Posts Tagged ‘humour’

We’re not absolutely sure if this photo is genuine.

It might be a clever photoshopped viral meme designed to make a point ahead of the Scottish independence poll. Or it might just be the perfect example of Rule #1 of outdoor advertising – see your medium before you stick the ad to the train, and don’t put any of it over (a) doors that move (b) big sticky-outey things that make it impossible to read your ad.

16298_10154447715075181_3713551417262544299_n

Either way, very funny.

For more glorious F*** Ups in advertising, packaging, social media et al just put “F*** Up” in the search box top left of this page and hit enter …

flagsMeanwhile, based on the polls, if you are remotely interested in the politics of the thing, it is still looking likely that Scotland won’t vote to become an independent country, with the “yes” side of the poll declining recently, although fervent yes campaigners point to the still large number of undecideds and the fact that a larger percentage of women seem undecided in particular.

Our guess – and we’re usually right – is that the referendum will fail, but more narrowly than the current polls indicate. Still, with a month to go, there is still time for momentum to build either way as people focus more and more on the actual event.

A wrap of the movements of the polls can be found here. In reading polls, psephologists agree that what really matters is the overall look of the trends, and the averaging of them. On that basis, it should be noted that since this poll tracker began, the “yes” side of the argument has only been in the majority, very temporarily, twice.

(With thanks to Dickie Ember for forwarding us the Alex Salmond train photo.)

 

Ed Byrne

Ed Byrne

So. The Wellthisiswhatithink clan was driving through the rain yesterday evening to a very swanky dinner, (on behalf of departing Monash Uni Vice-Chancellor Ed Byrne and his wife Melissa – a wonderful event which we were thrilled to be asked to, although we are sad to be losing this wonderful couple to London – our loss is their very profound gain), when we came across this hilarious  sign on a building in swanky Malvern, one of Melbourne’s “better” suburbs.

Physio

We immediately cracked up.

Patient – “Well, I feel better now, can I stop coming?”

Manipulative physiotherapist – “Oh yes, I’m sure you feel better. Yeah, now worries, stop coming. I’ll find another patient to fill the gap. You go off and enjoy yourself. Knock yourself out. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Yes, yes, we know it doesn’t say emotionally manipulative physiotherapist, but stuck in traffic at 6pm in the rain and dark we just laughed and laughed.

Guess you had to be there.

(Feel free to contribute your personal conversation snippets between patients and the manipulative physio. Let’s see if there are any more people out there with our weird sense of humour.)

Incidentally, some of the musical entertainment provided at the dinner was from the ineffably brilliant jazz musician Paul Grabowsky. It was a true privilege to hear him and a bunch of other leading musicians at close quarters. Blessings in life arrive unexpectedly, don’t they?

We happened across this little article by Michael Gebicki from Fairfax and it reminded us that we have been meaning for a YEAR to whinge about the temperature on planes.

Keeping temperatures at the lower end of the range on a plane can be a better option than having passengers fainting.Keeping temperatures at the lower end of the range on a plane can be a better option than having passengers fainting. Photo: Getty Images

The pilot has overall control within a range of about 20-28 degrees, but within those parameters the actual temperature control is left up to the flight crew, who will generally set is at 22 or 23 degrees.

If the temperature drops to 20 degrees passengers start to shiver and complain, but anecdotal advice from flight crew suggests that more passengers faint when the temperature rises above 24 degrees.

This is supported by a study conducted by a study published by the American Society for Testing and Materials, which concluded “There is evidence that cabin pressure and temperature may contribute to the occurrence of syncope”, the medical term for fainting.

This results from a deficient blood flow to the brain, which might happen when a passenger rises after a prolonged period of inactivity.

Fainting is more likely to occur following a sedentary spell in an aircraft than at home, sitting in front of the TV for example, because air pressure in the cabin at typical cruising altitude is equivalent to the outside air pressure at 1800–2400m above sea level.

At that altitude, less oxygen is available to be transported in the blood stream, which increases the incidence of fainting.

Flight crew also suggest that passengers sitting in the rear of an aircraft are more susceptible, along with overweight males, elderly passengers and those with cardiovascular conditions.

Hmmm. Well we had one experience recently with drove us nuts. We flew from Tokyo to Paris with Japan Airlines, specifically because we wanted to end our brief sojourn in the Land of the Rising Sun with the experience of munching sushi on the way over to France, even though by the time we got there we were actually a bit sushi-d out as we had eaten little else for four days. Well, we had one plate of German ham hock in a first floor Bavarian “BierKeller”, but that’s a long story.

May we suggest an extra serve of green tea ice-cream?

May we suggest an extra serve of green tea ice-cream?

Anyhow the cabin temperature was set to roasting overnight. It was completely impossible to sleep comfortably – or even just endure it watching TV comfortably.

Now admittedly we were sitting towards the rear of the plane (on the basis that very few planes ever reverse into mountains) and your compellingly honest correspondent will admit to being somewhat, er … well let’s just say an Indian tailor once smiled sweetly and said he thought he had something in portly short that would fit us … but it was really ridiculously hot. Even Mrs Wellthisiswhatithink agreed, and she would complain of feeling chilly sitting next to an open blast-furnace.

We pleaded with the cabin staff to turn the heating down, but they simply refused, albeit with lots of bowing and smiling. “No” still means “no”, even when accompanied by traditional Japanese deference. Eventually, one remarked that Asian passengers prefer the cabin kept warmer, or they all complain. As we were amongst very few Europeans on the flight we grumblingly acquiesced to that logic and eventually went to sleep with a tea-towel stuffed with ice behind our neck.

The sushi was pretty crap, too. And the seats were too small. Although to be fair it should be noted that in 2013 JAL was given an award for being the most punctual international carrier, so presumably you arrive at your destination drenched in sweat but on time more often.

In general, we find cabin temperatures are set too high way too often, especially on long-haul overnight flights. One such flight across the Atlantic (Chicago-London) with BA would have been more comfortable if we’d all been in bathing costumes. Admittedly it was seriously cold leaving Chicago, but it’s hard to dismiss the feeling that the cabin was set to uber-warm by the staff to greet the frozen travellers and then just left that way because no one thought to check it. Or maybe they were just having too much fun chatting to yours truly as he drank vodka after vodka in the food prep area, having given up entirely on any hope of getting any sleep.

The point is surely, if they are set at the lower end of the scale, then people who feel chilly can put on another layer, or snuggle under a blanket. Or two. Those who are overheated are limited in their ability to respond. No one wants to see a somewhat corpulent middle aged fellow in his undies fanning himself with a dog-eared in-flight magazine.

So we politely urge pursers and captains to start low and hand out lots of blankies, or at least start low and edge the temp up half a degree at a time, rather than start high and wait for people to start fainting or panting.

Unless your passenger list is mainly Asian, we guess. In which case, Caveat Emptor would seem to apply for fliers. Interestingly, though, we have also flown with South China, Cathay Pacific, Singapore, Vietnam and Malaysian, and not noticed the problem to anything like the same degree as we experienced with JAL.

The other hottest planes we have known have been Qantas inside Australia, which are frequently stifling. What is with that?

Apparently taking "selfies" of their beautiful selves is the latest thing with air hostesses, as this recent shot of an Emirates crew shows. Well you try Googling "too hot stewardesses" and see what you come up with.

Apparently taking “selfies” of their beautiful selves is the latest thing with air hostesses, as this recent shot of an Emirates crew shows. Well you try Googling “too hot stewardesses” and see what you come up with.

And just to throw a bunch of flowers as well as a brickbat, we flew back from Dubai to Australia with Emirates and the experience was about as magnificent as flying anywhere cattle-class could be.

Seats were comfortable, food was brilliant, staff were charming and spoke (to our count) 17 different languages – they announce them at the start of the flight – entertainment system was excellent – and above all, blessed be, the cabin was pleasantly temperate.

Still, we guess people from Dubai know a bit about air-conditioning.

The exceptionally comfortable Dubai International airport is enormous – cavernous – yet impeccably cool: quite remarkable, really, although clearing customs was ludicrously slow. That aside, we would recommend Emirates to anyone.

What’s your most recent flying experience – good, bad, indifferent? And what do you think about cabin temperatures? Let us know!

Many moons ago, we submitted an article to the New Yorker. They rejected it. This is not an uncommon experience for writers submitting to the august magazine, which sets an stratospheric standard for its contributors, which is why it’s such a good read, of course. Indeed, on the remaindered shelf at a bookstore many moons ago we bought a “best of” collection of the famous New Yorker cartoons which is still one of the funniest books we have ever read.

We may submit another article to them one day if we can ever think of anything worth saying. Anyhooo … Fruit of One’s Loins was sent this article which is apparently doing the rounds on the Internet from November 2013 and it’s easy to see why it’s so popular. It’s a hilarious mental ramble based on a very old joke, and it’s simultaneously both witty and a clever commentary on the modern world. It’s by Simon Rich*, who is clearly much funnier and talented than me. And younger. And better looking.

Bastard.

Guy Walks Into a Bar

So a guy walks into a bar one day and he can’t believe his eyes. There, in the corner, there’s this one-foot-tall man, in a little tuxedo, playing a tiny grand piano.

So the guy asks the bartender, “Where’d he come from?”

12 inch pianistAnd the bartender’s, like, “There’s a genie in the Mens’ room who grants wishes.”

So the guy runs into the Mens’ room and, sure enough, there’s this genie. And the genie’s, like, “Your wish is my command.”

So the guy’s, like, “O.K., I wish for world peace.” And there’s this big cloud of smoke—and then the room fills up with geese.

So the guy walks out of the Mens’ room and he’s, like, “Hey, bartender, I think your genie might be hard of hearing.”

And the bartender’s, like, “No kidding. You think I wished for a twelve-inch pianist?”

So the guy processes this. And he’s, like, “Does that mean you wished for a twelve-inch penis?”

And the bartender’s, like, “Yeah. Why, what did you wish for?”

And the guy’s, like, “World peace.”

So the bartender is understandably ashamed.

And the guy orders a beer, like everything is normal, but it’s obvious that something has changed between him and the bartender.

And the bartender’s, like, “I feel like I should explain myself further.”

And the guy’s, like, “You don’t have to.”

But the bartender continues, in a hushed tone. And he’s, like, “I have what’s known as penile dysmorphic disorder. Basically, what that means is I fixate on my size. It’s not that I’m small down there. I’m actually within the normal range. Whenever I see it, though, I feel inadequate.”

And the guy feels sorry for him. So he’s, like, “Where do you think that comes from?”

And the bartender’s, like, “I don’t know. My dad and I had a tense relationship. He used to cheat on my mom, and I knew it was going on, but I didn’t tell her. I think it’s wrapped up in that somehow.”

And the guy’s, like, “Have you ever seen anyone about this?”

And the bartender’s, like, “Oh, yeah, I started seeing a therapist four years ago. But she says we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

So, at around this point, the twelve-inch pianist finishes up his sonata. And he walks over to the bar and climbs onto one of the stools. And he’s, like, “Listen, I couldn’t help but overhear the end of your conversation. I never told anyone this before, but my dad and I didn’t speak the last ten years of his life.”

And the bartender’s, like, “Tell me more about that.” And he pours the pianist a tiny glass of whiskey.

And the twelve-inch pianist is, like, “He was a total monster. Beat us all. Told me once I was an accident.”

And the bartender’s, like, “That’s horrible.”

And the twelve-inch pianist shrugs. And he’s, like, “You know what? I’m over it. He always said I wouldn’t amount to anything, because of my height? Well, now look at me. I’m a professional musician!”

And the pianist starts to laugh, but it’s a forced kind of laughter, and you can see the pain behind it. And then he’s, like, “When he was in the hospital, he had one of the nurses call me. I was going to go see him. Bought a plane ticket and everything. But before I could make it back to Tampa . . .”

And then he starts to cry. And he’s, like, “I just wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye to my old man.”

1974 Plymouth VoyagerAnd all of a sudden there’s this big cloud of smoke — and a beat-up Plymouth Voyager appears!

And the pianist is, like, “I said ‘old man,’ not ‘old van’!”

And everybody laughs. And the pianist is, like, “Your genie’s hard of hearing.”

And the bartender says, “No kidding. You think I wished for a twelve-inch pianist?”

And as soon as the words leave his lips he regrets them. Because the pianist is, like, “Oh, my God. You didn’t really want me.”

And the bartender’s, like, “No, it’s not like that.” You know, trying to backpedal.

And the pianist smiles ruefully and says, “Once an accident, always an accident.” And he drinks all of his whiskey.

And the bartender’s, like, “Brian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

And the pianist smashes his whiskey glass against the wall and says, “Well, I didn’t mean that.”

And the bartender’s, like, “Whoa, calm down.”

And the pianist is, like, “Fuck you!” And he’s really drunk, because he’s only one foot tall and so his tolerance for alcohol is extremely low. And he’s, like, “Fuck you, asshole! Fuck you!”

And he starts throwing punches, but he’s too small to do any real damage, and eventually he just collapses in the bartender’s arms.

And suddenly he has this revelation. And he’s, like, “My God, I’m just like him. I’m just like him.” And he starts weeping.

And the bartender’s, like, “No, you’re not. You’re better than he was.”

And the pianist is, like, “That’s not true. I’m worthless!”

And the bartender grabs the pianist by the shoulders and says, “Damn it, Brian, listen to me! My life was hell before you entered it. Now I look forward to every day. You’re so talented and kind and you light up this whole bar. Hell, you light up my whole life. If I had a second wish, you know what it would be? It would be for you to realize how beautiful you are.”

And the bartender kisses the pianist on the lips.

So the guy, who’s been watching all this, is surprised, because he didn’t know the bartender was gay. It doesn’t bother him; it just catches him off guard, you know? So he goes to the bathroom, to give them a little privacy. And there’s the genie.

So the guy’s, like, “Hey, genie, you need to get your ears fixed.”

And the genie’s, like, “Who says they’re broken?” And he opens the door, revealing the happy couple, who are kissing and gaining strength from each other.

And the guy’s, like, “Well done.”

And then the genie says, “That bartender’s tiny penis is going to seem huge from the perspective of his one-foot-tall boyfriend.”

And the graphic nature of the comment kind of kills the moment.

And the genie’s, like, “I’m sorry. I should’ve left that part unsaid. I always do that. I take things too far.”

And the guy’s, like, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just grab a beer. It’s on me.”

 

Simon Rich*Rich was born and raised in New York City. He attended The Dalton School and then enrolled at Harvard University where he became president of the Harvard Lampoon. His older brother is novelist and essayist Nathaniel Rich, and his parents are Gail Winston and New York Times author Frank Rich. His step-mother is New York Times reporter Alex Witchel. After graduating Harvard, Rich wrote for Saturday Night Live for four years where Rich and the staff of Saturday Night Live were nominated for the Emmy Award for Outstanding Writing in a Variety, Music or Comedy Series three times in 2008, 2009, and 2010 and twice won the Writers Guild of America Award for Comedy/Variety Series in 2009 and 2010. Rich then departed to work as a staff writer for Pixar. In 2013 and 2014, Rich was named to Forbes’ 30 Under 30 List. We hate him. In a good way.

 

Bingle was kind enough to cover up her nips with some sticking plaster. #freethenipple? Apparently not.

Bingle was thoughtful enough to cover up her nips with some sticking plaster. #freethenipple? Apparently not.

You might have thought, like us, Dear Reader, that July 14th is most famous as Bastille Day. But no. Apparently, it’s  National Nude Day!

Really? Who knew? But it’s true. For one thing, as you can see, serial Instagram poster Lara Bingle posted a topless photo of herself for all her enthralled followers in celebration of the day.

The website that lists all national days excitedly tells us that “National Nude Day is a way to keep cool on a hot, sticky summer day.” Which is fine, well and dandy, unless you’re in the Southern Hemisphere, a rather obvious fact which has clearly escaped the enthusiastic compilers of the website.

If you went nude in Melbourne right now you would rapidly turn blue and any male protagonists would look somewhat emasculated quick smart. It’s about 50 Fahrenheit here, and bloody windy.

Nevertheless they plunge on to tell us that “Nudist groups around the world celebrate this holiday and take it quite seriously! Nudist’s (sic) are not perverts (good to know – Ed) even though their desire to go “au natural” might be offensive to the conservative population! (“Which conservative population?” we are minded to ask, but never mind.) The website excitedly continues to advise us that “Nudists are individuals who believe the human body is most beautiful in their natural state. Whether or not you agree with them, nudist’s (sic, again) encourage people to strut their stuff.”

Do they? Lots of good looking nudists persuade us to do the opposite of strut our stuff, frankly, but maybe that’s just us.

 

Anyway, we have managed to artfully combine a story on National Nude Day and Bastille Day. Our work here is done.

Anyway, we have managed to artfully combine a story on National Nude Day and Bastille Day. Our work here is done.

 

We note that the immortal painting by Eugène Delacroix, of Liberty Leading the People at the storming of the Bastille was nothing like as coy as Ms Bingle.

Still, those crazy whacky Frenchies, eh?

The French revolution inspired a lot of great art. Austrian composer Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf wrote his Symphony in C Major to celebrate the storming of the Bastille, indeed, the First Movement is specifically dedicated to it. Should you feel the need to overthrow any royalist dictatorships near you today, here’s nine minutes of audio inspiration accompanied by some nice pictures. Enjoy.

<iframe width=”640″ height=”390″ src=”//www.youtube.com/embed/TyuQCNijm-8″ frameborder=”0″ allowfullscreen>

Dear ol’ Ditters was an interesting chap. As a curious aside, he finished writing his autobiography just three days before he died.

About 1785, Haydn, Dittersdorf, Mozart and Wanhal played string quartets together, Dittersdorf taking first violin, Haydn second violin, Mozart viola and Wanhal cello. Eminent Irish tenor Michael Kelly, for whom Mozart created the lyric tenor roles of Don Ottavio and Ferrando in his great da Ponte operas Don Giovanni and Cosi fan tutte, was of the opinion that although they played well their performance as a whole was not outstanding; but the image of four of the greatest composers of their time joining in common music-making remains an unforgettable vignette of the the second half of the eighteenth century.

 

 

 

 

We'd like Holland to go all the way in this World Cup. Just, you know. Because.

We’d like Holland to go all the way in this World Cup. Just, you know. Because.

OK, Dear Reader, I have decided on the job I want in my next life.

Don't think we can bring ourselves to support Argentina for any reason. Then again ...

Don’t think we can bring ourselves to support Argentina for any reason. Then again …

It’s to be the guy who sits in a football stadium with a pair of binoculars as a “spotter” for the cameramen for those inevitable cutaway shots of beautiful scantily-dressed 18-25 year old women who are cheerfully sitting there looking stunning while they holler and hoot for the country, all festooned in team colours with their faces painted with flags and a big grin on their face. See, someone has that job. It’s not the Director, because he’s too busy looking at the overall coverage of the game, including those oh-so-vital flashes of “colour” – that’s what it’s called in the trade. You know the ones: the crying eight year old boy watching his life get ruined forever as his heroes ignominiously crash out of the tournament, the great tub of lard with no shirt, worker’s shorts and a sombrero clutching a vuvezela and a bottle of what looks suspiciously like what you’re not allowed to take into the ground, and, of course, the wannabee supermodels who have taken a day off their relentless rise to glamour stardom to bounce up and down looking all jiggly and happy while their boyfriends explain the offside rule to them. And it’s not the cameramen finding them either. Coz they’re pointing their cameras where they’re told to. Nope, there’s actually someone whose job it is just to scan the crowd and find the young ladies (80-90% of the job, I reckon), and just occasionally a crying kid or a nearly-naked middle-aged man so we’re not all bailed up for just being a bunch of dirty old pervs. We could do that. Giz a job, Mister.

Apparently this young lady from Korea is an instant sensation in Asia. And she thought she was just going to the footy.

Apparently this young lady from Korea is an instant sensation in Asia. And she thought she was just going to the footy.

Hey: it’s dirty work, but someone’s got to do it. Here’s an example of the process. http://www.sooziq.com/11964/world-cup-cameraman-impossibly-finds-the-pretty-girl-in-the-crowd/. Why anyone would think we’d want to look at her instead of some gigantic black guy in a Nigerian shirt I can’t imagine.

A young lady from Denmark. We tried all the puns we could think of about horns but couldn't come up with any that would be publishable on a nice blog. You do the math.

A young lady from Switzerland. Oh, those crazy, whacky Swiss. We tried all the puns we could think of about horns but couldn’t come up with any that would be publishable on a nice blog. You do the math.

 

We are reminded that some years ago a very funny video circulated via email of a couple having awkward sex waaaay up at the top of a stand at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, thereby fulfilling two of Australia’s obsessions – sex and sport – in one convenient time-efficient hit. Should you need to, you can see it here:

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/80740298/. Oh go on, you may as well see it if you haven’t already.

Colombia are doing expectedly well at this World Cup and garnering a lot of interest. Can't imagine why.

Colombia are doing expectedly well at this World Cup and garnering a lot of interest. Can’y imagine why.

It’s quite tame and rather funny, though probably still not safe for work – but that will depend on your work, I guess. What you can’t hear on this webpage, which you could on the version of the clip that circulated by email, is the amused banter between the Director and the cameraman. “They are, you know.” “Nah, they couldn’t be.” “They bloody are.” So funny to think that they’re probably now married with kids – either to each other or someone else – and in relatively senior professional jobs, we bet. Ah, the careless joys of yoof.

Australia have been, er, holding their end up. So to speak.

Australia have been working hard, er, holding their end up. So to speak.

Anyhow, the young ladies of the World Cup are altogether tamer, but so much nicer for it, too. Bright young lasses all of them,
to be sure. Bringing a little light relief to the fevered tensions of the game, and all quite innocently. And that, M’lud, explains why we were in the crowd with our binoculars trained on the young lady from Columbia in Row ZZ 17 and we conclude the case for the defence. Talent spotting in crowds has a long and honourable (ahem) history, of course.

*mops brow* Pammie does her first TV commerical. Photo: Tumblr

*mops brow* Pammie does her first TV commerical.
Photo: Tumblr

Belgium’s most famous teen is not the first to shoot to global stardom after being spotted in the crowd.

In 1989 a certain Pamela Anderson, then a fitness instructor, attended a local football game in Canada.Footage of the blonde on screen was well received and her success with Playboy ensued.

The rest, as they say, is popular cultural history.

And more recently supermodel Kate Upton found fame after a friend uploaded a video of Upton dancing in the stands at an LA Clippers game.

Meanwhile, here is further evidence, should it be needed, of why England, compared to the rest of the world, are really just a bunch of losers.

Right.

Right.

 

Surgeons

Is doctor slang on the wane?

The inventive language created by doctors the world over to insult their patients – or each other – is apparently in danger of becoming extinct.

So says a doctor who has spent four years charting more than 200 colourful examples.

Medicine is a profession already overflowing with acronyms and technical terms, and doctors over the years have invented plenty of their own.

However, Dr Adam Fox, who works at St Mary’s Hospital in London as a specialist registrar in its child allergy unit, says that far fewer doctors now annotate notes with abbreviations designed to spell out the unsayable truth about their patients.

TOP MEDICAL ABBREVIATIONS
CTD – Circling the Drain (A patient expected to die soon)
GLM – Good looking Mum
GPO – Good for Parts Only
TEETH – Tried Everything Else, Try Homeopathy
UBI – Unexplained Beer Injury

The increasing rate of litigation means that there is a far higher chance that doctors will be asked in court to explain the exact meaning of NFN (Normal for Norfolk), FLK (Funny looking kid) or GROLIES (Guardian Reader Of Low Intelligence in Ethnic Skirt).

Dr Fox recounts the tale of one doctor who had scribbled TTFO – an expletive expression roughly translated as “Told To Go Away” – on a patient’s notes.

He told BBC News Online: “This guy was asked by the judge what the acronym meant, and luckily for him he had the presence of mind to say: ‘To take fluids orally’.”

Quaint up North

Regional dialects abound, even in the world of the medical abbreviation.

In the north of England, the TTR (Tea Time Review) of a patient is commonplace, but not in the south.

And the number of terms for patients believed to be somewhat intellectually challenged is enormous.

Patient

“I can’t believe what he just called me…”

From LOBNH (Lights On But Nobody Home), CNS-QNS (Central Nervous System – Quantity Not Sufficient), to the delightful term “Pumpkin Positive”, which refers to the implication that a penlight shone into the patient’s mouth would encounter a brain so small that the whole head would light up.

Regular visitors to A&E on a Friday or Saturday night are also classified.

DBI refers to “Dirt Bag Index”, and multiplies the number of tattoos with the number of missing teeth to give an estimate of the number of days since the patient last bathed.

A PFO refers to a drunken patient who sustained injury falling over, (Pissed Fell Over) while a PGT “Got Thumped” instead.

MEDICAL TERMS – A GLOSSARY
Digging for Worms – varicose vein surgery
Departure lounge – geriatric ward
Handbag positive – confused patient (usually elderly lady) lying on hospital bed clutching handbag
Woolworth’s Test – Anaesthetic term. (If you can imagine patient shopping in Woolies, it’s safe to give a general anaesthetic)

This is an international language – Dr Fox’s research reveals that a PIMBA in Brazil can be translated as a “swollen-footed, drunk, run-over beggar”.

Doctor insult

And much of the slang is directed at colleagues rather than patients.

Thus Rheumatology, considered by hard-pressed juniors one of the less busy specialties, becomes “Rheumaholiday”, the “Freud Squad” are psychiatrists, and “Gassers” and “Slashers” are anaesthetists and general surgeons respectively.

Dr Fox is keen to point out that neither he, nor the other authors of the paper, published in the journal Ethics and Behavior, actually advocate using any of the terms.

He said: “It’s a form of communication, and it needs to be recorded. It may not be around forever.”

He said: “I do think that doctors are genuinely more respectful of their patients these days.”

If that is the case, perhaps the delights of a “Whopper with Cheese”, “Handbag positive” or “Coffin dodger” could be lost forever.

(From the BBC, with thanks.)

We say: it would be a shame if such humour was lost because of political correctness. We are sure other industries must have similar shorthand terms. Certainly in the ad business – well in our agency, anyhow – we talk about PLU – “People Like Us” – people who share our general world outlook, are pleasant to deal with, and thus make good customers or suppliers. If we remember correctly the terms was first coined by none other than Margaret Thatcher to describe political colleagues who could be relied upon.

The funniest we’ve ever heard was “He’s a complete ankle.” An ankle being lower than a C-word. Certainly someone to be avoided …

We only hope they’re ready for stiff competition.

 

Um.

Um.

 

When local water works closed streets to traffic, a pub sensibly decided to let customers know it was still open for business.

However, as this hilarious picture shows, it did not go exactly to plan.

As reported by the West Briton, its creator did not leave adequate space between the words ‘pen’ and ‘is’.

The sign has since been taken down from the pub, which is named after the local crown court. Nice looking spot for a pint, too.

 

wig-and-pen

 

To view our vast and growing collection of F*** Ups from the world of advertising, marketing, newspapers, packaging and a whole lot more, just put F*** Up in the search box top left. Enjoy.

OK, this is just very, very, very funny.

Do yourself a favour. Just don’t blame me if you spit your coffee on the keyboard.

Meanwhile, Ep 1 of the latest season is on today. Whoot!

Further comment blissfully superfluous.

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britair.jpgAs you will know, Dear Reader, our day job is, as often as not, in the advertising business, hence our abnormal, (some would say mildly obsessional), fascination with the egregious mistakes that pepper our industry.

You can find umpteen examples, some very funny, by searching for “F***” in the search box top left of this page.

This latest example, which greeted commuters at Euston Station in London yesterday, takes the cake. It is funny, in a sort of gut-wrenching embarrassing way.

 

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We think we’ll stick with the commute, thanks. OK, the ad has been withdrawn by British Airways with apologies that it “was not appropriate at this time”. But let’s be clear here, these things don’t take place overnight. The media is booked weeks in advance. The artwork (this is a video installation) is created weeks in advance

At no time until the public started complaining via social media did anyone in the ad agency or the client’s media buyers or the client’s marketing department or, for that matter, the station owners who were selling the ad space, suggest that this ad was just the teensy-weeniest bit stupid, not to say breathtakingly insensitive, given that the Indian Ocean is the widely expected graveyard for the recent disappeared Malaysian Airlines flight that has led every news bulletin in the world for two weeks.

Two words. Sack. Someone.

Who would have thought an airline could make Qantas look competent? Wonders never cease.

But it did make me laugh out loud explosively.

 

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Yes, I can be immature with the best of them. Anyway, it is bloody Friday afternoon.

With sixty employees at Lancashire brewery Thwaites facing the axe as the firm looks to relocate, workers appear to have hit back – by altering the neon ‘THWAITES’ sign on the town centre building to read ‘TWATS’.

The sign is mounted on a giant tower and is visible to hundreds of thousands of people across Blackburn and much of East Lancashire. Plus the event has gone viral, of course.

Lesson of the day: piss your workforce off at your peril. Twats. Odds on the Thwaites brand being known as Twats for the next 50 years? Better than even.

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Is it a bird? Is it a pig? Is it … a cabbage?

No, it’s just Chinese labelling. What a dull world it would be without it.

Um ...

Um …

For more peculiar labelling, and a good laugh, head here now.

Gynaecology Restaurant

Signage F*** Up? Well, yes, in more ways than one, really.

So gather round, Dear Reader. Apparently intelligent people decided the directional signage in this hospital.

Managers. Paid a lot of money.

Then skilled tradespeople painted the signs on the wall.

NO-ONE thought this was unwise?

You know, like, “Italian restaurant …” “French restaurant …” “Gynaecology …”

Oh, never mind.

One can only wonder what they serve.

Placenta pie? Clam bake?

And is it our fevered imagination, peeps, or do the plate and eating irons seem to be spelling out “Lol”?

As well they might.

The world of the interweb is a wonderful one that just keeps on giving. Those of you that follow our F*** Ups series through the meandering lunacies of advertising, sub editing, social media and, of course, packaging, will enjoy these. They’re right up there with the infamous Masterfoods cock-up we spotted a while back.

At least most of these have the excuse of being obviously “foreign”, unlike Masterfoods in the USA, and of course, we all know that foreign Ingrish (on menus, for example) can sometimes leave a little to be desired. Chicken Anus Soup, anyone? Nevertheless, these are utterly hilarious. Well, they are to our tiny minds at the Wellthisiswhatithink desk, anyhow …

We don’t really understand why the Asian manufacturers of these products don’t think to check with a native English speaker for any concerns that might be raised. Then again, here we are advertising their products for them for free, so maybe, you know, those inscrutable capitalists are just cleverer than we thought?

Nice girls, your soup is in the next aisle.

Nice girls, your soup is in the next aisle.

 

Please ask the lady concerned for informed consent first.

Please ask the lady concerned for informed consent first.

 

One does not want to be a product taster in this factory.

One does not want to be a product taster in this factory.

 

Yummy. Not.

Yummy. Not.

 

Ditto.

Ditto.

 

We know Asians reputedly eat anything, but this answer to world population problems is a step to far.

We know Asians reputedly eat anything, but this answer to world population problems is surely a step too far.

 

A whole new level of refreshment. Where level includes "lower level".

A whole new level of refreshment. Where level includes “lower level”.

 

Everyone's always getting at the Jews. But juicing their ears is totally wrong.

Everyone’s always getting at the Jews for somethin’ or other. But juicing their ears is just totally wrong.

 

So that's what was wrong with that snack we purchased in Beijing.

So that’s what was wrong with that snack we purchased in Beijing.

 

Interesting flavour choice for crisps.

Interesting flavour choice for crisps. We can see it appealing to a certain audience.

 

We are not going anywhere near this. Nuh-uh. Lips are sealed. No, no, no.

We are not going anywhere near this. Nuh-uh. Lips are sealed. No, no, no. Don’t tempt us.

 

Pretty sure we've drunk this too. We remember a little cafe in Brentford.

Pretty sure we’ve been served this too. We remember a little cafe in Brentford before a football game.

 

Now we have definitely been served this with our vodka, often. Every time they serve that stuff that comes out of a pipe rather than a bottle.

Now we have definitely been served this with our vodka, often. Every time they serve that stuff that comes out of a pipe rather than a bottle. Clearly Ghana manufactures the stuff in bulk and exports it to my local pub.

 

Wishing you all one.

Wishing you all one.

 

Believe it or not, Dear Reader, this really IS a product we know. It is a very popular ice cream in Australia, and I can report it is utterly delicious confection of vanilla/toffee/nutty thing. And yes, everyone sniggers when they buy it, but the brand is a long-standing one, since long, long before the word “gay” acquired other meanings.

The makers have steadfastly refused to change it, and good on them, we say. Indeed, as it is 32 degrees in Marvellous Melbourne today, we may just treat ourselves to one a little later on.

Related articles

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE*

I am indebted to Ian Hanslope who immediately got back to me with these wonderful examples. Keep ‘em coming, people! (*A very famous Australian advertising punchline.)

Truth in advertising from Princebrim Foods?

Truth in advertising from Princebrim Foods?

And we all know how we feel after a few sakes.

And we all know how we feel after a few sakes, right?

Thanks to George Takei on Facebook (who apparently has one of the most followed FB pages in the world: yes, that’s right, Mr Sulu re-inventing himself in his old age) this hilarious Hallmark moment has been doing the rounds on various bits of the three wubbleyoose.

 

I know a few people I could buy this card for.

I know a few people I could buy this card for.

 

But the world of type, and especially of type kerning (that’s how much of a gap you leave – or don’t leave – between the letters) has many more delightful examples to entertain us. Try this:

 

They reliably assure us they rent more than porn vids.

They reliably assure us they rent more than porn vids.

 

Just think, someone looked at that in the cold, grey light of dawn and OKayed it.

Sometimes, it’s the design of the type.

 

Clearly an unusual taste sensation.

Clearly an unusual taste sensation.

 

We think we’ve eaten a few of those.

But our favourites are always those where the use of type really, really, REALLY produces something people just wouldn’t say. Which is why this is our FInal example.

 

Why would they need that? And how would they do it?

Why would they need that? And how would they do it?

 

All other examples, as always, gratefully received. And thank you, David O, for the first one.

 

 

We recently ran a column on Social media F*** Ups. Needless to say, they then started popping up out of the woodwork.

Some people really – REALLY – need to know how to spell “Cologne”. Sheesh.

colon

This literally just arrived in my email, courtesy of a Virgin Australia Holidays marketing exercise.

Under the banner Sale into Summer – SALE into summer, geddit? – the email is offering holidays, including Vanuatu for $725 pp for 5 nights. Sounds like a good deal. Interestingly, though, the conditions for the holiday included this little gem. Which makes it an incredibly good deal.

Vanuatu Includes return airfares to Hamilton Island, baggage, 5 nights accommodation. Departs Brisbane, on sale until midnight 24 November, unless sold out prior, for travel between 05 November – 05 December 2013 and 02 February – 27 March 2014.
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Flights to Hamilton Island included in all Vanuatu holidays. What a great promotion. I like Hamilton Island.

Quite why Virgin would include return airfares to Hamilton Island in their offer of a holiday to Vanuatu is beyond me, but it’s very generous. Much better than a free cocktail on arrival. I’ll take ten. Wonder if there’s a limit on how long you can keep the airfares in your back pocket for?

I note the email seems to have been prepared in Singapore by an organisation which appears to be called Planet 49 and/or “Vertical Response”. A cursory search online reveals they might be part of this global company.

I cannot help but wonder how hot their phone lines will be running after this little quality control issue is pointed out. Which they will be, just as soon as I get hold of the marketing manager at Virgin Australia Holidays and pipe up with “My name is Mr Wellthisiswhatithink, I’d like to go to Vanuatu please and I claim my free flights to Hamilton Island too.”

Tee hee.

Meanwhile we note in the media yesterday that Virgin Australia is raising $350 million from shareholders to reduce debt and provide cash for its new business strategy.

The airline will offer existing shareholders five new shares for every 14 that they currently hold, at a discounted price to their current market value.

“This capital raising is designed to enhance liquidity and the gearing position of Virgin Australia to ensure we are in a stronger position moving forward,” chief executive John Borghetti said in a statement on Thursday.

The airline has been restructuring its business, including an update of its technology, implementing a stronger passenger loyalty program, and increasing its access to global markets.

Our italics. Might we suggest as part of the effort that 10 additional cents worth of proof-reading wouldn’t go amiss either? Or should we ask why you don’t use an Australian company for your outbound email marketing …. hmmm? No, we couldn’t possibly do that.

For the dozens of other Advertising and Sub Editing F*** Ups we have spotted, just type F*** Up in the search box. And in particular don’t miss yesterday’s Social Media F*** Ups of all time.

Enjoy.

Over here at the Wellthisiswhatithink dungeon, we are very appropriately becoming world famous for our Advertising F*** Ups series. As a result, we are frequently offered (and we are very grateful, for, too) other examples of human collective insanity.

Social media is a great leveller. Here’s a few real crackers from the (very) shallow end of the gene pool, which is clearly getting murkier and more fetid with each passing year.

 

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The only real tragedy in these is that the names of the guilty parties are obscured. Name and shame, we say.

Any more for any more? Anyway, Wellthisiswhatithink is grateful for the holiday ideas. This year we are going to walk the Great Wall of Michigan, for sure.


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