Mr William needs his ‘head felt’?
Good Morrow, dear and hopefully fully ‘fuelled’ Reader,
Do you have a water butt and a ‘jerrycan’? Well, if not and you’re in the UK, you haven’t been ‘pumped’ up enough by the Coalition and their politically ‘fuelled’ comments to prepare for the ‘Armageddon’ of water and possible fuel shortages. Some say if this goes on, “Armageddon outta here!” Others have the arcane idea that the ‘oily’ government are trying to distract the electorate off the so-called ‘Granny bashing’, millionaires’ paradise Budget? At least Dick Turpin had the decency to wear a mask and work at night! Perish the cynical thought! They need their heads felt, or is it all how you look on it? Firstly, as an octogenarian (I’m 87), could they stop referring to me as a ‘granny’? That’s just wrong on so many levels, one of which being the indisputable fact that one or two vital objects get in the way of that moniker! Anyway, rant over for now, but I do want to talk to you about the life and ‘deaf’ struggle I have to survive and understand this crazy world and maybe I do need my head felt.
Yes, I refer to the rather zany sphere, popular with shrinks and quacks in the 19th century, where you could tell virtually everything by the bumps on a person’s scone. (Their head, for the uninitiated in ‘Norn Irn’ jargon.) I’ve lots of interesting bumps on my cranium and I think I need my head tested. My daughter and son-in-law enthusiastically agree with this for some reason. So it was, that I decided to do some DIY research. (No, not down at B&Q!) No, you see, I thought I would start by looking at other people’s heads in the supermarket. I had my marker pen and a diagram from a book bought from the Pound shop called, “Phrenology for Dummies! (Check out your nobbly bits scientifically!) Thing was, the only scones I could examine belonged to large young men with DIY bald pates, tattoos and dogs that had large teeth and were called Gnasher! They also snarled and slobbered a lot and so did the dogs! Well, the survey didn’t last long. I approached one chap and asked him if I could mark out a phrenology map on his head with my thick marker. Well, call me naïve if you will, but the nurse in the Emergency department told me the bite marks and bruises should heal up eventually, but I should perhaps consider another hobby. Hey-ho!
So, what did I learn? Well, firstly I should have used a thinner marker as the thick one was hard to extricate. Secondly, it’s not only my bins that are black and blue now. That reminds me! I’ve been ‘bruised’ by events also. I’m selling my house after moving to my home for the slightly bewildered and the Estate Agent, a Mr. Willy Fixit, keeps coming to my door with insulting offers and bemoaning the housing market. It’s a low blow when peeps try to screw you over, just to get a bargain. When I think of my family coming over from Europe, like Dick Whittington without the cat, I weep! Yes, I’m of a continental bent. My folks were ‘Hugenuts’ or something, fleeing persecution. What would they say, if they could see my plight? Yes, “Get a life!” That’s right, and I will! I’ve decided on my new full-time hobby or purpose, if you want to jazz it up, although Albert Schweizer won’t have anything to worry about, mostly because he’s dead! Yes, now that my brain’s smaller, I’m going to devote myself to what I do best, being a matinee idol charmer. I want to make ladies smile and see them trot off with a spring in their step after an encounter with yours truly. (At my age, the encounters are ‘Trevor Howerd’ ie brief and words only, no hanky-panky!)
Anyway, I ran my logic past my daughter and she said she knew a good vet and mumbled something about ‘meutering’ or something. Didn’t sound like a happy finish? My son-in-law, the one who thinks this diary would be nothing without his flair, (He still wears flairs, but doesn’t have any! Know what I mean?) he thinks I could start up the ‘Randy Over 80’s Club’, but he has little confidence in my persuasive abilities, as he reckons there’d be a membership of one. I told him he was just jealous he wasn’t senior enough to join this exclusive club. That shut him up, but I kind of lost momentum when I spilt my soup over my lap and had to leave the room! Yep, I’ve reached the ‘bib’ stage, but I’ll only start to worry when I reach the ‘googoo-gaga’ and nappy stage! Yes, and could I mention at this juncture, that despite rumours to the contrary, I do change my undercrackers every day of the week, even if I don’t need to, but by Friday I can’t get them over my trousers! Boom, boom! Any road, I do love my food. When din-dins arrives, I cry, “Let battle commence!” Sadly, it’s the collateral damage you have to watch for! Also, I like After Eight mints, but I can’t wait till then to scoff them. So they’re out! By the way, does a dodgy salmon roll give you salmonella or am I being ‘listerical’? Any rate, my sell-by date is up again! No, not mine. It was a choc/cream meringue thing. What would Sartre say about my existential state? I feel like a chocolate teapot today- a bit leaky and redundant, but Edwina Currie, the former MP with ‘egg on her face’ assures me that we pensioners have never had it so good! Anyone got any rotten eggs handy?
Yes, it’s all clear now. I have to get my chakras and my yin and yang in balance. If I have naughty thoughts, I will balance it with a good deed. For instance, I thought about going to the doc, Ima Gunna-Getya, but I didn’t, ‘cos she’s a babe and I never hear a word she says. It’s the blessing or curse of my good health and Italian ‘jeans’. So, to redress the balance, I confessed in church. The rev. was surprised that I claimed to have killed Frank Foster from Corrie, but I couldn’t remember where I was on the night in question. I also tried to give money to charity. Problem was that by the time the guy had gone on about gift aid, I had seen myself grow more grey hairs and all the phases of the moon had passed. Is anything easy when your 87? Well, I’ve worked the ways of the world out now and intend to start a fund to raise the alleged £250,000 needed to chat with Cameron over a cuppa to get him to sort the country out and stop calling me a ‘granny’ and helping richies. (My nervy lawyer with the stammer and tick, which he claims he only gets when I’m around, says I must liberally use the word ‘allegedly’, when mentioning our beloved ‘betters’, as they now want to read every word we say or write! So, here goes ************, allegedly! Seems ‘spinning’ makes you dizzy? The ‘nanny’ state wants grandparents to teach children about the ‘great outdoors’? You couldn’t write it, but I just did!)
Anyway, dear reader, I’ve to go and buy a ‘butt’, some petrol, a few books of stamps and a ‘hot potato’ pie. Who says satire is dead? I don’t know, I didn’t even know he was sick! Before I go, could I ‘big up’ Northern Ireland, “Our place, our time!”? Be like Amelia Earhart and drop in and see us and all we have to offer-Titanic Quarter, golf heaven (Go Rory, Graeme, Darren!). Also support the National ‘Truss’ in its upkeep of our ‘assets’. Spare a thought for Aung San Suu Kyi and other democratic freedom heroes? Finally, spare a thought for Madonna’s ‘hotpants’ as they seek to keep up her assets! Well, as I always say, if you’ve got it, don’t flaunt it, or everyone will want some!
Yours with a fevered brow, yet with all my bumps in the right place,
The blogging Gogfather!
Good Morrow, dear and hopefully fully ‘fuelled’ Reader,
Do you have a water butt and a ‘jerrycan’? Well, if not and you’re in the UK, you haven’t been ‘pumped’ up enough by the Coalition and their politically ‘fuelled’ comments to prepare for the ‘Armageddon’ of water and possible fuel shortages. Some say if this goes on, “Armageddon outta here!” Others have the arcane idea that the ‘oily’ government are trying to distract the electorate off the so-called ‘Granny bashing’, millionaires’ paradise Budget? At least Dick Turpin had the decency to wear a mask and work at night! Perish the cynical thought! They need their heads felt, or is it all how you look on it? Firstly, as an octogenarian (I’m 87), could they stop referring to me as a ‘granny’? That’s just wrong on so many levels, one of which being the indisputable fact that one or two vital objects get in the way of that moniker! Anyway, rant over for now, but I do want to talk to you about the life and ‘deaf’ struggle I have to survive and understand this crazy world and maybe I do need my head felt.
Yes, I refer to the rather zany sphere, popular with shrinks and quacks in the 19th century, where you could tell virtually everything by the bumps on a person’s scone. (Their head, for the uninitiated in ‘Norn Irn’ jargon.) I’ve lots of interesting bumps on my cranium and I think I need my head tested. My daughter and son-in-law enthusiastically agree with this for some reason. So it was, that I decided to do some DIY research. (No, not down at B&Q!) No, you see, I thought I would start by looking at other people’s heads in the supermarket. I had my marker pen and a diagram from a book bought from the Pound shop called, “Phrenology for Dummies! (Check out your nobbly bits scientifically!) Thing was, the only scones I could examine belonged to large young men with DIY bald pates, tattoos and dogs that had large teeth and were called Gnasher! They also snarled and slobbered a lot and so did the dogs! Well, the survey didn’t last long. I approached one chap and asked him if I could mark out a phrenology map on his head with my thick marker. Well, call me naïve if you will, but the nurse in the Emergency department told me the bite marks and bruises should heal up eventually, but I should perhaps consider another hobby. Hey-ho!
So, what did I learn? Well, firstly I should have used a thinner marker as the thick one was hard to extricate. Secondly, it’s not only my bins that are black and blue now. That reminds me! I’ve been ‘bruised’ by events also. I’m selling my house after moving to my home for the slightly bewildered and the Estate Agent, a Mr. Willy Fixit, keeps coming to my door with insulting offers and bemoaning the housing market. It’s a low blow when peeps try to screw you over, just to get a bargain. When I think of my family coming over from Europe, like Dick Whittington without the cat, I weep! Yes, I’m of a continental bent. My folks were ‘Hugenuts’ or something, fleeing persecution. What would they say, if they could see my plight? Yes, “Get a life!” That’s right, and I will! I’ve decided on my new full-time hobby or purpose, if you want to jazz it up, although Albert Schweizer won’t have anything to worry about, mostly because he’s dead! Yes, now that my brain’s smaller, I’m going to devote myself to what I do best, being a matinee idol charmer. I want to make ladies smile and see them trot off with a spring in their step after an encounter with yours truly. (At my age, the encounters are ‘Trevor Howerd’ ie brief and words only, no hanky-panky!)
Anyway, I ran my logic past my daughter and she said she knew a good vet and mumbled something about ‘meutering’ or something. Didn’t sound like a happy finish? My son-in-law, the one who thinks this diary would be nothing without his flair, (He still wears flairs, but doesn’t have any! Know what I mean?) he thinks I could start up the ‘Randy Over 80’s Club’, but he has little confidence in my persuasive abilities, as he reckons there’d be a membership of one. I told him he was just jealous he wasn’t senior enough to join this exclusive club. That shut him up, but I kind of lost momentum when I spilt my soup over my lap and had to leave the room! Yep, I’ve reached the ‘bib’ stage, but I’ll only start to worry when I reach the ‘googoo-gaga’ and nappy stage! Yes, and could I mention at this juncture, that despite rumours to the contrary, I do change my undercrackers every day of the week, even if I don’t need to, but by Friday I can’t get them over my trousers! Boom, boom! Any road, I do love my food. When din-dins arrives, I cry, “Let battle commence!” Sadly, it’s the collateral damage you have to watch for! Also, I like After Eight mints, but I can’t wait till then to scoff them. So they’re out! By the way, does a dodgy salmon roll give you salmonella or am I being ‘listerical’? Any rate, my sell-by date is up again! No, not mine. It was a choc/cream meringue thing. What would Sartre say about my existential state? I feel like a chocolate teapot today- a bit leaky and redundant, but Edwina Currie, the former MP with ‘egg on her face’ assures me that we pensioners have never had it so good! Anyone got any rotten eggs handy?
Yes, it’s all clear now. I have to get my chakras and my yin and yang in balance. If I have naughty thoughts, I will balance it with a good deed. For instance, I thought about going to the doc, Ima Gunna-Getya, but I didn’t, ‘cos she’s a babe and I never hear a word she says. It’s the blessing or curse of my good health and Italian ‘jeans’. So, to redress the balance, I confessed in church. The rev. was surprised that I claimed to have killed Frank Foster from Corrie, but I couldn’t remember where I was on the night in question. I also tried to give money to charity. Problem was that by the time the guy had gone on about gift aid, I had seen myself grow more grey hairs and all the phases of the moon had passed. Is anything easy when your 87? Well, I’ve worked the ways of the world out now and intend to start a fund to raise the alleged £250,000 needed to chat with Cameron over a cuppa to get him to sort the country out and stop calling me a ‘granny’ and helping richies. (My nervy lawyer with the stammer and tick, which he claims he only gets when I’m around, says I must liberally use the word ‘allegedly’, when mentioning our beloved ‘betters’, as they now want to read every word we say or write! So, here goes ************, allegedly! Seems ‘spinning’ makes you dizzy? The ‘nanny’ state wants grandparents to teach children about the ‘great outdoors’? You couldn’t write it, but I just did!)
Anyway, dear reader, I’ve to go and buy a ‘butt’, some petrol, a few books of stamps and a ‘hot potato’ pie. Who says satire is dead? I don’t know, I didn’t even know he was sick! Before I go, could I ‘big up’ Northern Ireland, “Our place, our time!”? Be like Amelia Earhart and drop in and see us and all we have to offer-Titanic Quarter, golf heaven (Go Rory, Graeme, Darren!). Also support the National ‘Truss’ in its upkeep of our ‘assets’. Spare a thought for Aung San Suu Kyi and other democratic freedom heroes? Finally, spare a thought for Madonna’s ‘hotpants’ as they seek to keep up her assets! Well, as I always say, if you’ve got it, don’t flaunt it, or everyone will want some!
Yours with a fevered brow, yet with all my bumps in the right place,
The blogging Gogfather!
wow! great post! things I never would have thought of.......
ReplyDeletewill be back to read more!
best,
MOV
Thanks so much, MOV!Does this make me an 'institution' or should I be in one? (:>)Hope it strikes a chord with others and they echo your ringing endorsement! Like Victor Hugo's 'Hunchback of Notre Dame', I hope to hear the 'Bells, Esmerelda, the bells!!
DeleteDid I tell you the ass had fallen out of my assets? That just leaves 'ETs'. So, they do exist? Well, they can always phone home!
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHeard a good one today. Husband says, "My wife left me last night 'cos I'm an insomniac. I don't know how the woman sleeps at night!"
ReplyDeleteI learned a long time ago "not to flaunt it!"
ReplyDeleteWell-written post, my friend! Loved it:)
Ha! Thank you so much! Did I tell you I put the 'fuse' into Fusion cuisine? Yea, too many chillies. Totally explosive leading to general 'con'fusion! Ah well! Have a 'write on' day, dear lady! (:>)
DeleteI believe I might warrant a slot at the Home For the Slightly Bewildered. Perhaps there is room for me over there, because over here there is a waiting list.
ReplyDeleteHa! Thanks, Li! You only have to worry when you are at the ATM in the bank and you ask a cashier for help with your 'balance'. If he/she takes your arm and asks if that helps, then hit the panic button! (:>)
DeleteI think Tina Turner got it wrong in the 'Steamy Windows' song. Windows are better dry. When they're 'steamy', I can't 'peep' out!
ReplyDeletebrilliant blog you have here friend, and a great read, will be back again, bravo..
ReplyDelete