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That effing Sky have bought the fifth series of "House" so I can't watch it any more on normal telly, and will have to wait for the DVD box set to come out and purchase it at exorbitant cost. They "stole" Lost from BBC2 after two series as well, that was another programme where thanks to them I never found out what happened at the end. Sky are the TV equivalent of those mentalists who go into libraries and tear the last page out of crime novels. Taking my wisecracking grumpy doctor fix away from me, how could they?
When I've been paid and it's a saturday morning lying in bed. "Did you get all the fry up ingredients love?". "Yes". Excellent, it's time to greet the weekend. Three rashers of bacon and the mushrooms are cooking away nicely, toast is in the toaster now for the eggs. Surprise surprise, there's no eggs! You can't have a fry up with out fried eggs now can you. By the time I've got back it's all cold. Yes you can micro-wave it but it's still ruined. The double whammy is that there's no brown sauce. Before the ladies start moaning and say why don't you get it yourself. I always and I repeat always remember to get her muffins and large pot of yoghurt and if I don't there's hell to pay.

(shakes head)


You can just can't trust anyone except yourself to make a proper breakfast. The eggs will be too runny or too dry, the toast will be too cold, too burnt or too underdone, the bacon will be fatty, too pink, or too crispy, and your whole weekend will be ruined by a vague sense of unease that things are not quite right with the world.

Just this morning:


Never ever ever being able to get a seat on the morning train.


Remembering that you made some sandwiches last night to save money and then left them at home.


Trying to work out where to stand to get on the bendy bus at the back door for maximum chance of a seat and then the mad jostling to get in.


The ludicrous price of coffee chain coffee.


Inability of local cafe to make something as basic as toast successfully.


Inability of said cafe to make drinkable coffee, thus forcing me to purchase ludicrously priced coffee chain coffee instead.


Receptionist putting phone calls through to me before I have technically started work and when I am still faffing around doing "me time" things like looking at chests of drawers on ebay.


It still not being Friday yet. Why, God, why?

Sorry if it has been previously mentioned -But when you are in a queue and the person behind stands so close that they are actually touching you. As though they beleive that someone will sneak into the space inbetween or they may get to the front a nano second sooner. The worst offenders are in air port check in queues. They push their suitcase so close that the case rams into your heels.
Sorry if it has been previously mentioned -But when you are in a queue and the person behind stands so close that they are actually touching you. As though they beleive that someone will sneak into the space inbetween or they may get to the front a nano second sooner. The worst offenders are in air port check in queues. They push their suitcase so close that the case rams into your heels.

Thank you Sue and Brum, what sweethearts you are!


Funnily enough, I get crippling stage fright if I have to do anything as mundane as stand up and give a presentation in a meeting. I can do it spontaneously, but if I have time to think about it, I'm terrified. So much so that on occasion I have phoned in sick or run away rather than face the horror or all eyes being on me.


My "stage" appearances so far have consist of:


- Playing the innkeeper's wife in school nativity play aged 8. Non-speaking part, so not too terrifying, plus I was in costume with a tea towel on my head, so pretty much unidentifiable.


- Dressed as a teddy boy for church youth club "Fashion Through The Ages" catwalk show aged 12. (I know, rock 'n' roll, huh?) The vicar was one of those modern trendy types, as you can probably guess. To give you an idea of just how trendy, he and his wife came dressed as Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen.


- Getting thrown out of rally for local Conservative MP at Hove Town Hall shortly before the 1992 election. I had stood up (spontaneity, you see) and shouted some statistics about unemployment, was roundly booed and jeered by the crowd of reactionary right-wing types, and then manhandled from the room by two burly security guards, still shouting. (wipes away a tear) My finest hour.


Since then, sadly, I have retreated to the sidelines in order to comment waspishly on goings-on without actually taking part. Critics, eh? Losers!




.

.

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edited for typos

Thank you Sue and Brum, what sweethearts you are!


Funnily enough, I get crippling stage fright if I have to do anything as mundane as stand up and give a presentation in a meeting. I can do it spontaneously, but if I have time to think about it, I'm terrified. So much so that on occasion I have phoned in sick or run away rather than face the horror or all eyes being on me.


My "stage" appearances so far have consist of:


- Playing the innkeeper's wife in school nativity play aged 8. Non-speaking part, so not too terrifying, plus I was in costume with a tea towel on my head, so pretty much unidentifiable.


- Dressed as a teddy boy for church youth club "Fashion Through The Ages" catwalk show aged 12. (I know, rock 'n' roll, huh?) The vicar was one of those modern trendy types, as you can probably guess. To give you an idea of just how trendy, he and his wife came dressed as Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen.


- Getting thrown out of rally for local Conservative MP at Hove Town Hall shortly before the 1992 election. I had stood up (spontaneity, you see) and shouted some statistics about unemployment, was roundly booed and jeered by the crowd of reactionary right-wing types, and then manhandled from the room by two burly security guards, still shouting. (wipes away a tear) My finest hour.


Since then, sadly, I have retreated to the sidelines in order to comment waspishly on goings-on without actually taking part. Critics, eh? Losers!




.

.

.

edited for typos

Eliza.D Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> Sorry if it has been previously mentioned -But

> when you are in a queue and the person behind

> stands so close that they are actually touching

> you. As though they beleive that someone will

> sneak into the space inbetween or they may get to

> the front a nano second sooner.

>

> The worst

> offenders are in air port check in queues. They

> push their suitcase so close that the case rams

> into your heels.



And at passport control. And security. For persistent offenders I generally take a short, sharp swing with the shoulder bag.

The idiots who keep on digging up the same stretch of LL, adjacent to Upland Road bus stop. This bus stop has been out of action on and off since last October.


They're at it again this week. There's late night drilling, a few kerb stones go in, and then they vanish yet again, leaving the bus stop out of operation for a few more weeks perhaps.

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