Mr William will have his say!

Thoughtful Thursday to you, dear reader,

I have been doing a lot of deep thinking, as I have to make a speech in a day or so. I will be whizzing off tomorrow, so I thought I had better make a few notes, rather than speaking on the hoof and then sticking it in my mouth!
My wonderful housekeeper is packing my case right now, so I have a bit of time. She knows all my little eccentricities now, not to mention my foibles ( I promised my spiritual advisor/guru, Mararishi Gordon Bennett--yes, I thought it was an odd name too for an Anglican vicar, but in these PC times, I didn't like to ask--anyway, before I lose track completely in these parentheses, I promised her, the vicar, that I wouldn't write about my foibles anymore. Oops!) Anyway, I am a bit puffed out chasing her around the house, the housekeeper, not the vicar (Although I have been sorely tempted, as she is a bit of a looker--Holy Moly!). I can never hope to catch her- you'll never believe the Freudian slip; I typed 'grope' instead of 'hope'--wishful thinking? I reckon she thinks it's a bit of physical therapy for me. Well, it brings a bit of colour to both our cheeks ( you can work out your own innuendi there) and secretly, I reckon she's a little flattered.
Anyway, my speech. Yes, I have to get it right. It's a family celebration and I am the most senior guest; in fact I am hosting the event. Yes, Mr William has a social life and a family and even friends. Don't let the rumours spread around by disgruntled pedestrians, cheesed-off neighbours and other pillocks of the community I have hacked off over the years, colour your view of me. I may be a GOG, grumpy 'ol goat, but I am popular.

About the speech, I have to welcome everyone and half jokingly encourage them to keep filling my glass. After all, I am treating them. They had better not raid the minibar at my expense! My daughter keeps warning me gently to prepare my speech (and let her vett it, I'll bet) in case a few sherbits beforehand make my tongue run away with me. As if! She reminds me that I tend to compliment the ladies, by saying, 'You all look really well, considering your age!' I don't know why I get black looks. My daughter says if I mention her age again, she will interrupt my speech with a well-aimed kick to my shin with her sharpest-toed stillettos. I suppose I will only know I have boobed, if I feel the searing pain!

Some news in the paper today about people who have boobed big time- Lloyds Bank are getting more complaints than the Vatican and the BBC combined. That's not easy! The North East of England wrongly claimed that Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy was born there. They have printed thousands of leaflets saying so. I can just see Stanley in heaven, scratching his head and saying, 'That's another fine mess you've gotten me into, Ollie!' Just not Ollie's fault this time.
One guy who was known for boobs-chasing them that is, has sadly died, the great Tony Curtis. Two quotes. 'I would never be seen with any woman old enough to be my wife!' Also, when he was going to marry a lady, 45 years his junior, he was asked,'What about the age difference?'. His reply, 'If she dies, she dies!' A guy after my own heart- 'I'm Spartacus, too!
I see now they say ADHD is hereditary. That explains a lot in my case and could be useful as an excuse. My dad was the excitable type! Also, I may have to take up smoking again, as apparently you get 240 hours off a year for smoke breaks. I'm retired but I'll take it if it's going. Thing is, it's a bad habit and I have enough of those already. Also, I don't want to shorten my lifespan and miss out on the Queen's message for my century! She's looking forward to it.
Anyway, must go and finish the speech. Do you know any rude jokes I could get away with? Wish me luck!
Yours naughtily yet with great panache

The blogging Gogfather

Mr William might go on the Pill!

Momentous Monday to you, dear reader,                                   

Did you hear or read about this 'pill' some Russian scientists have come up with? No, not the kind of thing my title may have implied. ( I am naughty, aren't I?) No, it's a pill that they claim will dramatically extend a person's life, for up to decades, and what's more, you will be healthy. Now, I'm not kidding you, but don't ask me for more details of how it could work, 'cos I haven't a baldy clue.

 Two things come to mind, though. It's not fully tested and what on earth might the side-effects be? Also, would you want to live indefinitely, even if you had your health and some of your marbles? Surely, this raises all sorts of ethical and moral questions, not to mention religious issues! Can you hold back nature and time, and should you?

I'm 86 years young and my favourite thing is to drink tea and eat ginger nut biscuits in my armchair? Do I want to do that for a hundred more years? When I was young there was no TV, now something called an 'eye-pad' is flying off shelves and a guy who has made a book of 'faces' is a billionaire! Which reminds me, Google is 12--Happy Birthday, but take down the 'Suicide pact' sites straightaway, if you have any integrity! Even the Pope has to be fashionable. Says he loves his 'red Prada' shoes! Would you Adam and Eve it? Suppose I can't talk, what with my shiny red 'Peepmobile'!

One group of people who are hoping and praying for long life are the 'trapped Chilean miners'. I hope and pray they are rescued soon. The UK Labour Party are struggling to hold on to life by electing Milliband the Embryo as their leader. I am sure his older brother is chuffed for him!

Let me know what you think about the long life 'miracle pill'. I suppose it would allow me to twirl my handlebar moustache at the ladies for a few more decades. Got to maintain my matinee idol status. You could do an on-line poll as to whether you want me around for an other century or so?

Tell you what, I'm off to google this pill and offer to be a 'guinea-pig' Wish me luck?

Yours in anticipation of many more decades of fun

The blogging Gogfather!

Mr William 'weighs' in with both feet!

Image via Wikipedia

Spiffing light-hearted Saturday to you, dear reader,

I like to think of myself as a cautious sort of a bloke. I try to think before I speak, although sometimes my innate sense of tact and good taste go west and I say something those around me tell me I should regret. My daughter says I always make it obvious, if I find a lady attractive. She says something about my bottom lip trailing on the carpet and my eyes glazing over. I've never noticed it myself.

Anyway, what I mean is that I don't weigh in with both feet, if I can help it. I am just an old horse out to pasture. Say aah! I see and hear everything, but remember nothing...what was I saying. Yes, I have to write everything down. The other day, I lost another walking stick. Still can't work out how it got away, especially as I must have been leaning on it at the time. When I get the next one, I will have to train it like a dog. Then, it will come back when I call it and it might even fetch my slippers! As they say with dogs, there are no bad dogs, only bad owners. Clearly, I let my walking stick get 'out of hand'!

Meanwhile, a little admission, I have worrying about my health lately. Well, there is nothing in particular, but my doc, Iva Potion, keeps rattling on about cholesterol and blood pressure. So, there was I toddling round the shopping centre and I saw 2 machines, that purported to check everything including I reckon your e-mails, bank record and dental records. There was a lady on one machine and it asked her by automated voice and a touch screen to go through a series of checks. In a minute or so, she hopped off the scale and briskly walked off with a print-out. Show off, I thought, but how difficult can it be?

Well, you probably know by now that machines and I  just don't get on. Don't start me on the ones in food halls. I and a particular machine have mutually agreed to a 200 metre exclusion zone for our mutual safety! Anyway, I stick my coin in the 'healthcheck' machine and stand on the scale. Nothing happens. It didn't speak at all. Maybe, it was out in sympathy with the one in the foodhall? Anyway, it started to show info like my weight and height, then it asked me if I was a man or a woman. Well, I don't whether it was the shock of the question or the crowds who were milling around, nosily looking over my shoulder(Why is everybody so nosy? You'd never catch me doing that. Well, you wouldn't catch me!) but I pressed the 'woman' icon!

Not only did people start giggling behind me, but the machine said, 'Madam, you are either 10 months' pregnant with quods or you are morbidly obese and should consider a gastric band!' No, it didn't really, but that's how embarrassed I felt! Then, I pressed the 'male' icon to retrieve the situation, but it ignored that. I was fully expecting it to say, 'Make your mind up. We are an equal opportunities machine, but we haven't all day!'  Lastly, it said to put my arm in the sleeve to test my blood pressure.
Well, I don't know whether it was faulty or it was deliberately getting me back for the arguments with the foodhall machines, but the sleeve got tighter and tighter and wouldn't stop. I was in agony  and let out a yell. A security man pulled out the plug and released me. As I staggered away to the amusement of the bystanders, someone said, 'Sir, you've  forgotten the printout.'  I glanced at the readings through a mist  of giddiness. I said I was an '86 year old 10 month's pregnant woman, who is morbidly obese and with blood pressure that would kill an ox. It recommended I find the nearest ambulance!
Well, that's  it, I don't want to know anymore. I was healthy and happy before. Anyway, off to buy a new walking stick--an 'obedient' one!
Yours under pressure but light hearted


The Blogging Gogfather

Mr William is the real 'Toad of Toad Hall'!

Toad of Toad Hall type Thursday to you all, dear readers!

Yes, I admit to you that I was the inspiration for the 'Toad of Toad Hall' character in 'The Wind in the Willows'. Well, you may cast nasturniums, but who else could it have been? I am constantly jolly, I live in the Manor to which I have become accustomed and I drive around at full pelt in my beloved red limousine, pumping my horn in a jocular manner.
As I whoosh around, I 'peep-peep' on my squeezy horn and all my friends and neighbours wave at me frantically and have great fun skipping out of my way. They understand now that I mistake the accelerator for the brake pedal--I can't be expected to remember everything(As I explained to the driving test guy recently). Everyone merrily calls after me as I leave them in a cloud of dust. What with the goggles and flying helmet, I can't make out every word they say, but it sounds like, 'You great wit, you must be some sort of brainiac.' They are so complimentary. Maybe they have heard about my Mensa application. Yes, I don't tell you everything. I've written to Mensa for a special recognition of my ability to drive and compete the Times Crossword, with only minor collateral damage ie my writing is barely legible!
Actually, you may have wondered why I haven't kept the diary up to date recently, and if not, why not? Well, I told my doc, Isla Kilmore, that I wasn't sleeping well--told her to be exact, that I was shagged out counting sheep. So, she gave me a sleeping pill and it zonked me out for 10 days. Cheers for that! Then, I tried my lifestyle guru, Ima Noall--told me I was stressed and needed to chill. So, I spent a night in the freezer. Didn't do anything for the stress and I've just got out of intensive care! Having to type with one finger till the frost bite heals!
Anyway, the pope's visit has reminded me that I monkey around too much and I need to think of higher things, like the dove of peace. Children are still starving despite UN pledges, so there is work to do. Paris Hilton clearly feels the same as she has sworn off partying. Will she weaken? Is the Pope a Catholic? Well, yes. So, there was His Holiness in the 'Popemobile' and it struck me(No, not a brick from a disgruntled pedestrian!), it struck me that I need a 'PeepMobile'. It will be blacked out, so that I can peep out  at the world and tell you about it and they won't know it's me. Just don't tell anyone!
The Pope beatified Cardinal Newman. I think he should also consider his PR people, cos they performed a miracle for the Catholic Church. Also, I would elevate the Duke of Edinburgh, whose delighful lack of PC-ness takes him to another realm. Imagine asking that politician if she was wearing tartan drawers! He's a real GOG, grumpy 'ol geezer(Put in your own epithets!). I get confused. Who was the beardy guy the Pope was hugging? Was that his 'secret' son? Maybe they were estranged because the Pope didn't like his protestant beard and the Archbishop had a prob with the Hitler Youth thing?
Anyway, survey just out says that the majority of Catholics want 'freedom of conscience' on abortion and contraception. Perhaps the Church should abort it's black and white hard-line and give birth to more realistic guidelines!
Off now to the car showroom to look into the 'PeepMobile' thing.
Yours sincerely but always a cheeky monkey

The blogging Gogfather!

Mr William is cruising?

Image by 3zooz Photography™ \\ In Crazy World :P <3 via Flickr

Transporting Thursday to you all!
I, William Peeps, writer of this parish, being of sound mind, contrary to scurrilous rumours, mostly put around maliciously by medical experts(What do they know? and yes, I will get to the end of this sentence eventually!), am considering trusting my person once more to a large tin can on the high seas. In other words, this time in fewer syllables, I am thinking about a cruise round the Med!
Well, my life is cruising now like a dove in flight until I go to be with my maker, unless of course, Stephen 'my electronic voice makes my every word sound momentous' Hawking
 is right and there is no God. Well, he can hypothesize all he likes, but he admits himself that you cannot prove the cause of a one-off event like the Big Bang, and anyway, he wasn't there- so it's just his opinion against mine, and who are you going to believe, a renowned professor of astrophysics etc or a crazy ol' blogger? Well, I know what my answer would be!

Anyway, believe it or not, I digress. It was that thing in the press about the Foreign Secretary, Hague 'cruisin' for a bruisin'' politically, that put me in mind of previous cruises I took. Mr Hague was vague about his adventures, but mine stick in my mind to this day. The first time, I went with my dear wife, when she was a wheelchair user. The only problem was the day, I pushed her around in the chair and we did a little tour of the ship. Unfortunately, a large metal door locked behind us and no-one was to be seen.
 I don't know whether we were on the poop-deck or the foc'sel or whatever they call them, but words like poop and foc did come to mind. Eventually a bemused passing engineer released us. His english wasn't great but I am sure he mentioned something about dozy ol' codgers, but the wind carried his words away, thankfully; and no, the wind was nothing to do with yours truly!
After my dear wife went to be with our God, I went on another cruise, by myself, and yes, I did feel just like Leslie Phillips in 'Carry on Cruising'! I went round saying 'Helloooo!' to all the ladies, in the hope that one fish might bite, but all I got was a couple of dances with the 'dancing hostess' and a couple of knockbacks, when I offered to show a few lucky candidates the inside of the lifeboats. It's only women and children first, when they launch them! In the war, the military police always guarded the lifeboats in case some frisky serviceman would bring a local girl back for afters!
Maybe, I'll knock the idea on the head. I nearly didn't make it to the last cruise. I set the alarm clock for 3am., to give me my usual 4 hours for my ablutions; I had to go at 7am and the taxi was ordered. I decided to sit up all night, fully dressed, in case I was late. Well, whatever happened, I fell asleep on the armchair and only woke up when the taxi guy rang the bell!
No, I couldn't go through all that again. I think I will just stay on terra cotta and do a little nostalgic trip back to the town of my birth. I will go with my family, because at the end of the day, family is everything!
Did you see that statistic that parents now only spend on average 19 minutes a day with their children? This makes me angry. Children are not just a commodity or a nuisance type duty- they are our glory and our legacy. We should invest all of ourselves in them. Please tell me what you think?
Anyway, off now to buy Tony Blair's diatribe and non 'mea culpa' book. He needs the money? Hardly! I feel he wants us to understand him. Well, that would be much easier, if I could trust a word of anything he says!
Yours frankly yet cruising calmly


The blogging Gogfather