All 12 entries tagged The Midlands Puzzle Me

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January 10, 2006

Hyperbolic fantasticness

Well now!
What can I say except…

FITZ THE CAR PASSED HIS MOT. No, I don't really know how it happened either, but it feels good. Mind you, it was a hard-earned triumph, necessitating conversations such as these…

Me (at 8am this morning, quite pissed off): Morning.
Mechanic #1: Key.
Me: I'm sorry?
Mechanic #1: Key.
Me: Oh right, here you go…. Right… Well, I'll come back later then… … Right.

Me (returning at lunctime): Afternoon.
Mechanic #2: After- what? Oh. What? Hello.
Me: How's the car doing?
Mechanic #2: What?
Me: The car.
Mechanic #2: Umm… ahh… Hmmm.
long pause
Mechanic #2: What was it?
Me: How's the Fiesta?
Mechanic #2: Oh. Ah… Hmm. It's… Hmmm. Well. If you just… Hmmm.
Me: Sorry?
Mechanic #2: Yeah. If… hmm.
Me: I'll come back later.

Me (at around 4pm): Hello.
Mechanic #3: What was it?
Me: Fiesta.
Mechanic #3: Oh yeah. It… ahh… hmm.
Me: Did it pass the MOT?
Mechanic #3: What?
Me: MOT.
Mechanic #3: Oh yeah. It… hmm…
long pause
Mechanic #3: What car was it?
Mechanic #3: Oh yeah.
Me: Did it pass its MOT?
Mechanic #3: Hmm. Well I checked it over the other day.
Me: Yeah. By the way, did you check the brake fluid?
Mechanic #3: Hmm. Ah.. the brake fluid in the Fiesta?
Me: YES.
Mechanic #3: Ah… hmmm. Ah… I can't remember.
Me: Right. Did it pass the MOT?

Enter Mechanic #4
Mechanic #4: Yes it did!
Me: Ripper!

Fitz manages a mighty 0-20 in only about 90 seconds as we slowly burn rubber out of there

Oh yes!
But seriously, kids, stay in school. This stuff is not fun.

In other news, some of my photos may well go on display in Toyk in the next couple of weeks, so please go in and check them out. My brand new toy is this…

And arriving soon in the post will be this fisheye camera…

from the awesome website Lomography


October 17, 2005

I really do feel that I must comment upon…

…the absolute cynicism of TV talk shows. Having recently opened my blurry eyes to see the spectacle of 'The Jeremy Kyle Show' unfolding before me at the pad of one Gordon Random, I was sufficiently appalled to rouse myself from my stupor and come straight upstairs to write this. Now, the premise of today's show was that guests would give out appeals for lost members of their families in the hope that, like every other citizen of Great Britannia, these people would be sufficiently unemployed to be watching this atrocious show. The guests were, of course, egged on during this entire sorry affair by the astonishingly egregious chat show host, quite clearly a graduate from the Warwick Business School (sorry) or similar. Now, I haven't seen as many chat shows in my time as, I'd imagine, have the good citizens of Jeremy Kyleland. Nevertheless, even I am aware that there is simply no such thing as a show with the premise that guests will appear, give appeals, and then disappear. It would make the presenter look stupid, it would not take up a fifteen or thirty minute slot and it would, quite simply, be Bad Television. Why, then, do guest, presenter and audience alike appear astonished when out slouches the familial deserter from backstage, as predictable as a Michael Bay movie? To illustrate with an example…

Jeremy Kyle: 'Let's welcome Shareen* and Danyeen* to the show. They haven't seen their brother Kyneen* for over fifteen years.'
Shareen: 'Well, Kyneen disappeared and you know how it is, we just lost his phone number and then, you know how it is, fifteen years was gone.'
JK: 'And you're here today to make an appeal to try and find Kyneen. Well, why don't you start by looking into that camera over there and saying what you want to say.'
Danyeen: 'Kyneen, if you're out there, I just want-'
JK: 'In fact, don't bother about all that, because we've found him, ladies and gentlemen!'


Shareen: 'Oh my god! I never would have guessed!'
JK: 'Yes, that's right, we found him. It took a huge team of ITV1 researchers but we've done it. Live by satellite linkup from Australia, it's Kyneen!'

Kyneen now appears on a video screen wearing a cork hat and sitting in front of what seems to be a backdrop of Sydney. He talks in a rather unlikely Australian accent

Kyneen: 'Mornin, cobblers!'
Shareen: 'Oh my god!'
JK: 'Just say what you want to say, Shareen.'
Shareen: 'Oh, Kyneen, I-'
JK: 'In fact, don't bother with all that, because he's not in Australia at all! In fact, he's never even been to Australia! He lives ten minutes down the road from you. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Kyneen!'

And so on and so forth, as Shareen and Danyeen look close to a nervous breakdown. I don't know what can be done about all this but some action must be taken to stop our television screens being filled with such absolute tish and fipsy. Therefore, I suggest…


more of which later.

*names may well be made up. All else is painfully true.

August 14, 2005

i just got sold to humble pie for fifty bucks and a case of beer

'that's it', i thought to myself this morning, without a shred of surprise, 'leatherface has finally arrived in canley.'

yes, dearest reader, i was awoken today by the delightful strains of an UNBELIEVABLY FUCKING LOUD mechanical whirring which promised to generate the long-awaited canley chainsaw massacre. staring out of my window in bleary-eyed delight, i eagerly anticipated a vision of slaughter from next door's garden. not tonight, josephine, but i'm keeping my fingers crossed.

my dissertation currently stands at 13,698 words out of 20,000, which is fair enough, but i'm a bit fed up with it, to say the least.

July 25, 2005

no time to blog! dissertation!...

…but enjoy this little snippet from canley:

small child from next door: 'i don't eat animals.'
fleur: 'oh, hello.'
child: 'i don't eat animals.'
fleur: 'are you a vegetarian?'
child: 'hnnnnnnh….'
fleur: 'what do you eat, then?'
child: 'chicken.'
fleur: 'but chicken is an animal.'
child: 'no it isn't.'
fleur: 'where does chicken come from, then?'
child: 'chicken comes from chick.'

July 10, 2005

back in the emerald isle

that's right, i'm back home. not so cool to be blogging already, you might say. and you'd be right. but, y'know, bangor is pretty out-of-the-way, and it's very, very, very hot here, so i'm retreating to the computer room. i know, that's so ten years ago.

anyway, all is grand with me, despite a particularly traumatic six-hour journey which i will attempt to render in some sort of comedic style. well, upon waking at 9 this morning, i was greeted with the usual sounds of screaming from next door. not too bad though, with the sun splitting the trees as it was. i happily trotted onto campus pulling my suitcase along on its little wheels behind me. now, here's where my problems started. had i any sense, i would have recalled that the last time i used said suitcase (which, in fact, i believe to have been on the trip to oxford uni four years ago which resulted, mercifully, in rejection after an atrocious interview…i'm sure a few of you warwick kids know what i'm talking about…it was for the best, guys!) it was really too short for me to pull along. however, today, it was full of books about how screwed america is, and was a bit too heavy to carry. hence, a 45-minute trip to the bus stop, as i stopped every three seconds to change hands / pick up suitcase which had toppled over as i attempted to wheel it. the aggravation of this was compounded by fears about birmingham apparently having been evacuated. but no matter, said i! on to coventry from a bus filled entirely by one family – an unlikely feat, but as we say, 'you can in canley!' – and then to the train station, only to discover that all trains today were cancelled. fair enough, i thought, after wiping away the one solitary tear which threatened to streak down my sooty face. anyway, i made it to the airport okay on the bus, although was thankful that i'd followed my old english procedure of always getting the bus / train before the one which i would rationally need. upon making it to the airport and walking through my second eerily deserted train station of the day, i enjoyed a scintillating ride upon the monorail, to reach the departure gate and see…


that's right. it was a crazier queue than at zanzibar airport, and as far as i remember, that doesn't even have a check-in. anyway, that took an hour, and afterwards i headed up to the departures lounge to listen to babies scream and attempt to grab some food in the ten minutes or so i had left before my flight was called. this is the point at which i discovered that it is absolutely impossible to buy vegetarian food at birmingham airport unless you are willing to pay seventeen pounds for a mushroom and brie 'tostato', whatever that is. hence, the following conversation at burger king.

Me: 'Veggie burger, please.'
Mr Burger King: 'No veggie burger.'
Me: 'Oh.'
Mr Burger King: 'Oh well.'
Me: 'Oh well.'
Mr Burger King: 'Bean burger?'
Me: 'Is it vegetarian?'
Mr Burger King: 'Cooked in chicken.'
Me: 'Oh.'

anyway, my flight was called soon after, so i ate a bag of chocolate eclairs for my lunch. on passing through airport security i realised that a photo had been taken of me as i first checked in, which was kind of cool, if a bit orwellian. then i got the privilege of sitting in the lounge listening to a bunch of belfast people get confused by the concept that a giant hunk of metal could actually be elevated and cross the irish sea. what if something went wrong, they asked. what if we all fell out of the sky? yes, what if. what if indeed. i then spent about twenty minutes waiting to use a toilet from which eventually exited a sloan in a red trouser suit, having left a perfect, round, sloan-y turd for my delectation. upon boarding the flight surrounded by idiots reading maeve binchy novels and people saying 'whit? reet! dead on!' i was to learn that our plane was, in fact, delayed. yes, even though we were on board. forty-five minutes of thrill-spinning sitting were to follow before i eventually made it home…


i do love ireland, and it looks beautiful in the sun. i can see scotland across the sea from my window.

Edit: this is probably my worst example yet of 'life-blogging'. sorry for the self-indulgence. that's what happens when you go home.

Edit edit: i will pledge my eternal and unconditional love to anyone who buys me the 'gimme your tots, i'm freakin starvin' teeshirt which i was about to buy before i had to run for a bus. i'm aware that this is highly unlikely to occur.

June 13, 2005

i'm sharp enough to know i got a chore to do, it's true

sits back with a look of wry amusement at the chav argument which seems to have developed in my absence

well now, well now, what a collection of days! i haven't been on campus for a little while due to being on 'research leave' (yeah whatever) which has enabled me to do a great amount of lying around and watching 'family guy'. despite this apparent apathy, i'm now feeling tired enough to have problems using my left hand. but no matter – push on, push on! this weekend was grand enough – recently-departed housemate dave felt the magnetism of chesham sufficiently to return for a visit, which was ace. unfortunately, seeing a collection of all of my least favourite people in one room on saturday night was less ace, and inspired feelings of gerbil-murdering rage which were tempered somewhat by the presence of the ever-intriguing miss random and by yet more overheard strains of leamington's apparent anthem, 'the wild rover'. it was proven during last night's game of gin rummy that i am incapable of lying (try me), i still can't open the driver door of my car – but bread stocks remain unusually high, so chesham is a mixed blessing.

random, i told you i'd find you a picture of a hamster in a towel, and i wasn't lying.

December 31, 2004

The shower: UPDATE

allegedly the shower has been fixed.
i'll believe that when i see it!

December 30, 2004

Loon watch: UPDATE

latest loon-spotting work was by kate kordel… innocently making her way through london, young kate was accosted by a female american loon, who proceeded to scream: 'i hate us americans. only americans would listen to a daughter argue with her dying mother. now, fuck off.'
good work kate!

December 05, 2004


well, here i am in heathrow airport, killing massive amounts of time after arriving stupidly early for my flight to kenya (v exciting!) after a ridiculous week of erratum and embarrassment, i decided to spend MY LAST NIGHT IN TOWN in the ever-classy bar 'debonair' (sounds vaguely like 'void of despair' for a good reason) in south leamington. as predicted, this was a bit of a mistake. the night was declared over after some south leam loon put her hand on my thigh and breathed 'thank you so much for everything you've done for my son.' good stuff! i'm quite glad to be in the relatively normal world of the airport's all very 'the terminal' but thankfully without tom hanks. and i had an amazing train journey which allowed me to listen to two ridiculous chavs talking absolute nonsense whilst putting on so much makeup that it seemed they were applying blackface…perhaps in preparation for the formation of a chav minstrel show?
anyway, more posts after holiday! have a good time!

November 30, 2004

The shower: UPDATE

MAGNA came today to fix the shower. but on hearing the news that the shower was broken, they left, having been apparently unaware that the shower was broken. insanity beckons.

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