Going Through A Bad Patch

I have a friend who recently became addicted to gambling. I think I have the solution.

Having seen the recent advances in technology to ween people off of cigarettes, I think there is room for a gambling patch.
A mini roulette wheel attached to the upper arm, could work wonders in restricting his urge to squander all his hard earned cash.


This whole patch thing opens up a whole new world of cures for addiction. I wonder if crack patch would work?
Maybe a small portable TV patch could help telly addicts? Or maybe in the case of food addiction, an adhesive pie slowly absorbed into the blood stream is the answer.

This is very exciting, I must research this further and open a clinic!

More from the spoon...

I recently returned to the much celebrated Cafe. I ordered breakfast, the same as before. I took a seat and once more looked around, taking in the atmosphere while the chef prepared my sausages.
Builders at the table to my right. I assume they were. This is in my mind, just a category for people in possession of hard hats, and high visibility vests. They could have done anything for a living.
To my left, a business man. Again, another common assumption. A man in a suit, with glasses, reading a broadsheet. I'd like to think he had an umbrella with him to complete the stereotype, but it's probably not true. He also, could do anything for a living. Why business? What is business? Why isn't it spelt bizniz? I think it looks much better. Whatever he was doing there, it was certainly none of mine.

The polish waitress was still there, getting sleazy looks from all the men in the room. I thought I would too. I gave it my sleaziest look, just to fit in.
I soon became aware that the table in front of me was occupied by a couple of drunks drinking tea. I noticed that the cups seemed to have acoustic properties which amplified what should have been a perfectly quiet discussion. Those damn cups. Still, it did allow me to get a good insight into the conversation of an alcoholic. My previous experiences of drunken discussion, have varied from, the downright rude, to vague incoherent ramblings. It was a surprise to witness a conversation about cookery. Oh yes! The ins and outs of cooking with fish, filleting, stuffing fish, barbecuing, cooking with garlic, cooking with butter without burning it. What a refreshing change!

My breakfast arrived and was hungrily consumed without further event. Nobody prayed this time. Perhaps it was a new chef?

Anyway I just thought I'd fill you in on the goings on at the Spoon.

The Emperor's New Clothes

I frequently concern myself with the intelligence of the nation - or the lack of it. I'm also interested in the lengths that companies will go to, to make money for nothing. I myself have often enjoyed the idea of making money without any effort. I've thought of many scams, which I've never put into action. Either because someone else thought of it first, or I realized it would never work.

The advert above is a corker! Nobody would buy this. Would they? OK they're appealing to children who are notoriously stupid, so anything could happen. There are many people, as I write, racking their brains, trying to come up with new ring tones. It's a huge industry. There are silly animals, cartoon characters, comedy clips, celebrity voices, top chart songs. The list is endless.

But was it a genius, or an idiot who came up with the idea of the silent ring tone? The advert informs us that downloading this tone, will make your phone emit a tone of 15KHz, (the equivalent of a TV whistle,) and this will therefore only be audible to children. This will allow them to receive phone calls without parents and teachers knowing.


Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

Firstly, it's painfully high, so the teacher will see everyone in the room wince!
Secondly, mobile phones aren't really capable of emitting that frequency, why would they need to be?

Also, to remain undetected, you'd have to have a high frequency conversation. Oh, and isn't this what silent and vibrate modes are for anyway?

Numptees! No I don't think children are that stupid. I think they might have to try for a different market. Maybe bats, or dogs. They have a higher range of hearing, and it really is essential for them to have covert phone conversations.

Nobody even knows they can speak.

Stories from the 'Spoon

I was on my way into London to work. It was early in the morning, never a good time for me, and I was heading for a day doing crap work I really didn't want to do. I'm remembering it like it was raining, although it probably wasn't. Still, it adds a bit of atmosphere. A free special effect.

I was starving. As is often the case when working at this time in the morning, I'd neglected to have any breakfast. Getting up at the last minute, then scrambling through the door, running to catch my train.
I couldn't decide what to eat. Breakfast has always been a tricky one for me. Although I know there are many other options available, I always see it as being a choice between cereal, which never fills you up, or an English breakfast, being extremely unhealthy.

Cereal was no longer an option, as I'd already left the house. You can't very well walk into a cafe and order a bowl of corn flakes. It's just not the done thing. I didn't, for some reason fancy a sausage or bacon sandwich. I wanted beans. I didn't know why. But I wanted beans. A full English it was then.

I stopped off at Victoria and found a nearby cafe. It didn't look amazing, but as I was running late, this would have to do. I ordered my set breakfast, making sure it included beans, and sat at a table by the window. It was nice to just to stop and watch the rest of the chaotic world running around in my imaginary rain.

I concerned myself with the possible consequences of eating sausages from such a dingy, down-market establishment, then began to observe the other customers.

To my right, an eastern European builder, presumably Polish, with a bit of a rapport with the waitress. He looked healthy enough. Surely I'm safe. Unless he was getting special sausages?

Ahead of me some more builders, chatting away about the football or something. To be honest, I understood more about the Polish building trade.

There were lots of other people in there who I can't remember, like extras in a porn movie. Who's gonna remember them? But there were two people there who I haven't forgotten. Young, trendy looking guys, almost certainly students. One was of Oriental appearance, the other I'm guessing was from Guildford, or Woking. (I can always tell.)
Snippets of conversation came wafting over about their recent travels. Thailand, South America. Places they wanted to go to, Hong Kong, China, Cheltenham...

The waitress approached their table with two plates of breakfast. She put it down, they thanked her, then something very strange happened. The two men fell silent, then I saw their hands placed together, and one of them started murmuring words about God, and Jesus!

How bad was this breakfast to be, for them to feel they had to pray to survive it? Had they been here before? What ever did they think was in those sausages?

Now I was really worried!


My food arrived shortly after. I hurriedly ate my beans then left.