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!

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