Hyde

Oh Mr Hyde, why do you hide, within my soul so deep,
Lurking there, without a care, dormant and asleep.
Never sure, when the door, will open to reveal,
Your poisoned ways, undying shame, my smile for you to steal.

Why do you come, to spoil the fun, and eat away my pride,
You don’t belong, so please be gone, it’s surely time you died.
No request, no behest, no welcome mat for you,
Bad pennies return, my wishes you spurn, your arrogance ensues.

Oh Mr Hyde, isn’t it time, for you to leave these shores,
Pack your bags, don’t want your rags, your methods or your cause.
You’ve stayed too long, I’ve sung your song, forever and a day,
You’re not my friend, when will it end, please be on your way.

Boss dreams 2.......The drugs don't work.......

It’s happened again. I didn’t want it to, I didn’t ask for it, but there is no denying that it has. A few blogs ago I told you that I had a dream, where my boss was chasing me round my garden with his winkle out, trying to urinate on me, whilst laughing manically like a demented Bond villain. Well it’s happened again, not the same dream, but equally as disturbing.

I was in Spain on a family holiday. All seemed perfectly normal, I was sitting at the bar with my brother-in-law planning the evenings drinking, Miss Marple was shopping, and the outlaws were bickering. Then all of a sudden from nowhere, I am in some kind of supermarket.

I am wandering up and down the deserted aisles, when Boss walks round the corner. Thankfully his equipment was stowed, and we entered into a little chat. All seemed normal, until he told me that instead of having an anus like your regular human, at some point in his life doctors had attached a wheel to his bottom hole! Not a big wheel you understand, just a small caster like thing, like you would get on a shopping trolley or something.

Well this was bizarre enough, but the bit that really freaked me out, was that he told me that in 1977 he was world disco dancing champion. I immediately had visions of him scooting across the floor on his ‘wheel’ wearing a John Travoltaesque white suit, with all his arms and legs in the air, to the thumping sounds of ’Disco inferno’. It was at this point, that Miss Marple informed me later, that I woke up laughing manically.

I of course blame the concoction of drugs I have been taking lately. I have been suffering form raging tooth ache, and a cold. So I have been pumping ibuprofen, cacodemol, lemsip, and anything else I could lay my hands on down my neck, with reckless abandon! This must be the reason for the dream, and not my encroaching madness!

The tooth has been bad. Bloody wisdom tooth. The worst kind of teeth. They are like the skinheads of the teeth world. Nothing but bloody trouble. I did discover that the only times that it didn’t hurt, were during the effects of the drugs, or during marital relations. Unfortunately Miss Marple very quickly put a halt on the notion of me taking her three times a day after meals! Bloody selfish if you ask me.

Oh God lets move on from Boss dreams and illness, what else has been happening.
Well he is there. Obama has plonked his fanny in the oval office. Did make me cringe a little with the balls up on the swearing in bit. Made me cringe even more when I learned that they had to do it again, just in case some pointless little pedantic, nit picking adenoidal voiced train spotter in a years time, having spent every waking moment on the internet, announced that the cock up meant that he wasn’t officially the president.

Although I suppose that isn’t as bad as his predecessor, who got bored with waiting for the votes to be counted, and so just announced himself as the president. Brilliant, I wish I had thought of that during my three attempts at passing my motorcycle test. What I should have done, is just before the examiner got to the “I am sorry Mr Mule, but you haven’t passed” bit, I should have just jumped in with “I have passed, brilliant, thanks a lot, see ya.” Poor old Al Gore. The real president who had the audacity to play by the rules. Well goodbye George Bush, and good bloody riddance. You bloody idiot.

Moving on, something else that caught my eye, was the thing about some society or other that paid for adverts to be plastered on the side of buses, saying that “There probably is no God, so stop worrying about it, and enjoy your life” Or words to that effect anyway. Of course the religious nutters jumped up and got hot under the collar. They challenged the advertisement with the advertising standards committee, by saying that this was not a fair and reasonable advert, because these people could not SUBSTANTIATE The claim that there was no God! All of this said with not even a hint of irony!!!

Had another ‘getting old’ occurrence the other day. Men of my age have problems with dribbles. It’s a common thing, but when we go for a wee, no matter how much we shake, siphon, squeeze, pump etc, there will always be a small amount of wee that dribbles when you replace the old fella. It’s just unfortunately one of those things. The other day, I did the wee, then pumped, shook blah blah blah, and re-established him back home. Just at this moment, I passed wind, and a torrent of wee cascaded down my leg! I suppose it will be pampers next. Oh well.

Saw an item on the news last night about the increase of swearing in society. Some reporter went out to one of the provinces, and started asking ‘The great’ British public it’s opinion. Inevitably there was the bloke with the handle bar moustache, tweed jacket, and a copy of ‘Country Life’ under his arm, who came out with the usual “Well, it’s appalling, and basically shows a lack of vocabulary.”……..OH FUCK OFF YOU CUNT!…….No it doesn’t, you enervating, doltish, peremptory twat.

There are times when only a bloody good swear word will do. Like when I just called you a “cunt“. “Silly man” really wouldn’t have cut it would it? People are in no doubt now to my opinion of you. Stephen Fry has said the very same thing, you are going to accuse him of a lack of vocabulary are you? You pompous arse.

I have been seeing a lot of adverts lately for country music compilation albums. They are the adverts that infect brilliant channels like the discovery channels, or Dave before the actual proper programmes start. My God country Music is fucking appalling isn’t it. Don’t get me wrong, being something of a musician myself, I can appreciate the brilliant guitar and fiddle playing involved, but it’s the sickening sentimental crap that makes you want to shoot them with their own Colt 45‘s.

These bloody adverts go on for about twenty bloody minutes. Some big name in the country scene “Ya awlllllll” or other will be sitting on his porch, or standing in front of a roaring fire, as he tells you all about this one hundred cd box set, that contains over four million of your favourite country songs, that isn’t available in the shops. There will then be a compilation of clips of dodgy looking blokes with beards, and awful bloody cowboy hats “Yee Haring” and whittling on about their wives running off with a rodeo stars etc. Or women with ludicrously big, bleached blond hair, telling us all that she loves her man and all that crap, while in the background, some bastard will be playing that bloody God awful slide guitar thing, crying and wailing all over it.

Jesus, do these people not have mirrors in their houses. Fuck me, I am no fashion aficionado, but these people look bloody ridiculous. Sickly sweet, sentimental, moms apple pie, sitting on a porch, good old boys, moonshine swigging, pick up driving, mullet wearing, Billie Jo chasing, double barrelled name owning , arseholes, that think the abolishment of slavery, was the day the world ended!…….

Gasp, come on son…….breath, breath, it’s ok, deep breaths. I am pretty sure that the northern half of America, would very much like to saw off the southern half, and let it float off into oblivion. It must be like the embarrassing retarded younger brother, that they wish they had never had.
The frightening thing is, is that there are people over here that like all this stuff, and have places where they go and pretend they are in Kentucky, or Mississippi. Specialist clubs that cater for their secret perversions, where they can dress as cow people, or whatever the sexually inclusive term for them is! Where they can do illegal dancing, and dress like cow people, take part in illicit activities such as listening to country music, and lassoing one another. We all know one or two don’t we? ;)

I’m off before Wyatt Erp runs me outta town. Just for Welsh girl and me, there will be some more filthy Noddy stories very soon. Goodbye all.

Noddy and Bigears go fishing.......

It was a lovely sunny day, just perfect for a fishing trip. Noddy loaded all the fishing tackle into the Noddy car, and shouted for Bigears to hurry up. Bigears emerged from the house looking very bleary eyed.
“Oh dear Bigears” said Noddy, “You do look a little tired today.”
“Well I was up till two thirty on sky plus talking to Melinda on Titstation.”
“Oh crumbs, our phone bill is going to be horrendous, it’s a good job the calls are itemised. It will be easy to see who owes what, I only call my mother and my agent.”

Bigears raised his eyebrows and lit his seventh Benson of the day. They both climbed into the Noddy car, and pootled off down the leafy lane on their way to a wonderful days fishing.
“Ah this is the life eh Bigears” said Noddy as he reclined into his deckchair, “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and here we are, two chaps, just fishing.”
Bigears coughed, “Yes, you are right Noddy, I do enjoy our fishing trips.”

As Noddy and Bigears watched the floats gently bobbing up and down in the river, they heard a familiar chugging in the distance. Even in his less than ideal state, Bigears new exactly what this meant, he sank down lower into his deckchair, and pulled his baseball cap over his face.
“Oh look who it is Bigears,” said Noddy excitedly.

A look of slight panic, but also of annoying inevitability climbed over Bigears’s face.
“Pretend you haven’t seen them…….PRETEND YOU HAVEN’T SEEN TH………”
“Hello guys” said Noddy as he jumped up from his deckchair.
“Too late…….you fucking twat” spat Bigears.
“Look Bigears, it’s the Famous Five.”
“Hello chaps” said Julian as he stood with a manly stance on the deck of the boat, “How the devil are you both today?”
“I’m fine Julian” said Noddy, “Bigears is not at his best, he has been up half the night masturbating, I’ve told him he will need glasses in later life, but you know Bigears.”
Anne and George covered their mouths with their hands and giggled, as Bigears looked at Noddy in disbelief.
“I say Bigears, do you prefer Titstation, or Mingehunt” said Dick, “ I am a Mingehunt man myself, I find the ladies on Titstation just a little common.”
Bigears sank even lower into his deckchair, and mumbled something through a cough as Anne and George reddened in the face slightly.

“I say, have either of you chaps heard of any damsels that need rescuing, or of any dastardly plans that need scuppering?” Said Julian.
“Afraid not old bean” said Noddy, “We are just having a quiet days fishing.”
“Trying to” said Bigears under his breath as Noddy shot him a look.
“Oh bugger” said Julian, “Oh well, if you hear of anything, text me will you. Incidentally, have I shown you my new Nokia ZS 69X-101 handset?”
“Oh come on Julian” said Anne, “There isn’t anybody you haven’t shown it to.”
The rest of the Famous Five laughed, and playfully punched Julian on the arm.
“Oh well, we must be off. Fair maidens to release from the clutches of evil pirates and such the like. Toodalpip.”

With that, they chugged off down the river, singing “What shall we do with the drunken sailor”.
“Thank fuck they have gone” said Bigears.
“Oh really Bigears, you can be such a dreadful grump sometimes,” said Noddy, “What could you possibly have against the Famous Five?”
“I’ll tell you what shall I…….they are a bunch of jumped up, goody two shoes, middle class, toffee nosed little tossers, that’s what.”

“Oh really Bigears, they do a lot of excellent work. You seem to forget how many times they have been rewarded by being the winners of the ‘National children’s fictional characters award’ “
“Forget, how the hell could I forget? They win it every bloody year. It’s getting ridiculous, as the announcer starts, we all know who the winners are going to be…….The winners of ‘National children’s fictional characters of the year’ goes to…….The Famous fucking five.”
“Bigears you do exaggerate.”
“No, when was the last time you can remember them not winning it. It was the same when the Scooby doo lot kept bagging it a few years back. All cause they had a van, and that twat dog that kept solving mysteries, purely by chance I might add, it’s just not fair.”
“Bigears, I think you’re maybe just a little jealous” said Noddy.
“Not at all, all I am saying is, not only is it not fair that they keep winning it, when there are other just as worthy candidates, but it’s starting to cause trouble. It was kicking off last year, don’t you remember?”
“Not really.”
“Yes you do, When their names were announced again, Small skirmishes started to break out. The Clangers were up in arms. Security had to be called. Of course, none of them could speak the language, so things were getting nasty. Thank God Sooty was there to calm the situation, thankfully he speaks fluent Clanger, and managed to appease them with several bottles of Smirnoff Ice. Something has got to be done about it, that’s all I’m saying.”
Noddy glanced at him and tutted.

“Anyway, I’ll leave it there…….apart from I’m not overly sure they should be giving out awards on such a regular basis to Lesbians.”
“WHAT……. Lesbians, awards, what on earth are you talking about?” exclaimed Noddy.
“George that fat girl with a blokes name from the bloody Famous Five, quite clearly a lesbian.”
“How on earth do you come to that ridiculous conclusion?”
“Oh come on, she’s more butch than Julian and Dick put together.”
Noddy turned to Bigears and sighed. “I agree that she is what you might call, a sturdy girl, but that in no way means she is a lesbian. Anyway, even if she is, we all live in the twenty first century now Bigears, apart from you, and sexual diversity is a thing to be embraced and celebrated, not ridiculed and condemned.”
“Well call me old fashioned…….”
“I do frequently” interrupted Noddy.
“Call me old fashioned, and let me just say I’ve got nothing against lifters and lip lickers, but I think it should be kept in the privacy of their own bedrooms or whatever, not paraded around at awards ceremonies.”
“For God’s sake Bigears, I don’t understand how your mind works sometimes.”
“While we are on the subject…….”
“I wasn’t aware that we were.” retorted Noddy.
“You know who else bats for the wrong side don’t you.”
“No, but I am absolutely positive that I will do within the next ten seconds.”
“Hong Kong Phooey.”
Noddy almost choked on his jam sandwich “Does he, and how pray tell has one come by this staggering piece of information?”
“Do you walk around with your eyes closed Noddy?” said Bigears, “Just his name is gay, I mean Hong Kong Bloody Phooey .”

Noddy was losing the will to live, and shook his head.
“You have got to admit, it’s all a bit suspect isn’t it? The way he runs around in public with just that short little dressing gown on, and that silly little mask.”
“Ooh I meant to talk to you about that,” Noddy interrupted, “You know how he thinks that nobody knows who he is…….”
“Henry, the mild mannered janitor…….”
“Yes, well if you see him, don’t whatever you do let on that we know, that he doesn’t know, that we know who he is!, I was talking to Wilma Flintstone in the laundrette the other day, and apparently he has started to suspect that some people know his identity, apparently he is very sensitive about it.”
“Sensitive, there you go…GAY.”

Noddy slumped down into his deckchair, and went back to staring at his float. “I don’t want to hear another word about award ceremonies, homosexuality, or anything else. Lets just get back to what’s left of our fishing trip.”
Bigears stuck his tongue out at Noddy, and lit another Benson.

After ten minutes or so of a slightly frosty silence, Noddy and Bigears couldn’t help hearing a rustling coming from the bushes some way behind them. This was followed by a woman’s voice.
“Ooh, what are you going to do with that you filthy brute?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know” they heard a man’s voice reply.
Noddy and Bigears looked at each other, and then craned their necks a little closer to the bush.
“Ooooh, I can’t believe you’re going to put it in there,” said the woman.
“I’ll put it where I like, you dirty little minx,” replied the man.
“Ooooh it’s big, I’m not sure I can take such a big one.”
“You’ll take it and like it,” replied the man.
Noddy sprang to his feet knocking over his deckchair. “Quick Bigears, there is a damsel in need of assistance, I’m going to phone the Famous Five.”
Bigears tried to calm Noddy down.

“Don’t just sit there Bigears, do something. Oh damn and blast, I can’t get a bloody signal, bloody T-Mobile…….ps. Sorry Lord for swearing.”
Bigears carried on trying to calm Noddy.
“It’s no good, I can’t get hold of them, we are going to have to save her Bigears.”
Bigears choked on his jam sandwich, and spluttered “Noddy listen…….”
“Cover me Bigears, I am going in”
“NODDY…….shut up and sit down,” shouted Bigears. “Nobody is going in anywhere, because nobody needs saving.”
“But the fair maiden, she…….”
“She is not a fair maiden, nobody is getting hurt, nobody needs rescuing, it’s just a couple of doggers.”
“Doggers, what the hell are doggers?” said Noddy looking very puzzled.
“Oh Jesus Christ” said Bigears, “Sit down, this may come as a bit of a shock to you.
Bigears picked up Noddy’s chair, and plonked him down into it.

“Doggers are people who like to have sexual experiences outdoors, more often than not with complete strangers. This is a well known dogging spot, didn’t you know?”

“Oh yuk…….oh yuk oh yuk oh yuk oh yuk oh yuk. I can’t believe it Bigears. You mean mummies and daddies, who obviously love each other very much, do mummy and daddy bedtime things with other mummies and daddies…….OUTDOORS?”
“Er yes, kind of I suppose” said Bigears as he brushed the hair away from Noddy’s face. “Are you ok?”
“Whatever next? What is the world coming to Bigears? It’s leaving me behind.” Noddy sat staring at his float without blinking.
Bigears got up from his chair.
“Where are you going Bigears?” said Noddy without taking his eyes off of the float.
“I’m er, just er, going to get some more Bensons, see you in about half an hour.”

Noddy sat motionless, staring at the water as the sun started to set over the horizon. What had happened to his world? Why couldn’t things just stay the same? Where had all the innocent adventures gone? Sunny days of just fishing. Driving down leafy lanes, and tooting the horn at Pat the postman. Shouting hello to Windy Miller, and running through honey coloured corn fields. It was all there in his head, but when he opened his eyes, it was different.
“My word Mr Big Ears, look at the size of those!” The lady screamed from the bushes.
Noddy squeezed his eyes shut tight, and turned up his ipod.

Father time has bitten my bum!.......

It’s official. I have been officially diagnosed with ‘old age’. How did I arrive at this fait accompli? I have come to the stunning realisation that I now suffer from one of the many curses of the aged, I can genuinely no longer understand African Americans!

As I am sure I have mentioned in previous blogs, I unfortunately, and regrettably suffer from the odd bout of depression. The symptoms of which consist of a number of elements:- lethargy, de-motivation, slight paranoia, feelings of hopelessness, lack of energy, and undoubtedly the worst of the bunch, rapid, and unpredictable mood swings.

Now those that know me, will no doubt by now be falling off of their chairs, and proclaiming with a hefty dose of sarcasm, that I must suffer from depression 24/7! To all of you, yes I know it can appear that way, but there is the everyday grumpiness, and then there is the real McCoy.

It is the mood swings that I find so alarming, this hints at the condition known as ‘Bipolarity’ or bipolar. In the good old days this was called manic depression, basically big ups, and crushing downs, but progress being what it is, nothing is allowed to stay the same, so it’s now known as bipolarity.

I realise that ever since Stephen Fry “came out” and announced he was a sufferer of this affliction, the whole world has gone bipolar mad. Quite frankly you are nobody these days "Darling" if you are not bipolar, throw in a food intolerance as well, and you have the full gamut. I however, am not a feckless celebrity who solicits attention by feigning the latest mental disorder, or a footballer, who uses it to try to excuse his violence in nightclubs, I do seem to get it for real. Thankfully, it only seems to be mild, and not the massive swings that some sufferers endure. Never the less, it can be most unpleasant for all concerned.

The latest ‘bipolar incident’ occurred just last night, whilst trying to stir fry some noodles in fact. The bastard things kept sticking to the wok (culinary tips greatly received) This would usually cause some annoyance, but would normally only manifest it’s self as ‘tutting’ or scowling, but as I am suffering from the “Black dog” as Sir Winston Churchill called it, the result was a broken wooden spoon, an evening of silence, and a very close brush with divorce! This may sound amusing, but trust me…….it wasn’t.

I have gone off track a little, back to the old age. Yes, the way I discovered that I am old was thus. As I mentioned, one of the other symptoms of depression is a seemingly complete lack of motivation. This usually results in spending brain rotting amounts of time in front of the television. This practice has been made even easier lately, due to the acquisition of ‘Sky Plus’.

This morning thus far, I have watched ‘Superships’ - ‘Airwolf’ - ‘Thunderbirds’ and last but by no means least…….’Ricky Lake’ I’m not proud of it, and quite frankly I feel dirty. The same sort of feeling that you get post, wanking over a wheelchair bound, fourteen year old girl dressed as a nun on the internet! …….That one even made me wince! and let me assure you, that was a joke, and in no way would I ever use nuns for masturbatory purposes!

Phew, did I get away with that one? If I am dragged from my house by the local constabulary with my computer in a plastic bag, then I will have to join Messrs Ross and brand in the icy cold tundra that is “Too far land”! Anyway back to the relative safety of Ricky.

Yes we had the usual suspects, an African American woman, who I found out only after putting the subtitles feature on, was annoyed with her husband for a careless bout of adultery. Pre subtitles it went something like this…….

“Yo dog, yo bin messin’ wit dat two bit ho. Why yoo doo dat, why yoo doo dat?”
It was at this point that I pondered, does your average African American have the memory capacity of a goldfish? They do seem to feel the need to repeat themselves. She went on…….
“Why yoo wanna ride dat fat old asssss, when yo can be wit yor old laydeeeee. Dats a booty bitch, dats a booty.”

She proceeded to shake her posterior at her husband, who was doing that flicking his fingers thing, and laughing. This was a very hazardous exercise, considering the amount of bling he was adorned with. Any piece of that could have shot off at any given moment, and taken someone’s eye out. I am surprised that health and safety allows this practice to continue. She went on…….

“Yo gotta kick dat mudda to da cerb homey, I’m telling’ ya, yo ain’t getting’ back in ma bed still stinkin’ o dat fat assessed bitch.”
At this point in the proceedings, the crowd inexplicably turned on her, and started chanting something or other, to which she retorted with the timeless classic…….
“You don’t know me, you don’t know me”……..Thirty seven times!

It was at this juncture, that I realised that I had joined the legions of old people that inhabit sofas up and down the land saying…….
“What did he say, what did he say?”…….

Boxing day blues.......

My God i hate Boxing day. What an utterly bloody pointless day it is. It's a nothing day, nothing happens, nothing nothing nothing. So how was your Christmas?.......mine, oh thanks for asking. It was dull. I suppose that is a terrible thing to say really, seeing as we spent it round the outlaws, but hey it's the truth.

Why can't Christmas be like the front of a Christmas card? All snow and open fires, sing songs around the piano, smiles, hope, wonder, excitement. But no it's not is it, it's BORING!. That is my problem with Christmas, you see everybody thinks that i am a miserable git, and that i hate Christmas, well i suppose i am, and i do, but it's more than that. Christmas should be either like the front of a Christmas card, or not at bloody all.

It's that middle ground that the vast majority of us have to fall into that i so despise. That sitting there with a paper hat on, listening to some relative, that you wish you hadn't got, drone on about fuck all. Opening presents that you don't want. It's happened again. Yes the Christmas classic has struck home once more. I received a t-shirt that is at least two sizes too small, and i wouldn't wear if i was a downtown L.A. pimp.

Oh you shouldn't be so ungrateful Andy blah blah blah. I'm not being ungrateful, but i would rather they gave the money straight to charity or something, instead of getting me involved as some sort of reluctant middle man. The bloody thing will end up in a charity shop anyway, BUY IT, AND TAKE IT STRAIGHT THERE!

So here i sit, staring at the monitor with tired eyes, letting it all out. Shall i get a can of beer, i think i will, hang on.......

I'm back. I have had to undo my trousers due to the extreme expansion that has taken place. Yesterdays brussell sprouts are still depleting the ozone, and my gorgeous little girl cat is walking all over the keyboard, so blame her for the typo's, not me.

Why the bloody hell is there such a fuss made about the Christmas dinner? People panicking about turkeys, and fannying about worrying about this and that. For Christ's sake, it's the same fucking meal that most people have most Sundays, but all because it's Christmas, people fret about it. I suppose in days of old, a roast dinner was something special, and hence this was why they had it on Christmas day, but today it's run of the mill, so why don't we have something outlandish? Lets have a Lobster, or Romanian hog's penis. Roasted Golden Eagle on a bed of Nun's Hymens, or boa constrictor with flaked gold or something.......sigh, swig.

I just want to be left alone. Everybody just go away, and let me sit in my pants that i have had on since Dec 10th, and wallow in a pit of Vesta curries, the discovery channel (or dave), computer games, and violent self abuse.

Now of course we are on the slippery slope to New years eve. Without doubt.......swig.......the worst night of the bloody year. Forced fun, that's what it is isn't it, forced fun. I don't really feel like going out tonight thanks, i am feeling a little quiet and reflective, and would rather stay in and get an early night. You can't do that everybody tells you, you have got to be jam packed in a pub (That you have paid to get into , although the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, entry is free) and pour hideous amounts of alcohol down your neck, until you reach twelve o'clock. Then stand in a circle and jump around a bit waving your arms up and down, miming the words to a song that you really should know by now, and shaking hands with people that normally get right on your fucking tits.......sigh, swig

Again, if it was a party to end all parties, then take me there baby, i'm first in the queue. If it was full of dancing girls, and water slides, whooshing around on jet packs, and jamming on stage with the Rolling Stones. Psychodelic trampolines, fireworks, juggling dwarfs, paint ball, foam and water fights, then bloody well let me in! But it never is. Just like everything else, it's another anti-climax. It would be standing listening to some bastard telling me his opinion on everything from the answer to the credit crunch, to the pit falls of Chelsea's back four.......FUCK OFF! .......swig

Christ i could almost start smoking again, i could go a fag right now, but that's another avenue of pleasure barricaded off.......swig.......Well i suppose i'd better go and see what program Miss Marple has fallen asleep infront of, but before i do that, sod it, i am going to go on ebay, and see what i can get for my recently acquired 8 stone pimps t-shirt, my '1001 things to cook with turmeric' book. My 'Garfield' pants, 'Balltic Stalion aftershave', and personalised chamois leather gift set.......Big swig.......

Roll on normality! Lots of love Andy x

Kids stuff.......

Hello all. My last blog contained quite a lot of stuff relating to my place of work, and so it was printed out, and banded around the place. One colleague, after reading it, remarked that “I certainly couldn’t write anything for children.” I took from this that they meant the fairly frequent use of foul language, and sexual references etc, meant that I was an unsuitable candidate for the author of ‘Children’s book of the year award’

I have of course seen this as a challenge. So coming up are some new adventures for well known characters from children’s fiction. I am pretty certain that this is incredibly litigious, and infringes numerous copyright laws blah blah blah, but quite frankly…….bollocks.
So here we go…….

Noddy was driving along the lane towards the house he shared with Bigears. It was a lovely summers day, and Noddy whistled a chirpy little tune as he drove his little Noddy car along the leafy lane through the lovely warm sunshine. Noddy was feeling especially excited today, due to the fact that he was having ‘Sky television’ installed. Noddy arrived home just as the Sky man was leaving.

“Hello Mr sky man” said Noddy.
“Hello Noddy” said the sky man, “All installed and working tickatee boo. I have left Bigears trying it out.”
“Thank you Mr Sky man” said Noddy, and he raced towards the front door, and excitedly ran indoors.

“BIGEARS!” exclaimed Noddy, “I can’t believe that you are doing that, when there are all manner of educational and informative programs throughout the full range of the nine hundred plus sky channels. ”
“Yes, sorry about the Noddy, but I just couldn’t resist cracking one out, I mean, just look at the top bollocks on that.”
“Well I agree that the young lady does have a fine set of mummy bags, but really Bigears, is that really necessary?”
“Look, there has been a bit of a drought in the lady department lately, needs must, you know.”
“No quite frankly Bigears, I don’t know. I am a children’s character, and therefore completely asexual. Anyway your tea will soon be ready, so hurry up, and…….” Noddy winced slightly, and strode off to the kitchen, wishing he hadn’t left his Noddy hat in such close proximity to Bigears. He remembered the last similar occasion, where he thought he had over starched his hat, but to his horror discovered at a later date, that it wasn’t his starching that was at fault!

“What is for tea Noddy?” shouted Bigears
“Jam sandwiches.”
“Yum yum” said Bigears.
“That’s better” said Bigears, “Better out than in, that’s what I say.”
Noddy Put on his marigolds, hastily fashioned face mask, and protective goggles, and picked up his Noddy hat with a set of BBQ tongs. “I would prefer it if you didn’t use my Noddy hat for sanitation purposes in future Bigears, Thank you.”
Bigears looked a little sheepish and said, “Yes sorry about that Noddy, it’s the first thing that came to hand, now, lets have some scrummy jam sandwiches.”

Noddy and Bigears settled down in front of their 42” plasma, and munched away while watching a very interesting documentary about Swedish lesbian serial killers on the discovery channel.
Soon it was time for bed.
“I’m off to bed now Bigears” said Noddy “I have got a very busy day tomorrow. I am meeting Paddington bear in town for tea and scones.”
“Oh not fucking Paddington, I can’t stand that cunt” replied Bigears. “It’s marmalade sandwiches this, marmalade sandwiches that, have I told you about Peru blah blah blah, just don’t bring him back here alright, especially as I have got Bagpuss coming round, and just between you and me, I am planning to get off with her.”
“Her……Bigears, you do know that Bagpuss is a…….” Noddy stopped mid sentence, and raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “Night night Bigears.”
“Night night Noddy.”
Noddy toddled off to bed, and stared out of his bedroom window. He gazed at the twinkling stars, and wondered what tomorrow would bring, and more importantly, if Bigears would discover that he was barking up the wrong tree!”

“Cockadoodle doo…….” Crowed cocky the cockerel from cock and bulls farm.
Noddy opened his little Noddy eyes, and stretched and yawned. He washed his face and cleaned his teeth, and skipped down the stairs, to make some toast for his breakfast.
“Oh dear Bigears, did you fall asleep in front of the television?” asked Noddy.
Bigears opened one eye, and lifted his head from the pool of dribble on the sofa. He grunted a reply, and then with some dismay, looked down and discovered that he had spilt his tin of ‘special tobacco’ all over the floor.
“Oh dear, you haven’t been smoking again have you Bigears? I have told you that it’s bad for you.” said Noddy.
Bigears closed his eyes, and laid his weary head back down into the pool of dribble, and started to snore.

Noddy gobbled up all of his yummy toast, and shouted goodbye to Bigears as he raced out of the door. He got in his Noddy car, and scooted down the road to meet up with Paddington.
Noddy parked his Noddy car in the very reasonably priced multi-storey car park, and went to find his good friend Paddington. He saw Paddington across the street and waved.
“I’ve been fucking clamped.”

“Oh dear Paddington” said Noddy, “I wasn’t even aware that you had passed your test.”
Well, I haven’t officially, but never the less, clamped. Can you fucking believe it?”
Paddington had changed a little since Noddy had last seen him. He was fairly “Blinged up” these days, and he had got a tattoo. Noddy looked closer, and could see it said “Windsor gardens crew” He had obviously fallen in with the wrong crowd, he would have to keep an eye on him.
“Would you like some tea and scones Paddington?” asked Noddy.

“Tea and scones, tea and scones are for woosies, lets go to the pub,” barked Paddington.
Noddy had never been in a pub before, and so with a little trepidation, he followed Paddington into the ‘Fog and duck’
“What you ‘avin geezer?” asked Paddington.
Paddington was talking in a funny way these days Noddy thought to himself, and answered “A diet coke with ice and lemon please.”
“Diet fucking coke…….what are you, some kinda batty boy? You will have a pint and be done with it.” Paddington ordered two pints of ‘Bishop’s ball breaker’ and pushed Noddy towards a table by the gents.

“So, how are you keeping Paddington my old chum.” said Noddy.
“Well can’t complain really I suppose,” said Paddington. “I’m still dossing down with the Brown’s, but quite frankly, I think I’m out growing them. There’s more to life than fucking marmalade sandwiches, and trips to the park. I want more, I want women, and parties, speed, motorbikes, you know how it is Noddo me old china.”

Noddy looked perplexed, he rarely understood a word that Paddington was saying these days, and anyhow, what was so wrong with marmalade sandwiches, and tales of daring do in the park. The world around him was changing, and changing for the worst as far as he was concerned.
Noddy took a tentative sip of his pint…….

Noddy had never been in a police cell before, and he didn’t like it at all. The bed was very hard, and the walls were very bare, except for some writing. It said things about other peoples mothers and sisters, stuff Noddy didn’t understand at all. On top of that, the whole room smelt of other peoples wee. Noddy had the worst headache he had ever had. He had no idea how he got here, and was very frightened. The little window on the door slid open, and a gruff voiced policeman said, “Right piss head, you can go.”
“Thank you Mr policeman, tell me, where is my friend Paddington?”
“He is helping us with our enquiries, now if you know what’s good for you, you'll piss off.”

Noddy ran and ran and ran, until his little lungs were bursting. He drove home down the leafy lane, but for some reason the sun was not quite so shiny today, and the leafy lane wasn’t quite as leafy. Noddy arrived home, and Bigears was sitting on the garden swing.
“Hello Bigears, how are you.”
Bigears looked glum, and without looking up just said, “She…….he is a boy. Bagpuss is a boy.”
Noddy sighed and sat next to Bigears. “I did try to tell you Bigears, but you wouldn’t listen. Are you ok?”
“I suppose so” said Bigears. “Do you know the worst part about it?”
“what‘s that” said Noddy.
“Well, I think I might be bi-curious. It wasn’t all that bad. I mean I know she…….he hasn’t got a front bottom and everything, but there are other things you can do. For example…….”
“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT,” shouted Noddy as he ran indoors with his fingers in his ears, la la laring. Noddy watched Bigears as he gingerly got up from the swing, and walked with a bandy gait into the house.

“Tomorrow is another day Bigears. Who knows what will happen tomorrow.”
Noddy and Bigears turned out their nightlights, and pressed their faces into the cosy pillows. The stars up in the sky twinkled, and an owl hooted. What adventures lay in store for Noddy and Bigears tomorrow children, Shall we find out soon? Night night Bigears. Night night Noddy.


They were right you know, I think I have to admit defeat, perhaps the kids stuff is not for me!…….

You can call me Al.......

I am falling apart at the seams. I am forty one, but most of the time (Don’t kid yourself)…….ok, all of the time, I feel like ninety one. What has happened? Have the early years of Burgers, beer, cigarettes, and dare I say it, a light dabbling in the recreational drug scene, really taken this much toll on my body?

I suppose it doesn’t help that I am overweight. Weight is one of those funny things that creeps up on you. The two or three stones heavier that I am now, as apposed to when I was, twenty-five say, have sneaked on. I think of fat molecules as like commandos, or the SAS, it’s not a full on frontal assault, more an under the cover of darkness, camouflaged pincer movement. Have the saturated fats from a burger that I ate in 1992, really been lying dormant in their fox hole for all this time? Just waiting for the right moment to strike. "Alright lads, he’s looking the other way…….wait for it, wait for it (or should that be weight for it, weight for it!) Standby…….GO GO GO!.......sigh.

Although I am no where near gargantuan or even dart player status, I do still have to psyche myself up when it comes to doing the old shoe laces up. When you have got a couple of extra stones knocking around, you can’t just lunge down and go for it you know, no it takes a bit of planning. Do I bend down to tie them? risking the rosy cheeks and spinning head hellishness, or place the foot onto something.

It’s a tricky one. Both methods can end in tears. If one spends too long bending down to tie the laces, in a valiant, but ultimately vain effort to "ride out" the dizziness, it can lead to a semi conscious state, and then a gentle but ungainly roll forward, until the forehead is resting on the ground, leaving you in a semi feotal position. This state can normally only be recovered from, by a swift kick from an embarrassed spouse, which tips you over onto your side, and you gently rock backwards and forwards, not unlike a spinning coin coming to rest, until consciousness is regained.

Alternatively, the raising of the foot is just as perilous. One can raise one leg and successfully tie the lace, but that’s only the half of it. This is the time that the knee usually locks, and one is left balancing precariously on one leg. The options are thus; hopping up and down until the raised leg releases itself, or biting the bullet and volunteering for the ungracious Del boyesque sideways crash to the floor.

Hopping about is not a recommended activity for any forty one year old, overweight or otherwise, but probably preferable to a dislocated shoulder, and having to desperately try to convince the A&E staff that you were not pissed.

My body seems to be racked with all sorts of aches and pains now. Dodgy knees that take it in turns to "Play up," to sciatica, which results in me waddling about like some sort of bandy constipated duck.

The hearing certainly isn’t what it used to be, and my spectacle lenses seem to become thicker every time I visit the opticians. Instead of diving into a tin of quality street, and munching down on one of those round toffees in the gold wrappers with gay abandon, I now have to be much more cautious. These days, it is all about weighing up how much I fancy one, against weather I can be arsed to spend the evening at the emergency dentists.

Of course it is not just the physical side of things that starts to slide, mental abilities start to take a bashing as well. It is getting beyond a joke the number of times I have gone to the fridge recently, and after opening the door, have absolutely no idea what I went there for. The other day I went to the fridge, opened the door, and wasn’t totally sure what the fridge was for.

I can’t remember where I’ve left any bloody thing either. The other day I took my phone out of my pocket, and placed it on my desk. Went to the fridge to forget what I went there for, and then went back upstairs. In this short length of time, I couldn’t remember where my phone was.

Miss Marple obviously immediately got the blame, or one of the dogs must have eaten it. "I know" I thought, "I will ring it, and follow the sound…….What’s the bloody number? …….shit." The only number I could remember was our landline (The one I was dialing form) so in desperation I phoned that."Bollocks it’s engaged, what bastard is ringing me at this time? Fancy ringing me when I can’t find my phone." And so it goes on and on and on.

The upshot of all this, is that Miss Marple and myself will be embarking on a healthy eating, and get fit campaign next year. Needless to say this has been attempted a million times before, resulting in varying degrees of hopelessness. Monday is normally good, or as we now call it…….

Must succeed Monday.
We are enthusiastic, "This is the new me" and all that bollocks, starving but determined. This is followed by…….

Trying hard Tuesday.
Really hungry, but still hanging in there. Might even attempt a sit up. Then we have…….

Weak willed Wednesday.
"Fucking hell I’m hungry" Start hallucinating, think I can smell chips frying all the time, stuff like that. Onto…….

Tearful Thursday.
Mild sobbing, and irritation ensue, as things start to get really tough. Minor arguments may occur, usually when Miss Marple or myself accuse the other of having one more pea than the other one, or "Bollocks to the sit ups, it’s all a waste of time anyway." May very well be heard. This is followed by…….

Oh fuck it Friday.
All resistance is broken, enthusiasm has been drained, and will power depleted. Sit ups are but a distant memory, and the only exercise taking place, is the clamour to the phone to call the take away. Gorging ensues. Sadly onto…….

Self loathing Saturday.
"What have I done?"…….Yes it’s all turned to shit. Another attempt at bettering one’s self has ended in ruins. The Davina Macall fitness video is on ebay, and the size 32" jeans are nothing but a pipe dream…….

So what Sunday.
"Hey, I’m not that fat, in fact in the right light, I’m sure you can almost see muscle definition lines on my stomach, if I suck it in a bit." Yes the self deluding process has begun. "I know these jeans are a 36, but look, they’re quite baggy really." Oh dear. "It’s not the right time, you have got to want to do it." Anymore?....... "Women in general prefer the heavier boned man." And on and on and on…….

Before I go, may I just share with you a few examples of how the aging process has "Done me up like a kipper" in recent weeks. It might not make for pretty reading, but let this be a lesson to all youngsters out there who may be reading this. Take head my young padawans, take good care of your minds and your bodies, for if thou doesn’t, they WILL let you down in the future!

In the gents toilets at work, the urinal had become blocked. Hence it became unusable. I was tasked with making a sign, to inform potential urinators of this problem, and to instruct them to use the cubicle instead. Due to the fact that the buffoons that have got the maintenance contract at work are beyond useless, what should have taken half an hour to rectify, dragged on for weeks.

In I go one day to pass water, and as I am doing thus, whilst staring at the sign THAT I HAD MADE, it very rapidly occured to me, that there is a dampness in the foot area. Now either I had forgotten to release my penis from my trousers before starting the urination process, or as I am beginning to suspect, I have not taken head of my own handiwork.

Yes, my old friend Al Zheimers had struck again. My pee was cascading all over the floor, via the broken U-bend. Have you any idea what a feeling of sheer and utter helplessness that is? I can’t stop mid flow, it’s either carry on, or attempt a quick spin and dash to the cubicle. I was praying to the heavens that an unsuspecting colleague would not enter at that moment, and catch me, in the midst of whichever decision I had made. I mean, how does one explain either situation? Trying to explain why one is peeing down what is clearly an unserviceable urinal is hard enough, let alone trying to explain why one is sprinting across the toilets, mid pee!

I chose the former, and then had to quickly mop up as best I could…….sigh.

If I haven’t already ostricised myself at work, here is example number two, to really put the icing on the cake.

Quite rightly we take it in turns to make the tea at tea breaks. I thought I had got away with not making it for long enough, and so sauntered into our little tea room one morning. All of us drink tea, apart from one of my colleagues who drinks coffee. Now don’t ask me why I do this, but when making coffee with milk, I like to shake the milk before pouring it into the cup, so it goes frothy, like a proper cappuccino type thing. Yes I know it’s the sort of thing that a twelve year old would do, but there you go.

So, I pour the milk into the teas, and then give the milk (A four pinter) a hefty shake. Now it’s at this point that I very quickly realized, that I had failed to adhere to my usual routine, of reacquainting the lid with the bottle first! To say I was covered from head to toe would be an understatement. I don’t know if you have seen either of the first two ‘Alien’ films, but there is a scene in both, where a synthetic person (robot/android thing) is cut up, and the whole place is covered in white stuff, including the android. Well that was the scene. Again more hurried cleaning was in order, and I just hoped that nobody noticed that I appeared to have been standing out in the rain, or that I smelt like a dairy!.
Well that’s all the time we have left for today, so this is Frazier Crane wishing you a very good day, and good mental health…….sigh.