19 Jan 2017

And Then A Ban...

I see on the news today that this advert has been banned owing to the number of complaints received stating it depicts cruelty to cats. Spookily, it doesn’t matter how many times I watch it, I always seem to miss the bit when the cat’s actually kicked.


Going on the above, and ‘all’ the complaints received relating to something only your mind can perceive, it becomes obvious why the old footy one below never made it to our living rooms even though it’s obvious from the footage that no damage was caused to the bus-stop shelter and the lady sitting therein sustains no discernible injuries...


Quote;  Stephen Leacock.

“Advertising: the science of arresting the human intelligence long enough to get money from it.”

18 Jan 2017

And Then, On And On It Goes...

I came across this comment on a subject relating to Mayday’s speech of yesterday which is, to me, spot on. Thank you Sir:

Colonel Mustard
Here we are, momentous times and opportunities and the BBC are interviewing yesterday's people about it. The traitors, the moaners, the whingers, the bolshies, the self-haters, the doom and gloom peddlers who cannot accept the fact that they lost the referendum. They lost it.
And now by their crass behaviour they are demonstrating why they lost.

On a different subject, but a beautiful example of the type of person Colonel Mustard is commenting on, did you see that Andrew Neil bloke verbally beat-up that professor the other day? It’s worth a watch. Remember, before you do the clicky bitty, this fellow is a professor. He’s an Oxford University professor. A professor he may be but he’s also a wonderful example of the old saying, hold ‘em up to the light; not a brain in sight.

I imagine, once he was back in his safe space, he was heartily glad that was over and, as bad as it was, assumed it would quickly blow over followed by the usual rapid dust settling. Until that is, a colleague mentions that he’s seen the good prof now has a presence on that YouTube thingy. ‘You know wot old boy? You’ll be out there for ever now. How cool is that then?’

Quote;  Jeffrey Eugenides.

“Biology gives you a brain. Life turns it into a mind.”

            A.A. Milne

“No brain at all, some of them, only grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't think.”

17 Jan 2017

And Then, Some Clarity...

Firstly, while we wuzz driving along the other day with the roads particularly dirty owing to poor weather, we came up behind a car with a virtually unreadable rear number plate and I made the fatal mistake of mentioning to my little nest of vipers that if the police spotted that, the driver would be in trouble. She sat in silence and the journey continued with me giving it no more never mind.

She may have sat in silence but the damage was done. At the start of every journey now, the number plates are carefully inspected and cleaned of even the minutest amount of grime. Just in case. Damn!!

Did you watch Mrs Mayday making her Brexit speech today clarifying wot was going to happen?

After her speech, the BBC Daily Politics, yeah, I know, highlighted wot was said in five bullet points each point comprising about fifteen words. This took all of two minutes to talk through in an easily understandable way.

However, for Mayday to present that information it took forty five minutes and it still needed deciphering and presenting as bullet points. I do hope that young Clegg and Timmy Forlorn, after listening to that and wondering what, by the seven powers of verbosity, it was all about, were sitting in their safe spaces when the bullet points came on their screens. 

I get the spooky feeling that the Trumpton, delivering a similar speech, would’ve delivered it in an earthly fashion and finished, leaving everyone knowing and understanding everything he said, like it or not, in fifteen minutes flat.

Quote;  Steve Maraboli.

“People who lack the clarity, courage, or determination to follow their own dreams will often find ways to discourage yours. Live your truth and don't EVER stop!”

14 Jan 2017

And Then More Reportage...

As that horrific Brexit tidal surge didn’t really kick-in as widely predicted, I see the BBC resorted to reporting the sad sinking of a coastal freighter. I was, once again, grabbed by the reportage in respect of wot it costs us in the BBC fee, those still paying it, so’s they can afford to employ such stunning word-smiths.

I’ve made bold the bits that grabbed my attention and the last sentence looks like it could’ve been glued together right here. You hear me? Right here...

  Seven people have been rescued from life rafts in the sea after abandoning a sinking cargo ship near Kent.
  It is not yet clear whether it was the weather or another problem which caused the ship to sink, or whether any cargo was on board.

Thank  you and good night.

Quote;  G. K. Chesterton.

“Journalism largely consists in saying "Lord Jones is dead" to people who never knew Lord Jones was alive.”

12 Jan 2017

And Then, The End. Almost...

Feeling greatly good and happy all over and relaxed after a couple of fun filled days and nights ‘convalescing’ in Singapore, it was time to get my sorry ass back to work.  The precise moment the doctor declared me fit was the precise moment the medical insurers, who’s help and support had been excellent throughout my poorly boy period, deleted me from their care and support folded so I was back to running on solo again. Back to getting my own taxies, back to that queueing at passport control an’ all that common people stuff. Shame, as I’d got used to just floating through unhindered.

I finally boarded the direct flight to Balikpapan and soon we were on our way.

Five minutes out from Changi Airport there was a very loud bang from the vicinity of the left engine, the aircraft banked to the left and, I guessed correctly, started its somewhat erratic track back to Changi. Folk were now getting quite agitated whereas I, a world weary, international jet-setting roughneck, slightly hung-over, sat tight and thought, ‘Damn! Have I just gone through all those days of pain and misery just to get totally broken in a broken plane? Damn! Wish I’d stayed out later last night. Damn.’

I’m typing this so you know all ended well and after what again seemed like one year, two months, three weeks, four days and six hours of extreme bump, side to side and up and down flying, we came into an equally  bumpy, swervy landing back at Changi. I looked out the window but this time I didn’t see a limo coming to pick me up but a fire truck and one of they access stairways on a truck pacing along with us.

We stopped and disembarked by the stairs and not, as I’d hoped, by that inflatable, slidey floaty thingy.

Back in a private lounge we were offered assistance of one sort or another. I could relate to this as, upon looking around, there were some seriously shaken-up folk. Eventually, we were told that the aircraft had been declared sick and was thus out of commission and it would be two to four hours before a replacement aircraft would be available for the flight and so please, if we were to leave this lounge, listen out for further updates and information as it became available.

I elected to leave the lounge, having declined any help as non of it involved strong drink, and enquired of the fellow on the door as to what the problem was with the sick bird. He said that early investigations seemed to suggest the aircraft had developed a carburettor stone... Okay, I made that bit up.

You been to Changi Airport? It’s quite some place and all you could wish for is on offer. Myself, being oilfield trash, elected to spend the waiting time at Harry’s Bar.

Four hours later we were called and boarded and had a normal, uneventful flight. After Harry’s, I slept the flight away. I did notice, upon boarding, that of the original seventy odd passengers from the first flight, only roughly thirty thrill seekers bothered boarded the second flight...


So concludes my adventures with a kidney stone since which time I’ve tried never to be more than arms length away from a bottle or glass of water.

Quote;  Captain Rex Kramer

“Flying a plane is no different from riding a bicycle. It's just a lot harder to put baseball cards in the spokes.”

11 Jan 2017

And Then, My Call...

Okay where did I finish up yesterday -  “...go see the leading urologist in the whole of SEA.”

Early AM, after another sleepless, showery night, my ride arrived and in moments I was sitting in front of the leading urologist in the whole of SEA. He checked the X-rays that I’d carried up from Jakarta and said they’d do another to see if it’d moved.

Walking to the ray room I was wondering how many more rays I could take before being transformed into some sort of super hero or, more likely, a big blob of radioactive jelly.

Ray done and me still being me, the doctor stated there’d been no movement and continued thusly. “There are three options open to you. I’ll go through them but the final choice is with you.”
”I understand.” Seemed as good a response as any as I did, indeed, understand. So far.
”Right; first, we can just leave it and for sure, eventually, you will pass the stone. This could be in as little as a week but could be as long as six months plus. Plus pain. ”
”Okay.” Seemed good enough at this early juncture.
”Two, we go up your willy with a fibre optic cable with a mini grabber on the end. The driver uses the X-ray as a road map and steers the grab up your tubes and when he sees the stone on his screen he’ll activate the grabber to grab the stone and
then pull it all back out. Slowly, if you were wondering.”
”Oooooooookay.” I replied, thinking that going by wot choice one and two offered, three was going to be a doozey.
”Option three, and this is a doozey,” said the doctor, “we painfully pound the sucker into little bits using ultrasonics and you should be able to pass the remains within twelve hours. That is it. Your choice. Your call.”

I thought this through. Number one was a non-starter as, over six months, work was going to get in the way of showers. Two? I had visions of lying there then hearing a quiet voice, “Oops. How did it grab onto that bit? Better get the doctor down here right quick.” Three? I’m in pain now, so more pain? No pain no gain as they say.

“Number three please. I like the sound of ultrasound.” I said with as much bravado as my pain rattled body could muster.
”Great!!” Exclaimed the doc, “We finally get to play... Er, great, ultrasound it is then. Be hear early tomorrow, we’ll check you in, blast the sucker and we’ll keep you in overnight as this is really going to hurt and the pain could be with you for a few hours
and we’ll be able to manage it as and when you screa.. need.”

Back to the hotel for another extended period alternating between trying to sleep, sitting on the petty and taking hot-hot shower therapy. Towards morning the pain seemed to be getting somewhat worse and at about six in the AM I left the shower and sat despondently on the toilet.

What follows is an example of human reflexes and how amazing they can be in times of need.

I was sitting there, head in hands feeling particularly sorry for myself, when I suddenly coughed. It was most fortuitous that I was sitting on the petty at the time, as that cough caused Percy to pour a copious stream of pee at the porcelain. However, wot grabbed my attention was a faint sound; a sort of ‘tink’ sounding sound. And this is when my brain/hand coordination worked on a whole higher level. Some super power bestowed on me, briefly, by all those X-rays you think?

My right hand left my head, dived between my legs and, unbelievably, my thumb trapped the minute object, the object I guessed was responsible for that ‘tink’ sound, before it was washed down the toilet. Upon retrieval and inspection I was sure I had captured my kidney stone. This was pretty well confirmed as, amazingly, within seconds of the cough, the gush and the ‘tink’, the pain was receding at a dramatic pace.

Later, after carefully washing my almost microscopic nemesis and wrapping it in tissue, pain all but over, I voyaged through the hotel and down the road to the hospital wearing the broadest, goofiest of smiles, a song in my heart and wishing anyone and everyone a wonderful day.

The doctor inspected my offering and confirmed the miniscule pointy bit of calcium was it and, looking a tad sad that they’d been cheated out of the sound blaster bash, gave me a course of pills to clean my tubes and bade me bu-by. I found it quite amazing that such a ridiculously small bit o’ rock could cause so much grief.

Shortly thereafter I got a call from my outfit saying I’d been passed fit for work but, sadly, they couldn’t get me on a flight back to Balikpapan until the day after tomorrow so I’d be ‘stuck’ in Singapore for two more nights. Damn!! Never mind; time to catch up on some sleep, right? Alternatively, I could go down to Clark Quay and Orchard Towers and let off a little steam. I’ll let you figure out wot I done did. No prizes, okay?

Tune in tomorrow for a fittingly frightening finale to this story.

Quote;  Voltaire.

“The art of medicine consists of amusing the patient while nature cures the disease.”