Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Deficit or no deficit...you gotta buy a Smugaboo©
(Article by Michael Holden)
If you thought all the people who know exactly how the world works and yet seem miraculously uninvolved in actually solving any of its problems were confined to the Internet, think again. Off for a haircut, I wound up in a chair next to one of them, and spent the entire trim noting the abundance of sharp objects in the vicinity and the lack of legal ways in which one might persuade him into silence with them.
Man "There's no deficit. The whole thing's a bloody myth, a sham."
Barber "You think?"
Man "It's obvious. You wait. It's just a way for the government to renege on its responsibilities. There's plenty of money there, I can assure you."
Barber "I dunno …"
Man "I mean, what are they gonna do. Just tell all these single mothers that they have to go and find a job?"
Barber "Yeah. Why not?"
Barber "Yeah. That's real life."
Man "You're a hard man!"
Barber (who's Thai) "Tough times all over. You want to come here from Thailand now, you need £20,000."
Barber "That's a million baht."
Man "That's a pity, cos you guys are great. I mean, you're the kind of people that should be encouraged."
Barber "Why would I wanna come over here and spend a million baht on your single mother?"
Man "Well, that's what I'm saying. You shouldn't have to, because the money's there …"
Barber "Teach your single mother to cut hair."
He had no immediate answer for that. No doubt his trenchant online persona would formulate an answer in due course.
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Had decided to do some serious research into expensive pram / buggy one-upmanship (see Stoke Newington or similar where Bugaboo jousting is almost an olympic sport) but went for the feeble pun instead...Pramalot anybody? (I know, I know,)
(Original article here - http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/apr/24/michael-holden-all-ears)
(Article by Michael Holden)
Eating lunch at an outside table I was distracted by the intensity of
a woman’s voice nearby. I turned to see she was sat just along from
me, and had recognised an acquaintance of hers who was pushing a pram.
Woman 1 (as though the child were on fire) “Your baby!”
Woman 2 (proud, but nonetheless alarmed at the intensity of her
friend’s exclamation) “This is Sammy.”
Woman 1 (no less shrill) “Your baby has the cutest hair!”
I looked, and saw that the child in question boasted a sprawling mop
of curly hair.
Woman 2 (pulling at it to demonstrate its full scope) “Yes he does.”
Woman 1 (shaking her head in wonder as if present at the scene of a
miracle-as oppose to just some hair) “People must stop you all the
Woman 2 (uncertain) “Kind of…”
Woman 1 (noticing a Sesame St toy affixed to the pram) “You have Elmo!
We have Elmo too…”
Woman 2 “Sammy loves Elmo.”
The second woman’s husband appeared, he was on the phone. He hadn’t
much hair of his own. The women fussed over the child, he looked up
and down the street and then hung up reluctantly as though he knew
what was coming.
Woman 2 “This is my husband John-John, this is Susan.”
Woman 1 (without hesitation) “Your son has the most fantastic hair!”
Man (smiling weakly) “We have to get going.”
Woman 1 “I was just saying, your son’s hair…people must stop you all the time…”
Man “Yeah, well. We should really get going.”
Woman 1 “I wish I had my camera.”
Woman 2 (manoeuvring the pram away) “It was good to see you again.”
As they left the other woman’s face fell, as if having seen the hair
messiah, the remainder of existence seemed both bald and long.