We won't have to wait too long, and inevitably a beautiful woman will walk into the bar - in search of the perfect tan she may have been sprayed more times than a stolen Astra, but she's beautiful none the less. And equally inevitably Jewellery Boy will turn to Toxic Cloud Man and say 'You know what she needs Brian, she needs a right good...' Yes that's right boys, what she really needs is three pints of Malibu, a Poodle Madras and a two hour explanation of how you became head salesmen for Tools R Us - she'd rather give mouth to mouth to the wrong end of a donkey.

Our two heroes might have more chance of making a successful Trans Atlantic pedallo crossing, but what they do have is optimism - by the skip load - of the wazzing in the wind variety perhaps, but in a way, good luck to them.

So why then, when Dr Smugchops from The Bad News University starts talking on TV, do they soak up every negative word? Show them a planet revolving out of control and some blood red financial graphs plunging off the bottom of their 95 inch plasmas, and they'll be popping on the bicycle clips and ordering the 5 ply industrial Andrex....'Don't sell your house! Don't buy a car! How much do you reckon we'd get for Grandma on EBay?' Everyone starts to look about as optimistic as Wile E Coyote, just before he gets hit in the face with an anvil.

A quick waft about the internet though, being careful to avoid searches like 'how to get lucky' will reveal the undoubted benefits of optimism - superior health, greater achievement, increased longevity, less stress and so on - but most of these surveys seem to have been carried out by teeth whitened Californians, who presumably spend most of their time roller blading and thanking you for being part of their Tuesday. I can't see that putting much vinegar on your chips after a good night out in Huddersfield.

What we need in these sticky times perhaps, are some believable, down the pub reasons for keeping our peckers up.

There are a few choice political canapés being passed around at the moment; the reduction in VAT, falling fuel prices, lower interest rates.....

It's a valiant effort, but let's be honest, unless you were about to buy a Ferrari Spider you're not going to save much loot on the VAT, and any benefits will have been outweighed by re-printing all the stationary; as far as fuel robbery is concerned, by the time you've had a sandwich and a paper from the petrol station, you'll still feel like you're driving off without your under crackers; and unless you've just financed a 38 station Carlos Fandango Autograph Carousel, with built-in nut scratcher and drinks cabinet, the interest rate cuts, if they're passed on, are unlikely to be a reason to rip open your shirt and head for the disco.

So that's that then - we don't do optimism very well, and the financial incentives aren't working - time to assume the position and bite the duvet, right?

Not so, because in this country we have specialized for years in running headlong into the hopeless. When all we had to face the Luftwaffe were a balsa wood bi-plane and a rather large rubber band, we had no reason to be optimistic, but we didn't give up. Far from it, we changed our names to Bomber and Chalky; bought a Labrador and a 15 foot scarf; and affecting a charismatic limp we clenched our buttocks and took to the skies. But that kind of against all odds devotion doesn't happen any more does it? Tell that to a Milwall season ticket holder.

And it's in that spirit that I offer you a challenge (and bearing in mind Gordon Brown's more likely to represent Britain in synchronized swimming than sort this mess out, it is down to us....blimey, that's done it; I've just imagined him in a sequined cossie, flowery swim cap and a nose clip - he can hardly breathe as it is).

And the challenge is, to duck and dive, bob and weave, get all old school and knock it out the back of a van. Let's say you've got a motor you've had enough of; it's got the fuel consumption of the Queen Mary; it has the headroom of a drain pipe, or if your kids are anything like mine and it's starting to have the distinct whiff of dead dog - try and flog it. There will be someone out there who only does three miles a year, feels more secure in confined spaces and whose favourite fragrance is L'eau de Chien Mort.

To be more relevant the same rules apply to textile kit - the last time the carousel in the corner was used was to print Mozart's tour Tshirts, but it'll be good for someone, and when they turn up to collect, they'll probably make you an offer on Dr Frankenstein's heat press, currently employed in cheese toasty production, and maybe even have that job lot of dusky pink dog T-s off your hands.

It may be tough to sell my grandma on ebay, she's dead bless her, but some of the above might just shift.

Of course, many of you will already be on the case, but I'm still hanging on to a box of Hawaiian shirts and waiting for them to come back in - Hawaii will be globally warmed and under water before that happens.

And how risky a challenge is it, to advertise some redundant tackle? A large portion of the country buy their lottery tickets every week in spite of the fact that they're more likely to get knighted than they are to win. Add to that the fact that to advertise online can cost less than a round of drinks, and I don't think a stunt double will be required to live with this level of danger.

Now where was I, first to go the family motor...'For sale, petrol guzzling bad smelling match box...'' No, hold on... In spite of its large and effortlessly smooth engine, this family owned cruiser has a compact and homely feel. Stepping inside will give you all the warm reassurance of arriving home to an air of fresh coffee, and newly baked biscuits....

Paul Stephenson

www.bgdf.co.uk

Printer friendly version

Email this article to a friend

Bookmark this

---