This Life

Cock a Deaf ‘un

Monday, 30 January 2006

As weird ‘genetic’ stories go, this is the weirdest. They’ll be blaming global warming on dandruff next. Word of warning though: if you ever have your ears syringed and they ask if you want to see what came out, just say no. Believe me, you do not want to know.

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Pavlovian Hedgerows

Wednesday, 25 January 2006

Younger readers will not recall the days when the M5 stopped at Bristol. Any holiday trips to the south west involved swapping the wide three lane tarmac for narrow country lanes and since the journeys were always made at night to avoid the weekend rush (as did everyone else) all you saw out of the windscreen was headlights on unlit roads and headgerows whizzing past on either side.

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A Stroll on t’other side

Thursday, 19 January 2006

There’s a bloke working a scam near where I work. As you wander back from a (rare) lunchtime stroll round the shops, there he is, semi-respectable of dress, a desperate/cross look on his face and a set of car keys in his hand. “You won’t believe this, my car has broken down,” vague thumb over shoulder, “and I’ve no money on me. Can you ‘lend’ me a couple of quid to get home and sort it out?”

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And the Sidebar was Bare

Friday, 6 January 2006

Six days into 2006 and it’s my first post of the new year. That must be the longest time I’ve been quiet. I bet you thought someone had thrown the blanket over Polly’s cage. In fact, I have been really busy at work finishing quite late and pretty shattered by the time I get home.

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Close

Thursday, 22 December 2005

Forget the glitz, forget the media hype, one thing stood out for me in the civil partnership between Sir England’s Rose and David (Sale Starts Boxing Day) Furnishings and that was the reports that they had invited ’700 of their closest friends’ to witness the ceremony.

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Dopes

Monday, 19 December 2005

There was a cracking news item on Radio Five tonight, although I haven’t found any way of verifying it yet. Apparently the police (I didn’t catch where) suspected the occupants of a house of drug-dealing. Instead of using one of those mini-battering rams to splinter the door frame, they dressed up in winter togs and rolled up outside pretending to be carol singers, complete with sniffer dog. They simply stood there giving them all five verses of “We Three Kings” until the door opened when they whipped out their warrant [...]

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The Moving Finger Having Writ

Friday, 16 December 2005

Don’t ask why, but I had reason at work to try to find a stenographer today and the top result of this Google search was about a day in the life of one working at the BBC. It transpires that every programme the Beeb puts out is transcribed by a team of stenographers.

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It’s a Blast

Wednesday, 14 December 2005

I promised myself no more “flight to London” referencess. Not that interesting after all. But I couldn’t resist this one. When you’re whizzing round the apron at London City Airport after landing, there are orange signs that warn the pilots to “Caution Your Blast.” What on earth does that mean? It doesn’t even register on Google, not as an exact phrase anyway. A fart warning perhaps? Any explanation would be much appreciated.

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Come Fly With Me 2

Tuesday, 13 December 2005

Well, aren’t I becoming a bit of a high-flyer? Today was my second flight to London in less than a week, although the outward journey was more like life in the bus-lane.

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