Chicken Hammock

I'm only posting this here in order to blow the cobwebs off Brouhaha, a blog that is in danger of ossifying I've neglected it so much...

Bugbears of Modern Life #12: The Delivery Window

You know the kind of thing: "Thank you for ordering our Orgone Accumulator from us here at The General Synod. It will be delivered by our couriers, Surly Truckers Ltd. Now please choose a delivery window 8am-12noon, 12noon-4pm, 4pm-8pm" so you have to hang around for the allotted 4 hours waiting for the thing to turn up. As we live in Warehouse Central, that usually means right at the beginning or end of the window.

Last week I ordered a new mobile phone from that nice Indian company, Virgin Mobile. The usual message about delivery, but get this; have you ever come across a delivery window that runs from 7am to 9pm? That's not a window, it's a bleedin' yawning chasm. Donning my never far away Victor Meldrew persona, I'm straight on the phone to Mumbai. Yes, I know it won't do any good, but it might make me feel better.

Having torn "Julie" off a strip for the ludicrous time gulf offered by Satnav Dichotomy Ltd, she attempted to placate me with "Well, they will send you a text before delivery", which is something I suppose. It's not her fault, so I apologise for being an arse and hang up.

They better not send me a text at 6:45am, I'm thinking, and this morning I do get a text, but at a far more civilised 8:07am. The text said "Your goods have been dispatched"...can you guess what's coming?..."they will be with you before 9pm".
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The Trip to Italy was rather good. Loads of self-referential humour, but Coogan and Brydon carry it off brilliantly. Particularly liked the Michael Caine impression competition, and the Batman pisstake.
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While we're on telly, it's all a bit shit really. I probably spend half the time I did a couple of years ago watching The Box. Daftest thing I'm watching at the moment is an ultra convoluted Norwegian suspense drama by the name of Mammon, on More 4, another channel with "4" in its name getting into Scandi-dramas. Why is it that so much stuff is coming out of that strangely wonderful part of the world? I suppose when it goes dark for most of the winter, you either have sex or write, and industrial strength contraception aside, as there doesn't seem to be a Scandinavian population explosion, it must be the keyboard tapping that takes up their time. Or seal punching.
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Tomorrow sees my team's biggest game of the season. Win it and we are in the driving seat for 4th place in the Premiership and qualification for the preliminary rounds of the Champions' League. I added that apostrophe, being a grammar nerd, admittedly one who seems incapable of spotting his own mishtakes.

As Everton have a habit of bottling big games, most annoyingly against their lovable neighbours, I very much doubt we will win, aside from the more logical footballing factors, which I will not bore you with here.  Of course, you're not allowed to put such heresy into words on fan sites, they accuse you of being negative rather than the pragmatic beastie that you are. They wouldn't understand "pragmatic" anyway. In the few months I've been a member of the Everton Facebook group I've quickly learned to dumb down my language, as my first posts saw accusations of "poncey words", and of me being a "posh cunt". I should realise by now that showing that you actually paid attention in class is a heinous crime in this fuckwitted country of ours. These same dumbasses think that having "belief" and "faith" is enough to outplay a team that spend more on haircare products than we do on wages.

Even if we did win, and by a series of miracles thereafter eventually finish 4th, you can guarantee that "The Shite" as they are affectionately known, would steal our thunder (again) by winning the bloody thing. We'd never hear the last of it. Come on, Citeh!
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Haha...the word "blog" is not in blogger's spellchecker!
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