You must have an old style D/Licence then

SWMBO says I drive her up the wall

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

FFS! On Sunday Mrs. B. was all sweetness and light; today she's a total bitch.

She went to Vision Express for a pair of spectacles; I asked her, "Are you sure?" and got shouted at. She came over all queasy during the test and I revived her and took her for a coffee. I took her back to VE an hour later and sat there while she f***ed about. None of the adult frames fitted her so the assistant got her a child's pair that she liked. I asked "Are you sure?" and got shouted at. She then sits down and f***s about with lens coatings. End price is £300. I asked "Are you sure?" and got shouted at.

Fast forward to today. The glasses are hurting because they're too small. I took her back to VE to see if they could help; she was so horrible to me that I had to walk away rather than smack her in the face. Tonight she has the cheek to accuse me of not warning her.

F*** OFF!

In my own home, or any other British home or "decent" restaurant a grill is exactly what you think it is. Using the term "grill" to mean griddle is an Americanism which is now ubiquitous in the fast-food industry. It's a nonsense to me too, but it's just the way it is.

In every McDonald's, Little Chef, motorway service station, greasy-spoon and burger van across the country you'll find meat cooked like this. It's often served as "grilled". The "mixed grill" always comes with sausage and egg, so I guess they might call them grilled. In my own home I'd describe them as fried.


As I wrote in my opening statement, "Did it specifically say "flame grilled" anywhere on the menu? If not, then it should be obvious that it wasn't going to be. That's the kind of thing you advertise large and clear."

BK are the exception that proves the rule. It obviously hasn't failed to catch your attention that they advertise "flame grilled" large and clear. Ask yourself "why?" The answer is self-evident. They advertise the fact they use a "real" grill because hardly anywhere else does!

As to whether or not F&S are a "fast food chain", I guess it depends how you define it. Presumably you're not arguing about the "chain" part, and if you look at their menu you'll see they primarily serve food that is fried and served in a few minutes. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if their "roasted" potatoes and chicken where actually deep fried too, although I expect they do actually have an oven which is why I described them as "one step above KFC".

Very few "slow food" restaurants will serve you a bucket of chicken wings with fries, coleslaw and a coke.

I [LIFTED] love it AND I sympathise, in equal measure. I have no lucky senorita to share my life with, so I have to live vicariously!

No. Just "from the grill".

Which it is not.

Ooo I'm a mum; I can drive as badly as I want and the cheeky-as-f*** "Baby On Board" sign in my back window will magically ward off other drivers.

Well you need a "Psycho On Board" sign instead.

True enough.

I swear that mums are the worst drivers about. They should be re-tested once a week.

When I was cyling in London I discovered that the worst were old men in hats, followed by black women in volvos, followed by white women in volvos, bigger cars were also worse, particularly range rovers in London.

I actually think retests for everyone every ten years would also improve driving standards.

Yes please.

+1

Clutch cable snapped on the way to Sainsbury's last night. RAC say I have to upgrade my membership (£62 extra) as it's less than 1/4 mile from home.

Apparently as a tester I cannot be trusted to test a system, the dev fixing the bugs is completely unable to use his initiative with the repro steps given to find an error and doesn't believe half of them are bugs.....

If he didn't write such shoddy code in the first place that had some robustness this wouldn't be an issue

Who needs a clutch anyway?

We have a member of the public, who has become infatuated with one of the girls in our retail outlet.

He is a real tasty catch too - Typical wardrobe includes an orange poloshirt, purple tie and a neckerchief, khaki shorts, body warmer (in this weather!), knee length socks and flip-flops.

I've had to discourage him once already, when he turned up with strawberries, cherry cider and quails eggs, set them out on the counter and asked the girls join in his picnic. Then he offered to have one of them round for tea, so she can meet his goats.

He's started buying stuff, seemingly as an excuse to loiter around and ask her more questions, edged with (for the moment) light but humourless innuendo. I think he's a gin-soaked former toff, and I'm not entirely convinced that he is piloting his landrover soberly.

If he pitches up again, I shall f*** him off in no uncertain terms, and if I catch the slightest whiff of alcohol of him I'm calling the police.

Frikkin nutter.