Lard Bazaar

What an absolute cunt.

Maidstone is an absolute shithole. Well, the Travelodge is.

It’s kind of my line of work and on a semi regular basis we get handed palliative cases only for them to be bombing around the care home on their roller skates a year later, having made miraculous recoveries.

Tell me something I don’t know. I’m lucky if I get two fingers and a cup of tea.

Meh, 5/10. Would be more if there was genuine outrage. I’m just appalled at the fact you don’t know the difference between ‘affect’ and ‘effect’. And ‘sight’ and ‘site’. And omitting apostrophes where required.

Is it time to wheel out my annual ‘I’m hoping for 7 inches tomorrow morning’ gag? We’ve had a very light dusting in West Wilts this evening and it’s currently about -4.

I think she has the same as my sister had. Following surgery to remove a large tumour, she was clear for three years, tumour then returned with no further treatment options. She was fairly coherent and mobile in the March, by June her mobility was mostly gone and her cognition was in sharp decline and she was dead in October.

Your picture always reminds me of John Prescott.

Fucksake, really?

Ah, I see, that makes much more sense! I was about 15 and on work experience at the time in our County Hall (where I work now too) and the railway runs behind the building. We were on the third (top) floor and felt a sudden, quite violent jolt. No damage or pictures falling off walls or anything but enough to startle you. We all looked at each other and said ‘did you feel that too’ etc but at the time we put it down to perhaps a passing cargo train. It was only that evening when it was reported on the local news that we realised what it was (it must have been 1989 so no internet to tell us immediately!). I can’t really describe it, it was just strange and a little unnerving. I’d definitely shit my pants in a real earthquake.

Lots of local people felt it here in Wiltshire but I didn’t. There was one here when I was a teenager, which I did feel, a very strange experience indeed. Also, forgive my ignorance but if a helicopter is in the air, i.e. not touching the ground, why would an earthquake make it crash?

Really, who gives a fuck? Post if you want to, don’t if you don’t. Read posts if you want to, don’t if you don’t. It really is that simple, kids.

James Whale has announced on Twitter that his wife has been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.

I’m not a spasmaloid (great word though), I’m just fucking lazy.

Tit.

We bought (what we thought was) the best we could with the money we had. Two grand might not be much to some but it is to us.

Well so far today I’ve had two messsges from two different departments- one at 730 this morning telling me the tv will be delivered on Tuesday (funny how it’s bedn found in a depot with nobody in it overnight) and another saying they’ve written it off because ‘we can’t repair it in the 7 day timescale’ and I will ‘receive a text code to buy a new television’ in the next few days, both of which sound bullshit and both of which I’ll be rejecting if they do materialise. Do they honestly think a voucher does the trick for a two grand telly going faulty in three months and then losing the fucking thing? Daft cunts.

I have not had the chance to reject the goods because they’ve fucking lost the goods.

I am most unhappy with Curry’s. I have sent them the following message: ***MISSING***PLEASE SHARE*** Lost, 55” Samsung QLED TV, last seen being put in the back of a Team Know How van on Monday 5th February. Our tragic story begins three months ago – having come into a little windfall, we decided to treat ourselves and bought a brand spanking new Samsung TV, complete with soundbar, Bluray DVD player, new TV unit, the lot. We spent about £3000 in all in Curry’s at Cribb’s Causeway in Bristol. We took out a repair policy, just in case – you do everything you can to protect those that you love, right? The three of us – me, my husband and our lovely new very expensive telly, all lived in perfect harmony, until last Sunday – just three short months into it’s life, the telly stopped working. It would switch off and then on again, repeatedly, every 20 or 30 seconds – it was unwatchable. We were devastated, and phoned the repair centre in the hope that they could save our beloved telly. Alas, they said it was clearly faulty and we would have to have it repaired. We were a little perturbed at this, as we believed that a three month old TV should not go wrong, and that we should get a replacement, but we went with it, and the next day, the TV and connection box was collected. We sadly waved it off from our front door, silent tears of grief trickling down our podgy faces. But we knew that it was for the best, and that the TV would be back with us today, the 10th February. We knew this because I received two texts telling me so – we couldn’t wait for our allotted time slot of 7.40-11.40am. As 11.40am approached this morning, with no sign of our beloved telly, I started to feel a little worried, but knowing that the M4 can be a bit of a nightmare sometimes, I kept my trust in Team Know How, and remained in place by the front door, eagerly listening out for the tap on the glass. That tap didn’t come, so at 12.28pm, I rang the Team Know How call centre. Eventually, 15 minutes later, a chap answered, I explained our concern that our TV had not returned to the warm and welcoming bosom of home, and he put me on hold for another 8 minutes while he rang the depot. At 12.51, he came back on the line to tell me that the depot had advised him that the TV would be delivered but there’d been a two hour delay in deliveries, so I was to wait another two hours, and to call back if the TV hadn’t arrived. Well, dear readers, the TV did not arrive, so I rang the call centre back at 2.31pm. After 10 minutes, another chap answered, and very rudely told me I was through to the wrong department, he abruptly asked for my details (although I’m surprised he could hear them as he kept talking over me) and at 2.42pm he put me back on hold while he transferred me to the right department. At 2.44pm, the wrong department answered, and once again, a rude man told me I was at the wrong department and put me back on hold, this time for 20 minutes. Finally at 3.04pm, a lady called Tracy answered – I explained yet again our harrowing story and guess what? Tracy put me on hold again, for another 12 minutes, while she rang the depot to find out where my poor television had got to. At 3.20pm, Tracy finally came back to me with the tragic news – ‘we don’t know where your TV is’. Well you can imagine my horror! Tracy said she would have to investigate, and that she would ring me back, before her shift end at 6pm. Give Tracy her due, she did indeed ring me back at 3.41pm, however the news was not good. She said the television was definitely lost! And not only was it lost, nobody was going to bother looking for it until Monday! And then it would take them another five days to let me know where my very expensive new telly is! As I’m sure you will understand, this gave me cause for great concern, however, knowing we had the repair and replacement policy that we are paying a monthly premium for, and knowing it says ‘if our repair takes more than 7 days we will give you a replacement’, I told Tracy that in the meantime, I would like her to arrange a replacement. Sadly, Tracy refused, telling me that even though we are paying for a policy guaranteeing us a replacement, we can’t have a replacement, as the policy doesn’t provide replacements. The one thing Tracy does have going for her is a cracking line in sarcasm, as when I expressed my displeasure at the non-service I was receiving, and said I would never use her company again, she said ‘well it’s not MY company, is it Mrs Smith?’. That really helped matters, but then, I suppose if I was her, being paid minimum wage to work weekends in a call centre, I wouldn’t give a flying monkey’s about Mrs Smith and her missing expensive TV either. So here I am, on a Saturday night, with nothing but a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts,a pizza-stained t-shirt and a foaming-at-the-mouth husband for company – I don’t know where my TV is, I don’t know when anyone at Curry’s/Team Know Nothing is going to do anything about it, and most importantly of all, I don’t know what’s happening in Casualty tonight. This is not the end, Curry’s……….

How absolutely horrific, very glad you are safe. There have been a number of awful accidents on that stretch lately.

No but I was behind him in the queue in Iceland once. It’s not just Peter Andre that goes there.

I’d rather Paul Cocks.

Surely Still Open All Hours is a remake of Open All Hours, no? Or am I missing some incredibly clever joke?

I had to google that as I’m a bit of a thicko