Small World

This is something I am fascinated by. The fact that wherever you go, whatever you're doing - you can almost guarantee that the further from home you trek, the more likely you are to bump into your next-door neighbour...

There are countless examples across the internet, and I like to think that most of you will have one or two of your own too - my favourite happened a few years ago... 

As many of you know, I used to work in retail for a mobile phone operator in the UK and one of my colleagues was a great fun Greek chap who I shall call Dolphus*. 

Now after a year or two of working together, Dolphus had married a very nice Irish lady (he was something of a trendsetter it seems), and eventually moved to Ireland to settle down - raising potatoes, growing children and generally getting all Zeus-y on the locals**, and of course we pretty much lost touch aside from the occasional electronic sheep thrown at one another***.

Some time later, I too met a nice Irish lady all of my very own and decided to go and visit her in Dublin, but soon discovered that for at least some of the time she would have to work, leaving me to my own devices in a strange city - which let me do one of my favourite activities: getting completely lost (seriously - I don't mean I just couldn't find my way around, I mean it is a lot of fun when somewhere new and interesting to just go for a walk, see what you can find, then try to make your way back to somewhere you know. Try it for yourselves****). I spent a happy couple of hours wandering around strange suburbs of Dublin, popping into shops and seeing where my feet would take me.

As I wondered the streets, looking at ducks on the canal, people on the streets and nerry a potato in sight, it suddenly occurred to me that Dolphus had moved to Ireland, and the fact that Dublin is by far the biggest city here there was a good chance that this is where he lives! I looked through my phone to see if I had a number and by some small miracle, I did.

It was his old UK number, now long discarded (I said it was a small miracle)

I sent him a message on faceache, but noticed at the time he still hadn't replied to being defenestrated by me over a year beforehand, so probably wasn't using myface that much.

I then called a couple of mutual friends to see if they had numbers for him and again one of them did! I called but had no answer, so fired off a text and the resigned myself to the fact that it had been nothing if not a long-shot, and so called it quits on the spur of the moment reunion I had begun to plan.

And of course, it was at this moment that I wondered into another shop to find Dolphus standing behind the counter with a look of shock on his face.

Now, the reason I decided to write this was I had just seen a far better small world story happen on the internet - When the BBC inadvertently interviewed Tommy Lawrence about a derby he played in back in 1967...

For more excellent small world stories take a look at reddit.com, or just let me know your own and I'll laugh at them all for hours and hours and hours admire them wistfully...

*For no better reason than it apparently means Distinguished Wolf, which I think he'd like
**How many stupid stereotypes/vague and misguided jingoistic or racial slurs can I manage? Let's find out...
***Like I said, it was a few years ago
****I take no responsibility for anyone who goes missing or gets into trouble following the method!

Hot Water

I thought I'd write a short script to pass some time. It's not big and it's not clever.
It's probably not even all that funny.

But it is here.

 

Man is stood at the kitchen counter, stirring a pot. Gangster walks in behind him.

G: You know Chief, you’re in a spot of bother.

M: [jumps] What the?! Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my kitchen?

G: Ahh, ignorance is bliss. Remember this moment. Pretty soon you’ll look back on the here and now really quite…

Gangster picks up a knife

G: … Fondly.

Gangster moves in front of Man.

M: What is that? Why are you here? What do you want? Please let me go

G: Let you go? Why of course! What did you think I was going to do? Carve something up? Take this big, sharp knife and strip some meat from the bone? Cleave through the delicate flesh, slice up the belly? Maybe attack the leg? Get really stuck into the shin bone?

M: [whimpers]

G: You see Chief, we seem to have for ourselves here all the ingredients for something rather special. We have the meat…

Gangster points knife at Man

G: We have the vegetables…

Gangster points knife between Mans legs

G: All we need is the… key ingredient. That little something special. That je ne sais quoi…

M: I don’t know what that is!! What is it? What do you need?! Please don’t carve up my shin!

G: Keep your voice down. No… You know what I need. What we’re here for.

M: What? What do you want?

G: You know what I want, Chief. I want…

Gangster leans in very close

G: …The Boullion.

Man looks terrified. His eyes dart around. He sweats

M: Bullion?

G: Boullion.

Man slowly reaches past Gangster and picks up a tub

M: Boullion?

Gangster takes a teaspoon full and puts it in the stew

G: Lovely

Gangster walks out of the door as the pan bubbles over

M: ...?

End

Toll Trolls

First things first. This is the first post in quite some time - I know some of you have been hanging on with baited breath, and I can only apologise for the delay. I hope it hasn't cost you too much in sleepless nights, stress-related injuries and hospital stays. Hopefully my resurgence of posting will drag you out of your funk and into the light.

Hopefully.

Now, I realise that this triumphant returns... triumph... relies on a couple of things:

1 - That you enjoy the idea of trolling strangers for fun (hopefully at least half of that fun is theirs).
2 - That you have ever been bored on the motorway
3 - That you read this blog
4 - That you have no strong opinions on what the words "a couple" means

Every week or so, we go for a little drive from a place I like to call Bale Ather Clyath and head down on a trip to Tipp. This is a fairy easy couple of hours drive that takes in many wondrous sights

Motorway art is such a beautiful idea, and some of it is magnificent.

Some of it is just some sticks.

Seeing these same sticks over and over again led some of us to cook up a new way to make the journey more interesting, and where better to do it than at the magical mystery land of the M7 Toll

And so, every time we approach this majestic break in the journey, whoever is driving has to do a bit, a joke, a voice, an impression, a challenge - something that will hopefully make the attendant laugh - or at the very least make them speak to their colleagues at the end of the day about the really really odd people they saw today.

So far we've tried telling them jokes (not funny). Writing them notes (hilarious to us, bemusing to them). Asking for a burger and fries (not funny at all). Asking how they get to work, do they have a train that takes them to their booths? (no.) funny voices (always a winner). Singing at them* (not to them... That would be weird). More funny voices (still great). And always, regardless of the poor poor person in the both, driving away with a grateful "thank you! You're a very nice old man!"

*caravan of love, because why not...