Keys

Being a professional Numpty, I feel that it is important that I do something monumentally Numptyish every now and again. Not too often. Just occasionally. If one were to indulge in a constant stream of Numptyness, one would lose one's edge and tip over into simple Village Idiocy or Moronity and we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?

So my major act of Numptocity for the month simply consisted of the leaving of my keys on my desk when I went home last night. Very simple, you might think. The sort of thing that a Dumbass or Plonker might indulge in. But the full Numptoid genius of this act lies not in the location of the keys, but more in the sequence of events that resulted from that small action.

Witness the hilarious chain of events that ensued…

Having accepted a lift home from the Steadmiester, we proceeded to Argos where we purchased dumbells (more on that later). Following that glorious retail experience we then continued on to a major fast food outlet, where we consumed burgers made exclusively from cardboard and dust (anyone? no? dust?). Very tasty.

It was upon leaving said house of cuisine that I realised that I was not in full possession of my faculties… I mean my keys (the doctor says my mental state is quite stable, now). Now this would not normally be a problem. Vic would be around with her key, so I could turn up just a little bit shamefaced, take a bit of a ribbing and that would be
that.

Not this time, however. What actually happened was this: Vic had gone to the pub immediately after work. Being in a relatively noisy environment, she was unable to hear my repeated calls to her mobile. Foolishly, I thought that she would notice the many, many missed calls, voice mails and text messages soon enough, so we decidedto impose ourselves upon the Woolies for a cup of tea while we waited for her to call back.

An hour or so later, she still hadn't called. Nor was she answering her mobile. Bugrit. So we concocted a simple solution to the problem. We would head on down to the Parkway – the pub that Vic and her work cronies always, always (and I do mean 'always' – I don't want you to be under the misapprehension that this isn't a bona-fide 'always' situation) go to when they drink after work.

So off we went. To the Parkway.

Now, the Parkway is one of two pubs immediately next to each other in Stoke Gifford. They are the only two pubs in Stoke Gifford. And they're next door to each other. Go figure.

Anyway – Stead, not knowing Stoke Gifford as well as he might (and being unable to follow the instruction 'take the first left') drove into the car park of the Beaufort to the sound of my ridicule and derision (kind, sensitive phrases like 'What part of FIRST left didn't you understand you dipsh*t?). As you will see later, I had to eat my words.

One car-park later, we established that Vic was not, in fact in the Parkway. You will recall that a paragraph or two ago I may have mentioned that Vic always goes to the Parkway. Always. Well… apparently not always.

Ultimately, we decided that the best course of action was to head back to Stead's house, where he could show me his amazing patented dumbell technique, passed on to him by a mystical sensei, or ex-boxer or something back in the early eighties. I bet he had a mullet.

I finally got a message back from Vic at about 10 o'clock. You'll never guess where she was. Not in a million years. Not a chance. It's unguessable. Can't be done…

…oh. You did. That's right. Rather than go to the pub that she always, always ALWAYS, goes to, Vic and her mates went next door to the Beaufort. Remember the 'wrong car-park incident. It's kinda like we were being given a helping hand from above, guiding us into the car park that we needed to be in. But me n' Stead being awkward buggers, we decided to ignore that helping hand and go on our merry way. You can't say the the-powers-that-be didn't try. They threw the frickin'
bone and we ignored it.

So there we go. Four and a half hours later, I finally got home. And more importantly, Stead got rid of me.

That's it. That's my Numptiplicty for another month.