A Gig And A Jig…Or Where’s Mine?

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So I like to go to gigs.
You know. Live music.

(Is music dead? That would mean it has a heartbeat. Which some would say “it does….” I won’t judge either way.

Anyhoo …… What’s not to love?
Great vibe. Sing-a-longs. Die-hard fans. Really die-hard fans.

We went to a gig recently. In an old 17th Century church. The perfect setting for a small, intimate gig …. of around 200 people.

We get there early. Of course.

Not because we’re die-hard fans. But rather so we can use the toilets while they’re still clean.

You know what I’m talking about. We’ve all been there.
Yes you have. You know you have.
No denying it.
You’re welcome.
I win.

That’s enough about toilets. For now.

Again, you’re welcome.

So anyway. Where was I?

So we settle into the old, wooden, uncomfortable-as-hell seats, and wait for the main act to come on.

During the wait, they have the support acts.

No one ever listens to them. (I listen). You can’t hear them over all the talking in the audience. I’m usually the one shushing people so I can hear.

Why do the support acts never match the main act you’ve come to see?

If the main act is Folk. The support act is Death Metal. Perfect match. Obviously.

You know what I mean.
I don’t get it.

But anyway. I digress. Again.

So we sit through the non-matching support bands and get excited for the main act to step up.

The lights go down…..
The crowd goes silent…..
The spotlight goes on…..
One Lone-Fan moves forward…..

Calm down. This isn’t going to be one of those “fan-goes-crazy” stories. Well, not this time anyway.

The band begin to play. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Intimate

And then……

Just as the band are breaking into the chorus, Lone-Fan lets out a loud cheer! Pretty much ruining the ambience in one swift squeal.

She starts waving her hands above her head, bobbing her head up and down, and moving her body to the sound of a very different song.

She starts heckling the crowd to “get up” and “join in” ….. basically ruining the song and the perfect, intimate ambience.

Now I’m all for fans and cheering people on, but once again, let me remind you ….
Small….Intimate….Gig…In…A… 17th…Century….Church….

After two or three songs of this happening, the lead singer eventually stopped and said “okay, who are you and what’s going on”, laughing at the same time to try and take the stress out of it…..but she was clearly annoyed.

The church went silent.
A booming voice from behind the Lone-Fan shouted out “PIZZA GIRL” …….

A shock of realisation comes across the singers face.

She begins to tell us the story of why she’s called Pizza Girl.

Apparently at a previous gig, this Lone-Fan got up in the middle of the show, sat on the edge of the stage, and proceeded to eat her medium-sized pizza from the take-out box she’d brought with her.

Now, I don’t like to judge.
But ….. Seriously!

At least bring pizza for the whole gig right!


Warning …. This Could Happen To You!

Picture it.

Go on then. Picture it.
I’ll wait.

June. 2012.
You got that in your head?

Two friends at work.
Lets call them – Friend A and Friend B. (Hey don’t laugh – I got that through a complex scientific and mathematical equation)
You got the image right.

Yip. You’re picturing it now.

London. June. 2012. Toilet. Friend.
(This is starting to sound like a bad British slasher horror).

They go to the toilet.

Yes ‘together’. What’s the problem. Woman do everything in two’s remember. And No. not ‘together-together’. Our toilet cubicles are not big enough to accommodate two people.

Anyway. I digress.

So, Friend A pops into her cubicle and settles down.

Friend B pops into her cubicle and settles down.

Friend A completes what she came to do and exits the cubicle.

Friend A hears a ‘little’ squeal coming from Friend B’s cubicle.

Thinking the alligator from “Alligator – The 1980 Movie” has actually crept back up the toilet and is attacking Friend B, Friend A bashes on the cubicle door while Friend B is squealing.

Friend B eventually comes out the toilet. Pale-faced and shocked – swearing that she will never again use the toilet.

Once she’d calmed down, she explained that she had sat down on the toilet seat, without realizing that it was in fact, broken. As she sat down, she slid off the toilet. Which is when the squeal came in.

I’d like to think that she slid right off and jammed down the side of the toilet but that’s just the “ad-lib” in me.

Consider. Yourself. Warned.

Toilets. Are. Dangerous.
You’re welcome.

Writer’s Blog … Or … Now What Was I Going To Say?


There must be a pill I can take for this.

At least – I’m hoping so.

A bit like when you put the dishcloth in the fridge.

Or the butter in the dishwasher.

Neither of which I’ve ever done!


I don’t know if you’ve ever had “Writer’s Blog” (thanks Brother)!

No, not “block” – I’m not writing a novel here you know, although …. mmmm …. That’s a great idea!!

Anyway, where was I?

It’s the pressure of knowing I HAVE to write – WANT to write



Actually, there’s no pressure at all.

My brain just can’t put the words in order. (No Comments required here thank you very much!)

You know at school, when you had to write an essay for your final exam?

No – what the heck school did you go to!?

Anyway, you read the first line given to start you off (yes we had a “starter line” — deal with it) and BAM! Your mind goes blank. Then you spend the next two hours of the exam thinking ..”ummmmmm.”

So anyway.

Now, where was I going with this?

What was I going to say?



Never mind, I can’t remember anyway!


Estate Agents….And Other Things To Add To The One-Punch-Campaign…

So, the term “One-Punch-Campaign” has officially been coined!

Calm down! It doesn’t make us a violent bunch!

It’s simply a question of “To Punch Or Not To Punch”

Let me elaborate and I think you’ll find yourself looking for the ‘Join Now’ button.

Estate Agents!

(You see – the skin on the back of your neck is already starting to curl — mine certainly is).

We recently had to move. Isn’t that just the most stressful thing EVER! Forget the ‘New Start” mantra – it’s a pain in the …. Posterior!

Boxes – where do you get them cheap when your local store “…don’t do boxes Ma’am’. Big boxes or little boxes?  Or just a plain old black dustbin bag!

Packing tape – it should be perforated at exactly the right spot you need – like automatically – because we all know tape stuck to your mouth and Tongue is definitely not a good look! And no, I don’t use scissors.

Flatpacking cupboards and beds and…. Ugh! I’m making myself stressed and tired all over again!

So anyway, where was I?

Aah yes, We had to move.

What is the point of estate agents putting photos on their websites? They NEVER look like the photos!

Not. Ever.

And then, even worse. Photos of properties that aren’t even available anymore (well madam, we can put it up there, but we can’t remove it!)


Eventually we see a place that we like.

Really like.

And after some deliberation, head back to the estate agents office to talk about it.

It’s pretty much their closing time. On the last day of the month. So they’re desperate to get the business in to add to their monthly commission!


We’re sitting at a table in their office and we say to them “We’re going to think about it overnight.”


We may as well have just told them we found a carcass in desert, because the vultures descended!!!

Three of them.

All at once.

Towering over us.

Vying for our blood!


Talking over each other!

Talking over us!


From the outside it must have looked quite comical!

From the inside, it most certainly was not!

But madam” — madam are you kidding me! Does it look like we are living in 1920!

But madam, across the road at that other estate agent, they have an offer on the table, and if you walk out of here tonight, you will lose this place” (do I look stupid?)

Put your non-refundable £500 deposit down and sign here” (and then lose it if I change my mind overnight!)

It’s perfect for you” (like they know me well enough to know what is perfect)

So the owner of the company, a young whipper-snapper of a thing, arrogant, cocky  — you get my drift — grabs a chair, clears a path between the other vultures, forces his way to the top of the mountain, sits down in front of his minions … and us, effectively blocking our amend escape route, and says…

“I also believe in this whole cest-la-vie thing, but the estate agent across the road is going to get the imaginary offer accepted, which then could mean they get our commission because you ladies can’t be bothered to make up your mind, sacrifice your £500, effectively causing me to not be able to get my teeth whitened a further 8 shades, plus I look bad in front of my minions because I can’t close this deal”

Well, that’s what I heard anyway! 😉

We eventually picked up our things, elbowed and shoved our way through the zombie-like vultures reaching out to suck our souls out of us – as well as our signatures and £500 – and made our way to the door announcing we would sleep on it and let them know in the morning.

We thought we were scot-free when we stepped out into the fresh, unzombified, unpressured, unharrassed London air, When behind us we heard “Coooo—Weee — madams.”

We were contemplating taking a chance and throwing ourselves through the traffic but he was too quick.

He launched into his monologue about how he “…doesn’t want us to feel pressured” — really — and “…didn’t want us to lose the perfect place for us” – how do you know that – and “this is just the way business is done in this industry” – oh come on – and “why don’t you go home and think about it” – I’m trying – “and let us know first thing in the morning” – are you going to just repeat the whole conversation we just had inside – and “thank you and goodbye MADAMS”.

It’s at that point that we should’ve initiated the “One-Punch-Campaign”.

We did eventually take the place — the NEXT day ….. on OUR terms. (Cue Smug)

I do get to walk past their office everyday now we’ve moved – my rotten tomato collection shall surely come in handy soon!

Invites will be sent to a select few to join the Campaign.

If they decline, we’ve not called it “One-Punch-Campaign” for nothing!

Nightmare…Or What Could I Do?

So, a family member tells me this true story of a night away with the boys recently.

They’d been out for a few drinks – as you do on a boys night out. (I believe).

He got up to pee in the middle of the night. (boys night out remember).

Opened the hotel bedroom door.

And stepped out.

At this point, life still seemed great.

He heard a click.

At this point, life seemed like a nightmare!

The hotel bedroom door closed behind him.

Why didn’t he just go down to reception and ask for a key, you ask?

Well, he sleeps in the nude.


Like the day he was born!

He frantically looked around for something to cover himself up with. (Well they always find something in the movies!)

No fire hydrant to cover up.

No picture on the wall.

No curtains on any window.

No rug to wrap himself in.

No store cupboard to hide his … Shame ….

Mr. Bean would’ve been proud!

So what does he do?

Well, it’s obvious isn’t it?

He starts knocking on all the bedroom doors he thinks his friends are sleeping in.

Except none of the doors are the right doors.

Not. One. Of. Them.

He does however, find a room with an open door.

Filled with strangers. (Clearly the occupants don’t read the little sticker on the back of the door instructing you ‘to keep your door locked at all times to avoid strange, naked men walking in at all hours of the night.’

He goes in anyway. (I know right!! But what would you do?? What would YOU do??)

He grabs a towel.

While the guests sleep. (You’re thinking the same thing I am right? How many had they had to drink?!)

He wraps himself up in a ‘toga-towel’ and casually strolled to reception to get a key for his room.

The CCTV footage must be great.

Someone could sure bribe him with that.

Offers being accepted 😉


Eavesdropping … Or Entertainment

So, this is a conversation I overheard in an airport by a British man on the phone. Perhaps he should think about his surroundings next time before he speaks so loud.

I would like to add that he was sitting TWO gates away from me!

“I had a friend come visit me here from Brussels.”

“Yes a woman”

“She’s been a family friend for 42 years”

“Of course she knows my wife”

“Yes … and the kids”

“Sure I love her”

“No, it’s NOT like that. It’s not a love like sex, it’s a love like a mate”

(Mumble mumble due to the Twix Bar he was shoving in his mouth at the same time)

“No, I haven’t”

“Well, I will be here for five months …. maybe permanently”

“She’s a friend”

“A friend”

“You’re a ****”

Thank goodness I was saved from hearing the rest of that conversation by the call to board the plane.

Eavesdropping can sometimes be entertaining ,,,, especially if you are trying to keep yourself occupied waiting for your flight!


Mothers …. And Other Lovely ‘Stuff’

So. Picture it. (I’ll refrain from adding ‘Sicily 1922’ for all the Golden Girls fans)

Toiletry aisle of local shop.Warm July afternoon.

Task: picking a new body washParticipants: mother and daughter

Mother ” I want a new body wash”

Daughter “OK.what about this one?”

Mother “Don’t like blue”

Daughter “Huh? The colour doesn’t make the smell. What about this one?”

Mother “It’s yellow”

Daugher “And?”

Mother “Don’t like yellow”

Daughter “Mom! The colour doesn’t make the smell! So how about this one then? It smells great”

Mother “Don’t like it”

Daughter “What???Why not?”

Mother “It’s green”

Daughter “It’s gre..!!!  Are you kidding me? The colour doesn’t make the sm…”

Mother “I like this one”

Daughter “But it’s blue”

Mother “And?”

Daughter “Seriously?”

Mother “This one doesn’t smell like chemicals”

Daughter “(sigh) OK, Great! Sounds good. Put it in the trolley then”

Mother “mmmm”

Daughter “Mom?”

Mother “Well… ”

Daughter “I’m listening”

Mother “Don’t like the shape of the bottle”

Daughter “……. I’m going to get the eggs”