The Day It Was Hotter Than Hawaii

Apparently, the British only ever talk about two things. One of them is football but, since the season is now over, everyone seems to have defaulted to the other major topic of English conversation: the weather.

But who can blame us? I mean, over the last couple of months, it’s been mental! Only a few weeks ago, the government announced that we’re experiencing a terrible drought and enforced a nationwide hosepipe ban. Of course, this was immediately followed by non-stop rain, which was so heavy at times that I had begun to wonder if London Zoo had started grouping their animals into twos.

But a couple of days ago, something magical happened. The sun came out! In fact, this week the newspapers have been going on about how it’s hotter in England than in parts of Africa. What they fail to mention, however, is that it’s currently winter in most of Africa.

I read today that it’s hotter than Hawaii. I don’t think that the Hawaiians are going to be too jealous though. I mean, hot weather in Hawaii conjures up images of hula skirts, sunbathing and cocktails on the beach. Hot weather in England usually means overweight people walking around not wearing enough clothes, sweaty businessmen, and a perpetual whiff of BO on the Underground.

This morning the train was an absolute joke. If it’s Hawaii temperature outside, then it’s more like Death Valley in the carriage. As I boarded, I noticed that there was only one seat left. The problem was, it was next to Kettle, who I have found myself sitting next to for the past three days. Every time this guy breathes, his nose lets out a ridiculously loud, high-pitched whistle like an old-fashioned kettle or broken squeaky toy. It’s actually unbearable. So I’ve sat next to Kettle for three days in a row. Each journey is about 20 minutes. Assuming, he emits the sound of a kazoo every 5 seconds, that’s 720 whistles I’ve had to endure (don’t worry, I’ve double checked my sums). I refused to sit next to him again so chose to stand.

By the time the train reached Harrow, the carriage was completely rammed. I found myself pressed up against a little old man - his head nestled between my breasts…my knee sandwiched between his legs. Honestly, I’ve seen Siamese twins further apart than this.

A few minutes later, the train made an emergency stop for some unknown reason – probably a signal failure. A few passengers lost their balance, including my Siamese little old man. As he fell towards me, I couldn’t help but accidentally knee him violently in the penis. Well, I say I kneed him in the penis. A more accurate description would be that he penised me in the knee. I could tell he was in pain, but he put on a brave face. To be honest, I think it taught him a lesson: don’t stand so close to me. I wonder if Sting had experienced something similar when he wrote the song.

Went for a shisha after work with Adam and Marc. We happened to have a pack of cards on us and, after a couple of hours, decided to invent a new card game. I call it ‘Guess the Card’. Simple rules – one person takes a random card from the deck and places it face down on the table. The other person has to guess the card. If he gets it right (1 in 52 – don’t worry I’ve double checked my sums), he gets a prize or maybe someone else has to do a forfeit. Trust me, it’s a great game.

I started off. ‘Marc, if you guess this card right, I’ll get on the Underground right now and go all the way to the end of the Jubilee line and back' (it would’ve taken me about 2 hours). He said the Queen of Spades. It was the Queen of Clubs. Close, but luckily he was wrong.

It was Marc’s turn. ‘Arnold, if you get this right…’ He had a think. ‘You can have my flat to yourself for a whole week’.

I paused for a moment, took a deep breath and uttered, ‘Five of Clubs’.

His face dropped. He turned the card over…Five of Clubs!

So I’ll be moving into Marc’s lovely flat at some point in the next couple of months. I wonder what his fiancée, Avital, will think when he breaks the news to her.

Happy Friday!

The Day I Returned

They say bad luck always comes in groups of three; and in the last couple of days, three things of mine have completely broken.

The first thing to spontaneously break was my car. The small dent on the bumper that I accidently caused on Day 2 is now completely insignificant compared to the state that the car is currently in. I was happy driving home from the cinema a couple of nights ago when my car decided to have an impromptu personality crisis. Instead of acting like a regular Mini, it decided that it would rather be a Lamborghini. The gentlest of touches on the accelerator and the engine would rev uncontrollably, throwing me back violently against the seat and sending the car zooming down the road.

That was actually quite cool, apart from the fact that at 30mph the engine sounded like it was going to explode and the fact that the car was emitting a horrendous smell not too dissimilar to one of those farts that you do when you’re ill.

I realised I couldn’t go on like this. I phoned my car insurance company and asked if they could send someone to tow my car home. An hour later a guy turned up, completely bald with a round glossy head and virtually no chin. I’d asked the insurance company to send someone to tow my car…what they had sent was essentially a hard boiled egg on legs.

To cut a long story short, I need a new gearbox. The problem is, a new gearbox is almost as much as the car is worth.

The second thing that’s not working is my debit card…and for once it’s not because I have no money on it. I was in the supermarket buying a few bits and pieces, went to pay, and nothing. Card not recognised. I’d already packed all of the stuff into plastic bags. Luckily, I was with Kosky at the time so forced him to pay for everything. I can’t even begin to think how degrading it would have been to unpack the bags and return the food because I couldn’t pay for it. Anyway, it turns out the magnetic strip of the card has failed and I have to wait 3-5 working days to get a new one.

The third thing that broke was my laptop charger. One minute it was absolutely fine, happily charging away like a well-behaved charger should. Then last night, it decided to split in half for no apparent reason.

I had no choice but to go to Apple and buy a replacement. How much do you think a laptop charger should cost? A tenner? £15 max? Try £50. I couldn’t believe it! £50 to buy a wire! It wasn’t even like it was £49.99 and I could’ve tricked my brain into thinking it was cheaper than it was.

To make matters worse, the queue was a complete joke. I had to wait for about 20 minutes behind a line of iGimps salivating at the fact that they were about to buy something from Apple. Eventually I got to the front. ‘You do realise that £50 for a charger is essentially daylight robbery?’ I said to the gormless pleb standing behind the till. ‘I know’, he replied, a few seconds later.

As I walked out of Apple my phone started ringing. It was Jake. ‘What’s news?’ he asked. ‘Everything in my life is breaking’, I said. ‘My car, my debit card, my charger’.

‘It’s your fault’, he replied. ‘You’ve got negative energy and you’re inviting the bad luck into your life’. Now let me explain. A few months ago, Jake bought a book called The Secret, a self-help book that encourages positive thinking and gradually helps you to transcend from a normal human being into a spiritual, overly optimistic wanker.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Well, your car broke. Then you got so annoyed about the car breaking that your negative aura is causing other things in your life to break.’ By the way, this is a genuine conversation that I had with my brother, who is three weeks away from graduating.

‘You need to focus on positive thoughts and positive things will happen’, he continued. ‘Tell me something good that’s happened today’.

‘Well, not much really’, I answered. ‘Although, I did go for a poo earlier and got splashback right up my bum hole. It was a bit of a shock, but actually quite refreshing.’

‘This is what I mean’, he said. ‘You’ve got a bad attitude and it’s making negative things happen to you.’

‘You’re talking rubbish’, I said angrily. ‘You’re telling me that my car broke down and I got so angry that the negative energy corrupted the magnetic strip on my debit card which, in turn, split my laptop charger’. I was getting more and more heated. ‘Jake, you’re talking absolute…’ and then my phone died. Another bloody thing that’s broken!

They say bad luck always comes in groups of three; and if a fourth bad thing happens…well, it’s no exception to the rule. It’s probably just the first of the next group of three.

Maybe I’ll give this Secret book a read.

Happy Friday. More next week.