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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