Sunday, 16 August 2009
Guardian All Ears 15th August
(Article by Michael Holden)
Near where I work the pattern of lunchtime activity has been affected by the arrival of a van a couple of weeks ago that sells Burritos. Everyone has gone nuts for this and the queue snakes halfway down the road. Ordinarily I would be reluctant to take part in such a phenomenon, but the food’s too good. I was in line the other day when a woman from further behind came up and started talking to the woman in front of me as though I wasn’t there. I held out my phone quite conspicuously between them and recorded what they were saying. They didn’t notice. They had better things to think about.
Woman 1 “Nice Day!”
Woman 2 “Yeah.”
Woman 1 “Big queue. I’m really, really, really hungry”
Woman 2 “ But they are quick.”
Woman 1 “Still on for tonight?”
Woman 2 “Where is it?”
Woman 1 “You know the roundabout? I’m on the other side of the roundabout. Call me when you get there.”
Woman 2 “The roundabout?”
Woman 1 “It’s not that far down. Literally go past the roundabout, straight down the road and that’s my building.”
Woman 2 “What time?”
Woman 1 “Sevenish?”
Woman 2 “Are you going to text Kate?”
Woman 1 “I’ll email her.”
Woman 2 “And then email me.”
Woman 1 “I’ll email you.”
Woman 2 “How are we gonna get there, walk?”
Woman 1 “We could get a cab, between us.”
Woman 2 (turning to the grill, distracted by the scent) “I can’t decide what to have.”
Woman 1 “I’ll leave you to it. Here’s me gabbing on about tonight and your just like-Burrito…”
Woman 2 (like Homer Simpson) “Burrito…”
Woman 1 (slightly disgusted) “See you at seven then.”
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
ACME happy kit©
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
...a rabbit called Steve?
Saturday, 8 August 2009
Bus (slight return)
Guardian All Ears 8th August
Couldn't resist the 'We Will Rock You' bus because of recently being obliged to walk past the hideous gold Freddy Mercury statue on Tottenham Court road & thinking that I'd rather have my teeth pulled or get gang raped by badgers rather that sit through that dross...*shudder*
(Article by Michael Holden)
Some people become so disposed to talk about themselves that even when they are discussing something else, what they’re really saying is about them. The mobile phone though has elevated self-referential drivel to a higher plane. Nowadays you hear people giving blow by blow commentary on the stupefying minutiae of their existence while-and this is the truly staggering part-someone on the other end of the phone pays attention. I was at a bus stop with a crowd of people the other day when a teenage girl started yelling into her phone while endeavouring to stare down the rest of the queue by sporting a look of complete hostility that suggested looking back at her might be a fatal mistake.
Girl “It’s the same argument. I go into the room and say something and she says something to me and then I walk out and then she calls after me and then I go back in there and tell her what I think and then she tells me to fuck off.”
She circled the bus stop like a foul-mouthed, polyester planet and when she passed me again she had moved on to the subject of exactly what was happening to her.
Girl “I’m at the bus stop. Waiting for the bus. I can feel the air on my face, the wind like, I don’t mind it. It ain’t too hot. I can’t see the bus. Oh God, I’m just waiting for the bus now, how long can it take for the bus to come? ”
She made another orbit and, as she returned, succeeded finally in catching someone’s eye.
Girl “Oh my God there’s a man looking at me, he’s fucking looking at me!”
This led to other people looking at her, a fact she effortlessly absorbed into her self-obsessed yodelling.
Girl “Now they’re all looking at me! What the fuck is wrong with people? Where’s the bus. The bus is coming! I’m gonna get on it. The bus is coming now!”
It came and she went upstairs. I stayed on the lower deck and felt old.
Saturday, 1 August 2009
All Ears 1st August
I kind of wish there was a magazine called 'Ooh Err!'...our newsagent seems to specialize in 'delights' like '50 Plus' etc. shudder!
(article by Michael Holden)
Over the years I’ve noticed that if people outnumber you
sufficiently in a lift they’ll carry on talking as though you
weren’t there, regardless of what they’re talking about. In fact,
though this could be entirely my imagination, the more discomfiting
the subject to an outsider-the more lift talkers appear to enjoy
inflicting it upon them. It was a thesis that proved itself again as
I ascended slowly through the levels of a public building with three
men who weren’t about to stop talking about pornography just because
they’d got in an elevator.
Man 1 “Why would you have magazines though?”
Man 2 “Do you not have the Internet?”
Man 3 “It’s not that. I’ve had ‘em for years. I can’t get rid of
them. It’s a worry with Debbie coming over. We’re getting quite
friendly. She stays over a lot.”
Man 1 “Where are they?”
Man “I think they’re under the bed.”
Man 2 “What do you mean you “think.” You’re 40 years old and you’re
telling me you don’t know what’s under your bed?”
Man 3 “They could be there. They are there.”
Man 2 “Just sling ‘em out.”
Man 3 “I can’t. I try, but then I look at them, and then that’s it.
I’m involved.”
Man 1 “You wanna get a grip of yourself”
Man 2 “That’s the problem.”
Man 1 “Get a welder’s mask-something like that-so you can get hold
of ‘em without getting a proper look.”
I got out here-it was my floor. The men were all laughing, and
rightly so. As I walked away I heard the confessor make a final
admission.
Man 3 “I don’t think there’s anything I can do. They’re just, too
powerful.”
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