There is a school of thought that sometimes, just sometimes, I should just keep quiet. Say nothing. But then the Devil comes down to Georgia, and I make some comment I shouldn’t make. This happens a lot on Facebook, which is increasingly populated with wokes who have no sense of humour at all. It must be truly hard going through life constantly vigilant for non-wokeness, and never cracking your face. As I always say on FB, ‘If you don’t like me, go and eat some kale and ignore me.’
I was reminded of my ability to wrongfoot people a bit the other day. A friend had given me a spare memory stick. It’s one of those that flips out of a cover. So far, so good. But the cover is unusual, since it’s made of wood.
Somebody in the library said, ‘Ooh, that’s nice. Never seen one of those before.’
Given I didn’t know the bloke from Adam, a wise move would have been simply to say, ‘Yes.’ I didn’t, of course.
‘It matches my Morris Traveller*.’ I couldn’t resist it, even though I had no idea where that came from. I know, I know.
Things were once a bit more serious when I worked at Tesco. In those days there was a caff (now a Costa) where you could get the famous seven item brekkie for a fiver. This was a popular concept, as you may well imagine. It was a magnet for coppers, who could stock up on Krispy Kremes on the way out.
One day, not one, not two, but three armed response vehicles pulled into the carpark. You can tell they’re armed response, what with the huge ‘ARV’ decals. Plus the metal shutters on the windows, and the metal tyreguards, the reinforced radiator grilles. As with coppers the world over, they ignored the ‘No Parking’ signs and anchored up right outside the store near to where I was loading my van. Out piled some very very tough looking hombres. Lots of body armour (no, I didn’t ask if they were compensating), festooned with what Batman would refer to as a ‘utility belt,’ big boots, radios crackling away. They looked the part. I wouldn’t want to take them on. Except I did.
As they swaggered past where I was loading my van, I yelled, ‘Morning boys. What’s this? Works outing to Southend**?’
They had the same SOH as Judge Dredd. Things got so frosty I thought Hell was freezing over beneath my feet.
I suppose I must learn to curb my enthusiasm.
*For those of you with no idea what a Morris Traveller looks like, it came out in the 60s and was a woodie based on a Minor 1000.
**For my non-Brit fans, Southend is a rather tawdry seaside resort some 30-odd miles away, popular with day trippers, hence my ill advised comment. It may be tawdry, but I like the place. And it’s the car cruise capital of the Essex, the county that more or less invented kevving cars up.