Mr.William's Head is away with the Birds!

Well, dear reader, I'm back to annoy your little beleaguered head again. As you can see, I'm not that easy to get rid of. Even the little hiccup of my premature departure at only 93 won't stop me from speaking what remains of my mind from time to time.

Yes, I may be as deceased as the Monty Python parrot, but like it, I'm only resting... on my laurels (they don't half sting!) and on my fluffy cloud, plucking my harp tunelessly and, like in my earthly existence, trying not to annoy the neighbours and, more importantly, the boss. 

So far, he hasn't given me a job,so I'm often at a loose end and tend to spy on you lot for entertainment. Nothing sleazy, missus. I just try to follow the antics of my fellow man/woman/bipedal ape with opposable thumbs/so-called Homo 'Sapiens' and try to make sense of it all at a cosmic level. That's not easy sometimes and sadly all my requests to the boss for explanations have been 'overlooked'. At least, that's what his secretary, Susie Scribbler, says. She specifically forbade me asking any more about Area 51, JFK's 'grassy knoll' and whether the Bermuda triangle is a thing.

You'd think that wouldn't happen round here, wouldn't ya, considering the brochure talked about blissful perfection and all? I'm beginning to think that the chief doesn't take me seriously and is waiting for me to wise up. Well, if so, He might have a long wait. We're talking eternal here. It would blow my mind, if I had one that worked.

So, any road, why have I pestered the dopey son-in-law to pass on my messages again? Firstly, obvs, as I hear young 'uns say, I need him to do the physical stuff like writing and bloggying, 'cos I'm all ethereal and insubstantial these days (nothing new there?!). As usual, he didn't need much persuasion, when I reminded the little git that I could see his internet history and read his thoughts at will. He mumbled something about 'resistance being futile'. What does he think I am? A Doctor Who Dalek? 'Exterminate' etc.

Secondly, I peeped down recently and saw that animals and nature were making a comeback in urban areas and birdsong was soothing people's fevered brows like never before. Also Easyjet and Ryanair weren't making as much of their usual racket in the sky, so I thought I had better investigate, especially as those airlines would still try to fly in a nuclear winter after a global cataclysmic meltdown with just a wing and a prayer and an unwavering desire to charge you for anything not bolted down, like fresh air. Just ask Micheal O'Leary? At the mo, his latest policy is "Jab and go" this coming Easter.

Very catchy, just like Coronavirus!

Moreover, I should have guessed things had gone pear-shaped, when Saint Peter reported unusually massive queues at the Pearly Gates.

His quote in the Divine Gazette was, "It's all kicking off. There's a pandemic down on Earth and a multitude of folks have succumbed and ended up here prematurely."

Well, I've just found that out today, as I only read the Beano and occasionally the sports' page for the rugby. Up here, they encourage us to avoid listening to news from the 'blue planet', in case it upsets our blissfully aligned chakras, but my curiosity gets the better of me sometimes and I cock an ear for ol' times' sake. 

Anyway, I should have guessed when they postponed the Olympics. As always, I'm the last to know. I didn't even realise that 'the Donald' got the boot. Now, they tell me there was a party here after the election. Yes, there was literally 'rejoicing in Heaven that day'. Who says we don't take sides in the heavenly realm? Well, look at it my way, I gaze down today and see Trump supporters violently attacking the Capitol/ House of Representatives in a failed attempt to stop the 'peaceful transition of power'! I nearly had a Sean Connery, God rest his soul.

So, having directed my beady eye towards the ol' mortal coil, I checked out the Covid situation for myself. My conclusion? Many governments have been appalling, as bad as chocolate fireguards in an erupting volcano. Not much need to point the finger: you all know who has shown leadership and humanity and who hasn't. 

There will be a reckoning, but like with all tragedies, it doesn't bring back the dead. Titanic levels of human beings die daily and some idiots in government and in society play it down, dream up ludicrous conspiracy theories or just plain ignore it and selfishly do what they like. My heart goes out to heroic frontline workers and volunteers in every sphere, who traditionally have been underrated, under appreciated and in most cases under rewarded. Clap for the 'heroes'? Yes, it helps, but for goodness sake, reward them properly in their pay slips. In the meantime, a citizen's duty, surely, is to follow the rules and help save lives and your health service.

Right, on my main focus today, I found out that the increased birdsong was down to Covid restrictions on human activity. So, animals and Mother Nature took the opportunity to thrive and many people took pleasure in those precious signs of hope for the planet. It also seems that many governments are, at least in their rhetoric, taking the Climate Crisis seriously. 

Maybe young Greta Thunberg can get some chance of getting on with her private life and education? She is now 18, but something tells me she will be needed in the public sphere for some time to come. People who speak truth to power with that kind of clarity, courage and intelligence are rare.

I want to mention plastic in particular. So useful that it's everywhere in human society, in your homes, your shopping etc etc. You can hardly move for it. Trouble is, many of your fellow humans have allowed it to flood the oceans and fill the stomachs of animals. Disgusting, isn't it? My concern is whether humans care enough to do something about it. Each person needs to choose. Are they going to engage where they can or be 'plastic' people who live passive, self-centred lives and are unwilling to change.

Greta, Sir David Attenborough, Margaret Atwood and many others have issued clarion calls. No-one can say they don't know what's happening. I now know that the Inuit people in Canada have seen the enormous amount of sea ice that has disappeared. Water and temperature levels will rise and millions will suffer. This is a global issue and once Covid 19 is finally under control, the Climate Catastrophe will still need to be urgently addressed. Everyone needs to wake up and use '2020' vision.

 

Not only will you all need to move to electric cars and non fossil fuel home heating etc, but you must eat much less meat and move to the many viable alternatives that don't damage the planet. In any case, unless one is willing to kill an animal or watch it being slaughtered, should people deaden their consciences and eat it from a plastic packet and pretend they don't know it was a living creature? It's not just kids, many of whom don't know where their food comes from, but even livestock farmers manage to doublethink that they love the animals they 'care for' and they also love the sausages and bacon or whatever!

Imagine if you will a situation where aliens conquer our planet and decide humans are tasty and good for food. You could end up being factory farmed! You think that is unthinkable. Well, I think it's all a matter of perspective. Humans have convinced themselves that they can use every other animal on Earth as they wish and they don't see it as evil. Why would anyone expect more advanced civilisations not to act the same way? Don't even get me started on how we have treated our fellow humans throughout history for the most spurious and twisted of reasons.

Please don't think, dear reader, that I was perfect on Earth, 'cos I definitely wasn't. For example, when I heard the urban myth that men think about nookie every 10 seconds or something, I thought, really, as little as that! That theory has been debunked, but I still avert my gaze when the angels do the regular talk on the need for purity in all things. Hey ho, I was a dinosaur in so many ways in my life, but we can't do that anymore since we know what happened to the dinosaurs. Extinction events have been the norm in Earth history. Everyone has to work to avoid bringing one upon humanity unnecessarily?!

Well, I've had my rant and you might say that Mr Peeps is light on jokes this time. I'll tell you what I'll do. I will guarantee a bellyful of laughs when I'm sure that humanity and the Earth are in better shape. We hear loadsa jokes up here, most of them about human beings. I'll tell you a little one as a teaser, in case you think I'm just moaning. You, dear reader, are one of my reasons to be hopeful. We need thoughtful, intelligent, creative people to try to influence and melt the rigid, plastic hearts of those who don't care.

So, I say, I say, did you hear that the Statue of Liberty promises to do a jig when Donald Trump finally buzzes off from the White House and the Statue of Justice will brandish her sword, rattle her scales and give a cheer. Bit of satire there? If ya want wall to wall whimsy, I'll need something more to laugh about?

Well, I must go as the Boss has summoned me to his His throne room for a 'little chat', as the angel messenger said.

Oops! It's either a job offer ya can't refuse or a roaring rebuke for revealing stuff to you about the 'other side'. In His wisdom, He has expressly banned that. So, don't any of you pray and give it away?! Although, the game may be up, as He is yer actual All-seeing and All-knowing One etc. Let's hope He is in a good mood. Wish me luck? Hopefully I'll write to you soon,

Your 'Divine' correspondent, the blogging GOGfather ( GOG stands for 'grumpy ol' git', but I have a warm heart)

 

MR William has his own Extinction Rebellion

Dear Reader, 

Are you as confused as I am, if that's possible? Have you caught 'flygskam' from Greta Thunberg yet? Seems it's guilt about the number of flights a bod takes. I had to give flying up as a bad job when my blood pressure flew off the Richter scale. It wasn't, as some naughty peeps thought, a 'mile high club' incident gone horribly wrong. Those newspaper reports were about some other ol' codger, not I, your honour!

So, why am I confused? Well, you see, the reason is I am now in heaven in blissful joy, playing a wee harp tunelessly while floating on a fluffy cumulonimbus pillow. Yes, the reason why the dopey son in law has failed to publish this stuff and be damned for some years now is, surprise surprise, he has ziltsch ideas without my input. He really is a buck eejit thinking he is a writer when he has zero imagination and even less talent.

So you ask what happened? Well, I got dementia, lost the plot and then fell off my perch one day without warning. Hey ho, we all have to go, but it's fine here, if a little same-y. I'll never get a decent tune outta this stringed torture instrument. 

So, what changed, Mr Peeps, that brought you out of heavenly retirement, you ask? Well, I peeped over the cloud one day and looked down at the Earth and what assaulted my immortal gaze but images of Donald Trump, Brexit, climate emergency, extreme inequalities, injustice and cruelty.

So, what would you have done? Well, my response was to check with the boss for the green light, then I haunted the dopey son in law until he agreed to start writing my diary again. He didn't need much persuasion, after the initial surprise, when I reminded the dodgy little blighter that I could see every little thing that he got up to and that blackmail was not a dirty word in my vocabulary where he was concerned.

So, here we are, reader. My messages might be a little ethereal, but will have cosmic wisdom and will only be mediated by the feeble failings of my dim amanuensis, ie the son in law. He just needs to remember that my all seeing eye knows where his 'bodies are buried'?!

Anyway, today I want to talk to you, kind person, about my concern for the planet and the future of my grandchildren, not to mention humanity and life as we know it. It all seems crystal clear to me 'from a distance'.  My grasp of things, however, used to be dodgy. You see how you are if you make it to 93? My body was indeed a temple, but like many ancient Greek ones, it was a bit of a ruin. In the end I might have needed one of those amazing exo-skeleton things to get around? 

So, anyway, one time when I heard the church was looking for an 'organ donation', I thought they wanted a kidney. That struck a bum note with me, I can tell you. I stayed away thinking they might draw lots and I would pull out the short straw.
Then I rang my dopey son in law to check and typically the wee git said I had a wrong number and this was NASA in Houston and did I have a problem. Space Cadet! He has a supermassive black hole where his brain should be.

No help there! Next, I got a bally call out of the blue, asking me if wanted to give to 'Blind dogs for the Deaf'? Seemed fair enough to me, but then I believed Gerry Adams was never in the IRA. Seems he was innocently walking along the street, minding his own, when some bloke with a strong southern accent whispered out of the side of his mouth, "How wud ya loik ta run the IRA?"
At the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me.

Anyway, you can see my difficulty. Although my head was full of sweetie mice and my affairs were in alpha-pathetical order, I could still read the writing on the wall and knew right from wrong. Now, my moral compass is perfectly true.

For instance, our litter is litter-ally filling the land and sea. Fish are choking on our plastic and our overuse of fossil fuels is boiling our atmosphere at an increasing level, with drastic consequences. If we don't start to really sort it, do we think we're all going to fly off in a few decades to a new goldilocks planet in some other galaxy? How short sighted and full of overweening hubris are we humans? Didn't we learn from the story of Icarus?

The thing is you can use your re-usable coffee cup  and recycle to a level that would cheer Sir David Attenborough himself, but I think Greta and the children are right that it will take all governments to legislate and facilitate the necessary changes without further delay or selfish national interest.

Of course, everyone of us needs to do our bit individually, even dinosaurs like I was. Don't forget that the dinosaurs went extinct after a cataclysmic event! Do we want to be next? So, I'm with Extinction Rebellion on this. No-one wants to be disrupted by a pesky protester, but only peaceful, if a little pesky, protests will change hearts and minds, particularly those of decision makers worldwide.

You see, dear reader, I spent most of my adult life trying to rebel against my own little extinction. That is the primary imperative of every living being, but we humans are going to have to think bigger. We developed the large brains, so let's use them for good ends. My dog could sense danger and act on it and it licked it's own butt. Maybe that's where we need to get our heads out of?

So, the point is, readers and fellow humans, we all have to wake up, smell the coffee (from a re-usable cup, of course!) and work together without our biggest human negative trait, pure selfish interest.
Otherwise, some day soon you might have to explain to a child why the planet will be uninhabitable before they can vote or have a family of their own?

Any road, serious stuff over for today. Here are some things that tickled my doodah. If there are sunny spells, does that mean Harry Potter is feeling bright? Is a 'critical mass' one where the priest has his bishop observing? That really is religious 'observance'? Could 'critical mass' also be triggered by that extra doughnut that might make me explode? Is a 'francophile' a bod who likes all things French or some plonker who admired the Spanish dictator? 

Finally, is a 'sinophile' Chinese crackers or crackers about China? That really takes the biscuit.
Before I go, did you hear the doc on the radio, a Prof. Ivor Nancer, who was praising the British Association of Plastic Surgeons for a responsible attitude. Yes, it seems BAPS is against unneeded 'Boob jobs'. Is it just me, reader? Do organisations never check the initials?

Off now to recycle my harp. Like my body, it served me well, but  the universe had to re-purpose it.
In the meantime, loads of love and joy from

The Heavenly Blogging Gogfather (Still a 'gog' at heart, that's a grumpy ol' git!)

Mr.William always uses his Loaf?

Dear and discerning Reader,

I hope you are not 'fracked' by austerity, in these times when we are all 'in it together' with PM Dave 'Camera-on' and his buds. Certainly, Ed 'Stop calling me Wallace & Gromit' Miliband had plenty to be 'fracked' off about, when the Mail disgustingly dissed his dear, dead dad. The phrase, "I wouldn't go there if I were you." was surely invented for moments like these. No wonder the 'Hacked Off' guys get so cheesed, Gromit?

Anyway, two questions, Reader. I get confused. Is 'fracking' a new swear word? For example, a ‘fracking’ fracas? It's just that I hear it used everywhere and peeps seem to get very heated when they say it. Maybe talking about it will keep us warm in an eco friendly way, without smashing the place up for shale gas? Secondly, how can we all be 'in it together', if Mr Cameron bakes his own bread, while most of us 'knead dough'? Case 'proven'?

Well, back at my ranch, I always use my 'loaf', metaphorically and literally. Ya gotta work smart and not waste your food or time. Vital resources are too precious to blow. Mind you, I had a slice of misfortune recently.  I was bemoaning the way food has become more artificial and synthetic, when I accidentally popped a ready meal into the oven in its plastic tray. Result? Molten magma mush! 

At least, my wines are all 'corkers'. Yes, no screw tops in my 'cellar'. I jest for the sake of a jolly jape. You should always remember that my poetic licence is fully up to date and I won't let the facts get in the way of a good story. Firstly, my 'cellar' is my kitchen shelf and, secondly, I can't wait for a cork job. It's a quick screw for me. Ooh, er? Also, I tend to squeeze the quality/price ratio: yep, whatever's cheap and isn't actually vinegar.

Any rate, Reader, I do try to 'make do and mend', sometimes too literally for my own good. I recently decided to darn my socks and needed pins and needles. I went to the 'pin' lady at the wool shop. She works for 'pin' money? Boom, boom! Well, I took them home and immediately lost sight of the sharp objects until I sat on them during a scary movie. It certainly made me jump. I nearly had another 'wikileak'.

When I did get round to the darn darning, I got pins and needles in my legs. Yes, both ways. I pricked myself silly and my legs zoned out of circulation as I hunched for hours like Rumpelstiltskin on speed. Ironically, he made straw into golden 'dough'.

 'Yes, pins are small and can be dangerous. They tell me they can bring down a lion. I 'roared' when I heard that. 

Hey, ho! That was that for the ol' DIY. Next time, for two pins, I would enlist a professional. So, when my trousers needed shortened to let me see my shoes, I engaged the 'pin' lady. Regrettably, being so ticklish when she measured my inside leg, (It's in your own minds!), she overdid it and I got a pair of rather fetching shorts back. I saw the funny side, as long as the general populous don't see my backside, if I ever sport them in public. Yes, I can laugh at myself, even though I'm a world famous GOG, grumpy ol' geezer, but I bashed my funny bone today and, trust me, I didn't laugh!

So, how am I generally? Thanks for asking. As I sit here in my 'sweltered' accommodation, (The 'warder' has stoked the furnace up to volcanic setting again.), I have been using my 'loaf' and realise some things about myself. Yep, sometimes my head hurts, especially when it is exasperated by my nostalgia/neuralgia. Both can be a real pain in the neck and elsewhere. I think nostalgia's not what it used to be. What? You wait till you're nearly 90 and you'll see that the only thing you're nostalgic for is the ability to remember what day it is and why you are standing in the corridor in your undercrackers with no recollection of preceding events.

Mind you, I now see that I am also like my old clock. Many miles on the dial, but still very regular and a good timekeeper. Also my ticker is sound, but my movement is dodgy, rusty and my clacker is clapped out. My doodah doesn't always swing, but then it gyrates wildly and peters out after 10 minutes. Yes, it's sort of my Dorian Gray 'picture in the attic'. If it ever ticks its last and goes to the knackers' yard, my matinee idol status will be revoked.

In the meantime, I will be like my parrot and be a 'trill' seeker. I talk to it all the time, sharing my plans and thoughts. For some reason, it wildly squawks, "Don't do it, Mr. Peeps!" Everyone's a critic? I just tell it to shut its beak and throw a duvet over the cage. I knew I should have got a tortoise. They don't talk back and I can outrun them. At least, with my hearing, I can't always hear the parrot. My son-in-law has taught it naughty words, so maybe it's a good thing I can tune them both out from time to time. Mind you, recently I was listening to the Prom concerts. The pianoforte can sound beautiful, but it's a pity if you only hear the forte and no piano.

My daughter took me to my doc, Ivor Nancer, about my hearing. I told him it was hampering my ability to 'tickle the ivories'. He gave me a quizzical, old-fashioned look, which made me think we were definitely not on the same aural wavelength. Which reminds me, my vicar is confusing me again. When he does his sermon, he has us all join in the page-turning Olympics to follow his references. It can be farcical with my hearing, as I regularly call out in a stage whisper, "Where the bally heck are we and could he hold his blinking horses?" Well, his talk was from the 'Sermon on the Mount', but he gave me such a withering look that I didn't like his 'beatitude'!

Anyway, I must go as I hear they have started a 'postcode' lottery. It might be cheaper than the National one, but I hear that you literally have to take your chances. Irony is not dead, just a little rusty? Also, I have to visit a young friend who's had twins. I remember one of their names is Sher, so I call them Sher and Sher-alike. Ha!

Au revoir, Reader, and live life to the full, 'cos unless you're being reincarnated as a mollusc or Simon Cowell or whatever, you only get one go. Make the most of it!

Yours short on dough, yet proving I can use my loaf,

The Blogging GOGFather

PS. When I write, I'm a 'dictator'. No, it's not my arthritis necessitating an amanuensis. It's just that I never lose control of the 'plot'.

Mr William is 'Cooking on Gas' & is 'on fire'!

Mr William is 'Cooking on Gas' & is 'on fire'!

 Dear & hopefully summery, yet chilled Reader,

Are you having a good summer? Has June been bursting out all over or was she a busted flush? Does June feel embarrassed once a year by all this intrusive attention? In 'summery', are you having an odd moment in the sun or are you like the gardener who hedges his bets and takes a chance on the weather? Yes, sometimes it's all trowel and error. 

I love blooming April, May, June & Julie, sorry July. Mother Nature seems to ask her horticultural Muses to brighten up the world with colour. It's so beautiful & tranquil in my garden. Did I tell you about my invention for the colder months? Well, it's light boxes for the terrace. Yep, you turn a handle on the contraption and beautiful flower images are displayed in rotation all year round.  The idea is not quite ready for Dragons' Den, as all I've got so far is a broken handle. Hey ho! So much to do, so much time on my hands!

Anyway,  it was so hot last week that I carried out my heavy gas BBQ. I think I sizzled my ribs and I was clean outta gas. I was pooped & the grub was poop! When it comes to cooking, I'm more Gordon Bennett or James Corden & less Cordon Bleu or Gordon Ramsey. For me the 'steaks' are high 'cos I often miss the extermination dates. I'm kinda playing Russian roulette. Sometimes I microwave things for the conventional oven time. Oops! Wadda mistake-a ta make-a! Your curtains smelling like smoked kippers doesn't exactly give the impression of the domestic goddess, unless she appreciates the burnt offerings?

By the way, how do you get clingfilm outta your choppers. The daughter gave me a pie to reheat/nuke in the oven. How was I to remember to take the bally film off? Says she told me twice and gave me a note in copper-plate handwriting, but I know nothing of which she speaks. Anyway, I got confused and the beef bollocknese (or Dobbin perhaps?) got infused with plastic. I just thought it was one of her experimental sauces, with the emphasis on the mental. I liked it, but she is showing great reluctance to send any more 'Red Cross' parcels and mumbles stuff like, "What a merchant banker! A real asset!" What's she on about? She says I need an ear trumpet. Do I blow it or what? As if I would blow my own trumpet? Reminds me. I saw an ad for 'hidden hearing'. Where do they hide it? Where?! Surely not? Anyway, the son-in-law says I already talk outta there.

Yes, I'm a singleton/widower who's playing with fire and getting his fingers burnt & not just in the kitchen. Did I tell you I'm really hot? Yes, really. No, not that way, unless an octogenarian matinee idol is your type and then I'm yer man. No, whether it's the weather, my medication(They still put Bromide in my tea, you know), or my metabolics, the fact is I am always overheated. What with my red face and strawberry nose, my son-in-law might have a point when he says I need hosing down on a daily basis. Any rate, they say a heat-wave is coming, so I'll climb into an ice-cube bath for the duration, like I did in India up the Kybber Pass during the war. I might get a numb bum, but at least I'll be a 'cool' dude again.

I mentioned above the constant battle to avoid food waste, especially now that food banks are being set up. I give in what I can, in fact it usually is cans, as they keep well. Let's hope a tin of beans here and there will add up to a hill of beans? In the 'Big Society', we are 'all in it together'. That was my political, satirical, ironic section, reader. If you ask me, our glorious leaders will need to work really hard to convince us that the rich peeps and companies are paying their dues. Otherwise, we are not in it together and food banks will join 'bad' banks as a growth area. My little idea for punishing greedy bank executives is that they 'spend' their bank holidays taking over from bin men & other manual workers. Then they can get their dirty hands a little dirtier, if only for a day or two!

Anyhoo, I try to get out and about. Yes, I'm the best driver in the country. Sadly not in town, though, as I get a bit erotic when there are other cars about. The family want to take for a hol abroad, half board at Faulty Towers or something. Firstly, I might be fully 'bored' if they go, 'cos they cramp my playboy style. Secondly I don't want to get that deep vein tombola again on 'Squeezy-Air'. Also I get air sickness. Did I ever tell you my mother used to get morning sickness with me? Yes, it was for 10 years after the birth. Ha! On the bright side, I could do with a break from the same ol',same ol' and I would spend my time in the pool until I got wrinkles on my wrinkles. What's more, I might have a holiday romance as long as the lady's guide dog doesn't get in the way?

Well, I must go and pack for this hol. Anyway, things are getting a bit hot round here. A lady friend of mine, the Honourable Angela Party-Blower, a local socialite, reckons we should paint the town red. I'd need a big brush? Ha! Fun as she is, I don't want to end up with an OAP ASBO. She's a bit too steamy, not to mention bonkers, even for me.

Talking of things bonkers, have you ever seen those 'before and after' TV slimmer shows, where larger ladies want to sport their size zero bikinis again? Yep, they take a deeply unflattering photo of them in their garden,love handles and cellulite highlighted and no make-up. Then they whisk them off to sunny climes, starve and route march them a bit. After this they bring them back a few pounds lighter, but very unsubtly give them a car wash tan, a millionaire 'Pretty Woman' make-over and present them in glamorous garb with a trumpet voluntary! I'm happy for them, but if someone spent all that on me, I'd be so keen to look good, I would come back looking like a bean pole. Hey ho! Reminds me. Good luck to Andy Murray at Wimbledon! He's defo 'on fire'.

Final thoughts, when the first drawing board was being invented and failed, what did they go back to? My friend, Harper's bizarre. When my cousin left this moral curl, Harper asked if he had died of anything serious. You couldn't make it up, but I just did. Also, when selling a house, you want someone with 'piles', of dosh, in their pouch. Ouch! Finally, when I tell peeps I'm from Norn Irn -Northern Ireland, they ask which part? All of me, of course! Ha! 

Remember readers, enjoy your life to the full! I certainly do. They can't touch ya for it, can they? It's not as if 'they' watch everything you do, is it? Sorry, what's that you say? In that case, bear in mind that my poetic license is valid and fully up to date!

Yours always fiery and spicy, yet full of hot air,

The Blogging GogFather (Your sunny Irish GoG, grumpy ol' geezer)

PS As my ol' friend told me recently, "Ever since my wife sold the conjuring set, the magic has gone out of our marriage."