Gott in Jimmel (fix it).
Printable View
Gott in Jimmel (fix it).
https://i.imgur.com/nD8MPaU.gif
Still funny all these years on.
I honestly don't have time to do the essay treatment. Maybe at the end.
Today's episode ended with me getting sweet talked in the back of a cab by a woman called Noelia (who probably featured in the Spanish road trip) who kept lifting her jacket up to expose her bra straps. As Fred Trueman used to say, 'That were wasted on thee, lad.'
Still, better than the Arab doing his elephant impression in the back of the cab.
The end of this story is Jimmy entering an unhappy relationship with a woman so he can get the South America gig.
Phwoar.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jimmy Floyd
Are you a more spectacularly handsome man than I've been imagining or was it something about your dulcet tones?Quote:
Originally Posted by Jimmy Floyd
And where was the Arab in all this?
Women want what they cant have.Quote:
Originally Posted by Ian
Mahow?
I'm sure I've seen a photo of Jimmy before. Like a younger Dennis Rader, from what I recall.Quote:
Originally Posted by Ian
Fucking hell. :D
I don't recall seeing a mugshot of Jimmy, but yeah... Ouch. :D
I have him pictured as Toad of Toad Hall in my head. Dunno why. Sorry Jim lad.
I just remember his blue wraparound shades.
It's entirely possible I'm mixing him up with someone else. I'll let Jimmy decide.
Jimmy is phwoar.
I've not posted a mugshot since about 2005 (and that isn't going to change). Weaknesses: receding hairline, somewhat overweight, English teeth, personality. Strengths: eyes.
In my mind Jimmy is a wiley old commentator. Comfortable shoes, little hair, short sleeve shirts (untucked) and partial to casual racism.
He's a cricket player-turned-umpire so I've got him down as Richard Illingworth sans facial hair.
Another 9-6.30 shift on the stand done and I'm off to a fish restaurant with the Boss, the Arab, the Arab's dad, an Italian, and an Indian.
Today started brilliantly with our MD (who has since done a Schettino) telling the Arab over breakfast that he needs to learn conversational skills as he is only capable of talking about himself. He was later heard shouting 'I AM EXCELLENT!' in the back room, so lord knows what's going on.
His dad's tagging along? The mark of a genuine Arab failson. Thank God he's not a pilot.
Ok so we got to this fish restuarant in the centre of Munich. This is a proper restaurant. I'd hesitate to say 'posh' as the Germans don't really do posh, but it was done up in a traditional German style and the menu suggested high end stuff. All on someone else's company card (I'm the only member of the party who doesn't have a company card). Starters were about 20 euros and mains about 40 euros.
We get in and it appears the boss has managed to book a table for 10 even though we're 6, so the restaurant already hate us.
The Arab looks at the menu and exclaims I DON'T LIKE FISH. Bear in mind we're in a fish restaurant. I point out that there's a beef fillet option (surf and turf) and he can always leave the prawns. This placates him briefly but the boss takes up his case with the waitress (the first of many painful experiences for the waitress with our table). The boss says: 'Can he see the meat menu?' The waitress replies that there isn't a meat menu, because it's a fish restaurant. A back and forth ensues. Eventually, the Arab orders surf and turf, as do his dad and the Italian. The rest of us have skate.
Before that, there's the starters. Thankfully, the Arab doesn't want a starter, but his dad, torn between king prawns and quail, orders quail. The starters arrive. I have French onion soup. The boss has snails. The Italian has tuna. The Arab's dad, as mentioned, has quail. He looks down at the quail, and exclaims: WHAT IS THIS? Bemused, the waitress explains what quail is, arriving at the description of 'smaller chicken'. The Arab's dad takes a bite of the quail, and bellows I CAN NOT EAT THIS. We ask him what's wrong with it. He says THIS IS NOT CHICKEN. I tell him no, it's quail. He says I DO NOT EAT THIS and puts it on the boss's plate alongside the snails. The waitress asks if she can get him something else. He says no, he didn't know what quail was so it was his fault for ordering it.
We go on to the main course. The Arab's surf and turf arrives. He has specified to the waitress that the sauce must be separate to the meat and the vegetables must also be on a separate plate, because he isn't going to eat them. This bastard of a meal arrives. He looks at the plate and says WHERE ARE THE CHIPS? I point out that there's a chunk of dauphinoise potatoes on the side. He says I WILL NOT EAT THAT, referring to the dauphinoise. I say come on, it'll be nice. He says NO and dumps it on my plate. Then, again, the boss takes up his cause, and, as I cringe myself into a coma, asks the waitress to bring the Arab some chips. The waitress says they don't do chips.
The skate that I have is absolutely sumptuous, best fish I've ever eaten. The Arab eats the steak and admits it's good but doesn't touch anything else. Then disaster strikes, as the Arab's dad drops one of the prawns onto his red sweater. Again the waitress, battered to a pulp by the point, is summoned with a loud Arabic ABBAS. The Arab's dad says BRING ME SOME FLOUR. The waitress doesn't understand, thinking he means flowers. After about a minute, exasperated, the Arab's dad says HOW DO YOU MAKE BREAD and then she gets it. A ramekin of flour arrives, and the Arab's dad starts rubbing it on his jumper, in an apparent attempt to get rid of the garlic butter stain. He then adds water to try and make it disappear. By the time we leave (bill 500 Euros), he's got flour all down his front. I say entschuldigung to the waitress, on the way out, and she just smiles back.
:D
Do these people always shout?
The two Arabs do. Probably the loudest and most self-assured two people I've ever come across.
The old guy admitting he was at fault for ordering something he didn't know if he'd like was a heartwarming twist I really wasn't expecting.
Skate really is quality.
Excellent stuff. That sounds like hell, Jimmy. Thank you for enduring it for us.
Tremendous as always. Do more work trips.
They sound exactly how I’ve experienced Israeli behaviour in the past. Maybe I’ve insulted all Israelis and Arabs comparing them to each other.
Edit - Hopefully.
We’re all in this thread mostly for Jimmy posts right? :lol:
I've been looking forward to his trip since he first mentioned it.
What's the restaurant Jim? Wouldn't mind visiting next time I go to Munich.
Will you get any downtime today Jimbo or is keeping those cunts entertained at all times just part of the job?
AusternkellerQuote:
Originally Posted by Kikó
And no Giggles, I'm here until Monday with no downtime except for sleeping at night.
I just come for Shindig updates.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mike
Awww.
Nothing really to update. I still hate the days in the office because it's so quiet. I need a proper workplace crisis.
Came onto the stand at 9am today, been packing up since 4pm, now having to wait until around 9pm for some prick to turn up with boxes for the display engines. Not even getting paid for this weekend, or given time off in lieu.
You shouldn’t have went then. Not a hope.
My boss asked me to go, and he pays me.
The issue was raised by those higher than me and the answer was that travelling is part of the job. I think the issue is I'm way more junior than anyone who would normally go to these things, but they send me because I speak 3 languages.
Should probably leverage that ability better in the employment market.
Someone else on my level was asked to go, said he didn't want to, and has since been moved to the Purchasing department, which is like a soft sacking.
Rather get sacked than have to go abroad to work unpaid weekends. That's mental.
Yeah, absolutely no way I'd be doing that.
There must be a better job out there for somebody who speaks three languages. The Foreign Office would give you your current wage to sit in a cupboard, and probably double it once they got wind of your whatever it was degree from Peter Oborne Polytechnic.
blessed are the meek for they shall inherit having to do a load of stupid bullshit cus they're too much of a pussy to say no. stiff upper lip, mustn't grumble. Jim prob thinks he'd be somehow less English if he wasn't complicit with being this kinda put upon sitcom trope.
I'm willing to absorb this kind of bullshit for the perks like leaving on the dot of five each day, not having to work from home or have a long commute, and not having to go to bullshit meetings all the time or operate in doublespeak.
The Indian, the last man here with me to the bitter end, used to be a maitre d' at five star hotels in Bombay. I just poked him for stories for about 12 hours and he never stopped.
Hopefully if this trip goes well you'll get Christmas Day off.
You can get jobs like that in other fields Jim, that are properly unionised so you can lol at anyone trying to push something on you that isn't in your job description. They are taking the piss quite a lot given they seem extremely dependent on you.
Given Jimmy's job history, he doesn't want them.
Met Police --> Little Korea --> South Tractrika. Loves the drama.
Got in from Munich 9pm last night, back in the office this morning, reached 3pm and now completely out of juice. Actually fell asleep for a couple of minutes, but no one noticed. Matt Hancock's face was on the screen while I slept. Bullet dodged.
I slipped days off in lieu into conversation with the MD earlier and he said he was sorry they couldn't offer it, as if this was something well above his paygrade.
What paygrade is "well above" the MD? Prime Minister? Jesus?
Call in sick?