So, you can some how spot what level of danger you are in... but what if its too late for that?
Fact... (no matter what the Police say) 99% of guns on the street are FAKE. Toys... BB Guns, Plastic.... Yep... you heard it right. Just think... how in the hell is that 12 year old gonna shoot a Glock hand gun with ONE hand?!... duh!... the kick back alone will probably break his wrist... also... a hand gun loaded is actually quiet heavy to hold still... especially by a kid... Also, a hand gun is about £200 to £700 in cash... and ammo is just about the same again...
So, the chances are... its a fake... the holder won't even know how to hold it, load it or shoot it if its a real one... UNLESS you are walking through a well known gang land war zone where actual shootings do take place... (which is the 1% are real)... if you are in a Shooting Free area and a kid with a Smith and Wesson comes up to you... i'd put money on its a fake, and would grab it off him and slap him... (ok, don't do that)
Guns... ok... so, many of you don't know a real one from a fake... here is a few pointers....
Shiny guns are the work of Hollywood or some hand cannon worth more than your car... if he pulls a nice chrome finished one... its a toy... Guns are dull things... only cowboys in Vegas have gold finished ones.
The hole at the end of the pipe thing... called a Nossel. a 9mm hand gun with a 12mm hole... is a fake... Toys makers tend to make their guns.. with slightly exaggerated parts... (mainly so the Armed Police can tell the difference if he is looking down the barrel of one in a siege)... the barrel hole is too big.. or too small... or has a screw shaft in the middle of it (so the gun will not fall apart)... or, it looks obviously plastic. If the Gun looks too big for the holder (in the case of the Toy Magnum .45... its about one and a half times as big as a real life one)... it probably is a fake... hand guns are small, not the size of baseball mitts. (only guns like Magnum .45's or some Russian hand guns are large... the Walther PPK for instance is only about 15 cms long!)
Is it an Automatic or revolver?... is it Square looking or does it look round? (the general shape)...
Square looking is Automatic or Semi Automatic... look to its side... closest to the guys / kids face... is the lever up or down at the back?... if its up, then the Safety catch (the thing that allows or disallows it to fire) is off... usually a red dot will be visible if its ready to fire... and if its down... no red dot... its safety is on and cannot fire.
Does the barrel size look the same as say... a cigarette width?... or a pencil? or does it look like a bolt size or a thick fountain pen size? ... Small holes (about half a cm or smaller... its a BB Gun or Cap Gun... a Toy. If its bigger than a centimeter... more like 12 to 15 mm.. its a Toy... they don't make ammunition for hand guns that big... if it looks about 1 cm... it could be real.
Revolvers... look at the revolving barrel at the back... either side of his thumb and fingers... just after his hand going away from him... see those "Holes"... is there anything in them? ... maybe bronze in colour?... or are they empty?... or are they filled in? or is there a cover hiding the "Holes"?
If there be Bronze in the holes... its more than likely real
If there is emptiness... its unloaded or fake
If there is a plastic or something, covering the "Barrel"... its fake.
Does the Gun look old enough to be an antique?... it probably is, and is an ornament.
Does the Gun look rusty and in disrepair?.. it will more than likely back fire if its real.
Does the gun look metal or plastic?... plastic... toy... metal... mmm could be real?
Is there an exit port... a rectangle on its side away from his body (right hand side)? ... If not.. its a toy... if so... could be real.
So, just a snippet of gun recognition there... If you can't see it... and the guy is waving it about like some unprofessional kid... ie... not holding it with both hands and slightly leaning forwards... its a toy... or the holder is amateur and will do more self harm than harm to you.
Knives... Blades of mercy!
So... Knife attack? huh?
Ok... did you know that 90% odd of people who were stabbed... didn't even know they were until they were told about it or until they got home?
Being stabbed is like being pinched. it isn't this painful thing... it's like being punched in the ribs or the kidneys... the pain is from the punch rather than the stab.
99% of knife attacks happen over 2 meters within 2 seconds. (the attacker can cover 2 meters in 2 seconds with a single thrust).
Most knife attacks are done with a small knife rather than a big knife... but it only takes 3 cms of penetration to kill you.
Men stab upwards once ... women stab downwards with many attempts .. in 99% of the time.
There are more knives on the streets in the hands of kids than there are drugs dens in the whole of the UK.
So, What do you do????
Ok, so you have 3 maybe 5 attackers in front of you. Unless you are some kind of pervert who deserves to be slaughtered... you can guarantee only one of them will use a knife... the rest are just on-lookers in their sick game.
The "Stabber" will be the guy in front... the guys at the sides are to stop you running away. This situation usually is met with a demand for you hand bag, wallet, mobile phone, money first... if you don't hand them over... you get the blade.
Do what they tell you... just concentrate on observing facial features, clothing colours, skin colour, tattoos, accents.... forget your personal possessions... you got insurance for that... not for a police man telling your partner and kids that you were stabbed over a £20 pound note and a Nokia phone.
So, you got one guy beating you up and his mates behind in some bar fight that's now spewed onto the street... no cops arrived yet... the "Stabber" is more than likely the man behind you. It will be a stab to the kidneys and it will leave you almost fatally wounded.
In the fight... try and get the "Mates" in front of you, between you and the fist throwing brawler. Play dirty, and grab his testicles and stick thumbs in his eyes... then... get away... fast!... his mates will spend a few moments seeing to their fallen comrade before taking off after you. Get to the nearest pub door way, shop, CCTV camera, Group of bystanders.... Shout "He has a knife!" (even though you don't know if he has or not)... soon... eye witnesses will be everywhere... and the chances of being stabbed is reduced to 10% or below. You may get a beating... but you won't get a stabbing.
So, you are alone in the town center, every where is shut and you are trying to reach a taxi on your mobile, you spot a couple of hoodies walking up behind you... The "Stabber" will more than likely be the one with his hand in his pocket, or the one with the hand around his back. Not the one going wide looking over his shoulder and down the street. He is the "Look-out" the "Stabber" is the one focusing on you and you alone. (trance like state).
Escape... if you can... run fast don't look back. Get to a crowded area, CCTV sight, Shop, Bar, even a Taxi rank, Population is the saviour. People don't stab other people in public unless its personal, drug fueled, racial.. or you know the attacker.
If its personal... ie, you know full well why he'd wanna stab you... your best option is to get an object between you and the attacker and wait it out for help to arrive... use a shopping trolley, park bench, dustbin lid, wall, tree, lamp post... anything... eye contact... watch his moves... and avoid... you can keep it going all night if you really concentrated... Talking him out of it is hopeless... he isn't a diplomat when he has a knife and wants to hurt you in this situation.
Drug Fueled... this guy is going to be desperate, quick and emotionless. He sees one goal... stab you, get the loot, run. Treat as a "Personal" attack... with his motivation... talking is useless... avoiding and escaping is best defence.
Racial... So much anger in this one... acting mainly on adrenaline... once he failed a few times he will more than likely run away. He will more than likely come up to you saying racial hatred names... N words, P words, B words... or he will sneak up from behind and attack... usually going for the lower back or the neck. Best chance of escape... public places... this guy will out run you. They only pick on the weak... and they are only interested in showing you who is more dominant.
You know the attacker... more than likely this is going to be in your own home... best place to go... bath room... or toilet. if you can get out of the house.. do so. if you can grab the phone, do so. when in the bathroom sit down... put your feet against the door and back against the wall or something solid... he will try and kick the door in... but your feet will act as a brace and prevent access for some time... ring police... be calm... and get help.
Knife attacks usually happen quickly and are over in seconds. They are not a Hollywood style Chain saw massacre style attack... If you are stabbed... try not to panic... control your breathing. the faster you breathe... the faster your heart will beat.... the faster you will loose blood.
If your attack leaves straight away... (more than likely they will)... can you move?... if you can... get to someplace where other humans exist fast... use all your energy... a house, a shop, a telephone booth, a busy street, main road. Staying put and crying is losing valuable energy and time. Your adrenaline levels will make sure you can make it... or get to a CCTV area... get in front of a camera and draw attention... even if you are really desperate... get to a car in a quiet street and break the window... the car alarm will get the owner out and they will see you... "I been stabbed" is usually a good thing to scream out now.
Bleeding wounds can kill in minuets... arteries in seconds... that's all you have of getting someplace public... before shock kicks in and you loose consciousness.
If you can... apply direct pressure to the wound and raise the limb above your head... it will slow the bleeding... and seek medical help asap.
Additional to all that, The best advice is to find out more on staying safe at your local police station... and stay safe. Do a first Aid Course and avoid the areas where knife crime happen. Buy an attack alarm and most importantly...
Shout "Fire" not "Rape"... people tend to come running when they hear "Fire".
Sunday 29 November 2009
Hoodies... New Age Outlaws
We've all seen them, The Hooded young person on the street corner. Most of us fear them, some of us aren't so affected.
So, whats the story?... Right... First of all... What is a "Hoodie"?
A Hoodie is a person who is intent on causeing crime, fear, thuggary, violence, menace and trouble to any unsuspecting innocent person who comes across thier path, or so they make us believe... It's known as a culture of gangs, urban warfare, kids hanging around on street corners... up to no good.
But, is there really a cause to fear them, or to hate them?
Look, I lived in an area you could call "Plagued" by the Hoodie. I worked in a place which drew attention to gangs of youth (A Hostel), I was (believe it or not) a Police Officer... with a sworn duty to rid the streets of these menaces to society. I was once a Prison Officer who had to look after these tear aways at night. I have worked in the field of care where i came in direct contact with these young terrors.
If you are wondering why i am no longer a part of the front line fighters of these beings... its simple... Hours and Hours of effort... Little pay... No respect... Lots of Stress... Ask anyone who is involved in this kinda carear.. they all say the same thing.... No win battle
Sooo... I do have some degree of knowledge on the subject.
Well, there are a few types of "Hoodie" you must first know about. The first one is the simple... Bored Kid.
The Bored Kid, a young person with no where to "Hang out" with his friends. You see, all the play parks are littered with dirty needles, Criminals, thugs, muggers and dirty old men wanting to have his way with the little darlings. Some play parks are safe... but some person makes it thier duty to keep ringing the Police every 5 mins saying "Oooo they are up to no good, they are making a noise, they are frightening me!!!!"
So, the police turn up.. tell these kids who were only sat talking and doing nothing criminal... to er... move on! or else!... which creates a problem... they can't go there, so where do they go?... maybe the first place that has a bench and easy access to a shop or thier own homes... usually a Corner Convienece store or some public place... Which... makes the shop owner ring the police saying "Ooooo i am frightened, they are up to no good, they are turning my customers away...."
So, the police turn up... and tell them to move on, or else!... So where do they go?.. To ANOTHER place in town... to sit and talk and be kids....
Its a never ending cycle... and all along... they didn't even really break any laws!
The second "Hoodie" is the Thug.
These are young people who are in a "Gang" (ooo really hard! Really tough!) They see themselves as a pack of wild beasts... using numbers to spread fear... They sit in some location... usually referred to as thier "Ghetto"... and sit in wait... maybe doing drugs, drinking, smoking, swearing, being generally bored and really "Mafia" Style... (I think they forgot to actually look up the meaning of the word... thug... well... they sit and wait. Then, some unsuspecting victim comes along... talking on his mobile phone, or just wearing the "Wrong" fashion clothes... usually geeks... or, they are some poor kid at school who always gets picked on for some reason... Well... these Thugs see the target... and attack... usually by sneaking up and then not doing anything but surround the target.
Yep.. they surround the target.. then just simply "Take the Mick" out of them to try and raise the victims fear levels a little... Then its a 50/50 choice... do they attack and steal his mobile... or just slap him and do a runner shouting obsenities????
Well.. that depends on the victim... his size, who he is, how old he is... and what he is wearing and what mobile he owns. 80% of the time, the victim actually knows these Thugs... weather it be in school or from the same street where they all live. Its surprising as the victim won't even tell the police who they are... the fear factor... thats why... so, 9 out of 10 times... if you are bigger or older or don't know them... you will only get looks.. or may be a word or two before you turn and watch them run away like terrified sheep.
The Third... The Mugger.
These are like the Thug in every respect... but there intention is not fear, its to steal, and get what ever you own away from you. As a pack.. they come in silent then attack and run away.
The Fourth... The Bully.
Its all about "Respect"... something that these kind don't understand... Respect is earned not issued at birth.
These type of Hoodies are only about beating people up. its a "Dare" thing... the bigger the victim, the more "Respect".. the harder it is to win.. and eventually they must beat the victim... the more respect... You only have to "Look" at these people... and that is just cause to attack you.
Usually you'd be walking by, minding your own business, and they's say something to you quietly... you will turn and look, to see if it was you they were talking to... and they would then shout "What you lookin at?!" "You startin!" "Oi, wanker, come on then!" ... or words to that effect... and they would then spread thier arms out wide and walk towards you... then wham! you are on the floor... and then the others will pile in and kick you to unconsciousness.... Stealing from you is just an after thought.
Fifth... The Addict.
These are probably the worst. They are addicted to drugs, alcohol, areasol cans.. or what ever they use to abuse themselves with... You... You are the "Pay day"
They see you as a means to getting drugs, by stealing your wallet, phone, car keys, credit cards, loose change... what ever they can get from you to fund thier habit. They tend to hang around cash machines, out side shops, clubs, anywhere where you will come out with money, goods, a mobile or what ever... they will either do one or two things....
Attack you NOW... as you unsuspectingly walk out of the shop with your hands full and handbag open, awaiting your purse to be slipped inside... it will be a fast attack... element of surprise... they will punch you if you don't let go, they will stab you even if you struggle
Or
Attack LATER... they will follow you home, if you are walking... or wait for you to get to a nice sucluded dark alley way to attack you... away from heroes and by standers and possibly CCTV. The attack will be ruthless... maybe a kick to the head, a stab in the chest.. or a pepper spray in the eyes... to keep the attack secluded.
The Sixth... The Lone Ranger
These are the single "Hoodie" attackers... the one whose intention is more than likely rape, or just a random attack to vent his anger out on some one... usually a walk by attack... where it will be swift, or violent. usually in parks, or near parks, dark areas, not in the street.
The Seventh... Race Warriors
The group only numbering two or three... usually a white group attacking a ethnic minority couple... or an asian group taking revenge out on a white couple.. its all about race, causing fatal injuries... hate feuled by religion, beliefs and simply... "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time" ... For example, Asian neighbourhoods are not the place for unknown white folk after darkness... they may see you as a racist.... and an asian might not be welcome in a white populated estate anytime, unless you are known or are respected...
The Eighth... The Worst of the Rest...
The rest tend to be done out of peer pressure or some other mental illness or something... a wide range of reasons here, usually some external factor would contribute towards it... "You look like the boy who punched my brother last month..." whack!... only to find out you were not. as an example.
So, you have a better idea of the kinds of hoodies out there... they all have thier reasons, thier motives and thier own rules... so, what do you do about it?
Well for start... don't label them as the "Same"... they are not. Usually you can tell who are who and what they are up to... and to say they are all acting the same.. well, you haven't actually looked at them yet then have you?
Look at them firstly....
A Gang of kids, maybe 12 or so, sat on or around the bench, one has a bike, another is on a skate board... some are smoking, some are drinking coke-a-cola they are being loud and boisterous and are not looking at anyone in particular.
What kind are these? .... Easy.... Bored kids.
You won't get any trouble from them, just walk past and if they are in your way... say "Excuse me please" and they will move and maybe laugh or just say "Sorry"... simple. No need to call the police at all. If you just ask them.. they will do.
A gang of kids, maybe 5 sat on a park bench, wearing gloves and hoodies on a reasonably warm night. looking at everyone that walks past.. not really saying anything or being boisterous... they make eye contact with you and stare then start talking...
What kind are these?... Possibly either... The "Thug" or the "Bully" or the "Mugger"
So, Danger lurks. Look at yourself... who are you?... old lady? Teen with a mobile? A victim of bullying at school? A 300 Lb boxing Champ? Some idiot wearing £400 worth of designer trainers and cloths in a rough neighbourhood?
What are they doing now?
Walking towards you pretending to mind thier own business?... Get to a public place now... go find a home that looks like it has people in and bang on the door... get to a CCTV site and get attention of the Camera.... The chances are, you are going to be attacked.
Still sitting down and carrying on as normal?... you have a 50/50 chance of walking past with nothing more than a obsenity or a laugh or some comment being made... What ever you do, don't react... just walk towards the light, a busy street, a Camera, somewhere where they will be seen... and then get home...
Walking away from you? What is down that road?... a park? Trees? a street? Darkness?.. secluded location?... or just the main CCTV area of the city center?
If its a park, dark area, secluded location... change direction now... go the long way home, go back to the shop, go someplace else... don't risk it... its a set up for ambush...
If its just a normal busy area... drop back a little, and watch where they go... down an alley way ahead?... into the park? into the shadows? or just towards a shop... just be aware, if they look back, make a quick detour out of sight, or just simply keep walking.
Notice what they are wearing...
Is it summer and a nice evening and they wear gloves, hats, scarfs, and thick jackets?... strange... it must be too warm for all that?! ... that is not a fashion statement... its the tools of the criminal. Disguize to hide....
A common practise amongst criminal hoodies... is to wear about three layers of clothes...
1, to make them selves look bigger ... as a fear thing
2, to have a change of clothes so CCTV can't track them... the police are looking for someone in black jumper... and that black jumper has been "Changed" in mid run...
3, Concealing wepons... a base ball bat is actually kinda difficult to hide... believe it or not... layers of clothing helps.
4. Hiding alcohol or drugs... the cops might not search someone wearing 16 jackets with 36 pockets full of junk... even if there is a £50 heroin wrap in one of them.
So, look at what they are wearing... is it normal?
Are they covering thier face?...
To avoid being identified... they will try covering thier face so you won't get a good look at them... usually they only do this when they are close to attacking someone... if not... they need to look as normal as possible so the Police don't do a stop check and discover they are carrying an offensive weapon BEFORE they get a chance to use it.
To be Continued....
So, whats the story?... Right... First of all... What is a "Hoodie"?
A Hoodie is a person who is intent on causeing crime, fear, thuggary, violence, menace and trouble to any unsuspecting innocent person who comes across thier path, or so they make us believe... It's known as a culture of gangs, urban warfare, kids hanging around on street corners... up to no good.
But, is there really a cause to fear them, or to hate them?
Look, I lived in an area you could call "Plagued" by the Hoodie. I worked in a place which drew attention to gangs of youth (A Hostel), I was (believe it or not) a Police Officer... with a sworn duty to rid the streets of these menaces to society. I was once a Prison Officer who had to look after these tear aways at night. I have worked in the field of care where i came in direct contact with these young terrors.
If you are wondering why i am no longer a part of the front line fighters of these beings... its simple... Hours and Hours of effort... Little pay... No respect... Lots of Stress... Ask anyone who is involved in this kinda carear.. they all say the same thing.... No win battle
Sooo... I do have some degree of knowledge on the subject.
Well, there are a few types of "Hoodie" you must first know about. The first one is the simple... Bored Kid.
The Bored Kid, a young person with no where to "Hang out" with his friends. You see, all the play parks are littered with dirty needles, Criminals, thugs, muggers and dirty old men wanting to have his way with the little darlings. Some play parks are safe... but some person makes it thier duty to keep ringing the Police every 5 mins saying "Oooo they are up to no good, they are making a noise, they are frightening me!!!!"
So, the police turn up.. tell these kids who were only sat talking and doing nothing criminal... to er... move on! or else!... which creates a problem... they can't go there, so where do they go?... maybe the first place that has a bench and easy access to a shop or thier own homes... usually a Corner Convienece store or some public place... Which... makes the shop owner ring the police saying "Ooooo i am frightened, they are up to no good, they are turning my customers away...."
So, the police turn up... and tell them to move on, or else!... So where do they go?.. To ANOTHER place in town... to sit and talk and be kids....
Its a never ending cycle... and all along... they didn't even really break any laws!
The second "Hoodie" is the Thug.
These are young people who are in a "Gang" (ooo really hard! Really tough!) They see themselves as a pack of wild beasts... using numbers to spread fear... They sit in some location... usually referred to as thier "Ghetto"... and sit in wait... maybe doing drugs, drinking, smoking, swearing, being generally bored and really "Mafia" Style... (I think they forgot to actually look up the meaning of the word... thug... well... they sit and wait. Then, some unsuspecting victim comes along... talking on his mobile phone, or just wearing the "Wrong" fashion clothes... usually geeks... or, they are some poor kid at school who always gets picked on for some reason... Well... these Thugs see the target... and attack... usually by sneaking up and then not doing anything but surround the target.
Yep.. they surround the target.. then just simply "Take the Mick" out of them to try and raise the victims fear levels a little... Then its a 50/50 choice... do they attack and steal his mobile... or just slap him and do a runner shouting obsenities????
Well.. that depends on the victim... his size, who he is, how old he is... and what he is wearing and what mobile he owns. 80% of the time, the victim actually knows these Thugs... weather it be in school or from the same street where they all live. Its surprising as the victim won't even tell the police who they are... the fear factor... thats why... so, 9 out of 10 times... if you are bigger or older or don't know them... you will only get looks.. or may be a word or two before you turn and watch them run away like terrified sheep.
The Third... The Mugger.
These are like the Thug in every respect... but there intention is not fear, its to steal, and get what ever you own away from you. As a pack.. they come in silent then attack and run away.
The Fourth... The Bully.
Its all about "Respect"... something that these kind don't understand... Respect is earned not issued at birth.
These type of Hoodies are only about beating people up. its a "Dare" thing... the bigger the victim, the more "Respect".. the harder it is to win.. and eventually they must beat the victim... the more respect... You only have to "Look" at these people... and that is just cause to attack you.
Usually you'd be walking by, minding your own business, and they's say something to you quietly... you will turn and look, to see if it was you they were talking to... and they would then shout "What you lookin at?!" "You startin!" "Oi, wanker, come on then!" ... or words to that effect... and they would then spread thier arms out wide and walk towards you... then wham! you are on the floor... and then the others will pile in and kick you to unconsciousness.... Stealing from you is just an after thought.
Fifth... The Addict.
These are probably the worst. They are addicted to drugs, alcohol, areasol cans.. or what ever they use to abuse themselves with... You... You are the "Pay day"
They see you as a means to getting drugs, by stealing your wallet, phone, car keys, credit cards, loose change... what ever they can get from you to fund thier habit. They tend to hang around cash machines, out side shops, clubs, anywhere where you will come out with money, goods, a mobile or what ever... they will either do one or two things....
Attack you NOW... as you unsuspectingly walk out of the shop with your hands full and handbag open, awaiting your purse to be slipped inside... it will be a fast attack... element of surprise... they will punch you if you don't let go, they will stab you even if you struggle
Or
Attack LATER... they will follow you home, if you are walking... or wait for you to get to a nice sucluded dark alley way to attack you... away from heroes and by standers and possibly CCTV. The attack will be ruthless... maybe a kick to the head, a stab in the chest.. or a pepper spray in the eyes... to keep the attack secluded.
The Sixth... The Lone Ranger
These are the single "Hoodie" attackers... the one whose intention is more than likely rape, or just a random attack to vent his anger out on some one... usually a walk by attack... where it will be swift, or violent. usually in parks, or near parks, dark areas, not in the street.
The Seventh... Race Warriors
The group only numbering two or three... usually a white group attacking a ethnic minority couple... or an asian group taking revenge out on a white couple.. its all about race, causing fatal injuries... hate feuled by religion, beliefs and simply... "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time" ... For example, Asian neighbourhoods are not the place for unknown white folk after darkness... they may see you as a racist.... and an asian might not be welcome in a white populated estate anytime, unless you are known or are respected...
The Eighth... The Worst of the Rest...
The rest tend to be done out of peer pressure or some other mental illness or something... a wide range of reasons here, usually some external factor would contribute towards it... "You look like the boy who punched my brother last month..." whack!... only to find out you were not. as an example.
So, you have a better idea of the kinds of hoodies out there... they all have thier reasons, thier motives and thier own rules... so, what do you do about it?
Well for start... don't label them as the "Same"... they are not. Usually you can tell who are who and what they are up to... and to say they are all acting the same.. well, you haven't actually looked at them yet then have you?
Look at them firstly....
A Gang of kids, maybe 12 or so, sat on or around the bench, one has a bike, another is on a skate board... some are smoking, some are drinking coke-a-cola they are being loud and boisterous and are not looking at anyone in particular.
What kind are these? .... Easy.... Bored kids.
You won't get any trouble from them, just walk past and if they are in your way... say "Excuse me please" and they will move and maybe laugh or just say "Sorry"... simple. No need to call the police at all. If you just ask them.. they will do.
A gang of kids, maybe 5 sat on a park bench, wearing gloves and hoodies on a reasonably warm night. looking at everyone that walks past.. not really saying anything or being boisterous... they make eye contact with you and stare then start talking...
What kind are these?... Possibly either... The "Thug" or the "Bully" or the "Mugger"
So, Danger lurks. Look at yourself... who are you?... old lady? Teen with a mobile? A victim of bullying at school? A 300 Lb boxing Champ? Some idiot wearing £400 worth of designer trainers and cloths in a rough neighbourhood?
What are they doing now?
Walking towards you pretending to mind thier own business?... Get to a public place now... go find a home that looks like it has people in and bang on the door... get to a CCTV site and get attention of the Camera.... The chances are, you are going to be attacked.
Still sitting down and carrying on as normal?... you have a 50/50 chance of walking past with nothing more than a obsenity or a laugh or some comment being made... What ever you do, don't react... just walk towards the light, a busy street, a Camera, somewhere where they will be seen... and then get home...
Walking away from you? What is down that road?... a park? Trees? a street? Darkness?.. secluded location?... or just the main CCTV area of the city center?
If its a park, dark area, secluded location... change direction now... go the long way home, go back to the shop, go someplace else... don't risk it... its a set up for ambush...
If its just a normal busy area... drop back a little, and watch where they go... down an alley way ahead?... into the park? into the shadows? or just towards a shop... just be aware, if they look back, make a quick detour out of sight, or just simply keep walking.
Notice what they are wearing...
Is it summer and a nice evening and they wear gloves, hats, scarfs, and thick jackets?... strange... it must be too warm for all that?! ... that is not a fashion statement... its the tools of the criminal. Disguize to hide....
A common practise amongst criminal hoodies... is to wear about three layers of clothes...
1, to make them selves look bigger ... as a fear thing
2, to have a change of clothes so CCTV can't track them... the police are looking for someone in black jumper... and that black jumper has been "Changed" in mid run...
3, Concealing wepons... a base ball bat is actually kinda difficult to hide... believe it or not... layers of clothing helps.
4. Hiding alcohol or drugs... the cops might not search someone wearing 16 jackets with 36 pockets full of junk... even if there is a £50 heroin wrap in one of them.
So, look at what they are wearing... is it normal?
Are they covering thier face?...
To avoid being identified... they will try covering thier face so you won't get a good look at them... usually they only do this when they are close to attacking someone... if not... they need to look as normal as possible so the Police don't do a stop check and discover they are carrying an offensive weapon BEFORE they get a chance to use it.
To be Continued....
Religion... Truth or Dare?
Ok, just a small disclaimer...
I am not against Religion, Believe in what ever you believe in, it doesn't bother me one bit. I am an Atheist and shall always be one, Science is the key... not blind luck and faith. So, remember this... its MY opinion and My issue, so don't try punishing me.
So, what do i want to say about religion?... The conspiracy's? The truth? or the down right cheek that they have?
Ok, so, I am and Atheist. I go by Science and Logic. I don't believe anything about God or some Davine intervention. But i do believe some of it.
Take the Bible, about 40% of it is true, no doubt. but 60% of it is exaggerated nonsense made to make the uneducated 2000 year ago human population believe that something is gonna wipe them out if they don't stop the anarchy of a lawless planet. Yes, that's right... The bible was written a long time ago.
So what happened a long time ago that is different from now?
Well to start with, we didn't have the society we do now, obviously. Pedophilia for example was actually ALLOWED back then in Rome. Homosexuality was common in public. There was no Tony Blair or the Government to say what goes and when. There was no speed cameras. The Politics were corrupt to suit who ever sat in the throne. And it was more like anarchy than order. The police were the Army, The government was the King. And the leaders where only interested in Murder and Money.
The world was a place where the poor died, the rich were fat, the army was the law, no one had a purpose apart from feeding their family and staying away from "criminals"
So, along came this man. A Jew, the King of the Jews, The best thing to a politician that can ever be 2000 odd years ago. A great talker, convincer and organizer. A man called Jesus. Born naturally after his parents had sex... not by some miracle conception as they make out. (Unless some one else was banging his mum without his dad knowing).
Well, along came this man, maybe even a teen, Who managed to get people to listen to him.... His intention, to bring organization and peace to chaos and anarchy.
But he couldn't just say.. "Hello, I'm Jesus... listen to me i know how we can be kind and all loving and peaceful to one another..." because no one would listen to him... nobody cared, nobody understood.
So, he recruited a few people to help him, people who had nothing else planned that year, and made them his disciples... and together... they made up this story about a high almighty all powerful and all revengeful against anyone who disobeyed.
Fear... yes that's right... Fear was what made it work... uneducated, unorganized, unemployed, unsettled, unacknowledged people closer to Neanderthals than our society today were forced into believing about a god.
Before, God was just an idol, a gold vase, or a statue put into a small room where the ruler... be it a King or Chief can use to make the people of his township obey him if ever he wanted them to do what ever....
Thousands of "Gods" ruled the people... look at Egypt, Vikings, Aztecs... they all had a God for each day of the week and a God for every action required to run an Empire.... If things went bad... God of hate was to blame... if things went good... The God of Love was the winner....
Even though it was all rubbish... a drought, a rain shower, a swarm of locusts are as natural as the wind and the freakin clouds in the sky... There were Gods of sunlight, Gods of moonlight.... And all the time, These "Gods" were the be all and end all to having an organized society.
With so many gods... and so many reasons for these gods.... people started to get confused... they started getting angry at the fact that there wasn't a god for simple things like "Running out of toilet roll"
And then there were gods that fought against other peoples gods... and soon... the real world struck... the Roman Empire.
War was the God now. War was the be all and end all of law, peace, hate, love, money, no money, life and death.
So... with all this going on... Jesus... wanted to make people change... so... naturally... a "God" was needed... a high almighty... a super powerful being to say yes or no or live or die.... So, he walked around and told people... simpletons...
"Hey... there is only one God... he is my dad... and i say do what ever i tell you or you will die in a fiery place called.. er... what shall we call it... ah yes... HELL!"
So... soon enough... these simpletons... started to believe... But soon... they shouted "We need Proof!"
A sin
"Er... um... yes... ask my disciple about the time i walked on water!.... yeah... no one actually witnessed it apart from my disciples and er... i bribed them to lie for me to make me out to be some magical being"
See the logic here?.... almost EVERY miracle that happened.... there was either NO witnesses... Only Witnesses that could be Bribed... or only witnesses that we so awe struck about the bull crap stories... (we'd call them Naive people) that they'd say anything.
No one with any credibility actually saw any of these miracles... and even then... what was a miracle back then which isn't one now?...
I mean, come off it... making a blind man see?... who was this blind man? who are his direct ascendants? who is alive today that is related to that blind man?...
Simply.... There is NO PROOF!...
Yes, yes yes... i know what you are thinking... We need not ask for Proof when God and Jesus is involved....
Yes we do...
So my take is... The bible is full of true stories... with a large portion of lies added on to make him look good.. and the only people who saw through that nonsense... were the Romans.
Now... the Romans were a big piece of evidence when it comes to staking my claim that Christianity is a load of nonsense.
When they wrote the bible.... It was written some 100 to 400 years after Jesus actually died... I don't know the actual amount of time... i just know it WAS NOT written in the life time of Jesus but AFTER he'd been dead for a few decades.
So, surely, that should be a big clue about its authenticity. It is like these Paleontologists writing about Dinosaurs.... about 99% of it is guess work!
Yeah, they have the bones... or so they say... but how in the hell do they know what was wrapped around them?... some say Reptile... some say Feathers... some say Human style skin... but they can only GUESS.
So, by that rationale.... they can only GUESS about what actually happened 100 odd years ago to Jesus time.
Classic case of Chinese Whispers... Remember that game... say something to one person and ask them to tell the next... and by the time it gets around 30 people... its totally wrong and incorrect to the original statement....
THE SAME AS THE BIBLE!.. so much word of mouth... how can they possibly get it 100% accurate????
For all you know.... Satan was the good guy and God was the bad guy!
For all you know.... Judas was actually protecting Jesus against Mary (who betrayed him)
You could actually be worshiping the wrong person and be so wrong that at the gates of heaven only Satan worshipers will be allowed in!
Anyways... second point of evidence... The Nicene Council.
The biggest book editors of the age.
The fact that the bible was written by so many people and put together for the Nicene Council to say what goes in and what stays out is a laughing matter.... Its a bit like saying.. Oh, that part of the truth can be binned... that lie can stay in!
If, IF the BIBLE was soooo important... why not put the whole 100% of its literature into it??????
I tell you why....
The parts that was missed out, shredded, left in the trash bin... or hidden and kept a secret to EVERYONE else... were more than probably the TRUTHFUL parts.... The REAL Bible... The REAL events...
The parts that were put in... were the LIES... The UNTRUTHS, The POLITICALLY CORRECT parts!
So, by that rationale... all you Religious people are following a 1st century book of bullshit and believing every word!
The ONLY true bible... is the ORIGINAL! I have to shout it because Christians are deaf when it comes to Logic and Truth on this matter.
So, where is this True Bible?.... Conspiracy says it's in the Vatican under Lock and Key... Why?... well... the Vatican is technically "Roman"... the very people who hated Jesus in the first place... The Vatican is the "Be all and End all of Religious power" at the moment....
Come on think about it.... The Pope says this... the Pope says that... The Pope is on TV... the Pope is all important... The pope meets US President... The Pope meets the Queen.... The Pope is the Vatican!
So... logic says... The Vatican is higher than The Christian Faith. The Romans are winning!
So... the Vatican... a place of conspiracy... Nazi conspiracy, Holding secrets like mmm maybe the entire population of Pedophiles home phone numbers... Come on... I have never seen so many Pedophiles in Red Velvet in one place when the last pope died!... Its a well known fact about its ideas of sex with young altar boys...
Soooo... why the Vatican? Well... The Rumor has it....
"He who holds the Real Bible and the Real secrets and the Real Truth about "God"... will be the Ruler of all"
Soooo... by that rationale... The Vatican has the real bible and knows the truth.
All together... i cannot understand why people are sooo naive about the whole thing... they totally disregard people telling them the logical science and facts about the whole thing... and they refuse to believe that Man... can Manipulate God's word... and Survive it. Man.. can interpret Gods word in the wrong way... and Man can make stupid naive people believe in something made up by the arch enemies of the person they are worshiping.
So... as a scientist and Logical person here....
This is my advice.... Stop following a book of lies... use your "God" to get the Real bible released.. let every one read it... and then see how many become religious and how many don't... then see if you are the ones in the right.
Until then.... Stop starting wars (99.9% of wars are started by religion of some degree) and start making love! (99.9% of Atheists have never started a war)Don't follow Politicians... (99.9% of politicians lie to us and start wars).., and follow Scientists (99.9% of scientists seek the Truth by Facts and not by hunches).
The only way... is no faith, no religion, only science.
Then there is the point of down right cheek... So, you are religious?... somewhere i would imagine it would have something to do with respect thy neighbour?... don't harass the guy with the machete?... stay away from other peoples lives and keep your opinions to yourself?...
Or does it say... annoy the f**k out of everyone who seem to not want to know about Jesus and all that malarkey...
Religion was supposed to be about good, peace, being kind, considerate, love, bright sunny walks in the woods... not winding up the people around you and force feeding non Christians the lies and scandals!...
At school... Religious Education... (i might sue for the years of abuse and torture)
When you are Young... Church on Sunday (I might definitely sue for making me so bored)
At the side of the A1... That sign must be removed... "Prepare to meet your God..." It is unsightly and can cause an accident seeing as its a distraction to the motorists.
"I swear to God and to the Queen...." in court... sorry... (this is actually what i said)... "I cannot do that as i do not believe in God, thus i could be accused of purgatory if i lie and be falsely burned at the stake for being blasphemous" ... or words to that effect... Swear to God... I don't think so... It'll be like me saying I swear to Gary Glitter to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth! It makes just as much meaning.
So, anyway... if i get stopped one more time by a Mormon in the street harassing me, or a Jehovah's Witness at my front door... Or a Christian trying to get money out of my for their "Cause" or a Roman Catholic telling me that "The Pope says this..." Or a Muslim crying out for respect or he'll bomb my home or a Goth saying Satan is gonna get me....
... Then that 99.9% of Atheists that don't start wars... is gonna be reduced!
I am not against Religion, Believe in what ever you believe in, it doesn't bother me one bit. I am an Atheist and shall always be one, Science is the key... not blind luck and faith. So, remember this... its MY opinion and My issue, so don't try punishing me.
So, what do i want to say about religion?... The conspiracy's? The truth? or the down right cheek that they have?
Ok, so, I am and Atheist. I go by Science and Logic. I don't believe anything about God or some Davine intervention. But i do believe some of it.
Take the Bible, about 40% of it is true, no doubt. but 60% of it is exaggerated nonsense made to make the uneducated 2000 year ago human population believe that something is gonna wipe them out if they don't stop the anarchy of a lawless planet. Yes, that's right... The bible was written a long time ago.
So what happened a long time ago that is different from now?
Well to start with, we didn't have the society we do now, obviously. Pedophilia for example was actually ALLOWED back then in Rome. Homosexuality was common in public. There was no Tony Blair or the Government to say what goes and when. There was no speed cameras. The Politics were corrupt to suit who ever sat in the throne. And it was more like anarchy than order. The police were the Army, The government was the King. And the leaders where only interested in Murder and Money.
The world was a place where the poor died, the rich were fat, the army was the law, no one had a purpose apart from feeding their family and staying away from "criminals"
So, along came this man. A Jew, the King of the Jews, The best thing to a politician that can ever be 2000 odd years ago. A great talker, convincer and organizer. A man called Jesus. Born naturally after his parents had sex... not by some miracle conception as they make out. (Unless some one else was banging his mum without his dad knowing).
Well, along came this man, maybe even a teen, Who managed to get people to listen to him.... His intention, to bring organization and peace to chaos and anarchy.
But he couldn't just say.. "Hello, I'm Jesus... listen to me i know how we can be kind and all loving and peaceful to one another..." because no one would listen to him... nobody cared, nobody understood.
So, he recruited a few people to help him, people who had nothing else planned that year, and made them his disciples... and together... they made up this story about a high almighty all powerful and all revengeful against anyone who disobeyed.
Fear... yes that's right... Fear was what made it work... uneducated, unorganized, unemployed, unsettled, unacknowledged people closer to Neanderthals than our society today were forced into believing about a god.
Before, God was just an idol, a gold vase, or a statue put into a small room where the ruler... be it a King or Chief can use to make the people of his township obey him if ever he wanted them to do what ever....
Thousands of "Gods" ruled the people... look at Egypt, Vikings, Aztecs... they all had a God for each day of the week and a God for every action required to run an Empire.... If things went bad... God of hate was to blame... if things went good... The God of Love was the winner....
Even though it was all rubbish... a drought, a rain shower, a swarm of locusts are as natural as the wind and the freakin clouds in the sky... There were Gods of sunlight, Gods of moonlight.... And all the time, These "Gods" were the be all and end all to having an organized society.
With so many gods... and so many reasons for these gods.... people started to get confused... they started getting angry at the fact that there wasn't a god for simple things like "Running out of toilet roll"
And then there were gods that fought against other peoples gods... and soon... the real world struck... the Roman Empire.
War was the God now. War was the be all and end all of law, peace, hate, love, money, no money, life and death.
So... with all this going on... Jesus... wanted to make people change... so... naturally... a "God" was needed... a high almighty... a super powerful being to say yes or no or live or die.... So, he walked around and told people... simpletons...
"Hey... there is only one God... he is my dad... and i say do what ever i tell you or you will die in a fiery place called.. er... what shall we call it... ah yes... HELL!"
So... soon enough... these simpletons... started to believe... But soon... they shouted "We need Proof!"
A sin
"Er... um... yes... ask my disciple about the time i walked on water!.... yeah... no one actually witnessed it apart from my disciples and er... i bribed them to lie for me to make me out to be some magical being"
See the logic here?.... almost EVERY miracle that happened.... there was either NO witnesses... Only Witnesses that could be Bribed... or only witnesses that we so awe struck about the bull crap stories... (we'd call them Naive people) that they'd say anything.
No one with any credibility actually saw any of these miracles... and even then... what was a miracle back then which isn't one now?...
I mean, come off it... making a blind man see?... who was this blind man? who are his direct ascendants? who is alive today that is related to that blind man?...
Simply.... There is NO PROOF!...
Yes, yes yes... i know what you are thinking... We need not ask for Proof when God and Jesus is involved....
Yes we do...
So my take is... The bible is full of true stories... with a large portion of lies added on to make him look good.. and the only people who saw through that nonsense... were the Romans.
Now... the Romans were a big piece of evidence when it comes to staking my claim that Christianity is a load of nonsense.
When they wrote the bible.... It was written some 100 to 400 years after Jesus actually died... I don't know the actual amount of time... i just know it WAS NOT written in the life time of Jesus but AFTER he'd been dead for a few decades.
So, surely, that should be a big clue about its authenticity. It is like these Paleontologists writing about Dinosaurs.... about 99% of it is guess work!
Yeah, they have the bones... or so they say... but how in the hell do they know what was wrapped around them?... some say Reptile... some say Feathers... some say Human style skin... but they can only GUESS.
So, by that rationale.... they can only GUESS about what actually happened 100 odd years ago to Jesus time.
Classic case of Chinese Whispers... Remember that game... say something to one person and ask them to tell the next... and by the time it gets around 30 people... its totally wrong and incorrect to the original statement....
THE SAME AS THE BIBLE!.. so much word of mouth... how can they possibly get it 100% accurate????
For all you know.... Satan was the good guy and God was the bad guy!
For all you know.... Judas was actually protecting Jesus against Mary (who betrayed him)
You could actually be worshiping the wrong person and be so wrong that at the gates of heaven only Satan worshipers will be allowed in!
Anyways... second point of evidence... The Nicene Council.
The biggest book editors of the age.
The fact that the bible was written by so many people and put together for the Nicene Council to say what goes in and what stays out is a laughing matter.... Its a bit like saying.. Oh, that part of the truth can be binned... that lie can stay in!
If, IF the BIBLE was soooo important... why not put the whole 100% of its literature into it??????
I tell you why....
The parts that was missed out, shredded, left in the trash bin... or hidden and kept a secret to EVERYONE else... were more than probably the TRUTHFUL parts.... The REAL Bible... The REAL events...
The parts that were put in... were the LIES... The UNTRUTHS, The POLITICALLY CORRECT parts!
So, by that rationale... all you Religious people are following a 1st century book of bullshit and believing every word!
The ONLY true bible... is the ORIGINAL! I have to shout it because Christians are deaf when it comes to Logic and Truth on this matter.
So, where is this True Bible?.... Conspiracy says it's in the Vatican under Lock and Key... Why?... well... the Vatican is technically "Roman"... the very people who hated Jesus in the first place... The Vatican is the "Be all and End all of Religious power" at the moment....
Come on think about it.... The Pope says this... the Pope says that... The Pope is on TV... the Pope is all important... The pope meets US President... The Pope meets the Queen.... The Pope is the Vatican!
So... logic says... The Vatican is higher than The Christian Faith. The Romans are winning!
So... the Vatican... a place of conspiracy... Nazi conspiracy, Holding secrets like mmm maybe the entire population of Pedophiles home phone numbers... Come on... I have never seen so many Pedophiles in Red Velvet in one place when the last pope died!... Its a well known fact about its ideas of sex with young altar boys...
Soooo... why the Vatican? Well... The Rumor has it....
"He who holds the Real Bible and the Real secrets and the Real Truth about "God"... will be the Ruler of all"
Soooo... by that rationale... The Vatican has the real bible and knows the truth.
All together... i cannot understand why people are sooo naive about the whole thing... they totally disregard people telling them the logical science and facts about the whole thing... and they refuse to believe that Man... can Manipulate God's word... and Survive it. Man.. can interpret Gods word in the wrong way... and Man can make stupid naive people believe in something made up by the arch enemies of the person they are worshiping.
So... as a scientist and Logical person here....
This is my advice.... Stop following a book of lies... use your "God" to get the Real bible released.. let every one read it... and then see how many become religious and how many don't... then see if you are the ones in the right.
Until then.... Stop starting wars (99.9% of wars are started by religion of some degree) and start making love! (99.9% of Atheists have never started a war)Don't follow Politicians... (99.9% of politicians lie to us and start wars).., and follow Scientists (99.9% of scientists seek the Truth by Facts and not by hunches).
The only way... is no faith, no religion, only science.
Then there is the point of down right cheek... So, you are religious?... somewhere i would imagine it would have something to do with respect thy neighbour?... don't harass the guy with the machete?... stay away from other peoples lives and keep your opinions to yourself?...
Or does it say... annoy the f**k out of everyone who seem to not want to know about Jesus and all that malarkey...
Religion was supposed to be about good, peace, being kind, considerate, love, bright sunny walks in the woods... not winding up the people around you and force feeding non Christians the lies and scandals!...
At school... Religious Education... (i might sue for the years of abuse and torture)
When you are Young... Church on Sunday (I might definitely sue for making me so bored)
At the side of the A1... That sign must be removed... "Prepare to meet your God..." It is unsightly and can cause an accident seeing as its a distraction to the motorists.
"I swear to God and to the Queen...." in court... sorry... (this is actually what i said)... "I cannot do that as i do not believe in God, thus i could be accused of purgatory if i lie and be falsely burned at the stake for being blasphemous" ... or words to that effect... Swear to God... I don't think so... It'll be like me saying I swear to Gary Glitter to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth! It makes just as much meaning.
So, anyway... if i get stopped one more time by a Mormon in the street harassing me, or a Jehovah's Witness at my front door... Or a Christian trying to get money out of my for their "Cause" or a Roman Catholic telling me that "The Pope says this..." Or a Muslim crying out for respect or he'll bomb my home or a Goth saying Satan is gonna get me....
... Then that 99.9% of Atheists that don't start wars... is gonna be reduced!
The Roads of the UK
Ok, here we go, away from Comedy and witty banter... lets get down to some serious issues now.
UK Roads.
So, we pay car tax, council tax, income tax, tax tax, and VAT... and everything else this country bleeds from our pay packets... Speed Camera Tax included... The Government gets so much money out of us, so why oh why is almost every road in the country full of potholes and disrepair?
Is there a shortage of Tarmac? Workers? or are they over run by Political Red Tape and Health and Safety legislation?... or is it something else?
So many questions and so few answers. I see on the A1 (M) that they are spending a few quid on making it three lane (Yorkshire area)... yet the roads are in need of repair everywhere else. That's just one example.
So, you may think whats he going on about?... you may not be a driver, or haven't really thought about it much, or simply don't care.
Well... think of this...
Every time you go over a pot hole, your suspension is being damaged.
Every time you go over a pot hole, your wheel alignment tracking is knocked out.
Every time you go over a pot hole, it damages the road even more.
Every time you go over a pot hole, it can damage your tyres.
Every time you go over a pot hole, it can damage your engine mounts.
And that is just for starters, what about the Emergency Vehicles?... Ambulances in general, it can't be doing the patient any good can it? I wonder how many accidents are caused directly or indirectly with pot holes as a contributing factor?
Is it that hard to get someone out and fill it in?... why do we pay road tax at all?
More and more this country is losing its position as being a safe place to drive and for what?... are we actually aiming to be the same as many European roads where pot holes are the size of B-52 craters?!
Can someone who plays the game of being a politician... actually do something about it?... its costing me a fortune in wheel alignments and suspension struts.
Or shall we all have to just say No to road tax?...
UK Roads.
So, we pay car tax, council tax, income tax, tax tax, and VAT... and everything else this country bleeds from our pay packets... Speed Camera Tax included... The Government gets so much money out of us, so why oh why is almost every road in the country full of potholes and disrepair?
Is there a shortage of Tarmac? Workers? or are they over run by Political Red Tape and Health and Safety legislation?... or is it something else?
So many questions and so few answers. I see on the A1 (M) that they are spending a few quid on making it three lane (Yorkshire area)... yet the roads are in need of repair everywhere else. That's just one example.
So, you may think whats he going on about?... you may not be a driver, or haven't really thought about it much, or simply don't care.
Well... think of this...
Every time you go over a pot hole, your suspension is being damaged.
Every time you go over a pot hole, your wheel alignment tracking is knocked out.
Every time you go over a pot hole, it damages the road even more.
Every time you go over a pot hole, it can damage your tyres.
Every time you go over a pot hole, it can damage your engine mounts.
And that is just for starters, what about the Emergency Vehicles?... Ambulances in general, it can't be doing the patient any good can it? I wonder how many accidents are caused directly or indirectly with pot holes as a contributing factor?
Is it that hard to get someone out and fill it in?... why do we pay road tax at all?
More and more this country is losing its position as being a safe place to drive and for what?... are we actually aiming to be the same as many European roads where pot holes are the size of B-52 craters?!
Can someone who plays the game of being a politician... actually do something about it?... its costing me a fortune in wheel alignments and suspension struts.
Or shall we all have to just say No to road tax?...
Saturday 28 November 2009
Joke of the day....
The priest in a small Irish village loved the chickens that he kept in a coop behind the church.
One Sunday morning before mass, he went to feed the birds and discovered that the cock was missing.
He knew about the cock fights in the village, so he decided to question his parishioners in church.
So during mass, he asked his congregation, "Has anybody got a cock?"
All the men stood up!
"No, no that wasn't what I meant. Has anybody seen a cock?"
All the women stood up!
"No, no that wasn't what I meant either. Has anybody seen a cock that doesn't belong to them?"
Half the women stood up!
"No, no, no, that wasn't what I meant. What I really really mean is, has anybody seen MY cock?"
Sixteen altar boys, two priests and a goat stood up!
One Sunday morning before mass, he went to feed the birds and discovered that the cock was missing.
He knew about the cock fights in the village, so he decided to question his parishioners in church.
So during mass, he asked his congregation, "Has anybody got a cock?"
All the men stood up!
"No, no that wasn't what I meant. Has anybody seen a cock?"
All the women stood up!
"No, no that wasn't what I meant either. Has anybody seen a cock that doesn't belong to them?"
Half the women stood up!
"No, no, no, that wasn't what I meant. What I really really mean is, has anybody seen MY cock?"
Sixteen altar boys, two priests and a goat stood up!
Not getting any younger...
1.. My husband and I divorced over religious differences.
He thought he was God and I didn't.
2.. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.
3.. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.
4.. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.
5.. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.
6.. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me
7.. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
8.. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.
9.. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing
10.. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
11. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy! , why-th e-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.
12.. God must love stupid people; He made so many.
13.. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.
14.. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.
15.. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?
16.. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!
17.. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up.
18.. Procrastinate Now!
19.. I Have a Degree in Liberal Arts; Do You Want Fries With That?
20.. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
21.. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance
22.. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!
23..They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.
24.. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.
25.. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.
26.. Ham and eggs...A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.
27.. The trouble with life is there's no background music.
28.. The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.
29.. I smile because I don't know what the hell is going on.
30.. If you mated a Bulldog with a Shitzu, would you get a Bullshit?
31.. Ever get the feeling your stuff strutted off without you?
He thought he was God and I didn't.
2.. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.
3.. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.
4.. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.
5.. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.
6.. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me
7.. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
8.. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.
9.. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing
10.. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
11. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy! , why-th e-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.
12.. God must love stupid people; He made so many.
13.. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.
14.. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.
15.. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?
16.. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!
17.. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up.
18.. Procrastinate Now!
19.. I Have a Degree in Liberal Arts; Do You Want Fries With That?
20.. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
21.. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance
22.. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!
23..They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken.
24.. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.
25.. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.
26.. Ham and eggs...A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.
27.. The trouble with life is there's no background music.
28.. The original point and click interface was a Smith & Wesson.
29.. I smile because I don't know what the hell is going on.
30.. If you mated a Bulldog with a Shitzu, would you get a Bullshit?
31.. Ever get the feeling your stuff strutted off without you?
3 Funny stories found on the Internet....
These are some true stories that I have read or seen. I guess there must be someone on this Blog who likes reading about funny stories...
Lawn chair Larry
Larry Walters of Los Angeles states “I have fulfilled my twenty years dream.” Larry, a former truck driver for a company that makes TV commercials tells his true story. “I am staying on the ground. I’ve proved the thing works.”
Larry’s boyhood dream was to fly. But fate conspired to keep him from his dream. He joined the US Air Force, but his poor eyesight disqualified him from pilot status. After he was discharged from the US Forces he started truck driving for a TV commercial company. After years of driving and a well earned retirement, Larry sat in his backyard watching jets fly overhead. He hatched his weather balloon scheme while sitting outdoors in his extremely comfortable sears lawn chair. He purchased forty five weather balloons from an Army Navy surplus store, tied then to his lawn chair (Dubbed – Inspiration 1) and filled the four foot diameter balloons with helium. Then he strapped himself into his lawn chair with some sandwiches, Miller Lite Beer, and a pellet gun.
Larry’s plan was to sever the anchor and lazily float up to a height of about thirty feet above his backyard, where he would enjoy a few hours of flight before coming back down. He figured he would pop a few brews and then pop a few of the forty five weather balloons when it was time to descend, and gradually lose altitude. But things didn’t work out quiet as Larry planned.
When his friends cut the cord anchoring the lawn chair to his jeep, he did not float lazily up to the thirty feet. Instead, he streaked into the LA sky as if shot from a cannon, pulled by a lift of forty five balloons holding thirty three cubic feet of helium each. He didn’t level off at a hundred feet, nor did he level off at sixteen thousand feet.
At that height he felt he couldn’t risk shooting any of the balloons, lest he unbalance the load and really find himself in trouble. So he stayed there, drifting with his beer and sandwiches for several hours while he considered his options. At one point he crossed the primary approach corridor of LA’s LAX airspace, and Delta and Trans World airline pilots radioed in incredulous reports of a strange sight.
Eventually he gathered the nerve to shoot a few balloons, and slowly descended through the night sky. Hanging tethers tangled and caught in a power line, blacking out a Long Beach neighbourhood for twenty minuets. Larry climbed to safety, where he was arrested by waiting members of the LAPD. As he was led away in handcuffs, a reporter dispatched to cover the daring rescue asked him why he done it.
Larry replied nonchalantly, “A man can’t just sit around.” Larry’s efforts won him a $1,500 FAA fine, a prize from Bonehead club of Dallas, Texas and the altitude record for manned gas filled clustered balloon flight!
The Bricklayer
This is apparently a true story….
This accident report needs an introduction so you won’t be lost at the beginning. This man was in an accident at work, so he filled out an insurance claim. The insurance company contacted him and asked for more information. This was his letter to the insurance company…..
“I am writing in response to your request for additional information for block number 3 of the accident reporting form. I put ‘poor planning’ as the cause of my accident. You said in your letter that I should explain more fully, so I trust the following details will be sufficient.”
“I am an amateur radio operator and on the day of the accident, I was working alone on the top section of my new eighty foot tower. When I had completed my work I discovered that I had, over the course of several trips up the tower, bought up about three hundred pounds of tools and spare hardware. Rather than carry the now unneeded tools and material down by hand, I decided to lower the items down in a small barrel by using a pulley attached to the gin pole at the top of the tower.
Securing the rope at the ground level, I went to the top of the tower and loaded the tools and material into the barrel. Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to ensure a slow descent of the three hundred pounds of tools and materials that are quiet expensive.
You will note in block number 11 of the accident reporting form that I only weigh 155 pounds. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the grounds so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say I proceeded at a rather rapid rate of speed up the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the forty foot level, I met the barrel coming down. This explained the broken collar bone and fractured skull.
Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until my fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley system. Fortunately, by this time, I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold onto the rope in spite of my pain. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of tools hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.
Devoid of the weight of the tools, the barrel now weighed approximately 20 pounds. I refer you again to my weight in block number 11 of the claim form. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the forty foot level, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles and dislocated knee, the lacerations of my legs and lower body and the split lip.
The encounter with the barrel slowed me down enough to lessen my injuries when I fell onto the pile of tools and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked and a puncture wound to my groin from a precariously placed ring spanner.
I am sorry to report, however that as I lay there on the tools in pain, unable to stand and watching the empty barrel hit the pulley eighty feet above me, I again lost my presence of mind and
I let go of the rope….”
Lobster Vasectomy
This tale proves that crime does pay, if you're fishing for elective surgery to go along with your stolen goods.
A twenty four years old supermarket shoplifter stuffed a pair of live lobsters in his pants and sprinted for the door, but he never had a chance. The violated crustaceans brought the thief to his knees in front of startled cashiers and shoppers when they fastened their powerful claws around his delicate parts.
Doctors were able to remove the animals with pliers. They said the thief would fully recover - except for one small detail. "It was a do it yourself Vasectomy." this man's darling supermarket exploits make him one of the most stupid lobster thieves alive today.
The supermarket manager declined to press charges, saying the culprit had already "Gone through enough pain to learn his lesson."
Lawn chair Larry
Larry Walters of Los Angeles states “I have fulfilled my twenty years dream.” Larry, a former truck driver for a company that makes TV commercials tells his true story. “I am staying on the ground. I’ve proved the thing works.”
Larry’s boyhood dream was to fly. But fate conspired to keep him from his dream. He joined the US Air Force, but his poor eyesight disqualified him from pilot status. After he was discharged from the US Forces he started truck driving for a TV commercial company. After years of driving and a well earned retirement, Larry sat in his backyard watching jets fly overhead. He hatched his weather balloon scheme while sitting outdoors in his extremely comfortable sears lawn chair. He purchased forty five weather balloons from an Army Navy surplus store, tied then to his lawn chair (Dubbed – Inspiration 1) and filled the four foot diameter balloons with helium. Then he strapped himself into his lawn chair with some sandwiches, Miller Lite Beer, and a pellet gun.
Larry’s plan was to sever the anchor and lazily float up to a height of about thirty feet above his backyard, where he would enjoy a few hours of flight before coming back down. He figured he would pop a few brews and then pop a few of the forty five weather balloons when it was time to descend, and gradually lose altitude. But things didn’t work out quiet as Larry planned.
When his friends cut the cord anchoring the lawn chair to his jeep, he did not float lazily up to the thirty feet. Instead, he streaked into the LA sky as if shot from a cannon, pulled by a lift of forty five balloons holding thirty three cubic feet of helium each. He didn’t level off at a hundred feet, nor did he level off at sixteen thousand feet.
At that height he felt he couldn’t risk shooting any of the balloons, lest he unbalance the load and really find himself in trouble. So he stayed there, drifting with his beer and sandwiches for several hours while he considered his options. At one point he crossed the primary approach corridor of LA’s LAX airspace, and Delta and Trans World airline pilots radioed in incredulous reports of a strange sight.
Eventually he gathered the nerve to shoot a few balloons, and slowly descended through the night sky. Hanging tethers tangled and caught in a power line, blacking out a Long Beach neighbourhood for twenty minuets. Larry climbed to safety, where he was arrested by waiting members of the LAPD. As he was led away in handcuffs, a reporter dispatched to cover the daring rescue asked him why he done it.
Larry replied nonchalantly, “A man can’t just sit around.” Larry’s efforts won him a $1,500 FAA fine, a prize from Bonehead club of Dallas, Texas and the altitude record for manned gas filled clustered balloon flight!
The Bricklayer
This is apparently a true story….
This accident report needs an introduction so you won’t be lost at the beginning. This man was in an accident at work, so he filled out an insurance claim. The insurance company contacted him and asked for more information. This was his letter to the insurance company…..
“I am writing in response to your request for additional information for block number 3 of the accident reporting form. I put ‘poor planning’ as the cause of my accident. You said in your letter that I should explain more fully, so I trust the following details will be sufficient.”
“I am an amateur radio operator and on the day of the accident, I was working alone on the top section of my new eighty foot tower. When I had completed my work I discovered that I had, over the course of several trips up the tower, bought up about three hundred pounds of tools and spare hardware. Rather than carry the now unneeded tools and material down by hand, I decided to lower the items down in a small barrel by using a pulley attached to the gin pole at the top of the tower.
Securing the rope at the ground level, I went to the top of the tower and loaded the tools and material into the barrel. Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to ensure a slow descent of the three hundred pounds of tools and materials that are quiet expensive.
You will note in block number 11 of the accident reporting form that I only weigh 155 pounds. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the grounds so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say I proceeded at a rather rapid rate of speed up the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the forty foot level, I met the barrel coming down. This explained the broken collar bone and fractured skull.
Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until my fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley system. Fortunately, by this time, I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold onto the rope in spite of my pain. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of tools hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.
Devoid of the weight of the tools, the barrel now weighed approximately 20 pounds. I refer you again to my weight in block number 11 of the claim form. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the forty foot level, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles and dislocated knee, the lacerations of my legs and lower body and the split lip.
The encounter with the barrel slowed me down enough to lessen my injuries when I fell onto the pile of tools and fortunately only three vertebrae were cracked and a puncture wound to my groin from a precariously placed ring spanner.
I am sorry to report, however that as I lay there on the tools in pain, unable to stand and watching the empty barrel hit the pulley eighty feet above me, I again lost my presence of mind and
I let go of the rope….”
Lobster Vasectomy
This tale proves that crime does pay, if you're fishing for elective surgery to go along with your stolen goods.
A twenty four years old supermarket shoplifter stuffed a pair of live lobsters in his pants and sprinted for the door, but he never had a chance. The violated crustaceans brought the thief to his knees in front of startled cashiers and shoppers when they fastened their powerful claws around his delicate parts.
Doctors were able to remove the animals with pliers. They said the thief would fully recover - except for one small detail. "It was a do it yourself Vasectomy." this man's darling supermarket exploits make him one of the most stupid lobster thieves alive today.
The supermarket manager declined to press charges, saying the culprit had already "Gone through enough pain to learn his lesson."
Political Satement... on a more serious note..
The European Union Commissioners have announced that an agreement has been reached to adopt English as the preferred language for European communications, rather than German, which was the other possibility. As part of the negotiations, the British government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a five-year phased plan for what will be known as EuroEnglish (Euro for short).
In the first year, "s" will be used instead of the soft "c". Sertainly, sivil servants will resieve this news with joy. Also, the hard "c" will be replased with "k". Not only will this klear up konfusion, but typewriters kan have one less letter.
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced by "f". This will make words like "fotograf" 20 persent shorter.
In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkorage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of silent "e"s in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go.
By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" by "z" and "w" by " v".
During ze fifz year, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou", and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters.
Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst place.
In the first year, "s" will be used instead of the soft "c". Sertainly, sivil servants will resieve this news with joy. Also, the hard "c" will be replased with "k". Not only will this klear up konfusion, but typewriters kan have one less letter.
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced by "f". This will make words like "fotograf" 20 persent shorter.
In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkorage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of silent "e"s in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go.
By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" by "z" and "w" by " v".
During ze fifz year, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou", and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters.
Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst place.
My Gay Chicken... by a friend.
A Very Good Friend of mine, who is a little on the er... Gay side wrote this once... and i just had to share it with you. I had to cut a few things out and edit it a little myself... too graphic in some places... but it's still funny.
By the way... this is not a real offer... so don't you be telling the RSPCB about me... its a comical sketch... OK?
I have this Gay Chicken... And he is driving me around the bender!
I once discovered that he was gay because he wouldn't have any fun with the female chickens... i am ashamed to call him a Rooster... lets face it, any Rooster who would rather read that top shelf magazine "Any Cock'll Do" deserves to not be called a Rooster...
He is hooked on Chicken Porn movies like "The Chicken Run" and "Watership Down" (I think he has the hots for that Seagull!)
So i scratched my head in confusion... why aren't the chickens laying eggs? what is up with this Rooster?
So i went to the Chicken coop and knocked on the Roosters door.. he shouted back at me that he was washing his feathers! man! the darn cheek!... so i grabbed one of the chickens and placed her on his door step... he opened up the door and quickly brushed her away with his wing, eyes rolled up in his head shooing her away in disgust!
So i decided to get another Rooster in... immediately my old Rooster started wearing his pink wrist bands and leather shorts and putting a quiff in his hair... omg... my Rooster has the hots for my new comer Rooster!
So i needed to do something fast! I took my old rooster out of the pen and placed him in his own apartment the other side of the yard and i got him a book about how to deal with your rooster problems...
He then started making requests! he asked me to get him that Kellogg's Rooster from the cereal packet... But i told him that it wasn't real...
So soon he started getting very bossy and holding his wing to my face... "Talk to the wing coz dis beak ain't wannin ta here ya!" he said..
so i felt guilty... i treated hi to a cinema trip to see "Brookback Rooster" he enjoyed it and then we went to KFC... but with an almost deadly battle with the drive through clerk when i told my Rooster what KFC stood for.. we better go to Mac Donald's instead...
When we were coming home i spotted a blow up chicken for him... and he wouldn't take it unless it wore a red hat on its head... "Well i am only trying to help"
"I'd rather Shave my head and be a Pigeon than have that fake Rooster wannabe in my basket darling!" he said to me...
"Well what other choice do you have?" i said... "Choke yer chicken?" i laughed
"Funny guy!" he screamed at me...
"Look," i said, "All i need you to do is get the chickens laying some eggs and well... i can then make some money"
"Look," he said, "There is only one thing in common between me and Graeme Morton,"
"Whats that?"
"We both suck off other cocks,"
"Ok i get your point," i said beaten again
So weeks went by and i still had this gay chicken... now a gay fashion icon for "Birdseye" and "Rooster Ribber Eat Out Bar" so now its going to be even more difficult to live with him... i get all these phone calls at all hours... Gobbling and screeching for Any cock'll doddle do!
I can't sleep anymore... i get requests for my Rooster to send them pictures of him with a little seasoning!
I saw his photo album on line the other morning.. one had him wearing an egg basket over his mid region... and his feathers had been removed! Rooster Porn! omg!
I saw mpegs with him showering and singing "Leader Of The Pack" and "I Wanna Be Your Rooster"
So... can you see my dilemma? what do i do? Its almost Christmas and i was thinking about eating him... but when i saw him this morning, self basting himself in lubrication and watching Daffy Duck... he looked so cute!
Anyways... does anyone want a Gay Chicken? you can have him for free... as long as you don't mind his singing in the morning and his constant requests for packs of Stuffing
Any takers?
By the way... this is not a real offer... so don't you be telling the RSPCB about me... its a comical sketch... OK?
I have this Gay Chicken... And he is driving me around the bender!
I once discovered that he was gay because he wouldn't have any fun with the female chickens... i am ashamed to call him a Rooster... lets face it, any Rooster who would rather read that top shelf magazine "Any Cock'll Do" deserves to not be called a Rooster...
He is hooked on Chicken Porn movies like "The Chicken Run" and "Watership Down" (I think he has the hots for that Seagull!)
So i scratched my head in confusion... why aren't the chickens laying eggs? what is up with this Rooster?
So i went to the Chicken coop and knocked on the Roosters door.. he shouted back at me that he was washing his feathers! man! the darn cheek!... so i grabbed one of the chickens and placed her on his door step... he opened up the door and quickly brushed her away with his wing, eyes rolled up in his head shooing her away in disgust!
So i decided to get another Rooster in... immediately my old Rooster started wearing his pink wrist bands and leather shorts and putting a quiff in his hair... omg... my Rooster has the hots for my new comer Rooster!
So i needed to do something fast! I took my old rooster out of the pen and placed him in his own apartment the other side of the yard and i got him a book about how to deal with your rooster problems...
He then started making requests! he asked me to get him that Kellogg's Rooster from the cereal packet... But i told him that it wasn't real...
So soon he started getting very bossy and holding his wing to my face... "Talk to the wing coz dis beak ain't wannin ta here ya!" he said..
so i felt guilty... i treated hi to a cinema trip to see "Brookback Rooster" he enjoyed it and then we went to KFC... but with an almost deadly battle with the drive through clerk when i told my Rooster what KFC stood for.. we better go to Mac Donald's instead...
When we were coming home i spotted a blow up chicken for him... and he wouldn't take it unless it wore a red hat on its head... "Well i am only trying to help"
"I'd rather Shave my head and be a Pigeon than have that fake Rooster wannabe in my basket darling!" he said to me...
"Well what other choice do you have?" i said... "Choke yer chicken?" i laughed
"Funny guy!" he screamed at me...
"Look," i said, "All i need you to do is get the chickens laying some eggs and well... i can then make some money"
"Look," he said, "There is only one thing in common between me and Graeme Morton,"
"Whats that?"
"We both suck off other cocks,"
"Ok i get your point," i said beaten again
So weeks went by and i still had this gay chicken... now a gay fashion icon for "Birdseye" and "Rooster Ribber Eat Out Bar" so now its going to be even more difficult to live with him... i get all these phone calls at all hours... Gobbling and screeching for Any cock'll doddle do!
I can't sleep anymore... i get requests for my Rooster to send them pictures of him with a little seasoning!
I saw his photo album on line the other morning.. one had him wearing an egg basket over his mid region... and his feathers had been removed! Rooster Porn! omg!
I saw mpegs with him showering and singing "Leader Of The Pack" and "I Wanna Be Your Rooster"
So... can you see my dilemma? what do i do? Its almost Christmas and i was thinking about eating him... but when i saw him this morning, self basting himself in lubrication and watching Daffy Duck... he looked so cute!
Anyways... does anyone want a Gay Chicken? you can have him for free... as long as you don't mind his singing in the morning and his constant requests for packs of Stuffing
Any takers?
Fishing... You Must Learn!
Fishing... the lazy mans sport... or just a way of letting you sit down for hours at the side of a lake and wallow in the beauty of peace and quiet?
Well son... today we are going to catch some really big fish yeah?
Right dad.... are we going to eat them?
No son... we will put them back again at the end of the day
So why are we catching them then?
Sport... enjoyment... pleasure... and a bit of fun together
Oh great...
Right... check list... rods, tackle, bait, seats, tent, spindles, drinks and snacks, nets, catch nets... all here... so son... first of all put that maggot on that hook like i showed you
Erm... maggot? me? touch?... you serious?
Ok i will do that... there we go... now cast it out!
Son?
What?
You were supposed to hold on to the rod when you cast it...
Oh
Never mind... it will come back to the shore in a few hours... i guess
So we now have the rods cast.. the bait is in waiting for a big fish to take a bite....
Then what?
We reel it in of course
Ok
a few hours pass and then the rod moves... the spindle starts letting out the line....
We got one! ooo! ooo! ooo! we have one!... dad jumps for joy
Ok! ok! ok! what do i do?
Right take the rod
Ok
And give it a smart tug and reel that baby in!
... Son....
What dad?
I said gentle... you are supposed to leave the fishes face still attached to the rest of its body....
Oh dear...
...And you now have to climb that tree up there and get our hook and line back... and whilst you are at it... see if you can get that fish head out of that birds nest also
Ok dad...
Dad?
What now?
Did you see that fish's face when it left the water? That sort of fixed wild stare as it all of a sudden left the reeds and flew at 100mph to the clouds?
Eels are the best though... you catch an eel and you are in for a nice battle of sweat and fear.... the snakes of the fresh water they can put up a fight and a half.... especially when one gets launched across the trees behind you and ends up on someones lap in the quarry next door....
Son... we really need to practice that sharp tug of yours....
The best part is the catapult... for spreading the bait out around you to lure the fish in.... in capable hands... it could be the difference between plenty of catch and nothing at all... but make sure your son won't have a chance at using it...
... i think it has something to do with the 50 maggots that ended up on the other side of the lake in that womans hair.... it wasn't her fault she let out that obscenity... she only went along with her husband to spend the day in the sunshine reading Mills and Boon...
Then all of a sudden it rained maggots all over her beehive hair do... the husband fell in the lake when she grabbed him screaming... the kids up ended on their deck chairs throwing their rice crispies over their faces... and out of hysterics that fisherman next to him who was in stiff competition is now laughing so hard.... the fish are on our side of the lake...
Son...
What? it wasn't my fault! i could have sworn my aim was much lower!
Don't worry son... you did good... just put the catapult down and read your comic.. yeah?
Well son... today we are going to catch some really big fish yeah?
Right dad.... are we going to eat them?
No son... we will put them back again at the end of the day
So why are we catching them then?
Sport... enjoyment... pleasure... and a bit of fun together
Oh great...
Right... check list... rods, tackle, bait, seats, tent, spindles, drinks and snacks, nets, catch nets... all here... so son... first of all put that maggot on that hook like i showed you
Erm... maggot? me? touch?... you serious?
Ok i will do that... there we go... now cast it out!
Son?
What?
You were supposed to hold on to the rod when you cast it...
Oh
Never mind... it will come back to the shore in a few hours... i guess
So we now have the rods cast.. the bait is in waiting for a big fish to take a bite....
Then what?
We reel it in of course
Ok
a few hours pass and then the rod moves... the spindle starts letting out the line....
We got one! ooo! ooo! ooo! we have one!... dad jumps for joy
Ok! ok! ok! what do i do?
Right take the rod
Ok
And give it a smart tug and reel that baby in!
... Son....
What dad?
I said gentle... you are supposed to leave the fishes face still attached to the rest of its body....
Oh dear...
...And you now have to climb that tree up there and get our hook and line back... and whilst you are at it... see if you can get that fish head out of that birds nest also
Ok dad...
Dad?
What now?
Did you see that fish's face when it left the water? That sort of fixed wild stare as it all of a sudden left the reeds and flew at 100mph to the clouds?
Eels are the best though... you catch an eel and you are in for a nice battle of sweat and fear.... the snakes of the fresh water they can put up a fight and a half.... especially when one gets launched across the trees behind you and ends up on someones lap in the quarry next door....
Son... we really need to practice that sharp tug of yours....
The best part is the catapult... for spreading the bait out around you to lure the fish in.... in capable hands... it could be the difference between plenty of catch and nothing at all... but make sure your son won't have a chance at using it...
... i think it has something to do with the 50 maggots that ended up on the other side of the lake in that womans hair.... it wasn't her fault she let out that obscenity... she only went along with her husband to spend the day in the sunshine reading Mills and Boon...
Then all of a sudden it rained maggots all over her beehive hair do... the husband fell in the lake when she grabbed him screaming... the kids up ended on their deck chairs throwing their rice crispies over their faces... and out of hysterics that fisherman next to him who was in stiff competition is now laughing so hard.... the fish are on our side of the lake...
Son...
What? it wasn't my fault! i could have sworn my aim was much lower!
Don't worry son... you did good... just put the catapult down and read your comic.. yeah?
DIY... You must Learn...
DIY.... What a thing that is... normally referred to Destroy It Yourself... but in most professionals eyes... Do It Yourself.... But not all of us are professionals...
DIY holds many tales of emotions and fears amongst most dads out there... well... you don't have to be a dad to do DIY but it helps... a lot of support and counseling is required
To start with you need the plan of action... a drawing or a diagram of the task in hand...
(you see... it is very important that you have this... after all... you will be taking on a task that has many professionals who are highly trained in the field you are going to attempt... take carpentry for example... a professional would have gone to college and learned all the eventualities of woodwork and learned how to do it... you on the other hand... haven't... be honest... you are no carpenter... you just saw how to do it on one of those home improvement programs on TV...)
so you get your plan... now... you need tools....
This is where a man of DIY excells.... they don't just buy the tools they need... they buy extra tools that they don't need because they know... disaster can happen at any time...
They go out to the DIY store one Saturday morning and are greeted buy pimple faced shop assistants that believe a door handle requires a Jack hammer and face mask to install one perfectly...
You walk around the DIY store and see all the dads in there... looking anxious and afraid at first... then happy when they pick up that power drill and nail gun...
First on the list... a tool belt... now this is where it gets very serious... the tool belt will be the best buy of that day.... it has to be comfortable, workable, perfect, handy, and have loads of pockets and clips and gadget holders....
As you put one on... you look in that mirror in the store and instantly think you are John Wayne... "Are you talking to me?... I am talking to you... Are you John Wayne?"
This now inspires you to buy the rest of your arsenal...
Nail Gun... check
Power Drill... check
Cordless Drill.. check
Jig Saw... check
Electric Screw Driver... check
Power Sander.... check
Welding Torch and Acetylene Tank... check
Face Mask... check
Electrical Wiring and Pipe Locater... check
After an hour you have bought out the shop and load your tooled into the Hire Van you are now happy you leased out...
Thats it... you now feel like a DIY God.... speeding home you think over your plan of action and go through what you bought in your mind and know you have all the tools you will ever need...
Getting home... you unload the van into the front room of your house and eagerly unwrap all your goods... putting on a check shirt and jeans... your hard steel toe cap work boots and your hard hat... you then assemble the tool belt and fill up all the pockets...
Standing up... you realize that its far too heavy to even stand up... you remove some of the tools... the Drills go... the Jack Hammer goes... the Work Bench goes and the Hydraulic Pliers go... now your tool belt is more friendly to wear... and you are ready to start...
Now this is where a DIY show presenter should come along and stop you and say... hey buddy... call in a professional...
You walk to the location of the DIY task... and look at it... sigh and then the room goes black... the wolves start howling and the mist starts appearing... the screech of the violin music starts and you remember the other tasks you've taken on before....
Decorating your sons bedroom.... Poly Cell... Poly Filler? Whats the difference?... the paint stayed on the walls longer than you thought.... ok... the DIY task cost you almost £2000 pounds for just that room... and your wife never spoke to you for almost two months... your son had these terrible headaches and the bank manager was a friendly man after "The demand to see you" meeting was over....
The Bathroom door trimming day.... ok... you took an inch off the top instead of the bottom of the door... that was an honest mistake... ok you rectified it and took a inch of two off the bottom of the door.... you heard that Wild West saloon bar doors looked cool on a bathroom.... Ok... one problem being that you can sit on the toilet with the door closed and still see who is coming to the front door.... that reminds me... send a sorry letter and some beer to the post man... it took him weeks to get over the sight of you wiping your arse on the toilet that morning....
The Shelf fitting day.... so you laid your trust in a tool that you didn't know needed batteries... I am talking about that bloody Electrical Wiring and Pipe Finder.... all you did was wave it about around the wall you were putting the shelf up on... didn't hear any beeps... took out your power drill... and blacked out the entire estate for hours as you short circuited the main electrical sub station.... not to mention blowing up your drill and sending you across the room.... your wife thought you looked very beautiful sitting on the mantle piece...
And your classic.... Decorating your sons room.... now... seems harmless but when you went out and bought that paint off that car boot sales man... you failed to read the.... "Luminescent" label didn't you?.... you spend that entire day decorating that room... unknown about the type of paint and when your son first ever turned off the lights to go to sleep.... wham!... instant suntan.... not to mention all those aircraft coming into land over your house using your sons bedroom day glow wall paint as a landing light... not to mention the shock your neighbors had when they woke up in the morning to see the entire south coast population of moths had arrived on their door step...
So you stand there... look at the task in hand and think... how hard can refitting a sink be?
Meeeowwww.... Thump! budum budum budum....
(That was the cat... exiting out the cat flap.... knowing what sort of atmosphere the house would be in... knowing what is to come... has decided that he is too old and too wise to stick around... he is going to go out... catch a few mice... go and chat up some ladies and sleep it off somewhere)....
Gulp.... "Er dad... i um... forgot to say... erm... i need to go out to.. erm... school... yes thats it... i got school today." says your son
"But its Saturday?" you say...
"Yeah... I er.... Its a new thing they have now... er... one Saturday only... extra... er .... work.... bye... see ya dad..."
(that was your son knowing what is about to happen... and deciding he is too young and too wise to stick around.... he is going to go out and play in the dirt and sing some songs to himself and play in the tree house until sun down)
"Ohh dear... honey?... ooo... no... (Sigh)... do you have to do the sink today? i.... er... think that you should do... erm... the.... erm.... lawn yeah? its safer..."
(That was your wife... trying to save the marriage)
Not being diverted from your original plan... you get to work on the sink....
... hours later... the sun has already set... the cat is starting to look like he is banished from the house... your son is making his bed in the tree house... your wife has bitten her nails off to the shoulders...
you appear... from the bathroom... more elastoplast on your hands than the school bully at end of term.... hair a mess... plaster powder grease and black unknown smudges over your face and arms... your jeans torn at the crotch... the tool belt has left its flesh wounds on your stomach... the batteries are dead in the screw driver...
You look at your wife... with a Wallace and Gromit smile on your face.... the eyes show fear and anxiety... your lip is quivering... you lost your voice hours ago with that last shout of... "Oh fuck It!" you quietly come out and look at your wife and son... who has now heard the banging stop... and through fear.... you whisper.... "Its finished"
"Well?... what do you think?" your dad asks
"Erm... I think... huh... ahhh... mmmmmm... well... its... er... yeah" .... Is all you could say
"What about you dear?"
"Well... not meaning to critisize.... but er.... mmph mmmph mmmph..."
....your mum tried to say just as the cat sticks its paw into her mouth to muffle the responce... oh yes... too old and too wise to have anyone make his day sleeping on the bed disturbed again...
DIY is always been a task for the father or the man of the house... mothers expect the dad to know everything.... but then soon criticizes you when you put that "Cat Flap" in the garage door... because you can now drive the car into the garage without opening it up....
But after all those DIY disasters and after all those attempts to get it right... eventually the professional has to come in and take a look
He... huh... he he... hee heee haaaa haaa HAAAAA!
that was his usual response when you first show him your attempt...
So you have to admit defeat to the builder... so what?... ouch! yep... ok... the wife don't look too happy with that last comment.... er... um.... ok... the builder comes in.... i er.... admit defeat... and with thumbs up and a worried smile on my face... i admit defeat!
With all those tasks at hand to do around the home... is it a wonder that something will happen.... painting.... decorating... fixing doors... fixing lightbulbs... making shelves... replacing guttering.... gardening... all these hold potential hazards to your health life and marriage...
to prove how there was this one time.... a long time ago... in a country far far away... across the street from the Smiths... in modern day suburbia.... er... ok... here it is...
Oh dear?...
What?
I am ready to put that flat pack cupboard up now...
Shit... er... ok... i um... was just er... yeah... um... ok dear i will leave you... er... to it
Son? er... Son?... do you want to help me?
Do i have a choice?
No
Ok... if you insist
Ok son.... we are going to put this cupboard together.... i have already laid out all the parts and put all the screws in to their separate piles... all we gotta do is put it together
Do i need life insurance dad?
No.. why do you think that?
Er... no reason
Ok... lets put this thing together...
Dad?
What?
Is it going in the spare room? because....
Look... don't argue... just help me
But...
No... help... don't complain
ok...
so after a few hours of gluing and hammering in nails and putting it together... you finally get the cupboard erected... you stand back and look in admiration...
Ok son... lets get it into the master bedroom....
Dad?
What now?
It won't fit through the door
Really?
Yeah... really
We will try... it should fit through there easily
Dad... i may only be 10... but i can look at these drawings and measurements and can see that.... the cupboard is 7 feet tall by 8 feet long by 4 feet wide... the door is only 6.5 feet tall by 3.5 feet wide and that Bannister will only allow 4 feet length.... so...
Son?
What dad?
Get my sledge hammer and bolster chisel from the garage please... i think this wall needs removing....
and so it began.... the open plan 4 bed semi conversion...
Someday... dads will learn that DIY should never be attempted without some degree of college tuition and maybe a wife that won't freak out when you are sleeping in a room that now is twice the size as it was that morning with scaffolding poles holding the roof up... not to mention a pile of plaster board in the corner and a cat thats freaking out
but all the same... the cupboard is where he wanted it... still wedged in the door frame
DIY holds many tales of emotions and fears amongst most dads out there... well... you don't have to be a dad to do DIY but it helps... a lot of support and counseling is required
To start with you need the plan of action... a drawing or a diagram of the task in hand...
(you see... it is very important that you have this... after all... you will be taking on a task that has many professionals who are highly trained in the field you are going to attempt... take carpentry for example... a professional would have gone to college and learned all the eventualities of woodwork and learned how to do it... you on the other hand... haven't... be honest... you are no carpenter... you just saw how to do it on one of those home improvement programs on TV...)
so you get your plan... now... you need tools....
This is where a man of DIY excells.... they don't just buy the tools they need... they buy extra tools that they don't need because they know... disaster can happen at any time...
They go out to the DIY store one Saturday morning and are greeted buy pimple faced shop assistants that believe a door handle requires a Jack hammer and face mask to install one perfectly...
You walk around the DIY store and see all the dads in there... looking anxious and afraid at first... then happy when they pick up that power drill and nail gun...
First on the list... a tool belt... now this is where it gets very serious... the tool belt will be the best buy of that day.... it has to be comfortable, workable, perfect, handy, and have loads of pockets and clips and gadget holders....
As you put one on... you look in that mirror in the store and instantly think you are John Wayne... "Are you talking to me?... I am talking to you... Are you John Wayne?"
This now inspires you to buy the rest of your arsenal...
Nail Gun... check
Power Drill... check
Cordless Drill.. check
Jig Saw... check
Electric Screw Driver... check
Power Sander.... check
Welding Torch and Acetylene Tank... check
Face Mask... check
Electrical Wiring and Pipe Locater... check
After an hour you have bought out the shop and load your tooled into the Hire Van you are now happy you leased out...
Thats it... you now feel like a DIY God.... speeding home you think over your plan of action and go through what you bought in your mind and know you have all the tools you will ever need...
Getting home... you unload the van into the front room of your house and eagerly unwrap all your goods... putting on a check shirt and jeans... your hard steel toe cap work boots and your hard hat... you then assemble the tool belt and fill up all the pockets...
Standing up... you realize that its far too heavy to even stand up... you remove some of the tools... the Drills go... the Jack Hammer goes... the Work Bench goes and the Hydraulic Pliers go... now your tool belt is more friendly to wear... and you are ready to start...
Now this is where a DIY show presenter should come along and stop you and say... hey buddy... call in a professional...
You walk to the location of the DIY task... and look at it... sigh and then the room goes black... the wolves start howling and the mist starts appearing... the screech of the violin music starts and you remember the other tasks you've taken on before....
Decorating your sons bedroom.... Poly Cell... Poly Filler? Whats the difference?... the paint stayed on the walls longer than you thought.... ok... the DIY task cost you almost £2000 pounds for just that room... and your wife never spoke to you for almost two months... your son had these terrible headaches and the bank manager was a friendly man after "The demand to see you" meeting was over....
The Bathroom door trimming day.... ok... you took an inch off the top instead of the bottom of the door... that was an honest mistake... ok you rectified it and took a inch of two off the bottom of the door.... you heard that Wild West saloon bar doors looked cool on a bathroom.... Ok... one problem being that you can sit on the toilet with the door closed and still see who is coming to the front door.... that reminds me... send a sorry letter and some beer to the post man... it took him weeks to get over the sight of you wiping your arse on the toilet that morning....
The Shelf fitting day.... so you laid your trust in a tool that you didn't know needed batteries... I am talking about that bloody Electrical Wiring and Pipe Finder.... all you did was wave it about around the wall you were putting the shelf up on... didn't hear any beeps... took out your power drill... and blacked out the entire estate for hours as you short circuited the main electrical sub station.... not to mention blowing up your drill and sending you across the room.... your wife thought you looked very beautiful sitting on the mantle piece...
And your classic.... Decorating your sons room.... now... seems harmless but when you went out and bought that paint off that car boot sales man... you failed to read the.... "Luminescent" label didn't you?.... you spend that entire day decorating that room... unknown about the type of paint and when your son first ever turned off the lights to go to sleep.... wham!... instant suntan.... not to mention all those aircraft coming into land over your house using your sons bedroom day glow wall paint as a landing light... not to mention the shock your neighbors had when they woke up in the morning to see the entire south coast population of moths had arrived on their door step...
So you stand there... look at the task in hand and think... how hard can refitting a sink be?
Meeeowwww.... Thump! budum budum budum....
(That was the cat... exiting out the cat flap.... knowing what sort of atmosphere the house would be in... knowing what is to come... has decided that he is too old and too wise to stick around... he is going to go out... catch a few mice... go and chat up some ladies and sleep it off somewhere)....
Gulp.... "Er dad... i um... forgot to say... erm... i need to go out to.. erm... school... yes thats it... i got school today." says your son
"But its Saturday?" you say...
"Yeah... I er.... Its a new thing they have now... er... one Saturday only... extra... er .... work.... bye... see ya dad..."
(that was your son knowing what is about to happen... and deciding he is too young and too wise to stick around.... he is going to go out and play in the dirt and sing some songs to himself and play in the tree house until sun down)
"Ohh dear... honey?... ooo... no... (Sigh)... do you have to do the sink today? i.... er... think that you should do... erm... the.... erm.... lawn yeah? its safer..."
(That was your wife... trying to save the marriage)
Not being diverted from your original plan... you get to work on the sink....
... hours later... the sun has already set... the cat is starting to look like he is banished from the house... your son is making his bed in the tree house... your wife has bitten her nails off to the shoulders...
you appear... from the bathroom... more elastoplast on your hands than the school bully at end of term.... hair a mess... plaster powder grease and black unknown smudges over your face and arms... your jeans torn at the crotch... the tool belt has left its flesh wounds on your stomach... the batteries are dead in the screw driver...
You look at your wife... with a Wallace and Gromit smile on your face.... the eyes show fear and anxiety... your lip is quivering... you lost your voice hours ago with that last shout of... "Oh fuck It!" you quietly come out and look at your wife and son... who has now heard the banging stop... and through fear.... you whisper.... "Its finished"
"Well?... what do you think?" your dad asks
"Erm... I think... huh... ahhh... mmmmmm... well... its... er... yeah" .... Is all you could say
"What about you dear?"
"Well... not meaning to critisize.... but er.... mmph mmmph mmmph..."
....your mum tried to say just as the cat sticks its paw into her mouth to muffle the responce... oh yes... too old and too wise to have anyone make his day sleeping on the bed disturbed again...
DIY is always been a task for the father or the man of the house... mothers expect the dad to know everything.... but then soon criticizes you when you put that "Cat Flap" in the garage door... because you can now drive the car into the garage without opening it up....
But after all those DIY disasters and after all those attempts to get it right... eventually the professional has to come in and take a look
He... huh... he he... hee heee haaaa haaa HAAAAA!
that was his usual response when you first show him your attempt...
So you have to admit defeat to the builder... so what?... ouch! yep... ok... the wife don't look too happy with that last comment.... er... um.... ok... the builder comes in.... i er.... admit defeat... and with thumbs up and a worried smile on my face... i admit defeat!
With all those tasks at hand to do around the home... is it a wonder that something will happen.... painting.... decorating... fixing doors... fixing lightbulbs... making shelves... replacing guttering.... gardening... all these hold potential hazards to your health life and marriage...
to prove how there was this one time.... a long time ago... in a country far far away... across the street from the Smiths... in modern day suburbia.... er... ok... here it is...
Oh dear?...
What?
I am ready to put that flat pack cupboard up now...
Shit... er... ok... i um... was just er... yeah... um... ok dear i will leave you... er... to it
Son? er... Son?... do you want to help me?
Do i have a choice?
No
Ok... if you insist
Ok son.... we are going to put this cupboard together.... i have already laid out all the parts and put all the screws in to their separate piles... all we gotta do is put it together
Do i need life insurance dad?
No.. why do you think that?
Er... no reason
Ok... lets put this thing together...
Dad?
What?
Is it going in the spare room? because....
Look... don't argue... just help me
But...
No... help... don't complain
ok...
so after a few hours of gluing and hammering in nails and putting it together... you finally get the cupboard erected... you stand back and look in admiration...
Ok son... lets get it into the master bedroom....
Dad?
What now?
It won't fit through the door
Really?
Yeah... really
We will try... it should fit through there easily
Dad... i may only be 10... but i can look at these drawings and measurements and can see that.... the cupboard is 7 feet tall by 8 feet long by 4 feet wide... the door is only 6.5 feet tall by 3.5 feet wide and that Bannister will only allow 4 feet length.... so...
Son?
What dad?
Get my sledge hammer and bolster chisel from the garage please... i think this wall needs removing....
and so it began.... the open plan 4 bed semi conversion...
Someday... dads will learn that DIY should never be attempted without some degree of college tuition and maybe a wife that won't freak out when you are sleeping in a room that now is twice the size as it was that morning with scaffolding poles holding the roof up... not to mention a pile of plaster board in the corner and a cat thats freaking out
but all the same... the cupboard is where he wanted it... still wedged in the door frame
You Must Learn!.....
Demands your father! Learn to ride a bike!....
Oh shit! you think... if i pretend to still be asleep he may go away... after all it is still 5 am....
Your father has been up all night pacing the floor boards bare, where there used to be carpet... no lays building foundations...
The hours tick tock away like clunks of steal workers mouldings....
Ok long enough... he has slept long enough! says your eager dad... but its only been 20 minuets?! your mother protests.... and its still dark outside... wait until morning!
Morning arrives... still a zombie you get up out of bed... your father doing press ups and chin ups in the landing... getting the energetic motivation for a long hard day's work... teaching you the perils of riding a bike...
only last weekend he bought home this monstrosity of a bike... handle bars like bull horns... pedals which have your shins marked for death... scabs ahoy!
and that greasy chain.... lubricated up with extra virgin olive oil...
the breaks turned around (we are in England after all)
ok... on with our coat lets go! he shouts... dad... I am still in my PJ's!
and my toothpaste is foaming up....
after breakfast... your dad is now a nervous wreck.... he's chewed his finger nails up to his shoulders and the carpet is a state... mum ain't happy... Ok son... he says... placing his hand on your shoulder... if you should get injured... will you still love me?
erm... injured?... what is he doing to me mummy?
now now dear... it is going to be fun...
you look worried... she looks worried... the moths and cobwebs better come off that old World War Two First Aid Kit.... get the shrapnel removing pliers ready...
once you ate a hardy breakfast and put on your coat... dad walks you to your bike... in the garden shed....
it looks scary... where are the stabilizers dad?
Nope son... no stabilizers today... its the real thing!
Fuck... i am going to bed again.... ahhhh.... no you don't son... here we go... take a seat on that saddle and tell me if you like it...
...Dad?.... What?.... There is no saddle.... Oh yeah... click click... there we are...
you sit down... man that seat is made out of concrete and iron strengthening rods... my arse is killing me!
It gets more comfy when you get used to it....
you look out at the other kids cycling about... standing up as they peddle.... yeah right dad... what ever you say!
Ok here goes... step one.... always look where you are going... and keep peddling... steer with that handle bar and break with that lever... adjust gears with that lever and look both ways when you cross the road....
...And a partridge in a pear tree... man... do i need qualifications to learn this? a degree maybe handy
so you get the basics out of the way... and then you go to the test track... a strip of road leading to the shops....
no cars... no people... hence why the moon is still out... and only the crows to laugh at you...
One... Two... Three your dad holds onto the saddle whilst you peddle and without knowing it... you smile... wow dad! i am cycling! man... dad? you can run pretty fast can't you? dad?...... er dad?
you look behind... he is now holding a fence post twenty miles behind you... he looks up and cringes... what they don't tell you when you learn to ride a bike... where ever your head turns... your hands follow...
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Sod That! You tried to kill me you bastard! you scream at your dad... just as he catches up with you playing twister with a hunk of metal pipes and spinning wheels....
Ok... take two.... Bollocks! you scream... i wanna see my 5th birthday!
ok... after an ice cream... which he had hidden in the left breast pocket... you get back on the bike... handle bars fixed and saddle back on...
again... and again... and again... now you don't need dad to run after you anymore... you are the Tour De France Yellow Jersey Wearer!
... well for twenty meters anyway before you realize... you are only going faster and faster and that wall isn't made of marshmallow
Dad screams after you... break! break! Oh God! Break!
survival takes over... cover your eyes... ok at 5 you managed to ride no handed... just then the bike steers towards that shop door way
A woman comes out with the news stand sign.... opening up for business
"Morning!"...... you say as you fly right past her and into the shop through the open door....
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Twister with a baked bean can pyramid and lots of cat food metal piping spinning wheels and a check out lady with last nights newspapers all over the floor....
Dad?... What son?... gasp! gasp!.... I need a helmet!
Oh shit! you think... if i pretend to still be asleep he may go away... after all it is still 5 am....
Your father has been up all night pacing the floor boards bare, where there used to be carpet... no lays building foundations...
The hours tick tock away like clunks of steal workers mouldings....
Ok long enough... he has slept long enough! says your eager dad... but its only been 20 minuets?! your mother protests.... and its still dark outside... wait until morning!
Morning arrives... still a zombie you get up out of bed... your father doing press ups and chin ups in the landing... getting the energetic motivation for a long hard day's work... teaching you the perils of riding a bike...
only last weekend he bought home this monstrosity of a bike... handle bars like bull horns... pedals which have your shins marked for death... scabs ahoy!
and that greasy chain.... lubricated up with extra virgin olive oil...
the breaks turned around (we are in England after all)
ok... on with our coat lets go! he shouts... dad... I am still in my PJ's!
and my toothpaste is foaming up....
after breakfast... your dad is now a nervous wreck.... he's chewed his finger nails up to his shoulders and the carpet is a state... mum ain't happy... Ok son... he says... placing his hand on your shoulder... if you should get injured... will you still love me?
erm... injured?... what is he doing to me mummy?
now now dear... it is going to be fun...
you look worried... she looks worried... the moths and cobwebs better come off that old World War Two First Aid Kit.... get the shrapnel removing pliers ready...
once you ate a hardy breakfast and put on your coat... dad walks you to your bike... in the garden shed....
it looks scary... where are the stabilizers dad?
Nope son... no stabilizers today... its the real thing!
Fuck... i am going to bed again.... ahhhh.... no you don't son... here we go... take a seat on that saddle and tell me if you like it...
...Dad?.... What?.... There is no saddle.... Oh yeah... click click... there we are...
you sit down... man that seat is made out of concrete and iron strengthening rods... my arse is killing me!
It gets more comfy when you get used to it....
you look out at the other kids cycling about... standing up as they peddle.... yeah right dad... what ever you say!
Ok here goes... step one.... always look where you are going... and keep peddling... steer with that handle bar and break with that lever... adjust gears with that lever and look both ways when you cross the road....
...And a partridge in a pear tree... man... do i need qualifications to learn this? a degree maybe handy
so you get the basics out of the way... and then you go to the test track... a strip of road leading to the shops....
no cars... no people... hence why the moon is still out... and only the crows to laugh at you...
One... Two... Three your dad holds onto the saddle whilst you peddle and without knowing it... you smile... wow dad! i am cycling! man... dad? you can run pretty fast can't you? dad?...... er dad?
you look behind... he is now holding a fence post twenty miles behind you... he looks up and cringes... what they don't tell you when you learn to ride a bike... where ever your head turns... your hands follow...
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Sod That! You tried to kill me you bastard! you scream at your dad... just as he catches up with you playing twister with a hunk of metal pipes and spinning wheels....
Ok... take two.... Bollocks! you scream... i wanna see my 5th birthday!
ok... after an ice cream... which he had hidden in the left breast pocket... you get back on the bike... handle bars fixed and saddle back on...
again... and again... and again... now you don't need dad to run after you anymore... you are the Tour De France Yellow Jersey Wearer!
... well for twenty meters anyway before you realize... you are only going faster and faster and that wall isn't made of marshmallow
Dad screams after you... break! break! Oh God! Break!
survival takes over... cover your eyes... ok at 5 you managed to ride no handed... just then the bike steers towards that shop door way
A woman comes out with the news stand sign.... opening up for business
"Morning!"...... you say as you fly right past her and into the shop through the open door....
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Twister with a baked bean can pyramid and lots of cat food metal piping spinning wheels and a check out lady with last nights newspapers all over the floor....
Dad?... What son?... gasp! gasp!.... I need a helmet!
It was great being young.
Remembering your youth.....
Picture this... you are out with your parents on that dreaded "School Uniform Shopping Trip"... you spend hours and hours being dragged on your heels by your mother who can't decide what shop or what color Grey she wants you to wear for those trousers that were knitted with camels pubic hair and barbed wire...
Grey is GREY! thats what you keep thinking... trousers are TROUSERS! who cares? i don't... they won't fit.. they will itch like buggery and i look a dork in them anyway... not to mention that shirt and the tie from hell... or kipper land...
Shop after shop... dressing room after dressing room.... trousers after trousers and shirts after shirts... war starts
Mothers become homicidal maniacs when they shop for school uniforms... they strangle you when they look good and the throttle you when they don't... two tone Grey.. sporty numbers... plain simple Teflon trousers... bullet proof trousers to go with your bullet proof tie... protection needed...
How many times do you drop your trousers in front of giggling girls when the dressing rooms are full... or your mother wants to make sure you can dress ok... look mom! i am 7!
the constant pressure to make sure you can get your mom to buy the ones that don't make you shed skin like a snake... red raw thighs and glowing butt cheeks...
but that last shop brings the most dreaded moment... the hated scenario of nightmares...
the elastic snaps in your Y fronts....
... MOMMMMM! you cry... WHY ME?
oh no... another three days of being dragged about on your heels as your mother tries to find the pants from hell... you know... the ones made out of Armour plated camels pubic hair and wood chips....
Next comes the shoes.... need i say more?
The souls won't bend until third year... nicknames like Frankenstein come to mind... extra thick rubber souls that can deflect bullets and shrapnel.... the laces made of industrial strength cabling...
Why me?
So the panic buying is over... mothers have broken bones and made enemies at the school gates before they even learn what school you are going too... you turn up 2 weeks later walking like a giraffe having a drink trying to levitate the trousers off your skin and the kipper tie is flapping in the wind so badly... aircraft are taking wind bearings off it... and thats not all...
You have a back pack that Chris Boddington's survival Kit would fit in and the weight is something Mark Henry would struggle with...
You have your lunch made up of spam sandwiches and your awful tasting grapefruit "healthy option" with spoon attached....
Your hair is slicked to a center parting with a bowl shape still present... the lipstick marks on your cheek as your mum babbles away the goodbyes for your first ever school day away from the coloring pads and the crayons....
Welcome to big school... where big people go.... inside i am crying....
you take a look back at all the parents at the gates waving you along as you trundle towards that hairy Mary woman teacher smiling at you with the clip board....
Am i coming home tonight or is this the enlistment station?
Oh well... welcome to the big wide world...
Welcome to school...
Just then your elastic snaps...
It wasn't long until Christmas arrived, Christmas Present buying in our home was somewhat backward....
We actually went along for the shopping trip and saw what was being bought months before that dreaded day with your grandma and her false teeth removed kissing you like some sort of chippendale...
All because mum and dad hated that... taking the present back in January because it was the same as you had last year....
So in the car we all get.... already mum and dad are worried... they have no lower arms left from chewing their nails and dad is bold with stress...
Mum... that hair dye suits you... why is it again that you turned Grey overnight?
You arrive at the Toy department... dad already can see what fight he needs to win... you see... because the Christmas decorations are up everywhere... the adverts on the TV are shouting out Christmas deals on all channels... the population of London is already crammed into the toy store like a cattle train....
and its only June....
You dad spends hours driving around in circles around the car park looking for that parking space which is only two centimeters from the front door... unfortunately every other parent parked there moments before we arrived and now a tower of SUV's and Estate Cars are mounted up on top of one another by the door...
MMM... we shall have to make do with the parking slot twenty meters away instead.... man all these cars parked so close together by the front door... we won't get a space for hours!
So you find a parking space in Leeds... even though the shop is in London... but a bit of a walk will do the family some good...
... son... get yer hiking boots on.... Frodo Baggins has nothing on the bloody walk we got to take any moment soon!
So... we made it into the toy department... after camping out side the shop for 6 days living on bread water and humor or being soaking wet through...
Ok... stick together... I'll get the cattle prod out and see if we can get down this first isle without having a pile up...
All of a sudden... your parents turn into judge jury and executioner... Mum wants something that is affordable and easy to wrap.... dad wants something thats cool and original.... all you want is something that will last longer than the last roast potato at the Christmas dinner
So you pick up that cuddly toy.... mmm ok you really want it bad... so you ask dad... he is already holding what he wants you to have... a Jnr. Chemistry Set....
Oh no you don't!.... mum screams...
Why not... he is old enough to have one... dad protests
He is 8 years old! thats not old enough for that sort of thing!
But look... the boy on the front is making a clock powered by a potato with test tubes and a Bunsen burner... he is having fun! ... dad shows mum the box...
Yeah... that is a model... modeling what you are supposed to do with a Jnr Chemistry Set.... but in reality... That boy is making a clock powered by a potato with bunsen burners and test tubes... and our son will be making something that will lead to the eventual evacuation of Slough! No Way!
So that idea is gone... dad sinks his head low and disappears again... just as you are about to show your mum that cute cuddly Teddy bear...
Look son! Realistic! Click Click....
No! screams mum... He is not having a toy gun! Gas powered or anything!
Ok... dad says
So as you guessed... dad becomes the real kid of the house...
Mum suggests a Jigsaw Puzzle... a model car... a table tennis table... a walkman... a coloring pad...
All of which... you are not interested in... just this cuddly bear...
Ok son... dad returns... How about this!
Dad... its a skipping rope...
No son... its Clackers!
Clackers?
Yeah... this fine delicate rope with these two hardened plastic balls on the end... the playground buddies will love this!
What does it do?..... you ask out of interest
Well... you swing it around like this... (Above your head) and let go and see who is still standing afterwards....
Dad! What are you doing?! that poor guy over there is concussed!
You make a quick exit... Next toy store it is then....
So the expedition is just starting... after 300 shops and 150 near fatal experiences and 16 hours of walking around the same shopping precinct... you finally get a car load of items ready for christmas...
we just hope that the 6 months they have to wait until Christmas day... won't ruin the surprise...
Then there was the visiting of grandparents...
Visiting Grandma was always a nightmare....
sleepless nights weeks before you knew the fatal day would come... not that your Grandma was a wicked witch or anything...
she was funny... great at making a dinner that surpassed the entire Feast of King Henry VIII 's first wedding.... she always had a surprise put away for you... Her dog was the best way of getting rid of those awful tasting Broccoli and Runner Beans off your dinner plate... the cakes were everywhere... It was funny watching your granddad sit three inches from the TV Screen with the volume turned all the way up....
Just off topic here... granddad's are the best at selective hearing at the pub too... "Its your round dad!" you father would say... "Yes please, I'll have a pint!" your granddad would reply
Anyway... it wasn't the actual visit that was deeply embedded in your primal fears of visiting your grandma's house...
It was the arriving and leaving part...
Yes... we all know what i am talking about.... the kiss!
ewwwww! shudder shake and tremble with absolute disgust...
The image of grandma without her false teeth in lunging forwards towards you like a shriveled up mommy or Frankenstien.... a giant leech with this gapping hole and saggy cheeks... then the final movement of her eye brows and the lips pucker up and... and...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MMMMMMMMPH!
(smooch)
Lip stick marks on your cheeks from that lipstick that three tonnes of Swarfega, wire brush and Detol won't budge!
This bloody lip stick would be far better than most house hold paint...
but once it is over... it is over... you can then go forth through the front door and admire the brilliant home inside...
Grand ma?.... oh Grandma? where are you?.... everything in here is Biege... you managed to camouflage yourself into your surroundings....
I am over here.... she says in a sweet voice...
you look around... and spot her in the corner... the blue hair and dolphin clacking of her false teeth gives her position away....
Want a Worthers Original? you granddad says... Oh hi Granddad... no thanks.... i er... ate a load in the car on the way here.... and i am not partial to warm toffee anymore
then the TV gets switched on... SO GRANMA.... WHATS BEEN HAPPENING? you have to shout over the TV volume
not much... i planted some more orchids yesterday...
megaphone comes out.... THATS NICE GRANDMA!
then comes the time for dinner...
Well... what end of the 40ft long table are we sitting at grandma?
How many of us are eating here? there must be enough food for the entire population of Exeter here!
Imagine a feast at hogwarts....
soon you finish... your jaw muscles have given up... your belt is now undone to allow for the extra bulge... and yet... more food remains...
... anyone for pudding?
soon... its the tea and after eight mints... the toffees... the pudding that grandma was saving for after the main meal... the 4th pudding later...
now that you are 12 stone heavier and tone deaf and in shock over the leech attack... seeing mirages in the Beige house of horrors... asphyxiating over your grand parents dog farting away the broad beans and broccoli, heard all about the attack on that farm house in Belgium in 1938 and have 50 Worthers Original Toffees in your pocket....
Its time to head home...
See you at Christmas Grandma... we shall starve ourselves until then... turrraaa!
Picture this... you are out with your parents on that dreaded "School Uniform Shopping Trip"... you spend hours and hours being dragged on your heels by your mother who can't decide what shop or what color Grey she wants you to wear for those trousers that were knitted with camels pubic hair and barbed wire...
Grey is GREY! thats what you keep thinking... trousers are TROUSERS! who cares? i don't... they won't fit.. they will itch like buggery and i look a dork in them anyway... not to mention that shirt and the tie from hell... or kipper land...
Shop after shop... dressing room after dressing room.... trousers after trousers and shirts after shirts... war starts
Mothers become homicidal maniacs when they shop for school uniforms... they strangle you when they look good and the throttle you when they don't... two tone Grey.. sporty numbers... plain simple Teflon trousers... bullet proof trousers to go with your bullet proof tie... protection needed...
How many times do you drop your trousers in front of giggling girls when the dressing rooms are full... or your mother wants to make sure you can dress ok... look mom! i am 7!
the constant pressure to make sure you can get your mom to buy the ones that don't make you shed skin like a snake... red raw thighs and glowing butt cheeks...
but that last shop brings the most dreaded moment... the hated scenario of nightmares...
the elastic snaps in your Y fronts....
... MOMMMMM! you cry... WHY ME?
oh no... another three days of being dragged about on your heels as your mother tries to find the pants from hell... you know... the ones made out of Armour plated camels pubic hair and wood chips....
Next comes the shoes.... need i say more?
The souls won't bend until third year... nicknames like Frankenstein come to mind... extra thick rubber souls that can deflect bullets and shrapnel.... the laces made of industrial strength cabling...
Why me?
So the panic buying is over... mothers have broken bones and made enemies at the school gates before they even learn what school you are going too... you turn up 2 weeks later walking like a giraffe having a drink trying to levitate the trousers off your skin and the kipper tie is flapping in the wind so badly... aircraft are taking wind bearings off it... and thats not all...
You have a back pack that Chris Boddington's survival Kit would fit in and the weight is something Mark Henry would struggle with...
You have your lunch made up of spam sandwiches and your awful tasting grapefruit "healthy option" with spoon attached....
Your hair is slicked to a center parting with a bowl shape still present... the lipstick marks on your cheek as your mum babbles away the goodbyes for your first ever school day away from the coloring pads and the crayons....
Welcome to big school... where big people go.... inside i am crying....
you take a look back at all the parents at the gates waving you along as you trundle towards that hairy Mary woman teacher smiling at you with the clip board....
Am i coming home tonight or is this the enlistment station?
Oh well... welcome to the big wide world...
Welcome to school...
Just then your elastic snaps...
It wasn't long until Christmas arrived, Christmas Present buying in our home was somewhat backward....
We actually went along for the shopping trip and saw what was being bought months before that dreaded day with your grandma and her false teeth removed kissing you like some sort of chippendale...
All because mum and dad hated that... taking the present back in January because it was the same as you had last year....
So in the car we all get.... already mum and dad are worried... they have no lower arms left from chewing their nails and dad is bold with stress...
Mum... that hair dye suits you... why is it again that you turned Grey overnight?
You arrive at the Toy department... dad already can see what fight he needs to win... you see... because the Christmas decorations are up everywhere... the adverts on the TV are shouting out Christmas deals on all channels... the population of London is already crammed into the toy store like a cattle train....
and its only June....
You dad spends hours driving around in circles around the car park looking for that parking space which is only two centimeters from the front door... unfortunately every other parent parked there moments before we arrived and now a tower of SUV's and Estate Cars are mounted up on top of one another by the door...
MMM... we shall have to make do with the parking slot twenty meters away instead.... man all these cars parked so close together by the front door... we won't get a space for hours!
So you find a parking space in Leeds... even though the shop is in London... but a bit of a walk will do the family some good...
... son... get yer hiking boots on.... Frodo Baggins has nothing on the bloody walk we got to take any moment soon!
So... we made it into the toy department... after camping out side the shop for 6 days living on bread water and humor or being soaking wet through...
Ok... stick together... I'll get the cattle prod out and see if we can get down this first isle without having a pile up...
All of a sudden... your parents turn into judge jury and executioner... Mum wants something that is affordable and easy to wrap.... dad wants something thats cool and original.... all you want is something that will last longer than the last roast potato at the Christmas dinner
So you pick up that cuddly toy.... mmm ok you really want it bad... so you ask dad... he is already holding what he wants you to have... a Jnr. Chemistry Set....
Oh no you don't!.... mum screams...
Why not... he is old enough to have one... dad protests
He is 8 years old! thats not old enough for that sort of thing!
But look... the boy on the front is making a clock powered by a potato with test tubes and a Bunsen burner... he is having fun! ... dad shows mum the box...
Yeah... that is a model... modeling what you are supposed to do with a Jnr Chemistry Set.... but in reality... That boy is making a clock powered by a potato with bunsen burners and test tubes... and our son will be making something that will lead to the eventual evacuation of Slough! No Way!
So that idea is gone... dad sinks his head low and disappears again... just as you are about to show your mum that cute cuddly Teddy bear...
Look son! Realistic! Click Click....
No! screams mum... He is not having a toy gun! Gas powered or anything!
Ok... dad says
So as you guessed... dad becomes the real kid of the house...
Mum suggests a Jigsaw Puzzle... a model car... a table tennis table... a walkman... a coloring pad...
All of which... you are not interested in... just this cuddly bear...
Ok son... dad returns... How about this!
Dad... its a skipping rope...
No son... its Clackers!
Clackers?
Yeah... this fine delicate rope with these two hardened plastic balls on the end... the playground buddies will love this!
What does it do?..... you ask out of interest
Well... you swing it around like this... (Above your head) and let go and see who is still standing afterwards....
Dad! What are you doing?! that poor guy over there is concussed!
You make a quick exit... Next toy store it is then....
So the expedition is just starting... after 300 shops and 150 near fatal experiences and 16 hours of walking around the same shopping precinct... you finally get a car load of items ready for christmas...
we just hope that the 6 months they have to wait until Christmas day... won't ruin the surprise...
Then there was the visiting of grandparents...
Visiting Grandma was always a nightmare....
sleepless nights weeks before you knew the fatal day would come... not that your Grandma was a wicked witch or anything...
she was funny... great at making a dinner that surpassed the entire Feast of King Henry VIII 's first wedding.... she always had a surprise put away for you... Her dog was the best way of getting rid of those awful tasting Broccoli and Runner Beans off your dinner plate... the cakes were everywhere... It was funny watching your granddad sit three inches from the TV Screen with the volume turned all the way up....
Just off topic here... granddad's are the best at selective hearing at the pub too... "Its your round dad!" you father would say... "Yes please, I'll have a pint!" your granddad would reply
Anyway... it wasn't the actual visit that was deeply embedded in your primal fears of visiting your grandma's house...
It was the arriving and leaving part...
Yes... we all know what i am talking about.... the kiss!
ewwwww! shudder shake and tremble with absolute disgust...
The image of grandma without her false teeth in lunging forwards towards you like a shriveled up mommy or Frankenstien.... a giant leech with this gapping hole and saggy cheeks... then the final movement of her eye brows and the lips pucker up and... and...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MMMMMMMMPH!
(smooch)
Lip stick marks on your cheeks from that lipstick that three tonnes of Swarfega, wire brush and Detol won't budge!
This bloody lip stick would be far better than most house hold paint...
but once it is over... it is over... you can then go forth through the front door and admire the brilliant home inside...
Grand ma?.... oh Grandma? where are you?.... everything in here is Biege... you managed to camouflage yourself into your surroundings....
I am over here.... she says in a sweet voice...
you look around... and spot her in the corner... the blue hair and dolphin clacking of her false teeth gives her position away....
Want a Worthers Original? you granddad says... Oh hi Granddad... no thanks.... i er... ate a load in the car on the way here.... and i am not partial to warm toffee anymore
then the TV gets switched on... SO GRANMA.... WHATS BEEN HAPPENING? you have to shout over the TV volume
not much... i planted some more orchids yesterday...
megaphone comes out.... THATS NICE GRANDMA!
then comes the time for dinner...
Well... what end of the 40ft long table are we sitting at grandma?
How many of us are eating here? there must be enough food for the entire population of Exeter here!
Imagine a feast at hogwarts....
soon you finish... your jaw muscles have given up... your belt is now undone to allow for the extra bulge... and yet... more food remains...
... anyone for pudding?
soon... its the tea and after eight mints... the toffees... the pudding that grandma was saving for after the main meal... the 4th pudding later...
now that you are 12 stone heavier and tone deaf and in shock over the leech attack... seeing mirages in the Beige house of horrors... asphyxiating over your grand parents dog farting away the broad beans and broccoli, heard all about the attack on that farm house in Belgium in 1938 and have 50 Worthers Original Toffees in your pocket....
Its time to head home...
See you at Christmas Grandma... we shall starve ourselves until then... turrraaa!
Wrong Number... Cruel World
Wrong Number?
"Hello?"
A girl's voice came over the line. "Can I speak to Ben, please?"
I live by myself, and my name definitely is not Ben. It was probably a wrong number and I was bored.
"I'm sorry, he's not in right now. Can I take a message?"
"Do you know what time he'll be back?" she responded.
"I think he said he'd be home around 10:00."
Silence on the other end... a confused silence.
"Is this Steve?"
My name isn't Steve, either. This was definitely a wrong number.
"Yes, it is. Do you want to leave a message for Ben?"
"Well... he said he would be home tonight and asked me to call him..." she said in a slightly irritated voice.
I replied, "Well, he went out with Karen about an hour ago, and said that he would be back at 10:00."
A shocked voice now: "Who's Karen?!"
"The girl he went out with."
"I know that! I mean... who is she?"
"I don't know her last name. Look, do you want me to leave a message for Ben?"
"Yes... please do. Tell him to call me when he gets home."
She was sounding pretty irate at this point, and I could hear her temper flaring. "I sure will. Is this Jennifer?"
She exploded this time. "Who's Jennifer?"
Apparently she wasn't.
"Well... he's going out with Jennifer at 10:00. I thought you were her. Sorry... it was an honest mistake."
"Ben's the one that's made the mistake! Tell him that Alice called him and the she's very upset and that I would like him to call me as soon as he gets home."
I smiled and said, "Okay, I will... but Becky isn't going to like this..."
*Click*
Another Joke... From the best comedian of them all... Ronnie Corbett
Joke of the year so far...
There was this Irishman who was trying to sell some farm land. He posted out his advert in the International paper and a few people from all over the farming world responded. So the Irishman invited them all to his house and when they arrived he said to them both...."Seeing how there are a few of you who want this land, i will give you all a riddle and you must solve this riddle. Its quiet simple, fill in the missing word and spell it"
They all agreed
"Ok, here we go... Old MacDonald Had a __________ What?" asked the Irishman.
Well the English farmer went first...
"I knew a Mc Donald back in the 40's and he was a property manager and I think the missing word is Estate... spelt E-S-T-A-T-E"
The American Rancher said...
"No No No No No, I knew an old rancher back in Texas who was called Mac Donald and he bread Stalions... I think the missing word is Ranch R-A-N-C-H"
The Indian Cotton Picker said
"No, I Knew a man called Mc Donald who was a Rice grower and he was a millionaire who grew rice for all the world. I think the word is Store S-T-O-R-E"
The Welsh Sheep farmer went next
"I knew a Macdonald that owned a sheep farm up in the hills of Wales and he owned a big cotton mill so i think the word is mill M-I-L-L"
An African Goat farmer went next
"I knew a Mac donald that owned a well in Nigeria I think the word is Well W-E-L-L"
Lastly a Chinese Chicken farmer went on to say
"I knew a Mac Donald that owned a Chinese Herbal Remedy shop in Hong Kong and he made his own medicine so i think the word is Pharmacy P-H-A-R-M-A-C-Y"
Well the Irishman listened to all the answers and nodded with approval with all their attempts before he said...
"Excellent choices my fellow gents but you are all wrong. the line goes...
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Ready?
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"Old Mac Donald had a FARM.... Spelt E-I-E-I-O"
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