The Lesser Weevil

Pub Quiz Genius

2010-10-24T18:28:00.000-07:00

For hours you have blessed us with your learned points of view
On everything from head gaskets to who shot Fu Man Chu.
We now know all there is to know about all three World Wars;
The Inca’s who shot Hitler; UHT patio doors.
We were surprised to be informed that Bono sings with Queen;
But how could we dispute this, after all their gigs you’ve seen.
And what a turn up for the books, to find that Dido’s dead!
Extinct for the last century, as I recall you’d said.
And we had simply no idea that Elton once wed Cher
You’re right, of course; a sorry shock for such a well-matched pair.
Nor did we know, we foolish few, that good old JFK
Made chicken, southern fried and finger-licking good, you say.

It’s been a joy to meet you and I’m so glad that I came
When I might just have stayed at home and licked a window pane.
It’s clear I’m much more stupid than I’d ever realised,
And I so love to spend my evenings being patronised.
Feel free to call me any day and we’ll do lunch some time.
Yes, please do take my number: Got a pen? It’s 9-9-9
Oh dear! Have I offended? Why, I must apologise,
Though now I come to think of it, a 'date' might not be wise.
I’ve come to the conclusion (though it’s rare that I do that)
That you are genuinely a complete and total prat.

THE PERFECT FIND

2010-06-21T16:58:00.000-07:00

In response to yet another challenge that I couldn't write a peom about navel fluff.

To all those young and sprightly things

Seeking that perfect man;

I sympathise with your demise,

But criticise your plan.

You wine and dine, Ad Nauseime

And bill and coo all night.

But how in blazes can you tell

If HE is Mr Right?

You ‘shoop-shoop’ all you want, my dear -

His kiss will tell you nowt!

You’ll need to search much lower, if

You’re ever to find out.

No house, car, eyes, nor bank account

Will tell you quite enough.

Pish-Tush! My dear – the answer’s clear –

It’s in his navel fluff!

At your first chance - disco or dance,

Even if you must shout,

You must demand “Here! In my hand!”

And make him GET IT OUT!

There is a knack to fluff ‘attack’-

Know what you’re looking for.

Dead cookies, crumbs, tortilla chips -

Your outlook’s pretty poor.

Cat Hairs – no way – a Mummy’s Boy!

You’ll find no comfort there.

Grass seed? The Weed!! Retreat at speed –

Been trulling the Au Pair!

Is it ALL fluff? The man’s a puff!

He grooms his Teddy gaily;

Is it all grime? Will he have time -

Working sixteen hours daily?

Do you smell beer? – No WAY, my dear!

He spilt it there last night!

He’ll hock the kids and eat the dog

While spoiling for a fight!

Did you find NONE? You’d better run!

He’s covered all his tracks!

A shifty one who’ll ‘carry on’

Behind our very backs.

No, no; The balance must portray

A steady homely chap

Unmoved by half-dressed bimbo’s who

Cavort across his lap.

PTFE Tape, Superglue,

Show merit of some kind.

A tea-bag or an oven mitt

Are also good to find.

Whatever ‘tis you’re looking for

You’ll find out for yourself

The reason why – at 49 -

I’m left here on the shelf!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATIE!!

2010-03-23T17:10:00.000-07:00

I just want to hijack my Blog for a moment to wish my 'little' girl a very happy 28th birthday today! We're off to Salisbury for a girl's day out and to meet a pen-friend of hers for coffee. So everybody please pray for sunshine and that my knackered old Ford Galaxy will go the distance!

THE QUEST FOR PERFECTION

2010-03-22T16:56:00.000-07:00

Today you are told it’s so GOOD to be thin!

And trendy to look like a stick.

Fad diets appear every week, month and year

Which you follow although you fall sick.

You’re force-fed with increasingly perverted ways

Of shedding that last ounce of health.

A nation of rabbits allergic to carrots;

The writers’ sure-fire source of wealth.

A cheese and egg sandwich just isn’t the same,

Without some bat scrotum and chips.

Burnt essence of Panda, freeze dried Salamander,

Did THEY have two stone round their hips?

As you crawl ‘cross the floor, croaking weakly for more

Of that Wombat pube extract, you know

If you take it you’ll surely grow sick, weak and poorly,

But, SOD IT! At least you won’t GROW!!!

Toad testis on toast; Gibbon Snibbles; CAT ROAST!!

The list is as strange as it’s long!

Some things no sane person would feed to a pig

And would rather not keep for the pong!

So WHY DO YOU DO IT? Why punish yourselves?

This quest for perfection’s soooo LAME!

Give up! Just accept it! I’m simply the best

And you’ll NEVER turn out quite the same!

WHAT COMES AFTER A BUN IN THE OVEN?

2010-02-22T15:53:00.001-08:00

A baby in a pot, of course!

NEWS FLASH

2010-02-04T14:16:00.000-08:00

A recent Government sponsored report has revealed that cheap alcohol has been responsible for the deaths of over 4,000 football hooligans, teenage delinquents and 'chavs' in the last year alone. In light of these appalling figures, a key spokesperson for Tesco Stores told journalists that Britain's major retailers remained united in their determination to improve this 'disappointing' performance, but that 'Every Little Helps'".

HAPPY EASTER!!!!

2010-01-01T15:10:00.001-08:00

I'd just like to wish all of my friends a very Happy Easter, and to thank the staff at my local Alzheimers Group who have been a tower of strength to me.

WILL HAMES - 60 TODAY!!

2009-12-31T14:38:00.000-08:00

Today I wish to hijack my blog to wish my mate Will Hames a very happy 60th birthday. His barmy poems have kept us all amused for many hours and his sense of fun and silliness has spread a little sunshine over some fairly gloomy times. I only hope that now he has his bus pass, he can find the time to write some more - if you haven't seen his blog, then shame on you - you should have; so click the link on mine and enjoy!

So, Many Happy Returns, Will - and many, many more to come.

Oh .... and a Happy New Year to you also!

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

2009-12-24T14:17:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to wish everybody out there in blog-land a very

Happy Christmas!!

May your sprockets be sprinkled with Santa's Magic Dust and may your doobreys be daubled with holly - and if Holly won't join in the fun, I know a girl who will (I'll be happy to arrange an appointment on a commission basis)

RUDOLPH THE RED-FACED REINDEER

2009-12-23T15:12:00.000-08:00

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
Couldn't even pull a nag
'Cos he forgot his condoms -
Left 'em all in Santa's bag.
All of the other reindeers
Laughed and jeered at his mishap
'Cos after last year's party
Rudie'd ended up with clap.
Then one frosty Christmas Eve
Santa came to say
"Rudolph, with your 'appetite',
You're off to the Vets' tonight".
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
Snorted loud and angrily
And in a flash of hoof prints
Kicked Santa into New Year's Eve.

Here's hoping you all have a very Happy Christmas and a disgracefully prosperous New Year.

CHRISTMAS CRUNCH CAROL

2009-12-21T17:24:00.000-08:00

Sung to the tune of "Good King Wencelas"

Arnold Wencelas looked out
For his best mate Steven
On their yearly drinking bout
When the odds were even
Brightly shone the scotch that night
Though the cost was cruel
Spent the rent and housekeeping
Now they’ve got no fu-u-el.

Christmas trees and fairy lights
Spent all Daddy's bonus
Everything on tabs and cards
Credit with no onus
Mobiles phones, designer clothes,
There is no tomorrow
More food than a would ever keep
Africa from so-o-rrow.

Kids are good at keeping warm
And self-entertaining
Now there’s no food left to eat
What’s the use complaining?
Had to have the latest games
And an iPod Nano
They can always burn their beds
And poor Nan’s Pia-a-no.

Social Services arrived
Took away the babies
Neighbours look the other way
Like they all have rabies
Bailiffs joined the happy throng
Took away the cooker
TV and the DVD
Now thier Mum's a hoo-oo-ker.

Why do some folk feel the need
For all these excesses?
Do they actually think
That this shit impresses?
Christmas is the time of now
Future ain’t yet he-re
Burn the bills to keep them warm
There’ll be more next ye-e-ear!

ANOTHER SPANNER IN THE WEEK

2009-11-21T17:57:00.001-08:00

I am sorry to report that I have another Spanner to award this week.

This one goes to the parents of all teenagers in the Chippenham area. It's clear to me that these people are willfully allowing their 'litter' out on the streets of our fair town, whilst in full and evident possession of BOTH legs - I ask you! I have even seen some with EYES!! Aside from being in clear breach of the Rights of Arseholes Act 2006, it is to the clear detriment of the peaceful townfolk here and it should be stopped now! - There is a petition, you know. We are due to present it to the Hon. James Grey M.P. - he being a most distinguished pillock of the community here and righteously legless at most times. What is more, if HIS mother allows him out with HIS eyes, he keeps them firmly shut at all times.

When I was a girl, we were NEVER allowed out with both legs. We were only released moments before school lessons were due to start, 27 miles away, in which case we had no choice but to stick together and run like billy-ho!! It also saved unecessary expense on wear to school socks, as we only needed one at a time - we didn't indulge in such frippery as shoes until we got to University.

We had appointed eye-ball time, in which we could do our homework, pick thorns out of our feet and plan the invasion of France (only on Saturdays, as it was closed the rest of the week, but that was before the Common Market and Cliff Richards were invented).

But with our new Neighbourhood Watch, we have had our successes. Oh yes! By far the most pleasing result has come with the approaching Yuletide preparations. We have managed to dispose of a fair number of 'unsavouries' by handwashing them in a stiff solution of steaming Persil (colourfastness isn't really an issue here). We them steam dry them until they shrink and we hang them out by their ears to finish off. We have managed to successfully flog all of our little home-made 'elves' to Father Christmas who, as you know, is getting so desperate this time of year, he has his own impress service.

Must dash - the Rozzers are here and they've got another one for me, so I'd better go and put the kettle on - or should I say kettles - all 16 of them - it's thirsty work!

THE CURIOUS BALLAD OF LADLE & FLIMP

2009-11-13T03:58:00.000-08:00

In the heated night of daytime,
In the near-off land of Grimp;
There lived a fork called Ladle
And his wife, whose name was Flimp.
They lived downstairs in an attic
In a house made out of bread
With ironing boards for curtains
And a lightbulb flower-bed.
They feasted on raw jam jar toast
And cornflakes made of cheese.
Fed tintacks to the Nubby Mice
That sang up in the trees.
They had a son called Betsy
And a daughter, Alfred, too.
They took them to the library
To feed the kangaroos.
They took them to the circus
To buy their weekly food,
But for an extra special treat
They’d sit at home and brood.
In summer they ate hot beef soup;
In winter, all new born
Were wrapped up tight in icicles
To keep them nice and warm.
Down from the tin-can rain clouds
Came showers of warm tea,
And lovely custard rainbows
Shone cross the sponge-cake sea.
Grimps, closing their umbrellas,
In crowds alone did cry,
Then all ran out into the rain
To keep them nice and dry.
Grimp had a mayor called Mayi -
He’d changed his name just so
When people called “Mayor Mayi …”
He could retort with “No!!”.
Each year they held a Festival
And Coronation Night -
The crowning of Grimp King and Queen
Amidst much pomp and might.
The Grimp throne was heredit’ry
Just as it had been voted
(And counted more than six times, though
Results were never noted)
Grimp long had been the victim of
Some nasty evil Snuggles
Who terrorised the landscape
Giving everybody cuddles.
The Grimps’ idea of heaven was
Both deftly done and quick -
A nifty poke into the eye,
With pointed bendy stick.
But Snuggles they struck fear into
The hearts of everyone
(For being snuggled was the thing
Most Grimps did not like done).
The children laughed in terror,
And the cats walked for their lives;
While bachelors fair panicked
As they rounded up their wives.
Snuggle raids were pretty rare
They happened every week
Before he knew what hit him
Ladle’s chances looked quite bleak.
A soft and evil snuggle had
Caught Ladle in it’s grasp
Though Ladle fought quite bravely
Flimp could tell he would not last.
Most fearful for her husband,
As he fought to disengage,
Flimp cleverly leaned from the book
And turned over the page.
Of course this altered everything.
Folk all seemed quite bemused.
The plot became quite muddled
And the characters confused.
Flimp whispered to her husband
“But they won’t know how it ends!”
So remember … if a Snuggle asks
Just tell it they made friends.

LEST WE FORGET

2009-11-10T18:39:00.000-08:00

"They shall not grow old, as we who are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we shall remember them".

I am so very fortunate to have loved or known only a very small number of people who have had to endure the horror of war, and to have them safely returned to me. I offer my heartfelt and sincere condolences to all those who have lost and waited in vain. May we never know your pain, nor forget our enormous debt of gratitude to those you have lost, and the ultimate sacrifice they made for our continued security and freedom and the preservation of all we now hold so dear, and yet take for granted.

I send my love and gratitude to those brave men and women who today continue to fight to make our world a better place, and for risking their lives to protect those less fortunate than us around the globe. God bless and protect them all and send them home safely.

We must never forget.

RULES OF THIS HOUSE

2009-11-10T17:04:00.000-08:00

Following further earnest pleas from my long suffering and honest sweet neighbours, I felt that my family needed a firm guiding hand in order to bring our conduct more in line with the most reasonable and patient expectations of theirs downstairs. Thus, it became clear that a new set of house rules was most necessary - and here they are, as now posted outside my front door, so that all may see what an outstandingly considerate neighbour I am.

ABANDON HOPE

ALL YE WHO ENTER

(I've had to leave out the drips of blood here, as I drew those in by hand)

NO 20

RULES OF THIS HOUSE

OF THE LIVING DEAD

Understand, ‘fore you’re admitted
Laughter here is not permitted
Silence is enforced by law
Soon as you walk through this door

All those o'er one ounce in weight
Will be required to levitate
Maintaining height of one foot clear
In case the folks downstairs should hear

You may not shuffle, crawl or walk
And never EVER must you talk
Conversation’s banned outright
(As is loud breathing late at night)

All doors in this establishment
Are purely there for ornament
On no account must they be closed
(Or culprits will be rubber-hosed)

Happiness is not allowed
(Applies to those who smile out loud)
If you should titter, bawl or bray
You will be caused to 'go away'

Claims I once kept a sense of humour
I deny as wicked rumour
There are no humans in this house
‘Tis fit for only dumb, mute mouse

So, unless you’re already dead
Please sod off somewhere else instead!

LAUGHTER REALLY IS THE BEST MEDICINE

2009-11-09T14:09:00.000-08:00

After what has been the most miserable and depressing day I have had the misfortune in experiencing for many a moon, I needed cheering up - BADLY! I started surfing the Internet. I know. Should've been getting me sums done instead. But it was SO worth it. I came across a website called Comedy Central and although most of the jokes were really corny and old, I persevered and found some absolute corkers. SO ... Here for your entertainment, for one night only, courtesy of Comedy Central (who, I hope, will forgive me on account of me pluggin their website repeatedly) are my favourites:

Q: Where would you find a turtle with no arms or legs?
A: Wherever you put it - dumbass!

Q: What's black and white and goes "Moof"?
A: A cow with buck teeth.

Q: What is a wok?
A: Something you'd throw at a wabbit.

Q: What's invisible and smells like carrots?
A: Bunny-farts (I'm sorry, but I laughed like a schoolboy when I read that one!)

Q: What do you call a dog with no legs?
A: Anything you like mate. He won't come when you call.

Q: Why did the chicken stop in the middle of the road?
A: I guess she just wanted to lay it on the line.

AND FINALLY:

A cowboy meets an Indian riding out on the plains. The Indian has a dog and a sheep with him.
COWBOY: Nice dog you have there. Mind if I talk to him?
INDIAN: Dog no talk.
COWBOY (to Dog): How you doin'?
DOG: I'm very well. Thank you for asking.
COWBOY: Are you treated well?
DOG: My master treats me VERY well, thank you. He feeds me great meat, walks me every day and takes me to play in the lake every week.
The Indian is dumbstruck.
COWBOY: That's a real nice horse you have there. D'ya mind if I talk to him?
INDIAN: Horse no talk.
COWBOY (to Horse): You sure are a fine lookin' animal. How ya keepin'?
HORSE: Couldn't be better, thank you. My master treats me extremely well. I get fed the best oats; I get brushed down regularly and I have my own blanket and shelter from the wind and rain.
The Indian is gobsmacked!
COWBOY: That's a beautiful sheep you have there, too! Can I speak to him?
INDIAN: Sheep liar!

STRIKE ME!!

2009-11-07T16:29:00.000-08:00

The postal strike is OVER!!
WHOOPPEE!! Let's have some fun!
Let's rush out buying station'ry
And write to EVERYONE!

I'll write to Mad Aunt Bernard
Not seen her for a while -
I'll pop a squirrel in with it!
Now that'll make her smile.

And then I'll write to Uncle -
Old "Stinky", you recall -
His ear-trumpet's clogged up with jam,
He hears nothing at all.

And then I'll write to TFE -
And Mrs Eejit, too!
With all the gossip to catch up,
I'd fill a page or two.

I'll need a list - buy LOTS of stamps -
My God! I'll need a mortgage!!
No matter, I'll .... What's that you say?!
A bloody FUEL SHORTAGE?!!

A REPORT FROM THE BACK BENCH

2009-11-01T16:57:00.000-08:00

I’d like to announce my intention
Of becoming a flashy MP.
I’m running this coming election
And count on you voting for me.
I’d like to be a politician,
To have my opinions be known.
So what if I talk nowt but bollicks -
I’d definitely feel right at home
With my fellow fossils and tosspots,
Whom you pay to fester and moan.
By the time you poor lot have all read this
I’ve claimed expenses on your home,
(On account of my local connections -
Of course you remember, don’t you?
I looked for my dog in your driveway - That was me! Yes! 1972!!).

A WORKING GIRL

2009-10-28T16:56:00.001-07:00

I think I’ll take up prostitution.

It seems like a fun kind of game.

It’s good for the old constitution,

And shouldn’t weigh much on the brain.

I think I’ll slip out for a light bulb;

A bloomin’ great red one, just so

A gentleman wanting that service

Can easily see where to go.

I’m told that it’s quite therapeutic -

“Lie back, think of England!” they said.

Well, what could be better, I ask you,

Than spending your whole day in bed?

Before you go getting ideas

‘Bout morals and all that old ham;

I’ll not be partaking of nuttin’ ...

Oh, No! I’ve a MUCH better plan!

Of course, I rely on my past here

(So ‘Hubby’ tells everyone – Bless!);

I’m a dead loss in that small arena.

They’ll be snoring before I undress!

Then, all it requires is good acting,

So when my poor ‘client’ awakes,

I’ll be lying there flustered and panting,

Complete with ‘vapours’ and the shakes.

I’ll then profess loud and quite clearly

“Good GRIEF! Are you always that good?”

No ego on earth could resist this!

Exit one client, in EXCELLENT mood!

PS. It has just been pointed out to me that in order to ATTRACT a client in the first instance, the light bulb is OUT! It has been further suggested that I should NOT get ideas above my station in considering active participation in any form of finance-based coital activity, as the volume of cash refunds would bankrupt me within a week. Thanks. A bunch.

GRAFFITI MkII

2009-09-18T15:53:00.000-07:00

I couldn't resist having another go at these, as they are just too good to pass by:

On a church notice board: "Prepare to meet thy God" to which someone had added "evening dress optional"

"Racial prejudice is a pigment of the imagination"

"Roget's Thesaurus dominates, regulates, rules, OK, alright, adequately"

"Blow your mind - smoke dynamite!"

"Celibacy is not an inherited characteristic"

"Sudden prayers make God jump"

Outside a farmer's gate "FREE ACCESS" with a little note underneath "Until the Bull charges"

On a car park pay & display board "God isn't dead - He just couldn't find anywhere to park"

Condom machines seem to provide the best ones, such as ...
"Not for sale during French postal strike"
"The worst chewing gum I ever tasted"
"Subject to VAT if used on the premises"
"Buy me and stop one"
"Buy two - get one jump ahead"

To the question "Is there any intelligent life on earth?" someone had written "No. I'm only visiting"

Outside London's Smithfield Livestock Market "DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS" with the small print "They're all dead"

"Education kills by degrees"

"Don't let the goverment stop hire education"

"BILL STICKERS WILL BE PROSECUTED" .... "Bill Stickers is innocent"

On a University notice board "LECTURE THIS EVENING ON SCHIZOPHRENIA" to which a student had added "I've half a mind to go" before another added "I'm in two minds myself"

"THE FUTURE IS FEMALE" "Unreliable, full of broken promises, pretty to look at, but horrible to face"

Written at the very top of a urinal wall "If you can aim this far, you should be in the Fire Brigade"

"DYSLEXIA LURES, KO"

"I'm a fairy. My name is Nuff. Fairy Nuff"

On the wall of a Datsun dealership "Buy Blitish"

"I thought clap was a form of applause until I discovered Smirnoff"

"It's no good looking for a joke. There's one in your hand" on the inside wall of Gents toilet

And on another one "Christine. If you're reading this. We're through"

"Last Tuesday's meeting of the Apathy committee has just been canceled"

"Be alert" "Your country needs lerts"

And last, but not least, my favourite sickie ... "Texans are living proof that Indians screwed Buffaloes".

I've got to stop here, otherwise I'll be going all night!

PS: Click on the photo at the top of this post, to see an enlarged view. It's really quite a clever one (painted on 'the wall' in Palestine by a Bristol based Graffiti Artist called Banksy. It's really worth just typing his name into Google Images to get an idea of what he does. His work comes in different shades of thought provoking, political, outrageous, very funny and downright wicked. It's also a lot cheaper than buying one of his books!

My 5th Sentence.

2009-09-11T14:04:00.000-07:00

And, no. I am not referring to the 2yrs suspended sentence that I received for trying to help smuggle Mad Aunt Bernard out of Worthing Nick, dressed as a rutting mountain goat (she, not me). And sorry Mum - I didn't tell you about the other 4!

I am (of course) referring to Titus's invitation (that is Titus - The Dog that Blogs) that we should turn to page 161 of a book of our choice, and simply record on our blogs the content of the 5th sentence on that page.

So ... My 5th sentence reads "I will not". Well? That was good, wasn't it?

The book is The Commodore by Patrick O'Brian (one of my favourite authors of all time) and the 17th in his series charting the life and times of Captain Jack Aubrey and his 'particular friend' and ship's surgeon Dr. Stephen Maturin. At page 161 in the story, Dr. Maturin has just joined Captain (now Commodore) Aubrey for dinner in his cabin, and is declining an additional helping of roast duck, for fear of dulling his senses in preparation for a tricky operation in which he must remove bladder stones from an afflicted crew member.

The book sees Aubrey's finances and career reach exalting heights, only for his marriage to hit the rocks when he is accused of infidelity, though (on this occasion, at least) innocent in deed, if not in thought, but unable to persuade his long-suffering wife otherwise. This is a direct contrast to the flow of other titles in the series, when the Captain has been dealt repeatedly bitter blows to his finances and career prospects, only to find comfort in the arms of his dear lady wife - not to mention other men's wives on a couple of occasions (including his admiral's!).

This is my second journey through the series and never before have I been more grateful for having a brain like a colander, as I can re-read all of my favourite books again and again with the joy never diminishing.

One of my greatest disappointments, however, was in the resulting film 'Master & Commander - Far side of the world' which was supposedly based upon Mr O'Brian's novels and characters. Although Russell Crowe's portrayal of Jack Aubrey was superbly in line with the novels, as far as the script would let him; Stephen Maturin's characterisation was dreadful. The casting was superb and even as I read the books again, I can envisage Paul Bettany's wonderful little quirks and eccentricities as the good Doctor. But whoever was responsible for portraying Dr Maturin simply as a slightly dippy ship's doctor, and part-time naturalist, should be shot. In O'Brian's novels, Dr Maturin's role as ship's Surgeon is more frequently a cover for his more important role as a British Intelligence Agent - something that was completely ignored in the film, very much to it's cost. The play-offs and witticisms between the books' two main characters are, in my view, unparalleled. Also completely ignored was Maturin's personal background as the Catholic bastard son of an Irish Cavalry Officer and a Spanish Lady of high birth, giving him the wealth of connections across the world that would later prove invaluable in his intelligence work. His character provides a wonderful contrast between his endearing innocence/ignorance of all things naval (rarely able to board any vessel without falling in), and his sometimes shocking capacity to deal with lethal encounters in his intelligence work, all interspersed with his charming Irish wit (usually going straight over the more bluff Aubrey's head) and genteel forcefulness required in his various roles. No-one could blame Paul Bettany for weeping if he ever read any of O'Brians novels, as he really could (I believe) have delivered it all, if only given the chance.

Clearly, you don't have to be a member of the Boys Own Gung-ho Club to enjoy bloody good writing - whatever it's genre. I hope you might be inspired to pick up one next time you're out. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

NOTE: by purest and sweetest coincidence: Billy Boyd, who played Aubrey's coxswain (Barrett Bonden) in the film, also played Pippin in Lord Of The Rings. As a struggling actor, Boyd worked for 7 years as a book binder. One of the books he helped create was - yes - you guessed - Lord Of The Rings!

LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT

2009-09-04T18:08:00.000-07:00

The previous post that took this place
Was reconsidered a disgrace
Its style and content made quite clear
To all of those who hold me dear
That dear Mama must stay off gin
And not sit down to type agin
Unless she had recovered first
From shrieking hormonal outburst.
It may well be cleansing to write
But publishing it ain't quite right!

GRAFFITI

2009-09-03T16:23:00.000-07:00

In trawling through a pile of old paperback books that I recently bought at a Car Boot Sale, I uncovered a little gem of a book called Graffiti Lives OK, compiled by Nigel Rees (the author of Quote, Unquote). Intrigued, I just had to have a peek inside and found I couldn't put it down. Compiled in 1979 and published by Unwin, it reflects that even the 'vandals' and 'hooligans' of that age had a better sense of humour (and, often, decorum) than we are subjected to on television today. Here are just a few of my favourites.

"I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous"

Onto a "NO ACCESS" sign, some wit had added the words "Use Barclaycard"

"Give masochists a fair crack of the whip"

"Tolkein is hobbit-forming"

"French dockers rule, au quai"

"Peals of laughter, squeals of joy. I was here before Kilroy" To which the answer was added: "Shut your mouth, shut your face, Kilroy built the bloody place".

"Alas poor Yorlik, I knew him backwards"

"Saliva drools, OK"

On a signpost in Lincolnshire identifying the road "TO MAVIS ENDERBY and OLD BOLINGBROKE" were added the words "The gift of a son".

On the back of a dirty vehicle, someone had written "Don't clean me - Plant something!"

"And the meek shall inherit the earth - if that's alright with you"

"God was a woman, until she changed her mind"

The words "Cuts out oven doubt" were found written on a contraceptive vending machine.

And on another "My Dad says these don't work".

Yet another contraceptive machine professed to be "Made in Britain" and it's product "Absolutely safe and reliable", to which someone had written "Yeah? So was the Titanic!"

While in a park somewhere, someone had written "Save Trees - Eat Beavers!"

But the worst of all was "I like sadism, necrophilia and bestiality. Am I flogging a dead horse?"

I could go on - and on and on - but would love to hear if anyone else has seen or heard of any particularly witty ones.

BABBO - The true(ish) and somewhat sobering story of how the Camel really got his humps.

2009-09-01T12:36:00.000-07:00

There was, a long, long time ago,
A little camel called Babbo.
Now in those days, odd it may seem,
A camel's back was smooth as cream.
Though fair to say they looked like chumps -
This tale tells how they got their humps ...

In Babbo's day there lived a King
Who, so it seemed, owned everything.
Kind Randor, it was true, had never
Worked a single hour - not ever!
So slothful that he would no longer
Even tally up his wonga.
Now the Royal Lazy Toad
Sought further to reduce his load ...

"I know!" he cried "I'll give a prize
To any man who'll guess the size
Of all of my enormous wealth ...
This way's much better for my health ...
WELL!!? Come on up!! Each man - two tries.
Come! See if you can win the prize ..."
He'd put his servants to the test,
Though they were clearly not impressed.
Sheik Ahlegg, Keeper of the Rod,
Had simply muttered "Silly sod!"

He sent his servants far and wide
And out into the countryside
They spread the message everywhere ...
"ROLL UP! ROLL UP, SIRS (if you dare)
Guess how much gold the King had got
And WIN the silver in this pot!!"

Of course, nobody could resist
An opportunity like this.
The silver pot was such a size
They scarcely could believe their eyes.
They came from miles to have a go
To see if they could win the dough.

'T'was at this time young Babbo came
Tied to a Merchant's camel train.
The market place was well a-wash
With talk of Old King Randor's dosh.
Babbo stood close with pricked up ears,
That silver would feed him for years!
One guess was all he'd need to take ...
It really was a piece of cake!
So, off he trotted 'cross the yard
Toward King Randor's Palace guard ...

Two burly guards barked "YOU! This way!"
Poor Babbo dared not disobey.
Outside the throneroom he could hear
The sound of voices, hushed in fear.
All but for one voice - loud and shrill
(Enough to make an ice-cube chill)
King Randor sounded cold and cruel
As he screeched "Bring out the next fool!"

"Must be a hundred quid or more ..."
Said one, but he was 'shown the door'.
"There's Fifteen Thousand and Forty-Two ...
... AND fourpence ... give or take a few ..."
King Randor had this daft old clot
Beheaded, right there, one the spot.

The King, after what seemed like weeks
Of pouting lips and puffing cheeks,
Exclaimed "That's IT!! I've had ENOUGH!!!
I'm FED UP with this guessing stuff.
Fed up with fools all day and night ..."
He whined "Will NO-ONE get it right?"

"We have one more, Sire. Never fear!"
"Yes, Majesty. He's just in here".
Again, Randor began to shout
"Well don't just stand there ... BRING HIM OUT!!!"
The guards rushed in and grabbed Babbo
And dragged him out to have his go.

Well, there he stood, in finest dress,
Before the King, to take his guess.
Poor Babbo all but froze in fright
(His collar now felt very tight).
"Oi! Randor! What's with the Giraffe?!"
The Courtiers began to laugh.
"But ... I'm a Camel" he lamented
"I don't fink G'raffes have been invented".

He stared up at the throne in awe -
He'd never seen a King before.
Randor's impatient fingers drummed
As Babbo "Ooh"ed and "Aah"ed and "Umm"ed.
No mortal messed with such as he
"WELL!!? Come on man! What will it be?"

Babbo now shook from head to toe
His poor knees knocked like billy-ho,
He, stammering and turning red,
Just yelled the first thing in his head.
The courtiers shrieked with delight
At last!! Someone had got it right!!

HOWEVER ... there's just one more thing
That you should know about the King,
He was exceptionally mean
And rarely parted with a bean
If he could find some way to flout
And save himself from paying out.
The joyous courtiers had erupted,
'Til the vile King interrupted ....

"Yes, well done, laddie" Randor said
"But don't let this go to your head ...
Before the silver gets you hooked ...
There's one small point you've overlooked ...
I said that I would give the prize
To any MAN that guessed the size
Of all that's in my treasury ...
That's MAN not CAMEL, Do you see?..."

Even the servants boo'ed and jeered
While from the angry throng, there peered
One little camel, quite bemused
At why on earth he'd been so used.
Poor Babbo cried "This just can't be!
Kings don't behave like this, you see...
Kings are noble, fair and kind ..."
(And don't look like a hog's behind)
"... They're dashing, handsome, lean and trim ..."
(Not like the OAF in front of him)
"Kings shouldn't cheat and sneer and shout ..."
BAA-DUMPHH!! Too Late! They'd chucked him out.

With shoulders stooped and head hung low
(And pockets empty) trudged Babbo.
So badly did he get the hump
That on his back appeared a lump!
Astonished people stopped to stare,
But Babbo was beyond all care.
For shame, the worst was yet to come,
For this was only Number One!

Blinking back his tears in vain
He headed for the Camel train,
Bout found each step became more bold
As thoughts of sweet revenge took hold.

How often have you heard folks say
That "Every dog must have his day".
The stingey monarch should have noted
How this proverb's been misquoted -
If you look back, I'm sure you'll find
It once said "camel" - not canine.

A jaunty camel now retraced
His steps back to the market place.
He'd had this wizardly idea
And deftly whispered in the ear
Of every man he came across -
Though some were clearly at a loss -
Do you know what he told the men?
You don't?! Well sit and think again!
Randor had said he'd give the prize
To any man who guessed the size
Of all the valuables he'd got -
So Babbo told the bloomin' LOT!!

Oh BOY! Did Randor get a shock
When, shortly after five o'clock,
Six HUNDRED men - both rich and poor -
Came crashing through the Palace door,
Each screaming out the correct sum.
He had to pay them - every one!

'T'was fair to say the King was cross -
You bet your cotton socks he was!
'Cross' is a wee bit optimistic ...
The man went totally BALLISTIC!!
Veins standing purple on his brow
He screamed "BRING ME THAT CAMEL NOW!!!"

Babbo had hardly gone ten yards
When he was knobbled by the guards.
Out-numbered more than 10 to 1,
He simply had nowhere to run.
Then, just to broadcast his defeat,
The hung the beast up by his feet.
He truly looked a sorry soul,
Suspended from that wooden pole.

The guards did not dare hesitate -
No mere man caused the King to wait -
They banged and jostled through the door
And dumped the poor beast on the floor.
(Babbo bruised far more than his pride ...
It was a very bumpy ride!)

The King looked worse from upside down
Biting huge chunks from his gold crown
"You treacherous scurvy little crow!
I ought to slice you head to toe!!
And disembowel you - just for fun
Right here - in front of everyone!"

The camel gave a nervous cough.
He didn't want his bonce chopped off!
Or split in two, nor - even more -
His gizzards strewn out on the floor!

"Here!! Take your money!! Take your prize!!
Begone foul beast ... and Damn your eyes!!!"
The King, now screaming fit to pop,
Stood up and hurled the silver pot.
It Babbo with such a CRACK!
It left a huge bump on his back.

Then Randor leaned to grab his stick,
So Babbo legged it, pretty quick.
"There goes he who aspired to sting
ME! Randor! His most gracious King!"

When out the gates young Babbo ventured
(A lot more quickly than he'd entered)
His gait, to say the least, was spritely -
Relief at having got off lightly.
He made his way (despite the pain)
Back down towards the camel train.

Alas, the traders laughed and jeered,
"Oi! Push off, Hump-frey!" One had sneered.
('T'was odd to name him thus, mind you -
You see, he only had the TWO)
"Now where're we gonna put yer pack
Wiv those two fingeys on yer back?
You'd only have ter give a cough
An' ev'ryfin'd just drop off!!
Nah! Sorry, mate. But, no can do!
I mean ... look at the state of you!"

Babbo trudged sadly down the road
Oh what a silly little toad
He'd been. To go and throw away
His job ... His life! And what for, eh?
There is, of course, a moral here,
A wiser one you've yet to hear.

I hope that each of you has learned
A lesson with each page you've turned.
If you're inclined to court despair
By buidling castles in the air,
Just stop next time, when things go wrong,
Don't let your face hang quite so long.
Take care when things don't go your way.
Don't get the hump ....
It just might stay!!

GEORGINA - A story to give hope to the most desperate of parents

2009-08-26T04:31:00.000-07:00

Georgina Pendrille-Beronmilde
Was, truly, a disgusting child.
Despite her parents' upper class
She revelled in the sick and crass.

Georgina would take such delight,
On Daddy's Golf Club's 'Supper Night',
At anything - name what you will -
That made her Parents' guests feel ill.

By far her favourite party trick
Was spouting terms for being sick.
Like "Throwing chunks" or "Heaving Puss"
Or "Driving the porcelain bus"
Or there was "Multi-coloured cough" -
Oh, how she loved to reel them off!

Her parents, fearful of their standing,
Expelled their daughter to the landing.
Alas, it never did much good.
She'd fart as loudly as she could,
Then snigger as the stairs would carry
Her rear-trumpet voluntary -
Reverberating loud and clear,
So everyone downstairs could hear.
Then she would scream and pull her hair.
She drove her poor folks to despair!

Concerned she'd never find a man;
Their fears grew worse when she met Stan.
Although her parents nearly tried
They could not help be horrified.
For Stanley Fotherhithe McShoe
Was not a pleasant thing to view.
Appearances - a minus three,
At birth, fell from the Ugly tree,
Hit every branch on his way down -
Hence Stanley's constipated frown.

A greasy, unattractive yob,
Stan was a sixty carat slob,
Who found it rather hard to speak,
With hoof implanted up his beak.

You could have said Stan was unique.
A one ... no ... two off, so to speak.
Stan's brain had just two cells, you see,
A truly challenged soul was he.
But two cells suited him just right ...
One for the left leg, one for right.
T'was all he'd need to get about
And ... prayed his folks ... to get him out!

Stan had his favourite doggie - Snot,
A scabby mutt that stank like rot.
He followed Stanley everywhere,
Yes, even to the 'you-know-where'!
'T'was here they played Stan's favourite game,
Called "Don't-get-in-my-way-again"!

Stan wasn't given much to sport -
He was not the athletic sort.
His only claim to victory
Was in the distance he could wee.
Why, he could score from five feet dead!
(Unless blocked by his doggie's head).
One always knew when Snot had lost -
His spiky bonce betrayed his cost.

Now, Stanley's folks did not agree
With antics in the lavat'ry,
So, if Stan missed (the rotten cheat)
And tinkled on the toilet seat,
He'd lie and blame it on poor Snot
"'Avin' a jrink ... cuz 'e wuz 'ot".

But Snot's revenge was better still,
He'd pooh in Stanley's Mummy's Dill.
Mummy's herbs were sacrosanct,
But after Snot, they 'sacro-stanked'!
Then Snot would blithely eat his food,
While Stanley got his ear-holes chewed.

Oh, Boy! The tales that I could tell
About this individual!
But one thing that was crystal clear,
Was his effect on 'Georgie-Dear'.

She met Stan in the grocer's shop.
Her eyes did glaze. Her jaw went 'Plop!'.
To notice him was not that hard ...
Fly-swatting with a block of lard.
Georgina didn't seem to care
That, once swat, he just left them there -
Wee leggies thrashing two and fro
And struggling like billy-ho.

They had the most amazing time,
When Stanley took her out to dine.
Stan took her to his favourite place -
A grubby 'caff' called "Stuff-yer-face".
The black bits in the Steak Chasseur
Looked very much like rats' manure.
They would have had "Dish-de-la-house"
But for the smell of gamey mouse.

Georgina found it rather sweet
Stan laid his hanky on her seat.
The hanky - neither clean nor pressed -
When she arose, stuck to her dress.
She didn't even seem to mind
That it glued fast to her behind.
Such details didn't bother her,
She'd found what she'd been searching for.

Yes, giving credit where it's due,
Stan was romantic through and through.
When he proposed, he didn't botch,
(Though spurred on by a quart of Scotch)
And down upon one knee he slumped,
Right in the place where Snot had 'dumped'.

Proposals are a tricky job,
But moreso caked in doggie-'bob'.
Preoccupied with doggie mess,
He didn't hear her answer "Yes".
"Oh, Yes! My love" she did repeat ...
Too late ... he threw up on her feet.

The wedding was a posh affair
And everybody 'In' was there;
With Lord and Lady Wotsisface,
And "Have some more champagne, Your Grace",
And Baroness de Oojiflip
And every courtesy and quip.

Oh, yes. The parents of the bride
Had really, really, REALLY tried -
They'd even laughed at Stanley's joke -
'T'was such a shame - poor Daddy's stroke.

His heart attack was not induced
Until the happy pair produced -
A bonny, bouncing baby girl.
Fresh of face and blond of curl.
But how on earth would this child fare
Considering parental care?
'T'was then the couple thought about
Just how their offspring would turn out ...

You really could expect the worst,
Unless you read on through this verse ...

For transformation then occurred,
Starting with homemade Lemon Curd,
Then, every Sunday, half past three,
The vicar would come round for tea,
Then Coffee Mornings; Bring-and-Buy;
Her Mummy was so proud, she'd cry.
You'd never dream - whoever could? -
What she was like in her childhood.

So, parents all, take comfort, do.
You've done the best that you can do.
Don't end up haggard, grey and lined.
The next time that you feel inclined
To frown upon them in dismay ...
RELAX!!! ... They'll turn out fine ... One day!!

Senile Delinquent

2009-08-16T16:45:00.000-07:00

When Wrinkles came a-calling
They did look on me and say -
"Did you not get our telegram...
That we were come to stay?"

Then Tooth Fairy came calling
And she said "I came to say,
You won't be needing these old things ...
I'll tuck them out the way."

When Old Age came a-calling
He did look on me and say - "
How long since we first met, my friend? ...
Ten years if 'tis a day!"

When Beauty came a-calling
She did look on me and say -
"Beg pardon - you have company ...
I'd best be on my way."

When Dementia came calling
Oh so sadly he did say -
"I must be getting old - I don't
recall I'd passed this way."

But Death? When he came calling
He did frown on me and say;
"This one ain't never ready! ...
What the f...!? Watch out!! GANGWAAAAYY!!!!"

STAR OF THE WEEK

2009-08-14T14:14:00.000-07:00

Whereas normally I am quite a cheery old bird - honestly! - I have noticed that on my blog recently, I have given little praise for those I encounter in my day-to-day ramblings. Could it be that I have finally become a crusty old boot?

Well, no I haven't! But it does seem that we encounter fewer people who are happy to do their jobs - and do them well. So, today I would like to break my usual habits of a) only mentioning those who piss me off (largely those connected to the Ford Motor Company), and b) by not talking about work - as I normally blog as an escape.

I today ended a run of store refits, with my colleague, in which we had three days to refit the entire tiling sections of three large DIY stores (that is all types of floor and wall tiles, with just the two of us) - one store per day - all stock off shelving, shelves dismantled, resized and rebuilt, end of line stock removed, new lines worked in, and then all stock back on shelves again. The work is back-breaking, filthy and very hot indeed.

Today was, albeit still very hard work, something of a breath of fresh air. A member of the store's staff was appointed to assist us, as usual. Today, at Homebase in Chippenham, we had young Josh. However, whereas previous assistants usually only stick around until the manager isn't looking and then bugger off, Josh stuck with us all day, worked his little socks off and, when he found that we were not going to stop for a break, as we wanted to crack on and get the job done, Josh disappeared for his own coffee break, only to re-appear five minutes later with 3 cups of coffee on a tray, which we were then able to drink while we carried on working. He was courteous, extremely helpful and very hard-working. So even if he doesn't actually read this, I hope that anyone who thinks their efforts are never appreciated, will find that they are, but perhaps we don't always tell 'em so.

So, from now on, I am determined to find a 'star of the week' every week. However, if they are in short supply, I might just have to add an occasional 'plank' or 'spanner'. I wonder if anyone out there might also like to mention any of their little bright stars.

RELAY POETRY BLOG

2009-08-10T17:08:00.000-07:00

At the end of what I think is the first ever Poetry Relay Blog in the world, I can only thank everybody for their marvellously silly input - I am SO glad I did this, it has been great fun, and I hope you'll all join me in another one soon.

For those of you who didn't get a chance to chip in, we started with a mysterious withered old man (Max Van Der Klimpt) who, it later transpired, was a Gestapo enemy agent. His mission (to steal top secret plans for a rocket) has failed and it is only upon closer inspection, that he finds he has, in fact, stolen a recipe book. Unfortunately, identified (partly due to the one false leg with two real feet attahced) and after a run in with the French Agent Michael Patti Felous (soon to be appearing in the West End play 'Tinker, Tailor, Yoghurt Maker'), he is undone - literally - on his own shears! Under his new identity as Maxine (and duly fearful of the mighty WI (who are, as we all well know, more fearsome than the Triads in drag) he becomes a dab-hand at victoria sponges and Chair'woman' of the local WI. But his troubles are far from over. Challenged by British Super-Operative - Skippy Doo Mc Fergus (now reduced to working as a Retail Spy at Cribbs Causeway in Bristol) - as well as the Rozzers, in the form of delectible detectible Edith Sergeant, he ...... But we don't want to give you that! You just have to read it for yourselves, won't you! And please feel free to join in with the next one - the more the merrier - the dafter the better!

I have arranged a little comemorative something for those bloggers who took part, unfortunately, I've cocked it right up and my computer hasn't got a clue what it is and so won't let me import it to my blog. I'll be in touch when I've worked it out. Many thanks for a great laugh!

SWINE PEES OF SHEET CAR - DAY 11

2009-08-07T17:29:00.000-07:00

Went back to Fords again today to collect my part. Guess what? It was WRONGO!!! They've got another one ordered, but it won't be in until Tuesday. My son suggested that my car was just 'at that awkward age'. Puzzled, I enquired further. Apparently, he can clearly remember being 'a stroppy little git' at around the 13/14 year old mark. Bless him - I can't! His point being that, from his own personal experience, nothing brings a stroppy teenager round like a nice cuppa and some jaffa cakes or maltesers. Well, we enjoyed the natter, the coffee and the choccies, but the bloody car still misfires. But we have hatched a cunning plan for revenge against Ford's incompetance. We're going trawling in a local scrapyard tomorrow, and if we find our requisite power packs and relay box, we shall get them for a pittance, compared to the £95+VAT that Ford will charge us. But will we ring Ford an tell them? Noooooo. They can sit on the shelf, so that when the next long-suffering Galaxy owner turns up, he/she can be absolutely gobsmacked to find that the buggers have ACTUALLY got something IN STOCK!!! Personally, I think we ought to charge them for improving their image. As for my own image after all this Valder-bleedin-ree clumping about the countryside - I could take Femininity lessons from Fatima Whitbread, with top-up tutorials from Henry Cooper.

I would say 'watch this space', but I'm sure you'll find some dribbling soap opera that's less predictable. Happy, happy, bleedin' happy!

The Secret Agent - A relay poetry challenge

2009-08-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

My own efforts over the last few months have brought such brilliantly funny comments, and many in rhyme, that I thought it would be fun to try a relay poetry challenge - a team effort.

In this, you need to read the following and then add your own verse, afterwards. Then each person after you will read your verse and continue the story on from there, giving our character his destination and his assignment. The fact that our man has to be rapidly approaching 90 doesn't matter. He is clearly superhuman. It should be fun - I don't think it's ever been done before - so see what you can make of it.

The Secret Agent

I've often wondered, haven't you,
About the folks around me.
They way they dress, how they behave,
They really do confound me.
One good example recently,
While I shopped in a store,
A wizened looking bent old man,
Not more than four foot four.
Inside his shopping bag he had,
In this I kid you nat,
A massive pair of garden shears
And great big rubber mat.
The weight of all his baggages,
All crammed right to the brink,
Betrayed a strength much greater than
He'd like to have us think.
This set my mind to wondering
What might he need these for?
What secretive identity
Did he hope we'd ignore?

His name, I have decided, is
Max Van Der Klimpt the third
Your task now is to follow him
And tell us what you've heard ...

Good luck!! The dafter, the better!

Fabulous Blog Award

2009-08-07T01:53:00.000-07:00

Having got over the shock of receiving this little widget, I shall now abide by the rules that come attached to it:

My five obsessions:

First would have to be books. I am a book beast (book 'nuts' being amuch more gentle breed). I trawl charity shops and car-boot sales in hunt of my prey, before scurrying home to hoard them with my other victims. Children are not allowed to breathe on them or even near them - in fact. I don't even let them talk to my books through the key hole. By far my favourite genre is Naval History fiction. This started two years ago with good old Captain Hornblower and, at the time, gave rise to the best family joke we have ever come across. My husband had become somewhat disgruntled upon being told that I took 'Captain Hornblower' to bed with me every night. Delicacy demands that I say no more than he had presumed that the dear Captain required batteries!! In terms of moral and behaviour, I am a happy prude, so the fact that he didn't know better made it even funnier, giving rise to all sorts of asides, such as: What happens when the Captain gets promoted? Will the Admiral require an air-compressor!?

Since then, I have devoured everything ever written by Patrick O'Brian (from whom I stole my user name), Alexander Kent (aka Douglas Reeman), Dudley Pope, Julian Stockwin and am now trawling for Dewey Lambdin's. My personal collection must now number well over 500, but the sales stock from my private 'dealership' has just topped 1,000. Books are everywhere and if I moved into a larger property, I would simply add more!!

My second obsession is humour, in any shape or form. Laughter is not just the best medicine to me, it is a weapon of mass destruction. You can knock down any language or social barrier with it and never have a butchers' bill at the end. Great stuff. Don't like Blue-blue humour, but silliness on any subject is fine by me.

My third obsession is animals. Any kind, any shape, any size, any breed. I love those photo's of animals caught in funny poses or situations, but most of all, I love wildlife photography - the kind that simply take your breath away. The particular animal love of my life was 'Mr George Mook' or just George. He was a Deerhound/Greyhound cross and he passed away 15th November 2007 (largely from prostate cancer) and would have been 21 on 18th May 2008. My one great regret about leaving my husband was that I couldn't bring George with me (as I moved into a flat and he'd been used to 6 acres to run around in), so I couldn't be there when he died. Quite alien to his breed, George was positively sappy with other smaller animals (and adored kittens and would nurse them), but no J-cloth was safe around him - we could walk out to a veritable blizzard of little blue/white snow across the lawns in evidence of this. We also found to our cost that doggie bean-beds were viewed as entertainment, rather than furniture. Again with the indoor blizzards.

My fourth obsession would be car-boot sales. My daughter, 27, (who lives in a local Mencap Sheltered Housing unit) comes to stay with me every weekend and we love to trawl around our local car-boot sale on a Sunday morning, where we also frequently meet up with my eldest son and his little brood. I hunt for books and tools (although I have been better lately), whereas Katie has been an avid collector of Care Bears since her childhood.

My fifth obsession is tools. I am dreadful! If I were asked to concoct the perfect shopping trip, it would be Screwfix, B&Q Trade Centre, Multiquip - followed by the compulsory No 1 Coffee shop (my 6th obsession). This goes far deeper than a need for professional caprentry tools, I would happily buy another set of chisels when I already have three perfectly good sets at home!

My five nominees:

Although I don't know many people in blogland, I'm very happy to nominate the following:

1. Mad Aunt Bernard - she's as dippy as the day is long and if I didn't know her better (she also being my favouritistest little sister in the whole wide world) I'd say she was on drugs. Lots of them!! Where her ideas come from I have no idea, but as long as they keep coming, I'm happy!

2.Ragged Old Blogger - The words "why can't I do things like that?" are never far from my mind when I see her blog. She's artistic, creative, original and - of course - a closet lunatic (which helps immeasurably). Oh, and she also forgot to switch on the remote detonator around her yellow courgettes last week - that get's my vote (and supper) alone.

3.Will Hames (Will the Poit - Half Poet - Half Wit). Will's blog was the first blog I ever visited and remains my favourite of all times. His style of humour and writing is similar (albeit much better) than my own and rhythm and flow are superb. I'd love to see his work published, but I know he's got his hands full at the moment, but hopefully he'll be able to find time to write some more before too long.

4.Lord EEjit - what can I say? Anyone who hasn't seen TFE's blog should be shot immediately and their entrails poked out and fed to carnivorous hamsters to gorge upon. Totalfeckineejit does what it says on the tin. The man's completely barmy and we love him!

5. Last, but by no means least, (I don't know if I'm allowed to do this), I'm going to nominate Professor A.B. Yaffle. He would have been one of my first choices, had my own award come from a different source, so I don't see why that should alter things - although I hope he'll be excused from finding another 5 obsessions, etc, on account of this. I love his blog for so many reasons, but the main ones are that his photography is superb and he has a wonderfully dippy sense of humour - why didn't we get teachers like that!?

Right then! That's all folks! You'll be pleased to hear that I've finished, so if you winners would kindly come and collect your awards - if I could work out how to do it, I'm sure anyone can - then I'll sod off and leave you all in peace.

THE BOY ... 2

2009-08-04T14:05:00.000-07:00

The boy stood on the burning deck
Could stand the heat no longer
He hopped into the nearest cab
And buggered off to Tonga

Life is GOOD!!

2009-08-03T10:20:00.000-07:00

Life is good. The air is fresh. I stride along with glee.
I march along with a whistle and a song,
Come, won't you march with me?

I glow with life. I look so fit. I see you envy me,
As you sit right there in your old armchair,
I'm LOVING it! Can't you see?!

I love my life. I have my health. I march both near and far.
I carry my shopping in my old back-pack ...
BULLSHIT! I MISS MY CAR!!!!!!

FORD MK III

2009-08-02T03:43:00.000-07:00

Regrettably, or so it seems,
That last part happened in my dreams.
I must have fallen fast asleep,
While up the queue I slowly creep.

This morning, opening my eyes,
I found an unwelcome surprise.
For, sitting out there, large as life,
Remains the source of all my strife.
No nice new Seat do I see,
But knackered old Ford Galaxy.
No nice new car to greet this morn -
God rot that bloody Leprechaun!!

And so I s'pose I'll have to go
Back down to Ford's again, just so
I can collect the bits I need
To undertake the dreaded deed.
I'm sure that it's not all that bad ...
Simple solution must be had
If only I could once more try ...
Well ... I can always dream ... Can't I?

FORD MK II

2009-08-01T16:44:00.000-07:00

Today I found my dear old self
In fields moist with the dew
Of memories that I had shared
Not long ago with you.

Yes. Yet again, my car broke down
Again I went to Ford
To get the bits to put it right ...
WAKE UP!! You are NOT bored!!!

So 'Fanny No 1' tells me
He doesn't really know
Which part I'm telling him about -
Could I come down and show?!
I would go, if my car would go.
It won't and so I can't
Just you try to explain that
To an overall-wrapped plant.

The problem this time is the fuel -
It isn't getting through.
I've changed the filter and the plugs
With shiny ones and new.
But, every time I pull away,
My poorly little car
Starts jiggling across the road
Dancing the Cha-cha-cha!
It now would seem the air-flow ain't
As pure as it should be.
I'd thought the self same thing last night
(I'd Chilli for my tea).

I've only done two trips this time.
I just could not repeat
My battles of mere weeks ago
With Plankton-Blessed-With-Feet.

This time I called the Manager.
A Leprechaun appeared!
Explained my problems to the man -
T'was better that I'd feared.

He waved his magic little wand
Said "Abera-cadabra!"
On tiny poof was all it took! ...
(And a new Seat Alhambra!).

ANYONE FOR TENNIS?

2009-07-28T05:28:00.000-07:00

At the cutting of hay, Miss Regina grows gay
And embraces her favourite sport.
With her racket in hand, she now scours the land
(Somewhat more than good manners purport).
With a gluttonous greed for her favourite 'seed'
(Though that's not quite the type that she seeks).
She craves not for tennis, but that other menace -
And she hopes to be laid up for weeks.

THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN ...

2009-07-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
Whose clutter of brats numbered forty and two.
She'd never got money for buying them bread,
Was forced into sleeping them 7 to a bed.
Afraid for her brood and fed up with the strife,
She set out to find them a cosy new life.
O'er mountains and oceans - begged, borrowed and stole -
Now they're all sitting pretty - in Staines - on the dole.

THE BOY ...

2009-07-23T17:14:00.000-07:00

The Boy stood on the burning deck,
His feet covered in blisters,
He must not die! - Not in these pants -
(They were his older sister's).

HOW DO I LOVE THEE

2009-07-22T17:57:00.000-07:00

You ask how do I love thee?
Well now, let me count the ways -

Well, first, I love thee silent
(Although thou rarely are)
Then I adore your kindly ways
(To drunks and blokes in bars)

I love thy strong opinions
(Mine must always echo you)
Thy cleverest achievements
(Strange that I'd just done that, too )

I then adore your handsome lookes
(Pray thou lookes for another)
And then I love thee sleeping
(Tempted sore I am to smother)

I love thine strong and manly feet
(While treading upon mine)
I gaze upon thy ring-ed nose
(Repugnant rooting swine)

But most of all, my dearest heart,
I love thee from afar
(About nine miles does pretty well -
Ten minutes drive by car).

You ask how do I love thee?
Well now, let me count the ways ...
... ... ... Ummmmm ... ...

THOUGHT FOR TODAY NO. 4

2009-07-17T15:34:00.001-07:00

You too could see things from my perspective -

- If only you could get your head that far up your arse.

JACK AND THE BEANSTALK - THE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH & NOTHING BUT ANOTHER LOAD OF OLD BEANS

2009-07-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

Due to absolute necessity (for the truth must now be told in all it's sordid detail) this is going to be a long'un (as the actress said to the bishop), so pop the cat on and boot the kettle out.

You'll all have heard the little tale about a boy named Jack,
Who trotted off to market but then only brought beans back.
His errand was to sell a cow - his folks were sore in need.
So fancy trusting such a prat with such a vital deed!

The story goes that Jack's Mum hurled these beans upon the ground
But in the morning, they were staggered at what they then found -
A huge ginormous beanstalk stretched right up into the sky!
You couldn't even see the top - not with the naked eye!
So we are told, young Jack climbed up and fought the Giant there,
So he could come back, stinking rich, and ease his folks despair.

Well now, you'd better listen here, 'cos there's one great big gap
In what had really happened - We've been fed a load of crap!
Yes, Jack did climb the beanstalk and, Oh Yes! A Giant he found.
But did he fight him? Not one plap! ... Read on ... I shall expound.

The Giant had lived all alone for many years, you see,
So when young Jack appeared, she thought "Girl, you've got company!".
Oh yes ... you hadn't heard that bit. You could not be aware ...
Jack's Giant was a girl - quite cute - blonde eyes and long blue hair.
She had been sent to Beanstalk Land as form of punishment -
Her sisters all had married, but she had stayed adamant.
She swore most solemnly that she would only give herself
To Gilbert Mew (at two foot two) who was - alas - an elf.

Clarissa - that's the Giant's name - had found her chosen one.
But tragic'ly, when she sat down, he vanished up her bum.
Well, by the time they found him, poor dear Gilbert Mew was dead.
'Twas easy to establish thus: They never found his head.
Clarissa wept and broke her heart and mourned her lover late,
From that day forth, she swore on oath, she'd stay quite celibate.
Of course her parents grieved for her, but they were quietly pleased
That the poncy squirt in the twee green shirt had gotten himself squeezed.
In vain the local males all flocked - Clarissa was a cracker
But, one by one, they limped away, each minus one huge knacker.

Now when we all were children and were naughty to our Mum,
She'd likely confiscate our toys, or smack us on the bum,
Or lock us in a closet 'til we learned to be compliant ...
But have you ever come across a closet for a Giant?
In Giantland, there's no such thing - well think about it, do.
How many trees would have to go to build one - quite a few!
Well, Giants live in harmony with all the birds and bees
And blooms and shrubs and animals and, yes, of course, the trees.
So, when a Giant is very bad, their worstest reprimand
Is finding themselves exiled off, to live in Beanstalk Land.

And, thus, the poor Clarissa had been pining in that dump
When, who should swagger in but our heroic little chump.
It soon became quite clear to Jack that he'd discovered gold!
An untupped source - provided she would do as she was told.
In Giantland, where girls were few and men's passions ran high,
He'd open up a Brothel - Yes! - his limit was the sky!

Jack lied to poor Clarissa, saying God had told him to
Deliver up a message from her lover, Gilbert Mew.
Most wickedly, he told her that it was dear Gilbert's wish
That she should not just pine away, but seek out fresher fish.
He said Gilbert shrank at the thought that she should go to waste
When surely every man in town would love to have a taste.
Gilbert had then implored of Jack - a man that she should trust -
To take care of Clarissa and her giant proportioned lust.
Clarissa tearfully agreed. Relief welled in her eyes,
That Gilbert harboured no ill will for his unkind demise.
Jack then e-mailed Clarissa's folks, to get their kind consent ...
"... Clarissa has relented, and seeks marriage most content."

A massive ball was organised to hail their daughter back,
And there to deal with 'business' was that lurid weasel, Jack.
The guest list was impressive - every Lord, Baron and Sir
Had hastened up to sample of this petal, oh so pure.
One hundred Giant guineas Jack had charged for every man
To "ride the stormy waters for as long as e'er you can".
Jack staggered underneath the weight of his ill-gotten gains
But - What the Hell! - he figured. It was worth the aches and pains.

Jack did his best to make sure poor Clarissa'd no idea,
So busy counting up his dosh, her steps he failed to hear.
Clarissa was exhausted and she was not having fun.
She sought out Jack. She saw his stack. Now he was sore undone!
He dared not waste one minute, so Jack grabbed the cash and fled
Hotly pursued by Giants needing bones to make their bread.

He legged it down the beanstalk to his Mother's waiting arms -
For Mother's are susceptible to all their babies' charms -
She swallowed every lie and tale - The lot! Hook, line and sinker.
She never had an inkling that her son was such a stinker.
He lied and lied and lied again - on that score he was quick.
Jack was declared a Hero! - The conniving little prick!

He told of battles fought with Giants fifty-six feet tall!
He told of how they captured him and tortured him and all!
He told of his brave fortitude and of his great escape!
He told about his flight, chased by a thirty-two foot ape!
He lied about - oooh - loads of things, but certainly the worst,
He lied about the contents of his great big bulging purse.
He told folks there were diamonds and he told them there were pearls.
But soon he'd pissed off most the men - and all the local girls.

Inside a week, the townsfolk couldn't stand the sight of Jack,
But Tradesmen, how they loved him, crying "Great to see you back!".
But then they found that Jack had dealt a blow most underhand -
His Giant guineas were not legal tender in this land!!
Of course, they wanted payment for that silken skunk lined Robe,
Demanded money for those disco lights and flashing strobe,
The brand new car, the base guitar - the list would make you cough.
The townsfolk wanted blood - but Jack was packed - and he was off!!

Jack hurdled garden fences, jumped o'er every candlestick,
But he wasn't very nimble and he wasn't very quick.
He leapt through pantry windows, went careering door to door.
He would have gotten clean away - all but for one big flaw.
In fact, the flaw was massive and so big you couldn't miss her,
Now dangling, dazed, from upside down, Jack focused on ... Clarissa!!
How could he have been quite so daft - the dimple-witted clown?
The one job he had failed to do, was cut the beanstalk down!

Now Giantland had come to him, a-baying for his blood.
Their nightmares tones in chorus with those of the neighbourhood.
Clarissa's parents, too, were there, demanding Jack's demise,
For spoiling of their 'rose-bud' - they had murder in their eyes!

I'd better skip the next bit, as it isn't very nice
(And you'd never look the same at any jam pud made with rice).

Suffice to say that everyone lived happy after all
And all the folks from Giantland were at the wedding ball.
Clarissa finally had found a man to cure her heart
No longer haunted by poor Gilbert's whisper in each fart.
She married Stan - a Baker Man - a robust five foot ten -
Her folks did not object - Nooo! They would not go there again!
And all Jacks friends and neighbours gathered round to see them off.
But if you asked what came of Jack, you'd get a nervous cough.

The day belonged to Bride and Groom - a match from heaven sent.
The Groom, he looked most handsome, and the Bride was radiant.
Her earrings, though, were curious - of strange designs and shapes -
Two diamond studded eye-balls with two dangling pink grapes!

BLOG INVADERS

2009-07-14T16:50:00.000-07:00

I hereby invite everyone in Blogland to go to the last but one comment on an old posting of mine "Will The Real Elmer Fudd Please Stand Up" dated 3rd July 2009.

Some cheeky gobshite (Steve4summinkorother) has left an advert for Limo Hire on my Blog!!!.

As you will see, I have left him with as ladylike a reply as I could manage for his cheek, but would dearly lovely everyone who reads this to click on the link that this twat has left and see if we can't make him think twice about this most unwelcome type of intrusion.

2009-07-14T15:06:00.000-07:00

BOO! There ... that woke you all up, didn't it? Well don't let me catch you napping again.

THOUGHT FOR TODAY NO. 3

2009-07-13T03:26:00.000-07:00

When God made man's wife his better half, why make his mistress the better whole?

SWEET DREAMS

2009-07-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

On top of the wardrobe
Entangled in crap
There lyeth my youngest
Enjoying a nap.

Now don't be mistaken
And don't be misled
Been looking for weeks now
But can't find his bed.

HERE'S THE REAL COMPLETEANDUTTERTOTALFECKINEEJIT

2009-07-10T13:39:00.000-07:00

Now there wuz I, thinkin I'd be clever! I only wondered why TFE's latest posts weren't showing up on my blog dashboard, until I realised that I hadn't registered on his blog as a follower.

RIGHT! Says I - just like that (nearly startled meself in the process) - I'll do that now!

So I goes along to TFE's blog, clicks a few buttons and - Hey Presto! There I am! Following meself! (And I thought he looked ugly from the back!)

Well, I am now following TFE as well (and sure, he looks a lot better from the back than I do (probably looks a lot better from the front as well) - BUT - I'm getting a bit dizzy cos I'm still following meself at the same time. I daren't press any more buttons, cos the last time I did that, me bum dropped off. See? - there it is on the floor, doubling as a magazine rack - I wish they'd make the Farmers Weekly a bit thinner, cos when I cough I can read the classifieds.

And this, boys and girls, is why you should never let old or silly people near a computer.

Here endeth a most valuable lesson.

NEVER LET A PILLOCK IN YOUR KITCHEN

2009-07-09T17:48:00.000-07:00

You must never let a Pillock in your kitchen
'Cos you know that things'll never be the same
You'll find iPods in your drawers
And you'll hunt for evermore
For all your bits'n'bobs - And WHO'S to blame?!

Now, by 'Pillock' I mean all those in your household
That are not trained or versed in cooking food
Kids; Dogs; Husbands; The Au Pair
They've no business being there
And, Yes Dear, if you must, you may be rude.

Things'll never get put back the way they're s'posed to
And you'll run yourself into a ragged mess
You'll find flour in your fridge
And your lodger on a bridge
'Cos he's had enough, and he can't stand the stress.

Please don't think that you will find a pint of FRESH milk
When you open up your fridge to have a peek
'Cos the moment there's a new'un
They'll have THAT - Green, Puce or Blue'un
And the old one will have curdled by next week.

"How many bags of crisps was it you bought, Dear?
I'd have sworn that you said 80, more or less;
Well, the bloody lot has gawn -
And the 'nanas, cheese and prawn!
Who on earth is it we're feeding - Ten Ton Tess?!"

Oh, yes, Hubby cannot understand your problem
His children always ask before they take.
Well, the buggers didn't peep
Prior to eating half a sheep
And a ton or two of Tuna Pasta Bake!

Now I'm simply not the type for bearing grudges
And my children are the apple of my eye.
But they never wipe up drips
All my best cups now have chips
I've found tin foil in my plants
I've found TEABAGS in my PANTS!
I've found batteries that breed
And a crispy millipede
And they NEVER clean the grill
Leave their mugs out on the cill
Wash their trainers in my sink
Do all SORTS of things that stink!
Dribble all sorts on my floor
I could clean for evermore!
Will the shits ever wash up?
Just what IS it in that cup!?
Oh! To hell with you lot! Go catch germs and DIE!!

THOUGHT FOR TODAY NO. 2

2009-07-08T14:49:00.000-07:00

Support Bacteria

... it's the only culture you're going to find on this blog!

THOUGHT FOR TODAY NO. 1

2009-07-07T16:21:00.000-07:00

When God created Leprosy did he work alone, or did someone give him a hand?

WILL THE REAL ELMER FUDD PLEASE STAND UP!

2009-07-03T16:02:00.000-07:00

Well, after a truly crappy week, I would normally bury myself in blogland and write something stupid - this being the purest form of escape I know. However, finding myself short of inspiration tonight, and in preparation of yet another stunning week which commences with taking my handicapped daughter in for ear surgery - my mind wandered (as it has a habit of doing more and more often these days) to our last visit to the hospital.

Our thoughts tend to follow a set pattern upon these occasions - park, appointment, coffee.

The parking is great fun. The Omnipotent Beings at the RUH have decided that it had become far too easy to park there and that life had become a little tedious for them with all these sick people floating around. Their answer? - to put barriers across the entrance of every car park. Of course none of these barriers will lift unless there is an actual space to pull straight into. The result is queues of fuming motorists clogging every road into, inside and within a 5 mile radius of the hospital.

I have to admit, they got the entertainment side of it right - we watched while two separate punch-ups developed. This gave the security staff something to do, bless 'em, while providing free in-car entertainment for us other poor buggers that were still stuck in the traffic flow, preventing buses, taxis, ambulances (and the Police) from getting in.

I narrowly missed one space, taken by some flash cove in a coach and 4 - said he'd been waiting longer than me (since 1804, to be precise). Threatened me with a pair of ivory handled flintlocks, so I let it go - actually, I let his horses go, the minute his back was turned.

Appointment? Dunno - I missed it altogether, as I was still stuck in the car an hour and a half later!

Coffee - well, that was worth the journey alone. As we sat supping our cups of putrefied weevil piss, we noticed a dear little lady of around 90 come into the restaurant with a sit-on type shopping trolley. She wore a starkly familiar dark velvet saggy style peaked hat, that seemed far too big for her tiny head. Her nose was remarkably bulbous and she was gummy - Oh boy, was she gummy! She hadn't a tooth in her head, bless her. That was it. I was HOOKED!

You KNOW it's rude, but you've just GOT to look.

She then proceeded to buy a huge steak-size plate full of just chips, together with around a dozens sachets of tomato ketchup which she then determined to smother the chips with, before sucking the ENTIRE plate clean. I nearly weed.

Then something AWFUL happened. I remembered where I'd seen her before.

Unfortunately, my daughter had her mouth full of coffee when I just couldn't help myself any longer and said "Be ve-wy qwiet - I'm huntin' WABBIT!!". I know. I'm such a bitch. But I'm telling you, this was Elmer Fudd in drag. And I only added a very quiet "Scwewey Wabbit" and my daughter disappeared, spewing a trail of coffee-dribble all the way to the 'Ladies'.

I think we'll try Starbucks next time, it might be safer. We might also be able to park - or even find an ear specialist!

TYGER, TYGER

2009-07-03T10:53:00.000-07:00

Tyger, Tyger, burning brite
In the forests of the nite
If I coulde, I would smite
The git that set the woods alite.

SKIPPY-DOO MCFERGUS

2009-06-29T13:44:00.000-07:00

Skippy-doo McFergus
Was a Spy extraordinaire
Of utmost ingenuity -
And ultra-debonair.

He'd jet and jump around the world
One crisis to another
Defeating all the baddie-men
Then fly back home to Mother.

Great Britain's Super-operative
Had never yet been beat.
Intelligence par excellence
Each undercover feat.

He'd blend into the scenery
Where'ere he was assigned.
Invisible to everyone
As if they had been blind.

But, half past two, in Timbuktu
Poor Skippy came unstuck.
His rival - Boris Vindoline -
Kidnapped him in a truck.

During interrogation in
Some dark, dank, dismal place,
Poor Skippy found a dazzling light
Shone hard into his face.

Well, Skippy's world was shattered.
How on earth had they known?
How long had they been watching him?
How was his cover blown?

Harsh words barked in from all sides round -
"Vat ... Vy ... Ven... Vere, und Who?"
But Skippy only focused on
Who'd dropped him in the pooh.

But, as they tied him to a post
Before the firing squad
The Commandant came over
And he spoke - though rather odd.

"Ven ve knew you vas Briteesher
Ve KNEW vat you vas at!
Only ze Briteesh give a SPY
A STUPID NAME like zat!!"

A LITTLE STORY ABOUT BUNNY-WUNNIES

2009-06-26T11:00:00.000-07:00

By the time Flopsy Bunny
Had called to his Mummy
"Hey Mum! What's this thing on my head?"
She responded "Oh! Sorry! -
"We call that A LORRY"
But poor little Flopsy was dead.

And she'd TOLD him to keep an eye out for them.

Quick! White Rabbit, White Rabbit, White Rabbit!

2009-06-26T03:58:00.000-07:00

I've just realised that I had 13 posts on my blog and that's unlucky. So I've had to add this one quickly just to counter any lurking evil spirits - particularly because I've got to look in the mirror in a minute and that's unlucky enough as it is.

BRRRRRRRPPPP! PIP-PIP!!

2009-06-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

Well, that's it. I'm going mental. I just thought you ought to know.
Though I still appear quite normal, there are weeny signs that show.
I like talking to the Beavers, though the Beavers have gone home.
But I carry on regardless, when I know I'm quite alone.

Then I polish bits of biscuit that look messy on the plate
And if I can't get them shiny - Ooooooh! I do get so irate!
Now I've started reading bookends - cos they've got to end somewhere.
I've found that's where all the best bits are. The rest? I just don't care!

I keep my knickers in the fridge, beside the toast and Spam.
Why do I do this, you may ask. I do, because I can.
I wear my specs atop my head, out of necessity.
That way I cannot see my nose. It frightens me, you see.

I sneak about outside the shops and quickly swap around
The doggies that are tethered there, just so they can't be found.
I creep up on old people and I whisper "I smell wee"
But when they see the puddle, well, they know that it was me.

I angrily march into banks, demand they count their money
Just so that I can sing along - Can't think why they get funny.
I've started ironing Pop Tarts, though I've no idea why.
It makes my teeth smell funny and pings crumbs into my eye.

I like to collect traffic lights and keep them in my drawer.
Even my lawyer told me he'd not heard that one before.
I yodel into post boxes and wait for a reply.
And if I don't receive one, I write letters asking why.

I like to tell Policemen they've a weasel in their hat.
Then, when they take it off to look, I WHACK 'em - just like that!
I'm a menace to society, of that there is no doubt.
But, when they come to get me, I'll just tell them I've gone out.

MAD AUNT BERNARD'S GUILTY RETURN

2009-06-20T12:27:00.000-07:00

I just thought everyone should know that my older sister Mad Aunt Bernard (she is one hundred and eleventy-twelve, you know) is being released from Worthing Nick tomorrow. Yes, I know - she did INDEED keep that quiet. Her husband, Cybil, is off to fetch her first thing - bless.

Well, you know she went to visit her sister there (who was doing a stretch for headbutting an MP) but the silly thing got caught smuggling in toadspawn curries (a local delicacy in those parts, though now banned under the 'Well I Dont Like It So You'll Jolly Well Have To Lump It' Act 1822) and organising illegal cheese rolling bouts.

Of course, it wasn't the fencing they objected to (although it could have done with a tad of creosote) but the fact that she flatly refused to bribe the guards (who were quite sorely put out, apparently) and, when challenged, she started with her incantations and ... well, the rest you can guess.

The governor's hair was falling out anyway - the fella looked downright dropsical, I'd say - but the poor dear copped it for threatening one of her Majesty's best with witchcraft and alopecia. However, she really can't grumble, as they did take six other counts of Goat Skipping (highly dangerous if they're the 'horny' type) and Gibbon Snibbling into account.

I say she got off lightly. I didn't get where I am today by snibbling gibbons. Bloody silly if you ask me, but there it is. So just be nice to her when you see her, will you?

AMNEESHA

2009-06-11T15:35:00.000-07:00

I try to keep in focus
But life's become more blurred
And all the things I used to do
Seem distant and absurd.
I can't remember anything,
I'd go around the bend,
But I'd forget the road to take
And end up in Oostend.
I rush around the whole day long
In circles on the spot.
I went upstairs to get something,
But, once there, I forgot.
When I go out for shopping
I have to take with me
My passport and my license
- Though not for identity -
I need to take them just in case
I forget where I roam,
So I can read the bloody things
And find my way back home.
I went to see my doctor,
A week ago, last week,
But once we sat there, face to face,
I couldn't think to speak.
But now I'm so glad that I went
I know I'm not alone,
I prescribed two weeks full bed rest
And sent the poor man home.

DEATH OF AN ARTISTE

2009-06-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

ANNOUNCEMENT BY BLOG.SPOT

The Post wot wuz postid yer was riveoowed by the manijmunt and it wuz desidid that it wuz shit and so it haz bin rimooved and poot in a big bocks wiv orl the uther shit blogs.

By Order of The Management.

FUNNY MUNNY

2009-06-10T15:34:00.000-07:00

Now, wouldn't it be funny
If the men with all the money
All had suddenly turned runny in the head.

And with no stocks and shares
All your multi-millionaires
Would refuse to come downstairs, but stay in bed.

What if banks had empty tills
With the Manager on pills
'Cos he couldn't pay his bills out of the red.

And you couldn't get your pension
Or a dribble worth a mention
What with all the added tension, you'd be dead.

So let's show them that we love 'em
Only God could stand above 'em
Our resolve to serve will toughen (out of dread).

So, please hurry - do as I do
Take a bucket full of Cow-pooh
Make a large deposit - or two - 'nuff said.

Henrietta Grimbleshoe

2009-05-22T18:41:00.000-07:00

Henrietta Grimbleshoe was destitute and broke.
Her social life was crap and her finances a joke.
She hadn't worked for twenty years - because no job would last,
And no-one would employ her with her dark and lurid past.

It all had started when she found that fuel costs for her car
Exceeded any benefits of going very far.
She then discovered that if she just sat around all day
It didn't cost her anywhere near what she used to pay.

She figured out that if she stayed at home and didn't spend,
Her finances would right themselves - her troubles all would end.
However, she had failed to see - as she was very dim -
If she did not go OUT to work, no money would come IN.

But there she sat, hour after hour, glued fast to her TV,
Just watching endless crap that simply fueled anxiety.
Before she knew what hit her, Henrietta suddenly found
That she'd become irrationally scared of every sound.

At first she jumped at each car horn, or noisy motor-bike.
But then she found she even jumped at noises that she'd liked.
She jumped at tweeting dicky-birds and little baby lambs.
She jumped at laughing babies - a-gurgling in their prams.

This soon progressed 'til she was scared of everything outdoors:
Of noises, people, smells and mess - and even of till-drawers!
Of salmonella poisoning, Bird Flu and CJD,
And when we got Mad Cow's Disease, she said "That it for me!".

In no time Henrietta found she hardly left the house,
For fear of catching Chicken Flu, or rabies from a mouse.
She built a moat around her home, to keep the world at bay -
(But largely so that she would not contract MRSA).

If anybody tried to cross her home-made 'water-trough',
She'd shoot them with her BB Gun and shout "Will you ... please kindly leave (or words to that effect)
Eventually, the Bailiff's came - not thwarted by the moat -
They brought along their own canoes and massive powerboat.

They stripped poor Henrietta's house, from skirting boards to ceilings.
And as they left, they gave her (just to show they did have feelings)
A telephone directory and an ancient mobile phone,
And with these words of wisdom, they then left and pissed off home ...

"Well now, my dear, you've made your bed and you must lie in it ..."
(But, as they'd taken all the beds, that ointment had a fly in it)
..."Responsibilities are something nobody can shirk,
You'll have to get up off your arse, get out and get some WORK!".

Well, Henrietta shrank in fear. What was there she could do?
What manner of employment could she possibly pursue?
Her CV was a nightmare and her social skills were worse.
Before long she'd be up all night just writing shit in verse (Oooooh! Sounds SCARILY familiar!)

Outside the Jobcentre she quaked - quite clearly terrified,
With sweat now pouring from her brow, she gulped and stepped inside.
The lady was most helpful and, to put her most as ease,
Sat Henrietta gently down, with pen and pad, said "Please,
We need to make a list of things in which you best excel".
But, after half and hour or more, they'd none that you could tell.
By now, even the lady found it hard to concentrate
"I know! Let's try a different way - list all the things you hate!"

Off Henrietta rattled - and the list just grew and grew,
The speed the lady wrote at left her fingers black and blue.
"Does not like dogs. Does not like kids. Does not like noisy doors.
Hates purple rinses, high-heeled shoes and polished shiny floors,
Has allergies to germs and noise. Hates neighbours' garden fence.
Neurotic, weird and self-absorbed. Has no known common sense.
Has idiotic notions as to how to carry out
The easiest and simplest job or task there is about.
Her arrogance and lunacy make it quite hard to see
Even the smallest likelihood of opportunity."

But at that point the pen fell still ... The lady upped and cried -
"By Jove!!" she said "You're PERFECT!!!". Henrietta nearly died.
The lady leaped up from her seat and took down from a shelf
A large file labelled "APPLICANTS - ENVIRONMENTAL HEALTH".

Can you afFORD not to buy Japanese?

2009-05-20T17:49:00.000-07:00

I dedicate this lengthy blog
To the Fanny-heads at FORD
You know, the ones who made the car
That I had once adored.

My car just had it's MOT
It passed - Who'd ask for more?
But then it split a water hose
And wee'd all over the floor!

Now anyone with any sense
Would shout (you might suppose)
"Just stop your belly-aching, Wench
And get another hose!"

But "Noooo!! You can't do that, my dear",
The trolls at Ford they cried.
"You cannot get another, 'cos
They've all been MODIFIED!"

"You cannot buy the bit you want.
Don't make 'em any more.
You have to buy this NEWER bit -
It's better than before"

"This one's got 'alf yer engine in -
All globuled into one!
And when you go to fix it - WELL!
It's MUCH more bloomin' fun!"

"Cos when you fixes this yer bit,
You'll very likely see
It won't fit ANY other bits
That you have currently!"

"Instead of just two little clips
And then you're done 'n' bored -
You've now got 3 weeks work to do
An' yer engine's FULLY RESTORED!!"

But the newer bits have newer bolts
And screws - Oh, No! - Can't mix it!
You've got to buy the NEWER TOOLS
Just so that you can fix it!

The real shitter of this is
The Ford twat didn't say
A word about this 'til the THIRD
WRONG part was on it's way!

THREE TIMES I've trundled up and down
To fix my bloody car
With more little bags of more little bits
And an organ pickled in a jar (well, perhaps not that bit)

Tomorrow I will try again.
Again I won't succeed.
'Cos the latest bit is slightly shy
Or doesn't want to breed.

Or it doesn't like the other bits
'Cos one called it a 'twit'.
Or a multitude of reasons
For the bugger not to fit.

But, evermore the optimist -
I'll never brood or boil -
I'll cut the sodding roof right off
And fill it full of soil.
I'll plant the bastard full of bulbs -
Daffs, crocuses, whatever! -
VOILA!! - We'll have the most expensive
PLANT POT HOLDER - EVER!!!

Arse-holes!!

2009-05-19T14:25:00.000-07:00

WARNING: The following should only be read by the extremely immature; grubby schoolboys; and Mad Aunt Bernard (who understands my mental affliction but still humours me, regardless)

How often do you hear some soul
Referred to as "a right arse-hole"?
To be the source of such abuse,
One might think they were of no use.
Why are they made the 'butt' of fun?
How would you fare if you had none?

Try to imagine what you'd do ....
You've just sat down - to have a pooh,
When ... suddenly ... you gave a shout! ...
'Cos all your guts had just dropped out! ...
And disappeared - GONE - out of sight ...
You'd shit yourself! Yes? Am I right?

So next time that you hear someone
Mocking arse-holes just for fun,
Remind them as they stuff their face ...
Their arse-hole keeps it all in place.

(And that was a Party Political Broadcast for the Anal Retentive Party - I thank you.)

The Bumble Bee

2009-05-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

I chanced upon a Bumble-bee
Who stung me. Not because
I'd upset him in any way ...
It just gave him a buzz.

Killer Hamster

2009-05-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

My daughter has a Hamster,
As thick as two short logs.
It barks at neighbours' children
And then attacks their dogs.

I asked the Hamster, "Why, my dear,
Do you behave this way?"
It looked at me - a bit like that -
But disinclined to say.

I tried again last Tuesday
This time, to my surprise,
It raised its fuzzy little head
And gazed into my eyes.

It then replied, quite timidly,
It said "I fear the worst ..."
"And that is why, before they move ..."
"I get mine in their first!".

BO-BO

2009-05-12T15:29:00.000-07:00

The following must be sung to the tune of "My Bonny lies over the ocean" ... I thank you.

My son has a doggie called Bo-bo,
A ladies' dog right through and through.
But, by that I don't mean he's friendly -
Mounts anything - 4 legged or 2!

My guidance, dear ladies is simple
So follow it closely, please do.
And don't bend in front of Dear Bo-bo -
'Cos he'd happily give you one too!

(Mother - you may now weep!)

Resident Weevil

2009-05-11T12:50:00.000-07:00

A cautionary tale about the effects of taking too much interest in your neighbours' movements (and not enough in your own!).

You'd not believe! - whoever would? -
What's lurking in our neighbourhood.
With strange and sinister 'goings-on'
- I knew that there was something wrong!

It's all to do with her downstairs -
Her Ladyship - the one with airs.
She's got a husband, too, you know,
A sullen looking so-and-so,
The poor man is her captive slave -
She beats him when he won't behave!
I'm told she shuts him in a room
And pokes him with a pointy broom!

Apparently, the wife's a 'chav',
But lacks what dress-sense they may have.
What is she lacking? You might ask -
Aside from a full-facial mask.

They've got two children, so I'm told
One Boy, one girl - not very old.
The children are a total fright
They howl and spit and drool and bite!
And bare their teeth - have nits - and fleas -
And every conceivable disease!
5 Postmen in this year, to date,
Have fallen to these reprobates!

No shoulder would we wish to rub
With Mr & Mrs Beelzebub!

And now I'll tell you one thing more -
She paints strange signs upon her door!
They tempt in neighbours' pussy-cats
Which they then baste in seasoned fats
And barbeque them 'til they're done!
And then devour them - one by one!
Then, half past ten, on dustbin day,
She bags the skins to throw away
So nobody can ever trace
What goes on in that dreadful place!

Another neighbour - Emily Prince -
(We haven't seen her ever since!)
Went down to knock upon their door
(Last Tuesday week, at half past four)
- She only went to ask if they
Knew what had happened to Mrs Wray.

Well, Dulcie Wray - the landlords' clerk -
Had foolishly gone there - after dark!!
WELL! - we all saw her going in,
But then, there's this ALMIGHTY din ... !

Well ... I'll leave you to work it out,
But Dulcie Wray DID NOT COME OUT!!

And now, poor Emily - like as not -
Has joined her in the COOKING POT!!!
If you peer through their kitchen blind,
A HUGE black Cauldron's what you'll find!!

Well ... p'haps that last bit isn't quite true ...
But - you never know, these days - do you?

And, come to think, I'm not too sure
If it was 5 Postmen, or 4.
You're right, yes - now I think of it,
I've never seen her children spit.
And ... What? ... Who's this? Oh! Silly me!!
It's Mrs Wray - at No. 3!

Perhaps I'm wrong ... Perhaps it's ... WELL!!!
... But, these days ... you can NEVER tell!!!

(Dedicated to my neighbour, who takes such an avid interest in my family's movements, that I never need to ask them what they're up to - she'll know!

Introduction

2009-05-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

I really haven't the foggiest clue
Of what I'm now supposed to do.
In 'techno' terms, I am a freak
Who has not learned 'computer speak'
A dinosaur - il-litt-ur-rate,
And - I do not prevaricate -
I really am as thick as shite
In matters of the megabyte.
I'm told that 'blogging's all the rage -
I've taken 2 months to get THIS page!
But, hopefully, as time goes by,
With confidence I'll no doubt try
To add a photograph or two -
Now won't that be SUCH fun for you!
For just for now, I'm quite content
To know that I can now present
Each rambling and puerile find -
The cowpats of my turgid mind -
To you out there - my 'friends-in-need'
Your only hope? - You cannot read.
So, 'til the next litturry carneevil,
I'll remain,

Sincerely,

The Lesser Weevil