Today is blogactionday for poverty.
So I was having a mooch through news stories, websites, organisations, trying to find something worthy and good to say.
Most were all about how I could give, give, give; money, money, money.
The one that really caught my eye was www.poverty.com and this page in particular.
Right now. At this very moment in economic time, how interested do you think my government is in a letter from me?
Especially one asking for 0.7% of the national income to be used for aid in poor countries?
You may not have noticed but my government has just used nearly £40 billion of taxpayer money to bail our economy out!
Precisely, what is 0.7% of FUCK ALL?!
People ARE focussed on poverty.
Their. Impending. Fucking. Own!
I know, I know.. Not having clean water and living on a $ a day is an absolute horror to be happening in 2008.
My point is that maybe blogaction for ‘poverty’ could have been delayed.
I’m not feeling particularly generous at the moment.
Sorry, but I bet I’m not the only one thinking it.
Ok. This is quite a scary story but the airport official is class!
“Surprisingly this hooligan was not British,” said an official at Pulkovo. “I understand he was from Uzbekistan where they also like to drink but cannot control themselves so well as Russians.”
Surprisingly? Not British? Cheeky fucker!
I have been trapped on a train with pissed up Russians.
A depressing bunch of melancholic singers who wept and crooned from Nizhny Novgorod to Kirov.
A group that could’ve been Irish, such was the range and depth of their dysphoria.
They sang Kalinka, I sang The Fields of Athenry and a ‘communication’ took place.
They shared their vodka and stole my toilet roll!
I had cash, jewellery and cards, but they stole my fucking toilet roll.
That’s why ‘we’ will never understand poverty.
The world is poorer though.
Poorer for the loss of a brilliant, funny and fair man.
A man who made University seminars a joy to attend and the smoke breaks full of laughs.
A man who encouraged me to apply for the exchange semester in Amsterdam with the line,
“Christ, you should go for that. You’d be like a pig in shit!”
Bob Walinski-Kiehl, you were a gentleman, may you now find peace.
Tune of the day!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Fear And The Cheer
BBC’s Panorama programme about Obama and that hideous Palin woman was interesting.
It did answer my, ‘who the fuck is he and where the fuck did he come from’ questions.
I nearly choked on my doobie when Jeremy Vine informed us that his answer to questions about drug use in his youth was,
“..I inhaled frequently. That was the point..”
Nice one!
For that Mr Obama, I have contributed a tenner to your online campaign fund and urge every Brit in their right mind to do the same.
The alternative scares the fucking shit out of me.
It did answer my, ‘who the fuck is he and where the fuck did he come from’ questions.
I nearly choked on my doobie when Jeremy Vine informed us that his answer to questions about drug use in his youth was,
“..I inhaled frequently. That was the point..”
Nice one!
For that Mr Obama, I have contributed a tenner to your online campaign fund and urge every Brit in their right mind to do the same.
The alternative scares the fucking shit out of me.
This is my new absolute favourite, cheer me up in the morning tune.
It’s a proper earworm.
It’s a proper earworm.
And this made me laugh out loud today!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Tits, Rice And Rights
Dear student on the bike who propositioned me at the Rue Albert traffic lights,In light of your extremely frank and generous offer; and after much thought and consideration, Yes.
Yes, I think I would like to see your tits!
I understand that an answer before the lights changed would have given me more chance at a glimpse of the aforementioned, but it’s not a question I had anticipated while out buying cigarettes.
I now will factor this into future trips to the Kwikimart and will worry less about dying while crossing Rue Albert.
You’re absolutely right, in this time of economic catastrophe I should be thinking about tits more!
Thanks for that.
As for yours? They were magnificent!
Sincerely,
The Bewildered Dyke at The Lights.
Did I miss something? I am stoned 98% of the time!
But when did ‘we’ start calling Condoleezza, Doctor Rice?
I don’t remember it before.
It was always,
‘American somethingorother Condoleezza Rice was in London/Paris/Peckham….’
Now it’s Dr Rice going places.
Does she have a dream? Has she been to the mountain top?
Just a thought.
If you’ve ever been involved in one of those arguments about ‘the point’ of The House of Lords.
This is the fucking point of them ok?
To stop shit like this happening to us.
Resolutely clinging on to our rights as they are stripped away without us making much of a fuss because the government have got us to believe it’s for our own fucking good.
All of us can be detained. All of us.
Not just brown people who face east when they pray, every single one of us.
Don’t think that doesn’t mean you. The ‘anti terror’ laws were used against Iceland last week.
Fucking Iceland! Over money!
Whoever this is, they are brilliant!
I don’t think I can impress on you how much I love House MD but, I LOVE House!
When I grow up I want to be Dr Gregory House.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sunday 12th October
A meal from the garden!Well, it was after the addition of steak, peas and wine!
Yep! Even the potatoes.
The first Sleepy Mansions crop of Charlotte’s and Orla’s grown in bags.
Chuffed-ness abounds!
My bank will be one of those lining up with its hand out tomorrow and I don’t know whether I should be shitting myself or not.
Who does?
I have a strange urge to stockpile batteries, water, candles, stuff to make bread with and buy one of those wind up things that is a lamp which can also charge your ‘phone and laptop.
I remember the power cuts during the 70’s and my grandmother making bread.
My Grandfather made Carrot Whisky and Sloe Gin.
Carrot Whisky is very similar to Poteen but the Carotene in the veg gave a colour approximating Whisky.
It was potent shit!
People used to walk in normally and leave as if their hamstrings had been removed at some point during the visit.
For a particularly twisted 6/7 year old this was the best entertainment by candlelight, ever!
This evening I have watched the start of Stephen Fry's programme about America.
I love Stephen Fry and I know this was only the first episode but I found it a little bit too arse kissy for me.
If he's a Yankophile I'll plummet in to depression.
With the state of Spurs, I'm too weak to fight.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Ta Da!
My first ever Butternut Squash harvest. I'm a little bit fecking chuffed with myself, so I am!Friday, October 10, 2008
NO MORE! And No More
I can cope no more.
Housemate Pat’s hair gets bloody everywhere.
Is it just me who finds other people’s hair just fucking horrible?
I hate getting into an apparently spotless shower, only to turn the thing on and be surrounded by long black hair.
I’m grimacing as I type.
It clings to everything and I don’t want it on me or winding around my toes.
The plughole?
I can’t even go there with the plughole because if I allowed this fury out, I’m not sure I could get it back in.
My new song to scream tunelessly in the shower is now a bit of Bruce Springsteen.
I can assure you my version has much, more venom!
I text Sassy and said that she had to go.
She found my reaction a little extreme.
May she ever wander heaven, no more than three millimetres from the eternal skirting boards.
Housemate Pat’s hair gets bloody everywhere.
Is it just me who finds other people’s hair just fucking horrible?
I hate getting into an apparently spotless shower, only to turn the thing on and be surrounded by long black hair.
I’m grimacing as I type.
It clings to everything and I don’t want it on me or winding around my toes.
The plughole?
I can’t even go there with the plughole because if I allowed this fury out, I’m not sure I could get it back in.
My new song to scream tunelessly in the shower is now a bit of Bruce Springsteen.
I can assure you my version has much, more venom!
I text Sassy and said that she had to go.
She found my reaction a little extreme.
Luckily I hadn’t text a half hour earlier when I wanted to kill her.
Who the fuck asks a 105 year old woman about the condition of her hymen?
I ask you, why do we need to know this?
I ask you, why do we need to know this?
Sad news from Sassy Villas.
Hinge and Bracket are a duo no more.
Hinge and Bracket are a duo no more.
Hinge, more correctly known as Pudding, died this morning.
She didn’t particularly like people and seemed to spend most of her time frightened.
I’ve fed her, hunted Sassy’s house for her shouting, “Come out you bitch!” and that’s as good as it got.
She was sweet in her own odd way and she will be missed by this human.
She didn’t particularly like people and seemed to spend most of her time frightened.
I’ve fed her, hunted Sassy’s house for her shouting, “Come out you bitch!” and that’s as good as it got.
She was sweet in her own odd way and she will be missed by this human.
May she ever wander heaven, no more than three millimetres from the eternal skirting boards.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Spiders And Zeitgeist
Crisp-e and I seem to be in competition as to whose garden will produce the biggest spider.Check out Shelob! I’ve been feeding her and two others baby caterpillars for weeks now.
She looks ready to burst those babies out!
The Butternut Squash looks like it might be ready.Most of the plant seems to be dying back so I’m going to ‘harvest' them tomorrow.
The Big little Brother sent me this today about The Zeitgeist Movement.
(Don’t click unless you have a spare hour!)
He is much enamoured by the whole thing.
It’s impressive but I can’t help feeling that I’ve heard it all before.
Then I read stuff like this and this and I've definitely heard that before. I find myself agreeing with the guy in the movie, ‘You can’t expect decency from people’.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Rubbish Rage
Portsmouth City Council is on my shit list.
Send me semi-threatening letters will you?
I. Think. Fucking. Not!
There is an alleyway that runs along the back of Sleepy Mansions, a place where we once able to put bags for the bin men.
We can’t any more because the big, strong rubbish collectors were getting ‘scratched’ by a Dog Rose.
Instead of asking the person to cut back their plant they banned us from putting our bins out the back.
Tossers.
The stinking assault course of piled high shite was what put the burglars off!
Now the knobs have sent me an ‘Advisory Letter’ about ‘approximately 20 black sacks containing soil and concrete which has been placed in the alleyway’.
Does it take a genius to look over the back walls and see who is having their fucking garden dug out?
*Cough* 2 doors down *Cough*
Mrs Next Door With The Kids was as outraged at the letter as me.
She’s got way more Gauleiter in her than I have and was on the ‘phone spilling the beans in no time.
I’m glad it was her and not me.
No one likes a grass!
At 4ish, when she finally got through.
Some mandarin informed her that the person in charge had gone home and there was a dispute over the ownership of that particular stretch of alley.
Fuck off with your letters then!
Do your research before sending out letters that piss me off.
You really don’t want me down there at the office.
The people who worked in Housing Benefit 15 years ago will swear on the fecking bible that you don’t want me there!
(They swore on it during the Court Case against me. I won.)
Turns out the guy who crashed into Cousin Adam was already dead.
He’d had a Stroke at the wheel.
A massive amount of amphetamine was also in his system and he’d had mental health problems.
The Cousin feels horrible and hasn’t been able to drive since, which is a bugger, seeing as that’s what he does for a living.
Send me semi-threatening letters will you?
I. Think. Fucking. Not!
There is an alleyway that runs along the back of Sleepy Mansions, a place where we once able to put bags for the bin men.
We can’t any more because the big, strong rubbish collectors were getting ‘scratched’ by a Dog Rose.
Instead of asking the person to cut back their plant they banned us from putting our bins out the back.
Tossers.
The stinking assault course of piled high shite was what put the burglars off!
Now the knobs have sent me an ‘Advisory Letter’ about ‘approximately 20 black sacks containing soil and concrete which has been placed in the alleyway’.
Does it take a genius to look over the back walls and see who is having their fucking garden dug out?
*Cough* 2 doors down *Cough*
Mrs Next Door With The Kids was as outraged at the letter as me.
She’s got way more Gauleiter in her than I have and was on the ‘phone spilling the beans in no time.
I’m glad it was her and not me.
No one likes a grass!
At 4ish, when she finally got through.
Some mandarin informed her that the person in charge had gone home and there was a dispute over the ownership of that particular stretch of alley.
Fuck off with your letters then!
Do your research before sending out letters that piss me off.
You really don’t want me down there at the office.
The people who worked in Housing Benefit 15 years ago will swear on the fecking bible that you don’t want me there!
(They swore on it during the Court Case against me. I won.)
Turns out the guy who crashed into Cousin Adam was already dead.
He’d had a Stroke at the wheel.
A massive amount of amphetamine was also in his system and he’d had mental health problems.
The Cousin feels horrible and hasn’t been able to drive since, which is a bugger, seeing as that’s what he does for a living.
Lidl Moments
During my amble around Lidl today I noticed something.
Somerfield and Waitrose have times when certain people are in.
3 to 3.30pm is the ‘After School Brigade’; Thursday is pension day and just before closing the bargain hunters.
In Lidl it occurred to me that the divisions are along ethnic and shift work lines.
8 to 10.30 it is full of big black women, feeling and smelling the fruit and veg. Shouting at another large black lady, with a Biblical name, to also come and feel the produce
11 until 1 it is mainly Turkish and Polish men in Hi Viz jackets and facial hair.
1 ‘til 3 it’s oriented towards, well, The Orient.
Somewhere near the frozen prawns there was a scrum and I swear to Christ I thought I’d wandered into Disney’s Mulan Parade.
Housemate Pat has told me tales from this aisle.
“You be careful. You lose an eye! It get pretty fierce near the noodle too!”
Encouraging.
I did my usual, ‘Sorry. S’cuse me. Beg your pardon’ thing, as tried not to appear as if I were just pushing people out of the way.
Which, of course, I was.
(I’ve been to Vancouver’s Aberdeen Mall; I’ve seen how it’s done!)
I was glad to get out of there.
Schnee… They’ve got your Horlicks stuff on offer.
Release some children to fetch it for you!
I’m presuming Recorder lessons have resumed at school.
Elder child of next door was blowing hers all through the 6 ‘o’ clock news.
I have to admit there has been some improvement but the high notes are still proving elusive.
The Recorder is STILL my most hated instrument until the child can wheeze out some Mozart or Elgar.
Until then I will continue to scream,
“Shut up you tuneless fuckers!” at the walls of my living room.
It’s only fair.
The Sainsbury’s advert for cream cheese.
“I can’t imagine a muffin without it Mum”..
Is it me? Or is that THE most horrific line, food related or otherwise, one could ever utter to a parent?
Somerfield and Waitrose have times when certain people are in.
3 to 3.30pm is the ‘After School Brigade’; Thursday is pension day and just before closing the bargain hunters.
In Lidl it occurred to me that the divisions are along ethnic and shift work lines.
8 to 10.30 it is full of big black women, feeling and smelling the fruit and veg. Shouting at another large black lady, with a Biblical name, to also come and feel the produce
11 until 1 it is mainly Turkish and Polish men in Hi Viz jackets and facial hair.
1 ‘til 3 it’s oriented towards, well, The Orient.
Somewhere near the frozen prawns there was a scrum and I swear to Christ I thought I’d wandered into Disney’s Mulan Parade.
Housemate Pat has told me tales from this aisle.
“You be careful. You lose an eye! It get pretty fierce near the noodle too!”
Encouraging.
I did my usual, ‘Sorry. S’cuse me. Beg your pardon’ thing, as tried not to appear as if I were just pushing people out of the way.
Which, of course, I was.
(I’ve been to Vancouver’s Aberdeen Mall; I’ve seen how it’s done!)
I was glad to get out of there.
Schnee… They’ve got your Horlicks stuff on offer.
Release some children to fetch it for you!
I’m presuming Recorder lessons have resumed at school.
Elder child of next door was blowing hers all through the 6 ‘o’ clock news.
I have to admit there has been some improvement but the high notes are still proving elusive.
The Recorder is STILL my most hated instrument until the child can wheeze out some Mozart or Elgar.
Until then I will continue to scream,
“Shut up you tuneless fuckers!” at the walls of my living room.
It’s only fair.
The Sainsbury’s advert for cream cheese.
“I can’t imagine a muffin without it Mum”..
Is it me? Or is that THE most horrific line, food related or otherwise, one could ever utter to a parent?
Monday, October 06, 2008
A Fool And Her Team
Somewhat foolishly I allowed AQA text services to choose my attire for today.
An electronic version of ‘The Dice Man’ and a sartorial Russian Roulette.
I’m a mess.
I don’t usually choose my clothes along sectarian lines but I’m an Irishman’s nightmare; a vision in Black and Tan.
I’ve had the Wolfe Tones in my head all day.
The politics and views of the Wolfe Tones are not necessarily the views of Sleepy.
Hers lurch schizophrenically from the far left to the far right, depending on how closely they affect her, how much she has drunk, what she has drunk, how much she has smoked and the Company! There are some brief visits to the middle too, but a ‘handler’ is usually bundling her out by then!
Crikey! There are some out there.
Yay! Father Geoff Farrow!
I will say one for you next time I’m in St Swiv’s.
BUT…. The SAINT Paul Newman centre?
He’s only been dead a week!
He’ll be fecking G-d by Christmas.
You may have noticed my lack of comment on my Beloved Spurs.
Just fucking don’t!
Ok?
I was telling Sassy yesterday, I can’t bring myself to watch ANY football such is my depression about them.
I must have been close to hysteria at one point and rambling because I almost wished Venables back on us.
Sassy talked me down.
Thanks mate!
An electronic version of ‘The Dice Man’ and a sartorial Russian Roulette.
I’m a mess.
I don’t usually choose my clothes along sectarian lines but I’m an Irishman’s nightmare; a vision in Black and Tan.
I’ve had the Wolfe Tones in my head all day.
The politics and views of the Wolfe Tones are not necessarily the views of Sleepy.
Hers lurch schizophrenically from the far left to the far right, depending on how closely they affect her, how much she has drunk, what she has drunk, how much she has smoked and the Company! There are some brief visits to the middle too, but a ‘handler’ is usually bundling her out by then!
Crikey! There are some out there.
Yay! Father Geoff Farrow!
I will say one for you next time I’m in St Swiv’s.
BUT…. The SAINT Paul Newman centre?
He’s only been dead a week!
He’ll be fecking G-d by Christmas.
You may have noticed my lack of comment on my Beloved Spurs.
Just fucking don’t!
Ok?
I was telling Sassy yesterday, I can’t bring myself to watch ANY football such is my depression about them.
I must have been close to hysteria at one point and rambling because I almost wished Venables back on us.
Sassy talked me down.
Thanks mate!
Sunday, October 05, 2008
More Sunday
As some of you know, away in the ‘Wesht’ of Ireland reside The Nutty Daddy and The Sainted Mammy.
I’ve blogged about them before but just can't be arsed to work out how to link back.
I bring you tales.
Today his headwear has been mostly a carrier bag, a statement I grant you, but my favourite is the sheet around his shoulders!
How cool is that?
He'll be building 'Dens' next.
I suggested that if his pants went on OVER his trousers we would have the answer to that one.
Being a bit sick I also suggested a Bertie Ahern mask, a Charles Haughey mask and a mirror.
These three items and the addition of The Nutty Daddy equals, ‘fight in an empty house’.
What sport!
According to The Tame Pharmacist and progeny of TND, this is no way to treat Alzheimer’s people.
I can’t even begin to tell you what we’d do to my Dad if he went like that.
I’ve discussed it with my siblings and the general consensus is, “As much fun as possible without actually killing him.”
I discussed with him the idea of a nice eco-friendly, woodland burial the other day.
Explaining that he’d be buried in a cardboard box under a tree of his choice.
As long as he chose Beech or Hazel.
We’d all come and visit him and it would be lovely and peaceful.
His eyes narrowed and his arms folded across his chest.
“There’s an earner in it isn’t there you fucker?!”
(Fecker, Fucker, Bastard and Winkle are all terms of endearment when used with his children and grandchildren)
So I told him about the trees I’d seen on the internet already treated and ‘spored’ with Truffles.
I’d had a couple of wines, so I also told him that as he’d pissed away most of our childhood we’d earn off him in death!
He loved the idea but still bitched about being buried in cardboard.
I told my Step Mum how much these things go for and she shouted at my Dad,
“I’m going to tell everyone that’s what you asked for on your deathbed! Particularly insisting on the cardboard!”
Joon and I 'high fived' each other.
A special moment.
I’ve blogged about them before but just can't be arsed to work out how to link back.
I bring you tales.
Today his headwear has been mostly a carrier bag, a statement I grant you, but my favourite is the sheet around his shoulders!
How cool is that?
He'll be building 'Dens' next.
I suggested that if his pants went on OVER his trousers we would have the answer to that one.
Being a bit sick I also suggested a Bertie Ahern mask, a Charles Haughey mask and a mirror.
These three items and the addition of The Nutty Daddy equals, ‘fight in an empty house’.
What sport!
According to The Tame Pharmacist and progeny of TND, this is no way to treat Alzheimer’s people.
I can’t even begin to tell you what we’d do to my Dad if he went like that.
I’ve discussed it with my siblings and the general consensus is, “As much fun as possible without actually killing him.”
I discussed with him the idea of a nice eco-friendly, woodland burial the other day.
Explaining that he’d be buried in a cardboard box under a tree of his choice.
As long as he chose Beech or Hazel.
We’d all come and visit him and it would be lovely and peaceful.
His eyes narrowed and his arms folded across his chest.
“There’s an earner in it isn’t there you fucker?!”
(Fecker, Fucker, Bastard and Winkle are all terms of endearment when used with his children and grandchildren)
So I told him about the trees I’d seen on the internet already treated and ‘spored’ with Truffles.
I’d had a couple of wines, so I also told him that as he’d pissed away most of our childhood we’d earn off him in death!
He loved the idea but still bitched about being buried in cardboard.
I told my Step Mum how much these things go for and she shouted at my Dad,
“I’m going to tell everyone that’s what you asked for on your deathbed! Particularly insisting on the cardboard!”
Joon and I 'high fived' each other.
A special moment.
Sunday
Not wishing to take the piss too much..
Fuck it!
Who am I trying to kid?
All they found were red tassels, how gay is THAT!
Fuck it!
Who am I trying to kid?
All they found were red tassels, how gay is THAT!
Friday, October 03, 2008
Cave Canem, Cave Rectum
Yesterday I had one of those surreal conversations that seem to happen to me quite often.
While chatting with M’s sister about how to react if your dog is attacked by another.
I said that I’d probably stick the boot in, as I’d heard of serious bites on arms and hands.
She came out with this gem,
“Oh No. I’ve heard the best way to stop the aggressing dog is to stick your fingers up its arse.”
Delivered straight faced and in all seriousness.
I did the, ‘Ibegyourpardon?’ thing, thinking perhaps I’d rolled the last one rather strong, but no, I’d heard right.
“Christ!” I said, “That’d concentrate the mind”.
I don’t know how wise it would be to acquaint yourself with an animal, that is already quite cross, with an impromptu rectal exam.
Please don’t try this out on your local Common or Heath.
Although, there may be a law positively encouraging it on Hampstead but don’t quote me on it!
While chatting with M’s sister about how to react if your dog is attacked by another.
I said that I’d probably stick the boot in, as I’d heard of serious bites on arms and hands.
She came out with this gem,
“Oh No. I’ve heard the best way to stop the aggressing dog is to stick your fingers up its arse.”
Delivered straight faced and in all seriousness.
I did the, ‘Ibegyourpardon?’ thing, thinking perhaps I’d rolled the last one rather strong, but no, I’d heard right.
“Christ!” I said, “That’d concentrate the mind”.
I don’t know how wise it would be to acquaint yourself with an animal, that is already quite cross, with an impromptu rectal exam.
Please don’t try this out on your local Common or Heath.
Although, there may be a law positively encouraging it on Hampstead but don’t quote me on it!
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Hounds On Thursday
The handsome boy!
Jessie doing her full on Yiddishe Momma impression! I now have tunes from Fiddler of The Roof in my head.
He's a coiled spring! 0-40 in a matter of seconds! Tis true, there are studies and everything. Although, from my research into the breed, I'd go my with, "Yeah? My arse!".
The exception to this rule is a specific syndrome simply called 'Human in The Kitchen Syndrome'.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The Weekend Starts Here
Guess what?
I only fixed the fucking hoover!
I use the term ‘fixed’ in its loosest possible sense.
After having a bit of a spaz at the ‘crunchy’ nature of the carpet, I took the bastard thing apart.
Totally stripped it down. Took out bits that came out, forced out the bits that didn’t.
Then put it back together again, with nothing left over!
I gingerly plugged it in and fired it up and bugger me, it sucks like Gillian Taylforth now.
It’s no secret that I think Stephen Fry should be Prime Minister.
After this week’s Desert Island Discs, Miriam Margoyles has GOT to be in the Cabinet.
I’ve loved her for ages but I love her more now!
It’s Rosh Hashanah and I’m off to Wiltshire to celebrate the New Year with the Hounds!
A time to reflect, slough off all the old hurts, hates and general shite we’ve accrued this past year.
At some point this afternoon/evening I will be stood in the River Avon emptying all the fluff and crap from my pockets.
Once I’ve got the feeling back in my feet I’ll munch some apples and honey.
I should also be considering:
- What’s the most meaningful thing in my life?
- Who in my life means the most to me? How often do I let them know this?
- What have I achieved this past year?
- What do I want to achieve next year and in life in general?
What will actually happen is I will be curled up with the Hounds considering just how bloody gorgeous they are.
Shana Tova people.
“May you be inscribed and sealed for good”
I only fixed the fucking hoover!
I use the term ‘fixed’ in its loosest possible sense.
After having a bit of a spaz at the ‘crunchy’ nature of the carpet, I took the bastard thing apart.
Totally stripped it down. Took out bits that came out, forced out the bits that didn’t.
Then put it back together again, with nothing left over!
I gingerly plugged it in and fired it up and bugger me, it sucks like Gillian Taylforth now.
It’s no secret that I think Stephen Fry should be Prime Minister.
After this week’s Desert Island Discs, Miriam Margoyles has GOT to be in the Cabinet.
I’ve loved her for ages but I love her more now!
It’s Rosh Hashanah and I’m off to Wiltshire to celebrate the New Year with the Hounds!
A time to reflect, slough off all the old hurts, hates and general shite we’ve accrued this past year.
At some point this afternoon/evening I will be stood in the River Avon emptying all the fluff and crap from my pockets.
Once I’ve got the feeling back in my feet I’ll munch some apples and honey.
I should also be considering:
- What’s the most meaningful thing in my life?
- Who in my life means the most to me? How often do I let them know this?
- What have I achieved this past year?
- What do I want to achieve next year and in life in general?
What will actually happen is I will be curled up with the Hounds considering just how bloody gorgeous they are.
Shana Tova people.
“May you be inscribed and sealed for good”
Monday, September 29, 2008
Car, Chutney And Soup
This was parked across the road yesterday morning.It took every ounce of self control not to roll myself all over it.
I think this and a few models of Jaguar are THE sexiest things in the world.
Look at the lines of it, all round and soft. It’s a work of art.
Beautiful.
Mmmm.
Due to the ‘infestation’ of tomato plants at Sleepy Mansions and less sunlight, we now have a glut of green tomatoes.
I wanted something else to do with them other than the ubiquitous ‘Green Tomato Chutney’.
So I got experimenting and have come up with a green tomato soup.
Amazingly, it tastes bloody nice!.
I even got it together enough to write down the recipe
Access
Yesterday was spent at my Dad’s.
A cracker.
I have laughed so much my ribs hurt today.
There is something totally different about laughing with family.
He is in dispute with a couple of his neighbours.
They don’t actually know they are on his shit list, but they will.
The man who sets smelly fires at odd times of the day is first.
Pa has acquired a high powered hose that would make the fire brigade envious.
He is waiting on the attachment that will connect it to the hydrant in the street.
Then Mr Fire Starter will experience a deluge of biblical proportions!
I love my Dad!
It reminded me of Sunday ‘Access’ visits all those years ago.
Five kids, a collie in the back of a Reliant Robin van thing at Singleton Open Air Museum!
We always went to Singleton, like observing Wattle and Daub and Tudor houses where they slung shit out the windows would bring us together as a family.
My sister would always appear with a towel over her head, so her ‘mates’ didn’t see her getting in the car!
The handbrake failing in Arundel and chasing the car down the main street with Dad shouting,
“You older kids, throw yourself in front of it you fuckers! Slow it down.”
A great memory!
Waiting in the queue to pay to get in the castle.
Dad being told the price by the terminally middle class lady, turning and saying,
“Kids. Out. 49 quid? Arse rape! Back to the Plastic Pig (The affectionate name he’d given the van!)
When ATM decided I was ‘Uncontrollable’ she sent me to live with Dad.
The last thing I thought about was how he was going to get me to school.
The Plastic Pig!
Laughing like a man demented, he used to speed up the drive and ‘handbrake’ turn that fucker to deliver me back to the front entrance of the school.
The entrance NOBODY was allowed to use.
Other kids were dropped off in Jags, Daimlers and Rollers…
He’d tell teachers to ‘Fuck off’ as they tried to remonstrate, chuck me 10 John Player Special and say,
‘Learn hard today mate and remember most of them are cunts. Love you’.
Then he’d rev the Plastic Pig until it spat out black clouds of exhaust, and screech away.
Happy days!
A cracker.
I have laughed so much my ribs hurt today.
There is something totally different about laughing with family.
He is in dispute with a couple of his neighbours.
They don’t actually know they are on his shit list, but they will.
The man who sets smelly fires at odd times of the day is first.
Pa has acquired a high powered hose that would make the fire brigade envious.
He is waiting on the attachment that will connect it to the hydrant in the street.
Then Mr Fire Starter will experience a deluge of biblical proportions!
I love my Dad!
It reminded me of Sunday ‘Access’ visits all those years ago.
Five kids, a collie in the back of a Reliant Robin van thing at Singleton Open Air Museum!
We always went to Singleton, like observing Wattle and Daub and Tudor houses where they slung shit out the windows would bring us together as a family.
My sister would always appear with a towel over her head, so her ‘mates’ didn’t see her getting in the car!
The handbrake failing in Arundel and chasing the car down the main street with Dad shouting,
“You older kids, throw yourself in front of it you fuckers! Slow it down.”
A great memory!
Waiting in the queue to pay to get in the castle.
Dad being told the price by the terminally middle class lady, turning and saying,
“Kids. Out. 49 quid? Arse rape! Back to the Plastic Pig (The affectionate name he’d given the van!)
When ATM decided I was ‘Uncontrollable’ she sent me to live with Dad.
The last thing I thought about was how he was going to get me to school.
The Plastic Pig!
Laughing like a man demented, he used to speed up the drive and ‘handbrake’ turn that fucker to deliver me back to the front entrance of the school.
The entrance NOBODY was allowed to use.
Other kids were dropped off in Jags, Daimlers and Rollers…
He’d tell teachers to ‘Fuck off’ as they tried to remonstrate, chuck me 10 John Player Special and say,
‘Learn hard today mate and remember most of them are cunts. Love you’.
Then he’d rev the Plastic Pig until it spat out black clouds of exhaust, and screech away.
Happy days!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Homes
Check it out!The new frog has really settled well.
I have named her ‘Shirley’.
It seemed like the ideal name to go with the resident, ‘Annie’!
I’m undecided as to the name of the toad.
In the running we have: Dimitar, Ruth and Derek.
Today I rode the ‘Loser Cruiser’ round to Crisp-e’s.
It wasn’t the chav filled horror it usually is and the diazepam helped me understand the Polish bus driver.
Perhaps they made ME more understandable to him!
I don’t like venturing out too much but always have such a laugh with Crisp-e the ‘public’ interaction is worth it.
He’s good for my soul and stops me taking myself too seriously.
Hopefully I do something similar for him.
I remember my Grandfather telling me a long time ago, probably when I was prattling on about all my ‘friends’ at school; that if I ended up with five good friends I should count myself very lucky indeed.
Twenty Five years later, I get it.
Some are a 'plane ride, some a bus ride and some a stone's throw but I totally get it.
I’m loving this idea!
Years ago I lived in a student house where we made a floor to ceiling ‘throne’ from empty beer and cider cans.
Christ!
I wish I’d had a camera then, instead of spending my money on beer and cider!
It lasted 2 years before it collapsed under the weight of a couple attempting to have sex in it.
There is a woman somewhere in the world with Bulmer’s imprinted on/into her arse and I have a fear of ‘widgets’ that will last a lifetime.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Exotics And Strange Fruit
Waitrose online has a section in the veg section called ‘exotics’.
I don’t think this is what they had in mind!
I don’t think this is what they had in mind!
Although, it does give Schnee a chance to have a good look at the difference between the frog and the toad!
These were liberated from Sassy's yesterday. Since her major garden overhaul, the habitat has altered drastically so they were transferred to my ‘Bucket’ pond!
I’d like to think we’ve done a good thing but I’m sure they have probably dragged themselves the nine doors back to hers!
Then sometimes you just have to look at the sky and think,
“Are you taking the piss?”
This is the third one that has grown like this.
I do appreciate a sense of irony in my supreme being, but I got it the first time!
The Tudors. At long frigging last they've topped Anne! Although I can't get my head around why anyone would want to be stood at the front.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Frood Dude!
I had a text message from Cousin Adam at 3.25am telling me he had just been released from the local A&E after a head on car crash.
Those of you who know and know of Adam, my reaction was exactly the same as yours.
Oh Fuck! What has he done this time?
Amazingly, it wasn’t his fault.
The other driver was drunk and he died.
He is so very, very down and I am frightened for him but can’t have him here.
As much as I want to.
I’ve tried before but his ‘light fingered’ ways are not fair on the Housemates.
This afternoon Sassy and I went adventuring along Rue Albert.
Both of us were disturbed by the receptionist in ‘The Cat Clinic’ calling Sassy ‘My Dear’.
It would have been fine if she weren’t a South African with a serious case of Herpes Simplex!
We did discover that a Polish eatery has opened up!
Mmmmm, Pirogi’s. Yummers!
We thought a coffee in the Café ‘Distress’ would be a good plan.
You know? Just a coffee.
Two Cappuccinos, two espressos, two lemon vodkas and ‘several+’ beers later we wandered home for some Chablis.
The Tame Pharmacist joined us.
We discussed family and have decided that all our siblings need to sort themselves out.
There has got to come some point, as an adult, that you stop blaming parents/upbringing for your shit.
There has to be some point where you stop saying,
“Oh I get that from Mum/Dad… I take after….. It‘s because this happened…”, and just accept that actually that IS you.
You are an arsehole all on your own, without the benefit of DNA, nature or nurture.
You’ll be surprised how liberating that is.
Those of you who know and know of Adam, my reaction was exactly the same as yours.
Oh Fuck! What has he done this time?
Amazingly, it wasn’t his fault.
The other driver was drunk and he died.
He is so very, very down and I am frightened for him but can’t have him here.
As much as I want to.
I’ve tried before but his ‘light fingered’ ways are not fair on the Housemates.
This afternoon Sassy and I went adventuring along Rue Albert.
Both of us were disturbed by the receptionist in ‘The Cat Clinic’ calling Sassy ‘My Dear’.
It would have been fine if she weren’t a South African with a serious case of Herpes Simplex!
We did discover that a Polish eatery has opened up!
Mmmmm, Pirogi’s. Yummers!
We thought a coffee in the Café ‘Distress’ would be a good plan.
You know? Just a coffee.
Two Cappuccinos, two espressos, two lemon vodkas and ‘several+’ beers later we wandered home for some Chablis.
The Tame Pharmacist joined us.
We discussed family and have decided that all our siblings need to sort themselves out.
There has got to come some point, as an adult, that you stop blaming parents/upbringing for your shit.
There has to be some point where you stop saying,
“Oh I get that from Mum/Dad… I take after….. It‘s because this happened…”, and just accept that actually that IS you.
You are an arsehole all on your own, without the benefit of DNA, nature or nurture.
You’ll be surprised how liberating that is.