Oo-er Missus

Here are 12 of the finest double-entendres that were aired on TV & Radio



These were sent to me by Darrel. I think they are juvenile and silly, and anyone who finds them amusing should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves.

1. Pat Glenn, weightlifting commentator -
'And this is Gregoriava from  Bulgaria . I saw her snatch this morning and it was amazing!'



2. New Zealand Rugby Commentator - 'Andrew Mehrtens loves it when Daryl  Gibson comes inside him.'



3. Ted Walsh - Horse Racing Commentator - 'This is really a lovely horse. I once rode her mother.' 



4. Harry Carpenter at the Oxford-Cambridge boat race 1977 - 
'Ah, isn't that nice. The wife of the Cambridge President is kissing the Cox of  the Oxford crew.'



5. US PGA Commentator - 'One of the reasons Arnie (Arnold Palmer) is playing so well is that, before each tee shot,
His wife takes out his  balls and kisses them ..... Oh my god!! What have I just said??'



6. Carenza Lewis about finding food in the Middle Ages on 'Time Team  Live' said: 'You'd eat beaver if you could get it.'



7. A female news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turned to the weatherman and asked,
'So Bob, where's that eight inches you promised me last night?'
Not only did HE have to leave  the set, but half the crew did too, because they were laughing so hard!



8. Steve Ryder covering the US Masters - 'Ballesteros felt much better today after a 69 yesterday.'



9. Clair Frisby talking about a jumbo hot dog on Look North said:
'There's nothing like a big hot sausage inside you on a cold night like this.' 



10. Mike Hallett discussing missed snooker shots on Sky Sports:
'Stephen Hendry jumps on Steve Davis's misses every chance he gets.'



11. Michael Buerk on watching Phillipa Forrester cuddle up to a male astronomer for warmth during BBC1's UK eclipse coverage remarked:
'They seem cold out there, they're rubbing each other and he's only come in his shorts.'



12. Ken Brown commentating on golfer Nick Faldo and his caddie Fanny Sunneson lining-up shots at the Scottish Open: 
'Some weeks Nick likes to use Fanny, other weeks he prefers to do it by himself.'

Research

Nowadays you can’t release a film, an album, a commercial, a car, an electrical product or a fart without first submitting it to the rigours of a research group. If you wish to present anything to the public now, you have to take whatever it is that has been so lovingly crafted and put it in front of a focus group. A bunch of people will turn up for the promise of a small fee and a plate of sandwiches and be asked what is wrong with it? Then to justify their existence in the room they will tell you how they could have done a far better job themselves.

Can you imagine if research had always been around? Would it have been better? What would have happened, for instance, if the music of yesteryear had undergone a similar fate?

Here is a classic piece of work with possible research comments in italics.

Yesterday

Yesterday,

(Why look back. Too negative.)

All my troubles seemed so far away,

(There is no need to mention troubles. It puts a problem in the listeners’ mind that doesn’t need to be there)

Now it looks as though they're here to stay,

(No, no, no.)

Oh, I believe in yesterday.

(What about believing in ‘Today’?)

Suddenly,

(Good, group liked spontaneity)

I'm not half the man I used to be,

(Not liked at all. He should be twice the man he was)

There's a shadow hanging over me,

(Sounds negative, change to something sunnier)

Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

(Not very believable)

 Why she

Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.

(No. Suggests lack of communication)

I said,

Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

(Not liked. Could they say something right and look forward to tomorrow?)

 Yesterday,

(Refer to previous comment)

Love was such an easy game to play,

(Liked)

Now I need a place to hide away,

(Again negative. Sounds a bit lonely)

Oh, I believe in yesterday.

(Refer to previous comment)

 Repeat previous two verses.

(Heard it all before. Try something new)

 Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.

(Group had no strong opinions on the letter m.)

Here’s how a research friendly might sound.

Today

Our today.

We’re going on holiday for a nice getaway.

A nice resort where the kids can play.

Oh, I believe in our today.

Suddenly,

I’m as happy as I can be,

To spend quality time together as a family,

Oh, our today will come suddenly.

Why we

Have to go, with the flow, I couldn’t say.

I said,

Something strong, like I long, for our today.

Nn-nn-nn-nn-nn-nn-nn.

I think you’ll agree that research has certainly helped improve the rather negative words of Mr. McCartney.

The client

I have decided to change career. I am going to become a client.

The first thing I am going to do as a client is buy a dog. Not just any dog you understand, but a really expensive dog that requires lots of maintenance and money spending on it. Day after day I will pay to keep it fed, healthy and hearty. And not just an expensive dog, but a really intelligent breed of dog. One that has been bred and trained over many years to perform specific tasks really, really well. Once I have bought this dog, which is so clever and costs me so much money in upkeep, the first thing I am going to do is start barking myself. Whenever the dog feels the need to let itself be heard, ‘woof woof woof’ I shall go.

I shall do this because I’m the client now and I know best. I will be surrounded by people who spend all day telling me how clever I am, so therefore I will know best about absolutely everything there is to know about absolutely everything, because I know best. Because I’m a client now and therefore I’m bloody brilliant. Simple as that, get used to it.

If the dog decides to fetch my slippers, I shall tell him how to fetch my slippers; which route to take, how to hold them and the exact point by my feet to leave them. If it sits on command, I shall tell it where to sit and how to sit more comfortably. These animals can’t just rollover willy-nilly, oh no, there is a certain way to rollover, and I will take it upon myself to show it how to rollover. If I throw a stick for it to fetch, then I shall run and fetch it first, because nobody knows how to fetch a stick better than I do.

To get the best out of my new dog I shall undermine it at every opportunity, and show it how I can do everything better than he can, regardless of the consequences. This will be client led motivation at its best. My decisions and natural instincts will put it to shame, so I will never use the dog for the reasons I paid for it in the first place, because this would go against all that seems natural. 

This is how you get the best out of a dog. I know this to be true, because I have seen this approach in action so many times.

Blah, blah, blah!

Blah blah blah blah blah a lovely new red car blah blah blah Chris has a blue one blah blah blah blah I know, I know blah blah blah blah I said to him blah blah blah blah and he said to me blah blah blah. Ooh, I’m really hungry blah blah blah blah. Tenerife blah blah blah peeled like an orange blah blah blah. My Mum, can you believe it? Blah blah blah blah. Did you ring him? Did you? Did you? You didn’t, you didn’t. No, no, no blah blah blah blah. A bit like Suzy but with smaller ears blah blah blah blah. Then I went blah blah and he went blah blah so I was like blah blah blah. Do you know what I mean? He’s like so blah blah blah. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow blah blah but we’ll talk before then blah blah blah. Byeee. A Doberman I think. Blah blah blah. Bye. Bye. Yeah, yeah blah blah blah. Okay, bye. Bye. Bye. Okay, I will blah blah blah. Byeeee.

Shuuuuuuuuutttttttt Uuuuuuuuuppppppppppp.

To the girl sat behind me on the 6.30pm train, and every other person who feels the need to discuss their life on the phone in great detail and at great volume, can I just say that neither I, nor I suspect the rest of train, could give a flying fist fuck about your car, holiday, Chris or any other part of your life. So why do you feel the need to talk about it at the top of your loud, irritating voice?

Sshhhhhh.

8 Idiots

A few members of the gene pool we could manage without.

The Banker

It is the year 1508 and a 33-year-old Michelangelo awaits his audience with Pope Julius the second. The sunlight streams through the window as the young man clutches his plans for the great Cistene chapel ceiling in his hands. They are brave, audacious, ambitious and will become the stuff of legend; of this he has no doubt. But first he must present them to the Pope’s right hand man.

“It is the doctrine of humanity’s need for salvation that is the overt subject matter.” He tells the intermediary. “It is a visual metaphor for humankind’s covenant with God.” He continues, ready to hit him between the eyes with the visual majesty of his plans. At 14 metres wide and 40 metres long the designs will take just over four painstaking years to complete, they will require the artist to develop a completely new technique of painting and be like nothing else on earth.

Once the presentation is over the Pope’s trusted advisor leans back in his chair and speaks:

“Hmmm, I like it. No I do, I like it. But let me put my client head on for a moment. Isn’t it all a bit, well, religious? Aren’t all these figures a bit, I don’t know, overkill? Let me present it, but let’s have a back-up plan. A banker. I’m thinking something in eggshell white. What do you think?”

I wonder if Norman Foster looked at the designs for 30 St Mary Axe, and said to his team of architects “Hmmm, isn’t it all a bit Gherkin like? It’s kinda’ cool and everything, but if I was to put my client head on for a moment; I’d be thinking we should also present a banker. I’ve always been a big fan of the cereal box shape. OK?”

When the Beatles recorded Sgt Peppers, did they record a banker? A Val Doonican cover perhaps? Did the designer of the Bugatti Veyron put his client head on, and have a Vauxhall Vectra clone as a back-up plan? Did Francis Ford Coppolla put his client head on and have a version of Apocalypse Now with that whole war bit toned down a tad? No, of course they didn’t. They all had a purity of vision, and the balls to support it.

It is sad that so many buildings, films, TV shows, commercials and music are so banal, formulaic, safe and unmemorable. They were the easy option, the no brainer, the banker, therefore they held no risks. Subsequently they will hold no attention, have no impact and form part of the unremarkable wallpaper of life.

Incidentally the original version of this post was carved into the back of a small Lithuanian gentleman, painted gold and hung upside down outside Tesco’s. However, I put my client head on for a moment, and decided it would be safer to post it on this blog.

Man Flu

Surely the most brutal affliction to strike down mankind that Mother Nature has ever deemed fit to bestow upon us? The sheer savagery and cruelty of this terrible illness has to be experienced to be believed. How we men survive is a mystery to all.

I know women will complain that they suffer too; but I don’t think you can really compare the gift of childbirth or the monthly visit from Mrs Mood Swing to the full horror of Man Flu.

As I sit here unable to sleep, sneezing, trembling like a turkey at Christmas, with my blocked, yet runny nose, sky high temperature and a general feeling that the grim reaper is close at hand, beckoning with his taunting bony finger, I have only the prospect of a fourteen hour working day ahead of me for comfort. How I will manage is anyone’s guess, but I will probably have to call upon the kind of Dunkirk spirit that us men are so famous for in these times of hardship. There will be those that suggest I warrant some form of bravery award. They may well be right.

But what separates us man flu suffering victims from mere mortals in these challenging times is our enviable ability to simply get on with things. As close to death’s door as we may be, we don’t moan, we don’t whinge and we don’t feel sorry for ourselves. We put on a brave face, and get on with life. We underplay the seriousness of the situation, rather than worry those around us. I may be fighting back the forces of nature like some kind of naïve King Canute, but damn it I’m going to try and pull through this.

It is a quality that we should all be proud of.

It is to be applauded.

If only I had the strength.

Bombay Creative Battle

It would seem the 'Creative - Client' relationship is the same the world over.

NB: Apparently for some reason this doesn't work on a PC. I know not why.
If you would like to see it, click here

Who says politics should be boring?

MEP Nigel Farage delivers a major tirade against EU President Herman van Rompuy, a man paid a salary higher than President Obama, yet is unelected. Whether you agree with him or not, it's good to see an MP who's not afraid to pull his punches.

Out of office. Out of order.

Well it would seem the ‘Out of office’ function on your trusty email is now well and truly redundant. There is now never any excuse to be out of the office. With the Internet, Blackberry, iPhone or virtual private network you are linked to the office with a digital umbilical cord that can never be severed.

We are told this is fantastic news and that productivity can jump to record levels, whilst each employee is contactable and fruitfully employed at a moments notice. Any time of day. Anywhere in the world. Brilliant.

But hang on. Aren’t we forgetting something? Oh yes; we are human fucking beings, and we don’t necessarily want to be working 24 hours a day, putting our jobs before time with our families, and never having a moment to switch off and relax. Even machines need maintenance.

I am abroad on a work trip at the moment. Away from the bosom of my family in the back end of nowhere. A stranger in a strange town. Another embarrassing English victim of that damn ivory tower, but away nevertheless, overseeing quite a tricky project. So imagine my unadulterated delight when an email dropped into my inbox requesting that I just do a little job that will take no more than quite a lot of hours. 

‘Just fit it in if you have any down time, or perhaps do it tonight. If you run out of time, I will try and reorganise it so that you can work on it tomorrow night as well.’ 

Oh, will you really? Well thank you very much. Thank you very fucking much indeed. It’s not as if I need to concentrate on what I’m doing here, I’m just sat around with my thumb up my arse, singing along to the smash hits of John Denver whilst trying to decorate my shoes imaginatively. And once I’ve finished I can think of nothing I would like to do more than go back to my soulless hotel room and do some more work. Tell you what; why not send over a couple of new briefs for me to look at while I’m at it? And heaven forbid I should stop working before midnight, but if I do I will attempt to learn the art of sword swallowing whilst juggling squirrels to entertain the rest of the staff at the Christmas party. How’s that?

Surely things were better when work was work, home was home and evenings and weekends were our own? Is it really that productive to have employees splitting their time so much that no one job gets the attention it warrants, and the employee ends up less motivated, less engaged and less effective?

I suggest we bring back the ‘out of office’ function, and when we’re out, we stay out.