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)