Harry, Basil and Keith

We have had a new arrival this week in the shape of Harry Kevin Nicholas Sims. Mrs T2b’s brother and his girlfriend welcomed their new baby son into the world a few days ago weighing in at an impressive 10lbs 2. Early reports are that mother and baby are doing well as the three of them embark on their journey of sleepless nights, endless dribbling and a house that smells of poo. A bit like our house did last Sunday morning after our visit to the Indian restaurant in Westerham the night before. It’s times like this when no matter what the world throws at you and no matter what day to day hurdles, obstacles and bullshit gets in the way, the arrival of a brand new, box fresh baby can fill even the most hardcore pessimist with a renewed sense of purpose and direction. I’m yet to meet the little fella myself but judging by the pictures that I have seen he already looks like a contented little guy and I know he’s going to have parents, grandparents aunts and uncles who are going to dote on him and probably spoil him just a little bit. And why not. What’s the world coming to if you can’t spoil a little baby.

When Harry met Cally

We had a new arrival ourselves this week too in the shape of Basil the spider who announced his arrival by sprinting out from behind the DVD unit in the corner and making a break for cover for the underside of the small sofa a few feet away. It’s true to say that I’m not overly keen on any kind of spider but given that Cally hates them, I had to assume the role of chief hunter/protector and get rid of the little blighter. Armed with a large glass to put over the top of him, I set about the task of moving the sofa and in an attempt to quickly pull the sofa forward to reveal his whereabouts I managed to dislodge 3 fingernails instead as I yanked it forward. Not only was Basil nowhere to be seen but I was now beginning to drip blood on the cream sofa. Round 1 to Basil. Round 2 went equally badly for me after our new house guest was spotted scampering to safety under the tv stand and hid perfectly under it, right at the back where I couldn’t get to him. No amount of coaxing could get him to to come out so I decided that hitting him with a stick would encourage him to come out which he did, only to run, Usain Bolt style,across the lounge and behind the bin. I won’t lie I was starting to get cross at this point. The Mrs was behind the door shouting encouraging comments at me like ” have you stopped bleeding yet” and ” don’t make too much mess” while Boris proved more illusive than a tame unicorn. A quick lift of the bin only caused him to dart across the room and under the big cupboard where he appears to have stayed ever since. So for most of the last week neither of us have wanted to walk around the house in bare feet incase he re appears and there is a strange uneasiness while we wait for his reappearance. Not only that, I’m sure he’s pinched one of my beers from the fridge. If your wondering why I’ve called him Basil then there a simple explanation for this in so far that I learned a few years ago to name scary things with silly names to help take the fear away. For example we had a spider that moved into the bathroom a year ago and we named him Keith. He was only little and given that he was less scary than a pillow fight with the krankies we let him stay and missed him once he left. I used the same coping strategy with Adolf, my ex mother-in-law.

Also this week I had promised to deliver a customers new car to their house as they were unable to get to us to pick it up. I don’t mind doing these kind of deliveries as its a chance to get out of the showroom for an hour or two but on this occasion there was no part exchange to come back in so I had to take a driver with me so step forward Martin Pyman whom we all know and admire as the worlds most reluctant driver. This is the man who on a trip to the Bluewater shopping centre managed to go the wrong way round the roundabout leading to the car park and who regards any journey of more than 15 miles to be one which should be accompanied by a packed lunch, thermos flask and an updated will. So with his Swedish pornstar moustache quivering in the gentle breeze off we set, in convoy, on our way to Surrey, but what I’d forgotten was that as well as struggling with medium distances and roundabouts he also doesn’t agree with speeding. Any kind of speeding. In fact he regards a speed road sign as a bit of an optimistic challenge rather than a damned inconvenience, so even through the 50mph average speed bit of the m25 we were overtaken by climate change, continental drift and Wednesday. We do actually have 1thing in common though which is our like of heavy metal. I should point out that for Martin, metal begins with Iron Butterfly and ends with Led Zeppelin So we had to have a play through of the opus that is ‘ Stairway to heaven’ which despite being recorded in about 1873 is still a sublime piece of music. There was a slightly bemused look on his face when I played him a bit of a new album that’s being released by a british metal band called ‘ The more I see’ which by all accounts is going to be a belter. Given that he didn’t care for that too much I was probably not going to get too much of a positive response from playing a succession of dragonforce and devil driver at him but we did in the end settle for a brief play through of some thunder and acdc which lets be honest unless your either mental or tone deaf you’re bound to like.

Not Martin Pyman. Honest.

A couple of news stories grabbed my attention this week too. The first one was about a university professor who has come up with a plan to stop sending burglars to prison on the basis that the prisons are full and that depriving them of their liberty is too harsh on the poor little lambs. Instead of prison the professor said that they should instead be made to do community service and in order to back up his view,an ex con was then brought in to whole heartedly agree with him. No way, really? An ex con saying that prison is a bad idea? He went on to say that none of his spells in prison (?) had rehabilitated him and that community service would be more rewarding and not turn petty criminals into more hardened ones. Well here’s my view of this utter garbage. Firstly, we’re forgetting the victims here. If someone breaks into my home and steals the things I have worked hard for I want them to go to prison. Or an electric chair. I was brought up to believe that thieving is wrong and doing so would mean I would go to prison and it wouldn’t be too pleasant. Therefore I never stole things! Simple really. Also why should the a******e that has burgled my house be afforded the same freedoms as I have got? Any thief who goes to jail and then claims that they learned more crimes as a result is a complete tool for one reason and one reason alone. And that reason is that the fellow cons they are learning from are also in prison. Therefore they got caught. And therefore they’re cleary not very good at it are they! Also the other story is the one where middle lane hoggers are to be subjected to fines and points on their licences. This is a great idea and one I fully endorse and support assuming that it remains illegal to have a harpoon fitted to the front of your car so that you can fire it at them and then drag them to the hard shoulder and verbally assault them until your throat hurts. Other roadside crimes and my suggested penalties that I would introduce include the following.

1) Overtaking a queuing line of traffic and nipping in at the end: death by firing squad
2) Overtaking and then braking once in front: public flogging
3) Parking so close in a car park that you can’t actually open your door wide enough to get in your car: 12 points and a disqualification
4) Parking so badly that the space to the side is rendered unusable: roadside tasering
5) ‘Amusing’ rear window signs where one cartoon football fan is shown weeing on a rival fan: the car should be towed away and crushed. Followed by a tasering

I should point out that I am of course joking. The public flogging should be televised as well.

Let me pull the taser trigger. Please?

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