Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Hey Spitty, I see Fred Dibnah Steeplejack was back on the telly last night, (BBC4), weren’t you a fan of his years back or was it RJ?

My oh my, we had plenty of exciting happenings on TV over the decades, you had The Four Just Men, Superman, Marvel Man, Batman-Crimefighter, and…wait for it…Fred Dibnah-Steeplejack!
Has a dynamic ring to it don’t you think, the finks ran for cover when Fred Dibnah entered a telephone box and changed into his overalls.

God rest his soul he was a great little oul fella altogether, never afraid to get his hands dirty and muck in, he knew a little bit about everything, a great problem solver, reminded me of me own Dad.
It was a pleasant surprise to see him again.

Like all good Steeplejacks, Fred was a skinny child, so his Mother raised him on a diet of bananas, he didn’t get any fatter as a youth, but boy could he climb, Sir Edmond Hillary with a spanner.

Expensive looking beer belly on him in this photo, good on ya Freddy me lad.

Did you know Fred spotted his first wife from the top of a chimney? it’s true, they eloped to be married in Gretna Green, he was married three times in all.
I understand Fred, they all look great from the top of a chimney, same as when you’re drunk.

Right said Fred.
“So Charlie and me had another cup of tea and I said right oh”
Nobody says ‘right oh’ or ‘alright’ anymore, it’s all OK now.
Wouldn’t it be just great if everything really was OK, sigh, ah well only two more weeks of this six weeks lockdown left, God I could murder a real pint of draught Guinness in a pub right now.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Not sure if the Cambridge Diet, or Cambridge Analytica is required here.

What makes a Good Guy, probably takes "Stacks" of information.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

I have watched a couple of Fred Dibnah's programmes about buildings but didn't really enjoy them. I much preferred his steeple-jacking and rebuilding road-going steam engine programmes.

I actually saw him a few months before he died. He was doing a programme where he toured various facilities that specialised in restoring and maintaining traction engines etcetera. One of these places was about 100m from where we were staying in a holiday cottage near Matlock, Derbyshire.
I was out with our dog when I heard a steam whistle, and then saw smoke at the bottom of the hill. Eventually a traction engine with covered wagon appeared, chugging effortlessly up the hill. When it grew close I realised it was Fred himself on the footplate and driven (I think) by one of his sons who was wearing a top hat.
Fred gave a wave and cheery smile as he steamed past before turning into the repair yard.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Its sad Fruitcake, that folks can't be repaired in a yard.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Killer lyrics, they are everywhere.

Oh I have no need of a chart or creed
You told your waiting crew
For the winds of chance, they will bear us straight
And you spoke as though you knew.
So you paid no mind to the warning signs
As you gave your words so free
Don't change your tack when the timbers crack
On the dark and and the rolling sea.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Thanks for that bit of info on Fred Fruity.
Nice to hear from you again.

My maternal grandfather was a steeplejack before he joined the BA during the first world war, he was gassed in a trench and sent home, he died in the military hospital here from breathing complications three years later, I never met him as I wasn’t born until 1945 so I know little about him only what my Mother told me. I’m currently trying to get any information I can and have contacted the eldest cousin in Canada to see if she can tell me anything, I’m not very hopeful though, she’s 88 and a bit senile.


I saw this somewhere else and had to laugh, just thought I’d pass it on.

“There appears to be some discord between Donald Trump’s lawyers.”

I always wondered how Moe did that little poke in the eye trick without causing an injury to someone, if you watch closely you’ll see he sends his extended right index finger to the left of Curly’s head and his folded thumb tips his nose, that's Curly’s cue to squint and put his hand to his face, he is never really near the eyes at all, just quickness of the hand.

If you open the gif in ‘preview’ on a mac you will see it frame by frame, watch frame 68, I don’t know what the equivalent to preview is on other computers but I’m sure you have a way to do this.
Great how you can find out these things with a computer innit, I'm quite pleased with meself after that discovery

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

For the men only.

A lady I know works in a well known chemist shop in town, I did a repair job on her old engagement ring recently and didn’t charge her as she’s an old friend of the wife, anyway she bought me a set of expensive ‘smelly stuffs’ for men, you know the type, aftershave, shaving cream, deodorant and that.
It was a brand I never heard of before so I was surprised and puzzled to find this little bottle of “Crop Preserver Ball deodorant” contained in the set —I kid you not.
“Crop Preserver”!!!, what crop is one supposed to reap come harvest time? (please don't say those nippy little sea creatures)

At first I thought it was the plastic ball roll on thing they have on some deodorants at the top of the bottle
So in all my innocence I looked it up and here’s what I got.

“HOW TO USE:
“You wouldn’t leave the house without putting deodorant on your pits, so do the same for your nuts. Keep them smelling good with Crop Preserver and be ready for anything life throws your way: a hot date, a promotion, or a pick-up game of basketball. Use Crop Preserver as part of your regular grooming routine, and daily after showering on non-grooming days for the preservation against sweat and funk.”

Who writes this sales junk anyway? “
“A hot date”? at my age? the only hot date I have is with the devil himself, very hot indeed I believe.
“A promotion”? what has ball deodorant got to do with promotion?, now call me daft, but if there was a higher opening where I was working and I was being interviewed by the boss, and he started to sniff trying to catch a whiff of me perfumed nuts like a common street mongrel sniffing another dog, I wouldn’t be long about telling him where to stuff his promotion.

Honestly now, isn’t that carrying the deodorant thing a bit too far? For God’s sake they’ll be coming out with a special deodorant for your ears and knees next, I’m inclined to think the more deodorant you need the smellier you must be.
God be with the days when a good scrubbing with a brick of Sunlight soap had you shining like a new pin, and even if your skin was as red as a Kipper after it, you were spotlessly clean for “anything life throws your way”

I ask meself why does anyone need a special deodorant for downstairs, what's wrong with spraying the normal body stuff down there?, skin is skin no matter where it is?
Is nothing sacred any more, not even one’s precious own nuts?

As for misleading advertising, don’t let me go there, you know what I think about that, advertising is the same as war, the first thing to go is the truth, anyway if folks are silly enough to fall for it then they deserve it.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

That reminds me of a spoof deodorant advert tag-line from my teen years.

Max Factor knacker-laquer.
Adds lustre to your cluster.

It also reminds me of the Mel Smith/Rowan Atkinson TV sketch set in a Scandawegian shop.

Can I help you?
Yes, I would like to buy some deodorant.
What sort sir, ball or aerosol.
Neither, I want it for my armpits.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Good one Fruity.

What ever happened to the red carbolic soap?, probably banned like a lot of other stuff.

We were very polite in our house, the word ‘bolic’ was never to be uttered, so my Dad used to call it Cartesticle soap, it was great stuff, as they used to say here “Sure t’would take paint off doors”.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

There’s no pleasing some people, especially when they’re getting on in years.

The chap across the road knocked into me today looking for the loan of a saw to cut a few overlapping branches off his tree, he said his next-door neighbour was giving him hassle about it.
I got out a good hand saw I had in the shed, he looked at it, waved his head in refusal and said.

“Ah no Jem, that’s not what I was wanting, have you not got an electric one?, me poor arms would be knackered trying to cut branches with that, then there’s me bad back to consider”
“Do you mean a chain saw Harry? because that’s all I have.” says I.
“Jesus no!, do yeh want me to do an injury to meself, them bloody things would slice you in half with the least little slip”
“Well I’m sorry Harry auld son, but that’s all I’ve got”
He went away empty handed with a puss on him like a grieving gorilla.

The old devil has a habit of not returning stuff you lend him, I always give him plenty of time to use the tools, but in the end I always have to ask him for them back “Ah it slipped me mind Jem”, he never says he’s sorry, he’s one of those idiots who thinks it’s a sign of weakness, that’s Harry for yeh, the last of the hardchaws.

I know him most of my life, we were at school together, he was a fairly happy little chap back then, but prone to fits of bad temper, but they were short lived back then.
As soon as he hit 70 he changed completely, he’s 74 now and a grumpier old shite you couldn’t meet in a days walk, I have never seen him smile since he hit pensionable age.

If you give him sympathy for his age he resents it, and if you don’t he resents it even more, how his poor missus puts up with him I’ll never know.

Why can’t folks just accept they can no longer be as fit and young as they used to be? that’s life, if you don’t want to grow old gracefully you might as well creep into a corner and die, then at least your loved ones wouldn’t have to listen to your perpetual moaning, but then again Harry has no consideration for others at all.

He nearly died at 50 when he was knocked off his bike by a lorry on the Naas Road, I remember well the time I went to visit him in hospital when he was recovering, i brought him a packet of of his favourite gingernut biscuits and two bottles of stout, he looked at one bottle and said.
“Ah Jem, you know I prefer lager”
Not a word of thanks, just a moan.
I felt like smashing the bottle over his ginger head.
Wouldn’t you think that after a serious accident like that he’d be grateful to be alive today, some people, honestly.

My wife can’t stand the sight of him, she seen him on the door monitor and wouldn’t open the door when he knocked, she came out to the shed to fetch me— the sucker, “Yer old mate is at the door Jem, you can deal with him”.
Wise woman.