2AM. Saturday morning.
I have only a few hours until I have to get up for work, but I’m wide awake. And sleep isn’t going to come easily.
Why aren’t I asleep?
Because I’ve just had a nightmare.
Yes, like a little kid, a bad dream has jolted me awake and now I’m lying in the dark, every noise transformed into something ominous by fear.
The dream started off well enough, with me as a cowboy. There was a shoot out between James Stewart and Audie Murphy, which left both dead. And then undead Audie got to his feet. Yes, Walking Dead style, it didn’t take a bite, but I blame George A. Romero as I’d been thinking about his movies a lot in the last week and eager to watch Dawn of the Dead again. Perhaps this was my subconscious’ tribute to the director?
I managed to cuff Jimmy before he revived, but Audie bit another person. Having dropped the most decorated zombie in Hollywood, I saw the other zombie pursuing my cat, Midnight. Out of bullets (isn’t that always the way?), I hastily ran and shoved the zombie into a side room and grabbed Midnight.
Unfortunately the living dead opened the door and seized me from behind. It went to bite my neck.
At this point I awoke, but still gripped by the fading terror of the nightmare, I actually awoke in the process of throwing my elbow in defence.
Luckily the biter had come from the right and I was elbowing thin air. On the left and I would have clocked MWF in the face and probably sporting a shiner. And I suspect that her coworkers would have heard “my boyfriend elbowed me in the face while asleep because of a nightmare” and assumed it was a flimsy excuse, a slightly more inventive version of “I walked into a door”.
Luckily, Pumpkin, who in the dream was sensible enough to avoid the walkers, jumped into the bed and huddled in by my arm. Stroking him calmed me down and eventually I fell back asleep. And this time, without any nightmares.
Thank the gods for cats.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.
Would you rather be famous when you’re alive and forgotten when you die or unknown when alive but famous after death?
I think I’d actually prefer to have a legacy that lived on after me than be famous. I don’t think I’d be well suited for fame.
Like most people I’ve daydreamed about being famous and rubbing shoulders with celebrities, but I think the reality would be far less fun. You’d probably find out people you admire are idiots, and get fed up with being bothered. I also don’t think I’d play the game well and wind up putting my foot in it a fair few times, which would be embarrassing.
…die if you don’t slap a new person on the butt every 12 hours or die if you didn’t kill somebody every year?
Crikey. That’s a tough one.
Obviously I don’t want to murder anyone, but the alternative is slapping a stranger every twelve hours. While you might be able to arrange some of them to be consensual, you’d probably struggle to find a new person for every time, and then you’re entering the realms of what could be seen as sexual harassment.
So, one murder every year could actually hurt less people.
And I mean, I could pick my victims? Mercy killings? Would that justify it? Is killing anyone ever justified?
…have an unlimited international first class ticket or never have to pay for food in a restaurant again?
Right, the restaurant one sounds like the better deal. You eat out more often than you travel aboard, so in the long run you’d actually save more cash.
But the thing is, I can already go to restaurants, but my travel options are more limited.
Travel is a lot of cash in one go, whereas restaurants are smaller expenses but more often. So, I’d pick the first class ticket and go to places that otherwise I wouldn’t be able to.
…eat rice with every meal or eat bread with every meal?
Umm, bread I guess. It goes with more stuff, you can use it to mop up sauces and probably wouldn’t get boring as quickly as rice.
…be hired for a well paid job you lied to get and have no idea what to do or be about to give the most important presentation of your life and forget all the material you had prepared?
The presentation, I reckon I could blag that for a short time as opposed to spending ages at the job pretending to know what I’m doing. That just seems exhausting, so I’d opt for the brief humiliation over the long term faff.
…be an amazing artist but not be able to see the art you produce or a great musician who can never hear what they’ve played?
Man, this one is kinda complicated, as both would suck.
On balance I’d go for the artist option, because once the painting is done I wouldn’t need to look at it again, whereas as a musician I think there’s probably some satisfaction in hearing your own stuff and witnessing people enjoying it.
…every shirt you wear be itchy or only be able to use 1 ply toilet paper?
The itchy shirt would be more annoying and impractical, and you’d look like you had fleas or something.
And with the toilet paper you could always fold it over. Simple.
…teleport anywhere or be able to read minds?
I’ve never seen the appeal of telepathy, which is always portrayed as this great power to have. But I imagine it would cause more problems, as you’d be bound to hear some stuff you didn’t want to know.
But teleportation? That would be pretty sweet, mainly because I could sleep later and still make it to work on time, and also for generally getting about. And let’s face it, you’d rather be Nightcrawler than Professor X, wouldn’t you?
Agree with my choices or think I’m completely wrong? Let me know in the comments. BETEO.
I went to the doctor’s on Friday. Fear not, reader, I’m not ill but I have been iffy recently and thought better to have a check up in case it turned out to be something I could fix.
After a quick exam I was asked to hop on the scales.
This is par for the course, at least for chubsters like me. I get it. Weight can be an exacerbating factor for many things and a doc should prompt you to get fitter in the same way they should tell people to quit smoking, health promotion is part of their job.
I don’t get when people complain about doctors advising them to lose weight, I mean, sure it should be approached tactfully, but what do you expect them to do? Ignore something that might be detrimental to your health?
So, logically I don’t mind. But I still feel embarrassed. Of course, it was about to get worse.
I stepped on and the shot round like Usain Bolt in a jetpack.
In fact it shot right by the last number.
Yes, my weight was beyond the measurements of the scale.
If only blushing burnt calories. I’d have dropped half a stone easy.
The Doc, without a word, fetched a second scale. This had a display screen. This could show my weight.
I know I’m big. I didn’t expect to step off at 10st or something. But seeing it in black and white hammers home.
Before uni, I was the lightest I had been for years. I was jogging, eating better and walking everywhere. I’m now back where I started in 2011, where I got on the scales for the first time in years.
The weight loss resolution is dead in the water. Penny pinching for the wedding meant I had to stop Chub Club. Laziness and apathy has seen my weight tick up slowly. Worse, I knackered my knee last year and that means jogging is out.
The doctor advised power walking. I have become Harold Bishop.
Dropping weight for the wedding seems a folorn hope. 5 months to go. Suit fitting in a month. I can shift a bit by October, hopefully, but it won’t be a lot.
Looking good and being comfortable in Florida looks unlikely.
The blame lies with me, and I need to buck up and sort this out. I can’t run, but there’s a local gym. It has a pool, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.
I have to do better.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.
Would you rather be the best in the world at climbing trees or the best in the world at jumping rope?
I think I would go for the trees, because that’s probably something I’d enjoy more. I could be a nature photographer or something, climbing up to get pictures of the critters and whatnot.
Being able to jump rope well wouldn’t help as I’m not a Victorian schoolgirl or a boxer.
Would you rather live in a cave or a tree house?
Tree house. Aside from people terrified of the slightest height, who would pick the cave? Especially as some tree houses are pretty awesome.
Would you rather have everything on your phone (browser history, pictures etc.) accessible to anyone who Googles you or never use a cell phone again?
The inconvenience of not having a phone would be pretty annoying, especially as I like using my phone as a distraction. But at the same time, would I rather lose that and have my personal stuff shared?
I guess I’d have to sacrifice my phone. Because while it’s highly unlikely people would be Googling me, I’d rather not run the risk of some random getting my emails and text messages.
Would you rather be accidentally responsible for the death of a child or accidentally responsible for the deaths of three adults?
If I’m picking one or the other surely the “accidental” part is out the window? Because you’re choosing one of the options to happen?
This is a really tough one, because like most normal people killing a child is utterly beyond the pale, but it’s rather hard to condemn three over one. Logically you should pick the kid, but there’s that emotional aspect that just messes with you.
This is a rough one. I guess I’d pick the kid, because I think the loss of three adults would have a much wider impact on the world, and the guilt over three lives is bound to be more intense, surely?
Would you rather all plants scream when they are cut/picked or animals beg for their lives when killed?
I imagine that animals make a lot of noise anyway, but as I’m not responsible for killing my own food I don’t have to face that. On the other hand, with plants I do cut the grass occasionally and pick blackberries so the screams would impact my life more.
So, I’d rather animals beg for their lives, simply because I don’t have to hear them.
I wonder if we did have to kill our own food more of us would be veggies?
Would you rather lose your best friend or all of your friends except your best friend?
I don’t really have a best friend, more like a circle of friends who are at the same level. So, I’d probably pick to keep that little group at the cost of everyone else than the other way round as I’ve been mates with them for years, and can probably do without the more distant friends and acquaintances better.
Would you rather have the police hunting you for a murder you didn’t commit or a psychopathic clown hunting you?
I hate clowns.
At least the cops would have to abide by certain rules and hopefully could be convinced of my innocence. But a psycho clown? Probably not open to reason.
And I’d be freaked out the whole time. So, I’d take the police option. Unless I thought there was a chance I could take the clown.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.
Would you rather find your true love or a suitcase with £5m inside?
Well, as I’ve already met my true love I’m set for that, so the £5m would be a lot more useful.
Would you rather be completely invisible for one day or be able to fly for one day?
If this was a long term thing I would pick flight because I just think that would be cooler, and I think being invisible would be more annoying than people think.
But for one day it might be quite fun to sneak around and see what goes on behind closed doors, and I don’t mean that in a creepy “go into the girls’ showers” way. I think it would be interesting to go snooping in the corridors of power or just see what celebrities do in their own homes.
Basically I’m a nosy bugger.
Would you rather have to read aloud every word you read or sing everything you say out loud?
It has to be the singing, doesn’t it?
As embarrassing as that would be, imagine having to read out every text message you received, or every private letter or email? Not only would you look a bit of a numpty but you’d also potentially embarrass others and create all kinds of dramas.
So, on this one I’d rather walk around singing everything like a tone deaf Phantom.
Would you rather live a comfortable and peaceful life in a small cabin in the woods or life full of conflict in a mansion in the city?
Small cabin in the woods. Who wants conflict all the time? Easy one, that.
Would you rather your shirts always be two sizes too big or one size too small?
As an insecure fat man, I would obviously go for the two sizes too big. I hate clothes that cling to me, as they seem to accentuate my belly and other wobbly bits.
That being said, I was once told by a girl in a club that I’d look better in less baggy clothes. It was a while back after I’d lost some weight and the shirt was hanging off me, but it was an odd backhanded compliment to receive from a stranger.
Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?
Sweating syrup sounds utterly revolting. You’d be sticky all the time when it got hot, have to change your sheets every day and get chased by bees all the damn time.
Edible spaghetti hair for me, I think.
Would you rather be lost in a bad part of town or lost in the woods?
Neither seems ideal, but at least a bad part of town has streets and signposts so that I could work my way out. I’d rather that than blindly stumbling through the woods, running into who knows what.
Also, call me soft but even in “bad parts” of town most people are basically alright and if you asked for directions they’d help you out.
In the woods I’d have to try and remember things like what side of the tree moss grows on, or pray to find someone out in the woods.
Disagree? You know what to do. BETEO.
Farmer Giles looked up in the sky, just as a bird pooed in his eye, said Farmer Giles “Thank goodness cows can’t fly”
My grandad died the other week, after a short spell in hospital. He was 86, and when he was admitted it was clear that his time was coming to an end.
The poem at the start is something my Bampa told us when we were kids and in the days after his passing popped into my sister’s head.
Memories are what we are left with when a loved one passes on. Memories which define how we carry on the person inside us.
My grandad and I didn’t always get on. As I grew into a lazy, geeky teen he must have felt that we had little in common. Bampa had worked since he was 14, and was a traditional man in many ways, he could make things, he could fix things, and I suspect he saw me as soft. My long hair annoyed him and he’s often tell me that “two years in the army” would sort me out.
But I know he loved me. And all of his family. He didn’t say it, I don’t think he knew how. He came from a time when men didn’t talk about their feelings, or even admit they had them.
But we knew. It was there in the fact he always asked how we were doing, in the small kind moments and the way he was with us. The pride he had in the achievements of his kids and grandkids. He was never soft, but there was warmth and gentleness there.
He and my Nan were married for over 50 years, and they seem to have spent most of that time bickering. If there is an afterlife they’ve probably started back up again.
I choose to remember Bampa in his house with my Nan. Winking at us as he deliberately wound her up or teased her. Of telling us the same jokes over and over, but his delight in them and the delivery always raising a smile even if you groaned first.
I remember him telling stories, either of his childhood mischief, no doubt exaggerated, or made up yarns which kept us hooked and begging for a few more minutes before bed. Stories of magic and ghosts, which we lapped up.
I’ll remember him whenever I watch football.
Remember the wooden goal he built in the garden so we could play, of his coaching in how to pass and head. Of his criticism of divers and talk of how it had been “in his day”, when the ball was heavy and the rules more relaxed.
His patience when I bounced around on the sofa jabbering away, trying to copy the players I loved. I’ll remember sitting next to him and my Dad at the Vetch when they took me to my first Swansea game. It rained, but I didn’t care. We won and I loved the noise and feeling grown up.
I’ll remember him and it won’t matter that he’d believe and jump on every health far the paper told him. Or that he gave me grief about my long hair.
I’ll remember him for the hero he was to me as a kid, and the man I understood better as an adult. I’ll love him for being my Bampa, and a central figure in countless happy memories.
Another batch of would you rather questions
Would you rather live as a regular person in a utopia or live in dystopia but you are the supreme ruler?
In a utopia I imagine that living as a regular person is probably alright, maybe a bit dull, but no major worries. I would have to pick that.
While I can imagine that being supreme ruler would be pretty cool, if it’s a dystopia that means that there are unhappy people out there and you’d have to deal with them trying to kill you. That would suck, and also could you really enjoy knowing that you’d made the majority of people suffer for your power and comfort?
I don’t think I’d do it, so yeah, I’d be a regular guy in a perfect world.
Would you rather be forced to kill a kitten or a puppy?
Damn, this is a dark one. Do I have to answer?
Are we talking forced as in one of those “unless you kill this animal the world ends” kinda deals? Because in that case I guess it would have to be, and don’t hate me for this, a puppy. What can I say, I’m a cat person,
Would you rather live in a haunted house where the ghosts ignored you and did their own thing or be a ghost in a house living out a pleasant and uneventful week of your life again and again?
Have the ghosts ignore me. I find it hard to imagine anyone picking the other option. Can you imagine having to go over the same week again and again. Having a house with some ghosts would definitely be the better option.
You would have proved that ghosts exist and could charge people to come see them. It has that going for it, while being a ghost yourself means that (a) you’d be stuck in a loop and (b) you would have to die!
Would you rather be famous for inventing a deadly new weapon or invent something that helps the world but which someone else gets credit for?
You’d have to be a serious egomaniac to go for the weapon option, wouldn’t you? I’d hope that the satisfaction of helping millions of people would be enough without the glory and I’d be happy to.watch the good without getting the credit.
I’d rather do that than have a name cursed for inventing something that kills people.
Would you rather move to a new city/town every week or never leave the city/town you were born in?
Moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do, so sod that. Especially as I’d be moving where I didn’t know anyone. Nope, as flawed as Swansea is, I would much rather live there than have to pack my stuff up every week. And it has perks- a lot of my friends are local, I could go see the Swans and Ospreys and I know the city quite well.
Would you rather get £5 for every song you sing in public or £50 for every stranger you kiss?
As terrible as my voice is and as much as I hate performing, I would have to become a busker or karaoke regular to make that cash. I’m a happily engaged man so have no desire to kiss strangers anymore, so I’d take the singing as I’d earn more money that way.
Would you rather live under a sky with no stars at night or under a sky with no clouds during the day?
This is probably the easiest one this time around. I would pick to have no stars. While they’re pretty to look at I just think that clouds are more useful, because of rain and also the British public aren’t ready to live in constant sunshine. We’d live in a constant state of barbecues and lobster coloured workmen.
Would you rather wake up as a new random person every year and be in control of them for a year, or one day a week go into a stranger’s body but have no control?
As appealing as living as someone else might seem, I think constantly shifting every year would be a drag. So, I guess I’d rather just go into someone else for one day a week as an observer. It might be frustrating if they were making bad choices or doing things you disagree with, but it might be interesting to see the world from a fresh angle.
Disagree with my choices? You know what to do. BETEO.
I read an article recently about why people shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving work on time. My reaction was surprise that someone would feel bad about that.
For me I always want to finish on time, if not early, and if possible I like to walk out on the dot without a backward glance.
Leaving late provokes nothing but rage. I give 37.5 hours a week to my employers as agreed, every single second over that is mine and therefore precious.
The only time I would happily leave late is if I worked flexitime, and so knew that half an hour every day Monday-Thursday would mean I could start my weekend two hours earlier on Friday. Or if I worked where you had a decent clocking in system which would add all the extra minutes over a month and pay you for them.
But most jobs don’t work that way. I’ve always for an hourly wage, and in some cases unless you go way over you don’t get paid extra. Five, ten minutes over and you’re working for free.
So, why should I feel guilty? I’ve done what I’m paid to do, and I don’t owe my employer anything beyond that.
And if I did work a salaried job 9-5 I’d expect and hope to be out by 5:01. I have a friend who was in at 7pm one evening, still at the office. Bugger that. If I stayed that late I’d have a lie in the next day, rock up at 11. Or expect a bonus.
I know some may be tutting over this, criticising my work ethic. Well to them I have one thing to say;
“Strong work ethic” sounds like a good thing.
But who is it good for? Your boss is who.
Seriously, most times someone is praised for their work ethic you may as well be praising them for making it easier for their boss to walk over them.
Staying late? Taking on extra responsibilities and duties?
Who wins? Your boss. They get more of your time for the same price, or more work out of you. If you work somewhere that wants you to routinely finish late or have to do more than what you’ve signed up for your boss probably needs to hire more staff.
Your strong work ethic helps them to save money by not hiring and paying somebody else. And you’re stopping someone else from having a job. Bravo.
The employee-boss relationship is a deal. You exchange your time and toil for their cash. As long as you meet your half of the bargain (agreed hours and duties) then you deserve the payment. If they want you to exceed that they should match that increase, if they’re not going to, then screw ’em.
You kept your part of the deal, now get your arse home.
Because nobody is going to be on their deathbed lamenting the fact they didn’t spend more time at work. Go home. Have fun. See your loved ones.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.
The M5 slowed to a crawl as the cars filtered into the inside lane to pass a lorry standing still in the middle lane. In the outside lane was a car facing the wrong way, the driver side of the bonnet mangled, showing the cause of the delay.
Truck vs car.
Luckily all seemed unhurt and two other cars had stopped to help set up those high viz emergency triangle things.
We drove by and moved back into the middle lane, overtaking a black car on the inside.
The driver, a young bloke in his early twenties was on his phone. Not talking but actually typing on his phone as his passenger dozed next to him.
“That guy’s on his phone.” I commented.
“What?” Asked MWF.
“That guy is using his phone. And we’ve literally just passed an acc-”
The rest of the sentence was drowned out by a loud blaring horn. The texting driver looked up in shock, his passenger jolted awake, startled and confused.
“GET OFF YOUR PHONE! YOU IDIOT!” Roared MWF.
That should have been it. Admonished for his wrongdoing, the driver should have put down his phone and thanked his lucky stars that we weren’t cops who would have handed him 6 points and a £1000 fine.
But it wasn’t. Using the phone might have been a one off but he was about to prove that he was a bad driver.
He gunned after us, tailgating before overtaking and cutting us up.
It was a pathetic display of the male ego hurt, with the moron unable to accept he had been called out for doing something criminal and possibly dangerous. He doubled down on the danger by putting others at risk in what was clearly intended as intimidation.
And he wasn’t done.
Coming up to a junction he moved into the inside lane and we were passing alongside to carry on. As we were passing he swerved towards us and then took his turning heading for Penshore.
It’s a shame none of us got his number plate, but one hopes karma finds him and next time he uses his phone a copper spots him.
It seems like him losing his licence would be the best outcome, as he clearly lacks the patience and maturity to handle the responsibility of driving. His pride hurt his response was to become more reckless and stupid.
Don’t be a dick at the wheel, someone could get hurt.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.
So, I recently found this list of “Would You Rather?” questions and thought they might be quite good to do as blog posts. It’ll give me something to write when I’m blocked and I figure I can run them as a regular feature on the blog. If you agree or disagree with my decisions or arguments then feel free to comment down at the bottom. Let’s dive in (decided to shuffle through randomly apart from first three):
Would you rather always be 10 minutes late or 20 minutes early?
Initially I was going to say I’d rather be late because getting there early is a drag and sitting around waiting for someone always makes me feel awkward. But then I thought being ten minutes late would actually be more frustrating, you’d miss the start of things and more importantly always piss your mates off. So I’d go for always being early, and just make sure I took a book or had my phone charged.
Would you rather lose all your money and valuables or all of the photos you’ve ever taken?
Call me mercenary, but I’d rather lose all the photos I’ve ever taken. I’d be able to take more photos. Thankfully I’m at a stage where I can still remember all the good times I’d want photos of, and I think it would be easier to live without them than all the cash I have.
Would you rather be able to see 10 minutes into your future or 10 minutes into the future of anyone but yourself?
I’m not entirely sure on this one, because seeing ten minutes ahead for you would be interesting but would rob you of any surprises. Ten minutes into someone else’s future might actually be cooler and more interesting. I think if you could swap who you saw that would be awesome, because you could be ahead of the curve on everything.
I’d also be able to be a great reporter as I’d always update quickly.
Would you rather be an average person today or a king 2500 years ago?
I can definitely see the appeal of being a king.
But I imagine that life 2500 years ago would be kinda dull even as a royal. No novels? No pop music? Lower life expectancy? Superstition running wild? Nah, I think I’ll stay an average Joe today.
Would you rather have no fingers or no elbows?
My first instinct was to get rid of my elbows, but then I realised how awkward it would be to walk around with constantly straight arms. It would make life so much harder and would mean I couldn’t do things like hug MWF or hold my kids in the future. So, I guess I’d have to get rid of my fingers. I just think there’s more in place to help with that than to assist an elbowless man.
Would you rather get tipsy from one sip of alcohol and ridiculously drunk from just one alcoholic drink or never get drunk regardless of how much you drink?
Tipsy off one sip would be pretty cool. I mean, it’d be easier to avoid getting absolutely hammered, as you would just not drink past a sip or two, and you’d save money to reach the fun drunk stage.
Never getting drunk would be annoying, you’d go on a night out and just be sober until the end. As someone who needs a bit of a buzz to really cut loose on the dance floor it would mean I’d never dance again, which while no loss to the world of dance would be a bummer as I quite like a boogie.
Would you rather always be able to see 5 minutes into the future or always be able to see 100 years into the future?
If it was a one time thing I would pick the 100 years option because it’d be quite cool to see where we are in a century’s time, but if it’s something I do a lot then I think the five minutes is more useful. I mean, it’d be great for gambling purposes but also be rather handy for other stuff, like fighting crime. I’m assuming I see five minutes ahead but can impact or react to it. Seeing what is going to happen with no control would just be a pain.
But how creepy would it be to look five minutes into the future and just see nothing?
Would you rather randomly time travel =/- 20 years everytime you fart or teleport to a different place on Earth (on land, not middle of ocean) whenever you sneeze?
I’m assuming you come back, right? Like fart one is forward twenty and then the second fart brings you back? And the same principle for the sneezes, right? For the purpose of this question I’m using that as the rule.
I would go for the farting one. For starters, I sneeze more often than I fart so it’s less of an inconvenience, and I also seem to sneeze when I get out of the shower, so I’d wind up just turning up at different places naked and confused. Also, I could jump into a very dangerous situation, like a less fun version of Quantum Leap.
And while that idea might seem funny to you, and might produce hilarious consequences I feel it would more likely create embarrassing and potentially legally hazardous ones.
Top 5 Worst Places to Just Appear Naked:
- A school, I don’t want to be on a register or scare/traumatise some kids.
- One of those strict countries where I’d probably get lashes/prison unless I could sneeze again.
- Middle of the pitch during a major sporting event, in front of thousands in attendance and millions, and millions, watching at home.
- Inside Buckingham Palace or the White House, as might get shot by security forces.
- Porn set. I can live without having to compare myself physically to a porn star in person.
Would you rather spend two years with your soulmate only to have them die and you never love again or spend your life with someone nice you settled for?
First of all, I don’t believe in soulmates. The whole idea seems daft to me, I think you’re a full person on your own and don’t need someone to complete you.
Also, I would rather have a long life with someone nice than two years and then loneliness until death. So, yeah, I’d pick the “settle” option, although the phrasing is a little harsh. I think knowing they were going to kick the bucket after two years would actually be even worse.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.