I’m originally from

A very subtle moment occurred in my life this morning, so subtle that it passed me by. I met a new person in my new job and upon hearing my accent he asked where I was from. My automatic answer was ‘Bristol’, then followed by ‘but originally from Belfast’. I think the moment when an ex-pat starts saying the phrase ‘…originally from…’ is a moment of transition from long term visitor to resident. This status has crept up on me.

I wanna be like you hoo hoo

I’m not really a ‘Mr Angry’ character, if I was I would probably be a better and opinionated blogger. I tend to give celebs and people in newspapers the benefit of the doubt - saying things like. I don’t really know Peter Andre, who am I to have an opinion on him, likewise Jade Goody or Prince Philip. I say this as cover for the fact that once in a while a someone says something, or a story emerges that really gets to me and makes me into ‘Mr Angry from Bristol’.

My local infant school recently made the local Points West news over a teacher racism scandal. Click here to read the story on BBC.

I’ll paraphrase it. The school was putting on production for parents of Jungle Book, when the teacher was apportioning out roles, she asked the 7 year olds, who wants to be a monkey? Of course, every hand was pushed high in the air, and the teacher chose 5 kids. Two of the kids were black brothers (I mean they WERE actually brothers).

That’s pretty much the story. When the they got home they excitedly told their mum and step father (indecently their step father is white). At this point the parents hit the roof, and demanded an explanation from the school, and the suspension of the teacher. Why? Because it was racist to cast the black kids as monkeys.

There was a massive hoopla with BBC Points West covering the story for a couple of days and newspaper interviews from teachers and parents at the school.

It made me really sad. What on earth did these parents think they were doing. What exactly did they want the teacher to say… “sorry kids you can’t be monkeys because some idiots in the 1970s used to use monkey as a derogatory term for blacks”.

My son will quite likely go to this school in a few years, and it really annoys me the idea that he would come home from school asking why his friend Billy wasn’t allowed to be a monkey because he’s black.

The MOST annoying thing is, that the school seemed to pander to the parents, instead of laughing them out the school… or maybe make them attend some basic classes!

What’s that they say, political correctness gone mad.
There you go… once you’ve typed that phrase in a blog, you really ARE “Mr Angry”.

Borrowing a cup of sugar

Last week in the midst of nappy changing, dinner making and TV watching (only the later involved me, if im honest) the door bell went. As the Mrs was too ‘busy’ I had to get up of my comfy arm chair to answer it. It was the Indian lady from two doors down, who although she’s very nice , I think we’ve only ever had two conversations with her, once to get her to move her car for us, and the other discussing the trimming of my hedge. Exciting stuff! 

I said hello (as is polite) and she said, and I think I quote correctly (I’ll avoid trying to type in an Indian accent) ‘hello, you are how? Can I borrow a cup of sugar?’ (Handing me a mug). Because she’d asked the question so quickly my immediate reaction was to say, ok. Then rush in to the kitchen fill up the cup with sugar, gave it to her and say, there you go, goodbye.

In retrospect I think it was the only time I’d ever been asked for the cup of sugar, I thought it was the kind of thing happened in the 60s and on TV. So I began to think that it was a little weird.

When I told the Mrs about it (she loves being called the Mrs, not!), she concurred that it was a bit strange. Given than we don’t really know her, and that we are two doors up, rather than next door, and there is a shop 100 yards up the road that sells sugar.

This is now what I think happened, and im a little embarrassed.

Last time we spoke to them, as I said, it was about them moving their car. Although it was no big deal, she had seemed a bit embarrassed, and said something about not wanting to upset the neighbours. So, I think she saw we had a new baby, and thought that this was a chance to get friendlier. She had maybe been watching Coronation Street and decided that it’s traditional in Britain to ask your neighbour for a cup of sugar, if you want a chat. So she did. And I just got her a cup of sugar, and sent her packing.

Embarrassing. Maybe I need to go ask her for something, and strike up a conversation. But too much time has past now, what should I do?

The gumpy miser in me

Monday lunchtime I decided that Kentucky Fried Chicken would be the best option when deciding how to make myself fatter. So I headed up the hill at Broadmead, past the Odeon to my fast food purveyor of choice. All I wanted was a Zinger Meal with Coke, the last thing I expected was a moral dilemma.

The young girl behind the till took my order in double quick time, almost before I had said it, then she inquired, in the space usually reserved for ‘is that all sir?’,… ‘would you like to donate 5p extra for the World Health Organisation?’. Without skipping a beat I said ‘no’.

She looked at me with a confused grin and an almost disbelieving gaze, as if had just stolen a bottle of Lucozade from a thirsty African child. When the Zinger Meal arrived she mumbled ‘enjoy your meal’ with undertones of ‘unlike the poor children’.

As I tucked into my, admittedly still very tasty chicken burger, I tried to determine where my sense of charity had gone and why I was suddenly a grumpy miser. It was only 5p for goodness sake. I like to think I’m a caring person, with a generous world view, who does ever such a lot for charity… but doesn’t like to talk about it much. So where did this ‘no’ come from?

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s the same ‘no’ I give in response to questions like ‘would you like to save 50% on your electricity bill?’ or ‘can you spare some change’ or ‘do you have two minutes spare to stop and talk about Help The Aged?’ Compassion fatigue I think they call it and it looks like I’m well and truly infected.

My immediate reaction to any question I’m asked by a stranger is to end the conversation as soon as possible. Whether it’s a charity plugger in the street, or a phone call from a someone who miraculously knows that my contract is almost up - no matter how to-good-to-be-true the deal sounds my only feeling is to say as little as possible and end the conversation. This can’t be a good thing.

If I had the moment again I would say ‘… only if Colonel Sanders agrees to give 5% of his profits to a charity of my choice’ (but quick thinking like that only happens to people on clever American dramas). I think that’s the core of it, it’s the thought that a multimillion pound company ‘giving’ its customers the opportunity to donate money to a charity of KFC’s choice, while they charge us £1.99 for a Coke that cost them 10p to produce! But that won’t stop the nice young KFC girl telling all her mates that I’m a grumpy miser.
 

The apple never falls far from the tree

…but yes it does! At the back of our house, through the gate there is a massive apple tree. I’m talking taller than our house. It is in common land, so no one seems to really own it, so no one bothers to pick the apples. There must be littlerly thousands of apples on the tree, so I thought this year, im gonna take the bull by the horns and get me a big bag of apples (hadn’t thought much past that).

I decided to construct a device a device so cunning it would have make Archimedes blush, an apple catcher if you will. In essence its four metal rods with a large rubble sack slung beneath it to catch the apples. I’ve left it for about a week while I was back in god’s county, I got back yesterday I went out ro collect the spoils. Rather optimistically I brought out a bin bag so I could carry back all my swag (might take a few trips I thought). But, no go! Not one single apple in there, all around the bag im tramping through rotten apples and much but nothing but leaves in the bag! I think someone is taking the mick!

Those Cornish are Clever!

A few times lately, i have wandered into town at lunchtime, to relieve some stress and get myself some overly priced food. Mostly i go to the sandwich shop, sometimes i splash out on some M&S sushi (non Akabusi). But recently I’ve been eating more and more unhealthly Cornish pastys.

I just find it hard to walk past the Cornish Bakehouse, it seems so appealing. And today i realised why. I kid you not, they have a big extractor fan at the front blowing out all the lovely baking smells out in to the street - its the like the pied piper, people walk past and are just drawn in.

It’s clever, but a bit manipulative. Now I’m on to them, I’m going to walk on the other side of the road.

Totally random, but let me throw in a great West Wing quote, from Jed Barlett.

I don’t like the word “stress”. It’s a Madison Avenue word. It’s something that can be cured with flavored coffee and bath bubbles.

Maybe i’ll become the new Banksy

how hard can it be. Monksy maybe.

Yesterday a new suspected Banksy work appeared just around the corner from my work, in fact i was walking just beside the spot yesterday an i think i saw him, i think he’s a elderly gent with a cantankerous glare and no teeth.

It’s impossible to prove that its genuine (although there are a number of his ‘famous’ works in the area), so i think… maybe i should have a go, and just pretend to be him, then point at it and go…. ohhhhh  looks like another Banksy doesn’t it.

Jonah had a whale

In his spare time Question Monkey reviews music gigs for the South West’s premier music and entertainment magazine (dunno why people say things like that, but anyway). Last night I reviewed a guy called Jonah Matranga and I thought it worth a mention.I have to admit I’d never heard of him, I arrived in the room, with my pint of Guinness and a notebook, joining about 100 other people crammed into a small room. I assumed that none of them had heard of him either. Hmm.

First of all, you have to have some balls, to have the PA play The Who’s Baba O’Reilly at full pelt as you walk up on stage to play a completely lo-fi acoustic gig. But he rose to it. And it turns out, pretty much everyone there, has not only heard of him, but know the words to ALL his songs, and sing along to them at the top of their voices. There was something quasi religious about it.

He would start a song…. Then pause and say. ‘You know what , this feels good, there’s a lot of love in the room’ I was standing there with a big smile on my face, thinking this is great… he’s taking the piss in Alan partridge / Ricky Gervais style… but no he’s 100% full on. I think I saw actual tears at one point… my favourite moment which I’ll have to try and work into the review was… as a song faded, someone at the front quietly said ‘thank you’ and he whispered back into the mic ‘no, thank you’. Tongue nowhere near cheek.

I was pleasantly surprised by the bill though, Jacob Golden was great, he randomly name checked his ‘best mate Iain Archer’, which certainly woke me up… in a    hang on, i know Iain, can’t be the same one, can it?    way.

I got me a Tiffin!

One of my best friends left Bristol this weekend, which is sad in some ways but great in an other. She donated me her Tiffin!

A ‘tiffin’ is, in this case a metal container with 4 layers, which i can take to my favourite Bristol eatery, The One Stop Thali, they fill it up with what ever goodness they’re serving that day, all for about £6. And there you go, a nice healthily tasty evening meal for two, with zero effort.

You might ask why i haven’t got one before, well, they cost £20, and I’m a bit lazy, and it seemed an effort to actualy go and buy one.

boring post? nope, interesting and informative i think you’ll find!

Recycling causing climate change?

I think recycling is great – waste is   well  a waste  and we should think about it more. But I do love it when something comes up like this.

Apparently there is now a reasonable argument, that its BETTER to use plastic non-biodegradable packaging, because when biodegradable things decompose, they give of methane, which is a greenhouse gas.

Not good news, I grant you… but I like it when the complexities of ‘the right thing’ come to the fore.

What should I say to get off Jury Service?

In May I was called upon by her majesty to attend jury service, unfortunately/fortunately my wife gave birth to a baby the week before – which was very good of her, meaning I didn’t have to attend

It has however been rescheduled for October, and whilst, if I’m honest, im quite looking forward to it, I’ve been thinking of ways to not get picked for the jury – just for the laugh

• Just fall asleep after every question, for 10 seconds or so
• Every now and then, worriedly look sharply to the right, then quickly left
• At every tense moment hold my nose,  accusing the barrister of farting
• Say things like, I’ll be great at this, I can normally tell just by the look of them if they are guilty or not

ideas welcome…

Worst game show ever?

A mate of mine, SW from Clevedon, was recently chosen to be on a Channel 4 game show! The show itself is a complete car crash - how it’s managed to get beyond 5 or 6 episodes is beyond me, but SW made a great fist of it. He had a 1 in 3 choice at the end to win about £40k, by deciding who of the three random punters in front of him earned the highest wage … and as the Crusader Knight said to Indiana Jones, he choose poorly.

Still if you’re gonna be on tellie, its good to at least get out of there with out looking like a tit! With his tongue in cheek jibes about ‘odd’ contestants and dramatic ooooo’s and aaaaaah’s to build the tension - he could join the pro game show circuit (if such a thing doesnt exist, it should!). I think it was for the best that they edited out the rant about his right-wing political views, all things being equal.

He does have an idea though , for the next series. Instead of wining the the monetary value of the person’s wage… the person should have to swap wages for you for a 5 year period. Now, that would be high stakes, and give the viewing figures a boost.

My favourite eatery in Bristol

 

The One Stop Thahi is great! Let me set the scene, its about the size of a midsize living room, there are about 6 tables and random carved chairs. The décor is quite eurasian and mystical, with a hint of bollywood with middle eastern rugs on the floor and, importantly a performance area! (I’ll get to that later).

The food is Hindu vegetarian, and there’s no real menu… you really just get ‘what’s on’. My better half is a veggie, but I have to say I would very rarly not have meat when I go out – but at the thali café even if it was on the menu it would some how seem inappropriate!

Oh yeah, the performance area is, a stool. Where ‘alternative’ artists do their thing. And when I say alternative I’m not talking indie-rock… last time I was there it was a guy in  full top-hat and tails playing a classical music on a saw. Tongue no where near his cheek.