Thought Id start this one going because its rather dead on this board at the moment and I suppose all my usual muckers are either at the Stella tennis event watching Dim Tim (lose again) or at Henly Regatta eating cucumber sandwiches (they wish,...NOT).

Anyway please feel free to just talk to yourself blast away and let it go on any company or subject you wish. Just wish Id thought of this one before.

cheers GF.

Sorry, legs firmly crossed now so a very small patch of ozone above north Wales is safe for the time being.

I see word got out about Trevors Woolworths tip.
Up 2% today. Must be all those brollies being stockpiled.

Greek,
I talked to trev about standing for government. he told me he knew all about it because he had been a member of the local Conservative Club. I was amazed he was a tory, but he told me he wasn't, it was just the beer was cheaper than the local WMC, and they had a snooker table without beer stains on it.
It didn't last long due to a fracas he was involved in when the club were watching a Margaret Thatcher documentary when the footy was on the other channel.
Anyway, he said he a free spirit like him couldn't belong to an organised political party. I asked if that meant he was a Liberal Democrat, and he said no. He was a neo-communist revolutionary.
What, says I, like Lenin and Marx.
No said Trevor, cos frankly they were good in the 60's but crap after they left the Beatles, and one of 'em was dead anyway. So I suggested Castro, but Trevor only smokes roll ups, so that won't work either.
He told me he was a one man Anarcho-Syndicate who was going to get the pheasants to rise up and otherthrow the Borejoysee, whoever they are. Sandra asked him what that meant and did he know she has a back room for hire if he needed a party conference.
I'm going to get the downtrodden masses to seize the means of production, says Trevor. We thought he meant like when he nicked the microwave from the transport cafe on the corner. No he said. All businesses will be taken from the capitalist running dogs that own them and given to the workers.
Hows that work with my Pub, asked Sandra cos theres only me and my girlfriend that works here and we own it already. There might be a bit of part time work for someone over christmas but thats all.
Trevor explained he meant workers in the wider sense, like everyone who drinks there. I had to point out Trevor didn't work since he found he could fake sciatica and get a few bob from the state, so he wouldn't own it. In his new world everyone would have meaningful work he said, so everyone would own it.
Whos gonna pay for the beer then, asked Sandra, who was worried about her livelihood.
Look said Trev. its simple. Everyone owns everything and everyone pays a fair price for the things they need. Sandra brightened up cos Trevor hadn't paid his slate in weeks, and she said so.
Trev moved on to safer ground. Look he said, I'm going to get everyone together and have a coup. Now we were really confused cos he said he was one man and we didn't know what a coup was. Is that some kind of Scottish cow?
NO. We will take over the government offices, schools, libraries and stuff and get the people on our side by owning the means of education and law. Itold him he might be better off taking over the pubs and shops cos people are happy to wait to learn something but generally want their food and drink within a couple of hours.
So you see, Trevs working on it already, but its much more complicated this polititioning business than I thought.
I thought you just talked crap and collected the brown envelopes stuffed full of cash. Every government I can remember did that.

By the way. Stop me when you're bored...............
:-)
Alan

Alan,

You carry on. Any idea's for solving the Northern Rock problem. (Thought to self...Wonder if I will regret asking!).

Greek,
we discussed that weeks ago!!
I was having half of bitter and a tray of Whelks, when Trev came in with his arm in a sling, a black eye and a nose so badly deformed it looked like he was trying to see up his own nostril.
He told me he had been unlucky in a card game, he'd been dealt 4 aces. I thought that was lucky, but he said not in Knuckle Petes poker school, when Pete knows he didn't deal them to you.
Anyway, cos of this he said he was temporarily embarassed, and could I sub him a pint, on account of Sandra getting shirty about his tab.
As we sat drinking he said he felt just like a microcosmic Northern rock. He said it was worse than that cos he was worried about the money he owed the rock on an overdraft he had in the name of his dog, who collected the housing benefit as trev's landlord. Trev thought the rock might send the bailiffs to his dog cos they were short of a bob or two and needed some money pronto.
So he'd written to the Chief effluent officer, Adams Apple. He made two suggestions to him. Firstly either get down to the social and tell 'em your cookers gone up in smoke and they'll lend you 300 to get a new one or get heavy with a few overdrafts to have your money back (But not that in the name of Rex Rover). problem solved. I pointed out they might need a bit more than 300, and he said so did he or Knuckle Pete was going to get dead sarcastic with him and tell him about a very short and painful future.
Thats when his inspiration struck him on how he could solve the rocks problem, and his, in one go. He tore a beer mat in half and nicked a pen from the bar top, and wrote another letter to Adams Apple.
I reproduce it below;
Dear Mr Apple,
Glad to see you took my advice and went to the government for a few quid to tide you over. Might have known a nob like you would get a better department than the social, but the theorys the same.
Anyway, my mate Al says you might need a bit more than 300, so heres what you do. Ring this bloke I know called Wholesale Manny, cos hes got loads of this dodgy perfume that stains your clothes, but it looks and smells real and he'll give you a good deal on 300 worth. I bought some off him last year and made 70 on Leeds market. You'll easily double your money, and the taxman doesn't need to know. I'll come down and keep an eye open for the coppers as long as you sell a bit for me and keep knuckle Pete off my back.
In fact you could make more if you flog it out of your shops instead of the market.
If perfume isn't your bag, then for 50 Bosnian Mick will tell you the name of the horse he's nobbled and you can make alot of money on that one too.
Before you know it the 300 will be over 1000. Sorted.
If you want the phone numbers for these guys, ring me at The Kebab & Calculator pub, cos I'm cut off at home. Cos your skint, my commission for this info will only be that you forget about the overdraft in the name of Rex Rover.
Keep smiling, cos if it all goes tits up I'll help you apply for the social and me and Al will have a pint with you.
Yours, trevor.

Problem was trev didn't have a stamp, so he wrote Cash on Delivery on the envelope and I'm not sure if the Rock would have any money to nip to the post office and collect it.

I dont see Northern Rock as a problem - I've got nothing invested with them. What about the Stanelco problem? Dont see Gordon (Bennet) Brown doing much about that, yet he's spent something like �1800 for every person in the country trying to save Northen Rock! Why should I pay to compensate others investors losses? Let it go bust, I say.

Its mainly northerners money, anyway - I'm a southerner, why should I care?

Bumped into Trev last night, sat in the smoking shelter outside the Kebab & calculator, making rollups from other peoples butt ends, and having a pint. He looked morose.
He told me he'd been to the doctors to get his incapacity benefit signed off and he'd had a medical. The doc told him to stop drinking, smoking and eating fried food and take more exercise, else he'd die early.
trev said he didn't want to be late, early.
Anyway, he said he was contemplating his immortal soul, the nature of life, and who he could get to buy him his next drink. He'd been looking at religion, to get a bit of polish on his soul before he had to explain that episode with the sheep at the boys brigade camp to God.
He went from the surgery to the library and made a short list of religions, cos he says they can't all be right and he wants to back the right horse.
He read about Methodists as far as it said they will abstain from all sorts and he decided his doctor must be a methodist, and it wasn't a religion for him. He wanted one a bit more easy going.
He had a look at judaism, but all he could find was this wall that wails all the time cos of people banging their heads against it, and a bit about not eating bacon, so that one went as well. Trevs diet is mainly pork scratchings from behind the bar.
Getting nowhere he headed for the vicarage to ask the vicar what he believed in. The vicar told him an all loving God, who gave us Jesus, to suffer for us all.
Trevor thought about this, but asked about his feet. Jesus can't be that good at his job then cos these feet give me hell in winter. He didn't take my suffering, and if God loves me that much how come I've got these feet?
The vicar explained that it is not for us to know Gods reasons and plans, so Trev asked what the vicar did on Sunday mornings then if he didn't know what God wanted.
We talk about how to live good lives. This didn't impress Trev, who'd heard that one from the local coppers when he got caught shoplifting, so he asked what else.
We sing and pray and eat bread and drink wine. This sounded better, but he couldn't do with the living good lives bit, so he said he'd love to do all that but his feet wouldn't get him to church. Not on a Sunday morning when Saturday night was happy hour at the local, and his feet were Gods fault so could he do the good bits at home?
The vicar told him God was everywhere and heard all prayers, so Trev asked if he could have a fiver to buy a glass of wine and a bacon Butty from the bar when he did pray. So's he could do it right, and the vicar said No. Trev decided Christianity wasn't his bag either.
Trev got on the phone to Father O'Driscoll at St Marys to ask about his take and was disappointed to find it was worse than the vicars. You still got bread and wine but you had to be certified to get it and Trevor wasn't sure about a religion where you had to be insane to join. He wanted a second opinion and asked if he could talk to Mrs O'Driscoll. The father explained that he was a halibut or something cos the Pope said Catholics should eschew women. Trevor thought this sounded mucky and he'd never met a woman who'd let him get close enough to do anything like that.
The Pope? said Trevor. Isn't he that dozy fart in Rome who says everyone should have lots of babies. The door slammed in his face.
Trev, I said, you shouldn't say that. you know father O'Driscoll is Catholic.
I knew that said Trev. I just didn't know the Pope was.
Anyway, Mrs Arbuttle, who cleans the privvys at the pub, said he ought to talk to the Jehovahs Witnesses, cos they do home visits.
They came to see him and he asked 'em searching questions about their attitude to beer, cigs and women. they said all in moderation and thats fine with Trev cos he can never afford excess. He didn't have to go anywhere really they said, they could come to him, but there was no wine and sandwhiches. Still nothings perfect.
Then they gave him a magazine with stories in it like, "I was a methodist cat burglar". Trev was dead happy with this one, and was about to ask if he had to sign anything when they said he had to go out with them from door to door teaching people. Trev asked if they told the revenue about this or could he be paid cash on the side. They said he didn't get paid, so he booted 'em out. Trev was worried that if the social saw him they might stop his incapacity and make him work as a postman.
So what you gonna do, trev? I asked.
Dunno, said Trev. I was thinking of starting my own religion. A kind of pick n mix of the others. You know, free wine and sandwhiches seem a good idea, though I might make it a buffet, and a God that kind of likes people a bit, but doesn't worry too much about feet.
He said he was off home to apply to the lottery for a grant to build a church and put a bar in it.

Alan - post 6240 is brilliant. I'm sure I've said it before, but here it is again: Alan Hewitt for President!

Actually, having read all of your subsequent posts (and they're getting longer, by the way!), I'm convinced you should follow your true vocation and writing a column in a newspaper.

Hi Bos - good to see you too. Yes, I am still around, but not as much as before. Most of my brilliant insights are going into the QTI thread :o)

Thank you for those kind words ST.
Trevor is actually an amalgamation of 2 real people. Funnily enough, his observations always make me see things how they really are and not as the PR and marketing guys want me to.
I just put on here a kind of humorised version of his world view, and enjoy doing so.
Bt if there are any news editors on here who want a trevor column, please contact me!! I could do with the extra few quid. ;-)
Alan

Well looking forward to a traditional British Xmas period which has already started.
Last night had some carol singers. A bit different from the usual, still only sang 3 lines all out of tune, but in Polish, mind you I did give them a couple of quid when they offered to mend my leaking tap and pick my few remaining lettuces. In the afternoon went to the local primary school to see the nativity (with a different slant) where the cast consisted of Joseph (Mohamed), Mary (Abid) and baby Jesus (Hasan).
The rest of the cast spoke 11 different languages, but as a stage hand held up cards with subtitles on it, it was OK. (English was the 5th one down), although I later heard the script prompter was later found gibbering to herself in a completely unrecognized tongue (It sounded a lot like Geordie to me) and is now receiving professional help.
At the interval we had mulled kaliba made from, spices and, fruit (mulled wine was out) and a burger with some sort of meat (obviously pork was out and as a Hindu family were there so was beef), but suspiciously we were informed that the baby lamb in the stable in act one had ran off and we had to except a different one that looked suspiciously like the headmasters (Ali) Labrador wearing a sheepskin (good job that the only Korean family present were vegetarians).
As the play reached its climax (Mary dropped the baby Jesus, and was about to stand trial for child abuse) I stood up to applaud, the Teddy Bear that I had won in the church tombola fell out from under my coat and rolled under my seat. God knows (or should that be Mohamed) what would have happened if they had seen it. They might have thought I was trying to be funny.

On returning home a couple were waiting outside my house protesting that the Santa figure in my garden had offended their fat (sorry bodily challenged teenager) who had run home crying and is now receiving counseling.
Oh well never mind at least I can look forward to the midnight mass (at 4pm) on Xmas Eve.
Bah bl**dy humbug, and a merry occasion (ops nearly wished you all a Merry Xmas) to all. Have a good one.

Thats the style, Greek!!!!
A proper British Christmas. Brought a lump to my throat.
Glad to see your local primary has a nativity. Ours is advertising a "Non-mimetic play of international origin telling the story of the birth of indoctrination to a beleif system of dubious logic, scored for sitar".
The small print does say though that in order not to offend any of the local minorities (particularly those Christian types), the play will be performed behind curtains with the lights out.
Alan

Alan,

When I read your last line re...... performed behind curtains with the lights out.....I thought someone had snitched on me about my sex life.
Greek.

Woke up a bit worried this morning. I think I've made a terrible mistake with my kids. Just look at the role model I have encouraged them to look to. Santa.
I mean the guy sits on his arse for 11 months a year, probably claiming some kind of benefit, exploiting the vertically challanged with low wages and long hours.
On the environment he keeps his central heating on full and has hoards of reindeer producing masses of methane, so he can use them once a year, and then does loads of short journeys (house to house) which we are all discouraged from making.
Then to top it off, he spends a month encouraging children to sit on his knee, by offering them sweets and presents, then breaking into their bedrooms.
He ought to be on the sex offenders register, yet here I am telling my kids that this capitalist, bone idle, environment wrecking paedophile is a really nice bloke and they should learn to love him.
Anyway. A very merry Christmas to all on here.
Alan (&Trevor)

Merry Xmas from me also.

Look forward to Trev's outlook on life in 2008. Has he ever played the Stock Market? Is he really the Mr Big behind the East European sex trafficking? Merry Xmas and thanks for your postings.

Merry Christmas all and Trev, who I take it will get himself banged up for the night so's he can have a luxury Xmas dinner then sue the prison service for 10,000 when he swallows the 5p in his Xmas pud!

Merry Christmas to all from me.......

You're a fine looking lad, Jimmy!