Thursday, 29 April 2010

Ok, that’s just silly

I sometimes do paid market research, and as you’ll see from this previous blog entry on the subject, I don’t always approve of the questions I’m asked. Usually because they’re leading and biased. However today my exasperation is of a slightly different nature.

I just got asked to do a poll wherein I had to estimate the respective lengths of various MP’s penises.

To what end? I wish I knew.

So I was given a selection of sizes, and then asked to guess how much Brown, Cameron, Clegg, Darling, Cable and Osborne were packing, as well as Nick Griffin.

When I told James that he said, “If you guess he’s got a big one, does it make you racist?” Good point.

I should have marked him down, but unlike Nick Griffin I am very fair, and assigned them all the same, average size, which I believe is seven inches.

I don’t want to Google that to make sure; the search results don’t bear thinking about.

Anyway, after I had made my arbitrary penis size guesses I was then asked:

“Which is the most well-hung party?”
“Would you become more interested in politics if MPs had a big manhood?”
“Are you more likely to vote for a politician if you knew he was well-endowed in the trouser department?”

Surely anyone who answers yes to that last question should lose their right to vote?

I’m not sure what they plan to do with the ‘data’ gathered from this survey. Or why they're asking me.

Maybe they should just ask the politicians? Or better yet, get the main three to pull their pants down at tonight’s leaders debate. That would liven things up. Get the young people interested in politics!

In other, equally weird news, I did part two of my online Health and Safety module today. And I was confronted by this image:



I think the message is, don’t stand on office chairs.

Although I have a theory that the man in the picture is in fact about to hang himself.

Possibly because he’s been doing online Health and Safety modules for two days.

And finally, I’ve been trying to learn Japanese for the past year or so.

Observe how I go from subject to subject with such finesse.

Who needs logical narrative flow? Penises – Health and Safety – Japanese. That works.

Anyway, James got me a Japanese listening course for my birthday, which has been absolutely brilliant, but it is, at times, very geared towards Americans – probably because it’s an American course, yeah that would explain it.

So they’re teaching me phrases like, “I’m an American” and “How much is that in dollars?”. Which is fine. I just substitute Amerikajin for Igirisujin and so on.

I’ll stumble on to my point soon I promise...

Ah, here it is now! So today, they taught me something which upheld the stereotype of Americans being bad tourists.

The conversation went like this (it’s one-sided because the man taking the lessons just tells you the person’s reply in English, and you have to respond in Japanese):

“I would like to buy something, but I don’t have any yen...do you accept dollars?...well I have no yen...what are you going to do about it”

What are you going to do about it?

I expect in the next lesson they’ll teach me useful phrases to use during a fight with a disgruntled shopkeeper.

Wednesday, 28 April 2010

This and That

I did an online Health and Safety course today and I just wanted to share with you a couple of my favourite images from it.

Here we have a harrowing workplace accident:



I’m not sure quite what happened here. It looks as if someone has left some small office appliances on the floor. And this somehow killed a man.

Something for us all to think about there.

And here is my favourite image:



When I first logged on to the course this guy popped up, and quite frankly startled me with his overly purposeful demeanour. He means business!

Still I suppose were it not for people like him, more of us would be facing the cruel fate of the man who was killed by small office appliances. Lest we forget.

Whilst we’re on the subject of weird pictures, I would like to continue the theme with some of my favourite letters from recent Pick Me Up letters pages.

Firstly we have this:

Click on the picture to maximise

A group of women so excited at the thought of going to London that they dressed as daffodils.

It wasn’t a hen party, it wasn’t for charity. It was a day trip.

Imagine how bad their lives must be.

Secondly we have this:

Click on the picture to maximise

They’re BARMY!

And finally, I have as ever saved my favourite for last:

Click on the picture to maximise

...the handiwork of a serial killer ladies and gentlemen.

I get the feeling that boat will be used as evidence in a court of law at some point.

Before I sign off I’ll just tell you one more thing.

Last night I nearly went to see Ricky Gervais live at Wembley.

But in the end I didn’t.

That’s not my idea of an anecdote by the way, I am going somewhere with this.

Last night, whilst I was cooking dinner, I got a call from James. He was on the train home and he’d had a call from his brother who had two tickets for the show, but now couldn’t make it.

He asked me if I wanted to go – the tickets were worth £100 and they were great seats – I said yes, and started to get ready.

James got home, then his brother arrived a short while later to drop the tickets off.

I binned the dinner I’d half cooked – and before you all write in about food waste, all the food I was cooking was on it’s use by date. I actually take my diary shopping with me so I can refer to it and choose sell by dates that fit in with my weekly meal plans: there is nobody more anal than me.

Where was I? Ah, yes, I binned the dinner I’d half cooked and we started to head out the door.

But then we saw that the tickets said ‘Show time 7:30 prompt, no latecomers admitted’

It was 6:30 and we live in Surrey. We were definitely going to be late.

So we went straight back indoors – ruing the hasty binning of the half cooked dinner, particularly me, what with my beautiful meal planning system in tatters – and wondering what to do with our overexcitement of just a moment ago (in the end we went for a pizza, partly because we were now in the mood to go out and partly because our dinner was in the bin – it really bothered me as you can probably tell).

Anyway, it was only at this point that I thought to ask why James’ brother couldn’t go.

James said it was because he couldn’t get a babysitter.

I was a bit confused. He’d thought of asking us to go to the gig instead of him, before he’d thought of asking us to babysit? Where was his head? So I said “Why don’t we offer to babysit? Then he can go. He’s driving, he’ll make it in time”

James called his brother back.

Goddam this anecdote is long. Sorry!

Anyway, whilst he did this I had a massive realisation. I cannot have children. I’ve always thought I wouldn’t like it, but now I know.

As the offer to babysit came out of my mouth (and I meant it with all the best will in the world) I immediately started having an internal nervous breakdown at the thought of looking after some children for one evening.

My first thoughts were, in roughly this order, “Damn it, I have a DVD I want to watch, they won’t watch to watch a Japanese film, they’ll want to watch CBeebies, the idiots” Followed by “What the hell do you talk to children about anyway?” and hot on its heels was the thought “Children are just really boring”

So it’s official. I can never be a mother. If that’s my reaction to the notion – not even the deed, just the notion – of minding a couple of them for 4 hours.

Luckily James’ brother had decided they wouldn’t make it either, and so they didn’t need a babysitter. Which meant that James and I were free to go out for a pizza, as we are able to do at the drop of a hat, what with us being childless and all.

Yes, I am almost certainly going to die alone, but in the meantime, there are perks.