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Friday, April 13, 2012

Warning: irritant

Some things irritate me.  Some of them are understandable, like mosquito bites and the Essex accent.  Others are a bit more... weird.  But for some reason the "weird" ones irritate me a lot more than the normal ones.  Perhaps because I can't get anyone to agree with me.

Things that irritate me (and probably no-one else):

1.   Couples who call each other "babes".  "Babe" is bad enough and makes me want to vom.  TheBloke (TM) tried it once, and that's why he only has one testicle.  But "babes", especially in public or via Facebook makes me want to legalise handguns, buy said handgun and then shoot "babes" in the ear.

2.  People who squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube.  Why?  You're going to have to use the bottom half of the toothpaste at some point.  Why make life harder for yourself (and for those who share a toothpaste tube with you).

3.  Anyone who reads chick lit shit in a public place.  Basically anything with a pastel-coloured cover, italic embossed writing in pink and featuring any of the following words: "shopping", "wedding", "kiss", "cupcake", "goodbye".

4.  Same goes for man shit.  Lee Child, Dean Koontz, anything where the hero can punch someone dead or stop a bullet with his rippling chest muscles.  It's just not enough for me to avoid these books myself.  I feel I have to kick anyone I see reading them.  Repeatedly.  Until they understand.

5.  Chigwell Medical Centre.  The only medical centre in the world with a premium-rate phone number, who refuse to take blood, and will only make an appointment grudgingly.  The doctors use Google to look up symptoms. It would be hilarious if they weren't the thing standing between you and potential death.

Discuss.  What irritates you but no-one else?

Sunday, April 08, 2012

Rev-view

So, sadly the time has come to replace the Mini.  We have had some good times together, but its teeny tiny boot space (barely large enough for one weekend bag) is beginning to grate, and I think it's time for a Grown Up Car.

This has - of course - involved test driving.  So far we have test driven:


  • Volkswagen Golf
  • Ford Focus
  • Vauxhall Astra
  • Toyota Auris
For each of these appointments I have rung ahead - or where possible - booked online.  For every single one of these appointments, the car dealers have been in complete shock when we've turned up; literally none of them were expecting us.

That is the first thing I graded cars on.  How efficient their booking systems were.  So far, they're all level at a big fat 0, with the exception of Toyota who actually lost an additional point, when I said, "I booked with Jamie", I got the reply, "Oh yeah, he's a complete nightmare.  Never writes anything down."  So current scores, -1 for the Auris, and a fat zero for everything else.

Next up, quality of the toilets in each establishment.  All have been pretty poor, so again, awarding no points for this.  

Refreshments offered: the Volkswagen garage not only had tea and coffee, but also fridges full of Cokes.  However, they miss out on a potential high score here for keeping their Cokes from us and only offering the tea and coffee.  The Toyota garage had no Cokes, but did have a chill-out area with a Playstation.  Unfortunately the Playstation didn't work.  The Ford garage offered us tea or coffee, but "We ain't got no milk."

Scores so far:

Volkswagen: 1
Ford: 0
Vauxhall: 0
Toyota: 1

Last but not least, arguably the most important category - the dickishness of the car salesman.  I say "salesman" because the only woman we saw throughout the entire process was the receptionist at the Toyota garage.

Volkswagen: Surprised we'd turned up (despite me speaking to the very man we saw for the test drive).  Seemed somewhat stunned when I said I'd test drive first (before TheBloke (TM)) and never called back with a valuation for the Mini.  -3

Ford: Could not quite understand his accent.  Again seemed a) shocked to see us and this time b) shocked I was allowed to drive.  Insinuated that every car salesman apart from him was a charlatan.  Refused to answer any question straight.  Refused to give a warranty on any car he sold.  However, was surprisingly unbothered when it turned out I'd driven the Focus for three full miles with the handbrake on.  Perhaps he was right about me not being allowed to drive.  -5

Vauxhall:  Kept us waiting for ages to get a valuation, and then valued the Mini at about £4k under market value.  American.  Could not understand my pronunciation of the word "bear".  I had to do actions.  This doesn't normally come up in a test drive.  -3

Toyota:  Clearly a salesman, but didn't treat us as though we were quite as stupid as other salesmen had.  However, failed to phone back with a valuation for the Mini.  0

Total scores:

Volkswagen: -2
Ford: -5
Vauxhall: -3
Toyota: 1

In terms of driveability of the cars, meh, they're all much of a muchness.

I have no idea why Which haven't approached me to do reviews yet.

Sunday, April 01, 2012

Charity case

I get rid of clothes fairly frequently.  Don't get me wrong, I'm no super shopper, but as soon as I realise I've not worn something for a year - perhaps it looks a bit old, or has a small fault, or - very often - (ahem) that it no longer fits me, I'm pretty good about filling one of the charity bags that comes through the door.

I mean, yes, I think everyone has a nightie left over from their university days, or a t-shirt bought when in the sixth form, but generally, I'd say the average age of an item in my wardrobe is about two years old.  Maybe three.  I think that sounds reasonable.

TheBloke (TM) on the other hand... well.  We've known each other for nearly five years... and in all that time I've never seen him throw away a single pair of pants.  Or socks.  He buys more, for sure, but I've never seen him throw away the old ones.  Worse still, he has hideous pairs of grey Woolworths boxers (he tells me Woolworths is upmarket in his native South Africa).  And he wears them.  I know for a fact these pants are getting on for ten years old.

Shoes, on the other hand, he goes through like nobody's business.  Find a cheap shoe shop, reeking of plastic and glue, and TheBloke (TM) will be in there, handing over his £10.  "But they're so cheap!" he says.  Fast forward to two weeks later and he's donating them to charity ("They hurt my feet" - who would have thought?  "I did wear them twice!" he adds.) and browsing yet more shoes on the Internet.  He's such a girl.

STOP PRESS: TheBloke (TM) has just come downstairs after rustling charity sacks conspicuously, and is reading over my shoulder.  "I just threw out some pants!" he says.  Too little, too late.