Thursday, 30 September 2010

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

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