Money for Nothing...

Im having trouble understanding all the confusion that people are having while sat at home, malingering in their houses and avoiding doing a stroke of work. Some are bored now and sat on the settee thinking that they are in Dire Straits going to get money for nothing and chips for free....

But ...That ain't workin' that's the way you do it!

The U.K. Covid-19 Furlough Scheme explained for the hard of hearing...

Its perfectly simple, you just need to know the difference so I’d thought I would do my Civic duty and leave you an explanation, so here goes....

A furlough (/ˈfɜːrloʊ/; from Dutch: verlof, "leave of absence") is a temporary leave of employees due to special needs of a company or employer, which may be due to economic conditions at the specific employer or in the economy as a whole.

This is the one that you want and not to be confused with the following:-

A Ferlo, a relict river valley and region of interior northern Senegal. It lies south of the fertile valley of the Sénégal River and the Fouta region and east of the peanut (groundnut) basin of the western plains...completely broke...

The Furlo Pass is a gorge on the ancient Roman road Via Flaminia in the Marche region of central Italy, again no money at the bottom of the gorge...

A Ferlo may well be luxurious and stylish and add a touch of class to any bathroom but at the end of the day it’s just a curvy towel rail...

Ferlow is a Botanicals firm making natural skincare products from Chickweed that 

have anti-inflammatory properties and are excellent to help soothe itchy skin if your sat on your arse all day with no work...

Description

Furla is an Italian luxury goods company that was created by the Furlanetto family in 1927, ok for handbags but no suitcases full of 💴 money....

A Furrow is a long, narrow trench made in the ground by a plough, especially for planting seeds or irrigation...you would have to be daft if you got mixed up with this one!

Pherlure  is a spray for blokes that is supposed to attract the ‘ladies’. There are literally dozens of these types of overhyped, junky pheromone products that exist online...but they don’t work...much like your good self!

A Furlong - Is a Distance of 201.16800 metres. Used mainly in horse racing but the bookies are shut just now so you wouldn’t be able to get a bet on to win any money...

The Furbo is a Treat-Tossing Dog Camera...

For just $139 you can keep tabs on your dog and send them treats wherever you are...

A Furball is a small collection of hair or fur formed in the stomach of animals, and uncommonly in humans, that is occasionally vomited up when it becomes too big...

A Furby was an American electronic robotic toy that was originally released in 1998 by Tiger Electronicsv. It resembles a hamster or owllike creature and went through a period of being a "must-have" toy following its holiday season launch, with continual sales until 2000...

And finally, 

A Fairclough(Rita) Was an old character in Corrie when 1992, she becomes Rita Sullivan when she married Ted Sullivan (William Russell). The marriage only lasts three months, as he dies from a brain tumour. When Rita collapses in her flat in July 1998 from carbon monoxide poisoning, she is saved by Alec.

So now you are all up to date.

Hope this helped with the confusion.

Happy to Help.

Dire Straits link here https://youtu.be/wTP2RUD_cL0

1927. 

Isolation...

Solitary confinement is a form of imprisonment distinguished by living in single cells with little or no meaningful contact to other inmates....

You can have too much of a good thing so it’s nice to have the opportunity to get away from the rat race from time to time and put your feet up for a while...

there’s more to life than running around working for the Yankee dollar and putting up with a unhinged , recalcitrant society....

So Now, finally, a peaceful, monastic life beckons with the opportunity for hours of self-reflection, meditation and splendid isolation in your very own temple, far away from the maddening crowd in perfect seclusion.

 "The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind," 

A quote by old Albert Einsteinium, the crazy-haired hippy that developed a few of his theories without the help of his annoying friends and neighbours and lived alone only in a world of his own ideas as a cloistered genius inventing mad stuff and texting crap like E=M C 🔨 from a little shed at the bottom of his garden...

Or What about

Robert John Maudsley (born 26 June 1953) a hapless loner and a British serial killer responsible for the murders of four people. Most of the time he stayed in a cell alone which was fine for him for ages but then when they told him he could come out he started carving up and chewing off bits of his fellow inmates making him unpopular and getting the the stigma name of ‘Hannibal the cannibal’...

Or maybe

Terence Hardy Waite CBE (born 31 May 1939) who is an English humanitarian and author that proved that a bit of isolation didn’t hurt anyone and even gave him chance to eat spiders and write a few books in peace and quiet while not having to worry about setting the alarm to get up in the morning to catch the bus to work...

Then there was Pablo Picasso, the lazy-arse Spanish slacker that reckoned that 

“Without great solitude no serious work is possible”  but he probably never had a days work in him according to his absinthe supping mate and poet, Jimmy Sabartés...

Meanwhile...

At the other side of the world a local Japanese Buddhist philosopher, educator, author, peace advocate and seaweed farmer was heard to say “No one can live entirely on their own, nor can any country or society exist in isolation”  that was after a few too many rice wines in the local pub by Daisaku Ikeda as a word of warning to the West!

...but we all seem to be managing......

and we are all stuck inside now but some more of our fellow humans chose this solitary life style. 

Take for instance:-

The peculiar Dorothy Paget(1906-1960) who inherited most things from birth except her looks. She was a horse breeder, gambler and chain smoking millionaire who on the other hand enjoyed very much being a shapeless, bad tempered lump of a 

woman who regularly relieved herself in a horse box and was perfectly happy with being virtual recluse.

Roger Keith "Syd" Barrett (6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) was an English singer, songwriter, and musician with a little known rock band Pink Floyd who buggered off after taking LSD on the bus and spent then rest of his life without speaking to a sole...(just to clarify here, not the flat, bottom feeding sea fish...but then again he was a bit loopy so may well have had a deep, meaningful chat to a fish....)...I know I would!

I digress....

So what about Blanche Monnier?

...often known in France as la Séquestrée de Poitiers (roughly, "The Confined Woman of Poitiers.”) She didn’t see any daylight for 25years! 

Admittedly that wasn’t her own choice as she had been kept prisoner by her disapproving mother but that’s bye-la-bye....

Or

Christopher Knight, the US North Pond Hermit and burglar who lived without human contact for 27 years deep in the woods and was as happy as Larry until he got captured by a nosey game warden and got shoved in the clink allowing time for him to focus on his mental health issues...

Or

Greta Garbo born Greta Lovisa Gustafsson;^[18 September 1905 – 15 April 1990) was a Swedish-American film actress liked a bit of detachment as did Jerome David Salinger (/ˈsælɪndʒər/; January 1, 1919 – January 27, 2010) who was an American writer best known for his novel The Catcher in the Rye which was a popular story with kids about a confused and disillusioned teenage rebel who was searching for the truth and rails against the “phoniness” of the adult world....kids, eh???? 

What do they know?

iSolation...A condition of detachment or separation caused by using an iPod with headphones?

Try it here to listen to my blog track ‘Isolation’ by Therapy? From 1994.

Walking Dynamite...

Sonny tell me 
When you were young you had to fight 
Became the champion 
And you were walkin' dynamite…

I’m of the thinking that everyone needs to pull together a bit and help out where they can so with this in mind I contacted the local resilience group to see if anyone needed a hand with owt. It wasn’t long before I got a urgent call to help out walking a dog for a local resident that had unfortunately to stay indoors. 

Great!...I thought, chance to do my civic duty and get out and about in the fresh air with a legitimate excuse.

I lost no time banging the mud off a sturdy pair of winter walking boots, stuffed my compass in a rucksack and quickly studied the topography of the local rural area on a 25000:1 hiking map. I then hurriedly left the house grabbing a sturdy stick and set off for the address with an idea that for this first hike I’d head off up towards the forest, crossing the river over the bridge and exercising the hound up the muddy track that leads on to the wild open fell where it could run free, chasing the local wildlife and retrieving thrown sticks....it was going to be an adventure for both of us and we’d probably bag a pheasant or two if we were lucky...

And then, as I got to the house I had to rethink the whole plan...

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Meet Cloe...

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‘Walking Dynamite’...By the punk band ‘Stiff Little Fingers’....I just had to zip up my coat, put in my headphones and play this track very, very loud...

https://youtu.be/l1ax-TXXJaU

Won’t get fooled again...

Looking through the local jobs being advertised this week there seems to be a dramatic change in requests and offers of employment. Up until the last few weeks they seem to have generally only needing an odd tyre fitter, a joiners mate or a few part time gas readers on zero hours contracts.

Now, indeed, I’v noticed a massive upsurge in, shall we say, ‘alternative’ employment! 

It would appear that adverts are now crying out for staff to be urgently needed to cover shortages in medical 🧪 laboratories; permanent positions are available right now for needle wielding phlebotomists in many overworked health centres and a little more alarming and somewhat macabre were the desperately required ‘Casual funeral staff’ and ‘Crematorium Assistants’ on 12 week contracts!!....has someone seen the light?....maybe the future?....the vision?...the bit at the end of the film?

What next?, Morrison’s advertising for burly staff, male/gender fluid/female, that are familiar with the use of cattle-prods to control the wayward hordes of simpletons ‘Hamstering’ large tins of soup and family sized packets of penne? 

Will Tesco and Asda both offer casual full time contracts for freelance accountants to help to count all the ‘unprecedented’ profits? Will Ronald MacDonald start to offer a free breakfast happy ‘Crony-burger’ to all students in self isolation just by using the ‘Just Eat Shite’ app or will unscrupulous online retailers continue to say that they will do ‘Whatever it takes’ to empty your bank account for their promotions of needless emergency purchases?

The grave reality is that local Joiners cant now cope with the heavy demand on them to repair kitchen cupboards that have collapsed under the strain of tinned salmon, fray bentos pies and spaghetti hoops. Worse still, would-be ‘Theatre go-ers’ have now been diverted to help the council empty the bins while the minimum wage staff at Wetherspoons have been forced to take over from tired doctors in the local A&E.

All I can say is that it seemed a lot better before the Brexit...but don’t get me going...

The EU has quite rightly closed its borders on us and experts predict that they will keep them locked until we withdraw our entry from Eurovision and say sorry to the French for producing the (hilarious) 80’s sitcom, ‘Allo Allo’.

Spare a thought for our friends across the pond that not only have only chlorinated ‘hickory’ chicken to eat but now their leader had to be swabbed for the Crony+virus and made to wash his mouth out with fairy liquid....damn that test, why couldn’t the leader of the free world have been placed in isolation for a few weeks on death row on a positive charge+...?

Not trying to make light of this but only to make an observation of my fellow humans as I witness the selfishness and stupidity of some who fail to understand basic instruction and operate with an indiscriminate lack of acknowledgement of the extent of the problem it is with a heavy heart that I sit down and listen one final time to...”Hands...touching hands...reaching out....touching me....touching you....SWEET CAROLINE......”....Good Times never felt so bad....!

...I wash my hands of the whole lot of you...do it your way!

The top track comes from The World Health Organisation (WHO) who predicted this pandemic back in 1971 when they consulted a Pinball Wizzard that warned them to beware of a blonde haired, bumbling buffoon offering billions of booty...

Listen here:

https://youtu.be/UDfAdHBtK_Q

Connected...

During this time when it’s quiet and there isn’t much going on it’s lovely when someone who feels very close to you takes the time to write. So you can imagine my delight when a lovely personal letter dropped on the e-door-mat from my very good and trusted friend, Nick Jeffrey...

...I haven’t heard from him for ages and hadn’t realised that he was such a caring, personal friend but he started his thoughtful missive with ‘Hello’ and ended it with a warm ‘Take Care’ and in it kindly thanked me for being such a great friend at this worrying time. He assured me that all will be fine and that we will get through this together. It has given me great peace of mind to know that someone really cares and is doing all he can to make not only my but also my families lives so much better...well probably a lot better than they would have been had I not bought a Pay-as-you-Go SIM card from him a few years back!

So thankyou Nick, CEO of Vodafone...you really are the best friend Iv ever had!

Ps. Will have to print this off and put it in the post as I tried to send it to you by email but the network was down??

In the words of the Stereo MC’s “ Something ain’t right...” . Here a great little mid-tempo retro-funk affair from 1992 for all you groovers to enjoy again here.

https://youtu.be/f7KyKb-Im90

Panic...

As our luxury cruise ship got permission to finally dock in the empty, sterile port of St.Ellen we were relieved to be back on terra-firma once again following our harrowing 2 hour maiden voyage of discovery, battling through the blustery high-winds and rainy, rolling swells on the nautical high seas of southern Scotland.

There had been dark times indeed throughout the voyage when it seemed that Caledonian McBrae would be lost at sea as the unhappy crew were close to mutiny as the frozen chips in the canteen had to be rationed, the gravy and grog ran out and then the WiFi finally gave up and went down with all hands. The ships log reported a shortage of sick bags to the coast guard as the charts slid about under the turbulent swell....but made it to port we did!

The onward journey in the hire car was just as bad, as we sped along the wild windswept narrow highway in near zero degree temperatures, the wipers on full speed battling the icy rain offering only occasional glimpses of the endless brown peat bogs through the ‘mist rolling in from the sea’....but we knew, sat there with the heater on, we were finally safe...

...safe at least from the dreaded virus 🦠 and safe in the knowledge that there was absolutely no way on this earth that any virus could ever survive in these these conditions on the bleak, brown, windy, wee, welly wearing, whisky soaked island of Islay.

...pronounced ‘Eye-luh’, this god forsaken place is famous for its 9 malt whisky distilleries so it seemed appropriate under the rules of a declared pandemic to panic buy alcohol for self medicating purposes. With this in mind, breakfast started with a peaty, salty Ardbeg and then later a pungent, lingering  ‘La-froyg’ leading nicely on to an eye watering, testicle twisting strength 16year old ‘Lagavulin’. 

A well balanced ‘Bowmore’ was then closely followed by an oily, salty brute of a ‘Bruichladdich’ and by the time the palate was recognising the last wee dram of an 18yr old ‘Caol Isla’ passed the lips a strange, nauseating feeling started to progressively creep through the body as the temperature rose and a sudden shortage of breath gave way to flu like symptoms it could only be a highly pathogenic positive sign that it was now time to go and self isolate in a nearby, dimly lit, Indian restaurant with late 1970’s chintzy curtains and a namesake, unassuming, plastic model of the iconic Taj Mahal.....

‘Jim the taxi ‘and ‘Jeanie the fish’ local business folk, had both warned us of some of the other many dangers of the island to look out for. They recounted tales of ten Japanese tourists being trapped for 6 days up their necks in peat bogs when traversing the island on a shortcut to a distillery. The following week a bus load of Germans from Frankfurt were found clinging to the Paps of Jura after a freak wave washed them off the rocks and worse still was an eerie tale of a local farmer when out feeding his hairy highland cooz one day witnessed a French birdwatcher being eaten by crabs in a nearby scenic picnic spot.

The relentless rain on the island has been falling on a daily basis since first being recorded by the Pictish rebel inhabitants of 650-700AD and wind speeds of up to 130mph have been known to blow hefted sheep clean off the hills on a regular basis so with this in mind we googled the shipping forecast for the next available window of opportunity to leave. A hapless flight had tried to land the other day on the tiny airstrip but had got within 12yards of the runway and was unceremoniously blown backwards back to Glasgow so we opted once again for the trusty reliable ferry.

Port Askaig was the departure terminal at the sheltered north of the island where ‘Terry the ticket’ worked and he assured us reassuringly that we would be leaving on the ‘ Pride of Pandemonia’ at 09:30 “come hell or high water”. With a last cheeky, fleeting look at the ‘Paps’ we were on our way home and sailing off back to the disease riddled mainland of Utopia.

‘Panic’, my tune of choice for this blog by the ‘Smiths’ who ironically all died in the global SARS outbreak of 2003 in a bedsit in Rochdale...keep the song alive and well by listening in self isolation to the track here:-

https://youtu.be/wMykYSQaG_c

“Panic on the streets of London 
Panic on the streets of Birmingham 
I wonder to myself 
Could life ever be sane again? “

Doing the right thing...

As the last of the dried up turkey is shoved under a crust and the merry throng of swearing, inebriated louts bring in the New Year by letting off fireworks in our wheelie-bin, snapping off the top of the towns Christmas tree and pissing and fighting in the alleyways on their way home from the taverns and cells, 

the cold, empty streets are cold and empty once more....thank God!

It’s over...

It’s a New Year so it requires a new positive approach, from me at least...who else can you rely on to lead the way into a new decade?

My old-age ailments prevented me at the back end of last year from the early qualifying rounds of the Worlds Strongest Man. So as I sit on the sofa and enjoy the final I am reminded during the adverts that I should also think about an over 50’s plan as my untimely death now approaches fast anyway. I should now focus on whether I can afford the box of matches to light the flames or alternatively do I consider ordering an artisan willow weaved box to allow the worms to feast on my rotting corpse to help aid my path to the afterlife. Either way, I apparently need to ring the advertised free-phone number to check my Experian credit score so they can promptly relieve me directly, with a cheerful smile, of any equity I have in order to pay for my forthcoming ⚰️ funeral and spiralling spiritual costs that I would automatically and unfortunately incur.

Crikey...It’s getting close, that bloke on the ad looks younger than me and has grey hair too...I could be near the end....it’s time this owd lad went for a check up at the quacks...I need to do the right thing before I get the tap on the shoulder by the tall fella with the hedgecutter...

A few days later, with my troublesome tennis elbow now re-classified as non-life threatening and my posted pooh sample results back as ‘gluten-free’, the response level is reset to ‘amber’ as I await only the blood samples to be clear of the Chlorophyll and chlamydia and a new bionic eye then I will once again have a clean bill of health in which to start the decade....in earnest or wherever!

With my New Years positive energy and a new lease of life in my old bones I follow the crowds and head down to the exciting pastime that is the New Years sales. Having never been that bothered before, I’m inspired in the crush to panic buy stuff at will and spend, spend, spend knowing that I now have my whole sorry life ahead of me to pay for it at a variable interest free rate of 17.9% above inflation subject to contract and all the time in the world to enjoy my spoils.

Life is too short I think to myself and before you can say money supermarket dot com I’m coming back with great deals I had never really attributed to Christmas before like super fast fibre broadband, a Bensons double bed, a fantastic new hoover that sucks at 300psi and a red Nissan Juke...

...the more I spent the more I realised I needed, so my next purchase for the baby Jesus was a subscription to online bingo, a new boiler, 160 gigabytes of data and a half price cruise holiday to the Caribbean in September with an unbelievable 200 euros of onboard credit.

Penniless, tired and weary I collapse back on the sofa to stuff the last of the mince pies down my throat and mistakenly look down at my over-extended torso at the flabby rolls hanging down like pigs testicles in wet blankets. A sad result of all the festive over indulging on fried lobster, caviar, vintage port, raw clams and chocolate blancmange.

If I’m going to look my best In 2020 I need to make amends....

First, I need a plan...no wrong...first I need a book about a plan, preferably endorsed by a TV celebrity Iv never heard of, that can guide my new lifestyle change and inform me how I can lose 3 stone in a week by only sucking on a blanched carrot and making meat and potato pies using only a 3D printer. 

I pride myself with having no food wasted after Christmas so as I fill my ‘Nutri-bullet’ gift with the remaining boiled sprouts, 6 after eights and the dregs of the brandy I sit down with my nutritious New Years smoothie but realise that I need to do more...maybe exercise a bit more? Jog round the park or take up badminton?

Yes, I can do that too...but I need to act fast.

I pick up the phone and book myself on a healthy option all-you-can eat spa weekend and sign up for the new weekly ‘Blubbercise’ class run by Barbara next to the chippy. It’s only a pound a week and the winner gets a voucher for a free battered sausage!

More telly...

Another advert tells me to Join the RSPB so I can wander about in the pissing rain jotting down how many sparrows and influenza-riddled pigeons have survived the frozen winter or sit gawping out the window and recording how many tits I can see...(Oi...grow up!)

Climate change? What should I do about that then for the baby Jesus? 

If only there was a young child or a meerkat to lead the way on what to do?

Well I did watch the new Worzel Gummidge, so that’s a start.

Well personally, I’m going to stop listening to young, annoying fat-faced/ginger-haired singer songwriters with mind numbingly boring ballads in the hope that they go away and maybe other stuff too...I know, il stop eating soft cheese, buy only frozen vegetables from now on and refrain from shouting at ‘Alexa’ in a morning ..that should help...

...should I listen more to Radio 4, get a pet plan or lend support to struggling high street cafes?...the dilemma!...if everyone does their bit then we could maybe get on top of it and stop it raining all the time in Scotland...#indyrefmyarse...that would be a great result.

Ho, Hum

As all the decorations and unwanted festive crap gets packed up, photographed and stuck on Gumtree for some other unsuspecting turkey to enjoy, we can look forward to Easter eggs and beyond with the hope that mankind will survive the fire and brimstone that presently ravages the earth🌍 🍳

Good will to all souls and see you all soon.

Auguri

Doing the right thing....a song by the indie band ‘Daughter’ and a track off their 2nd album in 2016. Enjoy the track here.

https://youtu.be/bU5F-DvGLkA