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| "Anyone fancy going to a strip club?" |
I stood this morning staring into my bathroom mirror pulling that face you do when you have just cleaned your teeth and despite my best bodybuilding poses I still came to the same conclusion - I am slowly becoming my Grand Father. Not because of extraneous ear hairs or teeth in a glass or anything like that, oh no, not as simple as that. The simple fact is, at the tender age of 41 and a little bit, I am becoming a grumpy old middle aged man.
Things that used to pass me by without fuss or flourish now have the ability to vex me for the rest of the day. Years ago I stood in a Gentlemen's Club opposite the American Embassy in London having just been bought a bottle of Vintage Perrier Jouet. Every time I tried to take a sip of the beautiful amber nectar I was nudged from behind by a tall blonde women with no respect for my personal space. On the 4th nudge I thrust my bottom backwards and sent the high healed blonde bozo flying. Turning round and asking her to bugger off I came face to face with a women trying not to let her false leg come flying off as she scrambled to save grace. The women? Heather Mills-McCartney. But she had invaded my personal space and deserved what she got.She was hopping mad!
Today whilst sitting on the beach reading the paper a young couple came and sat so close to us that her foot was actually on my towel. When I got up to move she glared at me as if I who was being unreasonable. To add insult to injury I was then in the Bank when the man behind me stood so close to me I could actually hear him breathing through his nose. In-Out-In-Out like a whistle on an asthmatic bicycle pump.
Well I have a solution! A plastic novelty Dog Poo. Seriously. If I put that on the beach next to me I would immediately get my personal space back. If I put it behind me in the Bank queue or even in the Gentlemen's Club everyone would let me have my personal space back. In a way, fighting to get my personal space back is why I started this blog. I have had enough of people taking things away from me that I do not want to give. I just want what is right, to be right. I should get a cape and a mask.
For example, have you ever over paid a credit card by accident? It is quite simple, you bu something, then you get refunded and you end up in credit. Oh by crikey the Banks do not like it one bit. They panic. Credit on a credit card, who ever thought of that. Like sending Superman a lump of Kryptonite for his Birthday or munching a packet of Senior Porkies pork scratchings at a Barmitzfa, they hate it.
Did you know that if the amount is under £20 banks REFUSE to credit you back? Did you know their advice is 'Go and spent it on something'. But yeegads if you want a cheque it will take them 14 working days but to get it you have to call their 0870 number which costs you, oh yes, £7. The answer here dear friend is a brilliant website called sayNOto0870.com which provides all 0800/0870/0845 numbers with a good old fashioned landline number which is inclusive in your mobile minutes.
It just gets me that we entrust Banks with our money but when we want it back, they refuse. Last week I dared to attempt to take out £10k from Barclays Bank in Canford Cliffs by Sandbanks in Poole (the most expensive place to live on the planet) and they said, 'Cash, oh no Sir we don't hold that much cash, £5k at a push maximum'. What on earth? My Bank, My Money, My Cash and I can't have it.
So here I am tonight staring back into the same mirror actually saying these words, "It weren't like that in my day" - I have become my Grandfather!
