Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

Which, as it happens will mostly be in picture format.  This is also known as cheating the written word but I’ve been doing so much digital talking that I’ve run out of slick chat. I know, I never thought that day would come either but there we have it. 

Find Your Shine

I honestly think mine has shone and gone.  Even when I went outside to look for it, there it was cowering behind a cloud.  However, still wanting to be a shining example to the world, I decided to try and organise my time better by cutting out the unnecessary stuff. Like food shopping.

 For a start, I can’t be doing with it at the best of times because it’s such a lengthy ordeal. I get sidetracked by offers, wound up by people, and usually end up coming back with a lot of things that don’t go together like tuna fish and hot chocolate.

Fail to plan – Plan to fail.  There’s always some numpty that comes up with that saying when you tell my kind of life stories.  Sorry, pal, but I’m only anally retentive about how my margarita is made. 

As it happens, I was about to send a friend some food from England to America. Yes, you read that right, no need to rub your eyes or make a call to Specsavers.  Some people recognise the nuance in Fine British Fodder. 

What A Load of Bull

I had to walk past this beast today and let me tell you I was quaking in my bewwwts. That fence did not look anything like strong enough to hold this fella back. I’ve been to the rodeo and even qualified clowns get their arses butted behind the bars.  BARS. Not thin pieces of wire!  And when the flash went off on my camera because my bloody shine had gone, he was none too happy. I’m not a fan of cattle unless it’s in a brioche roll. 

Anyway, back to food and no bull. I’m seriously not kidding about an American wanting British cuisine.  However, this particular lady requested a couple of things that were quite difficult to locate.  So much so that I went to every supermarket I know of including one called Tesco EXTRA which is basically so big it’s actually a country.  FAIL.

Those who know me well are aware that I don’t like to lose a challenge. Especially when I’ve been asked by a lovely Merrrican to deliver the goods.  I have street cred to maintain. Even one of my friends bought me a gift the other day delivered with the words, “I saw this and just had to buy it for you! Aromatic, spicy and devilishly tantalising.” 

That’s right.  They’ve even named a SAUCE after me. This is the kind of constant pressure I’m under.  I was explaining this to a guy from the British Army the other day and how I couldn’t possibly join up because I’d turn the whole military thing into a ridiculous competition and probably kill myself trying. Until I saw this ammo…

I have to say, I had second thoughts. Obviously, I couldn’t hang that from my boots but I did ask if I could take it home as a garden ornament.  Along with a tank.  Maybe even one of those little helicopters as that’d make travelling to supermarkets much easier.

And that’s when I had the time-saving epiphany.

If Muhammad Won’t Go To The Mountain…

Why am I going shopping when La shop can come to me?!  There’s this thing called Ocado that will find whatever you want (allegedly) and bring it to your door.  Brilliant.  They can find the missing goods whilst I carry on with other important tasks.  I went home and got online.  Thirty percent off your first order!  Cracking! Starting to like this.  Type in the first missing item….Hey Presto!  

Four hours later when I’d eventually reached the must spend of £40 and doubled it by buying too much tuna and hot chocolate, I chose a time for my groceries to be delivered.  

The next day I received a rather startling email.  Your delivery driver “Lewis” will arrive in ten minutes in a raspberry van.  Oh yeah?  Pfffft! Whats that all about then? 

True to word, a raspberry van pulled onto my drive and a little chap knocked on my door. I put my pen in my mouth, grabbed my list and went to greet the deliverer.  Bless him, he was only about twelve. 

“Nice raspberry van you got there, kiddo,” I smiled.

“Oh, uh, yes.  Um, I’m Lewis and I’ve brought your shopping.  I’m pleased to say that there are no missing items.”

“Bloody good job, Lewis, because I can’t tell you how long I’ve been looking for that Balymole sauce. I wouldn’t want you letting me down on my first go at this malarkey.”

“Oh, is this your first time shopping with Ocado?”

“Yes, Lewis. I’m a complete virgin,” I said as I sucked on my plastic biro. 

Look, don’t blame me.  If someone’s going to fall right into the trap of a real-life ‘Carry On’ movie then who am I to stop them? 

Lewis tried in vain not to stutter as he explained how the produce had been packed lest I got confused about what went in the fridge, pantry or freezer and then made a swift exit.  I must say, he had a lovely flush to his cheeks. 

But so did I.

The frikkin’ pen I’d been sucking had leaked all down one side of my face. 

Personally, I think I did Lewis a favour cos he’ll either man up or go and get a better job in accounting. 

Everything always works out alright in the end.  I know this as I saw it on the steps to the cocktail bar. 

See?