Never trust a woman
I decided to give Roger a holiday.
For those of you who may not be familiar with my ramblings, Roger is the bloke who lives on a satellite and gives me directions through my SatNav.
I don’t know why I thought he needed a holiday. Maybe it was the way that he could no longer pronounce the simple word “road”. He had taken to introducing a glottal stop in the middle, so it sort of sounded like “ro. Oad”.
I decided to hire Molly instead.
Molly was nice.
She had a nice gentle sexy voice, and when it came to matters like avoiding Gorey, it was a pleasure to follow her instructions.
Then we arrived in France.
The very first town we came to, there was a clatter of roundabouts in quick succession, and Molly got utterly confused. Of course I ended up in the wrong place. I had to stop the car for a bit while she calmed her nerves.
Eventually she muttered something about “women’s problems” and got me back on the straight [and it was very straight] and narrow [actually it was quite wide].
I let the matter slide until we got to the next town.
The fucking bitch got us lost again, and I had to feed her three Valium to calm her nerves.
That calmed her a bit and we managed to reach Rennes before the cow sent us off to Paris, when I’m trying to get to Poitiers. Now there is a ninety degree difference in the directions – Paris is North East, and Poitiers is South East – so that even a five year old should have found the right road.
I gave out to Molly.
She burst into tears and gave me a load of shit about the problems she is having with her boyfriend and crap like that.
I fired her.
Roger is back.
His deep manly voice of authority guided us without a flaw to our destination.
Never trust a woman.
Think Molly was bad, I drive with Hyacinth Bucket (Bouquet!) in the car! “watch the hedges dear, the wind could blow them into the road”, or “mind the lorry” like i coundn’t see a 20 ton hunk of metal coming down the road !
(just kiddin, she’s a demure pussycat really, but then i have to say that!)
Mick – Herself is a grand one for telling me to “mind that lorry” [which happens to be parked in a lay-by] or to watch out for the cyclist ahead – as if I hadn’t seen him and was already aiming for him. I generally tell her to shut up and leave the navigating to Roger and me.
See voice coding doesn’t work so well for women’s voices. I was told this is because the coding removes redundant information.
My question is do Molly and Roger have Irish accents?
You think you have problems, try having two of them giving you directions at the same time. Especially when neither knows where their at or where their going. One screaming at you to take this off ramp and the other telling you to stay in the thru lane. Auuugh.
Brighid: You should always follow instructions from the male voice..we’re born with built-in satnav………..
Good steering Grandad. Have a great time.
Heh! Thanks, Bard.
Thrifty – I could well believe that about the redundant invormation. Molly spent a lot of her time commenting on shop displays and the hair-dos of pedestrians. Maybe her encoding wasn’t working?
Brianf – Don’t be daft! We haven’t risen to being astronauts yet.
I guess I’m just old fashioned. I still let my well honed navigational instincts lead the way. And as soon as I remember where I live I’m going to make some lunch.
Hey, Kirk M – You sent me the coordinates of your house. Do you want them back?
Kings’ Broad: Yea Right, himself can get lost faster than you can say…. damn! He has no clue, the rest of his family is the same way. My family has a keen sense of direction, and well honed survival skills, probably because my dad was always trying to lose us.
Grandad – Thanks but it’s alright now. I happened to be wandering around the street that my wife takes when she comes home from the shop. She brought me to the house and fed me my medication so I now recognize where I am .
She did ask for ID before she’d let me in the car though. I must ask her about that.