The Good Pub Guide

(A multinational team of journalists look at video footage of floods in the UK)

Russian News Editor(exasperated): I have no idea where these shots are from, as you can see they were filmed at night and no information has been sent with the shotlist...
Me(squinting): Um...er...it's York, actually.
RNE(incredulous): How on earth can you tell? There are no road signs or anything.
Me(embarrassed): Um...er...well, I know the pub on the corner. It's the Lowther Arms.

Natural Born Killers

Imagine my delight, during the "Best Festive Shop Window" competition a few days before Christmas, to find an entire family of rabbits (Mummy and Daddy rabbits plus two tiny baby rabbits) playing happily in the straw in the window of the local butcher's, ignoring the raw meat laid out just above their little furry heads while delicately nibbling on carrots and daintily sipping water (with complete disregard for all environmental health recommendations, but there you go, it's Christmas in France). Endearingly cute.

Imagine, then, my horror when ONLY ONE DAY LATER AND AFTER THE JUDGING I meander past again to find said rabbits and straw have completely disappeared and the menu of the café next door is advertising a new dish-of-the-day...

(Camera Grunts: sense of horror amplified by Jaws-style foreshortening effect)

Honestly. This explains why the Nativity was never set in France;

1. The French would have eaten the donkey.
2. The heavily-pregnant Mary would never have made it to the stable.
3. Christianity as a belief-system would never have come into being.(Or not with the same prestige, at any rate. Christ the Saviour is born on the roadside doesn't quite have the same cachet.)

Yours disgustedly,

Rosbiff.

PS Happy Christmas to everyone

It's the end of the world as we know it

(end of shift at work)

Me: Right, I'm off. See you next week.
Spain: Maybe not. It's the end of the world tomorrow, remember.
Me: Oh, yeah (thinks) - hmmm, I wonder..
S:What?
Me (mock serious): If you are on shift when the end of the world happens, does it qualify as an "accident du travail"?*
S (tongue firmly in cheek): Good question. You would definitely need to get an arret maladie*. The start date would be ok but the end date might be a problem. You would have to put "infinity". I don't know if the CPAM* would accept that.
Me (mock horror): Its a bureaucratic nightmare.
S (genuine laugh): Only for the French.



*accident-at-work
*sicknote
*social security

Strong to the finich 'cos he eats his spinach

Italian (looking at the internet): 'Ee ees like Pope-y.
Me (nearby but not paying attention): hhmmm, what?
Italian: Pope-y, you know.
Me (perplexed, thinks 'he's italian, maybe it's a Vatican thing?'): Um no, no idea what you mean.
Italian (insistent): SI, you do! Pope-y, con Olivia!
Me (lightbulb goes on): oh, you mean Popeye! and Olive Oil!

(turns out Italian was looking at pictures of a freaky bodybuilder online)

Epic Sardine

I head for the drinks and chocolate machine, tucked round a corner at work, and come upon the Sardine on hands and knees, nose under machine, grunting, snuffling and muttering to self...

Me (surprised): What on earth are you doing?
Sardine (muffled): I dropped my money and it rolled under the machine...trying to get it back...ooof
Me (sympathetic): Have you looked round the back? There's loads of room, I bet it has rolled through. (Goes round the back, retrieves one euro coin, returns, hands it over happily) Here you go!
Sardine (triumphant beam): Result! I only lost 50 cents! Get in!
Me:........(speechless)


(Anyone who knows S personally will realise this is so classic, it could easily have been made up. Nonetheless, he is a Very Nice Boy/Fish)

Threats to thrill

(at work)

Sardine (standing up): Did you take my chair?
Me (lounging) : Yeah. Makes a change one of US taking something from one of YOU. B****r off.
Sardine (sweetly but with underlying menace): Do you want to go back to the hospital?

Days of Blunder

(At bus stop)

Me (squinting at timetable): LuMaMeJeVe....that's a funny name for a place, where is that stop, then?
Long-suffering Stray: It's the days of the week, you dozy woman.
Me: Oh god, I AM brain damaged, aren't I? Oh god...oh god...(starts having wobbler)
LSS (resigned): No. You were like this before.

Lickety-split

Haribo (disdainful): ..that's just a**e-licking, if you ask me.
Me (agreeing): Yeah.
Haribo (moral): I could never do that kind of thing, urgh.
Me (pragmatic): Oh, I dunno. Depends how desperate you are. I would lick anything if I wanted it enough.

(cue extended and repeated cackling)

Need-to-know basis

Colleague: When's Mister?
Me: No, Westminster.
Colleague: Wents Missing?
Me: No, Westminster.

One for the Frenchies

(Notice on back of hotel room door):

Supplement pet      15 euros

I know quite a few people who would end up with a very big bill here.

For those who don't know...pet means furry animal in English, but FART in French...)

Itth all jutht too much

Me: I've got some bad news for you.
French colleague: Wet?
Me: Guess who is top of the list of nominees for the Nobel Prize for Literature?
FC: Dunno.
Me: Philip ROTH.
FC: Oh, whore.*




*This is a bad word in French and was not directed at me. I hope not, anyway.

Taking the pith

French colleague: ROSS-ko?
Me: No. ROTH-ko. Put your tongue between your teeth to say it.
FC(waggles tongue obscenely): RRRROOFFFSS-ko!
Me: God, imagine Ross-ko in Mor-pess. What a nightmare that would be for you.
FC: F*****g hell, Muriel!

Crying wolf

(on cafe menu board at lunchtime): filet de loup aux noix de St. Jacques, riz pilaff aux petits legumes

Me: Bloody Hell! (mouth gapes) Fillet of wolf ! Are things that bad in Europe? Are they really eating wildlife here now?
Resigned Stray: It's a fish, you silly cow.

There's no place like foam

Spanish colleague (writing news-in brief-report): So what is this bloody foam stuff in Aberdeen , then?
Me (squinting, following text of wire report slowly with one finger): er...um..well it says here...phytoplankton...
SC: MontyPython?

(Part Deux..)

French colleague: Mor-PESS?
Me: No. MORRR-peth.
FC (with gallic flourish): MWAH-pess?
Me (weakly, due to laughing): ..nearly...

The Whipper-in

Removals man (sly smirk): What's this? (brandishes my dressage whip, flexes it and then starts smacking his colleague on the bottom, accompanied by pantomime yelps)
Me (failing dismally to bestow a Paddington Stare due to laughing): Oh, for God's sake (raises eyes heavenwards) Give me strength, Lord..

At the Tax Hotel

Me: Hello
(Severe-looking lady of a certain age, with a beehive hairdo and pince-nez eventually raises her artfully made-up eyes to mine and lifts her eyebrows slightly in inquiry)
Me (trembling, opts for best ploy): Hay dernt kner eef you haff noteees, bert hay am nert Frenssssh..
Pince-Nez (looks over her glasses, eyes twinkling discreetly): We all have our faults. How can I help you?

Shop talk

Me: Hey, I learned something really surprising today. Guess what is the world's oldest democracy?
Distracted parent: No idea.
Me (persevering): Ok, here's a clue. It has the same name as a high street food shop.
DP: Waitrose?




(In the interests of impartiality, accuracy, fairness, diversity and other editorial guidelines blahblahblah DP would like me to point out that she was, of course, joking.The answer, as I am sure many already know, is Iceland)

The Pearl Necklace

Me (stroking the furry, silky head of the small dog with bulbous goldfish eyes in the seat next to me in the train): You are lovely.
SDWBGE (from the depths of the handbag it is sitting in, wearing a ten-strand pearl choker, I know because I counted them): Yip (although was Frog dog so actually said "yeep")

What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

Me (stroking smelly, dribbling pet while watching Henry IV Part I on TV): If the cat was a character in a Shakespeare play, who would he be, I wonder?
Resigned Parent: Bottom.

Knee bother

Pontius Pilates: NO! Knees APART! TOES together! No, not like THAT! God, you must be a rubbish date.

Raiders of the Lost Bra

(de-cluttering in garage)

Disapproving Parent: Ahem. What is THIS? (dangles black, Calvin Klein silk bra, COVERED in cobwebs, from one finger)
Me (nose buried in yellowed copy of the Radio Times from May 30th, 1968): Oh, fantastic! I have been wondering where that was.
DP: It was in one of the boxes marked 2005.

Keep taking the tablets

(In pyjamas, with headache threatening, I swallow a couple of paracetomol)

Travel Bunny (scathingly): Is that your HRT?

Trolley Dolly

Flight attendant (standing at the front of the cabin, wearing pink, oversized, heart-shaped, Elton John-style sunglasses with sequins): Ok, riff-raff. We have now begun our descent, so please put your tables back up, fasten your seatbelts and make sure your shoes match your outfit. We do have baby-change facilities on board, so make sure you are happy with your choice before disembarking. Oh, and anyone who wants scratchcards, catch me as I mince down the cabin. Ta-ra!"

Where is my umbrella?

...asks a poster in the metro advertising a school offering English tuition for professionals. Culturally specific, obviously.

Wonder what an equivalent poster on the Tube would say in French?

C'est a quelle heure, le dejeuner*, perhaps?




* What time is lunch?

Guns, butter, anarchy...

The sound of gunfire and hovering helicopters from the nearby military garrison is providing much-needed motivation for my revision ahead of tomorrow morning's exam in the theories of international relations.
Thank you, boys.

Don't tell him, Pike! (French election special)

Heard this morning on Today, BBC Radio Four:

Jacques Attali: There is no currency without a state. And the euro is a currency - so, if you follow the logical progression...a state will follow.
Presenter Evan Davis (in a very British tone of polite disapproval): And have you mentioned this to the Germans?

You AR missing something

Notice on the back of the door in a toilet cubicle in the gym:

Ladies, please use the bin provided to dispose of your sanity products.

It's wi-fi, not sci-fi.

Me: So, is there a code for your wifi, then?
Travel Bunny: Yes. BFFGUBB1.
Me (typing myopically with one finger): No, that hasn't worked. Did you say B or V?
TB: Oh, for God's sake. B****r, F**k, F**k, Greggs, Uniform, B*****s, Blyth, 1.
Me (giggling): That's it. Hooray!
TB: It's the Geordie phonetic alphabet, pet.

Cafe ou claque?

In kitchen...

 Me (bleating): ..and it was REALLY raining by now, cats and dogs, and then, the bus driver asked me how I got on the bus, even though I had just walked past him, and then a drunk got on the bus, and THEN the bus stopped and the driver said it was the terminus and I had to get off and cross the road and wait for another one, and THEN...

Suave Frenchy (interrupting, having listened to enough): Do you want coffee or a smack?

Beanz Meanz Peaz

Laney: Yeah, its called "The Voice", and Tom Jones is on it and some guy, I dunno, Will-I-Am from the Black-Eyed Beans?
Me: PEAS. They're the Black-eyed PEAS.

Toilet training

Day Three of living in the clutches of an unreconstructed latin MACHO:

(In bathroom, just finishing up, I glance down at toilet lid and think to myself:) hhmmmmm...time for a small, individual act of defiance, perhaps?

I slip out, leaving the seat firmly DOWN.

Coming over all Cuire

French banker: I have been thinking. What about Cuire? That's a nice neighbourhood as well, and not too far out.
Me: Queer? No!

Carpeted at the UN

(Leaving council chamber)
Swiss Dave: Honestly, what were they thinking putting carpet down here? With all the footfall coming through? Tiles would have been much more practical.

Sardine modesty

Me (joking via email): How will I recognise you? It's been a while.
Sardine (via email reply):I'll be the gorgeous guy in top shape standing with a unresistable smile in the middle of the square... ;)

See ya at 16h30!

My cat? My PLEASURE.

French banker: What about Monchat? That's a really nice neighbourhood.
Me: No. In English it means "My cat".
FB: Ah, I see.(sly look) What about Monplaisir?

Speaking in tongues

Muddled Maple Leaf (jobhunting): "....so I think that might help actually, because my mother's tongue is English."
Piggy: "My mother's tongue is French but my mother's mother's tongue is Spanish. AND my father's mother's tongue."
Monkey: "My mother's tongue is portuguese."
Laney (sniggering): I think you mean MOTHER tongue.

Dog gone

Cute but mad-eyed Border Collie: HelloHuman! Allowmetointroducemyself! Iamabordercollie! Yes! Thesunisshining! Isn'tlifegreat? Ihaveridiculousamountsofenergy! Hereismyballasyouobviouslyhavenotnoticedityet! (nudges slobber-and-grass covered ball into my hand) Pleasethrowitalongwayforme! Yes! (does little excited stamp and wiggle)
Me: oh, hello. You are VERY cute. What's your name?
CBMEBC: ohwhogivesastuff? LikeIcanspeakhumananyway? Iamadogyouplonker! THROWTHEBLOODYBALL! (small, insistent yip and wiggle)
Me: Do you want me to throw the ball for you?
CBMEBC: YESYESYESYESYESYESYES (starts edging away without taking eyes off me)
Me: here you go,then (I throw the ball)
CBMEBC: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!(streaks off after it, ears,fur,tongue and tail flying)

Pontius Pilates strikes back

Fitness Instructor (points and snaps): Get that leg straight!
Me (through gritted teeth): It IS straight...ouf...ow...ow..
FI: It is NOT! (repositions leg, I squeal) Trust me, I can spot STRAIGHT a MILE OFF.

Revenge is sweet(s)

After turning the room upside down, crying incoherently, walking back to campus and retracing my steps, interrupting a lecture to make everyone look under their desks on the floor, being so distressed in the shop that someone offered to walk me to lost property, sobbing so much the security man took pity on me and walked me to the estates office and then leaving still empty-handed, traipsing my way back home (by which time I had missed the Cheltenham Gold Cup on the radio)..

...I find my precious memory stick containing my 3,500 word essay due on Monday and my dozens of research articles for my dissertation lying brazenly in the dish of sweets on my desk. Even has dainty icing-sugar finger prints all over it.

Pontius Pilates

Fitness instructor: Is it hurting yet?
Me(bent double, leg behind head): mmmmpppfffhhhh...arrrrgh
FI (airily): Am I bovvered? (pushes my knee down further) Every masochist needs a sadist, darling.

Bread of Heaven

(flyer shoved under my door):


"Pleasure or God: Do I have to choose? Free lunch and short talk."


Might go. It's a free lunch.

Always read the small print

Just polished my desk with mosquito repellent.

Hoy ya hammer ower, hinny...

Shop assistant: D'you need any help, there?
Me (hearing the accent): Where are you from?
SA (surprised): Washington.
Me (pleased): I'm from Blyth.
SA (ecstatic): Eee, ya never! Wey ya bugger. What you doin' heeya?
Me (switches into broad Geordie) : Aam studyin' for a yur. Ah live in France now, like.
SA: Me husband's in thu Armee. Wuv just bort a hoose. ah said, wu cud a bort a palass for that up north, like.
Me: One a me friends is from Santropay, when ah went ah said, corl that a beach? They're much betta back hjem, but there's nee bugger on them, its too cad.
SA: What's France like?
Me: Aw, divven't start us off.

Racing sheeps by Flemish beavers

Professor (with foreign/US accent)..unlike in earlier times, when the country's political economy relied on traditional activities like racing sheeps by Flemish beavers...
Me (daydreaming happily away): What? Pardon?
Professor: I said, in earlier times, political economy was based on traditional industries like raising sheep by Flemish weavers.

It's the wrong lecture, Gromit..

Professor: Right, if you will all please turn to the part on covenant law, jurisdiction and compensation, you will find that in the case of Smith v. Bloggs in 1904, the shop owners had in fact...blah..blah..(drones on)

Me(thinks): hmmmmm I am in the WRONG LECTURE (surreptitiously glances around) but there are lots of people here and I am too lazy* to move so maybe I will just sit here for the hour and read my book on democracy..



*intimidated

Flower Power

Fierce-looking security guard at kitchen door: Are you in Flat A?
Me(in penguins, waiting for porridge to heat up): No, I'm in B. (gets curious) Why?
FLSG: There's some flowers here, been delivered for Flat A.
Me: Oh! (senses opportunity for mischief) In THAT case, I AM in Flat A..(tries winning smile)
FLSG: Get outta here. (chucks tissue at me)

The sum of all fears

Professor (writing on board): E,s,1.5,j - (.5)squared + (.5)squared - .5 + .25, .2=2L, so (.8)squared + (.2)squared = .64 + 0.4. And THIS explains why the Monster Raving Loony Party have never had any significant representation in the UK parliament.

Me(stunned): Aaah. Now I understand....

Kinky Sets

Putnam, Robert. 1988. "Diplomacy and Domestic Politics:The Logic of Two-Level Games", International Organization 42:427-60

"....this theoretical approach highlights several significant features of the links between diplomacy and domestic politics, including the strategic uses of uncertainty about domestic politics, and the special utility of 'kinky win-sets'".

(Written, I am sure, with a straight face but certainly not read with one)

It's all Greek to me

Lecturer(writing on board):...Thus we can easily determine the meaning of the word from the following semantic analysis..the initial participle in the word "democracy" comes from the latin word, "demos", meaning "the people"...
Greek student(interrupting): That's a greek word, actually.
L: Is it?
GS:Yes.
L:Are you sure?
GS: Yes.
L: I have never been corrected on that one before.

Know your onions

MG(muffled voice due to nose in fridge): What's that? Eh? What?
LG: What on earth are you doing?
MG(shutting fridge door): I though I could hear the onions singing, but no, its just the CHIVES TALKING!!!!!
ME: hysterical squeaking for HALF AN HOUR

A bummer for Bomber

(In kitchen): beep-beep..beep-beep..beep-beep...beep-beep..beep-beep...
Bomber (alarmed): What the f***'s that? (looks around wildly) F*****g Hell! Is that my pacemaker?
Me (gripping worktop for support due to hysterical cackling): No. You've got your bum up against the timer on the cooker.