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Archive for the ‘had goat’ Category

I’m no expert in metaphysics. I think we all can agree that. But I think I’ve stumbled on a huge cosmic loophole which could lead to eternal life.

The television channel Film4 is running a season of films which, it tells us, one has to see before one dies. The season starts with the Francis Ford Coppola film Apocalypse Now.

We can use that knowledge to live forever, as far as I can make out. If we do not see these films, we are literally unable to die.

It’s a shame really, as some of them are quite good. If only it were films like Joe Versus The Volcano with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. That was rubbish. Although I have seen that, so perhaps it’s a good thing it’s not on the list.

What does get my goat is the fact that Film4 is irresponsibly showing these films. If the powers that be really cared, they’d just publish a list of the films to avoid. Instead, they are screening them, effectively encouraging suicide.

How dare they? How bloody dare they? I’m not sure about euthanasia, but I certainly don’t think that publicly-funded bodies like Channel Four Television should involve themselves in the whole distasteful enterprise. They make me sick.

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I had occasion yesterday to draw money from a hole in the wall. I say a hole in the wall, but in fact it was nothing of the kind. In point of fact, it was an ATM in the lobby of an HSBC bank.

A great invention, by the way, but one which stopped my (borderline illegal) get-rich-quick scheme in its tracks. In the old days, before ATMs were so abundant, the quickest way to draw money from one’s account was to write a cheque for the amount and make it payable to “Cash”, before handing it over to counter staff for redemption.

So I was going to change my name to Clement Ash, enabling me to pay in any stray cheques which the wind might blow my way. No point now. I’d make a rubbish international super-criminal.

Oh yes, yesterday’s ATM. I bashed in my PIN and waited for the magic screen to appear offering me my own money.

“But wait, what’s this?” I thought. An advertisement giving me the chance to take on a credit card appeared instead. Now I don’t want a credit card. I don’t want to get into unnecessary debt, I don’t buy books from Amazon, and I have never felt the need to subscribe to any pornographic websites, so why would I need one.

But at the bottom of the screen were two options. “Yes”, and “Not at the moment, thank you.” “How dare they?” I thought. “How bloody dare they?”

I’m keen to say please and thank you. I hold doors open for much longer than necessary (admittedly only to watch people do that special run they do when they realise someone is holding the door open for them). I don’t duck under the ropes to get to the back of one of those curly queues they have in post offices. In short, I’m a polite chap.

But it really does get my goat when people are polite on my behalf. Especially as I was a smidgen annoyed to be offered credit when all I wanted was my own money. What on earth is wrong with ‘no’?

I hate HSBC for doing this.

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