Friday 31st July 2009

Kenny is in a really sorry state.
He has to go to the Specialists in Winchester on Monday.
£250 an hour and a £500 deposit if he has to stay overnight.
What the fuck that is for I can’t imagine but I’m now depressingly aware I chose the wrong degree.
He is a small, half dead cat; what sort of damage could he do worth five hundred quid?
He returned from the vet groggy from the drugs, licked a bit of chicken, gnawed through his bandage and matrixed his way out of the house.
Bastard.
He's halfway through the dressing in this picture.
I expect that will be another 500 hundred notes to have that removed from his gullet.

In the name of all that is holy, fecking NO!
Fill your Celibate Void with Gorgeous George, guitar playing or ‘The Discipline’, anything but this perfidious shit.
Haven’t we suffered enough with the Four Priests and Karl fucking Jenkins?
I think so.
The Sainted Mammy is quite a fan of Karl but he makes me feel nauseous, seriously.

Thursday Dilemma

Housemate Pat decided that if I can successfully cook duck then so can she!
It was left out on the kitchen side with its giblets arranged around it and she pissed off upstairs.
No matter how many times I tell Housemates that a tea towel is not adequate protection from a cat, they refuse to believe it.
I found Murff licking the giblets.
Then I was caught up in the ‘do I or don’t I’ tell her dilemma.
It was only a little lick and it was going to be boiled to buggery so I didn’t.
There will be Karmic repercussions I’m sure.

I’ve changed my Dad’s name in my phone list to, ‘Nothing to Display’ because that is the only text message I ever get from him.
He is beyond crap with a mobile phone and someone should take it away from him!

Tuesday With 'Senior'

The day spent with my Dad was pretty special.
We arrived in the New Forest at about 9am and were in the real ale tent by 9.45am.
The old man was being a bit restrained.
He had a pint of brown murkiness, ‘Bishops Ring Piece’ or something; having missed my morning cup of tea I went for a half of Southsea Spice.
We did about thirty seconds in a “Craft” tent before asking,
‘What the fuck are we doing in here?’ at exactly the same time.
Getting the hell out of there we found some old tools for him to get wistful about.
It was around this time he noticed the Members Only Enclosure and the blue badges some of the other people were wearing.
This is when Karl Marx joined us for the day!
“What? I’m too fuckin’ working class for them fuckers? Bastards!”
I steered him away from the Steam Engines any obvious evidence of Industrial Revolution and we went to look at livestock.

This is where he did really, really surprise.
Fuck me the man knows about edible animals, which I kind of expected seeing as he’s a trained Butcher but he REALLY knows.
I now know what to look for in a milking cow, in a cow for eating and in one for both!
I also know how to judge pig meat by pressing a thumb into its back and know WAY more than the average lesbian about assessing a Ram by swing of its bollocks.
Less said and all that.
There was another beer tent and Dad found his drink of choice, Cider.

Moving on we got caught up in a slow moving crowd of people, kids and dogs.
Sensing trouble, I put my head down and kept moving.
From somewhere behind me I heard,
“Fuckin’ poxy dogs! Of course I fuckin’ stood on it! Move!”
Then in a hissed whisper,
“Fuckin’ blue badged whore!”
I, like Lot, did not look back.
We made it out with no one getting injured.
He then took umbrage against anyone with a blue badge, these are the members, judges, VIPS etc; and referred to us as proles and plebs for the rest of the afternoon.

A few tents and a couple more pints of cider later we were ready to leave.
“I’ll just syphon the python mate” he said.
I waited as he trundled off, thinking how cool it was he’d got through the day without a ruck.
When I saw his face coming back I knew I had been a tad premature.
From five metres away he started,
“Can you fuckin’ believe it? I’ve only had a ruck with one of those stuck up blue badge cunts!”
‘How Dad? You only went for a piss!’ I asked.
“Well, door opened and blue badge twat came out. I went in and there was piss all over the seat and he hadn’t pulled the chain, so I called him back. I asked him if he thought his blue badge meant he could piss all over the plebs toilets and told him just ’cos he hadn’t paid to get in didn’t mean he could be a dirty cunt.”
Fair enough.

I’ll save his stories of various brothels of Europe for another time but I swear to Christ I cried with laughter.

Watch This Space

Tomorrow I'm going to the New Forest and Hampshire County Show with my Dad.
I know it's going to be absolutely mental and there will be madness but I'm really looking forward to it!
I want to look at chickens and what sort I can keep in a city garden.
Crisp-e's neighbour has Polish Bantams.
Mad looking fuckers!
But I think I really need something big and violent.
It's cat central around here.

Feline On Friday

Kenny is still with us but very sick and very yellow.
I also have to go through the utter joy of getting tablets into him.

Poorly Boy

Kenny went back to the vet today.
He is a very sick fellah with Cholangiohepatitis.
His liver has been badly compromised and he might not be here in the morning.
£138.09 plus the fifty from yesterday and another appointment tomorrow.
This is not going to be cheap by any stretch of the imagination.
Fortunately, after the expense Murff incurred with his last illness, they are insured.

Disgraceful Biters And Duck

I took Kenny to the vet and he has some sort of infection.
His tongue and throat are ulcerated and his glands are up.
For the first time EVER he bit someone, more precisely, he bit the vet.
I was so shocked.
He has never bitten anyone, he is just not like that.
To be honest I couldn’t blame him.
Imagine being taken into a room with someone who looks like a ‘care in the community employee’ and being asked,
‘What seems to be the problem?’
It took a lot of restraint not to say,
‘Well, um, you are! Who the fuck are you? Are you the vet?’
He was given an injection and I was instructed to bring him back tomorrow.
I left £50 poorer.

The trip to the dentist was just as bad.
My top teeth were having a ‘deep clean’ and a filling needed replacing.
My upper gums were numbed and he proceeded.
As he was doing the cleaning bit he must have caught an area that wasn’t numb and I bit him.
It was a total reflex reaction. I couldn’t help it.
The nurse jumped away from me, suctioning my tongue into the thing she wields.
He shouted,
“Jaysus fecking Christ” and yanked his hand out leaving the rubber finger of his rubber glove between my teeth.
The chair immediately started moving up and I was told to,
‘Rinse please’.
I left £105 poorer.

Today I cooked my first ever duck.
I wasn’t sure what to do with it so I used a method I’d seen at a BBQ in Vancouver.
(Thanks Gail and Ross!)
Stuff a beer can up its arse and cook.
Check it out people!

It went in looking like this...




















And came out looking like this...

Rainy Tuesday

“If you chafe when you move…”
You are too fucking fat.
You don’t need Lanacane cream, you need to stop fucking eating!
Adverts, yet again getting on my tits.
While we’re at it, if ‘CD’s are not available in shops’, it’s because they are so far beyond shit you’ll beg for the thousand hours of trite bollocks played on a conch and empty beer bottles from K-tel.

Ungrateful Feline Number One, Kenneth, is not right.
He doesn't appear to be eating, he went AWOL today and was missing most of yesterday.
The fact that he has let me pick him up without immediately struggling to get away and lure me into the kitchen means he is going to the vet.
I also have the dentist tomorrow so it'll be interesting to see which robbing bastard extracts the most from my bank account.
My money is on the vet.

He never sits with me usually.
Sad boy.

Sunday, Shopping And Storage

Having absolutely no urge whatsoever to interact with people, I’ve done an online shop with Sainsbo.
I find it easy to use with all the handy drop down menus thingies.
Asda changed their webpage and I can’t cope with the new one.
I’ll end up in Waitrose for what they, or I, forgot anyway!
While browsing the ‘meat’ options I expected to see Beef, Chicken, Lamb etc which I did.
Cooked Meats and Pates were a section on their own, fair enough.
Then there was Halal and Haggis as another group.
You what?
Halal and fucking Haggis?
How in the name of Billy Connolly do they go together, let alone make up a group?
I know Halal eaters favour lamb and a Haggis contains, and is contained by, the bits of a sheep no one in their right fucking mind would eat.
I’ve been trying to imagine a Bedouin Burns Night but can’t get my head around boiled sheep innards going well with Cous Cous or Tabouleh.
Especially as there would be no Whisky to take the taste away.
Not even sucking the milk direct from a nursing camel could get rid of that filth.

Check this out!


Ikea totally enables my OCD/Anal Retentive tendencies.
I knew I would need more jars at the time of buying, but for some reason stopped myself.
A sort of embarrassment/shame sets in and I don’t want the checkout person wondering what I’m going to do with 56 little storage jars.
There are no such problems concerning tea lights.
Five hundred is perfectly acceptable to me and I don’t give a fuck what they think I’m doing with them.
I need more storage jars though!

Rhubarb, Rhubarb

From this......



To this....



Although, if I can possibly help it, I will never make 'crumble' ever again.
Very frigging boring and made my thumbs ache.

Saturday

News of The Nutty Daddy, away in the Wesht of Ireland, continues to amuse.
Earlier in the week he took to blowing his nose in the curtains but yesterday decided curtains were no longer needed and pulled them down.
I told The Sainted Mammy she should’ve just gone all Belushi on his arse, wrapped him up in one and started chanting,
“Toga! Toga! Toga!”
She may as well get the benefit of a second childhood with him!
He is on Seroquel these days and is a lot less agitated.

My poxy mobile is playing up.
A while back the socket for the charger disappeared somewhere in the phone and the fucker wouldn’t charge.
I took it to a repair place and the man patronisingly explained every process it would take to fix it, for £25.
I thanked him, brought it home, followed his instructions and fixed the fucker myself.
Or so I thought.
Remember how eventually Walkman headphones would have to be wrapped around the machine, in a sort of Cat‘s Cradle affair, so that you got music in BOTH ears?
I’m now having to do something similar to get a charge into the phone.

My burning question of the day is, why don’t Marmite make butter?
It would stop the ‘Transference’ issue rearing its ugly head.

RIP Popet the Greyhound.
Another dog attacked her today and she didn’t make it.
I’m gutted.

Friday, Fuckers And Festivals

Any other old fucker and they would have died or at least had the decency to break a hip.

Not this bastard.

I’m sure Gorgeous George was there to help get His Holiness up.

It seems that being Pope is a ‘bit tiring’, really?

Perhaps it’s a job for a younger man.

Someone around the same age as, oh say, Jesus Fecking Christ for instance!

Some more of the Mansions produce.
All of it was used in a Moroccan vegetable bake thing this evening.
Check out the beetroot and carrots. They were pulled as part of the thinning process and it makes me feel like an abortionist every time.

We have had so much rain in the last few days the smaller rain barrel is overflowing and I worry that the garlic might be going rotten in the ground.
The wind has blown over some of the tomatoes, stakes and all.
I am not totally sure what to do but I'm positive The Random One will tell me what I should have done, weeks ago!

The Big little Brother is at the Glade Festival.

Bless him.

It's his first one, so even with the monsoon conditions he'll be having an absolutely magic time and if his 'Party Bag' was anything to go by, he will be feeling no pain!

I love that boy!

I could do with a 'Festival' myself but this days I find myself gravitating towards Food and Jazz Festivals, although I probably do the same amount of weed.

It's green and it's vegetative so must count towards my '5 a day' in the same way wine does.

Randomness

A few days ago, using the highly effective ‘Text Telegraph’, Sassy warned me of proselytising G-d botherers on the street.
I immediately changed into my Known Homosexual tee-shirt and awaited their arrival.
Two clean cut, very smart, backpack wearing, young men walked past the house.
‘Brilliant!’ I thought, “Mormons! Therefore likely to be Yanks, I can have at them on two fronts!”
But they had walked past and I was SO not chasing Mormons down the road.
Then the bell.
Old lady and younger one several paces behind.
Fucking Jehovah’s Witnesses!
No fun at all, they answer everything with a question and are way too keen on Revelations.
She may well want to rethink her opening gambit though.
“Good morning. I have a question for you. What would make you happy?”
I opened the door fully, let her have a good look at the tee-shirt and answered,
“If you were delivering Vodka and Cannabis, I think I could feel the Rapture.”
It would appear that even the Jehovah’s have no come back for that one.
She stood with a fixed grin while the other one slowly backed out of the gate, thanking me for my time.
“No, thank YOU for asking!”
I didn’t even get any of their propaganda with the freakish ‘Janet and John picture' idea of heaven.

This made me laugh and agree at the same time.

I love the look of these.
Although the price made me suck my teeth and squint a bit.

Today's most punchable face belongs to Una Stubbs.
I could seriously chin her.
The Culture Show had a clip of 'Summer Holiday', almost tricking me into listening to Satan's Son himself, Cliff Richard.
Fortunately I can hit the mute button without having to look.

The power of Alka Seltzer tablets unblocked the sink in the downstairs lav!
For once, it was me who had blocked the fucker up.

Mrs Next Door Without The Kids did test positive for Swine Flu.
Doesn't seem to be causing her any real problems but did say that while she had the fever it was pretty grim.

Tuesday 7th Of July

Wiltshire has been a bit wet and wild this weekend!
Blue is back to his old self; big, handsome and healthy.
His stomach problem was caught early enough this time and his recovery has been very quick.

I watched the horror that was the Michael Jackson Memorial.
There was just so much that was truly awful I can’t even bring myself to write about it.
Except,
Mariah! NO!
Do NOT conduct your own singing while sporting Bingo Wings large enough to give you VTOL capabilities.
Jesus! Have a word with yourself for fuck’s sake.
Why the fuck she has to wave an arm around while she’s singing is an annoying mystery to me.
Berry Gordy’s assertion that,
“Michael was always trying to top himself” was greeted with howls of laughter from The Mansions Heckling Division.
During Al Sharpton’s speech I swear to Christ I could feel Cancer being cured, peace breaking out all over the place and an end to global want and hunger.
To top it all they rolled out Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee.
She informed us that the Constitution has the provision that all are innocent until proven guilty.
Ok.
Well, ‘Law and Order’, which mentions this Constitution quite a bit, leads me to believe that there has to be quite a bit of evidence pointing towards your guilt before they take you to court.
He did go to court didn’t he?
She is also proposing some Resolution that basically ‘Canonises’ Michael Jackson.
WTF?
I can’t help feeling that I’ve watched the start of the media rehabilitation of a possible paedophile.
Listen out in the next few weeks for how many times you hear someone say, “I never thought he did it..”

Away

I'm off to Wiltshire for a few days.
Poor old Blue has been in hospital again.

Catch you next week!

Thursday In The Garden

The exceptionally fine weather has caused all the garden produce to put on a bit of a growth spurt.
Both of the rain collecting barrels are empty!
Seeing as I have spared the planet my contribution to the 'Children Footprint' and saved the local landfill a million disposable nappies, I feel I'm entitled to use my hosepipe with gay abandon.
There have got to be some perks to being childless, seeing as we dip out on all that 'maternity/paternity leave' shit, Family tax credits and free fucking everything while pregnant.
I'm choosing water for the garden as mine.

Brain Tired

Today has been more of a cerebral day than usual I'm actually tired.
I have been proofreading/editing Mrs Crisp-e's Masters Dissertation.
A tricky job and I had to really concentrate for once.
While I understand English, I do not understand Mathematics!
It's Witchcraft.
With some sound, practical advice from Sassy, I think the first two chapters are sorted.
Fingers crossed.

This gave me a real chuckle.