General Chat

You asked for it!

All, except Mr MacUp, craned forwards to see the contents of the opened box.

There, exposed to view, were two pamphlets, one titled “Workers Union Membership” and the other “Traders, Retailers and On Line Licences”

Both bore the same armorial markings and the same inscription.
The Coat of Arms was two lions rampant and one lion dormant and the inscription read ‘Illegitimum Carborundum Est’

“What does it mean!” exclaimed Dr Watson.

“Elementary, my dear sir,” said Holmes. “We have two documents ostensibly at odds with each other, one being a membership list of an illicit Union and the other, no doubt, a list of members of a more capitalist leaning; however, the coat of arms and the inscription mean that both are merely two sides of the one coin”

“No,” said the good doctor, “I meant the inscription”

Miss O’Hara, feeling that Holmes had had too much of the limelight, hurriedly said “It’s a corruption of a Dog Latin phrase, Dr. The original is Illegtitimum Non Carborundum Est which roughly translates as ‘don’t let the b*st*rds grind you down.’ Therefore with the word ‘non’ missing, this actually becomes an exhortation to grind the b*st*rds down.”

“Clever! Very clever,” interjected the Inspector, who was also feeling a bit left out. “But what are these lists for?”

“Oh that’s an easy one, Inspector” said Holmes, “Let me explain. But for convenience I’ll just use the initials of the organisations and refer to them as WUMs and TROLLs”

They all held their respective breaths, which made Dr Watson feel guilty about having eaten baked beans for lunch.

When the atmosphere cleared and they were able to resume normal air intake, Holmes continued with his explanation.

“The inscription gives the game away. These two organisations are there for the sole purpose of wearing people down, but they do it in different ways.
The WUMs, for example, respond so that they are reactive whereas the TROLLs initiate, and are therefore proactive”

The group, who had no idea what Holmes was on about, tried to look intelligent but only gave any interested onlooker the impression that the total of their collective IQ’s was still somewhat below that of a gnat.

Holmes sighed. “Alright let me try to explain further. Person A may write a letter and post it to ‘The Times’ newspaper saying that he heard the first cuckoo of Spring whilst walking on the Common. Person B, a WUM, immediately posts a letter saying that person A could not have heard the first cuckoo as cuckoos did not inhabit the Common. Also, how did person A know that he was the first? Others may have heard a cuckoo but had better things to do than post about it.

This brings a response from person C who criticises Person B and defends person A. Person B then responds to person C along the lines ‘you must be as daft as he is and besides can’t person A defend themselves?’ this will elicit even more responses in support of A and C, the first half dozen or so of which receive a less than flattering response from B who then ceases to post. However it may take another thirty more postings before people realise that B is no longer on the scene.

A TROLL on the other hand, writes the first letter containing something contentious such as ‘all cuckoos should be exterminated’, and then posts it. This is then responded to by A to Z saying that the originator is obviously prejudiced against birds in general, and cuckoos in particular. The TROLL sends a few more posts saying that he is entitled to his opinion and then, like the WUM, ceases posting.”

“That’s horrible!” said Watson “That sort of thing could destroy the economy of Switzerland!”

Five pairs of eyes were turned on him

“Well,” he continued, “If all the cuckoos were exterminated, the Swiss wouldn’t be able to make their clocks. The people who hunt for cuckoos of just the right size would be out of work, as would the people who teach the cuckoos how to tell the time”

Brill

Ah, Allan - you've set me up for the day, thanks! Chuckles off >>>>>>>>>>>>>

Not for the first time, Holmes wished that he had taken up a more sedate profession like bare-back tiger riding or polar bear washing.

Suddenly, there was a tap on the door. They all turned to stare, but it was Angus M E MacUp who broke the silence.

“Good heavens! I’ve never notice that before.” He said, looking at the still dripping tap

Holmes crept silently to the door and swiftly opened it. A shapeless body fell in. The face was devoid of any distinguishing features and a huge growth appeared to have affected the right hand.

“Were you listening at the door?” enquired Holmes

“No, sir” replied the cab driver, “I had my ear to the keyhole because there was a terrible draught blowing straight through it
.
“What? Your ear or the keyhole?”

“Take your pick, sir”

“And what’s that in your hand?” demanded Holmes

“That, sir, is my black pudding butty, I originally hail from Lancashire and like to keep in touch with my roots.”

Not so much hail, more a thick mist, thought Holmes to himself

(Author’s note: for some of the forthcoming jokes (?) puns (?) and puerile wit, this geographical fact had to be established)

“I suppose that is one of the delicacies which is a hangover from your catering Corp days?” said Holmes, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice

“Not at all, sir, my wife made this for me this morning, but we did actually meet in the Catering Corps. She was the Sergeant-Major’s daughter but…..”

“She was rotten to the Corps” finished off Holmes.

“Very droll, sir; that’s the first time I’ve heard that one….today!”

Inspector Lastrade could not resist getting in on the act.

“And I suppose,” he said, “That if she was the Colonel’s daughter she would have known what Reggy meant.”

Holmes and the cabdriver stared at the Inspector.

They then continued with their conversation, as though there had been no idiotic interruption

“So tell me,” said Holmes, “What did you cook in the Mess?”

“Not very well phrased, sir, but I specialised in Puddings and had three signature dishes”

Unbeknownst to any party present on that historic day, the phrase ‘signature dishes’ would become one of the great culinary clichés of a future era

“There was my Rice Pudding. Men would die for that. Unfortunately, some of them did, mainly recruits who ignored the veterans warnings not to go back for seconds.”

“Very rich, was it?” asked an astonished Holmes.

“No, sir, very filling. They say an Army marches on its stomach and they certainly did after a plate of my Rice Pudding.” He said with pride in his heart and with tears in his eyes.

“Kept them going, did it?” asked Holmes

“No sir. Just the opposite! The Medical Officer said that if had had had access to my pudding at the great cholera outbreak in Ghyppibheli he could have staved off some of the more visible aspects of the disease. The M.O. explained to me that apparently the pudding set solid in the stomach. That could probably explain the marching on the stomach phrase. As my pudding set, the men’s centre of gravity shifted and they toppled over. It would probably also explain why, on the days my pudding was on the menu, the men from the Royal Engineers would be at the rear of the cookhouse with barrows. Apparently, they were using the left-overs as a substitute for concrete!”

A horribly fascinated Holmes made the mistake, particularly in the presence of the ladies, of asking about the driver’s second signature dish.

“Well, sir, that would be my Spotted Dick”

A deep silence descended on the room.

The occupants also kept very quiet.

The cabdriver’s eyes glazed over at the memory, giving them the aspect of two boiled eggs in aspic

“I only ever produced my Spotted Dick in the Officer’s Mess. Such a sight was not for the common soldier, much as he was used to seeing all manner of stomach-churning things on the field of battle”

Miss O’Hara blushed that shade of red which gave rise to her nickname, and which was to stay with her long after she had gone with the wind.

Mrs Hudson merely smirked, whilst the men paled, started a low whistle and looked everywhere but at the driver.

Unaware of the affect his pronouncement had produced he proceeded on, lemming like, to the edge of the abyss

“The officers all agreed that they had seen nothing quite like it. Its fame even spread back to Blighty and many a new subaltern arriving fresh from England would shyly ask me to show him my Spotted Dick. Even the M.O. was amazed saying that in all his years serving in all manner of countries, mine would surely win first prize. He even gave me some cream to put on it, but I refused, telling him that the only thing to go on a Spotted Dick should be nice thick custard”

Watson saved the day, (and hopefully this thread)

As a medical man himself, he shook his head to clear all manner of images, even then knowing that he would have nightmares for weeks, and managed to croak “And your third dish, pray?”

“There’s no need to be like that, doctor, most of my dishes were fairly edible!”

PMSL Allan

good to see you are continueing with this, about Bl***y time :))

you have a great imagination and a way with wit hun, would have loved to have had you as my dad ( when I was a little girl ) telling me bedtime storie's lol.
Keep up the good work

Diane

Agree, Diane - more please Allan!

At this, the cab drivers face started to resemble one of his renowned crumbles and tears started to course down his face. His visage was such that the attendant group of astonished and embarrassed onlookers were not sure whether he was experiencing agony or ecstasy.

“I do beg your pardon” he said, blowing his nose on the sleeve of Holmes’ coat.

“My third dish was tasted by no man. It was a special one I created for my soon to be wife. I would put pieces of sponge in a bowl, soak them in sherry, or port, or rum sometimes all three at once. Then I would lovingly place pieces of fruit on top of this and pour in jelly. Once the jelly had set I would pour in custard and then top that with whipped cream.”

Here he gave a quick shudder of remembrance before continuing.

“I used to send one a week to the Sergeant-Major’s daughter. Oh! She was a lovely lass in those days, with the face of an Angel. Nowadays, naturally, it looks more lived in, possibly by a tribe of Barbarians and Vandals. Still, I suppose we all change with age, but most of us manage to retain some resemblance of human appearance. I know that it is a woman’s right to be ugly, but my wife abuses that right. But, as I say, I’m talking of many years ago when all this first happened. Well, I’d been sending the girl who was soon to become my wife this delicacy on a weekly basis. After a few weeks her father turned up on my doorstep complete with shotgun in hand and accused me of trifling with his daughter’s affections. He said we had to get a Special Licence, so off we went. Once his shotgun was licensed, he marched me off to the wedding venue”

The cabdriver’s tale now had them all enthralled more than the Wife of Baths tale could have done hundreds of years before.]

“I’ll give her father his due,” he continued, “He did give us a Society Wedding. It was held in the hall above the local Co-Op. I remember it as if it was yesterday. If it was tomorrow I’d cancel it” he sighed

“Her father gave us a haemorrhoid barometer as a wedding present”

“Don’t you mean an aneroid barometer?” queried Holmes

“No sir, I don’t! This one was a real pain in the rectum. It never told the correct time of day, not once in all the years we had it”

Holmes sighed, “Barometers measure air-pressure to give an indication of forthcoming weather”

“Ah!” exclaimed the driver, “That could explain why it never chimed either”

“Still,” he continued, “I got her a nice present. I asked her what she would like and she said a coat made from an animal skin, so I bought her a donkey jacket. Pity about the WIMPEY on the back, but it was a bargain”

(Author’s note: for a full history of the Co-Op movement, Google ‘Rochdale Pioneers’ or even ‘Toad Lane’. Honest!

nudge

as an aside,was that Wimpey as in nickname for a Wellington bomber? or Wimpey as in the construction(sometimes of airfields) company?
or even as a native of a New Zealand city?

Gosh I have lived here in NZ all my long life and ddn't know natives of NZ cities were known as Wimpeys. We have a Wimpey Street in South Auckland, I don't know what the residents call themselves.
A Wellington Bomber - yes.

Actually, WIMPEY was a large construction company in the UK in the 50’s and 60’s, possibly later, which undertook major civil and housing construction works. The company employed many Irish tradesmen

The Company name became an acronym for We Import More P*ddies Each Year

Allan

Here we have a ditty from Allan .if you need a laugh today have a read .its worth it ;-) :-D :-D :-D :-D :-D :-D :-D :-D <3

Thanks, Barbra :-D :-D

I did have some issues a couple of years ago which stopped me from finishing the story, and pure laziness since then hasn't helped :-(

But it will be finished ;-) :-D :-D :-D

Glad to be of help :-) .Its the way you tell um :-D :-D ;-)

Allan, just noticing your comment about WIMPEY reminded me.
WIMPEY were prevalent around Hythe/Southampton in the 60's and 70's, because of the building of businesses around Fawley Refinery. Donkey jackets were also very popular.
My late brother in law (surname Murphy) was considered 'posh' amongst his friends, as his donkey jacket didn't have WIMPEY emblazoned along the back :-D

lol Maggie, :-D

I'm surprised more people didn't make the WIMPEY connection. It was a very large construction company in the North of England and' presumably, Nationwide

Definitely nationwide, and in the Middle East in the 1970's.
I was amazed to see them in Jeddah, on my way to Riyadh.

Welcome back,Allan---You've been much missed..
Wimpy(no E) was an also an early hamburger chain in the U.K. Over-cooked "meat",served on a plate,supposedly cooked 'to order'-the frankfurters were better. I used to go there to recover from visits to the dentist-the coffee was weak and cool enough not to further damage my ill-treated mouth,and they left you alone.

N.B. Nationwide is/was something else entirely !

We had a couple of Wimpy bars here in NZ in Auckland way back in the late sixties - early seventies and they did not really get off the ground.

I thought Allan would have got back to this thread long ago, he did a lot of researching for it when in NZ.