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Well Hello again
and how are we after last issue's read? I hope you found it to your liking. Now then, to
get down to the burning issues hot from the street. This week's comments are geared
towards those of you that have a different calendar time frame to mine; and the rather
less desirable topic, local loos. But first a little ode to be going on with. |
Remember, remember the fifth of November (or to be more precise)
The end of October and most of November
And some of the rest of the year.
As we all try to slumber,
We're awoken to wonder,
What on earth is that noise that we hear?
It's two in the morning
I'd just started snoring,
This is darned inconsiderate we jeer!
Then after a while our shock turns to smiles,
As we realise the bang was in fun,
Reassured and now poised to know that 'that noise'
Was a banger and NOT from a gun!
Now then, try to imagine if you will, me, relaxing lazily in my hammock on the deck of my
fabulously expensive twelve birth luxury sailing cruiser, moored for the princely sum of
£25 per foot in Sheringham's new and swanky harbour. The moon is full, the night air is
still, and the soft evening breeze barely blows at my toupee. There are wisps of cloud on
the horizon streaking across the moon-beamed sky. A bottle of vodka ice in one hand and a
bottle of Becks in the other. Idyllic isn't it? Are you still with me so far? Good.
Blissful peace. Arhhhh.
As I sigh, in the far distance, on the far away mound of Beeston Bump, a multicoloured
Katherine Wheel whizzes round, nailed to a cross and then for the finale… Cascades of
exploding wonder showers us mortals with wondrous fantastic plumes of every hue and in
every direction. I watch a rocket climb and climb and climb, higher and higher, so high I
have to rock back in my hammock. As it's soaring above me I'm overcome with excitement,
willing it to reach its ultimate climactic moment of majesty in all it's glory. Then, wow,
it explodes with an earth-breaking boom that shudders through your very soul, (as Edwina
said to John) and it is at this point BOOM!!!!! There is yet another, but more muffled
rushing noise and then a dull thud.
Then, and only then, I find myself on the floor of my bedroom in my winceyette long johns.
I had been dreaming all along! I must have been. A Harbour in Sheringham? It's as rare as
a parking space in the Boulevard on a Saturday. But wait! Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang and Bang
again. What's happening I ask myself, as in my rather shocked state of premature wakening,
I scramble for cover under the bed to share briefly, the small dusty space with among
other things, a very crumpled page three picture of Sam Fox and a Tunis cake box from 20
Christmases ago.
AND SO TO REALITY. It's three in the morning, it's a weekday (or in this case, night) and
it's not even November. Oh yes, very funny, very funny indeed.
Some 'bright spark' (NOT) thought it would be great to share £300 worth of fireworks with
everyone else. Great if you're on night shift with nothing else but repeats of the
daytime's viewing, but damn inconsiderate if you're like the rest of us workers. Not to
mention the distress caused to the animal population.
I guess that's another reason for there being so many animal accidents left on our
pavement overnight! The poor things have been frightened witless (I did say that right
didn't I?) |
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So what to do about it? I
pondered this one over my third cup of cocoa and came up with the idea that really,
fireworks are for proper sponsored professional events. They are dangerous items with the
wrong handling and in the wrong hands of immature people, are as dangerous as hand
grenades. You wouldn't dream of letting your kids and friends loose with a load of
explosives would you? (Unless your name was Bin Laden of course). So, why do we, year
after year, let people of all mentalities get hold of them so easily? Let's keep Guy
Fawkes day exactly that, ONE day when we can all enjoy and then forget about it until the
following year. Please!
Now to be getting on to my next gripe.MUCKY LOOS!
Everywhere you go, you always hear the same old thing about how good or bad the loos are.
Older folk on coach trips are particularly sensitive about it. Why then, are the loo
floors by the Tourist Information Kiosk so horribly wet and skanky? It has bothered me for
some time. It isn't because of the lack of effort afforded to these premises by the local
councils. They often go and clean them. The real question is how on earth do they get so
filthy in the first place. The answer in short, is dirty people. In men's cases I can
understand this misappropriation of bodily fluids, when in a hurry it's often very
difficult to aim when one is under the influence of Alco Pops or 14 hours on the train
from Norwich to Sheringham (That's recent estimates).
So, how do we get people to aim better? Well, I for one think the problem lies in the
design of all public loos. Everyone knows men are notoriously bad at getting their aim
spot on, so this is my solution.
All men's loos should firstly dispense with the urinal chamber or trough, instead the room
should be of a tiled circular shape, adopting the French stance of the 'funnel shaped'
hole in the centre. Placed incidentally, far apart so that no cross peeing, misfiring and
undesirable splashing of other patrons occurs. The room would then have infrared motion
detectors for automatic flushing of the chamber. The outer ring would consist of a
circular platform with communal tolets facing inward like they did in the Roman era, thus
affording reminiscent chit chat with your fellow man whilst the ablutions take place.
Again an infrared, automatic bidet would cut in, relinquishing the need for toilet tissue,
thus stopping excreta being taken outside the premises. Ladies would have a similar system
dispensing only with the circular funnel, as skirt-wearing women would find using this
almost impossible without getting something wet and soiled.
So, there you are all you budding patent making gurus out there, take note you spotted it
here first. Oh, and perhaps in all cases there should be on the walls of both rooms a
polite notice reading:
WE AIM TO PLEASE, WILL YOU AIM TOO PLEASE?
More coming soon, take care out there. Vic
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