My only friend... The End
WITH the New Year and all that jazz and the spirit of good will, your erstwhile columnist has decided to embrace the spirit - literally in some cases in the past two weeks.
My New Year's resolution is to be a bit more kind to all the good men on this earth and lay off them, but just for this gap in the paper.
And I should probably start with the arch nemesis - my friend and yours Mr (smooth-faced) Mondeo Man.
This week he told us his friction-less spade was because he has no children.
Wait I can't do that - no I must resist, so instead I'll let the good man himself take over the reigns of this institution and regale you with his wisdom.
So it's over to Mondeo Man, who should probably reveal himself - although hopefully you don't see his scabby leg - no one should ever have to see that.
So here is the ever/sometimes nebulous Mr Aiken....
EDITOR'S NOTE:- Now there's a cheek, a couple of years ago Dr Grinding practically begged me to give him his own column. I gave him the opportunity to write a motoring column with the notion I could have a future Clarkson under my wing.
Within an all too short period of time the column drifted away from matters motoring to just about anything that crossed the space between Mr Bell's ears.
Pick of the bunch was a rather questionable poem/song about a soupy back. I forgave him this in the spirit of allowing a young journalist - he keeps telling us he's 19 (although his birth certificate says otherwise) - a chance to find his wings.
Then this mysterious character Dr Grinding was born - definitely not Superman to Bell's Clarke Kent!
Dr Grinding's ego then began to write cheques his body couldn't cash by having a go at his boss - did no one in that fancy high-falutin' journalism school tell him you don't slag off the editor ie boss ie ME!
His angle of attack? My pride and joy, the thing I love most in all the world (including the wife) - my Jaguar X-Type.
He christened me Mondeo Man and I tolerated it. He slagged said car and has run down my good name in the eyes of the community. I could sue but as editor I wouldn't get far.
Now to add insult to injury he writes half a column and expects me to finish it for him! What's even worse I'm fool enough to do it.
With that in mind I'm going to give you - the reader - a say. Seeing as there's an election no one cares about in the offing I'm going to introduce another waste of time poll. If you want to keep Grinding My Gears in the Lurgan Mail text LMCOMMENT followed by the word 'YES' to 81800.
However, if you feel Grinding should be consigned to the deepest, darkest level of the big black filing cabinet labelled bin, text LMCOMMENT followed by the words 'Bell made another blunder' to 81800.
The future of Grinding my Gears is now in your hands!
Published Date:
14/01/2010
Modified Date:
14/01/2010
Mondeo Man Stikes
MYSTERY still surrounds the whereabouts of one of Lurgan’s much loved columnists.
Dr Grindin’, weekly columnist for the ‘MAIL’ has not been seen or heard of since his last, hilarious, installment on December 3.
The disappearance comes shortly after it was revealed the motormouth was linked in a string of affairs with various ladies.
However, it was thought he was quite proud of the alleged allegations and was said to be ‘living off the hype’, and considering a range of sponsorship options.
It’s believed he was in talks with Gatorade However, a bizarre set of events are said to have unfolded between the much-loved scribe and his evil nemisis - Mondeo Man.
Sources have claimed Mondeo Man, took advantage of Dr Grindin’s charitable and easy going nature.
At a night out with friends, Dr Grindin was having a rare old time when he was approached by the lumbering, and poorly constructed Mondeo Man.
A confrontation ensued and it's been alleged that Mondeo Man 'stroked’ a part of the good doctor’s body.
Witnesses said Dr Grindin became inconsolable and took off into the night closely followed by the aggrieved and plastic looking Mondeo Man.
Apparently later on the same night the police had to be called to the scene of an accident where it appeared Dr Grindin’ drove his car into a number of bushes, street furniture and a bus shelter - at a very
slow speed.
It’s not understood what happened on the night and police refused to comment on the made-up situation - they weren’t asked.
A very important person, who refused to use his name said: “This is just crazy.
“We always knew there was a bit of tension between the doctor and the (always at the) mechanic.
“But we never knew one of them had specific feelings - it was just a joke in our mind and that of Dr Grindin’.”
One thing is for certain, whatever happened, Dr Grindin’ appears to be keeping his head down after apparently becoming the victim of a sordid and clunky attack at the hands of Mondeo Man.
Editor's Note: Dr Grinding is getting worse with his fabrications. I thought it was bad we have a motoring columnist who doesn't have a car, then his columns strayed off the road (as he tends to do himself) and onto whatever was bothering him at the time of writing and now he's going off at complete tangents making things up. And as for this Mondeo Man nonsense, I don't know who that might be as I drive an
X-Type J-A-G-U-A-R. It has as much in common with the Mondeo as Angelina Jolie has with Jo Brand. If Dr Grinding isn't a bit more careful his column could get cut off!
Published Date:
07/01/2010
Modified Date:
07/01/2010
'Dropping the kids off at the pool'
THIS week Grindin’ and the Missus went on a proper all-star road trip.
We covered the hills and dales of the wild west, through the rain sodden roads of Fermanagh and past the new lakes of Sligo into the idyllic setting of Westport, Co Mayo.
Despite a brief stop in Enniskillen we did both journeys in just over five hours - without speeding or having to get a good bow wave going.
The roads of the south are little more than identical to our roads only differently coloured.
Although on the twisted tarmacadam around Westport they have some rather ominous signs.
As we headed out on a leisurely drive on the a sun swept November Saturday we drove over a traditional ‘SLOW’ road marking - and I duly adjusted my speed.
At the next bend the road marking changed to ‘VERY SLOW’ and again I adjusted my speed to reflect the increased (and imagined) danger there could possibly around the corner.
Then at the next bend the road marking said only ‘DEAD SLOW’ - I kid you not!
We sat there and debated how slow ‘DEAD SLOW’ could possibly mean, I was already doing 10 kilometres an hour - which is slower than walking pace.
So the Missus got out checked the bend ahead and I navigated the obvious hazard that lay ahead - although any danger was not very evident.
This, of course, in no way reflects another journey I learned of this week, when caution was thrown out the window.
In the latest adventures of Mondeo Man we visit our hero in the cinema for the latest Hollywood blockbuster.
After three-and-a-bit hours, a bucket load of popcorn, cola, nachos, the compulsory pic ‘n’ mix, crisps, malteasers and some of the wife’s nibbles he took to the long road home.
Desperation and a rush set in to get home at the earliest possible ‘convenience’.
But in his haste he allowed the needle in the dash to creep slightly over the speed limit and the ‘blues and twos’ lit up his rear-view mirror.
PC Plod asked him what the rush was and he said about the need to get home because of an impending ‘nuclear emergency’.
The cop, baffled, failed to understand.
Our hero then mentioned a strain on the load he was carrying - again met with a shake of the head.
He then told the police man he was in a rush to drop the kids off at the pool.
The copper - understandably getting frustrated at the ever mounting pile of paperwork this ticket might cause - allowed our hero to pass.
As he slowly pulls away the wife leans across and whispers: “You're full of crap.”
EDITOR'S NOTE:- Dr Grinding has taken our oft used nickname 'The Lurgan Liar' a little too literally. I was not speeding and it was a police checkpoint I was stopped at, they only asked the usual question about where I was going, I responded home as detailed on the licence I had just handed him. That's the gratitude I get for sending him on his trip to Westport!
Published Date:
03/12/2009
Modified Date:
03/12/2009
On a wing and a prayer
THE car has had yet another dent - although I can almost be 90 per cent sure it wasn’t my fault.
After a period of driving it, I parked the car and secured it and myself and the better half went off to enjoy ourselves at a friend’s wedding.
Little did we know that while we were offering our condolences to the end of two people’s lives that our little Fez was being violated.
The following day as Mrs Grinding took off she came back to break the bad news.
An errant parker had hit the wing mirror causing it to shatter - although it had to be pointed out to me it was so insignificant.
However, it was my fault that the wing mirrors were not folded in - apparently.
So I decided to head off to Halfords and get the problem sorted.
“A replacement mirror, sticks right over the broken mirror - easy to fit, shouldn’t be a problem for you,” said the rather nice gentleman when I asked about fitting.
Well I think it turned out ok (see above).
For those of you wanting to hear more of Clint’s exploits after I examined his rules of dogging last week. I am sorry to say the censor stepped in and has banned me from mentioning anything else he might have told us in the office.
Which is unfortunate because I had an interesting article penned on his difficulties getting suited and booted for his Wednesday nights out with the ‘boys’.
Who am I kidding - it was never interesting.
Published Date:
26/11/2009
Modified Date:
26/11/2009
Taken by the scruff of the neck
‘WHEN the full beam is on you're allowed to get as close as you like, but no touching’.
This is the law of the car park according to Clint - the big boss man.
He says that when he goes out with the dog there are a set amount of protocols that are strictly adhered to.
Other rules say that if the window is down and the side light are on you are allowed a little light petting.
And if the lights are dipped then you can get involved yourself. (I feel I have to point out these are the rules I repeated as part of a rather long winded joke told by my mate 'Slabby' - ED).
These rules seem odd, I’m no expert on walking dogs but this secret society nonsense that permeates through our society is getting beyond a joke.
I think we have enough covert organisaitons in the world not to allow another to grow and develop.
I’ve just read the latest ‘bestseller’ from Dan Brown and I’m sure he’s glad it was tagged as a bestseller before it was released.
One wonders whether or not it would have become the hit it did had it just been labelled ‘a seller’.
It was a good tale, poorly told and methinks his editor allowed him to go on ad nauseum, because the book ends and then goes on for another couple of hundred pages. (Oh I know that feeling - ED).
There is also a lot of background material forced into the early portion of the book.
A character walks into a room which reminds them of their school and then we seemingly get their life story in detail.
Of course as this tangent returns to the narrative I had forgotten what brought the character into the room in the first place.
I give it 18 out of a possible 33 - and if you read the book you’ll realise the significance of the numbers.
If you do then get in touch and enlighten me.
In Dan Brown’s world secret societies and mathematical equations and nut jobs exist to bring about the end of the world, or great power - or something to warrant 600 pages.
It's time we stopped buying into this notion of conspiracy theories.
And Clint the next time you take the dogs for a walk - leave the car behind and all the other ‘dogging’ rules you have (Jonathan has forgotten the key rule, never slag off the boss - ED).
Published Date:
19/11/2009
Modified Date:
19/11/2009
He ain't heavy, he's my bro
WE have all been there, a hiccup, a cough, a splutter - it’ll go away we always say.
How many times has something happened to your car, a strange noise and something that is out of the ordinary happening.
Most of us will know exactly what I mean.
But instead of taking a step back and getting the experts in, we just hope and pray it was nothing and it will go away.
Now that I have sold the Golf, I can admit that there was many a time something happened and I just ignored it - the pound signs flashed up and I chose to ignore it.
It would go away I assured myself and most of the time it did - it was probably something not even related to my car, just a freak occurrence.
We all know that the trip to the garage will not be a cheap one, and even if nothing’s wrong - it will cost.
But I, like many, many other people - men in particular- do the same with our health.
I can admit that at times I have cringed and buckled over in absolute agony and totally ignored it.
I put it down to some over-exurbance on the drink and thought nothing of it and that’s all it probably was - I’m young and in good nick.
However, millions of us go on ignoring the dangers and the warning signs, thinking nothing of the consequences.
The doc might say it's nothing - so we won’t bother troubling him.
Every year millions of men ignore the warning signs of many, many coughs, tickles and splutters and put it down to nothing.
Prostate Cancer is one such disease.
Recently I spoke with a woman who was inspired to raise money for the Prostate Cancer Charity.
Her husband was in good health and one day had a problem going to the toilet.
He was diagnosed with a well-advanced form of Prostate Cancer and died not long after the diagnosis.
Prostate Cancer has a historical legacy of neglect and the Prostate Cancer Charity has worked long and hard raising awareness.
It also funds research and offers support to suffers.
So for this reason I am asking for a little help.
It's ‘Movember’ a sponsored world-wide event for the Prostate Cancer Charity.
People are encouraged to grow a ‘Mo for a bro’ a moustache to change the face of men’s health.
I haven’t shaved for 10 days at writing - probably 12 when you read this - for this worthwhile cause.
So if you can, and I know we are having it tight, please give generously.
Either call into our High Street office, or donate to the cause online.
Visit www.movember.com, click on the find a member link and enter my name ‘jonathan bell’ and follow the instructions to donate.
Any help is greatly appreciated.
Normal service resumes next week.
Published Date:
12/11/2009
Modified Date:
12/11/2009
In the thick of it
SHOCK - I watched a documentary on social workers.
It was an interesting look at the work of social workers in a deprived area of a poverty stricken English town.
They had to deal with the stresses and strains of finding vulnerable children in horrendous conditions.
Also they had to be able to cope with family disputes.
In one instance a woman called to say a relative had dropped a child on its head and what should she do.
Turned out the call was malicious and intended to cast doubt on a parent’s ability to look after their child.
It was fascinating, the social workers themselves had no actual powers unless they enlisted the help of the law.
But also the stresses and strains these people went through - it was really quite remarkable.
Especially given that the social workers came under intense scrutiny when one single case slipped through their grasp.
And it was a shock to learn that there was only the very odd case that slipped through the net.
Especially given the hundreds of rules and regulations the social workers had to adhere to.
For obvious legal reasons, the film makers had to hide a lot of identifying factors.
Streets were blurred along with house numbers, names and car registration plates.
One thing the producers also decided to blur out was the moniker on the steering wheel of one of the social workers cars.
This was strange, because they didn’t think to do the same on the front of the car and they didn’t think to do it to any other identifying marks.
But never fear your (occasionally) weekly columnist can end this particular mystery.
The car in question was a rather tasty Audi A3 S Line, which I hoped was the top of the range 3.2 litre sporty version - although it was difficult to narrow that down.
It had the all leather sports interior and the traditional six-speed gear box - truly a great car.
God only knows why this detail was omitted - I mean they showed the social workers had a tough enough job.
And to be fair the the car was even in the austere and dull grey colour - Can the social workers not be paid well and buy a rather nice car?
I’ve included a rather nice picture of the car in a great colour.
Published Date:
05/11/2009
Modified Date:
05/11/2009
wet and miserable - must be the train
THE train journey this week was probably one of the most nightmarish misadventures I have ever had in this century or the last.
I have travelled the world and journeyed on some of the world’s most backward forms of travel.
In America I have travelled ‘coach’ on an airline and ventured through some of the most violent areas of Liverpool.
But never have I become so angry as this morning.
The inability of the train company to tell the truth was shocking.
On arrival at the platform I took my usual seat with no hint of an indication that my train was to be late - it was due in four minutes. In other words ‘on time’.
Then it was to be six minutes late, then 10, then 15, then 18 before finally settling on 22 minutes before the announcements gave up.
But all the other trains were late as well and myself and all my fellow commuters were treated to a rendition of ‘I’m sorry our trains are late’ over and over again.
Given that it’s a recorded announcement, the pitch perfect tones of the woman soon became an implement of torture.
Couple this with the driving cold I was ready to talk - to confess to all and be done with it - but there was no such reprieve.
There was clearly a problem, but for the life of me I can’t think as to why the train announcement people would not admit it.
Finally just before the arrival of the train another announcement came - “the Portadown train is running two minutes late.”
I actually, nearly, cracked - the first train was 22 minutes late and they were going to try and sell it as only slightly late.
But why do they constantly have to tell fibs. By the time the separate minutes were announced I had lost count.
Why can there not just be the one saying the train is late by 30 minutes - then when it shows up in 27 minutes at least there is a reason to smile.
Published Date:
22/10/2009
Modified Date:
22/10/2009