The REAL "Real Hustle"

I consider myself to have a penchant for detail. I keep my eye on things. I'm not like Jason Bourne and can give you the registration plates of all the cars in the parking lot, but it's rare that I'm conned, tricked or tucked up by anyone.

Allow me to explains what happens when I am.

For the first time in ages on Saturday, I thought I'd treat myself to a burger (i.e. I couldn't be arsed doing the washing up). I went to the local fast food hostelry, paid my £3.70 (half pounder including chips - you can't complain) then decided to go to the nearby shop and get a drink.

As I had done a thousand times before, I approaced the drinks section for a potential purchase. Not knowing exactly how much money I had on me, I dug into my pocket to inspect my change.

I gave the chap a fiver, so I should have £1.30 left.

I had a 10p.

I had a 20p.

I had a 10 Franc piece.

Hmm.

Put simply, I'd been so lackadaisical in paying attention that the proprietor of the burger shop had managed to substitute my quid with a coin that isn't even in circulation any more. Almost certainly the same thing had happened to him and this coin has been burning a hole in his till ever since; that is until Captain Jackass here strolls in to take it off his hands.

The problem was, as I had now left the shop, I couldn't go barrelling back in with all manner of wild accusations, as he could politely suggest that I'd swapped the coin a la Derren Brown and was attempting to pull the fastest of ones. That, and they all look a bit 'gangster' in there and I didn't fancy some kind of grudge being borne against me in what is essentially a small village.

I therefore had to sit there like a complete tool while I waited for my burger to be prepared, knowing that I was a quid lighter and 10 Francs better off thanks to a simple lack of attention. I briefly considered raising the issue towards the end of my visit but a man the size of a house who appeared very friendly with the staff turned up and put me off the idea.

So take heed and check your change (it's highly likely you possess the presence of mind to do just that without this cautionary tale) because mistakes cannot be rectified later. At least not without a gun.

All I need to do now is find a Frenchman from the past...

Politician's Expenses: Rude

Oh dear. In today's financially-stricken times, politicians' expenses are under more scrutiny than ever before. Barely a week goes by when a 'scandal' hits the news about an MP who's living with his parents yet claiming eight trillion pounds from the state for a second home. It's not illegal, but the rules are so loose that it's easy for them to make a few quid on the side whilst living it up in two pads. Not to put too fine a point on it, it stinks.

Unfortunately for Home Secretary Jacqui Smith, that scrutiny has exposed her private dealings with damaging, embarrassing and above all, hilarious results.

Long story short, when she was away recently, her husband decided to pay for a couple of blue movies (as you do when you're in your 50's). The bill in question was then inadvertently submitted to the Government to be claimed back as expenses, and the shit has hit the fan for both him and her.

You can picture the scene between Mr. and Mrs. Smith when she found out:

Mrs: Right, that's the expenses done
Mr: Nice one
Mrs: Hold on a minute - what's this on the cable bill?
Mr: Eh?
Mrs: This - you've watched 'Oceans 13' while I was away, but also something called 'Jizz Buckets 4'
Mr: Er...
Mrs: And 'Anal Queens'. What the bloody hell's an anal queen?
Mr: Well, y'know, I was a bit bored when you were away last week so I...
Mrs: So you watched porn?
Mr: Er, yeah
Mrs: You do realise that I just submitted this claim to Gordon two minutes ago? He's gonna hit the roof when he finds out I've tried to claim for grot films when I was away at a conference
Mr: Whoops
Mrs: I'll give you bloody whoops, you knob. Right, outside now, you're doing a public apology to the press
Mr: But I don't wanna. My friends will laugh when they find out
Mrs: You should have thought about that before you spent public money on skin flicks shouldn't you?

Personally, I find the whole episode hilarious, not least his eventual apology which bore all the hallmarks of a schoolboy caught behind the bikesheds with a mucky mag. To say she went up the wall appears to be something of an understatement, and I can imagine it'll be a long time before he gets any live action in that house.

As you would expect, despite this being an honest mistake which she's paid for in full, the opposition are trying to make a mountain out of it. If she'd said "I don't care what you say, I'm perfectly within my rights to watch porn and claim it as an expense" you could understand a backlash, but she's 'fessed up and given her husband a very public bollocking. Surely the amusement derived from watching the poor cow squirm under the situation is far more valuable than trying to make a political point about it?

Either way, if you're going to get caught out, better to go the whole hog and really make a pigs ear of it. Well played, Mr. Smith.

Captain Perspective

I've got a lot of time for Rebecca Adlington. She's a proven world-class swimmer, a pleasant, grounded person, and she's quite tidy in a Mansfield sort of way. All in all, she's a good egg.

However, her mini outburst earlier this week suggests to me that she's a bit out of touch with modern society.

She's just been in the British Gas Swimming Championships in Sheffield (not sure what they've got to do with it) and was beaten into second place by her nearest rival Jo Jackson, who took bronze in one of the Beijing races last year. She later went on to win another race, setting records all over the shop.

Now, I don't need to tell you we're currently in a turbulent climate. The world financial market is still on its arse, and on a daily basis once-great companies are folding and sacking their staff. Not 2 weeks ago the Sri Lankan cricket side was attacked by gunmen in broad daylight, and old Fritzl's just been put away for life for...well you know what he did. To that end, you would think Adlo's attitude would be one of "well, you can't win 'em all", but instead she decided to go off on a self-involved mini-rant, as follows:

"I'm a just turned 20-year-old girl. To deal with the amount of pressure and expectation on me has been harder than I ever thought. No-one can train you for that, not even my mum and dad, I've just have to deal with it as best as I can. Hopefully that race has shown that I have actually dealt with it quite well."

Bloody hell, turn it in, woman. Yes, she trains very hard, getting up early every day to pursue the Olypmic dream, but she succeeded, so it was worth it. And far be it from me to point out the obvious, but other than a parade in London and a couple of telly appearances at the time, has she really been under that much scrutiny and pressure since Beijing? I'm sure she's recognised in the street all the time and gets dragged to all manner of fetes and supermarket openings, but if she didn't want the attention, she shouldn't have tried to become the Olympic champion in the first place.

Like I said, I've got a lot of time for her, but in the current climate of some people literally not knowing whether they'll have a job to go to from one day to the next, I bet some incredibly successful little upstart moaning that being an Olympic double gold medal winner is a bit tricky really sticks in their clack.

And rightly so - it's only bloody swimming.

A (for once) justified rant

I think today I have finally seen it all.

Can you believe that the Scottish government is paying former prisoners compensation because having to slop out apparently contravenes their human rights?

I have tolerated a lot of stuff over the years I've been blogging, and bitten my tongue on more than one occasion to avoid coming across as aggressive and over-sensitive, but this really does take the piss. At what point did the government consider the human rights of the people who were robbed, raped, kidnapped and murdered when they were shelling out public money to these twunts? There's a reason they're in prison, so surely all human rights go straight out of the window then? Obviously not.

My opinions on prison are simple. If you do something bad enough to be put away, you deserve all you get. A couple of years ago I wrote a blog in reaction to an ex con complaining that they used to be crammed into cells. My "Well Don't Commit Crime Then" initiative drew universal support from all of the one other person who read it. I genuinely fail to see how these people can willingly commit crimes, end up in prison, then have the brass neck complain about the conditions. If I were a prison governor, you wouldn't even have a bed, let alone a pot to piss in. You'd be confined to your cell forever, and your limited food would be poked through the bars at random intervals, meaning if you aren't quick enough to catch it, it'll land in whatever you've done on the floor. And it would serve you right.

I'm all for rehabilitation, but surely one of the most powerful tools is making crims realise what will happen to them if they get caught. At the moment, the impression they're given is "Don't worry, unless you commit the worst possible crimes, we'll lock you up, immediately halve your sentence, allow you to live in relative luxury during your stay, then give you some money if the facilities weren't up to scratch". It's an absolute disgrace, and no deterrent whatsoever.

Fair enough, if guards and lacing the inmates with iron bars or poisoning them, there's a case to be answered. But all they're having to do is crap in a pot and empty it the next day. Not two generations ago, that's what civilian life was actually like, so what the fuck are they complaining about? Don't get me wrong, if I was this kind of scum and was offered compo after my stint inside, I'd take their hand off, but it's hardly likely to put them off crime for life is it?

And breathe...

What did you do that for, you ****ing ****monger?

Haven't we reached the stage where politicians are allowed to twat members of the public who chuck stuff at them? Last week, some lefty bint sidled up to Peter Mandelson (albeit with zero security surrounding him) and chucked a cup of green custard all over him. He ducked away after the event, which to me showed unbelievable levels of self-control. Cameras or not, I can quite reasonably think that in that situation I would have picked her up and threw her under the next available bus.

The fact that she was not subdued and eventually allowed to walk away is worrying in itself (she has subsequently been arrested, but that cup could have had anything in it at the time) but why do politicians and leaders have to tolerate this kind of abuse? Aside from school fetes, is there any other job where people are allowed to throw custard at you and get away with it? We've had shoes at former President Bush, condoms full of powder at Blair back in the day, and all manner of foodstuffs in between. I'm all for protesters getting their point across, but at what point do people think "You know, I could present a powerful and cogent argument to open a debate on this issue, but I bet the government will definitely pay attention if I lob custard all over the show"? Some like-minded individuals might think it's a hoot and pat the perpetrator on the back, but surely they don't think the victim is about to declare "Good point well made, fancy a pint to sort it all out?"

Personally, I think John Prescott had the right idea. Say what you want about his politics, but when someone throws an egg at you from point-blank range, why shouldn't you chin them? Especially when they're sporting a breathtaking mullet and bear facial resemblance to Neighbours megastar Joe Scully? Fair enough, if people are shouting rude things at you, physical assault might be a bit OTT, but why shouldn't you be able to defend yourself from attack? Prescott said he thought the egg running down his neck was blood and that he'd been cut - his decision to lash out was a human instinct of self-preservation. It was also piss funny.

I'm not saying arm the MPs with tazers or some kind of switchblade, but if they're not going to be afforded proper security, surely they're within their rights to ask the press to knock their cameras off so they can take their assailant down, take them down to Chinatown?

If not, then what's the point of being a politician in the first place - to change the country? Pull the other one.

Buses: By appointment only

Far be it from me to offer sweeping generalisations on elements of society but sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

Buses are shite.

First off, let me make it clear that I shun all public transport unless it's absolutely necessary. My opinions of the general public are probably obvious by now, so the 'opportunity' to ride with the Great Unintelligent is usually met by a short yet colourful response. That said, I'm as tight as a crab's arse at times, so when the Mrs and I were going into town the other weekend, I thought we'd give the chariot of the masses a go, simply because it's a great deal cheaper than the £10 a taxi ride costs.

We did the groundwork and visited a website with the bus times on it, and found that a suitable bus would be passing the end of our road at 18:52. "No problem" thunk I, as we are literally 2 minutes from the stop so we could amble out at quarter to with time aplenty. Already you can see where I'm going with this...

At twenty-to we realised we didn't have any change, so set off to the nearby corner shop to get the necessary funds. As we ventured from the shop to the bus stop a bus passed. "No problem" thought I for the second time in as many hours, "As it's only eighteen forty-seven, there's no way that could be our bus".

But of course, it was. For some reason, despite having a regularly updated website containing the arrival times at each stop on his journey, the bus driver (in his undoubtedly limited wisdom) got to our stop far too early. Instead of thinking "I'd better hang around until the expected arrival time in case people with better things to do are on their way" he promptly cruised past without a thought for potential passengers.

I managed to keep my blood from boiling even when we called their laughable 'Bus tracking' service to confirm if that was our bus. I say 'laughable' because the bus in question wasn't actually fitted with a tracker. Top marks there.

In the end we had to fork out full whack for a cab because the next bus was an hour away. Yes, it was more expensive and you're put in more danger than your average rally co-driver, but you get to your destination and, more importantly, they turn up when you ask them to (to a greater or lesser extent). I can't believe bus companies are currently in a boom time, with more passengers than they know what to do with, so it might be an idea for them to have a chat with their trigger-happy drivers and ask them to hang around long enough for passengers to actually get on.

Then again, that was the last time I'll be using a bus, so I couldn't care less if they expected you to leap on as it sped past, leaving you clinging onto the sides like an Indian train. Do what you need to do, bus-jockeys; you won't be getting my shiny pound from now on.

Pauline: Er, she were alright

It was sad to see the death of Wendy "Martin" Richard the other day. Despite her appearance in her sixties, she was a stick-on corker in her youth, and although she didn't pull up any trees acting-wise in Eastenders, she was perfectly adequate as put-upon battleaxe Pauline Fowler for the 58 years she appeared in the show.

Being such a famous face in the classic 'household name' sense, I was genuinely surprised to see a) how little coverage her death got (especially from the BBC who she worked predominantly for) and b) how utterly lame the tributes paid were.

I tuned into BBC News 24 on the day it was announced and all they were doing was showing a great big picture of her every few minutes, followed by the same stock footage of her clattering Arthur with a frying pan (also neatly showing just how far away the pan was from his head at the time - worst stunt work ever). Then they got some no-mark who worked on Eastenders to offer their fitting (if not entirely glowing) tribute. He mentioned her 2 outstanding qualities:

- She knew everybody's names
- She occasionally brought cakes in

I can imagine old Wendy is sat in a rocking chair peering down on this from Heaven going "Well cheers for that". Basically, despite being a constant fixture in the show for God knows how many years, the best they could come up with was that she knew everyone's names (not really surprising given the length of time she worked there) and she brought in the odd bun on her birthday. Hardly gravestone material is it?

I didn't know the woman, nor a great deal about her life, but there had to be more to her than infrequent confectionery supply, surely? I've said before that when I cark it I want people to be honest rather than flowery about me, but I'd be a bit peeved if they said "Sent the occasional birthday card, was known to clean the bathroom". What about the glittering tennis career? The Oscar nominations? The award-winning blogs? It's a bloody disgrace and no error.

I hope in time (not sure if the funeral has been yet) that somebody steps up and gives her a proper send-off; mentions her kind-hearted nature or generosity towards kids, etc. Anything to avoid being known as the "woman who knew names and bought cakes".

Anyway, I'm off to Tescos at lunch if you want owt. Remember that when I snuff it...