So I was walking home the other day and I walk past three yellow tabarded workmen who have plainly spent the morning worrying at a huge hole in the road in between supping copious cups of tea and admiring a picture of Cheryl Cole’s champion cleavage in The Star and I notice that something is amiss.
(And no it wasn’t that Cheryl has forgotten to shave her chest.)
The workmen, their tabards and indeed their very large, shiny new, lime green flatbed truck are all totally unidentifiable.
There are no monikers, no motifs, no company name. No telephone number, no web address, no “I wish my wife was as dirty as this van” graffiti.
They are to a man, personae non gratae. Men with no names. They do not exist and so, legally, how can anyone make them accountable for this big Bernard Cribbins-esque hole that they’ve just opened up in the tarmac?
They could be anybody. They may not even be kosher workmen. They could be... er... tarmac thieves. They could be terrorists about to plant a dirty bomb in the even dirtier sewer pipes of Leamington Spa. They could spit on my shoes, shit on the pavement and make lewd comments to the Cheryl Cole look-a-likes walking by and who the hell would we complain to?
‘Cos once they drive off they are gone forever. Untraceable.
I know what you are thinking. Why, Steve, are you wasting your not inconsiderable intellect worrying about workmen who don’t have a company name on their van when you could be pouring your magnificent energies into your new novel or exposing the many shortcomings of The Big Society bollocks that the Coalition Government are currently spouting and – look – you’ve even missed an opportunity to publish a suitably salacious picture of Cheryl Cole at the top of this post.
Well, the reason is: I don’t like Cheryl Cole.
And regarding the workmen, let me recount to you a story that was once told to me by an old workman a couple of years ago who took a sighing break from his cup of tea and Page 3 dolly-bird to wise me up. There was once this derelict house, see. It had been falling down for years. One day a team of workmen turned up with vans, diggers and demolition equipment – a whole team of them. None of the vans had names on and likewise the uniforms of the workmen. But hey, they had to be kosher because it was broad daylight, there was so many of them and they had, like, real JCB’s and everything.
Over the ensuing weeks they demolished the house. All of it. Every brick, tile and breeze block. They then took it all away. Every brick, tile and breeze block and left a big gap in the line of building’s in that street.
Some weeks later a man from the council turned up to survey this renovation-worthy council property and wondered where the hell it had disappeared to.
Oh, thought the neighbours. We now realize what has happened. It’s been stolen.
Cue dramatic music followed by a humungous Homer Simpson doh!
Still think I need to get a life?
Harrumph! Well when people start nicking the roads or the houses near you... don’t say I didn’t warn you!
Yes you do need to get a life. However, they could have been cable thieves. Did you know people actually dig up roads to nick and obviously then sell on, the copper cables?
It's worst at the xmas and when the price of copper goes up.
But can you imagine "erm, I need some dosh, think I'll dig up a road and nick some cable"
The Moiderer: ha! Confirmation and justification! I knew they were up to no good. That van of theirs was way too clean...
But I don't get what would be so different if they did spit on your shoes and shit on the pavement. Isn't that just another day in Leamington Spa???
And er, Steve.... You may want to fix that second last word of your post. Mind you, your posts often warm me *cheesy grin*
I was going to say that you have a very over-active imagination, but then I googled 'copper stealing' thanks The Moider - I am suddenly hugely put off my lunch.
Seriously kids - don't do it!
Being Me: correction duly made - thank you; though I hope I will continue to warm you for many years to come. ;-)
Very Bored in Catalunya: *adopts Gene Hunt voice* Serves the little scrotes right, don' it?
Thanks for that Steve, I now have "Right said Fred Time to have a cup of tea" going round in me noggin. I rang the council to complain about some roadworks, they informed me they didn't exist, utility company digging up road without permission etc etc You should have a chat with the friendly people at your local council, they will tell you who...ah...I think they are a bit busy right now blogging!!!
Similar scenario here in North Yorkshire, unidentified workmen on the road. But between a cup of tea/coffee and reading The Sun they are filling up pot holes so I suppose they must be from the council...The council must be so impoverished by now that cannot afford their own van...Ciao. A. PS Yoh musy be the only man in the world who doesn't like the Cole woman. I bow to you in respect.
kelloggsville: given that I work for the council I already know that if I want information about council activities the last people I should ask is someone from the council...
Lunarossa: Cheryl Cole does absolutely nothing for me. She looks a bit plasticky. Sort of like a Pippa doll with the voice of Jimmy Nail. Give me Keeley Hawes any day.
Give me Keeley Hawes.
Never tried stealing houses or underground cable’s, but I did become a serial ‘packed lunch’ burglar for many years round at my best mates business unit next door. Used to drive him crazy too. I used to try and find increasingly obscure places to hide his daily ‘lunch’…but so that he would eventually find it.
There was one stolen lunch he never found though, or at least so I thought, until one day several months later I opened my own lunch box and found the most obscenely, horrifically green and furry remains of what had been his ‘full house breakfast bap’ leering up at me, with a little post it note inside which said “EAT THIS THEN - You Fu**wit!!”
The stench was unbelievably vile as well.
I’d been rumbled. Nowadays I just satisfy my more criminal urges by duelling with my daughter in trying to hide the tubs of tesco’s trifle my wife keeps despairingly bringing home to curl up with in front of ‘her’ Tv and luxuriate in.
It’s the long drawn out demented screams that come from the kitchen later when she opens the fridge that does it for me…and my daughter. Pure. Unadulterated, Bliss.
Phil: have you ever thought of researching job opportunities at Guantanamo Bay? Are you any good at waterboarding?
Ha Ha Ha Steve. Funny thing is….’Yes’ I have and…no I’m not really. We used to play a version of ‘water boarding’ when I was about fifteen, at Calshot Activity Centre, using seawater and a pillow slip.
It was a game of ‘dare and endurance’ that we used to voluntarily play against the girls to try and win a ‘snog’.
The idea being that if your chosen girl partner outlasted you in each pairing of water boarding bouts – she would’nt have to snog you.
Those girls were unbelievably good at it too. I never once got a single wet salty snog.
Phil: bloody hell! Had you not heard of kiss-chase or spin the bottle?!
It is a bit worrying, isn't it? Especially in light of the house stealing story. Have to say these stories of yours make me very pleased not to be living in Leamington.
I was going to leave a fantastic comment but reading the other comments I suddenly got worried about you having a doll of me.
Unidentifiable workmen. Obviously they belong to the unidentifiable white vans that are seen everywhere.
Some stole a whole house? Maybe they took it brick by brick to America? (Didn't someone move a bridge from London to America one time? I dunno, my history's rusty.
Course... you could always ask them who they are.
Oh yeahh Steve…we’d heard of them!…but water boarding was so much more amusing for everyone else to watch. We all used to fall about laughing and snorting out the remains of the seawater – as did very much the girlies too.
True story, which I make mention of in the last paragraph of an earlier blog posting here:
Heather: crime capital of the world, Leamo is. CSI Leamington will be hitting our TV screen next year, guarantee it.
PippaD: as long as you're not a Bratz doll we'll play together just fine.
Val: ask them who they are? Where's the fun in that?!
Phil: I suppose there is the added bonus of an impromptu wet t-shirt contest as well. I'm beginning to see how this endeavour might be attractive to the teenage boy's mind.
Bingo Steve...your right on the nipple sir!
Usually 'mysterious fires' break out in beautiful old buildings so they become 'too dangerous' to save and need pulling down - then the site becomes available for planning permission.
This has now happened to 3 picturesque former pubs in Oxford. A crime in more ways than one.
After they rip out all the copper cable under the streets, your internet connection is going to be down for a few days, or even weeks... I'd be on the phone to the local constabulary right away if I were you...
With no internet connection how are you going to continue looking into the endless supply of images of Cheryl Cole. Thanks for helping fill out my education some more, I'd never heard of her before...
(I love it when you do these time-saving posts where I don't need to read any further than the title to comment.)
Cheryl Cole is awful though.
Phil: did it buzz for you?
Laura: we've had a few fires like that but they were caused by crackheads making impromptu barbecues or being careless with their Camberwell Carrots.
Owen: I feel I have done you a great disservice by putting Cheryl Cole on your otherwise immaculately highbrow radar.
Rol: you don't fool me; I know you hang on my every word.
If you do need to get a life, it's not because of this...there's people out there stealing drain covers, electrical cabling, etc. I'd have rung the police or at least he council and let them sort it out - I suspect there's a law against working without identification. re-Cheryl Cole...she's a hottie until she opens her mouth whether to sing or talk
Nota Bene: perhaps I should have called someone but at the time you kind of feel like you're being a real jobsworth and a bit lame. It niggled me though. I should have called it in. As for Cheryl Cole... she sings? I thought she was a WAG of some description.
You mean you left those impudent thieves to dig up the road with impunity? Where's your civic responsibility, man? A gentleman of character would have made a citizen's arrest.
Gorilla Bananas: I am, alas, not a gentleman and as for character, I have precious little.
Lovely, lovely stuff. Just one tiny quibble - no pic of our own Cheryl.
Marginalia: I daresay there's plenty in the tabloids...!
Steve: re: "Phil: did it buzz for you?"
Oh Yeahh Baby Yeahh...Ding Dang Dong. Definitely got my 'bells' a ringing. Chimed away under my tall steeple all night long they did.
Steve...two points from me..well actually 3 'cos I've just thought of another one.....yes you should have challenged them or rung the council...and could you write something nice about my home town soon? Its not all shit and shoddiness.....
Mmm that was two wasn't it? getting forgetful again...I think...
I think you have a very good, if humorous, point! Maybe we complain to the police?!
The fact that you don't like Cheryl Cole is a reason to live!
Phil: next time you play it... can I come too?
Libby: there's a nice tree at the end of our road. And, er, Leamington has nice flowers.
Livi: they're too busy taking kickbacks from the drug dealers.
Löst Jimmy: at last! true A raison d'etre!
Champion cleavage? Does Mrs Steve know?
Marginalia: thankfully Mrs Steve's cleavage is unsurpassable and insurmountable. Well. When I say insurmountable I don't actually mean insurmountable... you know what I mean!
I see the black gangs have become sophisticated....no need to seek a refusal which may offend, just go ahead and do the work anyway.
The fly in the web: "just doing the work anyway" goes against my very ethos and every fibre of my moral being.
I thought Leamington Spa was supposed to be posh? Or did I misunderstand? Is it 'tosh' instead?
Terribly confused now.
*goes to consult atlas*
LCM: Leamington is somewhat schizophrenic... posh on the outside with a somewhat dark and disturbed heart. But I like to call it home.
I'll be keeping my eyes open wider because of you, Steve. Yes! On the look out, that's what I'll be! Stolen tarmac? Not while I'm around! Come to think of it, I think I encountered (well, my tire/tyre did) one of those bits of stolen road on my way home tonight. Rather, the absence of of.
Femminismo: sneaky gits! They're stealing our roads a little piece at a time!
But it they are stealing the roads and houses... where are they taking them ? Are they building ANOTHER ENGLAND somewhere ( hopefully ) a bit warmer ? And without all the crap ? Why don't I know about it ?
Am I being left behind ? Will I wake up to find you all gone ? Just me and the crisp packets and the free stuff that comes in the post and the raggy bits of the coalition Government ?
Keith: you mean you didn't get an invite? I've had my garden all packed up and ready to move since before Christmas! I guess your invite is, er, in the post...?
Laughing myself silly. 'garden all packed up'. I almost want to draw that, it is such a great image.
Keith: off the cuff poetry - that's something else in my bag. ;-)
If we hadn't had such a large earthquake down here I would be getting suspicious of all the piles of bricks accumulating around the city!
Actually, this post reminds me of a film I saw years ago and cannot for the life of me remember what it was called (ANYONE KNOW??) but it centred around a town that had canals being built and some crazy people who got arrested and a mayor who took credit for the canals when it was really nothing to do with him...the ending showed one of the 'crazy' people escaped from the nut house and building a road...
Amanda: this crazy bloke... did he wear a yellow tabard and drive a very clean lime-green van?
I'm thinking this may just be a coverup for your tarmac/house stealing enterprise. You can't fool me, Steve. I know what you are up to.
Organic Motherhood with Cool Whip: it was the JCB I bought on eBay that gave the game away, wasn't it?
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