About This Blog

This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!

The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.

I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.


Sunday, 31 July 2011

Parties And The Eternally Young

As you get older ... and you will ... that thunderous cacophony of noise as 'late at night' crashes into 'early in the morning' will be heard fewer and fewer times.

Partying ... real partying ... is a younger man's, or woman's, sport.

I used to be able to go out at 8pm, trawl through the bars, disco's (in my day) and clubs only to arrive back home well after the new day had dawned ... nowadays, well, let's just say that I haven't seen midnight for quite a while.

I envy the young! They seem to have energy in abundance and insist on burning their candles at both ends with a fervent passion that I, in my younger days,could only have dreamed of.

Of course now that I belong to what once was called the 'fuddy-duddy'-set, and no longer indulge in youthful boisterousness, I thoroughly disapprove of what the young get up to!

And why not?

The young b@$tard$ are having all the damned fun whereas I sit (well, slumber) the night away wondering where I'm going to get the energy from for the following days work.

Party?

I reckon I'd be too much of a grump-assed git to attend any parties these days ... except those senior citizen tea and bingo ones.


Just like Jonah Louie, I used to be a kitchen hoverer, so when all is said and done, I ain't really missing much.

But young folks are still b@$tard$!!!

Friday, 29 July 2011

They Thought They Were Heading For Stardom! Little Did They Know ...

... they were going to tremble every time this little gem was aired!

(only remaining copy [unfinished] of a film the kids made for Christmas 2005)

video


Turn your sound up and listen carefully!

It is missing the finale ... but it wasn't very good anyway.

Enjoy!

(They won't)

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

I Went Shopping ... I Didn't Expect An Australian Floor Show!

Australians! Oh my God! Australians!

I was shopping last Saturday ... it's my job not only to cook for the family but also to buy that which they are fed ... and as I was about to enter the supermarket (ASDA [Walmart] ), I was confronted by two of the widest, roundest and worst dressed young women of antipodean origin that I have ever encountered. Hence forth referred to as 'globes'.

Left of the entrance, with her back against the wall, was 'globe' #1.  She looked somewhat disgruntled.
As I selected a wobble-free trolley in which to convey my purchases from shelves to checkout, a 'globe' #2 exited the building.

Looking in the direction of 'globe' #1 she shouted "Kaa mon, Door! Get yer aaarse in gee-ah! We gotta go-ah!"

"I caahn't move. I 'ad an exidehnt-ah! I split mah pants!" replied 'globe' #1.

It should be pointed out that both  'globes' were adorned in multi-coloured tie-died T-shirts and very short shorts. Both garments on both 'globes' where seriously stretched to a point that could only be described as mere seconds away from self-destruction.  Sadly, in the case of 'globe' #1, the strain on the fragile threads holding the material of her shorts together had already ceased to offer any resistance to her bulk.

"Doorah!  Din I tell ya ya looked like a fuhken snag ready for the barbie?" said 'globe' #2.

'globe' #1's response sounded frantic. "It aint fuhnee, Bren.  I ain't wearin' any knikka's an I ain't bin wexed for aiges!"

The volume of this conversation was excessive, and by this point a small crown had gathered to witness their exchange and, quite possibly, to witness 'globe' #1's un-waxed rear end.

"Waddah you baaahsturds lukkin' at" and several other choice phrases were spat in the direction of the now considerable audience.

When there is a 'show' in town, we Brits stay to the very end!

Anyway ...

"Stay there-ah, Door, ya silly wuss " said 'globe' #2.  "I'll get ya somethin' from the car."

She 'sped' off at a fairly slow wobble towards the car park, still uttering expletives and exchanging quaint Australian 'niceties' with the bemused watchers.

Within a few minutes she was back carrying a black quilted coat.

"Here ya go-ah! Put that one ya silly tart!  Nobody'll see yer Mappa Tassie through that!"

"Ta Bren.  These dill's're really pissin' me off."

The coat was shrugged on (yes,you can shrug on as well  as off) and both 'globes' shuffled off to their car.

We, the audience, applauded loudly and with gusto.

Seldom has entertainment of such a high standard ever come out of Australia.

Friday, 22 July 2011

My Biggest Asset & Biggest Hate

Driving through Cardiff today could best be described as a rather slow and painful bowel movement.

At one of those annoying little snag-points ... old people just can't  find the accelerator when the light turns green ... I got to thinking ... what do I hate most?

Is it all those face-painting babe's that always ... ALWAYS ... do their make-up at traffic lights?  NO!

Is it old age pensioners that drive as though every day was a Sunday and the church doesn't open for another hour or two?  NO!

Is it the fact that my company expects me to be in two places at once that are 20 miles apart? NO!

Is it ... oh, bollocks to the list ... what I hate most ... don't laugh ... is my stomach!

Yes, it's grown to proportions that have put Green Peace on alert (in case I need to be dragged back into the see) and has almost taken on a personality of it's own.  I saw it wobble ... several times!

Normally my appearance is of little importance to me as I've always just assumed that I look good and that was always enough for me.

Last week however, I viewed a photograph of myself at a local fair and ... the very thought of that photograph makes me cringe ... it looked like I was at least 7 months pregnant.

I thought I told you folks not to laugh!!!

My exercise days are long behind me and the time when I could run 15 miles with full kit and a rifle are in my very distant past.

As there is no way that I'm going to start pounding the streets or hop on a treadmill again, I find myself left with only one option ... a diet.

I think 5 to 8 kilos would be nice ...

... 2 to 3 more realistic.

Let me just finish this bar ... very large bar ... of chocolate and then I'll start ... just after a slice or two of chocolate cake.

Sunday, 17 July 2011

More Money To be Made Or Blobby Cash Cows

Have you ever asked yourself why there are no ads for Zumba showing fat folks trying to get fit?

I have!

It's because if you ain't fit already, with a honed and (if the ads are to be believed) very shapely figure, you ain't gonna be able to do Zumba.

These 'before and after' shots of people are just a little bit unbelievable in my opinion.

I watched a TV programme sometime ago in which a graphics expert showed just how to make 'before and after' pictures.  It quite literally only took him 5 minutes and  ...  hey presto! ... there was a picture of the presenter (an ex-sportsman) looking like he was carrying an extra 50 lbs.

My point ... well, my point is ... Ads lie!  Or at the very least they stretch the truth to breaking point.

There are a lot of people paying good money thinking that Zumba will transform their pie-eating-sack-of-blubber bodies into something resembling the body of a sporting God or Goddess.

OK, lets go back a step to the 'before and after' pictures.  They are, no doubt, backed up by statements such as " Hell, yeah! Zumba changed my life!" or "Incredible! I used to weigh 300 lbs.  Zumba really did for me!"

But those folks are being paid, aren't they ... and why are there no pictures or film of them as lard-buckets actually working out?

I admit that I do not have the focus, dedication or mental attitude (not at my age) to be able to push myself through a rigorous training program.  Also my coordination is pretty poor and is seriously challenged just trying to swing a golf club.

But I not driven by any great need to please the eye of anyone other than myself.  I have no burning desire to be any shape other than the one I have.  I do just enough so that I am happy ... and so my wife doesn't complain.

Zumba (which, lets face it, is aerobics with newer dance steps) is being snapped up by chunkies who think that this time ... maybe ... they will lose those pounds.

It is aimed at those weak of will, strong in hope and little or no self esteem.

It will help the fit stay fit but it won't change many blobs into lean, mean, fighting machines.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

You've Got To Laugh

My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you believe that? 2:30am?!
Luckily for him I was still up playing my Bagpipes.

The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a vacuum cleaner. F*ck me, talk about Dyson with death.

Did you hear about the fat alcoholic transvestite? All he wanted to do was eat, drink and be Mary.

Spent £40 on eBay last week for a p*nis enlarger.Just opened it and some bastard's sent me a magnifying glass!

I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.

I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I would like to come back as a cow. I said your obviously not f--k--g listening.

Doctors have just identified a food that can cause grief and suffering years after it's been eaten. It's called a wedding cake.

The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes back.

Hi mate I don't want you to panic but I'm texting you from the casualty. Turns out the new Dyson Ball cleaner isn't what I thought it was.

Friday, 15 July 2011

Taking Advantage Of Any Old Gut

Sym on the biggest cushion in the house

And this is the result
He's been doing this since he was a pup.
If I don't let him up he uses his big brown eyes to maximum effect and makes me feel so guilty
and if Clover beats him to his 'prime location' he stares daggers at me 
from a safe distance and waits for her to move.

Sunday, 10 July 2011

The Day We Lost Sox

We lost Sox (Our 'old lady' border collie X) the other day.

She just slipped away without anyone noticing!

It was a sad, sad day ... especially when someone brought the old girl back.

That's right!  She ain't 'lost' in that sense of the word ... she only went missing.

Let me explain.

We'd been on our usual trip to the park; Sym=ball chasing, Clover=at my heels, Sox=wanting to go home ASAP.

On crossing the rugby field in Hailey Park, we bumped  into (I think she made a bee-line for us really) Penny, a Four Paws fosterer and 'activist'.  I had a home-check to carry out that evening for the adoption of a puppy called Jessica, so the chat with Penny was brief, just long enough to give her dogs a few pieces of cheese.

As we went our separate ways, Sox was already half way across the field in her haste to get back to the car and go home.  Her eyesight and hearing are not the best, so she usually has to stop just to make sure we are still close by.  On this occasion she chose to walk back towards us and, as we were passing the small wooded enclave that Sym uses (unsuccessfully) to hone his squirrel hunting skills, she suddenly broke into a doggy-gallop.

Sym charged into the woods, as he always does, and Sox for the first time in the six years we've had her, charged in after him.  There was a barking and a thrashing about in the undergrowth that only Sym could make whilst 'hunting' squirrels and then, out he came, ready for some more ball action.

I waited ... I called ... I whistled.

Sox did not come out of the woods.  I ventured in after her, taking care that Clover (she's scared of the woods) did not bolt.

Sox was nowhere to be seen so, knowing that she has a homing instinct for where the car is parked, I assumed she'd run in that direction while I was searching for her in the woods.

I checked ... I called ... I whistled.

Dammit!  No Sox.  No one had seen a black and white dog of any description.

I walked back over the fields in the direction we had just come from, asking the few folks that I met if they'd seen her.  The answer was always "No".

Then, from the very far corner of the field ... some two hundred or more yards away ...I thought someone called me.

I looked ... I watched  ... I swore.

There in the furthest corner of the field was Penny ... but she had three dogs with her, not her usual two.

Now I'm getting on a bit and my eyesight, spectacle enhanced though it is, is somewhat lacking in the long-range identification department. So I walked Sym (who didn't mind) and Clover (who thought it was feeding time and was whining) back over the field.

Yes, Penny was bringing Sox back.  She'd bumped into some four hundred yards away looking very agitated and confused (Sox, not Penny) and thought it best to slip on a lead and walk her back in my direction.

I thanked Penny, fussed Sox and then we went home.

Sox gave me the "how could you have left me like that" look, but I think I was forgiven after she received extra cheese to help her recover from her ordeal.

I think she will be more careful in future.

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

Empty Pockets And Stomach Rumbles

Today I accompanied my client to the fair.

Not a big, fancy fair with fun rides and candy-floss and stuff.

No. It was a charity fair with a coconut shy, hoopla, BBQ, a tombola and plants and stuff for sale.

I thought 'Whoo-hoo! Time to let the good times roll!'.  I thought that a mere 8.5 seconds before I realised that I had no money with me.

I was, in a word, broke.

I'd forgotten to go to an ATM before collecting my client this morning and I only had 26 pence to my name.

There were sausages, burgers, crepes, and a large variety of tooth-rotting candy just waiting to be devoured ... and I was broke!

OK, so technically I wasn't (an am not) flat broke.  I have money.  It just wan't in my pocket when all the those aroma's found their way through the forest that is my moustache and into my nose.

Normally ... that is to say when I have money in my pockets ... I can go the whole day (6.30am to 17.30pm) without eating and I'm never plagued with hunger pangs, intestinal rumbles of desperation or those "boi-oi-oing" noises that emanate from the mid-section.

I survive on the occasional tic-tac or stick of chewing gum without any problems.

Today?

Well, today the thought of my empty pockets drove me nuts and wherever I went I was accompanied by a full intestinal orchestral, which my client found hilarious.

From the moment that first burger started to burn on the grill to the moment I had to take my client home, my stomach played, much to the amusement of anyone nearby, wonderful music, which was referred to by one lady in the crowd as "The Feedmenow Overture in C,D and F".

After dropping my client (who had money and was lucky that I didn't mug him for it) safely back home, I made a mad dash to the nearest ATM with every intention of going to any old greasy-spoon cafe for a huge plate of burger & chips.

But, as things turned out, my aroma induced ravenous hunger had disappeared by the timewe pulled into his driveway.

Lucky me!

I'm home now and I've just enjoyed a coffee with a biscuit so for the moment, I am satisfied.

It's 16.20pm and soon I'll be cooking the evening meal.

I was thinking of burgers, but I don't think anyone else will appreciate them as much as I will.

Perhaps if I throw in a salad?

Monday, 4 July 2011

4th Of July

Happy 4th of July to all our American cousins!

Not such a happy day for us Brits, as I'm sure you will appreciate,

but,

what the hell!

We came second after all!

Friday, 1 July 2011

That Email: My Views

By now everyone should have heard about the woman who told her future daughter-in-law just what she thought of her manners.


Call me old fashioned if you will, but on some of her points, I totally agree.


It is a sad state of affairs when the young of today expect us oldies to accept their crappy behaviour and think that everything they do is normal and acceptable.


Here are some extracts from that email:

"When you are a guest in another's house, you do not declare what you will and will not eat – unless you are positively allergic to something."

I agree!  You should be polite enough accept what you are given.  If you don't like it, don't eat it and make a polite apology. 

"You do not remark that you do not have enough food. You do not start before everyone else."

Yep!  I agree with this one too. Someone doing this in my house would soon be shown the door.

"You do not take additional helpings without being invited to by your host."

This one is a bit silly.  If it's on the table, take it and eat it.  It wouldn't hurt though to ask first of share what is left with others at the table.

"When a guest in another's house, you do not lie in bed until late morning in households that rise early. You fall in line with house norms."

This is one that would make my blood boil.  I agree that if you are a guest in someone's home, you should adapt to the ways of the house.   

"You should never ever insult the family you are about to join at any time and most definitely not in public."

Ah, well ... I don't know what the insults actually were.  Maybe they were justified ... who knows?

"You regularly draw attention to yourself. Perhaps you should ask yourself why. No one gets married in a castle unless they own it. It is brash, celebrity style behaviour."

This one is just smacks of jealousy ... of someone who didn't like being the central focus point. As for the "castle" bit ... that bit is just nonsense.  If you can afford a wedding in a castle and tink you really need and want it ... why not?

"If your parents are unable to contribute very much towards the cost of your wedding, it would be most ladylike and gracious to lower your sights and have a modest wedding as befits both your incomes."

This one is a valid point.  Why start married life with money worries?  You cannot expect someone else to carry the costs of your extravagances!

"One could be accused of thinking that Heidi Withers must be patting herself on the back for having caught a most eligible young man. I pity Freddie."

This one sounds as if Freddie has been placed on a pedestal by this woman and that no girl will ever be considered good enough for him.  I think she see's poor old Heidi as a money grabber who is out to get the easiest life possible for herself.


There you have it.  My old fashioned views on some of the main points of that email.  I'm sure many of you will disagree with me,  but what the hell!  


I have my standards ... you have yours.