Friday, September 29, 2006

A Pox On NTL

The whole world seems to be on a mission to piss me off! Ntl are now top of my shit list.
They changed all the numbers of the channels and I can’t find anything, Bastards. The part of me that crosses over into the Autistic Spectrum does not like change. I find it very unsettling and more annoyingly I missed part of The Sopranos looking for the fucking channel.

Mrs Next Door has been hosting one of The Macmillian Worlds Biggest Coffee morning things, to raise money for cancer research. Great. All the middle class Mothers of yesterday’s crying children plus extras. The noise was horrendous and she managed to hold it during the only 2 sunny hours of the day, so they spread out into the garden. I did the only thing I could to protect myself, I went out to my garden and coughed to the point of retching. They drifted back indoors after that. The cats watched with sympathy and seemed a little disappointed there was no hair ball for my efforts. The downside is that all my sniffing and hawking has left me alternately deaf in each ear, depending on how long I can leave between swallows. Very irritating.
For those who are interested in the new and bizarre ways I can combine medicines here goes. Robitussin for chesty coughs and Pholcodeine linctus for dry tickly ones combined with Zopiclone make for extremely interesting dreams, but does absolutely fuck all for the cough.

New laws come in on Sunday concerning older people in the workplace. Brilliant! I can’t wait to walk into Next and see some old dear telling a young ‘lady’, “Oooh, you can’t wear that! You’ll get a cold in your kidneys” or “Oh No dear, those shoes make you look like a slut”.
Old blokes in River Island encouraging lads to pull their trousers up, buy the correct size to begin with and get a hair cut. Extolling the virtues of comfy slip on shoes, cardigans and National Service.

This weekend will see the end of an era. Crisp-e is moving out. We have been friends since the first day I met him at Mayhem School and within a week I knew I would have a mate for life.
He is quite possibly one of the most decent, honest, honourable men I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.
During the last 5/6 years we have argued and fought, laughed and cried but there has never been a moment when we weren’t friends. He is generous to a fault and would give you his last fiver if you needed it.
Crisp-e, you are a legend.
I will miss you terribly and thanks for being my friend.
Good Luck to you and ‘Chelle and know you will always have a home here, if ever you need one.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Reasonable Chastisement

I have an evil cold at the moment and I feel like death warmed up. My nose just drips, it feels like I’m trying to swallow ping pong balls and my body aches as though I’ve had a bloody good kicking. The horrible dry cough makes my lungs my enemy and is interfering with my smoking, but I‘m persevering . I can be very ‘blokey’ when I’m not feeling well. I don’t have a cold, I have ‘flu.. You know the sort of thing.
I’m on my Dad’s remedy, which is lemonade heated up in the microwave for a couple of minutes. I’m not sure if it actually does anything but he’s convinced.

On top of this, it’s my neighbours day for having 8 small children to her house to scream and cry. I’ve had to listen to, “Molly, put it down it’s not yours, I said put it down Molly, if you don’t do as you are told you will have to go and sit on the bottom step”.
I just can’t imagine this sort of conversation going on in my childhood!

I would have been slapped long before that and as for sitting at the bottom of the stairs? It would have been too painful to sit on the bright red handprint! Who else remembers running around their own shoulder joint as your arm was held and your arse slapped?
When I think back, the only smacks that I remember are the ones I didn’t deserve! Like the one for breaking the shed window. Sister did that. Stealing money from my Step-Father, yet again, my sister.
All the slaps I deserved and I assure you there were many, I don’t remember. Anyone who works or has worked in a school knows that kids have a heightened sense of justice, even the mildest mannered, mousey kid will go apeshit if there is a perceived injustice.
ATM had reinvented herself by the time she had my brother. (He’s 17 years younger) He didn’t get slapped like we did and what I think is worse, she wouldn’t let his Father discipline him AT ALL. I can remember my sister and I staring open mouthed at each other when he deliberately pulled down the net curtains. In unison we said, ‘Slap him!’
ATM’s reply is what caused our jaws to drop, “I don’t know what is wrong with you two, you resort to violence at a drop of a hat”… Well, we must have licked that off a stone out in the garden!

In Scotland it is illegal to slap your kids, Northern Ireland is going the same way. So it is just around the corner for us. Soon I’ll have to stop shouting ‘Piss Off outside your own house and play’ at the kids who Roller Thud (It’s and attempt at skating but they just thud along) outside my house. I’ve probably damaged one of the poor little fuckers and in 20 years time I will be sued because they can’t take responsibility for their sad, fucked up life!

Who hasn’t looked at a kid behaving like an animal and thought,

As my Nan used to say, ‘It concentrates the mind’.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Tuna Tales

One of the Housemates has taken umbrage with Kenny the cat.
Who on earth believes a feline can be left unattended with a bowl of tuna? I’m not sure that there is ‘Absolute’ proof that Ken had it. There is a looky-likey cat that keeps getting in and eating stuff. So I’m sticking up for my boy.
Kenny isn’t bright. He got into the ‘stash’ when he was about 11 weeks old. Not the kind of thing you can rush to the vet with.

“What seems to be the trouble?”
“Fucker has eaten an eighth of the finest Morrocan!”
“June! Would you call the police”.

He slept for about 3 days then licked all the chocolate from a family size pack of maltesers. So he is a little odd, totally un-trainable but I kind of like that. If I died and laid undiscovered he’d be the first one to eat me, so the thought that a bowl of tuna would be left unmolested for 30 seconds is laughable.
My cats are my ‘babies’ and like any other parent, I am the only one who can bad mouth them.

Crisp-e has discovered a new and novel approach to the Dale Carnegie method. While house hunting he slags the property off in front of the owner. Big ‘thumbs up’ on that one mate!
Seriously though, I think we should complain and bitch a bit more. We just suck up shit service, smile and apologise. Hungarians get out on the streets and burn stuff when the Prime Minister fucks up. The French take to the Rues at the drop of a YSL hat. What do we do? Nothing.. Even writing about it, I just can’t be arsed…..
Crisp-e is way more forthright he threatens internet companies with Trading Standards! Excellent.
I’m too apathetic to stand up for my consumer rights but I get vicarious pleasure from him doing so.
Keep it up dude, you are my ‘complaining’ guru!

Wednesday, September 20, 2006


I am SO angry today I'm just going to post this.....

In the paradox of life
that makes peace come out of war
when a man will give his life
without knowing what it's for,
Is the essense of existence that
Mankind has come to know.
He shouts to throw his chains off
but refuses to let go.
When parasols for sunshine must
keep the rain off his head
when the simple life he once had
like his old beliefs, lie dead.
You would think he would awaken
from the comfort of conceit,
would cast aside pretentions and
see the danger he must meet.
Still the man is reaching
to drink from poisoned wine,
still he blames the cup he drinks from
when the evil's in the vine.
In the masochists self pity
is a hidden truth of life,
for the hand that staves the blow
is the hand that holds the knife.
We are good as we are evil
Destroying peace, creating war,
we are clever in our perceptions
yet don't know what life is for.
We seek and we have gained
what we did not have before
But we have lost and do not know it,
for we could have had much more.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


Rosh Hashanah starts at sundown on Friday. This is the Jewish New Year.
It is ‘celebrated’ with extra long services at Temple. It’s also a time of judgement when, according to the Talmud, individuals and the world, as a whole, are judged. One is supposed to reflect on the past year and resolve to change in the coming one. It lasts for 10 days and ends with Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement. These are known as The Days Of Awe. The theme during this time is that G-d has a book in which our names are written. Writing down who will live, who will die, who will have a good year, who will have a bad one. During these ten days, through repentance and good deeds you can change that. The book is closed on Yom Kippur and what is written shall be!

Honey and apples are used in cooking at this time so that the New Year will be sweet. Apple dipped in honey is really yummy.
Another tradition I really like is, Tashlikh, “Casting Off”. You walk into flowing water, a river or a stream, on the first day and empty out your pockets. It symbolises casting off your sins. It’s not in the bible but neither are many things that people do!
The best bit is a Ram’s horn, called a Shofar, gets blown a lot and somehow it sounds really ‘ancient’ and connects you to all who have gone before. There are many different stories told for the reason it is used, my favourite is that it was used before the Israelites went into battle.

There is also a joke I love about this time.

“Two maids were discussing their respective employers. One says, ‘Mine are Catholic and Christmas and New Year are really busy in the house’. The other says, ‘Mine are Jewish and on Rosh Hashanah they blow the Shofar’. The first one answers, ‘Really? Ours Just gets a £100 bonus’..” Ho hum, Used to crack us up!

Friday is also a New Moon and the day after is the Autumnal Equinox, so I feel certain things are afoot. Housemates beware! You know what happened the last time we had a full moon!

Also, the calendar in my kitchen says that Friday is Native American Day, we don’t have many of those in Portsmouth so I had to look this one up. I didn’t find very much but I would really like to know about it, so if anyone has the info it would be appreciated.

So come on people, it’s a special time. Say sorry to the people you have pissed off, get your shoes and socks off, have a paddle and get rid of pocket fluff. You never know something just might change.

“May you be inscribed and sealed for good”.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Smells and Smiles

The smell of roast dinner cooking always reminds me of my childhood. In my mind’s eye I can see my Nan, big and shiny, moving around the kitchen with pots and pans.
My Grandfather would come home from his “two pints” at the pub and chase us around. As we ran through the kitchen my Nan would be trying to wallop us while hold scalding pans and my Great Nan would be shouting, “Cossacks, Cossacks!”.
We would all sit and eat together and the best bit was mopping up the gravy with a slice of bread. Bliss!

My Grandad had a special smell all to himself. Old Spice and Whiskey, a mixture I still find comforting. You tended to get a good whiff if you made a noise during the News. He would call us to him and use the pressure points just below our ears to render us unconscious! My sister and I would pass out to the sound of our Grandmother screaming,
“Louis, You will give them brain damage”… But he got to watch the news in peace.

The smell I associate with my Dad is wood shavings and damp brick dust. I think I must get my love of Bitumen and Creosote from him too!
My Nan smelled of all things Avon! Especially a perfume that came in a bottle shaped like a Swan with a gold crown for a lid!
My Great Nan smelled of Deep Heat, Mackeson stout and sweeties!
The weird thing is, I associate no smell with my Mum. None at all. I suppose that is telling, in it’s own way.

The reason I’m on this subject (Schnee will love this!) is that I smelled my Nan’s perfume today. Avon haven’t made it for years, I checked! And she has been dead over 20! No one else was in. I just walked into an invisible cloud of it. There were no temperature changes, no unseen hands touching me. It just made me smile instantly.
I’m sure that there is a perfectly logical explanation but I like the idea that she looks in on me occasionally. Because of her, my first 10 years were blissfully happy and as the Jesuits say, “Give me the boy until he is seven and I will give you the man” (although, with what we now know about some Catholic priests, it sounds a bit sinister!)

Saturday, September 16, 2006


Have been looking at old photos today which has been a real trip down memory lane. One of the Housemates, I have known since I was ten and her brother from the day He was born. Their Mum was my Maths teacher and general saviour. She clocked that something wasn’t right with my home life and took pity. I was kept behind after class one day and she said, “I know something is wrong at your house and I can’t do anything until you tell me. I also know you will never tell.”
At this point she put a front door key on the desk and pushed it towards me.
“This is the key to my house, use it whenever you want”. I never did, I always rang the bell but I became part of their family. That is why two of her kids live here. (After H died their Dad, who had met someone online and fucked off after 35years of marriage, sold the house out from under them. They had nowhere to go) They had to come here.
It is a debt of honour. I have some, even if their Dad hasn’t.

Being brought up by my Grandparents has given me a kind of old fashioned outlook on life. If I give my word, I mean it and the concept of ‘honour’ was big with my Grandfather. According to him if you stripped people of their money, houses, and possessions, personal honour is all you have. Dr Johnson’s dictionary describes honour as, “Nobility of soul, Magnanimity and a scorn of meanness”. What pisses me off is that his ‘idea’ of honour is attached to men. A woman’s honour is to do with the maintenance of virginity for the single and monogamy for the married. So a woman’s word or promise means absolutely nothing?
How could murdering a female or gay relative do any good for a families honour?.
Where is the honour in killing for G-d? Where is the honour in discrimination? Where is the honour in watching people be homeless?

Oh well. On a lighter note.

I usually heed all warnings pertaining to the chopping of chillis but today I got careless. I forgot that the ‘sting’ has a half life akin to Uranium and can live happily in and under your nails for ever. Unfortunately, I came into contact with a particularly sensitive part of my anatomy during a comfort break. JEEEZUS it fecking smarts for some considerable time but is on a slow release timer. It wasn’t until 10 minutes later that I started spasticated break dancing around the kitchen, at one point trying to out run my own crutch. Yogurt doesn’t help and neither does lime juice, or coriander, (Three things that were to hand!) the upside of that is every now and then I get this kind of ‘salsa’ aroma! A fiesta in my drawers, Cinco de Mayo in autumn! Whoo Hoo.

Am halfway through my second bottle of French wine called Red Bicyclette. I know, I know, I hate the ‘French’ but that is historical, their wine though, is the dog’s bollocks.

Friday, September 15, 2006


The Pope has fucked up and it’s made me hate the Catholic Church a little bit more than I used to. He claims that he wants ‘dialogue’ with Islam. That is a blatant lie. I know for a fact that one of his first acts as Pope was to SACK the priest who’s job it was to liaise with Muslim leaders. I know this because one of the Housemates used to be an ’insider’ in the Catholic Church and still has friends on the inside. Benedict, you are a liar. Let’s not forget the pictures of the ‘holy’ man in his Nazi uniform or forget it was Vatican passports that got a lot of Nazi war criminals to South America.
Or that while he was Cardinal Ratzinger he said that all Homosexuals ‘have an inherent moral evil’… INHERENT.. That means I was born evil. That as a small baby I was evil and I remain evil. He stopped short of saying that we couldn’t be saved, after all that would be blasphemy wouldn’t it?.
This is a church that punts it’s paedophiles around. Check out The Ferns Inquiry, the documents are online. The Bishops, The Cardinals and the previous Pope KNEW what was going on. That a diocese in America was told by the Vatican to declare itself bankrupt to avoid the massive payouts to the abused kids and their families. Very Christian considering the wealth of the Catholic Church. (They didn’t get away with it)
It’s also time for Catholics to take responsibility too. Every Catholic I’ve met, especially in Ireland, has a story of a dodgey priest or brother or of a Nun who liked whacking them a bit to much. When asked why they didn’t tell more than half said they did and their parents said, “It happened to me, just get on with it”. Oh, So that’s alright then.
I’ll get off this subject before I get really offensive.

Now for a Housemate rant!
There were 50 messages on the ansaphone today. Fucking 50!! This is due to Housemates either not picking up their messages or not deleting them. Because the phone is a bastard and is affected by minor electrical fluctuations, the date and time are never correct so you don’t know how old the message is. One of the Housemates has a friend called ‘Strange Sam’ and boy, is he strange! He had left 17 messages. He must have got all brave again because I have shouted at him about his phoning every 5 minutes and we didn’t hear from him for ages.
He also has a little soft spot (or possibly, the total opposite) for Crisp-e. This amuses me no end! His clumsy attempts at flirting and Crisp-e’s look of terror. We feed him Sambuca shooters until he has to leave thus protecting Crisp-e’s honour!
I think this may be a universal rant but why is it no one likes refilling the Ice Cube tray? You only have to put water in it and return to the freezer for fuck’s sake! It's not like you have to go to ATM's and ask her to open her heart to the tray. This has even pissed Robbie off and he doesn’t live here!.

I’m on Absinthe and Martini cocktails at the moment. It’s a funky taste but I’m persevering, my lips went numb about 4 sips ago so it’s looking good for some sleep tonight.
Karen, give it a go!.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Poxy Adverts

There is an advert that is played ad nauseum at the moment. It’s for one of those ‘Ambulance Chaser Direct’ companies. You know the type, ‘Been a complete wanker and hurt yourself? Phone us and we will get you compensation you don’t deserve’.. This particular ad shows some bloke falling off a ladder. In a voice over he claims he was fitting an alarm system and was given the wrong type of ladder. You What?!! How can there be a WRONG type of ladder, you prick? According to the dictionary a ladder is, “An often portable structure consisting of two long sides crossed by parallel rungs, used to climb up and down”…. So how is there a fucking wrong ladder??!! Was this tosser using a structure made of knotted, ruined hosiery?
While on the subject of ad’s, why do they need to be at least 50% louder than the programme you are watching? So that everyone ends up shouting, ‘Quick, Quick, Where’s the fucking remote?’

There are some ad’s I’m really loving at the moment all because of the music they have with them.
If you get the chance I recommend having a listen to Miriam Makeba and a tune called “Mbube”. As soon as you hear it you will know what song ‘grew’ out of this.
The other one I’m loving is, “When Night Hears My Song” by Bedouin Soundclash. They are both on itunes and well worth the 79p/99c.

I have had a few days away in Wiltshire (Cracking!) When I arrived home the house looked lovely! All clean and empty.
At this point I have to pick up on something Schnee said previously about hand towels.
OK.. How do they end up grubby and stained? If you have washed your hands properly where does all the nasty shit come from?
How about this for a concept Housemates? USE FUCKING SOAP! I know it may sound controversial but Hey, let’s give it a go!.

Crisp-e is cooking tonight and it smells lush! This also means that almost every pot, pan and utensil is used. Bizarrely, he is listening to ‘Duelling Banjo’s’ while whipping up a pepper and cream sauce.
Normal? For this house, I’m afraid to say, it barely warrants a raised eyebrow.

On a happy note, my beloved Tottenham Hotspur won tonight!

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Bad Moon Rising

No preamble today. Straight in. There are SEVEN tea towels on the go in my kitchen at the moment. Seven. Am I alone in thinking that this is a bit fucking excessive? Given The Housemate’s stubborn refusal to wash them, I’m a bit miffed to say the least. Two sport evidence of having been used on spillages… Grrrrr…
I am supremely grumpy today. I worked out that my last full night’s sleep was over a month ago and it is doing nothing for my usually ‘cheery’ disposition.

I congratulate those Housemates who have managed Sociable Bathrooming Level One. Well done.
This means that you have managed to rinse away most of your hairs and the soap doesn‘t look like it needs feeding. It is not human nature to climb into a bath or shower that is hirsute so it follows that when you get out, any that are in there are yours! They were probably attached to you not that long ago, so what is the problem with using your hand to get particularly stubborn ‘clingers’?
Level Two requires you use some sort of cleaning product. We have a surprising selection and they live under the sink, there are even ‘Eco‘ ones. They don’t live alone, oh no, they share with a cloth!
While I’m on the subject of the sink. The Red, White and Blue pattern at the bottom is not a wry homage to patriotism, it’s fucking Aquafresh! As shocking as it sounds, this can also be removed using the same products as the bath! How amazing is that?
I will address the Toilet issue at a later date.
There is a full moon tonight and maybe that’s why I’m feeling so weird and hectic. There was also a partial eclipse. That made the moon look quite orange and gave the impression it was wearing a really bad toupee. Through the ages the Full Moon has been associated with insomnia, insanity and of course Lycanthropy. An ex neighbour of mine was a psychiatric nurse and according to her they used to put extra staff on during this time!
The English name for this moon is a Fruit Moon so it kind of fits in with last night’s blog.

I watch The Simpsons like others watch Corrie or Eastenders. I love it and I never bore of them, even the repeats. I end up hearing or seeing stuff I missed the first or second time.
Tonight’s episode was the one when Homer and Marge end up going over Niagara Falls in a bouncy castle.
The American and Canadian coastguard start fighting over who has jurisdiction. The guy on the Canadian boat came out with a line that just keeps repeating on me!
“Back off you Shatner stealing Mexico touchers, eh”..
Maybe you had to be there! Schnee.. Thought of you immediately!
While I’m thinking of Shatner… Happy 40th Star Trek.

Homo Sapiens

I read today that the American Tennis Association has renamed the National Tennis Centre in NY after Billie Jean King, one of my all time heroes!
How many sports venues can you think of that are named after women? The Virginia Wade Lido? Apart from this one I can think of none. (But I am Mullered!)
As a kid I had no idea about her sexual orientation but I knew there was 'something' about her, because of the way ATM spoke about her with other adults. I heard the word ‘Bi’, ‘Dyke’ and someone saying she was sponsored by ‘Snap On Tools’. Which, with hindsight, I find quite amusing.

Is it possible for homosexuals to be homophobic?
I don’t mean in the ‘self loathing’ kind of way but in the usual Daily Nazi, conservative voting, builder kind of way?..
I find extremely camp men very hard to deal with. I think it’s the screaming but I can’t be sure. Also, why are this type of male usually best friends with the biggest slag on the planet? To me, the term ‘Fag Hag’ is synonymous with ‘Huge Slut’. (Often, they look like Dog The Bounty Hunter’s Wife) They can be found sat together in a gay pub bitching about what Bastards men are, when neither have had a date since 1997. For obvious fucking reasons!
The thing is, from my experience working in school, I know they are born like that. At this time of year, when there is the new intake, you can clock them straight (as it were) away! They are Eleven! It’s not like they have been sat watching Lily Savage and been honing their ‘camp’ skills for 4 years of bullying. It’s usually at school they acquire their first Fag Hag.. But even at that age I find they ‘grate’. Why? I, of all people, should be more tolerant. I just can’t do ‘screaming queens’!
I have also wondered about parents who came in to school complaining that their child was bullied because ‘they think he’s gay, he’s not you know’… Yes, he fucking IS! Are you stupid?
ATM reckoned she had always known about me. I think she was trying to be nice, a concept I find that VERY confusing in my Mother.
That just makes me even more pissed off with her! If she knew, why didn’t she tell me? Save me the horror of ‘going out’ with Terry Pearce. After our first ’proper’ kiss he told me he didn’t use toothpaste. Only Bicarbonate of Soda because his Granddad used it during the war! Great! It all went wrong when it became apparent I was better at football than him.

While I think about it and given the state of my short term memory! What are those bumpy bits around a female nipple and what is their point??

Well, one of the Housemates has a death wish. Today I found the kitchen roll in the same condition as the toilet roll.. I’ll smother you in your sleep and tell everyone you had a heavy cold if I find out which one of you it was! Bastards!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

A night on Shooters

I read somewhere today that the Australian Government would give Steve Irwin a state funeral, if his family were up for it.
As you know, my mind works bizarrely and I had an image of a Gun Carriage drawn by 6 Kangaroos. Hopping along to a dirge played by a massed band of didgeridoos (an instrument, which like the bagpipes, are best heard just out of earshot) with supporting Wobble Boards. Brings a tear to your eye doesn’t it? I know! Have laughed all day about that one.
The Gun Carriage morphed into a selection of Antipodean fauna. A Platypus, a Dingo, Kangaroo, a Wallaby, a Koala and an Emu. I contemplated a Croc but I’m not sure how trustworthy they are around the others. Same could be said of the Dingo I suppose. Just have to keep babies and small children away from it.

The Soham murderer, Ian Huntley, has attempted suicide and this has left me in a quandary.
One part of me says, ’Good! Let him do it. One less we have to pay to keep’. Then there is a part that says, ‘No! Keep him alive, let him suffer for what he has done. Trying to take the easy way out. Bastard!’.
So, is that about justice or revenge?
I have really got into a band called Bright Eyes and the lyrics of one song really stuck in my head.
“And in the face of every criminal
Strapped firmly to a chair
We must stare, We must stare, We must stare”

I’m SO glad I have never been called for Jury Service, thank G-d for a juvenile record! I know they tell you it’s wiped at 17, but I don’t believe that for an instant!

Had to ‘frontline’ the felines today. An experience none of us enjoy particularly. They really seem to believe I am trying to kill them and look at me as if I have just pissed on the backs of their necks. I take exception to this as one of the bastards puked on my bed last week, which to them, seems perfectly acceptable. I am with-holding catnip as a punishment. Not that they care, if they got opposable thumbs they’d fuck off tomorrow.

Have been on the Crisp-e special shooters!…. Eeeesh. Amaretto and Cherry Brandy. At least it had no Absinthe in it.
We have decided that after a few of these, the words ‘Slits’, ‘Flange’, ‘Gusset’ and ’Plinth’ take on a sordidly surreal quality.

Aaaaah! The wonders of alcohol.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Mea Maxima Culpa

I would like to start by hoping that Steve Irwin rests in peace. I didn’t mean to kill him and in my defence I only encouraged the crocs. The Stingray was working for someone else and as the text I got earlier says, ’Troy Tempest has denied all knowledge”.

This has got me thinking about guilt. The wikipedia definition of guilt is, ’…primarily an emotion experienced by people who believe they have done something wrong’..
I know I didn’t kill Steve but can’t help feeling a little bit guilty about it.
So I’m going to take this opportunity to ’fess up to a few other things!

My sister, to this day, believes she was a bed wetter. She wasn’t, I was. I’d get up in the night and half way to the bedroom door I would get scared of the dark. I would get into her bed to build up the courage for the next leg, fall asleep and wet her bed. An hour or so later I would wake up and head back to my own dry bed!.
I also used to tell her we had got her from Bernardos but I don’t feel as bad about that one for some reason!.
I have some mild guilt about the five hamsters I buried BEFORE I found out they hibernated. Sorry Katie 1 through 5.
I need to apologise to Mr Zebedee who lived in Emsworth. It was me who used to phone and say, ‘Boing!!, time for bed!’ (I know! I know! I was only 9!) If it cost money for you to go ex-directory, again I’m sorry.
I’m starting to feel a bit bad about laughing with Chris this afternoon, about how they tell in China if a child has Downs Syndrome.

Housemates: The mop requires NO special training so please feel free to slop it around anytime you like. It is the scruffy looking thing with the red bucket that you see me pushing around ALL THE FUCKING TIME!! If any training is required, feel free to ask.


Have been thinking about urges today.

Some people, when stood at the edge of a cliff or high place get an overwhelming urge to jump. My friend Dave does and his wife gets it if she is passing over water.
Mine is thatch. Thatch incites me to arson. As soon as I see it I get and overwhelming urge to set it on fire, just flick a fag butt at it. It literally gives me butterflies!. There are some places in the New Forest I have to be taken through at high speed because of this ‘urge’.
Someone else I know has a problem with scissors. Has an urge to cut up the curtains if she has scissors in her hands for too long. She actually blames the scissors, claiming they ‘dowse’ for the curtains!

Another overwhelming urge I have, is for that wanker Steve Irwin to get seriously bitten by a croc. If I have to watch it I spend the whole time urging the crocs to try a bit harder. I always want ice skaters to fall over too, as they wind up into a jump I shout, “Fall, Fall, Fall…” at the TV. During the last Winter Olympics I had a 70% success rate.
I also get the urge to slap one of my housemate’s girlfriends every time she opens her mouth. She is probably a very nice girl but I can never remember her name. To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t really tell you what she looks like. Her strident voice cuts through me, had to have my dinner on my lap today to prevent any ‘incidents’.
I also find I have the urge to shout, ‘Bollocks!’ at the News more than I used to.

This is one of my ‘Happy’ times of year the Football season has started and so has the new series of the Sopranos! Spurs could be doing better but it’s early days.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

And We Laughed...

This evening I have had visitors to the House… Mad Matt the Dyslexic Science Teacher, Josh, who used to teach IT and Robbie!

Mad Matt is one of my most favourite people because he can make me laugh.. Not just polite “ Oooh aren’t you witty” laugh. Proper laugh, Kid laugh! Like when you were in a school assembly and you know you shouldn’t but it just comes out… And you hurt your muscles trying not to…!
Matt comes from Co. Durham and has an accent that lends itself to funny stories. He also has a poor Dad whom isn’t the luckiest geezer alive. MM’s Dad has a prosthetic arm and a glass eye, which is ripe for comedy!..

Tonight we heard how MM’s Dad needed a new hand and that there is such a place called ’The Limb Clinic’.. (I was cracked up with that one!) His measurements were taken, angles were calculated, Pi was probably involved and a new hand was manufactured.. The only problem was they had made the had for a large Jamaican male.. Not much call for that in a small pit village in Co. Durham..
Matt is one of those who should live here, but doesn’t (at the moment!)

This leads me on to the ‘Housemates’…. Who else thinks that if you boil water in a pan it doesn’t need washing up?? Do you NOT notice the chalky residue left on the pan?? Why would you think I’d just use it like that?? Or saucepan lids… Why would they need washing? Because, what is in the lower part of the pan splashes up you fucking *DINS!

And rest…………1……………………......2.....................................3..............
Ok… Here’s another one. How long can laundry be left in the washing machine before it starts to smell like decay? (Chris calls the smell ‘puck’, my family call it ‘Fausty’..) The sister question to this, is how long do you leave it in before YOU take it out? What’s the etiquette?
I object to having to touch another persons unmentionables just to get mine in the machine.

And rest………………..1.…………………………2.……………………………..3
Also, tea towels are for wiping dry recently washed dishes; NOT any spillages, drips and bits of takeaway that may have escaped. You animals! While we are on that subject, Well done those of you who have moved on to ‘Dishwasher, Level 2’… Level one being loading it and turning it on. Level 2 is taking the washed stuff out!! Depending on the timing (When you open the door), some of this will need wiping dry before putting away. If it feels slippery in your hands, it is wet! Dry it… By doing that we avoid the ‘Licked Clean’ look of most of our glassware and cutlery.

Ho Hum! The joys of community living…. Imagine if we went communist! I’d have to slaughter half and send the others to a camp in Gosport to live out their days cold and reviled!..

* DINS… Good Pompey word for those not academically gifted and devoid of any redeeming features, other than a head shaped for wearing baseball caps.