Not me, but the missus at the bank
I won't say which bank, though (because I don't know what HSBC stands for).

This was while the better half was at uni. It was the beginning of term and she was at the limit of her overdraft, but that was OK, since she had paid her loan cheque in two days before.

She'd just finished work and didn't have change for the bus. So she pops into the bank and asks the cashier for a tenner. "No, you don't have the money in your account" says he. So the missus explains that two days ago, she put in a cheque for over a grand. "I know, it's being processed, but it hasn't gone in yet" says he. She spends another ten minutes arguing with him, until giving up and having to walk home (about five miles!).

She closed her account the next day.

First post! Huzzah!
(RooTheGrockle, Fri 13 May 2005, 12:55, Reply)

Salt Lake City, Utah
The entire city ... possibly the entire state. In every conceivable way. And several ways that the average mind couldn't even begin to imagine.

Filling in a two-sided A5 application form to buy a shandy-strength bottle of beer after an umpteen hour flight was one of the highlights of my adult life.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 13 May 2005, 12:46, Reply)

Another Video Rental Story
There was a small local video store, before the days of Blockbusters, where this spotty stuck up twange of a kid used to work. My uncle used to be a member, but used to get allot of grief about returning videos and not rewinding them etc.

Me dad and his mate called Wynford (an oil worker who done alot of work in Libya in the 80's) went to the local video store, where the welsh/libian was trying to join their rental club. Both walk in wearing sunglasses and leather jackets, (as for some strange reason it didn't rain that day in wales) and approach the counter to join the club.

They are greeted by a snotty student jobsworth, who'se looking at these two men and starting to get a bit nervous. Cowering behind his acne he asks "How can I help?"

Wynford shouts out directly down to this jobsworth with lots of arabic (which we found out later was "How much for your camel?"). The jobstworth now looks as my father who is smiling, and nervously asks "What did he say?"

"Ah, my colleague has asked how do you become a member of this establishment?".

The jobsworthy calms down a bit, and asks me dad to ask him if the other person has any forms of id. Now me dad, quick as a flash, barks out a load of bollocks, which sounded roughly like Arabic, but was just jumbled crap. The jobsworth looks at Wynford, and Wynford smiles and pulls out his wallet. Then he does a "Fletch" impression, and drops 20 forms of rolled up ID down to the ground, ranging from a libian green card to foreign exchange. The jobsworth shit himself, run out the back and called the management in, which as soon as they turned up at the shop's front desk they were greeted by two normal middle aged men with their sunglasses and jacket off, and just looking to rent a video. Bless.

Christ, apols for length like, tis fecking huge.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 13 May 2005, 12:29, Reply)

America and ID
Unfortunately Sporky got in ahead of me, but my grizzled grey haired dad (he was only about 40 at the time but had chosen to allow his subscription to Vogue Men to lapse) also got carded at a club somewhere in the US.

"!!? Mate, if you think I'm under 21 then you're my best friend!"
(Emily Bruce-Dickinson http://jovialfellow.blogspot.com/, Fri 13 May 2005, 12:28, Reply)

Not so much a jobsworth but...
I'm getting sick of posts which start with "Not so much a jobsworth but...". The question is about jobsworths, if you're not commenting about a jobsworth why the fuck are you commenting at all? FFS.
( dr_fonz, Fri 13 May 2005, 12:26, Reply)

Local takeaway
Every sunday in our student local ("Hope & Anchor" off Hardman St. in Liverpool, if you really want to know) is a pub quiz. One round is a "Supermarket Sweep" round where you have to guess the prize of item. The quiz sheet is set out so it has randomly dotted answers across the sheet, in a hexagonal fashion. Kinda like blockbusters. Should you go accross the board (long time fans of challenge TV will remember "ooh, that's just like the blue team." And you'd be right), then you win one of the supermarket sweep prizes.

We did win one of the items, a big tub of table salt. And we celebrated it with a takeaway from our local on the way back.

Unfortunately, as we spent most of our money drinking, the takeaway was made up of shrapnel change. And as such careful calculation had to be made.

Unfortunately, I was 1p off.

"£3.50 please mate" said the turkish dude behind the counter.
"Here you go."
"Ummm...only £3.49 here mate"
"What?"
"£3.49."

I recounted, and sure enough there was.

"Give me the salt and £3.49 and we'll call it even."

I got pissed at this. Salt's worth more than 1p.

"Give me the salt."

Eventually he did take it from me. Fortunately, I manage to leave without paying. Bonus!
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Fri 13 May 2005, 12:19, Reply)

EDS
I'm sure many of you have the joy of your IT being outsourced to EDS.

Jobsworth? These guys invented the concept.

Password reset? The task that takes, oh, 12 seconds?

"Please submit your form and we will action your request within 48 hours"

Beautifully, I now run an online training site within the company.

My reply to colleagues who need user accounts? "Sure thing, I'll do it this arvo!"

EDS?

"Please submit your form and we will action your request within 72 hours"
( Strangey is present at, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:52, Reply)

Not all jobsworths are bad
Whilst stuck in heavy snow on a coach in Slovenia, drinking beer with ginormous Geordies, going nowhere fast due to an avalanche. I asked the tour operator if he minded if I slipped out for a life saving cancer stick otherwise I may faint from withdrawal. He very politely explained to me that it would be unwise to let me out of the coach as I may get smushed by a (non) moving vehicle and it was more than his jobsworth to have a customer die on the first day of the holiday. I begrudingly accepted this as I could see his point, unfortunately my brand new NON smoking geordie buddies wouldn't accept it and en masse informed him that he should 'kindly desist from obstructing their alighting from the conveyance' (at least, I think that is what they said)
To his credit, he stood his ground and tried to argue the point and explain to us why we shouldn't. Fearing for his life he eventually relented and let us out for the required 'fresh air' On arrival to the resort some hours later he was summarily dismissed by the tour operators.

It turns out he wasn't fibbing and the guilt lay heavily on our beer soaked shoulders for almost an hour.

We met him later in the week enjoying a job free week before returning home when he scored us some knockout weed. What a lovely jobsworth he was, he was, what a lovely jobsworth he was.
(Funky Spingers, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:52, Reply)

Rail workers
...have to take the prize on this one. I was missold a ticket a while ago from reading to twickenham which apart from anything is one of the most tedious journeys of the lot. The driver/ticket inspector foolishly woke me up to check my ticket, which was of course wrong, and made me pay a penalty. I cursed under my breath, which he didn't like much; and when I apologised and explained why I was pissed off, he took the opportunity to denounce me loudly in front of the other passengers, viz: 'people like you shouldn't be allowed to travel on trains' etc. etc. I wasn't too happy about this, but oddly felt guilty, and on getting off the train went to the driver's carriage and offered my hand in apology. 'I'm not shaking your hand'. This was too much unfortunately, so I called him a cunt and bitch slapped him round the head. Needless to say the police found this all highly amusing. Justice, I'd say.

Bastard little hitler.
(Hypergluco, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:36, Reply)

Petty and amusing
I Take GREAT plesure in being a petty jobsworth at Morrison's. I work at the kiosk and il ID everyone that looks under 25 just for the fun of it. If they dont have ID they get terribbly agitated.

Another on is when the checkouts are busy people keep coming to the kiosk with a basketful of shopping. Depending on what mood im in il serve them but sometimes i jus tlike being petty and telling them that they cant be served here becasue it will confuse the security guards. I also send them over to customer service desk for pound coins for there trolley becasue i cant be bothered opening my till.
(StrangeKristine, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:28, Reply)

Free bars and waiters
A few years ago (pre dot com boom) I was working for a small software firm as a lowly programmer. We'd just completed a particularly tricky project on time, so we decided to celebrate. I was given the job of arranging the do. It was to be a bit posh, we'd get the client along for a staged photo and there would be lots of champagne etc.

So I cleared out our biggest room and arranged for a local catering firm to provide food and a free bar. At the time I never wore a suit, I usually wore jeans. Everyone else at the do was wearing a suit, so I felt a bit out of place. So I started helping myself to the free booze and kept a low profile. A young spotty waiter spied me and assuming I was a gate crasher, he asked me to leave. I told him I worked there and I was a guest. He looked at me suspiciously and walked away. A few minutes later he returned and repeated his request for me to leave, even going as far to try and prise the glass from my hand. I said "Look, I'm the one who boooked this party, I'm paying the bills, I really am meant to be here". Again, he eyed me suspiciously and walked away. So what does he do? He went and got the police to have me removed. After I explained to the policeman who I was and even getting the company owner to vouch for me, the policeman apologised to me and then went over for words with the waiter, who later dissapeared, no doubt his employment hit a sudden end.
(Grundie, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:22, Reply)

Not really a jobsworth but a man desperately blind to facts.
I take a fullsize Dalek to events like model shows and so on. If you can think of another hobby that allows you to shout at 8-year-old children and then chase their teenage sisters around, and not get arrested for a breach of the peace, then I'd like to hear it. Anyway, I did an event at the excellent Bovington Tank Museum in Dorset last September or so. There was an old buffer in a yellow fluorescent jacket helping direct exhibitors' vans to parking spots. Here's the conversation:

Man: What you got in the back of that van, then?

Me: Daleks!

Man: I'll tell you about Daleks, my friend. The BBC come down here and filmed with the Daleks in the quarry I used to manage. That Jon Pertwee was there. I'll tell you when it was....it was in 1963.

Me: I think you'll find that was 1973. Jon Pertwee wasn't in it until 1970 and he stayed until 1974. That story was in Season 11.

Man: No, it was definitely 1963, because I'd just moved over from managing another quarry.

Me: But it was filmed in colour. The BBC never filmed anything in colour until the late 60s at the very earliest. And they showed it in 1973.

Man: Alright then, they filmed it in 1963 and showed it in 1973.

Me: Argh.

I still wake up sweating about the memory of this conversation.
( drdavej, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:11, Reply)

Video Rental
I used to work for a blockbuster store when I was a student. They were very, very efficious in regards to the ID you had with you when you signed up - and you had to follow it to the letter.

I don't know if this still applies, but at the time, if you wanted to sign up to be a member to take videos out, you needed to:

1 - Provide a form of address verification (bill for water or gas or something) that was dated within the last month. The reason? To prove you still live at that address.

2 - Driving licence, passport, credit card, birth certificate even, as your "standard" form of ID.

The amount of grief we had trying to uphold this rule was quite high, as people would stroll down of an evening, choose their film, then come to the counter - if they weren't a member, or their membership had expired (that was the other thing, if you don't use your card for 9 months, you're automatically deleted from the system) then we had to take these details before giving them their film, which they've taken half an hour to choose from the racks!

The guilty secret is, the angrier people got about this requirement, the more I found myself enjoying the refusal to set them up on the system, even though I agreed entirely that it was a rather stupid rule.

As Bill Bailey said; "Passport, right - I can get into any country in the world on this, fly all around the globe. Credit card; I can buy loooooads of stuff with this, all around the globe. And you want to know how much gas I've used in the last fortnight?"

Apologies, length, boring, arse
(Soupy Twist BEST BEFORE:, Fri 13 May 2005, 11:01, Reply)

Frisco Airport
Last year I was in Sanfransisco Airport - at the time I still smoked. So after a 12 hour flight I done the obvious - found out where I was allowed to smoke and headed there post haste. In SF airport the only place to smoke is outside the doors of the airport. So I stepped outside, light up my smoke when the jobsworth patrolling outisde zoned in on me and told me I wasn't allowed to smoke there. I looked at her and said I thought this was where smoking was permitted according to the sign 5 feet from me, she said no - you have to step over there (pointing at a yellow line 1 foot from where I was). So I took one step to the side, over the yellow line where I could then blow my smoke back to where I was originally standing!!
(Biscuit Boy - aka - mcvpjd3, Fri 13 May 2005, 10:57, Reply)

Fame and celebrity...
One of the few perks of working on a motorway service station is the chance to meet many celebrities and famous faces.

The beauty of this is that for every genuinely impressive celebrity you meet, an equally random yet amusing z-list celeb will follow them in. So, for every Jarvis Cocker, Dave Grohl or Helen Baxendale you meet, you're just as likely to come face-to-face with a Russell Grant or (my personal favourite) a Chuckle Brother.

Ironically however, the celeb who came in the most was also the most famous of all; David Beckham. We were based just down the road from his Beckingham Palace, and most people at work had served or seen him at least once. Sometimes he'd be driving, sometimes driven, and on special occasions he might also be accompanied by the spotty mess he calls a wife.

On one such occasion Becks came in to fill up with petrol on a blazing hot but quiet Monday afternoon. Festooned in his traditional beenie (in case he was spotted), he strolled down from his meaty 4x4 and into the shop to pay. At the time, I was working with a lovely, bright and hard-working Indian lad called Sandeep. As nice a colleague as he was, Sandeep (bless 'im) had very little knowledge of footy.

Although I was desperate to serve Becks so I could try and engage him in some amusing football based banter, he went first to Sandeep who was oblivious to who he was serving. Becks cooly peeled a fifty note off the roll to pay for his forty quid's worth of juice.

What happened next deeply amused me, as Jobsworth Sandeep reacted as if he'd been given a hand grenade. He suspiciously eyed Becks and proceeded to go through the entire rigmarole we'd normally reserve for some pikey handing us a fifty note to pay for a Mars Bar. He checked for the watermark, made a small rip to check for the metal grain and finally ran a special detector marker pen over the note, all as an increasingly tiresome Beckham looked on.

It's with no small pride that I chose the moment to take my chance to engage David, as I said loudly to Sandeep: "It's OK mate, I think he's good for it", and then winked at Beckham! And you know what? He loved it.

Normal apologies apply.
(.click, Fri 13 May 2005, 10:40, Reply)

jobsworths
a few years ago, my girlfriend and i had to endure an 18 stay at stanstead airport, on the way to egypt. realising that there was a free shower, i stayed with our things while fiona went to get the key.... at the counter, the helpful old **** informed her it was a 10 quid deposit - no problem, fiona hands him a &20 note. "no, its a &10 deposit" says he.... but "this is a &20, surely that easily covers the &10" says she...
our friendly old **** was having none of it and made her go and change the note before he'd let the key out... what a *****.
still, it was worth it when it came to my turn to use the facilities.... first i went and got the two &10 notes changed back into a &20, then i went and repeated the whole process with him.. eventually i relented and said i'd return with change... .which i did.... &10 in 10p and 5p pieces.... what fun!!!
(daddyk, Fri 13 May 2005, 10:21, Reply)

My car was on fire
In a gas staion in LA (Volkswagen beetle, dodgy electrics) many moons ago.
Being like any sane individual I went to the cash registrar and asked if I could borrow a fire extinguisher. This is roughly how the conversation went with lumpy sweating female who worked there.

"Can I borrow your fire extinguisher"
"why"
"Well.... my car is on fire"
"What kind of car is it"
"It's a bug, what difference does it make"
"Don't you have your own fire extinuisher"
"No I don't I used it up a while ago"
"You can buy one if you like they are over there in the corner"

At this point I lost it. Reminded the lump that there was a car ON FIRE in her Farking GAS STATION and if she did'nt sort this out right now I would sue the Fark out of the company blah blah.
Strangly enough she reacted more to the thought of being sued than the fact that there was a smouldering lump of metal on her forecourt .
Septiks..

No Apologies, none
(dogboy, Fri 13 May 2005, 9:56, Reply)

Dole
While drunk one night, my mate pushed me and I fell against a wall, spraining a ligament in my hand. I had to have it bandaged for support.

Signing on a couple of days later, the bitch dealing with my signing noticed my bandaged hand.

I was told –
Her - "Your benefits will be stopped"
me - "Huh? why?"
her - "You cant work with that injury"
me - " It's just a sprain, I’ll be fine in a couple of days”
her – “Sorry, it’s the rules”
me – “If you can get me a job in a couple of days, I’ll work WITH this injury, I’ve been unemployed for 3 years now”
her – “It’s the rules”
me – “Look, I can move it, it’s not like a break or anything”
her – “It’s the rules”

Off benefits immediately, hand was fine in a couple of days. This doesn’t change the fact I was now without any sort of income.

It took three weeks, multiple phone calls, letters and a trip to the local chav jobcentre in Wallsend (frightening, frightening place, the staff are more secure than bank tellers) to get me back on……..

Revenge was mine a couple of weeks after getting it all sorted out, when I actually did get a job, and celebrated by getting mortal and arcing thick streams of Stella based urine through the small gap between the jobcentres glass doors, at the start of a particularly warm summer weekend.

I’m not apologising for length. I’ve waited nearly eight years to get that off my chest. :D
(Pandaemonium, Fri 13 May 2005, 9:55, Reply)

americcaaaaaa
What's with getting ID'd at ridiculous ages in America?

We went on a family holiday there not so long ago. Parents went to buy beer for our last night there.

'Hi can I see some ID?'

So much fumbling for ID ensued. The CORRECT ID mind, none of our fancy English ones.

Not so bad, but my dad is 45, shaved head, built like a brick shitter.

Not the sort of person you'd think was under 21. Not even if you were completely insane.
(sporky, Fri 13 May 2005, 9:46, Reply)

They just keep coming...
Wetherspoon's in Sheffield. Me and the ex had just finished our menial telesales job for the day, and decided to go for a pint. I'd got my Sheffield Wednesday shirt on - you could wear what you liked at the job, it was pretty laidback - and the pub was absolutely empty - just me, the missus and the barmaid.

Me: Two bottles of Beck's please.
Barmaid gets beer, opens it, and then says: No football shirts.
Me: "?"
Barmaid: There's an England game on tonight, we don't want trouble. (It was 4.30pm, the match didn't kick off til 8pm - fair enough I am a big lad but I'm with the missus and I'm not one to cause bother).
Me: "?"
Barmaid: You can wear your girlfriend's jacket, that's in the rules.

At the sheer stupidity of this (me being 6'1, built like Lawrence Dallaglio and the ex being 5'9 and built like a stick insect), I walked off into the pub next door, leaving stupid barmaid with wasted bottles of beer that'll be docked off her min wage salary.

Silly cow.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Fri 13 May 2005, 9:27, Reply)

Petrol Station Attendent
Was in Salt Lake City, Utah with a German friend of mine, when he needed to buy cigarettes. I pulled the car into the next petrol station and he jumped out and ran inside to purchase said ciggies. After around 5 minutes of him standing at the counter he came back out without cigarettes saying that they wouldn't accept his German ID as proof of age.

With a derisory snort, I got out the car and confidentally strolled up to the counter with my British Passport in hand.

"Hi! 20 Marlboro please!"
"Could I see some ID?"
"yeh sure, here you go"
"no, I need to see Utah state ID"

I asked why it wasn't acceptable to present a British Passport issued by the British Consulate as proof of age/ID and she said it was easy to fake(?). I then asked her why she needed the ID anyway, and she replied "to prove that you are over 21".

Since I was 33 at the time I just burst out laughing and thanked her for the compliment.

"Do you really think I am under 21?"
"I need to see ID to prove you are over 21"
"But....look at me!"
"that's not the point Sir"
"But...I need to be over 21 to buy cigarettes and I am clearly over 21.. so what's the problem?"
"I need to see proof of that"
"But I've shown you proof"
"That's not acceptable"
"Why not"
"It could be fake"
"I managed to fly across the world using this"
"It's not acceptable"
"Is it impossible to fake a Utah State ID then?"
"Yes"

.. more dumbstruck silence...

"er, can't you just make an intelligent decision based on your eyes?"
"ok Sir, I am making the decision not to sell you cigarettes"

btw, my German friend was 37.


Apologies for size of bellend.
( Dixipoos Bye Bye Blackbird, Fri 13 May 2005, 9:13, Reply)

Oh, there's another one.
A certain bus company in Manchester - beginning in Stage and ending in Coach - have the most jobsworth bus drivers known to man.

I regularly get the bus from Altrincham back home on a weekday and I've lost the count I've been stranded in Northenden or Didsbury because the git driving has finished his shift, even though he's supposed to take us to Piccadilly.

There was a day when the traffic around Altrincham was really bad, and the bus turned up late. Rather than apologising for being late, the twat promptly moaned at us for having the incredulity to actually get on the bus ("it's not worth it, get the Metro"- why would I want to do that?), then verbally abused and old woman when she asked him how long it would take to get to Sale ("I don't bloody know love"), then drove past the stop at City College as he "hadn't got time for effing students" and then pulled up in Didsbury, after letting one guy on the bus at the previous stop, and told us all to get off, his shift was over and "there's no way I'm taking you all to Manchester, it's more than my job's worth, against union rules". The guy who'd got on at the previous stop went mental, understandably.

No apologies for girth, length or any other dimension.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Fri 13 May 2005, 8:39, Reply)

Bouncers again
I perform at a nightclub from time to time, and the bouncer doesn't like my shoes, ever. Every time I go there we do the following dance:

"Sorry mate, you can't come in with those shoes"

"I guess there'll be no show tonight then - do you want to check with Richard if that's ok?"

"You can call him if you want."

(I make a phone call and get the owner down)

"I guess you can come in, but next time wear proper shoes".

Every Fucking Time.
( gronkpan https://twitter.com/VomitingLarry, Fri 13 May 2005, 8:31, Reply)

Too many to mention...
The Rail Industry's full of them, one of the reasons why I quit.

Like having to get 3 signatures on a document from 3 different people, who are all in different parts of the country.

A certain rail network company are the worst of the lot. Myself and a colleague got b*ll*cked for not checking a date on a method statement - all that needed to be done was for me to print off another sign off sheet with a different date - but oh no, the jobsworth had to read all 133 pages of the bloody thing before he signed it off.

Or the time when a multi-million pound job in the south was put on hold because the chief project manager went on holiday an hour early, even though he knew the deadline was 3pm. No-one else in the company would sign the approval notice.

Gits.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Fri 13 May 2005, 8:30, Reply)

confused yet?
Door bitches story no.33.2

So me and a bunch of mates rock up to a fancy-schamncy bar with a couple of gorillas out the front carding people for age.

Anyway, when I got there, I got the oldest line in the book "not in those shoes, mate"

so, me and my mate swapped shoes.

"How about now?"
"No, not in *those* shoes either. Infact, not in *ANY* shoes"

The door bitch grinned, seeinf as how I was crest fallen and all. He was about to push me aside to admit the next bunch of good looking people, when I took off my shoes (well, my mate's shoes" and was standing there barefoot.

"How about now?" I asked, smug as a bug in a rug. All my mates were sniggering at this point.

"Fine. Not in that shirt, smart guy"
So I took off my shirt.
The door bitch laughed then.
"You got guts, kid. In you go"

winnah!
(i enjoy licking 9V batteries, Fri 13 May 2005, 7:37, Reply)

I work in construction
Construction involves lots and lots of money and so it is necessary to have a certain level of beaurocracy to ensure that the lots and lots of money doesn't dissapear into lots and lots of brown paper bags. At least not too much of it anyway.

I once flew to Seoul to a meeting where the guy who was hosting it refused to talk because he hadn't received an official agenda. He just sat there and smiled for 2 hours.

The same guy at another meeting spent 4 hours repeating some shite about receipt of hardcopies and emails not technically existing in order to explain being 6 weeks late returning drawings.

twunt
(Freegan Bikefascist, Fri 13 May 2005, 6:35, Reply)

Australian council security officers...
My ambulance was dispatched to a report of several people fighting in a council car park and when I got there I found that a group of our local indigenous brothers and sisters had indeed had a somewhat heated disagreement. As you do.
Anyways…the police weren’t there yet and all concerned had calmed down and all of them stated they would not press charges against each other (gives me discretion to advise police by radio that no parties wish to pursue matter - they may then not attend and so situation often stays calmer.) I then noticed one girl (who said she was fine and refused treatment anyway and was not now bothering anyone) being dragged on the ground by her hair by a council security officer.
I revved right up the wannabe cop and told him to let her go. He refused saying “It’s more than my jobs worth…I have to restrain her for the police.”
We then physically made him let go and took the girl to hospital ostensibly to get her now sore scalp and gravel rashed ass and thighs assessed but really just to get her away from the scene.

The jobsworth security officer soon found out that his job was worth nothing when I complained to the police – pointing out to them that a council security camera would have recorded the whole event. Frankly this wasn't the first case of this type so action was long overdue - police were very onside and keen to foster good relations with local idigenous community. Jobsworth got dismissed by the council with said council very keen to avoid adverse publicity.
It was agreed between the police, ambulance service and the council that council security staff would be “educated” about appropriate behaviour and reminded that legally they must always defer to the decisions or requests of emergency service personnel.
Sweet! Now I'm their jobsworth!

Shortly after, this sign (genuine, not shopped or anything) appeared around the city - I'm guessing it's down to some council jobsworth trying to cover their ass...sure, that'll work...

"Let's not fight here eh?"
"Why?"
"Because that sign says so"
"Oh, okay then"
"Righty-ho...see ya later"
"Bye then"

I'm just amazed that the signs haven't been souvenired by tourists yet.


Never be afraid to complain about any public official – they are there to serve you and most public bodies take valid complaints very seriously and it goes on the jobsworths' permanent record.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Fri 13 May 2005, 3:43, Reply)

Thameslink turds
Had the worst sh*ts I've ever had one day after a dodgy chicken and mint yoghurt sarnie.

As a rule, I can't bear to be in the same carriage as a train toilet, let alone use one, but this time I just had no option short of filling my boxers with thin black gruel. Cue a knock on the door 2 mins after I'd boarded.

"Tickets please"

"Do you mind? I'm a bit preoccupied"

"Tickets please - I'll need to see a ticket"

"What? You want to come in?"

"I'll need to see a ticket"

All of this punctuated with gravy bubbles and the occasional backfire. So, I reach over to my bag to get my travelcard out, and push it meekly under the door.

"Can you come out please?"

"You're really going to have to wait"

So, now with the added inconvenience of an audience, I spend the next 25 mins curling a painful pile of the most noxious filth that's ever left my body.

Having washed my hands extra, extra carefully, I leave the cubicle to be handed my travelcard back by this blank, expressionless grey old man. The f*cker had waited nearly half an hour listening to me sh*t fire for the sake of verifying that I was indeed the person pictured on my photocard.

Length entirely appropriate, under the circumstances.
(dandelionburdock, Fri 13 May 2005, 3:38, Reply)