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Saturday, 15 May 2010

Guardian All Ears 15th May

To my knowledge I have never encountered a chocolatier - maybe this is what's missing in my life? (see article)
(Article by Michael Holden)
It struck me the other day that, without drinking, this column
couldn’t exist. Consider the man I saw shouting at an upmarket
confectioners - he had a valid point I felt - but not one that he
would have expressed via public yelling if the shop in question hadn’t
been opposite the pub where he was drinking.
Man 1 (furious, pointing at the shop window) “What the fuck is a ‘Choclatier’?”
Man 2 (less drunk) “They make chocolate.”
Man 1 “Yeah yeah, but when did they did they hit the high street?
Since when did we decide we needed one?”
Man 2 “It’s like anything …”
Man 1 (having none of it) “It’s not like anything! It’s what it is.
Modern shit! You don’t need it, you didn’t ask for it but there it is,
being sold to you, and here we are, fucking buying it!”
Man 2 (growing smug) “You can’t make a political point about chocolate.”
Man 1 (his conviction rising above his inebriation)“If you can’t see
the politics in this-then you’re in a lot of trouble. Politics now is
like a fucking restaurant, a roadside restaurant! Owned, run and
staffed by wankers, who take great fucking pleasure in telling you
that everything on the menu that you might have wanted is off.”
Man 2 (choosing to ignore the bigger issue but tempted by the analogy)
“I am actually quite hungry. Shall we get something to eat?”
Man 1 (losing steam) “Ok.”
Man 2 “What do you fancy.”
Man 1 (made infantile through despondency, capable of tears)
“Don’t care.”
And, with that, he was led away

Friday, 14 May 2010

Clown punching...

the venerable traditional art of clown punching seems to be a dying art in English villages - I'd take clown punching over fox hunting any day


says it all...

Saturday, 8 May 2010

Guardian All Ears 8th May

Next week my own exploration of the effects of Special Brew & Miaow Miaow on the digestive tract...(maybe)
(Article by Michael Holden)
It was late afternoon on a busy train when I managed to filter out the general hubbub and zero in on what two men backed into the corner of the carriage were discussing. Digestive disorders, as luck would have it.

Man 1 (surprisingly upbeat) "It's coffee more than tea that gets me."

Man 2 (surprisingly interested) "Do you drink herbal teas?"

Man 1 "Not really, just decaf."

Man 2 (with pity) "Not the fruit teas?"

Man 1 (without regret) "No."

Man 2 (closing his eyes and flagrantly recalling the memory of his last infusion) "Something warm with a sweet taste – it's marvellous."

Man 1 "I like a bit of a chilli, now and again."

Man 2 (steering things back towards himself) "I have this chilli chutney, it comes in a glass jar about yea high"

He made a gesture indicating about a 10 inches in height. People using "yea" as a term of comparative stature have always seemed a bit odd to me, and the look on Man 1's face suggested he felt the same. Who cares about your jar? I imagined we were both thinking.

Man 2 "I'll get you some."

Man 1 "I've got quite a lot of chutney as it is."

Man 2 "This is a bit special."

Man 1 "I can eat chilli but I know about it the next day. Cramps."

Man 2 "Could be the intestine."

Man 1 "Could be the ecstasy. I do quite a bit of it."

Man 2 Seemed shocked and fell silent, which just made me wonder how they knew each other, where they were going, and what they would do when they got there.

Saturday, 1 May 2010

Guardian All Ears 1st May

(Article by Michael Holden)
Perhaps it's an an economic thing, but these days I'm seeing a lot of people freaking out in shops. The latest was in a supermarket where a man was being pushed to the edge by the store's layout.

Man (waving list in anger) "I don't get it!"

Woman (sensing danger) "Don't get upset. I'll ask someone."

She gazed about for assistance, but he spotted someone first.

Man (shouting) "Eh, you! Where's your cheese."

Assistant (shuffling over) "Eh?"

Man (still agitated) "Where are you keeping the cheese?"

Woman (over-polite, overcompensating) "We would like some cheese."

Assistant (pointing to the faraway end of the aisle) "Cheese is down there."

Man (pointing up at a sign) "Well how come it doesn't say so?"

He had a point: the sign said "Butters, Spreads, Fresh Fruit Juice, Yoghurts" – no mention of cheese. The assistant shrugged and turned away, which proved too much for the man, who pulled him back by the shoulder.

Man "Why can't you be more upfront about your cheese? Why you trying to bluff us?"

Assistant (recoiling) "You want me to get a team leader?"

Woman "No, that's OK. I'm sorry. It's not your fault."

There was a moment of silent reconciliation between the three, but as the assistant went to walk away, the man looked back at his list and called after him.

Man "Hey, where are the eggs?"

I know from bitter experience that the eggs fall under "Home Baking", so I fled before things flared up again.