My wife thinks so… she always watches me and takes notes.
All has been explained in a previous episode…
ARTHUR:
Mice? What do you mean mice? I think we must be talking at cross purposes. Mice to me mean the little white furry things with the cheese fixation and women standing screaming on tables in early Sixties sitcoms.
SLARTIBARTFAST:
Earthman, it is sometimes hard to follow your mode of speech. Remember I have been asleep inside this planet of Magrathea for five-million years and know little of these early Sixties sitcoms of which you speak. These creatures you call mice you see are not quite as they appear, they are merely the protrusions into our dimension of vast, hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional beings. The business with the cheese and squeaking is just a front.
ARTHUR:
A front?
SLARTIBARTFAST:
Oh yes, you see the mice set up the whole Earth business, as an epic experiment in behavioural psychology; a ten-million year program -
ARTHUR:
No, look, you’ve got it the wrong way round. It was us. We used to do the experiments on them.
SLARTIBARTFAST:
A ten-million year program in which your planet Earth and its people formed the matrix of an organic computer. I gather that the mice did arrange for you humans to conduct some primitively staged experiments on them just to check how much you’d really learned, to give you the odd prod in the right direction, you know the sort of thing: suddenly running down the maze the wrong way; eating the wrong bit of cheese; or suddenly dropping dead of myxomatosis.
Paul, are you spending too much time with your “5”? If so she could be collecting evidence of neglect and mental cruelty!
Be careful! Be very, very careful!
It is very hard not be angry right now. Travel bans, economical crisis and other things. You should be happy because of it? I don’t think so. Ildar Sharipov my fx colleague and chess opponent is also angry right now. He is instaforex owner and now many traders get crazy because of the current situation in the markets all over the world.
Anger in a situation like this is utterly pointless, you can’t change things on your own, so it only increases the stress that you’re already under. A more relaxed and rational attitude is much more useful, it helps you to deal with the situation in a sensible manner.
Very clever and astute man your Grandad!!
Alan H
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The bit I find strange with these herberts is? It’s ALWAYS your fault!! I make full use of my audible warning device when someone is, for instance in the wrong lane! As I live in what is euphemistically called the ‘Polo Mint City’ ( East KIlbride, before they built Milton Keynes! ) Lane discipline seems not to be taught in this modern era! But if and when I do remind them, all you get is two fingers and some good old anglo saxon! Which as a veteran of HM Forces, I can school them on!! Ah the joys of motoring??
I went down to the doctors around 10 days ago and was trying to maneuver into a parking space. It was huge achievement finding one, usually never any. As I was reversing keeping a watchful eye on another car which was reversing hoping they’d seen me in comes at great speed another car and we nearly met bumpers.
So out gets this youngish female and starts ranting I should be looking where I was going. I just said you need to slow down and calm down and stop shouting and have some respect, you could have hit both me and that other car. She then pointed to her dash cam and said, it’s all on here, I said look I’ve got one too.
She was obviously late and worried she’d miss her appointment. Karma when she had to stand in a long queue when she came inside the surgery, I was there to see the nurse and went straight in, the ignorant person.
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Oh, I do love a bit of well deserved Karma. It’s delicious, indeed the Pavlova of Life!
We have a neighbour is about 5’2 with a 6’3" ego, an important cog in bus engineering company. Probably…
His two lock ups are on either side of mine and have been for years. Usually it works out but I’ve had to “request” him to move one of his super bikes away from my door on a few dodgy occasions largely dependent on his mood that day. Not very nice.
Anyway, his latest vehicle last year was a perfectly good Astra panel van, oiler turbo which cost him nothing via the DVLA abandonment process. This was to be used to ferry his bikes…which I thought was odd as it just does not have the tailgate height.
Never the less, everyone was made aware of his good fortune.
2 days back, I’m around the Mk1’s lock up waxing & fettling listening to him waxing eloquent about how great the Astra had worked out…given it cost nothing. Clever wee chap.
However, it needs a new turbo…common fault but being an engineer, no worries “cuppa tea job done” Usual shyte.
Now, I’m waxing away while the Astra is on tick-over making odd noises two doors down, he is about 100 feet away jabbering on with his neighbour, then disappeared into his house.
Then, it happened…slowly.
Whatever went on under the bonnet of the Astra, it started an under bonnet flame out, which by the time I’d smelled it and heard the pops & crackles, had taken a fair foot hold, the interior was already blackening up.
Now, he had no direct sight of this, I had a grandstand view. Naturally, I ran…ok… strolled…over to his door, and announced to him the turbo was just about to be the least of the Astra’s problems. It slowly burned out, nothing dramatic really.
He went quiet.
It’s gone this morning, only leaving the tell tale staining on the tarmac.
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I know this is an old thread now, but as someone who frequently has to have a word with miscreant drivers on track events, there is a high percentage of people who will state it was not their fault they need talking to but “it was the other driver that made them do it.”
The OP might be able to answer their own question in why they felt in necessary to give the rude gesture, which is generally translated to two quite short words, usually given in anger and which is rarely noted as a sign to deescalate a situation. As with track driving, both sides usually have the excuse “it was the other one’s fault.”
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Quite.
Track days can be a nightmare with weekend wannabes.
An unkind, if rather accurate, description of your fellow Scot!