Memoirs of a Trucker

2012-08-27T20:15:00.002+01:00

The great Bubble Wrap scandal of 2015.

Part one.

In the beginning were the words, and the words were.................. Health & safety!

Dateline October 2014. London. BBC News 24.

“…………and the last one was found in the Rhubarb pot. Now…. Over to our business correspondent, Hugh Jeffersitt. Hugh……”

“Thank you Clive, well the Footsie rose by 10 points overnight on news that the European commission on health & safety were planning draconian measures to eradicate accidents throughout the European community. Shares in Anglo-Irish Bubble wrap rose 25% amid rumours that the EU commissioners were debating on whether to legislate that all harmful products should be double wrapped in Bubble wrap. The commission is due to report later this year.

In other news, the euro was down 10c against the pound, making the euro worth 24.75P, this is as a result of non-agreement between the member states on the 23^rd bailout package for Greece, The European central bank …………………………….”

Dateline December 2014. Brussels. BBC News.

“………………….and of the 14 caught, only three were found to be wearing ladies tights. Now over to our Political correspondent in Brussels, Ian Afficts,………………. Ian”

“Thank you Mike, well breaking news here as the European commission on Health & Safety report is announced. It is believed that at least 3 states, including Germany, France and Italy used their veto to prevent the bill from reaching the statute books, but further meetings will take place over the Christmas holidays, to try and get this new H&S directive before the full commission in the New Year. The stumbling block is believed to be the insistence that all items deemed to be harmful to humans should be double wrapped in bubble wrap. Just what constitutes a harmful item is open to differing interpretations throughout the various EU states. For instance, many believe that Camembert is dangerous to humans in its uneaten state, while the French insist that all Italian drivers are a risk to humans. The Germans meanwhile are concerned about the cost implications for the bailout states, Greece, Spain, Portugal, Ireland, and Cyprus and also for the new states joining the EU on January 1^st, Ukraine, Turkey, Georgia, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan.

There would appear to be a long way to go before agreement is reached here in Brussels, and there will be much burning of the midnight oil. Ian Afficts, BBC News, Brussels.”

Dateline January 2015 London. BBC News

“Our top stories tonight. Agreement has finally been reached in Brussels over the new Health & safety Directive. The Queen visits Red Square on the latest round of her visit to Russia, and later, a hare, an adjustable spanner, and three beauty queens, what do they have in common?

But first our main story. EU leaders have ratified the new Health & Safety Directive EU 2015./ 01 /04 due to come into force on the 1^st of April. After weeks of negotiation, agreement was reached in the early hours of this morning, speaking from Brussels, EU President Herman Van Rumpoy said “Finally we can wave good bye to all accidents within Europe. We will make sure that everybody is wrapped in a personal safety zone to ensure the progression of the master…………………….I mean European population”

Prime Minister Ed Milliband insisted that there must be protection for companies such as Anglo-Irish Bubble wrap, and the Stobart bubble wrap corporation. In a statement, he said “British manufacturers are world leaders in Bubble wrap technology, it is vital that we, the British Government do what is necessary to protect British jobs for our entire EU and immigrant workforce.” Meanwhile Nigel Farage, UKIP leader said “This is yet more utter madness from the grey suited merchant bankers in Brussels. How much longer must the British Public stand by and watch their national identity be destroyed by weak and feeble politicians from the Labour party? Surely now, it must be time for the long awaited Referendum promised by successive governments over the last 10 years”

The leader of the opposition, Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg said “This is another great step forward for the European dream”

No spokesman could be found for the Conservative Party, as his oyster card had run out, and he couldn’t afford the bus fare, however London Mayor Boris Johnson described the laws as yet more “mamby pamby mothering from Brussels, and stated there was no way he would wrap his wiff Waff bats in bubble wrap” Later, as he rode his bike away, he fell under a passing bus. His condition is said to be serious, but would have been much better had he been wearing a bubble wrap suit.

Janet & John do the DCPC

2012-07-21T20:02:00.001+01:00

Janet and John go back to school.

This is Janet, say hello Janet.

This is John, say hello john.

John is a driver, can you drive? John can.

This is Johns’ vehicle, john has a big one.

Janet is a driver too, this is Janet’s vehicle, see Janet drive.

Janet’s vehicle is very small; Janet says she prefers big ones.

John works for Mr Smith.

Mr Smith is a transport Manager.

Mr Smith tells john that this week he must learn his DCPC.

Do you know what a DCPC is? John doesn’t.

Janet works for Acme Training Solutions Ltd.

Janet is a teacher, Janet teaches the DCPC.

See Janet teach the DCPC.

Janet shows John some driving Videos, John likes a good film, but these are not good films.

John is Bored.

Janet uses PowerPoint to send John to sleep.

Janet shouts at John to wake up.

Janet tells john lots of things, some of which are right.

Janet tells John that after 6 hours he must take 30 minutes break.

John asks Janet “are you sure?”

Janet tells john that he will be fined for not winding his trailer legs up fully.

“Are you sure?” asks John.

Janet tells John to shut up, pay attention and of course she is sure, she has read a book on it.

John thinks that this will be a long week.

One week later.

John is in the yard near his lorry. John is wearing a shiny new plastic badge. Do you have a shiny new plastic badge? John does.

John is talking to his friend Dick. Dick is a driver too.

“Hello Dick” says John.

“Hello John” says Dick.

“That’s a nice shiny new plastic badge you are wearing, where did you get it from?” asks Dick.

“Janet gave it to me” Says John. “I was a good boy and listened to everything she told me”

“Janet told me all kinds of things about drivers hours, how to avoid police fines, how to put a bandage onto someone’s arm, how to lift an empty box,how to wear my hi viz jacket, what kind of food to eat so that I don’t get clogged arteries, and how to get a good night’s sleep when I get home”

John tells Dick that if he sits in a classroom for a week with Janet, she will give him one.

Dick thinks he would like to give Janet one.

John thinks he would like to give Dick one.

Mr Smith comes over to Dick and tells him

“Sorry Dick, even though you have worked for me for 20 years, and never had an accident, until you get a shiny new plastic card, you will have to leave”

Dick is very sad. See Dick cry, cry Dick cry.

Mr Smith hands the keys to a brand new motor to John.

“Here you are John, even though you have only been driving for 2 years, because you have a shiny plastic card, you can drive the firms top truck. There is a nice new double decker curtain sider loaded ready to go out, off you go John”

Can you get a 16’ trailer under a 13’9" bridge?

John can’t!

Drivers DCPC, an arguement against!

2012-02-02T12:42:00.000+00:00

, I make no secret of the fact that I am anti DCPC in its current form. Not theoretically the initial training, which should in the ideal world, benefit new drivers entering the industry, however, the advantages gained by taking an initial DCPC course are more than wiped out by the Insurance industry insisting on 2 years’ experience, and over 25 years of age to insure anyone to drive a truck. What is the point of allowing young people to pay £2000 to train as C+E drivers at 18, if they have to wait 7 years to get a job?

As for the DCPC for experienced drivers, what is the one thing that is required of a driver? To get goods from A to B safely and securely. The drivers’ main skill is in driving, and yet there is no requirement for any practical assessment or training. You could be the worst driver in the country, who by good luck has managed to avoid any serious accidents, or getting caught by the police, so sitting in a classroom learning about RTD, which no one is bothering to police, or Manual handling, is not going to improve your driving or make the roads safer. An annual driving assessment with a qualified Assessor or instructor would at least identify you as a problem driver, and can ensure that any training you need is tailored to help you improve.

I am a moderator on a Truck drivers forum where we encourage drivers to keep us up to date with their experiences of DCPC courses, good or bad. The vast majority of comments are negative with drivers complaining about the cost, up to £100 for 7 hours, the subjects being offered, e.g. 7 hours on how to operate curtainsider trailers, the quality of trainers, non LGV drivers or instructors giving out incorrect information, and now we see a group of con men arranging DCPC courses, getting payment up front, then disappearing with the cash. The JAUPT is a government body who are supposed to monitor the training, but they do monitor the course content, so any incorrect information being given out by bad trainers is not being picked up.

There are already whispers about brown envelopes being passed in exchange for a Valid DQC, and between now and September 2014 these are likely to increase. I am not against continuation training for drivers, far from it, I encourage all drivers to try and improve their skills. I have signed up to my first 7 hour session next month. It is a course offered by a local authority with the aim of improving road safety by teaching LGV drivers about cyclist awareness, and they also run a similar course for cyclists to make them aware of LGV’s, a worthwhile course, that is offered free, except for the upload fee. If more organisations were to do something similar, then more drivers may take it up.

I hear that, once again certain companies are advertising jobs in Eastern Europe before they advertise them in the UK. How much of an incentive is that to UK drivers to make an effort with the DCPC? Maybe we should push for Ukraine or Turkey to join the EU, or maybe even China, that would solve our driver shortages, until the next time.

Example:-

Driver A/ A Professional, Drives safely, keeps to legislation and obeys the law, learns daily and listens to others to improve his abilities, respects his employer. He/She takes on the 35 hours training with an objective to learn even more, so explores the market of Training Providers to ensure he gets the best.

Driver B/ The Cowboy Driver, could not care less attitude, breaks every rule in the book to make more money, safety comes second to profit. He/She explores the market of Training Providers to find the cheapest, learns nothing and falls asleep for seven hours in the classroom.

Both Drivers will be recognised as equal by JAUPT as they have both have done 35 hours Training and received their DQC Card.

How is this method of implementing the Driver CPC ever going to improve or benefit the Industry or our profession?

Below is the main points of corespondence between myself and the DSA, with the stock answers from the DSA, and my replys in RED.

Thank you for your email about driver certificate of professional competence (CPC).

This is a European Union (EU) Directive which means that it is being implemented across all EU Countries. I must stress that as this is European legislation, the United Kingdom does not have the choice to opt out of implementing it. If we did so, sanctions would be levied against us and it would affect our competitiveness in Europe.

Is it not true, that each member state, although they have to comply, can actually specify how training is to be delivered and to who has to undertake the training? For example, the Dutch have given an exemption to Drivers who were born before 1955, as they believe that they will already have sufficient training and experience.

The driver CPC is intended to improve road safety and reduce casualties through better qualified drivers. Drivers will develop defensive driving techniques which the industry is anticipating will make significant savings in fuel consumption.

How will a driver develop defensive driving techniques when all he/she has to do is attend a course. It is not even a requirement for the driver to remain awake during the lessons! There is no pass or fail, so there is no onus on the driver to pay attention to anything said. By just attending the driver has the DCPC.

It should also bring an improved professional and positive image to these industries, encouraging younger people to consider driving as a career. Both the Goods Vehicle and Public Transport sectors have informed us that there is a great shortage of drivers at present.

Who is going to pay for the increased costs of achieving a C+E licence for young people? In the current economic climate, it is difficult enough for a young family to earn sufficient to live, how are they going to find the extra expense required to complete, not only the theory test, and the practical test, but also the DCPC? Anyone who knows this business, will know that jobs are almost impossible to get without experience. Who is going to invest a such a substantial amount of the family’s savings, on the off chance that they will get a job? The DCPC will not make any difference to this situation, new drivers will always be at the bottom of the pecking order for jobs.

A survey of the industry has shown that the majority of professional drivers get very little refresher training throughout their careers, especially those that work for small firms. The new legislation ensures that all drivers will take part in approved training courses.

I don’t know who carried out this survey, or who they asked, but I can assure you that there is an awful lot of training being carried out within the industry. I personally conduct training on behalf of agencies for DHL, mainly updating the H&S issues, and carrying out a practical driver assessment on an annual basis. This ensures that training is tailored to meet the needs of the individual driver, and companies gain by being able to fit training to the needs of their business. Most companies that wish to compete in the business are required under existing UK H&S laws to provide sufficient training to ensure that their workforce is competent to perform the tasks asked of them. Any employer who fails to provide this, should be legislated against under the H&S laws.

How much refresher training will be carried out on a driver who is perfectly entitled to fall asleep during the course?

What formal training qualifications are required to train the DCPC? As an FTA accredited assessor, a DSA RLGV instructor, as well as having various other training and instructional qualifications, why am I still required to attend a training course led by someone who may never even have driven a truck?

Much of the feedback from drivers who have completed parts of the DCPC is that the standard of training and more specifically trainers, is appalling. The amount of incorrect information that is being given out is quite frankly , frightening. I understand that courses are checked by the JAUPT and DSA, but is the actual content checked for accuracy? Is the individual trainer checked for competence?

I should explain that it is not necessary to attend periodic training all in one go. Courses can be as short as 7 hours and you have five years to complete the full 35 hours required.

I assure you that the directive applies to drivers in all European member states and also to drivers from other countries who are working in the EU. British drivers will not be disadvantaged in any way. On the contrary, they will now have more opportunities to work in the EU.

It may well be so, but as stated above, some member states use their own interpretation of the laws to allow certain categories of driver exemptions. The UK does not, therefore UK drivers are disadvantaged.

Now that the legislation has been implemented all professional drivers must comply with it. If you do not have driver CPC, you will not be able to drive for a living in the European Union. I cannot advise on payment for training courses. This is a matter between you and your employer.

So the EU have the power to remove employment from any member of the population by simply introducing a new law without any consultation. What next? Will Doctors have to take a first aid course if they want to keep their licence for open heart surgery? I believe this to be an infringement of my right to work, the UK/EU should have implemented this for new drivers only, as when the HGV licences first appeared, anyone currently driving an HGV was given grandfather rights, and did not have to take a new test.

Anyone who drives professionally as a bus, coach or lorry driver will require Driver CPC. The number of hours work undertaken is not taken into account, therefore part time drivers of these vehicles will be treated in the same way as full time drivers.

Anyone of the many part time drivers who fulfil a vital role of covering busy times, school bus runs, weekend work etc., will be required to take this training. How many of these will think it is not worth the cost? Many I think

I appreciate your comments about the financial cost of CPC.

As the main beneficiaries of the DCPC training are likely to be the employers, through reduced fuel and damage bills, surely it should follow that the employers should bear the cost of training?

Many companies already invest in training for their staff and Driver CPC effectively ensures that the whole of the industry adopts this good practice. However it is the responsibility of the driver to ensure that they hold Driver CPC & complete their periodic training, which includes meeting any training costs.

Much of the company training already being carried out, is far superior to the courses offered for the DCPC, and yet it cannot be counted towards the drivers CPC. surely Practical driving assessments carried out during the day to day job would be a far better system of offering refresher training, rather than sit in a classroom listening to someone who is talking rubbish.

There may be public funding available for vocational driver training but requests will compete with other claims on those funds. Unfortunately we do not have any control over this. I suggest that you contact either The Department for Work and Pensions or the nearest local Job Centre direct who may be able to assist you further in this matter.

I am sorry that you feel that driver CPC is unnecessary; however I hope I have clarified the issue and explained that this is not the case.

In my original email, I stated that I was in favour of refresher training if it was appropriate, I never stated that I considered it to be unnecessary. Nothing that you have said has convinced me that the DCPC in its current form is of use or benefit to anyone except the bank accounts of the training organisations, and the various government bodies that will gain revenue from the scheme, It certainly does not benefit either the road users or the professional drivers.

Four Yorkshire truckers

2012-01-12T12:56:00.000+00:00

Four Yorkshire truckers!

With apologies to Monty Python!
Imagine the scene, a truck stop somewhere in the north of England. It is a warm summers evening and four road weary, “old timers” are sitting around a table outside, quaffing the odd beer and swapping trucking stories.
Obediah: “well that were a right ot’en today wern’t it?”
Gessiah:” aye, yer can say that again, i said yer can say that again”
Jerimiah: “thank the lord we got that new fangled air con in us trucks now”
Alf: (sadly) “ I ain’t got air con in my old crate”
O: “I remember when they were nowt like that in any truck”
G: “aye, no air con, and no heating, I said no heating”
J: aye, we used to sweat our nuts off in’t summer, and freeze em off in’t winter”
A: “no night heater too, we used to af to rub Horse liniment on to keep warm at night”
O:” Used to wake up in’t morning with 3 inches of ice on’t inside o’ windscreen”
G: “Aye, used to freeze your bum to your bunk, i say bum to bunk”
J: “Sleeper cab?”
G:”aye I said aye”
J:” you were lucky, we used to sleep on a plank between seats”
O: “ our plank had rusty nails through it”
A: “Luxury! We used to dream of having a plank wi’ rusty nails in”
J:” well when i say a plank, it were two pencils tied together with barbed wire, but it were a plank to us!”
G:”we were evicted from our plank!”
Mutters of concern......
G: “course in them days we used to drive 18 hours aday wi’out a break, I said 18 ours!”
J:” and more, when we were up in Norway, we used to run all night, and in winter that were six months!”
O: “Course we ad it tough. On’t Moscow route it were minus 50 at night and we used to wrap oursen’ in ice blocks to keep warm, we ad to drive for six weeks with just one day off, and lick truck clean with us tongues!”
A:”Right.....when we were down t’ middle east, it were 200 degrees in shade. We used to drive for 27 weeks with just 2 minutes rest every 5 days to stretch our legs, and natives would catch us, strip us, stake us out in the midday sun, smear honey all over us, and leave us for the ants to eat until we were dead!”
G:” But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't believe ya'.
ALL:” nope, nope!”

The Good Shepherd. Chapter Two

2011-12-21T22:14:00.000+00:00

It took over two hours to negotiate the road down the mountain. At times the old truck in front of Joe would stop, reverse back and take a run at a particularly large snow drift. The truck was slipping and sliding beneath Joe, but he maintained control, using all his years of experience. Just as Joe was beginning to give up hope of ever reaching safety, a faint glow of street lights appeared in the distance.

The trucks pulled into the truck stop yard. Joe swung his truck into a parking space then looked around for his saviour, but without even stopping for Joe to thank him, the Good Samaritan had disappeared. Joe was disappointed, he really wanted to shake the man by the hand, buy him a hot coffee and a full breakfast, but no mind, he was sure they would know who he was in the truck stop, and Joe could leave the price of a meal for him behind the bar.

Grabbing his kit and locking the doors, Joe ran as fast as he was able across the deep snow towards the café door. He entered to find the place empty apart from an old man sitting behind the counter reading a paperback book and looking extremely bored. He looked up as Joe entered.

“Well what do you know? I wasn’t expecting anyone to make it this far on a night like this” said the old man in a friendly, welcoming voice.

“I nearly didn’t” replied Joe. “Any chance of a hot drink and something to eat? What about a room, my night heaters packed up, and I don’t want to freeze out there!”

“Coffees on, and I can do you a full English if you’re really hungry, and we got no one staying here at the moment, so you can pick your own room” answered the old man. “Names Jimmy by the way”

“Joe” replied Joe. “Could I get a shower while you’re fixing breakfast?”

“Sure Joe, right through that door there” he said, pointing to the door on the left.

Fifteen minutes later, clean, warm and refreshed, Joe came back to the café. Jimmy was waiting for him with a large plate of fried breakfast and a steaming mug of coffee.

“Here you go fella” said jimmy. “Didn’t think the main road was open tonight, pretty bad out there”

“ I nearly didn’t make it, came over the top of the mountain, if it hadn’t have been for that old snow plough coming along and pulling me out of the drifts, I’d still be up there freezing myself to death” Said Joe.

“You came over the top?” asked Jimmy with more than a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yep said Joe. “ I got stuck in a pothole when I took a wrong turn, then my night heater packed up, I have to say, I was getting a little worried. Then this old guy in an ancient Austin appeared from out of nowhere and rescued me. Do you know him? I would sure like to buy him full English and a hot mug of tea.”

“Did this truck have any markings? What did the guy look like?” replied jimmy quizzically.

“The truck was immaculate, bright shining green colour, with W SHEPHERD TRACTION LTD painted in gold on the doors. The guy was old, late 60’s I’d say, wearing a lumberjack type shirt, dungarees, and a flat hat and fur lined boots”

“That sounds like old bill shepherd, local hero and a fantastic boss; I worked for bill for many years. If you don’t mind listening to the ramblings of an old man, I’ll join you while you eat and tell you the story of Bill Shepherd.”

“Sure” said Joe. “Don’t think I will be moving for a day or two”

Joe sat down and started to eat, as jimmy began the tale of Bill Shepherd.

“Bill Shepherd was a local hero, friend to all and enemy to none. Bill lied about his age, and at 14 joined the army. He was sent to serve in France for the last few months of the war in 1918, where he won the military medal for bravery after crawling into No Man’s Land to drag his commanding officer to safety. He was wounded in action, and was sent to the rear where he was taught to drive, and saw out the end of the war resupplying the front line. When he returned home to the valley he was one of only three survivors out of twenty four men that signed up to serve king and country. Bill bought with him an ex-army truck which he used to haul timber over the mountain from the lumber mill, down to the capital, and bring back supplies and anything that people were prepared to pay him to carry. Now remember that the motorway was only built twenty years ago, so in them days it was over the mountain or in the winter a two day journey around the head of the valley. Bill would do anything to help out. If you needed something moved he would move it. In the winter he would drive around the valley roads keeping them open for the farmers and village folk.

Between the wars he built up a nice little business, running lumber down the valley, and when war broke out again, he would carry supplies to the newly built Naval Station on the coast. Of course, Bill was one of the first in line to volunteer for the army, but because of his wound from the last war, he was deemed medically unfit for service. That didn’t stop Bill from enhancing his reputation as a hero. He became a stalwart of the mountain rescue teams that were frequently called out to rescue air crews who failed to make it back to their base, and won another medal for climbing down a 200 feet cliff to rescue a pilot trapped in the wreckage of his fighter. It didn’t matter to Bill that the pilot was German; he had a respect for human life, possibly from seeing the carnage of the trenches in 1918 that wouldn’t allow him to turn his back on anyone I need of help.

It was after the war that I first got to know Bill well. I left school in 1940 and was called up into the army. I served in the desert, in Italy and was in the D day landing in Normandy. Like Bill, the army taught me to drive, so when I returned home in 47, it was only natural for me to approach Bill for a job. Bill was happy to use me; I would do the runs down to the capital, while Bill would keep himself local. We still had the problems with the winter snow on the mountain passes, but the work kept coming in, and in 1959 Bill invested in his first ever Brand New trucks, having always used second hand stuff before. Two bright green Austin 10 tonners with gold lettering. Bill stuck with the name Traction Ltd for sentimental reasons while other firms were using haulage or transport. Bill loved those trucks; he spent every spare minute polishing his, and would inspect mine at every opportunity, keeping me on my toes.

Now you look old enough to remember the winter of 63. Worst winter of the century, the valley was snowed in for weeks, the mountain pass was closed for a couple of months and the lowland route was almost impassable. I got caught out on the other side of the mountain. It took me three days to get back, and remember, we had no night heaters, not even a bunk, only a sleeping bag and sleep with the gear stick digging in your ribs, but there are enough people who were willing to open their doors for me to overnight in.

Now while I was struggling to get back, bill was playing the hero again. It started snowing really hard one lunch time. The school mistress, Mrs Thompson, decided to close school early and called Reg Riddiford, the school bus driver to collect the kids and take them home to the villages up the valley. Everything seemed ok until, around 4 o’clock, Mrs Tiley, from the crossroads Post Office called Mrs Thompson to ask what time her daughter left school as she hadn’t arrived home yet. Checking with one or two of the other families in the village, Mrs Tiley realised that the school bus had not arrived in the village, so she called Constable Barrow.

Bob ‘wheels’ Barrow called Bill and the two of them set off following the bus route. Bill had the snow plough blade and wheel chains on the truck but even so, the weather had made the roads almost impassable. It was nearly two hours before they found the bus stuck in a drift. Reg had managed to keep the children from getting too upset; he knew that Bill would be along sooner or later. Between the three men they managed to dig the bus out of the drift, and with the Austin pulling the bus, they were able to get to the crossroad, where George Clark, a local farmer, was waiting with his tractor and trailer to take the kids on up the valley and home.

Constable Barrow and Reg Riddiford returned down the valley to the town in the school bus before the road closed up again, but Bill decided to clear some of the roads further up the mountain, there were a few isolated farms that might need supplies later in the week

. It was two days before Bill was missed. I returned from my epic journey around the head of the valley, and was surprised to see that the local roads were covered in snow, and that Bills truck was nowhere to be seen. I called Bob Barrow who told me about the school bus and about Bill going further up the mountain to clear the roads. I took the spare plough, chained up my wheels and set off with John Childs and Bob Mills, two of the mountain rescue team, to try and find Bill. It was the truck that we spotted first, what was left of it. It was lying smashed to bits at the bottom of a ravine about two thirds of the way to the top of the mountain. It took us another hour to reach where it had gone off the cliff, it was then we spotted Bill propped against a boulder.”

The old man paused in his story to offer Joe a refill of Tea. Joe pushed his plate to one side, took a long draw on his tea and let out a contented sigh.

“That’s quite a story” said Joe. “I would really like to meet this guy and shake him by the hand. Did he restore his old truck or keep yours in such good condition? He must have some luck to survive two days alone on the side of a mountain in winter”

The old man looked at Joe. “No” he said. “You don’t understand. When we found him he was frozen solid. How long he held out up there we will never know, but Bill died that night up on the mountain. I stayed on working for his widow, managing the business until she died a few years later. The other Austin was scrapped years ago. I don’t know for sure what you saw up there tonight young man, all I know is that you have a guardian Angel watching over you, and knew that the only one who could save you was Good old Bill shepherd”

The Good shepherd. chapter one.

2011-12-20T11:25:00.000+00:00

It should have been just like any other run for Joe. A two day run up north, delivering to one of the more isolated communities. A day to drive up, tip, reload, have a night out, and then return the following day. His despatcher had given him maps and details of delivery points, and where best to spend the night. Joe had only joined the company three weeks ago, and so he was eager to make a good job of it. So far he had enjoyed his time with them, the pay was good, the trucks were clean and well maintained, and everyone was friendly. Although this was his first time up north, he wasn’t too worried, after all, he had a satnav, a mobile phone, his laptop with Google maps, his overnight kit and he wasn’t afraid to ask if he got lost.

It was going to be a bit of a rough journey, the weather forecast had sounded a bit nasty for the next few days, but Joe had been driving trucks for more years than he could remember, and had seen it all. Snow, Ice, rain, floods and droughts, a little bit of weather wasn’t going to put him off.

As he was checking his load, the Transport Manager, Phil came over to check everything was ok. Phil mentioned that there was a short cut over the top of the mountain, a good road, quiet but can be subject to fog and ice this time of the year, but would save 3 hours over the main road, what’s more, it would bring him out right by the truck stop where he could night out.

Joe set off. It was a routine journey for the first few hours, mostly motorway. The cloud was thickening as he moved north, and after an hour or so, it started raining. The wind was starting to blow quite noticeably, and the rain turned slowly into sleet as Joe approached the exit for the shortcut Phil had told him about. His satnav was telling him to continue for another 53 miles on the dual carriageway, but Joe was not one to sit on cruise control for hours, and preferred to drive the truck. He signalled left at the junction, and turned onto the back road that would take him up over the pass and down into his destination.

At first the road was as good as Phil had said, a gentle climb, wide enough for two trucks to pass, well-marked lines and marker posts at bends, but gradually the road narrowed. The sleet started to turn to snow as Joe climbed, it was starting to settle on the road ahead, and Joe began to regret taking the short cut. After a while it became difficult to see the road ahead, the wind was blowing the, by now, heavy snow across the exposed parts of the road, and the truck was losing traction in places, but Joes years of experience came into play, and he managed to keep it moving. He thought about trying to turn around, but there was nowhere possible for him to spin a 38 ton truck around. His satnav had been telling him for some time to “perform a U turn when possible” but had now decided that it would just follow the road ahead, and for some reason, it had started to lose signals from the satellites, and at times it went into a kind of confused calculating which left it more than useless.

As the weather worsened, Joe was having difficulty in seeing the road ahead. Suddenly he came to a fork in the road. There were no road signs, and the snow covering made it impossible to see which was the main road. Joe stopped, checked his map and his satnav, but could find no mention of a fork in the road. He put his coat on, and climbed out into the freezing blizzard that was now blowing strong. Walking a little way down each fork, he tried to see which the main road was, but was soon back in the cab rubbing his hands together, and blowing warm air onto them. He had a decision to make, which road should he choose? He chose the left fork. Putting the truck in drive, he moved off slowly. He had gone less than a hundred yards, when he realised he had made a mistake. Suddenly, the front nearside wheel sank into a giant pothole covered by the drifting snow, and the truck came to a halt.

Joe cursed his luck. Getting out and checking the damage, he was relieved to see that there was no damage to the truck but was dismayed to see that the wheel was in quite a deep hole, it was going to be difficult to get out of it with the road surface being so slippery. Climbing back in the cab, Joe tried everything that his years of experience had taught him. He tried the diff lock, dropping the air on the drive axle, he tried rocking the truck slowly back and forth, cursing all the while about automatic gearboxes, and wishing he had a clutch. He got out of the truck and tried digging the snow from under the drive axles, but as quickly as he cleared it, the wind blew fresh snow down onto the already slippery road. Eventually Joe realised he was going nowhere under his own steam. He picked up his mobile, it seemed as though he would have to eat humble pie, and call the boss for recovery. Now as we all know, when you need your mobile phone, it never gets a signal, and on the top of the mountain was no exception. Joe began to get worried. Taking a deep breath, he started to take stock of his situation. He was stuck somewhere on top of a mountain in a blizzard, he had neither phone signal nor any other way of getting help, it might be days before anyone came along this road in these conditions. On the bright side, he had a warm cab with a bunk, night heater and about 200 litres of diesel, a sleeping bag, some food and some chocolate, a kettle and tea. There was nothing for it but to wait until morning. Even though he was likely to be the only vehicle for miles, he was reluctant to get onto the bunk; instead he pulled his sleeping bag around himself, put his seat back and dozed off.

Joe didn’t know at first, exactly what woke him. He might have been asleep five minutes or five hours, it was still very dark outside. He took a few seconds to orientate himself, then, looking around, he realised that it was getting cold, very cold. Not only that, but the silence was deafening. The night heater had stopped. He tried the switches, on and off, turned the ignition on and off, but nothing worked. Now things had just taken a very serious turn for the worse. Without a night heater, it would be almost impossible to stay warm. The engine would run, and put a limited amount of heat out, but with the truck stationary, it would not be very much. Joe didn’t panic, but he was getting more worried, how long it would be before the cold got to him.

Just then a flood of relief rushed over Joe. In his mirror he caught the faint glow of a light, then two. Headlights! Someone was coming! Talk about in the nick of time, Joe couldn’t believe his luck. He waited until the vehicle came to a stop behind him, and then jumped out to greet his saviour. He was greeted by a sight he didn’t expect. Behind him was an old Austin truck, probably late 1950’s or early 60’s. Joe had seen trucks like this one running up and down the main road where he lived as a boy, and it was partially because of those trucks, that Joe started driving them. It had a snow plough blade attached to the front, and snow chains on the drive wheels. Despite the atrocious weather, it looked like it had just come out of the showroom, a deep green paint job, with the name W SHEPHERD TRACTION LTD painted in bright gold lettering on the door. As he approached, the driver’s door opened and an old man got out.

“Got yourself in a spot of bother then drive?” Said the old man.

“Am I glad to see you” said Joe. “I thought I was going to be up here all night”

“Well no bother son, we’ll have you out in a jiffy” answered the old man.

From the back of the truck, the old man pulled ropes and sacks. He attached the ropes between the rear of Joe’s truck, and his own, and put the sacks under Joes drive wheels, then got back in his cab, and signalled Joe to start reversing. Joe was amazed that the old Austin could pull itself back, let alone 38 tons of dead weight truck, but slowly and surely, his truck broke free from the pothole. The old man continued to pull Joe back onto the main road by the fork, before stopping to remove the ropes.

“Right lad, let’s get you down to the town shall we?” said the old man. “Just follow me, I’ll plough a route through for you” and he jumped back in his cab and made his way carefully past Joe’s rig. With Joe following at a safe and careful distance they set off slowly along the right hand fork in the road.

Christmas has been cancelled!

2011-11-28T20:46:00.002+00:00

The Office of the President of the European Union

Dear Mr Claus,

Ref Application number CH439RE21 001

Reference your application for a charitable certificate of operation under EU directive 2010/EU/13/A section 49, subsection 187, we have made numerous consultations with all interested parties within the European Commission, and we regret to inform you that your application has been rejected. We are not obligated to give an explanation for our rejection; however, in this case, because there were numerous objections, we believe it will help you to amend your requirements and operating procedures for any further application, and have listed below some of the main points..

1) Health & Safety Board. We regret to inform you that your suggested uniform of Red coat and trousers, trimmed in white fur does not comply with the Working at night regulations 1997. This states that you must wear reflective clothing when working during the hours of darkness in a public area. Further, your boots and hat are not of the safe design required for purpose. Also, we note that you intend to land of roofs. This comes under the working at height regulations, and would require you to wear a safety harness.

The use of chimneys for access and egress to certain premises is covered by the Chimney sweep, fire and safety regulations 2009 and would require a full inspection of the chimney, together with a safety officer present to ensure that no fire is started whilst you are using said chimney.

2) EU Border Agency. As all of your products are, as you state, manufactured in Lapland, which is an officially recognised area of the EU, there would be no import duty to pay, furthermore, as you propose to give your goods free as a charitable organisation, you would be free of and VAT, corporation Tax, and Income tax. However, you state that you propose to operate in non EU member states, and any items that might be imported during your journey would of course be liable for import duty. You will also need to provide full customs and excise paperwork for any products that you intend to export from the EU, and would be subject to search and investigation in the same way that any exporter is. There are also certain items that it is illegal to export from the EU to certain other states, i.e. nuclear weapons etc. Certain countries without a trade agreement with the EU, may impose import duty, for which you will be liable.

It has been brought to our attention that all you production is carried out by nationals of Fairyland and Elf land. As neither of these countries are member states of the EU, your employees require work permits and work visas. We are unable to trace any record of work permits being issued to any national of either country, so we can only conclude that you are operating with a workforce of illegal immigrants.

3) Interpol. We are concerned as to the legality of your operation for several reasons. We understand that you intend to enter premises without the occupiers’ knowledge. While you state your reason as being to “leave gifts for the occupants”, you would still be liable to arrest for breaking and entering. Furthermore, your aim to “creep into young children’s bedrooms, and give them the biggest surprise of their lives” could be construed as not only illegal, but highly improper, and could lead at the very least, to you being place on the sex offenders register.

4) Equal opportunities Board. We understand that you intend to supply gifts to Christens only. We must draw your attention that the fact that the EU is a multi-cultural society, and embraces people of all creed, colour and race. To discriminate against non-christens would be in breach of EU directive 2002 EU/145/2A.

5) European Transport commission. We believe that you intend to use a “reindeer and sleigh” for the transportation of goods within the European Union. As this vehicle has not been certified in any E U member state, nor does it have any form of air worthiness certificate, we cannot authorise its use, even for charitable purposes. Do you hold the necessary operator’s licence for your company? Does your driver/pilot have sufficient rating on this vehicle?

6) European livestock commission. You intend to use domesticated livestock to pull your open sleigh. For this you will need a veterinary certificate of health for each animal, together with a valid animal passport in order for you to exit the EU. You will also need a veterinary certificate of health from the last country visited before re-entry into the EU

In summary, we suggest that your application is flawed on many points and needs to be re-presented with the above points rectified. You have of course the right to appeal to the European court of Human rights, who will listen to your case. In maybe 3 years, they will decide that as you are not an unmarried, disabled, immigrant with 27 children and a cat that has more rights than the other 490,426,059 citizens of EU member states, your appeal will be rejected.

May I take this opportunity to wish you and your family, a very merry Christmas, and a happy new year.

From the office of H Van Rumpoy

President (unelected) of the European Union.

Advice needed!

2011-11-25T21:31:00.000+00:00

The agency called me tonight, they need someone for a special “one off” job later this year, and would I be interested. Seems that the regular driver has had a bit of heart trouble, and won’t be back in time to do it. Well, I asked a few questions about the job, sounds cracking, but I’m still not sure if I should take it, as there are one or two downsides to it.
First of all, I’m told I will be given full training.Its for one day only starting somewhere up north, multi drop and with set times for each delivery. Most of the drops are unaccompanied, I have to let myself in and unload the goods to a specific place. I will be told how to access each premises, and exactly where to leave the goods.
They told me that at many drops there will be some food left out so I won’t go hungry, and maybe the odd drink too, although as I’m driving, I’m not sure whether I should take it or not. I get to wear a special uniform, and as it can be cold in December, I get a fur lined boots and hat, and no need for a stupid hi Viz jacket.
As it is a charitable organisation, I’m told that I’m exempt from tachograph and driver’s hour’s regulations, which is just as well, as it’s at least a 24 hour shift. Can anyone confirm this for me?
The truck I’m driving is a specially made one, it’s called something like a Raindear Unslay, has anyone ever driven one of these before? Anyone know what the maximum gross weight is? I think I’m going out fully loaded. Is it auto or manual box? Is it Digital or Analogue tachograph? Apparently it’s only about 8 HP although I’m told it goes like a rocket. Going to have to watch the speed though, don’t want any more points. It has no headlights, just a huge red light on the front, is this legal?
Finally, has anyone ever worked for St Clause Transport before? What are they like to work for? Are they hot on Elf & safety? What’s the pay and working conditions like? Do I need a CRB to deliver to domestic houses?

A Winters tale

2011-11-19T20:49:00.000+00:00

One cold wintery night many years ago, I was driving across the Dartmoor. It was a wild and lonely place with not a living soul for miles. Every so often I would pass a dark form of a farm house, windows closed and shuttered against the winter weather, not a light to be seen, a barn with the ghostly figures of sheep and cows huddling inside for warmth. Occasionally my headlights would pick out a rabbit running in a zigzag pattern trying to get away from me, once an Owl swooped down low and flew alongside me in a strange formation, the underside of its wings reflecting the glow from my headlights.

The sky was dark, with ghostly shapes of broken cloud showing up in the light of a waning watery moon, pin pricks of stars were glowing faintly high above me, and once in a while, one would fall to earth with a silent streak of light. The wind was howling across the moors and every now and then, I would feel the truck sway this way or that as another gust caught me unawares. Snow flurries whistled past me almost horizontally; or crashed against the windscreen with a silent thud.

Glancing out of my offside window, I noticed, high up in the heavens, a moving light that got brighter and brighter as it approached. At first I thought it was a comet or a meteor, but it was moving too slowly for that, maybe a helicopter, as I know the army are often playing games on Dartmoor, but it was darting around like a firefly.

I watched as it moved in a circular path, as if it were trying to find a certain spot. Finally it slowed to a hover above a silent and dark farmhouse. As I watched, it appeared to land on the roof. The UFO, or spacecraft, as that is what I was convinced it was, had landed on the snow on top of the house, using a ski like undercarriage. I was so surprised that I stopped my truck, and switched the engine and lights off, in case I frightened it away. As I watched a door in the side opened, and a ghostly alien figure emerged carrying what a large bundle of some sort. The creature walked along the roof towards the chimney stack, and then disappeared suddenly!

I climbed out of my truck and crept slowly across the garden to a downstairs window. A faint light could be seen. I peeped in. I could see in the faint glow from the fire, that the house had been decorated with brightly coloured paper, shiny figures, tinsel and mistletoe, in one corner there was a large tree decorated in similar style, and on the top, a beautiful fairy. There was a movement by the fire, and the alien emerged. He was dressed all over in a red spacesuit trimmed with white fur, with thick black fur lined boots on his feet; his head was covered in a thick white growth of some kind. As I watched, he started taking gaily coloured parcels from what I could now see was a large sack, and placed them underneath the large decorated tree. Each parcel had a tag and was tied with a large ribbon; some had bows, while others had shiny stars of bright foil. Once the sack was empty, he moved towards a table, on which stood a mince pie and a small glass of whisky, together with a bunch of carrots. The alien drank the whisky and ate the pie, pocketed some of the carrots, then moved towards the fire place. Suddenly, before I knew it, he had disappeared.

There was a faint noise on the roof above that made me look up. I saw the alien moving towards his UFO, the door in the side opened silently, and the alien climbed in. there followed a faint whooshing noise as the UFO rose from the roof. It hovered for a few seconds then flew off at fantastic speed. I was absolutely speechless, I didn’t know what to think nor do, should I call the police? Should I wake the farmer up and tell him what I saw? Should I call the Air force or the Army?

I thought about it for a while. Had I realty seen it, or did I imagine it all? Was it a dream? After a while, I climbed back in my truck and started on my way again. I decided to do nothing………………………….I mean, whoevers going to believe a story like that?.

The Perfect truck!

2011-11-16T20:58:00.000+00:00

So guys, what makes your perfect truck? I know that everyone will have their own opinion of what is the best truck to drive, each of us has different ideas of what constitutes the perfect truck, but there are a few things that I’m sure we will all agree on. Every truck has its good and bad points, so wouldn’t it be good if a manufacturer could combine the “best of the best” I’ve put together a few suggestions for my ultimate driving machine, let’s see if you agree.

Let’s start outside, and first a few points about trailers. Can you all agree on a standard position for the parking brake! When we had ratchet brakes it was easy, they were all in the same place. Now they can be on either side, at the back, front, middle of the trailer, in a nice little box, or tucked up under the chassis where you need to be a contortionist to reach, and if you insist on putting it on the front of the trailer, please make it reachable from the ground! I am 6’ tall, and still struggle to reach the buttons to check the brake before I go near it with my unit. Same applies to the number plate holder; can you please make it reachable? Especially when there is an under slung tail lift!

Moving forward, can you all agree on what is the best form of connection? We have sliding couplings, static couplings, couplings on arms that swing out; personally I am quite happy with the static type so long as there is room on the catwalk for me. When are trailer and tractor makers going to get together and decide on a layout for the connections? Trailers should be males on the left, females on the right with ABS in the middle, units the opposite, simples. Also, can unit manufacturers please put proper stowage points for the Suzies when running solo? Some new trailers have special docking arms that allow drivers to couple or uncouple without climbing onto the catwalk, a great idea. Unfortunately the units still have suzies fixed in the centre which means you still need to climb on the catwalk to access them!

I’m not into bling, got nothing against it, just not my scene, but I do like a nice set of functioning lights, and internally adjustable mirrors, and can you please dump the surplus 60’s Cortina type horns you fit, and put proper horns on that say get out my way, I’m coming through!

Now let’s get inside. There are 4 things that a driver considers essential, a good heater, a good radio, a comfortable seat, and a nice bunk. I’ve done my fair share of driving up the A1 with a blanket over my knees and three pairs of socks, but that was in the bad old days, by now we should have good cab heaters.

Do you all buy bulk loads of cheap radios? When FM came in, we still had AM radios, when cassettes came out, we got FM, we finally got cassettes just as CD’s were becoming popular, and now we are getting CD’s when the average car has MP3 and IPod sockets. 6 or 8 speaker systems are all well and good, but please put in decent speakers, ones that don’t vibrate after 6 months.

Seating is getting better, a nice heated seat is great on a cold and frosty night, but sometimes there are too many adjustments. Can I also say, it’s no good designing a LHD cab, and expect to just plonk the steering wheel and seat on the other side for us UK boys, it doesn’t work.

I had the pleasure of driving a brand new truck just before Christmas. Very nice top spec motor for me to take a trip to Glasgow in, just in time for the snow to block the roads. Having negotiated blizzards on M74 and M8, I managed to get back to Lockerbie truck stop for the night. I found a nice quiet spot away from the railway lines and the fridge motors, and settled down to a nice relaxing sleep. On the dash was some kind of communications terminal, for phone calls and emails although I had no idea how to use it. I had hardly noticed it during the day, but when I switched the lights off to go to sleep, this thing shone like a beacon, I tried every button on the thing to switch it off, had the ignition off, and it still shone out brighter than old Trafford on a European cup night. In the end I had to throw my shirt over it to get to sleep. I’m a big boy now, I can sleep with the lights off, I only need a small light to show the location of the night heater controls in case I need to adjust them during the night. While on the subject of interior lighting, can we have one switch to turn all the interior cab lights on?

Can we also have somewhere to put our paperwork? Somewhere within reach and where it will not slide away into the passenger foot well at the first roundabout. I know some of you tried putting dog clips on the dash, but making them from cheap plastic, and expecting them to last more than 5 minutes with some Neanderthal truck driver was being a bit ambitious!

Every RDC we go to insist on taking our keys away from us. Some insist we lock our cabs and sit in some poxy little prison shed, while we wait hours for our paperwork, others still allow us to wait in our cab. Now, when we turn off the ignition and hand our keys in, we find out just how much electrics rely on the key. Sun roof, windows, some radios, heater fan and sun blinds, surely it’s not too difficult to wire all electrical system apart from those required for driving, independent from the ignition.

Now I carry a lot of technology with me. Sat nav, IPod, DAB radio, mobile phone. Each one will at sometime require charging, or directly running from a power socket. So what good is it putting one or even two power sockets in a modern truck? What about the tramper boys? They carry microwaves, fridges, TV’s, DVD players etc, they need more 24 volt and 12 volt sockets, and could you please agree on a standard socket, is it going to be cigar lighter type or Hellas type?

I know, a lot of these are minor gripes, trucks today are far and above anything we had when i started driving, in fact you were lucky if you had power steering, and sleeper cabs were a day cab with a plank across the seats. I just sometimes wonder if you ever actually ask drivers what they want. I also think that some manufacturers do things just to be different, well please don’t, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I Hate Christmas!

2011-11-13T21:36:00.000+00:00

Not, you understand the mistletoe and wine, the blockbuster films, mince pies, turkey and stuffing, nor do I hate the carols, candles, cards, presents, tree or the Christmas pudd. To me there is nothing better than watching the wide eyed excitement of a child, or I my case now, a grandchild, catching the first sight of a pile of Christmas presents, and realising that “Santa has been!!”

No, I love that part of Christmas, what I hate is that, as a truck driver, for us Christmas starts about the middle of June! It starts as a trickle, the odd container from the docks, full of fairy lights, false trees, tinsel and other cheap plastic decorations, made in one of those fine Christian countries such as China, Vietnam, Cambodia or Malaysia. Follow this with the first tins of roses, Quality Street and various biscuit assortments as the momentum slowly builds up. After august bank holiday, the serious stuff really starts. A typical day in September or October goes something like this:-

Arrive at the RDC 15 minutes early, get told to come back in half an hour as goods in is full. Return 30 minutes later to be told by a different security guard that you are late. Join the queue for goods in, you are currently 10^th in line. Walk to the goods in office; be ignored for 10 minutes while a young Polish girl is chatted up by a fat, balding warehouse supervisor. Hand in paperwork and return to your cab, noticing that of the 6 goods in curtainsider bays, 4 are full of empty roll cages, damaged goods, broken equipment and various dustbins and skips. Of the other 2, only on is being used for tipping. Out of the other one, a forklift driver spends all day driving around with the same stack of blue pallets looking busy. Eventually, after 3 hours of waiting and slowly creeping forward, you get on a bay; sods law says it’s got to be tea break. You finally get tipped, and are told to park up and wait for your paperwork. In the goods in office, you get a sugarless coffee from the machine, pick up a 3 day old copy of the Sun and find the only plastic seat available is between on one side, the fat slob with chin resting on his chest, eyes closed, saliva dribbling down his chin and occasionally a loud snore emanating from his mouth, and on the other side, the tramper who has been away from home all week, and has failed to find a shower or anywhere to wash. After what appears to be an eternity, but is in fact only 2 more hours, you finally get out of the RDC, safe in the knowledge that it will all be repeated tomorrow.

Now come October and November it’s the booze runs. Not trips to Calais in a transit to top up with beer, but delivering 20 odd pallets of beer, wines and spirits into the same RDC’s which by now are bursting at the seams. Many will have “outside storage” some Farmers barn on a totally unsuitable site for artics, and after queuing for hours at the main depot, you will be sent down there with some hand drawn map to queue up once again.

As we get into December, we start to tug around trailers full of frozen turkeys, sprouts and black forest gateaux, vast quantities of chocolates, nuts, crisps and snacks of all types. Everywhere you go now, there is a long queue. You can’t even get away from it when your off duty, as by now every other commercial is for Christmas items, with those annoyingly mundane songs that you can’t get out of your head, On the 1^st of December it really starts to get to you when the BBC start playing all the old Christmas favourite tunes on the radio. Slade, wizard, john Lennon, and the pogues. By the second week of December, you are just about ready to tear the radio out of the truck and deposit it in lane 3 of the motorway if you hear “oh I wish it could be Christmas everyday” one more time. On your rest day, you take the wife shopping to find millions of £’s of Christmas goods blocking the aisles, while a horde fat, lard arsed women fight each other for the last box of after eights. Mind you, you can’t find any sugar, or bread, or eggs, but who needs them when you can buy a musical illuminated Santa clause that drops his trousers to the tune of jingle bells!

Now we get to the final week, everything is now time critical, you MUST get there on time, otherwise the whole load of fresh sprouts, gammon hams, fresh cream and joints of pork and beef, will be refused because you are 20 minutes late.

At one time you could look forward to at least 3 days, and often 4 days off in order to recover, these were times when milk lasted for a day or 2, same for bread etc., and yet we managed not to starve when the shops were closed, now, with even the most perishable of goods having a weeks’ shelf life, can anyone tell me why shops need to open on boxing day?

After your one day off, your back to restocking the supermarkets with booze, or the non-food shops with sales items, the week between Christmas and new year used to be a quiet time for us, a time to catch our breaths, but not anymore, we have to cram the stores full, I’m surprised they don’t issue us with giant shoe horns so that we can squeeze a little bit more into the warehouses. If you’re lucky you might just have enough of a break at New Year to have one drink, but chances are you will be working New Year’s day restocking the shops with, yes you’ve guessed it, EASTER EGGS!

The Greek solution

2011-11-01T19:51:00.000+00:00

To: The CEO Mastervisacard Bank Services.

Dear Sir,

As a long standing and well known customer of yours, I am writing to see if it possible for me to arrange a credit easing on by credit card. As you will see from my statements, I have recently had difficulty in repaying my bills, even though you only charge a meagre, and in my opinion reasonable 1001% interest rate.

As you will see from my current account, I am a long and loyal customer, who by way of maintaining a healthy overdraught, have contributed heavily to the profits, and may I say, the much deserved bonuses that you and your fellow directors have been paying yourselves during times of austerity.

As way of explanation, we need to go back several months. My wife decided one weekend that she wanted a barbeque. We invited various friends and neighbours, organised the booze, got the old barbeque out of the garage and scraped the rust off. The day before I went to our Local Asda and purchased various items of meat, rolls, and salad etc. When we got it home, I inadvertently placed the meat into the freezer instead of the fridge. When my wife discovered this, she was obviously a little disappointed in me and quite rightly voiced her opinion of me as a husband, a man, and it was decided that I was, on the whole, a useless pillock We removed the pork chops and spare ribs from the freezer, and left them on the draining board covered with tin foil to defrost overnight.

Do you have any pets? We do, we have a ginger female cat, who, like all cats, has to check out anything that is new or different including a packet of tin foil on the draining board in the middle of the night. Cats have claws, these are useful for hunting things like for example, mice, or pork chops and spare ribs, so when we awoke on the following morning, we found a very contented and fat cat, cleaning her paws and licking her lips, while lying on the sofa, and a kitchen floor full of tin foil scraps and pork bones.

Now anyone who knows a thing or two about cats, will know that cats and pork don’t mix very well. As a result of her midnight feast, the cat developed a seriously bad case of worms. We took her along to the vets, who prescribed a course of pills, together with a special diet. Have you seen the price that vets charge nowadays? There is no such thing as the NHS for cats; so as a result, we were forced to settle the bill, and purchase tablets and food using our flexible friend that you very kindly gave me when all was rosy in the financial garden.

Have you tried to get a cat to take medicine? It’s not easy let me tell you. We tried crushing the pills up in her food, but she’s not stupid, she would take one sniff and walk away. Our cat is a little shy, she doesn’t like being picked up, especially at dinner time, and especially when someone is trying to shove a pill the size of a horse tablet down her throat. She managed to rip my shirt, arms and chest to shreds, before wriggling out of my arms, and attaching herself, claws extended, to the kitchen curtains.

At this stage I have to take partial blame for what happened next. I had been meaning to fix the curtain rails for some time, just never really got around to it. As the cat clung onto the curtains, the rail gave way under the weight and fell with a crash onto the nearby cooker. This in its self wouldn’t have been so bad, but unfortunately a large piece of wall came down with it, and smashed onto the ceramic hob. Fearing that I was going to get a large amount of breeze blocks on my nut, I leaped back and tripped over the now grounded cat, who was trying to extricate herself from the curtains, while making a dash for the back door. I reached out for anything to stop me from falling, and managed to grab the washing machine door, that the wife insists stays open when not in use. It was quite an old washing machine and its door was never intended to take the strain of a slightly overweight, if not fat, balding man swinging on it, and consequently it broke from the hinges.

Meanwhile, the wife came rushing in from the garden to see what all the commotion was about. As she was rushing in, the cat was rushing out. there was a coming together of wifes ankles with cats backside, the cat was further propelled out of the patio doors, and the wife was further propelled towards the dining table that had been laid out with the best crockery, on account that her boss and his wife were coming for dinner that evening. The wife managed to break her fall by grabbing hold of the table cloth, which despite being loaded to the gunnels with food, drink and candles, was unable to take the added weight. The bottle of French red hit the wall and smashed, the various dips and sauces that had been laid out for our guest to nibble on covered the floor, and the finest crystal glasses shattered over everything including the wifes hair do. The lighted candles fortunately, were extinguished by the cushions on the sofa, but not before they had managed to set it on fire.

As you can imagine, the cost of replacing everything that was damaged that day, was huge, redecoration, new sofa, crockery, cooker and washing machine and all. Now I hear you say, “don’t worry, your insured” well unfortunately, the month before my pay check arrived in my account one day after the premium for my home insurance was due to be paid out, and because it would have put me 49p over my overdraught limit, you quite rightly decided not to pay it. As a result, my insurance company declined to pay out on my claim. It was at this time that I became eternally grateful to you for all those letters you wrote to me, every time I spent something on my credit card, offering to increase my limit. So we were able to replace and repair everything using our plastic.

Now I read recently that you and your fellow European banks had kindly decided to ease the Greek nation’s financial problems, by writing off 50% of their debts, and was wondering if you could possibly do the same for us?

I discussed the options with the wife, and following the Greek parliaments idea, held a referendum. It was unanimous, although I’m not sure what the cat was voting for, but when I asked her, she purred and put her tail up, after all, it’s in her interest for us to get our financial situation ironed out, she can eat Whiskas instead of Asda smart price cat food. I cannot claim to live in Greece, nor am I of Greek extraction. I did once take a package holiday with Dan-Air to Crete if that counts, I once had a Feta salad followed by moussaka at the local Greek restaurant. If it means that we have to sit and listen to Demis Roussos greatest hits CD and learn to play the Bouzouki, we will.

I await your reply with anticipation.

Yours sincerely,

A customer

cc. Herman Van Rumpuy. President of the European union.

cc. Angela Merkel President Of Germany

cc. Nicholas Sarkosy President of France

cc. Jean-Claude Trichet. President European central bank.

The Great Escape

2011-10-02T16:27:00.001+01:00

The hut door swung open with a loud bang. Into the room came a strong, cold draught of damp air, a few icy snowflakes, and a tall, thin man dressed in heavy jacket, gloves, hat and a scarf.

A group of men were huddled in a corner next to the heater. It wasn’t much of a heater, but in the current weather conditions, it was like a roaring open fire. A sign on the wall said “welcome to Colditz RDC”.

The men stopped their whispering, and looked up to see who had entered.

“I say chaps, it’s a bit nippy out there tonight,” said Ginger, who had just entered the room.

“Shut that bloody door” replied lofty “it’s taken us 3 hours to get this heater working.”

“Any goons about?” asked Nobby.

“Nah” replied Ginger “they are all in the canteen stuffing their faces”

“Righty ho!” said Roger “let’s get this over with before they come back. Now is everyone here?”

“All except Smithy, he’s doing a stretch in the cooler, apparently he offered to go and unload his own truck” answered Lofty.

“Right then” said Roger “let’s start, as chairman of the escape committee, I call the meeting to order. Now chaps, anyone got any news on chalky?”

“Yes” said Nobby. “I got a postcard from Spain in the last mail shot”

“Oh I say! Spiffing good news what, cracking wheeze of Chalky to steal one of the goons uniforms, and smuggle himself out driving on of their trucks” Said Roger.

The windows rattled in the wind, and an icy blast spread itself around the room reminding them that they were still stuck in the winter of northern Europe, and they each imagined chalky sitting on a beach in Spain, surrounded by young nubile maidens.

The hut was littered with old coffee cups, some newspapers and magazines that had that well-read look were scattered around the tables, and there were a few cheap chairs in various states of disrepair and an overflowing bin in one corner.

“Now lofty how is Annie coming on?” asked Roger. Annie was the code name for the tunnel that had been started from the toilet block.

“Problems I’m afraid Rog, we are still about 30 yards from the fence, and Charlie miscalculated the direction as we were digging underneath the guardhouse. We’ve had to start off at an angle to avoid the underground fuel tanks” Replied Lofty.

Ginger helped himself to a coffee, and wrapped both hands around the cup. The coffee machine gurgled loudly. Ginger took a mouthful of the lukewarm liquid and grimaced, it was called coffee, but it certainly didn’t taste like it.

“Listen Roger, I’ve an idea” said ginger. “It’s along the lines of chalkys escape method only we don’t need to steal uniforms”

“Tell us more” Said Roger.

“Well, I reckon if we could get hold of some ink, we could use it to dye our uniforms the same shade as the goons. Now I was talking to Alfie a while ago, he was telling me how he used to be a tailor and he reckons he could knock up a few badges that would fool the goons into thinking we were one of them from a distance. And Billy used to be in the printing trade, he thinks, if we can get hold of one of the goons I.D. badges, he could whip up a few passable copies.”

“OK” said Roger.” And how do you plan to get out?”

“Well, we wait until the shift change, the security guards don’t know all the goons by sight, and I’ve never seen them being counted, so maybe a few of us could infiltrate them. If we do it when the old shift goes off, they are always in such a hurry to get down the bar, I’m sure no one would notice” Said ginger.

“Not sure I like the idea, what do the rest of you think? “Asked Roger.

“Well it’s worth a try, maybe just a couple of guys” said Nobby. “I would like to try the roof top route again”

“Hmm, that didn’t go too well last time we tried” said Roger. “Remember how old biffo got his braces caught on the barb wire”

“yes” replied Nobby, “but this time I want to try something different. If we can get the lads to bring in pieces of those old pallets stacked outside, we could build a glider and fly over the fence.

Just then, the door crashed open and a familiar face entered the room.

“Chalky!” They all exclaimed. “What the flip you doing back here?” asked nobby.

“Well it was like this; I made it as far as Almeria, with a couple of drops in Barcelona on the way, and was headed back when I got caught just outside of Paris. Collect a load of golden delicious for Tasburysons in colditz, just my bleedin luck!”

Just then a hatch in the wall slid open, and a bored sounding female voice was heard.

“Driver on bay 14, here’s your keys and paperwork” Shouted the female.

For a moment no one reacted. It was such an unusual event for someone to be released. Ginger suddenly brightened up, it was his bay number, he was free, finally he was able to leave the supermarket RDC and get on his way!

Wet behind the ears!

2011-09-22T11:24:00.002+01:00

Yes we’ve all done it, engaged our brains too late and made a fool of ourselves. I can remember last summer, I stopped to buy a drink on the A303 near Andover, I was on my way back to Oxford. It was a warm summers day, and I had an old DAF with no aircon, so had the driver’s window open. When I went to close it, by pressing the button on the driver’s door, nothing happened. I pressed it for up, and for down, I turned the ignition on and off, but nothing would make my window go up. OK, it’s warm and dry so no problem, I’ll defect it when I get back to Oxford.

Just turn onto the northbound A34, and the sky goes very black, the heavens open, and I try desperately to get the window up, No chance. By the time I get to Oxford, my right side is soaking wet, and the cab floor is flooded, only then, as I get out the cab to shake myself off, do I notice the winding handle on the door! Yep, it was a manual window, stupid thing was, I must have opened it at some stage! All the time I was pressing the button, I never noticed the passenger window going up and down like a whores knickers!

On another occasion, I was taking a driver out on a driving assessment. As he was a full time driver, we did a store delivery. Again, it was a lovely hot summer’s day, so I left my coat in the car, and just wore my polo shirt etc. We were delivering to Asda Havant, and as we came out of the store, there was an almighty storm, rain like stair rods, thunder and lightning, hail etc. we were heading towards the A3M at waterlooville when we came across a tree blocking the road. We had no choice but to reverse about a mile, back to the roundabout, as we couldn’t turn around. It was very dark and the roads were becoming flooded, we called the police but traffic was still coming up behind us, so I put on my Hi Viz vest, which at that time was a new innovation, And walked back through the rain to the roundabout to stop traffic from coming up the road, while the driver reversed back in the pitch dark, with rain battering against his mirrors. I got soaked, like a drowned rat! It took about 20 minutes to get the truck back and turned around, only then did the police finally arrive.

I climbed into the cab, but couldn’t sit on the passenger seat as I was so wet, It was then I noticed, on the bunk, my drivers hi Viz waterproof coat, that I thought I had left in my car!

On another occasion, I was in an RDC, which shall remain nameless to protect the guilty! I was told to go onto bay 6, but there was a trailer already on it. The shunter came around and coupled up to it, but was having difficulty pulling it off the bay. He sat there revving the engine to build up air pressure, still no movement; he checked the red line and the parking brake. While I waited, another shunter came around, and now both of them were trying to find out what was going on. I went back to goods in to explain what was happening, and was told to use bay 7, by this time the depot mechanic is now there with his 4x4 truck, orange lights flashing, and his torch and hammer in his hand, all 3 are standing baffled, scratching heads etc. As I walk past, I casually point out to the first shunter, that it is a container on a skelly, and perhaps he should try connecting the red airline to the correct coupling! 3 faces turned extremely red, and a muttered thank you drive was heard coming from the embarrassed shunter. Fair play to him, he did buy me a coffee afterwards!

Rebels without a cause.

2011-08-16T19:59:00.002+01:00

Well I was out and about on the weekend, working as usual. This week, I spotted two groups of bikers. One, complete with German helmets, or bandanas, leather jackets etched with skull and crossbones and various other aggressive icons, were a group of hells angels. Some were riding customised bikes with “Ape Hanglers” or cattle horn handle bars, some with three wheel bikes al la Billy Connelly.

The other, obviously from the Harley Davidson Appreciation Society, or HarDaAss, as it is known, were all mounted on the iconic American bikes made famous in such films as The wild ones, with Marlon Brando, and Easy Rider, with Peter Fonda and Dennis Quaid. Some beautiful bikes with chrome gleaming, and paintwork shining. One thing that did catch my eye was that in both groups there were some “hell raisers” wearing Hi Viz jackets!

Now can you imagine if this had been around in days of yore? Imagine Mods and Rockers arriving at Brighton or Southend on bank holiday Monday, with hi Viz jackets on. The mods would have pristine, designer jackets, with pictures of The Who, or Roger Daltry on them, the rockers would be wearing oily old jackets with James Dean on the back.

So, how would health & safety affect some of Hollywood’s finest efforts? Would Stephen Spielberg have enjoyed so much success, if in his early Film, Duel, the Peterbilt tanker was restricted to 56MPH?

The names Bond, James Bond.

Picture the scene if you will, Whitehall, a secret underground office…………………………

Bond entered the Office of Q branch and went straight to Major Boothroyd. “so Q, what have you got for me today?” asked bond. Q pulled out from under his desk, a thick A4 size folder, containing what looked like 4000 pages of text. “take a look at this bond, and see what you think” replied Q.

Bond lifted the folder carefully and turned it over and over, checking the outside for tell-tale signs, but could see nothing. “is it a secret hiding place for the component parts of a Walther PPK 7.65 mm?” asked bond. “Afraid not” replied Q. “is it a small nuclear reactor that I can plug in to any light socket, and have enough power to light up a small city?” Enquired Bond.

Q Shock his head. “Is it some kind of secret communications device?” tried bond. “Now you are getting closer” said Q. He produced, what looked like an ordinary ball point pen from his breast pocket, and handed it to bond. “You will need this to use it” he said.

“Is this some kind of remote control device? Or does it fire poisoned darts?” Bond asked.

“No “replied Q. “It’s a pen, you will need it to sign off the 4000 pages of risk assessments contained in the folder, that you need to read, and remember before you can go out on operations from now on”

Bond sighed, “Give me a Martini, shaken not stirred” He said.

The Men on the moon.

Gene Krantz was relaxed, he had just poured himself another coffee, and was lighting a cigar, when the radio crackled into life.

“Houston we have a problem” said the voice of Apollo 13 commander Jim Lovell.” I don’t think we can make the moon landing”

Immediately Krantz looked at his assistant director. “Quick, go check the crews training records, make sure they signed off every Health &Safety sheet, we need to cover our asses here” Turning back to the radio, he managed to keep a cool voice.” What kind of problem Apollo 13?”

Lovell’s voice came back over the radio. “Seems that some clown forgot to pack our hi viz jackets, safety boots and hard hats, and you know we are not allowed out of the lunar landing craft without them”

When Johnny comes marchin home.

Scarlett O’Hara stood amongst the ashes of the family ancestral home, tears running down blackened cheeks. What was to become of her now? No home, no family, nothing. Just then she heard footsteps behind her, and found herself whisked into the arms of Rhett Butler. “Oh Rhett” she cried. “Where did it all go wrong?”

He leant back and looked into her eyes. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” She looked around her, and found she was surrounded by the faithful old family servants, Mammy, Pork and Uncle Peter. “Well now missy Scarlett, don’t you go worrying your pretty lil head about such things” said mammy.

“you’se askin me” said Uncle Peter” tings was fine til dey give dem yung boy johnny reb sojdyers dem yeller hi viz westcuts to wear”

The Empire strikes back!

Grand Moff Tarkin turned towards Darth Vader, hoping that he had used mouthwash that morning. “We are in orbit around the rebel planet, Lord Vader”

Darth Vader took a long loud breath.” I will lead the mission personally” he said.” Kill them all, but I want young Skywalker alive. Now prepare my x fighter” Vader turned, and with a sweep of his clock, walked to the launching pad.

Ten minutes later, Darth Vader arrived on the planet surface. He was met by a representative of the local government. “Welcome Lord Vader, do you have anything to declare?” he enquired.

“Declare?” Shouted Darth Vader. “I am his imperial majesty’s emissary and right hand man”

“Yes” said the man in a rather bored nasal accent.” But we have to check you are wearing the right safety equipment. Now does that helmet comply with ES standard kite mark ISO 13975.27?”

Darth Vader pulled out his light sabre. The man looked at it with mild disinterest. “You got a licence for that?” he asked.

Cool hand Andy.

It was a hot, sultry day in Shawshank Prison. Andy Dufresne walked casually around the exercise yard, hands in pocket, looking for all the world like a typical bored prisoner. But Andy was far from bored, he looked around and spotted what he was looking for. He strolled over to where Red was sitting, and placed himself next to the man. Andy Dufresne whispered “I understand you're a man who knows how to get things.”

Red replied “I’m known to locate certain things from time to time. What are you looking for?”

“Rock hammer” Said Andy.

“What’s one of them? And how much would you pay for one on the outside? “Asked Red.

“About $8,” replied Andy “and what’s with all the questions?”

“Well, if it was a toothbrush I wouldn't ask questions, I'd just quote a price, but then a toothbrush is a non-lethal object, isn't it? “ said Red.

“When you see it, you’ll know it’s not lethal” replied Andy.

“0k” said red. “Anything else?”

Andy passed red a list, Red looked around to check the guards weren’t looking then opened it and read.

“Hmm” said red. “you want safety boots, safety gloves, hard hat and hi Viz jacket”

“Yes” replied Andy. “I’m going into the demolition business, said Andy with a smile!

I have an apology to make...............

2011-08-02T18:28:00.000+01:00

It’s something that has been playing on my mind for many years, it has been festering away in my memory and now it’s time to confess and ask for forgiveness. But before I do, I need to paint the scene for you.

It happened one Christmas many years ago, this was a time when The Great escape was still a novelty film, and The Poseidon Adventure was a blockbuster, when Eric was playing all the right notes, but not necessarily in the right order, and BBC newsreaders were flashing their legs for the first time. This was a time when Shops actually closed over Christmas, when the sales started AFTER Boxing Day, even in DFS, and when the Christmas holiday, really was a holiday. Factories and Offices, warehouses and shops allowed their employees time to relax and enjoy Christmas, and there was plenty of time to have a jar or two without having to worry about work the next day.

Imagine if you will, a Christmas Eve, sometime around lunch. I was a fire fighter at the time, and did agency driving to make my wages up. I was off duty on this day. And the agency had told me it was quiet, but they would call if I was needed. Sure enough, just as I sat down with my lunch, the phone rang. “Would I help them out with a quick job? Double time if I could get to Didcot within the hour, one hit Luton, and finish” now I’ve heard this sort of offer before from the agency, so I got him to repeat the offer to my wife so that I would have a witness when it turned out to be a 15 hour shift at single time. I did a quick bit of mental arithmetic, and worked out I could do the job in just over 4 hours, so I took a chance.

I made my way to Didcot, and reported to the transport office of a large Cash & carry warehouse, one that used to have bright orange Lorries. The TM was waiting there with the keys and paperwork, as I had worked there quite regularly, I didn’t need a map. He told me that the store would be waiting for me, as they could go home after I was tipped, to drop the trailer on any free bay and refuel when I got back, then hand keys etc. to the security. Before I had got out of the office, he was in his car and with tyres screaming, was out of the car park on his way home. I coupled up the trailer, and, as this was pre mobile phone days, and I was carrying high value goods, I went to the security hurt to call the transport hub to let them know I was on my way.

I arrived in Luton about 75 minutes later, and before I had the handbrake on, 2 forklift drivers were already opening the sides, and starting to unload. 15 minutes later, I’m on my way back to Didcot. Now as I was leaving the house, my wife reminded me that we still needed a “few bits and pieces” from the shop. Any married man will know that a “few bits and pieces” soon turns into a loaded trolley, so I was quite happy to offer to get them on the way home, that way I had control of the purse strings.

In those days, the shops closed early on Christmas eve, but having driven for Tesco, I knew there was room outside one of the Aylesbury stores, for me to park the truck, and run in for a “few bits and pieces” Another thing that used to happen in the days when I still had a little hair, was that the shops would reduce any fresh food that might be out of date by the time the shop opened again after Christmas. So, after getting what was on my list, I made my way to the deli counter, and bought up a nice selection of cheap fresh food, including some fresh smoked salmon, a pair of kippers, a selection of cheeses, including vintage mature cheddar, some Jarlsberg, stilton, and a nice ripe camembert. One of my favourite cooked meats was salami, and a nice strong garlic sausage, so I purchased about half a pound of each, sliced and ready for my sandwiches. By the time I had finished, I had about 4 or 5 carrier bags full, which I placed behind me on the bunk.

I arrived back at Didcot, told the security guard that I was putting my shopping in my car, before refuelling the unit and putting the trailer on a bay. Pleased with myself for a job well done, double time of 8 hours for less than 5 hours work, and some real bargains from the shops, I made my way home. I unloaded the car, and left my wife to put the shopping away, while I went to shower and change as we were going out that evening. We had a pleasant evening with some friends, I had a few drinks, as the wife was driving, and we got home quite late. We put the kids to bed, they were tired but as kids do at Christmas, they were fighting sleep; fortunately they fell asleep in the car on the way home. Afterwards I felt a bit peckish. Now I know the old saying about eating cheese before bedtime giving you nightmares, but I was hungry. Opening the fridge, there was a marked absence of cheese, fish or garlic sausage. I called the wife and asked her what she had done with it; she told me she had not seen any fish etc. It wasn’t in the car, so there was only one place it could possibly be.

Now perhaps I should just point out that this particular Christmas was one of the mildest we had had for some years, with even night time temperatures staying in double figures. So this is where the apology comes in, to the poor driver, who having enjoyed a well-deserved break over Christmas, who opened the door of the unit that had held my kippers, salmon, cheese and salami for over a week, my sincere apology for all the trauma and suffering I may have caused you having to sit in the truck for your next shift, in the middle of winter with the windows wide open while purchasing a dozen magic tree air fresheners to try and hide the smell of rotten fish!

Space...................the final frontier.......RDC's of the future!

2011-07-15T11:17:00.004+01:00

Captains Log, star date 27059 point 37, UFS Coal Scuttle, Captain Kirk reporting. I sit in my quarters and wonder, where did it all go wrong? In my career with Starfleet, I have been an official ambassador for the Federation, an admiral, and captain of numerous federation flagship star ships, even a Klingon War Bird. Why did I end up as captain of this rust bucket? Was it the fact that I singlehandedly started wars between the federation and the Klingons? The federation and the Romulans, the federation and.....well you get the picture. Maybe it was that I managed to have at least 4 of my commands destroyed including the Klingon war bird?

At least the majority of my former crew mates stayed loyal to me, took the rough with the smooth, all that is except that back stabbing, two faced yellow Judas Sulu, who sold me out to the federation for the price of a command of a shiny new, science vessel, full of young nubile female scientists, and, if I know Sulu, a few pretty boys too. I can see him now, in his shades sitting on the bridge, sneering at me.

Just then there was a shrill whistle from the intercom, and the voice of Lt Uhuru broke through kirks thoughts.

“Bridge to Capt. Kirk, there is an incoming message from freight fleet, code 1 captain."

Code 1? That meant Captains eyes only! Wow this could be serious.

“Ok Uhuru put it through to my quarters”

“Aye, aye Captain”

The view screen flickered for a few seconds, and then the face of Admiral Mitchell appeared on the screen.

“Good day Captain, hope you are well, we have an urgent task for you. There is an urgent assignment waiting at space depot 29 that has to get to earth as quickly as possible. Knowing that you were in the quadrant, I have decided that you are the man for the job. I can’t stress how important this is Captain, without these supplies there will be a lot of suffering on earth in the coming days”

“You can rely on me sir” replied kirk. ”we’ll get underway right away admiral”

“Ok, good luck Captain……oh and Kirk?”

“Yes sir?”

“Try not to destroy any planets, Mitchell out!”

Kirk let this message sink in. at last, he had been handed an opportunity to redeem himself with Star fleet. If he could successfully make this urgent delivery in time to save the earth, they might, just might, give him command of a star ship again.

He pressed the intercom. “Kirk to Bridge, Mr Chekov?”

“Yess Capteen?” replied Chekov.

“Plot a course for Star base 29, maximum warp. Engage”

“Eye, eye capteen”

Kirk thought for a moment, how is it possible that Chekov has spent nearly 40 years in space, hardly ever returning to earth, and yet he still has the worst Russian accent in the galaxy?

Kirk made his way to the bridge. Commander Spock was sitting in the command chair, but arose and offered it to Kirk, this was not the first time Spock had offered kirk his seat.

“Mr Spock, we have an urgent life and death mission, the survival of the entire earth may depend upon us”

“Understood Captain, do we know the nature of our cargo?”

“It’s highly secret.” Replied kirk “so secret in fact that only a handful of people know”

Spock thought to himself “you don’t know, do you Kirk!” but replied to the captain “ yes captain, that would be logical”

Several hours later, the UFS coal Scuttle was in orbit around the space depot 29.

“Open hailing frequencies Uhuru” ordered Kirk.

“This is Captain James T kirk of the federation star ship…..”

“Federation Freight ship” interrupted Spock.

“Federation Freight ship Enterprise” continues kirk.

“Coal Scuttle” corrected Spock.

“Coal Scuttle” said kirk. “We have an urgent collection to make for earth; we require an immediate docking bay for loading”

“Sorry captain, they’ve all gone for lunch, can you come back in an hour?” replied a rather bored sounding voice.

“Gone for lunch? Gone for lunch?” yelled Kirk, “listen the entire population of earth is in grave danger, we can’t wait while they eat their sandwiches, get me on a bay now!”

There was a pause, and then the rather less bored voice replied. “No use screaming at me Captain, I’m just the booking in clerk, you need goods out”

“We have explicit orders from Admiral Mitchell to proceed here at full speed, load an urgent assignment for earth, and make all possible speed.”

“Admiral who?” came the reply.

“Admiral Mitchell” Shouted kirk.

“Never eard of im.” Replied the voice. “Ok you best park your bum on dock 27, but you’ll still have to wait until they come back from lunch before you get loaded.

At that precise moment, kirk wished he had a couple of photon torpedoes that he could shove where no sun had shone.

An hour later, kirk found himself in the goods out office looking over a counter at the top of a balding head.

“Well we ain’t been told about no “urgent” consignment for earth, you sure it was space depot 29, and not 19?” enquired the head.

“Admiral Mitchell himself contacted me and specifically said 29” replied kirk.

“Admiral who?” Asked the head.

“Admiral Mitchell” replied Kirk.

“Never eard of im. well we ain’t got no paperwork here about no urgent consignment, best you call this Admiral Mitchell and ask im wot e’s on about” Said the head.

Kirk returned to the coal Scuttle. “Uhuru, get me Admiral Mitchell at Starfleet command”

Don’t you mean Freight fleet command captain? Enquired Uhuru.

“Yes, yes” replied Kirk in an annoyed manner.

Several hours later, Kirk finally got the call he had been waiting for.

“Ok Captain, we found out about this consignment, they just sent us down the paperwork, and it’s being picked now so we should start loading you within the hour”

At last though kirk, now finally we are getting somewhere. The excitement of being back in the thick of the action was growing, he couldn’t remember being so excited since he accidentally found Nurse Chappell and Yeoman Rand in an intimate embrace, dressed in high heeled, thigh high boots, leather thongs, and nipple tassels. He had wanted to borrow them so that he could get Spock drunk and persuade him to model them for him.

His thoughts were broken by the vibration from the loading bay below decks, at last they were starting to load, shouldn’t take long now, one pallet every 2 minutes, 30 pallets, they would be on their way in just over an hour.

Just over an hour later, they were still waiting for the last 2 pallets. What was keeping them? Kirk wandered into the goods out office where he found the head, still looking down at the computer screen in front of him.

“Any idea how much longer it will take to load us” asked Kirk.

“Well we are waiting for the last 2 pallets to be brung over to us. Replied the head.

“Brung……..Brought over from where?” asked Kirk.

“Space depot 24. Don’t worry, they won’t be long. Had to get some more from them as we run out see”

“Can we get going as soon as they arrive?” asked Kirk.

“Once he paper works done, yep” replied the head.

“Can’t we do that now? Asked kirk.

“No way” said the head “we got to scan the labels.”

Two hours later, the final pallets had been loaded and the paperwork signed. Kirk was back on the bridge.

“Ok Mr Chekov, take us out of here, impulse engines, engage!”

There was a jolt, and the sound of metal grinding, as the freighter came to a halt.

Chekov looked sheepish.

“Kirk to Scott, what happened Mr Scott?”

Chief engineer Scott clicked on his intercom. “we stalled captain. I told Chekov about not riding the clutch so much. I’ve just reset the dilitium crystals, tell that great lummox Chekov to take it easy this time”

Kirk sighed; they still had a long, long way to go!

As the coal scuttle worked its way slowly out of space depot 29, kirk gave Chekov his orders.

“Lay in a course for earth Mr Chekov, warp factor 5”

“Warp 5 caapteen, but you know our top speed is only warp 3”

“Mr Spock, how long to earth at Warp 5?” asked kirk.

“Approximately 7 hours, 26 minutes, 14.29 seconds captain.”

“And how long at warp 3?”

Approximately 5 days, 2 hours, 42 minutes……..”

“Yes thank you Mr Spock, I get the picture”

Kirk pressed the intercom, “kirk to engineering, Mr Scott I need more power”

Scotty replied “Captain I’m givin her all I can”

“Dam it Scotty, I need more speed!” exclaimed kirk.

“Captain I canna change the laws of fyusics, If I push her any more, she’ll blow”

“Ok Mr Scott do the best you can”

“Aye aye captain” replied Scott, then under his breath “Idjet”

3 days later kirk sat in the captain’s chair, it had been an uneventful 3 days, and he was beginning to relax. As he sat there, his eyes wandered to the large expanse of thigh that Lt Uhuru was showing. My god, he thought, when is she going to realise that she is no longer the sex goddess of old, I mean, 50 years ago when we were both at the academy, she was something, many’s the night I went to bed dreaming of having those thighs wrapped around my head, but come on woman, you’re getting on a bit, do us all a favour and wear trousers. His thoughts were broken by Mr Spock.

“Captain there is a vessel approaching us from behind, it’s gaining rapidly on us, and will overtake us in approximately 2 minutes”

“Any idea who it is?” asked Kirk.

“it’s passing us now captain”

“Put it on screen Mr Chekov”

“aye Captain”

The large video screen at the front of the bridge spluttered into life and from the darkness, a threatening looking hulk began to appear. It was covered in strange yellow and black markings. Suddenly from on top, several bright orange lights started to flash, and a large illuminated sign spelled out the words “FOLLOW ME” in large red letters.

Kirk sighed, he knew things had been starting to go too well, and this was all he needed, a star lane side inspection from the Vulcan Outer Space Agency, aka, VOSA. He turned to Uhuru. “Open hailing frequencies”

“This is captain James T kirk of the UFS coal scuttle, we are on an urgent life and death mission to earth, with orders from Admiral Mitchell to make all possible speed”

“Admiral who?” came the reply.

“Admiral Mitchell” kirk answered.

“Never heard of him” replied the Vulcan. “This is first proletariat Akzor of the Vulcan Outer space Agency; this is a routine check captain Burke and won’t take too long, if you will just comply with our request”

“Captain Kirk” replied Kirk.

“Apologies Captain Kurd. My inspectors will beam over and carry out a full check on your craft, please give them every co-operation”

Kirk turned the radio off, and quickly called Scotty.

“Scotty, we have VOSA on their way for an inspection, everything ok?”

“Aye captain apart from a small leak in dilithium chamber 12, but it shouldn’t cause any problems”

“Mr Chekov, are all the tachograph records legal?” asked Kirk.

“Of course Captain, it would be welly silly of me to break the star fleet helmsman’s hour’s laws” replied Chekov.

The VOSA inspectors went through the UFS Coal Scuttle with a fine tooth comb, they checked the lights, the engines, the warp engine nacelles, the transporters, the medical centre, they even check out the staff canteen, helping themselves to large quantities of Aldebaran 5 googlespit cheese cake, a great delicacy in the Aldebaran sector, but, as Scotty had said, they found little wrong except for the small leak in dilithium chamber 12, one of the top nearside outer marker lights had blown, a blockage in Carsi number 5, or cargo assimilation bunker 5 where waste products were stored. on the lower 12^th deck, and Chekov had not taken a full break 2 days ago.

“Do you have your daily check sheet with you Captain Nurd?” asked FP Akzor. “Right, normally we would make you wait here until that dilithium leak was fixed, however it would be illogical to hold you here, when you are going to earth where you can get the leak sealed much better, so I am allowing you to proceed, however, you must report to your nearest VOSA station within 7 days and show a complete repair”

“Ok Captain Jerk, if I could just see your licence please” asked Akzor. “that will be 3 points and 150 credits fine for the marker light, 3 points and 1000 credits for the dilithium leak and 3 points and 150 credits for the breach of hours by your helmsman, we’ll let you off the blocked carsi. You can pay by visa if you wish.”

Kirk grimaced and produced his licence and his Visa card.

“Don’t forget your space Captains CPC” said akzor, who inspected it with a magnifying glass “fine, can’t be too careful, we’ll let you get on your way captain”

As he walked towards the transporter, Akzor gave kirk the traditional Vulcan salute, palm facing forward, fingers together then parted between the middle and fore finger.

“Live long and prosper” he said.

At that moment, Kirk remembered an ancient salute he had picked up on a trip to London. Raising his hand palm inwards, he extended his index and middle fingers and said “up yours!”

We come in peace, but shoot to kill!

Earth orbital route M25 was busy, extremely busy. It got its name from the position of the main entry point for space craft coming to earth from the alpha quadrant. A fixed point based on a triangulation of the North Pole, the South Pole and deep space object M25, an open cluster in the constellation of Sagittarius, some 2 light years from earth, with a magnitude of 4.9, called unromantically IC4725, better known as the Bottleneck cluster.

UFS Coal Scuttle had been sat in a space jam on M25 for some 2 hours. So far, they had managed no more than a quarter impulse power, but most of the time they were almost completely still.

Kirk was awoken from his fantasy. He had been dreaming about the time, he, Spock and Dr McCoy had been camping. He remembered the night when the fire refused to light and they had had to hug each other to keep warm. He had been the meat in the sandwich. A warm feeling came over him. Not unlike the warm feeling that came over him that night!

“Caapteen, we are approaching our exit!” said Chekov.

“Finally” said Kirk. “Take us to the entry point for Earth distribution Centre one Mr Chekov”

“Eye caapteen” replied Chekov.

“Uhuru, open hailing frequencies, contact the EDC1 entry point”

“Aye captain”

A strangely familiar voice came from the loudspeaker, and as the video screen cleared a strangely familiar face appeared.

“Welcome to EDC1”

Kirk started to speak. “This is Captain James T Kirk of the federa………..” his voice trailed off, then with a slight edge of surprise in his voice he continued “Sulu, is that you?”

“Aye captain Kirk” replied Sulu.

“I thought you were commanding a science vessel in the delta quadrant” said Kirk.

“Well you know how it is captain, cut backs and all that” Said Sulu “and there was that small incident with a young male Ensign, a chicken costume, and a large Kardasian cucumber, which wasn’t really my fault” said Sulu bitterly.

Oh how the mighty had fallen, thought kirk.

“Mr Sulu, we have an urgent, lifesaving consignment for EDC1, we request an immediate docking station”

“Sorry captain, I need a few details first” Replied Sulu.

“Mr Sulu, we are under orders from Admiral Mitchell…..”

“Admiral who?” asked Sulu

“Admiral Mitchell” replied kirk.

“Never heard of him. Now Captain Kirk, can I have your name please?”

“Sulu, you know me!” replied Kirk.

“Name” Barked Sulu.

“Kirk, James T”

“can you spell that for me please?”

“K I R K”

“Ships name?”

“UFS Coal Scuttle” Sulu barely hid a slight sneer upon hearing the ships name.

“Registration number?” enquired Sulu.

“NCC 2791………….A” replied kirk.

“A?” sneered Sulu.” so you managed to destroy one already?”

“It wasn’t my fault” Said Kirk. “How was I to know that the Romulan War bird was going to de-cloak at the exact spot I chose to park up for the weekend?”

“Now then captain Kirk, What’s your booking time?”

“Booking time? We don’t have one, was just told to get here as quickly as possible”

Sulu Sighed. “Ok, do you have a booking reference?” Asked Sulu.

“Booking reference? No, sorry”

“Oh dear” said Sulu. “No reference, I can’t let you in, you will have to go away, and come back when you get one”

“Dam it Sulu, these are emergency supplies, we have to get in”

“Sorry captain, goods in won’t unload you without a booking reference. Nip back to the space service station, call in to your office, and come back when you’ve got a reference. Sulu out”

Kirk was fuming. “Uhuru, get me Admiral Mitchell’s office now”

“Captain?” Said Spock.

“Not now Mr Spock. Chekov, take us back to the space services full impulse.”

“Captain” said Spock.

“Not now Spock. Uhuru did you get me……..”

Spock interrupted him. “Captain, if there is a booking reference, would it not be logical for it to be on the paperwork?” Asked Spock.

Kirk paused. “ agh,……yes…..I was wondering who would be the first to pick up on that! Well done Mr Spock.”

The ship returned to the entry point and Kirk gave the reference number.

“Right captain Kirk, do all you crew have hi viz space suits, steel tipped space boots and hard space helmets?” asked Sulu.

“Yes of course” replied Kirk.

“fine Captain I just need you and your crew to watch this brief health and safety video, then you can proceed to the goods in waiting area.”

One hour later the film finished.

“My god Jim, that was boring” exclaimed Dr McCoy, who had entered the bridge to check that nobody had died of boredom.

“I found it fascinating” Said Spock.

“Why you green blooded philistine. You wouldn’t know how to enjoy yourself in an Arcturian 3 whore’s bedroom!”

“Dr I can assure you that I would not enter an Arcturian 3 whore’s bedroom” replied Spock.

“Bones, Spock meet me in transporter room 2. Mr Scott, prepare to beam us down.” Kirk ordered.

Scotty was not impressed. He was in the middle of re calibrating the plasma injectors to the warp field anti matter transfer units, he was also trying to get the small leak in Dilithium chamber 12 fixed, and finding someone to unblock carsi number 5. Typical of kirk, he thought, there’s me, the highest qualified engineer in Star fleet, it takes 3 pages of Encyclopaedia Galactica just to put all the letters after my name, I’ve got engineering degrees from every known university in the galaxy, and he wants me to beam him down! I have single celled amoeba in my team who have the brain power to press a few buttons, but oh no! Mr God almighty kirk wants Scotty to do it. One of these days, Scotty thought, I’m going to transport his corset and wig 3 feet to one side, see how he likes being treated like an idiot!

Ensign Armstrong joined Star fleet 3 years before. His family had a long tradition of space travel, in fact, it was rumoured that one of his ancestors had been involved in the first moon landings. Apparently, he had been a hot dog seller at Cape Canaveral on the day that Apollo 11 had been launched.

Armstrong had wanted to enter the star fleet academy ever since he was a young teenager. He had read about the exploits of his hero captain James Tiberius Kirk, and had so wanted to graduate from the academy and join the USS enterprise. Unfortunately, he was too stupid to get into the academy, and anyway, by the time he would have graduated, Kirk had already destroyed 3 USS enterprises.

Ensign Armstrong didn’t want to die, he had just made out with the young yeoman from regel 5, what a cracker she was. OK, so she was dark blue, and had 3 chins, but what she could do with that extra hand was incredible.

Ensign Armstrong didn’t want to die, but he had just been called to transporter room 2, told he was accompanying Kirk on an away mission, and handed a red shirt! Everyone knows when you beam down with captain Kirk, the one in the red shirt hardly ever comes back!

They rematerialized inside the goods in office. It was a dull, depressing place, in need of repair. The paint was flaking from the walls, and, apart from a few dog eared posters, some graffiti and a large hatch with 2 glass panes, the room was empty. Kirk waited by the hatch. On the other side was a young female, obviously an immigrant worker from another planet, she had a pony tail, a real pony tail, a second pair of eyes on the side of her head, and a long protruding trunk. Kirk thought her not unattractive.

Eventually she looked up from polishing her hooves and slid open the hatch.

“Got yer paperwork?” she said.

Kirk handed it over.

“We’re on a shift change at the moment, go wait in your space ship, and we’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“How long will that be?” asked Kirk, “we have urgent, lifesaving emergency supplies for admiral Mitchell”

“Admiral who?” asked the girl.

“Admiral Mitchell” replied Kirk.

“Never heard of im” said the female. “You’ll just have to wait until we are ready for you”

Kirk sighed; getting this shipment delivered was harder than crossing the open plains on Algol 4 in 120C heat with a large Aldabran skunk monster on your back.

An hour later, the communicator finally burst into life.

“UFS Coal Scuttle, proceed to docking bay 14. When you have docked, please have your crew proceed to the waiting room, lock your cab, and bring your keys to the goods in Office”

Kirk ordered Spock to arrange the transfer of crew to the waiting room, while Chekov shutdown the ships engines, and handed the keys to captain kirk. Once everyone was through the airlock, Kirk locked the door and proceeded to the goods in office.

The Young female alien had disappeared and in her place was, well kirk was not too sure. Behind the glass window was a mound of something resembling flesh, held together by a wrapping of some kind of material. It was perched where the stool had been, and Kirk supposed that it was still somewhere beneath the large rolls of fat. There appeared to be 2 eyes somewhere near the top of the flesh mound, and just under these were a set of brightly painted red lips. They spoke. “Put your keys on the hook behind you, then go wait with your crew” it snapped.

Kirk was disappointed that the young, not unattractive alien had gone, but was pleased to see that a human female had replaced her. He put the keys onto the hook when almost instantaneously a trap door opened and the keys were snatched from his grasp, nearly taking his hand off.

He made his way to the waiting area, this was a large room with a number of tables, chairs and other such items as waste bin, overflowing, coffee machine, dirty, vending replicator selling overpriced items with no nutritional value. Kirk knew what it was like, but was unable to see it, as it was occupied by 7 crews waiting to unload. He pushed his way towards the replicator pressed his thumb against the credit reader and asked for coffee black two sugars. Instantaneously a quantity of black liquid started to materialise, and just as quickly it vanished through a drain underneath. Dam it he thought, no cups!

Kirk listened to the conversations that were taking place between various ships crews. There was the one about calling VOSA to the EDC because someone had run out of hours on the bay, and VOSA made them shut down the launch pad either side and marked his docking pads with chalk.

Another captain was telling how he had only just missed being blown up by the Borg because his ship had broken down. Yet another was telling about the time he was stuck in space traffic and needed the toilet…………………Kirk had heard them all many times before.

After several hours, Kirk got the call he had been waiting for, leaving Spock to organise the crew, he returned to pick up his keys and paperwork from the office. The flesh mound, who kirk had christened Jabba the hut, didn’t even look up, just thrust keys and paperwork at kirk, and carried on studying this month’s edition of HELLO!

Once all the crew were on Board and the ship had left EDC1, kirk called Admiral Mitchell.

“Admiral, we have delivered your emergency supplies, I hope we were in time to save as many lives as possible”

“Well done Captain, you did a grand job, there are many that will owe much to you for delivering those supplies so quickly. Can you imagine what it would have been like in the officers’ mess, if we had run out of Romulan ale? There would have been total anarchy. We were down to our last keg! Keep up the good work, and maybe, one day you will get a star ship again Mitchell out”

Kirk didn’t know what to say, they had risked everything just to bring some alcohol to the officers mess, all his famous exploits, and this is what it all came down to. He was a shattered man.

Spock felt sympathy for Kirk, he knew what it meant to him to get a Star Ship, and this would really affect him.

“Captain” He said “Don’t you think that we should thank Admiral Mitchell for giving us this task? It would only seem logical that we repay him with a little gift?”

Kirk noticed Spock’s raised eyebrow. “What did you have in mind Mr Spock?” Asked Kirk.

Well captain, I know that Dr McCoy has a pair of breeding Tribbles in quarantine in his quarters “said Spock.

A smile began to form on Kirks lips. “Dr McCoy to the bridge. Mr Scott, Two to beam down!”

“What is our course caapteen? “Asked Chekov.

Kirk relaxed back in the captain’s chair, a large smile on his face, pointing vaguely with his hand he replied.” That ways, over there, keep going until I tell you to stop”

Maybe life wasn’t so bad on a freighter after all!

Livng the european life. (With apologies to our EU cousins.)

2011-07-05T17:06:00.003+01:00

I was reading an article the other day about Brits moving to other European countries to live and work, and have been contemplating which country I would most like to live. Now, I have in the past lived in a few EU countries, but that was when I was young free and single. Now that I’m old, trapped and married, things look different. I know that there is good and bad in every country, and, with the global economy, the lines between nationalities are getting blurred. So, let’s take a tour of our near neighbours and weigh up the pros and cons of each country.

Now I will discount the Scandinavian countries, not that they are bad, in fact I believe Norway has one of the best standards of living in Europe, Sweden have some great furniture from our Kia, and the Danish sure know how to grow a pig or two, it’s just that, at my age I feel the cold more, so I will begin with Germany.

Ah yes, Germany, home of the new EU financial giant, sauerkraut and sausages. I like a nice frankfarter, followed by a big plate of Black Forest Grotto, washed down with a bottle of pills, but I can’t stand cabbage. Germany has no speed limits on the autobahns but when you drive an old Rover, that’s immaterial, It has the mountains in the south, the Rhine and such wonderful cities as Berlin, Munich and Hamburg with its reaper van.

Germanys neighbour is Holland, with the windmills, mice, Amsterdam and Tulips. Where everyone walks around in them wooden clots. I like Holland, the cafes where you can get more than a cup of coffee, the cheese, and the women; although it’s a pity it’s full of dykes. Holland is flat, I mean really flat. A lot of it is under sea level and if it wasn’t for that little boy with his finger in a dyke, it would all be flooded. I have to say that Holland is one of my favourite countries.

Belgium is ok. No, really, it is! Ok they have a lot of sprouts and there is often problems between the Phlegm’s and the Balloons, but on the whole it is ok. Enough said.

Now France, ah France a wonderful country, pity it is full of………………………sorry can’t say that here. Look at Paris, oh yes gay pareeee! With its eyeful tower, its loo museum, and of course where would we be without its plaster? Then there is the Versace place with its fine gardens and lewis’s 16^th floor furniture, all hand made with finest wood venereal. French cheese is a bit too runny for me, but you can wash it down with a fine wine such as a nice Bardot, or a vintage Bergerac novo. In the south of the country, the jet set gather in Juan Less Pins, just along the coast from Nice, you know, where the biscuits come from, and every year they go to watch the Meccano formula 1 grand prix.

Switzerland has such wonderful views, imagine waking up every morning is a shallot on a hill side, when the cuckoo goes off, opening the shutters and hearing a mix of cow bells and yokelling.

Austria, like Switzerland, has fresh mountain air, that makes you want to climb every mountain and ford every stream. When I visit Austria, I always start singing “the lonely coat heard” as performed by Ron Trapp and his family in the film the sound of muesli. You can also dance to Johan sebastian strauss and his wurlitzer tunes while eating a Vietnamese whirl.

Spain I have never quite made it to, every time I try to get there, something happens to stop me, is this an omen? I hear stories of huge great plates of Pirelli, washed down with Sandy Miguel on a beach in the costa coffee shop, is this right?

Italy has it’s cities, although Rome seems to be falling down. I don’t want to live in Venus, too many canals, and you know what those gonorrhoea’s are like, they spend all day pinching bums. I could always go to the island made famous by “our Gracie” Fields; you know the one, Crappie.

Greece has the apocalypse, the pantheon and the race named after a chocolate bar, which reminds me, will they be running 26 mile Snickers at London 2012? It’s suffering a bit at the moment, it’s never been the same since Helen and troy sank all of Aristotle’s 1000 ships with a wooden horse, and no one can sing like Damian Rhesus and that Nina Moussaka.

Anyway, I’ve decided, I know it’s not quite Europe, except for the annual song contest, and Europa cup, but I’m going to move to Israel and live on one of them there Kebabs’.

A New look at road safety

2011-06-30T13:28:00.003+01:00

Last weekend I spent a lot of time on the motorways around the south east of England. Some of it was working, driving a truck, and some of it was, in my car, out of necessity rather than for pleasure.

I spent an awful lot of this time stationary. Why? Because there was a major accident on nearly every Motorway in the south east on both Saturday, and Sunday. M25, M40, M3, M4, M1, M23. Now when you are sitting in traffic waiting to move, you have plenty of time to think. I started to wander what had caused so many accidents in such a small area in such a small time, and came up with the ideal solution, one that will not only prevent accidents, save lives and make the roads much safer for all, but also benefit the economy, and the environment.

Everybody knows that trucks are dirty, noisy, nasty things that are driven by morons, who like nothing more than causing accidents and delaying everyone, but on the weekend, there are relatively few trucks on the road, however, there are millions of cars. Each car is driven by someone who, at some time in their lives has passed a driving test. Well, I hope that they have.

Now we all know that once you pass a test to drive a car, you are the greatest thing since mother lost here pride and sliced her loaf. You don’t need to learn anything else, you never need to undertake refresher driving courses, and no one can ever tell you how to drive. WRONG!

99% of car drivers take no further training after passing their test, unless they have a medical condition, or get banned and are required by the court to retake the test. You could have passed your test 60 years ago in an old Austin A30, and now be driving around in an Aston Martin DB9 without ever taking any further training. When you took your test, back in 1960, there were no motorways, very few cars could travel at above 100MPH, let alone 70MPH, Disc brakes, fuel injection, Diesel cars, radial ply tyres, as well as things like ABS, EBS and traction control, were way ahead in the future.

Even someone passing a test today, is not equipped to go out on the roads alone, and yet we let them, no requirement to undertake further training, no restriction on the vehicle they can drive, other than the cost of insurance. How many times do we hear the story about a young, normally male driver under 25, killing himself and possibly his mates because he thinks he is a better driver than anyone else?

Now here is my solution, the CPCD, or Certificate of Proficient Car Driving. This would be a training course that each driver would have to attend in order to renew his/her licence every five years. It would comprise of 5 x 7 hour training “modules” taken over a five year period either separately, or as one 35 hour week long course. There would be no pass or fail, just attend and get the hours in.

Training schools could register modules based on PowerPoint presentations, with no requirement to actually go anywhere near a car or road, where groups of people could pay up to £100 a time to sit and listen to the instructor. There could be lots of coffee and smoke breaks, as well as luncheon provided at extra cost.

Some of the modules could teach such interesting things as The highway code, speed limits, how to enter and exit a motorway without cutting someone up, the correct use of signals, how to read road signs, lane discipline, how not to “undertake”, how not to use your mobile phone to send a text while driving, drinking a skinny latte and smoking a B&H. how not to put on your make up or shave using the rear view mirror, and how not to chat constantly to your passengers without looking once in your mirror.

There could be courses in how to read a map, how to use a Sat Nav, how to anticipate and plan ahead. We could have distance and length modules, where car drivers have to judge the braking distance of a fully laden truck against the gap just in front of it. They could learn how to plan a journey, so that they actually set out in plenty of time to get to the end without having to drive at 100MPH, up the backside of the car in front, because they might be late at the office Perhaps people could be taught how NOT to turn caravans over every Saturday in the summer.

There could be a “born again biker” module, targeted at those lads who, back in the sixties rode a BSA Bantam down to Brighton to have it out with the lambretta boys, or in the seventies, had a Suzuki 125 and now feel the need to re-live their youth. How to squeeze yourself into leathers that are obviously far too small for your belly might be one. How not to show off to your mates outside the Pub could be another.

We could extend it to cyclists too, How Not to pass thorough red lights, how to use cycle lanes when they are available instead of using the road and blocking the path of car and truck drivers. Pedestrians could be made to complete courses on how to operate Pelican crossings, and what a picture of a little red man means. Mothers could be taught not to push their pushchair and baby into the road without first looking.

Now for the advantages, first of all the reduction in road accidents would mean that everyone would get to where they are going quicker, leaving the roads quieter at busy times. Emergency services, such a Fire, police and ambulance could concentrate on the other duties they have to perform, like putting out fires, catching criminals, and treating sick people. The NHS would save millions every year that could be spent on such things as new cancer drugs, and caring for the elderly.

The individuals will gain because by learning to drive more efficiently, they will save much more in fuel costs than the price of a days training and therefore can afford to pay the mortgage.

The environment will benefit, because as people drive more efficiently, there will be less pollutants sent into the atmosphere. If we could only stop Golfers, and VW golf owners drivelling on, we could close the hole in the ozone layer. Fossil fuels will last much longer, giving us time to find an alternative to nuclear. The government will lose a little in fuel duty, but will be quid’s in from the NHS savings and the Extra VAT they can charge on the training courses.

Finally, we can reduce the unemployment lines dramatically, as we will need millions of new Driver trainers
Hmmm, think I’m onto something here, might stand for a seat in the European Parliament, where I can wangle myself onto a Quango to oversee this, it, will mean lots of fact finding trips to Jamaica, Seychelles, Fiji and other such motoring hot spots.

It’s a difficult job, but somebody’s got to do it!

Redundancy built in part one.

2011-06-22T20:20:00.001+01:00

I must just be unlucky I guess. Its not always been like this, I mean when I was young, things were so much easier. If you bought a record player, you got a Dansett Popular, a standard player for the modern family. On it you could stack up to 6 singles at a time, and each one would drop down neatly onto the turntable, the needle arm would glide across and gently lower the needle onto the record, where you would sit and listen in perfect mono to such wonders as jailhouse rock, good golly miss molly, Peggy sue, or how much is that doggy in the window. Of course memory is a funny thing, it was never really like that, you would stack 6 records on the changer, and switch it on, and watch as the record failed to fall onto the turntable, and the needle would try to play a song from the rubber turntable mat. You would reset it, try again, and this time two records would fall together, the needle would drop with a loud crack onto the disc, and the loudspeaker would burst into life with a collection of hisses, snaps, crackles and pops that inspired Kellogg’s to make a breakfast cereal.

I think back over the past 40+ years since I was old enough to earn a wage to buy the latest gadgets, and find myself wondering where it all went wrong. Take the entertainment equipment I purchased that became redundant while I was carrying them out of the shop. I paid a fortune for a quadrophonic Hi Fi stereo system, spent hours positioning the four speakers to get the best sound reproduction, bought all six LP’s that were made in Quadrophonic stereo only to find that it went out of fashion while I was making a cup of tea.

I was the one who also bought an eight track stereo player. Now I was never a fan of the cassette tape. Horrible noisy, hissy things. I would buy the finest quality metal tape, use only Bang & Olufsen record deck, and amplifier, religiously clean the record before I played it, and still, after recording it onto a cassette it sounded like a bunch of snakes trying to sing like Mick Jagger. So I bought an eight track. The sound quality was much better than a cassette, but that was its only advantage, it was too big, you couldn’t record on it, and you could only buy the same six albums on eight track, as you could get in quadrophonic stereo.

Next came the “pocket” calculator. I bought one of the first Texas instruments portable “pocket” calculators. It would just about fit into a large pocket, but was so heavy, you would walk with a limp for days afterwards. Plugged in it was great, but the built in rechargeable battery lasted just long enough to type in 77345 7i0, then turn it upside down to display the words “shell oil”

Then along came Sir Clive Sinclair. No, I didn’t buy one of his C5’s, but I did buy a ZX81, complete with 16MB memory extension, and a thermal printer that looked more like a till roll. I would spend days writing and rewriting BASIC , I would save each command line, then after it was complete, watch my TV burst forth with a dazzling display of multi-colour lines while my “computer” loaded the program. I would then be presented with a black screen, on each side was a small white line and in the centre, a white dot that would move towards the side of the screen, until I moved one of the white lines, or bat as it was known, until it hit the white spot, or ball, back across the screen. Oh what fun we had. I upgraded to a Spectrum, complete with built in cassette player, but I could still only play bloody tennis on it.

Then it was the turn of Video. There were 3 main rivals for the Video standard, VHS, Betamax and video 2000, guess which one I chose? Now video 2000 was by far the best, with reversible tapes lasting twice as long as the other two systems, and far better quality, but a very weak sales team. The European manufacturers tried hard to compete against the Japanese, Philips, Grundig etc., but they just couldn’t sell the product as well as the Asian firms. So, after a year or two of trying to survive with a Video 2000 machine, I went out and bought………………………….a VHS machine! Bet you thought I was going to say Betamax! Then there was the Camcorder, my first one was the size of a small semi detached house. It used full size VHS tapes, gave great pictures, and was used at Christmas, birthdays and special occasions. I still have an incriminating tape made at my 40^th birthday party, where a lot of my friends and colleagues let their hair down. I’ve been able to blackmail them ever since. Another use of these were “candid” films, you know the ones, made in private, me and the ex-wife tried it once, but after we watched it back once, she immediately tape over it with an episode of home and away.

I took it to Florida so that we could video the kids enjoying a family holiday of a lifetime, After carrying it around all day on my shoulder, I developed a pronounced list to port of 45 degrees. My lasting memory of Florida is a small place, about an inch square, where everything was in black and white.

I went to Red Square.....................it was closed Day 4

2011-06-21T11:27:00.002+01:00

I managed to have a late breakfast, again filling my plate so that I would not have to spend my hard earned cash buying food in Moscow. It is possibly one of the most expensive cities in the world. How the ordinary people of the city manage to eat I don’t know.

My friend had left me late the previous evening, the hotel put a curfew on room visitors, and will charge extra after 11pm. As this was my last day, I didn’t want to rush around, so after watching a bit of morning TV, I headed downstairs for my final breakfast.

The maid was still polishing away at the banister. “dobre ootra” I said politely. “Good morning” she replied! I could hear the sound of music coming up from the dining room, the pianist was back. Well at least I would have something nice to look at while I ate. Wrong. My attractive blonde had been replaced by a snooty looking young man, with a pinched nose, a la Kenneth Williams.

I had to book out of the hotel at mid-day, so I packed my bags, and then relaxed for an hour watching star Trek.

“So Mr Spock was ist es?” asked Kirk.

“es ist Lebends kapitän, aber nicht, wie wir es wissen” Replied Spock.

“Bones, können Sie irgend etwas dafür tun?” asked Kirk

“verdammt Sie es Jim, ich bin ein Arzt, nicht ein Mechaniker” replied Doctor Mc Coy.

At noon, I paid my dues, booked out, then left my luggage at reception. My flight was in the evening, and my taxi was not due for several hours, so I took a walk around the area outside the hotel.

I walked in to Petrovsky Park, home of the stadium of Dynamo Moscow, one of the city’s major football clubs. Dynamo was formed in 1923 and is the oldest football club in Russia. It has played in the country’s top league for all its life, but as yet has not won the current premier league title; its highest position is second. Its most famous player was the Russian Goal keeping legend Lev Yashin, voted the best goal keeper of the 20^th century, no mean feat, beating the likes of Gordon Banks and Peter Shilton. There is a statue of the legend at the Dynamo stadium. The stadium from the outside. Looks a bit run down, like it had seen better days, although the team were still in the top flight of Russian football.

After a couple of hours walking in the summer sun, I made my way back to the hotel, crossing several major dual carriageways and main roads. All were busy with a strange mix of old ex-soviet trucks being passed by modern Scania and Volvos. Audi and Mercedes cars passing old Ladas and Zils.

My taxi arrived on time. It was not the young man in the blacked out 4x4, they had tried to impress me when I arrived, but now that I was leaving they sent an old man, roll up dangling from the side of his mouth, driving a Russian built Gaz. It was my first experience of any Russian car other than a Lada, and first impressions weren’t favourable, its design was 1980’s except for a slightly more modern looking radiator grill, and the paintwork and finish was not up to the standard of European cars, it did however compare favourably with Rover. The interior was old fashioned, but it was quite comfortable and spacious.

The driver took my case, and this is where the problem started. He said something to me in Russian, which I took to be “what time do you need to be at the airport?” what he actually asked was “what time does your flight leave the Airport?” I answered the first question. He looked at me, looked at his watch, looked at the traffic, then a look of terror came over his face, as he picked my case up, launched it into the boot from about 20 feet, then proceeded to push me urgently towards the rear door. We took off before I had time to shut the door, with smoke pouring from the tyres, and forced our way out into the Moscow rush hour. Now Moscow rush hour is something to experience, no one gives way, there are now rules, it is survival of the fittest. Junctions are constantly grid locked, and you dare not leave an inch of space between you and the car in front, because if you do, a dozen cars and trucks will try to take the space. My driver fortunately was a past master at negotiating the traffic. He used any space available to advance, two wheels on the kerb, across garage forecourts, we took every short cut known to man. He was constantly on his mobile, getting updates from his taxi colleagues about the state of the traffic on this road, or that one. I swear we drove through a car wash at one stage, although most of the time I was hiding my eyes. Eventually we escaped the central Moscow traffic, and joined the exodus of city workers heading for the suburbs on an urban dual carriageway. Each side had 3 lanes, and my driver made use of each one, changing lanes without a signal, putting his quite large executive car into the space vacated by a ford fiesta. We dodged buses as they stopped to drop of workers. In Russia they have a large fleet of minibuses that stop anywhere and everywhere, and at this time of the evening the roads were full of them. As we sped on towards the airport, I watched silently as my driver undertook a Police car making its way through the traffic on blues and twos, I ducked down in the back seat.

Finally we became free of the city traffic, and joined the Motorway towards Domodeyevo airport. The hard shoulders of Russian motorways are not for emergency use, they are for the locals to set up stalls to try and sell produce they have grown on their dacha, or allotment, there were all kinds of fruit, vegetables and various homemade sausages and pies being sold. My driver ignored them; in fact he very nearly cleared a few off the street as he forced his way onwards. Suddenly, without explanation, my driver screeched to a halt on the hard shoulder, he jumped from the car, and ran into the bushes, leaving me sitting in the back seat of a taxi, drivers door open, engine running, in the middle of a foreign country, with no idea where I was. I looked around quickly for any signs of police marksmen trying to apprehend the fleeing criminal that must be in this car breaking all the rules of the road, but could see nothing. After a few minutes of panic, I was relieved to see my driver re-emerge form the bushes, a grin on his face, he made a sign that told me he had needed to answer a call of nature, and we took off once again.

We arrived at the airport 3 hours before my flight was due to leave, but my driver thought it was one hour, I fell out of the car, but not wanting to look weak in front of the driver, I smiled, gave him a big tip, and tried to walk upright towards the terminal, hoping he would disappear before my knees gave way.

I made my way to the British airways check in desk, deposited my bags, got myself a window seat, then made my way through security. Having taken off my shoes and placed them in the tray for scanning, I noticed two things, nobody else was taking their shoes off, and I had a large hole in my right sock, with my big toe sticking out. I pretended to by German. I replaced my shoes, did a quick tour of the duty free shops, picking up a few packs of old Holborn for friends and neighbours, and few bottles of finest Russian vodka for me, then took coffee while I waited for my flight to be called.

I heard the tannoy announce, “British Airways regret the one hour delay to flight BA 879 to London Heathrow. Passengers are requested to wait in the departure area at gate 21” Ah British Airways, making me feel at home already!

If any of you who read this are inspired to take a trip to Russia, then I would suggest, if you absolutely must see Moscow and red square, make it a weekend ,no more, it is very expensive, and once you have seen the sights, great though they are, and visited the art gallery and the Bolshoi ballet, there is little else to do. If you have a week , then combine Moscow with an overnight train to St Petersburg. If you only have a long weekend, then choose St Petersburg over Moscow, it is a truly magnificent city, as good as any in Europe. Of course if you have a month or more, Start in St Petersburg, take a train to Moscow, then catch the trans-Siberian to Beijing via Ulan Bator, or to Vladivostok. Don’t forget to book time off in St Petersburg, Moscow, Kazan, and Yekaterinburg, to visit the hstoric cities and take in the local culture, and especially take time off in Irkutsk to take in Lake Baikal. It will be the journey of a life time for you, and who knows, we might just bump into each other!

I went to Red Square...............it was closed Day 3

2011-06-15T22:00:00.001+01:00

I woke early again. I mean really early, about 5am. It was too early for breakfast, and knowing the price of room service, I wasn’t going to call for a coffee. I switched on the TV and flicked through the channels. Star Trek had moved on, it was now “Die folgende Generation” Mr Data was just saying “Ich bin ein Androide. Ich bin des Gefühls unfähig.”” I am an android, I am incapable of feeling.” Having driven for Tesco, I knew how he felt.

I dozed until breakfast time, then made my way down the strairs. The maid was still polishing the banister. “dobre ootra” she said. I wondered if it was a full time job for her, or if occasionally, she got to polish something else.

Knowing the prices I was paying for my room, I crammed as much breakfast down me as I could, and set off once again for Red Square. It was open. I walked to the centre and looked all around. I walked along each side in turn. I stood and looked at Lenin’s tomb; I took some snaps of St Basils cathedral, and Gum, the kremlin and the museum at the entrance. I got bored then, it was nice, but a bit of an anti-climax. I wandered out of the square and made my way around the Kremlin wall.

On the opposite side of the road, on the corner of a major roundabout, was what must be one of the smallest churches in the world. It was about big enough for a priest and one parishioner, or two at a push, and as long as they are good friends. There was also a flower border with the word “ Москва” spelled out, all it needed was a floral clock, and I would have thought I was at Margate.

I took a bus tour around the city, including the university, Bolshoi Theatre, and a fantastic war memorial gardens, complete with an exhibition of captured German tanks and guns.

When I returned to Red Square, I made my way into the kremlin, somewhere I would never have dreamed about entering 20 or more years ago. Inside the walls is a small town all on its own, complete with office blocks, churches parks, accommodation and theatre. It was a nice to see it as something more than a government building. The churches all had golden Domes, and ornate decoration. The Kremlin is a series of castles and fortifications, and was first used as the seat of the united Russian Government under Ivan the great back in the 15^th Century. I have to admit, I was impressed with the place.

Once outside, I walked along the side of the Kremlin walls through a park where young Muscovites were enjoying a warm, sunny weekend, playing ball, eating ice creams, and soaking up the sun. I came across the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and the eternal flame. The Russians are justifiably proud of their victory in the “great Patriotic war”. WWII to us. Many millions of Russians died fighting Hitler, My father in law was a hero of the siege of Leningrad, and decorated as a Hero of the Soviet Union. Every year in may they hold a parade through the streets of St Petersburg, where he and his diminishing band of colleagues are given a heroes ovation by young and old. At the eternal flame in Moscow, young cadets from across Russia are selected to stand guard. It is a great honour to be chosen to represent your town or village. I watched the changing of the guard. Not as bombastic as the changing of the guard at Buckingham palace, but a moving ceremony none the less.

Afterwards, I visited my favourite Café where my young, blonde waitress was pleased to see me. She accepted the invitation to join me for the evening entertainment. I thought about suggesting a visit to the Bolshoi Ballet, but the image of sitting in an RDC waiting room for hours, discussing what we did on holiday came into my head. Can you imagine the reaction in a room full of hairy arsed truckers when I say I went to the ballet? I can hear the bottoms shuffling further along the benches away from me already!

We walked in Alexander gardens, a pleasant park next to the Kremlin wall, there is a water feature that is illuminated at night, where children, and adults can climb onto islands containing statues of folk heroes and fairy tale characters. After a few drinks, we made our way back to the hotel. One thing was for certain, there would be no Star trek tonight

I went to red square........it was closed Day 2

2011-06-11T20:35:00.001+01:00

I woke early, about 7am Moscow time which was 4am London time. As i had just come from somewhere 8 hours in front of London where it was now 3pm, my body clock was all over the place, although being an agency truck driver, it was used to doing things at different times of the day. I showered, dressed and made my way down the stairs to breakfast. A young maid was polishing the banister, smiled and wished me “dobre ootra”, good morning in Russian.

The breakfast consisted of fruit, croissants and a selection of cooked items. There was something yellow that resembled scrambled egg, some small sausages, something that looked like crispy streaky bacon, and bread rolls. The waitress bought me coffee, or the Russian equivalent. Tea or “chai” is something the Russians do very well, coffee is not.

After breakfast I made my way to the nearest metro station and caught the underground into the city centre. The Moscow underground is worth a visit on its own. Many of the central stations are architectural wonders, which leave the likes of London underground looking like a sewer Mayakovskya station is considered an architectural masterpiece. During the cold war, the underground was to be used as nuclear fallout shelters. I spent some time just getting on and off the trains and studying the stations.

Eventually I arrived at the entrance to Red Square, it was closed. There were a group of soldiers practising for a parade that was due to take place later that day. I decided to take a look at GUM department store. My sister had been studying at Moscow University during the early 90’s, just when the iron curtain came down, and she told me many stories about the lack of any food or products in the shops. GUM was the government run department store that, during the communist regime, had been virtually a monopoly in the city centre. Filling almost the whole length of red Square opposite the kremlin, it was certainly an impressive building. My sister told me of people queuing all day to buy a packet of butter, only to come out with a bath plug, as that was all that was available. My sister lived with a family who had a daughter about the same age, she was invited to visit my parents during term holidays, and on her first visit to Asda, broke down in tears when she saw all the food in the shop. GUM has certainly changed, on entering I found 3 floors of designer shops, names found in Paris, London and Rome. It was full of young women looking for the latest fashions, young men looking for the latest young women, and tourist like myself looking at the prices and walking away!

Outside again I wondered down to the river and boarded a river cruise. We cruised along the river Moscow past the new sports stadium where my team would beat chelski in the champions league final several years later, past the walls of the Kremlin, the bank alongside Gorki Park, the Red October factory, no not the submarine that Sean Connery hijacked, but the famous Russian chocolate factory Krasny Oktyabr . There is still many signs of the old Soviet Union around, many of the riverside apartments had been the homes of the senior party members, and many still bore the red star and CCCP above the doors. Other sights on the river are a Russian space shuttle, never used, and an impressive statue of Peter the Great, tsar of Russia.

After the cruise I took a metro to see the Lubyanka, home of the KGB and famed prison where captured spies were sent to be tortured by fiendishly evil doctors using truth serum and pulling fingernails, or so we were led to believe in the cold war days. It was originally built as the head office of All Russia Insurance company in the 1890’s. Today it looks just like any other city office block. I didn’t stay long. I moved on to Gagarin Square to see the monument to Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space. I remember as a young boy, hearing of his epic journey, and watching pictures on our little black and white TV, Gagarin was one of my boyhood hero’s and it was his flight that really got me interested in space.

I headed back to Red Square, it was still closed, as was the Kremlin. I found a café for lunch, and was pleased that the young waitress was keen to practise her English on me. I ordered a sandwich, and a bottle of Kvass, ah Kvass, how to describe it. It had been hoped that it would be the Russian rival to Coca Cola, however it was always going to be a none starter. Looking like coke, black and bubbly, my first impression was favourable then I tasted it, made from fermented black bread and yeast, it had a taste I can only describe as indescribable! My new found friend told me all about the history of Kvass.

In St Basils cathedral that afternoon the Russian Orthodox patriarch Alexy II was performing a special ceremony, Me, being unaware of this, walked in right in the middle of it. The Russian churches are full of colour and life, for a religion that survived 70 + years of repression it managed to keep many of its treasures intact. Russian churches are some of the most spectacular in the world, and St basils on the edge of red Square is one of the finest.

In the evening I returned to the café with two objectives, one to get a good meal and the other to try and talk the waitress into joining me in my hotel room. I managed the first, but alas was unsuccessful in the later, so retired to my room alone. I switched on the TV.

“Sieh, was Sie dafür tun können, Bones” Said Captain Kirk.

“Verdamt Sie es Jim, ich bin ein Arzt nicht eine Kohlenbergarbeiter” Replied Mc Coy.

Come back Hyacinth Bucket, all is forgiven!

I went to Red Square…………………..It was closed!

2011-06-10T22:16:00.002+01:00

Day one

I had passed through Moscow airport a few times, but I had never had a chance to visit the capital of the country that, for so much of my life had been “The enemy” On a trip back from Irkutsk, I decided to have a long weekend in Moscow to take in all the sights, and to try and learn more about the country and its people.

Like all good tourists visiting a new city for the first time, I planned ahead. Having had first-hand experience of Russian Taxi drivers, I booked a car to meet me at the airport. The driver, a young man with a dark suit and a Bluetooth ear piece, showed me to a Japanese 4x4 with blacked out windows, and once I was safely buckled in the back, we took off with a screech of tyres. From Domodeyevo Airport into the city is about an hour depending on traffic, my driver was determined to set a new record. The car radio blared out the latest Russian top of the pops interspersed with adverts for coca cola and Mr Doors, a chain of DIY stores. The driver would from time to time, turn the radio off so that he could take a call on his mobile, shouting twice as loud as was absolutely necessary. We made our way into the city centre, and via some back streets, including an alley past some garages finally we arrived at my Hotel.

The hotel was called the “Sovietskiya” and had at one time been the place to be seen in Moscow society. It was once frequented by the Tsar and many of his government, Harry Houdini had performed his escapes before the elite of Russian society before fleeing to the USA and becoming famous. Over the years it had provided food and shelter to many famous and infamous heads of state. It was a favourite of Josef Stalin and his son. In the foyer were pictures of some of the presidents and kings who had stayed there, Ho Chi Min rubbed shoulders with Ronald Reagan, Josef Stalin hung next to Margaret Thatcher, although it was difficult to tell the difference. Its glory days unfortunately had passed and it was now reduced to taking in foreign tourists, however it still charged top whack and tried to maintain an air of superiority. It was positioned opposite a large piece of waste ground where old ladies took thier dogs to do its business, and where you wouldn't want to walk alone at night. The outside could have done with a new coat of paint, and the whole building spoke of better days long gone.

After checking in, I made my way to the third floor via the lift, as the doors opened at my floor, I was greeted by the sight of a large landing complete with grand piano. On either side of the landing, a wide staircase lead down to the other floors. The ceiling was decorated with lots of gold paint, and in the centre hung a huge crystal chandelier, I wondered briefly what Del boy would have thought about it.

The room itself was nothing to write home about, and, like many foreign hotels, there were no tea or coffee facilities in the room. I checked out the mini bar, I checked out the mini bar prices, I closed the minibar. As it was late afternoon, I decided to take a shower, and then have a quick nap before dinner. I switched on the TV. The English channels were BBC Prime or CNN. Hyacinth Bucket was keeping up appearances on BBC, so I flipped through the 40 or 50 other channels. Russian TV is bad, not just bad, I mean BAD! I found some channels from Uzbekistan of somewhere like that and was about to give up, when I came across a few German channels. On one was Star Trek. It was dubbed into German but what the heck!

“Sieh, was Sie dafür tun können, Bones” Said Captain Kirk.

“Verdamt Sie es Jim, ich bin ein Arzt nicht eine Ziegelschicht” Replied Mc Coy. I went for my shower.

I went down for dinner. Passing the grand piano, I had a sudden urge to play chopsticks”, however not wanting to upset the management, I resisted the temptation. I chose to use the grand staircase, not being a great lover of lifts, ever since I watched Hancock’s half hour, the thought of playing eye spy with six trapped Russian businessmen did nothing for me. Using first the left and then the right stair, by the time I had reached the foyer, I had completed a figure of 8. At one stage, i was tempted to straddle the wide wodden banister and slide downbackwards, but being English I managed to contain myself. I noticed there was a grand piano on each landing, and as I got closer to the ground floor, I could hear the tinkling of ivories coming from somewhere in the direction of the restaurant.

My luck was in; the table furthest from the pianist was free. The menu was in English but the waiter didn’t understand me. I had a plate of pickled things, followed by a chicken dish and dessert, a tiramisu type of pie. I ordered a bottle of French wine, what I got was a French bottle of wine, the label was French, but the wine was not. The Russians try hard to offer good service, and fail spectacularly, I had a bit of a game with the waiter, who hovered near my table waiting to remove my used dishes, as soon as I put my fork down, I would lower the fork towards the plate, as If I was finished eating, then, as soon as I caught a slight movement from the direction of the waiter, I would quickly place more food on my fork and slowly lift it to my mouth. It was a good game, but one that eventually I knew I would lose, I declared. Left the table, and headed for the bar. The pianist was playing “midnight in Moscow” for about the 14^th time; she was an extremely attractive blonde with a long, tight, low cut black evening gown on, and a body that fitted it well, suddenly my interest in music returned. I ordered vodka, what I got was rocket fuel, something left over from the Soyuz program. Despite my attempts to catch her eye, the pianist continued to ignore me, so I wandered back to my room, this time using the stairs in the opposite order to my descent. I turned on the TV.

“Sieh, was Sie dafür tun können, Bones” Said Captain Kirk.

“Verdamt Sie es Jim, ich bin ein Arzt nicht eine Zauberer” Replied Mc Coy. I went to sleep.

If they treated thier customers like they treat us................

2011-06-08T17:25:00.000+01:00

Bruce came into the kitchen, shook off his wellies and pulled his warm jumper off over his head. It had been a productive day so far; he had managed to get the grass cut this morning before the rain, and had spent the afternoon digging the foundations for the new rock garden. It was time to put his feet up with a nice cup of tea, and the daily sport. He could hear his wife upstairs with the hoover, and knew he would have a few minutes to relax before she finished.
He made his way to the lounge, switched on the telly and, placing his feet on the coffee table, breathed a deep sigh and began to unwind. It was then that the sound of the hoover stopped, and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Hurriedly he took his feet off the table, hide the paper under the cushion, and picked up his copy of gardeners world.
“OK, dear?” he asked as his wife entered the room. “Just checking up on the article about rock gardens”
“Very nice dear” she replied. “Could you just pop down the shop for me while I finish the hovering? Then I will cook us a nice steak, run you a bath, and we can have a nice evening together, just the two of us” she winked.
Bruce’s heart sank; even with the “promise” that was in his wife’s voice, the thought of going shopping filled him with dread.
“There’s a list on the microwave, just a few bits” she smiled sweetly.
Fifteen minutes later, Bruce parked his car in tescburys car park, selected a trolley and headed for the entrance. There was a large sign saying “Please report to security” Bruce headed for the security window. A voice came from inside.
“Name? “ It said.
“Smith” replied Bruce.
“How do you spell that?” asked the voice.
“The usual way” said Bruce.
“and what is the usual way?” said the voice.
“S-M-I-T-H, how else would you spell smith?” Bruce replied sarcastically.
“For all I know, you might spell it X-Y-E-M-F” retorted the voice.
“Surely then it would be syemph?” replied bruce.
The voice became grumpy. “What’s yer booking time?” it asked gruffly.
“Booking time?” asked Bruce. “I don’t have one, the wife just asked me to pop down here for a few bits”
“Oh dear” said the voice. Bruce heard the sound of a telephone being picked up, and a number dialled. “hello? Booking office? …….yeah we got another one ere” said the voice. After a long pause, the phone was replaced, and the voice addressed Bruce again. “yer in luck, they gonna serve you, but next time get a booking time. Now whats yer trolley number?”
“Er… I don’t know” said Bruce sheepishly.
“It’s that large number in black on the front init, 172”said the voice.
“Oh I see” said Bruce. There was a long pause.
“well?” asked the voice. “whats yer trolley number?”
“you just told me” replied Bruce.
“yes, I know that, but I need you to tell me, whats yer trolley number?”
“172” said Bruce.
“Thank you, now have you been here before?” asked the voice.
“No” replied Bruce.
“OK, read this, and then sign the last page in triplicate” said the voice producing a thick book form under the counter. “Health & Safety procedures. Then you need to get into this bubble wrap suit, can’t have you injuring yourself then suing us can we?”
Bruce scanned the document quickly, then signed it in triplicate and returned it to the voice.
“OK” said the voice, “you need to follow the one way system down past the vegetable aisle, when you come to the bread counter, turn right, go straight along to the end, then park your trolley in bay 172, lock it, and take the key with your shopping list to the sales office. Then you need to wait in the waiting room over there” he said, pointing.
“That shed?” asked Bruce.
“You mean the rustically visual enhanced portable waiting area” said the voice.
“No, I mean the shed!” replied Bruce.

Bruce made his way to the trolley park, where he locked his trolley and made his way to the sales office. There was a queue. After ten minutes, Bruce finally made it to the front of the queue.
“vot you trolley numer?” Said a young, not unattractive blonde.
“172” replied Bruce.
“von seben tooo, ok, gife me yewer leest and go vait in vaiting room, I call yew wens ready” Bruce made his way to the shed. Inside the shed was full of people, mostly women, waiting for their shopping to be ready, all the seats were taken, plastic, uncomfortable, cold seats. The coffee machine in the corner was out of cups, the food vending machine had a couple of packets of out of date crisps, and the cold drinks machine was empty. The TV was on, Bruce hoped that the football results would be showing, but it was on sky news. He found the remote control, but it didn’t work, it was going to be a long wait.
Two hours later the tannoy sprung into life and Bruce heard his number called. He made his way to the sales office, where the blonde returned his trolley keys and shopping list.
“ve are out of fresh zhrimps, so ve substituted vis washing up liquid, is zame prize”
Bruce was too stunned to reply, he made his way to the trolley park, then on to the checkouts. Seeing one almost free, he made a beeline for it, just as he was level with the desk, a large woman pushed in front of him and pulled the gate across.
“this ones closing, what’s yer trolley number?” she asked.
“172”
“right you need to go to any odd numbered checkout with a wide aisle, or an even numbered one with cash only sign”
Bruce found a checkout; there was a lady in front who was slowly packing her bag as the operator scanned her goods through. Now here is a question for you. Why is it that women, who go shopping once, twice and sometimes daily, always seem surprised when they are asked to pay? They can never remember where they put their purse. They empty their handbags out on the counter, and still can’t find it. Then they check their pockets, twice, put their car keys down on the counter, replace the contents of their handbag, realise they still didn’t find their purse, so empty it again. When they finally do find it, they can never decide which card to pay with, handing a credit card over first, then snatching it back and handing over a debit card. Oh, and why does the operator ask them for a loyalty card? That starts the search all over again, first they hand over the one for a rival shop, then remember they have a tag on their key ring, which starts another search because they can’t remember where they put the car keys! Out comes the contents of the handbag, each pocket is searched twice, the handbag refilled, then they find them on the counter where they put them when they were looking for their purse!
Sometime later Bruce returned home, he carried the shopping into the kitchen then made his way to the lounge. The room was in darkness, all except for two candles. In the gloom he could see his wife, she was laying on the sofa, a thin, transparent nightdress was all she was wearing.
“Hello darling, I’ve been waiting for you” she said softly.
Bruce gave a huge sigh. “not tonight dear, I think I’ll just go to bed, I have a headache!”