The previous post mentioned the subversive pleasure the Gnome gets out of overhearing the conversations of others, and writing it reminded him of his favourite example of the genre.
Walking through an airport he caught this snippet of conversation uttered by a young woman to her companion in a voice that can only be described as conspiratorial. Such was it's impact on the Gnome's psyche, he almost stopped in his tracks to overhear the denouement. Alas breeding came to the fore and he refrained, continuing on his way to board some dismal aircraft travelling to some dismal town for some dismal meeting. He does sometimes long to know just how the conversation ended though.
The phrase? Oh yes - almost forgot...
"Much to my husband's surprise, it was at that point he realised she was a dominatrix..."
Tuesday, December 12
Mirrored Lifts
A conversation overheard is always a source of pleasure to the Gnome. It creates a sense of impropriety, an illicit encounter with the minutiae of other peoples' lives, a secret glimpse into the world of another human being.
Such was the case last week whilst in a lift, the insides of which were mirrored to give the illusion of space. Two men entered the already crowded lift on the journey down to the ground floor and one, having looked in the mirror remarked, "I like mirrored lifts - they allow you to see the back of your head..."
An interesting observation, but one for which the Gnome could find no obvious reason. The gentleman in question was young enough to not have to worry about pattern baldness, and was in fact almost completely shorn of hair in what the Gnome believes to be known (rather unfortunately) as a 'number 2'.
So why the desire to see the back of one's head? The Gnome cannot provide an answer but can tell you this. As soon as the phrase was uttered, every other person in that lift, himself included, immediately turned to the mirror to check the back of their heads.
Such was the case last week whilst in a lift, the insides of which were mirrored to give the illusion of space. Two men entered the already crowded lift on the journey down to the ground floor and one, having looked in the mirror remarked, "I like mirrored lifts - they allow you to see the back of your head..."
An interesting observation, but one for which the Gnome could find no obvious reason. The gentleman in question was young enough to not have to worry about pattern baldness, and was in fact almost completely shorn of hair in what the Gnome believes to be known (rather unfortunately) as a 'number 2'.
So why the desire to see the back of one's head? The Gnome cannot provide an answer but can tell you this. As soon as the phrase was uttered, every other person in that lift, himself included, immediately turned to the mirror to check the back of their heads.
Thursday, December 7
You are the Weakest Link...
The Gnome is in Bristol at the moment, working hard in a city centre hotel where next door to his meeting the BBC are encamped. Although the exact schedule of events inside the room naturally remain unknown to the Gnome, it appears to be something to do with the long running medical soap opera that is 'Casualty'.
Well, the Gnome presumes this is the case, unless there is a new, as yet unbroadcast show called 'Casuality'... He says this because of a sign on the hotel reception notice board - a sign shared with you to the left.
Notice though that there is another BBC meeting ongoing in the hotel - one to audition contestants for the popular televisual question and answer show 'The Weakest Link'. One can only assume the Marriott proof reader would be first in the queue for Anne Robinson's scathing comments.
"Which contestant does not know their adverbs from their gerunds... over which is there a question mark... whose career must now come to a full stop? Marriott proof reader - you are the weakest link. Goodbye."
Well, the Gnome presumes this is the case, unless there is a new, as yet unbroadcast show called 'Casuality'... He says this because of a sign on the hotel reception notice board - a sign shared with you to the left.Notice though that there is another BBC meeting ongoing in the hotel - one to audition contestants for the popular televisual question and answer show 'The Weakest Link'. One can only assume the Marriott proof reader would be first in the queue for Anne Robinson's scathing comments.
"Which contestant does not know their adverbs from their gerunds... over which is there a question mark... whose career must now come to a full stop? Marriott proof reader - you are the weakest link. Goodbye."
Tuesday, December 5
Back in Blighty
The Gnome has been remiss. He understands the anguish that must have been felt by his readers. Where has the Gnome been? Has he finally succumbed to a life of fishing by a garden pond, his red cap sat at a jaunty angle upon his head? Alas no, nothing quite so relaxing (not that fishing is relaxing – especially if you are a fish).
The Gnome has left the bright lights of Manhattan island for pastures (and you will see he uses the word in its true context) new. After a particularly traumatic time for Mrs Gnome (think US social security bureaucracy, deaths in the family and personal illness) the Gnome, Mrs Gnome, Gnome dog and Gnome cats 1 and 2 have decamped back to dear old Blighty to pursue a freelance life amongst the sheep in Cumbria.
For the Gnome’s international readers (he still gets excited at the little dots on the world map representing his visitors) Cumbria is a beautiful rural community in the north west of England. Most residents work hard at fleecing – either from sheep directly, or the multitude of tourists that flock (sorry, pun intended…) to the area during the summer months.
So what will become of his blog? Well, there will be little to say now about New York, but of course life continues and so will the blog. The Gnome has plenty of material up his sleeve – all he lacks is the time to write it up.
That was the good thing about working for a large company – plenty of time to waste knowing he was being paid whatever he did…
The Gnome has left the bright lights of Manhattan island for pastures (and you will see he uses the word in its true context) new. After a particularly traumatic time for Mrs Gnome (think US social security bureaucracy, deaths in the family and personal illness) the Gnome, Mrs Gnome, Gnome dog and Gnome cats 1 and 2 have decamped back to dear old Blighty to pursue a freelance life amongst the sheep in Cumbria.
For the Gnome’s international readers (he still gets excited at the little dots on the world map representing his visitors) Cumbria is a beautiful rural community in the north west of England. Most residents work hard at fleecing – either from sheep directly, or the multitude of tourists that flock (sorry, pun intended…) to the area during the summer months.
So what will become of his blog? Well, there will be little to say now about New York, but of course life continues and so will the blog. The Gnome has plenty of material up his sleeve – all he lacks is the time to write it up.
That was the good thing about working for a large company – plenty of time to waste knowing he was being paid whatever he did…
Saturday, June 17
Cruel, but Honest?
Another sensless killing, another avoidable accident, another life recently curtailed...
They happen all the time, and the more newsworthy of them hit the headlines. Now the Gnome is of course not one to to be unmoved by the suffering of others but is he the only one to notice these events only seem to happen to the brightest, most loving, socially aware amongst us?
For every time a life is lost in tragic circumstances friends, relatives and work/school colleagues can be guaranteed to describe the deceased in glowing terms. 'Wonderful person', 'friends to everyone he knew', 'had an incredible future ahead of her', 'nobody who met him was not changed by his presence' etc. etc.
If by any chance the Gnome should succumb to a moment of random cruelty or misfortune, perpetuated by a disinterested and angry member of the Gods, he would like those who speak of him to be honest - no matter what the effect. In fact, to ensure he is sent to the afterlife with a grin on his face, he would appreciate some creative untruths to be provided to the media about his life. May one suggest some of the following?
"The Gnome had an incredible future ahead of him, but ruined it in an orgy of drink and drugs"
"He was a wonderful person if you liked sarcastic, mean bastards"
"He touched everyone he met, but thanks to a good legal team he was never charged"
"Nobody who met the Gnome was not changed by his presence. They would arrive happy and contented in life and leave him feeling miserable and suicidal"
They happen all the time, and the more newsworthy of them hit the headlines. Now the Gnome is of course not one to to be unmoved by the suffering of others but is he the only one to notice these events only seem to happen to the brightest, most loving, socially aware amongst us?
For every time a life is lost in tragic circumstances friends, relatives and work/school colleagues can be guaranteed to describe the deceased in glowing terms. 'Wonderful person', 'friends to everyone he knew', 'had an incredible future ahead of her', 'nobody who met him was not changed by his presence' etc. etc.
If by any chance the Gnome should succumb to a moment of random cruelty or misfortune, perpetuated by a disinterested and angry member of the Gods, he would like those who speak of him to be honest - no matter what the effect. In fact, to ensure he is sent to the afterlife with a grin on his face, he would appreciate some creative untruths to be provided to the media about his life. May one suggest some of the following?
"The Gnome had an incredible future ahead of him, but ruined it in an orgy of drink and drugs"
"He was a wonderful person if you liked sarcastic, mean bastards"
"He touched everyone he met, but thanks to a good legal team he was never charged"
"Nobody who met the Gnome was not changed by his presence. They would arrive happy and contented in life and leave him feeling miserable and suicidal"
Tuesday, May 23
Ode to the Anal Sphincter
The Gnome is currently in Los Angeles attending a medical conference on gastroenterology, charmingly entitled 'Digestive Disease Week'. Oh how he bets you all wish you could be here with him enjoying such a glamorous existence...
In recompense for his failure to invite you along to discuss clinical trials where participants mail their morning stool samples to doctors and the global economic cost of faecal incontinence, the Gnome will share with you a little homage to the that most neglected of bodily muscles, the anal sphincter. Alas the author's name never made it into the Gnome's memory, but his words shall live on in this blog for eternity...
They say man has succeeded where the animal fails because of the clever use of his hands, yet when compared to the hands, the sphincter ani is far superior. If you place into your cupped hands a mixture of fluid, solid and gas and then through an opening at the bottom try to let only the gas escape, you will fail. Yet the anal sphincter can do it. The sphincter can apparently differentiate between solid, liquid and gas. It apparently can tell whether its owner is alone or with someone, whether standing or sitting down, whether its owner has his pants on or off. No other muscle of the body is such a protector of the dignity of man, yet so ready to come to his relief.
Who says bowel disease can't be fun...
In recompense for his failure to invite you along to discuss clinical trials where participants mail their morning stool samples to doctors and the global economic cost of faecal incontinence, the Gnome will share with you a little homage to the that most neglected of bodily muscles, the anal sphincter. Alas the author's name never made it into the Gnome's memory, but his words shall live on in this blog for eternity...
They say man has succeeded where the animal fails because of the clever use of his hands, yet when compared to the hands, the sphincter ani is far superior. If you place into your cupped hands a mixture of fluid, solid and gas and then through an opening at the bottom try to let only the gas escape, you will fail. Yet the anal sphincter can do it. The sphincter can apparently differentiate between solid, liquid and gas. It apparently can tell whether its owner is alone or with someone, whether standing or sitting down, whether its owner has his pants on or off. No other muscle of the body is such a protector of the dignity of man, yet so ready to come to his relief.
Who says bowel disease can't be fun...
Eighties One Hit Wonder
For some reason best not examined too closely, the Gnome has, languishing in the deep uncharted depths of his iPod, a song by an eighties one hit wonders Matt Bianco.
Seeing their name spring up at him from the backlit screen this evening he was reminded of a wonderful incident from his childhood when, one fine Saturday morning long before the advent of 5-second delays on telephone calls to live shows, Matt Bianco were guests on Noel Edmonds 'Swap Shop'.
American readers will of course have no recollection of the important part this programme played in the upbringing of all of a similar age and nationality to the Gnome, nor of the intense rivalry with 'Tiswas' - the equivalent Saturday morning entertainment on the opposite channel, but let us not digress too far from our main message with talk of custard pies, swapping a complete set of Top Trumps for a Scalectrix set and of course Sally James.
Matt Bianco were, as is always the case with pop groups on such programmes, taking questions from viewers. The interview started well with the typical banal questions 8 - 13 year olds ask of their pop idols but then a magic moment occurred. Noel introduced Joe Bloggs from Nuneaton on line 5 and invited him to ask his question.
"Matt Bianco?" queried Joe, in as friendly a manner as one could wish for, "I'd just like to say you are all a bunch of wankers" and then (quite understandably) slammed the phone down.
You don't get TV like that any more - kids of today don't know what they're missing...
Seeing their name spring up at him from the backlit screen this evening he was reminded of a wonderful incident from his childhood when, one fine Saturday morning long before the advent of 5-second delays on telephone calls to live shows, Matt Bianco were guests on Noel Edmonds 'Swap Shop'.
American readers will of course have no recollection of the important part this programme played in the upbringing of all of a similar age and nationality to the Gnome, nor of the intense rivalry with 'Tiswas' - the equivalent Saturday morning entertainment on the opposite channel, but let us not digress too far from our main message with talk of custard pies, swapping a complete set of Top Trumps for a Scalectrix set and of course Sally James.
Matt Bianco were, as is always the case with pop groups on such programmes, taking questions from viewers. The interview started well with the typical banal questions 8 - 13 year olds ask of their pop idols but then a magic moment occurred. Noel introduced Joe Bloggs from Nuneaton on line 5 and invited him to ask his question.
"Matt Bianco?" queried Joe, in as friendly a manner as one could wish for, "I'd just like to say you are all a bunch of wankers" and then (quite understandably) slammed the phone down.
You don't get TV like that any more - kids of today don't know what they're missing...
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