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.)