Archive for the 'Around the village' Category
Looking after the elderly
Grandad November 30th, 2010
During this little chilly snap, there are frequent reminders for people to check on their elderly neighbours.
Fuck that. I haven’t seen sight nor sound of any of my neighbours in ages. How fucking inconsiderate can you get? I could be frozen solid for all they care. Bastards.
So it’s just me and Sandy [and Herself, I suppose] fending off the elements by ourselves. I have been feeding the fox and the birds as I like to think I am a little more considerate of wildlife than my neighbours are of me. Bastards. Actually, the birds are remarkably cheerful, and I heard a blackbird ripping forth with his best Summer Song yesterday. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have fed them the wrong seeds.
I ran out of some essential supplies so I had to go down to the village today. Do you think my neighbours would offer to go for me? Not a fucking chance. Bastards.
It wasn’t too bad out there. It was fucking cold, but I suppose that is to be expected, what with the cutting wind, the blast of dry icy snow and the sub-zero temperatures.
I made it back in one piece. In spite of falling a few times, I managed to get home without breaking any bottles of whiskey essential supplies. As I arrived at the gate, one of my neighbours was driving past in his four wheel drive. He asked if I wanted anything from the village. I told him to fuck off and that he should have asked me earlier.
Bastard.
How to order a Guinness
Grandad October 20th, 2010
Four years ago, I wrote a wee article.
It was a simple pub survival guide, and it became the most popular thing I ever wrote. To date, it has been read by over 75,000 people. I thought it was time to revisit the subject with a drop of illustration.
For some strange reason, people [mostly Americans] haven’t a fucking clue how to order a simple pint of Guinness. You would think it would be a straightforward process, but no.. they still fuck it up which not only means they get a shit pint, but they really piss off the barman in the process.
OK. This is the moment you have been waiting for. After waiting for fifteen minutes in the otherwise empty pub, you have finally managed to catch the barman’s eye. You are obviously a tourist, so it is tradition that you be kept waiting. However you have now ordered your first pint, and the barman starts to pour.
You have now reached your first hurdle. This is NOT a pint of Guinness. It is a partially pulled pint of Guinness. Any fuckwit who grabs it at this stage will be really lucky if they live, as barmen DO NOT like the glass to be touched. A lot of barmen keep their weapons of choice for this moment. Make a wrong move and you could be at the receiving end of a baseball bat.
Just be fucking patient and wait. If the barman wanders off, he hasn’t forgotten you – he is just waiting for the next phase.
Eventually the barman will return. Make any sort of comment about being kept waiting and the chances are you will get shot. You have waited a lifetime for this pint, and another few minutes aren’t going to make any difference. The barman now tops off the pint and will place it back on the counter. This is usually the time you offer to pay.
Right. You have paid for your pint and there it is. A full pint glass of frothing liquid. What do you do next?
No. You don’t fucking drink it. You can now remove it to wherever you want to drink it, be it at the bar or at a table, but YOU DO NOT DRINK IT. This is the moment to savour the anticipation. You may carry on a conversation, have a cigarette or just sit and watch, but it does not go near your mouth. Yet.
Right. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Note the crisp black and white? That means the pint has settled. You can now drink and enjoy.
It’s all quite simple really. Even an American should be able to understand that? I doubt it though.
-oOo-
I would like to say at tis point that no animals were harmed during the filming. I would like to thank Mash [so called because he distills the best Poiteen in the village] for his patience.
In order to bring you the best photographs, we had to do about eight takes.
Then of course I had to drink the props.
It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.
Happy bathday
Grandad August 25th, 2010
A bit of a late start today.
There was a bit of a celebration down in the pub last night that went on for a bit longer than usual.
We were celebrating Pullit’s birthday.
At some stage during the early hours of the morning, it transpired that it wasn’t in fact his birthday after all.
It was his bath day.
You win some. You lose some.
Bus stop
Grandad July 21st, 2010
What is this business with bus stops?
When I was a kid, bus stops were about a quarter of a mile apart. If you left one, and tried to run for the next, there was an excellent chance you would miss the bus, as if you were caught between them, you were fucked.
Nowadays, the fucking things are everywhere.
I have four of the fuckers serving my house, two on each side of the road. They are only a few yards apart, yet each one has to have its little dedicated slab of pavement. How much did that cost?
There is a road near here that for some crazy reason has a bus route on it. It is very narrow, hilly and twisting. If you get stuck behind a bus on that route, you can forget about getting anywhere, and the shagging thing stops every minute as there are so many stops. One of the stops is even on a sharp bend, and they have marked the stop with a nice curved bus-bay. I have never seen a curved bus to fit it though.
The Gubmint frequently whinge about people not getting enough exercise and getting fat as a result, and then do everything to save people from walking.
I’m baffled.
Are people incapable of walking these days?
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