Duetto Buffo di 2 Gatti

Thanks to Paddy's Mum for this one....

There's always one...

I dedicate this post to Mutley, who gave me the idea, and to Electro-Kevin who has to put up with such people every day...

There is always one weirdo on the same mode of public transport as yourself.

You know what I mean - the man with the crazy eyes (one eye lookin' atcha, one eye lookin' for ya). Or the woman with rats up her sleeve who HAS to, yes simply HAS to sit next to you even though there are 100 seats free in the carriage, or the deaf old lady who feels the need to ask everyone how old she is.

This latter one, coincidentally, was my grandmother, who had a habit of asking random strangers to guess her age.

"Guess how old I am?" she would yell at some long-haired hippy student minding his own business.
"I couldn't possibly"
"Oh, go on, go on. Take a guess."
"I really couldn't"
"Just a little guess" (sorry, that should have read)
"JUST A LITTLE GUESS"
"Er... 64"
"Oh you flatterer, you, I'm 82 next year."
"So you're 81 now then?"
"Pardon?"
(turning to my mother) "We need to get off the bus now, this young man is talking to me and I think he's going to steal my pension book".

Anyway, when Grandmother Merms finally popped her fins, Merms was left facing the uncomfortable prospect of having an Unknown Weirdo on the bus... and realising that I am indeed that weirdo.

I AM THE WEIRDO ON THE BUS. One day I was sitting by myself, enjoying my seat at the front of an EMPTY bus, just listening to the Stones on my iPod, when Merms espies at the approaching bus stop a young lady with several shopping bags.

Merms does not have a crystal ball, but immediately Merms knew that, of all the 82 empty seats on the 133, that Bag Girl would come and sit right next to her. Now Bag Girl was not a weirdo, let me get that straight. But Merms was not happy. Puffer jackets should be banned in the interests of public safety. Bag Girl also put her shopping up on the shelf in front so that Merms could not look out of the window. Bag Girl also took out a newspaper too big for her to manoeuvre and flicked it in the Merms' face.

So I decided to be THE ONE. I decided to be the Weirdo on the Bus. I texted three friends to ask their opinion; they all told me to go for it. So I thought of my options:

1) The Alexi Sayle "Do you like sponge? I am only allowed Sponge. They won't let me have anything sharper than SPONGE" approach, which was not just Weird, but possibly dangerously creepy
2) The "I like dogs, but not brown ones" approach, which is weird, but also has the endearing effect of her perhaps thinking I am autistic, which might make her feel the need to stay next to me and talk to me out of the milk of human kindness
3) Chickening out

I decided on a mix of 2 and 3. Turning towards her suddenly and staring not at her, but at her jugular vein, I adopted a Yorkshire accent and said:

"Do you like Streatham?"

She turned to look at me. "S.................?"

I froze.

"You're S.............. aren't you? You went to school with me. You were a couple of years below me."

She eyed me strangely as if to say: "You always were weird and I guess nothing has changed."

I had no idea who she was. I guess she recognised my tail. I was mortified.

I have decided that I will never again try to be weird. My life is strange enough without trying. Anyway I have to go now and milk the hippo.

So I want to bet on the markets?

Mermaid's Fantasy Portfolio

All I am saying is that natural resources are going to rebound so don't question my highest allocation to the fund! We can't go over 20 per cent in the fantasy portfolio otherwise I'd back Ian Henderson 100 per cent. Ian Henderson is a genius.

Here's a picture of him below so you can see his geniosity. And I have many stories about him, including the lobbing of a bread roll at New Star during an awards dinner many years ago. Ah that was a good one!

Ian Henderson

The broken Cisterns

Question one: Who can tell me from whence cometh that saying re the broken cisterns?

Question two? Who wants to hear about the toilet-that-broke-on-a-date? YOU do? Okay. Here it is.

Last year I went on a couple of dates with a lovely young chap. It didn't go anywhere - there wasn't "that spark", but the lady who gets him will be a lucky lady indeed. And it is just as well that he has a calm character. Because I hit his house like a whirlwind of destruction.

Here is what happened.

That day I was very nervous because he said he would cook for me at his place. Being a good Christian girl, I was not sure this was entirely appropriate for a third date, but him being a good Christian lad and all that, I thought, well, it can't go wrong. But I was still nervous about how the evening might proceed. For one thing, I wasn't feeling that I wanted to kiss him, after all, we'd not even held hands, and I am quite a slow starter when it comes to all that romance malarky. So with that and all the other pressures (ie not telling my friends because they'd all be ultra nosey and want to interfere), I was unable to perform during my regular morning slot of 7:25 to 8:10. Believe me, I am so organised that even my bowels operate in synch with my diary. My bladder has a filofax. Actually, no the little beggar has a blackberry which keeps going off in meetings.

But I digress.

As a consequence of not indulging in a bout of deep-sea otter chasing, I was feeling a little bloated during the day. Merms is not a fatty by a long wave, but I certainly did not feel like swimming much that day. I nibbled a salad for lunch, thinking that I did not want to get to his house and not eat anything he'd cooked.

However, the salad worked a wonderful release for me. At 7:25 to 8:10 that evening the fact of the matter became clear to me. I needed to go.

I was at his house.

Dating Rule 101: Never go for a dump in a friend's house if you can possibly help it, and NEVER go for a spell on the porcelain throne the first time your date asks you to come to his house. MEN - this really applies to you, but ladies, do not be complacent. The Mermaid of Moorgate succumbed to the pressure. The Mermaid of Moorgate was on the verge of doing the turtle.

I excused myself.

I followed the laws of toilet etiquette. I carefully laid a barrier of Andrex upon the water, and started to run the sink tap to hide any noise. I performed. Rather beautifully and noiselessly. I ....

Have you ever seen Dumb and Dumber? It's one of the best films ever.

If you didn't do so, the video below is what you should watch NOW before continuing to read this post.

The toilet didnt flush.

I tried it again.

Nada

I tried it a third time.

Zip.

By now I am panicking. There's no window to open, and I can't find any air freshener.

I layered some more bog roll over the top of the log.

I sprayed my perfume into the air and tried to flush again.

It started to flush
...and flush
and flush...

"Mermaid, are you alright in there?"

"Yes! Just looking for my ... er... comb! There's so much trash in the bag I can't find it."

Where is the toilet brush?

Stab at the log! Stab the pig! Stab the pig! Down, Tarka, Down! Swim for your life down the china tunnel....

I finally got it to flow away, but the water kept rising. The flush came down and the floods came up, looking a bit like a bulemic's dinner.

By now the lid of the toilet was off - YES HITCH AND OLD TARF I HAVE BEEN FIXING MANY TOILETS IN MY HISTORY - as regular readers of this blog will know (if you click here you will see what I mean: Toilet Seats)and I was trying to stop the ballcock from sinking. But the plug was broken in any event.

After about 10 mins the water had run clear and it was flushing normally.

I exited, victorious but badly shaken by the experience.

Two hours later, during which time he burned the salmon en croute and a fox ran into the living room and just stood there looking at us, he went to the bathroom.

"I think the toilet is flooding. It keeps on flushing."

I took out my cheque book and grabbed my coat. Being a gentleman, he refused to accept my cheque. Being a lady I refused to stay any longer.

and that was the last date we had.

The broken cisterns

Question one: Who can tell me from whence cometh that saying?

Question two? Who wants to hear about the toilet-that-broke-on-a-date? YOU do? Okay. Here it is.

Last year I went on a couple of dates with a lovely young chap. It didn't go anywhere - there wasn't "that spark", but the lady who gets him will be a lucky lady indeed. And it is just as well that he has a calm character. Because I hit his house like a whirlwind of destruction.

Here is what happened.

That day I was very nervous because he said he would cook for me at his place. Being a good Christian girl, I was not sure this was entirely appropriate for a third date, but him being a good Christian lad and all that, I thought, well, it can't go wrong. But I was still nervous about how the evening might proceed. For one thing, I wasn't feeling that I wanted to kiss him, after all, we'd not even held hands, and I am quite a slow starter when it comes to all that romance malarky. So with that and all the other pressures (ie not telling my friends because they'd all be ultra nosey and want to interfere), I was unable to perform during my regular morning slot of 7:25 to 8:10. Believe me, I am that organised even my bowels operate in synch with my diary. My bladder has a filofax. Actually, no the little beggar has a blackberry which keeps going off in meetings.

But I digress.

As a consequence of not indulging in a bout of deep-sea otter chasing, I was feeling a little bloated during the day. Merms is not a fatty by a long wave, but I certainly did not feel like swimming much that day. I nibbled a salad for lunch, thinking that I did not want to get to his house and not eat anything he'd cooked.

However, the salad worked a wonderful release for me. At 7:25 to 8:10 that evening the fact of the matter became clear to me. I needed to go.

I was at his house.

Dating Rule 101: Never go for a dump in a friend's house if you can possibly help it, and NEVER go for a spell on the porcelain throne the first time your date asks you to come to his house. MEN - this really applies to you, but ladies, do not be complacent. The Mermaid of Moorgate succumbed to the pressure. The Mermaid of Moorgate was on the verge of doing the turtle.

I excused myself.

I followed the laws of toilet etiquette. I carefully laid a barrier of Andrex upon the water, and started to run the sink tap to hide any noise. I performed. Rather beautifully and noiselessly. I

Have you ever seen Dumb and Dumber? It's one of the best films ever.

Here's what you should watch NOW before continuing to read this post.

Cat-ion competition

What is this Cat doing, and why?

Is it pleading for its life with Dennis?

I think we should be told

Well??????

I know you are itching to know how it went...

I refer to Tolkein...

"Gildor was silent for a moment... At last he said: "...The Choice is yours, to go or to wait."
"And it is also said," answered Frodo: "Go not to the elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes."

The answer is yes, with also a no, and a definite wait-and-see.

The Mermaid of Moorgate is not unhappy to bide a while, flicking her tail and singing her strange songs to the wind and the rain and the rocks. If it is worth waiting for, which it most definitely is, Merms will wait, even wait forever. At least she knows.

MONTY SPEAKS

lunatic
Sorry about mummy's last comment on her previous post.

I called the nice men. They've taken her away.

I should be sorry, but she's already cooked me enough chicken for a week.

Besides, she drank milk straight from the plastic bottle. What a chav.

Nehemiah - funniest book in the Bible?

Mawkish Victorian Image of Nehemiah

Looking at the thread of comments in the last post reminded me of my favourite and potentially the most lary character in the Old Testament (or, for my Jewish friends, the Testament!). In the eponymously-named book of History that is Nehemiah, the protagonist, a high-ranking Jewish servant/exile in the house of the Babylonian King Darius, pleads for the return of Israel to Jerusalem, to rebuild the House of the Lord, the walls and palace gates of Jerusalem which had been demolished 70 or 80 years previously.

He returns and, together with the scribe Ezra, they rebuild the walls and the spiritual lives of the people. He's a great character - at one stage, the people of Israel are under physical attack from the nearby tribes - and so they work to rebuild the walls, men and women, with one hand they are building and in the other they are ready with their weapons. While the men load the stones into place, the older men and women stand behind with spears and lanterns so they are ready for any attacks.

But Nehemiah is so funny! I always laugh out loud in church whenever they read the following chapters:

Chapter 6 vs 8: he tells a bunch of big-wigs: "You are just making it up out of your head."

But the best bit is in Chapter 7, where he catches a lot of the Jewish elders going round nicking wives from the unbelieving tribes and doing naughty things they shouldn't be doing with various ladies of questionable reputation:

"(CH 14 v 7): I rebuked them and called curses down on them. I beat some of the men and pulled out their hair."

ha ha ha ha! Chortle! Every time I see this in my head I think of TEACH from the Beano, jumping up and down and pinging chalk onto a kid's nose, while snorting in rage and yelling: "Nincompoop! Imbecile! Moron!".

And when I see this in my head and they're reading this passage out in Church, I always laugh out loud. If more ministers of the cloth so rebuked their recalcitrant congregation, the world would perhaps be a much better place. I'd love to see The Archbishop of Canterbury labouring about some minor clergy's head with an advent candle for some misdemeanour. It would amuse me greatly to witness a pastor slam-dunking someone's cranium into the collection plate for smoking on the church step.

After all, if the Muslims can wreak religious punishments, surely Christians could do it better, with more panache and possibly with a wry sense of irony.

Ah! Nehemiah! You have much to teach us today. Just leave my highlights alone.

four jacket potatoes and a tub of coleslaw

Mermins had a better day, thanks for all the prayers and positive thoughts.

Mother has filled mermaid's fridge with Good Things To Eat today. How lovely! Had a lovely supportive email from a certain nick-named person who shall not be even referred to but YOU all know who I mean! Plenty of cheery phone calls over the weekend, from a certain nick-named person, Paddy's Mum, Old Tarf, Mermaid's mum and other friends has boosted the merms, not to mention all your kind and sweet and positive thoughts me-ward. THANK YOU xxxxx

And now - a dilemma. Tonight I left work early to run a monthly bible study at my house for two GCU students and another leader. I had already rushed round like a maniac at M&S this lunchtime to buy all manner of stuff for jacket potatoes AND spent my lunch-minutes preparing the potatoes ( I dont use microwaves at home) etc.

I got a text while almost at my house saying the meeting has to be cancelled due to illness.

Does anyone want to come round and help me eat four jacket potatoes, two tubs of coleslaw, some extra mature grated cheese, tuna and sweetcorn, baked beans and salad?

Because otherwise Mermaid will be so fat that if she sits on a rock this evening combing her hair, Greenpeace will have to be called in to try to roll her back out to sea.

two cautionary tales

These hail courtesy of my friend James. If you don't like farting, poo or McDonalds, look away now.

The rest of you - I present to you: Tale of the Unexpected, Part one.

James's friend Dave and his two brothers often used to have Fart Wars.

Dave, when still a student, came home late one night half-cocked after drinking cheap cider. He saw his brother steve lying in front of the TV, glued to the screen, with his back to the doorway.

Silenty, silently, Dave backed up, legs apart, until his butt was directly above Steve's head.

HE CROUCHED!

He RIPPED ONE OFF!

It was his mother.

She was so offended, she punched him in the face.

**************************************************

Tale of the unexpected: Part Two

Aforementioned Dave did not learn his lesson. A few years later, while in the US with his American friends, got a little ... merry... one night.

The group decided to "press ham" against a window.

This, for the uninitiated, means to stick one's bare posterior up against clear glass - "pressing ham". A nice concept.

They passed a McDonalds, and decided to press ham. Dave pressed his butt up against the window.

"I've got a really nice one brewing" he thought, as he imagined a cloud of white gas steaming up the glass for extra effect.

He did not expect to follow through, and ended up pooing all down the outside of McDonald's window, down his legs and all over his trouser bottoms.

A lady sitting in McDeaths, munching on her Freedom Fries, saw the spectacle and was so revulsed she projectile vomited on the other side of the glass, as Dave and his friends hitched up their pants and made off hell for leather, Dave still squelching them out as he ran.

Who, me?

The phone rang chez Mother Mermaid this morning. She picked it up, believing it to be yours truly, and said:
"I'm not in"
A male voice (unknown) replied: "Oh? Well, Mrs Mermaid, would you please tell me when you will be in so I can call you?"
"Oh - well I am in but I'm soon going to be out. I'm just not all there yet." (wittering)
"I see, Mrs Mermaid. I think I'll call back in two hours"
"Okay" gasped my mother, still trying to recover from the embarrassment.
*click*


PS - for those who have questioned my politeness when passing breath (dennis, hitch, tuscan and the rest of you lot), it runs in the family - The Proper Rules to Follow

WARNING!!!! NEW SCAM IN THE UK

I dont often forward things on, but a warning to you: if a man comes to your door and says he is conducting a survey, and asks to see your bum, do NOT show him your bum.

This is a scam. He only wants to see your bum.

Please take a second to forward this to your friends. I wish I had known this yesterday. I feel so dirty and cheap.

Australians ARE funny!

This is worth watching all the way through!!!!

The Scarborough Fair Fiasco

red lolly, yellow lolly

I promised y'all this gem - I am sure the parents among you will enjoy this.

When visiting my dear friend in Scarborough last October, we happened upon a delightful (!) establishment called Yates's Wine Bar. It being raining, only 2pm and me needing to kill an hour before heading home to London-Town, we were stuck for a warm and dry environment to while away an hour. So don't judge me.

Anyway, after a blackcurrant and soda (favourite former tipple of us when we were impoverished students) or two, I needed to visit the ladies' powder room.

As some of you may know, whenever I have an occasion to visit a public convenience, something untoward usually happens. Or rather, I do something to embarass my friends. This time, however, I was behaving myself impeccably. While washing my hands, a young Northern mother came in and was patiently trying to get her three children of various ages to go to the toilet, flush, wash their hands etc. She had sucessfully managed to get two of them cleaned up but the youngest, a girl of about six, was not so amenable.

"I want an ice lolly!"

"You cant have an ice-lolly right now darling" said her mother.

"yes I can! You can get them from the machine", she said, pointing to the wall behind us.

Her mother and I smiled at each other, as we mentally envisaged her pointing erroneously to the condom/aspirin/toothpaste machine. Our smiles turned to horror, however, as we actually looked at the machine.

It was not for condoms, aspirin or toothpaste.

It was for £3 handbag-sized dildos. And the little girl was vigorously pointing at a picture of a saucy woman licking a great big red "Ice lolly".

Licking