Sean's Stories

Posted by sean on November 16, 2018 at 11:18 pm in Rabbits with No Comments

Posted by sean on November 16, 2018 at 1:42 pm in Life In Bath, Work Activities with No Comments

Upon leaving my house for work, this morning, I discovered that, just feet from my front door, somebody had left a small, sealed black bag. Presumably, this bag was filled with dog poo – at least if it was excrement, I hope it came from a dog and not some neighbour with a broken toilet.

How lazy is that? The dog owner goes to the effort of picking up his pet’s waste (one reason that I will never own a dog*), only to leave it in the street, where it was presumably originally dropped from the creature’s anus.

* yes, I own a rabbit and yes, I do come into contact with his droppings. In my defence, rabbit poo is not messy, stinky or crawling with parasites that blind children. I also don’t have to degrade myself by bending down, to pick up Roman’s poop from the pavement.

The owner shouldn’t have bothered picking up the crap. That’s not to say I don’t deplore the selfish people who leave their dog’s vile, toxic waste all over the street.

Had the raw poo been left, it would have washed away in the rain and eventually decomposed. Leaving it wrapped up, like some horrible children’s party bag, it’ll never decompose and sit outside my house forever more, or until somebody – odds on, not the dog’s owner – disposes of it.

I bet the bag is still there when I return from work, and I bet I run over it with my scooter, having not seen it in the dark.

My morning drama was not over. Thankfully, I managed to arrive at work unscaved. Having evaded the bag of effluence, there were other hazards to deal with, including small children on bikes, adults transfixed by their mobile phones and therefore not looking where they were going, along with vast piles of wet leaves on the pavement.

Bath and North East Somerset Council have no doubt decided to ignore the leaves, rather than paying someone the minimum wage to sweep them up. No doubt ignorance is the cheapest option for my local authority, who are willing to take the risk of getting sued by a little old lady, having smashed her hip to pieces, after slipping on the rotting vegetation.

Having survived an adventure to work, similar to that of a Lord of the Rings novel, I was surprised to arrive early at my desk.

With it being a Friday, I decided to push the boat out and make myself a coffee. Unfortunately, the boat wasn’t the only thing I pushed – my mug, filled with the remains of yesterday afternoon’s coffee, tipped over, as I reached for it. Stale, cold coffee went everywhere. It is amazing how just a small amount of leftover beverage could make such a bloody mess!

Yesterday, my custom built office chair arrived. I have been waiting since April for this chair, which cost over a grand. The second most expensive chair in the country (after The Queen’s throne), avoided being showered in coffee, by literally centre meters.

Cue a quick dash on my mobility scooter to the kitchen, to collect paper towels. I am normally such a careful driver, but in this instance, I would have happily mowed anyone down at four miles per hour, in my attempt to clean my desk.

Half a tree of paper and a bottle of Dettol later, my workspace was clean. No doubt vast quantities of my spillage fell onto the floor; but as a department, we have practically destroyed the office carpet, with drinks and various bodily fluids, during the four years we have occupied the building.

Hopefully there will be no more messy disasters today and I will make it to the weekend unscathed. I doubt it…

Posted by sean on November 15, 2018 at 11:05 pm in Football with No Comments

I had to check my calendar, to ensure we were indeed in mid-November and it wasn’t 1st April, when I read the news that head of the Premier League, Richard Scudamore, was leaving his job.

It wasn’t his resignation that stunned me (I couldn’t care less what the man does). The reason for my astonishment was the fact he was being given a leaving present of five million pounds!

The fact that every Premier League club has been asked to donate £250,000 each, towards his leaving pressie, doesn’t bother me. What has wound me up is that why does he need £5,000,000 in the first place?

What’s wrong with a gift you would give to an office co-worker? A £20 Amazon voucher, for example. Or maybe a nice bottle of wine from M&S. They could even get Eden Hazard to present the gift to Old Dickie.

It’s not that I feel sorry for the clubs being asked to each contribute the cost of a 3 bedroom house. Afterall, £250,000 is literally small change for clubs, who can earn £100million, just for being relegated! My problem is that there is such a vast wealth divide in football, and this gross example of overindulgence, by one of the world’s largest and richest football governing bodies, is simply obscene.

Those in favour of his gift (are there any, besides Richard and his wife?), argue that he has earnt the clubs so much money, he deserves the present. What rubbish. He was just doing his job. What about doctors and nurses, who save lives every day – something no doubt more important than raising money, for the already filthy rich. Afterall, if you’re dead, your money means nothing. When these health professionals leave their job, will they be given £50,000? This amount being approximately twice their annual salary, which is what Mr. Scudamore is set to receive. Of course not – and I’m not suggesting that they should.

Here’s my idea… every Premier League club still donates £250,000 each and helps to raise £5,000,000. A leaving party, along with a lovely, but modest, gift is given to Mr Scudamore, leaving £4,999,500 to be given to lower league clubs and charities.

Maybe Richard Scudamore reads Sean’s Stories. If so, I challenge him to do something good with his leaving gift. Of course, keep £500 for the party, but give the rest of the cash to non-league and charities… Bath City FC and Bath Bunny Rescue (hint, hint). While you’re at it, Rich, if you can ensure Leeds United get promoted this season, that’ll be fantastic.

Posted by sean on November 13, 2018 at 11:47 pm in Spiders with No Comments

It’s November. I don’t expect to see them this close to winter…

Remember the little girl in the film Aliens? She warns Sigourney Weaver that “they mostly come out at night… mostly.”.

Well, in my case, I would advise “they mostly come out between August and October, which is widely considered to be their mating season… mostly.”

If you haven’t realised by now, I am, of course, referring to spiders.

While waiting patiently for my wife to finish in the bathroom, I saw it. A big, black, hairy spider crawl out from under the toilet rolls. I shouted. Claire screamed. I cowered. Claire heroically caught the creature in a plastic cup and threw it out of the window.

Don’t worry – only the spider was chucked out. The plastic cup was not. I’ve seen Blue Planet 2 and don’t want to get into trouble with David Attenborough, for killing a dolphin.

That spider had no business terrorising us. While I hate the things, I have reluctantly learnt to accept that they probably serve a purpose in the eco-system, besides scaring wimps like me.

If nursery rhymes about carnivorous old women have taught us nothing, it’s that spiders catch flies. So without them, we would be overrun with blue bottles and worse still, Jeff Goldblum (kids – this is a 1980s movie reference).

To continue doing their job, they need to breed. I know all about the bird and the bees. Pretty ironic, considering the old woman in the rhyme, swallowed a bird to catch a spider.

While I therefore allow spiders to exist during their mating season, I find it totally unacceptable that they should live, and especially fornicate, outside of their allotted time.

Where the hell am I going with this blog? What the fudge am I even writing about?

This spider may well have been hibernating before today. It certainly looked colder and slower, as it ran towards my wife on the toilet.

We have an excellent cleaner, who visits our house every Tuesday for a couple of hours, to make our home look nice.

Today, it looks like she must have moved my bedside cabinet, to clean behind it. This has left me with a horrific thought…

What if the spider had been hibernating behind my bedside cabinet? My BEDSIDE cabinet? This means that I could have been sleeping next to the beast for ages!

To think, my Mum, Dad, and in recent years, Claire, told me that there are no monsters living under my bed. This was pretty damn close!

Posted by sean on November 13, 2018 at 12:13 am in Football, Television with No Comments

The rumours were right. Harry Redknapp is going into the I’m a Celebrity jungle – alongside a runner up from X Factor, someone from Hollyoaks (naturally) and a TV builder. Remember when ‘arry was linked with the England job? No, neither do I.

In anticipation of the new series, I have derised a drinking game, based around Mr Redknapp. I am practically T-Total these days, with the strongest drink passing my lips being Dr Pepper.

Don’t let my non-drinking stop you – all you piss heads out there, feel free to enjoy the SEAN’S STORIES HARRY REDKNAPP I’M A CELEBRITY GET ME OUT OF HERE DRINKING GAME 2018. Catchy name, isn’t it?

Take a shot everytime Redknapp…

  • Describes a camp mate’s performance in a Bushtucker Challenge as “fantastic”.
  • Describes his own performance as “triffic”
  • Says “you know”, while answering a question
  • Refers to his time in the jungle as a “breath of fresh air”

Drink a glass of wine if Harry…

  • Calls one of his camp mates a “top, top celebrity”
  • Praises Dec, by calling him a “top fella”

Drink a Jagerbomb if Harry…

  • Claims to have attempted to sign any of the celebrities, while he was manager of Bournemouth.

Drink a can of Castlemain if…

  • Harry picks any of the following, to write him a “letter from home”… Peter Crouch, Niko Kranjčar, Rosie the dog, or any of the 2008 FA Cup winning Portsmouth FC squad.
  • Harry avoids paying Kiosk Keith tax for his Dingo Dollars.

Down an entire bottle of vodka if…

  • Dec calls Harry a “wheeler dealer”, who replies “I’m not a wheeler dealer, I’m a fackin’ celebrity!”
  • Harry carries out any jungle interview from a car window.
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