I Dream A Dream

I have a dream.....not a meaningful dream like Martin Lk but a dream none the less.

My dream is one I have harboured for many years basically since I first noticed girls and that they liked a guy who could dance, my dream is to dance!

Not in a billy elliott style I hasten to add, no boy wanting to dance on a worldwide stage here just boy wanting to dance with girls without killing their feet and/or killing the rhythm! Alcohol acts as a buffer for this dream when occasion to dance presents itself but, while my head in its inebriated state is thinking the boy CAN dance the feet continue blissfully unaware of this update and continue to shuffle in a non-committal style, part rhythm part trying to make for the door!

Anyway, as I've said dancing has always looked exceptionally cool to me, when done well, apart of course from tap which is like rhythmic masturbation in public! Ooh look at me I can tappity tap myself to orgasm. I just do not see the attraction. Tap should be left to old people, take Bruce Forsyth for example, every time I' m unfortunate enough to see him on tv he comes on doing this soft shoe shuffle crap that just isn't dancing I'm telling you, its made up he's just slapping his feet off the floor vaguely in time to the music while the (elderly!) crowd goes into bloody raptures. I frequently get up and shout obscenity's at the telly at the mere mention of Brucey.

But back to my dream, I dream that I finally succumb to my dancing obsession and start to practice day and night with a purpose. I choose a routine and go at it hammer and tongs day after day, week after week, in a Rocky style, eye of the tiger I train non stop for my big moment. I phone in sick in order to train, I lose sleep in order to train, I dance up and down my street alarming small children but drawing ever approving glances from the old ladies and I give up all other hobbies, (shouting at Brucie for example) in order to train. All with one purpose in mind.

Until, finally the day has come,

and its conference time, the Celtic Manor is heaving with bp of all shapes and sizes, we've had dinner the awards stuff is done and dusted and the dance floor opens. The dj begins spinning his discs and slowly the dance floor fills, at first only with the ladies of hr who always hit the dance floor first, but then with all and sundry as the mood builds. At last my time is upon me, I must fulfill my destiny, I've done all that practice for this one moment in time and now is that moment, I make my way to the dance floor , through the drunken hordes to far gone to dance.

As I approach the floor I spy the vacant boards ahead of me, I work my way past the ladies of hr all huddled together in a seamless dance of arms and legs in perfect sychronicity including Fagoon who's offering advice to the less rhythmic among them bellowing encouragement over the pumping base, I sidle past Carl of Stonebridge who shirt wide open to the waist is impressing several females with his well practised hand jive, young Charlie in attendance picking up some of the masters grooves, “ watch this one Charlie he shouts” as he flips the jive from left to right, past Gavin once again reeling out his highland fling disco version, pretty much the same as the traditional version but with glow sticks.

At last I reach my spot and, space clear around me I crouch down into position fold my arms and begin, to the strains of the Village peoples YMCA, a faultless Russian cossack dance. At first I'm dancing the cossack dance completely unobserved but soon the other dancers become aware of my movements and turn to watch, one by one until the whole dance floor is looking my way, this ripple soon spreads to the remaining diners licking their plates at the tables and trying to drain that last drop from the free wine, they too move to the edge of the dance floor to watch. Soon a slow hand clap begins as the crowd witness my routine in full flow, Welsh Sarah starts up a chant of HOI

HOI HOI and that is taken up by the whole room, other guests at the hotel hear the commotion and begin to come into the room to see what's causing it. Bp's finest is now joined by Americans in

golf trousers all filling the room in a throng facing the dance floor and the one man who dances on at ever increasings speeds and complexity. A few spirited souls join in and, although they didn't practice like me they soon get in the flow, Ann from Chelmsley dances the cossack like shes been dancing it her whole life..............

And the night will live in legend both through bp and in local Cardiff folklore, the man who came and danced the cossack dance will never be forgotten at least until something better happens in wales......

Carry On Luggage

Meandering thought playing havoc again led me to pondering the ins and outs of your average sex change, most specifically the female to male rather than the more traditional male to female, which we all know a little about already right?

I mean it involves operations, hormonal stuff and the gradual growing of breasts etc, but what do we know of the female to male really? Not much at all I’m thinking, I mean how does that work exactly? Its not as if hormone therapy grows a penis now is it? And, I for one have never heard of a transplant style operation, I mean who would donate for one thing? I cant see that kind of donor card catching on, I sure as hell wouldn’t carry one!

My train of thought led me to thinking that the deal has to be prosthetic. A detachable maybe even interchangable penis in a wide range of colors to suit all. Perhaps your discerning former female could carry several? , a variety of penis if you will, in a display case. Presented nicely in little (or not so) velvet lined compartments.

Its entirely feasible I mean, I’d assume, your average newly made man wouldn’t want permanent stasis in either floppy or ….ummm.. more alert…now would they? Stands to reason they’d have before and afters . Reconnection of same would have to be rapid and easy to do as nothing would spoil the mood more than “ yes yes I swear I‘m turned on I just cant find my bloody screwdriver"

When your out and about tomorrow and you see a male who might not, when you think about it, look quite right somehow and he’s carrying a briefcase…..well, who knows eh……….

There It Rings Again

mid morning at the fun factory and the phone rings

me "good morning bp Kings norton ? "
him "What ?"
me "good morning , how can i help you ? "
him " is that Asda ?"
me "no I'm sorry this is a bp "
him " a what ?"
me " a bp ..as in petrol station "
him "well I've looked in the yellow pages and it says Asda ?"
me "well Ive looked at the darn pole sign and it said Bp !
I didn't actually say that last part but i wanted to !

I think actually I'll phone him back now and tell him after closer inspection I've found it is in fact an Asda and I've been coming to work for 2 years in the wrong damn uniform

Sunday Sunday

That alarm on a Sunday morning is a blessed little tune that wafts me softly from my warm bed and deposits me carefully in the bathroom,ready to begin my ablutions and kick start my happy day.Sunday's face scraping is even more pleasurable for it being welllll Sunday.


Oh Joyous Sunday how I love to work you.It matters not that my mouth tastes like I've had incontinent hamsters sleeping in there overnight nor that my tongue feels as if I have coated it in batter,No for I have work to go to and customers that await!


I feel joy when the first customer of the day badgers me for his missing supplement..."you have a free supplement missing sir?Well clearly that is not good enough and I can see that it has stressed you greatly,the veins popping on your forehead are a dead giveaway.Please please ,ease your troubled brow for it is Sunday and I,am here to help.Let me see if I can find you a replacement or failing that I could fill you in myself on the lives and happenings of various d grade celebrity's ".........this weeks shock exclusive Jordan blows her nose...........

The Old Routine

"good afternoon is there any fuel with that sir?"

"WHAT?"

"Fuel?Have you had any today?"

"oh yes yes its ....umm...."

several minutes pass

"Which colour would your car be sir?"

"WHAT?"

"which.....colour.......is ........your.....car?"

"its the blue one"

"ahh ok...the blue renault,citreon or ford fiesta sir?

"yes"

by now the queue is back to the m42 and several customers have pitched
tents

"yes...okkkkk.....how much did you put in ?"

"its a blue one"

"rrigghttt...but exactly which...pause to allow ear smoke to
dissipate.....of the 3 blue cars would it be precisely

"ohh its the fiesta son"

"thank you sir...do you have a nectar card?"

"WHAT?"

Stick Em'Up

Imagine my excitement this morning to , a ) actually receive post and , b) it include a whole ream of free stickers !! Woohoo free stickers ! ( Obviously the excitement had been mitigated somewhat by the presence of a bp envelope in the post , the arrival of merchandising matters for example often triggering an asthma attack but heck did i mention there were free stickers ? )

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly an excited moment can turn on you .....and so it was 30seconds later when I inspected said stickers to find they were in fact , Golden Rules of Safety stickers .....woo and a decidedly less enthusiastic hoo .......I've since e-mailed the hsse dept to feedback that i cant see these catching on ? Kids want teenage mutant ninja turtles and football players ,I just cant see them trading ,Golden rule 5 (working at height !) in the playground at break time

Ever helpful , the kind folk of Hsse have included in the pack , a ' table of suggested locations for the stickers ' ....Curiously enough I had my own train of thought as to where they could stick their Golden Rules of Safety stickers ...............

Johnson And Not Johnson

Finally having had our new chemicals fitted by Johnson d we received training in their usage from the lady rep, training I thought? But I am a retail professional of many years standing, what must they show me? Anyway the training was simple enough but a Tad disconcerting due to the repeated, and very grave, warnings re using gloves when utilising the chemicals. Now we've always been told to use gloves but the lady rep was most insistent and wore a terrified expression everytime she mentioned it.

I had also seen welsh Sarah at the last meeting and she'd had her chems before us, ignored the warnings and was currently sporting elderly tortoise skin knuckles as a result,"4 seconds I had my hands in the water boyo" she remarked. With all this in mind I felt it my duty as a caring manager to test said products before unleashing them on my staff and so, we embarked on a controlled experiment whereby we filled the cleaning sink with the solution and, choosing our smallest csa, little satheesh, we kitted him out in protective wear, ie goggles and the wellies, and then carefully emersed him in the sink. (fear not safety fans for we protected our selves from splash back by lowering him from atop the step ladders) Results were inconclusive, he sat there for the whole of his break and although the protective gear survived intact he himself emerged completely wrinkled from head to toe, yes even more wrinkled than Brendan of Bedworth.

Not a sight anyone needs to see and two of our female csa's fainted in shock, one of whom only heard the tale second hand. "more than Brendan of Bedworth?" she was heard to remark before the sound of her head hitting the floor echoed across the phoneline.

The irony of all this is that cleaning wise, the chems are only marginally more effective than plain water!

The Prodigal Son

Dear India,

Please welcome your native son, and my good friend, mr Rohit back to his homeland with open arms. He left your shores a boy but returns a man. Not that he experienced any of our fine local women here but let me assure you that was due entirely to their inherent racism and not any lack of effort on Rohit's part. He was most loud and persistent in his attempts to woo them. He has however met many characters that will help him face almost anything in life going forward, englands loss will be indias gain as no one who has spent anytime at all with Daz and chappers can fail to be prepared for anthing.His mental strength is now second to none...except maybe hitesh and kunal who were also 'dazzed' while here and have probably taken several months to once again sleep at night without the terror. Rohit has taken all his bp uniform back with him with the intention of creating a fashion buzz on the streets of mumbai. He will be quite the envy of all fine Indian gentlemen as he struts around in the sunshine wearing his m and s fleece! Finally let me assure you that although tempted by the women and the drink he did not partake of drugs while here, in any case lemsip is entirely legal.

Yours sincerly, England

ps. Kunal and lalit having spent less time here should have returned home relatively undamaged......relatively

Zap That Fly

I'm fascinated by the fly zapper we have in our cafés.

I've never actually seen the thing deal with a fly but occasionally hear it zapping away and so have always assumed it was doing its job. I now suspect its been pulling a fast one and has, all this time, been zapping dust mites in a cunning attempt to look efficient, but the thing is, why would any self respecting fly be hanging about that close to the ceiling? All the good stuffs down low, there are surfaces to defecate on and human beings to annoy. I've never even seen one in the vicinity of the zapper and, unless it has an attractant (fly porn?)I can't see it ever even seeing a fly let alone frying one.

I pondered this the other day as I tried to introduce a fly in my office to the concept of the rolled up newspaper. O.K. so I actually used my competency dictionary,(hey I knew it would come in handy!), and I didn't care which competency the fly fell too, I was determinedly trying to show him ALL of them in close up detail!.... “come on fly” I muttered, “there are several, take your pick”..... The fly however, no doubt recognising the evils of the competency dictionary was having none of it and continued to career round the Guyscliffe filing system. (at fly scale the equivalent of Switzerland)

I contemplated taking the café's zapper off the wall and waving it at the fly like some backward darth vader, but didn't have a screwdriver handy or the trust in my diy capability. The only thing likely to have gotten zapped was me with a few thousand volts of electricity, still, I could do with a new hairstyle.

Anyway, I'm returning my competency dictionary to Fagoon and insisting on a heavier larger faced model, how on earth am I to battle fly kind with this dinky thing? Its not even proved a good door stop, bloody door still keeps locking me out! When Nadine asks me which competencies i've hit this month and I can't remember a single one, I want to at least respond with some fly killing success stories.

Success In Disguise

Increasingly accosted by customers whenever I ventured into the shop I pondered a solution ,My dilemna being that on the one hand I must frequent the shop on occasion to fulfil my role as one of bp’s finest. There is stock to be filled ,counted and ordered ,there are lists to be checked and ticked .Many varied tasks which I must complete . The flip side of this is ,as stated ,the tendency to be harassed by customers with inane questions and queries ..…old people in particular must queue outside waiting for my arrival…..I am a busy man invariably on a mission ,I have not the time to escort people 2 feet to the milk. I can certainly suggest on a price request that the customer look at the price label but what is the point? It would not be proper of me to reply, “you mean other than the ones you just walked past?” when enquired if we sell newspapers ……this is all time consuming and uncomfortable.

Anyway as a result of my pondering (which I undertook in my own free time of course ,pondering not being written into the labour module) I hit upon the idea of wearing disguise ..and it works!

Now when I am stocking the ice cream freezer dressed as a traffic warden no one accosts me! Its great I can wander around unchallenged.

Slammers And Bammers

I understand that old people struggle with chiop and pin really I do, i'm a patient man without access to a shotgun, HOWEVER, what I cant bring myself to understand are the slammers. The people who come upto the counter and have to launch the card into the machine the very instant they are within range. WHOOOMP they go slamming it into th epoor unsuspecting chip and pin device as if they have a personal grievance with it. “ TAKE THAT YOU LITTLE S**T”

It doesn't even matter how many times they are corrected in their slamming you can guarantee the very next time they'll be physically abusing the unit yet again. I can only imagine its all very, wham bam thank you maam around their house but its not as if the slammers are exclusively male there are some seriously demented pin users out there that are decidedly female....there again maybe they'be been on the receiving end of 'wham bam' tactics for years and this is REVENGE.

Truly Biblical

Having freed the toilet from blockage by the biggest log I've ever seen, excuse the graphic imagery but we are talking full sized swiss roll here, I pondered how any human being could pass such an object and walk straight afterwards. I even enquired of staff if they'd noticed anyone using the toilet who came out afterwards noticeably smaller. Staff just looked at me as if I were talking Swahili, a look I get quite often.

I must confess to utilising the odd public lavatory on occasion what with my advancing years and what have you (do bladders shrink or something?) but I successfully manage to do so without leaving, 6 foot long toilet roll streamers, 2 inch deep pools of water and/or some other suspicious liquid. I also manage to wash my hands without smearing the sink with soap or worse still nicking said soap! How desperate for soap must one get before stealing it from store bathrooms?

I've also never and I repeat NEVER left logs of biblical proportions!

A Bit On The Side

Bearing in mind our meat theft problem and the likelihood druggie's sell it down the local pub, I realised we were missing a sales op! With this in mind I kitted out our best upselling cashier as the artful dodger......(costume shop being a let down for more modern thieves)

....and sent him off down the pub with 5 steaks and a script. '12 quid a steak guv its a bargain and no mistake' I thought of adding a crack pipe as a prop but unfortunately bunzl (our office and store sundries supplier)were out of stock and therefore (as usual) sent 6 boxes of brown sugar instead.

"E" For Elbox!

Luckily until the enterprise solution comes into play I have my bp elbox defensive driving course to fall back on, sadly the only part of which I remember is that reversing into your parking spot saves petrol! I can't quite understand exactly how my defensive driving course actually helped me, how can reversing in, save anymore than reversing out? In an act of open rebellion I park front on everytime and completely ignore the supposed sequence for turning corners!

At least I save more than my neighbour who has perfected a 35 point turn every time she parks, which she always ends up doing 2 milimetres from my drivers door rendering it unusable, when the other neighbour then dumps his humvee (its not really a humvee just one of those dopey huge 4x4s that need 2 parking bays and the drivers are always 5 foot tall) cheek to cheek with my other door, I'm left with sunroof entry as my only option should I want to use my motor vehicle. I've had the sunroof connected to the central locking as a pop up, now I can flop myself head first into the driving seat. I , of course have the option of calling either neighbour out to move their inconsiderately parked vehicles, but, the lady could talk for England and midget lad is the worlds most boring man, 5 years running, one more and he gets to keep the trophy!He talks to me about engine parts and d.i.y. projects, 5 minutes in and I want to faint with the strain of politely feigning interest .....So you see my batman like entry is infinitely preferable.

The elbox, of course, mentioned none of this when I did my 'virtual drive'. That went swimmingly apart from the 37 attempts to successfully round a corner! 'In which sequence should you make a left hand turn' it asked.... there were about 5 options, I tried every permutation of the 5 37 times like I said, then, miraculously, after I'd invented several rather interesting new swear words, turned a rather unattractive shade of blue (I looked like a short Avatar) and was poised with the thing above my head ready to introduce it to the wall, I got it right and was all of a sudden a defensively qualified bp driver! .

It saddens me however, that, no matter how many millions of people successfully turn a corner, none LITERALLY NONE of them do it in the bloody prescribed sequence.

Warwick In Bloom(ers)

With my new travel distance to the lovely Warwick everyday I have time and occasion to see many weird and wonderful sights. Such as the old lady this morning, apparently wearing a cheetah skin coat!

Chunky fur in style it was brown with big black splodges looking for all the world like a cheetah at the bus stop. It nearly buried the old dear and I pondered how it made her look like a pimp from the 70s.Albeit a grey haired old lady style pimp from the 70's

Last seen romping across the Savannah the Cheetah coat now adorned the old lady as if she were stood inside a tent. Maybe she hoped it would make her appear bigger and deter would be bag snatchers, to me she looked like Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch, which should be deterrent enough in itself.

For all I know the pimps of Warwick could indeed be little grey haired old ladies in outsized overcoats and I wondered how she controlled her beeatches? Usually they patrol their turf in flash motors so her waiting for a bus could be misleading, perhaps the Jag was in for service.

Another more disturbing sight came at the top of a big hill into the town and again featured a little old lady who was sat atop the hill, on a bench, facing the incoming visitors to town, ie me.

Unfortunately she was sat with her legs wide open and, the way the hill curves, all us drivers had an unrestricted and unwanted view of her undergarments! (Big and white, cos I know Mikey will ask). Luckily i'm not of a nervous disposition and I managed to keep the car on the road but I was definitely slightly traumatised and demonstrating symptoms of shock.

Fair play to the old dear though, if she wants to air her drawers on a sunny Warwick morning, then who I am to quibble? I just wished she saved the show for after rush hour, I'm far to tender in years to be exposed to old ladies knickers, I'd want to be at least 100 before that starts happening as a regular occurrence, at least at that age I should be able to appreciate the view.

I cant comment on whether the underwear were Marks and Spencers own....

6 Pack And No Need Of A Torch

Hesitant as I am to broach the subject of feminine hygeine products, I feel it my duty as a retail professional to make some suggestions.

It should be noted that I base these suggestions on my experience of the subject....I mean in a retail sense of course.....

Being as I can remember a time when we carried 3 or 4 of these products and seemed to manage perfectly fine it is with some surprise I note our range today, (which btw changes seemingly every 3 weeks, lillets to always to tampax back to lillets and so on) as we now have about 33 varieties of the same thing, long ones, short ones, extra absorbent and now even night time specific ones …...I have no idea? Perhaps they glow in the dark........the logistical nightmare of managing the change over in range is headache inducing and compounded by their tendency to be shoplifted......which is mind boggling in itself, where's the market exactly? I can imagine our steaks being sold in the local pub for example but a guy sidling up to you with a coat full of night time always, "half the retail price guvnor AND they glow in the dark"

And so to my suggestions,
1. how about we stick with the same range for a least 2-3 months?
2. Considering the volume of different ones as listed above should we consider a variety pack?

If you send us some stickers I'm quite willing, ala crème egg deal, to make our own using old baguette bags....

Wanderer's Return

Sammy is back! Sam of Wednesbury is now looking after the Solihull massive and so becomes...Sam of Solihull, well done, your keeping up so far.

Having been off the last couple of years adding to the worlds population explosion,(Wednesbury is now so overcrowded the local council is asking people to share trousers, one leg each, At weekends Sam and Mr Sam share a nice pair of beige chinos) she is now back and rearing to go. Almost immediately on stepping from her beloved Robin Reliant (only 3 previous owners 2 nuns and Bishop Tutu, not the Bishop Tutu, another one) she spotted an opportunity, you see Solihull is unique among petroleum forecourts and convenience emporiums in that, it is the only one that shares the forecourt with an undertakers!

Sam being the retail professional of many a year sees this as a massive bonus that we should be highlighting via the pole sign......bp...m&s...carwash...toilet...undertakers..

As she said to me,

"imagine the average customer popping in to pick up some bits and pieces mentally ticking off their list, Beans, Bread, Milk, Bury Granny, Soap powder"

Its a sure fire winner and no mistake!

The other aspect she likes is that the guy who runs the undertakers lives above the place and, apart from hoping bumps in the night ARE intruders, this gives them added security and staff on tap 24/7. Something we at bp should emulate she insists. Young duty managers starting out on the property ladder could rent some rooms above the store and be ready for action whenever called upon!

Sammy, you think of everything.

Love Is In The Sales

Here on the day of love we rose to the challenge of adding a bit of Valentines 'Theatre' to our stores by going one step further than the usual balloons, ribbons and floral extravaganzas.

We decided we would co-opt a member of staff into playing our very own in store cupid!

We chose the traditional depiction of a curly haired cherubic cupid and dressed the staff member accordingly. With the aid of his moms rollers,(for the curls) and a nappy( adult incontinent pants, cheap and surprisingly absorbent!) he certainly looked the part. Initially he was reluctant to stride round the store dressed only in a nappy but once threatened with counselling he soon relented . I checked where we stood on that with Janet T and she confirmed it was a reasonable request to get a staff member to aid with sales.....

The incontinent pants served a dual purpose as we were able to keep him out there for hours without the need of toilet breaks.....

Unfortunately the lads somewhat wholesome figure tended to frighten some of the female customers as he followed them around with his bow and arrow, and we also had to abandon suspending him from the ceiling due to safety concerns. The 100 or so clipstrips proved insufficient to hold him and we didn't want some poor unsuspecting customer suddenly piggy backing a half naked cupid around the food to go!

Windows 2100

I've noticed of late that there are new style hearses on the market. By on the market I don't mean i've been looking to buy one, but i've seen them out and about and understand that the discerning bereaved loved ones can now choose an all new hearse with bigger windows! Huge they are, like a massive mobile fish tank only without the little bridge and coloured stones. I assume this all round extravaganza of glass is to enable bigger and better floral tributes to be displayed as the deceased makes that final journey, giving mourners and general bystanders a nice panoramic view of the whole show....as it were.... This got me to thinking about my own sad passing, for it will happen one day, and I think my wishes viz a vee my final final transport should be known, I, of course, now want the big fancy hearse complete with a large all round floral tribute in two words that stretch all round interior, only I want the letters scrambled so that general bystanders have to work for their free entertainment and the anagram should be, ESH EDDA!

Naked Mile

Having agreed (reluctantly) to 3 obligatory random staff searches each week i now find ,what with me being a busy man ,that i don't have the time for their completion .

To workaround (new word instigated by gss people !) this problem ,I have decided we will hold one completely naked monthly meeting whereby all staff will arrive on site in the buff , spend 10 minutes chatting amiably about relevant site issues (such as how we all love gss for example ),meanwhile I and my dsm (also both completely starkers ) will conduct brief visual checks for company stock and equipment using only a see through clipboard and pen .In one fell swoop all searches are complete for the month .I can see these catching on !

On the subject of gss , all exel deliveries for the next few days will be later than normal as they will first have to collect your ordered stock from the Kings Norton depot ! I'm not saying we have had a lot of templates but the walls actually bulge externally , kings norton looks like it has eaten too much cake ...

Waterproof

Recruiting for new staff we received 2 applicants via the Recruitment line.Having phoned one of them to arrange an assessment, without any hassle, I proceeded to ring the second, a gentleman who I shall call Englebert for the purposes of this e-mail.The call went something like this, I dialled the mobile number given, it rang twice and was answered in a shout, Englebert: YEAH? Me:Hello, this is Andy store manager at bp Kings Norton,I'm calling with regard your application for the csa position. Englebert: YEAH? Me: ummm, I'd like to arrange a suitable time for an assessment? Engelbert sighs deeply and shouts into the phone, LOOK,I'LL HAVE TO CALL YOU BACK, I'M IN THE SHOWER. Me...ok...umm....i mean what? Engelbert : I'M IN THE SHOWER.... CLICK ....He didn't actually shout click, that was the sound of him simultaneously ending the call and any chance he ever had of working at Kings Norton. Do they even make water proof mobiles? He never did call back anyway, probably couldn't find a waterproof pen and paper with which to write himself a reminder!

9 Out Of Every 10 Men

Its not possible to put out the magazines of a morning without being amazed by the lurid and frankly bizarre strap lines on the womens mags. Increasingly extreme real life tails emblazoned across them, such as, I married an axe murderer and, my mother ran off with my wife etc can only be detrimental to the mental health of anyone exposed to them for any length of time. And so it is I worry about my night crew. For one thing the amount of sex surveys to end all sex surveys the mags proclaim is definitely worrying, I want to keep my night crew away from sex and the prospect of procreation in general. For the good of mankind you understand....some of us were made to propogate the species whilst others, well, should be shall we say be protected botth them and (particularly)any prospective mate. After all it'd only confuse them anyways, they break out in a cold sweat if a woman addresses them directly, might be she only asks them the time but no matter for they'll still get in a fluster.

Speaking of sex surveys anyway, i'm regularly accosted on visits to town by everyone from political surveys to scientology stress tests, usually proffered by impossibly white teethed beautiful people, the Scientologists that is not the surveyors who are usually mad haired ladies of a certain age ....potential mates for night crew perhaps....NO! DO I LOOK F&$€£@G STRESSED?.....but never have I been asked to take part in a sex survey.? Law of averages would dictate I should be getting asked at least bi-monthly?Maybe the subjects of sex surveys are not ordinary upstanding citizens of renown such as you or I, but are the denizens who frequent the little side street stores with blacked out windows....ADULT BOOKS....you know the ones, yeah you do.....and I for one don't think I care to base my sexual exploits on the learnings from those guys!

Rubber Women Save The Planet

One of the roads I travel to work in the morning has a new traffic scheme whereby the powers that be have converted a bus lane into a 2 persons or more lane. Now, I don't take anyone to work with me and bearing in mind my morning persona that's probably for the best, so I am banned from the new lane and must slum it with all the other singletons in the bumper to bumper traffic. To be honest i've never been in traffic that was going slower than the new lane so in actual fact the thing is pretty pointless but damn it I want to use it! I don't like being banned from anything but the petty police we have in this city would be on you like flies for driving in the lane on your lonesome, I mean it would use up time and save them having to tackle any actual real crime.

My consternation at this dilemma got me to thinking and I have come up with a plan. I'm going to purchase a blow up doll! To act as my passenger you understand. I discounted mannequins due to lack of lifelike qualities whereas blow up dolls are now reputed to be more realistic than ever.although certain of their dubious features will not be necessary for my purposes. Problem being I won't purchase such an item on my card as I'd never be able to look the bank lady in the eye again so it has to be cash and therefore a trip to a sex shop!

Now I foresee a sex shop exchange being somewhat similiar to the condom buying trevails of my teenage years. Back then you could only get them at the chemist and each trip was fraught with embarrassment. I could never get the discreet, quiet old guy oh no it had to be the old lady with the knowing smile, loud mouth and bawdy sense of humour. I must have purchased half the shop in useless items trying to get what I actually wanted. Have you ever tried those bloody diabetic sweets?

There would of course be no diversions in the sex shop and (God willing!)no sign of any little old ladies, I wouldn't fancy the process of choosing the doll of course I mean would they believe I only want her for passenger duty? I doubt it and should I Iose my nerve I very much doubt they sell diabetic sweets, but on the plus side i'm sure they'd stock condoms. Although a simultaneous purchase of blow up doll and condoms might confuse them greatly!

Raised Brow

Noticeably missing a member of staff I went off searching for the errant employee. 10 or so minutes went by before she finally emerged from the bathroom, somewhat sheepish looking as she caught my exasperated expression. “ You’ve been gone for half an hour, what on earth were you doing in there?”

Obviously I ask this question reservedly but when you’ve just arrived at work and you adjourn to the facilities for the first half hour, then the manager has a right to ask…I think….

“ I was drawing my eyebrows” she replied…..“ Umm…what?” I asked, as I was convinced I had misheard the drawing part…… “ I don’t have any eyebrows and I’d not had time to draw some on before leaving the house” . It transpired that she had attempted to dye the things once upon a time and the process had gone ary, chemically depriving her of her eyebrows.

Now, I’m not the most observant bloke ( key word ..bloke) but I must confess there had been occasions when ( I know now) it was clear she had drawn them on too high. At the time I remember wondering why everything I said to her seemed to render her utterly shocked, I'd say the must mundane thing and the eyebrows would shoot skyward. Turns out they’d been skyward all along.

At this juncture I had to express, in a somewhat bemused fashion that, although I sympathised with her plight I had to insist that she a) arrived on time and b) preferably with eyebrows. I was admittedly curious as well and almost suggested googling online in the hope that…maybe….someone had invented prosthetic ones? … I’ve checked, they don’t.

Missed It

With a candidate having passed the gruelling process of the select direct telephone call(!), we invited him down for the in store assessment. Through an accident of bad planning I was here when he came and, (reluctantly) feeling I should show willing, I decided to have a brief chat before proceeding,

“So what interests you about working for bp?”

“I was told its good ennit”

“Ummm right, who told you that then?”

“dunno”

“you 'dunno' who told you or you don't understand the question?”

“nahh was probably a friend ennit”

“Right. Have you worked in retail before?”

“i wuz a painter ennit”

“Portraits or landscapes?”

“nah houses ennit” (OK so the joke was bad but.....)

At this point I felt it high time he moved onto the assessment while I went for a lie down...ennit.

Surprisingly he failed and we're gutted to have missed out on such potential, the back fence could certainly do with a lick of paint.