Recently it has occurred to me, once again, that not all people on earth are Engineers. I don’t use the term Engineer to reference some educational standard but rather the way of thinking. I know some of you will dismiss this, but I assure you that it’s true, there are genuinely actual people out there who don’t see the world like we do, crazy eh? There are people who don’t get a hidden internal grin when they see a problem, that don’t have that unshakeable confidence that any problem can be beaten.
When the car doesn’t start some people’s first thoughts are how they will complete their journey or who they will call. Of course we all know the correct thing to do is to think through the starter circuit to ascertain where the fault lies. Now it has been said that my mindset may explain why I am single and occasionally have to be physically dragged out of tool stores, maybe it’s true. Perhaps an affinity with the physical world is the corollary of having no such affinity with people, if this is true then it’s by no means a bad deal. Think about it, how many times will the rest of you give up in the face of an mcb that won’t hold, a leak that can’t be seen or a bolt that just won’t undo? I would suggest that physical problems happen way more than emotional success so you have your thing and I will stick with mine.
Next up we have some seaside humour, I guess it’s not unique to the coast but that is where I saw it. First we have the romantic young couple strolling along the promenade. Well we’re heading into winter and the young lady had tired of walking so she playfully clung to her partners neck, doubtless asking to be carried. Our young beau was certainly up for the opportunity to demonstrate his physical prowess but made a poor choice in technique, clearly not an Engineer. Turning his young lady so that she was facing him he bent to his knee and proceeded to throw her over his shoulder, now two words are key here ‘throw’ and ‘over’. The young lady dived perfectly, head first into the pavement I would have given her an eight for style if I had a scorecard and wasn’t more than a little concerned for her wellbeing!
The lad was a legend, first his shoulders raised as his mind told him that he had hidden strength hence couldn’t feel his burden. Then reality slowly dawned on him, accelerated doubtless by the scream of pain, and I swear I watched his plan for a ‘physical’ evening drain through the features of his face. It would look odd if I randomly videoed people outside of my apartment but at times like this I think it would be worth it!
The second story is one of dog walking, a lady and her small dog on the beach in fact. The lady had one of those seemingly obligatory ball on a stick arrangements and the dog seemed reasonably happy to retrieve the ball for her. The problem was that the woman’s aim was far from Olympic standard and inevitably the ball made it into the sea. The dog tracked the ball as far as the water and then clearly concluded that a £1 ball was not worth a dunk in the North Sea in November and left it there. Sadly his companion was not so bright, she ploughed in to retrieve the ball soaking herself in the process. I watched her retrieve the ball from the ocean a further three times with the dog obligingly retrieving the throws that made the beach. It took all of my self-restraint not to head to the beach, take the throwing stick thing and give it to the dog since she seemed to be enjoying retrieving the bloody ball so much. I can just imagine the dog getting home and talking to the cat “I tired her right out fetching that ball, she will sleep well tonight”
I have written about this subject before but it really seems to be leaping out at me again over the last couple of weeks. I don’t know if this is a reflection on my observational skills, chance or the fact that it is becoming even more common but there we go. We continually hear from women how they are waiting for their prince charming, how men don’t appreciate them or nurture them and generally how rubbish the hunt for a decent partner is and I appreciate that this is all true, to some degree. On the flip side I see a continuing decline in the femininity of the opposite sex, is it only me that can see the connection?
Prince charming was a fairytale character who protected the damsel in distress, this was the guy that rode in to sweep sad maidens off their feet. Do you honestly believe that prince charming could exist today and if he did then sweeping ladies off their feet is no longer socially acceptable, if you can find a lady. Read the fairytale and you will not find mention of prince charming sweeping the fair maiden up onto his white stead before lifting children of varying lineage into a waiting carriage. The charming yet downtrodden Cinderella did not have to leave the ball in order to get home before the babysitter demanded overtime. Try and picture prince charming sitting with the other princes in a singed cloak and declaring “and I slayed that dragon to capture the princess but my quest against the CSA and JobSeekers continues” doesn’t quite work does it?
If our prince was to ride his glorious white stead out to rescue most of those who dream of him he would have to be early. If he were too late then he would meet Smirnofferella who would most likely try to knock his horse out before vomiting on her shoes. If he tried to aim younger, within the strict legal code of course, he would have an even harder time. What clue would our prince use to determine the maiden? the traditional visual indicators have gone and he would be as likely to end up with a shell suit clad lad on the back of his horse as a girl. I have no idea when young women started looking in the mirror at the fragile beauty with which they were born and thinking “soon sort that out Gangsta stylee”. The world seems to be a sea of back to front baseball caps, funny hand signals and offensive language. We had sign language when I was younger, 3 or 4 offensive gestures and a whole language if you were deaf but if you could watch today’s youth on mute you would think that they were landing a squadron of miniature planes.
But back to our harried and dusty prince, who by now has been sworn at, punched and vomited on and is desperately trying to work out what language Smirnofferella is speaking. Is there a fairytale that explains how he subdues the wobbling maiden, straps her to his horse and returns her to his castle before fending off her clumsy drunken advantages and setting her to bed? No worries here of the old pea under the mattress trick, she would sleep through a war, but our prince would be wise to rotate her not only to save her choking on her vomit but because kebab breath beats dragon’s any day. And so as morning broke and as the sun’s golden rays illuminated the land Smirnofferella stirred in the princes strong arms, she lifted her head and gently pealed the pillow from her face, wiping half a pound of L’Oreal from her flaxen skin and coughing like a coal miner she growled “Jesus that’s bright and who the f*ck are you?”
So allow me to explain why you don’t find your prince ladies, it is not because there are no princes, there is no shortage. But whilst uncontrolled feminism has turned you into Smirnofferella your prince has been down the gym keeping fit for you, while he was there he met his prince and they had a lovely ceremony on Brighton beach!