Those of you in church today who frequent the Ask Keith Topping board at Outpost Gallifrey may know that this blogger had a bit of a dodgy run-in yesterday with one of that most delightful of breeds, The Skinhead.
And for those of you who don't know what one of those are, they're a particularly loathsome, crude and ignorant bunch of racist knobcheeses as ever one could wish to meet.
This one happened to be one of a pair of surly, foul-mouthed men who were employed by a removals company who, in turn, had been subcontracted by the local Housing Association to do removals and re-deliveries whenever anyone on the estate has had anything put into storage. They were, in my case, contracted to collect and return forty five boxes that had been held in storage whilst Keith Telly Topping has been having all this building work done on Stately Telly Topping Manor. And, on Thursdays, they were bringing them back. Cause for some celebration, right? You'd think so ...
Anyway, to cut a long story short these two (the other one wasn't a skinhead, per se, but was something of a miserable old scrote with a very nasty attitude) turned up effing and blinding with every other word and complaining, loudly, about them having to carry these forty five - admittedly heavy - boxes up the stairs. Keith Telly Topping did point out to them that this was, you know, THEIR JOB but that really didn't seem to cut much ice with them. So, he left them to it went into the front room and rang Helen, his liaision officer with the building company, just to note that he wasn't very happy about these chaps and their general surly attitude and would it be possible for a message to get passed through to their gaffer and for someone to have a quiet word in their shell-like to remind them that it's generally not considered very professional conduct to come into a clients home and say, as for example one of them did very loudly, 'we shouldn't be FUCKIN' doing this.'
Keith Telly Topping also informed the pair of them that if their management had any problems with the health and safety aspect of this particular job - ie the weight of what they were carrying being too heavy for them to manage - then they wouldn't have let them leave the depot in the first place, or they'd have supplied another couple of men to help them out. And, therefore, would they kindly just get the hell on with what they were being paid to do.
At this point, things threatened to get ugly. The skinhead one, after giving this blogger a perfectly evil stare and asking me if I had a problem (to which Keith Telly Topping replied 'I don't, but you seem to have a problem with doing your job') gave me a mouth full of impudence and then stormed out of Stately Telly Topping Manor muttering 'we know where you live.' Keith Telly Topping asked him to repeat this and he refused. This blogger then told him that I believed he had just threatened me, that I considered this to be wholly out of order and that I'd be reporting the matter. (Which, actually, I haven't done yet - except to the Internet! The police wouldn't be interested since it would be my word against his and, frankly, why go to his boss and probably get him sacked when that would likely only antagonise some shaved gorilla even further?)
So, anyway, if Keith Telly Topping is found dead in a pool of blood any time over the next few weeks, the police needn't be baffled in looking for potential suspects.
This blogger is not, normally, an overtly emotional person dear blog reader but the incident (which happened at around 9:30 in the morning) fair ruined the rest of his day. It takes a hell of a lot for somebody to upset me but that bonehead managed it with seemingly practiced ease.
Garry Bushell, you've created a MONSTER.
And for those of you who don't know what one of those are, they're a particularly loathsome, crude and ignorant bunch of racist knobcheeses as ever one could wish to meet.
This one happened to be one of a pair of surly, foul-mouthed men who were employed by a removals company who, in turn, had been subcontracted by the local Housing Association to do removals and re-deliveries whenever anyone on the estate has had anything put into storage. They were, in my case, contracted to collect and return forty five boxes that had been held in storage whilst Keith Telly Topping has been having all this building work done on Stately Telly Topping Manor. And, on Thursdays, they were bringing them back. Cause for some celebration, right? You'd think so ...
Anyway, to cut a long story short these two (the other one wasn't a skinhead, per se, but was something of a miserable old scrote with a very nasty attitude) turned up effing and blinding with every other word and complaining, loudly, about them having to carry these forty five - admittedly heavy - boxes up the stairs. Keith Telly Topping did point out to them that this was, you know, THEIR JOB but that really didn't seem to cut much ice with them. So, he left them to it went into the front room and rang Helen, his liaision officer with the building company, just to note that he wasn't very happy about these chaps and their general surly attitude and would it be possible for a message to get passed through to their gaffer and for someone to have a quiet word in their shell-like to remind them that it's generally not considered very professional conduct to come into a clients home and say, as for example one of them did very loudly, 'we shouldn't be FUCKIN' doing this.'
Keith Telly Topping also informed the pair of them that if their management had any problems with the health and safety aspect of this particular job - ie the weight of what they were carrying being too heavy for them to manage - then they wouldn't have let them leave the depot in the first place, or they'd have supplied another couple of men to help them out. And, therefore, would they kindly just get the hell on with what they were being paid to do.
At this point, things threatened to get ugly. The skinhead one, after giving this blogger a perfectly evil stare and asking me if I had a problem (to which Keith Telly Topping replied 'I don't, but you seem to have a problem with doing your job') gave me a mouth full of impudence and then stormed out of Stately Telly Topping Manor muttering 'we know where you live.' Keith Telly Topping asked him to repeat this and he refused. This blogger then told him that I believed he had just threatened me, that I considered this to be wholly out of order and that I'd be reporting the matter. (Which, actually, I haven't done yet - except to the Internet! The police wouldn't be interested since it would be my word against his and, frankly, why go to his boss and probably get him sacked when that would likely only antagonise some shaved gorilla even further?)
So, anyway, if Keith Telly Topping is found dead in a pool of blood any time over the next few weeks, the police needn't be baffled in looking for potential suspects.
This blogger is not, normally, an overtly emotional person dear blog reader but the incident (which happened at around 9:30 in the morning) fair ruined the rest of his day. It takes a hell of a lot for somebody to upset me but that bonehead managed it with seemingly practiced ease.
Garry Bushell, you've created a MONSTER.
