The Money Pit …
July 3, 2008 at 12:36 am | In Kiting, Shopping | Leave a CommentTags: Aquapac, Kite Leash, Money Pit, Water Safety, Wetsuit Boots
Nah!
No the film … although ah do kinda like it though … Tom Hanks before he was annoying and all that!
The Money Pit ahm referring to is ma kitesurfing … the following purchases have been made recently -
Number One – A pair of Wetsuit Boots …
To keep ma wee toes fae droppin aff fae the cold … Also handy for pretending to be a ninja while nobodys about.
Number Two – A Kiteboard Leash …
To stop me losing ma board or getting ma heid spliced open in the event of a wipeout … which is a regular event.
Number Three – An Aquapac for a mobile phone …
It keeps a phone water tight and can be used to make calls while at sea … bit silly you may think? … My Instructor said ” …if it all goes tits up and youre getting dragged further out to sea … swim to your kite in the water, sit in the bloody thing and phone the coastguard”
Magic eh … whit if yer oot of credit!
Total Price – 105 pounds and 9 new pence.
Ouch!
Ma Willy & Ma New Kiteboard …
June 20, 2008 at 8:40 pm | In Shopping, flexifoil, kite | 2 CommentsTags: Kitesurf
So yesterday after finally managing to procure some petrol for the motor, I started to make the journey to my kitesurf lesson. As soon as I arrived at the rendevous point I receive a call from the instructor – last minute cancellation due to “Lumpy” offshore wind.
Lumpy Wind?
Sounds like a fart with follow-through! … but it does exist … and it wouldve made my lesson very unrewarding apparently.
Mother Nature conspires against Bawbags!
Billy Connolly once said there is no such thing as bad weather … only the wrong clothes.
But in the world of the fledgling kitesurfer there are a multitude of weather variables which can scunner their progress … least of all the clothes they wear.
Then again, having to huff and puff their way into a skin tight winter wetsuit while only wearing a pair of speedos would put some off … and having to do that amongst a throng of shoppers on the beachfront esplanade (as it is in Bawbags case) … would put off a hell of a lot more.
Luckily Bawbags knows no shame and laughs in the face of body image consultants!!!
Aye! … Its Me! … Standing almost starkers right infront o ye ootside Sainsburys! … Whits that you say? I hear theyve got a special on chipolatas the day? HoHoHo! Well hang aboot and watch me struggle intae that wetsuit darlin … ahm guaranteed tae go arse over tit!
You get the drift …
Disnae affect me though … infact I was toying with the idea o gettin a really garish pair of swim trunks just to attract that wee bit more attention … leopard print … or maybe a teeny weeny yellow polka dot affair.
Keep the crowds amused eh?
Nah no really … black regulation speedos and super quick changing skills are my forte …
Like a cross between Duncan Goodhew and Superman in the phone box … ahve even practiced the routine in the comfort of ma bedroom.
Had the girlfriend in stitches when she caught me at it.
And that was in the warm!!!
Anyhow, I digress …
So I made my way to the local watersports shop and spent almost a week and a halfs graft on the following item …
I have one question.
How can they justify something no more than 5mm thick costing that much?
Magic Carpet or what?!!!!
Well it bloody well better exhibit some of those qualities when I finally get it out in the water … keeping me out of the stuff would be a good place tae start!
Aw the best.
(Ahm pure delighted wi it really)
Into the tunnel …
February 26, 2008 at 11:30 pm | In Hate, Shopping, Work | 2 Comments
Thats what it feels like to me.
Yip! Another season of catering madness looms over me. The thought of all those miscreants that will turn up at the door claiming to be “hard working” chefs and kitchen porters is already making me feel weak.
Last season I had one guy turn up – fully qualified and good references – Magic!, I thought.
Until his first day of work when he rolls up looking like a bag of shit and smelling of booze.
And then he tells me that he wont touch any raw meat …
“You fucking what?!!!”
“Yeah” he says, “it just makes me feel queasy”.
I told him he was in the wrong game and there was a pile of dirty dishes with his name on it over in the sink.
“I wasnt born to clean” he sneered at me.
Bold As Fuckin Brass!
“Well ye werent born tae cook either pal … so youre nae use tae man nor beast!”
Thing is – the way that this company works … I had to put up with the flake for 4months … couldnae get rid of him cause there were no other applicants.
Mental.
Anyway, the seasons no come into play just yet so Im kinda just setting things up before the aforesaid miscreants turn up and fuck up my life for the rest of the year.
Apropos of which a brand new oven turned up the other day …
A Rational, thats kinda the cream of the crop as far as ovens go within the catering industry.
Fifteen thousand pounds of quality German Engineering.
250 Kilogrammes of Stainless Steel, Fans, gas piping and high spec electronics.
It had been made to order by a crack team of engineers over the space of two days …. tested for excellence by rigorous quality control experts.
Then carefully packaged within a puzzle of high impact polystyrene, cardboard, shrink wrap and plywood before being carefully loaded into a freighter at the Hook of Holland for superfast efficient delivery to the UK.
10 hours later it rolled up at the back of my kitchen … it was in the back of a shitty looking lorry amongst a bunch of DVD players and cappucino machines destined for Argos.
The driver, about five inches smaller than me and about half the weight, got out wearing a food stained t-shirt, five oclock shadow and breath smelling like death.
“Awrite mate … have you got a fork lift then?”
“You Fucking What?!”
I find myself saying that A LOT regarding catering.
I may adopt it as bona fide catchphrase.
I had to run around and hire a pallet truck, get it on site, and then Mr Muscle and I managed to wrestle the thing onto the lorry heist which groaned loudly under the strain as it lowered it to the ground.
“You got a problem here mate” the driver shouts at me.
I took one look and almost went back home to bed.
The bloody thing wouldnt even fit in the door.
Ah wis scoobied!
We took of all the packaging and it still didnt fit!!!
Ah phoned the General Manager and told him what was going on … “Cant you turn it on its side?”
I caught myself before asking him “You Fucking What?” – it may have affected my employ in too negative a manner.
“Eh… No … Its almost 300kilos and I aint had ma porridge this morning … and it did cost Fifteen Thousand Pounds and ah wouldnae like to take the grief if I damaged it”
The cavalry soon arrived – a team of maintenance men including a joiner who nonchantly hammered the door frame out in such a manner that some of the brickwork above caved in.
“Fuck” he said.
Here we go ah thought.
“Better get the bloody thing in before the wall goes”, he says.
Health and Safety At Work Act 1974 … where are you now?
I woulda taken photos but they all seemed kinda protective over their little mistake.
Anyway, to cut a long story short we got it in and the wall was fixed and the door frame was conjured back into existence.
Ah needed a break after aw that and decided tae take a wee trip tae the local Sainsburys tae see what CDs the have on offer at the mo.
I parked the car and saw this …
Its a portable dog shower.
YOU FUCKING WHAT?!!!
The world turns eh?
Aw the best fae BawBags.
Useless Article No. 1
December 30, 2006 at 8:15 pm | In Shopping, Useless Articles | 1 Comment
The Jamie Oliver Pepper Grinder
I got this as a little “stocking filler” for xmas – it comes with a little bit of blurb written by Jamie himself … he says he first came across this kind of grinder through a friend who apparently is involved in the manufacture of the best drums in the musical instrument trade, apparently.
Why does he tell us this? … I know!
Its to palm some of the blame off himself for intoducing such a shite product … and it truly is shite!!!
It didnt work … then it broke … now its in the bin.
If you are looking for advice on kitchen equipment … dont trust people who make percussion instruments … or talk shite like Jamie Oliver.
Oh and by the way Jamie, your flavour shaker has been around a while – do the words Pestle & Mortar ring any bells?
MURDER POLIS !!!
December 17, 2006 at 9:38 pm | In Shopping | 3 Comments
… is an expression you will hear in certain parts of Scotland, Glasgow in particular.
To try and translate it into something a non-Scottish person would understand is very difficult, but basically, when you are caught up in a crowd of people and you are trying to get somewhere quickly but you just cant because of them … ” this is Murder Polis” is the expression you will often hear. (Where it comes from id love to know … any ideas?)
Well it was pure fuckin murder polis the other day shopping in Inverness … youd think it was bloody Carnaby Street or something!
Xmas shoppers, I hate them I do. They wander aimlessly around with eyes like big plates, mesmerised by the bright lights and conned by the so called bargains. Retail Therapy?!!! … I was that enervated by it all after one short hour I had to go and have a wee quiet moment to myself up a back street … drivin me fuckin crazy so it was!
I have particular venom for the ones that just decide to stop dead in their tracks, so you almost crash right into them, causing a pile up of consumers … and the reason … none! ( well none apparent ) They tend to be OAPs, or what we term up here as Coffin-dodgers. And when you crash into them you feel guilty and end up apologising when it should be the other way round!
Also high on my ever increasing list of hate are couples, young and old, who INSIST on holding hands while caught up in the maelstrom. Fucks sake! … okay you maybe in love the pair of you, but cant you see there are 50 odd people risking life and limb by stepping of the pavement and onto the road so you pair can continue sauntering up the street with your heads up your arses! … Doe eyed motherfuckers! … they should cut your fuckin hands off for such shite.
But my one true beacon of hatred in the sea of christmas shopping are the cunts who see you approaching, in the opposite direction to them, but seem to make no concession to that fact whatsoever. You end up doing the bodyswerve to avoid contact with them or more likely their Mothercare & Argos carrybags laden with all manner of shite. THEY DO NOT CHANGE COURSE OR REDIRECT THEMSELVES BY ONE LITTLE INCH!!! … It happened to me that day, i nearly sent this daft bints shopping spinning all over the pavement, I TRIED to avoid doing that and if she had the sense to try as well, our efforts combined would have let us both pass in peace … but no … not this hag!
“I think the word is sorry” she said with her voice raised, trying to make me look a prick in front of everyone … I was so shocked at the sheer front of it I just carried on walking and paid no heed whatsoever … Stupid Cunt!
I have decided on a course of action and I am resolute to carry it out … the next time it is Murder Polis anywhere and I am caught up in it and on collision course with some mesmerised shopper … I aint gonna move, waver or swerve an inch to avoid contact … What I am gonna do is brace myself, tighten the steel that is in my shoulders, I aint bragging about it but my shoulders are ridiculously strong for someone who is only five foot eight … years of weight training and shinty have hardened them into granite and what with my low centre of gravity, if they wanna play “pavement chicken”, I will put them on their arse right there in the street!
So if you ever see a squat wee scotsman, striding down the street with steam coming outa his ears … LOOK OUT!!!
Or you could just shout, “Hey Bawbags, Chill Oot!, its Christmas after all!”
Id thank you for it.
Lata.
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