January 28, 2013

The Art Of Tipping

When I was younger, I used to tip everyone.

Waitresses, taxi drivers, the person who carries your bags into the hotel.

Now I’m bit more selective – especially with taxi drivers.

In my job, invariably I’ll find myself in the back of a taxi. The typical conversation is as follows:

Me: (Climbing in) “Alright mate.”

Taxi Driver: “Hello Sir. Where are you off to?”

Me: “I’m going to (insert destination).”

At this point I’m thinking:
I told your controller where I was going when I booked the taxi. Don’t you guys talk?

Him: “So, what do you do for a living?”

Me: “I work in care.”
At this stage, I’m wishing he’d just shut the fuck up and drive. I consider inserting my earphones and putting on my Ipod.

I’m aware that most people automatically ask taxi drivers if they’ve been busy.
I don’t.
I don’t care if they’ve been busy, not my concern.

At the end of our destination, the taxi driver stops the car, turns to me, and says:

“How much you normally pay?”

I’m tempted to ask: “Before or after the blow job?” but don’t think this would go down too well.

Taxi drivers ask this question to see if you know how much your journey normally costs.
If you don’t, you’re either stupid, or a tourist.

I look into space, as if I’m mulling over the question.
We’ve been driving for around 10 minutes.
This journey normally costs £10.

“Two pounds,” I said.

Him: “No, I don’t think so.”

Me: “Why did you ask then? If you don’t know prices, then maybe you should be doing a different job.”

Exit taxi.

Ok, I made that last bit up.
But that’s what I wish I had said.
Still no tip for him though…

January 28, 2013

Once You Go Black…..

I was in a pub in Slough a while ago.

For those who don’t know, Slough is a lovely little town in Berkshire.

The primary reason I was there (apart from the need for liquid refreshment) was that a few people I had spoken to had warned me not to go into this pub.

Roughest pub in Slough, I was told.

Red rag to a bull, as far as I was concerned.

So in I went.

To be approached by a group of young Asian teens who felt the need to show me how “street” they were. Allow me to set the scene….

I am somewhat of a casual dresser: baggy jeans, t-shirt, Nike’s. If I have to be in a meeting for work with important types, I have been known to throw on a shirt…

So here I was, having stepped into a pub in Slough of notorious reputation.
Alone.

Found myself approached by a group of Asian teens, whose “leader” took one look at the dreadlocks I was sporting at the time, and said,

“Wassup my bredrin, what’s happenin’?”

I merely nodded.
Strong but silent.

Undeterred, the Leader continued.

“You not from round ‘ere, are ya? What brings you round to my ends?”

“Beer,” I said.

The teen in front of me wore a Adidas vest over a t-shirt (never understood that trend) and jeans almost as baggy as mine.
Except his were halfway down his legs.
I could see his boxer shorts.
The view wasn’t good.

He nodded. “Tru dat, blood, touch.”
He made a fist and attempted to touch fists with mine.

Inwardly, I sighed. Touched fists.

Answered the predictable questions about whether I liked listening to Bob Marley, no, I don’t have any weed, and haven’t spent half my life in prison.

I was tempted to point out that he was speaking to me in a way he assumed every black guy talked, and it sounded stupid – especially coming out of his mouth.
The closest he’d come to the “hood” was when his mum bought him a Parka when he was six.

But I didn’t.
I shrugged, and went to get my beer.

January 28, 2013

War – What is it good for?

When the United Kingdom Coalition Government was formed not so long ago, the official line that was constantly being trotted out was:

“Britain is broke. We have to cut the deficit, and that means painful cuts to public spending.”

So you can imagine my cynicism upon reading the following news report regarding the (then) situation in Libya:

“Chancellor George Osborne sought to reassure the public that the cost of the war would not spiral out of control, saying it would be ‘in the tens of millions not the hundreds of millions of pounds’

He said it would be paid for from the Treasury’s reserve, rather than the main defence budget.

The Government expects the air campaign, featuring RAF Typhoon and Tornado jets plus Tomahawk cruise missiles fired from the submarine Triumph, to cost around £3million a day, though the Daily Mail has calculated that the first three days cost nearly £6million each.

But costs and the length of the deployment will soar if either of those scenarios prompts a need for ground troops.”

So this “war” would be paid for from the Treasury’s reserve, rather than the main defence budget?

Thought we were broke?

On the other hand, there is always money for war.

If you study the blueprint for the “wars” both the UK and the USA have been involved in over the years, it would read something like:

(1) Pick a weaker country with assets you want to get your grubby hands on:
Oil, prime real estate to build military bases on, minerals – doesn’t matter.

(2) Overthrow the current government or leader by overt or covert means. If one man (or woman) is in charge, you can label them a dictator if you want.

(3) If it’s a whole government, make a fuss about the fact they aren’t very democratic.
Insist the people need to be liberated.

(4) Crank up the terror alert.
Tell the people whose country we are about to invade – sorry – liberate – would not hesitate to interfere with our way of life.
If you can get a few religious or racial slurs in there, even better.

(5) Ensure the media are onside whilst peddling propaganda in favour of war.
People should be afraid.
Because you said so.

(6) Send in the heavy hitters.
Whilst dropping bombs, ensure that you use the words “Liberate” a lot, and mention the fact that the people of that country should be grateful we’re dropping bombs on their houses.
After we are finished bombing, they can vote for a new leader/government.
With our guidance, of course.

(7) Whilst the bombing campaign is in operation, ensure someone from the Armed Forces appears on television to state that “We will try to minimize civilian casualties” – even though this is blatantly untrue.

(8) Overthrow the government/leader of bombed country, ensuring we replace them with “Western Friendly” puppets who will do what we tell them.

(9) Reconstruct country.
Send in contractors to suck money out of bombed country.
After all, it’s their fault we had to come over and reduce their country to rubble. Why shouldn’t they contribute financially?

(10) Move on to next country.

January 28, 2013

Things of mild irritation

1) People who leave the foil/paper bit on the margarine carton. Why? It’s not gonna keep it fresh – that’s what the lid’s for.

2) Women who talk during the football, then glare at you if you do the same during Eastenders.
The rules are simple: Sit, say nothing, cheer when my team scores.
That’s it!

3) People who don’t say thanks when you hold a door open – it only takes a minute.

4) Girlfriends who ask if they are fat.
You’re not.
And if you were, I’d lie.

5) The person who decided to put a slit in boxer shorts.
It’s annoying, and anyway – blokes pee over the top, not through the slit…

6) The postman, who often decides not only to deliver my mail to me, but also my neighbours.
Can’t you read?

7) The person who decided to write on the side of the cotton buds packet: “Do not insert into ear canal.”
And what do most people use them for?

8) People who cross the road when I’m approaching them – usually clutching their handbags/purses/wallets.
I don’t have a criminal record, never mugged anyone, and have never snatched a purse.
Though I might have to start.
That’ll teach ‘em…

9) Stewards and stewardesses on airlines who nowadays seem to think it’s ok to become charity collectors once the flight takes off.
Just because I’m belted into a seat, thousands of feet up with nowhere to go, STILL doesn’t mean I can be embarrassed into donating to whatever charity is in fashion at the time.

10) Supermarket checkout staff who ask “Would you like any help packing?” when I’ve only got 3 items.
Are you taking the piss?

January 28, 2013

Cold Callers

I was sitting in my office when the phone rang.
Some bloke from a data research company.
The conversation went like this:

Me: “Hello, good afternoon, L*********** Road, how can I help?”

Him: “Good afternoon Sir. I’m calling on behalf of …..(mumbles) data research. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Me (suspiciously): “What are you selling?”

Him: “I am not selling anything, Sir.”

Me: “How did you get this number?”

At this point, he could have simply said “The phone book.”
I work for a big organization, and this would have been entirely possible.

Instead, he said: “I rang before and did a survey with someone else there, and this is the follow-up call.”

Me: “Really? Who did you do this survey with?”

It became blindingly obvious he was reading from a script, and my clearly stupid questions were not going to cause him to deviate from that script.
Or so he thought.

Him: “I’d like to ask you a few questions about…”

Me: “Hang on. I’ve got a few questions of my own. Who did you speak to previously? How did you get this number? What are you really selling?”

Him: “Well Sir, I’d like to talk about….”

Me: “I don’t care what you want to talk about. Answer the questions.”

All I got in return was the sound of this man hanging up on me.

I think the moral of this story is this:

He who rings up randomly to ask questions, should be prepared to answer some in return…..

January 28, 2013

Got to have faith…….

Normally when Jehovah Witnesses knock at the door, I suppose the typical response would be to tell them that you’re not interested, you don’t want to buy a copy of Watchtower, and despite the fact that you are clearly destined for Hell, you are far too busy to attend Kingdom Hall to discuss salvation.

That’s not what I do.

Knock on door. Open door. Jehovah Witnesses? Come in. Tea? I’ll just put the kettle on.

At this point both of them are looking a little confused.
This is not the response they are used to.

Now, bear in mind that I used to be extremely religious.
I used to hold Bible study groups in my house, and stood in the street to engage people on the joys of religion.
Happy days.

So we settle down to discuss the finer points of religion:

Me: “That’s all very interesting. What’s your opinion on dinosaurs?”

Jehovah Witness: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Dinosaurs. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. No mention of dinosaurs though, I’ve checked. Even though bones have been dug up. I’ve seen them in museums.”

I’m aware at this point, I’ve sparked off a discussion of Creationism vs Evolution.
But I will proceed.

JW: “Er, dinosaurs didn’t exist.”

Me: “So the bones I’ve seen are fake?”

JW: “I’m not saying that, just that they didn’t exist.”

What? I decide to change tact.

Me: “How about incest? Is that ok?”

JW: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, Adam and Eve were the first two people on the planet. Where did everybody else come from?”

JW: “I don’t follow.”

Me (patiently): Adam and Eve were the first. They had kids. If there was no incest, there would be no other people.”

JW: “Erm….”

Me: “Following on from this, when Cain killed Abel, Cain was banished and took up residence in the land of Fugitiveness to the east of Eden. Afterward Cain had intercourse with his wife and she became pregnant and gave birth to Enoch.”

JW: “Yes.”

Me: “By my reckoning, Cain’s wife was also his sister – which I’m pretty sure you can be arrested for. Anyway after this, he built a city (no mention of him getting help with this) which eventually ended up becoming populated. Where did these citizens come from?”

JW: “Well it’s been good talking with you, but we have to go.”

Me: “That’s a shame. I have biscuits…..”

January 28, 2013

Cold Callers Part Two

It doesn’t matter where I go, if I’m outdoors and see people hovering trying to sign people up for charity direct debits, or Jehovah’s Witnesses looking to spread the word, or people trying to part me from my cash in aid of disadvantaged gerbils, I inexplicably always catch their eye.

Then follows a conversation whereby they try their hardest to extract cash from me with tales of sorrow and woe, and I tell them I know they’re on commission, how much does the charity actually see of the money, and that they’re wasting their time.

I’ve adjusted my approach over the years.
Now if I catch their eye, without breaking stride, I mouth the words, “No” and “Pointless.”
Seems to work.

The other day, someone from Powergen (the energy company) knocked on my door.

Him: “Sorry to bother you Sir. I’m working on behalf of Powergen, and am here to tell you how I can reduce your energy bills.”

I’ll bite.

Me: “By how much?”
Fully aware he couldn’t tell me this without knowing how much I was already paying.

Him: (without skipping a beat.) “15%”

Me: “That’s quite impressive considering you don’t know how much my bills are now. Have you got any literature with these amazing prices on them?”

Him: “Er, no. We can send you the literature after you sign up.”

Me: “That’s no good to me after I’ve already signed up.”

Him: “If you write down your name and address we can send you our literature.”

Me: “Hmmmm. Why didn’t you bring it with you?”

Him: “It not something we do.”

Me: “Because?”

Him (probably aware his commission was slipping away): “Because we normally send our brochure afterwards.”

Me: “So you expect me to take you at your word about these amazing prices, sign up with your company who I’ve seen on TV on BBC Watchdog* and read the brochure afterward?”

Him: “Yes.”

Me: “And that’s why I’m not interested in anything further you’ve got to say. Goodbye.”

I’m not even going to point out the moral of this story…..

PS: To the Powergen company lawyers: I forgot to add the word *allegedly.
I’m sure your “sales staff” don’t tell lies to members of the public to drum up business.

And I’m sure your company has always conducted itself in an ethical manner, and doesn’t sign up customers under false pretences.
So there.

January 28, 2013

Identity Theft….

One Saturday, I had dragged my weary arse out of bed and headed into town to buy a rug.

Stuck my cashcard in the ATM and selected £40 for withdrawal. After a few seconds, the screen informed me that Id reached my withdrawal limit.

Reached my withdrawal limit? How was this possible when I hadn’t taken out any money?

Requested a balance statement, which told me that same day sums of £100 and £200 pounds had been taken from my account.

Surely some mistake, some glitch in the system?

After speaking to my bank, I found out my cashcard had been cloned.
Some bastard had tampered with the ATM and when I inserted my card (presumably the previous day) my details had been “skimmed.”

My bank also told me that often there is a miniature camera attached to the cash machine by these criminals, recording you tapping in your pin.

Now I’ve seen the “Real Hustle,” I know to shield my Pin from prying eyes, to guard again the “shoulder surfers” behind me.
But hidden cameras?

Always thought I could spot if an ATM had been altered.

Obviously not…

Apparently this type of scam is rife in my area, as well as on the rise in London.

My bank refunded my cash, and I think that I’ll stick to withdrawing money over the counter of my bank…..

January 28, 2013

10 things to smile about….

1) People smiling for no reason.

I don’t mean crazy people smiling at the memory of where they buried the body.
I mean people smiling to themselves like they have a secret you will never get.

When I was at school, there was a guy in the 6th form called Chet, who always walked around smiling.

I was good friends with Chet’s brother, so one day I asked him why he was always strolling around smiling.
His answer was, “Why not? What have I got to be unhappy about? Life is good.”
You’ve got to admire that.

I left Tottenham a while ago, but on the streets of London, not a lot of smiling going on.

Following on from this theme, I saw a little girl (about 5) a little while ago eating an ice lolly that was damned near bigger than she was. And she had the biggest grin on her face.
If I was a little kid, eating such a huge lolly, I’d be smiling too.

2) Dogs licking their owners. In the face.

You do know that your pet has spent half the day licking its own balls, don’t you?

3) Rediscovering sweets I remember from my youth, that I thought had been discontinued.

This memory is soured somewhat by the fact that they have all been shrunk: curly wurley, space raiders, toffoes…

4) Knowing the dialogue to your favourite films, and quoting it occasionally while watching.
My friends think I’m crazy, but they still stick around. Who’s crazy now?

5) Music you discovered in your youth that you still listen to today – for me: Eric Clapton, Bob Marley, Lenny Kravitz, Tracey Chapman, the list goes on…

6) Sunshine

7) Mothers reactions to their little angel screaming in the supermarket because they want THAT sweet, and they want it NOW. Embarrassing. Walk away. They’ll soon stop.

8) Engaging friends in complex political debates, and systematically dismantling their arguments. Weapons of mass destruction?

9) That beautiful feeling when you’ve woken up early in the morning, realised it’s your day off, and happily pull the duvet back over your head.

10) Sitting on a beach, drinking rum & coke, the drink of my heritage.

January 28, 2013

Be Afraid – Be Very Afraid…

Our esteemed government is so busy telling us to be frightened of other races & religions that we tend to ignore what our government is actually doing.

If they are to be believed, every 5 minutes there is a threat from some fundamentalist Islamic group, then in the same breath they tell us that they respect all religions, blah, blah, blah.

We apparently are overrun with illegal immigrants (doubtful) who take up our available jobs & housing, and biometric I.D cards would definitely stop this.

People are already forging passports, driving licenses, cloning credit cards – so why would a biometric I.D stop this? To add insult to injury, WE pay for it!

And we say nothing…

And every year they bring in more draconian laws under the guise of keeping us safer.

No doubt there are some crazy people out there, but it doesn’t help when the authorities (and the media) exaggerate these issues.

Remember the lies told about weapons of mass destruction? The lies told when the Metropolitan Police shot innocent Brazilian Jean Charles de Menezes at Stockwell tube station?

On the housing issue, I spent more years than I wanted to squatting in London. When I was doing this in Hackney, there were more boarded up council houses than you could shake a stick at.

All the while, councils are bleating that they don’t have enough housing stock, and the waiting lists get ever longer.

Whichever government in charge at the time tell us that there is no money in the kitty for pensions, public sector pay rises or affordable houses – while sitting pretty with gilt-edged pensions, awarding THEMSELVES above inflation pay rises, and so busy slurping from the trough they don’t see (or don’t care) about the contradiction.

The UK is supposedly of one the richest, most prosperous nations on the planet. Yet more pensioners die because they can’t afford to heat their homes, and countless other people are below the poverty line and homeless.

Yet, for all the Government’s protests about the well running dry, we still find the money for billions of pounds worth of Trident submarines, Olympic bids, etc.

Millennium Dome, anyone?