Racism knows no borders.

The Angry Exile is not going to like this.

Andrew Marantz, a freelance American writer, spent three weeks in an Indian call centre earlier this year, where he discovered that attitudes towards Australians were particularly harsh.

During his training, a senior employee named Lekha, told staff joining the company that Australia was populated by dimwits.

"Just stating facts, guys," Lekha said, "Australia is known as the dumbest continent. Literally, college was unknown there until recently. So speak slowly."

Mind you it maybe the case of pots and kettles.

When asked about other famous Australian traits he had one answer: racism.

"They are quite racist. They do not like Indians," he told the class.

"Their preferred term for us is please don't mind, ladies 'brown bastards.'

So if you hear that kind of language, you can just hang up the call."

Then he goes too far, by a mile. Surely the next cannot be true, can it?

Lekha went on to explain that Australians were "backward", with many owning outdated mobile phones.

He also cautioned new workers not to bother ringing Australia on a Friday night, because of the nation's love affair with alcohol.

"Australians drink constantly," he said. "If you call on a Friday night, they'll be smashed every time."

Aussies drink? Nah

Computer poetry

A computer was something on TV
From a science-fiction show of note
A window was something you hated to clean
And ram was the cousin of a goat

Meg was the name of my girlfriend
And gig was a job for the nights
Now they all mean different things
And that really mega bytes.

An application was for employment
A programme was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano.

Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you had a 3 inch Floppy
You hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the rubbish
Not something you did to a file
And if you unzipped anything in public
You'd be in jail for a while.

Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode.

Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider's home
And a virus was the flu.

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens they wish they were dead

The generation game

- People born before 1946 were called The Silent generation..
- People born between 1946 and 1964 are called The Baby Boomers.
- People born between 1965 and 1979 are called Generation X.
- And people born between 1980 and 2010 are called Generation Y.

Why do we call the last group Generation Y?

Y should I get a job?
Y should I leave home and find my own place?
Y should I get a car when I can borrow yours?
Y should I clean my room?
Y should I wash and iron my own clothes?
Y should I buy any food?

I’ve been driven to strong drink

Why you ask? Because I’m a smoker. (I expect hell fire and brimstone to fall on me from the likes of ASH and CRUK).

In days of yore, I was one of the many smokers who enjoyed sitting in a country pub, drinking good beer, whilst quietly and steadily puffing away on a ciggy.

Not any more.

The smoking ban put paid to that, as you all know. In those days I enjoyed a good hand pumped ale, wafted down with a lung full of the glorious weed smoke. It was a dual enjoyment. I used to visit a pub twice a week at least. Now, probably once a quarter. I no longer find the pub environment a pleasurable experience.

What I find sad is that the country I live in is becoming more oppressive as the years go by.

When fifty per cent of the population smoked, even non smoking households had crystal ash trays on the tables. Smokers were welcome and valued for their contributions to conversation.

The younger generation were taught respect for those older. Not anymore. How many times have you been forced off the pavement into the road by a group of secondary school kids getting off the school bus?

A job was something you aspired to and held onto with pride. In today’s climate you’re a mug.

Women were treated with respect for raising their families without working. (Don’t read that wrongly. Raising a family was hard work for her in doors).

Politicians were approachable and the majority were in politics to benefit their constituents. Mine seems to be on the gravy train to retirement.

The bobby on the beat was a man you stopped and chatted with. Nowadays I avoid the shaven headed, stormtroopers in case they arrest me for some trivial offence I’ve not heard of.

My schoolteachers were Gods. They told me to sit down. I did. Now they are so called, “Classroom Managers”. Managers in anarchy I suspect.

Health and safety was an individual responsibility. When it changed to a corporate responsibility after the Herald of Free Enterprise disaster it  became a “cover my ass” system, where people don’t bother to look what they’re doing, in the mistaken belief that they are safe because the rules say so.

The Dole was there to provide those unfortunates who had no job with the basics to feed and clothe those unfortunates and their families. How is it that a 46” colour HD TV these days, is classed as a basic need? (Scratches head).

Oh and of course everyone  is treated as  a potential terrorist when they just try and get out of this benighted land, with the intrusive  scans and metal detectors. Then again, maybe they are trying to stop too many high tax payers from leaving?

Sour grapes you may say.

My favourite pub is desperately trying to keep it’s head above water by offering any discount they can, but still having to adjust their prices upwards. Soon I fear it will fail like many others have done. Where are the Non smokers that promised that they’d be visiting pubs in their droves once the evil smokers had stopped contaminating their clothes with the foul, nay, child killing , second hand smoke?

They failed to materialise.

Now as a pensioner, whilst trying to post this under the candlelight caused by reliance on wind powered electricity, I’m forced to drink a large several large whiskies.

ASH. Sod you. And MPs. And………………………….

As a foot note. Could we expect an event such as happened in Norway coming to a place near us?  Most certainly if someone doesn’t take a lead and govern FOR the people.

A Nice story

I’m not sure whether this is a true story or not. I’m not sure where it originates from as it was sent to me by a reader. Looking through Snopes it is undetermined.

Airline Lunches

 
I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight from Gatwick. 'I'm glad I have a good book to read Perhaps I will get a short sleep,' I thought.

Just before take-off, a line of British Army Youngsters came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation.

'Where are you blokes headed?' I asked the Young man seated nearest to me. “Cyprus . We'll be there for two weeks
for special training, and then we're being deployed to Afghanistan” .

After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that lunches were available for five pounds.
It would be several hours before we reached Cyprus , and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time..
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard a soldier ask his mate if he planned to buy lunch.

'No, that seems like a lot of money for just an airline lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five Quid. I'll wait till we get to Cyprus .....

His mate agreed.

I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty Pound note. 'Take a lunch to all those soldiers..' She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. 'My young bloke was a soldier in Iraq , it's almost like you are doing it for him..'

Picking up ten lunchboxes, she headed up the aisle to where the boys were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, 'Which do you like best - beef or chicken?' 'Chicken,' I replied, wondering why she asked..

She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. “This is your thanks.”

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the toilet. An old bloke stopped me.
'I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this.' He handed me twenty-five Pounds..

Soon after I returned to my seat,  I saw the Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he wasn't looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane.
When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand, and said, 'I want to shake your hand.'

Quickly unfastening my seat-belt I stood and took the Captain's hand. With a booming voice he said, 'I was an army pilot a long time back. Once someone bought me lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot.'

I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.

Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A kid who looked about 18 was sitting about
six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five Pounds In my palm.

When we landed I gathered my belongings and started to depart.
Waiting just inside the aeroplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another twenty-five Pounds!

Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their Trip up to there training area..

I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five Pounds. 'It will take you some time to reach your training area. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You Blokes.'

Ten young blokes left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow Brits.

As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little...

A British Serviceman is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank  cheque made payable to
' United Kingdom ' for an amount of  'up to and including my life.' That is Honour, and there are way too many foreigners in this country who don't understand it.'

Sniping at Smokers

Here we have another in the long line of attacks on a minority who like to take solace and pleasure in the simple habit of smoking. This article goes, In my view, a touch to far.

This so called Journalist, maybe in jest, but I suspect would dearly love this to be legal, advocates smokers to be shot on sight.

So let’s set a squad of licensed snipers on to the streets, with permission to pick off smokers whenever there’s a clear shot.

I confidently predict that the prospect of having your head blown off while enjoying what you didn’t realise would be your last cigarette would give smokers up and down the country an extra incentive to kick the habit.

Especially crass, in light of Yesterday’s shootings in Norway.

You may like to read Simon Clark’s take on it too.

And let’s not forget Dick Puddlecote

Longrider wades in a well

If you feel strongly about this hateful piece of journalism masquerading as humour you might like to send Lynn Hughes, the editor of Luton Today a quiet little missive .

It’s about time smokers were left alone. If I wrote an article in a paper that denigrated Gays, the disabled,  or Muslims, I would have the police kicking my door down and hauling me away in chains, faster than you can flick ash off a cigarette.

Stop it NOW.

Norway. The country with dignity.

Last Night’s speech by the Prime Minister of Norway.

Today Norway was hit by two shocking and bloody and cowardly attacks.
We still do not know who attacked us; much is still uncertain.
But we know that many are dead and injured.
We are all shocked at the evil that has struck us so brutally and so suddenly
This night demands much of all of us.
And the days that follow will demand even more
We are prepared to face up to this.
Norway hangs together during critical times.
We mourn our dead, we suffer with the injured, and we comfort relatives.
This is about attacks on innocent civilians, on young people at summer camp.
An attack on all of us.
I have a message to the people who attacked us, and those behind them.
This is a message from all of Norway:
You will not destroy us.
You will not destroy our democracy nor our quest for a better world.
We are a small nation, but we are a proud nation.
No one shall bomb us into silence or shoot us into silence.
Nothing will frighten us out of being Norway.
This night we will comfort each other, talk with each other, and stand together.
Tomorrow we will show the world that Norway’s democracy grows stronger when it is challenged.
We shall find the guilty and hold them responsible.
The important thing tonight is to save lives, to care for the victims and their loved ones
I would like to state my recognition for the work of the police, the medics,
and all the other people who currently do such formidable work
to help others, healing injures and saving lives.
We must never cease to stand up for our values.
We have to show that our open society can pass this test, too,
And that the answer to violence is even more democracy,
even more humanity, but never naïveté.
That is what we owe to the victims and to the those they hold dear.

A sensible and pragmatic speech.

In this country of ours, we would most likely have our Prime Minister telling us that “Lessons will be learnt”, and bombing us a raft of  further oppressive legislation.

My sympathies in this most troubling time.

THE PROMISED LAND

Over five thousand years ago Moses said to the children of Israel "pick up your shovel, mount your asses and camels, and I will lead you to the promised land."

Nearly 50 years ago, Harold Wilson said, "Lay down your shovels, sit on your asses, and light up a camel, this is the promised land."

Then Gordon Brown stole your shovel, taxed your asses, raised the price of camels, and mortgaged the promised land.

Now David Cameron has loaned my shovel to a third World country, (he hasn't realised yet that WE are now a third World country), raised my fuel bills, lent my money to a crowd of incompetent, greedy "merchant bankers" and increased Vat to 20%.

I am so depressed last night I called the Samaritans, they diverted my call to a call centre in Pakistan . I told them I was suicidal, they got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck.

Remember this Dave?

Short memory span?

The Stony Stratford martyr.

Listen to the high pitched whining sound

 

49 minutes in.

Another public service broadcast from TFE.

History of this story can be found HERE, and HERE