Gruts

I'm losing my touch. I was at a meeting this morning where there were three people named Richard sitting next to each other. "I suppose this is what you call an embarrassment of Richards," I remarked amusingly… Not a sausage; not even a snigger.

Then, to make matters worse, I meet Carolyn for coffee, and she tells me that she's told all her kids about my farting the first note of (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, and they all think it's incredibly funny. So much so that her two-year-old daughter now refers to me as your Richard who goes pump.

So, in summary: my colleagues didn't think my rather sophisticated pun was in the least bit funny, whereas a two-year-old child is extremely amused by my farts.

I guess I've finally found my audience.

Eureka Alert: Men overestimate the number of sexual partners they have had in their lives [12-Mar-03]
…It remains, however, unclear as to how male overestimation could result in such a wide disparity in the reported number of lifetime sexual partners.

In my day, it was called bullshitting.

Postscript: What the hell am I talking about? It still is my day!

There's absolutely no delicate way of putting this: I farted while getting dressed this morning, and the noise that emerged was a perfect rendition of the first note of (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. Yes, that's right: my arse has perfect pitch; no bum notes from my backside, no siree.

Thinking about it, Satisfaction is a pretty appropriate Rolling Stones song to play by fart. I suppose I could have been less subtle and gone for laughs, blasting out Fart Me Up or Trumping Jack Flash (it's a gas, gas, gas) - but the first note of Satisfaction is so much more instantly recognisable (and, let's be honest, less challenging).

Another 2003 prediction comes true:

Daily Record: Our Boys are Boiling, Starving and Begging from the Americans [10-Mar-03]
Scots squaddies are suffering in the Gulf heat because they still haven't got lightweight desert kit… One RAF aircraftman told his dad: "We beg everything from the Yanks. It is embarrassing but needs must. I am one of the lucky ones who has desert clothing. The rest are in normal greens which just cook you in temperatures of 100 degrees plus."

Yes, that's a news story (i.e. yarn) about RAF clothing. I tell you, if this was the sixteenth century, that Farthing woman would be burnt as a witch.

Have you seen the latest BBC 5-day weather forecast for my neck of the woods?

 

Yeah, right. Who are they tryng to kid? It's quite clear they're not from round these parts.

Conversation with the local coal merchant:

Just back from five days in Barcelona. Great city, but it's a pity about all the graffiti.

It's nice to see that bars in Barcelona know their audience. Note the sudden change into English on the following receipt:

L'ARC

TABERNA VASCA

MEIR-TETRO S.L. N.I.F:B-61.791.216

RAMBLAS, 77 (BARCELONA)

11/03/2003 20:47 ****** *02*

T001 CAJERO-2 MESA 59

2 CERV.JARRA 1/2L 4.36 8.72

SUBTOTAL 8.72

BASE IMPONIBLE 8.72

I.V.A. 0.61

EFFECTIVO 9.33

ENTREGADO 10.00 >>

CAMBIO 0.67 <<

TIP NOT INCLUDED

(By the way, you won't tell any of my friends that I was drinking lager, will you?)