Mr.William is the 'Man with the Golden Pun'?

Mr. William is the 'Man with the Golden Pun'?

Dear shiny and no doubt 'good as gold' Reader,

Yours truly, the extremely old Mister Peeps, is clearly a man with the ol' Midas touch. Yep, everything I touch turns to gold and what's more, they can't 'touch' ya for it; at least not on my planet, which my son-in-law says is in the Zanussi quadrant and is populated with space cadets like me! Charming?!

My golden touch, you ask? Well, I could be wrong, but my James Bond matinee idol good looks and my liquid gold voice (Together with my innate modesty) have opened up so many doors to untold treasures that I feel I must be a 'golden boy'. Still not convinced? You want proof? It's simple, even for my remaining 2 brain cells. By the way, who says alcohol kills off the mental wotsits of the elderly? Try me? 2+2=? Easy! It's ¥*#€$. 

Now let's move on ! The proof of my golden powers was demonstrated when I shook my dentist's hand, clearly a golden handshake, and he has now written to offer me a golden crown! It was gonna be a bridge, but that woulda been too far. Ha! Yes, my dentist, Phil McAvity and his lovely assistant, Miss Ima Brick-Privy, have clearly recognized my regal bearing (and fat wallet, according to my ever vigilant daughter) and want to coronate me for my lifetime of achievement, as I cruise through my golden years. Funnily enough, the son-in-law that reckons this diary would languish in obscurity without his 'input' as he calls it, says he has wanted to 'crown' me for years. See! He's obviously not as stupid as he looks. 

Anyway, I got this letter about the 'golden' tooth and I read it twice, rang my daughter and she was rather sceptical. Nothing new there? She said if they were still doing golden teeth, she was Genghis Khan. Always thought she leant a little to the right, but I'd no idea it had reached Maggie Thatcher proportions. Even Genghis baulked at extracting a 'poll tax' from his enslaved minions! I jest. Respects to the Baroness' family on her death and to the 'Iron Lady' who became our first female PM! My daughter is not into politics since that nice Mr. Blair took us into war with Iraq and Dave 'Camera-on' told us we are all 'in it together'. Yep, Dave's in a millionaire yacht with the other richies and the rest of us are sinking fast in our 'Titanic' disaster of a double-dip depressed economy. Pity that Brown sold off our family silver in the form of our gold bars for a bargain basement price. Should have gone for a 'Cash 4 Gold' type outfit and he might have saved the country's shirt?

Rant over. Yes, my daughter said it couldn't be a gold tooth and would come and read the letter. Well, when she and the dozy twonk husband rolled up, I had 'mislaid' the bally thing! I was sure it was in my coat pocket, so I had a 'raincoat' check and nada. Oops! This led to scurrilous comments along the lines that I had misread the letter. Needless to say, I stood my corner, but with a bit of 'horse trading' we agreed that if I was wrong, they could whip my behind with a riding crop. I've never won anything, but I know a sure fire bet when I see one, so no risk of getting my ass whooped. Was I right? I'll keep you in suspenders till the end.

Another metal object I had to get my teeth into this week was my blinking dishwasher, which was leaking more water than the Titanic just before it dived to the bottom of the Atlantic. This is exactly where I felt like chucking the bally thing. You see, I knew there was something amiss, when it started moaning and shrieking like a banshee on the spin cycle. I tried to calm it down with my best talking counseling by telling it to 'pull itself together or it was toast'! (Surely some mixed metaphors are appropriate?), but to no avail. It had a complete breakdown, unlike me. I just had a meltdown! Mind you, I'm rarely depressed. My psycho, sorry psyche won't let me.

Any road, the engineer rolled up with his big spanner and proceeded to wrench my heart out by declaring the appliance 'knackered' (A technical term, I think?) and out of warranty. Well, I could have done with a rub down with his oily rag, 'cos the whole kerfuffle was going to cost me a gold ransom. Where do you get hold of an alchemist these days to change my dingy base metal stuff into gold sovereigns? Son-in-law said he would 'goggle' it and mumbled something about ol' geezers and 'terminally confused dot com'. Do you know what he's rabbiting on about? 

Anyway, I mined my remaining gold reserves and came up with the shekels for a new auto-dish scrubber. Tell you what though, blooming thing appeared with a sign on it, 'Take care! Danger of Flooding!' I nearly had a 'wikileak' and manned my lifeboat. Had I bought a dishwasher or Noah's Ark #2? Thankfully  I gingerly put my toe in the water and there has been no shipwreck since. Like me, the dishwasher has been a diamond geezer, rather than just a geyser!

Meanwhile, after weathering recent storms, I have a pot of gold at the end of my rainbow. Yes, my favourite restaurant is putting on a 'fashion' show soon. I'm not after a new mini skirt or bikini myself, but I'm up for watching nice ladies going down the aisle in them and not in the matrimonial sense. Thing is, I'll have to persuade my daughter to accompany me, so that they don't get the outrageous idea that I'm only there to William 'Peep' at the models' shapely forms. As if?

By the by,  did I tell you my dear departed wife and I got to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary before she had to go before me to be with our Lord. She was a ruby beyond price and I miss her every day. Until I see her again, I will follow my rainbow and hope my crock of gold is not just a crock.
In the meantime, I have to now 'fess up'. The new tooth will not be golden. I must have read the letter with rose

-tinted specs? Trouble is, I now have to lie low, 'cos the rellies want to whack my posterior 'pound of flesh', as per the Shylock deal above. I'm off out now. Don't tell them you've seen me! Chat soon? Bye!

Yours soon to be rosy-cheeked, yet relishing his golden years,

The blogging GogFather (An equal opportunities grumpy ol' git)

Mr. William feels that it's a 'dog's life'!

Dear optimistic and doggedly determined reader, 

Are you waiting with a lolling tongue and a wet nose for spring to have sprung? My pooch and I are enthusiastically wagging our tails awaiting that joyous moment with bated, hot breath and big round eyes. They say dogs and their owners take on each other's traits over time. Well, he does sniff around every visitor's undercarriage with great vigour, but there's no way I'm going to lick my own 'crown jewels' any time soon, even if it were physically possible. Some things are a bridge too far. He smells of 'Kennel no.5', whereas I prefer 'Midnight in Bognor'. 

Mind you, my canine friend and I make a great team. Yep, he kips all day, except when he barks wildly at every passing tinker, while I do everything else. He seems to like the arrangement, because he's never uttered a word of complaint. I, however, wish he would reply to my correspondence, rather than just eat it and sometimes answer the 'dog and bone' (phone), instead of chewing the cord. Yes, it surely is a dog's life.

Anyway, there are times when I wish someone would toss me a bone. Just a tiny, chewed up, shrivelled one would do. No derogatory comments please! You see, I am one of life's keen tryers. My son-in-law says I'm trying, very trying. Will he ever grow up? Ironically, the cheeky so and so says I have reverted to being a naughty schoolboy. Tosh! Sadly he has confiscated my catapult and marbles, just because I put some tacks on his chair. It's not fair! At least the twerp has a pain in the butt now, as well as being one.

Anyhow, can I tell you about some of my exploits recently? For an ol' codger, I do get around, not in the Tiger Woods sense. I flit like a butterfly in my mind, but unlike Mohammed Ali, I don't sting like a bee, although I'm more tortoise than hare on my pins. By the way, have you heard of the butterfly effect, where a small action like the beating of a butterfly's wings in one place can start a massive chain of events throughout the world? Well, I have cause to know this, 'cos my butterfly mind sometimes allows me to forego inhibitions and say and do some rash things. What about the time I told a very large chap to 'take the weight off', when I offered him a seat? Whoops! If looks could kill, yours truly would be chatting to you posthumously from cyber heaven!

Any rate, everything's rush, rush. I have to get my proverbial skates on. Everyone wants a piece of me and there's slim pickin's left. I'd like to give them a piece of my mind, but as above, not much left. I' m skating on thin ice anyway at my grand age of 88. As I said to my medic, Doc. Mia Heads-Dunne, there are 3 people in my relationship- I, myself and my memory. Thing is they only have a passing acquaintance. The doc asked me when this started. I was wreathed in confusion and asked when what started. Wait till you're an octogenarian gal or geezer!

Talking of having too many miles on my dial, I got the old' 'prostrate' (sic?- gladly not- too obscure?) checked last month. When I saw the specialist, a doctor Ima Gunnar-Finishyoff (Russian, I think?) again today, she quipped that she couldn't find her stethoscope after my examination last time. I squirmed on my seat, literally, until she let me in on the joke. Peeps are always doing that to me. I love a good joke like the next bloke, but I don't want to be the ' butt' of the jape, either figuratively or otherwise!

Another 'hairy' moment was the bargain 'full wax' at the local spa. I went in hirsute and came out without my 'hair suit' Chilly round the Trossachs! In any case, I jest. Did you hear about my dodgy hearing? Ad today in press about an aid that doesn't go in the ear and is fully concealed. Where does it go, then? No, dear reader, I already talk outta there, so that wouldn't work!
Was I telling you before about my early rising? (It's in your own minds!) Yep, I have to get up really early in case an emergency arises, like a trouser crisis. Yesterday I tried on 5 pairs before I got one to fasten over my continental shelf. Looks like I'll have to brace myself for braces again and go all 'Wall Street' or else there'll be another devastating crash of trouser round ankles!

My daughter must have noticed my overly proud tum, as she squashed my midriff into the dinner table last Sunday. She's clearly kick-starting my diet by dropping a hint and stirring the pot, in this case, my pot! Although I did think bread and water was a little extreme. I exaggerate, slightly! Mind you, I know it's hard to help people change. At the moment, I have a dilemma with my walking stick. It has a mind of its own. It's like a boomerang, wooden and when you cast it aside, it always comes back and nuts you over the back of the noggin. I don't know whether to welcome it back or chide it. Yes, it's the old carrot and 'stick' debate?

Anyway, my daughter wants to help with my shopping prob. She suggests I write a list and stick to it. I explained my tried and tested method. (I must be the 'test dummy'!) I go in without a list and meander down the aisles, where all the ladies I fancy regularly appear. It makes for an exciting trip, but I come home with duplicates of what's already in the larder, ergo my expanding waistline! Did you hear that sugar is in everything now? That's the latest food 'scare'. My 'beef' is with people who get on their high 'horse' about everything. Boom, boom! Please yourselves! Any road, if you panicked about every 'scare' you wouldn't get up in the morning or you would turn to drink. Guess which one I've done? Hit the bottle? Wouldn't consider it! Might spill it. I jest. Caveat imbiber? Or should that be 'Caveat tardy Bieber'?

What's happening on the home front, Mr. Peeps, you ask? Well, I'm still washing my dishes before I put them into the dishwasher? Is it just me? Also, I got a coffee machine for 'instant' coffee that's not instant. I'm full of 'beans' now? The express espresso lifts the depresso, but my cappuccinos are crapachinos. I must wake up and smell the coffee there!

I like modern gizmos, but I miss my youth. For instance, today's music is mostly bally banjos and gyrating bodies and that's at the pensioners' tea dance. Yes, I used to cut a fine figure on the dance floor, admittedly mostly by standing on ladies' bunions, whilst swaying gently to swing bands. Now, I get too dizzy for all that and have to stay static, which is what most of the music sounds like these days!

Any hoo, I've got to run, or shuffle in my case. You see, as a young dude I went out with 2 twins separately on the same night, but inevitably they told each other and their boyfriends next day. Well, it was like a Benny Hill sketch when they all ambushed me. They chased me for 2 miles until I dived into a passing taxi. They shouted that that was not 'fare'. Ha! The good old' days when I could run. Now there are two of my 'ladies' at the door and I forget what story I've told each of them. Yikes! What will I do? They look menacing. Ah well, that's me in the 'dog house' again!

Yours doggedly yet lapping happily at the bowl of life,

The blogging GogFather (Your friendly, local grumpy ol' geezer)

Mr. William's New Year Resolution is in full HD

Mr William’s New Year Resolution is in full HD

Dear and possibly cash-strapped, credit squeezed Reader,

Happy New Year to you! How are you? Do you still have a few shekels left or are you mortgaged till the next millennium? I heard today that the top 100 billionaires could take the world’s poorest out of poverty 4 times over, just from last year’s earnings! Makes you think, doesn’t it? Also UK MPs want a 32 per cent pay rise. Are we all still ‘in it together’? Anyway, I hope you are well and I will tell you about my adventures. Feel free to comment below with your thoughts on 2013! Did you make any resolutions and, if so, have they now gone the way of all flesh? By the way, does a Whirling Dervish make New Year ‘revolutions’? Ha! Well, my resolution will be adhered to resolutely. I’m going to live life to the full this year, in full high definition colour, if you like. I can’t hang around at age 88 and do things in black and white. I’m gonna let my hair down, what’s left of it.

Do you notice that peeps often say they want their hair done badly, when they mean they badly need it done? I know what they mean, but we humans are a funny lot, aren’t we, and language can confuse the issue further? For instance, I said to an old friend, who is quite young, that I was going to have a ‘break down’ at my daughter’s at Christmas? He said he hoped it wouldn’t be that stressful! Then I told him my family had spared no expense with my pressies this year. He sympathized and said, “Not even a pair of socks?” Yep, his advice was completely invaluable to me. That’s right! It was useless. When we cleared that lot up, he told me he was going to ‘Bucharest’. I told him he really deserved one. Is it any wonder that world understanding is a tricky business? As the crossword compiler said, “I’m looking forward to my anagram from the Queen at 100!”Actually, maybe you could help me. A nurse said to me recently that I have a lovely BMI. Was she flirting or what? Anyway, I’ve gotta way with words. Yes, over the years, loads of them have slipped under the wire! Ho, ho, ho!

Yes, I’m still getting over Christmas and have just undecked the halls of holly etc., but I’m keeping my thermal vestibule on till spring. I had some nice wine, mostly ‘corkers’. Yes, I only use screwtops if I’m in a hurry! Boom, boom! Mind you, I did get some interesting pressies. A lady friend got me ‘meggings’ (Seems they are leggings for men.) Bit of a fashion faux pas! Where will I put my small change? Son-in-law bought me a gizmo called a ‘pea-pod’ or something. He said I could listen to Michael Bubbles on it. Do you know what he’s babbling on about? I accidentally on purpose gave him the same gift twice. Yes, it was actually a senior moment, but he might take the hint. It was a car anti-freeze kit. Maybe he’ll follow Ranulf Fiennes to the North Pole, get ambushed by a polar bear, and then use the anti-freeze so liberally he melts the iceberg he’s perched on. At least Ranulf and the polar bear can swim! Any hoo, I’ve got me eye on him, but he made me jump on Christmas day, when he rang my bell to collect me for lunch. In my panic, or perhaps as a sensible precaution, I pulled the emergency cord instead of the door release! Hey ho!

My daughter gave me the DVD I was after. Only thing is, I tend to exterminate the TV reception, when I switch to DVD. Son-in-law tried to explain it with a flipchart. Something about DVD = EMC squared? Sounds relatively simple. Any road, the folks in my home for the terminally bewildered think it’s Christmas every day. They’re always singing and wearing funny hats! Tell you what, though, next year I’m giving the family cards and vouchers. Choosing pressies is crazy. I bought a toy fire engine for my granddaughter and Barbie for my grandson. Hopefully my daughter will work it out somehow?

 

Anyway, how am I in myself at the start of 2013? Well, not half wise enough, but like an unmanned space probe looking for life on Mars, I’m gazing up at the stars and ready for ‘take-off’. Like the late Sir Patrick Moore of the ‘Sky at Night’ fame and David Bowie (Starman-Ziggy Stardust) at 66 with his new music, I’m going to stay enthusiastic and open-minded. Is there intelligent life out there? Maybe, but sometimes I’m not convinced there’s a lot of it here on Earth! I’m going to keep hope burning bright anyway. Reminds me, I must stop burning my sausages. They set off the smoke alarm and the fire brigade came out twice. They joked that I was using them to tell when they’re done. Any road, they were happy when I shared out the hotdogs! Besides the above, my feet are my ‘Achilles heels’ literally. My walking is so tricky that I have to tell my legs what to do. I make a pretty spectacle toddling along, mumbling, “Left, right! Come on, lads, get a move on!” If I struck lucky and got a match for a date, I would have to go on roller-skates or lean on a shopping trolley to keep up with the lady. A bit impractical in a cinema?

No, the romance stakes could be better, but sometimes I get a nibble. Sounds more exciting than it is. By the way, my friendly podiatrist is pregnant and before you ask, it’s nothing to do with me. I haven’t got a ‘foot’ in the door there! I did, however, get a lunch invite last week from a lady and her hubby. They collected me in their ‘Matsabushy Shotgun’ or some such. It was so high up I had to mount it like a horse climbing Annapurna. Doggone, they even brought their enormous pooch, which got rather familiar with me in the back seat area. I’m sure she fancies me. The lady, not the dog. I don’t know, though. They’re only human after all! Anyway, the only real sniff of romance recently was when I fell on my nose in the street and then fell even harder for the nurse at the hospital. She’s defo on my Christmas card list!

Well, I must go and have some adventures. My daughter has renovated my ‘Columbo’ coat after my fall, so I can resume my enquiries into where all my lady friends are ‘hiding out’. Mind you, I’d better find my specs to see my way. I vainly tried in vain to avoid wearing them, but ended up watching the TV with a magnifying glass. Wish me luck in my quest for life in full Technicolor high definition! I wish you all you wish yourselves! Finally, all the best to Nelson Mandela!

Yours seeing through a glass darkly, yet in clear HD,

The Blogging Gogfather (Your friendly, equal opportunities grumpy ol’ geezer)