CHRISTMAS IS COMING & WHO'S GETTING FAT?

Well, I'm sorry to say it's that time of year again.

Call me a miserable cow if you like, I don't care.

I'm just aghast at the frantic spending, stressed out faces of shoppers and sales assistants alike.

I shot off to Morrisons this morning about 8.30 to get some food, thinking I would beat the crowds. No such luck. Rugby scrum would be fair description. Why? For one day of the year. The police with blue lights on parked vehicles parked in the middle of the road were trying to create order out of chaos with the traffic streaming into the city centre.

Puffing, panting, red faced women, heaving king sized heavily laden trolleys into the car park. When do they eat all that? How do they eat all that? Have they got room in the fridge and cupboards for it all?

What do I do at Christmas? I don't run round frantically looking for pressies. I don't fill the house (boat rather) to overflowing with food etc only to throw half of it in the bin, which is where I am sure the majority of it ends up.

I'm not a christian, it means nothing to me. And it's certainly lost it's meaning to many christians anyway. Luckily my family is of the same opinion so I don't feel pressured into conforming, lucky me.

I have a nice dinner of roast beef and yorkshire pud and a quiet day and I don't come out till its all over and done with.

So many people complain to me about Christmas, the stress, the work, the pressure and yet they still do it. If everyone toned it down a bit they'd be much happier.

Then they do it all again the following week for New year!

Christmas is coming and who's getting fat? Answer, Retailers, credit card companies, finance companies, banks.

Bah bloody humbug.

Kats :0)

GIS A JOB

B & Q JOB APPLICATION

This is an actual job application that a 75-year-old pensioner submitted to B&Q in Tunbridge Wells. They hired him because he was so funny.


NAME: Kenneth Way (Grumpy Bastard)

SEX: Not lately, but I am looking for the right woman (or at least one who will cooperate)

DESIRED POSITION: Company's Chief Executive or Managing Director. But seriously, whatever's available. If I was in a position to be picky, I
wouldn't be applying in the first place - would I?


DESIRED SALARY: £150,000 a year plus share options and a Tony Blair style
redundancy
package. If that's not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.

EDUCATION: Yes.

LAST POSITION HELD: Target for middle management hostility.

PREVIOUS SALARY: A lot less than I'm worth.

MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT:My incredible collection of stolen pens and
post-it notes.

REASON FOR LEAVING: It was a crap job.

HOURS AVAILABLE TO WORK: Any.

PREFERRED HOURS: 1:30-3:30 p.m. Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?: Yes, but they're better suited to a more
intimate environment.

MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?: If I had one, would I be here?

DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 lbs.?: Of what?

DO YOU HAVE A CAR?: I think the more appropriate question here would be "Do you have a car that runs?"

HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?: I may already be a winner of the Reader's Digest Timeshare Free Holiday Offer, so they tell
me.

DO YOU SMOKE?: On the job - no! On my breaks - yes!

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS?: Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy Swedish supermodel with big tits and who thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I'd like to be doing that
now.

NEAREST RELATIVE?: 7 miles

DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR
KNOWLEDGE?: Oh yes, absolutely.

Kats :0)

HELL, WITH KNOBS ON

On friday, I needed to go into the centre of the city to buy train tickets for a visit to Derbyshire, move some money, pay a couple of bills, and force myself (ha ha) to buy something to wear.

I hate shoppping.

I hate crowds.

I forgot it was December and the Christmas feeding frenzy has started.

First stop the Railway station to get the ticket. At least 15 people in the queue. One look at that and I turned around and decided to go back later.

Next stop the Building society - no queue. Whoohoo!

Next stop Boots, to get a top up for my 3 phone. Very very large queue, I waited, and waited (yawn) waited some more. Got the receipt thingy with the code on (they don't do swipe cards), stuffed it in my bag and escaped.

Clothes shop. Picked up what I wanted, stood at the till and waited, and ******ing waited. Hopped about a bit, had a look at some other stuff and then waited and waited some more.

Bank of Scotland to pay a Bank of Scotland credit card bill. Must have been 25 people in this queue. I waited and listened to that electronic voice - Counter 3 please, Counter 1 please, every time a teller pushed a button having dealt with a customer. We all shuffled forward at the sound of the voice. Did I not see a science fiction film once with this particular scene in, but weren't they queuing for their pills? By the time I've shuffled to my destination at the counter the terminal boredom will have me begging for a pill. Finally, I get there to be told I can't pay in the bank, it will have to be posted - Christ on a bloody bike!

To the Post Office then, to get a stamp to post it with. Yet another electronic voice system and a queue snaking off round several barrier thingies. Rather than make a show of myself in public by tearing my hair out by the roots at the thought of another obligatory shuffle towards another sheet of security glass with some other poor sod behind it wishing it was 5 pm on Christmas eve, I leave and decide to do it another time. Charge me a late payment fee you bastards - I don't care.

Marks & Spencers for a nice "ping" meal. Chaos would be an understatement, but I am determined to get my Gastropub Beef whatsit with wild rice. Grasping my dinner I wait in yet another long queue. I'm getting older by the minute.

Back to the Railway station. The queue is still the same, for crying out loud. But, lo and behold, no electronic voice. I think I may survive this one, at least I can shuffle on my own terms.

Twenty minutes later - "I'd like an open return for Monday morning to Chesterfield, leaving on the GNER train at 7.55am and changing at York please"., said I smiling through gritted teeth. "That's OK, the man said, but there are works on the line so you'll have to get a bus to Edinburgh first and pick the train up there" Edinburgh is at least 3 hours from here; I could feel a howl welling up inside me ready to burst out. "Oh, I replied, so, when will the train run again from here?". "Not till Tuesday, love". "Fine, I snarled, I'll go on Tuesday instead". "That will be £108.00 then." he smiled. The chiselling bastards.

On the way home I remembered a piece I had read that morning on line:-

Man urinated on cash till

US police are hunting a man who stood on a conveyor belt and urinated on a till at a supermarket.
Witnesses said the man was standing in line at the check out at a ShopRite store in Chester, New York state.
He suddenly climbed on the belt, took out his penis and urinated on the till, reports the Times Herald Record.
Police responded to a report of indecent exposure but were unable to find the man who fled before startled staff and shoppers could act.
ShopRite officials called it an unfortunate incident and said the register was cleaned and disinfected immediately.

I know why he did it.

Kats (snuggled up in a straight jacket):0(