» Call Centres

My auntie used to answer 999 calls
Auntie: Which service do you require?
Small boy: Fire engine.
Auntie: Is there a fire?
Small boy: No.
Auntie: Why do you want the fire engine?
Small boy: I want to see the big red truck!
Auntie: Is your mummy there?
Small boy: Yes.
Auntie: Can I speak to her please?

(Auntie explains to small boy's mum that he's been calling 999. She hears a *thwack* down the phone as the boy cops it from his mum)

Five minutes later...

Auntie: Which service do you require?
Small boy: Fire engine.
Auntie: Is there a fire?
Small boy: No, I want to see the big red truck.
Auntie: Is your mummy there?
Small boy: Yes.
Auntie: Can I speak to her please?
Small boy: No.
Auntie: Why not?
Small boy: Cos if you do, she'll hit me again...
(Fri 4th Sep 2009, 12:02, More)

» I'm your biggest Fan

The whole FryLift saga
By day I do things to websites. One of the sites I do things to belongs to a certain Mr Fry. He'd been abroad filming documentaries for a while, but had expressed a wish to take us out for a bit of a "thankyou" do.

I was really nervous of clamming up and not being able to think of anything interesting to say (i.e. acting normally), but he was really very lovely. He took us up to the top of CentrePoint at Tottenham Court Rd. for drinks, and we spent several very pleasant if slightly surreal hours chatting away up there.

It came to the point where we had to be leaving, so we piled into the lift to leave the building. The doors closed and we began to descend the 30 or so floors to the ground.

Suddenly there was a jolt and the lift jerked to a stop and the door half-opened, revealing half a bit of wall and half a closed door. We were a bit stuck, to put it politely.

Stephen got his phone out: "I really ought to Twitter this" he said, and did so. He then kept us entertained by reading the amusing responses people were sending. Next, he got a barman who was stuck with us to take a photograph of us all stuck, and posted that to TwitPic. As you do, I texted several friends with the subtle "Stuck in a lift with Stephen Fry. Not joking."

After half an hour of waiting (which included me telling the world's worst lift joke: "A man goes into a hotel and asks for their cheapest room. He is led down the corridor and into a tiny room at the end. He goes ballistic: "I know I asked for your cheapest room but this is ridiculous! There's no window, no TV - there isn't even a bed! What do you call this?" The bellhop replies: "The lift") we were rescued and went our separate ways.

On the nightbus home, I rang my boyfriend to let him know we were safe. He informed me that there were now hundreds of Twitter replies, and even a Facebook group on the subject! Worse still, nearly every newspaper and news site picked up the photograph and we spent the next few days splashed across the papers.
(Mon 20th Apr 2009, 13:39, More)

» Accidental animal cruelty

In the garden, playing ball with a friend's labrador...
...we were playing the ancient and traditional game of "chuck a ball to the other end of the garden and the dog will bring it back, covered in slobber."

Unfortunately, this garden wasn't particularly long, and the dog wasn't particularly good at stopping itself, so every time the ball hit the fence at the far end of the garden, so did the dog's face, with a rather loud bump.
(Fri 7th Dec 2007, 14:35, More)

» Crazy Relatives

Dotty Aunts
My auntie is rather batty. She loves holding big family get-togethers where she always cooks huge amounts of food, which is great. At one of these, everybody was chattering away happily when she bursts into the room in a fit of excitement. "Listen!" she shouts, as if she's got some hugely important news to impart. Everybody goes quiet.

"I've got some mangoes in the fridge!"
(Mon 9th Jul 2007, 11:20, More)

» Hotel Splendido

Fawlty Towers
I used to work away from home, and the company would put me up in hotels wherever I was working. Unfortunately, being big cheapskates they wouldn't book anything over 3 stars, nor anything over a certain amount a night, which generally ruled out anything even approaching decent. Over that time I stayed in many places where the wallpaper was peeling, the bed was made of bricks and half the taps in the bathroom didn't work.

The worst place, however, was a nasty little hotel in Luton. It was right next to the main railway line, and every time a train went past the entire building shook. The rooms stank of stale cigarette smoke, despite being ostensibly no smoking. There was no lift, so I had to lug my cases up four flights of stairs, and the food was pretentious but awful.

I haven't got to the worst part yet - when I came to check out at the end of the week, I came down to reception at about 7:30am - not an unreasonable time. The place looked like the opening scenes of 28 Days Later - reception was deserted, there were hoovers left in the middle of the floor as if the cleaners had been abducted by aliens, and no signs of life. A sign on the desk said "For assistance, dial [number]" with a phone next to it. So I did. Another phone, immediately next to mine, immediately began ringing. I decided to leave my key on the desk and make my exit. Which proved to be difficult as the front door was locked and bolted. As was the side door.

In fact, pretty much all the doors were locked shut. I eventually stumbled across their function room, dodging Henry Hoovers and stray chairlegs, and pushed my way behind a curtain to make my exit from the only fire exit that didn't have a great big bar across it.

I hear the place later got fined for breaking fire regulations.
(Sat 19th Jan 2008, 13:49, More)