The Olive Stroker

A while ago I told you a tale of a hotel stay that involved an unsavoury breakfast, a breakfast that involved sausages that bent in the middle when pressed with a knife, beans that had formed a crust and toast that looked like a blackboard, indeed you could even scrape letters into it. The worst thing though was watching over Jaynes shoulder as a member of staff decided to fill up the little jam tubs you get, a bit of a fumble and one fell off the tray an plopped into the serving jug full of orange. You know the one, the serve yourself jug that always dribbles full of orange juice chemically enhanced with flavouring. Anyway our staff member decided that instead of messing about and replacing the now contaminated juice they decided to roll up their sleeves and plunge their hand straight in to fish it out, job done they wiped themselves on the tablecloth and walked away. Needless to say orange juice and many other things were off the menu that morning.

Roll on to Monday and a visit to the market, a pleasant day but as we have travelled up and down the country you do come across similar stalls, one in particular was seeking olives in quantity, something we have seen many times with its familiar setup. Jayne was preoccupied with looking at ribbons or something like that and I was curiously observing the olive stall as he attempted to entice members of the public to try a sample. Not many people were buying even though it was busy so he started to rearrange the front of the stall a little, a thumb dipped in here and a thumb dipped in there as each bowl was moved, not very nice but I have seen worse.

One of the bowls of black olives was looking a little bit empty and mostly full of salty water that the olives came in. Our stall holder noticed and pulled it towards him for a refil. Now I can only assume that this is not the normal procedure unless I'm not privy to all the information regarding filling olive bowls but normally I would expect some kind of utensil to be used when moving olives. Off came the lid from an enourmous tub of black olives drowning in salty water, up went the sleeves and in went the hands. Urgh.

Now we are talking big hairy hands, really big hairy hands which were now being thrust deep into the olives, up they came with an handful and they were cupped together and squeezed until all the liquid came out of the olives. The now dryish olives were chucked into the bowl ready to be sold, get this, sold using a special ladle to pop them in a tub to give the impression of hygiene. In between olive dipping his hands were wiped on his trousers, how hideous.

I don't know why I always seem to see things like this, I nudged Jayne to look but by the time turned around he was already back to giving out samples. 'Are you sure?' She questioned. 'Yes, look, see that man, he's about to take a few as a sample, oh no, he's going to eat one! Should I tell him? Ugh, I'm going to hurl!'

And so it goes on, these little things I see and my mind doesn't forget, so arriving home I downloaded a few free apps for a diversion from any olive related horribleness only to have this thrust in my face so to speak.

Oh my, I shudder to think what this character can do, who on earth named it the STIMULATOR, it's a kids game for god sake, whatever next the KNEE TREMBLER or how about the FORNICATOR, no, I know lets go all out and call it the THRUSTING FAPPER!

I'm off for a lay down, I just hope I don't have nightmares of a man called the AROUSER who is naked and using his big hands to drop olives in jugs full of orange juice which I am then forced to drink.

See! see what today has done! Sob!

 

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