Elasticated bandages. Dangerous in the wrong hands.

So today my other half tried to buy an elasticated bandage on my behalf. Tomorrow is our christmas meal and I have drawn someone with cruciate knee ligament damage in secret santa. Five pounds goes a long way, obviously. Last year, after pulling a muscle in my back whilst shaving, I received shaving foam, razors etc from the person who I got a present for. He had suffered a nasty injury when his arm was trapped in a big mechanised door bracket, so I’m sure every time he looks at his scar he thinks how funny that greatest hits album by The Doors was.
I digress.
So my wife went to buy a bandage for me from the Pharmacy counter at Tesco. Because its the funniest thing I can think of. “What size? Do you have a measurement?” Asks the trained individual. “No. Just any will do”, replies J-ME.
They actually would not serve her without a measurement, which must be made in the morning!
In the wrong hands, an incorrectly sized elasticated bandage could be LETHAL!
So we went to Boots. The end.

The Ankle….

I suppose this is relevant. Its the various colours my ankle is. Makes a change from the usual off-white. I’m submitting the shades to Farrow and Ball as suggestions for their 2012 collection. All ties in nicely with the Olympics.
This post is also an apology to my wife who has so far tolerated my boredom very well. XXX.
I don’t do sitting still very much. Two weeks of it they reckon. I don’t envy her very much! If you find me brutally battered to death, it was Manslaughter for sure.
Now where did I leave that 1,000 piece jigsaw?

We’re in this together?

Yes, Mr Osbourne, you’re out of touch,
And I can’t say that I like you much.
I’m already doing more than my share,
And today’s plans do hardly seem fair!
What about the Banks, and the system in place,
The industry that was left so disgraced?
Did I cause this mess? Hell no did I!
So is the cost to my family so high?
You have made a mess bigger, I say certainly,
Because if we’re in this together, it’s disproportionately.

Public Sector Finance…First they came for the Marketing Department

I thought this was a good theme, but didn’t get the words right. Could be re-written much better I’m sure. Please do the idea justice and have a go!

First they should have come for the Marketing Department, but I did not speak out, for they didn’t come for the Marketing Department.

Then they didn’t come for the Time and Motion Consultants, but I did not speak out, for they didn’t come for the Time and Motion Consultants.

Then they should have come for the ones who earnt more than The Prime Minister, but I didn’t speak out as I’m not the Prime Minister.

Then they came for the worst off, the ones struggling to make ends meet, the ones the public want there to serve them.

But by then we were all confused as to who they should come for, because the Marketing Department were doing a great job of finding really important things to be doing and looked really busy, although we really couldn’t remember why we needed them.

My chosen hospital

Recently I was in my nearest NHS hospital, which I was surprised to see described on their literature as ‘Your Hospital of Choice’.
At no point was there a choice offered to us before we went there. In fact, very little was given to us in the way of options.
Are they seriously trying to get Hospitals to compete against each other? To tempt patients away from others?
Aside from the doubtless thousands of pounds it must have cost for someone to come up with the tag line for the hospital, how many other ideas did they throw out?
‘West Suffolk Hospital, what the NHS is all about’…’Better than Ipswich, simply WSH’…’West Suffolk, we have Doctors just sitting around waiting for you’…’West Suffolk, because Colchester isn’t YOUR kind of Hospital’….’Fuck Addenbrooks, they don’t clean their wards properly’.
What a joke. Surely the first thing to do with the NHS is stop wasting money re branding it. Yes it’s expensive, but it looks after everyone, regardless of how much money they have, and is something we can all feel proud of.

Thing of the day

As my daughter started school I wanted to find out what she had been up to each day in class. ‘Nothing’ or ‘can’t remember’ would be the answer.
Now, about 50% of my friends are teachers, and one of them suggested I ask for the ‘most interesting’ thing she had learnt that day.
This worked well, and I’d refresh my memory with lots of useful facts, and when I moved in with my partner we adopted the idea for all of us while sat down for dinner.
The girls quickly learnt the answer to ‘what have you learnt today?’ with ‘nothing’, or ‘what have YOU learnt then?’ but 2 years on we still share our knowledge.
The most memorable one so far (and I won’t say who said it) in response to my asking ‘what have you been learning about today?’ Was the reply ‘Periods’.
Silence.
So I have a dilemma. Just ignore it? No. I can’t do that. This is one of those moments you have to be strong. In a room full of girls I must show sympathy, but still tow the Male party line. My other half smirks at me across the table in a ‘get yourself out of this one’ way.
‘O.K. So what did you learn about periods?’. I ask nervously, already feeling out of my depth.
‘That your first period is not the same as your other periods’
Cue panic inside my mind. ‘You are beyond your reasonable level of understanding’ it says. ‘You have no place here’ it adds.
I’ve shown willing, perhaps even bravery, I have entered the Lioness’ den and been brutally torn limb from limb.
But, nevertheless, I have learnt something new today. But there is more.
‘You see, your first period is longer than your other periods, as you have registration in your first period’.
Heart is slowing down. Breathe. Breathe.

Gary Boi

Check out da bad boi in the V reg astra,
Who’s tweaked it and tuned it so it goes much fasta.
He drives round the streets with his sounds pumpin’,
Checkin’ out da young ladies he’d like to be humpin’.
He rolls round da streets like its South Central, L.A.
But there aint many Gangsta in Canterbury.

A Message for 7 Billion people!

I love her more than a cup of tea in the morning,
No matter how tired, and how wide I’m yawning.
I love her much more than a decent night’s sleep,
And condsiderably more than the brown jars I keep!
All these words are just my efforts to show,
Something I want seven billion people to know.
It’s been written before, extensive and eloquently,
But, for the record, without her my world is no place to be.

Agony and ex-tea, see?

In February I quit smoking, and the other day I thought I’d make my life even purer by quitting caffeine.
Coffee is easy, as the taste makes me feel physically sick (in the same taste group as Guinness, red wine and Me to You merchandise) and energy drinks just don’t appeal. Which just leaves (get it?) Tea.
Now I’m not saying I have worked it out, but I’ve drunk about a million cups of tea, and I am not promising this is going to last long, but I have now done nearly 2 days.
I suggested to my colleagues we were all addicted to caffeine, which they all denied. But none of them want to try a day without it.
I have a headache and herbal infusions, which leads me to my point.
Why do Marxists drink herbal tea?
‘Cos all proper tea is theft.
I give it a day.

Just words (and noises)

We try our best, with our kids, from an early age,

To expand and to explore their limited vocal range.

M-m-mah, D-d-dah, please repeat what I say!

The first words when they come cannot help but make your day.

We gleefully applaud their efforts, as they try their best,

And spend the rest of their lives from there on in, asking them to give it a rest!

"I'm not going to speak when spoken to!"