I’m going to (I’m always going to), but not right now.
Genitals are wonderful things, inspirational even, but there are indeed alternative units of measurements.
One of which is inches.
Then you have ‘feet’ – which are also inspirational, despite being gross.
‘Miles’ is most common, but no-one seems to mind ‘miles’ much at all.
“How many miles to the discotheque?” – we used to ask each other in French at school, and despite the obvious moral issues of speaking French, no one could question the integrity of the unit of measurement.
This measurement, and many others, are always fine.
Some aren’t.
Some units of measurement are simply not for Sunday tea-time.
“One lump or two” when proffered sugar is as vulgar as things should get when we’re talking about spoonful’s of anything.
But there are worse, and Sunday tea-time can become an event with more Effing and Jeffing than fucking Jeffrey.
“How many racial slurs to the vicarage?” we’d ask in the old days, and people would answer – awfully. Racistly (racist slurs are really, really racist!). And most importantly – we’d know how far away the vicarage was.
And things would only deteriorate from there (Sunday tea-time).
Some people prefer feet (perverts, but whatever).
Some, miles.
Most, don’t like units of measurement being racial slurs.
Just ask the vicar.
The vicar, such as he is, prefers to know just “how many knobs to the bank?” and he gets his answer too.
The discotheque, the vicarage and the bank are all within reach, with a variety of units of measurement applied and all manner of folk deeply offended, none the less informed as to the distance that matters to them.
I’ve only one piece of advice now, and it’s not to know your audience (yuk).
My advice is – just say and do something.
Yes it might be deeply offensive, but, well – who needs to be employed really?
More importantly, who really needs to be unoffended?
I don’t.
But I do need to know how far away the bank, discotheque and vicarage are.
Because I’m planning one hell of a a Sunday tea-time.
Sam
(P.S Sunday tea-time might in fact not be that great. But you’re invited!)
Why is oil the only thing still currently measured in barrels?
Why not apples?
Or wily scamps avoiding the coppers having pocketed some old soft gents watch?
How much oil equates to a barrel?
Is it the height of a scamp?
Is there a young orphan boy with a roguish grin and a pep-step kept perpetually within barrel production warehouses, having barrels brought up to him and his height (his height and him?) whereby a soulless chap with no grin a’roguish and no step a’pepy and only a hardhat and no future to his name begins to approach.
At this point the chap, so much a miser he even hates penguins (especially when they topple over), holds the barrel up to the scamp’s body and emits a: “Yeah. S’pose that’s a measurement of oil for sure.” and then proceeds to simply leave the orphan child to himself.
Now we encounter sadness.
Remember, being roguish and alone is a false economy unless you show what you were roguish with to another.
How do they keep the scamp there?
Do they feed him pocket watches?
Barrels are the preferred method of the enlightened as a means of getting to the bottom of hills, whilst also being shit as a means of ascending them.
Personally, arriving dizzy gives a man a far greater measure of the location than had he arrived typically and…therefore…morose.
Dizziness gives one a superior perception of the room, particularly in the direction you aren’t attempting to look.
My people and I are well versed in the visual layout of the bottom of our more proximate hills.
It’s a preferred rallying point following our hill-top functions.
The top of a hill seems like a mighty place to debate opinion.
Perhaps owing to subconscious reminiscing and a surging forth of prior emotions relating to a youthful victory in the sport of ‘King of the Castle’.
I might argue a little more persuasively and a tad more vehemently under the sway of temptation to see my opponent, most likely my girlfriend, tumble.
Or more likely; roll. She tends to keep a barrel nearby for her gravity-inspired commute.
I’ve never seen her use it for measuring oil though.
How clever of her.
Sweetheart.
What might be superior an oil measurement to barrels?
The Lateral Column 