The Wicked Bitch

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I am the Wicked Bitch

No- one saw me naked

Gucci shades

Fittest legs

Pick a cat-fight each Friday.

Again! I’m arrested and at the station

Cops whisper me their numbers under the table

Swap boyfriends with my mates every full moon

Neighbour’s cats wanna sleep in my living room.

Only my cool company is an Asset on Wall Street

My name is mentioned from West to East.

So don’t be fooled by my Angel Voice

Or my almond eyes- I’ll tell you why

Cos I was born on the Street to my mamma’s luck…

And my pappas pride.

Hang around with me and they’ll look you high

But you’ll regret it if you tell a lie.

Im the Wicked Bitch

Braid my hair

My phone’s going off!

Someone needs me there.

 

The End

More humour here.

 

New Fizzy Customer Services!

 

 

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Imagine a World with no customer services?

Or maybe something in between…. AIs serving our roast beefs at the Pub?

Yes we are all watching a decline in customer services’ personality and quality, as it was a skilled role taken for granted and too often unrecognised.

You could find the rudest, stinkiest pest throwing your coffee on your shirt in the exact same perimeter where the sweetest, most loving, funny girl was greeting another customer by his name.

As there still are some big companies who do value their stock, here’s  couple of tips I  have picked up during my career.

Instead of

“How can I help you?” just ask

“How can I make your day?”

Its fresher, more engaging and has a proven impact on sales and customer loyalty.

“How can I  help ” is patronising, implying our dear customers need some kind of help- while it is the Firm that needs their flow!

During the engagement, seek out to hear the customers’ stories, be genuinely interested and remember the face and story and product sold to this customer for the next time he stops by.

The customer must leave the premises/ phone/ email conversation with his spirits uplifted for the rest of the day. This is our job.

Finally, when then customer leaves, just say

“Thanks for visiting us!”

Because I am pretty sure we flesh and bone humans can outskill the AIs…

Have a great day and hope you get visited by the funniest customers!

Comments welcome.

More jokes here.

The Puppy in Pesos

A Sign.

Kamila’s latest Designer bag acquisition had made her trip that morning and spill the coffee on her report.

Tiffany’s had only hired her because the Shorthand skills made her shine amongst all the other glamour-seekers, and they had even sponsored an accent softening course- just to add another humiliating milestone onto her CV.

To mingle with the team, online shopping with seven credit cards, along with photoshopped fake holiday snaps and jewellery bought off special bonus vouchers, all kept the adrenaline pumping and the debt collectors “bomb-mail”- as she liked to call it- coming in.

A week before one hot debt collector, Mark Stronner- she later found out this wasn’t his real name- had given in to all of her whining, crying, and quoting her dead grandmother just to carry out his plan.

Now he was hot. He told her he put his job at risk just to not spring clean her cosy bungalow. Always on time, answering whattsapps and popping by the dry cleaners’ to collect her non-matching suits, her grandmother would have been proud of her.

And he didn’t want to get intimate yet, because he “respected her so much”. The stupid strawberry blonde.

He was giving her gold-value information to dodge the bailiffs and to make her hair thicker with Organix shampoo, and crushing ice on it before using the blow-dryer. He loved this crushing ice bit on her mid-length hair, and she felt like a real cave-woman while he smashed it. That’s all the bodily interaction they got- so far.

 

A blonde with a dream, and a lazy bum with an even bigger dream. It added up to an unbalanced deal. But who was going to win?

One night Kamila’s grandmother appeared in her dreams again. She was whipping Mark with a rod like in the old days, with all her might- and Mark was giggling “don’t tickle me, stop tickling me nan!”. A Whattsapp from him woke her up- he wanted to meet by the river, at a particular place where there’s was lots of controversial graffiti. It was a CCTV dead corner.

So she called in the call centre for her first sickie. Now. Yes. She was excited. He was there talking to a hoodie who didn’t even bother to scan her and left on his bike as soon as Mark made some sort of gang-like sign.

Mark was serious. He looked like he was resisting to kiss her. They sat on the steps after he checked no one was coming by. He didn’t ask her how she was- yet even noticed the new Coach bag she got. Nor a  neon blue new streak on her forehead that cost her seventy quid.

Straight to the point. The destination was Colombia. They were going to go on a guaqueros journey, i.e digging graves for a treasure. He didn’t ask for her approval. It came across to her as a honeymoon gift from him. He marked the date and both their initials on a wall. Wow. The fool. The strawberry fool.

 

*     *     *

The journey to Cali felt as quick as a flash as he had packed little more than her blow-dryer and a desert kit. As they got to the Airport, a ridiculous hat he forced her to buy and wear was enough for her to say “for my Grandmother’s breathe!” out loud and make him laugh in a way he hadn’t before.

As they finally found their contact in the suburbs of Juanchito, Kamila and Mark stroke a connection while she took pictures of him smoking nervously and not being able to decide weather to eat gum, smoke or bite his nails. The contact called her “Mami” and Mark knew this business was going to go well.

But as Mark met him again for dinner- this time without Kamila, who wanted to defrizz her hair from the plane- Mark was tempted by the sexiest, most charming and eloquent devil-who-would-deliver.

They were going to become  Drugs Mules.

“What about the grave-digging? No time for that. Next time. Not good time of the year.”

“But that’s not what Rhonnie said?”

“You shut up you’re in my territory- if you don’t want me to get your girl pregnant with el Chupacabras.”

When he got back to the Hotel, with no cigarettes left, he found Kamila checking through his passport.

“Where’s the cigarettes?”

“Whose cigarettes? Mark Stronner’s or Adam Moland’s?”

“Don’t try to be clever because I’ve grown fond of you now. Where’s my cigarettes?”

” Mark, I just want you to tell me it’s not something nasty you’ve done before changing your name”

“We’ll have time for that. Hey! Your hair looks great. Here they are, the cigarettes. Lets go get some pics done. It’s like a boxer’s sauna in here.” He kissed her on the forehead for the first time and took that ridiculous hat off her head.

“I’m gonna teach ya how to set boundaries, Mami. You’re grandmother aint here to watch over you anymore.”

*     *     *

As she tied her hair in a messy, prove-the-point bun and showed a feather-lighe interest towards his life story, Adam- not Mark-  made a full confession, which was nothing to be seen on crime watch. Just a kiddo wanting to be Pablo Escobar in Hackney then finding his own was to pay the bills.

He stopped and bought her an indigenous necklace.

“You look great to me like this. Post it in Instagram, see how many likes you get. You don’t need that Tiffany mechanic gear no more. Here, dare to ditch that gold in the sewer.”

 

She pretended she did but with a trick her grandmother taught her she sneaked the gold inside her shoe.

 

As they got to the Hotel, and the likes on Instagram were popping, they found the door open and a stuffed Chupacabras toy.

 

“Don’t ask questions, we’re catching to first plane to London tomorrow.”He said.

“How about the grave-digging?”

“You wouldn’t like someone digging into your nan’s grave in three hundred years’ time, would you?”

They went to sleep again with no body contact. Only in the morning, she found him with his arms curled around her when the smartphone melody started off.

 

*    *    *

The events at the airport were like falling off a rollercoaster and getting caught at the last minute by a drone. At customs, a massively wide female security officer asked whose the Chupacabras was. A new alter ego emerged from the glamour-ridden girl

“It’s my grandmother’s, Mami”.

The big woman asked whose the jewels were. She said

“It’s the Chupacabras”.

 

“Aqui Ustedes se separan” Meaning in Spanish they would be split there.

 

A Shar-Pei puppy sniffing Kamila’s terror in the cell became extremely friendly with her. All charges dropped. The security officer had asked the girl if she could have the teardrop opal earrings for her granddaughter.

She also said Mark had gone into a fit while begging the officers to let “his girl free” and that the officers made a jolly good thirty minutes’s fun while torturing his mind.

 

As they ran along the gates with the officers not to miss the plane, Mark (or Adam) couldn’t stop sobbing as Kamila was dragging him “Come on, you can run!”

 

It was the last minute and as a fact of destiny the star-pei puppy sneaked onto the plane. Nobody had noticed under all that confusion.

 

It was only when the plane was high up in the sky away from the sight of all the chupacabras that the puppy jumped onto the lucky couple’s lap and licked Mark’s tears off.

“It’s going to be a long journey, Mark.”

“Yes, and as soon as we get to London I wanna get rid of that chupacabras toy.”

“And I want to get of the blow-dryer”

“But not the puppy!” They both cried.

 

The End.

More humour here.

 

 

 

 

The Real Yo

geetanjal-khanna-81242-unsplashIt was only two weeks ago.

Shrek- the alias for this gangsta- was cursing his demons as his new BMW had been kept at the mechanic’s for another three days. Heat wave in London. Bus packed with stupid people wearing jackets in the city oasis. He wished he was the driver, sat comfortably at the wheel puffing the air conditioning. This lucky kid was going to drive all day, with no-one to disturb his blimin’ peace, and Shrek needed to get to Brixton Prison to visit that slave who messed up. Not to pay him his respects, but just to make sure he was going to keep his mouth shut.

On top of all, there was traffic, and a chubby fellow eating smelly curry.

How long until Brixton?!

The ganster was watching the traffic lights and trying to hypnotise them with rap rhymes in his head for them to turn green. “The Traffic light is giving way – I’m the Shrek and you all wait”.

Suddently the engines stopped and a young sophisticated woman broke the awkward silence.

“If you keep on staring at my toddler he won’t be able to direct the bottle to his mouth properly”.

The lady was bullying Nisha, a 24-year-old fallen star who was on a wheelchair after being given the wrong medicine in Bali, when on her Gap year. She had lost two limbs and was only surrounded by the very wrong people.

The fallen star, a mysterious dark self-controlled beauty about to explode like a mine, had abandoned her fate to Chaos’ will and only hoped her Aunt, a neurotic spinster who wanted to get credit for looking after her, would woman up and stop abusing her in public.

At this stranger’s provocation, Nisha casually said “If the bottle were filled with organic, non gluten, fair trade disgusting worms, the bloody baby would get a grip'”.

The grey Aunt stepped in “Sorry madame, but let me tell you my niece has lost it since she lost her legs, but she’s harmless, don’t worry.”

Shrek had witnessed the whole scene and his blood was pumping. Something ticked in his head. He efficiently pushed aside the old man standing on his way to the wheelchair and pram area, and took a deep breathe. Everybody was watching him.

“YOU!” he snapped. Nisha looked at him. A second and a half of eye-contact made Shrek’s unlawful life flash like a dart. She didn’t smile. Because her eyes were smiling. This was going to be the most important red carpet rolled ahead of her in her whole life.

“You two missis don’t speak to my friend no-more, and you posh lollipop fold your pram and remember to take the baby out first if you don’t want to breastfeed him with crack next time.”

People on the bus clapped around. The bus driver was watching on the CCTV and was too distracted to carry on at the green light. Cars were impatiently beeping.

 

Nisha still didn’t smile. Her eyes had the power. She had the power. Shrek was sure  a hot biscuit, and she wished she could take off his T-Shirt and see what was underneath.

 

“My name is Shrek, but you can call me Donnie, like no-one has called me since six years. Tell me now, where are you going? I’ll take you my Princess! We got all the time in the world! It’s a new beginning.

 

“Not so fast, Shrek” said Nisha. People on Bus 2 were laughing now, and he noticed a couple were recording the scene with their smartphones. “I wanna go to the Aquarium and feed this woman to the Sharks”. She pointed at her Aunt.

Shrek took a stash of cash from his pocket and handed it to the grey lady, who almost dripped saliva at the sight of it. “This is your late pay for looking after my Princess all this time. Now you go find me on Instagram, ShrekBiteTheAir and tell all her folks she’s not putting up with your crap anymore. And they better come visit everyday. Driver! To the Aquarium please!”

And as passengers cheered and some had tears in their eyes, the driver managed a C-turn, almost a U-turn to The Aquarium.

 

*     *     *

 

The night of the events was a guilty narration of Shrek and Nisha’s life, dotted with jokes among tears here and there. When Shrek told her he had been bullied and abused by his boxing trainer during the whole of his teens, and she refused to give him the pity look- the weight that flew off his shoulders came back to him like a dragon with wings, filling him with love, forgiveness, motivation, and a “I wanna to this thing and this thing and nobody ain’t stopping me now.”

“Do you wanna delete Alfred, Smurk, Hancuffer and Bigtits numbers before we get another Johnny Walker?”

“Yes my Princess, I’ll delete them even from my Soul but we ain’t getting any more Johnny Walkers. We got to get up early tomorrow cos it’s our new life. Early Bird Catch the Fish!”

 

“That’s right Donnie! Do I get a good night kiss?”

 

The End.

More humour here.

Thanks for sharing!

 

 

A Mouth To Feed

I love Children“. Here’s the childless and partnerless 30 year-old office professional trying to sound adorable and acceptable in her circle.

“What do you mean, you love All children?”

“Yes.”

Well, I reply No. Children, as innocent and defenceless as they are, should be taught to earn love and respect -and to find their individuality. You don’t just love them because they’re cute and do not pose a threat, or because they are the safest long term-investment you can make.

Most western children, in the brutest form of impulses-respondent homo sapiens, live in a world where adults submit to them in order to fulfil their broken longings for unconditional love and comfort. And this is what they’re learning. Affection traded in order to get their own way, or in the worse case a tantrum will do the job easily.

When you meet a child and your eyes instantly roll back into your skull in four-dimensional wonder, ecstasy and passion, just because of the child’s mere existence, then you are fooling the oblivious kid about the world he is going to encounter in the future, if he ever becomes a whole, healthy, respectable mouth that feeds itself.

 

The world is a fairly meritocratic place in most areas, but it can be a big bad place if you’re not vigilant. So children have to be taught to earn respect through paced effort following rules, self-control and resilience. Not because they’re cute- they’re all cute and there’s millions of them-.

 

There’s nothing wrong with not liking this one particular child. I don’t mean showing hostility towards it, but making it know why you don’t like him or her, and how he could gain your acceptance and respect. Lessons are best when learned as soon as possible.

 

It must be baffling for a kid to experience all the devoted love from adults, then a random range of different degrees of likes, dislikes and hates in the playground. They must be thinking “when I grow up everybody will love and respect me because they will all be adults by then”. Then their world crashes slowly.

 

The playground, where they are all somewhat equal in the hierarchy- teachers being bosses- is no longer there. They find a world of command and execution where the free lunch is no longer available.

 

Childhood in a civilised society is a place where energy and natural human aggressiveness must be channelled, if not mastered, for the greater wellness of the group. We teach them sports, games, crafts and knowledge. But what they can only see is the fittest kid in the playground terrorising the rest.

And the pupil who works the hardest- academically- is ridiculed, mocked and left aside.

It can take a hard hit for a child to realise that a little craftiness with cheating in exams or hacking exam questions can get him right to the doors of university which path has cost his parents seventeen years of doing a job they hated with people they loathed with a partner they couldn’t scent from a twelve-inch distance.

 

Going back to loving kids, kids must know why they are loved rather than how much they are loved. There’s something lovable in absolutely each individual, which makes the beauty of a diverse world, and if we don’t want a pot-smoking, swearing and disrespectful teenager, we should all start to be fair.

 

Roughly as fair as the world we live in.

Aliens

Just past midnight. I’venathan-anderson-292754-unsplash-3 been looking at those shiny gems out through the window, but not really looking. I was watching that nobody steals the Stars, moon, planes bats and drones from me.

When my eyes are almost shut, a bright Cyan light dances from above the local Church towards where I am. It feels very friendly, and there’s an appetizing feature within its strange and smooth colour.

Aliens.

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[Locker] The locker [id=869] doesn't exist or the default lockers were deleted.

 

More humour here.

Thanks for sharing!

Magic Tomatoes

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Abi was about to become the last person in Pimlico Village, London, to give up on Fix.

Yes, he was the local grocer who sold him forty small plastic bags everyday for Fix to stuff weed in, the very despicable mature man who felt that any minute Allah was to punish him with lightening for exchanging his pound coins for notes- just for the buzz he felt when being called ” boss” every night.

That very morning Abi had done his morning prayer in the same stolen t-shirt bought off from Fix, this notorious fifteen year old who had even made his mother ill.

A new stock of cherry tomatoes was dumped by the delivery man.

” These are the smaller version of myself!” said Lesly Windrum, the enlightened old schizophrenic from the third floor upstairs.

Hearing this, Abi dropped the customer’s change all over, and the lights flickered again. The electrician was four hours late already.

This was a message from Allah. So he viciously hid the tomato case behind the counter. Then he looked at his watch. It was a Hugo Boss that Fix had sold to him- and it hurt Ali’s eyes.

It was going to be a long day til Fix turned up at his shop, whispering “hello, Boss. Anything for me?”

But as Destiny has it’s own funny way of synchronizing, Fix turned up at 4 PM. He needed baby milk again for his secret son or Suzy, the betrayed mother, would give his name to the Doctor and reveal his fatherhood.

Fix had that smile on him, this different kinda a smile he only put on when he needed something off credit.

” ok I’ll give you your milk boy. Stay here, I have got something for you.”

“Thanks, said Fix. You’re a sick devil. And I’m not a boy.”

All customers were served quickly but roughly. Abi put finger on his lips as if he were about to pass on  a deadly secret:

 

” I got new stock today. “Magic Tomatoes”. They’re grown at the feet of an old volcano that has just erupted. See. You take one. It’s like gas pumping you up.”

“What?”

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[Locker] The locker [id=869] doesn't exist or the default lockers were deleted.

 

More Humour here.

 

 

Money’s Destiny

 

 

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A twenty-pound note and an American Express card are getting all philosophical while left over the night table.

– “You are really lucky, says the note to the card. You’ve got a nice life. You get to see great new places and you’re value is unlimited. I’m just caught inside the human mainstream of Need vs. Temptation.

– I’m not sure I get what you mean, Blue Queen…

-Well, put it this way. I go round in circles.  I pay a KFC dinner, then am used to buy pesticides with, stuffed in the pockets of Dictators, then thrown onto a casino table where they swear at me and all of my sisters, and before I realise it I’m back in a KFC till.

– That’s not so bad.

Only when I get the chance to be used to purchase perfume or a cartoon film it might get slightly exciting, but other than that I don’t even get to see any daylight, find a boyfriend coin, and everything they use me for is outraging.

” If only they could finance a rocket with my help and discover alien life or some’ink, I’d get a great buzzy feeling…

– Come on, stop whining! Look at myself. I’m owned by an egocentric, impotent, boring businessman who only needs me to show off around. He even lets the edge of me show out a little to proove a point in front of the ladies.

” I can’t stand the idiot. Sometimes I block my own function for a few seconds just to embarrass him. He’s a waste of drinking water. You see, so what if I am loaded, I’m just used for petty purposes and it brakes my heart.

“I often dream that a cool gangster comes and steals me off this jerk and then I get my last few hours of hilarious Jokes cracking with the bad guys- who are actually way more noble in heart than this jerk who carries me on him like a war trophy.

– I see. Maybe you’re right! But give us some advice, Gold Prince- what can I do to change my miserable routine?

– Easy! Just let yourself drop on the floor somewhere busy and cosmopolitan. You will be frightened at first, but it could change your Destiny. Then we will not be having these chats anymore. You might be picked up by a groovy mechanic who plays reggae and flies to the Caribbean, then tip a happy mother of twelve, Blue Queen.

“But the important bit lies here- before you let yourself drop into the unknown, take a look back and make a lasting picture of all the happy memories you’ve had- you certainly should have many- and not be scared.

– Yeah! I’ll do that!

– But wait. Look at the jerk. He’s snoring with his Armani spectacles on. Now that cryptocurrency has emerged and we are thus endangered species, bear in mind that you have a chance of a very prolonged life in the distant future within collector’s treasuries or in a museum, so give it a chance and bet on survival.

-Yes you’re saying all this, so why don’t you just let yourself drop out of his wallet next chance you get?

– Well. That’s because of my nature. I got comfortable with Hating someone to the gut all the time, so I am staying here til the day I expire….”

The End

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Single, Glamorous, & In Control.

  • Single and Free. A great place to be. A magnet for opportunity. A chance to regain your head, heart and time.

To make the most of this free vacation, here are some great ideas to make the leap!

 

1- Create your own glamour strategy.

For instance, if you like doing the shopping, take a cabin light suitcase instead of plastic bags or a trolley. You will notice the globe-trotter effect.

2- You are always in the public eye. Even at home. This is why I always advise to invest in a quality night robe- because you never know who will be knocking on your door, at anytime.

3- Make two separate “errand outfits” available. Something casual you can easily slip in preferably in neutral colours.

4- Develop a unique original cooking recipe from your own taste buds. It may take time, but once you’re good at it you will conquer the world through its belly.

5- Make technology gabriel-matula-301987-unsplash   work for you, and not others. Set your privacy and availability preferences- you don’t want the 24- hour- on – call stressful feeling making you paranoid.

The same applies to becoming dependant on technology- you will look pathetic -and your existence will be pathetic- if your life is at your fingertips’ mercy.

Cut down on social media and switch your devices off for at least an hour a day.

6- Choose comfort over glamour. That doesn’t mean chopping your hair off a la garconne… but you know how unappealing high heels look when the ankles are blistered.

7- Be the Real Princess. Never do anything in your own company that you would not do in front of Prince Charming. Habits are creepy little Devils that create reflexes.

8- Have a favourite secret little place where you feel you connect easily with yourself. It may be a bench at a park, the office roofterrace or even a nightclub. Make sure you do not disclose this location even if you happen to believe  you’ve “found the One” and can’t resist sharing the very place where you feel empowered.

9- Learn a few words or funny phrases in another tongue everytime you chat with a different language speaker. Some funny, positive words they ‘ll be proud to teach you.

10- Memorize at least two clean jokes.

11- Plan an “I’m not interested- leave me alone” strategy.

If you can walk away, it can be something like

-Oh, no, my beans are burning on the fire!

or if you’re on a plane, train or waiting room, you can think of anything like ” I haven’ t slept for two nights and I need my hours not to get wrinkles “.

12- Acknowledge your origins.

” I’m from the nineties, I need my shot of dancing”.

” You don’t mess up with a Spanish woman”.

” My grandma slaughtered cattle on her farm”.

It will show you’ve had a Youth and are still kinda living it, and you have pumping blood in your system.

13- When you go shopping, choose items you would wear on a week- end escapade or on your best friend’s Hen night- as opposed to work or dating. This way you will dress like the Real You.

14- Elaborate a fantastic lie to sound test people- you will find the right time when you Laugh and ask “did you really believe I had a microchip implant fitted in my navel?”

15- Embrace tradition. Wear a wrist watch. Use a paper diary that will not let you down. Carry a pen, tissues, and cash.

16- Erase sentences starting with ” I  hate…” from your daily speech.

17- Learn something useful for life and not only career: First Aid, Deaf Sign Language or mending a car. Now you’ve got the time!

18- Go and Splash some cash on that Cabbage Patch Kid you dreamed of adopting when you were eleven years old- and never got, or that motorbike you wished you had as a teen or even a that trip to the Niagara Falls your selfish first husband kept on postponing. Time hasn’t managed to change you that much!

19- Making new healthy habits at the same time your ditching old bad habits proves there’s no time to waste or to procrastinate.

20- Be extra careful with who you tell last night’s freaky weird dream to- people will be able to read your subconscious mind- so beware of the competition!

21- Instead of using foul language when you really gotta swear, make up your own funny personalised words which can range from a food you dislike e.g “hairy chicken!” to a politician you loathe “X in pajamas!”.

And remember, fantasizing with romance is equally as healthy as any other subject of fantasy- so allow your imagination to flow while you’e the Queen of Your Castle!

Thanks for sharing!

 

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Do Not Laugh

Do Not Laugh?

Luckily for us two-legged hoarders it is legal to laugh. Almost everywhere.

 

 

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