Talking Shop #5

I work Saturdays in a shop on H____ Road in Hull. Let’s call the shop Oddbury’s. Every Saturday I write down the funny things I hear. These are real conversations with real people about the things they’re buying and what they mean to them. Names have been changed to protect people’s identities. Paul is my co – worker.

Saturday 27th February 2016, 3.32 a.m. Jim 62, works in a secondhand electricals shop, Paul 59, shop assistant, Assi (Ahsan) owner 45, Anka 22, works in a potato processing factory.

Assi carries two very large boxes from his van which is parked on the pavement outside the shop. They are so large that he cannot fit through the door so he gets wedged in it.

Paul: Oh look busy. Here comes India’s answer to Alan Sugar.

Assi is struggling furiously in the doorway: Anyone gonna’ give me hand here or what?

Neither Paul nor Jim move a muscle. Jim is leaning on the counter and rolling a cigarette. He glances at Paul. Paul is meticulously rearranging boxes of cigarette papers on the counter so that they are all stacked neatly. He glances at Jim. They both glance at me.

After wrestling the boxes through the doorway they are placed in front of the counter. Assi sits down on one of them and dabs his brow with a handkerchief. He is of indeterminate age but on one of his birth certificates it says that he was born in 1969.

Assi: Got some quality stuff to go out Paul.

Paul: Did you get any mouse traps off that guy?

Assi: No. No mouse traps.

Paul: Tsk! I told you Assi. There’s an infestation of mice down here at the moment. People are coming in every day asking for mouse traps. I promised that woman with the three legged cat that I’d get her some.

Assi: Who was that?

Paul: That woman whose cat had to have it’s back leg amputated. It can’t keep up with the mice anymore.

Assi: Oh her! Yeah, she’s been coming in everyday asking about mouse traps. Mouse traps this mouse traps bloody that.

Paul: But you didn’t get any?

Assi: No, I didn’t get any today cos the thing is the guy who I know who gets me the mouse traps was in Leeds today so I’ve phoned him but then he didn’t phone me back but I spoke to his brother but his brother works out at Huddersfield but he’s in Leeds so you know, so you know… so no. but I got these instead:

He opens one of the boxes with a pen – knife and folds back the lid.

Assi: Thomas the Tank Engine innit?!

He hands around boxes containing models of small, blue plastic trains. The trains are blue but that is their only resemblance to Thomas the Tank Engine. It’s face looks more like someone has painted a picture of Edwina Curry on the front of a train.

Paul: Well that’s not gonna kill a fucking mouse.

Assi: What? No, these is for the kids train sets you know? They love it all this Thomas and the Tank Engine and all that. My little niece, she’s always watchin’ it on the telly.

Jim: Here – have you seen this? What does that say?

He hands one of the boxes to Assi and indicates the writing on it.

Assi: (squinting) I ain’t got no glasses with me today. Had to drive back from Goole at about ten mile an hour ‘cos I couldn’t see the friggin’ road. Track train or something… here Paul… read this.

Paul: (sighing loudly) ‘This happy little track – train is coming in your tunnel!’

Jim: Say what?

Paul: (Puts his glasses on) That’s what is says – ‘This happy little track – train is coming in your tunnel.’ Are you sure these are Thomas the Tank Assi?

Assi: Polish version innit? It’s the Polish version of Thomas, that’s why they were cheap. Got em off a Polish guy who has a stall on the Saturday market. He couldn’t sell ’em so…

Paul shakes his head: We needed mouse traps and dusters and wire brushes and stuff like that – things people have been asking for. All the stuff I put on that list for you.

Assi: Alright, alright… fucking hell Paul. Keep your hair on innit? I don’t know what’s got into you at the moment. Menopause or something.

Paul: What’s in that other box?

Assi: Freddy Mercury statues.

Paul: What?! Just what we need… How much are you putting them out for?

Assi: Tenner?

Paul: (incredulous) A tenner? More like two – fifty.

Assi: Two – fifty! Don’t be ridiculous Paul. That’s bloody ridiculous man. People round here haven’t got two hundred and fifty quid in their back pocket. Not unless they’ve ram – raided Natwest.

Paul: I meant two pound fifty!

Jim: (singing) I want to break free…

Paul: Well the door’s over there. Fuck off and break free out of it.

Anka enters the shop. Jim directs his singing at her and she hurries out of his way.

Assi opens the second box and pulls out a statuette of a man with black hair and a thick mustache. The figure is wearing a dinner jacket and bow tie. There is nothing to indicate that it is a statue of Freddy Mercury. It could be any man with black hair and a mustache.

Assi: (to me) Ludo, can we clear a space for these? Somewhere prominent you know? Maybe clear out some of these dog foods and stuff and have them here near the counter innit, where people can see them?

Paul: I thought you said these were Freddy Mercury? Looks more like Cliff Thorburn.

Jim: Who the snooker player? (Taking the figure from Assi and inspecting it) it’s got some writing on the bottom but it’s in foreign.

Paul: You couldn’t read it if it was in English!

Jim: That’s true… Looks more like Magnum P.I. though than Freddy Mercury.

Paul: Tom Selleck…

 

Jim: No, he was a cop in America, called Magnum. Don’t know what the P. and the I stood for. Phil or Pat probably… I mean, we’re going back a bit…

Paul: He was played by Tom Selleck! (Under his breath): God this is like working in a fucking old folks home.

Assi: Nah, the guy who sold me ’em told me it was Freddy Mercury. Looks a bit like Tom Selleck but it’s actually Freddy Mercury. Says so on the bottom innit?

Paul: But it’s written in Polish or something…

Assi: Yeah, it says Freddy Mercury statue. The guy told me.

Anka approaches the counter. She looks at the statue and points at it. She says something in a foreign language.

Jim: My sentiments entirely my darling. What beautiful eyes you have.

Anka says something to Jim.

Jim: You Polish?

Anka nods.

He shows her the base of the statue. She nods and laughs.

Anka (holding up one figure): One.

Assi: One of these? (To Jim and Paul): see what did I tell you? The Polish love Freddy Mercury.

Paul: Do they?

Assi: What are you talking about? Queen! One of the biggest bands in Poland! Wait ’till she tells her friends about these. They’ll all be putting them on the… what’s that thing called above the fire…

Paul: They’ll be putting them on the fire.

Jim: The mantelpiece.

Assi: They’ll all have them on the mantelpiece! (To Anka he exclaims loudly) No Polish home is complete without a statue of Freddy Mercury. Isn’t that right lovie?

She is a bit startled but shows him the base of the statue and says something in Polish.

Assi: Speaking very slowly and a bit too loudly): Top quality. Royal Dolchester – top brand. Royal! By appointment to the royalty. Prince Charles has got a couple of these. Do you know Prince Charles? (He puts his fingers behind his ears so that they stick out).

Anka looks very puzzled.

After much sign language and use of google translator it is determined that the statues are actually of a Nobel Prize winning Polish politician called Lech Wałęsa. 

Image result for lech walesa

 

Anka says of her purchase: I will give it to my husband as a joke. It is so bad.

Says Assi: We can just put a sticker over the bottom innit? People won’t know any different. Just say it’s Freddy Mercury. Or Cliff Thorburn. Depends which one sells better. Some people are into snooker. Some people like music. Some people like both! They’ll probably buy two innit?

Overheard anything funny lately? Please share it with us below. It’s more fun when you play along at home!

If you liked this, or even if you didn’t, you can read more from Hull’s finest at:

Talking Shop #1

Talking Shop #2

Talking Shop #3

Talking Shop #4

 

 

Charity Shopper #4

Charity shopper is a weekly blog post. The rules are that I have to visit a charity shop every week and purchase something from it. I cannot leave the shop without making a purchase and I must use the purchase at least once. I will report every week on what I buy.

It’s more fun if you play at home: this week you have the opportunity to win all of the items I purchased. This is partly to spread the word about the Charity Shopper blog and partly because my wife has threatened divorce if I bring anymore stuff home from charity shops.  To be in with a chance of winning all you have to do is contact me on twitter @TmhoLudek or email: themagichappinessof@gmail.com and I’ll enter you into the prize draw. If your name is pulled out of the hat then you win: Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton, Once upon a Potty by Alana Frankel and The Husband, A Ladybird Book by J. A. Hazely and J. P. Morris.

Last week’s winner was the unfathomably talented @RebekaLord. You should definitely check out her website: www.rebekalord.com and if you are in West Yorkshire over the next few weeks pop along to see her paintings as part of the Turps Correspond Exhibition at the Artworks 1830 Gallery between February 21st and March 20th.

Date: Mon 19.02.2016 

Shop: Dove House Hospice, 7 High St, Market Weighton, East Yorkshire YO43 3AQ

Purchase: Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton, Once upon a Potty by Alona Frankel and The Husband, A Ladybird Book by J. A. Hazely and J. P. Morris.

Cost: £1.48

You’ve been quiet this week. A bit tardy with this post, it normally comes out on a Sunday!

I’ve been busy reading.

So I see. A book about potty training?

Once Upon a Potty is a book by Alona Frankel to help parents introduce the potty to their youngsters.

I see. Sounds…

Well, admittedly it’s not exactly…

No, I suppose not. Is it any good?

Erm well, it’s maybe not in the same category as some of Dostoevsky’s stuff but you know. It’s… different…

How so?

Well it’s got this picture in it:

A bottom for sitting and in it a little hole for making Poo - Poo. Once upon a Potty by Alana Fra
A bottom for sitting and in it a little hole for making Poo – Poo. Once upon a Potty by Alana Frankel

Oh! I see what you mean. That’s a little awkward.

The book is regarded as a classic by some and you can buy it on Amazon. For $50.

Say what?

That’s right. Original hardback copies from the 1980s change hands for $50 or more. There are 3 on sale at Amazon.com at the moment. Here’s another odd picture. Is it just me or does the poo look like angel delight?

Later on she made Wee-Wee and Poo-Poo but not exactly into the potty.
Later on she made Wee-Wee and Poo-Poo but not exactly into the potty.

This reviewer from Goodreads.com won’t be buying it though:

“The ugliest, nastiest potty book ever written. What moronic parent would actually WANT to read this one to a kid. “Wee-Wee” and “Poo-Poo”? FEH!
(And please don’t tell me it trained your kid […]. Your kid trained because they were READY!)

There are TONS of good potty books if you insist on reading them to your kids. But don’t expect them to magically train your child–it ain’t gonna happen. Better still, relax and stop obsessing over potty training. Is it going to get them into college someday?”

Oh dear. Alright shouty! Well, it might be a bit difficult to survive at college if you haven’t learnt to use the toilet by that stage. Surely you’re potty trained though?

It’s not for me. I’ve been potty training my daughter.

Our daughter.

Sorry?

Our daughter. Because I am you and you are me. You’re interviewing yourself, remember?

Oh yes.

Why is that?

What?

That you’re interviewing yourself?

Erm… well I don’t know really. I don’t really have any friends to talk to about this stuff… Why do you ask? Do you think I need more friends?

Do you think you need more friends?

Umm, well I’m married and I have children. Do  I still need friends? None of my friends seem to have friends. Well I mean, Rob has lots of friends. He’s divorced though. Lots of his friends come from a website that he’s on… does that count? Rob seems to be very happy.

Why do you think that?

He gets to go to the pub a fair bit and sometimes he rings me up during the early hours of the morning after he’s been to the pub to tell me about how happy he is. I don’t know if I’m as happy as Rob. I feel a bit worried about that. Do you think I should get divorced?

Perhaps you should read the ‘How it works’ book from Ladybird about The Husband before you make and rash decisions.

Ah yes, this is one of those  Ladybird books for adults. I remember reading these as a child…

Ladybird for adults books: How it works - The Husband A Ladybird book.
Ladybird for adults books: How it works – The Husband A Ladybird book.

Brings back happy memories doesn’t it?

Ha ha, yes it does.

Kind of.

Feels and looks exactly like the originals, just funnier…

This is what the inside of Tim's head looks like.
This is what the inside of Tim’s head looks like.
Adrian's wife sometimes cries herself to sleep
The husband likes things to be in order.

 

That’s because the authors, Jason Hazeley and Joel Morris, have taken the original Ladybird pictures and put satirical little barbs with them to fit the images.

I’m not sure it’s helping with my anxious feeling though. All the women in the book seem fairly unhappy. So do the men too.

If you’re feeling anxious then maybe you need to read Alain de Boton’s Status Anxiety.

I have been. That’s what made me feel anxious. Having read his incisive study of modern social mores I realise that not having any friends means I lack social status – the world doesn’t love me in the same way that it loves Beyonce and… and… Joe Pasquale. Do you think I should tell my friends about how I’m feeling?

I wouldn’t if I were you.

You are me.

Don’t be facetious. That could be why you haven’t got any friends. You should definitely not mention how you’re feeling to your friends. 

Really?

Absolutely. De Botton says that you are craving the love and admiration of your friends and ‘the quest for love from the world is a […] secret and shameful tale.’

My head is hurting a bit…

De Boton says, ‘to feel that we are taken no notice of necessarily disappoints the most ardent desires of human nature.’

My most ardent desire is to be noticed.

Is that why you’re talking to yourself at the kitchen table at 1.00am and writing down what you say as though it’s an interview?

Umm, I think so…

I thought so too.

God this is confusing!

My head is hurting a bit.

 

The Charity Shopper returns on Monday. 

To be in with a chance of winning all you have to do is contact me on twitter @TmhoLudek or email: themagichappinessof@gmail.com and I’ll enter you into the prize draw.

If you’ve enjoyed this week’s foray into secondhand land then check out the previous blog posts here:

Charity Shopper #1

Charity Shopper #2

Charity Shopper #3

Talking shop #1

Talking shop #2

Talking shop #3

Talking shop #4

 

Talking Shop #4

I work Saturdays in a shop on H____ Road in Hull. Let’s call the shop Oddbury’s. Every Saturday I write down the funny things I hear. These are real conversations with real people about the things they’re buying and what they mean to them. Names have been changed to protect people’s identities. Paul is my co – worker.

Saturday 13th February 2016, 11.12 a.m. Jim 62, works in a secondhand electricals shop, Paul 59, shop assistant, Trish 34 Housewife, Aaron 15 Trish’s son.

Trish: You got any better razors than these?

Paul: Those are good ones. I use those. You can’t go wrong for a pound with those.

Trish: I’ve had these before, to do my legs. Cut me to ribbons they did. I looked like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre betime I’d finished. Still, they’re not for me – they’re for him (jabbing a thumb at Aaron).

Paul: Oh right.

Trish: Yeah. He needs to sort his hair out, don’t you?

Aaron is dressed in a track suit. He is much taller than Trish. At about 6ft tall he towers over his mother who approaches the height of her son’s shoulder. He is wearing a beanie hat and has his hood up so we can’t see what’s wrong with his hair.

Aaron: Grunts and gazes up at the ceiling.

Trish: I said don’t you?

Aaron: Ignores her and carries on staring at the ceiling.

Trish: (Shouting) Honestly, I have had it up to here with him. He’s been suspended from school haven’t you? I said haven’t you? Tell the man why.

Before giving Aaron a chance to respond she continues…

Because of his hair cut, that’s why! Monday, I gets a phone call from the school. Can I go and pick him up? Can I hell like. What’s up I say? He’s got an extreme hair cut. I says, what the hell are you talking about? I mean, I don’t call a short back and sides extreme. I mean, he puts gel in it but what lad his age doesn’t these days?

Jim: They look like Elvis with these quiffs these young lads that I see around. That’s a throw back to when I was young. If I still had hair… (he motions to Aaron) … I say, if I still had hair…

Aaron completely ignores him and Trish takes up the baton again…

Trish: Well this assistant head, I’ve spoken to him before – last time he got suspended – Oh, it’s not the first time, is it? I said is it?

Aaron ignores her.

Trish: No it’s not (she answers here own question). Tell them what you got suspended for last time. Go on.

Aaron ignores her.

Trish: Well I’ll tell them. It was that, what was it?

Aaron: Jesus Army…

Trish: What? What did you say? You are a SARKY. LITTLE. BASTARD.

Aaron: You asked me!

Trish: It was this religious thing that they were having in assembly. What was it?

Aaron: (Infuriated)I just said! The Jesus Army.

Trish: Don’t you give me any of that backchat you SARCASTIC. LITTLE… you are a sarcastic little bastard and one day that tongue of yours is going to… Anyway, what was it? This religious organisation, I’ve no idea who they are. I mean, me and Aaron, we’re not particularly religious are we? I mean, I believe in God but I don’t particularly want it shoved down my throat and I don’t want it shoved down my son’s either so I’m happy for him to express his opinion but, tell them what you said.

She doesn’t wait

Trish: I’ll tell them. Well one of them, these

Aaron: Jesus Army

Trish: Blokes is up there on stage talking away in front of the whole school…

Aaron: Year 10

Trish: Or whatever, talking about God and what not, and the Assistant Head, the one I spoke to, he did tell me on the phone that this fella had a look of Jesus but I mean, that’s no excuse, and our Aaron’s got up – stood up, in front of the whole school…

Aaron: Year 10.

Trish: And shouted – ‘Get back on the cross Jesus!’

There is a stunned silence.

Paul: What did he get suspended for this time?

Trish: Well, let me get back to where I am… Where was I?

Jim: His hair, you were on the phone to the Head.

Trish: (causticaly) It was the Assistant Head. The Head won’t speak to me. Anyway… yeah, he’s said, (adopts a ‘posh’ voice) ‘well Mrs Rankin, he might have left home with a short back and sides but that is most definitely not what he has turned up at the school gates with.’

Pauses for effect. Now everyone is staring at Aaron who is smirking ever so slightly.

Trish: Well, when he got home… tell them… tell them what you’ve got…He’s only gone and got the German flag shaved into his head. The German bloody flag!

Jim: It’s all this Dutch Land ’93. They’re all into. My daughter is. It’s one of these foreign things on telly.

Paul: (Lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes) Deutschland ’83. 1983, not ’93.

Jim: It’s quite good actually. A fair bit of shagging in it.

Aaron: Let’s out a suppressed laugh.

Trish: (exploding at her son. This provocation is more than her nerves can take.) YOU LOOK – LIKE A. FUCKING. IDIOT!

Aaron: Alright…

Trish: No! It is very much not alright! And you are going to shave that stupid bloody thing off your head as soon as we get home.

Aaron: I’m allowed to express an opinion.

Jim: Oh aye? Which opinion are you expressing at the moment. You look like a Rastafarian with that hat on. Show us what you got…

Trish: NO! Do not encourage him… it’s more than my nerves…

Aaron whips off the hat defiantly and glares, shaking with rage, at his mother. His head is shaved to the skin apart from where he has left unshaven, standing proud, in thick, jet – black hair, the shape of an enormous swastika.

Jim and Paul burst into hysterical laughter, falling around on the counter. There are tears rolling down their cheeks.

Aaron storms out of the shop and shouts, ‘fuck off!’ after him.

Says Trish of her purchase: I’m still buying these. I’ll hold him down and shave his fucking head myself if I’ve got to. ‘Cos I tell you. I will not tolerate it. I will not tolerate him lying in bed at home for another week fiddling with his bits while he’s watching Jeremy Kyle. He can get his head shaved and fuck off from under my feet back to that bloody school where he belongs.

Overheard anything funny lately? Please share it with us below. It’s more fun when you play along at home!

Read more from Hull’s finest at:

Talking Shop #1

Talking Shop #2

Talking Shop #3

 

Talking shop: conversations overheard #2

I work Saturdays in a shop on H____ Road in Hull. Let’s call the shop Oddbury’s. Every Saturday I write down the funny things I hear. These are real conversations with real people about the things they’re buying and what they mean to them. Names have been changed to protect people’s identities. Paul is my co – worker.

Saturday 6th Feb 2016, 12:05pm Scottish Malcolm 53, unemployed, Margaret 44, care worker and Paul 59, shop assistant 

Margaret: I’m looking for something to get the weeds out of my patio – you know where they sprout up between the flag stones? And we’ve got some on the drive too but that’s got – well, I don’t know how to describe it but like…

Paul: You need a flame thrower.

Margaret: A flame thrower? Well I haven’t got one of those have I?

Paul: (Rolls his eyes) Then you’ll need this stuff – follow me.

(He paces to the other side of the shop very purposefully and Margaret has to trot to keep up with him)

Paul: This is the stuff (proffering something that looks like screen-wash in a frosted blue 1 litre plastic bottle). It’s brilliant. Do any job that. Kill absolutely anything.

Scottish Malcolm (from last week’s post) enters the shop loudly clattering his shopping bags through the doorway.

Scottish Malcolm: Paul! Where’s Paul! (Then to me) – those Christmas lights did’nae work.

Me: You brought them back?

Scottish Malcolm: What for?

Me: For a refund if they’re broken.

Scottish Malcolm: Och nae- they’re nae broken. They just did’nae work like. I did’nae get a shag out of it! Where’s Paul?

Spying Paul he strides over.

Scottish Malcolm: Paul, those Christmas lights were a waste of money.

Paul: (Ignoring him, carries on serving Margaret). Do you know what the best thing for killing mice is?

Margaret: (Bemused by this turn in the conversation) A mouse trap?

Paul: Ha! (as if that were a ridiculous thing to suggest). No, this stuff – the same stuff you use on your weeds.

(In a conspiratorial whisper): You put a cap full of it out on the night, before you go to bed. Then, during the night they come out and take a drink of it – it’s sweet you see – they like the taste of it. Then when you wake up in the morning they’re all lying around the cap, kind of asleep like.

Scottish Malcolm: Asleep?

Paul: Yeah – well -dead mainly. It burns a hole in their stomach and their intestines fall out.

Scottish Malcolm: Disgusting.

Paul: I can’t stand them either.

Scottish Malcolm: I mean it’s animal cruelty. But, hey, do you suppose it gets them pissed?

Paul: I don’t think so. I think it just damages them.

Scottish Malcolm: Do you think humans can get away with drinking it?

Paul: (Surprised) I wouldn’t have thought so. I mean it’s quite dangerous to…

Scottish Malcolm: Aye, nae, you’re right, probably not. (Holding a bottle of it thoughtfully) I’m just thinking off the top of my head, like. I mean, it’s quite cheap.

Margaret: (Exasperated) Will it do my bloody patio?

Paul: Definitely. Yes… And kill mice too.

Margaret: Then that’s all I need to know.

Scottish Malcolm: I’ll take a bottle too.

Margaret: There you go! It’s selling like hot cakes!

Paul: (Indicating Scottish Malcolm) It’s selling like alcohol to him.

Talking shop will return next week. If you’ve enjoyed this post please check out my other related content:

Talking shop: conversations overheard

I work Saturdays in a shop on H____ Road in Hull. Let’s call the shop Oddbury’s. Every Saturday I write down the funny things I hear. These are real conversations with real people about the things they’re buying and what they mean to them. Names have been changed to protect people’s identities. Paul is my co – worker.

Sat 30th Jan 2016 2:15pm Malcolm 53, unemployed and Paul 59, shop assistant

Scottish Malcolm: You got any Christmas lights?

Paul: Blimey, you’re getting organised early.

Scottish Malcolm: What for?

Paul: (Puzzled) Well, Christmas.

Scottish Malcolm: Nah, cannae stand Christmas.

Paul: oh?

Scottish Malcolm: Hate it!

Paul: how’s that?

Scottish Malcolm: (sniffs) Just cannae. You got those lights or what?

Paul: got some in the back. Wait here.

Scottish Malcolm: Be quick.

Paul (returning): Got these ones – different colours, light up, flash in different ways, you can have them fast or slow flashing or twinkling. What d’you want with Christmas lights if you don’t like Christmas?

Scottish Malcolm: They’re ‘cos ma wife’s comin’ home t’day.

Paul: she been on holiday?

Scottish Malcolm: Prison.

Paul: oh.

Scottish Malcolm: Domestic violence towards the dog. But she’s OK now.

Paul: she like Christmas?

Scottish Malcolm: Nah. Ah’m gonna make a love heart in lights above the bed. So she can look at it. While were f***kin’ like.

Paul: right you are.

Malcolm says about his purchase: I’ve missed my wife while she’s been inside. It’s been tough for both of us but I’ve not been able to visit her as much as I’d like. I haven’t been with anyone else like. I just couldn’t afford the bus up there every week. We’ve had our ups and downs, what married couple hasn’t? But I’m going to buy some rose petals and sprinkle them on the bed and with these lights in a nice love – heart shape I think she’ll see I love her. I need a nail gun from B&Q and then I’m off home to put them up. Maybe she won’t batter me for not coming to see her! The Christmas lights are going in the bin if I don’t get any action tonight.