First of all, may I bid a fond farewell to all XX-chromosomed readers of these pathetic offerings - I fear you will not be stopping by in future. Why? Because it's Pither-The-Chauvinist-Pig Time!!
So, the 15 British members of the Iranian Tourist Board - sorry, sailors - held by the Iranians for just under a fortnight arrived back in London today (complete with goody bags, would you believe!). Hurrah! Welcome home, our brave lads and lasses (well, just lass, actually). That's one in the eye for Johnny Arab. God Save the Queen!
"Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never shall be slaves."
Now it's time to put away the little Union Jacks, break up the street parties and calmly reflect on the last few days.
So, those nasty Shiites were lying, weren't they? They had kidnapped our gaggle of expert seafarers for absolutely no reason other than sheer Iranian naughtiness. Royal Navy spokesmen had, after all, appeared on our TV screens with "proof" that the sailors had been in Iraqi and not Iranian waters. They showed photos of scans and radar screens and the like which they claimed clearly indicated that the HMS Fuckwit had not strayed.
Wrong!!! It now appears that the Navy Larkers HAD INDEED trespassed into Iranian territorial waters. Does this come as a surprise to anyone out there? Well, it doesn't to Pither. Why? Try this one on and see if it's tight around the hips? There were fifteen people in the boat and one of them was a woman. The woman was a qualified boatswain and so would, in all probability, have been the navigator. You do the maths! What the fuck do you expect? I'm amazed they didn't actually end up sailing up the Thames!! I can almost hear the frenetic chat on board as the Iranian gunboats loomed up over the horizon. "Give me the fucking map, Faye! Jesus, woman, it's upside down!! Not only that, it's the wrong page! No, I'm not going to stop and ask someone. Oh great! Crying! That'll help."
I know you should avoid cliches like the plague but women and navigating go together like bacon and custard. The soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither's complete lack of spatial awareness and map reading skills are almost legendary. Many's the holiday I have spent in Inverness, having booked a cottage for the week near Plymouth. Even when I think I have covered all the bases by pulling over to patiently point out on the map the route we need to take she then brings her other navigational no-no into play - dithering!
"Right, we're coming up to an island. Which exit do I take?"
"....so Brenda said that was just the way she parted her hair."
"Exit, woman, exit! Which exit?"
"Oh, yes, the map. Which page is it again?"
"Page 43! Quick! The island's getting very, VERY near!
"38..39..40..."
"QUICK!! WHICH BLEEDIN' EXIT. HURRY UP!!"
"41..42...ah, here we are, 43. Now, which road are we on again?"
"THE BLOODY A449. HURRY UP, HURRY UP! WE'RE ON THE SODDIN' ISLAND!!"
"There isn't an A449. Oh no, hang on a bit, here it is."
"I'M TAKING THIS DAMN EXIT, I'VE GOT NO CHOICE NOW!!"
"Oh dear, you've gone the wrong way you know."
"AAaaaaarrrrrgggghhh!!!!!!"
No, I'm sorry. It just does my head in. I shall, however, in a pathetic attempt not to be more of a sexist, send PEOPLE who cannot read maps to Grantham.
4.2
2.7
8
1.6
0
5.9
Shaggy Blog Stories
13 comments:
So pleased that you have overcome yesterday's temporary aberration, wherein you strayed into the territorial waters of the "Democratic Republic of the Happy and Contented".
Please keep on spewing bile, you do it so well.
Dear Vicus,
Yes, you are right. I temporarily let go of the tiller, I'm afraid. It won't happen again - promise!
My ducts are well and truly open again though and the outpourings have resumed. Contentedness can go to Grantham.
She's gonna wait till she's on the blob and come and get you.
Here, Here Reg map and females never. What no no darling I not e-mailing that naughty Pither again. Sorry got to run Reg keep up the ranting.
Dear Anon 1 (aka Green),
"On the blob!" "ON THE BLOB!!!" I'll have you know, this is a forum for intellectual debate and the exchange of challenging ideas and views. You are just turning it into a dictionary of filth! My flabber has never been so gasted.
Dear Anon 2,
A word of advice from one who has suffered. Use of the word "Dear" within earshot of one's chest-lumped loved one can seriously damage your health. The current Mrs Pither laughed all the way to the carving knife drawer the one and only time I called her that.
Reg, Reg, Reg: You know the woman tried to get the map, but the guys kept it from her as a practical joke, also commenting on her female sense of direction. The guy at the wheel said "I know where I'm going. Don't need no bloody map." Once they realized they were lost (and in danger) the woman asked the guy at the wheel to pull over and ask at that gas station where they were. He wouldn't. Next, the inevitable capture and detention. Then of course, the men saying she has no sense of direction.
Try and point out any area where I am wrong in this analysis. And remember, I'm probably bigger than you are.
Ah!!! Foilwoman,
You took your time!! I was expecting you on the moment I hit the "publish" icon!
I did give a nod to the "not stopping to ask for directions" failure of my sex but, all in all, yes, I have to admit, you might just have the teeniest right to a touche. I therefore cannot point out the areas in which you are wrong - besides, it is rude to point, especially at a lady's areas.
Please don't hit me.
walking along one day we saw a bunch of people standing on a street corner waving a map and looking around. I said "look's like they're lost, maybe we should help them?", she said "how can they be lost? they've got a map"
It's these little moments of chemistry that make the whole thing tick along like a centipede with a sprained ankle.
Dear Jake,
Yes, yes, yes, you are so right. Been there and obtained that particular T-shirt! Other classics include, "Tuuuurrrrnn riiiiigggghhhhttttt........THERE!! (pointing backwards, over her shoulder) and, while at the wheel, "Well if the lorry hits us it will be his fault".
Suffer in silence. It's the only way.
Hope Elwell is....well.....well?
Reg, darling, I might be bitter mid-forties divorcee (with a two-year old, no less -- anyone would be tired and cranky), but I do have other men to harass and make miserable you know. You and I, we aren't harrassment-monogamous yet. I feel free to play the field and snipe at every other blogging man in the world, basically. But anytime you need a slap upside the head (American inner-city vernacular), I'm available. We bitter divorced people who have just escaped from the clutches of ravening insane ex-loved ones really do need to keep each other on the straight an narrow. Just remember: more than ten men and one woman and she was supposed to keep them in line? Nuh-uh, bucko. Glad they're home safe and sound though, with no help from my idiot Commander in Chief (who really should move to Grantham, don't you think)? I think I've lost my train of thought completely now, I'll go ask for directions and the nearest 7-11.
Foilwoman, Foilwoman, Foilwoman,
You mean you are cheating on me already, vilifying OTHER male bloggers? I thought your disgust, venom, bitterness and sarcasm were special? Why can't I just find a woman who hates me for what I am and saves all her bile for me?
You'll be pleased to know that your Idiot Commander in Chief, along with mine, are ALREADY in Grantham. They were both on one of the first buses!
Glad to hear you will be attempting to keep me in check. I shall keep one eye out over my shoulder for you (It is a great party piece but usually makes people throw up!).
Reg, My Love, My Pumpkin, My 1977 Orange VW Rabbit: How can I keep up with vilifying you if you keep mosting like a manic-phase bipolar budgerigar that can type? I have, however, to show my devotion, linked to you. I hope that's okay. I'm out for incredibly exciting single mother activities such as buying diapers (nappies, to you people who talk funny) and milk whilst the FoilKids are with the Insane Ex. After that, I have some actual social plans (It's a Miracle) but you can expect further vituperation and harrassment later today or this weekend. Even though I vituperate and harass other men, trust me, Reg, I save the best of my vitriol for you. Doesn't that make you feel special?
Vituperation? Isn't that something to do with keeping reptiles? Not to mention "diapers"!! We fought a war to stop this kind of thing. Had we known "pavements" would become "sidewalks", "boots" become "trunks" and "trousers" become "pants" we would have fought a bit harder!! Trust the bloody French to get involved and knacker things up for us.
In the meantime, Foilwoman, we need to ruin each others lives on a more regular basis, I fear. I realise there are about 2,500 miles between us and we are about as much physical use to each other as as an ashtray is of use on a motorbike but why not viturperate at reg_pither@hotmail.com? I look forward to your continued attempts to put me on the straight and narrow.
Post a Comment