Skip to main content

Ow Ow Ow, mmm

In the not too distant past there was an advertising campaign for a brand of yoghurt. the conceit of this campaign was that the yoghurt was tasty, but good for you, thus having pleasure without the pain. The joke being that some other sucker was getting the pain. Hail of nails, rabid dogs etc. They referred to this gag as the "pleasure/pain principle", of which I, yesterday, was a one man example. My final student loan repayment has been made this month, so I had only my outstanding credit card bill to go before being effectively debt free. In a spirit of clearing the decks, bracing fiscal prudence and what have, I decided to get rid of it in one hit.

It was not a small cheque that I wrote, and the creamy yoghurty joy of being WITHOUT DEBT FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 1996 (mmmm) was counterbalanced somehwta by the sharp stinging pain in my wallet (ow ow ow)

Elsewhere, a bumper crop of entertainment in ths week's super soaraway Ormskirk Champion (which, rather sweetly, is boasting about it's circulation rise on the front. It's a freesheet, I take it this just means that they delivered more). the headline features the further fury of a group close to Coastalblog's heart, the Ormskirk and West Lancs Model Boat Club (known mystifyingly as OWLS). I have reported before on their travails as they attempt to put Model Boating in its rightful place on the map by constructing a giant lake, and their touching inability to understand why the council suspect that construction of said lake for the interests of model boating (and NOTHING ELSE. Regular readers will recall OWLS campaign aganst the invidious ducks taking up space with their wings and their quacking)might not be the hottest idea since Balti Pies warms the cockles of your correspondents heart. I am a particular fan of this quote, local journalism at its finest:

"If we had our own lake it would bring a lot of pleasure to all age groups including the disabled."

Marvellous stuff.

Further pleasure was to be derived upon reading the Champ's editorial. There are many ills in the world today. War, Famine, Religious persecution, June Sarpong and Global Warming to name but five. So what does the Champ address, bringing the full power of its journalistic prowess to bear?

Under the headline "We want clackety clack" (which in itself is worthy of several minutes of awed contemplation) they complain that improvements to the rail network to make track silent will make journeys more stressful, what with the drone of other's conversations and "personal" music players (their inverted commas, oh how I love sniffy inverted commas in local newspaper editorials, they actually use "progress" towards the end of the piece as well. Fantastic)not being drowned out by the train's rumble. As if this weren't wonderful enough in itself, they then liken said rumble to "being safe back in the womb." That's right. The womb.

I mean, what's not to love?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

To all intents and purposes, a bloody great weed.

I absolutely love trees, and I get quite irate when they get cut down. One of the aspects of life with which I most often find myself most at odds with my fellow man is that I'm not really a fan of the tidy garden. I like to see a bit of biodiversity knocking about the gaff, and to that end I welcome the somewhat overgrown hedge, am pro the bit of lawn left to run riot, and, most of all, very anti cutting down trees. I love the things, habitat, provider of shade, easy on the eye, home to the songbirds that delight the ear at dawn, the best alarm clock of all. To me, cutting a naturally growing tree down is an act of errant vandalism, as well as monumental entitlement, it's been around longer than you. So, this being the case, let me say this. The public outcry over the felling of the tree at Sycamore Gap is sentimental, overblown nonsense, and the fact that the two men found guilty of it have been given a custodial sentence is completely insane. Prison? For cutting down a Sycam...

Oh! Are you on the jabs?

I have never been a slender man. No one has ever looked at me and thought "oh, he needs feeding up". It's a good job for me that I was already in a relationship by the early noughties as I was never going to carry off the wasted rock star in skinny jeans look. No one has ever mistaken me for Noel Fielding. This is not to say that I'm entirely a corpulent mess. I have, at various times in my life, been in pretty good shape, but it takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of vigilance, particularly in my line of work, where temptation is never far away. Also, I reason, I have only one life to live, so have the cheese, ffs. I have often wondered what it would be like to be effortlessly in good nick, to not have to stop and think how much I really want that pie (quite a lot, obviously, pie is great), but I've long since come to terms with the fact that my default form is "lived-in". I do try to keep things under control, but I also put weight on at the mere menti...

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...