Some people have told me that they can’t make any sense of this blog.
Firstly, I can’t make much sense of it either. Secondly, to have any hope of knowing what’s going on, you need to start with the very first post.
The first post is called ‘Family’ and can be found in the month of February in the BLOG ARCHIVE section to the right. Read that and then read the next one above it. Continue doing this until you’ve either had enough or have reached the latest post.
It was my birthday and I was determined to take no shit from anyone.
I walked into the kitchen, had toast for my breakfast and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“For God’s sake, it’s only nine o’clock!” shouted the good lady.
“Don’t care,” I replied, “I’ll have a drink when I damn well want a drink. Anyway, what the hell is that you’re drinking?”
“It’s a mixture of seaweed and other stuff that will cleanse my system.”
“If you want to cleanse your system why don’t you just shove a wedge of cheese up your arse and swallow a mouse?”
“It’s healthier than the stuff you’re drinking,” she answered.
“Piss off, beer was invented three thousand years ago; mankind’s still here, isn’t it? Anyway, where’s the newspaper?”
“Bunty’s got an upset tummy. My poor little pussy cat had an accident on it.”
(Bunty is nothing less than a feline fuck up of the highest order).
“What are you reading?”
“It’s the agenda for today’s Women’s Institute meeting. We’ve got a guest speaker.”
“What’s he talking about?”
“He’s giving a talk entitled ‘Devil Worship, Is It All Bad?’ There’ll be a practical demonstration of satanic rites and at the end we all get a sulphur-infused candle.”
“I’m going to the pub. You’re ugly and stupid.”
“The pub doesn’t open ‘til eleven o’clock.”
“I’ve just told you, when I want a drink I damn well have a drink.”
I had a shower and, as I left the house, I kicked Bunty.
I walked round to the back of the pub. Colleen was messing about in the outside cellar. I went through the unlocked back door, put the clock on the wall forward by an hour and a half and called for service.
A wigless Colleen came in and said, “I’m not open yet.”
“You bloody well want to be, look at the fucking time.”
“Oh, right, sorry eez. Where’s Gertie? She should have been here by now.”
“Maybe her car’s broken down.”
An hour later, Gertie walked in and copped a bollocking from Colleen for being late.
“Shut up, Colleen. I’m ten minutes early.”
Colleen looked at his watch, then at Gertie’s watch and then at me: “Well done, eez.”
Biffy, the doctor, walked in, “Happy Birthday, eez!”
“Cheers, Biffy. What are you doing here? I thought you were working in the accident and emergency department today?”
“Nah, fuck it. I called in sick; you know what I’m like with blood.”
Bluto walked in with two stunning females, “eez! Happy birthday! Which of these would you like?”
“Shut up Bluto. I’m sixty six and married. My only sexual experience in the last twenty years, has been a blowjob from Gertie the other week when I was comatose in hospital. Thanks for the offer, though.”
I looked at Gertie: “Ive been meaning to apologise for that Gertie. Hope it wasn’t, you know, stale or anything.”
“Don’t worry yourself, eez. Nothing wrong with a drop of vintage every now and then.”
Next to turn up was Blinky: “eez! Happy Birthday mate!”
“Thanks, Blinky! May all your masturbations be merry ones!”
Blinky looked at Bluto’s lady friends and immediately started to blink and twitch.
Gertie gave him some tissues from her handbag and said, “there you go, Blinky. They’re more absorbent than the toilet paper Colleen’s put in the loo; the stuff in there’s like grease-proof paper.”
Blinky ran to the loo, with his head twitching violently.
Last to arrive was Narky.
“Happy birthday, eez! And I’ve got a job! I start next week as a trainee air traffic controller.”
“Narky,” I said, “you are a narcoleptic. I don’t think air traffic control is going to be your thing.”
“eez, I haven’t had a seizure for over…”
Bluto picked him up with one hand and threw him into a corner seat eight yards away.
Bluto’s companions looked at him admiringly and asked him to come back to their place for a bit of fun. Bluto told them to fuck off.
That night, we were the last to leave the pub.
When I went to bed, I found cat shit on my pillow.
P.s. The following is one of the funniest things you're ever likely to view: http://www.b3ta.com/links/Favourable_Lie