Practical jokes.

When I left school I went to work for a massive firm in Trafford Park. For those of you who don't know the area it was, once upon a time the biggest industrial estate in Europe. Firms like Rank Hovis, Massey Ferguson, Hoover, Kellogs,Ingersoll Rand, Cerestar, Hotpoint, CPC, Ciba Geigy, GEC, etc, all had their UK headquarters in Trafford Park.

The firm I worked for employed 6,000 staff and it was that big that it had a monthly newsletter which included a sales and wants section where employees could advertise their tat for sale among the workforce.

Back then, the company operated a three shift system comprising of earlies, afternoons and nights. My particular shift supervisor was an absolute miserable bastard who had worked his way up the ladder but was as useless as a chocolate fireguard with regards to helping new recruits. He was hated and despised by all the junior staff and no-one had a good word to say about him. One of the other shift supervisors was a chap called Royston. He was also a company man who had worked his way up the ladder but he had a jovial personality and a good sense of humour and everyone wished they were on his shift.

After working for the company for nine years I got married and bought a house just a few miles from my place of work. After a few weeks I discovered that I lived less than 400 yards from the miserable bastard.

At the same time I also discovered that Royston lived in a semi detached property which was connected to the miserable bastard. It turned out that they were company houses which Royston and MB had bought from the company.

There was a pub across the road from where they lived and it also became my local. I often used to see Royston in there having a pint but never MB who used to go to bed at 9pm when he was on early shift.

Anyway one night over a few beers Royston let slip that although they were neighbours he loathed MB because he was a skinflint and a miser and they had nothing in common. Royston had a Doberman Pinscher dog and one day it vaulted over the 3 ft waney lap fence dividing their properties and proceeded to leave a shit tube on MB's lawn. MB came round to Roystons and remonstrated with him and accused him of training his dog to jump the fence and leave its deposits on his lawn. Royston denied this and said he would keep his eye on the dog in future.

A few weeks later Royston went on holiday for two weeks and when he returned he discovered that MB had erected a giant waney lap fence between the two properties consisting of a one foot concrete base and a six foot panel. It severely restricted the amount of sunlight into Roystons conservatory but the purpose of its erection was to prevent the dog from doing it's duty on the other side of the fence.

MB was a keen gardener and he also had a greenhouse at the back of his garden...............

To be continued ...............

I'm just watching a fascinating programme on ITV called Homes from Hell about Brits being duped into buying non-existent properties in Dubai.

Back later..............

I hope I have enough popcorn.

....Royston told me that he would never speak to MB again after the fence erection but his wife and MB's still talked to one another.

At the time if you worked overtime for the company you could have pay at time and a third or time due at time and a half. For every hour overtime that you worked you got one and a half hours time due. Every week MB would work a couple of hours overtime stock taking and bank it for time due. The admin clerk was a chap called Patrick and he was the only bloke who seemed to get on with MB. It transpired that he had joined the company the same time as MB but wasn't interested in promotion so MB used to chat to him. Patrick thought MB was a tosspot but because he was his underling he tolerated him and humoured him.

One day Royston asked me if I knew why MB was having the odd Wednesday afternoon off? I didn't have a clue. I could have asked Patrick but I didn't want to appear inquisitive. It later transpired that Roystons wife had been having a chat with MB's wife and she let slip that MB had got his mother-in-law to apply for a B & Q Pensioner membership card. The card entitled any pensioner to a 10% discount on all purchases on a Wednesday afternoon.

MB had been finishing work early on a Wednesday and had then driven to Wigan to collect his mother-in-law and then gone shopping at B&Q where he had bought stuff at the 10% lower rate.

MB had a trailer, and one Wednesday afternoon he returned home with the trailer completely full of plastic plant pots. Royston had been day off and had commented to his wife at the number of plant pots on the back of MB's trailer. A few days later when the wives were having a chinwag the story came out. MB had been leaving B&Q when he had noticed a skip full of plant pots. He had made enquiries with staff and discovered that they were surplus to requirements and were being thrown away. He asked if he could take some and was told he could take as many as he liked, which he did.

This is where the fun starts..... When the next company newsletter came out there was an advert in the For sale section from MB. It read, " Plant Pots for sale. Various sizes. 50 pence each."

Royston collared me in the pub a few nights later and asked me if I had seen MB's advert. I feigned ignorance and he then went on to tell me how the ' Mercenary Bastard ' was selling fcuking plant pots that he had dug out of a skip! I replied with ' You're joking ? ' and his response was, " I'm not, the man is a total cnut."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had placed the advert!

Of course MB saw the advert but as he hadn't submitted it there wasn't a lot he could do. After the first few phone call enquiries he got fed up of explaining that he never placed the advert and he simply responded by saying that they were sold out. He obviously confided in Patrick as to what had occurred because I popped in the office one day when MB was on his lunch and asked Patrick about the advert because I was after a few plant pots myself. Patrick responded with, " Don't ask. It's a touchy subject but I think he has sold them all."

From that day forward, MB earned the nickname of Plant Pot ( but not to his face ).

More tomorrow.....

Several months later, Royston was having his house double glazed. Both his and Plantpots house had old original metal Georgian window frames with single glazed panes.

Within weeks of the work being completed the double glazers were round at Plantpots place. It was obviously a case of keeping up with the Joneses.
One morning as I was driving to work I noticed they had started work because in the front garden there was a large pile of rusty old Georgian window frames.

The next time the monthly newsletter came out, there was another For Sale advert from Plantpot. Something along the lines of ' Georgian metal window frames for sale. Various sizes. '

The next time I saw Royston he began telling me how Plantpot, the greedy bugger, had been selling off his rusty window frames when the only good place for them was the tip.

The following month the Newsletter had changed it's format. Although you could still place an advert you had to include a photocopy of your work ID badge to authenticate your advert.

This was quite a difficult hurdle to overcome because most people had their ID around their necks all day and took the badges home with them.

More later.

Remind me not to piss you off!

Things were quiet for about twelve months until a small window of opportunity presented itself. Plantpot came into work one morning in a black tie and suit. It transpired that his mother-in-law had died and he was going to the funeral later that morning.

At about 11.00am he took off his work coat and ID badge and put on his funeral jacket. Whilst Patrick was having lunch someone went into the office and removed Plantpots ID card and made a few photocopies and then put the card back....

At that time, Plantpot drove a blue Datsun Bluebird. He had owned it from new and it was a bit of a rust bucket. It had been patched up with t cut and sprayed over but it still showed it's age.

During a conversation with Mrs Royston, Mrs Plantpot let slip that hubby was thinking of selling his car and getting a new one. This was confirmed when I dropped off some time sheets and saw Plantpot flicking through a copy of Auto Trader.

The following month, Plantpot had another item up for grabs in the Newsletter. For Sale, Shed, painted blue. £15 ono.

It was quite surprising how many people actually responded to the advert! I was in the office one day when Plantpot answered his phone. After a brief pause he responded with, " Sorry, it's already gone."

I had to get out the office pronto because I was struggling to keep a straight face....

Circa 1995, Plantpot bought a holiday home in the south of France. He planned to move into it and retire but while he was still working he used to advertise it on the canteen noticeboard and newsletter for holiday rental during the summer. One or two actually used it and by all accounts it was quite a nice place.

One day, someone removed the advert from the canteen notice board and photocopied it. The advert was put into an envelope and the envelope was addressed to Royston.

On a weekend trip to Paris someone had it posted from a French Post office. The timing of the posting coincided with Plantpot being out there on holiday.

Some days later Royston told me that Plantpot was taking the piss out of him by sending him details of his holiday home from France. I asked Royston if he was going to take advantage of Plantpot's gesture but he replied that he wouldn't give him the steam off his piss..

I suggested he should tackle Plantpot but Royston said he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of thinking he had got to him....

In July 1997, I went on holiday to Cyprus and stayed at the Cynthiana Beach Hotel just outside Paphos. On inspecting the bureau in the bedroom I discovered some lovely headed notepaper embossed with the hotel logo and address. Also in the bureau were some envelopes which were also embossed with the same information.

I put the stationary in my suitcase and brought it back to the UK with me.........

By this time I was aware that Plantpot was still visiting B & Q and that he had got his father-in-law to pretend to be him so that he could still get the benefit of the pensioners discount together with any special promotions that B & Q were running.....

To be continued..........

On returning home to the UK someone wrote a lovely letter to Plantpot using the stationary kindly supplied by the hotel. The gist of the letter was to inform Plantpot that he had been the lucky winner of a two weeks all inclusive holiday at the Cynthiana Beach Hotel courtesy of the B & Q holiday draw competition. Apparently his name had been selected at random from their database and in order to claim this wonderful prize for two he simply had to telephone the hotel and select which two weeks he wanted between May and September and his flight tickets and paperwork would be forwarded to him from the hotel.

In September of that year a friend of mine was going to stay at the Cynthiana Beach on my recommendation. He took the letter with him and posted it from Cyprus.

Within a couple of weeks word got round work that Plantpot had won a holiday in Cyprus. The pillock had brought the letter to work to show Patrick.

Royston had found out from his wife who had got the lowdown from Mrs Plantpot. Royston said he was tempted to report the bastard as he wasn't a pensioner but unfortunately Royston had also fallen into the trap and had got his father to get a discount card in his name as well...

The general feeling was that Plantpot was a stuffy bastard......

Then things went a bit quiet......

The next time there was a senior staff meeting and Plantpot was away from his office, I popped in to drop off some timesheets.

Patrick was sat at his desk busily beavering away.

I casually asked, " When is Plantpot taking his holiday "

" He isn't. It's a wind up but don't say anything because when he finds out who set him up the shit is going to hit the fan." replied Patrick.

Feigning astonishment I reponded with, " Your'e joking ? I thought the hotel wrote to him ?"

" They did, but when he phoned them they denied any knowledge. He thought they were trying to shaft him so he rang B & Q to complain but they said it was nowt to do with them. "

" Bugger me, he wont be a happy bunny! " says I.

" He's not, but don't say anything because he doesn't want anyone to find out."

" OK " says I, " but how did the hotel get his address ? "

" I haven't a clue and nor does he. " says Patrick.

I made my excuses and left and I was really looking forward to the next monthly newsletter which was due out in the next day or two....

On the day that the newsletter came out I was on afternoons and Royston was on earlies. As I was clocking on Royston approached me.

" Just have a look at this " he said,showing me a For Sale advert from the latest newsletter.

It read something like this, " For Sale. Unwanted Gift. Two weeks all inclusive holiday including flights to the Cynthiana Beach Hotel, Paphos, Cyprus. £ 1,000 ONO. contact Mr Plantpot etc etc."

Fighting back a chortle I somehow asked, " Is he selling his holiday."

" He is. I told you the twat was a mercenary."

" I doubt he'll get a thousand for it." I replied.

" He doesn't deserve anything for it! " says Royston.

I clocked on and went to look at the list of jobs that wanted doing for the afternoon. As I approached Plantpots office I could hear a terrible commotion going on. It sounded as if Plantpot had lost the plot!

As I got nearer other staff members came into the corridor to see what all the fuss was about....

You tell a really good story RT.

I'll tell you a story
About Jack a Nory;
And now my story's begun;
I'll tell you another
Of Jack and his brother,
And now my story is done
Old English Nursery Rhyme.

And of course -

http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/classic/titles/jackanory.shtml

They say truth is stranger is fiction. Unfortunately, everything I have related actually occurred!

Inside Plantpots parlour he was in a right old state. clutching the latest newsletter his face was as red as a beetroot, snot was running from his nostrils and he was foaming at the mouth. His vitriol was directed at poor Patrick, " I know it's you , you effin bastard." For a supervisor his language was apalling. The more Patrick denied any knowledge, the more Plantpot tore into him.

" You were the only one who knew it was bullshit, you deceitful bastard." he screamed. It was very embarrassing. A short time later the General Manager arrived and ushered Patrick out of the office.

We all went back to work and pretended nothing had happened. I went out on a job and when I got back later I found out that Plantpot had been sent home to calm down while senior management investigated his insane ramblings.

The following day there were a number of changes made...............

Patrick was transferred to the Wages and Finance department which suited him just fine. Plantpot had the rest of the week off and in his absence a new post was created for him. He was made Admin Supervisor and was put on regular 8-4 days with every weekend off.

Instead of Patrick he had a female admin assistant called Maxine. A lovely woman who couldn't stand him!

One of the perks of his new post was that he had a rubber stamp with the date and Administrative Supervisor stamped on it.

Every single piece of paper that went through his hands was given the obligatory stamp. I guess it made him feel important. He had less that twelve months to do before he retired so it worked out fine for everyone because we no longer had to work with him for eight hours a day.

As I drove home one day I was thinking about his stamp..........

Part of Plantpots new role entailed him being responsible for health and safety in the workplace. We had a large noticeboard where all memos and bulletins were posted for the information and attention of all staff and personnel. Every memo was duly stamped by Plantpot together with his spider scrawl signature.

Someone had a stamp made up with just one word on it. The word was Bullshit. Every time a new memo was posted on the bulletin board it was subsequently stamped ' Bullshit '.

This went on for a few weeks until one day, two shifty looking geezers in suits appeared on the scene. Armed with a set of ladders they went into the roof space above the corridor where the bulletin board was located. Allegedly they were checking for asbestos but they inadvertently drilled a hole through the ceiling about ten feet from where the bulletin board was positioned on the wall. Staff had been advised to avoid the corridor while the ' workmen ' were on site because of potential asbestos contamination.

If I could have stamped the roof space with ' Bullshit ' I would have done.......

Strangely enough, the search for the asbestos coincided with the absence of the ubiquitous Bullshit stamp. Plantpots memos were untouched for at least a fortnight.

The peaceful Nirvana was soon to be shattered.........

After a couple of weeks, the hidden CCTV camera with the fish eye lens in the loft space was doing my head in. I was due to start a week of nights and I was determined to get things back to normal. I had a cunning plan, but in order for it to be successful, I needed to have an element of luck on my side.

Fortunately, I was able to solve the problem by applying simple logistics. Back then, company vehicles were not fitted with GPS trackers. Deliveries were made throughout the night and everything was processed by the drivers personal time sheets.

After 5pm the offices closed for the day and the only workers left were the afternoon and night drivers. To clock in for work you had to swipe your card which recorded what time you started and finished. It was an insurmountable problem at first until I found a simple way round it.

I was due to start work at 10pm after which time I would be far too busy to start the ball rolling. Instead I left home at 6pm and told my unsuspecting better half that I was working four hours overtime. I drove to work armed with my flask and grub and a small plastic bag containing one or two items that I had specially selected for the chore in hand....

Good read... hidden camera, eh? Good one!

It was indeed! To this day I have no idea how much the company paid these private consultant 'asbestos' investigators but I didn't really see it in terms of pounds, shillings and pence. It was more about beating the system. When you know that your job and potentially your pension is on the line you have to make sure that you cover every eventuality. I looked on my mission as more of a ' good cause ' because a lot of staff were genuinely missing the Bullshit stamp.

I knew by checking the work rosters prior, that I had a night run to Tamworth and that my second run was to Crewe. I watched the HGV's leave the depot around 6pm and I waited for 10 minutes or so for the afternoon supervisor to retire to the TV room where he would sit on his fat arse until 9.30 pm.

I didn't bother swiping my card to clock in. That would be fatal. I picked up the keys for my truck and left the yard at Trafford Park at 6.30pm and headed for the Midlands. I made the drop in Tamworth and was back at the depot in time to officially clock in at 10pm.

I parked the wagon up and pocketed the keys and went into the depot and officially clocked in at 9.50pm. Placing the work order back in my pigeon hole I had a whole 8 hour night shift to complete one run from Trafford Park to Crewe and back. Easy Peasy..........