TFB Communications

A few weeks ago I stood and stared at the news screens in amazement. As a good catholic, if that’s not an oxymoron, I was amazed at the news of Pope Benedict resigning. I immediately grabbed my mobile phone and texted the enemy, the good lady wife.

‘Pipe has resigned’

I love pre-emptive text. I then had to call to explain it was the Pope who had quit and nothing to do with horse trainers. She had already jumped to terrible conclusions about pies!

I remember writing about my trip to the Vatican City a couple of years ago. We had just wandered through the Sistine Chapel and had emerged into the massive St Peter’s Square when she piped up.

‘Where does the Pope live then?’

I pointed to the left had side of the square, to a window, six along, one in from the end with what appeared to be a Man U beach towel on the windowsill….being German I suspected that slinging towels on everything is a cultural trait.

She squinted at the window and suddenly shouted…  ‘Is that him?’

Several nuns from Nigeria run over to join in the confusion and, like me, were disappointed to discover she was pointing to a seagull on the guttering. I pointed out that he was not a foot and half tall and was unlikely to have climbed onto the roof.

‘Perhaps he has had a bad day Pope’ing’ she said and wandered off.

On reflection perhaps he had. But I admire anyone who, because of age and personal worry about doing a job properly, has made the decision to step down. I hope some MP’s, judges, members of the House of Lords, Beatles guitarists and councillors might take note from the Pope and follow his example.

Speaking of pies, there is a genuine lobby group at the moment which is trying to get the term ‘pie’ used only when said ‘pie’ comes
with a lid. If it doesn’t have a full covering of pastry then it can’t be called a pie. I spoke to one of the people behind this and was told pork pies,
steak and kidney pies and games pies were fine as long as there was a pastry top.

‘So if it doesn’t have a top, it’s a tart!’ I said.

He would be drawn on that.

So fill up on the best of English food while you can as the name may well change very soon. I hope you enjoy a bit of Shepard’s Tart or Cottage Tart and make sure it has a lid or you’ll be tucking into Melton Mowbray pork tart. I have been trying to find an email address for Don Mclean so he can get used to the new chorus of his 1971 smash hit. Bye Bye Miss American Tart…doesn’t sit well with me.

Fitz

P.S. Pope Tarts! There’s an idea.

We had a very interesting debate on BBC Radio Devon last week over the rights and wrongs of a toy which has got the Anti-gun campaigners a little hot under the collar. The figure comes with all the pieces to stage a violent bank robbery, including a hand gun, dark glasses, crow bar, swag bag and gas canister! The manufacturers say it is important that children can be taught, through play, the importance of recognising good from evil and ‘baddies’ from ‘goodies’. I couldn’t help but notice that the figure looks like Sandi Toksvig pointing a gun at David Cameron, not an unbelievable scene but the resemblance is uncanny. I am sure she won’t sue the manufacturers for taking her likeness, let’s face it, Eric Pickles hasn’t over the space hopper industry.

We must all admit that time has moved on and that the classics such as Snakes and Ladders, Buckaroo and Kerplunk are old hat. With that whole idea of in mind, I am sending off my list of updated, 21^st century toy ideas in hope that they might get made. The Barbie takes points for Ken set would be a great gift idea and The Sylvanian Family trial separation kit is a real winner. This is where ‘she’ gets the castle and ‘he’ gets thirteen rabbits, two hedgehogs and a squirrel! If you have never had a Sylvanian family in your house you won’t understand that….. and ….may I wish, that you never do as the squirrel is still wedged up our hoover!

The Scalextric Drive By Shooting box set or the Lego Build Your Own Crack Den have great potential and as for Action Man, the sky is the limit.
Suitable for six to twelve year olds, comes with nearly full military kit but if you want any of it to work in the battle field you have to buy your own.
Actually it is suitable for six to ten year olds as Action Man may have to take forced redundancy a couple years early. How about Tiny Tears which cries, wets herself and throws up….hang on that was a scene from the Barbican last Friday, not a toy idea.

OK, how’s this…. 21^st century Monopoly, where everyone can go to prison apart from the banker or a modern day Hornby layout, the ultimate OO gauge railway for today. Comes with buses if you want to play with it in Cornwall, tiny shovels for landslips and a large waterproof sheet to play ‘let’s try and get past Exeter’. Warning, entire system may not run for up to five days at a time.

I doubt if any of these will see the light of day, the My Little Pony recipe cards are doomed to fail as I don’t think the supermarkets will stock them. Airfix Smart Car models are a bit of a non starter as well as it would be difficult to tell which was which side by side.

Back to the drawing board

Fitz

I was travelling back from Plymouth a few days ago when I became aware of a low pitched whine coming from the passenger side of the vehicle and assumed it was yet another wheel bearing, spring or strut problem.
Having just left most the contents of my engine bay in a pothole on Budshead Road, I am used to strange noises coming from one time perfectly serviceable cars. However, on closer inspection I discovered that this particular whine was coming from the enemy, the good lady wife. The garden needs tidying, the garage is a mess and shed is a tip. We had had this conversation before and I had said that I would get round to it. In fact I clearly remember stating that in June of last year…… and told her that I now considered this second outburst  as persistent ‘nagging.’

Anyway as soon as we arrived home I set to work with brush, rake and bonfire. Yes, I know it is not very ‘green’ but I did have a lot of cupboard boxes and 2012’s Christmas tree to get rid of and little time to visit my local recycling centre where to deposit anything these days you have to undergo a one to one meet and greet at the gate, a written test on what is in your boot and leave a stool and blood sample in order to identify yourself.
This has been a point of issue where I live, as it was believed that it might lead to illegal dumping in and around the country lanes but as most of the lanes are so badly potholed, even fly tippers are put off by the damage they can do to their untaxed, uninsured transit vans, with adverts claiming to be tarmac and roofing specialists from Chester.

So by and by, I wandered back out to the garden, got distracted and put bread on the bird table, replaced the nuts and seeds in the feeders and then turned my attention to the bonfire. This was the pattern of events which I have laid down mainly for the insurance company and medical claim solicitor I am using.

Approached bonfire with lighter, flicked lighter, failed to light.

1. Added newspaper, flicked lighter, failed to light.
2. Added accelerant, namely squirted WD40 on several boxes and former Christmas tree, flicked lighter, failed to light.
3. Added more WD40, then a little more and then some more newspaper, then more WD40. Flicked lighter.
4. Sprinted to house in order to phone strike command that the fireball over Ivybridge was not a pre-emptive attack from Eastern Block countries, no need to issue retaliatory strike.
5. Then phoned RSPB to see if birds can eat toast and do tits like roasted nuts?
6. Extinguished bird table.

In order to draw attention away from that little incident I then offered to take the bin out but then promptly dropped said bin. The nurse said that if the toe goes black it is broken but the limp will take people’s attention away from the fact that I have no eyebrows.

Ladies, never ask a busy man to do anything.

Yours

Fitz

Five hundred years in a car park in Leicester is a fairly stiff clamping policy, even by today’s standards. But it will be nice to see Richard III getting out and about once again. He has had a lot of bad publicity thanks to Shakespeare and the truth about him will probably be lost for ever. What we do know is that he lasted for only 26 months on the throne and took the rampant white board as his symbol so I assume in those 26 months he watched a lot of Top Gear programmes.

It has been a quiet week in the FitzGerald family household apart from the alarming discovery of two aerosol cans in Ratboy’s bedroom. Being 18 and gorgeous, he applies hairspray and gel as Devon Highways would apply tarmac to the A38. A simple five minute trip to the shops can involve twenty minutes of spraying and preening and then the careful application of after shave which could mask the smell of Grimsby. After one such session, the front door slammed and I made the mistake of entering his bedroom without a respirator or a canary. Dropping to the floor for fresher air, I groped my way towards the window and then knelt in whatever diner was last night. Having successfully ventilated the pit, I then discovered the two cans of spray. One assured me that it offered a firm hold on flyaway hair, the other, invisible protection for suede, leather and fabric against water and oil penetration! He had used a can of shoe and boot protector which had been forced on me when I last purchased some brogues. Yep, Ratboy wandered off with a scuff resistant, waterproof head.

I can’t really criticize, years ago while fumbling round a darkened kitchen, I found what I assumed was a bag of muesli, added milk and munched my way through several ounces of John Innes potting compost number 3. And my mother-in-law still blushes when I remind her that she wandered into Plymouth and tried to make a call home on the remote control to the television. Maybe it is hereditary?

But for the prize for the ultimate misuse of modern items in my family, has to go to my nephew who went off on his travels around Italy when
he left school. After two weeks he found himself a little short of money and started to shop in supermarkets watching every penny. He soon married up low cost packets of French toast like biscuits and tiny tins of pate, two of the cheapest items in the store. He managed two weeks on this diet. It wasn’t till he got talking to a girl in Rome, who could read Italian that he discovered that he had been living off cat food with an anti fur ball ingredient. He did admit that he threw up that evening but I have to hand it to the Italian cat food industry, he never suffered fur balls.

Chow

Fitz

I am sat here listening to the snow report on Friday. The weather has closed the Southampton, Bristol and Cardiff airports. Thankfully we have already closed Plymouth airport so just think of the money we have saved in trying to clear it of snow!

Anyway, I was in a shop a few days ago, which is a rare statement in itself these days. I managed to get out before I was locked in with the administrators. In my parent’s time, early closing meant midday Wednesday not just after Christmas never to be seen again. This particular
establishment was boasting an odd bargain collection. Half price Christmas cards, two for one Easter Eggs and cut price sun tan lotion. Talk about wishing you life away, half of 2013 was stretched out in front of me on one shelf. The only thing missing from that was Halloween, Valentines and Father’s Day tat.

I had wandered in to town in order to search through the sales and at one time had found myself sat in Drakes Circus at a café. Being 51 years old now, I have learnt never to pass up the chance of a sandwich or a pee so had just finished one and was thinking about the other when I noticed a
strange, male based, phenomena. The loo opposite me was doing steady business but I couldn’t help but notice that most of the gentlemen customers started a sort of ‘run up’ from about twenty yards from the actual convenience door. Now, I don’t suggest you sit there and observe this for yourself but believe me half of the men were already fumbling with their flies in mid concourse! Why? Do I do that? Do you do that? IF SO, STOP IT.

There was one other male based phenomenon I noticed that day, the ‘sales trance’. In every shoe store and dress emporium, the sales trance had struck the male population. Desperate looking individuals, staring out of the shop windows or trying to find something interesting about mass produced galvanised clothing rails, while the female of the species rummaged through collections summer maxi dresses, whatever they are? I spent so long in one frock shop; I was beginning to feel like Julian Assange…by the way is he still in the Ecuadorean embassy?
Every so often one or two of the traumatised males would leave their partners and collect outside of the stores in hopes of finding something interesting; I know I was one of them. I actually got talking to the bloke selling membership to a car breakdown association. Great value, brilliant cover and even European recovery! He went though it all for me. I hadn’t the heart to tell him I have been a member for twelve years but at least I didn’t have to go through the open toed sandal range again or the specially reduced onesy’s pile. The sad thing is I would have liked a onesy for Christmas. I am going to suggest to my employers that they produce their own range. I think BBC Onesy’s and Radio Onesy’s would sell.

Yours

Fitz