Tuesday, 4 June 2019

The Good Old Days #GRR

Blog Post | 1993 I Hate You

The Good Old Days #GRR



So many people look back and think fondly about the good old days.  

I, on the other hand, look back and instantly recall my pink shell suit with green stripes and miss that little bastard in the same way that my face misses warts.

By age 12, in 1993, me and my favourite pink shell suit had been through a lot together.

Like the time I wore the bottom half to my swimming lesson where we had to jump in wearing our normal clothes to test out our “real-life emergency situation” skills.

As we both sank to the bottom of the pool, I clearly remember taking a moment or two to wonder how on earth my shell suit and I had not died together on any prior occasion to this considering how close we both lived to open water.

She had filled with water, expanded to the size of a house, and dragged me to the bottom. Totally useless.

Back then, no self-respecting twelve-year-old ever wanted to be the one class idiot who set an example to the rest of their class, let alone be the kid to prove that their smug swimming teacher had a good point. 

Clearly, I wasn't the one making the mistake that day, but my useless shell suit had a lot to answer for.

What’s more, my shell suit had a thin, white lining that, when things got sunny and hot, stuck to me like a wet, soggy heated vacuum. 

On the outside, I felt like Marylin Monroe standing on that windy air vent. 

On the inside, I felt like Theresa May beating up Brexit with a baseball bat.

Open fires, sharp objects, felt tip pens, oil, grease, ketchup, more sharp objects, rain, thunderstorms, snow, fireworks…. The list goes on.

The problem was that we looked so good together. 

My tom-boy frame, her green, subtle stripes that detracted from my impressive tummy tyre for a twelve-year-old girl which the school nurse wasn’t so impressed with.

My “leaning tower of quiff”, crafted from half a can of hairspray every morning, her shiny, shimmering pink material that detracted from my pasty face full of freckles.

And finally, her lightweight craftmanship which shaved a few extra seconds off my knock-a-door-run efforts from my furious neighbours that I vowed, and failed, to quit doing when I was ten.

I thought we would love each other no matter what.

Apparently, they say, time heals, but roll on twenty-five years later and it turns out that I looked like shit and literally nobody in the early ’90s had ever told me —bastards.  

Now I think about it, I’m not even sure that shell suits were even in fashion back then. In the 1980s… yes. But by 1993 everybody else had moved onto Naf Naf, whilst me and my pink shell suit had only just begun to make an appearance.

The good old days, my arse. Maybe if you wore Naf Naf and floated it was, but I had a shit shell suit and a near death experience to prove it was anything but.


Monday, 3 June 2019

The Failure

Situational Joke | Up Yours Life

The Failure



Just in case anyone is reading this blog and wondering, I am absolutely fine about being a complete failure in life. *Bites clenched fist and winces* Thoroughly fine. All this means is I'm going to have to poem my way out of my sad life, cos, you know, that's just what us grown-ups do now. 

So, thanks for everything, Eminem, but maybe it's time to hang up your coat, I think I can take it from here …

Eminem: 'Did someone say poetry battle?'

Me: 'Absolutely not.'

Eminem: 'I totally heard that.'

Me: *Presses toe of flip-flop into ground* 'Honestly, Eminem, I really didn't want to be the one to say this, but you're kinda leaving me no choice. The thing is, you're at risk of embarrassing yourself again and …'

*Microphone appears in both our hands*

*Suddenly we're stood on stage in a dimly-lit basement nightclub, the crowd is screaming at us*

Eminem: *Places his starter cap on and throws me a lampshade*

Me: *Holds microphone to mouth* 'Oh shit.'

Eminem: *Shouts to crowd in a low voice that scares me* 'Who's ready for a poetry battle?'

*Crowd roar like caged lions as they leap up and down*

*Sweat drips from ceiling*

Me: *Whips out my trusty travel fan and applies some roll-on*

Eminem: *Bounces from left to right and looks at me like I've just deliberately kicked his grandma* *Holds microphone to mouth and begins killer poem*

Me: *Scratches head. I don't understand a word of it*

*Crowd flip their lid, foaming at mouth and cheering*

Me: *Holds microphone to mouth and squints in Eminem's direction* 'Is that all you got, girl?'

*Crowd gasp and whole room plunges into silence*

*A thousand eyes pierce my soul*

Me: 'Wait, just wait a second.' *Holds single finger to crowd, turns head backwards, hunches over slightly and covers eyes with other hand*

My Right Brain: 'Run away immediately.'

My Left Brain: 'Girl—you got this. What about that time you danced for the Queen on your 37th birthday, she loved it, right?'

Me: 'I suppose …'

My Right Brain: 'Daily, it's the Queen's job to love everything. When was the last time you heard her say something was shit?'

Me: *Thinks* 'Em, em …'

My Right Brain: 'Exactly, never, that's why you need to ignore Left Brain. Remember the last time you listened to her, she convinced you monobrows were back in fashion.'

Me: *Feels face*

My Left Brain: 'They still are, shut up Right Brain. So, after you met the Queen you went to the pub, alone, and you turned into a local legend.'

Me: 'Ooh, ooh, everyone wanted to dance with me.'

My Left Brain: 'Yes, that's it, you little cutie you, aww, you looked so cute in your mo—'

My Right Brain: 'Don't even bloody think about it, Daily. You will never be able to take this back if you …'

Me: *Suddenly I'm dressed in a traditional morris dancer outfit with tassels and bells strapped to my legs* *I leap around to face the crowd, landing like John Wayne, my feet slamming into the stage* *I reach as high as I possibly can and angrily smash two sticks together above my head repeatedly* *I tip my head to one side and turn to face Eminem* 'Hi, my name is, what? My name is, who? My name is, chka-chka it's Daily.'

Eminem: *Stands very, very still and says nothing*

Me: *Whips handkerchief out and begins morris dancing like my life depends on it* *Lifts microphone to mouth and begins killer poem as I dip and caper around the stage* 'There once was a British woman called Daily, who looked like she could play the ukulele, but she couldn't, it turned out, so she let out a pout … *pouts*… because she'd been listening to too much Slim Shady.' *Drops mike and handkerchief at same time*

*Total silence*

Me: *Turns to crowd for backup*

*Nobody moves a muscle*

Me: *Picks microphone back up and blows dust off*

My Left Brain: *In a dark monotone whisper* 'You know what you have to do …'

My Right Brain: *Screaming* 'For fuck's sake Daily, I suppose you're going to have to now, aren't you, you idiot.'

Me: *Removes straw hat, rests it on chest, and stares deeply into Eminem's eyes* 'You wanna lift home, mate?'


Sunday, 2 June 2019

Sexist Insults

Situational Joke | Happy Families

Sexist Insults



[Around the dinner table]

Wife: *Glaring at husband* ‘If you could buy husbands on eBay then I’m pretty sure I’d have ended up with a house that works’

Husband: *Glaring back at wife* ‘If you could buy wives on eBay then I’m pretty sure I’d have ended up with a meal I could stomach’

Teenager: *Glaring at parents* ‘If you could buy parents on eBay then I’m pretty sure I’d have ended up with no chores.

Dog: *Logging onto eBay and typing “DOG NEW HOME, NO TEENAGERS, MANSION PREFERRED. CHEWING HOUSE APART OKAY, SLOBBERING ON FOOD ALLOWED, AND THROWING SOFT FURNISHINGS AND CLOTHES AROUND ALLOWED”

*Everyone stares at dog*

Dog: *Glances over shoulder* ‘So long arseholes’


The Resignation Letter

Situational Joke | I bloody quit

The Resignation Letter



Me: *Writing my resignation letter* "Dear Bastards, I hope you rot in hell."
My Boss:
Me:
My Boss:
Me: “What?”
My Boss: “That better wash off my forehead.”



Traffic Quote

Quote

Anti-Patience Quote



"When you're dead, everybody else is going to carry on regardless, so keep that in mind before you give way to traffic"
DAILY FLORENCE 
    

Anti-Patience Quote

Quote

Anti-Patience Quote



"The more time you waste when you're young, the sadder you'll be in your nursing home"
DAILY FLORENCE  
  

Saturday, 2 March 2019

#Dreams­plaining

Cartoon | Don't tell me!

#Dreamsplaining




Background image source: www.pixabay.com

Monday, 21 January 2019

The Banking Interview

Situational Joke | Oh, the pressure!

Banking Call Centre Interview Questions




Interviewer: “We would like to test your phone skills. When the phone on the desk rings, please answer it.”

Me: “Okay.”

[Phone rings]

Me: *Answers phone* “Hello, you’re through to the banking call centre. Please hold the phone for a moment for the next available agent.” *Places phone down*

Interviewer: *Staring at me*

Me: *Lights cigarette, reads newspaper, stretches legs*

[5 minutes later]

Me: *Picks up phone* “I’m sorry, all of our agents are busy right now… you’ve got no sodding chance.” *Slams phone down*

Interviewer: *Looks totally gob-smacked*

Me: “And?”

Interviewer: “That was absolutely beautiful.” *Wipes away tears*




The Interview Mistake

Situational Joke | We all make mistakes

The Interview Mistake




Interviewer: “So, you’ve applied for the position of C.E.O?”

Me: “Sure have, and I’m looking forward to the free biscuits” *Wink, Wink*

Interviewer: “Aww, what kind of dog do you have?”

Me: “Eh?”

Interviewer: “This is a dog… biscuit… factory.”

Me:

Interviewer: “Where’s she gone?”



Monday, 27 August 2018

How To Work For MI6

Situational Joke | I know a way in.

How To Work For MI6



Me: *Crumples up rejection letter and clenches fists* ‘I didn’t even get an interview. How could they…wait..what about…’ *Picks up phone and dials number*

Receptionist: *Answers phone* ‘Hello, you’re through to MI6, Tom speaking, how may I help you on this fine morning?’

Me: *Whispering* ‘Can you keep a secret?’

Receptionist: ‘Absolutely, that’s actually our speciality around here’

Me: ‘Great. Thank you, I feel so much better’

Receptionist: ‘Splendid’

Me: ‘Blinder’

Receptionist: ‘Buzzin''

Me: ‘Jolly good’

Receptionist: ‘Ace’

[Awkward silence]

Receptionist: 'Alright then, so, like, what’s the secret?’

Me: ‘What secret?’

Receptionist: ‘The secret you’ve just telephoned me about..’

Me: ‘You know my secret! Wow, you’re good’

Receptionist: ‘No, because you haven’t actually told me the secret -yet. So what’s your secret?’

Me: ‘Yeah, but technically I didn’t even tell you I had a secret. All I said was could you keep a secret and somehow you worked out I had a secret an…’

Receptionist: ‘Listen, JUST TELL ME THE FUCKEN Secret, WILL YOU’

Me: ‘NEVER. I GO TO THE GRAVE WITH THIS SECRET AND NOW YOU SHOULD TOO’

Receptionist: *Smashes hand into red buzzer on desk*

Me: ‘YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT’

Receptionist: ‘Oh, really’

Me: ‘Yeah, really’

[Half an hour later I’m in an interrogation room at MI6 Headquarters surrounded by agents]

Agents: ‘Tell us your secret’

Me: *Whips out C.V.* ‘Tom on reception can’t keep secrets’