Tag Archives: humour

The Root Of All Evil

Money is the root of all evil. Whoever said that, they must have been having a laugh.

“Charlotte darling money is the root of all evil”.

“I couldn’t agree more Tarquin. Don’t you just love those African village women? They look so natural and content carrying pales of water from the village well. I envy them, no investments to worry about or concerns regarding school fees. We are so pampered here in the west, we can learn so much from those ladies”.

I’d love to see Charlotte bent double carrying a gallon of water.

“Oh gosh Tarquin these party shoes aren’t designed for the African bush, my silk dress is absolutely ruined”.

Me I’m a dyed in the wool materialist. Money may be the root of all evil but it sure as hell makes life worth living. Just try existing without cold hard cash, go on and see how far you get.

Tarquin and his kind will try and convince you that money doesn’t make you happy. Come off it, try telling that to the young man sleeping under Waterloo Bridge. He’d laugh in your face if you are lucky and, if you aren’t he’ll break your nose.

Heres a riddle for you, what opens doors and is neither a key nor a door knob? Give up, I’ll tell you. The answer is money stupid!

I’ve plenty of the filthy stuff. It may be dirty but it sure as hell gets me into exclusive hotels and restaurants. Take tonight, here I am in the Ritz sipping champagne having just partaken of roast pheasant with all the trimmings. Delicious it was. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

That waitress, the slim brunette with those come to bed eyes keeps looking in my direction. I’m in there. Tonights the night if I play my cards right, to borrow a phrase. Girls love a big tipper and I’m always generous with my tips. Whats the greatest aphrodisiac in the world? Viagra. I thought you’d say that. No the answers money, course it is. One look at my wallet and women go weak at the knees. Well not all women but a fair number fall in love with my wadge. You think I’m shallow do you? Well I think you’re jealous. Come on, admit it man to man, you’d like some of what I’ve got wouldn’t you? You can deny it until you’re blue in the face but I can see the envy in your eyes.

I am Mr popular tonight. That leggy blonde keeps giving me the eye. Wow my luck’s in, she is coming over

“Excuse me sir I’m arresting you on suspicion of credit card fraud. You do not need to say anything but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you. Do you understand?”

Literary Dating

I derive great pleasure from reading as you would expect from a writer. However I keep a sense of proportion. I would not for instance dump a partner merely because they failed to share my literary tastes (failing to shower for weeks on end, now that is a different matter, but not liking the same authors as me, no)! That is, however what Fleur Macdonald, the founder of the Omnivore literary magazine, did when she found her boyfriend reading an inferior edition of Virgil. What is  more she founded a dating service for those who feel that one’s tastes in literature trump all else when seeking a prospective partner. Well I am not about to join, however for anyone curious about the service please visit the following link http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/booknews/10204049/Literary-website-launches-dating-service.html

I’m Not Good In The Morning

“Hello” he said. Of course I don’t answer. Perhaps you will think me rude as a greeting should illicit a response. But look at things from my perspective. There I am relaxing in my bed, minding my own business and he breezes in and says “hello”! What you still think that I’m lacking in social graces do you? Well how would you like to be disturbed at a little after 6 am by a cheery fool saying “hello?” I thought not, you wouldn’t be thrilled either so you can, I think understand why I totally blanked my friend’s attempt to engage me in conversation.

Not content with disturbing my beauty sleep he will humiliate me later today by expecting me to wear a harness. Not just in private in our home. No that would be bad enough, he expects me to wear it in public. Surely there is a law against such things and, if there isn’t then I’d urge you to lobby your MPs to bring one in urgently! Does anyone know whether making a guide dog wear a harness breeches my human rights?”

The Silly Things I Do

Do you ever do silly things? I certainly do particularly when I’m thinking about my writing. A few days ago, having finished with a piece of kitchen roll I threw the remains of the paper towel into the bin. Well that is what I meant to do. In fact the kitchen roll had a ducking as it ended up in the washing up bowl, not the waste paper basket! On another occasion I went to put the dog’s bowl away in the fridge. A highly logical place for storing a dog bowl! Well I’ll need to concentrate on matters other than writing this morning as the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association are visiting to check on how my guide dog, Trigger and I are working together. This is a routine visit which all guide dog owners have but I will still be on my best behaviour as will Trigger!

No Problem

I am, as those of you who follow this blog will know registered blind. As a consequence of my blindness I require sighted assistance to locate products while shopping.

Erlier this evening I popped into a supermarket and soon obtained help, however the assistance offered was so bizarre that I feel compelled to put fingers to keyboard and write about it. My conversation with the young lady went something like this

Me “Can I have a litre of fresh milk please, the one with the blue top?”

My assistant, “Absolutely, no problem”.

Me, “Can I have Tropicana orange juice please?”

My assistant, “Absolutely, no problem”.

My shopping “experience” (see I have all the right buzz words) continued in precisely the same manner until I, in a fit of merriment felt compelled to ask

“Do you say anything other than “absolutely, no problem?””

My companion responded with

“Sometimes I say cool” (I am not making this up I promise you)!

I asked if my companion spoke in the same manner when conversing with her friends, to which she replied that she was “a gamer” and this is how gamers interact with one another.

At the end of my “customer experience” I couldn’t resist saying with a smile that when I next encountered my companion I would call her “absolutely, no problem” to which she responded without a hint of irony that this was fine.

I feel that I’ve gone down the rabbit hole to join Alice in Wonderland and to be frank I don’t know whether it is me or my companion of earlier this evening who is the mad hatter!

I must confess to knowing virtually nothing about gaming, however if the pastime produces people who are unable to communicate other than by churning out meaningless phrases then we are, as one of the leading personalities in Dad’s Army says “all doomed”!

On a serious point excessive exposure to gaming or any other similar activity can not be conducive to the development of fully rounded persons. All things in moderation say I.

 

Kevin

The Case Of The Flying Laptop

I will soon be famous. Let me rephrase that. I will soon be famous in my own locality for at least 15 minutes. It will be as a consequence of my writing. The reason I hear you ask? Have I written a short story which will wow the inhabitants of Crystal Palace and it’s environs when it appears in the local newspaper? No not quite. I am however fed up to the back teeth with my laptop which is not behaving as it should. To take just one example when I visit websites the machine frequently freezes and the only way in which I can close the internet is by resorting to the use of task manager! I have on several occasions been on the point of hurling the hapless computer out of the window. What a satisfying crash that dratted machine would make as it hit the ground. I can see the headlines now

“Mad writer flips his lid and throws laptop out of window accidentally braining neighbour”!

Well on the basis that all publicity is good publicity can someone open the window please, there is a mad writer on the loose.

The Joys of Commuting

Beware the dangers of complacency. I boarded the 17:22 from London Victoria to Gypsy Hill yesterday. It was boiling hot and the heat combined with the movement of the train made me sleepy. I dozed. At some point I became aware that the train had stopped. I and my fellow passengers where stuck in no man’s land between Battersea Park and Clapham Junction station. The windows where open but the lack of motion rendered this fact of little consequence. I along with my fellow commuters made the best of a sticky (in more than one sense of the word) situation. People read their papers. a man complained to someone or other rather loudly on his mobile that he was stuck on a train, he hated the idea of driving for 2 hours to get somewhere or other that evening but that he would, reluctantly make the effort, while a gentleman with what a former colleague of mine used to call “issues” wandered up and down the train talking to all and sundry.

The driver was brilliant keeping us informed of what was happening. Apparently someone had collapsed in Clapham station and paramedics where in attendance.

Oh the dangers of complacency. There I was expecting the journey to take 25 minutes maximum. I’d alight at Gypsy Hill, enjoy a cooling pint in my favourite pub on the way home and reach my flat at a relatively early hour. however we remained stuck in no man’s land for about half an hour. Originally the driver announced that the train when it got going once more would run as normal to Crystal Palace but would then be fast until London Bridge. I smiled smugly as Gypsy Hill is the station prior to Crystal Palace so I would, once the train got going have a relatively (although much lengthier than anticipated) journey. Alas it was not to be. After 20 minutes or so our friendly driver announced that when we got moving the train would return to Battersea Park and passengers would need to make their way from that station homewards.

When we finally got moving and pulled into Battersea that well known military strategist, General Chaos took charge of the situation. We where directed to platform 5 only to find that trains to Crystal Palace where not going from there. A man entertained us by attempting to use the help phone located on the platform. What fun he had standing there for several minutes listening to “please wait, please wait”! When he was finally connected the operator had no idea of what was happening but at least  it is good to know that someone or other is being kept in business to answer the helpline!

To cut a long story short I was helped by a fellow passenger to catch my train on platform 3 and I arrived at my destination around 2 hours later than I should have done.

My poor dog was panting like a steam train while stuck on the train (wearing a thick hairy coat which one can not take off is no fun in this weather)! Thankfully one of the station staff gave him a drink at Battersea and he was none the worse for his experience. Dare I take the train today I ask myself!

I DO NOT COMPREHEND

One of my regrets is my inability to speak any language other than my native tongue, English. I don’t know why I should have a mental block so far as learning languages is concerned. I received good marks in both English language and literature a-levels and went on to read history and politics at university which entailed having a good grasp of English. Despite my ability to make foreigners roll about holding their sides with laughter when attempting to converse with them in their native tongue I was pleased to see that my collection of short stories, “Sting In The Tail And Other Stories” is available in German, French and a number of languages which I am unable to speak! Thank goodness for Amazon’s translators whether human or software based! To learn more about Sting In The Tail please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00DFK6R54

Did She Really Mean To Say That?

Several days ago I answered the phone to a lady calling on behalf of the Royal National Institute of the Blind (RNIB). She was conducting a survey and as I am myself blind and I was, at that juncture at a loose end I agreed to answer a few simple questions. At the end of the survey the lady asked my age and on me confirming that I am in my 40’s she announced that

“I’ve been doing all the men in London in their 40’s today and I’m very tired”. Now what can one say to that …