Most of us will have an anecdote or two relating to work/relationships/hobbies/lifestyle etc Could be coincidence, funny, strange, but most of all slightly interesting (to us at least). In 1983 I was working in the Council Offices of Hebden Bridge when the phone rang and on answering it, an elderly male voice asked me, in a broad Yorkshire accent "What happens to the rubbish after the binmen collect it ?" "Well, it's taken to the refuse transfer station at Eastwood" "What happens to it then?" "It's taken to landfill at Wakefield - have you lost something?" "Aye, I've lost a tin" "Well, if you get to the transfer station in good time, you might meet the bin lorry dropping off it's load" "Nay, this were six weeks ago" "In that case, the only chance would be if the binmen noticed it and handed it in for some reason - do you want me to make enquiries ? I can do that but I'll need to have your name and address ?" "I'm not giving you my name and address - there was eight thousand pounds in that tin, which I kept in the barn, and I've just found out that my son put it out with the rubbish. If I give you my name and address, I know what'll happen - folk'll say "silly old bugger- it serves him right" Click, as he put the phone down on me.
A few years ago I took my youngest daughter to the hospital as she had come off her bike and we suspected her wrist may be broken. She was about 4 at the time and the doctor was asking all sorts of background information that my daughter was more than willing to supply. The doctor then asks 'Are you allergic to anything?' obviously meaning medicines etc to which my daughter replies 'yes, face paint'. Me and the doctor doubled up with laughter as my daughter looked on bewildered.
Spike Milligan once related a tale that when he went to Ireland, he asked the station porter where the exit was.... The porter said "I'll show you, follow me, I'll be right behind you"
Many years ago, my first "grown up" job was with the local Council sewage transport and treatment team. The daily routine was to visit the pumping stations to check everything was functioning. We covered a wide area in the borough taking in council estates, traditional older homes and as it was the late 60s early 70s, "posh" new housing developments. Driving through one of these new estates we were flagged down by this irate bloke, ranting about this awful sewage smell and as the head of the residents association, he wanted something done about it NOW ! My foreman stumped around for a while, finally pulling a cover up outside this blokes house. Took a long look down the hole before walking back to the van for a long pole with a hook on the end. he stuck the pole down the hole and hauled out this shit covered double bed sheet which was then thrust under the nose of the house owner and told in no uncertain terms what a twat he was. Still laugh about the look on that blokes face, absolutely priceless. Andy
My personal favourite: As a youngster, I was doing a Work Experience stint at a government office. A permanent job opportunity came up and I was urged to apply, as they liked me there (yeah, I know, right?). Problem came when, in the application form, I was asked whether I was a British subject/citizen. I didn't know the answer to this as I was born abroad. I thought I was British but I didn't want to lie on my application form. It was suggested that I ring the Home Office, give them my particulars and ask them to provide a "without prejudice" opinion. I rang the Home Office contact number - and got through to Dial-a-Disk. The Fun Boy Three were playing, the song was The Lunatics Are Taking Over The Asylum. I shit you not. It was at that point I started to believe there was something seriously wrong with reality. Nothing since then has provided me with any reassurance
Around 1990, I was working for ASDA and visiting their "flagship" store at West Bridgford on the outskirts of Nottingham. The store manager (a guy called Ron Hooper) had recently been given his new red Montego 2L ASDA company car, and in his office, I asked him what he thought of it? This is what he told me :- "Last week, I asked one of the warehouse lads to go and get five litres of yellow road lining paint so that he could paint double yellow lines on the access road outside my office" says Ron. "He asked me if he could take my Montego, as he hadn't driven in on that day, so didn't have transport, and I said "ok". "He returned an hour later, and said "Boss, I've got some bad news" "When I went outside, thinking he'd crashed my car" said Ron, "the warehouse lad opened the passenger door and five litres of yellow paint were swilling around the footwell, with the passenger seat, door card, dashboard, windows and roof lining soaked in yellow sludge - we were trowelling it out for two hours and the car's had to have a complete new interior - all because he put the tin of paint onto the passenger seat, then braked hard at traffic lights *###* ####***"
When I was an irresponsible youth I had a mini 1275GT fully spammed up including a Janspeed exhaust. One afternoon whilst driving about with my cousin the exhaust broke and started scraping on the ground, so we pulled up and had a look, it was so low to the ground that it was impossible to tie it up temporarily but did discover that if you put some weight on the tail pipe it would lift the whole lot nicely so we drove the three miles home with him standing on the exhaust and hanging on to the edge of the open sun roof. We have since grown up a bit but not much.
I have got a bit of a reputation as a ladies man in my local pub. All I can say is, they smell so much cleaner than the gents.
On a rock climbing weekend we managed to get lost in Donegal , we managed to find a wee village with an elderly gentleman sitting on a bench , pulled up in the van and asked where we were , his reply " aye your in the town square "
Yes I have unfortunately! "That was shit - you hardly got the bike in the air! - watch this I will show you how a proper rider does it!".When I was 17 and considered myself a budding motorcycle stunt legend we used to congregate at a severe humpback bridge called the "Shovel" Close to Uxbridge in middx and my mate had just done the bridge on a BSA Starfire 250cc - I was on my mates brothers Suzuki GT 250 Ram Air and took a good run up at it that was probably 25/30mph too quick? I couldn't see from bottom of hill that the traffic had backed up but I'm told I was proper airborne and looking in good shape right up until I landed on a Hillman Imp with two very surprised Nuns in it! Bike was totalled,Imp didn't fair much better( crushed the roof breaking rear and side windows) and I got a ride in meat wagon to Hillingdon hozzie - leg - tub n fib,wrist and collarbone.Nuns were really nice about it and even came to visit me with fruit n chillies.My mates brother wasn't quite so understanding!
We were working at Magahberry Prison outside Belfast a few years back. We'd been renovating a "dirty" cell in the naughty boys wing. Anyway, it was fairly intimidating and we had to go in with an escort every day. Fingerprint detection, van swept every time in and out and general growling from the population. On the last day, we got a new escort, who fairly seriously took us through the days proceedings and what we'd be doing. He then turned and asked us both, "what's the first rule ?" Rab and I stare blankly at each other, racking our brains from the induction and from the previous escort. " Let's not get fucking excited....' He then added.... I still use that... Whatever the day throws at you I always invoke the first rule.
Used to go into maghaberry prison with the fire brigade on a regular basis, the guests went bonkers when we used to wave bye bye.
When my late father in law Wally was made redundant from the docks,he got a job at the Old Bailey. He was told that he would be the usher for a certain Lord Chief Justice. After he had completed all his training, the first case he attended on was a charge of armed robbery at a bank, in which the accused was alleged to have threatened the staff with a .45 revolver. As the case proceeded, the accused was asked if he recognised "Exhibit A" , the gun in question. My F.I.L was told to show the gun to the accused, who was flanked in the dock by two burly police officers. Without thinking, Wally handed the gun to the prisoner who stood there looking bemused. Wally said he heard a large gasp echo round the courtroom so snatched the gun back. When he looked at the Judges' bench , the Judge was nowhere to be seen, only to appear slowly from below the bench. The court was immediately adjourned and Wally was summoned to the Judge's chambers. On being bollocked by the Judge for handing the gun to the accused, all Wally could think to say in his defence was " It was all right my lord, it wasn't loaded ", to which the judge replied, " But he might have thrown the f'king thing at me". Somehow, Wally kept his job.
one from a GP... "One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her on her mobile phone reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a 'massive internal fart."
