Tag: halifax

Tiggy’s Thought for the Day – In the Shit

Shit. It happens.A friend of mine is really in the shit right now. He has some bad shit to deal with. I don’t like to see my buddies in the shit, so I offer to help him out with his shit. Ease his shit-burden a little. Shit happens, so let’s deal with it. That’s what friends are for, right?

So we shoot the shit and discuss all kinds of shit. Don’t worry, I say. Your shit is my shit, and we’ll work to clean this shit up together. That’s what friends are for.

So I take some of his shit and add to it to my shit. My friend feels the burden of shit lifted from his shoulders. He ends up giving me all his shit. He’s shit free. But now I have all his shit, plus my shit. I’m totally in the shit. My friend then leaves town without his shit. No shit.

Moral of the story: never do anyone else’s shit. It’s their shit. Let them deal with it. You have your own shit. If everyone dealt with their own shit, and left everyone else’s shit alone, we’d all be a lot happier. And a lot less covered in shit.

This post is dedicated to Halifax Harbour.


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Pirats of the Caribbean

Someone's about to get jolly well rogered.

My poor friend Sparky had been dumped by his girlfriend following the “fun lol” incident. Super Dave and I decided to take Sparky to the bar to take his mind off his woes.

Unfortunately, none of us had much money. The barman was not pleased when Sparky paid for our rounds with a pile of quarters. I suspect Super Dave had been ‘fixing’ Pepsi machines with a screwdriver again. We sat at the bar in a cloud of gloom, sucking on lemon slices to extract the very last drops of rum and coke. What a crappy evening.

Suddenly, Super Dave let out a squeal like a little girl on a fairground ride. He leapt from his bar stool and rushed towards some tall, tanned dude who had just walked into the bar.

“Sparky! Sparky! Take a photo! Photo of me and Billy!” he squeaked as he magically produced a camera from nowhere and thrust it into Sparky’s hands. Sparky rolled his eyes.

“I recognize him. He’s that actor guy off the TV. Big deal.” murmured Sparky as he spat his lemon on the floor and pointed the camera at the grinning pair. “Honestly, call acting work? That idiot spends all day getting his hair done, then he rattles off a few lines and gets paid a shitload of cash…” his voice trailed away as he spotted the row of free cocktails lined up on the bar for Billy actor guy.

And then Sparky too was gone, pushing his way up to Billy, shaking his hand and giving him that “I think we could do business” look. Oh no.

Sparky spent the next hour duping Billy into thinking he and Super Dave were talented local actors looking for work. Phone numbers were exchanged and descriptions of recent performances were invented. Billy promised he’d help the boys get some work. Apparently his director friend was looking for help with a costume drama he was filming by the waterfront. Some kind of cool pirate adventure movie, a big name star – a great opportunity for talented actors looking for serious roles.

Sparky and Super Dave were ecstatic. If Billy recommended them, the director would be sure to hire them. The boys spent the rest of the night schmoozing with Billy, racking up a huge drinks bill and leaving the bar with stars in their eyes. Don’t worry, Tiggy would pay for the drinks with her credit card. She’d figure out a way to pay it off somehow.

* * *

Depp is going to be there, right?True to his word, Billy got them the job. I couldn’t believe it. Sparky and Super Dave were going to be movie stars! This director must be desperate. Immediately I began my campaign to ensure I got access to the set. This movie sounded big. Maybe Johhny Depp was in it? He did a lot of pirate stuff. I wanted my picture with Johnny Depp. I’d paid for the drinks that night, it was the least they could do for me.

Sparky and Super Dave were more concerned about the number of ladies present on set. Dressed as swashbuckling pirates, they’d have no trouble picking up young starlets who’d pay for their drinks and do a bunch of other stuff with them too. Super Dave was even pondering getting his hair cut.

The morning of the boys’ first day of shooting, I rushed to the waterfront to wrangle my place on the set. I’d even put on some make-up, just in case Johnny was there. I had to battle my way through a large crowd of excited schoolchildren. Get out of my way you little bastards, I hissed. I’m with the cast.

The sea of bobbing brats parted before me to reveal the spectacle of a great pirate battle. Two giant fluffy rats dressed as pirates were throwing punches at the director. A large purple dinosaur dressed as a cabin boy was running around, shouting “Get these fucking idiots OFF MY FUCKING SET!” Didn’t look like much of a swashbuckling adventure to me.

A giant rat stumbled towards me.

“Tiggy! He fucked us over! Billy fucked us over! Friggin’ kiddies’ dinosaur movie!” squealed a voice from inside the costume. “Sparky’s gonna kill him! Fuck, I can’t see!” the rat squeaked as he tripped over the lighting cables and was pounced upon by two security guards.

Cover your eyes, kids. This pirate adventure was about to get bloody.


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Geoff Brown Eats Sandwiches: A Ferry Odd Mystery

Geoff Brown: A mystery. An enigma. A sandwich eater.

A seat. A ferry. A mystery.
An unknown scribe carves a strange message into the plastic seat of the Halifax to Dartmouth ferry, and disappears back into the shadows.

Who? What? Why?

“Geoff Brown eats sandwiches”.
Who left the message? What could it mean? Would Tom Hanks be interested in starring in the movie adaptation? I decided to investigate.

1. Who was Geoff Brown?
I asked around my fellow ferry passengers, but no-one knew of this man. I spotted an overweight, scruffy-looking guy eating a sandwich on the upper deck. “I am not Geoff Brown,” he declared. “Please go away, you are spoiling my lunch.” This investigation was going to be harder than I thought.

There was only one thing for it; summon the God of information, Google. In its wisdom, it responded that Geoff Brown could be a website developer, a snowboard instructor or a stand-up comedian. None of them fitted the profile of a mysterious cross-ferry sandwich muncher. Google, you let me down!

I called the local police to ask if they could check their records. The police lady on the other end of the phone wasn’t very helpful. She just kept repeating “Look madam, is this an emergency or not?” How the hell was I supposed to know? Supposing Geoff Brown was stealing baked goods from Halifax-area cafes, and consuming the evidence on the ferry ride home? This message could be a cry for help from an out-of-control ciabatta criminal, like those serial killers who leave calling cards on their victims’ corpses. Honesty, I try to help the police, and all I get is abuse…

2. What was significant about the eating of the sandwiches?
The identity of Geoff Brown, be he friend or foe, remained a mystery. In the interests of wild speculation, could the next part of the message provide any clues to his identity… and what was so great about these ruddy sandwiches?

Like the idiot who scrawled “TIGGY IS GHEY” on my office’s washroom wall, perhaps the graffiti artist was trying to spread nasty rumours about poor Mr. Brown. But why would his love of sandwiches be such a shameful secret?

Just shut the fuck up about the sandwiches, alright?Maybe Geoff Brown was a kung-fu wrestling smackdown champ. Rather than gorging on raw meat and tree trunks for lunch, he secretly consumed delicate cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. For a guy who spent his days grappling with sweaty semi-naked men, any claim of effeminacy would be pretty hurtful. Maybe his opponent was conducting a dirty-tricks campaign of psychological torture… by scrawling insults on a ferry seat. Well I don’t frigging know, wrestlers are a strange bunch.

Then I had a breakthrough-supposing the message was incomplete? Perhaps the scribe was caught in the act, and thrown overboard before he could finish his carving. This opened up lots of new possibilities. Maybe it was supposed to read “Geoff Brown eats sandwiches from Tubby Jack’s Sandwich Shack! Try their Beef & Bacon Mega-Sub today!” So the graffiti was nothing more than a cunning advertising campaign? Or perhaps it was one of those stupid subliminal ads, which never actually tell you what it is you’re supposed to be buying.
I think Tubby Jack should ask the ad agency for a refund, to be honest.

3. Why was I spending so much time thinking about this?
Well, aren’t you wondering now?

Despite my thorough investigation, the mystery of Geoff Brown and his sandwich fetish remains unsolved. The scribe will take the secret to his grave, Geoff Brown will continue to consume/steal/advertise his beloved lunchtime treat, and Tom Hanks hasn’t returned any of my phone calls.

I think I might take the bus in future.


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