Daily Archives: March 20, 2015

Sultanas and Raisins

I like women. I’m in love with one. I find women endlessly fascinating but I have never understood them and I probably never will. The way their logic works totally confounds me. The way they can remember something you did or didn’t do or something you did or didn’t say eons in the past will always be my downfall and I suspect that this applies to men all over the world and possibly all over the Universe. After all men always say things they shouldn’t:

“Does my bum look big in this?”

“Er. Now you mention it, yes it does.”

“Are you saying I’ve got a big arse you bastard?” And so on.does_my_um_look_big

Or “You haven’t told me you love me for 4 days, 16 hours, 12 minutes and 38 seconds. Don’t you love me anymore?” Or “16 years ago you said you would paint the fence. Have you?” You all know what I mean.

A while ago, I was driving to work one night when PIL sent me a text. “Where is the big box of kitchen matches?” Even though it was a short text it was very apparent she had the hump about something. I replied, “They’re in the kitchen cupboard where you keep the sultanas.” “No they’re not” came back almost immediately. “That’s the last place I saw them. Are you sure?” “Yes I am. Don’t worry yourself, I’ll go and get another box tomorrow.” Jeeeez, she was ticked off about something.TA09 Kitchen matches-M1

All the time I was at work that evening I thought about this. I was convinced I was right and I started to feel quite pleased with myself. So when I got home in the early hours I checked the cupboard where the sultanas were kept and lo and behold, right at the front was the big box of kitchen matches. Yes! Result. I checked it wasn’t a new box just in case. It wasn’t.

The next morning the first thing I did when I got up was say to PIL, “Come with me.” PIL followed me out to the kitchen and with a flourish and a fanfare from the trumpeters I just happened to have in my pocket, I flung open the cupboard door and said, “Tadaa! Matches. Sultana cupboard.”She glanced at the cupboard, fixed me with a steely gaze that started to turn me into a pillar of stone and said,”They’re raisins. The sultanas are in that other cupboard.” Then she flounced out again leaving me standing there with my chin on the floor and totally speechless.med09L

Like I’ve said before, women are an alien species and they will always have an answer to everything. Don’t even think about getting into an argument with them because you will never win. You have been warned.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.auto


Friends 2

So why do my mates and colleagues have nick names? Mainly it’s because we are a group of infantile adults! Plus, to a degree, it allows us to take the mick. For instance, another one of my friends was in the Royal Navy so we call him “Stains”. I’m sure you can work it out especially if you remember Captain Pugwash.

“Banzai”, as I’ve mentioned before, is not Japanese. In fact, he is a young Pakistani guy. His nick name arises from his self-confessed habit of at least twice a day spending anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour sitting on the toilet.young adult man sitting on toilet

How anyone can spend so much time sitting on the khazi squeezing their head is completely beyond me. However, Banzai does and he seems to be quite pleased with himself. Although we have no direct evidence of it, we reckon that by spending that amount of time sitting on the bog he must have an arsehole like a Japanese flag so rather than say, “Oi. Bumhole like a Japanese flag.”, we decided to call him Banzai.

Bumhead Banzai

Bumhead Banzai

As I said at the beginning – a bunch of puerile adolescents.

Now Banzai does like to chat. If asked a question, he likes to give a full explanation that may not have anything to do with the subject. Certainly, given the chance he will go back to the nano second after the Big Bang when everything started to exist to ensure his story is complete in every respect. I once asked him how many people were in a building. Twenty five minutes later, I still didn’t know and I’m sure that at some stage during his lengthy discourse I nodded off. I was certainly a damned sight older when I eventually discovered the answer was “Five”. Or was it seven? Personally, I put his verbal diarrhoea down to the amount of time he spends alone in the toilet.

I hope you weren’t eating while reading this post. My apologies if I’ve put you off your scoff.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.auto