Wednesday, 5 December 2012

Mr William lunched & launched himself on an unsuspecting world!

Dear and doubtless levelheaded reader,

I will surprise you today by starting on a sombre note. That’s because we know that life has its highs and lows. In the midst of life, we are in death. We are aware that death, taxes and Simon Cowell’s massive ego are the only certainties in life. Yet many of us chose to have faith, hope and charity, whether religiously or secularly based. Most of us also choose to seek out the positive and see humour as a redeeming quality rather than just a relieving sedative. Sometimes, though, some things cannot be overlooked or forgotten, even for an ol’ geezer like myself with the memory of a lobotomised goldfish on mind-altering drugs, living purely on a cocktail of meths and pink champagne! (The goldfish, not I. My poison is a cheeky Merlot.) No, one cannot forget the horrors of war and man’s inhumanity to man, but recently I have been shattered to hear of the suicide of a dear young friend. We all struggle with loved ones dying of natural causes, but the loss of a young human being, because she felt she could not go on living is tragic beyond words. Even our vicar is struggling to find the right words to say, if there are any. For me, only deep love for others, prayer and a listening ear will do it, eventually! I know you read my diary for laughs, but life has suffering and joy. We cannot appreciate the light and light heartedness without acknowledging the ‘dark night of the soul’. I dedicate this little offering of life-affirming fun to a family in grief and pray that one day they will smile again.

Please let me lift your spirits and mine by letting you in on ‘peeps world’. Yes, they should name a theme park after me. It’s ‘off the wall’, like those mad motorcycle riders in fairs, but at least in my park there would be a dizzying roller coaster ride guaranteed. I’d have a coconut shy, but mine would be brash. The distorted mirrors would make everyone look gorgeous like yours truly and the fare would be so credit-crunch busting to allow everyone to experience ‘all the fun of the fair’! Fair enough? Any rate, I have another idea for expanding my fame and horizons. I was lunching the other day, as is my ‘Will’ or wont, when I realised that my ‘continental shelf’ was incontinently shifting south. I had tried on three pairs of ‘keks’ (Trousers to you, perhaps?) and all struggled with my equatorial region. The continental shelf has enlarged to an alarming degree and a diet is vital for my vitals. If I don’t take action soon, only a Santa outfit or a romper suit ‘onezie’ will fit my torso! Then it struck me. No, not an irate boyfriend’s fist. It was a good thought. You may mock. Well, you may, but keep it clean! I have to consider the ‘Leveson’ findings and maintain some self-regulation of my musings, while, like PM ‘Camera-on’ avoiding legal underpinning. Wonder how the press will handle Kate’s pregnancy? I wish her well. There’s an ‘heir’ in the air!

Any hoo, back at my diet thought. It’s simple and every other celeb is doing it, so it must be simple. I’m sure little Helen from the ‘jungle’ reality twaddle will make a fitness dvd and a pop video or would they be a pair of ‘boobs’ too far? Yes, my idea is a diet/fitness dvd. You see, everyone needs something after the Christmas blowout has blown us up. So there is my New Year resolution sorted early. What? You’re sceptical about my ability to produce an effective regime? (Have you seen some of the other dvds? Also, have you seen some of the world’s regimes? Take Syria and I wish someone would!) Well, it was actually something the twitty son-in-law said that put this idea in my head, along with my long-term strategy of showing the world what an ass he is. He heard me bemoaning my inability to eat food before it walked off to the dump by itself. It’s not my fault. It’s because I’m 88 and I can’t remember diddly. I go to the shop, see food I like, buy it, come home and find I bought the same stuff the day before. Oops! I then scoff all I can with the results described above, but can’t cope with the high volume, although with my hearing, that’s ironic. Ask my neighbours about my tv! So, the dopey one cheekily suggests the solution is in my own hands. (No, not the Merlot again.) His quip was that I should cut out the middleman and give the shop my food order and ask them to bin it for me or give it to someone whose tummy needs it more than mine. Any rate, at the time, I pretended to be amused and tried hard to get him with a killer comeback. The best I could come up with at short notice was that his ass was so big that when he walked past, peeps thought there was a full eclipse of the sun! Well, he deserves it and ironically, the eclipse thing fits well with his moon face.

So, anyway, I had my ‘eureka’ moment, jumped out of my metaphorical bath, like the great Greek thinker of old, Archie Medes or whatever (They could do with him now in Greece!) and ran, again metaphorically down the street in the nuddy. Well, it had to be metaphorical after that misunderstanding, when I burnt my ass in the bath, leapt out, slipped on a soap bar, saw a large spider and found myself moments later locked out in the corridor, wearing nothing but a smile, which wore thin when the elderly ladies started yelling for the warder/warden. She let me off with a final, final warning. Mind you, she kindly patched up my war wounds, for which she deserved a medal, thankfully not posthumously!

Where was I? Yes, the dvd. (I’m not doing it for ‘the good of my health’, you know! Oh, wait! I am!) Well, the son-in-law says he will produce and direct it, write the script and carefully ‘edit’ the video. Well, that’s all right then, a sure-fire hit? What will I do about the groupies and fan mail? What about the begging letters, you say? Oh, I’ll keep on sending those! Mind you, there was one catch. The son-in-law said that to achieve ‘street cred’, I should go ‘nil by mouth’ for all of 2013. Yeah, right! I think he should say ‘nil by mouth’ for the whole of 2013! Anyway, wish me well on my dvd launch! I’ll have to be careful though, ‘cos my daughter said I might go ‘viral’. Surely not, after all I’ve had my ‘flu jab?

Before I go and squeeze into that leotard I bought in the 80s, when I tried to keep up with Jane Fonda’s video (Barbarella, ella, ella, I think it was called?) and tied myself up in a knot for a week until a contortionist figured out how to untie me, I’ll give you a few thoughts to amuse and muse on. A piano is rightly called a pianoforte, as in life, you need soft and loud, light and shade. As they say in ‘X Factor’, the ‘Song is the Key’. (How to state the bloomin’ obvious?) Did I tell you that at lunch, after grace, I always cry, “Let battle commence!”? My prob is the collateral damage. Mind you, 2 squares of kitchen roll can cover a multitude of sins! By the way, do you lose keys? I reckon they should come fitted with a voice-command device. That’s what I ‘call the key’ to it. Boom, boom! Lady at the wine shop loves my banter..I wish I could ‘bottle’ her sense of humour. She pinched a bottle of whisky out of my trolley to confuse me. It worked, but I just laughed it off, as I didn’t want to ‘scotch’ our friendship! I see ‘bogof’ is to bog off to stop us all being alcos. Probably wise. Once I said to the lady, if it’s ‘buy one, get one free’, just give 5 of the free ones and forget the other ones! I see ‘press freedom’ may also be in the ‘last chance saloon’ after ‘Leveson’? The ‘Times’ will tell, hopefully! Cleaner got rid of my empty bottles last week and I gave her the sack. Well, she needed something to put them in. She tiptoed out like Santa Claus to avoid the attention of my teetotal neighbours.

Incidentally, did I tell you it takes me hours to get ready in the morning? Most of the time is spent on doing up my laces, while standing on one leg at the top of the stairs? What? No, I can’t think of an easier way. I may have to stop shaving to save time. Daughter says I will soon start looking like Santa, if I grow a beard. Ho, ho, ho! You see, I need a bit of cosseting. Maybe my lady what does could do something? No, not that! I mean she could do a time and motion study on my routine. Yes, she has to spoon-feed me. Not literally, well, not yet! By the by, why does time go twice as fast after 6 pm? Do the clocks go onto ‘double time’ then? Why is my coffee always cold now? Yep, it’s ‘cos I knackered the kettle. I burnt me fingers on the steam and then burnt the ass outta the bally thing. Now my fingers and I are all weeping. Say ah!?

My housing peeps wrote to me to tell me I’m now a ‘secure’ tenant. Good, I hope, or am I under house arrest for crimes against literature and nearly burning the place down twice? Mind you, they have punished me with triple glazed windows. I can barely breathe with the heat and will have to just wear the leotard, when I’ve worn it in again! I suppose doing the fitness dvd may help my ol’ friend, ‘Lon Gevity’. I may make it to 110, like the guy in the news. My secret will be wine, women and song, but that petition by interfering neighbours put paid to the singing in the bath. That wasn’t singing. That was me yelling when I had my ‘eureka’ moment! Same difference? At least I mightn’t need the help of a local fish and chip emporium with a sign in the window, “Local defibrillator here”. I nearly had a heart attack laughing at the irony of it. Some final funnies-what about the optician teaching at uni, who liked to ‘see his pupils right’? Is paying a ‘brief’ visit, buying underpants in Marks? I see ‘Camera-on’ needs a ‘prod’ over women bishops-does he have a particular ‘prod’ in mind? I read that JP 2nd’s ‘popemobile’ is now being hired out for stag/hen dos in Dublin. Holy cow! Is nothing sacred? Lastly, readers, is a crazy biker a cyclepath?

Bye for now! Does a leotard have street cred and more importantly, is it flammable?

Yours caringly yet always ready for ‘lift off’,

The blogging Gogfather (Your friendly, neighbourhood grumpy ol’ geezer!)

Saturday, 3 November 2012

Mr. William is a man of great 'statue'?

Mr. William is a man of great ‘statue’?

Dear and hopefully clear-headed Reader,

I must confess that I am becoming more and more befuddled and can forget what I have just said. I must confess…whoops, nearly did it again! Well, I am 88 after all and my brain cells flat lined on the Richter scale or whatever years ago, but I enjoy life, loving people and chortling at the vagaries of what peeps do and say. I get most fun from the quirkiness of language and how it can be serendipitously mangled to amusing effect. For instance, my diary title today is known as a malapropism, where real words are juxtaposed to produce a pleasing result. Let’s face it! I may have lots of friends and folks seem to like me, but my stature is limited vertically. I tend to look at ladies’ chests, not just because it’s a pleasant pastime, but also because that’s where I usually come up to. I have to raise my eyes above the hills to the heavens to gaze into a lady’s peepers. It’s a tricky burden for a chap, who really does love and respect ladies, but unless I carry round a box to stand on, I feel like Danny de Vito staring at Annapurna (Nice girl I believe with snowy peaks!) Any road, I’m neither great of stature, nor is it likely they will erect a statue for me. I’d say the late and not great Jimmy Savile would have more chance of a statue at Piccadilly Circus than I would. Mind you, if he did get a monument, at least you could guarantee the pigeons would poop on it?

Anyway, the thing is that word combinations can be a joy. What about the hunter who said he was pursued by an ‘allegory’ in the Florida swamps? That was an anecdote to get your teeth into? One of my favourites is the cry of the ‘Carry On’ comedian, the fabuloso Kenneth Williams, who, as Julius Caesar could see the conspirators approaching and exclaimed, “Infamy, infamy! They’ve all got it in fa me!” Nice one.

Well, before I tell you about my recent antics, I see Pippa ‘Mid’ is not ‘behind’ in coming forward with a book. It might show off her ‘assets’ from a different angle? Also, PM ‘Camera on’ has turned to his ol’ Tory friend, ‘Laura Norder’ (If you say it, it will make sense. Law and order? No? Please yourselves!). Yes, the Conservatives always do do this when they’re in the do-do and that’s what makes them as endangered as the dodo! If they’re not careful, they’ll be hung out to ‘Crispin Dry’ at the next election? (Crispin Dry does sound like a good Tory name, doesn’t it?) Talking of elections, I hope all you Americans get the president who will serve your nation best. The recent mega storm certainly put everything in perspective, didn’t it? I wish you all well. My take is that President ‘O’Bama’(Now that he’s part Irish officially!) is worried ‘cos Romnians are on the starboard bow! Takes me right back to ‘Star Wars’ and Ronnie Reagan? I still chuckle when I recall him calling Princess Diana, “Princess David”, but I can’t talk, as my memory went down the Klondike during the ‘Gold rush’!

Any hoo, what have I been up to, you may ask? Well, my housekeeper has just plumped up my cushions, so that’s grand. What? Yes, one cushion had a tear, I had a tear. Now, I’ve dried my eye and my lady that does has ‘sewn’ everything up. All good. Unlike some things I could mention. For starters, the phone rang earlier and I thought it was the fire alarm. It was so loud and unexpected, I almost had a ‘wikileak’! Then my braces broke and I was nearly left ‘with my trousers down’. I’d just covered my embarrassment, when I noticed my ‘vertical hold’ had gone. No, I’m not alluring to my stature again. It’s the bloomin’ telly box on the blink. I’ve asked the son-in-law to ‘cast his eye over it’. (No, he doesn’t have a glass eye, but it’s about the only defect he doesn’t have!) He normally says it’s some button I’ve pressed on the zapper. It’s true, I suppose. I can’t see a button that I don’t want to press. Good thing I’m not a jet fighter pilot. The ejector seat would get a lot of use.

I went to the optician yesterday as my TV was blurred. (Turned out it was the 'extra terrestrial' switch off. You’d think they would warn you about something like that?) Anyway, optician said he would ‘see me right’. Everyone’s a comic! I told him to ‘focus’ on the matter in hand if he wanted to ‘see eye to eye’ with me. As you can observe, I didn’t resort to weak puns! Then had to go to dentist, Phil McAvity, for another implant. It was as dear as cardiac surgery. He’s breaking my heart and my bank balance! After that I saw my lady doc, Ima Gunna-Killyall. My throaty cough and shivers were tending towards terminal man flu, for which there is no known cure, as you know. Imagine if I popped my clogs and was ‘checking in’ with Saint Peter at the ‘Pearly Gates’ (She’s a well-known cabaret singer round here.) and he suggested going to the other place to get ‘warmed up’? That really would be a fate worse than death!

Well, mustn’t twitter on. Got to go out for some grub shortly. After all, the world’s my lobster. (I just ‘caught’ yesterday’s fish before it went off.) I might bump into that lady whose hubby is an eejit, sorry Egyptologist. She clearly fancies me, but she’s in ‘de Nile’, much like her bloke! Did I tell you I have a ‘fatty liver’? Yep, my doc, Ivor Scalpel, says I have to watch my diet. Am I turning into ‘foie gras’? I have to laugh things off. You see, ten years ago, I had a stroke and I’m now running on one cylinder and my legs feel like lead, but my good bits outweigh my bad bits, so I’m ok! As Woody Allen says, “I don’t mind dying, I just don’t want to be there when it happens!” You have to be a philosopher. As my ol’ dad said, à propos of nothing, (Which was his will or wont), “If your bobbin’s not wound on right, it’ll all go pear-shaped.” Did I mention he liked to mix his metaphors?

I’ll dash on now and leave you with a word to define. Expunge-is that an ex who takes you for all you’ve got? Ha! No matter who or where you are and whatever you are going through, please keep your chins up! I’m keeping both of mine up!

Yours, vertically challenged, but always looking up,

The Blogging Gogfather (Your friendly neighbourhood gog—grumpy ol’ geezer)

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Mr. William likes to 'Monkey' around!

Mr. William likes to ‘Monkey’ around!

Dear and hopefully gainfully occupied Reader,

I hope you are well and are sitting comfortably, as I want to share some things. It’s now autumn, season of mellow fruitfulness and a nasty draft round the ‘Trossachs’. Time to reach for your thermals; at least it is here in Western Europe. I’ve got a few harassments. What’s new there, you say? Yes, I’ve got the ‘lurgy’- a sore throat heading towards terminal man flu, so apols for the croaky writing. Please say ah!  I’ve got my rellies passing my ‘necessaries’, like the daily paper, under the door. Well, I don’t need any more bugs! No offence to them, but that son-in-law always bugs me. He giggles when I cough and splutter. I think he’s into ‘schadenfreude’, but some day he’ll slip up on a banana and I’ll chuckle. Is that Freudian or what? Am I paranoid or are they all out to get me? Don’t answer that!

If this ‘bug’ doesn’t clear up, I may have to ‘insult’ my doc, Willy See-me or his colleague, Willy Hear-me: both ‘Dicks’ are as useful as a chocolate tea-pot! I’ll give it a few days. I could consult my life-coach, Billy Can; he’s really positive and could re-align my chakras, but he’d have to watch my gammy hips. Anyway, I’ve been amusing myself, (Totally innocently, I’ll have you know!) listening to the radio. My ironic favourite is the very popular local offering, where a jolly lady cooks on the radio and the presenter says ‘yum’ at appropriate intervals. They could be smoking a ciggy and playing cards for all we know? Truly a ‘feast’ for the ears! I also heard that a US child psychologist reckons you should copy a child’s speech patterns, when they’re literally throwing their toys out of the pram. He says we should see them as ‘cavemen’. So we should just ‘ape’ them? What next? Are we descended from apes/monkeys? Well, I’ve been studying my son-in-law for clues, as he’s the hairiest and most unevolved creature I know. Conclusions? Well, despite civilisation’s best efforts, his knuckles trail dangerously close to the ground and he devours bananas at a fiercesome rate. Not being scientifically bent, I’ll leave this matter to greater minds.

Well, the ape thing reminds me of my days in the army, when I would ‘monkey’ around even more than now. I was once on a ship in Singapore. You didn’t need a thermal vest there. You could fry your eggs on the deck. Thing was, monkeys (Not the groovy band from the 60’s) would get aboard on supply boats and those dudes were strong, crafty and very tricky. There were scavenging after anything they could get. (Think dodgy bankers?) If you had a banana in your hand, it would be whipped away faster than an MP getting his expenses! So, there was yours truly prancing about on deck in full uniform. I was just going through a hatch door, when, unbeknownst to me, a cheeky monkey reached down and swiped my hat. That was the last I saw of it and a senior officer nearly put me on a charge. Claiming a monkey nicked your cap did not impress the top brass. They thought you were a silly ass!

While I was in India, the danger was not always the enemy. You got ‘friendly fire’ from your own side monkeying around. Once, a gang of paratroopers chucked me into a nullah- a ditch. Yes, drink had been taken by all concerned. My version of the tale ends with me being rescued from the nullah by a mullah called Abdullah! (Yes, my poetic license is still fully up to date!) There was also the rabid dog thing. Yea, rabies is deadly and, on one occasion, an infected dog broke its chain and bit my finger. So, I had to get the injections and boy that was painful. They were jabbed into your tum for a week and left you doubled up, but you had to laugh! Then there was the time I got plastered and got on a train to Bombay. Don’t ask me why!  As a Ghurkha officer, one of my loyal men went with me to protect me. I have little recollection of it all, but I was blotto and he was armed to the teeth. The aftermath? Let’s just say I had a lot of explaining to do to General Disaster on my return. It was not a sympathetic, cosy chat and I was glad when he stopped roaring, as I had an almighty headache! I think I enjoyed the monkeying around, as I’m a fun guy, as opposed to fungi, although there’s ‘mushroom’ for debate. Ha! Believe it or not, I look back on it all as a fun and exciting time, even though some of it was a pain in the butt, belly and just about every other part.

Some peeps can only hark back to the old days and don’t get much fun out of the present. Not I, me lud! I make sure every day is an adventure, even though my chats with some ladies court disaster. For instance, how am I to know if a lady is expectorating in the family way or has just eaten too many pies? A polite enquiry as to due date can get you a fat lip! Also it’s hard to know if your chat up lines are working, but I was crestfallen, when a lady I was regaling started to point at random strangers claiming they were her boyfriend. Mind you, one was shaven-headed, so it was a ‘close shave’ for me. At my age, it’s too risky to dabble in a love triangle or a pas de deux. I might get triangulated by an irate bloke! Hey-ho! One lady at my home for the occasionally bewildered keeps crossing the line though, quite literally. Yep, her car gets up close and personal with mine, when she strays into my space. I don’t want to get pranged or dinged. My no claims bonus is already heading for the knackers yard!

Any road, I have enough hassles. My hearing is worse. I thought they said the warder (warden) was ‘going incontinent’. Poor dear, I thought, till I finally twigged she had gone to France for a week! Then the pesky son-in-law said some tosh about using ‘Control P’ on his computy thingy. I told him that was easier for him to do than me. In church, ‘Hear ye, O brethren!’ is now a bit lost on me. Mind you, I hear enough to get by and what you don’t hear, you don’t know about, which is good when my lot are chatting about me. Anyway tempus fugit and fuses my brain. Did I tell you I have to carry out self-examinations now after every meal? Yes, before I stand up, I have to check for collateral damage on my lap. If I’ve spilt soup round the ‘fork’, I have to carry out damage limitation or the residents will think I’ve had a ‘wikileak’, again!

Anyhoo got to go shortly as a wee man is coming to digitalise me today. Well, the cable TV, not me personally, but while he’s here I could check if they offer that service. Son-in-law says I should invest in a ‘fat’ screen or 3D. What is he on about? Anyway, a few snippets. You know the way I’m friendly? Well, I’m sort of clubbable as well. Misunderstanding time with my golfer friend. He was pulling his socks on and was seemingly boasting about a ‘hole in one’. How was I to know he meant his sock? By the way, wasn’t the Ryder Cup golf a roller coaster? Norn Irn (Northern Ireland) golfers are great (Not that I’m biased), but could somebody get Rory an alarm clock or I’ll have a ‘connery’! Things peeps say. Head teacher on radio, “Our uniform is the ‘fabric’ of our school.”Duh! Also announcement in press, “Lord (so and so) was supposed to perform the ceremony, but he died last month, so he won’t be able to do it.” This week’s prize for stating the bloomin’ obvious?

Hope the digitalised man will show up soon. In the meantime, I’ll play that CD from the ‘pound’ shop, ‘What’s new, Goldfinger?’ by a Leslie Brickhouse and his ‘partner’ Bert Backingtrack. Nice!
Just remember that life is for living to the full and a bit of monkeying around can add to the spice of life and give you a lot of fun. Just make sure it’s legal and kind!

Yours happily with lots on his shoulders including monkeys sometimes,

The blogging Gogfather

Friday, 7 September 2012

Mr. William leaps out of his chair, cheers and is 'chaste'! (Paralympic Special)

Mr. William leaps out of his chair, cheers and is ‘chaste’! (Paralympic Special)

Dear and perhaps goggle-eyed reader,

Have you ever experienced so many wondrous events in one summer (and I’m not alluring to Russell Brand’s love-life!) and most of them televised in full techni-colour digi-vision before our eyes? My eyes have gone square and frequently have misted up (Not in the Tina Turner ‘Steamy Windows’ sense.) due to the wonders unfolding in view of my peepers. It’s a good thing I don’t have 3D (Older peeps will get the pun that I don’t mean I’m brassic-skint?). If I had been watching the beach volleyball, Usain Bolt and the paralympians in 3-D, I might have jumped out of my skin, rather than just out of my armchair! Also, with my schoolboy sense of humour, I might have been too tempted to virtually nip a few behinds. Think how fast Usain would have run then? That Oscar chap from South Africa would have bounced into orbit?

Yes, I admit it. I’m Mr William and I am now officially an addict. Don’t panic! I’m addicted to the wonders of all the Olympians, whether they have a disability or not. Their spirit and dedication is legendary and so many of their life stories are incredibly inspirational. I’ve learnt so much, for example, that the Paralympics stands for the ‘Parallel Olympics’ and not perhaps paraplegic. (Although some wit suggested the initial games could be called the ‘warm up’ games or the ‘parachute’ Olympics, thanks to that great sport, the ‘diamond’ lady monarch QE2 ‘dropping in’ with ‘James Bond’!)  For me, this is the great achievement of the Paralympic movement. It has developed exponentially in terms of competitor numbers and spectators, but more importantly in inspiring those with impairments to rehabilitate and succeed in what they can do, rather than a focus on what they can’t do. As a person with my own difficulties, I find this mindblowingly wonderful.

I feel that that those without disability are beginning to increasingly see disabled people in a more positive light and this can only be illuminating for all citizens, especially the millions who cannot compete in high-level competition! No matter what way you look on it, this summer in London has been spectacular and now we all wait to see the positive legacy. Maybe Cameron, our esteemed ‘Condemn’ leader, could start by stopping hounding the disabled and vulnerable in the community, just to save a few bob? He could turn his attention on to a few of the rich, who think that tax is not for them?

Talking of James Bond and age impairments, what about Rog Moore (He of the slightly raised eyebrow school of acting. What would he have done with a monobrow?) He said mournfully that he used to set pulses racing, but “Now my pace-maker keeps my pulse racing!” Yours truly attempts to do both, with patchy success. Talking about ‘patchy’, I’ll try to patch together the recent events that have happened to yours truly, off screen. Mind you, I’m never off ‘stage’. (What’s that you say? There’s one leaving in 5 minutes? Ha!) No, my life is always in the glare of publicity; well, if you take my family as ‘public’, and I wish you would take them! Also they do ‘glare’ at me a lot. No idea why. Talking about getting caught in the ‘glare’, so to speak, I was snapped, not by the paparazzi, but by the rossers doing 38 in a 30mph zone. It was a fair cop, guv & it’s ‘fine’ with me. Well, thankfully not a fine, but a ‘speed awareness’ course. I’m aware alright and I was wrong and am most penitent. I’ve got to be less ‘Toad of Toad Hall’ on the road and more slow coach. I’m chaste now, sorry chastened. By the by, I’m also deflated. Well, not me, my car tyre’s gone squishy. I never have a problem with being deflated and you can ponder on that statement in your own time!

By the way, Prince Harry’s another chap who never gets deflated either (Someone said he was simply showing the family jewels?), at least that’s what they tell me, if you get the ‘picture’? Was Murdoch getting his own back on ‘Leveson’ by publishing and being ‘damned’? Bit of satire there. On that theme, a US politico said recently that the only politicians with convictions in Washington are in prison. Cynical perhaps, but here in Norn Irn (Northern Ireland for the uninitiated) we don’t always lock ‘em up, even if they have convictions. Perhaps it is true we get the politicians we deserve? Anyway, Barack has brought out the big guns (Not his biceps, his missus!), because there are ‘Romnians’ on the starboard bow. Some say, life, Jim, but not as we know it? Any rate, it’s all ‘relative’ as Stephen Hawking, Einstein etc would say.

Back in ‘Peeps’ world, things are as chaotic as per. I was strimming the grass with earplugs, a visor mask, but nothing up top (You can insert your own joke here, but keep it clean!), when birds dive-bombed my bonce. Now I need a crash helmet as well! Now a rant about people rabbitting on. (No, not like me, exsqeeze me!) You see, our assistant vic/rev reckons a hundred words are better than one. I know he’s well versed in the Bible, but I hate embellishment, French polishing, varnish or any other adornment, when I need to get home for lunch. I nearly answered his rhetorical question of “What can I say about this passage?” with my stage whisper, “As little as poss!” If he ever gets to do my funeral, I’ll be tempted to jump out of the ol’ box, say ‘boo’ and ‘Get on with it! Stick to the script! I haven’t all day!’ Although I know it’s not easy to spout in public. I listen to the BBC radio 4 panel show, ‘Just a Minute’, where you have to babble for 60 secs without repetition, hesitation or deviation from a given subject. Newbies find it hard not to hesitate. So, I have formulated the expression, ‘Ergo, to ‘er’ is human’. I like playing with words, like the amazing Stephen Fry. He was talking the other day about intonation. I liked the example, “What is this thing called love?” which can sound like, “What is this thing called, love?” when you play around with the emphasis. I like all that.

Any hoo, I’ve sold the house, but I keep thinking someone will jump out from behind my sofa and tell me I’ve forgotten something vital. I’m curious/nosey about the buyers in my ol’ place, so I’ve got a neighbour to ‘spy’ on them and give me the gen. Said she was doing on a freelance basis anyway! Got a bit of dosh now, but like the lottery winner who was asked what he would do about the begging letters, I’ll keep on sending them! Boom, boom! Thought I might invest in a soft top car and put on some relaxing music, like the ‘Best of Frankie Valium’, an easy listening CD I got from the ‘pound’ shop. Trouble is the wind. No, not that kind! With the top down in my car, I would feel the breeze carrying my comb-over due south, while my lady friend would feel the wind beneath her bingo wings! Also, what is the point having money if you can never find it? I got a jacket with a ‘secret’ pocket, but I can never locate the bally thing. Typical when you’re 88. What’s more, my lawyer, Isla Nailem, (Had to get rid of the last one, Alby Screwin-New. He was too nervy.) and my family want me to save my dough. What for? To make more bread? Ha! Son-in-law greeted me with a cheery, “Come in, short, dark stranger!” I was sure the pillock had said ‘short-arsed’ stranger. Maybe anatomically correct, but I’ve got my eye on him! Did I tell you I love music? Yes, I could wax lyrical. Went to get some more sheet music recently (I said ‘sheet’. Please yourselves!) Got Elvis singing, ‘Love me tender, love me suite!’ Think it’s about his sofa.

Anyway, before I go and get my hairdresser out of his home for the partially bewildered to give my usual razor shave, (What? His hands only shake a bit.), must tell you a few quick things. Firstly, I still can’t get my head around the termination dates on food. Like my coiffure, it’s ‘hair today, gone tomorrow’! As my ol’ nan told me, “Son, I was once goosed by an embalmer. It was the kiss of death to that relationship!” You see, I know life is short and precious and I want to live it to the full and have a chortle. Some say I’m a ‘slacktivist’(A new term for those who don’t protest on the streets, but tick petitions on the interwebby.), but not everyone can ‘risk’ street protests and surely, it’s a way of allowing public opinion to be gauged. Also please salute the amazing Neil Armstrong, a true and modest hero. Maybe his ‘last post’ will be heard coming from space?

Finally, on a lighter note, a spider jumped onto my underpants the other day. I ran over to the window to put it out and then remembered I was in the nip. The looks I got later from the ladies in my home! You’d think I’d done it on purpose. I explained it was a phobia of spiders. They said they had one of ol’ lads in the nuddy who need a good ironing! Any road, to cheer myself up, I have been looking at the leisure class brochure. For me, it’s either Spanish or ‘Waxing for Beginners’. Seems the tutors are from all over the world. Maybe we’ll get a ‘Brazilian’? What? Anyway, live life to the full and love your neighbour as yourself! See, I was listening in church.

Yours, admiring life’s heroes, while trying to be ‘chaste, if you catch my drift,

The blogging Gogfather (Gog is ‘grumpy ol’ git’ if you’re a new reader.)