The latest Phil Evans column from the South Wales Evening Post
The latest Phil Evans column from the South Wales Evening Post -
Comedian Phil Evans is from Ammanford. He is known as the man who puts the ‘cwtsh’ into comedy.
Let’s start with a quiz. No prizes!
If you guess correctly, all you’ll get is a chance to feel smug.
If smugness is second nature to you, you’ll hardly notice any difference, which is a pitfall of feeling permanently smug.
Not so smug now, are you?
What connects the following two statements?
“My local council collects my rubbish fortnightly.”
“I’ve noticed strange animal droppings near my dustbin.”
And the answer is....RATS!
All around the UK, sightings of rats have increased where local councils have reduced their decades-old weekly bin collections to fortnightly.
Let me put my cards on the table. Let me put my smartphone on the Welsh Dresser. Let me put my feet on the chair.
I have ‘musophobia’.
It isn’t the fear of musicians.
It’s the fear of rats.
I loathe them from the tips of their ratty little noses to the ends of their long ratty tails.
Whenever I see one (and I’ve seen more since the introduction of fortnightly collections then I ever did before) it’s the only time I wished that we, like the Americans, had the right to bear arms.
In short, if I had a rifle, I’d blow Ratty’s brains out (cue lots of letters to the editor from animal rights campaigners!).
Assassination sounds drastic, but you’ve probably never opened your kitchen curtains in the morning to find a big brown rat sitting on your windowsill, staring in at you.
For me, it’s a scarier sight than Freddy Krueger in ‘Elm Street’.
If you suffer similar fears, then I guess you’ll be begging to borrow my imaginary rifle.
I’d have to refuse that request . . . on the grounds that my rifle is imaginary!
Here’s some rat facts to give you food for thought.
Once you’ve read these, please tear up the paper and place the scraps in the recycling box – secured to ensure rats can’t open it and read the information.
Always wash your hands after handling bins and recycling boxes, as hungry rats might have been investigating them.
There was a time when, if you saw rats in your garden (or, heaven help us, inside your house), you called the council.
The local authority would then send the ‘exterminator’ (rat-catcher) around to put poison down, a service paid for out of your council tax.
But a few years ago, the very councils who reduced bin collections, had the brass nerve to start charging £40 for the rat man.
In other words, they caused the problem and had the cheek to charge us to solve it!
But it gets worse!
I recently saw a rat in my garden and called the council, only to be told they no longer have a department that deals with vermin extermination.
They ‘helpfully’ suggested I try ‘phoning a private firm! (Are they on commission, or what?)
I was so outraged that I fired my imaginary rifle at an imaginary council office window, causing an imaginary amount of damage.
To sum up, for those of you only read the first and last paragraphs . . .
Once, councils got rid of rats for free. Then they started charging. Now, having created a situation where rats are more prevalent, they’ve completely washed their hands of the problem, leaving us to pay private firms (£140 in my case) and yet our council tax increases every year!
If this was a South American republic, we’d be marching on the Town Hall with pitchforks and burning torches.
So here’s a suggestion that might get the necessary message across to our councils.
Next time you see a rat sniffing around your bins, bang it on the head, pop it into a Jiffy Bag (trademark) and send it to the council office.
If enough of us do it, we won’t go back to weekly collections. We’ll have daily collections!
--------
Until you’ve learned to drive, you’ve never really learned how to swear.
I sometimes get the impression that we are being shafted from all directions, and the money raised in fines is enormous.
Personally, I’m not convinced that this is all about safety.
It’s true, the Government have tried everything to stop motorists speeding - chicanes, speed ramps, speed traps, cameras - you name it.
I’ve got this foolproof method.
From now on, by law, every motorist must be fitted with a flat cap.
We have all met them.
They are out there.
They are known as ‘Sunday drivers’.
They are coming soon (well, OK, not very soon at all) to a place near you.
Be afraid, very afraid!
----------------
I’m trying to save enough money to put down a deposit . . . so that I can afford a serving of strawberries and cream at Wimbledon next year.
Apparently, the Wimbledon wing commanders were slapping themselves on the back this year for keeping the price of (10) strawberries and cream to £2.50 for fourth consecutive year/
What a ‘rip off’’!
The lovely Liz Perkins, one of the star reporters at the South Wales Evening Post, goes to Wimbledon every year. But I’m told she buys her strawberries in bulk at Marks and Spencer before getting in the queue – and she has a refrigeration facility inside a giant-sized handbag!
As the costs go up, the clothes come down, so to speak.
There are people walking the streets dressed as if they were in Spain.
Flip flops, shorts and T-shirts are now being displayed up and down every street in Wales.
We can’t help it. As soon as we have a few hours of fine weather we are out there. I’m seeing them at carnival days and village fetes.
I’m not complaining, this is a good thing and part of what I do, ‘people watching’.
If I spend a few hours ‘people watching’ you are guarantee that there will be at least five more minutes of new material in my show the following week.
So be careful, I could be watching YOU!
PS: Re my rats story above. The editor has kindly informed me that musophobia, the word, comes from the Greek for mouse. He should know. He is an educated chap. Personally, though, I still don’t think the word does the ‘phobia’ any justice at all.
----------
You can follow Phil Evans on Twitter @philevanswales
Let’s start with a quiz. No prizes!
If you guess correctly, all you’ll get is a chance to feel smug.
If smugness is second nature to you, you’ll hardly notice any difference, which is a pitfall of feeling permanently smug.
Not so smug now, are you?
What connects the following two statements?
“My local council collects my rubbish fortnightly.”
“I’ve noticed strange animal droppings near my dustbin.”
And the answer is....RATS!
All around the UK, sightings of rats have increased where local councils have reduced their decades-old weekly bin collections to fortnightly.
Let me put my cards on the table. Let me put my smartphone on the Welsh Dresser. Let me put my feet on the chair.
I have ‘musophobia’.
It isn’t the fear of musicians.
It’s the fear of rats.
I loathe them from the tips of their ratty little noses to the ends of their long ratty tails.
Whenever I see one (and I’ve seen more since the introduction of fortnightly collections then I ever did before) it’s the only time I wished that we, like the Americans, had the right to bear arms.
In short, if I had a rifle, I’d blow Ratty’s brains out (cue lots of letters to the editor from animal rights campaigners!).
Assassination sounds drastic, but you’ve probably never opened your kitchen curtains in the morning to find a big brown rat sitting on your windowsill, staring in at you.
For me, it’s a scarier sight than Freddy Krueger in ‘Elm Street’.
If you suffer similar fears, then I guess you’ll be begging to borrow my imaginary rifle.
I’d have to refuse that request . . . on the grounds that my rifle is imaginary!
Here’s some rat facts to give you food for thought.
Once you’ve read these, please tear up the paper and place the scraps in the recycling box – secured to ensure rats can’t open it and read the information.
- There are an estimated 80 million rats in Britain.
- The gestation period is just 21 days and a female can have up to 14 pups at a time. Some breeding pairs can have 800 young in just two years.
- Adult sewer rats grow to around 30cm long (that’s nearly 12 inches in ‘old money).
- A group of rats is called a mischief.
- Mutant ‘super rats’, which cannot be killed by regular poisons, are spreading across Britain.
Always wash your hands after handling bins and recycling boxes, as hungry rats might have been investigating them.
There was a time when, if you saw rats in your garden (or, heaven help us, inside your house), you called the council.
The local authority would then send the ‘exterminator’ (rat-catcher) around to put poison down, a service paid for out of your council tax.
But a few years ago, the very councils who reduced bin collections, had the brass nerve to start charging £40 for the rat man.
In other words, they caused the problem and had the cheek to charge us to solve it!
But it gets worse!
I recently saw a rat in my garden and called the council, only to be told they no longer have a department that deals with vermin extermination.
They ‘helpfully’ suggested I try ‘phoning a private firm! (Are they on commission, or what?)
I was so outraged that I fired my imaginary rifle at an imaginary council office window, causing an imaginary amount of damage.
To sum up, for those of you only read the first and last paragraphs . . .
Once, councils got rid of rats for free. Then they started charging. Now, having created a situation where rats are more prevalent, they’ve completely washed their hands of the problem, leaving us to pay private firms (£140 in my case) and yet our council tax increases every year!
If this was a South American republic, we’d be marching on the Town Hall with pitchforks and burning torches.
So here’s a suggestion that might get the necessary message across to our councils.
Next time you see a rat sniffing around your bins, bang it on the head, pop it into a Jiffy Bag (trademark) and send it to the council office.
If enough of us do it, we won’t go back to weekly collections. We’ll have daily collections!
--------
Until you’ve learned to drive, you’ve never really learned how to swear.
I sometimes get the impression that we are being shafted from all directions, and the money raised in fines is enormous.
Personally, I’m not convinced that this is all about safety.
It’s true, the Government have tried everything to stop motorists speeding - chicanes, speed ramps, speed traps, cameras - you name it.
I’ve got this foolproof method.
From now on, by law, every motorist must be fitted with a flat cap.
We have all met them.
They are out there.
They are known as ‘Sunday drivers’.
They are coming soon (well, OK, not very soon at all) to a place near you.
Be afraid, very afraid!
----------------
I’m trying to save enough money to put down a deposit . . . so that I can afford a serving of strawberries and cream at Wimbledon next year.
Apparently, the Wimbledon wing commanders were slapping themselves on the back this year for keeping the price of (10) strawberries and cream to £2.50 for fourth consecutive year/
What a ‘rip off’’!
The lovely Liz Perkins, one of the star reporters at the South Wales Evening Post, goes to Wimbledon every year. But I’m told she buys her strawberries in bulk at Marks and Spencer before getting in the queue – and she has a refrigeration facility inside a giant-sized handbag!
As the costs go up, the clothes come down, so to speak.
There are people walking the streets dressed as if they were in Spain.
Flip flops, shorts and T-shirts are now being displayed up and down every street in Wales.
We can’t help it. As soon as we have a few hours of fine weather we are out there. I’m seeing them at carnival days and village fetes.
I’m not complaining, this is a good thing and part of what I do, ‘people watching’.
If I spend a few hours ‘people watching’ you are guarantee that there will be at least five more minutes of new material in my show the following week.
So be careful, I could be watching YOU!
PS: Re my rats story above. The editor has kindly informed me that musophobia, the word, comes from the Greek for mouse. He should know. He is an educated chap. Personally, though, I still don’t think the word does the ‘phobia’ any justice at all.
----------
You can follow Phil Evans on Twitter @philevanswales
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