Does Anyone Remember Hans + Lotte Hass..
ChatterBank0 min ago
What An Ordeal!!
13 Answers
Walked into town - 20 minutes, mostly downhill - for my 8.30 Covid jab. 2 burly guys outside, one threw me against the wall, saying, "Assume the position!" Then he frisked me, a little too eagerly, before shoving me inside the centre. Immediately grabbed by two more burly guys, forced to park my aris in a chair facing a rather stern-looking woman (think Nurse Rathched of Cuckoo's Nest fame). "Name", she barked. I mumbled my name. One of the guys punched me in the stomach. "Speak up", he growled. I yelped my name, then my address and date of birth.
Suddenly a brass band began playing and streamers were popped all around me. The stern-looking woman produced a little cake with a candle in it. "Happy Birthday for tomorrow" she said. She blew the candle out - health and safety reasons - then popped the candle back in her drawer, explaining they had two more victims later who were celebrating a birthday today or tomorrow.
Having answered all her questions, i was yanked from the chair and transported to Vaccination Area 51 where, once again, i was forced to sit on a chair. This time, though, i was bound to the back of the chair by thick cord. Again i was asked to confirm my name and address and whether or not i was taking any blood thinners. Remembering the earlier punch, i answered immediately - and very, very clearly. The person asking the questions looked past me and nodded his head. I shifted my gaze to where he had nodded and saw a very, very large woman (Big Bertha was my immediate thought) sat astride a strange looking contraption. I soon discovered that this was a harpoon gun.
"Distance?" she asked. "Ten meters" came the reply. "Ten meters." came the echo. Elevation?" she asked. "3 inches" came the reply. "3 inches" came the echo. "Fire!" someone ordered. The echo was drowned out by a rather loud whooooooosssshhhh as the harpoon closed the distance between barrel and arm in the blink of an eye. Her aim was true and the harpoon thudded into my arm with a 'twang', it's rope trailing on the floor.
It took 3 of the burly guys to retract the needle from my arm, one of them having wrapped the rope around his waist, acting as the anchor - a-la tug-of-war.
I was then asked to sign a 'waver' saying that i had been treated with the utmost courtesy throughout the procedure. "What if i don't?" i asked, a little petulantly. "Then you get one in the other arm," sneered the burliest of the burly guys. I signed and was immediately thrown back out onto the streets of downtown Burnley.
That, my fellow ABers, was the dream i had last night. Reality? A piece of urine, as posh people say. Highly recommended:-))
Suddenly a brass band began playing and streamers were popped all around me. The stern-looking woman produced a little cake with a candle in it. "Happy Birthday for tomorrow" she said. She blew the candle out - health and safety reasons - then popped the candle back in her drawer, explaining they had two more victims later who were celebrating a birthday today or tomorrow.
Having answered all her questions, i was yanked from the chair and transported to Vaccination Area 51 where, once again, i was forced to sit on a chair. This time, though, i was bound to the back of the chair by thick cord. Again i was asked to confirm my name and address and whether or not i was taking any blood thinners. Remembering the earlier punch, i answered immediately - and very, very clearly. The person asking the questions looked past me and nodded his head. I shifted my gaze to where he had nodded and saw a very, very large woman (Big Bertha was my immediate thought) sat astride a strange looking contraption. I soon discovered that this was a harpoon gun.
"Distance?" she asked. "Ten meters" came the reply. "Ten meters." came the echo. Elevation?" she asked. "3 inches" came the reply. "3 inches" came the echo. "Fire!" someone ordered. The echo was drowned out by a rather loud whooooooosssshhhh as the harpoon closed the distance between barrel and arm in the blink of an eye. Her aim was true and the harpoon thudded into my arm with a 'twang', it's rope trailing on the floor.
It took 3 of the burly guys to retract the needle from my arm, one of them having wrapped the rope around his waist, acting as the anchor - a-la tug-of-war.
I was then asked to sign a 'waver' saying that i had been treated with the utmost courtesy throughout the procedure. "What if i don't?" i asked, a little petulantly. "Then you get one in the other arm," sneered the burliest of the burly guys. I signed and was immediately thrown back out onto the streets of downtown Burnley.
That, my fellow ABers, was the dream i had last night. Reality? A piece of urine, as posh people say. Highly recommended:-))
Answers
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... and there was me thinking I was the only one who had some grief..
What is the score with the butch women security guards, who seem to think that Gladiators with attitude are needed on the entrance to a Vaccine Centre. The one I had to speak to had the overstretched black combat gear on from head to toe. Even her mask was too tight for her. After requesting that she repeat her instructions for the fourth time. I pointed out that if she got a mask that fitted her, instead of one that matched her combat outfit. She wouldn't sound like someone with a self inflicted speech impediment...
One down..
The next 'assistant' just beyond the entrance was wearing the 'One size fits all' fluro jacket, right down to his knees. He insisted that I wasn't going in if I didn't use the hand gel. I told him 'that next week when he goes back to school... he should ask his teacher about allergies'.
What a pair of jobsworth's.
After that it all went without a hitch. When I got outside the wife said 'which arm did you have it in'.. I had to think, because I felt nothing at all.
Had a stonking headache arrive 15 hours after. Since then nothing!
What is the score with the butch women security guards, who seem to think that Gladiators with attitude are needed on the entrance to a Vaccine Centre. The one I had to speak to had the overstretched black combat gear on from head to toe. Even her mask was too tight for her. After requesting that she repeat her instructions for the fourth time. I pointed out that if she got a mask that fitted her, instead of one that matched her combat outfit. She wouldn't sound like someone with a self inflicted speech impediment...
One down..
The next 'assistant' just beyond the entrance was wearing the 'One size fits all' fluro jacket, right down to his knees. He insisted that I wasn't going in if I didn't use the hand gel. I told him 'that next week when he goes back to school... he should ask his teacher about allergies'.
What a pair of jobsworth's.
After that it all went without a hitch. When I got outside the wife said 'which arm did you have it in'.. I had to think, because I felt nothing at all.
Had a stonking headache arrive 15 hours after. Since then nothing!
LJ; The burly guys don't necessarily live in the town. In fact, the way they manhandled me in the dream, they must hail from Blackburn :-)
TonyV; it was real, at first. It did take me 20 mins to walk into town. Took me almost 30 walking back, though, 'cos it's all uphill. And, of course, i was seriously wounded :-)
TonyV; it was real, at first. It did take me 20 mins to walk into town. Took me almost 30 walking back, though, 'cos it's all uphill. And, of course, i was seriously wounded :-)
Nice one Ken. It is a relief mind, once it is done. No2 is booked for us just 8 weeks after our first.
//LJ; The burly guys don't necessarily live in the town. In fact, the way they manhandled me in the dream, they must hail from Blackburn//
Reminds me of the old gag about a Marine/Soldier, who after being posted to Umm Qasr in Iraq, was being interviewed by a TV crew, who asked him what his experience of the city was like.
His reply
"“Before we came here, the Major said ' It’s a big port city - like Southampton'… but there's no booze, no hookers, and the locals are trying to kill us. It's more like Portsmouth”
//LJ; The burly guys don't necessarily live in the town. In fact, the way they manhandled me in the dream, they must hail from Blackburn//
Reminds me of the old gag about a Marine/Soldier, who after being posted to Umm Qasr in Iraq, was being interviewed by a TV crew, who asked him what his experience of the city was like.
His reply
"“Before we came here, the Major said ' It’s a big port city - like Southampton'… but there's no booze, no hookers, and the locals are trying to kill us. It's more like Portsmouth”
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