Posted by sean on July 4, 2020 at 7:41 am in Coronavirus, Pubs with No Comments

By the time you read this, you will be able to once again drink in pubs, thanks to the government easing lockdown laws.

This is assuming that you live in England. If you are a citizen of Wales, Scotland or Northern Ireland, be grateful for your tougher guidelines, fewer coronavirus deaths and free prescriptions.


Was this a good move for England? You tell me. Look out of your window. Can you see hoards of lager-filled yobs rampaging the streets, shouting “White lives matter”, in between songs about Millwall Football Club?

If the answer is ‘no’, the change will probably spell a much needed return to normality. Considering how much tax is applied to alcohol, coupled with the amount of booze the English are capable of putting away while on a bender, the economy will be back on track before you can say “stomach pump”.

Should the view from your window be an accurate reflection of my vision of mob law, don’t worry too much. You’ve probably just woken up in Billericay – the rest of the country is doing fine.

A lot has been made about the fact pubs were only be allowed to open at 6am and not 00:01. The government were apparently concerned by the potential for parties and overindulgence, should social drinking restart at midnight…

Have they never wandered into a Wetherspoons for an early-morning coffee or breakfast? The place is overrun with winos, alcoholics and pensioners – off their tits on house red, Zukovsky Vodka and the ale of the week (which I hear is currently Boris’ Barnet). If people are going to get pissed, they’re going to get pissed.

Incidentally, I cannot claim to have entered a public house before midday. Not only do I love my bed too much to get up until at least half the morning has gone, but I prefer to do my binge drinking from a brown paper bag, while sat on a park bench next to a mangy stray dog. Therefore my claims about the Wetherspoons clientele is based on reputation – although there is no smoke without fire.

Posted by sean on July 3, 2020 at 7:02 am in Me Vs. The World with No Comments

As you will know from recent blog posts, I made the interesting discovery that drivers for the courier firm Hermes have a lower IQ than a gerbil.

This morning, another parcel delivery firm has managed to grind my gears. The company responsible – Yodel.

I can guarantee that a quick search on social media or just Google, will tell you a lot about Yodel’s reputation and approach to customer relations. The only thing I am not certain of is who has the worst overall feedback – Yodel or Hermes.

The good news for Yodel is that I see no reason why their drivers should not at hold intelligence greater than, or at least equal to, a guinea pig.

The bad news is that they appear to be suffering from a severe case of Monkey Shoulder.

I originally encountered this disease in my first job, when I was a young, bright-eyed whippersnapper. A manager gave me some advice on how to have a successful career…

If you are given a task to complete, the situation should be handled in the same way you would treat a monkey on your shoulder.

No, not scream as the demented ape sinks its fangs into your neck. The idea behind this approach is to get the invisible monkey off your shoulder as quickly as you can, by any means necessary.

This may involve delegating the task to a colleague beneath you on the payscale. If that is not possible, deal with the job yourself in a way which is as quick and effortless as possible, regardless of resolution quality.

I don’t work with this manager anymore, but we remain in the same organisation. Since growing older and more experienced, I have learned that this anonymous manager is well-known for cutting corners. To his credit, he earned more money than me 17 years ago and he still does now. He must be doing something right.

Back to Yodel. Based on a number of personal encounters with their ‘service’, I think it is obvious that their employees follow the Monkey Shoulder approach to work. Great for them. Shit for customers like me.

Their latest debacle occurred yesterday, while attempting to deliver a mop to my humble home. This is not a mop of hair – think one half of that famous duo ‘mop and bucket’. I know what you’re thinking – Claire and I are forever treating ourselves to luxury items.

This is where things become hilarious. Hilarious in a sense of ‘how the hell could someone get something so simple so wrong’…

It was late morning when Claire checked the Yodel tracking tool. Apparently our mop had been delivered. Bollocks.

This felt incredibly familiar to Hermes and my missing face mask. While contemplating what our next move should be – my preference being to dress up as a highwayman and hold up the Yodel van – our doorbell rang…

A man was stood at our front door, clutching what looked very much like a mop. As he wasn’t offering to clean our house, we could only assume it was our missing delivery.

The very kind gentleman, who we later established lived around the corner, handed us the mop, explaining that a courier had entered his back garden, where he dumped the delivery.

So, as well as committing fraud by lying about making a successful delivery, the courier also trespassed onto a random property to dump a parcel they could not be bothered to deliver themselves.

As the theme song for the famous Australian soap tells us – “Everybody needs good neighbours”. With couriers leaving parcels, packages and letters wherever the feck they like, those words could not hold more truth.

I feel that I must name and shame the company responsible for subjecting their customers to Yodel. In this instance, it was George, Asda.

I do sometimes wonder why online retailers continue to use the likes of Hermes and Yodel. One would imagine that maintaining a positive reputation is pivotal to any company. Would it not make commercial sense to entrust a reliable courier firm to handle their deliveries?

Then I remembered that Fawlty Towers episode… “because he’s cheap!”

Posted by sean on July 2, 2020 at 9:56 am in Me Vs. The World with No Comments

Despite the fact I don’t live too far away from Salisbury – the city involved in all the Russian poisoning stuff – today’s blog title is not a secret phrase to communicate with MI6 spies. Although on the off-chance I have inadvertently stumbled across highly classified information, I think that it would be wise of me to avoid eating at Zizzi for the next couple of months.

The reason I have blogged today, is because I have an update on the Leeds United face mask, which Hermes failed to get to me, after apparently delivering to the wrong address.

As I just love to keep you all in suspense, before I reveal the update, I would first like to make a point regarding my original post on this matter.

On 27th June 2020, I published a blog entry entitled “So Simple, A Rat Could Do It“. The post title and content compared the intelligence of a Hermes delivery driver to that of a rat. On hindsight, I now realise that this was grossly unfair…

Clearly, the intelligence of a Hermes employee is incomparable to that of a rat. I would like to apologise to all rats, as well as hamsters, shrews and other small rodents. They clearly demonstrate far greater intelligence than a typical Hermes courier.

Apologies done, I can now tell you all where my face mask is…

It’s lost.

Marvellous. Congratulations, Hermes. Next time I order something from Leeds United, I am going to ask that a vole take charge of delivery.

To make matters worse, Leeds United cannot send me a replacement face mask, as they have sold out. Looks like it’ll be a Hello Kitty one for me…

I do wonder where my Leeds mask ended up. Presumably in the possession of the owner of whatever letterbox the simpleton decided to carelessly chuck it through.

I am not holding out too much hope in ever receiving my precious mask – especially as I believe that I saw it on telly over the weekend.

To make matters worse, not only does it appear that the incorrect recipient was wearing the mask, but also listing it on eBay…

Posted by sean on July 1, 2020 at 9:54 am in Leeds United with No Comments

Leeds United are the most frustrating football team on the planet. For their poor supporters, anyway. For fans of other clubs, it must be like a hilarious sitcom. One of those sitcoms that has been around for decades – because that’s how long it feels my team have been torturing me.

If anyone wonders why I have been a pessimistic git all season, despite a prediction I made last summer that Leeds will get promoted, last night is a prime example…

Leeds – top of the league and at home, against Luton – bottom of the league. You probably think I’m being arrogant, because my club “only” managed to win 2-1, or by some other close scoreline, when I was expecting a 7-0 rout.

Had Leeds won 2-1 yesterday, I would happily have had an artificial womb transplanted into my body and carried the unborn fetus of whatever player scored the winning goal.

Leeds didn’t beat Luton. They pissing-well drew!

Is it too early to sound the siren yet?

Posted by sean on June 30, 2020 at 2:20 pm in Rabbits with No Comments

I have come to the conclusion that Roman can either access the internet and read, or understand English.

The reason for my theory is that a couple of days ago, I blogged about the grief our bunny was causing us when it came to getting him to bed at night.

As well as writing that blog post, Claire and I have also been discussing how we are going to deal with any bedtime antics in the future.

While I remain off work following my scooter accident, Claire is also absent from her job, although she is not off sick. Due to the ongoing risks to my health from COVID-19, my wife and I are both having to follow government guidelines on shielding. With laws being relaxed, it is inevitable that she will be back at work in the not too distant future.

How does all of this affect Roman? When Claire is at work, an evil alarm clock wakes her up in what I regard to be the middle of the night – which in fact, it is shortly before 6am.

Shielding from coronavirus has meant that the morning alarm has shown some compassion of late, remaining silent until owl, fox, badger and all the other nocturnal creatures have put themselves to bed.

With all this in mind, Claire and I have been somewhat relaxed and tolerant of Roman’s bedtime defiance, safe in the knowledge that there will be no horrendously early wakeup alarm.

When the time comes for my wife to drop the shield and return to work, the early morning call will return. This will mean that playing ‘Catch the Bunny’ at half past eleven is not feasible.

We have discussed – inadvertently within earshot of Roman – that because of his poor behaviour, he may have to return to his cage considerably earlier than normal, or worse… spend the entire day locked up!

Given the high levels of intelligence held by our gifted rabbit, I suspect that he either read my recent blog post, or overheard our evil plans to keep him incarcerated, and hoping for us to have a change of heart, decided to improve his naughty behaviour.

Either way, we can’t complain. Roman has put himself to bed without a battle, for two nights running.

What are the chances of him becoming a demonic beast this evening?

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