Emergency New Year

December 31, 2017 2:25pm Published by Jules Smith in Off Piste Posting (Any day thoughts) 27 Comments

Stuck lift

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You New Year Whimsy!

It’s the final day of the year; what could possibly go wrong?

My December has been utterly atrocious having contracted virus after virus. I have lived like a hermit, housebound and mostly bedridden and swathed in layers of pyjamas, onesies and Vicks vapour rub. Two days before Christmas I ended up with the emergency doctor and put on antibiotics. Well, Merry Frikkin’ Christmas.

Jeopardy Junket

I’ve been poorly for 7 weeks now and it’s getting ridiculous. So, today I decided to go out. I’m much better than I was but I still have no business going out yet. I basically have no immune system; it’s gone. Totally. However, I thought a nice trip to the city for breakfast, coffee, and some much needed fresh air might make me feel better.

I parked in a private car park in the city. Because I’m incredibly famous, well known, manipulative, I know people in this town and therefore do not have to pay the extortionate car park fees of a public car park.

The parking establishment was empty. Nobody is at work in these offices since it’s a Sunday and it’s also New Year’s Eve. I entered the secret code, parked up and walked to Bill’s for some scrambled egg and bacon on a muffin. Nice.

Swedish Snake Oil

I then had a little walk to the health store for more alternative medicine.

“How can I help you?” asked the hippy health shop person.

“Well, I’m not sure. See, I’ve already had your super strength vitamin C, D and B and have had practically bathed in your extortionate Manuka Honey like a modern day Cleopatra, but I still feel poorly. I have no energy whatsoever. What else can you give me that will cure me of this wicked and dreadful illness?”

“Ahh – try this!” he said. “This is a Swedish formula (that alone should have caused doubt to sear through me but my instincts are off due to viral attack) that has been around since the 60’s. It’s perfect for post operations and illness. People swear by it.”

I parted with my hard earned cash and went outside with my new miracle potion. I sat on a bench and decided to have a spoonful of it immediately. It was then that I realised I must have misheard the man. People don’t swear by it, they probably swear at it because that’s what I did. This tonic is the most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth. Imagine the tar being milked from a thousand cigarettes and that’s what it both looked and tasted like.
I’m going to feed it to one of my plants for a week and see if it dies.

I have spent so much money in this bloody health store that I could have bought a Bugatti Veyron.


After this experience, I decided I needed to go home. The whole breakfast event had worn me out and my face was exhausted, if that makes sense. I walked slowly back to the car park and called for the lift as right now I have the fitness level of a 90 year old and couldn’t even contemplate the several flights of stairs.

lift door
Somewhere just before the 4th floor, the lift stopped. It stopped and the door opened 2 inches. I might have lost a bit of weight with the virus from hell but there’s no way I was getting out of a two-inch gap.

I pressed the button again.


I tried with all my post-viral strength to prize the door open.


I kicked it with my cowboy bewwwts.


I pressed every single button in the lift several times over.


I was well and truly stuck in the lift and the only person with a car parked in the whole office complex.

Then I saw this:

I rang the alarm button for 5 seconds.

Nobody came.

I did it again.

Nobody came.

Eventually, the alarm connected to the emergency line that it clearly stated would happen when one gets stuck in an elevator.

It rang and rang and rang but NOBODY WAS AT THE OTHER FRIKKIN’ END.

All of a sudden I went into panic mode. I had visions of being stuck in this lift for the whole of the New Year period until people came back to work and found me dead in this tiny box with my fingers bleeding from having tried to claw my way out. This was it. The end of my life. Rather neat and tidy what with this being the last day of the year and all, but not how I had envisioned slipping off the dish.

I pressed my mouth up to the gap and began to call for help. This totally stressed out my not used for several weeks vocal chords and sent me into a violent coughing fit where I nearly bust a hernia. I sat on the floor of the lift gasping for my final breaths and wanting to cry but not having the energy to do so.

Then, I had a horrible vision of the lift suddenly plummeting to the ground and me ending up like the contents of a juice maker. I stood up and tried to remember if you had to jump before it hit the ground or hold on because you go head first through the roof. I’m not very good at physics, particularly when hysterical.

There was no other thing I could do but to call for emergency help. This is not something I have ever done before and felt somewhat stupid at having to ring 999 but what else could I do?

I called for the Fire Brigade.

That’s a nice long hose you have there, Mr Fireman

I always imagined that if I were to be rescued by hunky firemen I would be dressed in a sexy negligee with pretty hair and high heels on and would be carried out by a square-chinned brute and given the kiss of life.

Instead, here I was, sweating like a bastard in a tiny box with a pale, unflattering complexion and no makeup on. I fished in my bag for some mascara or lipstick but since I’ve not been out forever and a day there was nothing in there that could save me except for the nasty Swedish elixir that may, quite possibly, have been able to double up as fake tan. I took off my fur coat because I was dripping with fear and would have removed my fluffy jumper too but I had gone out without a bra on and there’s no way I was going to go all wet T-shirt in front of a bunch of firemen without my lippy and tangled hair.

I made a little bed with my coat on the floor and lay down to conserve energy and stave off a massive heart attack.

I heard the sirens in the distance and felt somewhat thrilled if not a little guilty for not being on fire.

“Hello?” shouted the burly voice of a fireman.

“Hello!” I returned, getting to my feet.

“Coming to get you!” shouted another.

*Swoon* Not from being saved but from heat stroke and claustrophobia.

I heard some banging about in the lift shaft and whatnot and then 5 minutes later a giant claw hammer prized open the door and I was free!


“Thank you ever so much, ever so grateful, “ I mumbled.

“Our pleasure,” they said.

I shuffled off to the car fuelled by adrenaline and shame and somehow made it back to the safety of my home.

I am now suffering from massive PTSD and the Swedish elixir isn’t helping.

Despite the fact I shouldn’t have been in that particular car park, I’m going to tear the landlord a new arsehole if he doesn’t compensate my ‘trapped in his shitty lift’ trauma with a therapeutic holiday to Bora Bora.

Happy New Year.


Leave a reply

You could at least asked for some resuscitation From the one on the left. Fate waits for you on every corner to bring excitement into your life. I’m still laughing xx

I don’t want to kill firemen with evil bacteria and I’m far too shy, as you know, to say anything remotely inappropriate what with me being a very sensible and coy chickadee. Had I been with you, I probably would have curled up in a ball and died as you suggested it!
Yes, it seems to be the case. Maybe next year will be different; normal and uneventful. 🙂

Oh Jules! I’m sorry but that’s so funny! At least you’ve had every woman’s dream of being saved by firemen even though you weren’t at your best. Maybe that will be the elixir that cures you!

No need to be sorry, Jane. I do believe that the Blog Gods’ wait with sardonic humour to throw things in my path.

Maybe that is so, cured by rescue remedy! 🙂

I’m sure that one of the firemen will call you and ask if he can rub vicks on your chest for you or make you chicken soup. You DID give them your number when you called the emergency number.

Ok, one thing more – you did put on your emergency clown nose before trying to open the elevator door didn’t you? I know that you did… no, you didn’t or the door would have flown open magically. Clowns are imbued with near super natural power. Does Superman have power with out the cape on? Not so much.

So with the means to escape (explained in paragraph 2 above), and still choosing to call the fire department, we must analyze this (imagine me bald, wearing a sweater with patches on the elbows, puffing on a pipe and speaking with a German accent). Anyway, get well soon and avoid that parking lot in the future even though it’s free. And the crap from Sweden may actually be “crap”, from Sweden. Avoid buying fermented urine from Sweden no matter how stridently the hippie from the store advocates for it. I suggest you make the hippie test it first in the future.

Larry, seriously, as I rummaged through my bag I saw my nose and considered it but then worried in case they arrested me for messing around! I just wanted to get out! Had I been in my normal, psychopathic mindset I totally would have put it on.

As it happens, I can imagine you bald, wearing a jumper with patches, puffing on a pipe and speaking in a German accent. However, you will also need a bodywarmer and an axe.

I’m going to use the Swedish rubbish in various experiments and see what happens. Then I’m going to annihilate the hippy. With my clown nose ON!

>Avoid buying fermented urine from Sweden
That’s culturally insensitive of you, LL. There are many benefits to drinking urine. And the way Sweden is going, there will be demand for quality drinking (and washing-in) urine. If they can keep the damned camels from freezing to death, that is.

Jules, in addition to the ever-handy concealed clown nose it sounds like you need to accessorize with a Halligan tool as well. Not sure that a person could wear it down the back of her ballroom gown a la Diana of Themiscyra, however.

Who knew camels could be so useful…

Mike, I do need one. I think that all I need is my nose, a Halligan crowbar in one hand and a red balloon on a string in the other. That alone would keep people far away from me without having to say a word. I’d never get ill again 🙂

I don’t mean to be indelicate Jules but that was laugh out loud funny. Thanks for sharing. This event (or chain of events) would of course only happen to you. 🙂

On the other hand, it’s entirely possible that a unicorn may have jammed up the lift mechanism works and not the result of crappy maintenance or bad juju. It’s my understanding that unicorns have an international conspiracy network. Considering that you are partially responsible for vaporizing one in Virginia and another in Texas, the word may be out on you for a contract “hit”. Just sayin’. Better arm up. Watch your back. 🙂

Haha! Thanks, ‘Nox and you are quite right, this would not happen to anyone else. I’m sure I’m being stalked and pranked!

Oooh… good point. Maybe the unicorn lovers are onto me and the magical unicorn is trying to throw its magical dust in my way. Unicorns are the new Gremlins! Don’t worry, I am armed with all manner of dangerous things in my handbag and I reckon that Swedish elixir would knock the herd clean out dead! if not, I’ll get some Skillets! 🙂

It could only happen to you my lovely……but made for a good read…..I’m sat here crying with laughter…Happy new year to you hun xx

I know! All I wanted was a simple 5 minute prance around in the fresh air and look what happens!

At least you’re laughing – that’s a good thing. Laughter is the best thing ever. Even at my expense! Happy New Year, gorgeous 🙂 xx

What an adventure! I saw a movie about a hunky, barely dressed, firemen who rescued a scantily-clad girl and in appreciation she… actually… never mind.

Aren’t there any proper medications that can help you through this? And I don’t mean the recreational kind.

Happy New Year, kitten.

We need to have a chat about the movies you’re watching, M.

I’ve had proper meds and …they failed. Maybe I actually need some camel urine as Mike C above suggests. What? No magic shrooms?

Happy New Year, Petal 😉

What happened to Japing Ape? Do you know? I hope he’s okay.

Yes, he’s fine. He’s enjoying life to the full and has no time to blog presently 🙂

I got trapped in an elevator when I was 5. since then i’ve been deathly afraid of elevators, I step not onto them, avoid them like the plague, use escalators instead. escalators make everyone look silly, you’re just standing there, not doing anything, waiting for your step to hit the comb. the thing is, I wouldn’t have known about this incident had my mom not told me about it. the power of storytelling. it would have flown out of my young nebulous memory and I wouldn’t have given elevators a second thought, I would step onto each one like clockwork. even when those elevator doors scarily close and shut on you, trapping you in a windowless box…

btw, I figured out the Trivago Guy’s name: Fire Marshall Bill


I’ve heard some nasty stories about escalators too and people falling into chasms at the bottom! And stairs – more people end up in the hospital because of stairs than anything else! The secret is to neither ascend or descend and to keep oneself on level ground.

Fire Marshall Bill! He does breakfast too? Of course. He can do everything! *)

Well, that’s a superb way to say goodbye to 2017, Jules.
We eagerly await your antics in 2018!

That Swedish stuff? I think you’re supposed to rub it in.

Thank you, Masher. Maybe this will be the year I experience a sedate and no-nonsense lifestyle and blend in like the grey man.

I think so too. It’s cheaper than St Tropez tan to boot! 🙂

Cold comfort now that the ordeal’s over but next time you’re stuck in a lift and it plummets, simply jump up before it hits the ground while shouting “Arlene Foster.”

Get well!!!

Yes, LSP – Strong leadership for a better…errr….future….

I think I’ll shout Ebeneezer! 🙂

Anyone got any Veras?!?


Got any salmon?


Must make a note to recommend “The Only Way is Up” to be the new lift music in that establishment…

Hahahahaha! I like it! You can come again, sir!

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