Red No Day

(this is NOT me)

Before I wax lyrical can I just say one thing: It has come to my notice that certain people have been casting aspersions on, and questioning my sanity. I find this quite hurtful and would like to state categorically that there is absolutely no truth in the rumour that I am sane.

Right, Friday 13th. Some people get really uptight about this although there seem to be no valid reasons as to why, apart from Friday and 13 both being unlucky. I have sympathy with all paraskevidekatriaphobians but the day actually heralds fear and dread in my heart for another reason - it's that time of the year again. That day when normally staid professional and rational people get coerced , blackmailed or shamed into turning themselves into total dicks and people pay money to them out of sheer embarrassment or a desire to end the ritual humiliation as soon as possible. Red Nose Day dawns once more.

I have absolutely no problem with the reasons or the rationale but I'm afraid that it's past its sell-by date as far as I'm concerned. Kids doing silly things at school - fine. Teachers dressing as Peter the frigging Pixie or whatever they do in a bid to try and prove that discipline is totally dead these day, I'm not so keen on. As far as I'm concerned, teachers (or "masters" in my day) should still be wearing suits and gowns, not jeans and I heart Edukayshun teeshirts.

I decided to get the shopping done this afternoon so toddled off to Sainsbury. "Sainsbury?" I hear you ask, "What's happened to the wondrous delights of Scummerfield, that halcyon Nirvana of which you normally wax so lyrical?" Well, apart from actually wanting to buy something rather than gazing at empty shelves and the occasional retarded shelf stacker gazing in puzzlement at his pallet of foie gras and puy lentils, I happened to notice that they were having an "event" today. Scummies are very good at dressing up. One mature lady called V*l enters into things wholeheartedly and dresses as a Christmas Elf from November right through to February whilst the Area Manager has (allegedly) been known to dress himself as a blonde in a small black cocktail number (mind you, not many people know that). Apparently, 2 of the staff are going to be waxed with the vast hairiness of their legs being removed in the name of charity. I idly wondered which of the ladies were involved but then read that it was actually a couple of the guys.

Finding a problem reconciling gaiety and fun with shopping at Scummies, I climbed into the car and zoomed off to Sainsbury. The first thing I saw was a big set of stocks and an exhortation to throw sponges for Red Nose Day! Too late, I realised that they were heavily involved in the whole thing. The foyer had people trying to sell tickets for a raffle to New York (fair enough) whilst this poor sod was to be seen sitting disconsolately in a corner wearing an old fashioned swimming costume and a strange pattern to his legs. Hurrying past, I filled my little trolley with the staples of life; microwave popcorn, strawberry laces, banoffee pie and Tassimo tea then remembered the list of boring stuff I'd been given and went round again. Staff were wearing teeshirts explaining how the company was supporting Red Nose day and I almost felt quite guilty when it occurred to me that there might be a marketing advantage to them. Wonder if that had occurred to them? Perish the thought.

Forcing my way through café staff all dressed in pyjamas.........see what I mean, what on earth is funny about spending the day wearing pyjamas? They do it all the time in hospitals but do you see people falling about laughing and giving money to pay for a skateboard park in the Gobi Desert? Where was I? Oh yes, forcing my way through café staff, I was just calming down and there was suddenly this almighty ringing behind me. I climbed ruefully out of the freezer chest where my jump had taken me and realised, to my horror, they had a fucking* Town Crier! Assuming that people might not realise that it was Red Nose Day (if they were deaf and blind that is) this tricorned plonker was screaming the fact at the top of his voice. He also solved the puzzle of the bloke in the swimsuit as it transpired that this was,in fact ,the manager and he was yet another waxee. Apparently he was being done at 1 hour intervals throughout the day - more fool him.

Tonight, of course, we have a collection of saddoes desperately trying to resurrect their failing careers by making total tits of themselves. Oh how the great British public must long for assorted newsreaders recreating the chariot race from Ben Hur or the cast of Eastenders playing hopscotch in a Gaza minefield. Can we handle the excitement of who will be sacked from The Apprentice when none of them actually want a job? No doubt there will be a few bits that will be amusing but I'm afraid I will live without those and we'll be watching other channels.

As I said at the beginning, I have no problem about the concept. I get a little disturbed however about the rationale behind this and other "events" like Live Aid etc. We are subjected to harrowing shots of those far less fortunate than ourselves and exhorted to ring and make a donation as we sit in our comfortable homes, drinking our drinks and eating our food. We ring and pledge and can thus feel good. We've done our bit and can get that warm feeling that we helped .......... then we forget all about it until next year. Something there doesn't seem to add up.

Oh, and just in case you think I have always been a miserable git, I seem to recall a certain branch of a building society who decided to turn the place into a desert island for the first Red Nose Day. All the young ladies were attired in bikini tops and grass skirts whilst the Manager was deputed to be their Man Friday! Recognise him at all?

Oh, and just in case you're wondering, the boxer shorts are adorned with parachuting crocodiles!

* Please don't think I meant that there was a Town Crier performing an act of fornication in Sainsbury. They have standards, dontcha know.