What’s a modern day hero to you? Is it someone who saves your life after getting your tie caught in a printing press or is it the person who hands you your sandwich and wishes you a good day? What even classes as a good deed anymore when the tiniest thing can be misconstrued or misunderstood?
It’s a good job that I’m such a good egg, ready to put all of you to shame with the sheer wealth the SHEER PLETHORA of good deeds that I’ve knocked up this month. My days have been brimming with altruism that I don’t even know where to start. I suppose I’ll have to cut them down to, I don’t know, a list of three, the three main ones, so that you don’t all die of embarrassment.
Don’t tell me that I never do anything for you.
- Package save – when I was out walking the doggo one afternoon-o I chanced upon a package in the street-o. The delivery truck-o must have dropped it-o when they were doing something else. I took it back home and checked where the address-o was and, thankfully, it wasn’t too far away-o. Later on that day-o, I posted it through the person’s letterbox so that they safely received their goods.
- Pigeon save – when I was out walking the doggo one afternoon (again?), we turned the corner and I went to put the doggo’s poo bag in the bin. What I wasn’t expecting was a pigeon to be staring back at me from inside the bin. It looked a big manky and had green stuff smeared on its wing, as if someone had thrown a drink and showered the poor thing. I ran back to the flat, picked up a few items and then carefully (hands wrapped in empty poo bags) scooped it up and placed it on the floor. After a drink of water, it looked a lot better. I was reluctant to give it food in case this was some kind of pigeon grift and a thousand pigeons all flocked towards me as soon as I brought out a bag of breadcrumbs.
- Spoon save – I gave a friend at work a plastic spoon so they could eat their breakfast.
Personally, I think the last one is the most important because if you don’t have the right implement, how are you going to eat your oats? Think about it.
14 comments on “Good deed o’clock”
Hey, don’t do yourself down. All of these are important. But you’re right that the third one is the most important, because only the third will get you a good deed in return, and we all know that the meaning of life is getting other people to do stuff for you.
You only do stuff to get other stuff back in return, yeah? That’s what I was always taught. Now I can completely demolish my friend if I need a spoon and he doesn’t have one. The power I now wield is insane.
I applaud all of your efforts, and can safely say that the third one is the only one I could be arsed to undertake myself.
Chris is always in favour of an oaty breakfast good deed, I think its a condition of his porridge loyalty card.
I don’t know what I’d do if it was me facing the binned pigeon in scenario 2. I’d probably panic and call the coastguard under a false name.
I was surprised how easily I could scoop it out of the bin. I was expecting a lot of flapping and faffing in equal measures.
On some days Chris keeps packets of porridge in his coat pocket and hands them out to strangers on the train platform. He thinks we don’t know but we know.
What I keep in my coat pockets, and whether my coat pockets have been waterproofed so I can add milk to them whenever I like, is my business and my business alone. As is the question of whether my shirt pocket contains a range of delicious toppings.
I’d hate to accidentally run into you, both from being in your company and the mess that would spill henceforth from your pockets.
That’s fine. If you want to be hungry, unfulfilled by delicious mouthfuls of nourishing pocket porridge (“pockridge”), missing out on the taste sensation of the South West Main Line, then that’s your lookout.
Whatever you’ve got sounds great, mate, so if I ever hit my head and decide porridge festooned with bits of your coat pocket would really satisfy my hunger then I’ll track you down. Fo sho.
That’s the spirit. I’ll pop a bit extra in my bumbag tomorrow so you won’t go without.
Porridge bumbag sounds awful, like some kind of cockney rhyming slang.
Porridge bumbag, massive scumbag.
It does sound awful, doesn’t it? But the way it sounds is nothing compared to the way it looks. All crusted up with the rancid porridge remains of yesteryear. Be careful how you stick your spoon in if you want the fresh stuff.
Sometimes you’re capable of the most disgusting images, Christopher.
I don’t ever want to encounter a porridge bumbag.
Chis will also need to be careful he doesn’t mix up his milk pockets with his PetrolPockets™ otherwise its going to ruin his breakfast, and make driving to work crunchy.