'Whatsisname ?'
This is an exchange I heard yesterday at work whilst in the Control Room. The two parties were our Chief Inspector in charge of operations and the early turn Controller. The Controller is the person who organises the response to your 999 calls.
CI Ops ... Any word On David Cameron ?
Controller ... Who ?
CI Ops ... David Cameron - he's on a walkabout in the town today, any word on how it's going ?
Controller ... Who ?
CI Ops (speaking slowly now) Da-vid Ca-mer-on. You know - the politician.
Controller ... Who ?
CI Ops ... Erm, the youngest ever leader of the Conservative party, you know the one who was voted the leader just recently ?
Controller ... Should I know who he is ?
CI Ops (Not sure if the last question is a joke) Erm, well, I suppose not really, if you don't have any interest in politics
Controller ... I don't have any interest in politics.
CI Ops ... Right. Ok, carry on ... erm.
Controller (to me some 5 minutes later ) Ooh look what the CI Ops has sent me ... it's a photo of that whatsisname.
Me ... (silence)
Cx
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Nessie found - in cornflake box !
My 6th apology goes to Eric Eastwood who went to the same primary school as I did.
I went to school one day with a small plastic Nessie which came in my cereal packet.
I managed to convince Eric that not only was she real but that she was due to have babies any day. She would have to lay her eggs in a very warm, safe place for them to hatch successfully.
Eric had very fine, strawberry blond hair.
The eggs were made from blu tac and I stuck them liberally throughout his hair whilst he sat still so as not to disrupt the babies or make Nessie angry.
Eric came to school next day looking like a hamster had chewed his hair.
Sorry, Eric.
My name is not Earl and I stuck blu tac in Eric Eastwood's hair, telling him it was Nessie eggs.
Cx
My 6th apology goes to Eric Eastwood who went to the same primary school as I did.
I went to school one day with a small plastic Nessie which came in my cereal packet.
I managed to convince Eric that not only was she real but that she was due to have babies any day. She would have to lay her eggs in a very warm, safe place for them to hatch successfully.
Eric had very fine, strawberry blond hair.
The eggs were made from blu tac and I stuck them liberally throughout his hair whilst he sat still so as not to disrupt the babies or make Nessie angry.
Eric came to school next day looking like a hamster had chewed his hair.
Sorry, Eric.
My name is not Earl and I stuck blu tac in Eric Eastwood's hair, telling him it was Nessie eggs.
Cx
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Hello, hello, helloooo ?
We thought we'd really arrived when we got our first telephone. It was a trimphone in two tone green & much fun was to be had. We soon discovered the combination of numbers required to make the phone ring, once you had replaced the handset.
Mum & Dad cottoned on pretty fast but not Granny.
We never tired of Granny answering the phone to no-one.
'Hello, hello, helloooo ?'
She's 91 today.
Happy Birthday.
My name is not Earl and I used to make my gran answer imaginary telephone calls.
Cx
We thought we'd really arrived when we got our first telephone. It was a trimphone in two tone green & much fun was to be had. We soon discovered the combination of numbers required to make the phone ring, once you had replaced the handset.
Mum & Dad cottoned on pretty fast but not Granny.
We never tired of Granny answering the phone to no-one.
'Hello, hello, helloooo ?'
She's 91 today.
Happy Birthday.
My name is not Earl and I used to make my gran answer imaginary telephone calls.
Cx
Monday, April 17, 2006
Boom! shake-shake-shake the room ... tick-tick-tick-tick Boom!
I've long held a fascination with all things incendiary.
When I was 13 I went to a lovely middle school in ***** where I was really happy.
I wondered what would happen if I left the gas taps on in the science block over the weekend.
So that's what I did.
I was interested to know if we would be transferred to another school if I razed mine to the ground.
I suspected not and thought we might get at least 2 weeks off school whilst relocation was organised.
The scool was still standing on Monday morning. I did consider asking all the staff if they had turned the gas taps off last thing Friday but thought they may consider this an odd question.
My name is not Earl and I tried to blow up my middle school.
Cx
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Ding dong bell, Pussy's in the well ...
er no, the upturned bath actually.
If someone asked you if I was an aminal lover you'd answer yes wouldn't you ?
If someone asked you if I would deliberately cause distress to say ... a kitten, you'd say no, wouldn't you ?
Wrong.
There was an older kid who lived on King Street called Peter Bolton.
Us younger kids used to go along with his daft ideas, because he was cool by virtue of the fact that he was older.
One of his ideas was to keep a little tabby kitten we found. She can't have been older than
8 weeks. We put her overnight under an upturned tin bath in a nearby car scrapyard so
that she'd be there in the morning. It didn't occur to me that we shouldn't, just that it would be nice to have our own kitten.
In the early evening two distraught young women came knocking door to door asking after their kitten and faced with their distress I had to lead them to where the poor creature was incarcerated.
I was subsequently excluded from the gang as punishment.
My name is not Earl and I trapped a kitten under a tin bath.
Cx
ps Angie - you don't have to come here any more if you don't want to.
er no, the upturned bath actually.
If someone asked you if I was an aminal lover you'd answer yes wouldn't you ?
If someone asked you if I would deliberately cause distress to say ... a kitten, you'd say no, wouldn't you ?
Wrong.
There was an older kid who lived on King Street called Peter Bolton.
Us younger kids used to go along with his daft ideas, because he was cool by virtue of the fact that he was older.
One of his ideas was to keep a little tabby kitten we found. She can't have been older than
8 weeks. We put her overnight under an upturned tin bath in a nearby car scrapyard so
that she'd be there in the morning. It didn't occur to me that we shouldn't, just that it would be nice to have our own kitten.
In the early evening two distraught young women came knocking door to door asking after their kitten and faced with their distress I had to lead them to where the poor creature was incarcerated.
I was subsequently excluded from the gang as punishment.
My name is not Earl and I trapped a kitten under a tin bath.
Cx
ps Angie - you don't have to come here any more if you don't want to.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
And this little piggy went ...
The second of my admitted offences was against my brother.
There is a four year age gap between us and I was about 5 at the time.
Please bear that in mind and don't think too badly of me.
I had a collection of plastic bricks which slotted into a cart in wheels.
When my brother happened along, my folks bought him a wooden set. They were, in my eyes, infinitely superior, partly because they were wooden and partly because his cart had a handle on one end with which to push the cart.
As I saw it, the difference between the plastic bricks and the wooden ones directly equated to how much more my parents loved my brother.
I needed to do something which would display my upset with my parents and my contempt for my brother.
It was obvious.
My name is not Earl and I peed over my 1 year old brother's wooden blocks.
Stick around, there's loads more to come.
Cx
The second of my admitted offences was against my brother.
There is a four year age gap between us and I was about 5 at the time.
Please bear that in mind and don't think too badly of me.
I had a collection of plastic bricks which slotted into a cart in wheels.
When my brother happened along, my folks bought him a wooden set. They were, in my eyes, infinitely superior, partly because they were wooden and partly because his cart had a handle on one end with which to push the cart.
As I saw it, the difference between the plastic bricks and the wooden ones directly equated to how much more my parents loved my brother.
I needed to do something which would display my upset with my parents and my contempt for my brother.
It was obvious.
My name is not Earl and I peed over my 1 year old brother's wooden blocks.
Stick around, there's loads more to come.
Cx
Friday, April 14, 2006
My name is not Earl
Only Murray and the Tanners need to read the following bit. There is a programme on Channel 4 at the moment called 'My name is Earl'. Earl re-visits all the crimes he has committed and tries to redeem himself by 'undoing' them. It got me to thinking about the bad things I've done.
In the spirit of Earl, I thought if I own up to them now I may get some respite from my pricking conscience. This has nothing to do with the fact that Mummeh has limited internet access at the moment.
As you may have gathered my first admitted crime was against Mummeh.
When I was very young Mummeh used to serve porridge on Winter mornings. I hated porridge. It made me retch, gip and heave. None of this cut any ice with Mummeh who quite rightly explained that I had to eat what was put in front of me. I really didn't want to leave the porridge. Leaving it made for a worse outcome. If you left your porridge at breakfast time it would be re-served cold, solid and unyielding at tea time when the rest of the family were eating a hot meal.
Eventually I hit upon a solution for the porridge. I couldn't put it in the bin as it would be detected there but I could scrape it into my wellies. Which is what I did, planning to empty the wellies at a later date.
I forgot of course, right up to the first wet day when I had to wear my wellies to school.
As I put my foot in my first welly I wondered what it was squeezing through my toes. Even once I had realised I just had to brazen it out as Mummeh was in the kitchen.
At school I withdrew my feet to find they were encased in green, furry porridge.
My refusal to explain to the teacher what had happened (I thought she might tell Mummeh) ensured that I spent a Winter's day at school in bare feet with the prospect of putting the socks and wellies on again at the end of the day.
My name is not Earl and I used to hide my porridge in my wellies.
Cx
Only Murray and the Tanners need to read the following bit. There is a programme on Channel 4 at the moment called 'My name is Earl'. Earl re-visits all the crimes he has committed and tries to redeem himself by 'undoing' them. It got me to thinking about the bad things I've done.
In the spirit of Earl, I thought if I own up to them now I may get some respite from my pricking conscience. This has nothing to do with the fact that Mummeh has limited internet access at the moment.
As you may have gathered my first admitted crime was against Mummeh.
When I was very young Mummeh used to serve porridge on Winter mornings. I hated porridge. It made me retch, gip and heave. None of this cut any ice with Mummeh who quite rightly explained that I had to eat what was put in front of me. I really didn't want to leave the porridge. Leaving it made for a worse outcome. If you left your porridge at breakfast time it would be re-served cold, solid and unyielding at tea time when the rest of the family were eating a hot meal.
Eventually I hit upon a solution for the porridge. I couldn't put it in the bin as it would be detected there but I could scrape it into my wellies. Which is what I did, planning to empty the wellies at a later date.
I forgot of course, right up to the first wet day when I had to wear my wellies to school.
As I put my foot in my first welly I wondered what it was squeezing through my toes. Even once I had realised I just had to brazen it out as Mummeh was in the kitchen.
At school I withdrew my feet to find they were encased in green, furry porridge.
My refusal to explain to the teacher what had happened (I thought she might tell Mummeh) ensured that I spent a Winter's day at school in bare feet with the prospect of putting the socks and wellies on again at the end of the day.
My name is not Earl and I used to hide my porridge in my wellies.
Cx
Monday, April 10, 2006
'You are behaving in an un-shopping lke fashion...'
I promise the tale I am about to relate contains no exaggeration.
When I go shopping with Milky he likes to pretend to be my arms. By this I mean I will be standing with my own arms by my sides whilst he feeds his through my armpits and pretends his manically flapping appendages are mine. I am often to be found in front of a chiller cabinet pondering the merits of tuna versus haddock whilst my limbs appear to gesticulate wildly to the consternation of other shoppers.
Today it was whilst in this position that I heard the arch enquiry ...
'Do you think other shoppers could get in ?'
I turned to see a harridan, shrivelled and bent over her trolley, casting her gimlet eye over me.
I very seldom stand up for myself but I'm on my third early turn and was feeling 'that way out' as Yorkshire folk put it.
'I don't know - how about you ask politely ?' I heard myself say.
I don't think she was used to be answered back, the solid mass of lacquered hair tilted back in one quivering movement as her eyebrows shot up her face in surprise.
'Well, you're behaving in an un-shopping like fashion' she spat.
'I do apologise for enjoying myself in the supermarket' I was quite enjoying the exchange by now.
She looked to the shopper to her left, who was very openly enjoying the conversation, drew herself up to her full height and said in the tones of Lady Bracknell
'There is a place for enjoying oneself and it is not the supermarket'
Later on during the shopping Milky found an ale rejoicing in the name 'Bitter and Twisted' and had to be restrained from slipping it into her trolley.
Cx
I promise the tale I am about to relate contains no exaggeration.
When I go shopping with Milky he likes to pretend to be my arms. By this I mean I will be standing with my own arms by my sides whilst he feeds his through my armpits and pretends his manically flapping appendages are mine. I am often to be found in front of a chiller cabinet pondering the merits of tuna versus haddock whilst my limbs appear to gesticulate wildly to the consternation of other shoppers.
Today it was whilst in this position that I heard the arch enquiry ...
'Do you think other shoppers could get in ?'
I turned to see a harridan, shrivelled and bent over her trolley, casting her gimlet eye over me.
I very seldom stand up for myself but I'm on my third early turn and was feeling 'that way out' as Yorkshire folk put it.
'I don't know - how about you ask politely ?' I heard myself say.
I don't think she was used to be answered back, the solid mass of lacquered hair tilted back in one quivering movement as her eyebrows shot up her face in surprise.
'Well, you're behaving in an un-shopping like fashion' she spat.
'I do apologise for enjoying myself in the supermarket' I was quite enjoying the exchange by now.
She looked to the shopper to her left, who was very openly enjoying the conversation, drew herself up to her full height and said in the tones of Lady Bracknell
'There is a place for enjoying oneself and it is not the supermarket'
Later on during the shopping Milky found an ale rejoicing in the name 'Bitter and Twisted' and had to be restrained from slipping it into her trolley.
Cx
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Leave it out ...
It's April and the Met has just cancelled everyone's rest days over Christmas & New Year
due to the last day of Hajj also falling on New Year's Eve.
Happy Christmas from the Met.
Only those who had the foresight to book their Xmas in February are spared
All being well, I move on the 1st June, photos to follow.
MTM you'll have to drop the homeless jokes.
Eric, the suspense is killing me ... you know I'm rubbish with surprises.
Cx
It's April and the Met has just cancelled everyone's rest days over Christmas & New Year
due to the last day of Hajj also falling on New Year's Eve.
Happy Christmas from the Met.
Only those who had the foresight to book their Xmas in February are spared
All being well, I move on the 1st June, photos to follow.
MTM you'll have to drop the homeless jokes.
Eric, the suspense is killing me ... you know I'm rubbish with surprises.
Cx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)