Me versus Hats and Rings

Throw your hat into the ring

A lot of people seem to be talking about throwing their hat into the ring at the moment. But you never see them do it. I wonder why not. Seems like a job for Man versus Clichés.

There must be something about hats because a few years ago I investigated knocking things into a hat. A cocked one at that.

But being the other way round this poses two problems. What sort of hat? And what sort of ring?

It seemed sensible to start with the ring. One that would fit on a finger would require a tiny hat to hit the target. Only one from the head of a Lego character model might fit the bill. I can't imagine people are throwing those.

Large hooped earrings don't seem big enough for a standard-sized hat and then at the other end of the scale there is the Birmingham Bull Ring or an actual bullring. I didn't fancy travelling so had to apply a bit of lateral thinking. Mrs Cliches has some sort of fitness hoop in the cupboard. Hoop, ring. Same difference.

I had several hats that I could try; an assortment of baseball caps, a wide-brimmed cricket hat or a cyclists casquette. The hard peak of the baseball cap meant throw control was more difficult with regards to spin. The wide brim nature of the cricket hat meant more uplift than ideal. The softer, compressed casquette worked perfectly.

I placed the ring on the floor and tossed the hat gently towards it. Bam! In the ring first time! And then nothing. I don't see what all the fuss is about. This was easy.

Hat - in a ring

Conclusion One - You don't see people throwing their hat in a ring because it wouldn't make great tv. Olympic Hat in a Ring throwing is unlikely any time soon.

Conclusion Two - People talking about throwing their hat into a ring should really be getting on with more important stuff.

Me versus breaking and fixing

If it ain't broke, don't fix it

Weird one this isn't it? Is there a catch I'm missing? 

Does it need rewording slightly? If it isn't in a state of disrepair then don't mend it. If it isn't damaged then don't remedy it. Still doesn't make sense.

Is it some kind of thought experiment I wonder. A 'Schrödinger's cat' of cliches perhaps. Where something is broken and not broken at the same time.

But the fact it isn't broken doesn't mean that we can't do something else to it. Clean it, polish it, attach something to it - I suppose there's nothing to say that we couldn't break it in order to fix it and restore it to a state of not being broken or need fixing again.

And that's before we even get onto what 'it' might be.

All in all, very confusing. 

Conclusion: Look, either tell me what 'it' is and what needs doing to it or just keep quiet about it.

Me versus Ducks and Rows

Get your ducks in a row

Some years ago there was a senior manager at work who would often tell us that we needed to get our ducks in a row.

I think he said it because he had little idea of the actual work that was happening and would use this phrase instead of giving us the strategy and direction that might have been expected of him. Excuse the pun but he might have been winging it.

I had no idea what he was on about at the time, I never saw a duck in a row, column or any other configuration for that matter. Herding ducks didn't seem the best use of my time considering I worked in a financial institution rather than a poultry farm or petting zoo.

So I was left to wonder what would happen if the ducks ever got in a row. As I have since 'flown the coop', to coin another phrase, I thought I'd never find out.

Recently I was over at the old office and stopped by the small lake (or large pond - depends on your point of view I guess) out at the front of the building.

To my enormous surprise, at the edge of the lake, there were some ducks in a row (see poor photo below). I didn't even have to put them there myself! I sat at a table and waited for the big reveal - what was going to happen?

Poor photograph of ducks in a row

Forty-five minutes later and one of the ducks had jumped into the water and swum around a bit, one waddled over to a bin and pecked about and the rest seemed to be quacking at each other for reasons I couldn't fathom.

It was underwhelming to say the least. All that energy he wanted us to expend getting ducks in a row and for what? Nothing as far as I can see.

Conclusion: If anyone's telling you to get your ducks in a row, don't bother. Show them this and get on with some real work.

Me versus thinking and boxes

Think outside the box

I've found this one strange for a long time so I was pleased to finally tackle it.

I do most, if not all, of my thinking outside boxes so I'm not sure why this phrase gets such a regular outing. I think in houses, offices and cars which can be described at being a bit boxy but aren't actual boxes. The only way I could get to the bottom of this would be to think in a box.

I needed a box. A box to think in. A box big enough that I could actually get in.

I popped over to my parents' house. They still have the box their television came in. My young nieces sometimes play in it. It's a boat or more often a spaceship to them. To me it was just a box.

My parents have been used to odd behaviour down the years but I don't think they were expecting me to get into a large cardboard box and sit quietly. They first enquired into what I was doing ("thinking") and then to the state of my health ("I'm alright, leave me alone for a minute").

They were relieved when I finally got out of the box and carried on helping them with the crossword and enjoying a cup of tea as if nothing had happened.

And thinking in a box? Much the same as the thinking outside of a box. Only more cramped and darker.

Conclusion: Inside a box, outside a box. It all seems to be the same. Do your thinking wherever you see fit. But see fit to do some thinking.

Me versus beans and spillages

Spill the beans

Some of these investigations take a long time. Some don't draw a straightforward conclusion. This is neither. This is simple. Don't spill beans.

I have tried spilling lots of different beans in case there was a subtle difference in the results or I could point you at a bean or beans that it might be worth spilling.

I tried broad beans, runner beans, kidney beans, black beans, green beans, pinto beans, mung beans, soy beans, butter beans, fava beans, haricot beans, French beans, cannelini beans and particularly baked beans.

In every instance it made a mess to a greater or lesser degree, it was wasteful and I had to clear up the aforementioned mess.

Conclusion: If you're thinking of spilling beans, don't. No good will come of it.

Me versus Applecarts

Upset the applecart

Have you seen those adverts for cider when you're watching the television? A lot of them show the growing and picking of apples. It made me think. If I could get in on that then maybe I could fulfil my ambition of upsetting an applecart.

My ever-helpful farming friend Lawrie gave me the name of one of his chums who had a cider sideline so I headed to Herefordshire for apple-picking season.

I'm not convinced that my apple-picking colleagues had English as a first language, because training was fairly basic. It mostly consisted of someone pointing at apples and miming picking them up (you don't even pick them off a tree! A machine shakes them off!) and pointing to the 'applecart' and dropping them in.

The big disappointment was the applecart itself. I was expecting a big wooden job with long handles and artisan-crafted wheels. What I got was a sack on a metal frame. And they call it progress!

We filled the 'cart' in no time at all so it was time to upset it. I called it all sorts of names but there was no reaction. Not wholly unexpected due to the inanimate nature of the cart. It was time to get physical.

I gave the 'cart' a mighty shove and sent the apples everywhere. "Hey, take that applecart", I shouted. My colleagues, although they couldn't understand the words, seemed less than impressed with my actions.

The farmer explained later that as my picking colleagues were paid by the cart-load that was probably why they chased me round and round the farm and dragged me back to the orchard to put the apples back in.

Conclusion: Don't upset applecarts - it's just not worth it.

Me versus the Garden Path

To be led up the garden path

I don’t know if you take an interest in the sport of cricket but this week former England batsmen Kevin Pietersen claimed that he was ‘led up the garden path’ about a possible return to the team. I thought that in the interests of research I should indulge in some garden path leading so I can let you know what it’s all about.

Our garden is very small and I can easily traverse it on my own so when I asked Mrs ManVCliche to lead me up the garden path she told me that I was perfectly capable of doing that myself. When I suggested that I would go in a blindfold or at least take my glasses off so I couldn’t see where I was going and she wouldn’t want me to fall into the hazel tree or birdbath she agreed.

We stepped out of the conservatory and made our way up the garden path. Four seconds later we’d arrived, as expected,  at the garden gate. I must confess to being underwhelmed.

The garden seems pretty flat but I thought we ought to make the journey in reverse as well in case I’d actually been led down the garden path by mistake. Four seconds later, and with no dramas to report,  we were back at the house. Still underwhelmed.

Conclusion: I don’t get it. If someone leads you up the garden path it’s fairly easy to find your way back to where you came from. Unless it’s a massive garden perhaps. Or at night. And you don’t have a torch. Then it might be tricky. I can only conclude that Kevin Pietersen was led into a massive garden somewhere, probably by someone in the England team, and it was really dark and it took him ages to find where he needed to get to and he’s a bit cheesed off about it.

Next time: I upset an applecart