Archive for July, 2008

Mr Brownstone

Posted in Dartmouth, Humour, life, Uncategorized with tags , , , on July 22, 2008 by norvenmunky

Our ‘regular’ correspondant Berg has been in touch, having recently been reminded of Mr McGregors ‘Thames Whaling’ exploits, and clearly at the very least it touched a few memory cells, if not cloth. We can all remember occaisions where when ensconsed in assorted abolutions, theres been that worrying WTF! sound from the trap next door. Be it un-natural grunting or the sound of a kettle being emptied into a bucket from a height of fifteen feet or more, we’ve all been there. However without more ado I commend the reading of ‘The thoughts of Chairman Berg’

‘In his latest posting Norven Munky has recalled an iconic moment in cinematic history as Ewan McGregor sought employment as a plumber’s mate. It made “The Berg” recall several of life’s “Shitty moments” which he describes for your edification.

‘T’wuz many moons ago when your scribe resided at her majesty’s pleasure at BRNC Dartmouth. The bullshit phase of basic training entailed repeated cleaning of all fixtures and fittings for “Rounds”; whence a white glove escorted an officer in a hunt for dust. Discovery of dust was a heinous offence but I digress. With our cleaning duties never ending, it wasn’t long before some unfortunate chanced upon the largest turd ever recorded. It leapt to fame, standing some two inches proud of the water’s surface of the great white telephone in trap two of the starboard heads in Blake Division. Its dimensions reminded us nautical types of a berthing hawser; the sort of thing usually found fastening the USS Nimitz to the dockside. It was also generally agreed that it was the product either of midwifery or the slackest ring-piece in Christendom.

( Before you all snigger about Mr Churchill’s snotty comments about rum and lashes etc I should point out that in my current employ, the RAF is streets ahead in representing the pink-pound economy )

In addition to its girth and length, this laxative leviathan scored highly in the odour stakes as well. Indeed trap two had been well and truly “Chernobyled”. Its fame spread far and wide; well, around the college and it became, for a while, a tourist attraction. Its elimination was effected by some brave “Liquidators” who were allowed just twenty seconds each of frenzied plungering; clad in lead-lined, protective aprons. This led to the ship-driving syllabus about buoyancy being revised for future generations of would-be Nelsons.

Oft the butt of stand-up routines the never-ending-jobby has a buoyancy beyond the realms of normal physics. We’ve all been there. It wasn’t yours but the next bloke is waiting and will assume you possess no hygienic qualities if you leave the thing floating defiantly in the bowl. No matter how many flushes you attempt, sometimes waiting for ages for the cistern to re-fill, the bloody thing is still there. It amazes me that the RNLI have spent millions researching optimal buoyancy designs for its boats when all they had to do was build their Waveney’s et al out of shit.
( a serious aside; we doff our cap to the work of the RNLI and all therein !!!! )

Later on “The Berg” found himself lodging with a family in the south east. It was always a source of unease that the trumpet voluntary, oft sounded during visits to the head, would lead to finger pointing by the offspring of landlord. So it was that Berg would disguise a need for guilt free farting by claiming to be getting fit at a gym. Once changed into trazzy bottoms etc it was possible to move unseen into the discreetly sited heads. Safely sconced in trap one you could let rip in thunderous anonymity: bliss!

Moving on, “The Berg” remains mystified by the couture toilet designs often purveyed by the DIY emporia. Many designs seem guaranteed to produce skid marks all over the place no matter how carefully you honour Gibson et al or in my case the Taranto raid of Nov 1940. Indeed, dropping the kids off at the pool will almost certainly need post-flush remedial scrubbing lest we leave evidence of our defecation for all to see. Today’s bog standard is built for skids; unlike the colonies where a wide bowl allows you to curl down incredibly long movements before flushing sees the whole thing pirouette down the hole before bafflingly clean water re-plenns it.
That said, one’s admiration for the “Septics” septic arrangements are tempered by the disconcerting effect of gazing upon the aftermath of a particularly squirty one, post vindaloo, with your ring-piece looking like a Japanese naval ensign. Not pretty.

However, bully’s star prize must go to Russia. You may recall “The Berg’s” sojourn in Leningr…St Petersberg. Already nervous at the prospect of confronting the immigration authority of the old ( new ? ) enemy and general fear of the unknown your scribe had assumed “Sphincter-Con 1” with buttocks clenched as the A320 sped its way over the Baltic. On arrival at my digs my hosts showed me how to use the facilities. Trap One contained a foot-pedal-flushed, soviet era bowl which had a sort of platform that was about six inches under your arse as you sat down. No water catchment , nil , nada, nothing; just porcelain. So you did your business and were then able to inspect your excretal emanation in no small detail before condemning it to Baltic oblivion with footwork worthy of Nureyev himself.

“The Berg” has detained you long enough; and so, as the curious turtle of expectation head butts the underpants of reality, he bids you all farewell.

Next week we’ll be revisiting ‘The Lord Kitchener’ in New Southgate, a place where I indeed can recall a famous siting of a ‘Thames Whale’, on the way back from a Spurs match. The only thing missing was a Jolly Roger stuck in the top of it. Fortunately a coach of Japanese tourists arrived and it was unceremoniously harpooned, dragged out into the car park, and hacked to pieces on the spot.

Appetite for Destruction

Posted in Humour, insurance, life, motoring, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on July 22, 2008 by norvenmunky

Well I think the laydee at the insurance company had had better days.
Always a pleasure to discuss insurance renewals I had a new and wholey unexpected view of customer service earlier.
Nm until recently was the proud owner, well owner, of two cars. Due to an oversight in the maintenance regime I allowed a cam belt to go unreplaced. Clearly theres a good reason for the manufacturer suggesting to replace items at ‘x’ miles, its because if you don’t they break. Well I learnt the lesson the hard way, the cam belt said ‘Goodnight Vienna’ with the resulting sound track of Keith Moon kicking over his drum set and that was that. Well the car went to the scrappy and the DVLA in due course confirmed that the mota was scrapped. Job done or so I thought.

So whats this got to do with the insurance bint? Well I’d paid in full for a year and had a month left to run which I wouldn’t get refunded, so I left it. As Ms Bint was ringing to offer an unbeatable deal for next year, I mentioned that last week it was confirmed broken up and scrapped, so please cancel the insurance its no longer required. This clearly was a bit difficult to understand so I was offered an opportunity for them to re-quote, and to beat any other offer, me being so valued and all …

I said I really did think it would be in our mutual interest to cancel the policy as the car had been scrapped. It went quiet for a second and Ms. Bint clearly spoke to an intellectual superior futher up the food chain at You or I would know them as direct line, however a more appropriate name would be ‘missing link’. On her return I was offered to let the insurance run to the end of the term, (Late August). I asked why, and she said the boss had authorised it as I was such a valued punter. I said ok ta v much, may I have a quick word with the ever so generous and thoughtful executive, whom had made this executive descision.

A second later, no ‘Greensleeves’ (TF for that), and I was put through to Mr Fortesque Exceptionally-Dense, who indeed confirmed the details of this exceptional offer, after a brief explanation that I had scrapped the car. Oh I’d also like to report my car damaged I said, Mr F. E-D ‘When did this happen?’, ‘ Oh about three weeks ago’ said I, I know where it is though and its all smashed up, can I claim for it? Mr F. E-D (somewhat sternly now), so why have you left it so late to report? Mr Nm, Well I wanted to make sure it was scrapped, I didn’t realise I could scrap the car and then claim for it, so thats what I’d like to do. Mr F E-D now a clearly a bit annoyed and even sterner ‘Well thats not how the system works, blah blah’ … After his patient explanation I asked him why they wanted to insure a written off car then if I couldn’t claim on it. ‘We don’t!’ he said, Nm ‘Well I think if you check your recording for training purposes, I think you’ll find that Ms Bint and yourself have in fact been offering to do just that, what bit of the car’s been scrapped are you having a problem understanding?’ I queried. Again an invaluable pause followed by ‘So you don’t want to continue with the insurance for the car then?’ No ta, I says, ok he says, ‘tappity tap’ in the background, ok thats sorted, send back your insurance certificate please. Certainly I say, I’ll wait your SAE, I think I may be waiting a while …

That Smell

Posted in film, harry potter, irvine welsh, trainspotting, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on July 2, 2008 by norvenmunky

Apparently the new Harry Potter film’s leading actor Daniel Radcliffe has compared the latest Harry Potter installment to cult movie Trainspotting.

I’ve nae seen any of the filums yet, but ah’ll deffo go and see this one. I’d mowah than willinly shell oot some beer tokens tae see him rumaging aroond up tae his biceps in shite, in the bookies khazi!

Can’t wait for the needles, dead baby and toxoplasmosis … though I’m sure they’re in the Potter book somewhere.