Bedside manner me a**e!

In Hospital and the Nurse asks
‘Is that your surname?’
‘No’, says I. ‘It’s half my first name.’
‘So you are actually called that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you are ACTUALLY called that?’ as she bangs her pen against my name on the page for extra effect.
‘Yes’.
‘And it’s a real name?’
‘Yes’.
‘And you spelt it correctly?’
‘Yes. I spelt my own name correctly.’
‘And how long have you been using that name?’
’46 years.’
‘Why 46 years?’
‘It was the name given to me at my Christening.’
‘Hmmmmmm’, goes the nurse as she turns to leave abruptly.
____

Later, the same nurse comes over to me, like a scene from ‘Hello, Hello’ (“Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once…”). Leaning in as close as possible, she whispers to me ‘I know someone who’s Church of Ireland or Church of England or whatever you are.’ ‘Anglican’ replies I. ‘That too’, says she as she turns on her heel to leave the room.

The ‘Special Ones’ walk among us…

And today’s contenders for the Darwin Awards are…

The *seven* people who walked behind my car while I was reversing…

and

The woman who hesitated and yet still walked into the parking space just at the *exact* minute I was driving in…

Special Recognition Award goes to the Little Boy Racer who decided to ignore the fact my car was stopped, with my hazard lights flashing brightly, and accelerated to overtake me, narrowly avoiding ploughing into the car stalled lengthways across the road…

Stop that NOW!!!

Munck

 

Painstakingly edited an overly – and dare I say, badly – punctuated document for a client. Finally, the endurance test was over and I was very happy with the result.

Above is my reaction when I handed it over and heard the words “Ah, let’s throw in a few more commas”. And with that comment, the pen was lifted and commas inserted willy-nilly!

 

*****

Things I don’t understand about commuters…

Eejits who sit on outer seats serving no obvious purpose than to annoy eejits like me trying to scrape by them into the inner seat…

Bigger eejjts who wait for their (later) train at the edge of the platform and, refusing to budge, block people desperately trying to get onto their train in rush hour…

Even bigger eejits who wait for their (later) train at the edge of the platform and who begrudgingly move with such silent indignation that you nearly end up nudged over that same platform – and down through the gap…

 

Define “classy”…?

“You heard Jersey was safe, did ya? Last time I was over there, a car drove up. Guys jumped out and beat the shit out of yer man standing near me on the street. I mean, I looked at him and thought, ‘Well, someone hadn’t paid his bills, has he?’ And then yer man here took me to a tattoo parlour. FFS – should have seen the state of the place. And then the tattoo artist arrived and the f-ing cut of her – an f-ing wheelie bin with feet and a neck. A thick neck. So I turned to yer man, so I did, and said “Where’d ya fecking bring me? An episode of ‘Shameless'”? Yeah, Jersey is a classy place but when it goes down, Jersey goes waaaayyyyy down!”