Saturday 30 June 2012

Spoken with a mouthful of teeth (part one)...

In the normal course of business, Scrobs regularly meets people who are involved in property deals, large and small. It is his business. One particularly pleasant encounter occurs when a good friend, Quentin ffoxley-Cabbage appears in the doorway of 'The Bells', and the anticipation of several pints of ale in good company becomes a reality.

On one particular occasion recently though, 'Q' entered the bar of 'The Bells', looking very thoughtful as he bought a pint, and, taking my arm, he led me over to a small window seat, away from the others.

"Scrobs", he started, hesitating for a moment, and taking a contemplative sip of beer, "Scrobs, I have a problem"!

Now normally, this is a rarity with 'Q', who dispenses largesse to all and sundry, and also with a big grin and a chuckle.

"Now this isn't really like you to have a problem, 'Q'", I said, "but spill the beans anyway. Tell me all and don't spare the horses"!

"Yup - I can tell you as an old mate, but it's strictly between you and me for the moment; OK"?

"Fine by me", I said, wondering what was going to come next.

"You know I'm involved with this big retail development in the town don't you", he said, looking at me intently.

"Everyone knows that 'Q', it's the biggest deal in the area, its been the talk of the establishment for ages! Supermarkets in sensitive town centres usually are, but what of it"?

"Er - my partner in the scheme, you know Charlie, well, - er - he has a Swedish lady business partner, that's the problem"! He said with a flourish, looking decidedly uncomfortable!

Now 'Q' doesn't dally with the opposite sex, well not nowadays. He has been married to his ever-loving wife for nigh on 20 years, and has four gorgeous children, and a lifestyle you might dream about if you shut your eyes extra tight, so this was indeed a bit of a bombshell!

"Ooops", was all I could slowly say.

"Oh, its nothing like that at all Scrobs", he said hastily, looking alarmed, and I grinned, and asked him what the problem with this Swedish lady really was all about.

"Well, it's a long story, so more beer first", he said, and got up and ordered two more pints, which arrived back in front of us with two packets of crisps.

"The scheme got planning last night, and we're going ahead, as from today". He said.

"Marvellous! That's indeed great news 'Q', and well deserved, especially as you've had a real battle with the council on your hands, but surely you should be celebrating"?

"Oh, the council were as stupid and as obstructive as ever, but they're not the problem any more; it's the banks which are the problem"!

"Oh, that sort of problem"! I said, swirling beer around my glass. "Business as usual is it then"?

"Actually, its not"! said 'Q'. "The real problem is that because Charlie's other director has seen him being given such a rough time by his bank, who have frustrated them at every turn, she has demanded that the scheme has to change its banking arrangements, and that they move the assets to her own personal bank, which is definitely not from these climes! She does indeed have a serious say in what goes on - she is the FD after all"!

"Hmm, so she's making you wonder what's happening next then", I said.

"Yup, that's the bit I'm worrying about, and there's more too"! He said, looking slightly daunted.

"She has also demanded that anyone who has any connection whatsoever with this particular UK bank, which has a nasty reputation for shredding, rigging deals and failing computer systems, will have absolutely no involvement with the scheme whatsoever! She's a formidable lady is our Swedish partner"!

"Hellfire, that's a new one"! I said, looking up at the ceiling in despair, "So what's her plan? Has she stopped the job"?

"Oh no, it's going ahead like a train, but definitely without our old bank's involvement! We've just drafted a letter telling them that they're effectively off the case in the deal"!

"Blimey, they'll lose out on a shed-load of money because of that, won't they"? I said, eyes widening.

"Oh yes, several hundred thousand, nearer a million, but it's worse than that", he said, "the affiliation of anyone with this particular bank in any shape or form has to be scrutinised by the lady! If anyone who supplies, draws, counts, designs, even the tiniest bit of the building work, is found to have an account with this particular UK bank, they're off the job! Even I'm changing my bank immediately as well, in fact we're all going to move, lock stock and barrel"!

"Blimey 'Q', that means they lose all your other stuff as well doesn't it? Come on old son, you've got millions with them, they'll lose the lot!

He nodded slowly, looking at me intently.

"So let me get this straight then", I started slowly, "Your business partner has now made a decision which will cost your own bank about - say - five million quid on the deal, and as well as that, they'll also lose about another 'Ooooh', fifty or so million, probably more, when all their business customers go as well!"

"Got it in one, Scrobs"! Said 'Q', brightening up for a second, then lapsing back into gloom again.

I thought hard about the consequences of this action.

"Oh Gawd, you're going to tell me that Elias banks with this particular bunch, aren't you..."! I said slowly.

"Yup..."! He said looking sadly down at his beer...

(to be continued while this sorry state of affairs compounded by our disgraceful banks unravels...)

Saturday 23 June 2012

Tart car...

"Coo-eeee", called Gloriette from her shiny new open-topped sports car, waiting at the traffic lights.

While the lights decided what to do next, and an old doll with a shopping basket like a wheelie bin had finally trundled onto the pavement and vanished into the chemist for yet more large tubes of Super-Violent Anusol, Scrobs went over to admire the gleaming paintwork, colourful displays, and softly padded accoutrements as well as the car! Gloriette giggled, and tried to pull her skirt down a half inch, making it go up more than an inch, while the gear lever looked invitingly close to her languid hand. 

"'Morning you gorgeous thing", murmured Scrobs, as he wondered about the inevitable peck on both cheeks, before realising that Gloriette was securely belted into this small space-ship, and unlikely to be able to rise to the occasion.

"Scrobs Sweetie, d'you like my new car"? she said, commencing her wiggle, whereby she just 'moves' all over herself, which is disconcerting at the best of times, let alone at a set of traffic lights, which were just about to turn green.

"Gloriette, it's marvellous, and no doubt Elias is pleased that you are able to catch the morning rays without having to lean out of the window too far, or open the sliding roof!"

Gloriette's new car is indeed rather like a space ship, with all sorts of bling and levers and switches which seem to do everything except drive the damn thing, and it is also clear that as her acreage is dangerously close to the steering wheel, she may well have invented a way of steering, turning on the MP3 player, selecting 6th gear and adjusting her seat height, just by leaning forward an inch or two, and doing one of her wiggles!

In fact, as a good friend of mine once mentioned, it is a car which deserves to have a sign in the side window which says, "No hairdressing materials are left in this car overnight"!

"Hee hee hee", cooed Gloriette,  as she let in the clutch while waving a gold bebangled arm which momentarily flashed like a lightning bolt, vanished round the corner and squealed into the supermarket car park. As Scrobs was also walking towards the same general location, he saw Gloriette reverse into a 'Mums and kids' space at about 40 mph, and screech to a halt. The long legs appeared in stages when the door opened, and the blood pressure of the assembled watchers rose by several points on the Richter Scale, as she swung out and stood up, pulling the short skirt down an inch, only for it to raise two more inches while she leaned over into the tiny back seat to retrieve a wicker shopping basket.

An elderly gentleman, wearing a gaberdine raincoat, and a shirt and tie, gaped and dropped a paper bag of apples as the accoutrements of one of the village's finest ladies moved gracefully towards the doors of the shop, and as the commotion died down, a small child, clutching the hand of it's mother called out in tinkling tones...

"Mummy, that's a Tart Car isn't it..."?

The mother stood on one leg, blushed, and immediately bent to admonish the infant.

"Darling, that's not really a very nice thing to say about people you know"!

"But Mummy, it IS a Tart Car"!

"Fiona, I won't tell you again, and you really must not be rude about people like that"!

The child fidgeted, looked sadly up at her mother's face and said softly: -

"But Mummy, it is a tart car, because it doesn't have a roof and it's open at the top, like a jam tart...!" 

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings...

Tuesday 19 June 2012

Fooble - the money...

So much at stake.

Naaah, don't need no checking kit, sunshine...

Bad result.

Thursday 14 June 2012

The Clearasil years...

There never was a good time to have acne...

But this this track track managed to stay around for some considerable time...

It is a cruel affliction, and seemed much worse back in the sixties. Scrobs escaped lightly, but Hell-fire, some others just didn't. I'm so pleased that treatments seem to be more efficient these days, it was always a nasty moment while shaving just before taking out the girl of your dreams, and one of these blasted things appeared from nowhere!

Now, about hair...

Monday 11 June 2012

Ancestry lark...

This genealogy lark throws up some surprises, I can tell you!

Only the other day, while imbibing an amber tincture with my good friend, Elias Sagtrouser, I discovered from an app on a small computer, which Meccano was using to find some hideous music, that you can immediately extricate your ancestors at the drop of a trilby hat!

After general mucking about with the handheld, like looking up silly websites, I grabbed the machine from Gloriette, who was in danger of breaking the law, and tapped in 'Sagtrouser', and the following came up in 0.56 seconds, which is some achievement I can tell you!

1947 - present day - Elias Samuel Sagtrouser - purveyor of building and plumbing accoutrements.
1902 - 1950 - Elongine Sagtrouser - spanner salesman.
1856 - 1904 - Elsworth-Beast Sagtrouser - metal detector.
1790 - 1860 - Ebenezer Sagg-Trosser - lead thief.
1710 - 1800 - Eldrick Sargtrimser - incarcerated idiot.
1645 - 1710 - Egbert Zargger-Trarser - pillock of the county.
1592 - 1650 - Erbert Zarggerment - constipation remedy salesman.
1512 - 1600 - Ernest Zaargeertresster - purveyor of bullets for fighting the foe.
1456 - 1516 - Engelbert Zaargertrooser - singer.
1389 - 1460 - Ethelbert Tsangletrumpet - part-time musician.
1312 - 1391 - Ewbac Saplingtrangser - forage merchant.
1267 - 1316 - Eoinker Starborgling - writer of gibberish.
1189 - 1270 - Esprit de Zargster - monk of great renown.

Then there is a gap in the proceedings, probably because we were all laughing and joking, and Gloriette's acreage was in danger of falling out at that stage, but we finally got down to the the most interesting of the lot!

807 - 830 - Eleas the Saggertrous - flint seller and axe maker!

Several rounds of drinks circulated on that revelation I can tell you!

Monday 4 June 2012


You just have to see this - fantastic reality...


Sunday 3 June 2012

Big day this...

Just to keep the momentum going...

Scrobs' pick of the Jubilee!

Steve Winwood

Saturday 2 June 2012

Village pump gossip...

The 'fun fair' on the village green, just a tiny stone's throw from 'The Turrets', has a bellowing sound system which is guaranteed to keep everyone awake for several hours yet. The Queen's Jubilee is being celebrated in fine style, with fast, smelly and unattractive  food, loads of awful screeching from would-be celeb status nobodies, and more plastic bunting than you can ever buy in Tesco!

We don't really mind, as it's not often they use the village facilities properly, and there's a place where kids and their mums and dads can go and drive dodgem cars at each other, or whiz round on plastic carriages for a spell....

As some wag mentioned to me today, the noise of the motley fairground attractions are just the local council's retribution for the residents' complaints and indignation about the way they wanted/still want, to build a new people's palace for not very much, just over the road, at £2m a pop!

Memories will abound - Scrobs is on the case...!

Lovely Jubbilee...