Why Presents Are Not Always Worth The Price You Pay.

Once upon a time, many thousands of years ago, I used to work for a well known clothing & homeware chain on the shop floor. This was my first "grown-up" job and, me being me, I did my level best to show off just how truly awesome I was. As soon as someone working full-time handed in their notice, I marched into the Manager's office and told them I'd like to replace them, figuring that it would be the perfect opportunity to go from a part-time dog's body to a full-time person. It worked, and I was put in charge of a whole department, over which I declared myself Imperial Department Overlord. As the Overlord, I made it my Divine mission to make it the best gosh-darn department ever in the history of departments. Again, it worked and, despite having arguments with management who seemed to think that employment laws were mere urban legends, I was very proud of my work. I even made my department the most productive of that kind of department in the region; That's how cool I was!

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Stop Complaining, You'll Miss The Silver Lining Otherwise!

Today's blog comes to you from only one hand, because I accidentally ran full pelt into a gate last night. Ouch!

Anywhoo, I'd like to discuss a flat with you all. This flat is in the lovely (hmm...) town of Sandy, Bedfordshire. A nice two-bedroom number on the top floor near to local amenities etc. Mrs Max and I were looking to buy this little place a while ago as our first home. We were as excited as, well, two people buying their first home would be. Well... excited wasn't really the word by the end of it, as it was such a pain in the proverbial to try and sort it that it felt like kicking the business end of a meat-grinder would have been mildly more enjoyable. The guy who owned the flat seemed to disappear from the face of the earth after accepting our offer, meaning that we got bored with waiting. Then we found out that the ceiling in one of the rooms was, and I quote from the survey, "about to fall down" and they couldn't explain why the last guy had put new wall coverings in the living room. Not to worry, there was another place on the ground floor that was exactly the same, so we tried to get that one. No joy, he wanted full price (despite it being so damp you could call it a water feature and so much mould it was practically a pet) and then decided to rent it out at the last minute. By this point, we were so sick of the whole shooting-match that we gave up and rented.

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All these Health And Safety Signs Are Directing Me Up The Wall!

This morning, I noticed something interesting: while driving in to the office: I realised just how many labels, signs and the like are in my car. Honestly, it's like a small novel in there! There's one on the tax disc holder telling me that I can't smoke in there, because it's a company car, and if I do then the boss will come down and beat me up. There's one on the fuel cap telling me that it's definitely a diesel and if I so happen to put any unleaded into the tank, the economy will crash and babies up north will go without hugs. I'm also instructed to "thoroughly" read the manual before driving it, because I apparently need to know what a car is before I use one, and another electronic notice that tells me whenever it's 3 degrees C outside. This last one might seem sensible, but in early winter when the temperature hovers between 3C and 4C, the beep it makes every few seconds is enough to make you consider a bus as "an option" and not just "smelly". After reading, there's almost no time for driving!

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Some People Seem To Just Make It Up As They Go.

The other day someone telephoned me to ask me a question about manners and customs. I know I know, I'm sure it happens to you guys all the time, right? Anywhoo, I'm asked about what can only be abbreviated to "takeaway etiquette", and the premise is this: this person had invited a friend round for a delivery from the Maharajah House, and she had sent him an email before-hand to remind the friend to bring the cash as apparently they've got a bit of a rep for forgetting their pennies when they go scoff a korma. What followed was a phone call from the friend to say how "disappointed" he was that he'd been asked to pay. He'd got it into his head that if you invite someone round for a takeaway, that the host is obliged to pay. This wasn't even a case of "I thought that the host paid", it was a definite "No! You're wrong".

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Why The Phone Hacking Nonsense Is Worse than Most Of Us Think.

The UK has so many laws on its books, that it does make good reading. This is because with more than 1,200 years of history behind us, we've had a few stragglers on the books and not enough spare time to go through them and say "do you know what, I don't think we need to continue outlawing Christmas Pudding on Christmas". However it does lead to some fun reading. Just found out that you have the Plague, and want to grab a taxi to go to the hospital? Well think again, Mr Sneezy. It's incredibly illegal to hail a cab in London with the illness. I know, right! Ever recorded something off the telly and watched it more than once? Well, for that second recorded viewing of Countryfile or My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, you need to obtain (and I quote) "explicit written permission" from both the broadcaster and from the production company.

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Peer Pressure: Forcing You To Make Silly Decisions Since Time Began.

Having referred to a handy collection of the millions of fashion websites, I now know that this summer, we need to be wearing 70's chic, "biker" gear, punk fashion and 60's ladylike in order to be wearing "this season's look". Not at the same time I assume, mostly because you'd look like you'd just stepped out of a panto having been dressed by Stevie Wonder. However, thank God we have these websites, eh? Otherwise, how else would we know what to wear? That's one less worry! However, come Winter, I think I'm going to make my own fashion website and decide what the "trend" is. I'm absolutely certain that it'll be a massive hit, and I'll revel in having made everyone walk around wearing, I don't know, bin liners on their arms. Seriously, who comes up with these fashion trends? Is it one person telling everyone what to wear ahead of time, or does someone see that a lot of people are wearing frilly tops and declare that to be a "look"?

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I could learn every language in the world, and there's still one that will always stump me.

There's one thing about speaking English that I enjoy; everyone else in the world appears to speak it. It takes the whole "language barrier" thing away for the majority of the time. This was discovered by a friend of mine on a trip to The Netherlands last year when, in the belief that they spoke as little English as we do Dutch, she shouted "tits" across the train, much to the rapturous amusement of a German business-boy opposite me. Even if you're from, say, Norway and you're speaking to someone from France, you might not speak each others' language, so you'll both speak in English. Bonus! Now, this doesn't mean I'll do the standard thing while abroad of speaking LOUDLY... AND... SLOWLY while asking for TWO... BEERS... PLEASE because I can't be bothered to learn the local lingo.

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You've got to love cold-callers. Well, someone has to, I suppose!

Did you know, that our sewers need cleaning out regularly? No, I didn't know that either (because I don't have a dirty mind, boom boom) but apparently so, and it can't be done with a little robot either. No, they have to send someone down to do it, and this leads me on to a very important question: How did that guy get that job? I mean, I'm not going to knock someone who does it, because I wouldn't do it and it therefore makes him or her far braver than me, but it's not exactly a regular response to the standard "what do you want to be when you grow up" question, is it? So how does this person end up doing it? You've got to be seriously dedicated to do it, or took the phrase "I'll take anything going" a little too literally. Can you imagine the sudden fear on their faces when, at a party, someone asks "so, what do you do?". How do you explain that one?



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The AV vote really just shows how daft we all really are.

Last weekend, there was this thing on called a Royal Wedding. There were lots of cameras, lots of police and lots of viewers. Twitter, being Twitter, was ablaze with comments about how many people fancied Kate's sister, Pippa. We all watched from the comfort of our front rooms, or the streets as it seems for some die-hard fans, as the royals turned up, we all felt a little sorry for the guy who opened the door on the Queen's car only for her to then get out the other side, and we all chuckled a little bit when the commentator announced "the Queen has decided she's had enough of the balcony". Now, not to be outdone and needing something to do while the PlayStation network was down, America decided that all good games of Hide 'n' Seek must come to an end and finally found Bin Laden. Apparently, they charged into a compound, and shot him in the face, then tipped him in the sea, followed by the awkward phone call where Obama asks Bush if he still has that big "mission accomplished" banner. The bad guy is now dead, and the Princess married her Prince. If Disney made weekends...



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Going To a Festival? Don't Annoy The Locals, Everyone Else Has!

Every Autumn, around where I live my commute is regularly held up by potatoes. No, seriously, around deepest, darkest Bedfordshire, (it be farmin' country around 'ere) every August the tractors full of tasty goods fill up their loads and trundle along the roads at what is basically walking speed, to send them off to Mr Morrisons, so you and I can enjoy a lovely salad, or a Turnip Surprise (comments at the end please, on what the Surprise is...). It does make my hay fever go bonkers, but hey, they've got shots for everything nowadays. Now, this may sound like the start of a rant, but it's barely even worth complaining about.

Those who live (or regularly commute) around London must be looking at the combo of the royal wedding this April with dread, but not half as much dread as the up and coming Olympics next year. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for them, but can you imagine trying to get the Circle Line to work, only to find the first three trains crammed up by people in "amusing" shorts, questionable baseball caps and massive cameras? Crikey, it'd drive me mad! Constantly being stopped in the street and being asked in broken English where "the big sports place lives", and not being able to get anywhere due to the endless traffic from the events, leading tourists to question if anything actually moves on the roads! If I lived there, do you know what I'd do? Go on a massive holiday! Some people are renting out their flats or houses in London to tourists who can't get a hotel, sometimes for crazy money for a week. One person I know is asking for £1,000 for a weeks stay in their central London pad to anyone who wants somewhere nice to stay during the games.

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Oh Charlie Sheen, how you show us all how to live!

This week, for your TV viewing delight, there's a programme about a TV cook who does no cooking but does design a school, there's a chat-show starring someone who's barely famous and annoying but has a Dad who's barely famous and annoying, and a whole programme about a house that Queen Victoria stayed in, maybe, for 4 whole days before she was even Queen, thus rendering the whole thing pointless.

Now, I'm not going to spend next Wednesday's blog telling you how it all turned out, because I rarely ever watch TV. Now, I'll give you a moment to take that on board.... You OK? Good! That's right, I barely ever watch TV, due to a combination of what is on being a waste of my time, and my aerial having a personality of its own. This would be fine, if it wasn't a personality that sporadically hates TV when it decides, and sometimes simply can't be bothered to do anything. This week, my TV has been used mostly for watching copious quantities of LOST on DVD, Xbox and occasionally, re-runs of QI and Top Gear on Dave. When the Aerial lets me.

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Stop being so grumpy. It could be worse. For example...

I do love mornings! Not the "getting-up" part, or the "few-grumpy-minutes-before-the-kettle-boils" part obviously, but after then, when I'm wide awake and can find the mental capacity to laugh at everything and everyone. I try not to get annoyed in the morning, especially if I have to commute somewhere. This is for a very good reason, you see. I see every morning the same people getting very and hilariously wound up behind the wheel of their car in the jams. I can even see them shouting abuse at everything before them, which simply means I can insert my own amusing commentary to what they're saying, or give these complete strangers, who I see all the time, their own nicknames. Hey, some of those traffic jams are pretty long, I'll have you know! Anyway, I am always cheery on a long morning drive for a very good reason. I call them "They".

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I dunno, something about a Big Society?

Welcome, one and all, to the "Big Society". Don't ask me what it is, because I honestly have no clue. Apparently, that's the point? I don't know, but what I do know is that the jist of it is that we all contribute a bit of effort to make everything lovely. How nice! However, one problem I've noticed is that I'm not really sure if I'd be a lot of help to this volunteer force. Unless, that is, sarcasm and Xbox is in need on any particular day. That aside, I do think that if it works as suggested, it would be quite nice. There's a number of factors though, that could scupper the whole deal, and the biggest factor... is us.

On Saturday, like a good lad, I helped an old couple do up their garden. Is it fun? No. Is it rewarding? sort of. Is it messy? Oh yes! The small amount of money I received from doing this good deed merely went to replace the gloves and trousers I'd ruined. Could have had a lie-in, but noooooo...

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What do you do when even the experts have no clue?

Why is it so hard to get good advice these days? For example, I had a cough in October last year that seemed to go on forever. I tried to ignore it, then down copious quantities of honey and lemon, but when I became bored of coughing up my spleen, I headed to the pharmacy who suggested that I should try some cough medicine. When I asked which one, she merely said "this one is good; it tastes of strawberry". Really! That's your basis on what sort of medicine to pick from? I then proceeded to head to the Supermarket to see what they had. I did ask an assistant, but to be honest I might as well have channeled Barney the Purple Dinosaur. He seemed to have an affection for the words "um" and "uh", and kept saying "I dar' now, mate". He did attempt to work out which was cheaper overall, but seemed to shut down every other part of his body, including blinking, as he concentrated 100% on basic addition. I ran away before he overloaded and exploded, naturally.

The doctor was my next port of call, as you'd imagine. However this only served to confuse me even further: apparently, cough medicine doesn't even work at all! Huh?



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A small German has managed to lift my spirits!

Right now, the weather is cold, with no hint that it will start warming up for months. To cheer us all up even further, we're told as well that we should expect our winters to become even colder due to global warming. Only in England could we get global warming only to see our weather get even colder! Apparently, we'll all be buried under eleventeen hundred feet of snow while we regale our children about the legend of "The Lost Underwater City of Norwich".

We also have been watching the numbers at the petrol station tick up to £1.30 a litre in some places. This is a lot of money, considering 90p a litre was enough to spark a fuel protest 10 years ago. This is getting a bit silly now, considering that most people who work rely on a car, and the electric alternative is simply impractical (unless you live in Central London, in which case it's merely embarrassing) and still quite dangerous. Apparently, as cars like the G-Wiz are classed as "quadricycles" and not a car (and the difference is...) they don't have to meet the same safety standards as an equivalent vehicle powered by small explosions. On an NCAP-style test, it transpired that a G-Wiz driver would end up having to pick his legs out of the back seat , and he'll need a Dyson to vacuum up his pelvis. I wouldn't drive one, even if the alternative was to be forced to use public transport. Apparently, some lobby group for these contraptions say it's not fair to test a "quadricycle" against a car in such a fashion. Do they think they'll crash in a different way?

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So much technology, I don't even have to leave the house!

I like to take time over my appearance. Even if I'm tired, or just going out for a pint of milk, I can't bring my self to just "throw something on". This doesn't mean I'll preen myself for six hours just to pop something in the wheelie bin, but I will make sure that if I venture into a place where others will clasp eyes on me, that I have at least done my hair. Who knows who you will meet. I can't stand seeing some people who are in town looking like they have just woken up. In a hedge. After a night of vodka and heroin. There's a style to the stubbly look, but the hobo look doesn't fall into the category of "win".



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It's Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve!

So, here we are, a week before Christmas, and I'm attempting to sort out the "visits" to the family. Ooh, it's a right ol' pain. I've got to see so-and-so on this day, but this-person isn't available until then so I'll have to go and see that-person instead and work my way around, but I can fit relatives X, Y and Z in all on one day. Arg! I'm slowly shifting towards the idea of posting them all a photo of me, and saying "that's good enough", you know, what most people say when the pick up a present for someone when Christmas shopping?

No, honestly, I do love going to see people over Christmas, it's just so much fuss organising it, especially when there's so much other stuff to do: I've got to finish my Christmas shopping in person as Amazon apparently don't sell everything, I've got to build a wardrobe and an office desk, I have some more work to do (I know, I know), I have four hundred and eleventy ten Christmas cards to write, I have to arrange for my car to be fixed as some w~?#{r reversed into it a while ago, and only a week to do it in. And it's now started snowing.

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Why We Still Believe Everything People Tell Us: we're Gullible.

People will believe anything these days. Did you know, for example, that you eat an average of eight spiders a year while asleep, as you sleep with your mouth open and some arachnids, desperate for an entry in the spider's version of "Explorer", wiggle their way down your gullet? I'm willing to bet you already know this fact. However, the best thing about this fact is not the fact that you're inadvertently consuming Charlotte while you drool over your pillow, but that it is complete nonsense.

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The Christmas Countdown Beginneth!

Pinch punch first of the month!

It's December, people! No doubt all of you have fallen into that mental advent-calender mode of repeating to everyone how many days until your living room becomes strewn with wrapping paper and you can add a singing tie and "festive" pants to your already ample collection. More importantly, you've probably been counting the days until work breaks up for Christmas. Go on, admit it, you've also worked out the hours, and the minutes, and the seconds, haven't you.

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Is a little bit of courtesy really too much to ask for?

Now I'm not one to whinge (HA!) but I like to look on the nicer side of things. Who among us complains about the drive into work? You're stuck in traffic while half-asleep, you didn't have time to eat breakfast, your traffic jam seems to be meeting yet another traffic jam and to top it off, you have noticed that the fact that you're baffled by the noises that come from Radio 1 these days indicates that age is slowly rearing it's head.

Be cheery! At least you're driving! In your car you can sing wildly out of tune, you can shout abuse at the silly man on the radio for his silly suggestions, you can launch a major excavation project in whichever nostril you choose, all in the comfort of your own space. You could be on the bus, for example, sitting on someone else's chewing gum, listening to children scream as loud as they can while the crazy lady sits and stares at your ears. Plus, you'll be really cold.

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