bored of excitement – the griefjunkie blog
Archive for June, 2011
Friday, June 24th, 2011
I find that efficiency usually beats incredulity when bringing an unexpected conversation to a swift conclusion. I was able to test this on Father’s Day morning when Danny shoved his head through the side of my stall and said ‘Paul – you’ve not had the snip mate, have you?’ ‘I haven’t mate, no’ I replied, selling a ‘Quiche Is The Word’ apron to a lady from West Drayton. Undeterred, Danny went on to explain how – and for the sake of authenticity, I shall use his exact phrase – he was convinced he was ‘chucking out less dirty water’ than before he was sterilised. ‘My husband thought that, too’ said the lady from West Drayton, handing me a £20 note and addressing Danny ‘But I don’t reckon it’s made any difference, myself’. ‘Silly old me’ I exclaimed while assembling her change, ‘I seem to have set my stall up in the waiting room of a vasectomy clinic – if you’ll just give me a minute, I’ll wheel out a coffee table and some copies of Home and Garden and call you in when the cock doctor’s ready’.
They both departed at this point – the lady back to West Drayton and her sterilised husband, and Danny to get the teas in. It should be noted that Father’s Day is like a second Christmas for Danny, and I’m pretty certain he was sterilised by Lewisham Council before the whole of south east London disappeared under an army of offspring starting out-of-the-blue fertility-based conversations with kitchenware vendors.
Thursday, June 2nd, 2011
Our lady haired elf bearded website geek Gary – the Nerd Man of Alcatraz – once memorably stated that the problem with life is that, as a rule, you’re reliant upon people very much stupider than you to get anything done.
I am reliant upon Mike to get all our glassware and printed stuff done, and on the face of it, he is the stupidest man I have ever met. You may recall that this is why I habitually refer to him as Child Brain. Further examination reveals him to be a far from idiotic man, however. If nothing else, he’s doggedly pursued a thirty year career in the production of glassware and printed stuff – something he is clearly not cut out to do – and this shows admirable determination and the willful denial of all commercial logic and reason. Remarkably, he manages to do it with large amounts of pathos, to the extent that when he actually manages to deliver what I’ve paid him not inconsiderable sums of money to produce, I expect everything to go in slow motion and the chorus of Chasing Rainbows by Shed Seven to start up, like it used to do throughout the late nineties whenever they were presenting awards to crippled children on the telly.