Monday, March 06, 2017

If Life Was A Rainbow











Let us go and live in La La land; no, I do not mean the movie, rather the world of television advertising.

In moments of stress I want to be in television land where all you have 

to worry about is, how clean is your sink, how clean is your dog, child, 

whatever.

The weekly wash day is transformed into a singing, dancing affair 

with ladies in green tights – I think there are some blokes in it but not 

sure about the tights.

When the doorbell rings, I rush to the door, open, and greet some 

hunky guy who wants to check my fire extinguisher.

"Hi ya.."



I’ve got news for you; if Hunky Guy wants to extinguish my fire, then 

come right in.

But at the crucial moment….Yes! Big problem, is the toilet absolutely

spotless?

In the world of Reality, are you really, really going to give a tea-leaf 

about the sodding loo? If it was for real, you and he are heading for the

bedroom, and if life was a rainbow, you would be tearing that shirt off 

his manly torso.



All right, not the shirt but you get the idea ?


You have to come back to Planet Earth in the end - machines break 

down, things stops working, and it’s time to find a Person to Fix -It.

Of course the Fix It Person, is out, terribly busy, will ring you back.

When they do, make damn sure to be waiting for him.


In television land this is where the Hunky Guy appears at your door, he 

has a mega watt smile, abs and pecs to die for, and underneath 

that shirt, the muscles ripple.

A deep husky voice asks if he can help; you bet, come right in.


Wake Up.

What you actually get is a wrinkly guy, of mature years, in scruffy blue 

overalls and a toothy smile – just the one tooth you understand. He

carries a bag of clanking tools and leaves mud on the carpet.


To make sure the work gets done, you listen to a long (and painful)

recital of all the problems he struggles with, and how hard life is.



Bite your lip - do not mutter “Problems? Keep it to yourself, why don’t 

you?”

If he wants tea, don’t throw it at him, it won’t go down too well.

When Mr Wrinkly has finished telling you what a good job he has done,

and goes, at last, just nod, and shut the door – quickly.


There is the Postman of course – OK, my Postman is short, and rotund 

I have to say. He wears shorts in all weathers, and they are a tad 

baggy. But I see those Legs twinkle down the road in the morning, and 

my day acquires a Sparkle.

How sad is that?

Yep