Monday, 29 October 2012

Visiting Older Relatives

You never normally visit, why does it have to be an annual event? Don’t they have their own friends? Their own life? You don’t give a crap about them, whose to say they give a crap about you? It’s not like they actually know your name!
She keeps callin' me 'Ethel'

We have all had to do it, to visit some older relative, that offers you strange and inedible food like aniseed or liquorice or home made toffee that tastes like aniseed and liquorice.

The person you have absolutely nothing to say to and who answers the door by saying ‘are you here about the boiler?’

Firstly lets get this straight – you have to visit them, otherwise you just wouldn’t and this wouldn’t even be up for discussion.

So you have a few options.

1: Go.
Stay there a couple of minutes, without sitting down. Take your coat off then put it straight back on again and say ‘thank you so much for the tea, I really didn’t intend to stay this long’ etc etc etc.
The old dear will never know.

2: Don’t go.
Can’t get away with the brazenness of the above suggestion; then this one is even better. Remember when that evil serial killer made everyone think Audrey was going senile? Well neither do I, I don’t watch corrie, but the idea here is the same.
If the elderly relative is NOT insane (highly unlikely, but let’s just assume shall we) Then tell everyone who will listen that they ARE:
Tell everyone that is nagging you to go, that you are going; then go to the pub, come home and say:
‘Oh Auntie Maureen was a bit odd today, she kept calling me Simon and asked me if I could peel a haddock.’ (The above will only have a significant impact if you are not called Simon, nor do you have any kind of catering qualification, otherwise it’s just silly isn’t it?)

3: Go with someone else:
This is the true coward’s option.
-Hold your breath.
-Wear layers to cope with unpredictable temperature conditions
-What ever food you are offered, state that you are allergic, or pick it up and put it in a plant pot.

4: Pay someone else to go in your place:
These elderly people can’t recognise which of their children/grandchildren/nieces/nephews/old dead friend’s children you are. So just pay a needy tramp a fiver, they will get a cup of tea and something that tastes of aniseed, and you’ve done your bit to make the world a better place.

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Where’s them zombies of yours then?

I hear you ask fervently.

I try to reply coyly ‘What Zombies?’ But I know you’re having none of it. I know that once Zombies are promised then Zombies will be hunted whether there are Zombies or not.

There is a still an unbridled obsession with zombies in these here parts, but I do not complain. Often.

as you do
You see I intend to capitalise on your strange and unhealthy obsession, and you clearly remember that some time ago, maybe days, maybe weeks (time all melds together in this vacuum in which I abide) I mentioned my intention to create a Zombie based story in chapter form.

I gave you a little quotey quote from chapter 1, remember? Remember?

And here is a little quotey quote from chapter 2:

““I’m sure all of you have heard” Deborah began, checking the notes she had scrawled on a piece of paper moments before “about the current situation.”
Derek wasn’t sure if ‘current situation’ was a euphemism for the zombie apocalypse happening out in the street below or whether there was another unspeakable issue with the women’s toilets.”

Now, don’t ask for no more.

Monday, 22 October 2012

Sending (Insert relevant celebration) Cards

Utterly pointless pieces of crap.

Every one wants to save the planet and yet here we are, every year strangled by a ridiculous Victorian practice thought up by a population who were over excited about the invention of the one penny stamp.

Well I think the novelty has rather worn off to be honest. All we do is cut down a load of perfectly good trees, spray glitter and sickening sentiment over their pulped corpses and send them off to people we don’t speak to and don’t particularly like. We might as well get a few fivers, blend it into a paste and create a fetching papier mache hat for the cat. It would be far more amusing.

So how do we deal with this hideous situation we have found ourselves in?

Well we take advantage of the general uselessness of other people in order to hide our own failings:

Special Christmas Card Tip (this will also work for birthdays, or any other event in which you are forced to send a card):
For those irritating stuck up petulant spoilt children of relatives and no longer liked friends who are expecting a wad of cash in card form, simply grab a cheap old card for 10p from some dodgy little card shop.
Write the card as per usual, including sickening sentiment, seal the card, place a stamp on the card, rip the card open and place it in the post. When they get their card they will automatically assume the wad of cash was stolen.
For about 70p you have done your duty and provided a valuable life lesson to the child!

This can of course be repeated ad infinitum – send only empty, tampered with envelopes to friends and relatives! Never buy cards again!

You could even scratch at the corner of the envelope to make it appear as if the stamp had been ripped off!

You’ll save a tonne of money.

Work based tip:
At work (or school, for the little ones) it is an entirely different matter (unless you can blame the internal mail system).
So don’t bother with cards – if you are forced into a corner, just google image ‘Christmas’ (or other relevant thingy, you get the idea) cut and paste some innocuous old picture and send it in a mass email.

However YOU MUST add some sort of ‘save the planet’ logo somewhere, so that the irritating idiot you work with won’t have a leg to stand on when they try to claim your not ‘getting in to the spirit’.

Friday, 19 October 2012

I have warned you!

This is getting seriously serious.

I have seen several seasonal ads, heard the seasonal music. For anyone who says ‘it starts earlier every year’ you are clearly a moron, it always starts at this time; as soon as they clear the racks of school uniforms they bring out the Christmas crap.

Oh yes, they have a little nod to Halloween; they have a little stand somewhere with last years chocolate that didn’t sell and a few ‘hilarious’ pumpkin outfits. But as much as we try to pretend that we are American, we are not. No one gives a crap about Halloween, so the shops are forced to go straight into Christmas.

So what do we do about it? How do we ignore it? Can’t we just pretend it isn’t happening?


We tried that last year, and look what happened!

We must prepare ourselves; would Elizabeth I have beaten off the Armada if she had stuck her fingers in her ears and shouted ‘I’m not listening!’? NO!

Would Churchill have knocked the Nazi’s out of the air if he hadn’t said something or other about going to the beach? NO!

And so we must be ready for the encroaching doom.

“But, how?” I hear you whimper, pathetically.

Worry not my little shrimps! Luckily for you I am preparing a few tips and things for dealing with Christmas (and other compulsory ‘celebrations’) starting this Monday with ‘Cards’.

So tune in next week my little cretinous vermin!

Thursday, 18 October 2012

I’m not usually afraid of spiders.

Alright I will admit that is a lie. I am pushed out of my ‘comfort zone’ when in the presence of a spider.

[this is the only image I could cope with]
I hate the damned things.

With their cocksure arrogant lackadaisical attitude. They scamper all over the place as if they are fricken god’s gift. Spittin’ all that stuff out of themselves, setting up camp where ever they please.

Then they look like they are all settled, and they aren’t gonna move. But then the little buggers are gone, they could be anywhere. 


And there are some giant buggers out there, as big as a hand! How did they get that size? Where were they? How long were they there for?

But they aren’t the worst, they aren’t the worst by far, the worst ones are the little ones that seem all calm and sensible and then jump at your face, or run across your back or climb in your ears or live in your nose.

There is one on the stairs. The little git is looking at me with the eyes of hatred. He’s sitting on the handrail as if this is his gaff and he ain’t moving. This is, of course, a difficult situation, because, if he were prepared to wait on a flat surface, like a sensible spider, then we could come to some sort of mutual arrangement involving a small glass, a piece of paper and a window.

As it is, we are at stalemate.

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

They have found a new way to torment me.

There is no satisfaction to be had anymore, even the little bit of satisfaction juice I used to squeeze out dribble by oozing dribble, has been whisked away from me.

No one
No longer can I be rude to startled Filipinos.

No longer can I slam down the phone three words into a recorded message.


Oh no.

They have taken it all away and replaced it with… silence.

As if to torment me! As if to mock me and my silent room in my silent house! 

An attention seeker confined to a self imposed solitary box and tormented, not with noise, not with people or with foolishness that I can mock and throw sticks at.

I am tormented by no one!

“By no one!?” I hear you ask, as if suggesting that by being tormented by no one, implies I am not tormented at all. (Although I think there may be a Cyclops who would understand! Har Har Har de Har Har)

No! My friends, my precious little friends looking at my faceless blog and sucking up my words like little truffle pig vacuum cleaners, NO!

I am tormented by the very presence of no one: of silence. The phone rings, but no one is there!

Damn them! Curse them! A pox on them!

To rid me of this plague I have buried a box of earth beneath a sycamore tree, inside the box of earth is a hex written in the blood of an ox on a piece of parchment, this hex was chanted as I buried this box by the light of the moon and shall be repeated henceforth one lunar month from now.

I also complained to Ofcom.

Wednesday, 3 October 2012


this is a monkey
In’t it all cold and rainy! Ohh I love that.

I love it when all the sloshy rain sploshes all over everfink and I ain’t gotta go out and I’m all like snug inside and tap tapping. It’s great innit!

But then I have to go outside, walk into the bright, ice white, light, of the October sky. I must trudge the same narrow streets of town and find myself at a café having an intervooo!

For once I am the one being intervoood, which is nice; It means I get to talk all about me (my favourite topic) and rather than just glazing over or walking away, the other person takes notes! I think I shall do this more often I shall be intervoood all the time!

That is all I wanted to say.