Thursday, October 18, 2007

 

Hams aff his heid

Hello shunned readers

I'd like to apologise for the late delivery of ramblings this week. I took a birrova blow to the back of the heid on Monday night and I've not being feeling top notch ever since. Nothing too serious, just a volleyball skelped on to the back of ma coupon at a couple of hundred miles an hour. The main thing is I'm ok and there is no long term damage.

So I'd just like to apologise for the late delivery of this weeks diary, I received a blow to the back of the head on Thursday which was a tad nippy. Luckily I suffered no long term damage and I'm right as rain now

Anyway the main reason the diary is late is because I received a nasty thump on the back of the old noggin on Tuesday morning, nothing to worry about and thankfully no lasting damage to the the grey matter, but unsettling all the same

I can only apoilogise for the late delivery of the newspaper, took a crack on the skull, volleyball I think? Sunday evening? Anyway, no harm done but did give the pudding a wee bit of a shake inside the old basin, but right as rain now ....

So sorry about the diary, thing is got clattered on the head by ........

Ham Shanks Secret Diary w/e 14th October 2007

Jinx [jingks] – noun 1. a person, thing, or influence supposed to bring bad luck

Now you know me, I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe that walking under ladders will do you any harm per se; ok if there is somebody standing on the top rung of the ladder juggling flaming chainsaws, drinking neat whisky from a bottle and screaming ‘I cant take anymore, I just cant!’ then perhaps a wide berth is to be advised. But that’s hardly down to influences from the spiritual world. He’s up there because his wife has run off with the butcher; nothing unworldly about that.

You’ll also have guessed from previous rants that I’m not really a religious man. I’m not saying that there isn’t some kind of ‘higher presence’ out there. Something that we can’t yet explain, something that exerts an influence over us all. I’m simply saying we don’t know …… actually scratch that, I am saying that there’s nothing out there. It’s all complete b*llocks!

Although recent events have caused me to question that declared assumption (cue X-Files Music) Da da da Dadada da DADA! ‘I asked for X-Files music, not X-fecking factor ye eedjits! That’s the last thing I need, Simon Cowell moping about with petted lip and effeminate hand gestures. Get it fixed sound editors, what don’t I pay you a penny for? Distant crashes and grumblings are heard in the background followed by theatrical blowing of dust and the noisy insertion of a cassette into an ancient tape deck, one final loud clunk and we are in business… Doo de doo doo dooo ‘thaaaaat’s better I can almost see Mulder & Scully’.

So where was I? Oh yes, it was a dark and wet night…… well actually it was a bright and sunny afternoon but that’s hardly foreboding. Doesn’t even remotely bode does a sunny afternoon. Exact opposite of a flipping dark wet night. Sunshine fills you with joy and happiness, an almost uplifting and spiritual experience at this time of year. Not great for a sinister narrative though so we’ll settle for gloomy intervals with intermittent periods of foreboding darkness and a high risk of an overnight curse.

Anyway back to the story; I’m driving doon the road with my elder brother Neil. Were in my shiny new car, I say new when of course I just mean new to me. It’s not actually brand new; in fact it’s seven years old. Still a good deal younger than the faithful old Peugeot I just left up North though. So can’t complain.

It’s been quite an emotional day; saying goodbye to the car that’s kept me mobile these last two years. A lot of memories. I have to admit I shed a tear or two as I transferred the last of my gear out of the old car and into the new. Patting it gently on the roof like you would an old and faithful Labrador dog. Not wanting to be seen by my brother I whispered gently into the window ‘goodbye you old piece of sh*t’ a tear rolling down my cheek ‘you never f*cking started when I really needed ye to’ more tears started to flow as I kicked the tyres ‘WHY!’, ‘I put fuel in you!’ kick ‘I serviced you’ boot ‘WHY!!’ my brother pulled me away as I continued to lash out ‘yooobaaastard!’, ‘Leave it Ham, just leave it

The scrap dealer was also rather non plussed as I sang ‘cheerio cheerio cheerio’ and skipped round his wagon while he winched the lifeless hulk onto the back of his yellow and red vehicle ‘you’re going home in a f*cking ambulance! La la la la laaa’ My brother just shook his head and gestured frantically ‘get in the car for pities sake you’re causing a scene’ Pausing to give my old car the vees three or four more times I finally got into the drivers seat of my new car ‘I looooove you’ I sighed, hugging the steering wheel as my brother rolled his eyes skyward.

Fast forward to the A90 just outside Dundee. It’s an hour and a half later ‘She just runs like a dream!’ I laugh enthusiastically ‘you said’ replies my brother wearily ‘many times’, ‘it’s just fantastic I mean she just runs like a dream’, my brother glances despairingly at his watch ‘uhuuu’, ‘I mean you just press the throttle peddle and vrooom she goes’, ‘fancy pressing it a bit harder so we get there quicker?’, ‘brakes are brilliant’ I continue paying no heed to his efforts to construct a noose out of his shoelaces.

He’s due to be playing volleyball in Dundee and I was supposed to be dropping him off on my way home as a favour for him finding me the great new car. We were a mile or two outside Dumpdee when I glanced at the fuel gauge ‘Oh no! Only three quarters of a tank left, better pull in for some fuel’ Neils eyes lit up as he removed his lace from the rear-view mirror. I flipped on the indicator and headed off the slip road. Before I even pulled to a stop he was scrabbling at the door ‘No no I’ll get this I insis-‘by the time I’d pulled on the handbrake the passenger door was wide open and my brother was a dust blurred dot on the horizon.

‘That must be his warm up’ I mumble whilst filling up the car with unleaded. Even my manic new car grin is unable to elicit a smile from the sour pussed gorgon on the till as she thrusts my change towards me and resumes licking her nettle. I return to the car and buckle up ‘only 60 miles to go and we’re home’ I whisper seductively, waggling my eyebrows at the dashboard. After several checks in the mirror I pull out of the station and onto the slip road, half way down said road the engine starts to splutter and the car begins to kangaroo … ‘what the f-‘ one last violent jolt and it coughs into silence.

Coasting to a stop ten metres from the end of the slip road. I turn the key and the starter motor whines but there is no sign of life from the engine. I try again and again; ten minutes later and the starter motor struggles to even turn as the battery bleeds dry. A forlorn woowoowoo noise peters out into silence and the battery is totally flat. There’s no doubt about it; the motoring Gods have forsaken me.

Dropping to my knees on the side of carriageway I throw my hands in the air, screaming to the sky ‘Whhhhhhhy! WHY ME! WHY!! Salty tears are rolling down my cheeks as I blubber uncontrollably. My arms are still raised aloft as a yellow and red wagon trundles into sight. My jaw drops as I watch the vehicle traverse slowly across my view from right to left. A reddish bronze coloured Peugeot sitting proudly on its back, with a large ‘Sold’ sticker emblazoned across the windscreen. The dealer gives a cheery wave as my head falls into my hands.

I am f*cking jinxed

Doo dee dooo dooo dooooo…..


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