Engineering argument.

Political correctness. The definition.

There's an annual contest at Bond University, Australia, calling for the most appropriate definition of a contemporary term.

This year's chosen term was 'political correctness'.

The winning student wrote:

'Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rapidly promoted by mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a piece of shit by the clean end.’

Just saying.

Who could he be?

A young man's dream to be an artist was crushed when his application to enter the fine arts academy was rejected .... his crushed dream turned into a tragic nightmare for the world........ He painted these pictures.

The person who painted these pictures wanted to attend the Viennese academy of Fine arts and become famous as an artist.

If he had been accepted by the academy, the world’s history could have been different. His name was………

 

 

 

 

 

Adolph Hitler.

Why just me?

Who does this suitcase belong to?

Suppose you opened a suitcase and found the following items in it. Who would you think it belongs to?

One pair of ladies sandals.

Four ladies dresses.

One chick lit book.

A bikini.

One yellow child swimming pool aid.

One packet of children's’ swimming nappies.

One pair of women's’ shorts.

Well you’d be wrong if you thought it was a woman’s suitcase. It was actually mine. (And no, I’m not a closet cross dresser).

I was really surprised when I checked in at Faro airport on the way back from our holiday, to find out my case was 0.7 kg overweight.

The buggers had been sneaking stuff into my case when I wasn’t looking.

BRITISH HUMOUR IS DIFFERENT

 

These are classified ads, which were actually placed in U.K. Newspapers:

FREE YORKSHIRE TERRIER.
8 years old,
Hateful little bas***d.
Bites!

FREE PUPPIES
1/2 Cocker Spaniel, 1/2 sneaky neighbour's dog.

FREE PUPPIES.
Mother is a Kennel Club registered German Shepherd.
Father is a Super Dog, able to leap tall fences in a single bound.

COWS, CALVES: NEVER BRED.
Also 1 gay bull for sale.

JOINING NUDIST COLONY!
Must sell washer and dryer £100.

WEDDING DRESS FOR SALE .
Worn once by mistake.
Call Stephanie.

**** And the WINNER is... ****

FOR SALE BY OWNER.
Complete set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, 45 volumes.
Excellent condition, £200 or best offer. No longer needed, got married, wife knows everything.

Where's FE?

If you have seen the books called "Where's Wally", youll know where I'm coming from. The caricature of Wally is in a picture containing multiple characters and is hidden in plain sight.

It appears to me that I'm Wally in the eyes of Mrs FE. Two nights in a row I've been sitting at the same table at the villa and Mrs FE has asked in a loud voice "Where's Mr  FE?  The fact that both times I was sitting opposite  was somewhat disconcerting.

Maybe I died and am just wandering around Portugal as a shade.

Five went to......

Praia de Luz. This is the place that the McCanns had their daughter taken away from them by an unknown stranger or strangers.  Madeleine_McCann  went missing there.

It's now six years since she went missing. It seems strange to visit a place that caused such a stir so many years ago. Although obviously targetting the tourist industry it had a very typical catholic country air of safety.

  

Still on holiday.

It's been an interesting one so far. Firstly arriving at the villa from hell was a first set back. (And no, there were no comments on trip advisor to forewarn us).

Admittedly after kicking up a monumental fuss we transfered to another villa on the second day. This was most certainly a step up as you can see from the pics in a previous post. All is well you will think. But. Not quite.

 A day later we lost all electrical power. Panic ensued. Were we thinking of the children?  No FFS, the beer would get warm and that really would be a disaster. Luckily the villa manager managed to get someone to find the problem. The main power cable to the cottage attached to the villa had decided it had enough of life. Of course although we had power over night it meant we had no power to the cottage for a couple of days whilst a new cable was laid.

All's well?

No. Two days later the underground water supply pipe sprung a leak. This necessitated a day without water. At least we could flush the loos with water from the swimming pool. Anyway who cares, the beer was still cold. The next day the Portuguese plumbers dug up the lower lawn and ran a new supply pipe.

All's well.

No. There was no water to my En suite. It took two days before the plumbers found they'd forgotten that branch. Still. The beer was still cold.

The question is. What will happen next?

Holiday in heaven

We're now happily ensconced in our alternative villa. How different to the original one we rented. This one is of a very high standard indeed. Well it should be, as it is £1500 per week more expensive. Even nicer is that we don't have to pay the extra.
Some parts of the villa are slightly over the top. Such as this bedroom and en suite.

Admittedly there has been a couple of  problems. One required a major power cable renewal. That was sorted quite quickly. However we now have a water supply problem! I think I'll stay at home next year.

 

Holiday in hell

Today we arrived at our luxury villa, only to find that the place was a tip. It obviously hadn't been cleaned for some time. Cockroaches scurrying across the floor is not acceptable in this day and age. Mrs FE contacted the housekeeper and was informed that it had been cleaned in the morning. The place stank.
However for the time being we let it rest after the cleaner ensured Mrs FE it would be presentable on our return from essential shopping and a meal.

However on our return the condition was still dire. Now you cross Mrs FE at your peril. Especially when she has imbibed a scoop or two. Straight on the phone to the letting agent to give him hell. Give him his due he turned up very, very quickly.

I actually felt quite sorry for him.  I would not like to be harangued by four angry females.

The good news is that we are moving to another Villa of superior standard. The villa is situated on what is known as "millionares heights".

Should be interesting tomorrow.

The time has come.

To go on holiday. We’re off at O’crack sparrow fart tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll manage a post or two in the next two weeks, or maybe not. Depends on the alcohol level at the time.

Have fun.

If Life Was Maths

 

I’m drinking some 100% at this moment.

Holiday

On Sunday, I and my family, plus Brother in law and family, are off to sunny Portugal for two weeks. Blogging will most probably be light to non-existant whilst I'm there. So I just thought I'd share a couple of pics of where we're going to be staying. Here's the blurb firstly.

Nestling between Lagos & Bensafrim, is one of the most beautiful villas in the Algarve. Close to Lagos, Luz & many beaches, this villa ticks all the boxes. Large or small groups, this villa can cater for any size. 5 double bedrooms in the main villa, with a sofa bed & fold up bed, connected by the BBQ area, & seating for 16, there is a modern 3 bedroom wing with kitchen & bathroom, that can sleep 6. The villa comprises of a large hall, with flat screen, Wii Game, Playstation2, opening into the main living area, a large converted barn, flat screen, SKY TV, & books. This leads to the large high ceiling kitchen & Dinning area, through the patio doors, leads to the BBQ enclosed courtyard, ideally set, for the kitchen and pool area. Adjacent to this, is the spa, a must for those lazy evenings watching the sunset. This opens to the pool and bar area, with large pool, undercover bar, with fridge, sink and large dining table, stereo & lighting. The pool is safely enclosed with gates.

Image 2 of 20 from an advertisement for Villa Charlotte on Holiday Lettings.
Find more Holiday homes in Lagos.

Image 3 of 20 from an advertisement for Villa Charlotte on Holiday Lettings.
Find more Holiday homes in Lagos.

The villa is located in the western Algarve region of Portugal.  The weather is predicted to to be in the mid to late twenties, Warm but comfortable. The villa might look over the top for a holiday for many, but in fact the economies of scale do make it very reasonable compared with many package holidays. More to the point is that you can do what you want, when you want. To me that is the point of a holiday.

On a final note. I sincerely wish that you're all jealous.

Veet

I suspect you’ve seen this before. Still. Here it is again

THIS IS AN ACTUAL CUSTOMER REVIEW FROM A MAN ON AMAZON.CO.UK AFTER USING VEET HAIR REMOVAL CREAM FOR MEN.

“After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits.

Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit if a treat.

I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...

Oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn’t have long to wait.

At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.

Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the the destruction of the meat and two veg.

Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen, by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief.

I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, toe the lid off and positioned it under me. The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing returned.

Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the drawer for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and an tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.

This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain. The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before.

Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering “ooooohhh that feels good”

Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn’t heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status…so to sum it up, VEET removes hair, dignity and self-respect.”

Did it bring a smile to your face?

A reply at last.

Just under a month ago I read a letter in the comments to an article in the financial times. The letter was addressed to our prime minister.

It’s produced  on my site HERE. It's about climate change and energy supplies.

Anyway I thought the author wouldn’t mind if I used it. After a bit of adjustment I sent it to my MP. The reply received today is reproduced (Badly) below. My apologies for the poor quality, but I had to scan it and then snip the content.

 

It seems he is somewhere on the same planet as me.

I hate going on holiday.

I like the “being on holiday” part but loathe the “going bit”.

This time there is quite a party of us heading off to southern Portugal, where we’ve rented a villa for a couple of weeks.

Very nice you may say.

However as everyone else works (or say they do), FE was tasked with the organisation of the trip.

Flights:

Luckily I only had to book 6 places, but of course had to make sure everyone else was catching the same flight on the same day. On line booking is simple at first, but the money is up front and means that you have to claw it back from those who you are booking for.

Closer to the departure date it is time to check in on line. Here of course you have to be very careful. One small mistake and it’ll cost you to rectify it when you arrive at the airport. Yesterday I painstakingly filled the passport details of five of the six into the online form when to my dismay I found out that one of the party had failed to supply me with one crucial piece of information. Grrrr. Cancel whole effort.(Bloody kids).

Finally achieved it today

Getting to and from UK airport:

No chance with the cars that my little party possess to use our mode of transport. Five people, five suitcases, one small child , and a push chair needs some thinking about. Plus running up the equivalent to the National debt in airport parking charges is not an option.

I have however found a limousine company that will transport all of us and our luggage at a reasonable rate.

Boarding cards:

These can be printed out from the computer. However why does the airline, space all the boarding passes for the party with a blank page? (And why does the printer ink run out half way through?)

How to get from destination airport to the Villa.

Here is where I am tasked with organising for the whole group. Car hire for the period has always been the preferred option. It gives you the flexibility you need on holiday.

This is another case of balancing the needs of people and luggage. (A mistake a few years ago cost me 140 euros to rectify).

For our party, we require four medium size  cats. Simple you may say. However online you have to order all of them separately. You can’t write “I want four cars, how much?” And of course they want the money up front. And of course they want full driver details up front. We’re now back in airline check in territory. Grrrr (Again)

Anyway that’s enough moaning for tonight. I’m going to have a stiff drink and a lie down .

Don’t lose your passport

A rant. The perils of travelling abroad.

Dear Mrs. Ms. or Sir:

I am in the process of renewing my lost passport and still cannot believe this.

How is it that Argos has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a  TV from them in 1990 (23 years ago), and yet, the  Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date. 
For Christ sakes, do you lots do this by hand?  Ever heard of computers?

My birth date is on EVERY income tax form I've filed  for the past 46 years. It's on my NHI card and my driver's license, It's on the last five bloody passports I've had. And it's on all those census forms that you insist I fill in.

Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's name is Rosemary, my father's name is Anthony and I'm reasonably confident that neither name is likely to change between now and when I die. (Especially pertinent is that they are, in fact, dead.).  
Between you and me, I've had enough of this bureaucratic rubbish!

You send the application to my house, then you ask me for my  #*&#%*&address.

What is going on? You must have a gang of bureaucratic Neanderthal morons working there!

Look at my bloody picture. Do I  look like an arab terrorist?  And "No," I don't want to dig up Yasser Arafat, for fuck sakes.  I just want to go and sit on a sun lounger on a sandy beach.

And would someone please tell me, why would you give a damn whether I plan on visiting a farm in  the next 15 days? 
If I ever got the urge to do something weird to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, I certainly wouldn’t tell anyone!

Well, I have to go now because I have to go to the other end of the the county and get another #*@&#^@*@&  copy of my birth certificate to the tune of £9.25.

Would it be so difficult to  have all the services in the same area so I could get a new passport the same day? Nooooo, that would require planning and organization.  And it would be too logical for the @&^*^%@%government.

You'd rather have us running all over the place like chickens with our heads cut off.  Then, we have to find some fuckwit to confirm that it's really me in the bloody picture - you know, the one where we're not allowed  to smile......Hey, you know why we can't smile?

 
We're totally pissed off!

 
Signed

- An Irate FE.

 
P.S.: Remember what I wrote about getting someone to confirm that the picture is me?  Well, my family has been in the UK since time began.  I have served in the Royal Fleet Auxiliary for something over 43 years and have had security clearances up to atomic secret.. However, I have to get someone important to verify who I am - you know, someone  like my doctor........   WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN INDIA !

Rant over. 

In with the new.

Two working men have toiled away fitting new carpets in FE towers. Mind you, I've been nearly exhausted as well. All that tea making for them has nearly worn me out. I ended up like the old carpet. Frayed at the edges.