Getting a Grilling - the Aftermath

 I wrote yesterday about the mysterious poster on behalf of the "British Toast Association" that had been put in a prominent place near Ruislip Manor Station. I pondered that it might be a spoof but opted instead for the far more likely reason that sinister forces might be afoot.

Today, whilst in haste to the station to catch a rare train (serious delays following an all-out Tube strike yesterday), I noticed a large group of hi-vis vest wearers near the station, and on drawing closer saw some with cameras and other gear. Their attention was focussed on the mysterious poster. I had intended to take a proper photo but there was not enough time so I caught a quick snap, which I here present to you:

Alas, I missed off the left side where the toast itself was pictured, but at least I recorded something because on my return, a  few hours later, the yellow-jacketed crew was gone, the street was quiet and the poster had been replaced by something else.

So it was all a stunt after all, an advertising shoot or perhaps a TV sketch, or a clip to be used in a drama. Or maybe there really is to be a British Toast Association and they were preparing the publicity material for the grand launch, presumably at the Dome (or whatever it's called these days), complete with a display of precision toast-ejection by a group of girls on horseback, balloons showering crumbs over the Thames and celebrities munching away merrily for the cameras. I look forward to missing it.

Getting a Grilling

 A poster has appeared by Ruislip Manor Station. On a plain white background, it features a picture of a very well-done piece of toast, has a slogan saying something like "Make your weekdays more weekend with toast" and bears the name of British Toast Association.  That is all. I was unable to take a picture as I was driving past at the time but will endeavour to do so.

There is no such thing as the British Toast Association. There is a Guild of Toastmasters but these people officiate at functions, praying for silence for the father of the bride, and suchlike. They do not, to the best of my limited knowledge, wield machines for the grilling of bread, nor do they judge slices as to crispness, degrees of carbonisation and suitability to bear a generous lather of butter and marmalade (insert toast topping of your choice here).  A Google search fails to reveal anything. I conclude that this is a spoof or the start of something else. 

I suspect skulduggery is afoot in the world of commercial baking. A group of disaffected crumpet-makers, in cahoots with the muffin-men and purveyors of pikelets, are planning a coup. They will announce a breakaway Super League of craft bread makers, spurning those who churn out the humble white sliced loafs, and restricting entry to a selected group. Then they will plaster our high streets with posters extolling their products

"Cor - it's Crumpet Time!";  "Bag yourself a Baguette!!"; "Wow, look at the Buns on that!!!" - that sort of thing. There will be ghastly TV adverts no doubt featuring beaming actors dancing and twirling around as they cram sophisticated fermented-yeast items into their mouths, plus an irritating jingle featuring whistling and a catchy tune. There will be National Griddle-Cake championships and Bagel Marathons, and racehorses called BannockULike. There will be lovable animated characters, although as most of the popular animal types have been taken, they may have to feature something more unusual - perhaps Jeremy and Rachel Dung-Beetle will be portrayed having adventures which always end when they gather round the family fireside scoffing craft Ciabattas and Dampfnudeln¹.

Somehow the ordinary bakers have got wind of this scheme. They have resolved to unite and strike first. Led by Jeremiah Warburton, Carol Kingsmill and Sir Geoff Hovis, they have realised that, if they get everyone hooked on toast made with their everyday products, then the Super League will be outflanked - we will all be too busy pushing down the levers on toasters, musing over whether to set the dial to 6 or 7, running cold water over our burnt finger-tips and forever picking up crumbs to worry about knocking back the odd Limpa² or Melonpan³.  

And so, in haste, the British Toast Association was born. No website as yet, no contact numbers, not even a lovable mascot to adorn their posters, but surely they will come, social media will be deluged with the promotion of good old English toast - "As good today as it was last Thursday" - and the world will be safe once again for those who want something on which to put a generous dollop of peanut butter.

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Footnotes

1. Sweet, dense and moist bread from Germany
2. Scandinavian sweet spiced rye bread
3. Crispy Japanese bun made with cookie dough

[Is that all of them? Jolly nice of Messrs Google to assist with this project: Ed]

Return to Rush Hour

 I don't drive to work any more, and just as well too, but today I had to rise at some unearthly hour to take my car in for its annual service. Normally the exit from driveway to road is simple, maybe one car will be passing as I crane my neck in each direction. But leaving as I did, at exactly the same time everyone going to work was on their way, and everyone taking kids to school was doing likewise, as I backed out into the street to face the crossroads there was a car behind me, a van crossing ahead in one direction, cars coming the other way, cars trying to come up the facing road to turn across me ... I'm telling you, I am not used to this. 

A few minutes later, less than a mile from the garage and the roads were locked solid. I sat and fumed for about ten minutes as we crawled, maybe one vehicle at a time, each time the traffic lights ahead changed. Eventually I turned off and took a longer way round.  Having finally dropped off the car, I aimed to take a bus home, but just missed one, and then nearly caught it up as I started to walk home but as the traffic was moving at about 6mph, and I don't jog any more, it managed to evade me. Naturally the one behind was stuck in traffic and I had walked half way home before it finally caught me up and I could sit down for the final part of the journey.

I used to drive a fair chunk of the M25 every day to reach a god-forsaken trading estate in New Malden. I don't think I could cope with that now.

Parting the Waves

 One of the minor joys of the past couple of years has been following the YouTube videos put up by a handful of camera operators based at Rufford Ford, Nottinghamshire. The ford is where a minor road crosses an old mill stream, (the mill is now a heritage centre), and is normally easy to cross. But sometimes after heavy rain it rises to two or three feet deep and should not be crossed by normal vehicles. This message seems to have eluded the good folk of Nottingham. Although the ford only cuts off a few miles from perfectly good roads on either side, many seem determined to hurtle through it no matter how deep the water. And the YouTubers are there to catch the huge waves that break over a delighted crowd of onlookers, and better still (for us), the moments when the engines cough and die, the electrics fail and the hapless drivers remove their shoes and wade out to seek help.

Confidently in...

 

... And assisted out

Pics courtesy of Tom Sunderland

These videos have been a huge success and seem to have made running the gauntlet of the ford a challenge for every hard lad in the vicinity. The road is actually a residential, 30mph street and often there are signs warning of closure, but the presence of the cameras seems to be a greater incentive and they hit the waters at maximum speed. Whether they think this helps or they are just maddened by the anticipating crowds, who knows? The joke is that many vehicles that have successfully made it to the other side leave little souvenirs behind, smashed off by the force of the waters - number plates, bumpers, sections of engine housing - all of which are gleefully gathered up and dumped in a pile at the side of the road.

Sometimes the police lie in wait to file a few tasty charges - speeding, dangerous driving, not being in full control of a vehicle, being a total berk - but the council have had enough. Much to the chagrin of the crowds and the YouTubers, and very much to the financial detriment of every recovery garage for miles around, they have closed the road.  

Warnings that that the road was closed due to flooding have not deterred morons from driving into it in the past. I wonder if they will continue to brave the waters, like some sort of ancient coming-of-age ceremonial test of manhood, come what may? In which case we can look forward to more encounters such as this one, where a gentlemen in a small car took one look at the watermark showing three feet of water and put his foot down, only to float gently downstream.

Bow wave over the engine? No worries.

Prepare to abandon ship

 Pics courtesy of Tom Sunderland

World Cup 2022 - Read it here, read it first!

 It's that magic time of year, when the thrill of anticipation makes your blood tingle and your heart beat just a little faster. The laughter and merriment of children - the twinkling smiles of the old folk - the cheerful lights beating back the gloom of the late autumn evenings. Join us as we celebrate the wonderful world of - The World Cup in Catarrh  [Does this look right to you? Ed]

We've always been ahead of the game when it comes to English football. You marvelled at the accuracy of our forecasts for the World Cup in Brazil in 2014, you gawped in disbelief as we nailed it yet again for the 2016 Euros in France and you were speechless beyond belief when we unveiled our take on the World Cup in Russia in 2018. We were the first to pick England as the winners, or losers, against Germany in the Euros 2021 And now it is time to let your brains boggle into hyperspace as we invite a star panel of some of the finest contributors to this column to bring us -  

The Ramblings Exclusive Predictions for World Cup 2022

First, let's meet the panel.

*Fresh from a series of work-placements at some of the most dynamic, forward-thinking and exciting businesses ever to use more than one font for a PowerPoint presentation, it is the Young Intern of the Year (failed), Taz¹.

*Acclaimed for his ability to drink coffee whilst dismissing objections in all directions,  be upstanding for American judge and all-round cliché dispenser, Judge D. Crockett².

*Our intrepid correspondent (name withheld to protect him, his family and his entire neighbourhood) who covered the astonishing rise and decline of the supreme head of the Mongol Hordes, President Khan, and who has finally stopped shaking enough to hold a pen³

*And the man holding the ring and steering the ship - it's our very own Ed ⁴.

 

Match 1 - England v Iran, Sheikitallabout Stadium, Nov 21st

Taz: Ah, gosh, spotlight on me then, as it were, oh dear, I don't have a lot of time for football, merely being in the same office as a business executive makes me weak at the knees. Ermm, I go for 86 for 4 in the third chukka.
Crockett: Gonna be plenty of ass kicked in that ballgame, yes sirree
Correspondent: The latest rumours circulating amongst the water-sellers at the Dung Gate are that one team is certain to win, unless it is a draw.
Ed: That seems pretty unanimous then, we back England. Or the other team. God speed to both of them.

Match 2 England vs USA, AbdulsProstheticHands Arena Nov 25th

Crockett: US of A every time feller, ol' Uncle Sam'll be doing the whopping of asses in this one, we'll knock them out of left field. Those redcoats ain't gonna know what hit them and let me tell you this, boy, if I don't get me some cawfee and donuts real soon, I may just have to go out and get them myself, you hear what I'm saying?
Taz: Oh dear, honestly, I do hope it's a jolly good match and not too many get out for a duck, I think England by a short head and that young Mickey Rooney, I hear he's a jolly good player, they ought to get him on with that other chap, Hurri Cane is it?
Correspondent: I'm afraid the last match I saw was the Mongol Horde vs the Moghul Allstars at polo and I had to leave when they kicked the ball into the river and asked if anyone with a particularly large, round head wished to participate.
Ed: I think it looks like rain. Blast, I left my umbrella at my aunt's. 

Match 3 England vs Wales Doha-diddydiddydumdiddydo Park Nov 29th

Correspondent: Ah, a civil war situation. Had a few of those back in my time. President Khan started most of them by arguing with his supporters about the best way to execute his enemies.
Crockett: Yup, we know all about the war between the states, young feller. Them damn Yankees and those yelling Rebs, gosh darn it, some people got themselves hurt real bad, can you believe that?
Taz: Oh yes, um, don't really want to have to pick a side here, bit sensitive, there's a girl in the office called Myfanwy, rather sweet really, hoping to take her out for a coffee one day, better not rock the boat if you know what I mean.
Ed: I'm going to go out on a limb here. England to win 5 -0. There, I said it. And by God, I'd do it again if I had to.

There it is. England to win the stages, unless they fail to. Success in the later rounds absolutely guaranteed although a shock knockout in the round of 16, the quarter-finals or the semi-finals is always likely. As to the final - we shall have to wait and see.

 

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Footnotes

1. After his debut at Channel 4, Taz featured with Easyjet, Coca-Cola and TV host Carol Azam (probably)

2. He presided over Pumpernickel vs Pumpernickel, Trump's Lying Lawyer vs The Truth and The Case of the Rude Waiter

3. Our reporter first went to Karakorum to cover the surprise election of President Khan in 2016 and continued to file increasingly erratic, if not downright peculiar, stories until the shock moment when Pres. Khan finally had to put his scimitar away

4. No introduction needed, not that it would be given even if it was.