Four Mildly Amusing Tales

The Sugar Shortage Prank and Cheese Gives You Bad Dreams

Many years ago, I was employed for a while at well-known superstore on the Wines and Spirits department. It was hard work, humping heavy boxes of bottles around all day, but compensated for with some great laughs.

The fellow who was my supervisor possessed a wicked sense of humour and he resembled John Thomson the actor from Cold Feet,, though he was probably shorter and a bit 'camp' too. His name was Albert.

One of the things that amused Albert was the bit in the Staff Training Manual that stated: The customers are not interested one little bit in your idle gossip...

"Yes, they are, most definitely!" Albert would counter, and he would prove the assertion wrong on several occasions too with staged little incidents.

One quiet day Albert rushed out onto the shop floor looking a bit flustered and said to me loud enough to be heard: "Matt, can you lend me a fiver as my sister, who works for Tate and Lyle, has just phoned me to tell me there's going to be a severe and long sugar shortage."

"Bloody hell, Albert, I'll give you a tenner and get a whole load for me too!"

In the background was a middle-aged woman pretending not to earwig. We knew different of course.

I handed Albert the tenner and he disappeared out the back. In the meantime, I quietly watched the woman wheel her trolley out of the aisle.

A few minutes later Albert returned, and we carried on stocking the shelves but keeping a sharp lookout in the direction of the pallet at the far end of the store where the bags of sugar were stacked.

Sure enough, after about ten minutes, the woman approached the sugar pallet.

I nudged Albert and we both looked on, trying to contain our laughter, as she placed bag after bag of sugar into her trolley till it was totally full.

I imagined her later at home and her husband asking her why every cupboard was full of sugar and she tapping the side of her nose and replying knowingly: "I have inside information that there is going to be a worldwide sugar shortage soon..."

That was over forty years ago. They've probably just about got through it all now!

Albert and I scripted a few other 'wind ups' though that was probably the funniest but there was another weird incident...

One morning I was in the warehouse putting boxes away when I heard a thump followed by a gasp and then the sound of a body crumpling to the floor.

I came out to the main corridor to see this fellow in a suit lying unconscious at the door of the dairy refrigeration stock room surrounded by fourteen-pound blocks of cheese. The First Aider was called and after a bit he revived and was well enough to go home though clearly shaken.

It turned out he had been counting the cheese which had been stacked precariously high when he had inadvertently nudged the pile for it to collapse with one landing on his head rendering him unconscious for a few minutes. Fortunately, he made a full recovery.

After, there were a few jokes going round about cheese giving you bad dreams...

Funny enough, I attended, a few weeks later, the annual staff party which was fancy dress and was asked by the Dairy Manager why I hadn't come in an outfit.

I responded by lying on the floor with my eyes closed and saying, wittily I thought: "I've come as a cheese rep!"

"Very fucking funny, Matt!"

I've got a few other amusing tales of my time there which I'll get round to posting some time.

Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

A couple of decades ago I was in the office when my colleague pointed out an advert in the local paper and said to me: "You're always telling us how short of money you are, Matt, so here's an opportunity to earn a few bob."

He'd passed the paper over, and I'd read the ad which stated: We are looking for models for our life drawing classes. Must be over 18. No experience necessary but you must be willing to be unclothed. Typically, you would be expected to hold a variety of poses for up to 30 minutes. Full supervision will be given. £11 per hour.

I'd handed the newspaper back and had replied: "Can't see me doing that, besides they'd probably want someone young and attractive, not a flabby forty-year-old guy with thinning hair and a small cock."

My colleague had merely said, "Okay", and had left the paper on his desk before leaving the office.

When he'd gone, I then thought: I'll take the number anyway, give them a ring, and if I do decide to do it, nobody will be any the wiser, and I'll pick up a few quid too.

The next evening, about half-five I phoned the number which was answered by a very pleasant fellow. He told me that I was exactly what they were looking for as they got very few guys of my age coming forward. He then added that I would be expected to pose totally naked. I kind of hesitated for a second or two and then just said: "Fuck it, I'll do it."

The guy was really pleased and gave me a time, about a week later in the early evening, and a place which was a small studio above a pub.

I duly turned up and was met by the art teacher who did a lot of smiling.

He showed me the changing room where I took off all my clothes before slipping on a dressing gown. I then walked across, feeling rather conspicuous, the floor to a raised platform, all the while avoiding the eyes of the class.

Once there the art instructor, who oversaw the class, could see I was quite nervous and said to me jokily: "Just slip off your dressing gown and imagine that you're Rose after asking Jack to 'paint me like one of your French girls'."

So that kind of broke the ice and I lay back, totally naked, on the chaise-longue...

Next thing there's easels being thrown over, flash bulbs going off, poppers and a rousing verse of 'Happy Birthday' from all my friends and colleagues from work...

The Perfect Barbecue...

After Claire dumped me in June 2004, I ended up going out with Lulu shortly after. Okay, rebound relationships not a good idea.

Anyway, I went out with Lulu for a good few months but she dumped me (on election night of all nights in 2005) because I couldn't commit. We remained on friendly terms, however. In fact, Lulu was attractive, intelligent, generous, humorous, and kind but I was too mixed up (still in love with Sharon and Claire) to appreciate her at the time. I was also occasionally shagging another woman too. Okay, I've been a bit of a rat in my time.

For her birthday, however, in June 2005, she had invited me to a barbecue at her friend's house. Her friend, by the way, is the spitting image of Julie Walters the actress.

Anyway, apparently, I learned later, Lulu had invited me to the barbecue partly to show off her new toy-boy and make me jealous.

When she had dumped me, she had immediately regretted it, me being so handsome, witty, sexy, and modest. The next day she had pleaded for me to have her back, but I had turned her down.

Back to the barbecue.

To be honest I don't really like barbecue food that much and because I'm not that keen on food poisoning too: burnt to the crisp on the outside, warm, and pink in the middle. Thanks, but no thanks. So, I decided to eat beforehand.

From the supermarket I had bought some cooked ham, bhajis and a quiche which I had eaten when I had got home. I had also picked up a couple of bottles of wine for the party and a card for Lulu.

A little later I had turned up at the party with Jeremy, my childhood friend, who was also invited.

The party was good. I had a lot of laughs and ended up chatting to a girl who I thought at the time I may have a chance with. But it turned out she was just flirting. A couple of months later she stirred it up with Lulu and me because underneath she hated Lulu -- a story for another day, maybe.

After a bit I started to get tipsy on all the wine.

Lulu was also a bit cheesed off because the toy-boy failed to show.

Whilst there I had observed everybody gorging on the food and feeling smug because I knew I wasn't going to be the one suffering with my gut in the morning.

Out of the blue my message alert had sounded. It was Claire who I still pined for. I thought: What the fuck does she want?

Well, it turned out she wanted the number of my one of my colleagues. It was a ploy, of course, to make me jealous. And it worked too. She'd already got a fella, the one she dumped me for. I was beginning to believe that she was a game player. A tease. A wind-up. Later when I was really drunk, I told her that by text which just about scuppered any slim chances of getting back with her.

As time moved on Jeremy and I got an invite to join some others down-town which we accepted but just as I was about to go, I suddenly experienced a mild stomach pain -- I needed to go to the loo.

I walked back into the house which was quite small and at the end of a terrace. It also only had one toilet; not enough to cater for about twenty or so guests. In addition, there was no lock on the door and when I sat down, I realised that I had a dose of the shits. Big time.

My first thought was: This isn't supposed to be happening to me, me who cleverly ate at home in order to avoid tummy trouble from dodgy barbecue food.

So, I then realised that I had terrible flatulence interspersed with 'pebble-dash' diarrhoea and every time I had thought that there could be no more it started up again. In the meantime, I'd been having to keep the door pressed shut with one leg because there was no lock on it to prevent people getting in. Finally, I got over it and I flushed the chain. But to my horror I then saw that the water wasn't draining away because I'd used a hell of a lot of loo paper. The level of water and raw sewerage rapidly began to rise and any second, I'd feared it was going to overflow. Mercifully it didn't but it was still blocked. With one foot against the door to keep the other desperate toilet users at bay I'd pumped repeatedly with the toilet brush with my free hand. Finally, there was a loud sucking noise as the bowl had emptied.

As I opened the door, immensely relieved in more ways than one, a young woman grasping her crotch had rushed in.

When I got outside Jeremy had been waiting for me. He said calmly: "I hate to say this Matt, but not only could everybody hear you, but you have also completely stunk the whole house out. I think it may be best that we go."

"Yes, you're probably right."

We walked out and I wished everybody left there a cheery goodbye. Few had responded and the rest had just stared disgustedly at me.

I guess it had turned into a bit of a shitty evening.