(This comes with the warning that I have just eaten some incredibly strong cheese and therefore my mind might not be operating on a wholly rational level)
Hello there! I hope you all had a lovely Christmas (well, most of you - some of you are twats). I spent Christmas Day with family, managed not to kill anyone, and then spent a lovely couple of days ALL BY MYSELF watching three months' worth of Casualty and Holby City. Thank FUCK that greasy Mr De Luca took a bullet to the spleen! Urgh! We spent a quiet New Year's Eve night in, just the two of us and a bottle of bubbly, and received a lovely Snapchat video of the kid in a toilet holding back her mate's hair so she could send the contents of her stomach to the sea to make room for more vodka *proudmumface*
Anyway, 2017. Who'd have thought that the glowing citrus candy-floss haired dog turd would not have been assassinated by now? What is the world coming to? So there's nutters that take out good people like John Lennon, Jill Dando and John F Kennedy (can you only be offed by a madman if your name begins with J?) but not one to be a hero and save the earth now? The mind boggles. Anyway, I did a lot of my favourite hobby this year of seeing great bands and comedians - Foo Fighters x 2 (did I mention I saw them at a very intimate gig at the Cheese and Grain in Frome?), Robbie Williams, Guns N Roses, Iron Maiden, Royal Blood, Jimmy Carr, Greg Davies. We didn't do a lot of our other favourite hobby of watching fast motorbikes whizzing past us while stood in the pissing rain, due to the old man's incapacitated leg, however hopefully this is on the mend and we can resume our normal bike timetable this year.
Sadly, we lost our lovely Grandad this year - a man who has left the fantastic legacy of two particular phrases that are said almost daily in our house. The first is 'you know, him with the wanky eye' and the second 'milking a frog, Rache?'. I'd love to explain these to you, but I'm not going to, as I think they are more fun when you don't know the context. But please feel free to take them and use them as you see fit, and when you do, think of Prickly George.
Well there hasn't been much swearing or potentially offensive content yet, but I'm sure I can rectify that now. WHAT IN THE NAME OF FUCK HAS QUICHE GOT TO DO WITH REMEMBRANCE DAY? Yes, I know I'm a little late to the subject, but I've been busy. But in keeping with most of my other rantings, I'm going to whinge about Tesco. A couple of days before November 11th, we went shopping, and to my utter bewilderment, a couple of members of staff were stood by the deli counter, standing back admiring their handiwork - they had painted some poppies on the display along with the words 'Lest We Forget'. Lest we forget what? The fucking Branston pickle? WHAT? WHAT? WHY? Why did they think this was appropriate? You can see it now - those poor, frightened young men, being blown to absolute fuck in the trenches, and for what? SO THAT OUR MELTON MOWBRAYS WOULD BE FREE TO LIVE IN PEACE. I'm sure when they were being stretchered over No Mans Land with bullets raining down upon them and their fucking limbs hanging off they felt so much better knowing that because of their efforts the world would now be free to have a nice dollop of Hellman's on top of their quiche Lorraine. I'm sure their grieving families, when receiving the dreaded telegram from the King telling them that their loved one wasn't coming home, said to the postie 'well at least it wasn't in vain, pop in and have a mini chicken satay and a scotch egg'. My point is, we of course must remember the immense sacrifices that were made in the terrible wars that our country has participated in, but in my opinion this band-wagon jumping crap makes it all meaningless - giant poppies on County Hall, supermarkets selling fucking Remembrance Cheese, it's a piss take and needs to stop. Where's the dignity in having a poppy stuck on the front of your fucking Skoda?
Things that annoy me #3960 - the opening credits of crappy American tv shows that are still popping up a good twenty minutes after the show has started - FUCK AWAY WITH THAT.
So over the holiday season, you inevitably see friends or family that you may not have seen for a while, and probably the most used phrase when it comes to the kids is 'why, haven't they grown!'. Uh, yes. Yes they have grown. Because THAT'S HOW BIOLOGY AND THE PASSAGE OF TIME WORKS, YOU CHEESEGLAND. Next time it happens, I'm going to say 'oh no, she hasn't grown, you've actually shrunk, you tiny womble, so Merry Christmas and get your nose out of my groin'.
It's my kid's 21st this year, and she thinks she's having a party - well she's sorely fucking mistaken because there's something MUCH more important happening on her 21st birthday and that's THE ROYAL WEDDING. The Ginger Prince has bagged himself a stunner and some of the 'media' has literally SHIT ITSELF INSIDE OUT because she's American and SHOCK HORROR mixed race! Oh you can hear all the racist Daily Mail readers now, having massive coronary events because she's not pasty white and named Jemima Farquharson-Bumhole. Lots of bollocks being spouted on the internet about how 'she's a gold digger', 'she wouldn't look at him twice if he wasn't a prince' - HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW THAT? Do you know them personally? Has she actually told you 'yeh, I'm only boning him for the cash'? No, thought not, so fuck off back to writing scaremongering bollocks about how eating chocolate gives you cancer. I'm not a Royalist, I don't mind them but couldn't actually give too much of a fuck one way or the other, but at the moment, when there is literally NOTHING good happening in the world and the news is full of Trump, failing NHS, corrupt government and a seemingly never-ending stream of sex pests coming out of the woodwork, if something like a Royal Wedding makes people feel a bit of happiness, let's go with it!
This time last year I wrote in a blog about fireworks - nothing changes - it is currently 6.30pm on the 1st January, and fireworks are going off outside. WHY? DID YOUR CLOCK STOP YESTERDAY EVENING AND YOU'VE JUST REPLACED THE BATTERIES, YOU FUCKING IRRITATING BALLHAIRS?
Anyway, I'm back on the lettuce wagon tomorrow, so a final word before I go and put as much junk food into my mouth as I possibly can - my advice for a successful year -
- Don't be a twat.
- Moan and bitch and whine and then laugh - a lot.
- Do lots of fun things, because when you die, I guarantee you won't be saying 'shit, I wish I'd cleaned the bathroom more often'.
- Listen to music, any music, whatever takes your fancy. Do it often.
- Be truthful to thine own self, or summat.
Happy New Year!
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