Friday, August 29, 2008


I have had to do an emergency trip to Wiltshire.
My gorgeous boy Blue is seriously ill.

It started on Saturday with the shits and puking, which was treated the usual way with boiled rice and chicken.

Then on Wednesday he started bleeding out..

He was rushed to the animal hospital and put straight on a drip.
The poor boy was hideously dehydrated and given less than a 50% survival rate.
During the tests they discovered something wrong with his heart. He is having an ECG for that today.

He had such a tough start. His body has scars from cigarette burns, 2 bullet wounds, many cuts and an attempt had been made to cut his ears off.

I love this big, soppy boy very much.
Please send your positive thoughts his way.
I don't want to lose him.

Thanks guys.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

O Captain! My Captain!...

…Our fearful trip is done…

The day in France was splendid!
Sleepy Mansions now houses much Chablis, Sancerre, Macon Villages, Bordeaux and one of my most favourites, Pineau Des Charentes!
This stuff is that one step beyond Yummers.
There is also a LOT of cheese and ciggies galore!
You got to love tax free shopping.

Just a point about the train.
Ok, we are leaving England, Passports are involved, we are going to a different time zone, and they speak some incomprehensible language;
Fucking BUT!
No matter how long you have been getting in to the front of the train and pushing a fucking button to make it go, you are NOT the “Captain” of my train!
Stop yourself!
You don’t ‘steer’ a route.
The fucker is on tracks, it has no choice where it goes.
You are a train driver, exactly the same as the person who ‘drives’ me to Salisbury!
You press an “On” and “Off” switch.
Captain.. Dear Christ.

Hands up anyone who thinks this is going to make the slightest bit of difference to the Catholic Church?
Anglicans voting, um, why?
The Tame Pharmacist went to a Cardinal Newman school in Brighton.
Not that I’m making any link, but…. Brighton!
Gay-er than a bag of rainbows at a Boy Scout Jamboree.

Mad Matt and the affianced Crisp-e’s came for a pre return to school meal, booze and smoke.
Crisp-e actually did the organising and inviting but somehow it all happened in Sleepy Mansions with me cooking!
When pulled on this he had some very plausible reason, which I forget now.
But I’m so glad he did!
I did Moussaka.
Something had to be done to some of those Lidl Aubergines.
Mad Matt and I, after much cannabis and deep discussion, have decided that Jesus was a Yo-Yo dieter.
40 days and 40 nights of starvation?
Loaves and Fishes?
We reckon that is the Weight Watchers ‘red and green’ day thing.
The fellah wasn’t shy with booze either.
The wedding at Cana?
The Last Supper must have been a carbohydrate day, or a piss up.
Loads of bread to soak up the wine!

Today, as a mark of solidarity with Lapriss Glibert, I have worn my ‘Known Homosexual’ teeshirt.
I think it freaked out the lady in the Deli, she didn’t take her eyes off it the whole time she cut my Gruyere cheese, she also avoided touching me in any way when giving my change.
That really made me chuckle.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Shopping, Home And Away

Today I have been to Lidl.
I love Lidl!
With the Waitrose bags for life of course, I don’t want the neighbours thinking I’m cheap or pikey!
This week Sleepy Mansions will be mostly eating Aubergines.
At 27p a pop I bought, well, let’s just leave it at, ‘several’.
Any recipe ideas would be gratefully received. Nothing obvious!
The thing with shops like Lidl is not to have any expectations.
It might be really good or it might be really shite.
Lucky dip shopping.

Masterchef is back on and it’s ‘wannabe’ professional chefs having a go this time.
Michel Roux Jr is one of the judges.
He is way too skinny for my liking, especially for a chef.
I want my chef to look like he actually fucking eats something.
You stand the man in front of an oven and he doesn't look like he cooks, he looks like an extra in Sophie's Choice.

I must just say before I forget, the programme starts and everyone goes on about how fecking wonderful it is;
I HATE Tess of the d’Urbervilles.
Detest it. Ok?
While I’m at it, I’m going to fully come out, I hate Thomas Hardy.
Hate him.
There, it’s said!
Wanker, made A level English a hideous experience.

Tomorrow I’m leaving the comfort of my own country for the day and going to France.
I say France; we’re going to Calais which in my book is still English.
If it weren’t for the need of a Tabac we wouldn’t even see a welcome to France sign.
I meet up with The Crisp-e’s at 6.30am and aim to be on the Eurostar, under the English Channel by about 11am!
Must brush up on my Froggish chat, which by the time we arrive will be a ‘Pidgin Franglais’ with a hint of menace.
To my shame, I have used the sentence,
“I said; pour le troisieme time, Je FUCKING voudrais, vingt, 20? yeah? Vingt cartouche Mayfair smooth. D’accord, De Gaulle?”
I’ll be trying to avoid diplomatic incident; get in, get my wine, cheese and smokes and get the fuck out.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Mass Gold

I found this at 05.13am and have chuckled about it ever since!
36 hours sleep free, be gentle with me.
Ho Hum.

There was some pure gold at Mass this morning.
The Downs Syndrome Lady who sometimes shouts out ‘Tits!’ decided she was going to say all the Priest’s parts today.
This put the poor fecker right off and he kept missing out bits, fortunately she didn’t!
I actually think it was her who did the ‘consecration’!

HIM.. “…He took the cup, gave it to his disciples and said…
HER. “Take this all of you and drink”
HIM.. “T…T…T.. Take.. Um. Er. This is the cup of my blood…”
HER. “ Which shall be shed for you…”

I laughed out loud.
Proper belly laughed until I was stared at by many people.
In fact I wanted to applaud her.
Not that staring bothers me AT ALL; I am SO used to that.
Why hasn’t anybody’s G-d got the same sense of humour as mine?
Well, maybe Schnee’s has.
I really felt a lot of love towards Downs Syndrome Lady, which is probably the whole point of turning up in the first place.

Father P looked pale, confused and haggard as I left.
I gave him a thumbs up and a shout of, ‘stoic effort’ as I shot out for some smokes.
Another thing I noticed is if you want to balls up some perfectly nice, upbeat Protestant hymn, get Catholics to sing it.
They will halve the speed and turn it in to a fecking dirge within one verse.
Poor old Mr Wesley.

I’ve watched the closing ceremony of the ‘Olympiad’.
What kind of fecking word is that? Olympiad?
Same as “Medalling”.
“Oh, she medalled here; she’s bound to medal in 2012”.
What does that mean?
It means fuck all!

That was a massive flame they had going on.
Am I the only one to wonder if they had a big old rotisserie in there and were knocking out Peking Duck on the side?

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Ping Pong

It took me ages to work out what was wrong with the Olympic Table Tennis.
No split across the centre of the table.
It would appear that we are shit at this sport.
Not just as a nation but as a continent.
I’d like to see it played at Olympic level the way the rest of us had to play it.

Firstly, the two players would have to have a fight over the only decent bat.
The winner will be chosen by ‘Someone’s Mum’ who will also extract the promise to swap over bats half way through.
If they are lucky enough to be drawn as the first match of the day they will get a ball that is round and actually bounces.
Later games are likely to be played with a ball that is partially square and has a pucker like an arsehole in it.
The net will fall down every time the ball hits it and 15 minutes of the game will be spent trying to make it stay up with lolly sticks and Wrigley’s.
If the ‘Good Bat’ is put down during this time, theft is perfectly acceptable.
The game ends when the first combatant cries, they are the loser or in technical parlance, “Over Tired”.

Play it like that and we’re in with a chance.
We could get that sorted for 2012 and wouldn’t even have to build anything.
Butlins at Bognor Regis is already set up for it.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Salve And No Way

I have decided that I must be a master of disguise because every time the ‘Parish Sister’ sees me at Mass, she asks if I’m new to the area!
I might tell her I am and see if there is some sort of ‘Welcome Pack’.

Today the Oldies came into their own.
It’s The Feast of The Queenship of Mary, or something like that.
Equally it could be the Feast of St Quentin the Hairy.
They were digging up the road outside and I didn’t quite hear.
The priest decided we were going to sing the Salve Regina at the end.
In Latin.
Step up the coffin dodgers and pre Vatican II-er‘s, your time has come.
I can remember how the words go and how you say them, I’m just really shit with the tune.
The trouble is, to my eternal shame, I have this going on in my head!
My Auntie Rosie LOVED him to death.
So I blame it on all the summer holidays spent with my cousins under her influence!
The Nutty Daddy used to start it up at the end of any religious gathering, no matter what the denomination or the celebration, much to his family’s embarrassment.

Playboy reckons that these are the Top Ten places to ‘have sex before you die’.
Fuck No!
Let’s look a little closer.

1. In the car.
Er, who hasn’t? It must be one of the first things anybody does when they get a car. It’s a portable bedroom.
70% of us were probably conceived in one.

2. In the pool.
Look out of the window in any Spanish or Greek resort and watch how the water ‘rushes around the genitals’ of a fat lass from Wigan.
As for ‘killing natural lube’, dear Christ I DO fecking hope so!

3. The cinema.
They have got to be joking.
After, somehow, paying £25 for a bag full of your favourite sweeties, a carton of popcorn that tastes like Styrofoam cups and coke that tastes like that Soda Stream shit; the last thing on your mind is a bunk up.
Most of the film is taken up with seething and making sure nothing is dropped or wasted.

4. Back of a cab.
Yeah, if you want a fatwa put on you by your Muslim driver and a Thirty Five quid ‘clean up’ charge.

5. On a train.
Travel to anywhere along the Cardiff line and I guarantee you have had sex already.
Probably without realising.
Passengers are crammed in so tight; if you haven’t had sex with someone, then someone has had sex with you.

6. In the woods.
The Right to Roam legislation has opened up a lot more of the countryside to the ‘adventurous fucker’; but you are more likely to meet a red faced lunatic, dressed in tweed with a shotgun screaming “Get Orf My Land”.
Superman maybe as fast as a speeding bullet, but let’s see him dodge it with his trousers bunched round his ankles.

7. In a nightclub.
I’m gay for the love G-d, It’s the law!
Must be done in the only cubicle that locks, to the romantic sounds of a heavy bass beat and the door being kicked in by MTF transsexuals wanting a piss.

8. On a boat.
Other than the cross channel ferry the nearest most of us come to a ‘boat’ is a pedalo.
I don’t imagine that there is any kind of ‘gentle rocking’ given their design.
Diving into a sea full of shit, condoms and sundry pollution doesn’t really appeal either.

9. A mile high.
It takes the suppleness of Olga Korbett to get in the fecking thing on your own, so two is a logistical nightmare. The furnishings are placed in the optimum position to hinder any kind of needful frolicking.
I know.
I almost split my head open on a sink.

10. On a beach.
Lovely. Not.
Make your bed amongst the thousands of plastic bottles, in the twinkling light of a million glass shards and hypodermic needles.
Your head resting on a pillow of Dr Whites and tampons, as you get covered in tar and take the suede off the toes of your shoes.
Yeah, that’s a real turn on.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Freaks And Experiments

This morning I somehow ended up watching women’s Basketball, which is basically Netball and therefore shit.
What kept me watching was a morbid fascination with one of the American girls.
She was 6’ 5” tall.
Six foot fecking five inches!
What the fuck do you do with yourself if you are that tall and totally shit at basketball?
What if you don’t have an athletic bone in your freakishly tall body?

Sassy could have done with someone like that today for the first and last round of her own bizarre sport, ‘Attic Vacuuming’.
Don’t ask. Really, don’t ask.
It got complicated and I kind of misted over at ‘back bedroom’ and ‘decorating’!
But I had caned the weed and had a fraught time at Mass.
She had to make do with me; stumpy as I am, I’m taller than her!

This caught my eye and I’m trying a little experiment.
I have a friend teaching in China so I sent her the article as a link.
The question for you all is, will she be able to open it?
We’ll see.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Sport And The Horn

I only managed to get through the first half of the England football friendly against The Czech Republic before losing my temper and the will to live.
What a load of shite.
Watching a bunch of over paid twats flouncing about, after the true athletes of the Olympics, was bloody awful.
Sassy was here to share the horror and the most used words between us were, ‘Useless’, ‘Twat’, and ‘Wanker’.

Does the ‘sap rise’ again in August?
Something is definitely happening.
I could barely concentrate at Mass today, my thoughts kept drifting to memories of… Well.. You get the idea.
Then, in my weakened state, I was forced in to conversation with Mrs Next Door With The Kids.
She had on a low cut top and kept bending down to the children.
It took EVERY ounce of my concentration to keep looking her in the eye.
I seriously considered an afternoon of Olympic level self abuse but cleaned the kitchen windows instead.
Damn those Nuns.
Did I have a mystical awakening? Did I buggery.
Just the horrible realisation I should never have started this poxy fecking job in the first place.
It’s not one you can leave half way through either, especially considering they hadn’t been cleaned in over a year.

This gave me a smile!
“… socially conscious without smelling like patchouli.”
Love it!

What a brilliant bloke.
May he rest in peace.

My word of the week is Amanuensis.
I can’t remember where I read it but try it out; it really makes you use your lips!
Don’t mind me, I’m mash up and incredibly horny.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Gold And Nonces

Well, bugger me!
Who knew we would do this well at the ‘lympics?!
Looks like that might be the end of it now though, all the ‘posh’ sports have finished.
The sports you’ve got to have money to have a go at in the first place.
Sailing, rowing and lately, cycling.
Those bikes cost more than most people’s first car.
The last of the gymnastics was quite good.
I feel more comfortable watching the blokes.
It was the spinning around the bar one.
I’m not exactly sure of the scoring but ‘difficulty’ appears to have a lot to do with it.
I think they should be marked down if their coach is stood nearby getting ready to catch them.
Shows a lack of faith I think and they should lose marks!
I did get choked up twice at medal ceremonies, Chris Hoy’s and Christine Ohruruogu’s.
It’s nice to feel proud of our sports people for a change.

Gary Glitter has been released from a Thai prison and is on his way back to Britain.
The Daily Nazi claims it is to have treatment on the NHS.
Shock, Horror! A Nonce getting medical treatment!
The reports also say that he will be met by the police at whatever airport he flies in to and asked to sign the Sex Offenders Register.
Will they appear ‘This is Your Life’ stylee with a big book?
“Yes! Tonight Gary Glitter you are a fat, balding paedophile! Sign here please.”
Apparently he is free to go anywhere.
Anywhere that will give him a visa.
Nowhere will give him a visa, so we’re stuck with him.
Luckily, if there is a luckily in this, he is high profile enough that where ever he ends up there will always be someone who knows what he is.

Catching my eye today is this.
What a cracking idea!

Monday, August 18, 2008

Olympics, TV And Books

This weekend, after an epic effort, I think I have just about caught up with my Olympic viewing.
I have watched some strange shit though.
I saw some fencing, not something I would usually watch but I was desperate.
Swords and stabbing were involved so I thought we might be quite good.
To my eye and ear it’s all stamping and shouting, none of the Zorro shit I was expecting.
They don’t even get scars on their faces like The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp taught me. (I love that film!)
Load of bollocks.
Then I stumbled in to the horror that is Greco-Roman wrestling.
Dom Joly sums it up so much better than I do!

The Gymnastics has been brilliant but I always feel slightly uncomfortable watching the ‘women’.
Gymnasts always look like the girls I avoided at school.
Spiteful, bitching, bullying bastards!
I always end up shouting at the TV,
“How old is she? She looks about 12! Sixteen? My arse! Fuck off!!”
Although, Princess Haya of Jordan got me slightly interested in Equestrianism but far more interested in Princess Haya!
She’s a little bit bloody lush.

This isn’t really Olympics related but swimming is.
In the Polygrip (The cement shit that holds false teeth in people’s heads) advert; ‘Geoff’ goes on about how discovering this stuff meant he could go swimming again.
Why couldn’t he before?
Is it impossible to swim with no teeth? Babies appear to manage it.
Does the head folding in on itself make you sink?
Another load of bollocks to piss me off.

Last night I watched The Perfect Vagina on Channel 4.
The moment I heard the word “Twinkle” used I was gone.
A giggling, screeching mess!
Some of it made for uncomfortable viewing though, especially the operation showing the removal of labia.
Had me hanging on to my Twinkle for dear life!

I’ve finished the book Schnee gave me, Boy in The World.
Not one I would have picked up myself but a really enjoyable read.
I was a bit disappointed with the end because it didn’t, well, ‘end’.
I’ve also read one called The First Apostle.
Don’t bother.
Dan Brown has really buggered it for any one wanting to write those historical/religious/mystery books.
Sepulchre by Kate Mosse was cracking, as good as, if not better than Labyrinth.
My new read is The End of Mr Y by Scarlett Thomas which has started out well.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

A Trip Round The Bill

Yesterday R and I went to Portland to enjoy ‘a bit of nature’ while under the influence of some ‘shrooms!
Luckily for us we managed to pitch up on the wettest, windiest August day either of us had ever seen.
So, dressed for arctic conditions and starting to ‘trip’, we began our trek to Portland Bill.
Tripping while walking along cliffs in 70mph winds was an experience.
Trying to turn one corner, on what I thought was a particularly narrow path, with instant death on brutal rocks to my right; the wind took me straight off my feet!
Fortunately it blew me inland.

I did manage to get it together enough to take a few photos of birds.
The conditions helped, the wind just seemed to hold them in the air for me.
We stayed overnight and woke to a glorious day today.
The ‘carnage’ that had been washed ashore was awful.
I would have photographed it if parents weren’t allowing their kids to play amongst it.
I couldn’t face an ‘angry mob’ or the sex offenders register!

Plastic bottles, carrier bags, bread trays, dustbins, rope of many colours and lengths, glass bottles, Gannet corpses in various stages of decomposition, fishing floats and buoys, wooden pallets. Many shoes (devoid of feet, this isn’t Canada!) and a bright pink wig.
Tar is obligatory on British beaches.
As a child you are told to stay away from it but the stuff is virtually fucking invisible when you are a kid.

At least 98% of it was human related.
The foot caught my eye and I thought of that saying, ‘Tread gently on Mother Earth’.
It looked like we’d stamped all over Chesil Beach this morning.

Tomorrow I’m off to Wiltshire for some quiet, gentle time with the hounds.
Hopefully I will get to see some of the Olympics.
I’m still dreadfully lacking in ‘viewage’, although my knees feel as though I’ve been triple jumping for the last 24 hours solid!

Catch you anon.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


I’ve had a brilliant weekend with family.
Been fed SO much I’m convinced my liver is Foie Gras, then pickled in all the alcohol consumed.
I have ‘Choons’ to listen to on cd’s made by the grooviest of nieces.
These family members have a better ‘Sports Filter’ than Schnee and I have seen none of the Olympics!
More or less unheard of.
I actually feel a little bit shaky.

Mr and Mrs Crisp-e are back from holiday to alive plants and bearing the fabulous news that they are properly ENGAGED!
Jewellery and everything.
Yep, my bestest mate is happy, settled and has found his ’one’; I couldn’t be more delighted!
The weird thing is I knew. I woke up Friday morning and I ‘knew’.
Speaking to Mrs Crisp-e confirmed I had got it bang on.

Then to top my last few days Belle came to visit!
I check her blog out and she passes this way every now and then.
She and her G/F had an away day to the coast and were treated to some Sleepy Mansions hospitality.
Food, Booze and Weed!
We hit CafĂ© Distress for some lunch. They met the Crisp-e’s and we had a great afternoon.
I’m not sure they did!
We may well have been a little overwhelming and hectic.
I really hope not because we’d like them to come back!

Super-painkiller? I’ve been doing this kind of shit for years.
They want to test me.

Schnee has requested photographic Butternut Squash updates.
I will provide these tomorrow, I didn’t get my shit together enough today and all of a sudden it was too dark.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

5th August

Check it out!!!
The infant butternut squash growing in my garden.
I’m fecking delighted with myself, like a dog with two dicks!

Today is Housemate Claire’s birthday!
We ‘sedately celebrated’ as the Sassy One is off on a global gallivant AND we did drink a litre of Carolans yesterday evening!
Two and a half bottles of white and a bottle of red between 4 is sedate for us; considering it was combined with a huge curry from the Eastern Eye.
We put the world to rights and tried to plan our 40th and 50th birthday celebrations!
I decided all you need to know about life you can learn the Godfather, Star Trek and Monkey.

Crisp-e is away and I’m watering his plants.
The pressure of the trust is enormous.
I have been left a printed table showing: plant, name, description, location and how much ‘rain’ water each has to have.
Piece of piss I hear you say.
I agree, absolutely; until you read the handwritten ‘codicil’ to one of the instructions.
I paraphrase,
“Hold this over the sink while watering. 500mls of water has to RUN THROUGH.
This is most important.
This plant is really rare. It only grows on one hillside in Sumatra.”

Oh Goooooood! Ok! No fucking pressure then!

Fucking Sumatra?
Does that exist anymore or was it called something else before?
I grew up in a world that had Burma, Ceylon, Persia and The USSR in it!
Ho Hum.

Here’s some stuff I’ve surfed into these last few days.

Here’s one that will definitely appeal to Schnee!

I know I shouldn’t because it’s all very serious, but Ha Ha Ha!

Things that make you go, Eeuuew! I am so glad they didn’t show his feet.
That would have proper turned my stomach.

Some of these made me chuckle out loud.

The Birthday girl sent me this gem!
I nearly forgot it.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Judge Not....

Yesterday I got the 2.31pm to Salisbury, hoping that it wouldn’t be too crowded.
How wrong I was.
As ever, it was “The Standing Room Only Express” from Portsmouth Harbour to Cardiff.
I elbowed my way on and managed to get a seat opposite a woman so brown she looked like leather.
Then Chav McPikey fought her way on with pushchair, assorted kids and lots of ‘big’ gold.
‘Here we fucking go’ I thought and fired up the ipod.
I had a bet with myself as to how long it would be before the little feckers would be running about.
But No!
With a single look Mrs McPikey had these kids under absolute control.
I was totally impressed.

This led me to have a closer look at them.
There was something I recognised about her but couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Then it hit me, she had more than a passing resemblance to my sister!
I was staring and she caught me.
She smiled and half waved.
The next three stops were spent trying to work out how I knew her.
As we pulled into Southampton, using some sort of ‘Sheep Dog Trial’ whistling, she summoned her offspring to her hip.
When she turned and mouthed,
“See you later Sleepy”, the scales fell from my eyes.
She was one of my Cousins from my Dad’s side of the family!

I think my lesson was, “Judge not, lest you be related.”