What is it about BBC message boards that make people want to return to them, day after day. Even boards that do not cover subjects of interest have a particular allure.
Close knit communities develop around some Boards; strangers post there at their peril. It’s the equivalent of the deathly silence that envelopes a bar when a stranger walks in. Yet back they go to see what the conversation is about. No, actually that isn’t correct. In most cases there isn’t a conversation. Most of the posters are in transmit mode with the received function inhibited. There is no exchange of views, its individuals trying to prove how clever they are, or bitter and twisted middle aged men trying to get rid of their angst. Then there are the bored housewives seeking attention, much safer seeking solace on the internet than being screwed by the milkman - not that there are many milkmen left.
That’s another thing supermarkets can be blamed for. Selling milk at such a low price not only drives farmers to the point of bankruptcy, but has put hundreds of dairies out of business. There must be thousands of British housewives sexually frustrated as the result of the closure of dairies - no milkmen to flirt with of the front door step. So in the absence of milkmen housewives turn to the internet for their titillation, cheeky conversation.
Then there are the board secretaries in their office, looking blankly at their computer screen, feeling very adventurous if they post on a board. With luck they can strike-up a dialogue with a lonely gay window dresser, all perfectly innocent - just “girl” talk.
Specialist Boards, particularly Religious or New Age - attract the self appointed Gurus, who pontificate to their imagined devotees. The only entertainment provided by these Boards occurs when there is a clash of Gurus. Then religious piety is thrown out of the window, replaced by venomous abuse.
How the human race has changed, from hunter gatherers working collectively as a tribe, to lonely individuals with only a computer keyboard for company.
Showing posts with label supermarkets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label supermarkets. Show all posts
Friday, 2 February 2007
Wednesday, 10 January 2007
Entertaining bus journey
Yesterday morning, on the way back from the supermarket, at a bus-stop and a very attractive well dressed young black woman got on. She showed her bus pass to the driver and explained that it had run out and she was on the way to renew it. Behind her, in the queue trying to get on the bus, were two rotund women, I guess they were about 70 years old. It was obvious as soon as they spoke they were of Jamaican origin.
They were soon in full flow:
“Eh Girl, see she, dam fool think she get on bus with no pass.”
“Eh, you hear she, she say she pass run out on Sunday, she dam stupid ,today Tuesday.”
“Eh, come driver me and my friend wants go home, man this shopping heavy”.
“Dam stupid girl”.
Under the barrage, the young woman made a sheepish retreat off the bus.
For the next five minutes I heard outbursts from the back of the bus.
“Eh, Girl you see her coat, these young girls spend all money on cloths, and think driver give them free ride, dam stupid”.
They only stopped talking about her when the bus got caught in a traffic jam.
“Eh Girl, me wants to get home, where all dis traffic come from?”
“Me not know”.
After nearly half an hour of stop start progress, the cause of the traffic jam came into view. Four yards before traffic lights at a very busy road junction a car stood three feet out from the pavement. So instead of two traffic lanes at the lights there was only one.
“Eh Girl, dam stupid place to park car”.
“No Girl, car must have broke down.”
Next thing an old man came doddering and farting along the pavement. He tried to open the door of the car but it was locked. Next thing he started knocking the window, to wake his wife to open the door. The grumpy old fart had parked in the middle of the road while he had gone to the Post Office. My efforts as a Grumpy Old Fart to annoy people in supermarkets shrinks into insignificance compared to his actions.
Isn’t it nice to think, that even though you are in your twilight years, you can still bring traffic in a large city to a crawl.
They were soon in full flow:
“Eh Girl, see she, dam fool think she get on bus with no pass.”
“Eh, you hear she, she say she pass run out on Sunday, she dam stupid ,today Tuesday.”
“Eh, come driver me and my friend wants go home, man this shopping heavy”.
“Dam stupid girl”.
Under the barrage, the young woman made a sheepish retreat off the bus.
For the next five minutes I heard outbursts from the back of the bus.
“Eh, Girl you see her coat, these young girls spend all money on cloths, and think driver give them free ride, dam stupid”.
They only stopped talking about her when the bus got caught in a traffic jam.
“Eh Girl, me wants to get home, where all dis traffic come from?”
“Me not know”.
After nearly half an hour of stop start progress, the cause of the traffic jam came into view. Four yards before traffic lights at a very busy road junction a car stood three feet out from the pavement. So instead of two traffic lanes at the lights there was only one.
“Eh Girl, dam stupid place to park car”.
“No Girl, car must have broke down.”
Next thing an old man came doddering and farting along the pavement. He tried to open the door of the car but it was locked. Next thing he started knocking the window, to wake his wife to open the door. The grumpy old fart had parked in the middle of the road while he had gone to the Post Office. My efforts as a Grumpy Old Fart to annoy people in supermarkets shrinks into insignificance compared to his actions.
Isn’t it nice to think, that even though you are in your twilight years, you can still bring traffic in a large city to a crawl.
Tuesday, 19 December 2006
Supermarket Master Plan
I can’t wait for Saturday, discovered a new ploy to disrupt the young’ns shopping in the super market.
Yesterday I was unintentionally held up at the checkout. The bar code on the chicken was damaged so the young man at the checkout couldn’t scan it; also part of the number code was missing. Took ages for a staff member to get a replacement.
That gave me an idea I thought I would try:
Get a trolley full of goods - small individual items, so it will take longer to swipe.
I would damage the bar and number code of one item so it cannot be swiped.
I would then put on my oh-dear-let-me-help-you-face, “it will be quicker if I go and get a replacement, than wait for an assistant to get one”.
I would then leave the store. Leaving behind a queue waiting for my return.
My first idea was for the item to be the last one. But on second thoughts it should be about half way. That way when they realize I had disappeared; it would take additional time to clear the items left on the belt.
The downside of the plan is. Having left the store, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of witnessing the wrathful faces of the people in the queue.
Of course I could return, look directly into the face of all in the queue, giving them my oh-silly-me-smile. I could then take my time putting each item into the bags. Then the piece de resistance would be, after several minutes searching each pocket, give a broad oh-silly-me-smile, “would you believe it, I’ve left my wallet at home”. Broad smile to all the queue and leave.
The last option is a good plan but unfortunately it’s against my religious principles - totally against the beliefs of a devout Nonconformist Fundamentalist Coward - I’m afraid I would run the risk of being lynched.
While it’s nice to upset the young‘ns shopping it’s not worth sacrificing my life.
I’m really getting worried about the way my mind is working.
Some times I think I’m getting bitter and twisted - surely not?
Yesterday I was unintentionally held up at the checkout. The bar code on the chicken was damaged so the young man at the checkout couldn’t scan it; also part of the number code was missing. Took ages for a staff member to get a replacement.
That gave me an idea I thought I would try:
Get a trolley full of goods - small individual items, so it will take longer to swipe.
I would damage the bar and number code of one item so it cannot be swiped.
I would then put on my oh-dear-let-me-help-you-face, “it will be quicker if I go and get a replacement, than wait for an assistant to get one”.
I would then leave the store. Leaving behind a queue waiting for my return.
My first idea was for the item to be the last one. But on second thoughts it should be about half way. That way when they realize I had disappeared; it would take additional time to clear the items left on the belt.
The downside of the plan is. Having left the store, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of witnessing the wrathful faces of the people in the queue.
Of course I could return, look directly into the face of all in the queue, giving them my oh-silly-me-smile. I could then take my time putting each item into the bags. Then the piece de resistance would be, after several minutes searching each pocket, give a broad oh-silly-me-smile, “would you believe it, I’ve left my wallet at home”. Broad smile to all the queue and leave.
The last option is a good plan but unfortunately it’s against my religious principles - totally against the beliefs of a devout Nonconformist Fundamentalist Coward - I’m afraid I would run the risk of being lynched.
While it’s nice to upset the young‘ns shopping it’s not worth sacrificing my life.
I’m really getting worried about the way my mind is working.
Some times I think I’m getting bitter and twisted - surely not?
Saturday, 16 December 2006
Super market Pranks
Few days ago went with the wife to the Doctor’s Surgery. She had a 10 o’clock appointment for a flu jab. I don’t qualify for one (deemed to be expendable - kill the old men off first).
She had to wait until past 11 o’clock. We were sharing the section of the Waiting Room set aside for the Emergency Clinic. (If you haven’t got an appointment, you wait there for hours to see a Doctor). Most of the people there should have been in bed.
Try phoning up to get a Doctor to make a home visit. You have to have a certificate signed by 10 Doctors certifying you are too ill to attend the surgery, before a Doctor agrees to make a home visit.
People coughing and wheezing all over the place. One poor woman lying across two chairs.
The result - last night started coughing, sweating, shivering - I got the BL**DY flu!!!!
What’s worse it’s Saturday. I had planned to make a visit today to at least three supermarkets.
Walk around with my empty trolley, block the aisle. Ask young mothers (especially ones with unruly kids) to hand down items from the top shelf, take one look at the item, hand them back and walk away. Never say sorry or give an explanation. Even the most placid get annoyed by that. (I hear them “muter muter ignorant old man”).
Buy only one item in each store, (I do my weekly shop on Tuesday morning, - hardly any parents with kids or old people around - I‘m not stupid).
Where was I? Buy one item in each and pay by cheque. You can’t imagine the queue you can build-up behind you when you pay by cheque. Few minutes searching every pocket for the cheque book. With luck the Check-out Attendant hasn’t a pen - always good for another couple of minutes. Then look for your glasses. All the time you must turn around and look at the ever increasing queue and smile. That really gets them really really annoyed when you smile.
On a good day, I recon I can (unknowing to them) recruit 4 youngones per queue to the “Grumpy Training Scheme”.
It gives a great sense of satisfaction when you know you have recruited the next generation of Grumpy Old Farts. You were there at the start of a lifetime of complaining and general indignation
But here I am suck indoors with a thermometer stuck up my bum!! One good fart and I could shoot the wife right between the eyes. It’s her fault in the first place that I got the flu. (Why is the thermometer stuck in my arse not in my mouth - my wife says that‘s the place you have to put it - she saw it done that way on a vet programme on TV).
She had to wait until past 11 o’clock. We were sharing the section of the Waiting Room set aside for the Emergency Clinic. (If you haven’t got an appointment, you wait there for hours to see a Doctor). Most of the people there should have been in bed.
Try phoning up to get a Doctor to make a home visit. You have to have a certificate signed by 10 Doctors certifying you are too ill to attend the surgery, before a Doctor agrees to make a home visit.
People coughing and wheezing all over the place. One poor woman lying across two chairs.
The result - last night started coughing, sweating, shivering - I got the BL**DY flu!!!!
What’s worse it’s Saturday. I had planned to make a visit today to at least three supermarkets.
Walk around with my empty trolley, block the aisle. Ask young mothers (especially ones with unruly kids) to hand down items from the top shelf, take one look at the item, hand them back and walk away. Never say sorry or give an explanation. Even the most placid get annoyed by that. (I hear them “muter muter ignorant old man”).
Buy only one item in each store, (I do my weekly shop on Tuesday morning, - hardly any parents with kids or old people around - I‘m not stupid).
Where was I? Buy one item in each and pay by cheque. You can’t imagine the queue you can build-up behind you when you pay by cheque. Few minutes searching every pocket for the cheque book. With luck the Check-out Attendant hasn’t a pen - always good for another couple of minutes. Then look for your glasses. All the time you must turn around and look at the ever increasing queue and smile. That really gets them really really annoyed when you smile.
On a good day, I recon I can (unknowing to them) recruit 4 youngones per queue to the “Grumpy Training Scheme”.
It gives a great sense of satisfaction when you know you have recruited the next generation of Grumpy Old Farts. You were there at the start of a lifetime of complaining and general indignation
But here I am suck indoors with a thermometer stuck up my bum!! One good fart and I could shoot the wife right between the eyes. It’s her fault in the first place that I got the flu. (Why is the thermometer stuck in my arse not in my mouth - my wife says that‘s the place you have to put it - she saw it done that way on a vet programme on TV).
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Supermarket shopping and Young People’s Annoying Behaviour
Just come back from shopping at the local supermarket.
While there I overheard a young woman complain about Old Age Pensioners doing their shopping on Saturdays. They should only shop midweek allowing young people to do their shopping on Saturday, without the annoyance of old people’s trolleys blocking the aisles.
Yes, pensioners should stop shopping in supermarkets on Saturday.
OK. Quid pro quo, in return young-ones :
Give up there seat on the bus to old people (though I guess the woman who was complaining only travels by 4x4)
Stop blocking pavements with their super-sized prams (though I guess the woman has a nanny)
Stop speaking at the top of their voices on their mobile phones on trains.
Stop using their i-pods on trains and buses (bum, bum, bum, bum, bum)
Pay cash at super-market check-outs, rather than hold up the queue, while they phone up their partner to reminder them of there PIN number.
Stop referring to their wives and husbands as “their partner”.
Start controlling their unruly children - including stopping them taking and eating sweats from super-market shelves.
I don’t know why the young-ones are so intolerant!! If they are like this now, boy oh boy, are they going to be grumpy old farts. I see this blog stretching on forever. Good on you. Grump now grump often.
While there I overheard a young woman complain about Old Age Pensioners doing their shopping on Saturdays. They should only shop midweek allowing young people to do their shopping on Saturday, without the annoyance of old people’s trolleys blocking the aisles.
Yes, pensioners should stop shopping in supermarkets on Saturday.
OK. Quid pro quo, in return young-ones :
Give up there seat on the bus to old people (though I guess the woman who was complaining only travels by 4x4)
Stop blocking pavements with their super-sized prams (though I guess the woman has a nanny)
Stop speaking at the top of their voices on their mobile phones on trains.
Stop using their i-pods on trains and buses (bum, bum, bum, bum, bum)
Pay cash at super-market check-outs, rather than hold up the queue, while they phone up their partner to reminder them of there PIN number.
Stop referring to their wives and husbands as “their partner”.
Start controlling their unruly children - including stopping them taking and eating sweats from super-market shelves.
I don’t know why the young-ones are so intolerant!! If they are like this now, boy oh boy, are they going to be grumpy old farts. I see this blog stretching on forever. Good on you. Grump now grump often.
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