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Mystery Shoppers

Sitting at home yesterday and waiting for a call from the work agency that never came.

I thought I would be pro-active and search the Internet for other avenue’s of gainful employment.

Some things just jump out at you when you are surfing; and this is one I just have to share with you.

I had tears running down my face with laughter.

The aspect of it all that made it funny was that I was looking for the ideal job, not realising that some smooth American marketing guy was lying in wait for me.

OK! I don’t really know if it was an American, but most of the crafty and real clever marketing strategies usually are.

Please click on the link to biotrax below and read this page top to bottom.


So in conclusion I can advise all of you working in (I don’t believe I’m going to say this)

                                                ‘Customer focused role’s’

If like Mr Black in that excellent series Black Books you like abusing your clients but fear the mystery shopper grassing you up to  head office; then there are a few tell tale signs to look out for.

1) Green skin

2) Client rushes into toilet frequently

3) Hair falling out in clumps

4) Twitching of the face muscles

5) Or perhaps orange perspiration

If you see any of these signs be kind and professional.

            Remember you can always roll your eyes and tut-tut the next customer.
  Heres a good customer for you from Black Books 



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Its that time of year again.

The ugly subject of money  raises its head, and alas I have returned to blighty to earn some dosh, accompanied this time by she who must be obeyed.

My first job from the agency has been drivers mate for a well known company who deliver and install white goods for a well known high street electrical retailer.

Get the impression that I am going to slag them off yet!

Well I am.

This company are the keepers of The National Collection of Miserable Old Men.

I have never met such humourless miserable old gits in my life, but to find so many gathered under one roof is just an impossible coincidence. The only explanation is that they were collected under one roof for some evil purpose, yet to be revealed to us by some wailing hermit from Uddersfax or somewhere really hilly and cavy!

I and the miserable old git of the day, have been mostly delivering and  not installing plasma TVs.

Why ‘Not Installing’?

Well the salesperson at that well known high street electrical store has not explained the ‘ins and outs’ of wall-mounted plasma and LCD TVs.  People who buy them and want them wall-mounted have certain expectations, and so you would think, would the salesperson ; and having a measure of empathy mention the ‘ins and outs’.

Not on your Nelly!

My image of this technology I must admit, comes entirely from Star Trek. So let’s imagine that Captain Kirk has ordered a wall-mounted screen from that well known high street store.

SPOCK : “Captain a Clingon battle-cruiser has just de-cloaked  ”

KIRK :  “Shields and on-screen”

KIRK : “On-screen”


KIRK : ” I thought you said it had de-cloaked Spock; yet I cannot see anything”

SPOCK : ” Affirmative Captain, that well known high street electrical retailer sent round that well known company that installs electrical goods and installed the screen you see before you”

KIRK : ” So why can I not see anything?”

SCOTTY : The installation chappy mounted the screen Captain and everything was just fine until he tried to plug it in”.

KIRK : ” I don’t understand Scotty”

SCOTTY : “Well its like this Captain, the power lead just hung down from the screen and was too short to reach the socket where we used to have the telly in the corner of the bridge”

SCOTTY GRIMACES  ” It was just So, So  un-modern Captain”

Yes this is the reality for most households who have not been told  to make provision for power supplies.

A black lead hanging down ! Or should I say if you spent £1500 smacker-roonies or more

                                                      ‘A f****** BLACK LEAD HANGING DOWN’

Luckily for the customer the installation guys point this out to the client before it is mounted on the wall, and usually agree not to mount the screen. I wonder if this constantly failing to do what they set out to do; that day, is what turns them into miserable old sods.

                                                   On the bases that zero job satisfaction will do that to anyone.

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I’m afraid one of my fellow bloggers has got me all in a lather over Dolly and her Dinnerladies again. My chicken flock is at risk not just from foxes but Buzzards as well. Now even pictures of Mikes gorgeous house in Correzze(see below) can,t calm my nerves.

As head chicken it falls to me to come up with a solution. Looking through my DVD collection the answer struck me:

Kung-Fu lessons for the Dinnerladies.

 Yes I know what your thinking; even a highly skilled Kung-Fu chicken can’t take on a Buzzard. But there is four of them’ there must be some combo of eye gouging from the front and ball pecking from the rear movement. I’m not good with Cantonese I may even have a film actually called that.The fact remains however being as I am head chicken and the only one in the flock who has worn Kung-Fu pajamas I will start their training at once. There will be no fence painting induction as it is pointless whitewashing chicken wire,but splits between raised poles and chicken legs thrust into hot sand will be compulsory. Buzzards and Foxes beware!


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A few set backs on the old self sufficiency front this week. The first and worst was to discover that the cat is not just fat. We thought we had neglected his health and failed to notice his large waist. After noticing him panting and a quick trip to the vets it turns out he has a heart condition and it is fluid rather like when Gran or Grandad get puffy ankles.His front legs are still swollen even though he has a prescription for diuretics.

He seemed to be drinking a lot of water so we looked up the drug he is prescribed on the old tinterweb and we received our second self sufficiency set back this week. It turns out that according to the manufacturer of this drug while the cat is taking the pills we cannot eat him, let me repeat that ‘we cannot eat him. Blast and damnation I’m going to have a word with that vet next week; all my culinary plans for the cat we have been grooming for fourteen years dashed by his clumsy ministrations. So there is only the chickens left and as I have already become rather fond of Dolly and her Dinnerladies I can’t see me cramming them in the pot.

Talking to a friend the day before I am aware of another up and coming problem we will have with this French vet. Thinking ahead I asked what the situation is regarding my hens if they get sick, as in veterinary treatment etc. “O! the vet would just laugh came his reply” you are expected to cure them in the oven basically. That’s the other setback no vets for sick hens. Unless!! a cunning plan comes to mind. Now the wife is a dab hand with the old water colour paints. We could mix a sharp palette of orange, green and red then paint the girls up as parrots.I can do the ” who’s a pretty boy then ” imitations behind my hand whilst my wife keeps the vet talking. Trouble is I know what the vets going to be saying “bloody big feet for a parrot I think Polly is turning into a chicken”

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