1001 carrier bags please.

Now that you have to pay 5p for carrier bags, I suggest you all try this as it blows their mind!!

Go into your local supermarket, Tesco is best as the staff are all so fucking stupid they have no idea how to handle such things.

Buy a couple of things that will easily fit into one carrier bag but too big to fit into the miniature bags they sometimes have.

Dimwit at Checkout: Do you want a bag for life?
Peter: Given I have lived more than I have to live, that might not be such good idea.
DAC: Bags are 5p now, I'll have to charge you.
Peter: That's fine, I'll have a thousand and one bags please.
DAC: Sorry?
Peter: I'll have a thousand and one bags please.
DAC: A thousand and one?
Peter: Yes, I'll need a bag to put my bags in. So a thousand and one bags. That should come to £50 and five pence.
DAC: I'll have to call the manager.
Peter: Go ahead.

DAC called the manager who asked me if there was a problem.

Peter: Not at all, I just need some bags and five pee is a bargain, so one thousand please!

Chaos ensued!!

The ball of ear-wax incident.

My ears produce a lot of ear-wax.

A lot, and by a lot I mean I can get a q-tip full from each ear every day.

My ears produce so much ear-wax that often the pressure in my head forces the ear-wax to fall out naturally - it is expelled as it were.

Very often this happens as I walk along and causes no offence.

A while ago however some ear-wax appeared in less acceptable circumstances.

In a meeting in fact with my boss.

I'd not been working at this place for long when this happened:

Just me and her, we were chatting away about something or another and all of a sudden I felt my right ear pop, felt a very gentle tap on my shoulder as the rea-wax hit and then saw to my dismay the ball of ear-wax land on the table between us!

The ball of ear-wax was the size of my pinkie finger nail to give this some perspective, so easily spotted and very dark brown.

I tried not to notice but she had, and being naturally confrontational we had this conversation:

Confrontational Boss: What is that!
Peter: Ear-wax.
CB: Sorry?
Peter: Ear-wax.
CB: Where did it come from?
Peter: My right ear.
CB: Your right ear?
Peter: Yes! My right ear.
CB (looking somewhat peaky by this stage): How.
Peter: It just fell out, it happens all of the time.
CB (who by now was reduced to repeating virtually everything I said) It just fell out?
Peter: Yes. Shall I remove it?
CB: Yes please.

The meeting didn't last for much longer, I think she may have puked.

A fart in a flannel.

No, this is not a euphemism, it's an experiment that I tried many years ago with quite spectacular results.

Aged about 21, I had a girlfriend (who became my wife) 15 years my senior and thus quite mature.

I clearly was not.

One day at her apartment I decided to "capture" a fart in the bath and set about soaking the very plush egyptian cotton flannel ready for action.

I then farted underneath the flannel, captured it and made a sort of flannel balloon around it.

I then squeezed whilst smelling and realised that close up, and maybe filtered through a damp flannel, a fart is a very nasty thing indeed.

What I hadn't allowed for was the hideous smell left on the flannel.

Easy I thought, that will wash out and I set about washing it with the palmolve soap bar also provided.

No way was that smell coming out.

I had a little panic and then thought I will have to confess.

And so there was this slightly awkward conversation:

Peter: I've conducted a small experiment that has had some rather unexpected results.
First Wife: Oh yes, what's that then?
Peter: I've farted into your flannel and now it smells of shit!
First Wife (with look of stunned amazement on her face): You did what?
Peter: I've farted into your flannel and now it smells of shit!!
First Wife: Why?
Peter: I wanted to see how smelly it was.
First Wife: How smelly was it?
Peter: Very.
First Wife: Just chuck it in the washing basket then.
Peter: That's where the experiment has gone wrong, I think the smell might not come out.
First Wife: Oh.

The smell never did come out and I've never farted into a flannel since.