A few short but pithy items…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s colours are: lemon yellow, melon hello, lemon yellow, melon hello, lemon yellow, melon hello, and brown.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Excuses for being late. No. 256.
I’m sorry I’m late, but I had to defuse one or two tricky situations.

A single overheard remark:
‘It’s landed! It’s a sign from Jesus!…’

I don’t like westerns, they are far too dusty, and they smell of hot horses…

A chap on the TV last night, it was a feature on UFO sightings, in giving his account of one came up with the phrase, ‘You are treading on very thin water…’

Perhaps I’m a stickler, (what exactly is a stickler?) but I do notice when people, some of them apparently quite intelligent people at the top of their professions, misuse the word ‘unique’. ‘Unique’ means there is only one. You can’t really have degrees of ‘uniqueness’ – ‘really unique’, ‘not very unique’, etc.
Yesterday I heard someone on the radio say, ‘He was a uniquer person…’ Whoa!… that’s a new one!

‘I’m afraid I don’t see the joke…’
‘Ah well, it’s risible invisible…’
‘Eh?…’

So, as music, year by year, becomes more and more dumbed down and infantile, you realise that albums you used to listen to, which you thought were just ‘fairly alright’, now on hearing them again, sound brilliant…

‘Oh, shittle-de-de!’ An expletive used by old ladies, who would really like to say ‘Oh, shit!’ but can’t quite bring themselves to utter it.

A single overheard remark (a chap answering his phone)
‘Oh, hi Rommel!…’ (R)

An observation:
A young chap walking along: he is wearing a smart-looking black leather jacket, but also knee-length bright red shorts and shiny black office shoes.

‘I blame the parents…’
‘Eh?…’
‘The parents… It’s their fault…’
‘What are you on about Dave?’
‘That noisy loud-mouthed bloke right over there at the table by the window…’
‘What about him?’
‘Well, he’s so loud, we can hear every word he says over here…’
‘Hm, he is annoying isn’t he?’
‘I blame the parents…’
‘How so?’
‘Well, he must have grown up in a household where that sort of bawling and shouting was considered normal…’
‘Hm…’
‘Any normal person…’
‘Normal person?’
‘Yes, any normal person, if they came into a nice cafe where there was a gentle hum of conversation and clinking cups would tone it down a bit to fit in, and not go on like an absolute…’
‘Yes, yes… Dave, would you like me to go over there and punch him?’
‘Yes, alright… No, no, not really… Come back!…’

 

 

 

 

 

 

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in brain, conversation, drama, Dulltown, existentialism, expletives, fashion, Grumpiness, Hull.UK., humour, information, music, observations, seeing, serendipity, style, surrealism, TV, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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