Friday, 31 December 2010

Mr William is 'off his tree'. Feels it in his 'Waters'!

WW1 meets SpaceImage by pasukaru76 via Flickr
Good Morrow, Dear Reader,
Hope you are happy and not hungover. I'm a little of both--more later. What will 2011 hold? For me, I am flying high and soaring ever upwards!
Have you heard about our water crisis here in Northern Ireland? No, not caused by drought or even really the big snowfalls and freeze, but really because our local
government and water 'chiefs' are cowboys and couldn't run a booze-up in a brewery!
You see we have water pipes that haven't been renewed since that flood thing with Noah's Ark. In fact, some of the pipes were made from salvage wood from the Ark. So, you will not be surprised to know that geysers are springing up everywhere out of the ground, and I don't mean that pot-holers have lost their way and are sticking their heads up through people's lawns with a confused expression. In fact, there are so many leaks that you can get a free public shower anytime, but you have to stand outside in freezing conditions in the nuddy, and wait for the next pipe to burst!

Personally, it has had several side-effects for me. Firstly, my Crimbo tree has dried out and is looking very sorry for itself. It has drooped. ( Unlike yours truly, who is always upbeat and perky!) Thing is, I was due my annual bath and now I will have to put it off till next December. Heh-ho! Never mind. At least my own internal plumbing is working well. I can drink like a fish, and now that H2O is in short supply, I have had to rely on my Christmas drink supplies to get me through. I have found that neat rum has done wonders for my 'pipes'. Arhh me hearties! (By the way, if you are under 18 and not already under the 'influence', then don't follow my example, and do remember I have a fully paid-up 'poetic license', which I intend to use to the max.)

Talking about the ol' 'fire water' or what I call 'falling-down water', my grand-daughter, who knows my little foibles ( I wonder who told her. Did you?), she bought me a very large and expensive bottle of malt whiskey. Well, that was welcome and has meant that I have been able to switch the central heating off for the last week and live on the glow from my face!
Here, did I tell you that a lady I like invited me round for what she called 'gin and it'. Well, gin is not my favourite tipple, but I'm always up for a bit of 'it'! This lady is what I call 'one of my 5 a day' health regime. Yes, I see about 5 ladies during my daily travels and they all adore me. Some are even married, but it is obvious that they would run off with me if I asked. After all, they are only human and I can't help being a 'matinee idol'!

Talking about Christmas trees, as I was alluring to above, went to a rellie's house and they had an odd 'fairy' on the top. I'm serious--it was less fluffy angel and more chunky 'buddha'. It vaguely reminded me of Queen Victoria, and no, I didn't meet her in the flesh to receive a Boer War medal! Thing was, 'mein host' had been very generous with the malt whiskey, so I decided to point out my misgivings about his 'fairy'. Let's just say that his bonhomie temporarily deserted him and I thought he was going to tell me where he would stuff the fairy, if I didn't pipe down!

Anyway, the big freeze and snow left me in a bizarre position. Not only did the 'peepmobile' slide into the street and was submerged ignominiously for days in a snowdrift, but I couldn't even dig the bally thing out, 'cos the garage door froze up and I couldn't get my shovel out. It's only since yesterday that I am back to 'normal' (whatever that is. You can judge for yourselves!) I got to the shops and bought some of my favourite items, pullovers and shirts. I reckon I am the Imelda Marcos of knitted jumpers. Well, everyone has a double somewhere, they say!

Any rate, before I go, because there is a sound of running water, and no, it is not emanating from my direction, I want to remind you of a couple of jokes from the late great Bob Monkhouse. Here goes:- 'They laughed when I said I wanted to be a comedian. Well, they're not laughing now!' 'I clearly irritate my wife. Every morning when I wake up, that is the first disappointment of her day!' Last but not least.
'I still like nookey at 86. Well, it's closer than number 84!' Ah, peerless stuff. I wish you all a Happy New Year. Don't do anything I would do!

Yours joyfully but slightly pickled

The Blogging Gogfather!
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Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Mr William has real 'Presents'!

Description unavailableImage by Gattou/Lucie/so far behind.. Sorry :( via FlickrGood Morrow, dear Reader,
I hope you are keeping warm and are not stuck somewhere, trying to get from A to B via C and gettin' nowhere fast! Happy 'Shortest Day-Winter Solstice' and it coincides with a 'lunar' eclipse. I feel this explains a lot about why I am so harrassed and at the end of my tether. I hate the cold, the slippery ice and the urgent need to get pressies and stuff for Crimbo
in the middle of it.
Basically, I'm worried about slipping on my ass or crashing the 'peepmobile' into a lamp-post. I keep reminding myself, though, that the past is history, the future is an unknown country and the 'present' is God's 'gift' to humanity and we have to live each day to the full. Just remember for a moment the dying children with life-limiting illnesses going out to Lapland, so that they can have a little magic to recall, before their short lives come to an end. Alternatively, there are all the older folk and those in dire need or illness, who wonder what 2011 will bring.

Nevertheless, I now have an extreme form of 'Present' mania. Yes, I need to get pressies, but the car skidded on the driveway and I am housebound. A curtain-twitching neighbour saw me sliding down the road and came to my rescue, but now I'm literally stuck!
You see, I bought rather impulsively, like plastic ducks for a teenage boy and a set of pearls and a 'twin set' for a 7 year old. Originally, I said I would send cash and now there are all muttering about having had their eye on stuff.  Now, I have to brave the elements and complete the job. I'll get my daughter to wrap the bally things. It'll give her something to keep her mind off living with that husband of hers for half an hour.

So, I decided to erect my Crimbo tree; it may be artificial, but it's multi-coloured and beautifully formed-just like myself. What with my white hair, red jumper and jaunty demeanour, people often mistake me for Saint Nick himself (Not Old Nick, as some of you might think!) At least the heating oil guy delivered in time. It costs a bloomin' fortune, but I won't freeze my assets off, or to be more scientific, die off of hypothermia!

Some people might think I'm 'Scrooge' incarnate, but I'll have you know that we 'gogs' ( grumpy ol' gits) have a soft side. I allowed the daughter and son-in-law the privilege of taking me to the 'Carol' Service. It makes them feel good! We sat in a pew and no-one sat beside me. Maybe they thought I really am Santa Claus and didn't want to presume upon me, or maybe they were aware of my reputation with the ladies and didn't want to risk my charming charisma and chat-up lines, in full view of the vicar. Perhaps they saw the mistletoe peeping out of my trouser-pocket?

It was the old '9 Lessons and Carols'. I had forgotten my hearing aid again and could only hear the high notes and the vowels. Very bizarre! They had mince pies after. What is it with mince pies at Christmas? I just wanted to get my 'mince-pies' fixed on my tele, with my posterior on my sofa!
Anyway, Happy Christmas to you all and, as Dicken's 'Tiny Tim' might have said, 'Gawd bless us each and and every one!' I'm off now to see what's on tv while my daughter wraps the pressies for the family and the 'orphans of the parish'.

Yours festively and always with my jingle bells ringing,

The Blogging Gogfather

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Thursday, 16 December 2010

Mr William is 'Dog-tired'

Pretender to the throneImage by sarniebill1 via Flickr

Hail to you, dear Reader,
It's that festive time of year again, when we are all supposed to be jolly. Bit tricky for me, being an 86 year old Gog (grumpy ol' git). Sadly, I have been even grumpier than usual, but not without great provocation. I have had to figuratively don my 'crash-helmet' on several occasions recently. I can relate to Wagner when he was unceremoniously dumped from the X Factor--'stocked and shunned'! ( I think the spoonerism works on several levels. What do you think?)
No doubt, you scholars and ladies/gents out there (or those who are not sure) will know that I refer to the slightly scary Wagner, who, no doubt, sends you his season's 'gropings' or do I mean greetings(you decide), not the musical genius, Richard Wagner, who would never be seen dead on the X-Factor, unless of course they dug him up! (Sorry, couldn't resist it!) 
Talking of digging things up, I need to tell why I am dog-tired. For starters, I am still fatigued after my bout of man 'flu. Please say Ah! Then, there is my dog, which keeps wanting to take me for walkies. It has dogged determination-hotdog! I sit up and beg to be left behind. Doggone. If it doesn't calm down, it will be. (I promise to stop bombarding you with puns in a minute, but I am on a roll!)

You see, I am dogged by circumstances, but not as bad as Churchill's 'Black Dog' depression bouts.(That's Churchill the great politician, not the TV dog. 'Oh yuss'!) Someone on tv even mentioned 'dogging' as a pastime. Apparently, if you walk your dog to a carpark some night, you could get more exercise than you bargained for. Doesn't sound like it's for me. I like to walk in the daylight, in case I get led astray!
Anyway, my problems started this week, when I overslept and was late for church. I then nearly slipped on my ass on the ice. On top of that, my hearing aid packed up in church, just as the Rev. started his sermon. Imagine my internal constipation, when my extremely deaf companion, also of a fine vintage chronologically, kept asking what the Rev. was saying. Although his stage whisper was louder than the Rev.'s, I couldn't hear a bally word. It was an early 'pantomime'. (Oh yes it was!)

The next day, I ventured out to lunch at my favourite eating house. I just had the old nose-bag in place, when some carolers struck up what sounded like the 'Hallelujah Chorus'. Well, I spilt my soup on my lap, muttered words you don't read in the Bible. There was nearly another serious and shocking 'Wikileak'! They murdered the music and I wanted to murder them. Personally, I praised the Lord when they finished. The other diners broke into rapturous applause. Maybe, I'm turning into 'Scrooge'. No, I say 'humbug' to that! No, I'm kind-hearted really. It's just been a week full of kaffuffles. Between the #Corrie 'live' episode and the Wikileaks, I have had more than enough drama!

Did I tell you that I have to take my foot to the podiatrist tomorrow. Well, I couldn't exactly go without it! You see, I have a corn and I have to get 'road worthy' for my blind-date. I don't want to be hobbling, walking wounded or I will have to say it's a war wound. That might impress her. I'm still anxious, because she is obviously still an unknown entity, whereas the multitude of other ladies that adore yours truly have had an opportunity to view the goods and vice-versa. Caveat emptor still applies, but I think I will give it a go. What have I got to lose? After all, if it all goes west, well, I don't have a bunny, so she can't boil it!
Any road, what am I worrying about? I have charisma. It's a gift! (Classical scholars can feel smug, if they get the intended pun!) Thing is though, when chemistry develops between a man and a woman, you have to beware of explosions! Maybe I'll just keep my crash-helmet on for the moment?

Well, got to rush. I promised the family 'money' pressies and then changed my mind. Now I have to parcel and post a ton of stuff. How do you wrap a cuddly, life-size elephant? It's a gentle hint to my son-in-law(the writer clever-dick one) to lose weight before he explodes! Maybe my daughter could wrap the pressies. It'll keep her busy for a few days and take her mind off living with that husband of hers!. If I can spread a little sunshine along the way, my living will not have been in vain! So, I wish you good cheer and hope you are not as dogged by things as I have been.

Yours doggedly and having the 'Dickens' of a time

The blogging Gogfather

Friday, 10 December 2010

Mr William is always in 'Character'!

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!!Image by ♥ Viola Life ♥ via Flickr
Good Morrow to you, dear Reader,

You know, people often say to me, 'Mr William, you are a real character!' They smile when they say it, so I assume it's a compliment. They never quite specify just what makes me a 'character', but I certainly am for real! As they used to say, I'm a cool cat-that's Elvis, me and a few others
who populate the pantheon of world-class characters.

Unlike Elvis, I'm not known for my singing, although it was legendary until a few 'humbug' neighbours got up the noise abatement petition against me crooning after sundown. Now, apparently, I can hum, as long as there are no open windows. No, my character traits are more in the area of charm and charisma, not forgetting the matinee idol looks, my peerless wit, and, of course, my innate modesty. You'll never catch me blowing my own trumpet, at least not after sundown, as I may have mentioned above. I just quietly go around in my red 'peepmobile', grace a few lucky ladies with my company and if the papparazzi snap me, thinking I must be an A-list celeb, is that my fault?

Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about some characters, real or otherwise. What about 'Coronation Street'--such acting, such characters and such drama; even the live episode, ironically, was not a 'tram wreck'! Although, I did feel sorry for Ashley, I say, I did feel sorry for Ashley. (If you get these allusions,, then you're a fan!) Also bookie Peter's chances were never good- surely they could have given him a stiff drink. AA would not have disapproved, under the circs. I felt most sorry for poor Rita. First, she's hit by a tram, then 2 'double-deckers' land on her head. Now that is unlucky!
Which character will I mention next? Well, one of a few real life ones. Stick them in front of a camera and put on your crash helmet and what do you get, yes, more 'train wreck' tv. The Rt. Hon. Ann 'Widdy' Widdecombe is definitely a real character. She sticks to her guns and fires off witty retorts on 'Strictly Come Dancing'. She even made Craig 'Revile' Horwood crack a smile. That was scary. Widdy finally foxtrotted off, or was that 'trotted' off and left a number of broken hearts in her 'Titanic' wake--mostly good dancers she had pushed out!
Got to mention the 'Poo Doctor', Gillian McKeith, who also is a real character, if decidedly unsympathetic. Show her a camera, especially if the scene is live and she will faint to order. I know it's a 'jungle' out there, but can one person be afraid of so many things? Good thing she knows about 'poo', because I've never seen someone so 'full of it' as her, when she made excuses for her antics. The only comment I have for her is that it's all 'knickers'!
Finally, I must mention a couple of characters who have taken 'cheesiness' on screen to a whole new level. Good ol' Kirsty 'soppy' Allsopp and Phil. I know many ladies love their property 'gig' and their overplayed false flirting, but their Christmas shows made me wince. As soon as I cast my 'mince pies' over the footage, I began to feel sorry for Phil. Kirstie must have drugged him or someone paid him a wheelbarrow of cash to pretend he was interested in that lot of tosh. Kirstie, however, was in her element. I call her the 'Knitted Lady'. It's just how I see her.
Any rate, I can't hang about. I have a red herring to cook for tea, although there's something very 'fishy' about it! Ha, got you there! No, it's not really red, just dead! Did I tell you I met a lady the other day, who said her husband was 'up the Amazon'? True bill. I quipped like lightning, 'You're so lovely, dear lady. I'd love to take you 'up the Amazon' some day! She mumbled something about washing her hair for the next 15 years. Obviously fancies me! You see, I haven't lost it. That's because I'm a real character!

Yours modestly but always in character(not to mention Vogue)

The Blogging Gogfather
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Friday, 3 December 2010

Mr Willliam knows the 'Long and Short of it'?

I'm singin in the snow (reposted)Image by cuckove via Flickr
Fantasmagorical Friday to you, dear Reader,

By the way, I say 'reader', I hope there is more than one of you. Maybe you could comment, so that I don't feel alone in the 'ether'. Humans or aliens, illegal or otherwise, can contact me. I am an 'equal opportunities' blogging 'grumpy ol' git', so your thoughts will be treated with the respect and consideration you have come to expect from me.

Anyway, I have a couple of things to tell you. Firstly, what about this snow and ice. I feel like 'Nanook of the North'. If I wanted to skate and slip on my ass, I would go to the ice-rink. I don't want to encounter it on my doorstep. Thing is, though, I had to get the car out today and go to my daughter's for help, after a series of cock-ups on the technical front. You see, yesterday my house phone went on the blink again. First sign of it was the blinking burglar alarm went off, when I was having my soup at lunch. I spilled half of the scalding liquid on my lap and jumped out of my chair. I nearly had a 'wikileak'! When I checked the alarm box and that my 'family jewels' were still intact, I saw a little symbol of a phone with a line through it.

Well, I knocked the alarm off and got my mobile out of cold storage ( I don't mean the freezer, I mean my trouser pocket. I'm being metaphorical, not literal. In other words, my mobile doesn't get much use.) Trouble was, the bloomin' thing had died. I had forgotten to charge it up- again! So that was it. I was going to have to brave the elements and go to my daughter's and report the phone fault. Of course, I knew her husband, my pain-in-the-neck son-in-law would find all of this very amusing; and he did. He rabbitted on about 'elf 'n safety (sounds very Christmassy, doesn't it?) and that I should have asked the neighbour to report it or at least keep my phone charged up. Smart alec! He doesn't know what it is like being 86. I'll have the last laugh seeing how he gets on, if he ever gets to my age and doesn't disappear some day in a puff of smoke up his own egotistical behind!
Any road, that crisis is now over and my mind is returning to my forthcoming 'blind date'. I have been wondering what she might look like and the thought occurred to me that she might be a lot taller than I am. You see, I might tell tall stories sometimes, but the truth is that I am shortish in the vertical direction. I am, of course, beautifully formed, but need to bring a stepladder at all times, for any romantic emergencies. I don't imagine it will be a problem, as my matinee idol looks and peerless charm always win the ladies over, but I wouldn't want communication  with my lady friend to involve a loud-hailer.
I am, I know, in great company, as regards the short stature as a man, accompanied by a taller lady. What about Sarkozy and Carla Bruni, Tom Cruise and Katy, Dudley Moore and tall blondes, and, of course, Berlusconi and whoever it happens to be at the time! (My nervy lawyer, who seems to have bitten his nails down to the quick, asks me to point out that these men are not short, it's just the camera angle, air brushing and very tall ladies, who gravitate towards their charisma! That should cover it, don't you think?) At any rate, I don't have a 'Napoleon' complex or any other sort of complex. I'm more simple than complex-no comments, please. I mean I'm straight up and down, I just don't go up as much as some! The Prime Minister seems to think it's a laughing matter, having a go at the Speaker of the house. Well, if Bercow is not 'Happy', I'm 'Grumpy' and Mr Cameron is definitely 'Dopey'!
So, you see, I have worked out a cunning plan for the date. I will hire a wheelchair and stick it in the boot. If I arrive at the date and her head is literally in the clouds, I will hop in the wheelchair and tell her I had an unfortunate fall on the ice and have bruised my coxics or whatever. We'll be the same height sitting down and I'll crack on I'm 6 foot tall in my stocking soles. What do you think? Anyway, got to get on and dig out my mobile phone charger, so that I can book the restaurant for my date. Wonder if they have disabled access? Wish me luck!
Yours short in stature, but with my head in the clouds

The blogging Gogfather!
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Friday, 26 November 2010

Mr William is unsure of his 'Lines'!

Fab-u lous Friday to you, dear Reader,
Yes, as Craig 'Revile' Horwood would say, it's a 'fab-u-lous day, darrrling!' The reason?, I'm feeling a lot better after a bout of 'man flu'. I was, of course, at death's door, but a couple of days of 'TLC' ( tender loving care, not some new obscure 'Boyband') have got me on my feet. My lawyer, Robin Scheister, tells me that he has 'goggled' something on the 'infra-red net' and says there is a girl band called 'TLC'. Well, before the rumours of my prowess spread even further, I have to admit that they did not come to my aid- more's the pity, but I will keep them on speed dial for any future emergencies.

No, my daughter watched out for me, with food, medication etc and my son-in-law, the one who reckons my diary is his brainchild, managed to shift his behind and deliver my Daily Telegraphs and shift my bins. What does he want, a medal? Well, yes, he probably does.( Just like Muttley!) Anyway, I have never watched so much tv in my life, out of sheer boredom. If I hear one more reference to Gillian McKeith's underwear, Ann Widdecombe's dancing 'bloomers' or whether 'Wagner' should be for the high jump ( and for the uninitiated, I do not mean that the 19th century maestro composer should compete in the 2012 London Olympics), I will do an Elvis and throw something heavy at my HD ready 'goggle box'!

Any rate, believe it or not, I have strayed off the point. Now that I am better, I can concentrate on getting prepared for my 'blind date'. No, she's not blind, but some unkind people have suggested that would be an advantage for me, but they're just jealous. No, you see, my stunning good looks are not my problem, it's getting my chat-up lines right. That's why I chose the pic at the top, 'cos I have a feeling I might be better being gagged, wearing a Santa hat and going for laughs rather than romantic lines.

I hear you rightly say, 'But, Mr William, you can charm birds out of the trees and have taught the world's greatest lotharios. What could be amiss?' Well, the answer is, that I get nervous about 'blind dates' after a few dodgy experiences in the past. The worst one was a few years back. I answered a 'lonely hearts' ad and when I rang, the person was a male, who said he was the lady's brother, but his sister had asked him to vett the callers. So, we set up a rendezvous. I should have suspected something, when he said I could meet 'Martha' behind a motorway service station on the M25. Well, when I got there, I find that 'Martha' was a cross-dressing truckdriver and all-in wrestler called Arthur. Let's just say, it took all my Gurkha training and a well aimed boot to his 'family jewels' to extricate myself, before I spoke with a falsetto and walked like John Wayne after 2 weeks 'in the saddle'!

So, you see why I am a little more circumcised this time. I have looked to my hero of stage and screen for some lines- the great  Leslie Phillips, he of 'Well, helloooo!' fame. One of his was, 'I thought there were only 7 wonders of the world, but now I see there are 8!' He tried this with Marlene Dietrich and she apparently loved it. Times have changed, though, and my research with a few experts (ie women) has revealed that they don't want chat-up lines, they want politeness, kindness, humour and straight forward attention and respect. Well, I can do that. I'm better avoiding trying clever lines. They tend to go wrong for me. Like the time I told a lady 'of a certain vintage' that she was a bit of a looker 'for her age'. She seemed a bit underwhelmed!

Anyway, I think I am sorted now. I will be the soul of discretion and a total gent. Although, to be honest, if I get to the restaurant and find my date is Gillian McKeith, I might have to ask her what she is trying to conceal 'in her knickers' this time. (Any rate, if you 'are what you eat', as she says, then I'm sticking to the pies!)That will be just before I yell, 'I'm a Celebrity, get me out of here!' Wish me luck?

Yours apprehensively but word perfect?

The blogging Gogfather
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Friday, 19 November 2010

Mr William is a 'Man with a Plan'?

Ian Fleming's image of James Bond; commissione...Image via Wikipedia
A Sparkling Friday Morrow to you, dear Reader,

I'm over the moon. I have a 'blind date' coming up and Cilla Black is nowhere to be seen. Yes, I did it all by myself with my Italian charm and debonair wit. There are a few of us about- James Bond, Leslie Phillips, Bill Clinton, Berlusconi--I taught them all they know! So, I am a man with a plan. Can't give you any more details on the lucky lady, 'cos I am too much of a gent, but also the damsel in question has still to be stunned by my dashing good looks. I may be an octogenarian, but 'matinee idol' was a phrase invented for me!

Thing is, she may be expecting James Bond or Jamie Oliver, and, of course, she won't be disappointed. (Although, I hope she doesn't ask me to cook any time soon. You see, I had another culinary disaaaster, as Craig 'Revile' Horwood would say. I had to cook this fish thing. I didn't see that the cooking instructions were under the label. So, I guessed. Well, that's the ass burnt out of another pot!) Come to think of it, I have only heard her voice. I could either meet up with Lady Gaga or Vera Duckworth! Anyway, I'm sure it will all go swimmingly, as I have a bit of a way with words.
At least I have more of a silver tongue than that Lord Young, who put his foot in his mouth and almost choked on the silver spoon that was there from birth. Imagine saying, 'Some of us have never had it so good.'? Well, yes, he was obviously speaking about himself and his rich tory toff friends! (Not that I'm jealous or anything). Suppose I had better raid the bank account and push the ol' boat out for a special meal. It will have to be some place where the headwaiter is suitably snooty!

That reminds me. All my preparations for the date were going well. I went to the barbers and asked for something amazing that would dazzle my lady friend. He offered me a flashlight and said I could shine that in her face and murmured something about not being a 'miracle worker'. Some people have no sense of romance! Then several minor 'disaaasters' befell me. Firstly, on 'Remembrance Sunday', a daffy lady reversed into my shiny red 'Peepmobile' in the church carpark. It's a good thing we were in holy precincts or I would have let her have both barrels. She didn't bat an eye- I nearly took a buckle in mine!

Then I went into church with my 'Gurkha' tie on, but I had mislaid my war medals somewhere along the way and decided to wear the only things to hand-boxing medals I won at school. It was a good thing no-one came too close or they would have seen the picture engraved on them of a young pugilist with boxing gloves at the ready. It would have been hard to explain how I took on the Japanese single-handed with a pair of boxing gloves, but, as I said before, I have a good way with words! Anyway, I always feel honoured to remember the sacrifice of the 'fallen'. Trouble was, there was a kaffuffle this year with the 'Last Post' and I am sure the '2 minute silence' turned into 10. I started to sway with exhaustion and thought I had met my 'Waterloo' and was going to join the 'fallen'!
The next hiccough was Aung San Suu Kyi being released from house arrest. I know it's good for her and democracy and all that, but she is going to be too busy now to do that little job I asked her to do. You remember I wrote to her about that girl I met in the war, when I was in Burma, to see if she could trace her? I didn't have a name or anything, but I am sure Aung could have looked into it, when she was at a loose end. Ah well, another loose end for me!
The last straw had to be when my 'implant' tooth fell out yesterday. I couldn't go on my date, like a toothless wonder. So, off I went to my dentist, Doctor Phil McAvity. He fixed it, but told me my teeth needed a 'plan'. I'm sure he knew what he was on about, but I'm also sure it will involve me paying through the nose!
Anyway, I think everything is hunky-dorey right now and I am ready to wow my lady friend on our blind date. So, wish me luck. Do you know any good chat-up lines that won't end up with me getting a bat around the chops?
Yours romantically yet really organised

The blogging Gogfather

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Thursday, 11 November 2010

Mr William and his 'Remembrance of Things Past'

Remembrance Day Poppies Laying on a Soldier's ...Image by Defence Images via Flickr
A Thoughtful Remembrance Day Thursday to you, dear Reader,

What's your memory like? Mine's a bit 'hit and miss', now that I'm an octogenarian. Yes, I tend to hit all my furniture with my shins and miss important appointments, all due to my patchy memory. I go into rooms and can't remember why. I make notes to remind myself of things
and then lose the note. 
The Bard asked, 'What's in a name?'. Well, a lot, especially if you find it hard to recall anyone's name, when you meet them. I'm reduced to calling everyone, 'Darling', like Craig 'Revile' Horwood. Some like it, even some of the men, but I do it to cover up the fact that their names have escaped me (along with my 'inhibition' chip, according to my daughter. It escaped years ago!).
By the way, did you know that Anton du Beke, yes, Brucie's wannabe love-child off Strictly Come Dancing, was christened Anthony Beech. Well, stars are always doing that to give themselves a bit of glamour, aren't they? Wonder what Lady Gaga was called at birth? Goo goo gaga? Ha, made myself laugh there! To be honest,though, I am in a serious frame of mind. I have just stood for the Remembrance Day 'silence' and I don't feel flippant. You see, I remember a few things really clearly. Firstly, the horrors and futility of war, including unforgiveable crimes like the 'Holocaust'. My problem right now, though, is not my patchy memory, but the patches of ground that will have to be dug for future victims of war and violence, if we don't learn the lessons of history. Of course, we should protest and stand up for what is right in life and society. Of course, dictatorships should be opposed, but military responses should be appropriate and compassionate.

For example, was it right to invade Iraq with the endless death and destruction it wreaked, and the resulting tension between East and West? Is George 'Dubya' Bush right to try to justify torture of prisoners? History teaches us that we have to only engage in a 'just war' and treat our enemies and prisoners fairly, if we are to retain any moral high ground; or else dear reader, what is it all about? Oscar Wilde talked of 'being in the gutter, but looking up at the stars'. Well, we have to be clear as to when we are simply wallowing in the gutter and when we are truly aspiring to reach the heights that the human spirit can achieve. Just look at the 'Pride of Britain Awards' and try not to be moved and inspired!

All you 'students of life' out there will have seen how some 'students' behaved yesterday in London. It may have been hijacked and I believe in peaceful protest, but what good did violence and criminal damage ever do for a cause if you want to win over 'hearts and minds'? All of us should be students of history and learn to 'study war no more'! I want to hear apologies for violence and war, not apologists! What do you think? We want fairness for all in society. Maybe the 'Condems' who have a  right to condemn the attack on their HQ could strive to help us all create a fair society. Perhaps, they could start with being very careful how they treat the poor and vulnerable in the coming years?

Well, I will leave it there. I'm sure I'll be more chirpy tomorrow, but I think sometimes we have to be serious about what is important to us all as humans. By the way, have you seen my glasses? I set them down somewhere...

Yours slightly hazily but clearly focused

The blogging Gogfather

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Tuesday, 9 November 2010

Mr William 'cooks up a storm' with the ladies!

Mrs. Laura Bush and daughter, Barbara Bush, ar...Image via Wikipedia
 A Throbbing Tuesday to you, dear Reader,
I may have given you the mistaken impression last time that I have something to learn from Berlusconi about the ladies. Truth is, I taught him everything he knows, even though I am 86. He has nothing on me( and my ever vigilant, but highly nervy lawyer asks me to point out that I have nothing on Senor B. either, at least nothing that would stick-Teflon was a great invention!). You see, I also have latin blood in me. My grandfather was Italian. This explains a lot about me, as you may have guessed!

Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about food and to mess around with the bard's timeless words, I say that 'Food is the Music of Love'. For starters, I find that music gets in the way of eating. My son-in-law, (the smart alec who thinks he is amusing), he insists on putting on music when I am eating my nosh. How can I concentrate on my din-dins, when there is a racket of a din in the background. I prefer the silence broken only by the sound of my satisfied slurps. (aliteration, what next? Correct spelling? I prefer grammatical correctness to political correctness!).
Moreover, my friends, I find that music gets in the way of wooing a lady. By the time you find something to listen to that you both agree on, the moment is past. Any rate, you can't exactly smooch to Lady Gaga, and Barry White is a bit single entendre! For a time, I used to regale my lady guest with some romantic ballads on the 'joanna'. Sadly, this led to the noise abatement order the neighbours got. Everyone's a critic. It was either that or an 'asbo'. I could have been in the Guinness Book of Records as the most geriatric ASBO holder in the UK. Never mind!
No, cooking is the new rock 'n roll. Only one thing I can't eat and that's spinach. Well, I'm not Popeye, although I have his muscles and I love 'Olive Oil'. Boom boom! My wife was a great cook. I loved her and her food. I'm no Jamie Oliver, which is probably a good thing, as I don't really want to cook in the buff. It's gets draughty around the trossachs. I'll leave the whole 'naked' thing to Jamie, although, if you come round to my place and you are a lady, feel free to cook up something in the nip!
Anyway, I have been lured back into the kitchen by Nigella. She and I enjoy our food and are very adventurous in the kitchen, and, no doubt, in other rooms too! She, the sainted chef, has inspired me in many ways, some of them are even culinary! She has the same recipe for life as I do. Enjoy everything to the full, even if it involves a load of cream and saturated fats!
One minor hitch for me, though, is following recipes. I'm ok with the cooking part, but the recipes are a closed book! I have admittedly burnt the ass out of a number of pots, but that is inattention, mostly due to watching Nigella when I should have minding the stove. Things get overheated when she is around! I tried one of the recipes from my daughter's cookbook the other day. I had everything in the pot and then it said 'season'. Well, I rang my daughter for an explanation. She sounded bemused and asked if I hadn't heard the term before. Apparently, it's salt and pepper. I didn't know. I'm not f-ing Gordon Ramsey,am I?

Did I tell you my checklist for deciding if I should chat up a lady? Well, firstly, she must be stunning. Secondly, she must fancy me, but that's automatically the case. Thirdly, she has to be significantly younger than my daughter, so that she can keep up with me, when we go clubbing and such like! You ask about the age difference? Well, I always say, 'If she dies, she dies!' For some reason my daughter gives me black looks, when I mention this and mutters things under her breath. Now that I have the hearing aids, I might be able to translate her murmuring. What do you think? As I said to her the other day, 'If it's not for sale, they shouldn't put it in the shop window!' She seems to have developed a nervous tick recently. Can't think why? It's probably living with that husband of hers!

Well, nearly there for today. Just 2 thoughts. One, if Dubya Bush thinks 'waterboarding' is ok, then I'm against it. If a democracy tolerates torture of prisoners, then God help us all! Secondly, what about Jack and Vera Duckworth from Coronation Street. Tears flowed. No doubt my dear wife will come for me some day. I hope nobody has told her what I have been up to! Don't you tell her for goodness sake! Off to cook up another storm of a meal. Wish me luck!

Yours romantically yet with a hint of spice

The blogging Gogfather

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Friday, 5 November 2010

Mr William is a 'Dizzy Lizzy' today!

From left to right: Bill Clinton, George H. W....Image via Wikipedia
 Fizzling 'Guy Fawkes' Friday to you, dear Reader,
You know, my only problem as I reach the zenith of my sparkling life is that I am running out of time and occasionally, in the autumn of my physical powers, I can't quite keep up. Although I am having a whale of a time, I can't compete with the incredible Berlusconi. Not even Bill Clinton can hold a candle to Senor B., who, allegedly(My nervous lawyer asked me to bung that in. He wasn't on the nerve pills till he met me. Do you think the two events were connected?), yes, Senor B. has the young ladies queuing up to attend to his every need? Naturally, we normal mortals are not jealous. Stephen Fry is definitely not jealous. He reckons women don't enjoy the 'other'. Well, Stephen, we love you dearly, but that is just so wrong on so many levels! Anyway, who said I was normal and what is normal?

Thing is , I have so much going on that I get dizzy, so please forgive me if I don't stick to the point. (What do you mean I never do?) Well, what can I tell you? Firstly, my new phone died. At least, I thought it had until my pain-in-the-neck son-in-law showed me where the on-off button was. It keeps him happy-makes him feel clever. I only have my phone for emergencies, but what should I do if my phone needs an ambulance? Then the roofing guy was working next door and he had the cheek to tell me I had a few slates loose. Is there no respect for senior citizens? To follow that, my car tax disc fell off. A smart alec policeman told me I would have to stick it on properly or get a fine next time. I was tempted to tell him where he could stick it!

Nevertheless, dear reader, I am not daunted and take all these things with a 'widdecombe' of salt.(Had to get the 'Widdy' woman in somewhere, since she is proving that personality is winning over talent in Strictly Come Dancing) Anyway, for me, the day gets most exciting when 'Deal or No Deal' comes on-not because of irritating Noel 'Know-all' Edmonds, but because I then start my first sherbit of the day. Noel believes in 'cosmic ordering' or some such. Well, I don't know which cosmos he is ordering, but I am darn sure it's not this one!

Now that my hearing aids are working (The 'ear guy' had to order in special ones, as my ears apparently don't conform to EU standards), I can hear everything Noel says. Well, let's just say he is getting by with a 'widdycombe' of talent! By the way, the ear man told me to wear my aids as much as poss, but I don't want anyone to see them, so I only wear them in bed or to watch tv, although I find it better to remove them for the tv viewing pleasure. Talking about pleasure, the government want us seniors to get 'surfing on a net or web' or something asap. Well, I wasn't interested till I heard that there are one or two sporting ladies on this web thing, who are scantily clad. I perked up my non standard ears then and have enrolled for a few lessons. Apparently, the first lesson is training a mouse. Maybe, it's some sort of role play. I'll let you know!

Any rate, a quick scan of my paper tells me that Cameron is cozying up to Sarkozy. Better than Blair blowing his legacy with Bush! I also see that the Middletons are being trained up to fit in with the Royals. Bizarrely, the first lesson is how to mow down one of God's innocent creatures. Don't say, I can't do political satire. My lawyer, who, as we speak, is making a valium sandwich, says I should leave it there. He has no cahones. Anyway, as you know, I have a great relationship with Her Majesty. She is so looking forward to presenting my congrats card at 100. I can just picture the scene in Buckingham Palace. We have just got to port and cigars, and, in deference to 'her Maj Lizzy', I step out onto the balcony, to avoid blowing smoke in the royal physog.

Suddenly, my moment has arrived. I blow a smoke ring and give the assembled tourists what I have always wanted to give them, yes, the Churchill 2-finger salute. They can put that in their pipes and smoke it! Does it get any better for a grumpy ol' git (Gog)?
Any rate, that's for another day, I'm getting behind with my sherbits. I don't even feel dizzy yet, well no dizzier than usual! Cheers!
Yours directly if a little unsteadily

The blogging Gogfather!

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Thursday, 28 October 2010

Mr William Paints The Town Red!

The toad outside of Toad Hall, ANU Canberra. I...Image via Wikipedia
A Thoughtful, yet joyful Thursday, to you, dear Reader,

Yes, today, I have been reminiscing about a great day, as Remembrance Sunday approaches. More about that later. You see, as you have probably realised, I am more of a 'Toad of Toad Hall' kinda guy than Mr. Dull Ditchwater. I love to paint the town red, and now I can. Two good reasons for this--firstly, my walking stick turned up. Turns out I left it at the supermarket till. I find that 'time and tills wait for no man'! Every time I get to a pay-desk, I feel pressured and flustered.
No-one moves at my sedate(or should that be 'sedated') pace anymore. So, it's always a kaffuffle and I drop my money and all that. Everyone's nice about it, but I keep thinking I am keeping busy younger people back and they might mutter,'Silly ol' duffer'. Anyway, as per, I walked away from the till carrying my purchases, bundles of receipts and discount offers ( What are they about? You need to have even less of a life than mine to keep track of all the discounts. I end up missing the expiry dates!), also my change, my wallet and the aforementioned stick.
When I stopped to get organised, I leaned the stick against two mountainous stacks of biscuit tins. They started to wobble, then I started to wobble and before I knew where I was an assistant was steadying the tins and guiding me to the door. Neither of us noticed the bally stick. Anyway, I have it back now and I have warned it of the dire consequences of straying in future!
The second big plus, that will help my freedom is the arrival of my hearing aids. When I say arrival, I mean I had to go get them from the private 'earman' at 'Hear Today, gone Tomorrow'. (Just my little joke. His firm has a much more mundane name. I have 'sexed' it up as I enjoy a bit of poetic license on a Thursday!) Being a private outfit, the money was uppermost in his mind, and , being honest it was exercising mine as well. After all, £1000 is a heap of dosh. So, I started to think I would ask him to put the items where the sun 'don't shine', as I had only paid a small deposit. There we were, face to face; I made my plea for him to hold on to the aids 'for a while'. He then played a trick on me and we both know he did, but neither said. I had just told him that my hearing was adequate for an ol' codger like me. He suddenly started mumbling under his breath and all I could make out was'Blah, blah,..tight ol' git..'. He asked if I could repeat what he had said, and he was still mumbling. I said' 'Eh?' he said, 'Mr. Peeps, your hearing is not great. I was just saying that they would be a great fit!' Anyway, I tried them on and it was miraculous. I have been able to hear everything since. People sound like they are shouting! At least the neighbours will be glad as I can turn down my telly volume. I wondered what that faint banging on the wall was.Thought we had woodpeckers!
Anyway, life is looking up, although the 'earman' seemed amused to inform me that my ears do not 'conform to EU Standards' and that made them more expensive! Never mind, I have never been a conformist! He also told me that there would be a warning signal when the batteries got low. Fine, as long as it's not as loud as 'Big Ben'. Wonder if I have any other body parts that don't conform to EU Standards? The mind boggles, well mine certainly does.
Well, I'm back in business. I'm mobile and can hear everything. I have my red 'parp,parp' Toad of Toad Hall car. The world and all the eligible ladies are my lobster. I'll maybe take you through my eligibility checklist one day soon. Just got to get the red paint off my face. Yes, I was painting some garden furniture, my mobile phone rang and I jumped, firstly because it was in my pocket and secondly because no-one normally rings. The paint went all over me and I looked for all the world like Chief Sitting Bull on an off day. Turned out, it was the mobile phone company asking me how I was getting on with the new phone. I said, 'Your salesman told me it was foolproof. So, tell me this, why can I not get the bally thing to work?' Well, he had no answer for that!
Yes, all this stuff about painting the town red reminded me of the best 'red letter day' in the world and in one of the world's greatest cities at a euphoric time. It was 1945 and I was in London with my sister. We both were in our military uniforms and it was just after VE day. London was still full of people celebrating. I was  just walking past Buckingham Palace and was talking away to my sister, when I heard an almighty clatter of boots on the cobblestones. It was like thunder! My sister told me to look round and to my eternal joy and astonishment, every guardsman outside the palace was saluting me. It's always been the way. You salute the uniform. I returned the salute and walked off without giving into the temptation to yelp and click my heels like Charlie Chaplin. It felt like my Queen and country had honoured me. It was just marvellous. I'll remind the 'new' queen of this when she comes to give me my card when I reach 100!
So, there you are. I have a little tear and a sigh welling up now, but I'm off out soon to have a great day. I hope you do the same. Life is for living to the full!
Yours proudly but ever so slightly red-faced

The blogging Gogfather!

Monday, 25 October 2010

Mr William really takes the 'Biscuit'?


Magnificent Monday to you, dear reader,
As usual, I have a confession to make this morning, as I sit here in my little peaceful living room. I'm afraid the balloon has gone up. No, I don't mean Celine Dion just before the twins were delivered in Palm Beach. Mind you, I have heard of 'birthing pools', but on the beach, that's taking it a bit far, even for a celeb! Also, I don't mean the news that Tony Blair's sister-in-law has become a muslim. I think every one has a perfect right to choose their religion, but don't you think it would have given Tone another PR nightmare, when he was pursuing his 'war against terror'. (Especially as his spin doctor told us at the time that Tone's government didn't 'do God'!)

Furthermore, the balloon does not refer to the bold Ann 'Widdybottom' MP, although she did fly through the air with the greatest of ease at the weekend, to the delight of the public (What do we know about fancy footwork? We leave that to MPs and bankers!) No, Ann has the 'John Sergeant Factor'. It's like the 'X Factor' but with even less perceptible talent. What do Ann and John have in common? Both immensely likeable and popular with us unwashed masses (Speak for myself there, should I?) and also in common, they have a lifelong interest in the 'Commons'; and, of course, they can't dance for toffee, or as Craig 'Revile' Horwood would say, 'They are both a disaaaaster, daarrling!' Strictly speaking, they should have avoided 'Strictly'!
Back eventually to my 'balloon going up. Well, it involves my brushes with presidents and royalty--and no, I wasn't anywhere near a grassy knoll in Dallas in 1963. That's my story and unlike my walking stick, I'm sticking to it. Yes, I've lost another one. My pain in the neck son-in-law keeps asking how I could lose something I was leaning on. He insists on bringing logic and facts into everything. He has a lot to learn! I've solved the problem anyway; I am getting a homing device fitted to the next one. (Would that be a pigeon on a piece of string? I don't know.) Anyway for those who might say I have diffs getting to the point, here goes. I think I might have taken President Clinton's 'biscuit'! Yes, some may be shocked. Some will think I have gone all 'Monica Lewinsky'. Some will say, 'What are you raving about this time, Mr William?'

Well, it has me worried. You see it has emerged that President Bill lost the launch code card for a few weeks during his presidency. You know, the ones to set off nuclear missiles? Well, they call that the 'biscuit'! I always thought that was a red phone, but I'm obviously still out in the 'Cold War' era re technology. I can't help it if I'm not Bill Gates. I have a mobile phone but I can't use it, and that, dear reader, is why the world was not blown to smithereens at that time.
It was like this. I was innocently sitting minding my own business in a lapdancing club, opposite the White House, round about the time in question. Well, the rest is a hazy memory and my lawyer tells me it should remain that way. I, obviously wandered in by mistake, after accidentally consuming too many sherbits and was simply admiring the scenery, when I noticed something shiny on the floor. Two miracles had just occurred, one was me taking my eyes off the dancer(Well, you don't like to be rude!) and the other was that my eyes had crossed and glazed over.
 Well, I lifted the card and assumed that the young lady wanted to have me ring her later for a bite of supper and was so shy she did the old trick of dropping her card for me to lift. Thing is, later in the cab to my hotel, I tried to ring the numbers, but my fingers kept fluffing the keys. So, I just chucked the card out the window in frustration. My lawyer, who has just had a mild seizure tells me that I should point out that it may not have been the 'biscuit', but the whole experience 'took the biscuit' for me!
Hpoefully none of this will affect my knighthood chances or the message from the Queen at my century. I did worry, though, when she didn't call in and have tea with me last week on her visit to Northern Ireland. I had the tea and custard creams  ready. Maybe she had heard the rumours and didn't want another 'biscuit' incident!
Yours vaguely but always taking the biscuit

The blogging Gogfather!