Oh no, she who must be obeyed has just mentioned those two feared letters again and this time I think she REALLY means it.
Is there no respect for MY day?
I may be gone for some time. Wish me well.
© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times
There I wis loupin aboot on my 7am shift a' day on Friday. Ahbudee wis chavvin awa gi'en 'at ers naebidy an till the next yokin time at 5pm.
Weel, yiv jist ken 'at there's aywiz gonna be a shout 'at will keep you ower your lousin time an' sure enough 'ats fit happind.
"Noddy, fit like loon" asks the controller. "Wid ye mind affie bit there's a bittie of a stooshie doon at Sainsburys. Ging doon and see if yiv can sort oot twa Eastern Europeans, a mannie an' a wifie, 'at hae taen a barra foo o' shoppin wi oot payin'."
Hearin 'is a ma freens are on the radio pint ta pintin' me and offering virtual bosies an' bein' nickum. Weel their lugs were fair derlin fae ma responses.
Aff we ging doon the shoppie an' huckle the twa using oor best Doric twang tae scunner them fan, as usual, they baith assure us they cannae spik English.
They wis baith rigget oot in cheap black leather jackets. They must issue 'em at birth o'er there.
The quine began to greet and say it wis a' a mistake. Aye, aye.
Onywiy, we get them back to the stashun an' en stairt trying to get an interpreter. Fit a' stooshie wi had. Div you ken far the nearest bides? Weel losh bihere.... Galashiels. That's nearly in Sassenach Land. Could they kindly come up and assist. Nae chance. We were dumfoonert. Fit tae dae noo then?
Tae cut a lang blether short, we muddled through wi' Language Line an' eventually finished up.... at midnight. Seventeen 'oors, coont 'em. I needed tae get hame and don my baffies. We were baith fair forfechan and ready to hae a buckit. Yiv ken 'at wis a sair chaave!
Aye min, Boysie fair picked a guid day tae be aff.
p.s. You'll be glad to know I speak English. I learnt it from a book!
© Mr Plod
Published by Toy Town™ Times
It's Father's day and just like the ASDA Annihilator, I find it a day difficult to deal with, but here's a thought ripped mercilessly from one of my favourite 70's bands that I have been cryptically referring to, in best Gadgety* style, in my last few blogs;
Don't let the tears linger on inside now
Cos it's sure time you gained control
If I can help you, if I can help you
If I can help you, just let me know
Well, let me show you the nearest signpost
To get your heart back and on the road
If I can help you, if I can help you
If I can help you, just let me know.
In a recent wishlist, reproduced on a number of blogs, of the 5 people YOU would like to meet in heaven, just supposing we are allowed in, most plumped for their fathers to fill the No.1 spot. A few mentioned Monty aka Viscount Montgomery of Alamein and they liked the photo I linked to of the old man (under the marker) with him taken in about 1948, so I have reproduced it here to mark my old man's place in my heart.
Kids, if you are reading this and also those young enough to have a father to HUG, do so today. He might not be around as long as you would like.
* - check tag for more cryptic connections.
© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times
Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
Jim and Agnes were both patients in a mental hospital.
One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool. Jim suddenly jumped into the deep end. He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there. Agnes promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled Jim out.
When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Agnes's heroic act, she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.
When she went to tell Agnes the news she said, "Agnes, I have good news and bad news.
The good news is you're being discharged since you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of another patient. I have concluded that your act displays that you have a sound mind.
The bad news is, Jim, the patient you saved, hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him.
I am so sorry, but he's dead."
Agnes replied, "He didn't hang himself, I put him there to dry. How soon can I go home?"
© Noddy
Published by Toy Town™ Times
Don't do this and don't do that. What are they trying to do?
What has happened to kids today, or could it be soft teechurz, or is it a H&S risk assessment rotten to the core.
This gives me the pip.
For goodness sake it's flamin' June.
Surely the little urchins will be cooking and baking in this summer heat and the last thing they need is heating!
Weans, wear a semmit and a toorie bunnet if you must. I promise you they are this season's must have. You'd also look like a super tramp!
© Chill Bill.
Published by Toy Town™ Times
Bizarre really that I didn't give it a moment's thought, given that I've been blogging and also commenting on recent events, but just this very morning at ... yes ... 07:15 hours, interrupting our chit chat with the stripey, a shout goes out, "Grade 1 immediate response" to a nearby newsagents being held up by a loon with a knife.
Six response officers hurtle out of the office (including me after I managed to locate the keys and get them thrown across the muster room by one of our somewhat latchey and deaf nightshift colleagues). The MSU also blues and two's it. Get in car and orange fuel light blinks at me, but what the heck, it's only a short drive to the locus.
Just about there and the first car shouts for assistance. Matey is already boshed up against a wall (nice one Boysie!), knife and contraband recovered and in the back of the van shortly thereafter. Search made for any dropped property takes a couple of minutes and then to the shop. Blinking heck, the Suits are already there sniffing a detection or two.
Job done. Back to the office via Mr Shell.
Then it hits me....there but the grace of God!
I'm getting very close to half way to my telegram from HRH, but this sort of shout first thing in the morning still leaves me buzzing.
What's more there is a recorded recognition of the team's efforts from the SMT in their morning briefing notes.
How different from a couple of days ago in every way other than the devotion to DUTY shown.
Be careful out there.
Hat tip to Chas for this post.
Charlie Lima: Pedal Power
Perhaps, any other force who are looking to bolster response times should look no further than here.
That's just about all I can say after a brief visit to PC Jon Henry's employer's website.
I know words are hard to find at such a time, but where are they?
Disgraceful!
Sky News report that Paris Hilton says she has found God and plans to "do things differently" when she is freed from prison.
The hotel heiress said she was no longer a "superficial girl" and realised that acting dumb was "no longer cute".
It's not that I'm doubting you young lady, but watch this space.
God is not an accessory!
A case of the blind leading the blindingly insane has been revealed by investigation into a bridge collapse in China.
Sky News report the barely believable incident where a blind contractor, who built and designed the bridge, was allowed to alter blueprints in such a manner that the bridge fell injuring twelve.
Can you think of any other situations like this?
I'd had a late turn and an early visit from the gas board, so once they'd finished I had a wee siesta. Just afore I climbed the wooden hill I'd read early reports about a fatal shooting by Police in Kent, but little was known at this time. Up to date reports such as from Sky News and Reuters give a fuller picture. Seems the guys down there took affirmative action and after the recent tragedy with PC Richard Gray, you can hardly blame them, but musn't pre-judge eh?
So, to the main gist of this post, unfortunately I also woke to the reality check that is the death of PC Jon Henry in Luton. My problems were washed away into a pool of insignificance as I tried to empathise with the grief of Jon's kith and kin. Doesn't work does it, but prayers do, tonight and every night and save a prayer for the morning after.
You can read other colleagues' blogs and thoughts here (the first I went to was, as usual, spot on) where I'm sure Jon's passing will not be forgotten.
A couple of points must be made though.
Toytown Constabulary have decided to jump on the bandwagon as far as Air Support is concerned and as reported by the local evening paper, to weed out Chinese cannabis cultivation in couthy country cul-de-sacs and leafy (sic) suburbs.
I have posted previously about this trend and note similar ventures elsewhere.
Are they boy's toys or could the money be better spent elsewhere. Let's have your views.
Personally, I think our own use, as described, is very positive given the geography of our region and the population density (or rather lack of it outside Toytown itself). I have seen comments on this subject downplaying the significance of this specific drug, but it is self evident from the alleged involvement of Triads that the cultivation of cannabis supports a myriad of other evils. Quite literally there is no smoke without fire.
The heat is on.
In a shameless attempt to promote fellow bloggers and dig up previous posts, it has come to my attention that beasties are topping the news agenda this week.
There's poor old persecuted Dave the Dolphin about whom you can read more here and here. To which I've already commented, "Flippin' heck, there was poor old Dave duckin' and divin' like a good 'un havin' a whale of a time when...." (see I can do mockney too!)
Then there's a spate of dog related tails, sorry tales, such as my personal favourite which is sure to have PeePee biting. Or you can have this one to which the only response can be, "You can't be serious." Mind you I've posted about dog on dog before.
If you are considering a visit to the Beijing Olympics stick to BurgerKing and you will be safe from Ronald Rat, that well known anagram. How can this make you scared of fluffy bunnies? But, on the other hand, maybe you should be.
Seems the Japanese have got the right idea.
Judging fae a' yon comments on PeePee's post, folks is haein an affa time makkin oot fit I wis bleeterin on aboot.
Weel on Friday nicht I wis oot in een o' yon hoolivans wi' 3 ither loons and een quine in Toytoon's toon sinter. Noo, in true profeshnel mannir we a' thocht it wid be richt guid if we renamed oorsels the Trotters.
Bein the auld mannie it wis my jobbie to tak on the mantle o' Uncle Albert, the Speshel, bein as she's a wimmin, was Marlene, the new loon wis Boysie, the young een wis Rodney an' the stripey wis Del Boy.
Yiv ken it's fair set fer a lang nicht fan yon maun is fool an' the nichts short in these pairts, bit it disnae help fan the Spesh says, "Ken is, it's affa QUIET." Chorus o' firstly, "Nooooooooooo!" followed by (in best Boysie spik), "Marlene, get your handbag, you're leaving."
Trawlin the toon sinter o' Toytown, the Trotters turn doon a een wiy laney doon the side o' a kirk an' fit shid they keek there? There's this quine squattin doon, breeks and keks aroon her enkles haein a number een. Mind 'is taks place next to God's hoosie. A bonnie sicht it wisnae. Marlene and Boysie gets oot the Transit like scaulded futrets an' remonstrate wi' the quine. The rest o' us tak bets on far she bides in toon. We settle on een cooncil estate an' I wander across to the quine an' ask. "Far div yi bide?" "Northfield" she says. I walk back to the motor, leevin Marlene an' Boysie open mooed and report back to Del Boy an' Rodney wi a "Close, bit nae cigar." The quine wis geein a flee in her lug an' sent on her way and reminded o' God's wrath. Marlene an' Boysie ask, "Fit wis a' that aboot Uncle? Yiv jist cam o'er and asks far she bided an' en walked off." Explanations made an' abidy wis happy.
Eftir a few wee scuffles, we drive doon a cobbled street wi pubs and clubs doon each side an' a puckle o' chippies an' kebab hoosies. Noo, the young eens wi a buckit foo think yon street is a pedestrian only laney. It's nae. Oot waddles this Michelin mannie in front o' oor mobile jail and the stripey shoots oot, "Watch the van min, you'll damage it ken." Windaes are shut, it wis jist for oor benefit. Onywiy MM walks doon the street and we follow makkin observations on 'is loons girth wi much mirth as he gings closer to een o' they chippers I telt yiv aboot. Bets are placed agen o'er if he'll go in. He gets nearer an' Rodney pipes up, "Go on. You know you want to." As he gings intae the shoppie there's a chorus fae the Trotters jist like fan the Huns goalie taks a goal kick at Pittodrie. Coorse I ken, but hey min, it wis a lang nicht.
Noo, up at the end o' yon street, there's a puckle o' Chinese asylum seekers and folk fae a' they newcomers to the EEC, sellin sinnel roses, flashy lichties an' the new craze fer cooboy hats. We are then stoppit by a glaikit Joe 90 lookalike stottin aboot a bittie who regales the stripey wi the famous, "I ken you're bizzy, bit can i ask you a queshun, hic." Stripey replies, "Are you capable?" "Aye min, i'm capabubblehh," the gifted een replies. He gings an tae enquire if yon street vendors shud hae a licence. Aye weel they shud really, bit at eftir 3 in the mornin yer nae gaunna chase them up. Joe 90 taks umbrage at 'is bit o' commin sense an tells the stripey, "Dis at mean I can ging up to yon folk an tell em 'Yer fuckin shit is bollocks'? Trotters dissolve intae hysterics and Joe 90 staggers off in a huff. Ferthir up a street we see anither soak wi a cooboy bunnet. We pull alangside an' enquire. "Have you lost summin? Soak is fair dumfoonert an looks aboot himsel. Trotters in chorus shout oot, "Far's yer horse?" Soak taks a minty, bit 'en' maks a fair impression o' Frankie Dettori as he gallops nagless up the street to chorus o' YeeHah or was it Yahoo (Toytown Polis 'in' joke)
It helps the nicht pass an' aff we went tae oor hames chucklin.
The public....we love you honest.
Regards,
Uncle Albert.
Black in Blue: A training session with Twining
Barking. Completely.
n.b. You'll need this link too for the comments field.
Those wacky Cloggies have come up with a blinder for our ever increasingly bleezin' yoof.
Reuters report that Dutch students, not content with a Snowball or a half litre of Grolsch, have designed a powdered alcopop, which apparently circumvents existing laws on possession of alcohol by minors and has been specifically designed with this demographic in mind.
Worryingly, the article continues, "A number of companies are interested."
Parents - you have been warned. This can only be BAD.
Personally, I'm sticking to whisky and beer!
Stating the bleedin' obvious has reached new heights as reported by the Beeb.
A Sussex Police Inspector charged with researching the correlation between lunar cycles and crime statistics has deduced that a full moon really does bring out the worst in mops.
Continuing his utterly incredulous research, he has also deduced that crime increases on pay day.
As a result of this genius, it has been decided to up the strengths of patrols on such days - sorry nights. Guess who won't be out there though?
Can I have an office to study the effects of heroin and crack cocaine addiction? It's my guess it fuels crime, but a nice little budget for the research and a cosy daytime job would be nice.
Is it any wonder we have lost faith in statistical analysis!
A national "Britain Day" to celebrate its values and achievements is being proposed by two senior ministers.
Communities Secretary Ruth Kelly and Immigration Minister Liam Byrne say it could be a new bank holiday or linked to the state opening of Parliament.
In 2006, a survey by BBC History magazine suggested the anniversary of the signing of Magna Carta in 1215 would be the most popular day for a Britain Day.
The 15 June date was favoured by 27% of the 5,002 people polled, ahead of VE Day (8 May) with 21%, and D-Day (6 June) with 14%.
Not many Scots would have voted for the 15th June, as I have alluded to in the past.
Chip on shoulder getting bigger!
Of course these MPs (who sound surprisingly like their ancestry is in the Emerald Isle) could always hijack the truly Scottish day - Hogmanay. At least we'd get double bubble for working it.
Remember, your vote counts (are you taking note IG? But, then of course you get a lump sum).
Correct politicalness has now permeated even twitchers, according to this report in the Register.
Kind of ruins the byline for this photo then!
It's almost as bad as saying 'Roger' on your Airwave terminal.
You could get roasted for that too soon.
Was this in the Tory manifesto or is it another sleazy vote grabber?
A truly classic typo.
