Hats off to my bro'

My brother was an army conscript in the South African Defence Force. He finished his service in 1987 without killing anyone and went onto lead a happy life. Anyway, I digress. I was at his passing out parade, and very grand it was too. There was a whole stand of important army folk facing a dirt parade ground filled with neat rows of soldiers clad in brown fatigues. There must have been at least 300 soldiers. When the final speaker had finished his bit and the propoganda ceremony was complete, the chief army fella gave one last 'Nnnnnnnntennnnnnn-SHUNN'. There was a loud thud as 300 right boots smacked the dirt, sending up a plume of dust so big that you could see it from the recently demoted planet Pluto. 'Deeeeahhhhhhh-sssssssssssmissed'. With that there was a loud cheer and 300 brown berets went flying into the air.

Now I've seen countless similar scenes on television programs and films since, and every time I have the same though: 'How did they find their own hat?'

I've recently been back to South Africa on holiday and met up with my brother. We were looking at old photographs and some were of his army days. I recalled my worry about the hats and asked him about it. He looked at me with an 'are you taking the piss' expression. I assured him that I really needed to know.

He said 'How do you think?'
I replied 'Well I've given it loads of thought over the last 21 years, and can only imagine that the berets/hats come in a few standard sizes. You just find a hat in your size and adopt it'.
'You are supposed to be the brains in the family'
'Well how did you find your hat then?'
'When we were first issued with them, we wrote our names in the lining'
'Doh'

2 decade mystery solved.

McHoldup

A couple of weeks ago I was sent out by the ball and chain to acquire some solids for dinner. I couldn't be arsed to go to the shops and cook something, or wait for a Chinese or a Ruby, so opted for the easy option and went to McDonalds. Being lazier still, I joined the back of the queue in the drive-thru. It took it's time, but I had the radio on and was enjoying a heated debate about the pros and cons of a 4-4-2 over a 4-5-1 formation by a trio of ex-footballers who I barely remember.

After a while, I rounded the corner and was greeted by a young chap, framed by Window #1. Unlike most of the previous cashiers I have dealt with at McD's, he could speak english. He took my order and payment and told me to drive round to Window #3 to collect my WeightWatchers nightmare (not sure what happened to Window #2 by the way). I would have, but the car in front me had not moved an inch since I pulled up to the cashier.

'Busy tonight ' I said
'Yes, busier than normal' he agreed.
'You been on long?' I asked
'About an hour' he said

The car in front still hadn't moved.

'Problems in the kitchen?'
'Don't think so'
'Wonder what the hold up is then?'
'Dunno'

Still no movement form the car in front. An awkward silence of a few seconds passed.

'So how long have you been working here?' I inquired, desperate to fill the gap
'Oh, not long. About a month'

Each question was answered quickly, without a hint of expansion. He appeared not to be skilled in the art of 'chewing shit'.

I looked at the car ahead, willing it to move. It didn't, although he did turn his engine off.

I asked the youth a few more questions, hinting that maybe he should go and check what the problem was. He didn't and seemed happy to watch me get more and more uncomfortable with the situation. Now what I should have done, was pulled the window up, and continue to listen to the radio, but I felt that I had gone too far in conversing and it would have been rude.

Over the course of the next 20 minutes, I established that he was 18, was doing Business Studies at Farnborough College, lived with his parents but was looking at getting a flat with his girlfriend, enjoyed the nightshift because, I quote 'You get to see a lot of fights', enjoyed chart music although he liked to play rock guitar and wanted to start a band, knew every pub in Camberley and thought they were all shit.

After what seemed like a ten-stretch, the car in front moved. I've never been so happy to say goodbye to someone in my life.

Now you might not realise how painful it was, we've all sat on trains, buses, even long haul flights next to someone who starts up a conversation, but you always know in those situations that the destination is getting closer and closer. You can always look out the window for conversation inspiration, go to the toilet , pretend that you are going to the toilet and find another seat, or feign sleep. When you are at Window #1, you are stuck. And they fucked up my order.

What I want to know is...

If the oil price has dropped 37% over the last 6 weeks, how come the petrol price has only dropped 6%?

Primelocation.com - it's getting worse

The following property matching your search criteria of "3 bedroom houses for sale in Corby around £170,000" has just come on to Primelocation.com:
4 bedroom house for sale - Gretton - Asking price of £400,000

Primelocation.com

I just received a very helpful email from Primelocation.com:

The following property matching your search criteria of "3 bedroom houses for sale in Corby around £170,000" has just come on to Primelocation.com:
4 bedroom house for sale - Harringworth - Asking price of £500,000

Is this company stupid?

Ferkin banker

I wonder if it is possible to have a bout of road rage without calling the other participant a 'fucking wanker'. I have witnessed three seperate incidents of such vulgarity on my commutes this week alone. If wikipedia is to be believed, the term 'wanker' only became insulting during the 70's, so I wonder what road ragees used before that? 'You blinking rotter' or some other malicious insult no doubt. I prefer a short sharp 'TWAT!' myself, but I fear I am an exception to the rule.

Acceptable levels

You know when you talk to someone, and they make you smile, how long do you think it is acceptable to keep smiling for? I've just found myself smiling for about a minute after a conversation finished. I wasn't thinking about what was said, it was only after writing a few lines of code that I realised I was still smiling. I had to force my face to return to it's usual miserable expression. I hope I don't always do this, I shall have to monitor my smiling from now on.