Get the Tissues
You and Me
Crimson Field and Silent Witness Mashup
‘Twas the Night before the night before Christmas in the merriest town,
Richard’s sat in the nick wearing grumpy cat’s frown.
Beside him is Tom feeling sad for himself
He should never have trusted that creep on that shelf.
Along with the two there’s a third it is said,
As a flickering light gleamed and danced off Ad’s head.
What a sad little trio, but how could this be?
They were all there for crimes against Christmas you see.
Earlier that Evening….
Richard looked at his phone and it filled him with dread.
‘Exchange presents tonight? xx ’ it said on the thread.
No time to do shopping, his boss was a dick,
So he’d better start thinking and start thinking quick.
He looked down at his desk, piled high with his work,
But to go with no present, he’d look like a jerk.
So away to the Apple store, his coat he did carry
A new iPhone 6 would make his girlfriend so merry!
And down the same road Adam walked with a frown,
He’d misjudged the dress code for the ‘Ho Ho Ho Down’!
The cruel shoes he chosen made him walk with a limp,
Still, he looked like a cop impersonating a pimp.
Now, Tom was at home with a drink in his hand
He’d just finished watching the Kazoo and Pipe Band.
When up on the shelf there arose a loud clatter
He sprang from his futon, ‘What the hell is the matter?’
But all that was there was a creepy old elf,
Who sat very still looking pleased with himself.
It was way too quiet on this Christmas Eve Eve
So the elf had some mischief stuffed up his striped sleeve.
‘Children like Santa’, the elf piped up.
Tom’s face contorted as he gasped, ‘What the F***?’
‘Come with me and we’ll give the children a treat!”
The elf exclaimed, landing firm on his feet.
The alcohol swam warm through every wee vein.
And he was sure it was this that affected his brain.
‘If you insist, I’m up for some fun!’
So he followed the elf and the elf he did run.
He ran down the High Street with the fastest of gate
As Tom ran fast to keep up with his mate.
They arrived at the town’s Merry Christmas display,
And elf quickly stopped and said, ‘Now, let us play!’
Elf reached up his sleeve for his Swiss army knife,
‘What are you doing?’ Tom shouted in strife.
‘My tricks are not bad!’ said the Elf with a grin.
‘Santa will fly, let the fun now begin!’
Before Tom could stop him he cut all the tethers
And the Town’s giant Santa rose up like a feather.
Away like a jet it flew like a flash.
A lamppost went over and a hedge it did smash.
Then what to Ad’s bloodshot eyes it appeared
An inflatable Santa with a hedge for a beard.
It was coming right for him with Tom in pursuit
He was then swept along by Santa’s big boot.
It flew down the High Street like a big bird of prey
As people were shouting ‘Get out of the way!’
It looked like a horrible site to behold
As it flew in through the Apple shop’s door it is told.
It Zigged and it Zagged as it flew to get free,
But the Apple shop doesn’t have windows, you see.
Flying Santa or not, Richard cursed these wee tricks
He was not leaving there without a new iPhone 6.
He ducked and he dodged Santa’s crazed wild flight
Grabbed the phone that he wanted and ran into the night.
But the Police were there waiting for the thing to deflate
Poor Richard just couldn’t believe his own fate.
So the 3 of them sit in a cold prison cell
Not fully believing this new kind of hell
On a shelf sits an Elf with a very black soul
Because this Elf hangs out at a different North Pole.
Looks like someone’s inner child needs a babysitter.
At about 12:57 PM GMT on Friday, I left my little desk and my little chair to go and eat my little lunch. I innocently switched my Samsung Galaxy phone on (I know it’s crap but it’s on contract) and found that in my absence, Twitter had descended into chaos…..
Talk about Freaky Friday!
Our Richard suddenly changed into a rather dishy blonde.
And it didn’t stop there
My name is My name is My name is…. Dicky?
Oh Yes, Trainspotting Dicky, standing on the platform in his waterproof anorak, clutching his notebook in one hand with a flask of weak lemon tea in the other. But behind that somewhat passive demeanor he’s a rebel. He takes his shoes off without untying the laces…..
And it didn’t stop there
My name is My name is My name is….. RCH’D?
Now, we all know who Ruchd is. But Ruch’d has gone a bit posh. What’s with that Apostrophe? It’s a bit possessive… Anyway, seems there isn’t much work for a Vengeful Troll King with incredible facial hair, animal pelts and multiple time pieces in London lately, so he’s cleaned up his act. He’s traded his tea flask for *bucks. “You got a problem with that?”
Richard wasn’t the only one having an identity crisis that day.
Now, I don’t know about you but I’ve been seeing the signs of an identity crisis brewing for quite a while.
Here’s a still from The Crimson Field, see if you agree.
And this from the set of Silent Witness
Good thing Emilia Fox was there in her white scrubs ready to lend a hand.
“OK Richard, one more photo and then I’ll take you back to your Special Trailer with pillows on the walls and floor. You get to hug yourself all day. Doesn’t that sound like fun? I’d like my skirt back too if you don’t mind.”
And from earlier this week
How dare you say I look like Pat Butcher, Pat Butcher looks like ME!
It’s OK Richard, Ruch’d, Dicky or whoever you are… what am I saying? It’s not OK! They have doctors for this!!
Oh, you’re a doctor too…
There’s a story in every coffee…
But first let me ask, is it hot in here or is it just my Latte?
Unfortunately our Richard has been having a bit of Deja Brew lately in regards to the *bucks tradition of writing one’s name on one’s cup and he isn’t the only one. But before I jump straight into that grande cup of trimethyxanthine, let’s explore the cup size quandary. I mean seriously….
Tall= Small but in English, tall actually means Large
Grande= is Spanish for Large, Si
Venti= Italian for 20 which doesn’t have anything to do with size.
Trenta= Italian for 30 which doesn’t mean large or anything else relating to size.
Si you está confusi, then so lo es il resto del mundo de speaking spagnola e italiana e English.
See what I did there? Three languages in one sentence. Good huh?
True Story, I was in *bucks with Teen Boy and he came back with a MAHOOSSIVE Cup of triple shot mocha, caramel, full fat latte, topped with whipped cream made from milk infused with the tears of Virgin Milk Maids. I asked him what happened.
He replied, “I PANICKED!”
Because I’m always here to help, I’ve devised a handy dandy size chart so that you don’t have to remember made up meanings in 3 different languages just to place your order, thus eliminating size anxiety. Apparently, at *bucks size DOES matter!
And I bet you didn’t know that coffee drinkers live longer than people who don’t drink coffee but they spend those extra years waiting in the queue at *bucks to have their name spelled wrong on their take away cup. But I digress. WAIT! that’s what I do best. Let the digression begin.
FUN FACTS YOU DIDN’T KNOW
I bet you didn’t know that a yawn is a silent scream for more coffee!
I bet you didn’t know this…
If a person goes into *bucks and doesn’t tweet a photo of it, did it really happen?
Mine from earlier in the week.
Here’s Poor Richard’s (great name for an Almanac) *bucks cup from earlier this week.
Oh Dear! What did they think he said? Did he just sputter and grunt? What is Ruchd? What does that even mean? Alex, I’d like to buy a vowel please.
Lots of theories have been tossed around about who Ruchd is and the best one comes from the lovely Sarah Phelps who said it sounded like a troll with…. here she can say it so much better…
Punctuality, now that’s what you look for most in a Troll King. That and vengeance. Oh and one who can bring his own flask of Sugary Tea.
I wonder what he looks like…
Yikes, I think they’re on to something though!
Ruchd, since you are bound to a life of having your name misspelled on coffee cups, Have some fun with it!
The best trick would be to order, go sit down and then have the barista call out the name they thought they heard over and over and over again. Hours of Fun!
Or just look at the barista’s name badge and just say their name and they will be like “NO WAY!” and you say, “WAY!” So they obviously can’t get it wrong and if they do….
Seriously though, I happened come across Richard’s or Ruchd’s take away cup whilst I was researching this blog. It did indeed say Ruchd on the front but on further investigation when I removed the outer sleeve I saw this…
Someone who can’t spell was trying to tell you something Ruchd.
Sometimes pigs do fly though
Here’s what happened when three Heritage Historistas (our hipster job title) occupied a Birmingham UK *bucks a few weeks before Christmas 2013.
In conclusion, although your name has been abused over and over at your favourite coffee bars, just be thankful your name isn’t Angus….
And that’s all for now from the cluttered brain of Luanne Uttley @wearenotmissing
Thanks to Outlanderfan_NL for the photo of RUCHD!
CANDYLAND IS AT WAR WITH LORD LICORICE
After the submarine blockades and the sinking of The Good Ship Lollipop in the Ice Cream Sea, morale was at an all time low. With most Lolly fields in enemy hands, Lolly rationing was introduced. On the home front every inhabitant of Candyland was expected to do their part.
Any available plot of land was used to cultivate Lollies to send to the brave men and nurses overseas.
At a field hospital deep in the Peppermint Forest, a shipment of Lolly Rations arrives.
Sister Quayle: I’ve seen the new shipment of Lollies. I expect my cut!
Quarter Master Soper : As always, Sister.
Matron: Volunteers and Nurses are not permitted to eat Lollies outside their tents because ladies eating Lollies in public is vulgar.
In an effort to try and raise spirits, the volunteers organize a Sing a Long.
As the Lolly rations run low, tempers rise.
Yelland: So tell me, what does Grandma Nutt say when you go back to the Molasses Swamp? When she hands you your Lolly, does she call you ‘Sir’?
Yelland: So you think that’s funny do you?
Thomas: YES, it is funny because as everyone knows you couldn’t find your lolly stick with both hands, SIR!
Yelland: I wish you were a giant lolly so that I could snap your stick off and beat you with it!
Meanwhile Sister Quayle retires to her tent.
In the wee hours of the morning, Kitty writes a pleading letter home.
Desperate for a Lolly and to spend some time with Kitty, Thomas’ advances fall short.
Thomas: I finished my last Lolly yesterday. May I have a lick of yours?
Miles: Switched to smoking I see.
Kitty: Yes, I’m out of Lollies.
Miles:Hey, isn’t that Rosalie over there?
Kitty: Yes and look at that bitch, eating that lolly like she owns the place.
Miles: I say old chap, if you want Kitty to notice you, give her a bouquet of Lollies. That should do the trick.
Thomas: I had to switch to these bastard cigarettes. I’m all out of Lollies.
Miles has an idea
Thomas: Do you think it will work? We could have been court martialed sneaking behind enemy lines after dark to pick wild Lollies.
Miles: Yes, it’s Impressive. That should get you a Snog for sure.
Kitty: Thomas, is that a lolly in your pocket….
Thanks to J. Lollipop Photoshop from RRankinfans for posting the first Lollipop photo and inspiring this blog post
Photoshop credits: J. Lollipop Photoshop and my Darling Daughter who tutored me in the fine art of placing Lollies almost anywhere!
007 Glasgow Edition
He stood, leaning against the red brick wall of a Kebab House at the dodgy end of Sauchihall Street, treating his hangover with a doner kebab and a side of Glasgow salad. An open bottle of hooch rested on the pavement by the frosted glass door. It was the part of town where faces go in and out of fashion like leopard trousers on 6′ tall, blue eyed actors of unknown shoe size. The night dragged and the minutes crawled by like an injured cockroach on the rain slicked streets. Plumes of smoke from cigarettes, always cigarettes, wafted past him. He inhaled and then coughed up the grime.
It was then that he saw her. A blonde. But not just any blonde. The kind of blonde that would make a man dramatically pause…… in mid word. The kind of woman that suddenly had men thinking in metaphors or similes or both. She strolled past him into the Kebab House like a millipede missing 998 legs….
Coming Soon to a Smoke Filled, Backstreet Cinema Near You
Other titles starring Richard Rankin as 007
The Spy Who Loved Me but Wasn’t IN Love with Me
The Man with the Golden Tooth
A View to a Kebab House
Quantum of Haggis
Dr. Nah, You’re Alright
From Glasgow with Indifference
Diamonds are Shiny Rocks
License to Frill and Accessorize
On Her Majesty’s Pleasure
Photo Credits to Barb and Outlander1746
War and Peace?
Richard Rankin AKA Sir Richard Leopardpants stopped by Facebook last night for an impromptu Q & A sending my Samsung (I know, it’s crap) into virtual meltdown with message alerts. Us mere mortals struggled to keep up and if I’m not mistaken, somewhere in the thread, Richard even received a marriage proposal but sadly it went unanswered. Maybe he needs a bit of time to think it through. Right Vivi?
So without further adieu , let’s get doon to buzzness and open some Rank and Files.
So many questions, so little time but our Sir Richard managed to keep up and answered as many as he could before he graciously bowed out and went wandering aimlessly away ;-)
One question that was on everyone’s mind, ok only mine but just go with it, was “What was Thomas typing in the scene from The Crimson Field?”.
Here’s Thomas Channeling his Muse
Well, I did a bit more investigating because as you know a loyal fan has better sleuthing skills than MI5. In the wee hours of last night, I searched a skip located in a dark alley behind an unnamed studio (don’t worry I was wearing Ninja gear) and uncovered even more evidence of Thomas Gillan’s typing skills. Here’s a snapshot of what I found.
Is this the plot twist/ cliff hanger for episode 6? A remake of a 1980’s horror film? On further investigation I uncovered some footage that I assume was cut from the production.
You be the judge.
WOW! I feel so honoured. The man himself has seen it and here’s what he had to say….
Don’t go away for long. There’s much much more to come!