D'ya hear yer man 11/03/10
Expensive tastes
Instead of saying something is new why don’t we just substitute the word ‘new’ for ‘more expensive’. For example on Saturday night Karen and I visited a new bar in our neck of the woods. It was £4.50 for a glass of wine. A small glass of wine at that. £4.50? In most off licences you’d be able to get a whole bottle for that price. The barman swirled a few ice cubes around the glass to chill it before pouring the wine in. I’m guessing it’s pretty difficult to find barstaff who are skilled in the ancient art of ice swirling, so I was probably paying at least an extra £1.50 to meet his huge wage bill. I asked him if he’d mixed up my order of sauvignon blanc with someone else’s order of the elixir of life. He said he hadn’t. I asked him if the wine had been sourced from the lost vineyards of Atlantis? He said it hadn’t. So I asked him why the blazes it was so dear. He said the ambience of the bar was included in the price of the drink. I asked if I could just pay for the ambience and forget about the wine. He said as a special favour he would charge me for the ambience and throw in a free glass of wine. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. It cost me £4.50. That’s the last time I try anything new.
An odd recurrence
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in a shop when Lady Gaga comes on and you hear some old bloke trying to sing along to ‘Bad Romance’ and getting all the words wrong.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in a shop when Lady Gaga comes on and you hear some old bloke trying to sing along to ‘Bad Romance’ and getting all the words wrong and then you realise the old bloke is you.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in a shop when Lady Gaga comes on and you hear some old bloke trying to sing along to ‘Bad Romance’ and getting all the words wrong and then you realise the old bloke is you and the song is on your headphones.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in a shop when Lady Gaga comes on and you hear some old bloke trying to sing along to ‘Bad Romance’ and getting all the words wrong and then you realise the old bloke is you and the song is on your headphones and because you’ve got a hat on no-one can see you’re wearing headphones.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in a shop when Lady Gaga comes on and you hear some old bloke trying to sing along to ‘Bad Romance’ and getting all the words wrong and then you realise the old bloke is you and the song is on your headphones and because you’ve got a hat on no-one can see you’re wearing headphones and everyone is staring and pointing at you.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than being in a shop when Lady Gaga comes on and you hear some old bloke trying to sing along to ‘Bad Romance’ and getting all the words wrong and then you realise the old bloke is you and the song is on your headphones and because you’ve got a hat on no-one can see you’re wearing headphones and everyone is staring and pointing at you and then it dawns on you that you’ve left the house in your pyjamas again.
Weekly teaser
The answer to last week’s teaser was 5 4 5 + 5 = 550. The single stroke of the pen changed the + into a 4. Here’s the week’s teaser for you. And don’t be cheating by looking up the internet or using an encyclopaedia. What was the name of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom on June 20, 1970?
Published Date:
11/03/2010
Modified Date:
11/03/2010
D'ya hear yer man 25/02/10
Wrestlemania
I love wrestling. There, I’ve said it. I’m 32 years of age and I still follow a ‘sport’ which is less believable than Eastenders and more of a fix than the X Factor. Please allow me this one guilty pleasure. When I was a child I was addicted to the wrestling on Saturday afternoons, just after the A-Team if I remember right. Then I got hooked on the WWF, later to become the WWE. Since getting Sky installed a couple of years ago I’ve rediscovered my passion for watching bulky men in leotards pretend to knock seven shades of shoe shine out of each other. What I’ve noticed from watching wrestling of late is that when men in peak muscle condition pummel each other like there’s no tomorrow they always manage to get back onto their feet. However, hit them with a chair and they’re out cold, usually requiring the use of a stretcher to get carried out of the arena. It’s only a chair for goodness sake. How can a piece of furniture strike such fear and instigate such carnage? Compared to a man-mountain bouncing off the ropes and speeding towards you like a juggernaut what’s so scary about a simple folding chair? Some night I’m going to tune into the wrestling to hear the ring announcer say, ‘And in the blue corner, weighing in at 300 pounds from Death Valley is the Undertaker. And his opponent, in the red corner, is a bar stool from Fa’ Joe’s.’
In receipt of a funny line
Karen bought me a Nintendo Wii for my 30th birthday. I absolutely love it, but sometimes I wish she’d given me the money and allowed me to buy it myself. That way I could have walked into the shop, used the cash to purchase the item, then taken childish pleasure in hearing the girl behind the till said, ‘Here’s your change and here’s your Wii receipt.’
Energy saving light bulbs
One of the light bulbs in the house blew last week. Karen told me to go to the shop and get an energy saving light bulb to replace it. I went on the bicycle to B&Q to get such a bulb but they were closed due to unforeseen circumstances. I rode on to Tesco but they didn’t have any. Then the bike got a flat tyre. I had to wheel it to the local hardware store where I finally got the energy saving light bulb I was after. I put the bulb in my pocket and the bike on my shoulder and made my way home. 45 minutes later I was back, sweat lashing off me and gasping for breath. I presented her the bulb, ‘Here you go,’ I panted. ‘This is the energy saving light bulb you were after. Can you please explain to me how its supposed to save energy?’
Weekly teasers
This week I present you with not one, but three teasers. They’ve come from Paul Best of First Lurgan Cubs who’s running a quiz on Friday night in the Jethro Centre. It starts at 7pm, admission is free although donations to support the local Scouting organisation will be gratefully accepted. A traditional Scout supper will also be provided. Anyway, here’s Paul’s puzzles. 1. Give me food and I live, give me water and I die... what am I? 2. In a drawer I have six pairs of black gloves and six pairs of white gloves. If I pick one glove at a time randomly how many gloves will I need to pick out before I’m sure I have one matching pair? 3. I have a piece of wood that’s 10 foot long. I have to cut it into 10 equal pieces. If it takes me one minute to make each cut how long will it take me to get 10 pieces? In case you were wondering, the answer to last week’s teaser was: a computer keyboard.
Published Date:
25/02/2010
Modified Date:
25/02/2010
D'ya hear yer man 18/02/10
It’s been a funny few days
Welsh rugby player Andy Powell ‘celebrated’ his team’s late victory over Scotland at the weekend by stealing a golf cart from the hotel the players were staying at and riding it down the motorway. He’s likely to face a lengthy ban for his reckless behaviour, but it could have been a lot worse if he’d stolen the new Toyota Prius that was parked beside the golf cart.
Speaking of Toyotas I called my mate the other day to see how he was getting on with his new Prius. He answered the phone and said, ‘I’m driving. Sorry, can’t stop.’
Back to Andy Powell and it appears his naughtiness with the golf cart has opened up a whole new can of worms. It turns out the vehicle in question was Wayne Bridge’s ex-golf cart.
Thankfully it looks like the Bridge-Terry saga is coming to end. John Terry and his wife were pictured arm in arm in Dubai this week. In a public statement the Chelsea defender said, ‘My wife and I have had a long chat and we’re going to put this behind us and move on. It’s all water under the... Water under the... Anyway, it’s time to move on.’
Wayne Bridge also tried to make a fresh start with his ex-girlfriend, Vanessa Perroncel. In a bid to win back Vanessa he bought her a box of Roses for Valentine’s Day. He was gutted when she said she preferred Terry’s.
In the Cousins household romance was in the air, but it was to be short lived. I told Karen I’d booked a table for Valentine’s night and she was giddy with excitement. On the night, when I walked into the living room in my best suit and waistcoat she said, ‘Wow, this place must be really fancy.’ The mood turned a little sour when we turned up at the local snooker hall.
I called up to my uncle’s house this week. He told me how he was having real difficulty finding big matches. He needs the long ones to light his favourite scented candles but it seems no one stocks them anymore. I told him if he wants to know how to get extra long matches he should speak to Alex Ferguson.
When I was out for a walk at lunchtime on Monday I saw this weird, little man in the park. He was shouting, ‘Sandwich! Sandwich!’ Next thing this strange looking dog came running over to him. ‘Why do you call your dog Sandwich?’ I asked him. ‘Because he’s half-bred,’ was the man’s reply.
Viva Las Vegas
Believe it or not there are as many Catholic churches as casinos in Las Vegas. Because of the high number of both establishments, some worshippers at Sunday services have started giving casino chips rather than cash when the collection plate is passed round. Since the churches end up getting chips from lots of different casinos they’ve devised a method to collect the offerings. The churches send all their chips to a nearby Franciscan monastery for sorting and then the chips are taken back to the original casinos and cashed in. This is done by the chip monks.... ha, bet you didn’t see that coming!
Weekly teaser
The answer to last week’s teaser was: the man died when his parachute failed to open. The parachute was the unopened package he had with him. Here’s this week’s puzzle: I have keys that open no locks. I have space, but there is no room. You can enter, but you can't go in. What am I?
Published Date:
19/02/2010
Modified Date:
19/02/2010
D'ya hear yer man 11/02/10
Superbowled out
I tried to sit up and watch the Superbowl on Sunday night. Just for a bit of oul craic. Despite being ridiculously tired on Monday morning I learnt a lot. First up, women living in Northern Ireland don’t have a leg to stand on when they start moaning about there being too much sport on TV. In the game of American football there’s a total of 60 minutes of action spread over four quarters. However, the coverage of the game, including time-outs and line-up changes, and in the case of the Superbowl, the half-time show, meant that Sunday night’s viewing time weighed in at a whopping five and a bit hours. It meant I was getting more hours American football than I was getting hours sleep. At least on this side of the big pond if a husband politely asks his wife to stop nagging him because he’s watching the football she only has to put the nagging on hold for two hours, not nearly a quarter of a day. The second thing I learned is, there’s no such thing as artistic integrity when it comes to something as commercially viable as the Superbowl. The half-time entertainment came from The Who. I was really looking forward to a rip-roaring set, but instead of playing their own songs all they did was cover the theme tunes from the ‘CSI’ trilogy. Finally, I learned that roman numerals are only a good idea up to a point. ‘Superbowl I’, ‘Superbowl V’ and ‘Superbowl XI’ are easily digestible, but the latest ‘Superbowl XLIV’ takes on the appearance of a mysterious code, the like you’d find in a Dan Brown novel. So was it all worth it, depriving myself of sleep to watch a spectacle which is 30% sport and 70% razamataz? I’ll be honest with you, when I woke up the next morning I couldn’t even remember who’d won the game.
Show me the money
I’m running a dream team competition for the Six Nations rugby. For those of you who don’t know what a dream team is, just imagine being able to pick all the best players in the world and put them on one team. Oh wait, you’re thinking of Chelsea, aren’t you? Anyway, every time I run a competition like this I get people who hand me their team and say, ‘Why don’t you just give me the money now? That’s the winning team right there!’ That’s all well and good, but what if, when the competition comes to a close, I’m approached by the eventual winner who says, ‘Where’s my money?’ and I say, ‘Well, you see, what happened is, before a ball had even been kicked, I followed the advice of one of the managers who assured me he’d picked the winning team and suggested I give him the prize money then and there. So I gave him all the prize money. What was I to do? I hope you understand. Please let go of my head.’
Getting stoned
Walking from my house to the train station is a finely tuned operation. So when I left the house on Tuesday morning and discovered I had a stone in my boot there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Had I stopped to remove the offending item, the minute and a half it would have taken to undo the laces, remove the boot, shake out the stone and put the boot back on, would have meant I’d have missed the train. What started out as a grain of sand had become a pebble after 10 minutes, after 20 it was the size of a golf ball and by the time I got to Central Station it felt like I’d part of the Giant’s Causeway in my boot. To cut a long story short I’ve decided to give the stone a name. It’s the most annoying stone I’ve ever encountered so I’ve christened it ‘Joss Stone’.
Weekly teaser
The answer to last week’s teaser was: two red balls of bubble gum, two yellow balls and two blue balls. Here’s this week’s lateral thinking puzzle: There’s a dead man in the middle of a field. He has with him an unopened package. How did he die?
Published Date:
11/02/2010
Modified Date:
11/02/2010
D'ya hear yer man 04/02/10
To sleep, perchance to dream
Dreams are a bit mad, aren’t they? It’s hardly the most revolutionary of openings to this week’s column, but I don’t claim to be Che Guevara. The other morning I had a dream that I’d woken up - the most confusing sort of dream. The noise that had woken me was the sound of my work colleague Jonathan arguing with his girlfriend Anna downstairs. In dreamland, logic is not what it is in reality. Rather than question how on earth Jonathan and Anna had gotten into our house in the dead of night, I shouted downstairs, ‘Could the two of you please keep the noise down?’ Then later I had another dream that I’d woken up. This time it was the ding of the microwave that had woken me up. It had woken Karen as well. I went down to inspect and apprehended three large ladies with armfuls of our household items. If it hadn’t been for the fact they’d paused to heat up a microwave cheeseburger I’d never have caught them. I called Karen down to keep an eye on the fat cat burglars and gave chase to their getaway car which had our TV sticking out the back of it. I eventually caught up with the car thanks to my newfound ability to fly. It was at this point I subconsciously realised I was dreaming and the realisation caused me to wake up. Properly awoken this time, I listened attentively for the sound of a microwave dinging. Thankfully all was quiet. I’d really like to find out more about dreams, but in order to do that I’d need to speak to a dream expert or read a book written by an authority on dreams. And there’s no way I’m going to pay for the services of someone who has a lie-in and calls it ‘important research’.
Chirpy chirpy cheap cheap
I mentioned last week my frustration at being unable to find the source of the chirping noise in our house. After listening intently to all the recently-installed, hard-wired smoke alarms individually, taking them down and replacing the back-up batteries, then putting them back up again, I was infuriated to hear yet another chirp. Karen suggested checking the attic. Now, why would I check the attic, I argued, it’s quite clear the noise is coming from somewhere within the house. What did she know about manly things like alarms, batteries and incessant noises? To appease her I opened the hatch to the attic... to be greeted by a loud chirp. I’d forgotten about the old battery-operated alarm that was wall-mounted in the attic when it was used by the former owners as a child’s bedroom. Oh how we laughed. Well, Karen laughed. I huffed.
BOGOF
There’s a shoe shop in Lurgan displaying a huge ‘Buy One Get One Free’ sign. It’s only when you read the small print you find out it’s one pair, not one shoe. And here’s me thinking some entrepreneurial mind had reinvented the concept of shoe selling.
Joke
During a recent password audit at the Bank Of Ireland it was found that Paddy O'Toole was using the following password: MickeyMinniePlutoHueyLouieDeweyDonaldGoofyDublin. When Paddy was asked why he had such a long password, he replied, ‘Sure I was told my password had to be at least eight characters long and include one capital.’
Weekly teaser
The answer to last week’s teaser was: a die/dice. Here’s this week’s puzzle. A bubble gum machine contains red, yellow and blue balls of bubble gum. All but four of the balls are blue and all but four of the balls are red. How many of each colour of ball are there in the bubble gum machine?
Published Date:
04/02/2010
Modified Date:
04/02/2010
D'ya hear yer man 28/01/10
Fail, fail and fail again
Last week in this very column I slagged off Mondays for being rubbish and sung the praises of Saturday as my favourite 24-hour period. Big mistake. Since then the days of the week have conspired to make me eat humble pie with a generous side order of my words. As I write this, on a Monday ironically, I reflect on a pretty eventful last few days. On Thursday I let myself, my colleagues, my friends and my family down when I failed in my attempt to break the world record for eating three pickled eggs. Then on Friday I ended up in a pickle after our new carpet arrived and I was promptly told by the fitters we hadn’t got enough to span the length of the room. Downstairs, I sipped nervously at my Irn-Bru as they hammered and shunted, stapled and stamped in the upstairs bedroom. In the end they stretched it to fit and I wouldn’t have known any different to look at it. I’m wondering do they drop the same initial bombshell with all their clients just to see the look on their faces. With the close-call over the carpet behind me, on Friday afternoon I assembled our new bed. On Friday evening I assembled our new bed. On Saturday morning I assembled our new bed. On Sunday morning I assembled our new bed. On Sunday afternoon I gave up. The company we bought it from agreed it wasn’t a case of a bad workman blaming his tools and have, on inspection of the ill-fitting item, promised to replace it. In between the bed building fiasco we went out for our wedding anniversary dinner. It was fantastic. But our mood was soon to change. Just after the dinner Karen phoned her dad to find out how our car got on at its MOT. It failed. Just as Lurgan Firsts and Seconds had both failed to win on the rugby field that afternoon, just as Leicester City had failed to progress beyond the fourth round of the FA Cup, just as I’d failed to do anything about our fence that had blown down Friday week ago during the strong winds. Amidst all these fails was a chirping noise. The battery in the smoke alarm was low. I sorted it out only for another of the smoke alarms to begin chirping. I couldn’t find any more batteries in the house. The nearest shop that sold the sort of batteries we required was about 10 minutes drive away. Drive being the operative word - we didn’t have a roadworthy vehicle. I lit the fire, cracked opened a few beers and allowed Jack Bauer’s latest adventure to drive me to distraction. I’ll be honest, things had come full circle, I was looking forward to Monday. And so to bed... only to be rudely awoken by the sound of a knife-wielding murderer. I’d forgotten to test the alarm on my recently acquired clock/radio before setting it. Turns out the manufacturers thought it would be a good idea to use the ‘eek, eek, eek’ noise from the film Psycho as the buzzer. I’ll tell you what, I was in no mood for going back to sleep after hearing it. The lesson I’ve learned from all this is, don’t be so tough on Mondays, they’re only there to make the rest of the week less daunting.
Try, try and try again
I touched on the subject of the world record attempt earlier. As I said, I failed, but not to be deterred, I’m going to try again very soon. And try and try again until I succeed. If you’d like to see Thursday’s attempt for yourself there’s a video available by following the link
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvQYfhdwqiEAlternatively go to You Tube and search for ‘Lurgan Mail’ - it should be the second result.
Weekly teaser
The answer to last week’s teaser was the McHoolihans have a family of nine. Here’s this week’s puzzle. What has six faces but doesn’t wear make-up and has 21 eyes but can’t see?
Published Date:
28/01/2010
Modified Date:
28/01/2010
D'ya hear yer man 21/01/10
Monday blues
Karen and I had our second wedding anniversary this Monday. To celebrate I covered the mid-monthly council meeting and went to rugby training. You can call me unromantic, but I plan to do something a bit more special this Saturday - a day built for celebrating. I don’t know exactly what I’ll be doing yet, but it may involve candlelight... especially if there’s a power cut. To get back to my original point, you can’t have fun on a Monday. It’s just not possible. Most restaurants are closed and very few takeaways are open. The pubs are all empty and there’s nothing good on TV. And how’s Karen supposed to get her hair done for the big occasion when the hairdressers all shut up shop on a Monday. To put the icing on the cake this Monday - January 18 - was officially the most depressing day of the year. I’d love to know who gave the official seal to the notion that the year could have a single day that outdepresses the rest. Probably the same person who called it ‘Blue Monday’. I hate the way everything has to have a dumbed-down nickname these days. You’ve got the last Friday before Christmas - ‘Black-eye Friday’, the dodgy economic climate - ‘The Credit Crunch’, the anonymous decade we’ve just emerged from - ‘The Noughties’ or celebrity supercombo Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie - ‘Brangelina’. Actually, that last one isn’t too bad. Since we’re celebrating two years married perhaps myself and Karen should become a single entity. On second thoughts ‘Graren’ is pretty terrible and ‘Kareme’ isn’t much better.
Record breaker
Last Wednesday evening I unofficially broke the pickled egg eating world record on the spur of the moment. I was ravenous after a game of squash which went on for longer than it should have - my opponent simply refused to admit defeat and in the end he didn’t have to because he beat me. Back at my house after the game I opened the fridge and saw three items that could satisfy my hunger - a trio of picked eggs. When setting a recent quiz I discovered that the world record for eating three pickled eggs was 58 seconds. With this fresh in my mind I decided to give the record a go. The first was wolfed down in seven seconds, the second took a little longer and by the third the heartburn had well and truly kicked in and I struggled through the last egg in a couple of bites. The time was 54.6 seconds. If there had been an official from the Guinness Book of Records present I’d have been crowned the world champ then and there. Unfortunately for me the only person to witness it was Dino Cafolla - my racquet-wielding nemesis and fast-fingered timekeeper. Surely a name as ceremonious as Dino Cafolla would have made the record-breaking feat official? And so to the next step. Today (Thursday), I’m going to try and break the record on camera. The plan is to dust off the ‘MAIL’ video camera and use it to capture my attempt to become a record-breaker. Should all go according to plan, the video will be up on the ‘MAIL’ website for all to see. Even if I don’t, it’ll probably still go up on the website so you can watch me with proverbial, and maybe even literal, egg on my face as I fail miserably.
Weekly teaser
There were at least three different answers to last week’s teaser. You could have had prince, princes, princess or bra bras, brass or care, cares, caress. Here’s this week’s puzzle. Mr and Mrs McHoolihan have six daughters and each daughter has one brother. How many people are there in the family?
Published Date:
21/01/2010
Modified Date:
21/01/2010
D'ya hear yer man 14/01/10
Woes of a sportsman
This icy period has been a bit of nuisance for sportsmen like myself. You can stop laughing now - I play a competitive sport for six months of the year so that makes me a sportsman. It’s just a pity those six months that make up the rugby season fall in such a hit-and-miss period weatherwise. One week you’re bathed in brilliant autumnal sunshine with just a light cooling breeze and the next you’re losing a boot in a quagmire brought about by persistent November rain. But rarely is a match called off. Rugby is very much an all-weather sport. It takes pretty extreme conditions to merit an abandonment. Which is why I was more than a bit disappointed when our Town’s Cup match was called off on Saturday because of a frozen pitch. It was the alternative that made me so glum. Instead of indulging in a frenzy of tackles, rucks, mauls, bruises, bashes, scrapes, pints and cheers, I would have to go shopping for things for the house. I began Saturday afternoon by getting to grips with curtain measurements. The question was which size best suited the two rooms which are currently devoid of privacy. Although a 90 inch drop looked best, the longer curtains would be covering the radiators and restricting heat. And what of the width? Did we want the curtains to be bunched or pulled taught? Decisions, decisions. Next there was the colour for the bathroom wall. Barely Chalk vs Chalk Burst - despite the contrasting descriptions, the difference was negligible. They were both cream. As if these tribulations weren’t enough to break me, there was the bedroom carpet to consider. Do we pay extra to get a continuous five foot roll of carpet or do we make a saving and get a smaller roll that will require a join. A join which could grow over the years to become an unsightly gulf. By the time we’d made all the relevant choices my head was hurting like I’d gone toe-to-toe for 80 minutes with Ireland’s Grand Slam champions. Give me the real thing any week. And to put the icing on the cake, even though the weather is improving I can’t play this weekend. I’ve to go to a wedding. Instead of propping up the bar I’ll probably end up hanging out with all the girls and talking about interior design and fine furnishings.
Wardrobe malfunction
I have a system for socks. I should probably have explained this system to Karen. There’s three boxes under the bed. One for thin black socks for work, one for thick and/or coloured socks and the other has my pants in it. However, when it comes to socks Karen doesn’t follow the same system. She opts for a thin and thick split regardless of colour. She probably should have explained this system to me. I’ll tell you for why. The other morning I got dressed in the dark so as not to disturb my sleeping wife. I fetched a pair of socks from my ‘thin black’ basket under the bed and put them on. Then I grabbed a pair of pants from the box beside it and donned them. It was only when I was on the train I discovered I was wearing bright blue socks. Not the best match for black shoes and trousers. I planned to give Karen ‘what for’ following the sock debacle, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it when I discovered soon after that I’d put my pants on back to front. Sometimes you’ve got to hold your hands up and admit you’re a complete and utter tube. This is me doing just that.
Weekly teaser
The answer to last week’s body parts teaser was: Arm, ear, eye, gum, hip, jaw, leg, lip, rib, toe. Here’s this week’s brainteaser. Find a word which is singular, but if you add an 's' it becomes plural and then when you add another 's' it becomes a singular word again.
Published Date:
14/01/2010
Modified Date:
14/01/2010