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Hoses of the Holy in the Parallel Universe

March 24, 2005

Subjunctives and counterfactuals

Were I in the least bit competitive or ambitious I'd run a "cob van" that went round factories and offices in the afternoon.

For those of you who don't live in Nottingham, by "cob" I mean "bread roll", or "bap", or "baguette", or "stottie". Not "male swan". (Because driving round selling male swans would be silly. And probably treasonous, because all swans are owned by the queen. Besides which, swans are fucking vicious when being manhandled in the back of a transit.)

You get "cob vans" visiting places of work in the mornings. About three of them. Highly competitive. Driving dangerously and short-changing people viciously in order to maintain a competitive edge.

You see, if you did it in the afternoon there would be the following advantages:
a) no competition or gang wars
b) people are starving by then because they ate the "cobs" they bought at 9.30 in the morning about 5 minutes later.
c) you cater for all the people who had meetings (which always over-run through lunchtime)
d) people are half asleep and therefore dazed so they will spend more money than is sensible.
e) people are really bored and feel compelled to seek comfort food.
f) you could make your "cobs" in the morning rather than the night before so they were fresh, so, e.g. your "tuna surprise" didn't smell of fish.

Good idea eh? And you could sleep in every morning, and still have the evenings free.


  • Of all the jobs I've had in my life, the one I loved the most was when I was a postman. Apart from the starting early (up at 4.30 am), it was ace in so many ways.

    I was home by 8.30 am most mornings, except when I did "overtime", which might take me till 9.30 or so, which was when I was officially supposed to be working till anyway. So I'd get overtime pay, and still get home by 10 am, sleep for a couple of hours, then have the rest of the long day to myself.

    Imagine, now, all the hours I could spend playing guitar, flickring, blogging, recording, perfecting recipes etc.

    By Blogger bot37363838, at 8:24 am  

  • Ah! Early morning postmen belong to a lost age, though.

    Postman these days drive around in their red stretched transits, wolf-whistling at schoolgirls until about 11 am.

    At that point they select a few small items to post through the wrong letterboxes to stop themselves getting bored.

    Then they dump the other stuff in the brook, behind the recreation ground.

    By Blogger SimonHolyHoses, at 8:31 am  

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