The Deadliest Place On Earth!

On this side of the pond we watch an awful lot of American TV cop shows.

They first appear on our screens in trailers in which they are described as 'hit', 'epic' or 'cult' direct from the States.

Over the years I have seen hundreds of 'em. From 77 Sunset Strip to Perception ... I've seen 'em all.

Which makes me think 'Is America really populated by gang-bangers, rogue cops, mass murders and little old ladies from Cabot Cove?'

Let us concentrate on a true classic!

Murder She Wrote.

Now, by my calculations, after 12 seasons and four Specials, Cabot Cove must be the deadliest place in the United States!

Assuming (and I haven't researched this) that in each episode (over 260) that at least 2.5 people died, that comes to a grand total of 660 deaths.

Let is further assume that one fifth of the dead (132) came from 'outta town', that still leaves 528.

As we all know, many episodes took place elsewhere ... that is to say, NOT in Cabot Cove ...  and therefore Cabot Covian's would be probably not have been amongst the dead.

Shall we guess again at one third?  OK!

So we can thereby deduce that approximately 176 people from other locations also died during the show's run!

That still leaves us with 352 deadies that could ONLY have been Cabot Coves finest despite the fact that the town's population was supposed to be around 3,560 (Wikipedia, but we all know how wrong they can be, don't we).

OK, OK!

Before you run off to check these figures, let me tell you that 'officially' Murder She Wrote is only said to have killed-off 2 or 3% of it's population.

But I don't believe it! 

By my calculations It's nearer 10%

You know what they say, don't you?

Fiction is nearly always based on fact!

The Innocence of it All!

Remember this one?

Duvet's and Female Testicles

It began with "Can you help me change the dog beds?"

Let me explain about the dog beds.  We, that is to say Clover, has two. One in the living room and one in the hallway.  They are not your run-of-the-mill bog beds. They are in actual fact duvet's folded to over maximum comfort.

What can I say?

I pamper my pup!

Anyway, the request for help meant that the duvet covers were going to be changes and washed.

I put the TV on 'hold' and began the process of  peeling the duvet's.  I was almost done when I heard "Oh-oh! We'll  have to vacuum those covers before the go into the machine otherwise the filter will get full of dog hairs!"

The vacuum miraculously appeared and I found myself standing in the kitchen on one end of a duvet cover with my  feet so far apart that I was in serious danger of damaging some of my most important appendages.

At the other end of the duvet cover, in a similarly precarious position but with less to damage, stood my wife.

She valiantly swung the vacuum cleaner back and forth as if there was no tomorrow.

And as there were two duvet covers, we went through this procedure twice.

After the dog hairs were safely inside the vacuum cleaner, the covers were thrown into the washing machine and I was allowed to return to my seat in front of the TV.

Now I can hear you all declaring that it was 'Just another Saturday evening at home'.

And you would be wrong!

Usually we have much less fun!

Which brings me (not very smoothly) to the story I wanted to tell you before the memories of last nights exertions resurfaced ...

A few days ago, I was talking to a little girl and her mother.  The girl was telling us about her school day.

"And we learned all about testes today!" she announced.

Her mother looked shocked.  Her daughter was only six years old.

"You did what?" she asked.

"The teacher told us that we'll have testes when we are older" said the girl.

I have to admit that it was hard not to snigger as the little girl had such a serious expression in her face and her mother was speechless and her face was turning a deep crimson colour.

 "And then," continued the little girl as she started to become excited. "If we have good testes we can get good jobs an' a, an'a lot of money an' a house".

The girls mother visibly relaxed.

"Do you mean you'll have to do test's and exams?" she asked.

"Yep!" said the little girl.  "Testes and exam-ies!"

I hate kids, but they are good for a laugh now and again!

Old Age Road Rage

Sometimes it can be hard work trying to think of something to write.

I don't have that 'tick-tock' kind of mind that can, at the drop of a hat and with little inspiration,  rattle off something that will interest or amuse those unfortunate enough to actually land on my blog.

(As an aside, I was view my stats and checking out exactly where my 'readers' were coming from, I was slightly embarrassed to find that quite a number visited me via a ladies underwear page ... which, by the way, had a great range in see-through nightwear, knickers resembling tissues and push-up bra's that could make a woman look as if she were sporting a matching pair of goitres.)

I take my inspiration, as advised so long ago by several readers, from my surroundings and from my daily encounters with lesser mortals or from my family and dogs.

Today, whilst driving home after having just completed a shopping expedition which, thankfully, did not burn a hole in my pocket, I encountered the demon driver form Hell.

As I drove along, minding my own business, an oncoming car pulled across my lane.  I slammed on the brakes and liberally coated the road surface with rubber!

I stopped so abruptly that my naked troll-angel good luck charm broke free from it's fastening, bounced off the windscreen and flew back, hitting me square between the eyes.

I fumed, as you would imaging, and was ready for a spot of road rage!

As I stared daggers at the driver of the other vehicle my inner savage beast was calmed as I saw, almost hidden behind the steering wheel of her car, a tiny blue-haired and bespectacled old lady looking back at me.

She had stopped diagonally across my lane in shock, or so I thought!

Appearances can be deceptive and when what I thought was a harmless and remorseful old lady got out of her car, I learned just how deceptive they could be.

"Didn't you f*&king see me indicating, you idiot?"

I was struck dumb.

I expected to have to turn on the sympathy for a shocked old dear, but instead I was harangued!

I tried to diplomatically explain that indicating her direction of travel does not give her the right to turn across another lane unless said lane is clear.

"Don't you f*&king tell me how to f*&ing drive! I've been f*&ing driving since before you were f*&ing born!".  She was on the verge of hitting me with her handbag.

My experience of old ladies told me that after the rant would come the flood of tears followed by a  requirement for some kind words and comfort.

But this old bird hadn't read the 'Grannies Handbook'!

She questioned my parentage!!!

She used her forefinger as a weapon, jabbing me in the shoulder several times.

She was only 5 foot tall if she was an inch, so she had to stretch.

And I stood there, dumbfounded, and took it!

I didn't know what else to do short of giving her a knuckle sandwich!

Traffic was building up behind my car at this point but she continued to rant.

"You could have f*&ing killed me! Do you hate old people? Do you?"

A man from the car directly behind me joined the fray.

He explained, as I had, the rules of the road pertaining to crossing over the on-coming traffic lane.

"Oh!" she said.

She never bloody screamed at him! Why didn't she scream at him?

Anyway, placated somewhat, she returned to her car and started the engine.  But as I returned to my car I noticed her passenger window rolling down.

I saw her lean over and look out as she slowly moved away.

"Wan&er!"  she shouted and was gone.

I know, I know!  I should have written down her number and reported the daft old besom to the police ... but I was stunned!

She was in her late 80's ... maybe even in her 90's ... and she was ranting and blaming me for her mistake.

And all I wanted to do was a bit of shopping then enjoy the rest of my day off!

Mind you ... blog fodder is blog fodder however you find it!

Early Morning Frosted Slippers

It was 5.45 am on a very cold morning.

And it was my day off!

Aaaaargh! And I was up at 5.45 am!

Ok, so I needed to go pee, but ...

Usually I can go to the loo in the middle of the night by memory. With my eyes closed and still in semi-sleep-mode I can find my way to the bathroom, aim and 'destroy the evidence' without the aid of a light.

But on this particular morning, I awoke to a bladder that seemed to be about ready to burst, so the zombie-trot was out of the question.

I was in a rush!

All my senses responded to the pressure of what seemed to be several gallons of pee waiting to exit my body via the 'hosepipe'.

It was as if a switch had been flipped and my tired, much in need of sleep body had been transformed from a tired little Fiat 500 to a Ferrari 458.

Long story short; I was awake!

Having spent what felt like fifteen minutes in the bathroom playing at being a fireman, I went downstairs.

Clover, our dog, was pleased to see me and began to bounce up and down the hallway, her tail wagging in a circular motion.  Once she had my attention she made a dash for the back door, which I opened, and she disappeared into the darkness to take care of her own pressing problems.  

Some ten minutes later Clover came back looking a lot more laid back and relaxed. She made a bee-line for the living room and her big, soft cushion by the radiator. She was snoring in a matter of minutes.

I was awake!

Telling you why I was awake wasn't strictly necessary because all I wanted to say was that on that cold, very cold, morning when I was awake at 5.45 am, I decided to empty the kitchen waste bin.

So there I was ... in dressing gown and slippers ... and I decided to empty the kitchen waste bin and put throw it into the bin outside.

So, trash bag in hand, I stepped out though the back door.

At this point I should have been paying a little bit more attention.  If  I had been, the quiet crackcrackcrackcrack noise emanating from beneath my right foot as it hit the patio paving slab would have stopped my in my tracks.

But, momentum being what it is, I continued my movement through the doorway and my left foot also landed on the patio.

crackcrackcrackcrack!

Momentum was still the villain here and, once again ignoring the noise beneath my feet, I continued my march towards the outside dustbin.

This time though, it was my bare foot landed on the frosty slab of concrete. My slipper was frozen in the spot where it had landed.

I hopped ....

                 my foot was freezing

... right out of my second slipper, which had also frozen to the slab, and for several seconds I 'danced' on ice with bare feet.

I was only two or three feet from the safety of the kitchen, but for some reason I seemed incapable of steering myself through the door.

By the time I managed to hit the laminate floor of the kitchen I had lost several small patches of skin from my feet.

Pieces of my skin, along with my slippers, were still attached to the thin layer of ice that covered the patio.

And my feet were sore!

The has to be a moral to this story ... somewhere!

If you spot it, let me know!

Traditional Political Comedy

So it's  all over and the Americans have re-elected Barack Obama as president.

I told you so, didn't I?

But, since then, I've done a spot or research...

Did you know that Presidents elected to a second term in office have far less effect and are less successful than they were in the first?

Traditionally  ...and it doesn't matter which party's candidate is in office ...  a President in a second term will suffer greater resistance to his policies from the opposition than he did in the first.

Sour grapes perhaps?

It is also traditional (in British politics too) that those people in office will try and push though a  very unpopular policy at the end of their term, sometimes very quietly so as not to be noticed.

The British Labour Party were very good at that, or so I've been informed. I did try to find an example of this but I failed to find any evidence but Conservatives are sure they did it.

Politics seems to be a 'point scoring' game.

I'm sure that if politicians put aside their differences for just a few years they would be able to nail down some strategically plausible policies that would lay good foundations for a stable and viable economy .... but nooooooooo!

They follow their own agenda (and I'm not just talking about the Americans!) which see's them sniping at each other across the political trenches; picking one another off in ambush after ambush.

Their constant tit-for-tat bickering is reminiscent of the school playground.

At times you just want to put them across you knees and give them a good smack!

And the sad thing is that politicians at some time in their careers will all say the same thing ... but only about the opposition ... never about themselves or their party colleagues!

Let's face it.

Politics is the 'Ultimate Sitcom'

Big Rocks and Obama's Romney Challenge

... and the other nun said "It does, doesn't it?"

Hahahahahaha! How I laughed at that one!

Oh, hello! I didn't see you there.

Well ... I'm back!

I've been think about the universe; on it's creation, it's contents and, of course, it's size.

Now, I'm not a scientist or anything of that ilk (whatever an 'ilk' is) so my conclusions are presented to you here in a non-scientific way, without any big, hard to spell words.

Ok ... there was big bang - TA-DAH! - universe!

There were lots of rock in it, which begs the question "How do you make a rock from nothing?"

My theory is simple ... there must have been an 'old' universe ... which was already full of rocks ... and it went BANG!!!

And it's bloody big!

And it's probably all existing in the mould on some supreme being's forgotten sandwich!

There!  Told you it wasn't very scientific, didn't I?

Oo! Oo! Oo!

I also took an interest in the election going on in the States!

Some of you may have heard about it.

Apparently Mitt (silly name) Romney is going head-to-head with Barack Obama for the presidency.

I don't want to try and influence anyone (as if I could), but do you really trust that man Romney?

I have to admit that I don't know much about him but, after listening to him speak and watching the face-to-face debates, I have some serious doubts as to whether or not he is capable of doing the job.
Reading between the lines, it would seem that he is intent on undoing the majority of the things that Obama has set in motion. Now that smacks to me of rich money protecting rich money by spending an awful lot of poor-people money!

But the thing that really get's up my nose about both candidates is that they are both trying to sell their campaign with the "Our Great Nation" slogan.

Sadly, the days of American 'greatness' are long gone!

They (possibly you) are now in the same economic mess that the rest of us are suffering.

But, at a time when there are more people living below the bread line than ever before, to still claim that America is 'great' is an insult to all those that are suffering.

You see, if America was still great, those people suffering at the bottom of the food chain would never have been forgotten in the first place.

Yeah, ok! It's a very simplistic view... but, hey! I'm a simple guy!

And I don't mean 'stupid' simple.

Anyway, whoever wins, there may be no noticeable change for the man on the street.

Whoever you have thrown your hat into the ring with, I wish you luck ... and a change of fortune for the better.

Stay Calm ...

... will be returning soon!