INT. TESCO.
Small child: (VERY LOUDLY AND VERY INDIGNANTLY) I am NOT making any NOISE!
INT. COSTA COFFEE. TWO BOYS ARE PLAYING ON A SOFA BEHIND THEIR PARENTS' BACKS; THE PARENTS ARE TALKING TO ANOTHER COUPLE:
Father: (WITHOUT EVEN TURNING TO LOOK) Whatever you're doing, stop it.
An intelligence test for people with two mobile phones:
Step 1. Use Phone A to call Phone B (perhaps, to test that you haven't broken it), then promptly forget all about this.
Step 2. Some hours later, discover a missed call on Phone B and try to return it.
Step 3. If Phone A should happen to ring while you're trying to do this, mutter in irritation, hang up, and try to answer it. If whoever was phoning has rung off try to call them back.
Repeat steps 2 and 3, getting ever more exasperated, for as many times as it takes you to suddenly feel very, very foolish indeed.
Scores:
1 repetition = Intelligent enough, though perhaps slightly more than averagely forgetful.
2 repetitions = Consider whether your ambitions in life might not be realistic after all. Or better still, ask someone more intelligent to do it for you.
3 repetitions = Try to laugh off your own alarming mental deterioration in the form of a dimly humourous blog post.
No. 12,207: Tea-towels that merely re-distribute the moisture. Almost as pointless as those competitive walking events at the Olympics.
Incidentally, by the way... what collection of twisted and dangerous individuals thought, "Yes, that's a sane and reasonable idea, let's hand out medals every four years to the three people in the world who can run least slowly while appearing to walk"? It's the sporting equivalent of the moonwalk. Or Olympic ventriloquism.
In 2012, therefore, I want to see competitors wearing a white glove on one hand and punctuating their bizarre waddles with frequent high-pitched yelps and groin grabs. And time penalties for any yelps that don't appear to have come from the creepy puppet on the end of their other hand; or if a judge spots their lips moving.
I mean, it's not as if that would look an awful lot madder than it does already...
No. 12,209: The number 12,208. No reason, and by tomorrow I'm sure it'll have passed.
No. 12,210: Competitive walking, apparently.
UPDATE: A little something for anyone unfamiliar with the walking race (note the commentator's telling Freudian slip at about -1:10):
Tourists (presumably) on the decking outside Costa Coffee, Market Street, Falmouth, 18/8/08.A little something by Jane Siberry, optimistically dedicated to the Cornish summer:
I like to imagine they unsuccessfully advertised for the careful kind, then lowered their expectations:
Casual Art Handling Technicians
£11.85 per hour - Tate St Ives, Cornwall
Remember when I tried imagining Radio 4 programmes plus or minus a letter? I was listening to the radio earlier (just for a change) and couldn't believe I missed this one:
Whatever you do, don't make them angry - Cross Incontinents
