Sunday, 29 May 2011

Mr William puts his 'Foot down' and 'Sounds off'!

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Mr William ‘puts his Foot down’ and ‘sounds off’!

Good Morrow tender and understanding Reader!

It’s another ‘mea culpa’ week, but this time it really was not my fault. Like the unfortunate mass murderer in ‘Corrie’, the gormless John Stape, I just happened to be the victim of circumstances! Mind you, what John Stape has done with that bat is just ‘not cricket’! You see, it started with me getting the time mixed up for my podiatrist appointment. (Yes, the one who loves me and my ferrucas and who used to be a ‘real blonde’!) Well, I ran on my sore foot to get there on time, only to discover I was an hour early. Thank goodness they doled out tea and TLC in abundance. It’s something to do with getting older, I think. I’ve a speech to make soon after a dinner. That’s another sign of age—people always automatically look to you as the most senior at a ‘do’, to give the vote of thanks to the host! I wouldn’t mind, but they just assume. Do I look that ancient? Don’t answer that! Anyway, I’ll take it as a compliment.

I left home in such a rush that my trousers were all over the place, literally. I couldn’t find a pair that would safely cross the ‘Rubicon’ of my ‘continental shelf’, which has been widening at a great rate of knots, especially since the news that 2 ‘home’ measures of red vino equate to a beef burger. Why, O why, are they out to spoil all my fun? As the immortal Kenneth Williams from the ‘Carry On’ films said, “Infamy, infamy! They’ve all got it ‘in fa me’!” Anyway, I’ll probably just have the beef burger and the wine. When you get to 87, (Yes, I turned 87 last week. As you may have seen in the press, the Queen popped over to Ireland to see me to tie down arrangements for my 100th. She did a few other things while she was’s all about time management at our age! Oops! I’m in parenthetical purgatory again, although, apparently, the Roman Catholics have done away with that?), anyway, as I was saying, when you get to 87, you can’t bother about the niceties of diet etc., but it would be nice to find a pair of trousers that fit a bloke with a large tummy and a disappearing posterior! In case you’re worrying about my drinking, I actually only drink as much as the next man, although the next man was always George Best or Alex Higgins!

Re the Queen’s visit, it truly was a ‘tour de force’. Well done, our Irish eyes are smiling. I was dressed in green for the whole visit in tribute, although holly leaves can chafe! One question for the Irish reader; who is this ‘Iris Anuthron’? Is she anything to the Teflon woman, Mrs Robinson, nee Iris? Is Anuthron her maiden name? Another mystery for me to solve!

By the by, the other thing that kept me late was clearing out the living room for my housekeeper. She is a treasure and a philosopher, not to mention a life-coach, counsellor and psychologist, but I told you not to mention those professions after my recent encounter with Dr Ima Knowtall, who encouraged me to take the test for estimating your life span. I tried it, was told I would go at 60. Do you think I could get a refund? Any road, my lady what does said I should go minimalist and adjust my Feng Shui by clearing up the ‘junk’ in my living room, as she put it. I’ll have you know that everything on that floor served a useful purpose, but she said it got in the way of dusting and hoovering. Well, as long as my ‘shakras’ are aligned, I suppose it’s all worth it!

Did I tell you that the birds and I no longer see eye to eye? Yes, I came out the other day to drive the shiney ‘peep mobile’ into the blue yonder, when I noticed large black deposits of ‘poop’ on the roof. It was so bad, I was looking round for a buzzard! It must be the mating season or something. No, don’t tempt to talk about my latest attempts with the non-feathered variety! Well, you can if you want, but there’s nothing doin’ right now. I’ll have to check my aftershave and chat-up lines. No, with my charm and matinee idol looks, it must just be kismet or they’ve all gone orf to Ibiza?! Mind you, maybe they were all at that ‘pink lady’ day today? (I don’t mean there were auditions for ‘Grease’). Everywhere I looked there was a lady running, and not away from me. They had numbers on their backs to save confusion. That always helps, as I can’t remember anyone’s name. Seriously, their cause is noble and worthy and ‘Cancer Research’ is top of my list. Keep running for ‘Life’, ladies!

Incidentally, Church has not been incident-free recently. I rushed to get a comfy seat with a cushion and the man next to me had the closest thing to the plague. He coughed and spluttered the whole way through. It was a modern ‘miracle’ I survived! Then there was the annoying urchin in front of me with the toy sword. He reckoned he was Johnny Depp in Pirates of the wotsit 844. He was buckling his swash with gay abandon (Apparently you can still say that!). I couldn’t concentrate on the ‘rev’ for keeping a lookout for ‘Jack Sparrow’! The vicar was full swing in his sermon and reminded us all that we would one day see the glorious ‘thong’ in heaven. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt! Then the irritating son-in-law, (Yes, the one who goes on about my diary being nothing without his ‘input’, whatever that is when it’s at home!), noticed my new shoes were creaking. He smugly remarked that it was probably my old feet creaking. Where are the thunderbolts when you’re looking for them?
At least he and the daughter provided a birthday lunch. That got a bit fraught though as I asked the son-in-law to blow out the candles and he singed my eyebrows. It was like those bush fires off the telly. What will happen to the wildlife that were using my brows as an eco refuge? No one cares about the important things anymore! You see, I’m actually a sensitive soul and a ‘gog’ (Grumpy ol’ git) at the same time. Understanding is my forte or fifty, I’m not sure. Sensitivity is my middle name. As you can see, my parents were proto-hippies! Mind you, as a young man, I was a bit of a pugilist (They can’t touch you for it!). My ol’ dad said, “You’re a born boxer. Don’t ‘fight’ it!” Always the wit!

My dad was a character. He said that in his day you ‘starved’ your way through your apprenticeship! Money was always tight. Mind you, so was he, but he had a ready turn of phrase. He said he went to his doc for something and noticed a ‘No Smoking’ sign in the waiting room. He went into to the doc, who was puffing away on a cig. There’s irony for a start. Then the doc said, “Ah yes, Mr. Peeps, you work in the shipyard, don’t you?” When my dad said it was actually the aircraft factory, the doc said they were “All the same to him!” My dad, full of righteous indignation, said, “Yes, I know what you mean. I was going to bring my dog to you, as you and vets are all the same, aren’t you?!” What a guy! Mind you, he struck up a good rapport with the doc who confided re dogs that he took his out in the evenings as an excuse to go to the pub. The dog would run ahead and sit at the bar till his master arrived. Imagine the kafuffle he said when the missus took the dog out when he was sick one night. Explanations had to be forthcoming!

Any rate, must go, but before I do, I must relate the amusing, yet delicate subject of last night with my dog. Sleeping dogs were lying, so to speak, when the strong curry from dinner caused me to accidentally release the sound of a foghorn on the Titanic. Well, it was a surprise to me too, but the poor terrier dog thought that Al-Quaeda had mounted a revenge attack and it went berserk for the next hour. How do you explain that kind of thing to a dog?

From the news, I chuckled when 60’s icon, Vidal Sassoon was asked if he still cut hair. He said, “Just 2 Shitzhus!” Maybe I misheard? In other news, Cheryl Cole gets ‘axed’ from US TV. I think I’ll save my tears for the senior citizens dying of dehydration in NHS hospitals and the victims of Colonel Gaddafi, General Mladic and those on all sides damaged or destroyed by the Iraq/Afghanistan debacles!

Well, I’m off now to the duck pond wildlife reserve with my new binoculars to see if I can spot a ‘rare bird’. Wish me luck?!

Yours hurriedly yet clear-sighted!

The Blogging Gogfather!

Sunday, 15 May 2011

Mr William thinks he was "Cursed by an ol' Crone on a lonely Moor"!

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Mr William thinks he was ‘Cursed by an ol’ crone on a lonely moor’

Good Morrow dear, patient Reader,

My mind is all over the place today and when I heard the phrase in the title of today’s diary on Coronation Street, I felt it summed up my current state brilliantly. I know you might think my head’s always away with the fairies, but I can assure you that I normally have a slim grasp on reality, which gets me by. Any road, please forgive my ramblings today, which reflect the hectic nature of my octogenarian existence, stream of consciousness style!

What can I tell you about first? Well, home wise, the birdbath statue in the garden is attracting loads of attention from our feathered friends (And I don’t mean Lady Gaga in one of her more outrageous outfits). They, the birds bombard my garden and peck at my Aspidistra bush (Painful!). They have nicked 2 paintbrushes I stuck in the hole for the clothes line-pole. What are they doing with them? Knocking off some copies of the great masters for some ‘Monet’? The birds, like the ladies in my life, will pinch any memento they can. It’s my matinee idol, rock star status. Talking about status, I always hear bods saying the ‘Status Quo’ should be maintained. Tell me why conservative, serious types are so up for a band of hairy, ageing rockers? They must be off theirs!

Speaking of works of art, you probably know, I’m a bit of an amateur buff in that area, after the pound shop started stocking a regular supply of masterpieces. The pictures are stacked up now, but I have to go into my little gallery and have a dekko a few times each day. Gonna have to get a bigger house or start sticking them on the ceiling. Before you ask, there are no nudes, although some of the ladies in the pics do have a glint in their eye for me. Well, they’re only human! ….Sorry, housekeeper just asked me something. She said she had set out the nibbles for my daughter and son-in-law to come round for a ‘viewing’. She’s great, my woman that does, (It’s all in your own minds!) but she insists on putting out all my salted peanut supply for any visitors. I hate when people casually handle my precious nuts!

Any way, I’m very generous to the two afore-mentioned rellies. I always insist on paying a third when we go to restaurants and they never look overwhelmed. Mind you, that son-in-law, the one who claims to publicise this diary, is a pain. He had the cheek to tell me I was on a ‘Mugs’ List when I was deluged with charity stuff. Charming? He’s not so smart anyway. Last week he crashed into his gate, when I stepped out in front of him suddenly. He’s clearly reckless, unlike myself. The authorities now reckon I can drive the ‘Peep Mobile’ indefinitely. Just right! All the neighbours wave frantically every time they see me driving towards them. They’re clearly happy about my driving ad infinitum. (That’s situated just past Jeopardy!)

Any road, I brought the rellies round for a viewing of the artwork and played some tunes on my ‘Bon Tempi’ organ. It was all very cultured. Did I tell you my forebears or was it 3 bears were all musical? There was I playing the Chopin ‘Prelude’ in H minor, I believe, when my gammy leg froze up and I had to stand, play the organ and waggle my appendage. Quite a feat, which brought great amusement and partial wikileaks to my guests! Son-in-law ‘helpfully’ suggested I ride an exercise bike while playing the jo-anna. What an ass! Any rate, I also showed them my latest purchase before I showed them the door. It’s an ornamental King Charles spaniel. Thing is, it’s boring. Does nothing, says very little of worth and is a bit of a waste of space. So, nothing like the heir to the throne then?

Another kafuffle this week. Went to my doc, Ima Knowtall with a mystery ailment. She said it would still be a mystery if it cleared up. Is that like a modern miracle? I’m confused. Also my life-coach, Robin N. Spunging, told me that life crises like mine are what ‘mould’ you. I told him I already had a spray in the shower for that! Then I went to church, wearing my Gordon Gekko red braces. Trouble was, I needed to go to the loo. Let’s just say that elastic has a habit of springing back when you least expect it! The vicar preached on ‘Revelation’. He said it would all be revealed. I think I’m still ‘seeing things through a glass darkly’! Also they kept changing the books to follow the service so often that I stage whispered to my daughter that I wasn’t Harry Houdini. Chuckles from the congregation. Afterwards, I had a message for the ‘rev’. Told he was away and looked around for someone vaguely religious. I gave up and went home! Well, went to daughter’s for nosebag i.e. soup and a bun, but as usual my shirt bore testament to ‘collateral damage’. You can generally tell what I had all day from the traces on my shirts! For example the pink flavour ice cream from the van at the seaside later that day was very psychedelic! You wait until you’re 86!

It’s not easy getting around on my pins, you know. Stairs are tricky, so I use the lift. Trouble is, in department stores I keep emerging in ‘Ladies Lingerie’. (No, I haven’t gone down that road, I mean that department..although I would look good in a bin-liner, but I’ll leave that to Lady Gaga and that chap off Coronation Street.) By the way, I struggled into the Post Office to pay my car tax. I gave him a cheque and the postie said it was a tenner short. So, I took it home and brought back another cheque, when a £10 note dropped out of my pocket. C’est la Vie as they now say in Azerbaijan after ‘Eurovision’ and Blue will be ‘blue’. Jedward will still be mental! Talking about money and banks, I forgot my PIN again. I went to the bank and the cashier came to the machine and helped me out. She noticed my laces were undone and bent down and tied them. Are the ladies now beginning to worship me?

Well, anyway, I’ll have to go. A couple of thoughts on love etc. ‘Sex’ is what posh people carry coal in? Are people who marry just 2 stalkers who agree not to turn each other in? Whither romance? They’ll have to write a romance clause into the ‘pre-nup’! The writers of Coronation Street came up with, “Love is like a fire. If you don’t poke it regularly, it goes out!” No innuendo there, then?

The Royal Wedding reminded me who I had modelled my eyebrows on, the ArchBish himself. He also has a separated postcode for those things. Lovely! They provide an eco environment for rare birds and plants, a bit like the Eden Project in the UK.

Finally, a couple of Middleton jokes. It was said that those ‘Middleton girls sure know how to work an aisle.”-Mum was a air stewardess. ‘Commoners’ with real class. What about Pippa ‘Mid’ who’s ‘big’ in the USA, but her bum defo did not look ‘big in that’. Mind you, ‘thighs’ is not everything. Some say she has a classy ass. Gracias!

Good luck to the Queen on her visit to the Emerald Isle. Mind you, after 26000 plus days ‘on the throne’, I think the poor lady should be given a dose of syrup of figs, not more caviar! Anyway, she is an amazing monarch and a credit to the UK. As an old Ghurkha officer, I salute you!

Off now to buff up my medals and no, that is not a double entendre!

Yours confusedly but always on the money,

The Blogging Gogfather