Monthly Archive for July, 2007

written by maneatingcheesesandwich from maneatingcheesesandwich

Found it again - but how long will it be out there ?

Found it on ManiaTV.com , still not back on YouTube...Sadly, embedding it on the blog seems to make it autorun, which is a pain, so I'll just link to it..See cartoon heaven back in June for my other fave - The Cat Came Back...

The original post can be found http://maneatingcheesesandwich.blogspot.com/2007/07/pigs-is-pigs.html

written by maneatingcheesesandwich from maneatingcheesesandwich

It was Easter 1998 and the flood had come overnight. I had been on duty all night, monitoring and reporting on the rise in flood water so that the great and good would eventually authorise evacuations. I was on my own all night, whilst every man and his dog were in the next village along, having already been given the green light to wake the neighbourhood. At 0530 I was given the go ahead (and the assistance of a fireman and a length of rope) to rattle the letterboxes of the houses most at risk. Thanks boss, I thought, how about making the decision before the water's five foot deep....

So I waded in and made my way along the public path, using the hedges as a guide and watching turds whizz past me in the current, and boldly Did My Duty - to the annoyance of one or two, who seemed convinced it was all my fault anyway. They were all elevated from the road, but cut off by the water, so needed to be told that a safe route out was being prepared by the Red Lorry Layabouts. I then had to retrace my steps.... the whizzing turds should have been a hint that it would be hard work on the way back.

Half an hour later, the first stages of hypothermia set in and I was sent home to shower and change, then came straight back to carry on. Even when the sun came out through the clouds I was still cold. Various locals came out with tea and (bliss) even a bacon sandwich came my way. But the day was blighted by The Good Samaritan. She didn't want to make tea for the troops, she didn't want to get wet, she didn't want to get dirty, she just wanted to be Charitable.

She wanted to be the first to "take in a victim". She desperately wanted to be SEEN to be caring and made no bones about getting her own way. She badgered me, then badgered my skipper, then badgered the Inspector when he arrived. "Let her have the first one," he muttered, "or we'll never hear the last of it. She's threatened to make a complaint if we don't, and her brother's on the parish council..."

So when Jim was brought out by boat, together with Sally, his labrador, she walked up to him with a beaming smile and "took him in", pausing only briefly to look caring, for the benefit of the local snapperatzi (who had arrived just moments before she had begun to demand Samaritan's Rights, spookily).

"She'll make a complaint anyway sir," says I, now all warm from the rosy glow of inner knowledge. "Hows that then?", says Himself.

"Because old Jim there is doubly incontinent, and so's Sally." It took less than ten minutes. When she came out, she was in tears. "What's the matter gell," said Jim's neighbour, who had been updated as to his whereabouts and briefed me on the likely result, "flood or mudslide ??"

Sometimes, it's harder not to laugh, than it is not to cry.

The original post can be found http://maneatingcheesesandwich.blogspot.com/2007/07/good-samaritan.html

written by maneatingcheesesandwich from maneatingcheesesandwich

...is what they used to say. I have, however, been following a mental line towards a politically incorrect observation since viewing the clip on the impotence of proofreading over at Roses' place. The clip reminded me of the old Ronnie Barker monologues (mispronunking worms etc), then sent me off into the land of the stammerer. I've never known the difference between a stammer and a stutter, but assume it's something to do with the sound you stick on (??). So, to my mind, a stutterer would st-st-stutter, whilst a stammerer would stam-m-m-mer.

N-N-N-Neil was therefore a stammerer. Someone had broken into his shed and stolen his lawnmower, which he had only recently purchased. He told me all about it. Painfully slowly. Sadly, my helpful nature got the better of me and I made the mistake of trying to finish his sentence for him. He didn't mind too much, but got worse out of his frustration at my incorrect guesses. It went something like this:

"Hello sir, how can I help you this fine Spring morning, in a small market town with little crime"
"Some bastard's n-n-nicked my m-m-mower"
"Whereabouts did they take it from?"
"It was in my shed. It was n-n-new"
"What, the shed or the mower ?"
"The m-m-mower"
"Oh dear. Can I take your name sir?"
"N-N-N-Neil ************"
"And where do you live?"
"In N-N-N-N-North Street"
"What number?"
"N-N-N-N-N-N-...."
"Nine?"
"N-N-No" (teeth gritted) "N-N-N-N-N-......."
"Nineteen?"
"N-N-N-N-NO" (shaking head) "N-N-N-N-..."
"Well it doesn't go as far as ninety..."
"N-N-N-N-Number eleven" (almost punching air in his satisfaction at getting it out)
"Why didn't you just say 'Eleven'?"
"Oh", he said,"it never occurred to me", and burst out laughing.

We spoke for several more minutes whilst we did the paperwork, without even the hint of another stumble. We never did find his mower. Strange thing to stick in your memory.

The original post can be found http://maneatingcheesesandwich.blogspot.com/2007/07/dont-mock-afflicted.html

written by Gazza from Gazzateer

You just know I’m going to make that call.

There now stands some 18 days between me and my next stint. I left the office almost 2 hours after everyone else did on Friday and still I think I’ve forgotten to tie something up. The last 3 early shifts saw me stuck there. Permanently coupled to the keyboard ensuring my workload was up to date and all the relevant enquiries had been completed.

Numerous, last minute, memos from the PF meant that I had some 21 statements to prepare, type, submit, check, re-check, re-submit, re-type and submit again. TC was already off on annual leave so I had to beg, borrow and steal the time and patience of my shift colleagues in order get this done.
One thing I hate about being a probationer is that you have to be a burden on those whose time is already fully booked with their own workloads. I felt like a thief. Sneaking in to rob them of their most precious commodity and then strolling off into the sunset with all the loot.

Ah, but they let me in. As always they endeavoured to focus my direction and dug deep into the well of goodwill, encouragement and support that they are constantly willing to share. For that I am grateful. They know (as I surely do) that it will be reciprocated a hundred times over and more. It’s all part of the job.

But, being away from the job has its drawbacks and an unexpected downside. Don’t get me wrong, I love being at home with my wife and the boys. I relish the time we spend together and miss them sorely when I’m away from them. However, the job is my mistress at the moment and she has somehow dug her claws in, put her wild smothering mouth over mine and will not let go.

Oh yes I am relaxing. Sort of. I am trying to let it all go. But I know, and so do you, that it’s not so easy. You can’t just turn your back on this lover. She sneaks up to you in the early hours and whispers gently into your ear. She leaves symbols that let’s you know she’s waiting to take you in her arms. I try desperately to ignore her but her seduction is so alluring and my defiance of her needs is weak.

There will come a time, in the next week or so, where I will give in. I will go running to check up on the latest. I will be calling her. Just to make sure she has not forgotten me.

This will all pass. I am still relatively young in service, if not in years. And I will learn. Some day I’ll wake up to find she has gone. She will not be missed. It’s all a matter of time………….

The original post can be found http://gazzateer.blogspot.com/2007/07/your-next-lover.html

written by maneatingcheesesandwich from maneatingcheesesandwich

It's an oldie, but I still love this....

The original post can be found http://maneatingcheesesandwich.blogspot.com/2007/07/little-things-still-please-little-minds.html