought the replacement, still flying high from successfully putting up a venetian blind the day before, with minimal errors. I was surely in the black in man-points, a toilet would be no problem, after all it was only two screws to undo and tighten up again. Then what could I do next? Maybe service the boiler, maybe build a new shed, solve the Middle East peace process? The world, or maybe the flat and garden was my oyster.
But first the job in hand, I had my replacement pipe still sitting in the Homebase bag on the side, my spanner in hand I began, I imagined emerging from the bathroom in a matter of minutes, another man-job completed more man-points on the board. "Do you think you'll be able to do it though?" asked my girlfriend Kat. "I'm sure I will be able to, after…

Charity Collector

Thumb Wars

Thumb is an app, a way of connecting and discussing topics with people all over the world.  In their own words -  'After launching the concept in 2010, we were surprised to find that people wanted to use the Thumb to get and give feedback in virtually every area of life (music, artwork, shopping, hairstyles, relationships, movies, food, etc.). When combining the breadth and speed of these shared opinions, tons of simultaneous conversations were sparked around things that mattered. And just as quickly, those conversations turned into meaningful connections between like-minded individuals' Not so.  As with most forums and discussion groups on the internet people just go there to argue. Sounds like my kind of place.
I was browsing Thumb, when the question below appeared next to a picture of a man carrying some kind of large assault rifle.
Travis P – what part of 'shall not be infringed' do anti-gun people not understand?

The idea of owning and using guns is totally alien to me, s…

Sunglasses on a Train

There are many many many things that irritate me about travelling on the underground every day. When people stand on the left on the escalators rather than walking, there are signs every ten metres - read one of them!People who lean on the poles, while I struggle to find anything to hold onto so I stay on my feet when the train pulls away.Men's pointy shoes are another, why wear them when there is not actually anywhere to tread in case you tread on the empty pointy pointless bit taking up valuable space.
But there is one thing i just don't understand that confuses me more than all of these points, why do some people wear sunglasses on the underground? For a start it’s underground.  There is no sun, there is no sunlight. There isn't even any daylight, I just don't understand it. As a normal everyday human you cannot be much further underground and further from sunlight. What are these people protecting themselves from? The brightness of their ego? Remember that 80's…