River Wissey Lovell Fuller

What Does The Doctor Think - April

April 2015


As a boy, during the winter, I used to sleep with my clothes inside the bed, nice and warm to put on in the morning before getting out of bed, there being frost on the inside of the windows. I had on top of me a sheet, two Moderna Sorento type blankets and a quilt, plenty of weight. I have found this heavy bedding routine hard to quit. Management has embraced these new-fangled duvet things but I like some heaviness in the bedding. So, we decided to compromise and we have a duvet to cover us. However, in some cases, we have free choice in this life and I choose to have a blanket folded double on top of my half of the duvet. For years, this has been in ideal solution. I have told you before of my belief that men go shopping to buy what they need and that ladies go shopping to discover what they need. (There are exceptions to this rule and no offence is intended to those ladies who go out with a list and stick to it). There is a store in Brandon called Aldi (other retail outlets are available) and Management often visits to see what she needs, coming back with skiing suits or books for the grandchildren, a soup maker (brilliant!) and all sorts of things. I have to confess to roaming the centre aisles where they sell tools, overalls, paints, electrical goods, etc., on a revolving sort of basis to determine my needs. Anyway, one day, Head Office came home with a prize purchase – a new duvet cover to add to the collection we have accumulated over the years. I commented that it was very shiny and looked like a woven tarpaulin. “No” she said “It is like parachute silk”.

The parachute silk tarpaulin went onto the bed, with matching pillow cases, and ten minutes after we lay down for the night, my double blanket flew sideways off the bed. Each time I put it back, the same thing happened again. No problem, sleep in a tracksuit and try to lose the duvet after it has been through the wash.

Have you heard about the toy drones you can buy? Amazon will sell you a remote contolled quadcopter with a video camera, memory card and allsorts for £35. As long as you keep it more than 50 metres away from buildings or people, or 150 metres away from crowds, you can fly this thing wherever you like, video camera whirring. Sooner or later, the privacy of a celebrity will be invaded or a drone may crash and kill someone. The Information Commissioner's Office has produced guidelines for broadcasters creating footage for the news, police forces carrying out surveillance, construction companies monitoring job progress, farmers looking at their crops, and so on. (Code of practice on surveillance cameras and personal information). The Civil Aviation Authority regulates the use of unmanned flying aircraft but their spokesman is the first to admit that they are unprepared for the coming explosion in the number of drones purchased.

I had a thought – If a drone flies over my garden, camera underneath, would I be justified in taking my shotgun and shooting it down? I had a look on the worldwide cobweb and discovered that this argument has been raging in America for months. Drones arrived there sooner than here and lots of people own guns. A significant number of these would love to shoot down a drone, often using colourful language. There is an argument about who owns the sky above your house. Does it extend to infinity? That would cause a problem for aeroplanes flying thousands of feet overhead. Perhaps we own the 500 metres above out property, good drone shooting territory. However, is a person invades our space on land, we can only use force if we are under physical threat, and even then we may get into trouble. The bottom line is that shooting down a drone would land you in prison for abuse of firearms, both here and in the USA and the authorities are eagerly awaiting a test case.

When I develop a headache, I take two aspirin and keep away from children, just like it says on the bottle. I try to avoid things that make me fat – like scales, mirrors, photographs, etc Some people have a sign saying “DO NOT DISTURB”.  Mine should say “ALREADY DISTURBED – PROCEED WITH CAUTION” Age is only a number. Weight is only a number. I am becoming fed up with numbers. Snow White had the right idea. She moved in with 7 men who went to work every day and all she had to do was whistle to get the birds to do her cleaning.

A fleeing Taliban, desperate for water, arrived at an oasis to find a British soldier selling regimental ties for £5. “Do you have water?” asked the Taliban. “No, the well is dry but I could sell you a tie”. The Taliban expostulated - “I need water, not an overpriced tie. I should kill you, but first I need water”. The soldier rose above the comments and told the Taliban that, if he walked 2 miles to the East, he would find the Sergeants' Mess, where he would find iced water. Cursing him, the Taliban staggered away, arriving back several hours later in a dehydrated and collapsed state. As he fainted, he told the soldier “They wouldn't let me in without a tie!”

The demise of common sense. Years ago, those living within the bounds of common sense only spent what they could afford – adults, not children, were in charge, children had to learn that there would be one winner and several losers in every race, competition of board game. It was acknowledged that life is not always fair, that the early bird catches the worm and that a 10am appointment means 10am, not sometime within the next 15 minutes. Common sense started to be lost when a six year old boy kissed a classmate and was accused of sexual harrassment, a teacher was fired for reprimanding an unruly class member, parents would attack teachers who reprimanded their children, householders could not protect their homes in case burglars injured themselves, eg on the broken glass cemented into the top of the wall, The blame culture appeared, with consequent claims for damages, people began to know their rights and to demand instant gratification, others were always to blame, and so on).

Three men were boasting about their sexual prowess. The Italian told the others that, if he rubbed his wife all over with olive oil, as things progressed, she would scream non-stop for 5 minutes. The Frenchman related that he used a special aphrodisiac oil from Provence and that his wife would scream for 15 minutes. The Englishman had caressed his wife's entire body with butter and she had screamed for 2 hours. The others were mightily impressed and demanded an explanation - “”I wiped my hands on the new curtains” replied the Englishman.

Here's a joke that is older than me. One of a farmer's cows could not conceive and he arranged for the artificial insemination man to come. He told his wife, a town girl who knew nothing of farming, to show the man to the appropriate cow stall (The one with the nail over the door). The insemination man was impressed by her knowledge and, while donning his arm-length glove, asked her what the nail was for. “I dunno, I expect it is there for you to hang your trousers on!” came the reply.                                          Best wishes to you all       Ian Nisbet.

Copyright remains with independent content providers where specified, including but not limited to Village Pump contributors. All rights reserved.