June 2005 - And Did Those Feet?

So here I am, being deafened by the thunder and blinded by the lightening, trying desperately to concentrate on writing a warm, sunny edition of Comment for the month of June, before all the electrical activity up there in the sky gets any closer and removes any electrical activity from my keyboard.

It's positively persisting down outside and has been for hours.  Indeed, if it wasn't for the quantity of descending precipitation, I'd probably not be sitting here trying to think up wonderful words of wisdom for Comment, but out on the hills with the brown chap, leg at each corner, tail at the back.

The weather's been like this for the best part of a week now and I, for one, have no doubt whatsoever as to who's to blame.

It was never this bad when the weather maps were in green.  It's only since they changed them to brown and the Isle of Wight became three times the size of Scotland that it's all started.

Now, I really ought to apologise to my many thousands of foreign readers at this point, as they're probably not going to understand a word of this weather map nonsense, but somehow I don't think I'll bother, as it's not my fault they've chosen to live somewhere other than England's green and pleasant land.

No, sorry, strike all of that if you would, please, it's out-of-date.  It's not my fault that they've chosen to live somewhere other than England's brown and three-dimensional land.

So, it's time to own up.  Who was the idiot at television meteorology who decided to turn our green and temperate landscape into a brown and arid desert?  Not so much global warming as instant burn-out!

And who was it who stole the easel, so the map fell over backwards leaving the bottom of the Isle of Wight shoved tightly up against the camera and the poor old Shetland Islands with the needle?

Whoever it is has an awful lot to answer for.  They've made Nick Harvey about as angry as most of the rest of the country, and an angry Nick Harvey is not a pretty sight, I can tell you.

I mean, I'm so upset about all of this, that I've not even got round to properly welcoming you all, dear readers, to another exciting episode of your most favourite monthly web offering.

You see, I was intending to do a nice, lighthearted piece for the glorious month of June, about my frustration at not getting any last thing at night or first thing in the morning.

Toothpaste, madam, toothpaste!   Goodness me, wash that dirty mind out with soap and water, it's nearly as dirty-brown as a weather map!

Have any of you glasses wearers out there come across the major toothpaste problem, I wonder?  Actually, it has to be said that it's more of a toothpaste tube problem, rather than anything wrong with the toothpaste itself.

I think it's been caused by terrorist threats, or something similar, as it's the increased security in the toothpaste tube department which has recently become something of a bind for those of us who remove our spectacles to clean our teeth, for fear of getting those nasty white speckles all over our lenses.

It happened to me the other evening.  The previous tube had run out that morning, so there I am, stood standing there, tube in one hand, brush in the other, squeezing, and squeezing, and squeezing, and squeezing.

Nothing's coming out, I observe, through my un-spectacled, fuzzy, out-of-focus haze; possibly aided by a bijou glass or two of rather fine Cotes-du-Rhone, the details of which I shall recommend to you in a future edition.

"But WHY is nothing coming out?", I hear you all cry in a chorus of unbridled excitement.

Well, that WAS going to be the subject for in-depth analysis under Nick Harvey's Acme microscope during this month's wonderful words of wisdom.  It WAS, that is, until the weather changed.

Of course, I've now managed to place myself in one of those rather dubious, double dilemmas.  Shall I continue to complain and criticise those meteorological morons or should I explain to you excited individuals about the sad lack of toothpaste the other evening?

Indeed, I've now got to the point in the proceedings where I'm none too sure where this month's digression ends and this month's subject begins.

I suppose we could have a vote on it and YOU, dear viewer, could decide whether we finish the weather or dispose of the toothpaste.  No, on second thoughts, I think we've had quite enough votes in the last few weeks, thank you very much.  I'm so confused by all this voting business now, that I'm pretty sure it was the French who gave the Labour party twelve points for singing Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien.

No, I suppose to be fair to all of you out there, the only reasonable thing to do is to try to finish both the digression AND the subject as tidily as possible before the next bolt of lightening throws me from my chair.

So, these security experts at toothpaste tube headquarters, shall we get them out of the way first?

A friend of mine once gave me an excellent definition of an expert, you know.  The word expert is made up of two halves.  The first half is "ex", meaning one who is past it.  The second half is "spurt", meaning a drip under pressure.

Just thought I'd share that one with you.  After all, a digression within a digression is what I know most of you have come to expect, so who am I to disappoint?

So, these security experts at toothpaste tube headquarters, shall we get them out of the way first?

They seem to have decided that there's a fiendish master plan, no doubt thought up by Osram Bin Lightbulb, to inject huge quantities of deadly poison into our toothpaste, in order to completely do away with everyone in the western world.

In order to combat this terror, our past it drips under pressure have added a sneakily hidden foil seal to toothpaste tubes, on the end of the tube itself, but under the screw-up, flip-down, screw-off, flip-back cap.

It's this foil seal which is supposed to stop the ingoing injection of deadly poison, but also stops the outgoing flow of toothpaste when you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze.

Now, if they bothered to advertise this high-security addition to the product on the external packaging, it would firstly be a deterrent to Mr Bin Lightbulb and his cronies, but, more importantly, it would be a warning to us blind souls with dirty teeth that further action is required PRIOR to the removal of the spectacles.

For, when a new tube of toothpaste is being started, it is first necessary to unscrew and remove the cap, then find the tiny tab on the foil seal, lift it and carefully pull off said seal, before screwing the cap back on and flipping up the end as on any normal morning or evening.

Much of that operation which I have described, is only mildly difficult, with or without the spectacles and a huge magnifying glass, but finding that tiny tab to lift up requires the spectacles, the magnifying glass AND the Acme microscope!

Before I close this portion of this month's digression, however, might I just point out a tiny flaw in Mr Bin Lightbulb's plan?  We don't actually eat the toothpaste over here in the west, you know.  We spit it out.  There's, therefore, no sense in injecting the poison into the toothpaste as it won't have any effect.  There's, therefore, no sense in our experts having the foil seals fitted and getting me all frustrated when I can't find the little tab to pull.

It's still raining, you know.   I'm pretty certain it has been, ever since that last little sun symbol was expunged from the weather map.

And it's still flashing and banging outside.  I had to rewrite a paragraph or two earlier, after this stupid machine decided to reload its boots, or whatever it is they do.  All I know is that I was three inches higher up the page when it came back.

I wonder how easy it would be to get the computer those meteorological morons use to be struck by lightening?  Then they might have to revert to the sun symbols, green countryside and an upright map.

Then I'd be a happy little Nick Harvey again and the next edition of Comment, on July 1st, wouldn't be such a rambling load of old cobblers as this one's been.

We can but hope, I suppose.   I'll catch you all again next month.  Time now to shut my window and shut down my Windows.  Right, I'm off, where's me toothbrush?

Last Comment Next Comment

Do YOU have a comment on Comment? Have your say by clicking