Gassed!

Christmas Again!

It's Christmas time,

a time of cheer, 

for presents and food

and dad drinkin' beer.

Broken new toys,

wrapping paper still on the floor,

a visit from those neighbours,

the ones you don't like any more. 

Mum in the kitchen,

strugglin' with the lunch,

trying to prepare food,

for the whole bleedin' bunch. 

Dad's on the bog,

with a can of Newcastle Brown,

lukkin at his Girlie calendar,

n he don't mind that it's upside down. 

The 'outlaws' arrive,

around about two,

and all they can do,

is complain about you. 

At the table it's said,

the turkey is dry,

the sprouts are too soft,

and you just want to cry. 

Then back to the telly,

to see the Queen,

cos she speaks the bestest

English what's ever been. 

Around about six,

there's more food on the table,

and we all start eating

as much as we're able. 

later on,

lunch time sprouts play their part,

as adults sip wine

and secretly fart. 

Over at last,

you sip your brandy

n tell your ol' man

forget bein' randy! 

Off to bed,

straight to sleep,

all that hard work,

and not one 'thank you' peep.

Bog = Toilet

Newcastle Brown = Newcastle Brown Ale (brewed in the North East of England)

Outlaws = The In-laws            

Confession Of A Overrated Blogger!

I have to be honest and say

that I get my best blog idea's

whilst grunting my way through

sweat inducing, no farts barred,

bowel movements ...

... I haven't had a crap for three years!

Beans For Dinner

Blarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!

A deathly silence fell upon the room like a thick, woolly blanket.

A smirk, always dancing on the edge of a full-blown smile, crept across Joanne's face as she hugged the sofa cushion just a little tighter.

Geoffrey's wine glass paused on it's way towards his lips as he suddenly found the curtains of great interest..

Sidney looked at a painting on the wall and shuffled his backside slightly sideways in his armchair. He made a low grunting noise which, I think was intended as a 'harrumph' of disapproval!

An odour, which hinted at the presence of an as yet undiscovered corpse in the room, filled the air.

Eyes watered.

Marjorie returned at this moment from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with cheese and cracker.

She came to an immediate halt. "Oh, my goodness!"

Tinsel, the cat, rose from her sleeping place by the hearth, sniffed the air, then with a flick of her tail, strutted from the room. She cast us a look that quite clearly said "You lot are worse than dogs"!

I swilled my brandy around the glass and watched as a few bubbles spun like small, hyperactive goldfish.

"I think," said Marjorie as soon as her cerebral functions had been restored.

"I think, with hindsight, that serving baked beans for dinner was possibly a mistake".

I looked up.

"but I love baked beans" I said.

"A-ha!" said Joanne, Geoffrey and Sidney in unison as they all made a move to follow Tinsel.

"I'm only human!" I said, but the damage had already been done.

Strangely, I have never been invited to Marjorie's house for dinner again.