Well readers, I feel I’m finally beginning to get my head around it all.

 

I feel that I really ought to put forward my thoughts on the recent death of Michael Jackson, as it seems it really is just too much of a world issue to ignore.

 

‘Oh, not another internet writer rambling on about him?  He’s dead, okay?  We get it!’

 

I hope you won’t find this article like any others you may have read.  I feel that my fondness of Michael in my childhood means it’s only right for me to put into words some thoughts about his untimely passing.

 

People who know me personally will probably be aware that I was a huge fan of the singer as a child.  I was about five when the Thriller album was released, and can remember all the kids at primary school going on about how great it was- obviously influenced by their parent’s choice in music.  At first, I didn’t think too much of all this hype myself, though a lad in my class kept singing ‘Thriller!  Thriller night!’ and even though I hadn’t heard the original, I was forced to admit it was a rather catchy piece of work.

 

I came across a cassette of Thriller when I was about seven or eight, and it was one of my first experiences of listening to an album, as such.  I can remember particularly enjoying the obvious tracks- Billie Jean and Beat It, but eventually, as I grew a little older, finding the haunting melodies of Lady In My Life and Human Nature far more appealing.

 

But it wasn’t really until the release of his 1987 album ‘Bad’ that I began to consider myself a genuine fan.  I was introduced to this particular album in Romania- I was on a skiing trip with school, and the lad I shared a hotel room with had the Bad album on his Walkman, and had had the forethought to bring along a set of speakers with him.  I‘ll never forget dropping off to sleep listening to the tinny sounds of ‘Liberian Girl’, ‘Just Good Friends’, ‘Another Part Of Me’ and ‘Man In The Mirror.’  And who can forget ‘Smooth Criminal’.  Wow.

 

After establishing myself as a fan of MJ, I revisited the Thriller album, and even more of the songs began to have a stronger appeal to me.  ‘Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’ for instance, had always bored me.  I don’t know why- perhaps I felt it too long or too repetitive, but soon enough it was one of my favourite songs.  ‘Baby Be Mine’ also appealed to me more, as did ‘The Girl Is Mine’, probably due in part to the fact that at this stage in my musical maturity, I was also developing a keen ear for the music of The Beatles.

 

Obviously, the knowledge of Bad and Thriller prompted me to delve a little further into Jacko’s back-catalogue.  I got hold of a vinyl copy of his seminal 1979 classic (and major solo debut) ‘Off The Wall’.  This album took much longer to ingratiate itself into my psyche, but soon enough, the music became catchier and catchier to me, and as well as the hits ‘Rock With You’ and ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’, I also had a fondness for ’Working Day And Night’, ‘Girlfriend’ and ‘She’s Out Of My Life.’  As I write this article now quoting those titles, memories come flooding back to me.

 

At the age of eleven, we were required at school to complete a project known as ‘Musicology’, where we had to think of a subject relating to anything to do with music.  A composer, a rock band, an instrument or a pop artist.  Naturally, I chose Michael Jackson, and researched a lot into his past.

 

It was quite a history lesson.  From his birth in 1958 in Gary, Indiana, and developing his musical roots as no more than a toddler watching his older brothers in action, to the discovery of his unnaturally strong singing voice and his development into an eye-catching young entertainer.  The trials and the tribulations of the band, the apparent jealousy of his siblings as the young Michael continually stole the limelight away from them.  His solo projects and the eventual disbanding.

 

The success of his forays into solo work seemed to have always rattled his brothers, but not his father, who apparently, whenever he looked at Michael, just saw a walking dollar sign.

 

It seemed at first like the ultimate achievement of the American Dream.  The full rags to riches story.  But there was an unnerving undertone to the whole story the led me to believe that in spite of the artists multi-million dollar lifestyle, there was a very unhappy little boy hidden away behind the charade.  A boy who had spent his life being told to improve in every way.  A boy who had therefore learned to be ashamed of himself, to believe that he was never quite achieving all that he could.  A boy who eventually became so saddened and discussed with his own appearance that he spent hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to alter it and improve his looks.

 

A boy who, as he developed into adulthood, never was sure how to create and maintain social interactivity.  A boy shielded from society in such a way that he only ever felt comfortable singing and dancing on a stage, and would rather be there performing in front of tens of thousands of people rather than holding a normal one-on-one conversation over dinner with another adult.

 

A boy, trapped in a man’s body.

 

A mere boy, who wanted childhood friends and playmates.

 

When the boy is nine or ten, there is nothing wrong with this.

 

When the boy is actually a forty-year-old man, then wanting to spend time around young children is somewhat out of the ordinary.

 

Michael’s weirdness as a whole can probably be put down to the fact that he never had a childhood.  When he was older, a man, he was a multimillionaire, but still had the heart and mind of a young boy.  This is something he desperately wanted to recapture.  And why wouldn’t he?  It’s all a natural part of human development, a part of human development that had been cruelly snatched away from the growing Michael Jackson.

 

Yes, the guy was weird, and essentially, most likely mentally and socially under-developed.  But it would have been even odder had he grown into a normal, rounded adult man.  Indeed, it would have set the teachings of psychology back over a hundred years!

 

Did he sexually abuse children?  Only a handful of people know the answer to that.  The truth is we’ll probably never know.  The fact of the matter is that in an American Court of Law, he was cleared of all charges and proved innocent.

 

Did he foolishly allow young boys to sleep in his bed?  It’s quite possible.  But as I’ve said, this is most likely to do with the lack of a childhood, so he wanted to enjoy it now with pyjama parties and sleepovers.   He had the money and the inclination to build a fairground in his back garden, and he did so for his young friends.

 

Michael was a fool unto himself.  An innocent, misguided fool who had very low self-esteem and made social mistake after social mistake.  The baby-dangling incident must rank their near the top of them all.  Buying the bones of The Elephant Man?  Sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber?  A pet monkey named Bubbles?  There are even questions being asked as to the true paternity of his three children (none of which appear to have any trace of African-American in them at all).  But who’s to know.

 

As an entertainer, Michael Jackson was probably one of the greatest who ever lived.  Up there with Elvis?  Without a shadow of a doubt.

 

Great singer, great songwriter, and as a dancer, he appeared to defy gravity.

 

I tend to despise the seemingly faux-outpourings of grief (usually media-provoked) at the death of people deemed as celebrities.  But Michael truly was something different.  A one-off.  A unique gift to us all.

 

At the end of the day, the world has lost one of the true greats.  I don’t believe the outpouring of grief has been too much or over-the-top.  Indeed, it’s far less than was displayed for the born-into-money and married-royalty Princess Diana, and the truth is, MJ was FAR more talented and worked FAR harder to achieve all he did.

 

I for one will miss him tremendously.  Although after 1989-ish, I no longer really considered myself a fan of his any more (my musical tastes diverting into far more obscure and less commercial music), I did buy the Dangerous album and was very impressed with it.  His later works, I had little interest in.

 

But for around ten years, from 1982 to 1992, Michael Jackson was by far the most successful and famous person on the planet.  His star was stratospheric.  He was a genius.  When he’s on TV, you can’t take your eyes of the screen.  His music was sublime.  The man truly created magic, and there is now a gaping void left where his star once shone.

 

Michael Jackson will be remembered forever.  His music, although possibly not timeless (nor was Elvis’ music, when you think about it), will always be played.  Someone will always want to learn how to moonwalk.

 

I will miss you, Michael.  Thanks for providing the soundtrack for my transition from child to adolescent.  Thanks for the music, the lyrics.  Thanks for the dancing.  Thanks even for the weirdness.  Thanks for being a breath of fresh air.

 

Thanks for the magic.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Well readers, the expenses scandal which is (still) rocking the world of politics here in the UK is a bloody shambles isn’t it?  It’s an absolute disgrace.

 

For those of you who don’t know what I’m on babbling on about, last month a major British newspaper came into receipt of a file containing details of what various Members of the UK Parliament have been claiming for via expenses.  And the said newspaper published these details.  And politicians have squirmed and squirmed as they have tried to defend these extravagant purchases made for themselves, by themselves, at the taxpayer’s expense.

 

Hilariously, a number of politicians declared publicly that they had done ‘nothing wrong,’ and had ‘nothing to be ashamed of,’ then promptly offered to pay (some of) the money back and/or resigned their posts.

 

The truly worrying thing is that from the beginning of organised Parliament in this country (which must be at least around five hundred years ago), there hasn’t been any kind of system put in place to set out clearly to MP’s what they can and can’t claim for.

 

So obviously, all sorts of dubious expense claims must have been put in over the centuries.  It also seems that extravagant claims have been overlooked.

 

And let’s not make any mistakes or misjudgements over this: if it’s happening now, it’s been happening for bloody years.

 

Part of me feels rather sorry for Gordon Brown.  Not a huge part, probably something like one of those little bones in my ear.  But he’s really had a shitter of a time since he became Prime Minister.

 

And I have to hold my hands up here- there have been many occasions when I have sat and grinned at the TV as I’ve watched him squirm in his seat, pretending that he does have some semblance of control over his party.

 

Indeed, just a few weeks ago, he seemed to have lost all control, particularly after the Euro elections.

 

Everybody in the country (well- the media at least) thought his time was up.  All the sand had run to the bottom of the hourglass.  He was out.  Parliament would be dissolved and a general election would have to be called.  It was panic time in the New Labour camp.

 

But Golden Gordon called an emergency meeting with his cabinet (or what was left of it after a significant number of them resigned their posts and walked out in protest) and had a bit of a reshuffle.  Then, he emerged with that stupid-looking grin and announced that all had been discussed, and it was back to business as usual.

 

So life went on.  The expenses scandal has continued to raise it’s ugly head as various MP’s have been found guilty of claiming expenses (ie- taking OUR money as taxpayers) to fund things such as pruning trees and (as one Tory MP did) having a moat cleaned out!

 

Yep- you heard that right.  He reached into the coffers of hard-working people’s money, and had his sodding moat cleaned with it.

 

What a colossal prick.

 

One MP even (and I still shake my head as I think of it now) had a small floating island built for his ducks!

 

It’s true!

 

I saw the pictures in the newspaper!

 

A small, wooden, house-shaped thing which floated on his lakes, for his bloody DUCKS to live on.  And it turned out that the ducks weren’t even using it.  So not only was it just a waste of money, it was a TOTAL WASTE of OUR money.

 

And I don’t claim to know the solution to this problem.  Clearly some kind of legislation should be put in place setting out exactly what is and is not reasonable for MP’s to claim for.

 

Obviously, if they live a fair distance away from London, then they will need accommodation for when they are in Parliament.  But what kind of accommodation?  Should tax payers really be expected to pay for a second house for these people?  It’s particularly annoying when you hear we’re paying for second homes for people who aren’t even using them!

 

Rather like those ducks on that lake!

 

Also, specifics need to be drafted as to what MPs can and can’t make claims for.  As you’ve seen, some of them are truly absurd.  But should they be able to claim for a second home?  Surely a hotel room while they’re VISIBLY PRESENT in Parliament should suffice!  And transport to and from the House of Commons?  If they’re claiming for a second home nearer Parliament, then surely they shouldn’t be able to claim travel expenses from the said second home to the Commons every day.  That’s like claiming to overcome the same problem twice!  Sorry, but I have to make my way to and from work using my own car and funding my own fuel, tax, insurance and maintenance.

 

And I’m earning a lot less than these so-called politicians are!

 

There are a lot of questions need answering, but something needs sorting, and soon.  The British public truly seem to have lost all faith in politicians.  They’ve always had a kind of unenviable reputation as sleazy and corrupt, but when something like this is exposed, it just makes you realise what a rotten bunch of people we have representing us.

 

Some would go so far as to claim that what these dishonest MP’s have been claiming for amounts to theft.

 

I wouldn’t go that far myself.  You see, there has been no proper legislation in place to stop this going on (or at least to regulate expense claims).  And that’s what needs to be put into force immediately.

 

Only then can we begin to build up some semblance of trust for these people who now really must work hard to make up for the deceit which has probably been going on for centuries.

 

‘Til next time folks…

Okay, I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to stoop to it, but I feel I ought to address what the hell has been going on politics-wise here in the UK.

 

It’s been making the news and causing all sorts of stirs and reaction- so much so that regular readers will probably be wondering how come I’ve been avoiding the subject.  This is not like me.  They will probably be aware that I try not to duck the big issues as far as Parliament and the governing of this country is concerned, but a number of issues, including the one I’m going to talk to you about today, really were starting to bore me before I had the opportunity to put an article together; mainly due to the mass media-coverage it has have received.

 

But the emails have started to creep in.  ‘Craig, what are your thoughts on the BNP’s success in your county, Yorkshire, in the recent Euro elections?’

 

Well, you asked, so I’m going to tell you.

 

First of all though, I feel the need to point out the following fact: Labour did shit.

 

Honestly, they performed terribly.  I pissed myself, mainly due to my dislike of that Gordon Brown chap.

 

But the election of the BNP is a real political hot potato, if you will.  In the Euro elections, the British National Party gained two seats in the European Parliament.

 

For those of you who aren’t aware of the BNP, they are a far-right party whose only real political agenda is (as they put it) the promotion of all things British.

 

And what’s wrong with that?

 

The answer: Nothing.  The promotion of Britishness is something that has been needed in the country for years.  It’s something which seems to be sadly lacking, or more specifically, has been zapped away from us over the last thirty or so years.  National pride NEEDS to be re-instilled in us.

 

So far so good.

 

However, the BNP’s manifesto seems to think that the promotion of Britishness should mean the destruction and denouncement of everything which is non-British.  This includes cultures and people living on these shores which it (the BNP that is) deems as immigrant.

 

They want to sever ties with Europe (and all though I’m anti-EU, surely the unnecessary severance of ties with anyone will be counter-beneficiary), and remove non-whites and immigrants (including fourth and fifth generation immigrants) from the country.

 

I shit you not- this is what they actually want to do.

 

Regardless of the facts that less than 0.01% of the current population can class themselves as truly indigenous, they want, basically, foreigners and their ancestors OUT!

 

But where do we draw the line when we use words like ‘immigrant’ and ‘foreigner’?

 

What about the Germans and the French and Scandinavians that invaded these shores over 1500 years ago?  You know, the immigrants that I’m probably descended from?  Am I to be thrown out too, even though my family tree is traceable in this country as far back as I can go?

 

I would be interested to discover Nick Griffin’s roots (he’s the leader of this party).  Can he honestly claim to be an indigenous Englishman?  One of the 0.01%?  If so, perhaps we should ALL ship out and leave him here on his own.

 

The BNP try to dress themselves up as a Pro-British Party.

 

They’re not.

 

If the BNP ever get ANY significant amount of power, Great Britain will lie in ruins.  A war-torn disaster zone within weeks.  A party with a single-policy, even if it’s a FANTASTIC policy, cannot govern a country. 

 

And no BNP supporters can deny that.

 

Indeed, just after Griffin gained his European seat he was pelted with eggs.  Can you imagine the scenes if they ever came into Government????

 

The BNP is a very small party with controversial undertones that can never do anyone any good.

 

Why the BNP has had more success here in Yorkshire than in any other part of the country, I truthfully can’t answer.  I know a number of our cities are heavily populated with Asian immigrants, but no more so than places Birmingham and London, surely?

 

Is there a reason why people in Barnsley are more, shall we say ‘anti-immigration’ than Londoners?

 

Do people in Barnsley perhaps notice a greater influx of immigration into their part of the world than others?  And what is worrying them about these immigrants?  Surely not the age-old adage that ‘they’ll take all our jobs’.  The last I heard ‘they only come here for the welfare state benefits.’  Hey, make you’re minds up, racist people!  I’d love to know what the latest complaint is!

 

Having said all that- a significant number of people used their rights to vote to elect them into power.  These people have a legitimate voice and should be heard, and their views discussed intelligently.

 

The physical attacking of Griffin (and the other guy- I forget his name) simply for winning these seats goes against EVERYTHING democracy stands for.  They won the seats fairly and squarely, and that fact needs to be observed whether we like it or not.  They should be allowed to take their seats just as the Labour, Lib Dem, Tory, UKIP and Green candidates have, simply because a significant proportion of the population wants these new MEPs to represent them in Europe.  A fact that can’t be denied.

 

Even if you loathe the BNP, you must respect democracy, and allow politics to work its course.

 

Physically attacking people just because you disagree with their policies simply puts you on the same level as them.  We, as intelligent people, need to defeat these base urges to use physical aggression and defeat these people properly using intelligent, controlled discussion.

 

After all, it can’t be too difficult, now can it?

 

‘Til next time folks…

 

This week’s article from my good self is all about mistranslations, which are particularly amusing when the translation has a double entendre.  There is a website which records signs and notices written in English in tourist-places in the orient.  I think it’s called www.engrish.com.  And it’s hilarious.  The best examples (and these are all photographically represented on that site), as far as I am concerned are:

In a Bangkok temple:
IT IS FORBIDDEN TO ENTER A WOMAN, EVEN A FOREIGNER, IF DRESSED AS A MAN.

 

Dry cleaners, Bangkok :
DROP YOUR TROUSERS HERE FOR THE BEST RESULTS.

 

Tokyo hotel's rules and regulations:
GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO SMOKE OR DO OTHER DISGUSTING BEHAVIOURS IN BED.

 

In a Tokyo bar:
SPECIAL COCKTAILS FOR THE LADIES WITH NUTS.

 

Hotel , Japan :
YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

Advertisement for donkey rides, Thailand :
WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE ON YOUR OWN ASS?

 

The list goes on and on, some are far funnier and more intelligent than others.  Some are just rude translations or very crass, but it’s a fun way of spending a spare half hour or so.

 

But after my visit to Engrish, I soon (via the wonders of the internet) became aware of mistranslations and double-meanings which have occurred in countries away from the Orient.  And these have proved to be equally hilarious.

Cocktail lounge , Norway :
LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR.

Doctors office, Rome :
SPECIALIST IN WOMEN AND OTHER DISEASES.

In a Nairobi restaurant:
CUSTOMERS WHO FIND OUR WAITRESSES RUDE OUGHT TO SEE THE MANAGER.

On the main road to Mombassa, leaving Nairobi :
TAKE NOTICE: WHEN THIS SIGN IS UNDER WATER, THIS ROAD IS IMPASSABLE.

On a poster at Kencom:
ARE YOU AN ADULT THAT CANNOT READ? IF SO WE CAN HELP.

In a City restaurant:
OPEN SEVEN DAYS A WEEK AND WEEKENDS.

In a cemetery:
PERSONS ARE PROHIBITED FROM PICKING FLOWERS FROM ANY BUT THEIR OWN GRAVES

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:
OUR WINES LEAVE YOU NOTHING TO HOPE FOR.

 Hotel , Yugoslavia :
THE FLATTENING OF UNDERWEAR WITH PLEASURE IS THE JOB OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery:
YOU ARE WELCOME TO VISIT THE CEMETERY WHERE FAMOUS RUSSIAN AND SOVIET COMPOSERS, ARTISTS AND WRITERS ARE BURIED DAILY EXCEPT THURSDAY.

A sign posted in Germany 's Black Forest :
IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN ON OUR BLACK FOREST CAMPING SITE THAT PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SEX, FOR INSTANCE, MEN AND WOMEN, LIVE TOGETHER IN ONE TENT UNLESS THEY ARE MARRIED WITH EACH OTHER FOR THIS PURPOSE.

Hotel, Zurich :
BECAUSE OF THE IMPROPRIETY OF ENTERTAINING GUESTS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX IN THE BEDROOM, IT IS SUGGESTED THAT THE LOBBY BE USED FOR THIS PURPOSE.

Airline ticket office, Copenhagen :
WE TAKE YOUR BAGS AND SEND THEM IN ALL DIRECTIONS.

A laundry in Rome :
LADIES, LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES HERE AND SPEND THE AFTERNOON HAVING A GOOD TIME.?

 

Great stuff eh?  Gave me a good titter or two.  Until next time, folks…

So the world is in the grip of an economic meltdown, and here in Britain, it would seem we are feeling the pinch rather more than most other countries if our media is meant to be believed.

 

Yet the issue of the compulsory carrying of ID cards has yet again reared its ugly head.  And guess what?  In spite of the credit crunch, or recession, or whatever you want to call it, they’re still trying to push ahead with it.  And the costs which are being bandied about are really quite staggering.

 

And conspiracy theories abound about these things, including the indication that this is another step towards Britain becoming a Police State.  And it’s really quite terrifying.

 

So now in a time that we are having to tighten our belts and watch what we spend, the bill for this unwanted Blairite piece of crap is now £48 billion and rising.  The figures quoted that we would each have to spend on one of these things has gone from £29 to almost £60 and if we want to take a foreign holiday in the future we are "obliged" to have to pay for an I.D card too when we renew our Passport.  Long live the rise in U.K holidays I say.

What is the highlighted excuse this time? It will save us carrying a utility bill when we want to apply for something.  That’s the new reason as to why these ID cards will make our lives much more comfortable.

 

Won’t my driving licence do?  I carry mine in my wallet. It has my photo on it and carries a fair bit of information about me. I have a Bank Card and several credit cards- they don’t have my photo on them YET! But it does carry a fair bit of information about me in the strip on the back.  My Passport has an electronic loop in the back so every time I use it the Government know where I am going, how long I will have been there and can track my movements abroad because of the chip and antennae in the back. My mobile phone (by all accounts) can tell the Government if they wish to know where I am at any given time.

We can be tracked in (most of our movements in towns and cities are logged by CCTV), what we buy is recorded on Loyalty Cards, Retailer Computer Systems and Credit Cards.

Surely the U.K Government have enough information on all of us. Their track record for keeping it safe however is another story.

In a time when money is tight surely the rising cost of this Card that nobody wants but will be forced into having at £60 cost each and rising; is a criminal waste.  And we will be lucky if it is only £60! Even if we are only charged £60 I am sure the remaining costs will be added to our taxes.

All this is on top of the billions for the Olympics which we’re forking out for, billions for the questionable war on Iraq, billions for the banks bailout, oh, and the billions for the new schools and hospitals that we haven’t paid for yet.... you would think the word recession had not actually sunk into this spend spend spend government!

 

And what exactly are they spending money on?  To me, it seems they are trying to log everything about us.  And an article I read the other month indicates to me that they are already taking quite a worrying step in monitoring our whereabouts at all time.  And they’re starting with the police themselves.

 

According to the report in a UK newspaper which I noticed in early April, every single Metropolitan police officer will be 'microchipped' so top brass can monitor their movements on a Big Brother style tracking scheme,

 

Apparantly the plan, which will apply to all serving officers in the Police Force, is set to replace the unreliable Airwave radio system currently used to help monitor officer's movements.

 

The new electronic tracking device - called the Automated Personal Location System (APLS) - means that officers will never be out of range of supervising officers.

 

But many serving officers fear being turned into "Robocops" - controlled by bosses who have not been out on the beat in years.

 

According to the company behind this system, the new technology 'will enable operators in the Service's operations centres to identify the location of each police officer' at any time they are on duty - whether overground or underground.

 

Of course, police chiefs are rolling out the expected spiel, saying the new technology is about 'improving officer safety' and helping them to react to incidents more quickly, but many of the rank and file believe it is just a Big Brother style system to keep tabs on them and make sure they don't 'doze off on duty'.

 

Some officers are concerned that the system - which will be able to pinpoint any of the 31,000 officers in the Met to within a few feet of their location - will put a complete end to community policing and leave officers purely at the beck and call of control room staff rather than reacting to members of the public on the ground.

 

A significant number of police officers, it would seem, believe the new system will turn them into 'Robocops' simply obeying instructions from above rather than using their own judgement.

 

One officer, working in Peckham, south London, said: "They are keeping the exact workings of the system very hush-hush at the moment - although it will be similar to the way criminals are electronically tagged. There will not be any choice about wearing one.

 

"We depend on our own ability and local knowledge to react to situations accordingly.

 

"Obviously we need the back up and information from control, but a lot of us feel that we will simply be used as machines, or robots, to do what we are told with little or no chance to put in anything ourselves."

 

He added: "Most of us joined up so we could apply the law and think for ourselves, but if Sarge knows where we are every second of the day it just makes it difficult."

 

Another officer, who did not want to be named, said: "A lot of my time is spent speaking to people in cafes, parks or just wherever I'm approached. If I feel I've got my chief breathing down my neck to make another arrest I won't feel I'm doing my job properly."

 

No details have yet been announced about exactly how the system will work or what sort of devices officers will wear.

 

Nigel Lee, a workstream manager at the Met, said: "Safety is a primary concern for all police forces.

 

"The area served by our force covers 620 miles and knowing the location of our officers means that not only can we provision resource more quickly, but should an officer need assistance, we can get to them even more quickly."

 

I’m sure this subject will promote much debate in the coming months, and sure, I can see the positives and the negatives surrounding the idea.  However, how long before we’re all made to wear one?

 

'Til next time, folks...

Good day to you, dear readers and welcome to the TENTH great email inbox clearout- the occasional regular article where I take the opportunity to clearout my email inbox of some of the feeble jokes that seem to do the rounds.  I hope you enjoy them…

 

An elderly woman goes to the doctor and asks his help to revive her husband's sex drive.
"What about trying Viagra?" asks the doctor.
"Not a chance" says Mrs. Murphy. "He won't even take an aspirin for a headache."
"No problem," replies the doctor. "Drop it into his coffee, he won't even taste it. Try it and come back in a week to let me know how everything went."
A week later Mrs. Murphy returns to the doctor and he inquires as to how her love life has been.
"Oh it was terrible, just terrible doctor."
"What happened?" asks the doctor.
"Well, I did as you advised and slipped it in his coffee. The effect was immediate. He jumped straight up, swept the cutlery off the table, at the same time ripping my clothes off and then proceeded to make passionate love to me on the tabletop. It was terrible."
"What was terrible?" said the doctor, "Was the sex not good?"
"Oh no doctor, the sex was the best I've had in 25 years, but I'll never be able to show my face in McDonald's again!"

 

***

 

A pregnant woman from San Francisco got in a car accident and fell into a deep coma. Asleep for nearly 6 months, when she wakes up she sees that she is no longer pregnant and frantically asks the doctor about her baby.
The doctor replies, "Congratulations, you had twins! A boy and a girl. When your brother heard about the accident, he came to San Francisco, since he was the closest relative we had him name them."
The woman thinks to herself, "No, not my brother... he's an idiot!" She asks the doctor, "Well, what's the girl's name?"
"Denise."
"Wow, that's not a bad name, I like it! What's the boy's name?"
"Denephew."

 

***

 

There's a fellow who is an avid golfer. Actually he's a fanatic golfer.
Every Saturday morning he has an early tee time, gets up very early and is golfing all day long. Well this one Saturday morning, he gets up early, dresses quietly, gets his clubs out of the closet, and goes out to his car to drive to the course.
It is raining a torrential downpour. There is snow mixed with the rain and the wind is blowing 50 mph. He comes back into the house and turns the TV to the weather channel. From there he finds it's going to be bad weather all day long. So he puts his clubs back into the closet, quietly undresses and slips back into bed where he cuddles up to his wife's back, and says, "the weather out there is terrible."
To which she replies, "Can you believe my stupid husband is out golfing?"

 

***

 

A guy sticks his head into a barber shop and asks, "How long before I can get a haircut?"
The barber looks around the shop and says, "About 2 hours."
The guy leaves.
A few days later the same guy sticks his head in the door and asks, "How long before I can get a haircut?"
The barber looks around at shop full of customers and says, "About 3 hours."
The guy leaves.
A week later the same guy sticks his head in the shop and asks, "How long before I can get a haircut?"
The barber looks around the shop and says, "About an hour and half."
The guy leaves.
The barber looks over at a friend in the shop and says, "Hey, Bill, follow that guy and see where he goes. He keeps asking how long he has to wait for a haircut, but then doesn't come back."
A little while later, Bill comes back into the shop, laughing hysterically.
The barber asks, "Bill, where did he go when he left here?"
Bill looks up, tears in his eyes and says, "Your house!"

 

***

 

A little guy goes into an elevator, looks up and sees this HUGE guy standing next to him.
The big guy sees the little guy staring at him, looks down and says, "7 feet tall, 350 pounds, 20 inch penis, 3 pound left testicle, 3 pound right testicle, Turner Brown."
The small guy faints dead away and falls to the floor.
The big dude kneels down and brings him to, slapping his face and shaking him. When the little guy finally comes around, the big guy asks him, "What's wrong with you?"
In a very weak voice the little guy says, "Excuse me, but what EXACTLY did you say to me?"
The big dude said, "I saw the curious look on your face and figured I'd just give you the answers to the questions everyone always asks me. I'm 7 feet tall, I weigh 350 pounds, I have a 20 inch penis, my left testicle weighs 3 pounds, my right testicle weighs 3 pounds and my name is Turner Brown."
The small guy says, "Thank God! I thought you said 'Turn around.'"

 

***

 

Three old ladies were sitting side by side in their retirement home reminiscing.
The first lady recalled shopping at the green grocers and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny.
The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, the demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.
The third old lady remarked, "I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about."

 

***

 

A blonde couple were delighted when their long wait to adopt a baby came to an end. The adoption centre called and told them that they had a wonderful Russian baby boy, and the couple took him without hesitation.
On the way home from the adoption centre, they stopped by the local college so they each could enrol in night courses.
After they filled out the forms, the registration clerk inquired, "What ever possessed you to study Russian?"
The couple said proudly, "We just adopted a Russian baby, and in a year or so he'll start to talk. We just want to be able to understand him."

 

***

 

Two women had been having a friendly lunch when the subject turned to sex.
"You know, John and I have been having some sexual problems" Linda told her friend.
That's amazing!" Mary replied, "So have Tom and I. We're thinking of going to a sex therapist" said Linda.
"Oh, we could never do that! We'd be too embarrassed!" responded Mary. "But after you go, will you please tell me how it went?"
Several weeks passed and they met for lunch again. "So, how did the sex therapy work out, Linda?"
"Things couldn't be better!", Linda exclaimed. "We began with a physical exam, and afterward the doctor said he was certain he could help us. He told us to stop at the grocery store on the way home and buy a bunch of grapes and a dozen donuts. He told us to sit on the floor nude, and toss the grapes and donuts at each other. Every grape that went into my vagina, John had to get it out with his tongue. Every donut that I ringed his penis with, I had to eat. Our sex life is wonderful, in fact it's better than it's ever been!"
With that endorsement, Mary talked her husband into an appointment with the same sex therapist. After the physical exams were completed the doctor called Mary and Tom into his office. "I'm afraid there is nothing I can do for you," he said.
But doctor," Mary complained, "You did such good for Linda and John, surely you must have a suggestion for us! Please, please, can't you give us some help? Any help at all?"
"Well, OK," the doctor answered. "On your way home, I want you to stop at the grocery store and buy a sack of apples and a box of Cheerios..."

 

***

 

Well, that’s all for now.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Hello there, dear readers, and a warm welcome to a brand new commentary from your old friend Craig.  Hope you’re all well.

 

This time, I’m going to share with you the results of a discovery I recently made, which I formulated into a system you yourselves can use.  There is no charge for it, just remember who to thank when you have successfully achieved what you previously thought to be impossible!

 

Ladies and Gentlemen, in keeping with current trends and cashing on fads and people’s own insecurities, I present to you, the one and only – Whistler Diet!!!

 

Yep- we all want to look our best when possible, and it’s always nice to have a lovely trim figure to show off.  But exercising is very hard work, and dieting can be an uninteresting pain in the arse!  But thanks to a recent observation I made, I think I’ve found something a little more interesting than the bog-standard salad diets that are going around.

 

‘But what is this earth-shattering observation you’ve made?’ I hear you cry.  Well, dear friends, the answer is thus: the vast majority of three-year-old kids are NOT fat!

 

So what is their secret then?  How do they manage to keep off the fat?  Well, if any of you have had any experience in looking after children of around this age, then they will be more than aware that they have quite a lot of energy- they’re constantly running around and getting into things- climbing things, jumping off things, etc.

 

Now, The Whistler diet doesn’t involve any of THAT (and thank God for that, I hear you cry!)

 

Nope, instead of the exercise part of it, I’ve been studying the diet of the average child of this age, and I believe, if those of us who are, shall we say, slightly overweight, adopted the eating habits of three year olds, then we might find ourselves losing that excess fat!

 

After consultation with paediatricians, x-ray technicians, and distraught mothers, I was able to formulate this new diet. It is inexpensive and offers great variety and sufficient quantity. I present- The Whistler Weight Loss Plan!  Let me know how you get on with it…

Day 1:

Breakfast- One scrambled egg, one piece of toast with grape jelly. Eat 2 bites of egg using your fingers; dump the rest on the floor. Take 1 bite of toast, and then smear the jelly over your face and clothes.

Lunch- Four crayons (any colour) a handful of crisps, and a glass of milk- 3 sips, then spill the rest.

Dinner- A dry stick, 2 pennies, 4 sips of flat diet pop.

Bedtime snack- Toast a piece of bread, butter it, and toss it face down on the floor.


Day 2:

Breakfast- Pick up stale toast from the floor and eat it. Drink 1/2 bottle of vanilla extract or one vial of vegetable dye.

Lunch- Half tube of "Pulsating Pink" lipstick and one ice cube, if desired.

Afternoon snack- Lick an all day sucker until sticky, take it outside and drop in dirt. Retrieve and continue slurping until clean again, then bring inside and drop on living room carpet.

Dinner- A rock or an uncooked bean, which should be thrust up your left nostril. Pour iced tea over mashed potatoes, eat with spoon.


Day 3:

Breakfast- 2 pancakes with plenty of syrup, eat with fingers, rub fingers in hair to clean. Glass of milk, drink half, stuff excess pancakes in glass. After breakfast, pick up yesterdays sucker from carpet, lick off fuzz until sticky again, then leave on cushion of your best chair.

Lunch- Peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Spit several well-chewed bites onto the floor. Pour glass of milk onto table, then slurp up.

Dinner- Dish of ice cream, handful of potato chips, 1 sip of cold coffee.


Final Day:

Breakfast- 1/4 tube of toothpaste (any flavour), bite of soap, one olive. Pour glass of milk over bowl of cornflakes, add 1/2 cup of sugar. Wait until cereal is soggy, drink milk and feed cereal to dog with your spoon.

Lunch- Eat crumbs off the kitchen floor and dining room carpet. Find that sucker and finish eating it.

Dinner- A plate of spaghetti and chocolate milk. Leave meatball on plate. Handful of cheese snacks, eat 2 and place the rest in bowling ball holes or any other convenient hiding place.

 

So there you have it folks, a breakthrough in the word of dieting.  Throw away those celebrity weight loss DVDs and faddy fancy food books, and get down with the kids- they know what they’re doing!  Let’s get rid of that excess fat!!

 

‘Til next time folks…

Well hello there, fondest reader.  I hope you are well!

 

I am prompted to write this particular article by a comedy programme I was watching on television the other night.  One of the sketches was about the English language, and how bizarre it is.  And when you start to think about it, it really is.

 

In fact, it’s no wonder that many foreign language students consider English one of the most difficult to master.

 

Of course, to us natives, it all seems pretty straight-forward.  And I’m sure our Australian and American (and other predominantly English-speaking countries’ natives) would agree, but when we analyse it all a little deeper, it is easy to see what a complex and pretty crazy language.

 

And I think it was all messed up by the Americans.  Want proof?  Okay, here goes…

 

Here in England, we have a vegetable called an aubergine.  In the USA, it is referred to as an eggplant.  Now correct me if I’m wrong, but aubergines have absolutely nothing to do with eggs.  So where the hell did they get that name from?  There is no egg in eggplant.

 

They call chips French fries- but they weren’t invented in France, were they?  So how the hell did it come to adopt that particular misnomer?  A mystery to me.  And as an Englishman, I know that what those yanks refer to as English muffins are unheard of over here by that name.  Definitely not invented in England anyway!

 

They also have sweetmeats, which are a type of sweet (candy) while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.

 

Can you see what I’m getting at?

 

It’s not just the Americans, though.  All of us that speak English as our first language are guilty of some incredible paradoxes, misnomers and oxymoron’s on a daily basis.  There are things which we take for granted that a foreigner would question, such as: why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?

 

It’s messed up, isn’t it?

 

If teachers taught, why didn't preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb through annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

 

Park on driveways and drive on parkways (another Americanism there- we don’t tend to have parkways over here)?

 

And those Americans call someone we in England would refer to as a ‘Smart Arse’ as a ‘wise guy’.  So how come a wise man and a wise guy are opposites, but a slim chance and a fat chance are the same?

 

There’s one example of these kinds of things that we here in England are particularly guilty of.  If we say something is ‘bollocks’ it means it is rubbish or garbage, but if we say it is ‘the dog’s bollocks’, that means it is absolutely fantastic.  Simply by attaching the bollocks to a canine, we are giving it a totally opposite meaning.  Incredible!!

 

Also, how can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another?

Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable?

And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this article, I end it.

 

‘Til next time folks…

Chain emails.  I hate them.  They do my head in.  Particularly the ones threatening me with all sorts of nastiness should I fail to forward them.

I received one the other day, however, which I thought was fabulous.  I still didn’t forward it to everyone in my mailbox, because I know how frustrating it can be receiving stuff that you haven’t asked for.  I have posted it here, however, because I truly believe you’ll absolutely love it.  And it certainly got me thinking.  Enjoy…

Five (5) lessons to make you think about the way we treat people.
 

1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.

During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz.  I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:

'What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?'

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her name?

I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
'Absolutely,' said the professor. 'In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'hello.'

I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

 

2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain

One night, at 11:3 0 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.

Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.  A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s.  The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.

She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console colour TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached...

It read:
'Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.
Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.'

Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.

 

 

3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

'How much is an ice cream sundae?' he asked.

'Fifty cents,' replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.

'Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?' he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.

'Thirty-five cents,' she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins.

'I'll have the plain ice cream,' he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies.

You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip. 

 

 

4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.

In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock.  Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.

Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse laying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand!

Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

 

 

5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts...

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had
miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, 'Yes I'll do it if it will save her.' As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the colour returning to her cheek. Then his
face grew pale and his smile faded.

He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, 'Will I start to die right away'.

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her but he had chosen to save her anyway.

 

Moving stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

In the beginning God created the heaven and the Earth. And the Earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

And the Devil said, "It doesn't get any better than this."

And God said, "Let there be light" and there was light.

And God said, "Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit," and God saw that it was good.

And the Devil said, "There goes the neighbourhood."

And God said, "Let us make Man in our image, after our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air and over the cattle, and over all the Earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the Earth."

And so God created Man in his own image; male and female created he them.

And God looked upon Man and Woman and saw that they were lean and fit.

And the Devil said, "I know how I can get back in this game."

And God populated the earth with broccoli and cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.

And the Devil created McDonald's. And McDonald's brought forth the £1 double cheeseburger.

And the Devil said to Man: "You want fries with that?"

And Man said: "Supersize them." And Man gained 5 pounds.

And God created the healthful yoghurt, that woman might keep her figure that man found so fair.

And the Devil brought forth chocolate. And Woman gained 5 pounds.

And God said, "Try my crispy fresh salad."

And the Devil brought forth Ben and Jerry's. And Woman gained 10 pounds.

And God said, "I have sent thee heart-healthy vegetables and olive oil with which to cook them."

And the Devil brought forth chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained 10 pounds and his bad cholesterol went through the roof.

And God brought forth running shoes and Man resolved to lose those extra pounds.

And the Devil brought forth Sky TV with remote control so Man would not have to toil to change channels between Sky Sports 1 and Sky Sports News. And Man gained another 20 pounds.

And God said, "You're running up the score, Devil."

And God brought forth the potato, a vegetable naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition.

And the Devil peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy centre into chips and deep fat fried them. And the Devil created ketchup.

And Man clutched his remote control and ate the chips swaddled in cholesterol. And the Devil saw and said, "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest. And God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery.

And the Devil cancelled Man's health insurance.

Then God showed Woman how to peel the skin off chicken and cook the nourishing whole grain brown rice.

And the Devil created light beer so Man could poison his body with alcohol while feeling righteous because he had to drink twice as much of the now-insipid brew to get the same buzz.

And Man gained another ten pounds.

And God created the life-giving tofu. And Woman ventured forth into the land of chocolate and upon returning asked Man: "Do I look fat?"

And the Devil said, "Always tell the truth." And Man did.

And Woman went out from the presence of man and dwelt in the land of the divorce lawyer, east of the marriage counsellor. And Woman put aside the seeds of the earth and took unto herself comfort food.

And God brought forth Weight-watchers. It didn't help.

And God created exercise machines with easy payments.

And man brought forth his Visa at 21 percent. And the exercise machine went to dwell in the closet of Nod, east of the polyester leisure suit.

And in the fullness of time, Woman received the exercise machine from Man in the property settlement. It didn't help her, either. 

'Til next time, folks...

We’ve all been in that unenviable situation at work where you have absolutely nothing to do.  Now, in some instances, this can be a wonderful thing.  A bit of time, paid, where one can indulge in practices of a non-work nature.  I won’t go into any details here, but you know what I mean.  Some may check out the old MySpace or Facebook, visit fantastic online commentary magazines like The Whistler, or perhaps catch up on some personal correspondence you haven’t managed to keep up with over recent weeks.

 

Ah yes, being at work with no actual work to do can be a nice, comfortable, almost liberating experience.

 

But what if the boss is around?  Perhaps a boss wandering around wouldn’t like to see you on these social networking sites, writing personal emails or playing java games in company time.  Chances are, if a boss, who is paying you to work, sees that you’re not working, then he’ll probably find something for you to do.  And you can guarantee that it won’t be anything pleasant.

 

But, there is a way out of it.  All you need to do is convey the impression to your boss and indeed colleagues, that you are always as busy as a beaver.  This not only masks the fact that you’re using company time for your own ends, but will also look impressive should you come up for a pay review!

 

So to help you out, I proudly present to you The Whistler Guide To Creating The Illusion That You’re Working Hard, When In Actual Fact, You’re Not!  I hope you find this helpful!

 

The first rule is simple, but wonderfully effective.  Never walk down the hall without a document in your hands. People with documents in their hands look like hardworking employees heading for important meetings. People with nothing in their hands look like they're heading for the cafeteria. People with a newspaper in their hand look like they're heading for the toilet. Above all, make sure you carry loads of stuff home with you at night, thus generating the false impression that you work longer hours than you do.

The second rule is useful when you’re on the old social networking sites or catching up with friends via email.  The golden rule is thus: use computers to look busy. Any time you use a computer, it looks like "work" to the casual observer, as long as they can’t see what’s being displayed on the monitor. You can send and receive personal e-mail, calculate your finances and generally have a blast without doing anything remotely related to work.

 

And although these aren't exactly the societal benefits that the proponents of the computer revolution would like to talk about but they're not bad either. When you eventually get caught by your boss (and believe me, you *will* get caught) - your best defence is to claim you're teaching yourself to use new software, thus saving valuable training dollars.

Rule number three:  Messy desk. Top management can get away with a clean desk. For the rest of us, it looks like you're not working hard enough. Build huge piles of documents around your workspace. To the observer, last year's work looks the same as today's work; it's volume that counts. Pile them high and wide. If you know somebody is coming to your cubicle, bury the document you'll need halfway down in an existing stack and rummage for it when he/she arrives.

Rule number four utilises that wonderful invention we have come to know as voice mail. Never answer your phone if you have voice mail. People don't call you just because they want to give you something for nothing - they call because they want YOU to do work for THEM. That's no way to live. Screen all your calls through voice mail. If somebody leaves a voice mail message for you and it sounds like impending work, respond during lunch hour when you know they're not there - it looks like you're hardworking and conscientious even though you're being a devious weasel. If you diligently employ the method of screening incoming calls and then returning calls when nobody is there, this will greatly increase the odds that the caller will give up or look for a solution that doesn't involve you. The sweetest voice mail message you can ever hear is: "Ignore my last message. I took care of it".

 

Here’s a bonus hint for you.  4a, if you will:  If your voice mailbox has a limit on the number of messages it can hold, make sure you reach that limit frequently. One way to do that is to never erase any incoming messages. If that takes too long, send yourself a few messages. Your callers will hear a recorded message that says, "Sorry, this mailbox is full" - a sure sign that you are a hardworking employee in high demand.

Rule number five utilises any acting skills you may have.  You should try to master the art of looking impatient and annoyed. According to George Costanza, one should also always try to look impatient and annoyed to give your bosses the impression that you are always busy.

The sixth rule is another truly high quality piece of deception:  Appear to Work Late. Always leave the office late, especially when the boss is still around. You could read magazines and storybooks that you always wanted to read but have no time until late before leaving. Make sure you walk past the boss' room on your way out. Send important emails at unearthly hours (e.g. 9:35pm, 7:05am, etc...) and during public holidays.

Further to rule number five and bringing the acting skills further into the game, rule seven is entitled Creative Sighing for Effect.  This involves sighing loudly and noticeably when there are many people around, giving them the impression that you are very hard pressed.

Stacking Strategy. It is not enough to pile lots of documents on the table. Put lots of books on the floor etc. . . .Can always borrow from library. Thick computer manuals are the best.

Rule number nine is a beauty, and with a little work, can be very effective.  Build your vocabulary.  Read up on some computer magazines and pick out all the jargon and new products.  Use it freely when in conversation with bosses. Remember: They don't have to understand what you say, but you sure sound impressive.

AND RULE TEN IS THE MOST IMPORTANT: DON'T let your boss see this page.

 

Hope this helps.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Dear readers,

 

As you know, sometimes this site can be very light hearted and a lot of fun, and on occasions it seems necessary to have to take a look at the more serious side of life.  And for this article, I’m going to relate a little anecdote to you, so you yourselves can decide which category to put it in.

 

The anecdote which follows is all about a recent little adventure which befell a, shall we say, contact of mine, and I hope you find it entertaining.  I know it certainly got me thinking, and I’m hoping it will have a similar effect on my huge army of readers.

 

It all began one morning about nine years ago (the turn of the millennium, I recall.  That’s right!  It was that distant, hazy memory of a year we know as 2000), when this contact of mine was on his way to the post office to pick up a case of free M&M's.  (The free case of the popular confection was sent to him because he forwarded their e-mail to five other people, celebrating the fact that the year 2000 is "MM" in Roman numerals).

 

Well, it so happened that as my anonymous acquaintance was running this particular errand, he ran into a friend whose neighbour, a young man, was at home recovering from having been served a rat in his bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken - which is predictable, since as everyone knows, there's no actual chicken in Kentucky Fried Chicken, which is why (as everybody knows) the government made them change their name to KFC.

 

Anyway, the story goes that one night this guy (that is my anonymous acquaintance’s friend’s neighbour) went to sleep, and when he awoke he was astounded, shocked and startled to find he was in his bathtub and it was full of ice.  He was sore all over and in absolute agony.  When he finally mustered up the strength to get himself out of the tub, he came to the rather shocking realisation that HIS KIDNEYS HAD BEEN STOLEN.

 

He saw a note scrawled into the condensation on his bathroom mirror that said "Call 999!" but he was afraid to use his phone because it was connected to his computer, and there was a virus on his computer that would destroy his hard drive if he opened e-mail entitled "Join the crew!"

 

He knew it wasn't a hoax because he himself was a computer programmer who was working on software to prevent a global disaster in which all the computers get together and distribute the $250 Neiman-Marcus cookie recipe under the leadership of Bill Gates. (It's true - I read it all last week in a mass e-mail from BILL GATES HIMSELF, who was also promising me a free Disney World holiday and £5,000 if I would forward the e-mail to everyone I know.)

 

The poor man then tried to call 999 from a pay phone to report his missing kidneys, but a voice on the line first asked him to press #90, which unwittingly gave the bandit full access to the phone line at the guy's expense.

 

Then reaching into the coin-return slot he got jabbed with an HIV-infected needle around which was wrapped around a note that said, "Welcome to the world of AIDS."

 

Luckily he was only a few blocks from the hospital - the one where that little boy who is dying of cancer is, the one whose last wish is for everyone in the world to send him an e-mail and the Make A Wish Foundation has agreed to pay him a penny for every e-mail he receives. I sent him two e-mails and one of them was a bunch of x's and o's in the shape of an angel (if you get it and forward it to more than 10 people, you will have good luck but for 10 people you will only have OK luck and if you send it to fewer than 10 people you will have BAD LUCK FOR SEVEN YEARS).

 

Anyway, I’m losing my thread here.  Where was I?  Oh, yes, I remember…

 

So anyway the poor guy tried to drive himself to the hospital, but on the way he noticed another car driving without its lights on. To be helpful, he flashed his lights at him and was promptly shot as part of a gang initiation.

All I can advise each reader of The Whistler does, is copy and paste this article into an email and send it to all the friends who send you their junk mail and you will receive 4 green M&Ms, but if you don't the owner of Proctor and Gamble will report you to his Satanist friends and you will have more bad luck: you will get cancer from the Sodium Laureth Sulphate in your shampoo, your wife will develop breast cancer from using the antiperspirant which clogs the pores under your arms, and the government will put a tax on your e-mails forever.

 

I know this is all true 'cause I read it on the Internet.

 

Until next time, folks…

Well, dear readers, I think it’s probably about time I gave the old email inbox another clearout.  You know the score by now about what this is about.  If not, scroll down and read some previous ones.  Ta.

 

Hope you’re sitting comfortably…

 

*-*

 

The Worst Country Song Lyrics

1. Her Teeth Was Stained, But Her Heart Was Pure.
2. How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?
3. I Don't Know Whether To Kill Myself Or Go Bowling.
4. I Just Bought A Car From A Guy That Stole My Girl, But The Car Don't Run So I Figure We Got An Even Deal.

5. I Keep Forgettin' I Forgot About You.
6. I Liked You Better Before I Knew You So Well.
7. I Wouldn't Take Her To A Dog Fight, Cause I'm Afraid She'd Win.
8. I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Like Having You Here
9. I've Got Tears In My Ears From Lyin' On My Back and Cryin' Over You
10. If I Had Shot You When I Wanted To, I'd Be Out By Now.
11. Mama Get A Hammer (There's A Fly On Papa's Head).
12. My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, And I Don't Love You.
13. My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend, And I Sure Do Miss Him.
14. Please Bypass This Heart.
15. You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly.
16. If the Phone Don't Ring, You'll Know It's Me.

 

-*-

 

Three desperately ill men met with their doctor one day to discuss their options. One was an alcoholic, one was a chain smoker, and one was a homosexual.
The doctor, addressing all three of them, said, "If any of you indulge in your vices one more time, you will surely die."
The men left the doctor's office, each convinced that he would never again indulge himself in his vice.
While walking toward the subway for their return trip to the suburbs, they passed a bar. The alcoholic, hearing the loud music and seeing the lights, could not stop himself. His buddies accompanied him into the bar, where he had a shot of whiskey. No sooner had he replaced the shot glass on the bar, he fell off his stool, stone cold dead.
His companions, somewhat shaken up, left the bar, realizing how seriously they must take the doctor's words.
As they walked along, they came upon a cigarette butt lying on the ground, still burning. The homosexual looked at the chain smoker and said, "If you bend over to pick that up, we're both dead."

 

-*-

 

While away at a convention, an executive happened to meet a young woman who was pretty and intelligent. When he persuaded her to disrobe in his hotel room, he found out she had a sexy body as well. Unfortunately, the executive found himself unable to perform. Limp as a dishrag!
On his first night home, the executive walked from the shower into the bedroom to find his wife covered in a rumpled bathrobe, her hair curled, her face creamed, munching candy loudly while she pored through a movie magazine.
Then, without warning, he felt the onset of a magnificent erection.
Looking down at his penis, he snarled, "Why you ungrateful, mixed-up son of a bitch. Now I know why they call you a prick!"

 

-*-

 

The Dumbest Actual Answers Given By Contestants on "The Family Feud" Game Show

* Name something a blind person might use - A sword
* Name a song with moon in the title - Blue suede moon
* Name an item of clothing worn by the 3 musketeers - A horse
* Name something that floats in the bath - Water
* Name a famous cowboy - Buck Rogers
* Something you put on walls - Roofs
* Something in the garden that's green - Shed
* Name a famous bridge - The bridge over troubled waters
* Something you do in the bathroom - Decorate
* Something with a hole in it – Window

 

-*-

 

This young man in the Old West wanted to be the best gunfighter alive. One night as he was sitting in a saloon, he spotted an old man who had the reputation of being the greatest gunfighter in his day.
The young man walked up to the old man and told him his dream.
The old man looked him up and down and said, "I have a suggestion that is sure to help."
"Tell me, tell me," said the young man.
"Tie the bottom of your holster lower onto your leg."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"
"Definitely," said the old man.
The young guy did what he was told and drew his gun and shot the bow tie off the piano player.
"Wow, that really helped. Do you have any more suggestions?"
"Yeah, if you cut a notch in the top of your holster where the hammer hits, the gun will come out smoother."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"
"It sure will," said the old man.
The young guy did what he was told and drew his gun and shot the cufflink off the piano player.
"This is really helping me. Is there anything else you can share with me?"
"One more thing," said the old man. "Get that can of axle grease over there in the corner and rub it all over your gun."
The young fellow didn't hesitate but started putting the grease on the barrel of his gun.
"No, the whole gun, handle and everything," said the old man.
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"
"No," said the old man, "but when Wyatt Earp gets done playing that piano he's going to shove that gun up your behind, and it won't hurt as much!"

 

-*-

 

A father said, "Son, the object of dating is to SCORE! And to do that, you have to give the woman something. So when you pick up your date later, make sure you have some flowers or chocolates to give her. Girls go crazy over that stuff. The more you give, the more you get!"
So, the son showed up for his date with flowers AND chocolates.
She was very flattered and pleased, and she rewarded him with a long, passionate kiss. She pressed her chest against him and rubbed her fingers through his hair... hoping to give him the best kiss that he had ever received.
After the kiss, he turned and bolted for the door.
"Oh! I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you away."
"You didn't!" he replied. "I'm going out to get you some jewellery!"

 

-*-

 

A brunette, redhead, and a blonde went to a fitness spa for some fun and relaxation.
After a stimulating healthy lunch, all three decided to visit the ladies room and found a strange-looking woman sitting at the entrance who said, "Welcome to the ladies room. Be sure to check out our newest feature: a mirror which, if you look into it and say something truthful, you will be awarded with a wish. But, be warned, for if you say something false, you will be sucked into the mirror to live in a void of nothingness for all eternity!"
The three women quickly entered and upon finding the mirror, the brunette said, "I think I'm the most beautiful of us three," and in an instant she was surrounded by a pile of money.
The redhead stepped up and said, "I think I'm the most talented of us three," and she suddenly found the keys to a brand new Lexus in her hands.
Excited over the possibility of having a wish come true, the blonde looked into the mirror and said, "I think..." and was promptly sucked into the mirror.

 

-*-

 

If Men Really Ruled!

* Any fake phone number a girl gave you would automatically forward your call to her real number.
* Nodding and looking at your watch would be deemed an acceptable response to "I Love You".
* Hallmark would make "Sorry, what was your name again?" cards
* When your girlfriend really needed to talk to you during the game, she would appear in a little box in the corner of the screen during a time-out.
* Birth control would come in ale or lager.
* Each year, your pay rise would be pegged to the fortunes of the football team of your choice.
* The funniest guy in the office would get to be CEO.
* "Sorry I'm late, but I got hammered last night" would be an acceptable excuse for tardiness.
* Instead of a beer belly, you'd get "beer biceps."
* Valentine's Day would be moved to February 29th, so it would only occur in leap years.
* The only show opposite Monday Night Football would be Monday Night Football From A Different Camera Angle.
* Every man would get four real "Get Out of Jail Free" cards per year.
* Taps would run "Hot,' "Cold," and "100 proof".
* People would never talk about how fresh they felt.
* Daisy Duke shorts would never again go out of style.
* Telephones would automatically cut off after 30 seconds of conversation.

 

-*-

 

Stumpy and his wife Martha went to the State Fair every year. Every year Stumpy would say, "Martha, I'd like to ride in that airplane." And every year Martha would say, "I know, Stumpy, but that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars."
This one year Stumpy and Martha went to the fair and Stumpy said, "Martha, I'm 71 years old. If I don't ride that airplane this year I may never get another chance."
Martha replied, "Stumpy, that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars."
The pilot overheard them and said, "Folks, I'll make you a deal. I'll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say one word, I won't charge you, but if you say one word it's ten dollars."
Stumpy and Martha agreed and up they go. The pilot does all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word is heard. He does all his tricks over again, but still not a word.
They land and the pilot turns to Stumpy, "By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to yell out, but you didn't."
Stumpy replied, "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but ten dollars is ten dollars."

 

-*-

 

A man wonders if having sex on the Sabbath is a sin because he is not sure if sex is work or play. So he goes to a priest and asks for his opinion on this question.
After consulting the Bible, the priest says, "My son, after an exhaustive search, I am positive that sex is work and is therefore not permitted on Sundays."
The man thinks: "What does a priest know about sex?" So he goes to a minister, who after all is a married man and experienced in this matter. He queries the minister and receives the same reply.
"Sex is work and therefore not for the Sabbath!"
Not pleased with the reply, he seeks out a Rabbi, a man of thousands of years tradition and knowledge. The Rabbi ponders the question, then states, " My son, sex is definitely play."
The man replies, "Rabbi, how can you be so sure when so many others tell me sex is work?"
The Rabbi softly speaks, "My son, if sex were work, my wife would have the maid do it."

 

-*-

 

A guy walks into a bar in Arkansas and orders a white wine. Everybody sitting around the bar looks up, expecting to see some pitiful yankee queer.
The bartender looks up and says, "You ain't from around here, are ya??? Where ya from, boy?"
The guy says, "I'm from Iowa."
The bartender asks, "What the heck you do in Iowa?"
The guy responds, "I'm a taxidermist."
The bartender asks, "A taxidermist? Now just what the heck is a taxidermist?"
The guy says nervously, "I mount animals."
The bartender grins and shouts out to the whole bar, "It's okay boys, he's one of us!"

 

-*-

 

A man walks into an ice cream parlour and says "Can I have a pint of chocolate ice cream, please?"
The clerk looks up and says "Sorry sir, but we don't have any chocolate left."
After careful pondering the man says, "OK, I'll have two scoops of chocolate ice cream, then"
The clerk grows frustrated and replies "No, I'm sorry, there IS NO CHOCOLATE."
The man apologizes and stares at the menu for a while, and then says "Fine, give me just one scoop of chocolate ice cream please."
The clerk takes a breath and says "Sir, could you please spell VAN, as in Vanilla?"
The man is intrigued, and so spells out "V-A-N."
The clerk nods. "Now spell STRAW, as in strawberry, please?"
"S-T-R-A-W", replies the man.
"And finally, spell STINK, as in chocolate?"
The man starts to say "S-T... wait a minute, there's no 'stink' in chocolate!"
"NOW we understand each other!" the clerk exclaims.

 

-*-

 

That’s all for now then!  ‘Til next time, folks…

Okay boys and girls, how are you today?  Are you sitting comfortably?  Good!  Then we’ll begin.

 

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there lived a handsome young King called Arthur, who was ruler of the Kingdom of Mercia.

 

Now, it came to pass that one day, while the king was out hunting alone (against the wishes of his squires and kinsmen, I hasten to add), he was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighbouring kingdom.

The monarch’s original intention was to have the young king killed, but was moved by Arthur's youthful happiness and zest for life. So he said to him, “Arthur, I will set you a task.  I will ask you a question and allow you to return to Mercia.  Then, in one year’s time, I will track you down and bring you back here.  If you have the answer to that question, I will release you.  I will give you freedom.  However, if you cannot give me an answer, or the answer you give me is wrong, then you must pay with your life.  Do you understand?”

 

The young King Arthur told his captor that he fully understood, but would it be possible for him to hear the question first.  His captor told him that would be okay, and in a loud voice, he posed it.

The question was: What do women really want?

Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and, to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query.

Well, since it was a little bit of a leeway and a far more attractive proposition than instant death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end. He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everybody: the princess, the prostitutes, the priests, the wise men, and the court jester. In all, he spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer.

What most people did tell him was to consult the old witch, as only she would know the answer. The price would be high, since the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.

The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no alternative but to talk to the witch. She agreed to answer his question, but he'd have to accept her price first: The old witch wanted to marry Gawain, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!

Young Arthur was horrified: she was hunchbacked and awfully hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage water, often made obscene noises... He had never run across such a repugnant creature. He refused to force his friend to marry her and have to endure such a burden.

Gawain, upon learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He told Arthur that nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.

Hence, their wedding was proclaimed, and the witch answered Arthur's question: What a woman really wants is to be able to be in charge of her own life.

Everyone instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it went. The neighbouring monarch spared Arthur's life and granted him total freedom.

What a wedding Gawain and the witch had! Arthur was torn between relief and anguish. Gawain was proper as always, gentle and courteous. The old witch put her worst manners on display. She ate with her hands, belched and farted, and made everyone uncomfortable.

The wedding night approached: Gawain, steeling himself for a horrific night, entered the bedroom. What a sight awaited! The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen lay before him! Gawain was astounded and asked what had happened.

The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her (when she'd been a witch), half the time she would be her horrible, deformed self, and the other half, she would be her beautiful maiden self.

Which would he want her to be during the day and which during the night? What a cruel question? Gawain began to think of his predicament:

During the day a beautiful woman to show off to his friend, but at night, in the privacy of his home, an old spooky witch? Or would he prefer having by day a hideous witch, but by night a beautiful woman to enjoy many intimate moments?

What would you do?

What Gawain chose follows below, but don't read until you've made your own choice.

 

 

-*-

Noble Gawain replied that he would let her choose for herself. Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time, because he had respected her and had let her be in charge of her own life.

What is the moral of this story?

THE MORAL IS THAT IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOUR WOMAN IS PRETTY OR UGLY; UNDERNEATH IT ALL, SHE'S STILL A WITCH.

 

‘Til next time folks…

Hello dear readers, and welcome along to the first post of 2009.  And although the economy is in tatters with more doom and gloom predicted, let’s all stay hopeful that we can come through this period of darkness intact, and that the people predicting these downturns in our finances have got it all terribly wrong.

 

And as a resolution, we at The Whistler are going to be on better form than ever.

 

We hope.

 

Anyway, let me get on with what I want to talk to you about in this article.

 

Towards the end of last year, I was reading quite an interesting little article on MSN regarding the workplace and behaviour in it.  This is a topic still being very much discussed, thanks in a large part, I would assume, to the popularity of the hit comedy series The Office.  And as The Office is a very funny programme, I was kind of expecting the article to be.  But it wasn’t.  I had misled myself.  But it was, after all, an interesting piece.  It was called ’10 Things Not To Say In The Workplace’.  You can understand why, from this title, I assumed it would be a humorous piece.  But no.  Interesting yes, funny- no.

 

And as I thought that we're all depressed at this time of year as we get back into the old routine after the festivities of Christmas time, this advice might be rather useful to us as we all get back into the office.

 

The article went along the following lines - The British have a reputation for being intelligently humorous, polite, reserved and proud of our stiff upper-lip, as satirised by shows such as Fawlty Towers and Blackadder. But, when it comes to the office, almost 60% of UK workers admit to displaying bad manners towards their colleagues and committing verbal faux pas on a regular basis, according to a survey.

 

There then followed a list of ten things which are probably best NOT repeating in the office environment if you want to stay on the right side of your bosses and co-workers.  These are they:

 

1. "You are the dumbest boss that I have ever had"

You have just landed the job of your dreams and you can't wait to give your current boss the two-fingered salute and tell him exactly what you think of him. But, resist the temptation to bad mouth and let off steam. Take the following true case that appeared in The Times as an example of what you should not say. One person referred to their employer as "having an intellect that ranges above the common ground squirrel." He added: "You are one of the few true genetic wastes of our time." Remember, your comments will be filed for future reference if requested by another employer.

 

2. "That's not my job"

With your 'to-do' list showing no signs of getting shorter, your boss walks into your office to ask if you do a 'little' job for him, which results in you taking on more work than you can realistically manage. But, a "blunt refusal to help, will simply burn bridges and damage goodwill," says psychologist Bryan Carroll. "Instead, simply explain your existing commitments – and perhaps propose another time that you could offer assistance."

 

3. "Anyone can do his job"

Are you quick to badmouth your boss or ridicule their decisions or initiatives? Watch out: the boss hears everything that is said in the office – good and bad. Assume that what you say will eventually get back to him via the network of office gossips. And the next time you notice yourself griping, ask yourself, "Is it more important to vent my frustrations, or to get that next promotion?" One expects the latter will be your reply.

 

4. "Take the whole pack of Trebor's, please - you need them more than me"

This approach is about as subtle as a brick and you may want to re-assess your diplomacy skills. The best way to tell someone that their breath is a problem is to do so discreetly. If a colleague has bad breath, offer a mint or furtively leave a packet on their desk.

 

5. "Sack me and you will regret it"

These were the famous last words of Martin Jol shortly before his dismissal as Tottenham Hotspur manager. Just because you were the number one salesperson or are credited with reversing the fortunes of the company in the past, does not guarantee that you will have a job indefinitely. Remember, nobody owes you a job. And, as the saying goes: you are only as good as your last game.

 

6. "Why can't I log onto Facebook anymore?"

The reason why the Daily Telegraph found that 70% of UK companies have banned their employees from accessing social networking sites, such as Facebook and Bebo, is because they detract staff from doing what they are paid to do - work. Besides, do you really want to run the risk of your boss peering over your shoulder and finding out what you really get up to at the weekend?

 

7. "Have a go if you think you're hard enough"

Most of us don't get to choose the people we work with and your colleagues come as part of the package when you take a job. So it would be unrealistic to presume that you will get on with everyone all of the time. But if the tension between you and a colleague threatens to boil over, physically remove yourself from confrontation and allow yourself sufficient time to work out a passive response. "We've all said things in anger that we later regret," says Nancy Peterson, co-founder of the Mediation Agency. "A lot of conflict could be avoided if people didn't wrongly hypothesise a reason for someone's behaviour, and make a poor decision based on this judgement."

 

8. "I do like to dabble in recreational drugs every now and again"

If you do 'dabble' then make sure you keep it to yourself – whatever you tell people now will become more widely known as you climb the career ladder and, you may find that that climb comes to an abrupt halt sooner than you think. In a survey of email blunders, officebroker.com in the UK found the case of  an employee who, following a 'sick' day, sent an email to a colleague explaining his illness was due to 'class A's'. Unfortunately, he sent it to everyone in his company including the senior management. He now works elsewhere!

 

9. "Go away, I'll do it when I'm ready"

With Britain's long-hours working culture, it is easy to feel swamped by the increasing amount of work that you have to get through every day. Indeed, 72% of UK workers admit to avoiding 'tricky' or time-consuming tasks in the hope that the issue will go away, according to a survey conducted by Office Angels. But, there really is no excuse for bad manners at work. "Manners are an essential part of the image you project at work," says Paul Jacobs, managing director of Office Angels.

 

10. "How did he ever get promoted?"

You may think that you are smarter than you really are and perhaps feel that it should have been you rather than your new boss who deserved a promotion. But don't follow the route of constantly bemoaning or spreading vicious gossip about your boss – a condition termed 'post-traumatic embitterment disorder' by researchers at the University of Berlin. Moreover, in your eagerness to prove to your superiors that they were wrong to pass you over for promotion, you run risk of being seen as an irritant or, worse still, desperate. So never point out what could be done better unless you are canvassed for your opinion by your boss.

 

Sound advice, I’m sure you’ll agree.  However, the article did get me thinking about a viral email I had seen but a few weeks before, which was generally a funnier version of the above.  This was entitled:

 

THINGS YOU'D LOVE TO SAY AT WORK, BUT CAN'T!

There then followed a list of funnies which were also faux-pas in the office.  But funny.  We’d all love to say them, but it’s probably for the best if we never do.  Here goes…

1. Ahhh...I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again...

2. I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.

3. How about never? Is never good for you?

4. I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.

5. I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to worship me.

6. I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.

7. I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message...

8. I don't work here. I'm a consultant.

9. It sounds like English, but I can't understand a word you're saying.

10. I can see your point, but I still think you're full of it.

11. I like you. You remind me of when I was young and stupid.

12. You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.

13. I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a shit.

14. I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.

15. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.

16. Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.

17. The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist.

18. Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.

19. What am I? Flypaper for freaks!?

20. I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.

21. It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.

22. Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.

23. And your crybaby whiny-butt opinion would be...?

24. Do I look like a people person?

25. This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting.

26. I started out with nothing & still have most of it left.

27. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.

28. If I throw a stick, will you leave?

29. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.

30. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.

31. I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.

32. A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.

33. Can I trade this job for what's behind door #1?

34. Too many freaks, not enough circuses.

35. Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?

36. Chaos, panic, & disorder -- my work here is done.

37. How do I set a laser printer to stun?

38. I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.

 

Now THAT’S an article about keeping your mouth shut in the office!

 

‘Til next time folks…

Happy New Year!!!

Okay.  Well, it’s the last commentary before Christmas, and indeed the last commentary of 2008.  I normally fill this article with jokes and things, but all the festive jokes I’ve heard this year seem to be repeats from previous ones.

 

So, I thought I’d educate you a little.  Read and learn…

 

The popular Christmas Song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” has been a British tradition for centuries. The tune is almost certainly French in origin and the English words can be dated to 1780 and are probably much older. While some people attribute a Catholic mnemonic to the gifts, the song is more likely to come from a memory game played by children on Twelfth Night.

Since 1984 a US financial firm has tried to price the gifts (364 gifts in total, in case you’re wondering)—this year they totalled US$21,080 (£14,071), up nearly 8% from 2007.

 

The partridge in a pear tree is a rather peculiar image to start with, but some say it reflects the French origins of the song since the French for partridge is perdrix, which is pronounced per dree.

A partridge is the first of a series of meats being offered by the true love (read on!). In the Catholic interpretation, the partridge, the first gift from the true love (God) is Jesus.

 

Two Turtle Doves

Meat number two, or representative of the Old and New Testaments? You decide.

 

Three French Hens

French hens, because they were generally regarded as better eating. Or representative of faith, hope, and charity.

 

Four Calling Birds

While most modern versions of the song has calling birds, the original text has four colley birds—another name for the blackbird.  Alternatively you’re thinking of the four Gospels.

 

Five Gold Rings

If we’re going to take the vegetarian option, the birds have been gifts purely for their singing or egg-laying capabilities. And here we get something worthwhile (and in these economically uncertain times, five gold rings is a gift not to be sniffed at). But given the theme so far, we're probably talking about ring-necked pheasants. We may of course be talking about the first five books of the Old Testament that describe man's fall from grace.

 

Six Geese a-Laying

Laying geese are regarded as more valuable because they lay—apparently not as common as you might think in your average goose. This is turning into quite a feast—goose was once the Christmas meat of choice and is making a comeback for those who want an alternative to turkey. Turkeys don’t feature in this song since it was really the 20th century before it became the Christmas dish of choice. Six days of creation, by the way.

 

Seven Swans a-Swimming

We're on the last meat course. Yes, swans used to be eaten too, especially in high society (the swans on the River Thames all belong to the Queen). Or we’re looking at the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

 

Eight Maids a-Milking

Fresh milk was also a great luxury in the times before refrigeration—as well as a source of pudding since custard and cream both come from milk. Or a reference to the eight Beatitudes.

 

Nine Ladies Dancing

Phew! The feeding has finished and we're on to the entertainment. Ballet such as The Nutcracker Suite remains a seasonal treat. As do the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit.

 

Ten Lords a-Leaping

Well, maybe Morris Dancing was not what you had in mind. But folk dancing remained an important aspect of Christmas traditions well into the 19th century. It may also remind you of the Ten Commandments.

 

Eleven Pipers Piping

So here comes the music. Or a reminder that there were eleven faithful disciples.

 

Twelve Drummers Drumming

More musicians to accompany the pipers, unless they are here to remind you of the 12 points of the Apostle’s Creed.

 

Interesting stuff eh?  And I just thought we were all just singing a load of random rubbish.  Having said all that, I also read elsewhere on the net that the song really IS just a collection of random ideas that sound good.  So who knows?  Seems I’ve just wasted loads of your valuable time.

 

Well, that’s that out of the way, and now… 

 

My Annual Seasonal Best Wishes List (this saves me a bloody fortune on greetings cards!!!)

 

I’d like to take this opportunity in the last commentary before Christmas, and indeed the last commentary of the year, to thank every single person who has taken a look at the site.  I’d like to thank the people who come back every now and then to check what’s happening, and the people who (no matter what they have to say!) take the time out to drop me a line.  I always enjoy receiving the emails.

 

So I’m gonna do my Christmas greetings right here:  I want to wish a HUGE Merry Christmas and a fantastic New Year to EVERY READER of The Whistler, as well as…

 

My son, Ethan and my wife Rachel.

My Mum, Dad and Grandad.

 

Neil, Julie, Kerry, Niall and Craig.

 

My co-writers- Carol from The Whistler Woman and Johnny from The Whistler Down Under.

 

Ex-contributors Tamara (and her son Jason) from the old Whistler USA page (come back Tammy!), Jake from http://jakebert.wordpress.com and Leroy Johnson.

 

Also (here goes…) Joyce, Jeebs & Kia Ora, Stace & Ste, Kerry & Rob, Sprinkles, Davis, Bayer, Carl, RPL, Funtime Frankie, Kellett!, Scotty, Biggun, Lee and Craig (another Craig, that is- not me).

 

Everyone who works at the company I work for (you know who you are) except certain people among you who I despise (I guess you know who you are too!)

 

Everybody who knows me that I’ve missed off the list- it’s an oversight, but happy Christmas to you all!

 

I hope all of you have an incredible Christmas, and a healthy and successful 2009!  Have a wonderful festive period, and I’ll be back, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my first commentary of 2009 on Monday 12^th January.  Hope you can come back and join me then.

 

‘Til next year, folks…

Regular readers of the site will be more than aware of my sense of humour.  I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke.  But the things that genuinely tickle my funny bone are stories of things that have actually happened.  And when I come across articles or stories that make me smile in this way, I feel a need to share it with you, my faithful army of readers!

 

This time, I want to take a look at insurance claim forms.  These are for when people are trying to make a claim on their insurance policy, and there is usually a box asking drivers to summarize the details of an accident succinctly.

 

Of course, some drivers are more gifted with the written word than others.  Some start writing sentences before they’ve figured out how it’s going to end, leading them down all sorts of avenues and cul de sacs.  Which is how, it would seem, most of the drivers we’re going to be looking at today, had accidents in the first place.

 

The first example shows how a little confusion at the first instance can lead to a lot of confusion later on.  This driver collided his car into a stationary object, and had to describe what happened in his own words.  After carefully choosing them, this was the best he could come up with:

I was arriving home after a day at work, when I drove into the wrong drive and collided with a tree I don't have.

An easy mistake, I’m sure you’ll all agree.  Some accidents could be quite serious, but when put into words by certain people, they don’t seem quite too bad after all.  This next chap, for instance, must keep his car in sparkling condition:

I thought my window was down, but found it was up when I put my head through it.

Have you ever come across those kinds of people who try to sound more intelligent than they actually are?  This next one smacks of someone trying just that:

 

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intentions.

And sometimes, it’s worth reading back what you have written.  In this next example, I’m sure the protagonist knew what he was trying to convey as he was writing his description:

 

The pedestrian seemed intoxicated, and was wandering was all over the road. I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him.

And there will always be examples where the accident is not the driver’s fault at all.  Although in this next case, there was perhaps one small detail he could have left out so perhaps it wouldn’t sound like some depression-induced suicide attempt:

 

I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment.

Sometimes, the wording of a description can lead us to think that, although it may have two meanings, the wrong one is far more prevalent:

In my attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.

Have you never tried using a swat, mate?

 

Here’s one for you.  Hyperbole is a big word isn’t it?  I’m not even too sure what it means.  But I think that this next contribution may be an example of it.  Or maybe not.  Like I said, I’m not too sure what it means…

 

I had been shopping for plants all day and was on my way home. As I reached an intersection a hedge sprang up obscuring my vision, and I did not see the other car.

Sometimes it can be those pesky moving objects that can cause the difficulties.  However, in the case I’m about to show you, the object wasn’t moving at all (one hopes!)  Perhaps it’s just the way this fellow words his description:

 

The telephone pole was approaching. I was attempting to swerve out of its way when it struck the front end.

Remember Lassie?  Flipper?  Skippy the Bush Kangaroo?  Black Beauty?  Gentle Ben?  What do they all have in common?  They’re all animals, and they’re all heroic.  But this next chap seems to have been rescued by animals that, for some reason, they’ve yet to make a TV series or movie about…

 

I was thrown from the car as it left the road. I was later found in the ditch by some stray cows.

Sometimes, it may be best not to beat around the bush, so to speak…

The indirect cause of the accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.

In the following example, again it’s the wording which gives an unintentional yet hilarious double-meaning to the piece:

 

I had been driving for 40 years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.

Well, perhaps you should have taken a break every now and then.  Tiredness kills, don’t you know.

 

Sometimes there is a tendency for claimants to give a little too much information.  And when you over-divulge information about two separate things, it’s understandable that the reader will assume you’re on about the same thing, and draw obvious conclusions…

I was on my way to the doctor with rear end trouble when my universal joint gave way causing me to have an accident.

Remember the moving telephone pole form earlier on?  Now here’s an example of normally stationary items just appearing as if totally out of the blue!  You think he’s going to hit the post this time, huh?  Nope- there’s more to this one…

As I approached the intersection a sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before. I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident. To avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front, I struck the pedestrian.

In the example that follows, the person making the claim strives to emphasise that he, in no way, was breaking the law.  But…

My car was legally parked as it backed into the other vehicle.

And you think you’re unlucky?  Have a look at the terrible, mysterious; almost supernatural occurrence which befell this next poor soul…

An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my car and vanished.

Ever thought with hindsight that you should have said something at the time, but neglected to?  Then wished you could turn back the clock and actually say it.  Ah, if only.  But our next contributor has found a way around this frustrating event, and now perhaps, can put a personal injury claim in.  Perhaps…

 

I told the police that I was not injured, but upon removing my hat found that I had a fractured skull.

Patience is a virtue, so they say…

I was sure the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the curb when I struck him.

And finally, do you ever wish people would stop procrastinating and just bloody get on with it?

The pedestrian had no idea which direction to run, so I ran over him.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

In case your frustration level rises today, here is a lovely little story for everyone who occasionally has a really bad day when you just need to take it out on someone:

A man going by the name of Patrick Hanifin was sitting at his desk when he remembered a telephone call that he had to make.  He found the number and dialled it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"

Patrick politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and may I please speak to Louise Carter?"

Suddenly the phone was slammed down on him! He couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. So he tracked down Louise's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits.

After he had finished his telephone conversation with Louise, he spotted the wrong number still lying on his desk and decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, he yelled, "You're a dickhead!" and hung up. Next to his phone number, Patrick wrote the word "dickhead" and put it in his desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks thereafter, when he was paying bills or had a really bad day, he'd call him up. He would answer and Patrick would yell, "You're a dickhead!" It always cheered him up.

Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for Patrick.  He would have to stop calling the dickhead. Then one day he had an idea. He dialled his number and heard his voice. "Hello?"

Patrick made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our new caller ID program."

He answered, "No!" and slammed down the receiver.

Patrick quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a dickhead!"

One day, week or two later, Patrick was waiting to park his car as an old lady at the mall was really taking her time pulling out of the space.  Patrick didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move ever so slowly and she began backing out.  He backed up a little more to give her plenty of room. Great, he thought, she's finally leaving.

All of a sudden this black Audi came flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulled into her space.  Patrick started honking his horn and yelling, "You can't do that, buddy! I was here first!"

The guy got out of his Audi completely ignoring Patrick. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear him.  Patrick thought to himself, this guy is a dickhead. There sure are a lot of dickheads in this world.  He noticed that the Audi driver had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car.  Patrick wrote down the number, and then hunted for another place to park.

The next day he was at home sitting at his desk.  He had just gotten off the phone after calling dickhead no. 1 and yelling, "You're a dickhead!"

(It had become really easy to call him now since Patrick had his number on speed dial.)

Then he noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Audi and decided to call him too. After a couple of rings someone answered the phone.  Patrick asked, "Are you the man with the black Audi for sale?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 19 Farefield View. It's a yellow house and the car is parked right out front."

Patrick asked, "What's your name?"

"My name is Don Hansen."

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home in the evenings."

"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"Don, you're a dickhead!" And he slammed the phone down.

After he hung up, Patrick added Don's number to his speed dialler.  Now he had two dickheads to call whenever he had a bad day.  However, after some time had passed, this wasn't as much fun as it used to be. So he thought about it and came up with a solution.

First, he had my phone dial dickhead #1.  The man answered nicely and Patrick yelled, "You're a dickhead!" But this time he didn't hang up.

The dickhead said, "Are you still there?"

Patrick said, "Yeah."

He said, "Stop calling me."

Patrick said, "No!"

He said, "What's your name, pal?"

Patrick said, "Don Hansen."

He said, "Where do you live?"

"19 Farefield View. It's a yellow house and my black Audi is parked out front."

"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."

"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Dickhead!" And he hung up.

Then he called Dickhead #2.  He answered, "Hello."

Patrick said, "Hello, dickhead!"

He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll kick your butt."

"Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now, dickhead!"

And he hung up.  Then, he picked up the phone and called the police. He told them he was at 19 Farefield View and that he was going to kill his gay lover as soon as he got home.  Another quick call to Channel 4 news about the gang war going down on Farefield View.  After that he climbed into his car and headed over to Farefield View to watch the whole thing. Glorious!

Patrick smiled contentedly to himself as he watched two dickheads kicking the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars and a police helicopter.  He also taped it off the evening news!

 

How satisfying would that be?

 

‘Til next time, folks…

How times change.  I mean really, how they bloody change!

 

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning ... Uphill... Barefoot... BOTH ways
 
Yawn, yawn, yawn!
 
And I can remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way I was going to be like that.  No way at all!  I’d never drone on and on about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it! But now that I'm over the ripe old age of thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

Youth of today, hear this: You've got it so damn easy!  I mean, compared to my childhood (which, don’t get me wrong, was a very pleasant one), you live in a damn Utopia!  And I hate to say it (and indeed sound like the adults of my childhood), but you kids today you don't know how good you've got it!

I mean, where do I even begin?  When I was a kid we didn't have computers.  The Internet was completely undreamt of.  If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalogue!  We had to get up off our arses and physically walk down to a huge building which contained books which (hopefully) had the information we needed.  Compared to today’s methods of digging out information and carrying out research, this was one hell of a chore.  Time-consuming and tiring!  These days, click a few buttons, type in a search category, and off you go.  Easy!

 

There was no email as well!  Can you even imagine that?  No email!  If we wanted to get in touch with somebody, we had to actually write a letter!  Using a pen!  The mind boggles.  Then you had to walk all the way to the bottom of the street and put it in the letterbox.  And then it would take like a week to get there! 

 

SMS as well.  Text messaging!  That was a thing of science fiction!  We could never have dreamed that within our lifetimes, over half the citizens on the face of the earth would be carrying these compact little boxes in our pockets on which you could type little messages which would then appear almost instantly on the intended recipient’s compact little box. 

 

Nor could we ever imagine that these compact little boxes could also be used as telephones!  Telephones were things in your house that had to be connected to the wall!  We could never of dreamed of holding conversations with absent friends while walking down the street or riding on a bus!

There were no such things as MP3's or Napsters!  If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself! That would usually end up with being chased by a burly security guard or two.  Kids these days have music-theft far too easy!  A few clicks and it’s done.  No wonder there are so many obese youngsters about today!  Not enough running away through shear fear of your parents finding out you’d stolen a record.  (Yes, a record- tchoh!  You don’t even remember those, do you?)

 

It was either a trip into town and physically pinching music from the record store, or you had to wait around all day to try to tape it off the radio.  Remember doing that on the chart countdown on Radio One on a Sunday afternoon?  And then the bloody DJ would usually talk all over the beginning of the track and mess it all up for you!  Life was tough!

 

We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting!  If you were on the phone and somebody else called they just got an engaged tone, that's it!  They’d have to just wait until later and try again!  Unbelievable!  But today, a polite-sounding female robot answers the phone for them, explains that the person you are trying to reach is on another call and has been notified that you’re waiting.  My God!  Honestly, kids today don’t know they’re born!

And we didn't have fancy Caller ID either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mum, your boss, your friend, your drug dealer, a collections agent - You just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances!   
 
We didn't have any fancy Sony PlayStation video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari Home Entertainment Centre! With games Like 'Space Invaders', ‘Frogger’, ‘Tennis’ and 'Asteroids'.  Your guy was nothing but a little square buzzing around the screen! You actually had to use your Imagination!  And there were no multiple levels or screens; no rewards for progressing further in the game.  It was just one screen forever!  And you could never win.  The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE, kids.  Just like LIFE!

You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on!  It didn’t just all appear in front of you at the touch of a button!  And you were screwed when it came to channel surfing! You had to get actually get up off your chair, and walk over to the TV to change the channel!  Can you even comprehend what it was like to actually have to do that?

 

And there was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on a Saturday Morning.  Do you hear what I'm saying? We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little rat-bastards!
 
And we didn't have microwaves.  If we wanted to heat something up we had to use the oven! Imagine that! That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy.

You're spoiled. You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1980!

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Whether you like them or not, everyone knows that advertising works.  Until the advent of the wonderful Sky+, programmes were constantly being interrupted by various sponsors trying to sell us their wares or services.  Now, by delaying the start time of any programme I’ll be watching on any commercial station, I can whiz through all the ads on Sky+, enhancing my viewing pleasure greatly.

 

Because, you see, TV adverts are, in the main, annoying.  They are rarely interesting, genuinely funny or clever, but apparently they work.  Still, I don’t miss them at all!

 

I am aware however that I am missing out on some great ads.  Yes, there are some out there.  Truly humorous and clever adverts are in existence, which thanks to Sky+, I will probably never see.

 

The only thing I watch ‘live’ these days is sport, so the only ads I catch are those during live sports broadcasts.  And even then I take the opportunity to visit the porcelain or get another beer from the fridge, so I still miss most of them anyway.

 

The problem with whizzing past the ads is, as I’ve already said, the possibility of missing out on a rare funny or clever commercial.  Also, there may be some great TV programmes being advertised which I may be missing out on as well.  But it’s all worth it, to me, so I don’t have to sit through the mind-bogglingly dull ads which are normally pumped into our home.

 

But, we still have had some great ads in the past, we have to admit.  Look at the great slogans from days of yore- ‘Guinness Is Good For You’ is a timeless classic, for instance.  ‘Gillette- The Best A Man Can Get’ is another.  And some ads were fantastic too.  I wonder how many of my British readers will recall the ‘Um Bongo’ advert?  Everybody now- “Way down deep in the middle of the Congo, a Hippo took an apricot, a guava and a mango, he put it with the others and he danced a dainty tango, the Rhino said, ‘I know- we’ll call it UM BONGO!’”  Classic!

 

Or how about the old Kia Ora advert?  “It’s too orangey for crows- it’s just for me and my dog!”  “I’ll be your dog!”  Etc.

 

Non-British readers who may not have heard of these really should get onto YouTube and have a look.  Kia Ora and Um Bongo.  You’re in for a treat.  Oh and have a look for the Smash Martians while you’re there- “They peel them with their steely knives- ha! Ha! Ha!”  Brilliant.  I can feel a YouTube session coming on.

 

But the real gist of my commentary this week is not about nostalgic trips down Commercial Lane, but to tell you about what happens when advertising doesn’t actually work in the way it was intended.  And the problems usually arise when the product name or it’s promotional slogan are translated into another language.  Particularly pertinent examples of this are when advertisements devised in the United States are translated into Spanish for the South American market.

 

Quite a famous example of this is when the United States version of Vauxhall (that being General Motors) tried to market their new model, the Nova in Central and South America.  You see, "no va" means, of course, in Spanish, "it doesn't go!"  Not great for the automobile market.

The Dairy Association's huge success with the campaign "Got Milk?" prompted them to expand advertising to Mexico. It was soon brought to their attention the Spanish translation read, "Are you lactating?"

Coors put its slogan, "Turn It Loose," into Spanish, where it was read as "Suffer From Diarrhea".  And if you drink too much of it, there’s every chance that you probably will!

Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer Electrolux used the following in an American campaign, "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux".  I’m sure I can remember this slogan being used in the UK before the Americanism ‘sucks’ was actually in use over here.  Correct me if I’m wrong.

Clairol introduced the "Mist Stick," a curling iron with a name that translated into "manure."

When Gerber started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as in the US, with the smiling baby on the label. Later they learned that in Africa, companies routinely put pictures on the labels of what's inside, since many people can't read.

Colgate introduced a toothpaste in France called "Cue", the name of a notorious porno magazine.

An American T-shirt maker in Miami printed shirts for the Spanish market which promoted the Pope's visit Instead of "I Saw the Pope" (el Papa), the shirts read "I Saw the Potato" (la papa).

Pepsi's "Come Alive With the Pepsi Generation" translated into "Pepsi Brings Your Ancestors Back From the Grave" in Chinese.

The Coca-Cola name in China was first read as "Kekoukela", meaning "Bite the wax tadpole" or "female horse stuffed with wax", depending on the dialect. Coke then researched 40,000 characters to find a phonetic equivalent "kokou kole", translating into "happiness in the mouth".

Frank Perdue's chicken slogan, "It takes a strong man to make tender chicken" was translated into Spanish as "it takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate."

When Parker Pen marketed a ball-point pen in Mexico, its ads were supposed to have read, "It won't leak in your pocket and embarrass you." The company thought that the word "embarazar" (to impregnate) meant to embarrass, so the ad read: "It won't leak in your pocket and make you pregnant."

When American Airlines wanted to advertise its new leather first class seats in the Mexican market, it translated its "Fly In Leather" campaign literally, which meant "Fly Naked" (vuela en cuero) in Spanish.

 

So remember people, when you’re trying to sell things to non-English speakers, it might be best to get your translations verified before going global.

 

‘Til next time folks…

 

Americans eh?  Loathe ‘em or hate ‘em, we just can’t seem to ignore them!

 

I joke of course.  Regular readers of the site will know that I have developed a particular kinship with America.  The USA is very close to my heart (an unusual case for most non-Americans, I’m sure you’ll agree).  But there it is.  I have the greatest of respect for the US, and have developed some good friendships with American readers of this site, who drop me an email every now and then.

 

But it has to be said, that although I respect the country immensely (that’s the country- not it’s politicians!) it is often heart-warming to have a damn good laugh at their expense.  Why?  I’m not sure.  Perhaps it makes us who live on this little island we call Britain to feel a little embiggened when we can feel that little bit superior to our gigantic, powerful neighbours across the pond. 

 

Britain is addled with flaws.  I’m the first to admit that.  Indeed, a quick scroll down this very page will tell you how disappointed and ashamed I am with my country of origin in the present world climate.  And our friends and allies, the USA, are also misfiring a lot at present.  And it’s a sad situation.  But let us be positive.  It can’t go on like this forever.  There must be a light at the end of the tunnel!  Surely!

 

But, in my article today, I’m not going to dwell on the seriousness of the situation.  No- I’m going to have a friendly laugh at Americans.  Let’s do it!

 

A viral email caught my eye recently and gave me a good belly laugh.  It’s about National Parks in good ol’ Uncle US of Stateside.  The introduction to the email goes along the lines that visitors to the American National Parks are on occasions asked to fill in questionnaires about their visit, and perhaps make some suggestions as to how the parks good be improved.

 

The suggestions and comments are then put together and compiled by the National Forest Service, who in turn tries to improve the parks for future visitors.

 

And of course, some of these comments and suggestions are absolutely hilarious.  Some mind-boggling.  And some are just totally unbelievable.  Here is my pick of the funniest:

 

"Need more signs to keep the park pristine."

"Escalators would help on steep uphill areas of the hiking trails."

"More families would enjoy the parks and city children could learn more about nature if the Parks Department would provide services that include arcades, water slides and child care."

"A big hotel with a golf course and even a convention center would attract more people to this natural beauty."

"Instead of a permit system or fees, the Forest Service needs to reduce worldwide population growth to limit the number of visitors to the wilderness."

"Trails need to be wider so people can walk while holding hands."

"All the mile markers are missing this year."

"We found a smoldering cigarette left by a horse."

"Many trails need to be reconstructed. Please avoid building ones that go uphill."

"Too many bugs and leeches and spider webs. Please spray wilderness areas to rid them of these pests."

"Please pave the trails so they can be plowed of snow in the winter."

"Chair lifts need to be in some places so that we can get to the wonderful views without having to hike to them."

"The coyotes made too much noise last night and kept me awake. Please eradicate these annoying animals."

"It would be nice to have the Kodak scenic markers so we could identify the photographic sites."

"I like all the trees but you need to plant some flowers. Flower gardens would be so pretty in the forest."

"The giant trees are spectacular but there are too many of the same kind; you should plant different types, for variety."

"Reflectors need to be placed on the trees every 50 feet so people could hike at night with flashlights."

"You should have a petting zoo here so that the children could touch the squirrels, deer and bears."

"I was stung by a bee; you should have warning signs."

"A McDonald's would be a nice sight at the trailhead."

"The places where trails do not exist are not well marked."

"Too many rocks on the mountains."

"A deer came into my camp and stole my bag of chips. Is there away I can get reimbursed: Please call . . . . ."

 

Good stuff, eh?  Hope you enjoyed it.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Well, vast and faithful army of readers- it’s been quite a while since you heard anything from me, and it’s been an eventful few weeks, I can tell you.  So here is a brief rundown of what I’ve been up to, if you’re at all interested.

 

On Sunday 24^th August, I went to see my favourite band, R.E.M. play live at the Lancashire CCC Ground at Old Trafford in Manchester.  Now, LTRs (that’s – Long Time Readers) will probably be aware that I am a little bit of an obsessive when it comes to this incredible band.  To be blunt, I think they’re absolutely amazing, and they’re latest album, Accelerate is well worth a tenner of anybody’s money, so go out and buy it- you’re in for a treat.  And witnessing the boys live is one hell of an experience!  And I should know- I’ve witnessed them live on fourteen previous occasions, and they just seem to get better and better.  Fine wines, and all that.

 

R.E.M. nerds might be interested to know a little about the set list, so I’m going to share my highlights from it, simply because I can’t help writing about what a special show it was to attend.  There were, of course, numerous tracks from the new album, such as Man-Sized Wreath, Supernatural Superserious, Living Well Is The Best Revenge, Mr Richards and Hollow Man, interspersed with such live staples as Man On The Moon, Losing My Religion, It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) and The Great Beyond.  Into the mix, throw Orange Crush, So Fast, So Numb, The One I Love and Drive, and then top it all off with rare performances of a couple of tracks from their second album Reckoning (released oh-so-many years ago, now), Seven Chinese Brothers and Pretty Persuasion.  Mix this all together and what do you get?  Answer- one hell of a night out!  I love this band.  They are great.  Buy their new album.  And stop dissing Around The Sun!

 

The Saturday after the concert, (30^th August), I got married.  Yes- me!  I’m a grown up husband now to my wife, who is now called Rachel Morris!  Rachel did me the honour of becoming my wife on a day when she looked absolutely beautiful!  The whole day went perfectly from start to finish, and even I managed to look smart for the occasion.  The bridesmaids were beautiful, the ushers looked smart, and my son Ethan was ring-bearer and did an absolutely wonderful job!  I ought to mention the venue (as an atheist, church wasn’t really an option for us), but Cedar Court Hotel in Wakefield did us wonderfully proud.  They ensured the day went swimmingly for both Rachel and myself, and of course the guests (many of whom stayed the night and joined us the following morning for breakfast!)  The food at the reception was incredible, and the speech, which I was so nervous about delivering, seemed to flow almost as well as the beer was!  I reduced a few of the girls there to tears with my words of love and gratitude to my new wife and both sets of parents.  Ah, a tug on the old heartstrings never did anybody any harm.

 

In the evening, we had the traditional ‘night-do’, which was a great laugh, and we welcomed yet more friends and family members who joined us to celebrate our first-footings into wedlock.  It was all still held at the same hotel (see- convenience and thriftiness) and, as well as the standard DJ, we also had a little surprise in store for our guests, which I really feel the need to mention.

 

Chelsea Radford is a fifteen-year-old girl from the same village as I grew up.  Now, I want you all to remember that name, because it’s my honest opinion that it’s a name you’ll be hearing much more of in the future, because (and you can mark my words here), this girl is destined for stardom.  You would not believe your ears if you heard her singing voice- it is totally sublime.

 

Rachel and myself are sure that, a few years from now, when the people who were guests at our wedding are sat at home watching her on the TV, or reading about her headlining in Las Vegas, they’ll remember seeing her sing live as a youngster at our wedding.

 

It’s truly difficult to believe that this young entertainer is just fifteen years old!  She has recently won the Teen Idol 2008 talent competition, so she really is big news.  In fact, at the age of twelve, she was whisked away to the USA to record 2 songs in a huge studio in Nashville, Tennessee.  These songs are now being played in 17 different countries.  She’s a star in the making, and we were very pleased to have her here with us that night.  Miss Chelsea Radford.  I’d like to thank her for yet another flawless performance, and making our evening even more special.  Remember, dear readers, where you heard her name first!

 

Also. I’d like to thank all Whistler readers who sent me emails of congratulations and words of wisdom.  Oh, and those of you who came up with suggestions for content for my speech- thanks to you as well.  Every single note was read (and I think responded to- if I missed you, it’s an oversight and I’m sorry- drop me a reminder and I’ll get back to you.)

 

And I’d like to apologise to anyone who I offended that evening too.  I was drunk.

 

I don’t have any of the official pictures from the day as yet, as the photographer is still touching them up or Photoshopping them, or whatever, but when I do get them, and if they’re to my liking, I’ll try and post some here on the site.  If you can’t wait for that, however, and would like to see an ‘unofficial’ snap or two of the bride and her incredibly handsome groom, then drop me a line at whistlermail@yahoo.co.uk and I’ll do my level best to get email some out to you.  There are some mighty fine amateur snaps, I can tell you, even if I do say so myself!

 

We spent the following day in a kind of indescribable, bizarre haze, as the events of the previous twenty-four hours settled in our minds, like a silent shroud of snow.  God knows where that metaphor came from!  In other words, as the alcohol slowly fizzled out of our systems, the intensity of what we had just done hit home, and we spent the day trying to weigh it all up and recall memories from the previous day.  No mean feat at all, I can tell you.

 

We were in bed at 7 o’clock on that Sunday evening, as we had a very early start the following day.  That is, we were up at 2am so we could go on our honeymoon!

 

And what a holiday it was!  We flew from Manchester Airport at 7.30am on Monday morning, and four hours later (after a wonderfully uneventful flight) we were at Las Palmas airport on the sun kissed island of Gran Canaria.  We stayed in a resort called Maspalomas, which is absolutely beautiful.  I’m not really one for rowdy nightlife and such, so this quiet, peaceful resort was just the place for us.  Stunning views, fantastic weather, great beer, food and service all made for a wonderful holiday.

 

I’d like to drop a few place names here if I may, because they certainly warrant a mention and if you’re ever in that neck of the woods, they come with a Whistler recommendation.

 

Firstly, the apartments we stayed in were absolutely fabulous.  Clean, attractive to look at, with a great bar and restaurant at the poolside serving ice cold pints of Tropical beer (a local brew) repeatedly to our table, I haven’t a single complaint about the place.  The complex was called Vista Flor, and the memories of it will stay in my mind forever.

 

Also, just above our apartment complex, perched on a cliff top was a bar which commanded superb views of Maspalomas, including the huge dunes by the crystal-blue sea, the golf courses, the palm-tree lined boulevards, and beautiful, traditional looking buildings.  They served a Spanish beer called Mahau.  It was VERY nice, but a tad on the expensive side in there.  Probably paying for the fantastic panoramic view, as well as the beer.

 

The San Miguels went down rather well, too- served in the pre chilled glasses.  The Faro 2 Shopping Centre was a good place for, erm, shopping, but not only that, the eateries and bars were very nice too.  I really need to mention a steakhouse which we discovered in this very shopping centre, which was our main supplier of evening meals throughout our stay.  It was called ‘Toro II’ and the service, prices and food was fantastic.  We dined off of three courses here regularly, and thoroughly enjoyed it.  In fact, I can truly say that I actually miss the place!  We took a number of photos of ourselves in and around this establishment because it was just an amazing place.  If you get the chance, go there!

 

Anyways, that’s my news.  I’m now back home, back at work and back into the every day normal routines I’ve become used to.  Except now, I have a ring on my finger!  And of course, The Whistler is also back to normal.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Good day to you, dear readers and welcome to the EIGHTH great email inbox clearout- the occasional regular article where I take the opportunity to clearout my email inbox of some of the feeble jokes that seem to do the rounds.  I hope you enjoy them…

 

***

 

Once upon a time in China, lived two Chinamen. One named I Cum, and one named No Cum. No Cum marry pretty Chinese girl named No Cum Tu. For velly oblious reason No Cum and No Cum Tu not have any childlen.

One day, No Cum went out of town on business and I Cum came over and spent the night with No Cum Tu. That night I Cum came and No Cum Tu came, too.  This make both velly happy.

However, about 7 or 8 months later, No Cum see he about to become father but he not know how come, so when baby come he named it How Cum U Cum.Of course, I Cum and No Cum Tu know How Cum U Cum came, but to this day No Cum not know how How Cum U Cum came!

 

***

 

A young couple was making passionate love in a van which was complete with shag carpets and a double mattress.

Suddenly, the kinky girl yelled out, "Oh, big boy, whip me, whip me!" The man didn't want to pass up this unique opportunity. So, in a flash of inspiration, he ran outside and snapped the aerial from the hood of the van. He then proceeded to whip her until they both collapsed in sado-masochistic ecstasy.

A week later, the girl noticed that the marks left by the kinky sex were beginning to fester, so she went to the doctor.

The doctor took one look at her wounds and said, "I don't suppose you got these marks while having kinky sex."

The embarrassed girl admitted, "Yes, sir, they are."

The doctor nodded and remarked, "I thought so, because in all my years of doctoring I've never seen such a bad case of van aerial disease."

 

***

 

There was a poem contest between the Yale graduate and a Redneck. They had to quickly think up a poem based on the same word. The word they were given was "Timbuktu".

First to recite his poem was the Yale graduate. He stepped to the microphone and said:

 

Slowly across the desert sand

Trekked a lonely caravan

Men on camels, two by two

Destination-Timbuktu.

The crowd went crazy! No way could the redneck top that, they thought. 

Then the redneck calmly made his way to the microphone and recited:

Me and Tim a huntin went

Met three whores in a pop up tent

They was three, and we was two

So I bucked one, and Timbuktu.

 

***

 

Three third graders, a Jewish kid, an Italian kid and a Hillbilly kid are on the playground at recess.

The Jewish kid suggests that they play a new game. "Lets see who has the largest penis," he says.

"Okay." They all agree.

The Jewish kid pulls down his zipper and whips it out.

"That's nothing," says the Italian kid. He whips his out. His is a couple of inches longer.

Now not to be outdone, the Hillbilly kid whips his out. It is by far the biggest, dwarfing the other two in both length and girth.

The Jewish and Italian kid are stunned and amazed. "Wow that thing is huge!" they exclaim.

That night, eating dinner at home, the Hillbilly kid's mother asks him what he did at school today.

"Oh, we worked on a science project, had a math test and read out loud from a new book ... and during recess, my friends and I played 'Let's see who has the largest penis."

"What kind of game is that, Enis?" says the mother.

"Well, me, Sidney and Anthony each pulled out our cranks, and I had the biggest! The other kids say its because I'm a Hillbilly. Is that true, Mom?"

The Mom replies, "No, Honey. It's because you're twenty-three."

 

***

 

Three lawyers and three engineers are travelling by train to a conference. At the station, the three lawyers each buy tickets and watch as the three engineers buy only a single ticket.

"How are three people going to travel on only one ticket?" asked one of the three lawyers.

"Watch and you'll see," answers one of the engineers.

They all board the train. The lawyers take their respective seats but all three engineers cram into a restroom and close the door behind them.

Shortly after the train as departed, the conductor comes around collecting tickets. He knocks on the restroom door and says, "Ticket, please."

The door opens just a crack and a single arm emerges with a ticket in hand. The conductor takes it and moves on.

The lawyers saw this and agreed it was quite a clever idea. So after the conference, the lawyers decide to copy the engineers on the return trip and save some money. When they get to the station, they buy a single ticket for the return trip. To their astonishment, the engineers don't buy a ticket at all.

"How are you going to travel without a ticket," asks one perplexed lawyer.

"Watch and you'll see," says one of the engineers.

When they board the train the three lawyers cram into a restroom and the three engineers cram into another one nearby. The train departs.

Shortly afterward, one of the engineers leaves his restroom and walks over to the restroom where the lawyers are hiding. He knocks on the door and says, "Ticket, please."

 

***

 

Pun Crazy!

Q. How do crazy people go through the forest?

A. They take the psycho path. 

Q. How do you get holy water?

A. Boil the hell out of it. 

Q. What did the fish say when he hit a concrete wall?

A. "Dam!" 

Q. What do Eskimos get from sitting on the ice too long?

A. Polaroids. 

Q. What do prisoners use to call each other?

A. Cell phones. 

Q. What do the letters D.N.A. stand for?

A. National Dyslexics Association. 

Q. What do you call cheese that isn't yours?

A. Nacho Cheese. 

Q. What do you call Santa's helpers?

A. Subordinate Clauses. 

Q. What do you get from a pampered cow?

A. Spoiled milk. 

Q. What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?

A. Frostbite. 

Q. What lies at the bottom of the ocean and twitches?

A. A nervous wreck. 

Q. What's the difference between roast beef and pea soup?

A. Anyone can roast beef.

 

***

 

A businessman was getting ready to go on a long business trip. He knew his wife was a flirtatious sort with an extremely healthy sex drive, so he thought he'd buy her a little something to keep her occupied while he was gone.

He went to a store that sold sex toys and started to look around. He thought about a life-sized sex doll, but that was too close to another man for him. He was browsing through the dildoes, looking for something special to please his wife, and started talking to the old man behind the counter. He explained his situation.

"Well, I don't really know of anything that will do the trick. We have vibrating dildos, special attachments, and so on, but I don't know of thing that will keep her occupied for weeks, except..." and he stopped.

"Except what?" the man asked.

"Nothing, nothing."

"C'mon, tell me! I need something!"

"Well, sir, I don't usually mention this, but there is The Voodoo Penis."

"So what's up with this Voodoo Penis?" he asked.

The old man reached under the counter, and pulled out a very old wooden box, carved with strange symbols and erotic images. He opened it, and there lay an ordinary-looking dildo.

The businessman laughed, and said "Big damn deal. It looks like every other dildo in this shop!"

The old man replied, "But you haven't seen what it'll do yet."

He pointed to a door and said "Voodoo Penis, the door."

The Voodoo Penis miraculously rose out of its box, darted over to the door, and started pounding the keyhole. The whole door shook wildly with the vibrations, so much so that a crack began to form down the middle.

Before the door split, the old man said "Voodoo Penis, return to box!"

The Voodoo Penis stopped, levitated back to the box and lay there quiescent once more.

"I'll take it!" said the businessman.

The old man resisted, saying it wasn't for sale, but finally surrendered to $738 in cash and an imitation Rolex.

The guy took it home to his wife, told her it was a special dildo and that to use it, all she had to do was say "Voodoo Penis, my crotch."

He left for his trip satisfied that things would be fine while he was gone.

After he'd been gone a few days, his wife was unbearably horny. She thought of several people who would willingly satisfy her, but then she remembered the Voodoo Penis.

She undressed, opened the box and said, "Voodoo Penis, my crotch!"

The Voodoo Penis shot to her crotch and started pumping. It was absolutely incredible, like nothing she'd ever experienced before. After three mind-shattering orgasms, she became very exhausted and decided she'd had enough.

She tried to pull it out, but it was stuck in her, still thrusting. She tried and tried to get it out, but nothing worked. Her husband had forgotten to tell her how to shut it off.

Worried, she decided to go to the hospital to see if they could help.

She put her clothes on, got in the car and started to drive, quivering with every thrust of the dildo. On the way, another incredible intense orgasm made her swerve all over the road.

A police officer saw this and immediately pulled her over. He asked for her license, and then asked how much she'd had to drink.

Gasping and twitching, she explained, "I haven't had anything to drink, officer. You see, I've got this Voodoo Penis thing stuck in my crotch and it won't stop screwing me!"

The officer looked at her for a second, shook his head and in an arrogant voice replied, "Yeah, right... Voodoo Penis, my ass!"

 

***

 

The story is told of a king in Africa who had a close friend with whom he grew up. The friend had a habit of looking at every situation that ever occurred in his life (positive or negative) and remarking, "This is good!"

One day the king and his friend were out on a hunting expedition. The friend would load and prepare the guns for the king. The friend had apparently done something wrong in preparing one of the guns, for after taking the gun from his friend, the king fired it and his thumb was blown off. Examining the situation the friend remarked as usual, "This is good!"

To which the king replied, "No, this is NOT good!" and proceeded to send his friend to jail.

About a year later, the king was hunting in an area that he should have known to stay clear of. Cannibals captured him and took them to their village. They tied his hands, stacked some wood, set up a stake and bound him to the stake.

As they came near to set fire to the wood, they noticed that the king was missing a thumb. Being superstitious, they never ate anyone that was less than whole. So untying the king, they sent him on his way.

As he returned home, he was reminded of the event that had taken his thumb and felt remorse for his treatment of his friend. He went immediately to the jail to speak with his friend.

"You were right," he said, "it was good that my thumb was blown off."

And he proceeded to tell the friend all that had just happened. "And so am very sorry for sending you to jail for so long. It was bad for me to do this."

"No," his friend replied, "This is good!"

"What do you mean, 'This is good'? How could it be good that I sent my friend to jail for a year?"

"If I had NOT been in jail, I would have been with you!"

 

***

A man is in bed with his wife when there is a rat-a-tat-tat on the door. He rolls over and looks at his clock, and it's half past three in the morning. "I'm not getting out of bed at this time," he thinks, and rolls over.

Then, a louder knock follows.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" asks his wife.

So he drags himself out of bed and goes downstairs. He opens the door and there is man standing at the door. It didn't take the homeowner long to realize the man was drunk.

"Hi there," slurs the stranger. "Can you give me a push?"

"No, get lost. It's half past three. I was in bed," says the man and slams the door.

He goes back up to bed and tells his wife what happened and she says, "Dave, that wasn't very nice of you. Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the babysitter and you had to knock on that man's house to get us started again? What would have happened if he'd told us to get lost?"

"But the guy was drunk," says the husband.

"It doesn't matter," says the wife. "He needs our help and it would be the Christian thing to help him."

So the husband gets out of bed again, gets dressed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere he shouts, "Hey, do you still want a push?"

And he hears a voice cry out, "Yeah please."

So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts, "Where are you?"

And the drunk replies, "I'm over here, on your swing."

 

***

 

The Reverend John Fuzz was a pastor of a small congregation in a little Pennsylvania town. One day he was walking down Main Street and he happened to notice a female member of his congregation sitting in the town bar, drinking beer. The reverend thought this was sinful and not something a member of his congregation should do. He walked through the open door of the bar and sat down next to the woman.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald," the reverend said sternly. "This is no place for a member of my congregation. Why don't you let me take you home?"

"Sure," she said with a slur, obviously very drunk.

When Mrs. Fitzgerald stood up from the bar, she began to weave back and forth. The reverend realized that she had had too much to drink and he grabbed her arms to steady her. When he did, they both lost their balance and tumbled to the floor.

After rolling around for a few seconds, the reverend wound up laying on top of Mrs. Fitzgerald, her skirt hiked up to her waist.

The bartender looked over the bar and said, "Here, here buddy, we won't have any of that carrying around in this bar!"

The reverend looked up at the bartender and said, "But you don't understand, I'm Pastor Fuzz."

The bartender nodded and said, "Hell then, if you're that far in, you might as well finish up!"

***

And there you have it folks.  Right, I’m off to get married and go on honeymoon, so The Whistler will be taking a short break, 

but we’ll be returning on 15th September.  Look forward to seeing you then.

‘Til next time folks,

-Craig (bachelor- for now…)

Just to say first that the word ‘God’ is used in the text below only because it is an easy way to express a higher deity or whatever. 

 

“Creationists don't mind being beaten in an argument. What matters is that we give them recognition by bothering to argue with them in public." – Professor Richard Dawkins

 

 

 

Regular readers of this website will probably be more than aware that I am an atheist.  A non-believer.  I do not believe in any God, higher power or wisdom, nor do I believe that we and the world on which we live were created by some supernatural being.  Which is why I am writing this commentary in response to Carol’s article on The Whistler Woman last week.

 

Carol mentioned that she spends a lot of time wondering about Atheism, what it actually means and why people choose to be Atheist.  She says she finds it difficult to think that atheists do not believe in anything spiritual, or a God.

 

So I have to ask:  why?  Why do you find this difficult to believe?

 

You say you find it quite easy to believe in some huge invisible being which made us all and watches us all and protects us all, but you have problems believing that some people don’t?  How very strange!  I think I know which is easier to believe.

 

Carol says that trusting science to find all the answers to life’s questions such as why we are here and how the entire universe came into being is foolish.  More foolish than ancient stories made up to frighten the population into living a life deemed appropriate by the powers that be?

 

Because, let’s be honest, that’s what religion is.  A collection of stories telling people how to live their lives.  And should we choose not to live in this particular way, then most religions tell us that we will spend eternity in hell.  There’s the threat, and the punishment for not towing the line.

 

And a couple of millennia ago, the uneducated masses believed all this.  But I like to think that people these days have a little more about them than that.  Why, even some Christians are starting to come round to the way of thinking that the Bible is merely a collection of fairy tales designed with the intention of instigating morals into people.

 

Carol claims to have questioned some atheists- she says she wants to understand how and why they arrive at the point in not believing in anything other than this is it, and nothing else.  Well Carol, it’s not really the atheists you should be questionning.  It is blatently obvious why they choose not to believe in anything: the total and undeniable lack of proof that anything like a God actually exists.

 

No, you should be directing such questions to orthodox and fundamental followers of religion who, in spite of this lack of evidence to the contrary, live out their lives according to these ancient works of fiction.  These are the ones that need questioning.

 

Here is a quote from the article on Whistler Woman last week:

 

“Some atheists categorically say that there is absolutely no God or creator, nor life after death and that we are just here by a flook or accident and that when we die it is forever.”

 

No, no.  ALL true atheists deny there is a God.  That is what Atheism means= No God. 

 

She goes on to say:

                           

“The general meaning of an Atheist is someone who does not believe in the existence of God or anything that is superior to nature, and they trust science will in time find the answers to such questions, but until then they choose to not believe in a God. “

 

And the point is?  The simple fact of the matter is that I, as an atheist, refuse to believe in this kind of thing until someone can present me with some kind of evidence.  And what I want to know is, the people who wrote the original scriptures, books such as Genesis, well, what evidence were they drawing on?  How did they know that a God created the world?  What proof did they have?  Or did they simply just make it all up, by way of trying to explain how the universe came into being?

 

The answer is, of course, that they made it all up.  But Carol seems to have some difficulty in understanding why I believe this to be the case. 

 

And here’s a proper load of rubbish that she spouted:

 

“To know God you would not have to know everything because God is the deity that knows everything, not you, the only thing you would have to know is that you know him personally or that you have some evidence of his existence, of course this could be taken to be something that is provable or something that is a kind of ‘knowing’ within ones heart, something immeasurable.  But to deny Gods existence you would have to know everything.  And does anyone know everything? of course not.”

 

What are you trying to tell me here, Carol?  That because I don’t know absolutely everything then I cannot deny that God exists?  Hmmm, seems like someone is grasping at straws here.

 

That’s like saying “I’ve invented a teleporting machine.  At the touch of a button I can disappear from here and instantly reappear on the moon.  But I’m not going to show you the machine or give you any evidence that it exists- you’re just going to have to take my word for it.  And you’re not allowed to question this because, well, unless you know absolutely everything about everything, then you have no right to!”  Ridiculous, eh?

 

Here’s a good quote from Carol:

 

“So what do Atheists believe?  If they tend to think deeper then maybe they turn to the Naturalist view...”

 

Yes, if we ‘tend to think deeper’.  Typically arrogant view that atheists are shallow-minded non-intellects who only have ourselves to blame for our failings, because we simply aren’t intelligent enough to believe in God.  Well Carol, perhaps if you ‘tended to think deeper’, then you might see what a lot of rubbish you and your ilk are trying to put forward.

 

Carol then put forward the old ‘chances are so miniscule’ theory...

 

‘In the last 30 years scientists have attempted to calculate the odds that a free living celled organism might result by chance combining all the pre-existing building blocks, ... the odds are likened to a hurricane sweeping through a junk yard and assembling just by chance a 747 aircraft from the contents!  So in my mind if we are here just by chance then that in itself is a mind-blowing thought. And to have the consciousness and thought to ponder about that is in itself something not to be taken for granted.  This is why I struggle with the staunch atheist, why stop all thought about the wonder of why we are here and too what makes man think that with his feeble limited knowledge on this little speck of a planet where we treat other fellow humans with disrespect, dishonour, prejudice, war, torture, hunger child abuse ect ect and yet think we have the knowledge to prove the non existence of a higher deity!?  It all seems a little pompous.’

 

Pompous?  What exactly is pompous about it?  Surely the pompous bit is using this interesting piece of information to assume that some kind of God is responsible.  It’s pompous and blinkered to say there might only be one possible answer- it must be God.  Bull!  It could be a totally freakish incident couldn’t it?  That’s what makes this planet of our so different from all the others.  Everything about it is just right!  Doesn’t mean a magic (yet conveniently invisible, illusive and painstakingly shy) man in the sky put it all together, now does it?

 

Here’s another good one:

 

‘There are some scientists who embrace this idea and almost know that there is something magical, mystical, or embrace the fact that  there may well be a higher deity rather than discounting it completely. These are the open minded scientists.’

 

Yes, you read that right.  All the groundbreaking and inventive scientists who are atheists don’t have open-minds, according to Carol. 

 

So, the blinkered, Bible-bashing, God-bothering ones, who refuse to doubt the existance of a higher-being are the opened-minded ones, and the others who dare to question these beliefs and ask more questions about where we came from are close-minded.  Are you positive you’ve got that the right way round, Carol?

 

More from Carol’s article below.  Please try and stifle your disbelief...

 

‘What annoys me is when you get intelligent scientists/professors who deny the existence of God and anything spiritual or paranormal but instead give themselves the privilege to find the answers to the big questions about life and why we are here, how we came to be, and is there a God.’ 

 

So, a scientist who is questioning where we came from and trying to establish why and how we are here annoys you, Carol?  Perhaps he shouldn’t bother then?  Hey, Mister Scientist- stop searching for the answers to these apparently pointless questions and sit back and read a Bible.  Why not?  All the answers are in there anyway aren’t they?  Oh, except the bit about dinosaurs- you see, there’s no mention of them in there!

 

Well Carol, what annoys me is when seemingly intelligent people dennounce others for being experimental and inquisitive, rather than following some dogmatic mantra from two thousand years ago.

 

Carol then went on to disparage Professor Richard Dawkins, a man who I happen to find fascinating.  His works such as The Blind Watchmaker and The Selfish Gene have provoked much discussion and debate, and I have found myself massively interested in his theories.

 

Carol seemed to be interested in his recent disregard of nandy pandy new age stuff and religion.  She claims he has disregarded thousands of years of humans spiritual beliefs as if he can wipe it all away with the opinion that science can prove everything.  No Carol, he doesn’t.  The fact is that as a scientist, his job is to look for plausible explanations and develop theories based on experimentation and the gathering of evidence.  It is YOU Carol, trying to disregard the entire purposes of science and saying it is wrong for trying to find answers, when your ‘religion’ provides them all for you.

 

The fact of the matter is that science IS the only way to find the answers to the big questions.  Because science relies on FACT, then the answers have grounding and depth.  Religious fairy-tales do not deliver any convincing conclusions.

 

‘He puts himself up as a God (not intentionally) who will in time find all the answers solely through science, and by doing so is disregarding a huge proportion of the worlds population because  he believes he has the privilege to finding the answers insinuating that the rest of us are just mere mortals looking up the scientist for answers! what a load of tosh and how pretentious of him!’

 

Surely even you do not believe this, Carol.  Just because he is curious and looking for proof and evidential answers to the questions religion has so often failed to provide us with convincingly, you denounce him as pretentious!  Just because science is in the process of trying to provide far more convincing evidence than religion ever has, you denounce his work as though he is trying to be some kind of god himself.  And you say HE doesn’t have an open-mind?  Unbelievable.

 

Here’s a particularly uninformed exerpt from Carol’s argument last week:

 

“Ah yes! I hear the atheists say, all the troubles in the world are caused by religion. Religion has for thousands of years caused separation and divide, wars and unspeakable events, so lets form another group and separate ourselves off from these religious groups and call ourselves Atheists since it is clear that all the people that have gone before who followed a religion has not taught us anything, we are the intelligent beings who will find the answers through science alone. And too, if there is a God then why does he allow such terrible suffering  in the world? Well we only have ourselves to blame for that, there is an equal and opposite for everything, good/bad  ugly/beautiful  light/dark it is our choice.  Much to learn here in finding the big answers. Atheism is just  a new religion based not on hard facts at all, how ironic!”

 

Carol. Atheists have not ‘separated’ and formed another group, where they suddenly decided not to believe in any God as religion has failed on so many levels.  Atheists simply do not believe that a God exists for a huge variety of reasons (and I believe that lack of evidence or even believability contributes more to this than the numerous wars fought in the name of some God or other).  And how can you say Atheism is based ‘not on hard facts’?  There is far more practical evidence that God does NOT exist than evidence that He does.  The fact that no one can prove His existance, for a start!

 

‘The only way to find answers is to be open minded about EVERYTHING, if you discount one thing completely before you even know the answer to it then how in the world are you going to find the answers to the big questions about life, the universe and why we are here?’

 

True enough, Carol- but don’t be so eager to discount Atheism.  You arch-nemesis Science seems to indicate that we non-believers could well be the ones who are correct.

 

-Craig

Now here is a strange confession,

The first time you’ve heard this from me,

I hope I won’t feel like this for long,

Because I prefer to feel differently.

 

Now, I know it’s not like me to say this,

As every kid seems to be armed with a knife,

But I’m truly ashamed to be British,

For the very first time in my life.

 

You see we no longer have an identity,

We can’t wave our flags with pride,

We’ve no freedom of speech any longer,

Is this why my ancestors died?

 

Our leaders only have their own interests at heart,

As long as they’re okay, sod the rest!

Many homes paid for them by the taxpayer,

While us citizens, we struggle at best.

 

Fuel prices are getting higher and higher,

So the price of everything else starts to soar,

And while we struggle to make ends meet,

We’re spending millions on some pointless war.

 

So a recession is threatening the country,

And every time ones heart beats,

Someone is killed, attacked or made homeless,

Or a child is stabbed to death on our streets.

 

And our schools cannot teach our own past,

In case some minority group we offend,

British schools can’t teach British history!

Tell me when will this madness end?

 

The people who were once a proud nation,

Now in the streets fight, all riddled with booze,

And all I hear are predictions of hard times,

Every time I turn on the news.

 

We really should be proud and happy,

That foreign people want to join our great nation,

But there must be control, because our island’s so small,

We can’t cope with unlimited immigration.

 

We used to cry “Rule Britannia!”

Praise our “Land of Hope & Glory!”

We used to have something to be proud about,

But now everything’s a different story.

 

People are poorer than we’ve been for years,

Mr Brown, can’t you see what you’re doin’?

You’re bringing us down, treating us with contempt.

You’re bringing this country to ruin!

 

It used to be great being British,

The pride of the world! Then we broke.

And now we’re a shambles, a terrible mess,

Now we’re sniggered at like some dirty joke.

 

There are not enough people who know right from wrong,

There are not enough police walking beats,

You can report a mugging; your call will be ignored,

You see, the scumbags are ruling the streets.

 

Mr Brown, do you recall what your predecessor said?

And he repeated it time after time,

He said he’d get tough on the criminals, you see,

And tough on the causes of crime.

 

Yet, the country’s a shambles; the place is a mess,

It’s not safe to go out on a night,

And there are sixteen-year-old kids leaving school,

Who don’t know how to read or write.

 

They tell us the environment’s in danger,

And we all should be more green,

But their solution’s to just tax us further,

It’s all part of their moneymaking machine.

 

There are girls getting pregnant and girls giving birth,

Mere children, and they really think it’s cool,

To be sleeping with boys rather then playing with toys,

Then leaving toddlers in a crèche at their school.

 

You can get away with assaulting someone,

You can beat someone up with a club,

You can even rob a house (if it’s your first offence),

But don’t you dare try and smoke in the pub!

 

We’re worse off now than we have been for years,

We’ve all got less money to spend,

Yet the taxes and bills keep on rising,

Please tell me, when will it end?

 

So now you’ve heard my confession,

The first time you’ve heard it from me,

I hope my feelings won’t stay like this for long,

Because I prefer to feel differently.

 

No, it’s just not like me to say this,

But I told you anyway, in rhyme,

That I’m truly ashamed to be British,

And disappointed for the very first time.

It’s not often I use the pages of this website to vent my spleen on one of the subjects close to my heart, as I’m aware it alienates in many ways a lot of my American readership.  But there is a story which is unfolding at the moment which, as a football fan, and a supporter of the club in question, I feel the need to write about here on The Whistler.

 

By football, I mean of course, soccer (as the Americans call it to differentiate from their own game which we in England call American Football).

 

It may alienate a number of female readers as well, but I’m hoping that, as my gist becomes apparent, you’ll be able to follow what I’m trying to say.  I hope it makes sense to everyone.

 

If you ARE a fan of football, particularly of the Premier League, then there is a likelihood that you may take issue with what I’m about to talk about.  I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject, no matter what.

 

Some of you may not know about this particular interest of mine, as I rarely write about it here, as I have said, but I am a huge fan of Manchester United Football Club.  And the season which ended just a few weeks ago was a wonderful one for every United fan in the world.  A double-whammy of the Premier League and the European Champions League has seen our silverware cabinet swell even further.  It’s been a twisting, thrilling, roller-coaster ride of a season.  Thrilling games, a shaky start, Arsenal’s mid-season dominance, and Chelsea gaining ground at an alarming rate towards the end of the season, pushing us right down to the wire in The Premier League, and meeting with us in the final of the Champions League in Moscow.  Fortunately (and some might say even luckily) for United fans- we won both in the end.

 

And it’s been a sterling season for a number of players in the squad as well.  New signings Anderson and Nani have impressed, and shown signs that, given a little more experience and maturity, they will quite probably be fantastic, household-name players in a season or two.  And although a seasoned pro, Carlos Tevez has slotted into the side wonderfully, showing an almost psychic understanding of attacking technique with his strike-partner, Wayne Rooney.

 

The defence has been phenomenal as well (leaking fewer goals than any other side in the Premier League).  Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidic and Patrice Evra worthy of particular praise, standing strong in front of an equally impressive Edwin Van Der Saar in the goal.  And what an important season for old-timer Ryan Giggs, breaking Sir Bobby Charlton’s appearance record for the club, and scoring what would turn out to be the winning penalty in the Champions League Final.

 

But the big story of the close-season is proving to be the one regarding the future of the true United superstar of the last twelve (maybe even twenty-four) months- Cristiano Ronaldo.

 

Ronaldo has been superb over the last season, dazzling defenders with his pace and nifty footwork, and scoring more goals this season than any other Premier League player (not a bad accomplishment- particularly when you consider the fact that he isn’t even an all-out striker, but a more natural midfield player).  The Portuguese international was brought to Old Trafford from Sporting Lisbon to replace the departed David Beckham, who had moved to Spanish giants Real Madrid.

 

At first, certain question marks were placed over Ronaldo and his style of play.  It wasn’t doubted that his footwork skills were impeccable, but he appeared greedy at times, and failed to complete passes.  But, after a season under the wing of manager Sir Alex Ferguson, Ronaldo ironed out these faults with his game, and developed into a much more complete player.  In fact, it has been said that he’s the best in the world right now.

 

Which is where in the story, Real Madrid make their entry.

 

After the 2006 World Ronaldo was public enemy number one here in this country.  He was playing for his national side Portugal against England in the quarter finals of the competition, when he was very vocal towards the referee regarding an incident involving his Manchester United colleague, Wayne Rooney.  As Rooney was shown the red card and given his marching orders, Ronaldo was spotted by TV cameras aiming a crafty wink towards his bench.  It seemed as though Ronaldo’s involvement in aggravating Rooney’s famous temper was a manufactured tactic which had come into fruition.

 

And the Spanish giant Real Madrid were watching from the sidelines, hoping to get Ronaldo’s signature should he find life playing domestic football back in England too testing, now that the English crowds would inevitably be against him.

 

But Manchester United manager, Sir Alex Ferguson stepped forward, and nurtured his star man into something unbelievable.  And yes, Ronaldo did (and still does to some extent) come up against more than his fair share of boo-boys from the English crowds, but he has allowed his football to do the talking, turning himself into one of the most impressive players we’ve seen in this country, if not the world, for years.

 

They compare him to George Best- a difficult comparison to make as both players played in different eras of the game- yet you can see the reasoning behind these opinions.  Light on their feet, yet fast, with a penchant for scoring goals and a natural flair for the game- both players won over the hearts and minds of the Old Trafford faithful.

 

And Ronaldo this last season has been a phenomenon.  His goal scoring tally is one thing, but the way he turns on performances, makes intelligent runs and intricate manoeuvres, pin-point passes and flummoxing opponents can be breath-taking to behold.

 

And the rewards are there- in shining silver for all the world to see.  Two trophies- the biggest in domestic football and the biggest in European football, now sit proudly in United’s trophy cabinet at Old Trafford, and Ronaldo has winners’ medals as proof of his involvement in both competitions.

 

Yet in spite of the fact that Manchester United are holders of such accolades, Real Madrid are back on the scene, again trying to prize away this wondrous asset from Old Trafford.

 

I hope I’m wrong, but it is of my opinion that they will be successful in getting him this time.

 

And it’s heartbreaking.

 

What riles me the most about the whole affair is that Ronaldo is only twelve months into a five-year contract, so in truth, there should be no worries whatsoever, but contracts mean very little these days in football, particularly if the player has his heart set on a transfer.

 

And it seems to me that he has.  I’m pretty sure that Ronaldo’s conspicuous silence (or indeed blatant refusal to speak about the situation) is a signal that he has no intention of pulling on a United shirt next season.  If he was going to stay, surely he would simply stand up and speak out about it, and put the club’s and the supporters minds at rest.

 

The cynical amongst you may suggest that he is leaving both clubs in the balance in order to see who will make him the best offer as far as wages are concerned.  If this is the case, Madrid win the day, as they are in a far better financial position to spend vast quantities of money on the player.  Having said that, however, United DO have a contract dated until 2012 with his signature on it.  If Ronaldo puts in a transfer request, the ball is in United’s court.

 

And if that does happen, it would seem United have two options.  Firstly, they could sell him, and quite possibly name their price.  If I were in a position of power at Old Trafford, this is what I’d be doing.  Demand a £100million up front payment, and let him go.  With that money we could get TWO world class players- an outright striker would be my first buy, and perhaps a strong left-back or full-back to fall back on in case of injuries.  It may also be worth strengthening the midfield to fill the hole Ronaldo would inevitably leave.  So THREE world-class players then.  Still a viable option with that amount of cash.

 

The payment would have to be up front however- no messing about with £10million this year and £5million next, then so much for goals and championships etc.  We want the cash up front, and the deal signed, sealed and delivered.

 

The other option which United have, and this is what is being apparently projected by the club owners, is that they hold on to the player- refuse his transfer request, refuse to sell, and just don’t play him until his contract expires in four years time.  This would surely make Ronaldo think twice about trying to snub the club that brought him to the forefront of world football.  But it would also deprive the world of seeing this fantastic player performing his art.

 

Real Madrid seems to be playing an underhand game at present.  Some are saying that this Spanish club is simply trying to unsettle their international rivals Portugal for the Euro 2008 championships.  They have been vociferous in the press claiming that Ronaldo’s dream is to sign for them.  They have put figures out regarding the extraordinary wage of £300,000 a week they’d be prepared to pay him.  They claim they’ve practically got their man.

 

United are saying they have had no official approach, and would turn down any offer made on him.

 

The man himself has said that he will make his decision public AFTER this summer’s Euro 2008 competition, which is in full swing at the moment.

 

His decision?  Sorry Cris, but YOU don’t have a decision to make.  You’ve put pen to paper and signed quite a lucrative five-year deal with Manchester United.  YOU can’t make the decision.  You can strike, refuse to play, spit out your dummy, whatever!  But at the end of the day, if Manchester United refuse to sell you, then that is their decision and there is absolutely nothing at all you can do about it.

 

As I said, I’d personally sell him and use the cash to strengthen the squad.  But I truly hope all I’ve read and heard about this whole sordid situation is wrong.  Hopefully Ronaldo is just using tactics to pressure United into increasing his wage (something which I believe they are seriously considering).

 

Losing Ronaldo would be a huge loss to the English game, but if his heart isn’t here, then he will never fire on all cylinders.

 

And United have parted company with some great, great players in the past, and gone from strength to strength.  No one player is bigger than this great club.

Regular readers of this site, and my MySpace and Facebook pals will more than likely be aware of my forthcoming nuptials.  It was over twelve months ago when I first mentioned my life-changing intentions here on The Whistler, and how quickly time has flown since that moment never ceases to astonish.  Here we are in the summer months of 2008 already, and I get married at the end of August.  It is approaching with such pace that it’s quite caught me unawares.

 

Don’t get me wrong- I can’t wait to be married.  Rachel, my wife-to-be, is an incredible girl, who has literally changed my life since she came onto the scene.  She is one of the kindest and sweetest people you would ever meet- she is warm and genuine, and damn attractive into the bargain.  I can’t wait to call her my wife- I’ll be the proudest man on Earth.

 

Having said all that, I’m not too sure exactly how much I’m looking forward to the day itself.  All the planning that has gone into organising such an event is quite astounding, as is the amount of cash we’ve had to expend on the wedding itself.  And all for one day.  And then it will all be over.  A memory.

 

And I’m hoping that the memories of the day will be nicer than the anticipation of it.  I’m really nervous about it.  Will it all go to plan?  Will the food be up to scratch?  Will the photographer get there?  Will the weather be favourable?  Will Rachel even turn up?

 

Then there’s the wedding ceremony itself.  As an atheist I thought it would be rather hypocritical of me to hold the ceremony in a church.  Even though they are such pleasant looking places and very traditional, I think my non-religious approach to life would make me feel that a ceremony in a church would all be rather fake, in spite of how nice it might look on the photographs.  So it’s going to be a non-religious affair in a hotel.  But that doesn’t mean that Rachel and myself won’t be up there in front of all the guests making these vows to each other- there’s no way we can avoid THAT terrifying experience.  I’ve gone over all this time and time again in my mind, and the thought of it makes me convulse with fear.  I don’t know why at all.

 

In my life I have been on stage in front of crowds far bigger than the hundred or so who will be attending the ceremony- so why all the nerves for this?  I can only assume it is because when I’ve been in front of large groups of people in the past, I haven’t actually known most of them.  Sure, an odd friend or two may be in the audience, but generally, I was playing to strangers.  And I was hardly reciting vows and pledging my life to someone in front of them!  The people I will be reciting these vows in front of will be close friends, family, and indeed members of my new family.  And that, I think, is what’s causing all these nerves!

 

But I’ll get through it, I’m sure.  I can only feel for Rachel though, who will be all dolled up in her finery- expertly crafted hair and make-up and a tailored-gown – lots and lots of pressure to look beautiful and be elegant, and not fall arse over tit on her way up the aisle.  She ought to be nervous about all this as well.

 

And I’m sure she is.  But another great thing about her is her ability to cope well in times of stress.  She seems to be a calming influence on everyone (myself in particular) at times when perhaps it would be more natural to lose one’s temper or just get totally frustrated with everything that’s going on.  She is tranquillity personified- another of her fantastic character traits.  So she’ll cope admirably with reciting the vows.

 

And when that’s over, I can relax and enjoy the rest of the day, right?

 

Wrong!

 

As the groom, I suppose I have a certain responsibility to circulate and make pleasantries with everyone!  How tiring will THAT be?

 

In all seriousness though, that’s something I am looking forward to- going from table to table during the ‘evening do’ and saying hello to everyone.  There’ll be members of Rachel’s family I haven’t even met yet, so it’s going to be interesting that’s for sure- and it will be nice to see some familiar faces from my own past and catch-up with what’s happening in their lives as well.

 

But something I’m NOT really looking forward to is the infamous Wedding Breakfast and reception.  The part where speeches are made and, as the groom, I have a duty to speak on behalf of my new wife and myself.  So I’m going to have to sit down at some point and write a speech.

 

I’ve started on it, but believe it or not, I’m struggling.  I’ve exhausted the internet, bought speech-writing books, even asked friends for suggestions, but I still can’t quite get a full, flowing coherent speech together (a fact that will probably come as no surprise to regular readers of my page anyway).  So if you have any suggestions as to what I can include, and perhaps some witty comments that you think I might be able to use, then please, please, please, please, please drop me a line at whistlermail@yahoo.co.uk and let me pinch them from you!  Thanks.

 

And the prospect delivering this speech (should it ever be written!) to the assembled guests is even more nerve-wracking than the reciting of the vows in front of them.  At least if the vows are rubbish I can say with my hand on my heart that I didn’t write them (granted- we chose them, but we didn’t write them).  Now, everybody listening to my speech will be fully aware that I am 100% responsible for the content (and indeed the delivery of it).

 

This terrifies me.  How the hell to deliver a speech?  It’s something I really ought to get a grasp on if I am ever going to fulfil my ambition of becoming an after-dinner speaker, but still, it’s a stumbling block I’m having quite some difficulty getting over!  I’m sure a quick whisky or two before the commencement of my oration will assist me immeasurably.

 

Either that, or I’ll be slurring my way incomprehensibly through it all!  Hmm, wonder how well that would go down with Rachel?  Probably best if I don’t try to find out!

 

And the sheer amount of planning and preparing that goes into an event such as this is amazing.  Don’t get me wrong, I knew it would be a big job, but I didn’t quite estimate how big!  The number of things, people, jobs, items, etc., that need organising and sorting out is nothing short of dumbfounding.  I am amazed at all of the things that need to be considered.  Photographs, wedding lists, clothing, menus, wines, locations, venues, staff, best man, ushers, who does what, who can be where and when, who has to be where at what time.  And how the hell are we ever going to pay for all of this?

 

Having said all that, though, I truly can’t wait for it.  It’s going to be nerve-wracking, yes- but what married person can honestly say they weren’t a bag of nerves on their wedding day?  Surely it’s just par for the course, and who am I to fight against it?

 

I’m hoping to post a few snaps of the big day here on The Whistler (if any of you are remotely bothered, that is).  My son Ethan, who will be 7¾ years old on the day is going to be the ring-bearer, and will be all dressed up in the same suit as me (albeit a little smaller, I shouldn’t wonder!) so that will make a few fantastic photographs, no doubt!  It will be nice to see him looking smart.  A pleasant change indeed!

 

There are ushers, a best man (in the form of Jeebs- see the Me, Myself, I & Others page for more info about who he is!!) and of course a number of bridesmaids, all of whom will have scrubbed up wonderfully for the occasion.  A good time is in store for all.  I hope.

 

I’d like to thank at this stage (as this commentary will be the last time I mention the wedding before the day itself, I promise!) every reader of The Whistler who has sent us such sweet messages of best wishes and support for this big day in our lives.  We truly appreciate it.

 

Right, better get to work on this bloody speech!  ‘Til next time folks…

Somewhere around Portsmouth on the south coast of England, there is a plush wine bar, very tastefully decorated with subdued music, subtle lighting and wonderful service provided by impeccable staff.  Not my usual kind of haunt at all, but this will be the setting for a few drinks and a chat tonight, decided upon by my guest, whose arrival, it would seem, has been delayed.  The walls look like they are carpeted and the occasional husk of neon light is creating a warm, relaxed, yet curiously formal atmosphere.  I kind of half-expected for this meeting to take place in a crowded, noisy nightclub rather than a posh place like this.  But, it would turn out this wouldn’t be my only perception of such a person that would turn out to be far from accurate.  I have a bottle of Merlot in front of me and a couple of glasses.  I hope my guest this evening is fond of red wine.

 

I arrived early for my chat with glamour model Dannie Piggott- perhaps a bit too early.  The anticipation of meeting her face to face made me nervous, and when the clock moved around to twenty minutes past our arranged meeting time, I was starting to get the distinct impression that perhaps I had travelled all this way for nothing more than an over-priced bottle of plonk.  As soon as a disheartening feeling started to replace that of nervousness, my attention was suddenly drawn to a beautiful young woman who had just entered and was glancing around the bar.  Her eyes fell upon me, and she approached me, her right arm reaching out for me to shake it.  “Craig?” she asked, “From The Whistler?”  The nerves crept back in!  My guest had arrived!

 

And what can I tell you about her?  Strikingly attractive, she carries herself with an air of not misplaced confidence, and has a warm and friendly smile.

 

Dannie Piggott is a beautiful girl.  She has a dazzling radiance about her, which is not at all misplaced on this 22-year-old model.  Her hair is brown in colour and of medium length.  Her eyes are a beautiful, piercing green.  She’s also much more petit than I expected.  She stands at just less than five and a half feet tall, and her dress size is eight to ten.  Her waist is a tiny 24 inches, and she doesn’t tip the eight stone mark on the scales.  But she is perfectly in proportion- she is womanly- by no means a ‘stick-insect’ type of model.  Thank God!!

 

She is chatty, bubbly and extremely friendly with a wicked sense of humour that occasionally wandered off onto the naughty side!  But the chat was great fun to conduct, and a fascinating insight into the thoughts of a woman whose chosen career is to undress and pose erotically for general consumption.  Anybody who might be under the impression that all glamour models were clueless airheads would have had their opinions altered very quickly by Dannie.  She is refreshingly intelligent, a wonderful conversationist and great company.  Physical aspects aside, here is one hell of a woman.

 

“Being a model is not easy,” she is at pains to stress.  I was never under any doubt of that- when you really think about it and what it all involves, it doesn’t really sound like all that much fun.  “From getting someone to notice you to approval from the people that matter most to you, it’s all really difficult.”  This interested me greatly, that’s what I was at pains to find out- what her friends and family thought of her career, and how she reacted to any criticisms that may come her way.

 

“My career started when I was about 15,” she told me in response to a question regarding the beginnings of her interest in the industry.  “A hairdresser local to me were looking for models to practise their techniques, a free haircut… why not?” she laughed.

 

“After that I signed up to other hairdressers when they needed models.  It was fun to have a different hairstyle every month, although I never took it seriously and never considered broadening my horizons to other types of modelling.”

 

But, it seems, the bug soon bit her!  “I signed up to a modelling/actors networking site and thought it would be fun to apply to take part in a national heat for Miss England,” she told me.  “But then I decided to get married so that idea went out the window!  After that I received an email from L’Oreal asking me to travel to New York to participate in a hair show.”  Very impressive, I’m sure you’ll agree, but the timing was all wrong for Dannie.  “I would have gone but I was expecting my first child.”

 

To many people, this might have spelled the end of such a career- missing out on something as big as this due to pregnancy might have dissuaded her from pursuing her career any further.  This might well have been the case, until a friend intervened.

 

“When I was 21, a friend rang me and told me she signed me up to a studio looking for models,” she told me.  “I was a little peeved at first,” she continued.  I could certainly understand that- I’m not sure whether I’d like it if a friend of mine had signed me up to something without checking with me first.  But the friend, it would seem, only had the best intentions and Dannie’s interests at heart.

 

“I didn’t hear anything from the studio for about four weeks, so really I put it to the back of my mind and eventually forgot about it.  Then out of the blue they offered me a test shoot, so I went along with my Mum and had my first ever photo shoot!”

 

And what were your thoughts?  “I really enjoyed it, “ she smiled.  “So I decided to get back on the website and start looking for serious modelling jobs. My second photo shoot was just a test shoot, and it was topless.”

 

How did that go?  “It was a disaster,” she said smiling, possibly at the fact that it’s all in retrospect.  “The photographer was really creepy and kept telling me how nice my arse was, I really didn’t appreciate those comments.”  I could imagine that such a situation would be rather uncomfortable, and asked her what she did.  “Thankfully I’d dragged my Mum along with me- she felt my discomfort and got me out of there quick!”  Ah, good old Mum!!

 

So what next?  “I never let the seedy photographer put me off, and got straight back on my bicycle, so to speak.  I grew to love the attention and sexiness of glamour modelling, and now I’m very comfortable with what I do.  With each photo shoot and new assignment I do, my modelling experience is getting greater and I’m getting more recognised by industry professionals,  ”

 

Is ‘glamour’ as far as you’ll go in the modelling industry or would you venture into something more ‘adult-oriented’?  “Some of my friends are convinced I do a lot more than show my boobs off!” she laughs.  “I have absolutely no interest in adult modelling.  I hope one day to be famous and the last thing I want are those sorts of photos surfacing!  Of course, the money is good and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. I have done nude modelling in a Playboy style and an artistic style but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

 

How did the people close to you react to your decision to take up such a career?  “In the beginning friends and family were shocked when I decided to do glamour modelling, but that initial shock reaction seems to have mellowed into a more understanding mindset now.  That said, the only people that have a solid interest in my modelling career and are not judgmental are my male friends- what a surprise!” she grins.  “It’s my female friends that can sometimes be bitchy and jealous, and unfortunately I’ve had to deal with this on a couple of occasions.  This is when the rumours started that I had been dabbling in adult work.”

 

What about your parents?  “Since I don’t live at home anymore they have no say in the matter.  I can remember my Dad taking me to one side and telling me to be careful and my Mum saying don’t take your clothes off without being paid! They are both fine with it and take an interest.”

 

What are the ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ sides to your work?  “The Perks of the job are obvious.  You get paid to travel and see places.  I also love it when I get free clothes! I guess the downfall would be all the time spent traveling and arranging transport and itineries, things like that.  Another problem is sleazy photographers- if you don’t like the photographer but want the job then you have a choice to make.”

 

Would you mind if your children wanted to become glamour models?  “I wouldn’t mind at all,” she tells me sincerely. “I guess I’d have the same concerns and worries for her like my Mum had for me. I’d give her lots of support and encouragement. I’d be able to guide her in the right direction and stop her from making the same mistakes I did.”

 

Does it not bother you that there are some people out there who think you are portraying women as non-intellectual, sexual objects that are designed solely to instigate sexual arousal in males?  “Everyone has their different views and opinions, and of course, they’re entitled to them.  It would be wrong of me to try and change that.  Yes, I am in a career designed to make men sexually aroused, but that doesn’t make me as a person a sexual object or non-intellectual.”

 

Have you had any bad experiences at work?  “No, thank goodness.  I still have many years of modeling ahead of me so I still could have a bad experience, though.  It’s something I’m prepared for.”

 

What advice would you give to people wanting to get into the industry?  “Don’t approach it thinking it’s glamorous and easy,” she says.  “It’s not.  It’s hard work and you’ll get a lot of criticism. There are many sites dedicated to networking photographers and models- get logging on and hopefully you’ll find work.  Don’t think you’re going to get paid straight away- you won’t, and be aware of the fact that amateur models only get a selection of images for their time.  It’s standard, but as your portfolio grows you’ll get more and more work, and most likely get paid work.  Only join an agency when you think you’re experienced enough, otherwise you’ll only get disappointed when you get turned down.  And lastly NEVER EVER pay a penny to join an agency, legitimate agencies never ask for fees or admin costs.”

 

And here ended our chat.  What struck me most about it all was that this beautiful girl was no bimbo by any stretch of the imagination.  She has her head well and truly screwed on, is intelligent and ambitious.  She knows that she has chosen a career that is right for her and allows her to spend time with her family as well as traveling afar and seeing places.  Dannie Piggott is the polar opposite of the stereotype of glamour models, and perhaps women should celebrate her and her colleagues, and give them the benefit of the doubt from time to time.  It’s all too easy to judge.

Hello Whistlerettes.  Today, I’m going to impart a little story to you.  There are three reasons for doing this- 1) it’s quite an interesting little yarn; 2) it’s basically regarding an email conversation I had with someone, so producing this article will be mainly cutting and pasting and therefore not very much hard work for my good self, and; 3) it might warn the more gullible members of our society about this incredible scam.

 

It all began just over a week ago when I received an email into The Whistler’s mailbox at whistlermail@yahoo.co.uk.  Now because this address is a very public one, I do tend to get a lot of spam (interspersed of course with your emails, sweet readers).  One of the letters caught my eye, as it was addressed, not to Craig, or Tammy or Johnny or Carol, but to ‘my dear sweet mr whistler’.  Hmmm, I thought to myself.  This is either a badly researched piece of mail, or spam.  Curiosity got the better of me, and assuming that I was the aforementioned ‘mr whistler’, I opened it.

 

“Hi Mr Whistler,

 

I saw your profile online and like what I saw.  I might be coming over to your country soon and would like to meet up.  I am young, pretty girl and can send you photographs.  Let me know if you’re interested by writing to me at *******@********.com.”

 

The email had scam written all over it (not literally of course- that would be fucking stupid), but I was intrigued.  I confess, I responded.  I thought, “what do I have to lose?  She thinks my names Mr Whistler, for fuck’s sake!”

 

I replied saying that I would be VERY interested in her plans.  Within a day, I had a response:

 

“Hi my friend, new friend!

I am so glad to see that you have decided to reply, I see it is very short letter.

It' s all right because you are astonished to get my letter. I want you to know that I have only good intentions and I have not any secrets.  The thing is that I will work in your country for six months or so and I would like to meet a nice man to fall in love or just be closest friends.

I don’t want to live in Russia because I have not any chances here, it' s hardly possible to explain from first time but I want you to know my plans.

I will work in any shop, bar or restaurant the agency that i am going through will suggest me some locations.  It will be my choice in the end as to what option to go for.  So I will have a simple work till I improve my English.  And I can choose any town of your area, agency will only help me to get a visa and all travel documents + some suggested placed to work in.

My best friend last year met the man from the USA when she worked there for three months, too.

She had two jobs.  From morning till 4 pm she worked in amusement park and after it she worked as a waitress in some bar till midnight.   She was very tired of course but made very good money there.

It 's special programme for young people who wants to work abroad and I think it is the right way for me, I am lost here, and I think that I look pretty enough to find a better place .I want to repeat the same way, it is only my chance to meet a nice man. I want to work in USA or in Europe or any nice country.

I'm full of plans and different dreams and I want to share my life with good man because I'm also full of love and tenderness, I know that I am not so beautiful like Hollywood Princess but I do hope to meet my Prince and I am sure he will be not be disappointed to meet me in the real life!

This is why I am going to go through the same way.

Well, I will close this letter and I do hope to get your reply.  I will leave Russia in two weeks or so (I can't tell you everything exactly right now) and I would like to be sure that I have the man who waits for me there.

I will work all day and I want to find a man to spend all free time together to get to know each other better.

If you have any interest to meet me I will be more than happy to meet you too. I will tell you all details about me and my life if you like my pictures and want to meet me! Please send picture of you too!!!

Please don't write to me more on a mailbox (CENSORED) it is a mailbox of my friend I has created new personal mailbox (CENSORED), please write letters now only on this mailbox .I will wait your next letter.

Kissssssss  you , Aleksandra (it's my real name )”

 

Silly cow forgot to attach any photos.  So I wrote back and told her so.

 

She responded:

 

“Sorry, photos seems to me was not attached to the letter.

Now I shall try to send you again

I hope you will answer a.s.a.p.

 

Aleksandra”

 

This time, some photographs were attached.  Man, she was WELL tidy!  I didn’t send her any pics of myself as she’d requested in her previous letter.  After all, she was trying to scam me, and I didn’t want her (or indeed HIM) to be able to have an idea of what this gullible idiot looked like.  They can get fucked.  I responded to her mail telling her that the photographs she had sent were very nice indeed.  I don’t go for the long-winded emails.  Just a line to keep her on her toes.  And I awaited the next part of her cunning plan.  I didn’t have to wait too long!

 

“Hello my dear Mr Whistler.  Thank you for your answer!

At first I think I have to say that I am new in internet and I have only good intentions.

You should know that I am not very good writer in English, please be patient to read my messages and see many mistakes. To be fair I don't know what you want to know about me, in principle.

I'm usual girl. I think I should tell you about interests, my tastes, hobbies and me. I think I will tell you about things I want to know about you and you will know my future questions.

I am 25 years old; my birthday is February, 20, 1982. I so much don't want to get older; when I can see old women I am getting crazy to think that it is my future. I do all the best to keep my youth and I keep my body well. In spite of all difficulties here I am trying to be in good condition and I do a lot of exercises to be in good shape!

I am about 165 cm tall (5.4) and my weight is about 50kg. I've been told I look well enough, and I think that all women have own beauty. I have never been married and I don’t have children.

I have one youngest sisters and it is great problem for us because we have only two rooms flat. You can't imagine what does it mean to be born in small town in Russia, there are not any chances to live well, to get a good job. All young people leave towns to search great luck in big cities but nobody waits for them there. I want to leave Russia, I know it sounds ugly but I know that I will be lost here like many young girls before me. It is not place to grow children and have stable future. I want to meet my right man.

I think in future I can work as fitness trainer I have a certificate.

My mother is my great problem too, she has a great dream to see me married and she wants to make me happy but I think it is only my business I am not a little child. She tells me every day that I should get married very soon... To be fair I am not sure I am able to explain all in first message I want to say so much! I just want you to know that I am not afraid to work, I am fairly goal oriented and I am sure you will be not disappointed to meet me in real life. I am going to spend three months abroad to work in any good place, agency promises to help me because it is only the way I can leave Russia. I will have all documents to travel in a few days and i will travel to Saint Petersburg then, from Saint-Petersburg I will travel to you and they ask me about name of the city i am going to work, if you don't mind to meet me please tell me the name of your city and nearest international airport! I will book my flight from Saint Petersburg!

I think it would be so great to meet my love and stay there forever. I know that it is not so easy like I think but I think it is possible that I meet my real love.

I want to love and to be loved I want to build our own happiness, only me and my man there. I don't smoke; I tried to smoke when I was younger.

I may have a glass of red dry vine, sometimes it helps to relax. I try to take care of my body and face. I know it is all I have.  My soul may have any interest for you later, I thinks am not a little girl and I know that at first almost all men look at body, legs and face. God created males such persons.

Well, I think I am lost in my letter, I am not sure you understand my goals, please feel free to ask. I live in Russia, small town Malaja Topka, Sibirjakov Street 8, flat 14; it is near big city Irkutsk.

My town is rather far from Moscow. Moscow is a capital of my country. I want you to reply if you understand my mind, my intentions, my soul, if not please reply too, I will continue my searching.

Well, I will close this letter; I think you are tired to read it. And if you think that I should write shorter letters please tell me.

I write from internet cafe in Irkutsk because there are not cafes and possibility to use internet in my small town, we have 4 digital phone number and we can't call abroad. Even to call in any big town here in Russia I have to order the call in advance. and I would like to say please don't worry if I keep silence sometimes I have no time to travel, it is about 25 minutes by bus from my town till Irkutsk  Please tell me more about you, your tastes, likes and dislikes.  Also I have a few important questions do you like strong drinks too much? Can you be very drunk? Very often? Can you be rude with women?

Well, I have to stop or I will write without ending. Kiss you! See you later. In my next e-mail I will write you more things about myself and more details about my trip and work. I will miss you, your  Aleksandra.”

 

I feel the need to pause briefly here and just re-read that sentence in the penultimate paragraph.  “Can you be rude with women?”  Heh heh!  God only knows what the correct answer to that one will be!!  Having seen this next batch of photos she’d sent, my answer would be a resounding ‘YES!’  I could be VERY rude with her!

 

I responded, simply telling her that I was looking forward to helping her fulfil her dreams and achievements, and that my nearest big city was Leeds.  Within a day or two, I received yet another communication from the Russian lovely!

 

“Hello my dear

I'm so glad to see your letter again, I think I am a lucky girl to meet such man and I will do my best to meet you in real life! You know I can work in any city of your area because it is free choice and agency only helps me to get only travel documents and ticket, and I do hope that we will like each other and now I have the destination.

The agency will also suggest some places to work in. I do hope I have met my right man! You know I have told you before one of my friend worked abroad last year and have met right man, now they live there and they are going to marry. By the way now they are arranging the trip to Russia, (he wants to meet her parents and friends)

I think if I feel that you are my dream and you have the same feelings we could think about our future together.  If not I will just work and return back when the time to travel back.  You know I am new here and I am afraid to make any mistake.

I have one great lack; I am very impatient sometimes I can act without thinking.

Sometimes I think that my dream is getting for real and it is so bad to be disappointed later.

I want you to know all small things about me because it shouldn't be any misunderstandings between us.

I want you to know that I am not angel and sometimes I can show my character. And I don't wait that you to be angel too, I just want to meet a kind man.  I am very kind and I can forgive almost all I can't forgive if my man sleeps with different woman, I don't know many necessary words in English.

I hope you can read between lines. A little more about myself! my favourite activity is fitness.  I wanted to be as fitness trainer but I finished The Irkutsk State University, trainer’s faculty as fitness trainer but I don't work on my profession because there are no good fitness clubs in my city,

I used to sit at home and to do all housework, helping my mom. I would like to have good job, I may work dancing teacher, or trainer of fitness, and you know I have a certificate. I worked as a trainer a year ago and I would like to do it again. You know how many younger girls want to get this job too! A lot of competition here. I want to tell you about things I like: I like to make barbecue and I so much want to have my own home with fireplace.  Usually I make very tasty ones and in principle I like to cook and it is not problem for me to cook something tasty and I don't like to visit cafes and restaurants, at first usually they can't cook well (maybe only here) and second too high price.

I like warm weather. And my great dream is to live somewhere on tropical island.  Also I want to tell you about my dislikes:  I hate our long winters it seems to me they will never end. I hate lies and unfaithfulness. I hate evil people and politicians I think they like to play wars, I hate any wars.

What I like in a man: faithfulness, honesty.  He has to be open-minded and  open-hearted, also easy-going. And much more important he is kind, kindness makes our world!

Are you kind and gentle man?????

I think my man should be kind; it is great feeling after love, only kind person may be happy, all rude people are unhappy or must be. A few questions yet, agency tells that I will have a room in nearest hotel near my future work but if we like each other may be is it possible to live together? I think we will enjoy life together. Do you have your car? Animals? I can't drive and I do hope you give me a few lessons, to be fair I have so many plans .I will find out all travel details about my flight this week. I will leave my town today in two hours and i think I will be not able to write to you today or so.

When I am in Saint Petersburg I will send you short letter to let you know that I am all right and they tell that it takes about two days to get all necessary papers, please confirm your phone number and international airport, I want to be sure I have all your details and please don't look at different girls. I am the best (joke). Well, I will close this letter I think I am bore today, and please feel free to ask. See you soon! I can't believe everything is for real. To be fair I am lost and my head is like any big station with a lot of voice!

KISS and LOVE Aleksandra”

 

As you can imagine, she didn’t get my phone number.  She did send a few more rather tasty pics of herself (yeah right!) though.  Her next communication came a day or two later.

 

“My honey! It is me, can you believe I'm in St. Petersburg. I can' t believe, it was wonderful flight and they gave red vine in plane, wow, I have never tried such tasty one!!!!!  I went the bus up to the Subway from the airport. In Subway long went, it was so is delightful I was in travel agency today, but my documents are not ready yet, it will be ready tomorrow.  I will go to travel agency again to get all info about my trip. And of course, when I will get it - I will send it to you!

It’s such great city and it takes a few hours to travel from one end to other.  I rented the flat for few days.  People said to me some nice places in St. Petersburg while he was such a great city it is. I have no words to explain. You can't imagine how great St. Petersburg is, to be fair I wouldn't like to live here, a lot of cars, people, voice and pollution. Ugly traffic and people with crazy eyes.

When I get off plane in airport St. Petersburg policeman asked about passport and he looked at me like I am any enemy, I think all people here are a little crazy at terrorism. Life here in St. Petersburg is expensive. I was going through some shops today and it is much more expensive than in our town. Food and all the general things. It is the same country but different prices, what a great change.

I think people living in St. Petersburg are very cautious, I think so.  But I think that I have done my choice and to be fair I don't want to live here, it is not the city of my dreams. You know I am not coward I am not afraid I know it is my chance to meet kind man .I do hope I am right. And I think you are too kind to make any bad things I feel it.  Well, I will close this letter, please write as soon as possible! See you soon! KISS. Great kiss from Saint Petersburg!!!!!!!!!  Aleksandra!”

 

Well, our relationship certainly seemed to be hotting up, that’s for sure!  When oh when, I asked myself, would the scam be coming?  Or had I misjudged her?  Perhaps she truly was a beautiful, innocent young lady from Russia, genuinely wanting to meet Mr Right (or indeed Mr Whistler) and start a new life in a new country.  Perhaps I was wrong.

 

Of course I wasn’t.  The next day, it arrived:

 

 

TRAVEL INFO  :    Aleksandra Vasina

© Travel Agency Blue River .

TRAVEL INFO  :  Aleksandra Vasina - private tour.(work visa)

Russian-English variants. ENGLISH SPEAKING GUIDE

Travel dates for: Ms. Aleksandra Vasina

Please label the inside and outside of each piece of baggage to be checked in with your 

name and where possible your address.

Suitable baggage labels and stickers are available free of charge. In advance of your journey.

Please note the current free baggage allowance included in your ticket price. 

You can find this information in the internet or via your Airline contact person. 

In case you booked a special fare please note that it can be subject to restrictions. 

Travel Abroad: When preparing to travel abroad for less than 5 months, 

it is important to ensure entry to another country. 

Depending on the country to be visited and the student's nationality, it may be 

necessary to apply for a visitor visa.  The student must have: a valid passport or 

travel document, valid visa.

Furthermore, page 4 must be signed by the RO. No special permission is needed, but it is 

important to have a valid passport, valid visa and all travel documents.

Thank you for your booking and have a pleasant journey. Kind regards.

"Blue River" is a licensed and officially registered travel agency.

Travel agency Blue River.

Our goal is to provide quality services for group and individual travellers.

Please use our service Managers: Ms. Ivanova Natalia.  Ms. Svetlova Maria.

The nearest possible flight is - January 17, 2008.From St. Petersburg Pulkovo Inter Airport.

Price: foreign passport, visa, tax, consulate fee, ticket Eco.class.USD 1290.00+  

This reservation will be automatically cancelled if the order is not purchased until 

January 16, 2008.

This information (and yes, I’m also aware that the dates don’t tally) came with the following communication from the Russian lovely.

“Hey my love, I have got all the info and resend to you, you see I am after  visit to consulate and agency and I am so happy to say that we will meet in a few days!!!!

I am really lucky girl to meet you. Honey the thing is that I booked nearest possible flight.  I need only your help.  There is only a small problem but I am sure we will be able to solve. I wanted to ask you to help me to pay for tickets but they tell that I can't use your help or ask you about sending me tickets because I have permission to use the help of agency only because they do all travel things and it is their business to arrange all travel things for my journey.  It is the law and it is not possible to get work visa without help of agency, too strong laws.

I was sure that my mom would help me because she promised but now she sent letter that it is possible only in a few months or so because of family problems and she can't send transfer now. I was in the bank to try to ask them about loan but they tell I have to have something to stay them and I have nothing to stay because I have only a few dress and things, some perfume and it is all I have, and small gift for you from

Russia with love. And I think it is not great problem for you to help me. I even think that maybe it will give you the pleasure to help me because you are my knight, right? After all payments here and travel by plane I have about 300$ my own money and

I need about 990$ from your side, because I have to pay for ticket and a few things yet, and I have to pay in advance about 1290$ and if the tickets will cost less i will get some money back when we meet.  I will return this sum and some extra money because to send transfer costs money too. I have to be sure that I will be able to book it or I will lose all the money I gave them in advance. I'm not going to ask one more time for your help, you see I am in hard situation. I will be waiting for your answer.

I know it sounds like I am poor outsider but you see I have not time or somebody to ask about help, you know my mom gave me all that we with mom could collect for my travel. I hate to ask but now I don't have any other choice. You saw all my body and I believe you I have done almost all here and now I need some help from you, please help me to leave St. Petersburg and it is all I ask now and you know I am full of the love to share with you.

Kiss you, counting days and minutes before our meeting. You know it is only money, and I think that it is not too hard for you to help me ,you see I have such chance only once in my life. I know you are kind man and I do hope you will be able to help me. I promise I will return all the money .and I will earn money because I am ready to work as hard as possible!

Million Kisses, Your poor Aleksandra.

You know my rent address here is  Russia, St. Petersburg, zip 196084, Zastavskaya street 13 flat 44. Remember that my full name is  Vasina -(last name) . Aleksandra - (first name) it is right writing in English, and you should put it on western union list and you can choice any bank in St. Petersburg, they tell it is international service and I can get money in any bank of St. Petersburg.  They tell I can get only western union transfer because I have not any bank accounts in St. Petersburg and I have only passport and it is enough to get it!

P.S. I am not sure I should tell this but I want to let you know that if you don't like me I will not bother you and it is only your choice to spend time with me I know you may be too busy, and in any case I will return money back .you know I will have rent room, job and I want to say that you don't worry that I want to use you just for my goals. And I am sure that when we meet we will not regret about it, promise, and I hate people who imagined so many silly rules and laws. And I have only small suitcase with me. and I dream about our first meeting, our first night  and I have some sexy night dress with me! And I think that now everything depends on you my hope and I will check my mail all day and all night because i can't sleep if I am not sure that everything is all right and you can help, please dear don't leave me alone i have done so much and I am almost near you. And I can stay more than six months, I can stay longer it is possible if we fall in love and going to marry.  But I think we need time to learn each other and as soon as I got transfer, they tell in the bank you should send me transfer number and I will be able to get transfer then, I will send exact schedule and number of the flight and terminal number and time of my arriving to your airport.”

 

Phew!  So there you have it- poor little girl just needing me to transfer 990 US dollars to her.  How gullible must these people think we are?  Do they really think we’d fall for such claptrap?  Do they honestly suppose people would actually send cash in the hope of having their wicked way with some attractive Russian lovely?

 

Not a chance in hell!

 

Still, she did send me a few more smashing photographs!

 

The cheque’s in the post…

 

‘Til next time folks…

 

Hello there, Whistlerettes, and thank you very much for joining me once more here on the old worldwide web.  And I’m going to go as little bit political on you again, this week, but it is something that I do feel quite strongly about.

 

The week before last (or sometime thereabouts), an item on the news caught my eye.  Apparently, the government are planning to withhold fiscal benefits from drug addicts who fail to keep up with their rehabilitation schemes.  Home Secretary Jacqui Smith said the move is part of a 10-year strategy to help tackle drug-related crime and social problems.

Critics have already dismissed the plans as a "regurgitation of past mistakes".

"We will expect people, as a minimum, to come and have an appointment with a specialist treatment adviser," she said.  Into a microphone.  "It's not unreasonable for somebody who is on benefits to be expected to talk to people about how they can actually get into treatment, get off those drugs and get back into work again."

Unbelievably, almost 50,000 people receiving income support, incapacity benefit or jobseekers' allowance cite drug abuse as the main reason why they are unable to work.

But will losing benefits really act as a deterrent?

 

The argument against this is addicts are just that- addicted and totally dependent on whatever narcotic they decide to smoke, snort or stick into a vein.  And withholding money will mean they can’t pay their suppliers.  So what will they do?  It’s more than likely that we’ll see crime levels in this country increase as these people just go ‘out on the rob’ in order to raise capital so that they can afford to feed their habits.

 

Of course, the argument for the cessation of benefits from people who have been proven to be into prohibited drugs is a little more obvious (well, it is to me anyway!)  If people who are out of work due to drug use are getting benefits (that’s OUR money, folks) and they're using that money to finance that addiction, then surely we’re just going round in circles.  It’s catch twenty-two.  Why should the government/tax-payer help finance their addiction in the first place? We are only financing crime if we continue to do so. And in effect, we are not helping them resolve their drug addiction problem.

 

I have a great idea:  if someone is unemployed and claiming benefits because they are addicted to drugs, why not remove benefits and replace them with food vouchers and relevant payment tickets for fuel, rent and household needs.  “Ah,” I hear you cry.  “Surely they’ll just sell them for cash so they can by drugs again.”

 

“Oh yeah,” comes my response.

 

Hmmm.  A tough one.  What about if we ensures that these vouchers or tokens would be of no value to anyone other than the holder of the National Insurance number that the token belongs to? 

 

I know, I know, it’s getting a little complex this entire argument.  I’ll soon be saying ID cards are a good idea to help with situations such as this, and regular readers will be more than aware of what I think of THAT particular idea.  But something must be done.  People like this are an incredible drain on society, more so than we probably realise.  So something must be done in order to control this in some way.

 

As far as I can tell, the government have again come up with half a fantastic idea.  It is just the rest of it that needs to be sorted out.  And unless the rest of it is sorted, then we’ll just be stuck in the same situation that we find ourselves in right now.

 

The real problem is that, in the vast majority off situations, the cutting of benefits will do no good whatsoever, it will only increase crime.  My argument to that is, surely if we’re continuing to give benefits to drug addicts who are using such funds to feed their habit, then surely we are, in a sense, funding crime? 

 

Yet having said that- where do you think they'll get the money if they don't have benefits?   They will turn to crime.

 

That government’s plan for these people is that they will continue to receive fiscal benefits if they are actively undergoing rehabilitation.  But a quick search on the internet can produce some interesting finds.  For instance, I discovered that there are many drug addicts who don’t WANT to be drug addicts and are actively trying to get into some kind of rehabilitation.  However, in many cases there are just not enough available places. I'm intrigued as to how they expect to find rehab places for every drug user on benefits and also where they're finding the staff to assess them?

 

Drug users need to hit their rock bottom before they are offered places on rehab courses, which is vastly different to what the majority of us would imagine it to be. Many drug users already live without benefits, without homes, without families. Cutting benefits is not an incentive, it's a further reason for drug users to feel stigmatised and withdraw further from society. In order to help drug users we need to encourage them to access services. I know for a fact that there are many areas without any rehab facilities, what happens to those people on benefits in those areas? Are they exempt due to lack of facilities? Or are they penalised simply because the government or NHS hasn't seen fit to provide them with any support?

 

My cynicism over the Labour government in this country leads me to think that they know exactly that this would provoke debate- that’s why they haven’t come up with a foolproof idea.  Could it be that the whole thing is just to make it look like they're doing something because everyone sees drug users as the scourge of society?  They appear to be forgetting about the huge numbers of drug users who are not involved in crime, do not claim benefits and in fact on surface level appear to function well in society.  Will they be pushed further down rehab lists in order to accommodate those urgently required to be weaned off in order to stop claiming money?

 

And why is it always the most vulnerable in society that are targeted by this shower? What about the millions of people out there claiming benefits that they are not entitled to when they could easily work.  It is thieves (and yes, they are taking money they are not entitled to, so thieves is an appropriate word here) like this that we should be targeting and cracking down on.  These people truly are the scourge of society.  But no, the government is picking on the drug-user this time.  I wonder if I’ll be next to feel their wrath for a vice of mine.  I like a drink- I believe that’s going to be taxed to high heaven in case I become alcoholic.  Oh thank you Mr Brown- you’re doing all this for me!

 

There’s no ulterior motive is there, Mr Brown?  It’s not just another excuse to tax us further is it, vaguely dressed up as though you’re doing it for the good of the nation’s health?  What a thoughtful, caring government we have in this country. 

 

Anyway, I digress.  There is an assumption that being weaned off drugs will solve all the problems.  It won't.  We need to tackle the issues that led to the drug use in the first place otherwise rehab is pointless, the user needs to be committed and receive on-going support and not forgetting that there are many genuine drug users out there with severe mental health problems who will never be able to work, where do they fit in to this great idea of rehabilitation?

 

The only solution is to nip this in the bud.  Make sure that ALL people who are dealing in drugs (selling them) are stopped!  Then the addicts will have nothing to spend their benefits on.

 

Don’t pick on the poor, hopeless loser who detests himself more and more with every hit he relies on.  Get the scum who are peddling this shit off the streets, and let’s start tidying this country up properly!

 

How about that, Mr Brown?  Or would that be a huge drain on resources?  Why not increase the tax on alcohol to help?

 

Damn…

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Well, it appears that sooner or later (sooner according to the government, later according to the Conservative Party) the people of Britain are going to lose their last bastion of privacy and have these awful Identification Cards foisted upon us.

 

We are told that this is for the great and good of the nation.  We’re told that it will immediately eliminate the threat of terror attacks against us, reduce illegal immigration, prevent crime, and most probably cure AIDS and cancer as well.  Blair’s legacy continues to leave us aghast.

 

I am totally against these blasted ID cards.  I’ve made no secret of that in the past and have no difficulty in re-emphasising my opinion of them.  These are merely government-devised methods of labelling, controlling and monitoring the population.  Nothing more.  Big Brother is indeed watching us.

 

I’d like to, if I may, ask all readers (but particularly British readers for obvious reasons) of this site a simple question.  Answers on a postcard, please: do you trust the government? Got an answer?  Good.  Now keep it in your head.

 

Next question: Do you trust the next government? How about the one after that?

 

Of course you can’t answer the last two because you don’t know who will be in power. But if I asked you if you agreed with identity cards then, especially if you answered yes to my first question, you might well be inclined to state your support for the scheme.  If you trust the government, then surely you can trust their reasons for wanting to introduce such a system of identity, yes?

 

Of course the point that I am trying to make is, the motivations and ideas of one particulr type of government may differ greatly from that of the next. Whether you believe that the current government’s motives for bringing in an ID card scheme are genuine and in the best interests of society (and you won’t be surprised that I don’t necessarily believe that is the case) you also have to be certain that their successors throughout the rest of time will follow the same ethical path.  Which as none of us has a working crystal ball, we can’t be.

 

The government has suggested to the electorate that ID cards would prevent the flow of illegal immigrants and prevent illegal working; help prevent terrorism, reduce fraud and the abuse of public services and help tackle identity theft.

 

The one that screams out from that list in today’s society is the prevention of terrorism.  I’m not cynical enough to suggest that this government is using the terror attacks against the US, or more relevently, the UK, as a reason, nay excuse, to promote such a scheme, but I am loathe to totally deny they would do such a thing.  As most people are well aware, three of the four 7/7 bombers were born in Yorkshire, not twenty miles from where I was born and brought up.  Had the ID scheme been in place, they would have had perfectly valid cards. Indeed, civil liberties campaigners Liberty states that ID cards have had not stopped attacks in other countries- look at the Madrid bombings, for instance.  Identity cards have been in place there for years and years, yet a terror attack was still put into operation.  Surely evidence like this disproves the government’s theory.

 

ID cards, we are told, would apparently make it harder for both terrorists and organised crime rings to use false and multiple identities, but that makes some major assumptions.  One of which is another of the major problems with ID cards; namely that, when you become reliant on identity cards, you stop going through the more traditional ways of ascertaining somebody’s identity. An ID card, be it fake or real, becomes all you need to get through security systems that have relied on alertness in the past. You are essentially putting your security in the hands of the makers of the cards – if they can be faked or duplicated then you are simply opening up the country to greater risks.

 

And, let’s face it, the past few months have hardly done the government any favours in terms of keeping private data private – with MoD computers going missing and data discs being lost in the post – but it is this very data that could be used by the very crime syndicates and terrorists that ID cards are apparently preventing from getting the paperwork (or even the card) that allows them to attain a card.

 

In fact, to truly use this kind of scheme to have any major impact on terrorism and crime, the government would seemingly have to step up its surveillance to such a degree that personal liberty would be threatened. If you take away enough of our civil liberties you might well cut the crime statistics, I just don’t want to be in a country that resembles Air Strip One in George Orwell’s dystopian novel 1984.

 

There’s a statement that so often crops up in discussions about civil liberty and ID cards; ‘If you do nothing wrong when why be worried about the increase in security/ surveillance/ identity cards?’.

 

Primarily, as I suggested at the start of this article, you have to ask people if they have absolute faith in the motives of present and future governments. In a utopian society you could make a very good case for this argument, but the fact is that we do not know that the best interests of the people (and what are they?) are truly represented by those in power – regardless of political motivation.  Is it beyond the realms of possibility that a extreme-right-wing party may get into power in the future?

 

The second concern is that you are relying on the status quo of criminality and right and wrong to remain – but what if something you intrinsically feel is right is outlawed? Would you feel so secure in a world of surveillance if you were considered a criminal or terrorist because of your beliefs or religion? What if opposition to the ruling party became a crime?

 

As it stands, would the arrival of an ID card system worsen the persecution of ethnic minorities, as the police are potentially given powers of stop and search to make sure that that people have the correct papers? The parallel with Communist Russia and party membership cards should not be ignored.

 

The ownership of this information is another major problem. The fact that the government does not sell information to the highest bidder at the present time (as far as we know) does not mean that this will always be the case, and we have already discussed the track record of keeping data secure. If biometric and medical information is something that the government requires to make its scheme a success then how do we know this information will be safe? 

 

Do you really want all of your personal information in the public domain? Would your employer keep you on if they found out that you had suffered from a disease earlier in life that could affect your longevity? When you start taking privacy away from the individual you quickly run into a whole new set of ethical questions and worries.

 

It seems to me that there has been very little in the way of convincing argument for ID cards, but that it takes only the briefest of considerations to uncover a plethora of questions and concerns that have not been addressed.

 

I don’t just think ID cards are just a concern but one of the most sinister and potentially dangerous schemes we have ever encountered. If such a concept can be forced through by this government or any other then I think it will go a long way to proving that our very democracy is built on quicksand.

 

‘Til next time, folks…

Hello there, my fine young army of intelligent readers.  I hope this latest posting finds you all in fine fettle and raring to go.  And it’s another Great Email Inbox Clearout.  Part seven this time.  Woo-hoo!   And yeah, before you all start whinging, I know it’s just a filler because I can’t think of anything else to write about, but I haven’t posted one of these damn things for almost twelve months, so I think I deserve to crack one off now (if you’ll pardon the expression).

 

For those of you who may be relatively new to the site, let me give you a brief run-down of exactly what the Great Email Inbox Clearout is.  Well, you know all those tired jokes that you get sent all the time from friends and colleagues?  You know the ones, they’re only very slightly amusing and raise within you the very weakest of smiles.  But you don’t delete them for some reason.  Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re under the impression that one day you’re going to go back, browse through all these jokes and find them absolutely hilarious.  But of course, you never do.  In fact, most of them are even more pathetic the second time round.  Yet still they clog up our inboxes, eating away at our memory and slowing our systems right down.  So what do I do?  I post them on here.  Ha!  That way, they’re off my hard drive and stored at WWW HQ, that magical place in the sky where the internet is manufactured and maintained.

 

So let’s get on with it shall we…

 

***

 

It was a hot day in Minnesota. Helga hung the wash out to dry, put a roast in the oven, then went downstairs to pick up some dry cleaning.

"Gootness, it's hot," she mused to herself as she walked down Main street.

She passed by a tavern and thought, "Vy nodt?" so she walked in and took a seat at the bar. The bartender came up and asked her what she would like to drink.

"Ya know," Helga said, "it is so hot I tink I'll have myself zee cold beer."

The bartender asked, "Anheuser Busch?"

Helga blushed and replied, "Vell fine, tanks, und how's yer pecker?"

 

***

 

An American soldier, serving in World War II, had just returned from several weeks of intense action on the German front lines. He had finally been granted R&R and was on a train bound for London. The train was very crowded, so the soldier walked the length of the train, looking for an empty seat.

The only unoccupied seat was directly adjacent to a well dressed middle aged lady and was being used by her little dog. The war weary soldier asked, "Please, ma'am, may I sit in that seat?"

The English woman looked down her nose at the soldier, sniffed and said, "You Americans. You are such a rude class of people. Can't you see my Little Fifi is using that seat?"

The soldier walked away, determined to find a place to rest, but after another" trip down to the end of the train, found himself again facing the woman with the dog.

Again he asked, "Please, lady. May I sit there? I'm very tired."

The English woman wrinkled her nose and snorted, "You Americans! Not only are you rude, you are also arrogant. Imagine!"

The soldier didn't say anything else; he leaned over, picked up the little dog, tossed it out the window of the train and sat down in the empty seat.

The woman shrieked and railed, and demanded that someone defend her and chastise the soldier.

An English gentleman sitting across the aisle spoke up, "You know, sir, you Americans do seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You eat holding the fork in the wrong hand. You drive your autos on the wrong side of the road.

"And now, Sir, you've thrown the wrong bitch out the window."

 

***

 

Sitting at a counter in a local diner, a young woman was mortified when two immigrants sitting beside her began talking.

"Emma comma first," said one man, "then I comma, then the two asses they comma together, then I comma again, then the two asses more comma, then I comma again and pee-pee, then I comma for the last time."

Collaring the waitress as she passed, the young woman asked, "How can you possibly allow such vile men to eat in this establishment?"

"Vile?" barked the waitress. "Honey, what's vile about spelling Mississippi?"

 

***

A Hippie was riding on the bus, and was sitting beside a Nun. He said to the Nun, "I want to make love to you!"

The Nun replied to the Hippie, "I am a Nun, I can not have sex."

Shortly afterwards the Nun got off at her stop. The Bus Driver calls the Hippie up to the front of the bus and says, "I know how you can make love to that Nun..."

The Hippie asks, "How?"

"Well," said the driver, "Every Tuesday at midnight the Nun goes to the cemetery and prays. If you dressed up in robes and had some glowing stuff on your face you could pretend you were God and demand sex from her."

"Good idea," the Hippie said.

So on the next Tuesday night he gets dressed up in some robes, puts some stuff on his face to make it glow and goes to the cemetery to wait.

Sure enough the Nun showed up just before midnight, kneeled down and started praying to God. The Hippie steps out in front of the Nun, face glowing, robes moving in the breeze and said, "I'll answer your prayers Sister, but first you have to make love to me."

The Nun is shocked to see God in front of her. She said, "OK, but it must be anal sex as I have to keep my virginity."

"Fine," said the Hippie.

The Nun then kneels down, pulls up her dress and the Hippie does his thing.

When he is done he stands up, whips off his robes and yells, "HA! HA! I am the Hippie!"

Whereas the Nun stands up, whips off her clothes and said, "HA! HA! I am the Bus Driver!"

 

***

 

There was a city boy who had just moved into the country. He went walking around to check out his surroundings and found a farmer selling chickens. The city boy went over to the farmer to see how much he was selling them for.

The farmer asked him if he wanted a male or a female. The city boy asked for both. So the farmer said, "Here you go, one cock and one pull-it."

The city boy confused asked him what he meant.

The farmer said, "A cock is a male chicken and a pull-it is a female chicken."

The city boy said, "Oh," and went on his way with two chickens one under each arm.

A bit further down the road he saw a donkey for sale. He went to the man who was selling it to find out how much it was.

The man said, "The ass is 15 dollars."

The city boy replied, "No, I want the donkey out side in your yard."

The man just said, "That's an ass."

The city boy, new to these terms, just said, "Oh." and bought the