Smooth-Ish Radio

Loving you is easy 'cos your beautiful.

AND YOU ARE SOMEWHAT SHALLOW

Making love with you is all I want to do.

THE NOVELTY MIGHT WEAR OFF AFTER A WHILE

Loving you is more than just a dream come true.

ALWAYS WITH THE MORE

And everything that I do is out of loving you

EVEN HAVING A POO? REALLY?

La-la-la-la-la,la-la-la-la-la.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

And doot-doot.dootin.doot-do.

[haaaaaaah]

NOW THAT IS GENUINELY THE FIRST SENSIBLE THING YOU'VE SAID

No one else can make me feel the colours that you bring,

I BROUGHTS THE COLOURS BECAUSE I WANTED THEM WASHED SEPARATELY

AND YOU DON'T REALLY FEEL COLOURS THOUGH DO YOU? UNLESS YOU HAVE SOME SORT OF SYNAESTHETIC DYSLEXIA

Stay with me while we grow old,

And we will live each day in the spring time.

FAMOUS FOR ITS UNEXPECTEDLY COLD RAIN & DIFFICULTY OF KNOWING WHEN TO PUT UP THE HANGING BASKETS

'Cos loving you has made my life so beautiful.

I BOUGHT YOU ONE CHIFFON DRESS IN 1975 AND YOU HAVE NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT IT

And everyday of my life, is filled with loving you.

AND THE WASHING UP, DRINKS AT THE ROTARY, ZUMBA, THAT PERSONAL INSTRUCTOR WE CAN'T REALLY AFFORD

Loving you I see your soul come shinin' through.

YOU SHOULDN'T GET DISTRACTED WHEN YOUR IRONING MY SHIRTS. THE POLYSTER'S SO SHINY THAT THE GUYS AT THE CLUB HAVE STARTED CALLING ME ELVIS

And everytime that we[uuuuhhhhhhh].

I'm more in love with you.

THANKS FOR THE WARNING

La-la-la-la-la,la-la-la-la-la.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.And doot-doot.dootin.doot-do.

[haaaaaaah]

I WISH YOU WOULDN'T FINISH THE BOTTLE.

THIS ISN'T GOGGLEBOX.

Lovin-ughhhhh.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.And doot-doot.dootin.doot-do.

boom.doom.doom.

Maya.Maya.Maya.Maya.Maya.Maya.Maya.

la.la.la.b.doom.b.doomb.doom

I'M CALLING YOUR SISTER.

Minnie Riperton died of breast cancer in 1979 at the age of 31. Take care out there.

Mr Interesting

"The 50p is legal tender for amounts up to £10".

"The 2p coin is legal tender for amounts up to 20p".


So that old adage of paying your electric bill in pennies.....well,
they are all in league....

You Silly Sausage

I was talking with a group of friends a couple of nights ago.
One is a tree-hugging home-schooling crystal-gazing mother and she was saying how she had had to chastise her child for using the term 'gay' as in "That's so gay!".

He was a 10-year-old who'd heard it around and started using it, frankly in the same way that is used by a lot of adults, lots of comedians, and lots of gays with a gently humorous edge.
She chastised him for using homophobic language.

Homophobic V Gently humorous. Choose your poison. 

Because you're the one being judgemental. It wasn't the 10-year-old.

I suggested it wasn't homophobic but I was in a minority (one as usual)  because our other acquaintance agreed with her.
So I'm going to tell you why they are both wrong. I am not going to tell them, Believe me, I know a closed mind when I see one.

The only homophobic concept is coming from the adults.
The child didn't have any feelings of hatred towards homosexuals, or using the more traditional use of the word phobia, of fear either.

'I just thought it meant stupid', said the child.
I'm pretty sure if he thought it meant stupid, and it is frequently used in exactly that way, then his friends did as well. Even if I personally, (and perhaps you too, I don't know) might have a mild preference for the term "silly".

The disease of accusing people of being homophobic is a modern media friendly condition with very little upside.
Teaching it to children replaces that innocence with something that cannot fairly be described as educational. Particularly from a home-schooler. 

Please.

30 years ago the term gay was used to mean happy.
Currently it means homosexual.
Who's to say that if we don't poison the mind of the next-generation that in 30 years time, it may well mean happy again or silly, daft or something else. Would that be such a bad thing ?

We need to stop teaching hate. 

Hate is felt.

It might for example be felt towards the German nation for the millions of 

innocents they executed. But you don't need to teach the hate. Just teach the history. The hate will take care of itself.

If adults poison young minds with their own prejudices even inadvertently, they create traps from false materials. They make their children choose which side of the street to walk, whether they are pro-black or pro-white, whether they are pro-gay or pro-straight. It is a slow poison.
It is poor judgement.
It is wrong.

And over the weekend a primary school was reported as getting 3 years old to sign a contract against use of "transphobic" language.

I know a is for apple, b is for ball and c is for cat but is still feels like a million miles to transphobic. 

So let's talk about words, when you sell hate like these teachers were and mislabel it as tolerance, that is called hate-mongering or inciting hatred. But my arguing this, while accurate, is as useless as the propositon. It would not even lead to an interesting social discussion other than to inflame a few prejudiced vulnerables into becoming incandescent with faux rage.

Button it, teachers.

Leave those kids alone.

Now I'm feeling a bit gay today. I might go for a little walk, around the Catholic churchyard.
If you are available, you're invited to come and be a bit gay with me.

Go on.. what do you say?
Let's go and be gay together.

Second Thought

When did swimming baths become swimming pools?

Thought for the Day

Would it kill them to make a supermarket with an even number of aisles?

Psychic - Unforseen Part 3

I didn't really have any questions for 'my psychic' so I asked her

1. Does she get a lot of Mickey takers?
2. And is that why she is so suspicious?


My questions were not listened to. Because I am interested in 'method'
not icing. And she didn't seem to like me.

I had a similar problem going to an acupuncture workshop in Camden
where a London theatre director brought his 10 year old son. I didn't
mind the floppy haired director going to acupuncture but I thought
bringing his son to a treatment that essentially has no effect was
negligent. Some would call it abuse. Unintentional, of course. But
ignorance of the law and child-rearing is a poor excuse.

To get past 'my psychic' I might have worked harder on my disguise -
dirt under the fingernails, more paint on the shoes. More swarfega and
less L'Oreal.
I should have put on a dirty wig and blacked out a tooth.


The moral is familiar but unexpected: You get what you pay for.

It was too easy to see the artifice. Too lazy.
If Derren Brown was doing your reading and you didn't know he was a
conjuror, you'd believe in the supernatural. I did the first time I
saw him. Seriously. The first time I saw John Edward on TV, I knew,
KNEW, he was speaking to the dead. I didn't have the points of
reference to refute a highly, highly accomplished performance. And it
took me some time to work out the power of a TV edit, to work out what
exactly I was seeing. A year, perhaps. The main reason why I
eventually worked it out was it was so popular that they made lots of
programmes and the quality dropped.

When things are poor you can see the cracks, the joins. The jokes of a
sad clown. The truth in the ticket stubs of a man or woman who lies
about their other two spouses. We are slaves to good performers. And
that is a scary though intermittently fun place to be. Ask any
psychopath.

The quality of the finish on a product can hide all sorts of lies.
Ask any rogue builder or Harley Street physician.
Or don't.

But rated..as what...entertainment?
"If I could have given less than one star ...."

No Stars

So where was I.....
Let's try and wrap this up.

The "natural" medium asked me to deal some Mah Jong cards, extremely
well thumbed.
I dealt them four times over the next 20 minutes, and she told me 75
random things.
She insisted that I write down everything that she said... so I'd
realise! In time.

I was forced to write down about 75 prompts which included 6
specifically nominated days of the year, someone called Keith or Anne
or Pamela or Richard or John. (I think she needs to update her name
references a little bit - Pams are nowhere near as common as they used
to be. I can go for years without bumping into one), a health shake of
cancer and suicide.

One of the cars was blank.... what does that mean I asked?
My fate was sealed. I'd interrupted (just as I had another palm
reading 20 years previously). She didn't take it well. I suspected she
might be the same person who gave me the palm reading 20 years
previously.

I'm sorry I didn't know the rules.
There are no rules, she was keen to state, multiple times
Well... there are, I said. I'm not supposed to interrupt. I don't
mind, I just haven't done this before.

My contract had explained that I had two questions at the end. The
only questions I could come up with the best avoided. Why are you so
mean? Why do you suggest on your wall that people should live laugh
and love and yet if I smile personably (in what I would usually
consider a normal human dynamic), you accuse me of taking the Mickey.

She explained how a lot of people came in very serious.
But for me I was very serious.

She was a bully.
We don't get many of your type around here, was effectively what she said.

But I had dressed down. I'd worn scruffy clothes. Admittedly I was
male but could do much about that. I guess most of her clients were a
bit greedy with the X chromosomes, a bit terrified, anxious, dare I
say gullible.

She was supercilious. Even when I gently spoke she would talk over me,
even when it was my few questions.

It stank.
She wasn't skilled.
She wasn't presenting herself in a nice human gentle angelic way.
You have to subscribe to her beliefs but she had no pastoral qualities.
Even a good vicar might have those, although we know now of course
that may be to curry favour with your children.
A decent schoolteacher would have those qualities in the vast majority
of them do not abduct your 14-year-old daughter and take them to
France.


She reminded me of the door-to-door gypsies. I remember being slightly
scared of gypsies who offered lucky heather and got caught up in those
Cash for Curses rows.

She didn't curse me. Her main crime was against entertainment. She
made me sign a disclaimer that said it was for entertainment purposes.
I had told her when she chastised me the first time for querying the
blank card, that she made me feel uncomfortable. DId she seem to flush
slightly and maybe there was a little humanity trying to creep
through? (I barely had time to look up as I was directed to write the
whole time).

I can only assume she faced a lot of open cynicism, accusations, and
knowing that she was being fraudulent.
But I wasn't bringing that today. I don't hunt easy targets.

I know psychic powers don't exist.
But she was a bad entertainer.

I can her forgive the first, but I don't think I can forgive the second.

My Future

I went to see a psychic today.
I went for a reading.
I know what you're thinking.
Why did you do that? That doesn't sound like your kind of thing.

The easy answer to that question is I just thought I would. They are
popular. it was cheap on a Wowcher. And even though I know how cold
reading works I wanted to see and feel it first hand from a pro.

There's two sides to every story and she was the expert.
She considered herself to be a "natural medium" which she implied was
one that was self-taught. I was determined to be a polite,
well-behaved guest, so well-behaved that I even chastised myself for
thinking the obvious gag of "she looked more like a large".
I was in her domain and I wanted to see somebody in action as it were.
So you might say, mild curiosity.
She didn't require the benefit of my doubts because I knew how the
process worked.
But I was not interested in rubbing her nose in it. I was there for
the experience.
I wasn't doing an exposé for the local paper.
She wasn't earning very much money from the coupon and I wasn't going
to give her grief.
I was hoping simply to have an enjoyable experience delivered by an
expert with a good heart.

Simply put. The real reason I went is that I wanted her to do well.
And for my part I hoped to brighten her morning a little. Maybe we
could work together in the future on a scam or something.

I wanted to her be nice and welcoming. She wasn't particularly. She
never told me her name. She wasn't interested in mine.

She made me sign a disclaimer. Of course I used the false name I
provided her with so that she could not research me on Facebook. The
disclaimer said that the service she provided was for entertainment
purposes only. Great.
I was ready to be entertained.
By an expert.
On their terms.

I had had one previous spiritual paid encounter 20 years previously
with a pretty useless palm reader in a Romany caravan at the local
fair. And inadvertently I had kind of fallen out with her, even though
I had just given her money.
I managed to do this simply by asking on which part of my palm she was
seeing a certain prediction.
It turns out this is unacceptable behaviour.
You see this is not interactive entertainment. It is entirely one-way.
After disturbing her script, she made it clear to me that my
interruption was not welcome. Of course I never got an answer.

Anyway that was 20 years ago and I trusted that things have changed.

I arrived in a run-down part of the north-east on, it has to be said,
a gloriously beautiful day.
I was visiting a shop on a street called High Street. I tell you this
because this was the main street in the area. We all know what a High
Street is, don't we boys and girls?

But this is the north-east in a period of depression. Almost every
shop was closed. Even the betting shops. I've never seen a street so
closed.
Her psychic shop was one of the few that were open. Perhaps it was
open just for me. I don't know.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying she was doing a roaring trade.
When the betting shops go out of business, there isn't much left to play with.
And I admired what she was doing. She was running her own business.
She was trying to make a living.
She was a small businesswoman. Well, she was a medium. But as I say I
was on my best behaviour and certainly not making jokes like that.

As I waited, I looked around her waiting room. You can imagine the
sort of ephemera, a pot shire horse, an Aquarius mug, a pencil drawing
of Alan Shearer, nd a huge sign on the wall saying Live Laugh Love.
I was optimistic.
But that wouldn't save me.

I'll tell you the rest... tomorrow

Tea for Two

Hmmm.... may be I needed to upgrade the funny...make it a bit more Keith Lemon and  a little less Henry Root.

Dear Tea Drinker,

 

Thank you for taking the time to get in touch and please accept our apologies for the delay in replying.

 

We are sorry to hear you have been disappointed with our Yorkshire Tea tea bags.

We can confirm that Yorkshire Tea tea bags are in pairs due to the way our Manufacturing process is set up here at Taylors of Harrogate. The reason for this is that when the tea bags are in the box stacked together, they travel better. Being in pairs helps to prevent movement in transit – excessive movement in transit can lead to excessive dust within the box.

From time to time we do experience an operating fault on one of our machines where the knife does not perforate the tea bags sufficiently, resulting in the tea bags tearing when our customers try to separate them. From the description you kindly provided, our Quality Assurance team feel this is what has happened.

If you could kindly get back in touch with the blend and size of the box, along with the best before date and production details, we will pass these on to our production team for their information.

We'd like to reassure you that we are fully committed to quality and looking after our customers. We're sorry that you've been inconvenienced and if you could please also let us know your address details, we will  of course replace tea for you.

We look forward to hearing back from you.

Kind regards,

 

Becky 

Customer Services

Taylors of Harrogate

Things we forgot to name #34

That tag on a shirt where they keep the extra button.