The Electric Chair — 10 Comments

    • I call it Cat, Arsehole [or Our Soul?] or Fuck off.  Sometimes on the rare occasions when Herself is in a good mood she calls the cat Malone.  It doesn’t answer to any of them.

    • I’m hoping she’ll clear the floor altogether.  She should land either on Penny’s couch or [if I’m lucky] through the window onto the lawn.

  1. I’M BACK. Just so you know.
    Going to have to get used to that Irenglish again, I see. A ‘lorrie’ is a truck, ah, okay… I get it now.
    Torches and lifts notwithstanding. What do you call escalators?
    Just this summer, I learned from our Irish kids who visit every year on a program that “What’s the crack” isn’t dirty at all. It’s a perfectly allowable form of greeting.
    So hey, Grandad, what’s the crack?
    Still sounds dirty.

    • Indeed you are with a vengeance.

      I appreciate that you Mercans have lost the ability to speak the language and as for your spelling?  Hah!  Anyway now is your chance to brush up.

      Escalators are just that – escalators [i.e. moving stairs].

      Crack has several meanings.  It can be a split, something you smoke or [*cough*] a part of female anatomy.

      As visitors to these shores will have discovered, searching for crack may well lead to the nearest drug dealer.  To avoid confusion we usually spell it craic, which means a bit of fun, or indeed a lot of things [i.e. What’s the craic? meaning “how’s it goin'” which in turn roughly means “how are you”].

      So in answer to your question, the craic here is mighty.

      Welcome back, DW!

  2. We (meaning my sister and I) called those things upsy-daisy chairs but only because my mother was present during the time we had one. We shouldn’t have bothered since my mother (who didn’t yet need something like that) called it all sorts of things–almost all of them derogatory. One of her most common questions about the thing was, “Can’t you launch it faster?” (But only when my father was in it of course).

    I can’t tell you how much easier it made our lives since attempting to haul our father’s bulk out of any stationary chair was a herculean task to say the least. Especially when he was “helping”.

    • I honestly haven’t had a chance to try it out in anger [as it were] yet as I haven’t been able to get Herself downstairs since.  And I’m not hauling it up to the attic – it weighs a ton.

  3. So the new “damned efficient” nurse who organised the delivery of an electric chair presumably comes under the category of “anyone even remotely connected with Public Health” that, for the new year, you wished upon them “a barrel full of misery“. You’re a tough bugger to please.

    • I have high standards.  And there is such a thing as being too efficient.  I’m losing count of the stuff that’s being delivered, and most of it is filling the garage,

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