Saturday, 27 June 2009

What a scorcher!

Sorry to borrow a headline from the Sun. Couldn't think of anything else.

At least it wasn't the one about eating the hamster.

Still suffering and really sick of this woman pissing us about. Put the house back on the market. Cracked up about it on thursday and Husband said Enough Already!. And if we lose the house we want, then sod it, I'm miserable of being miserable - if you see what I mean. And I hear sheltered accommodation is very nice these days.

Have mixed feelings about Michael Jackson's demise. That bugger stood us up in 1992. All day long we sat in that Wembly bloody stadium and then this fat git who called himself a manager announced at 7.30, the time he was due to come on, that Michael had flu and wouldn't be appearing.

We're going to Have the Git - I think were the words me and my sunburnt mate used at the time. Had to trudge back to that shithole 3 weeks later to see him.

But I didn't know it would be THIS sort of revenge! Oh Lordy!

I really liked him at the time of Billy Jean and Thriller. He really had it on board then. None of this going white shit and bubbles the chimp. He was healthy looking, black and slim and talented. That must have been his peak now I think about it.

Went to Richmond park to do some more suffering. Photographed this old thing and told him all about the house move problems. His eyes look a little glazed as you can see.

Do they have problems with nests and nest-viewers and that? guess I'll never know.

Sunday, 21 June 2009

Our Two Additions

Here are our two little additions to the family. Picked 'em up in a sale at some posh design company down the road. I really relate to them.

Now, am I that desperate for comfort? Or have I really cracked this time?

The only dogs I've only ever related to before this dynamic duo are : Henry the Dog, Snoopy, Gromit and Scooby Doo.

I wonder what the Vet will make of them. I don't have any names for them yet. Answers on a postcard please and the winner gets awarded a Polish fag that I will purchase in Warsaw - (will talk about that another time) - but please note they will almost certainly be out of date. Gives it that sort of authentic feel.

Tried to get you a night out with Fatso but the lazy bugger was asleep watching the cricket so I couldn't ask/tell the stupid sod. Should set these dogs onto him.

Thursday, 18 June 2009

Thanks a bundle .......

Well, as if my life isn't in tatters enough.

It was McDonalds night at the Smoking household - our fortnightly treat - when my chip-loving daughter announced she didn't want one! They'd been showing that Super Sized Me film at school. The one where this bloke lives on McDonalds and exposes the fast food corporations.

Well, thanks a lot, Morgan Spurlock - or whatever your stupid name is! I had to bloody cook instead! Look mate, if you want to stuff yourself with McDonalds to prove to us what we already know, thats up to you, you fat git. But Please keep it to yourself ! I go with Nigel Slater that there is no such thing as bad food, just everything in moderation. Whatever you do in America is up to you! But please don't flaunt it at my vulnerable daughter!!!

Bastard. Gonna find out what food gives him an easier time and will write a dry and humourless book and get it financed as a film - see how he bloody likes it!

Don't get me wrong, I don't like big greedy corporations either. I don't like to see them dominate our towns and change their characters. I was saying this to someone in Starbucks just this morning. But I was very sad when our local McDonalds was closed down about five years ago. What people really didn't get is that it was the only place to meet in our dead and alive high street. Yes, the food was shit but the sense of community flourished.

They say there's a community here but there isn't really, only if you know who to ask. Where McDonalds, everyone and anyone walked in there. And you spoke to virtually everyone. It was a bit like that place in Grease where Danny and Knickie used to meet for sodas with their birds and everyone. There isn't anything like that now since its become a Superdrug.

Now answer me that, Morgan Spurlock, eh?

Where's my fags?

Monday, 15 June 2009

Forgive me....

Sorry I haven't been on for a while, O brothers and only friends, there is so very little to say. And yet so very much. Well, if you count whinging. And no, we have heard frack-all about the house. Why is God punishing me like this? I know I've hit rock-bottom when I start blaming The Man himself. But what is going on?

Went to Brick Lane yesterday to the Car Boot Art Fair. What a load of old shit! Where did all those people come from ? And that loud music! I'm just too old for all that shit. In the eighties I used to walk through Camden Lock without a qualm - and it was just as noisy and just as crowded. My poor mate and her boyfriend and mum were really going through it, standing under that gazebo all day, that loud noise penetrating them. While Boyfriend did charcoal portraits for £25. Didn't make a penny all day apparently. Why am I drawing comfort from someone else's misery?

Saw Peter Blake there. And Gavin Turk. The only two contemporary artists I really know.
Wanted Peter Blake's autograph. Too scared to ask! Forget what an old man he is now.

Got the hell out of there as soon as bloody possible. What a shit-hole!

Son announces at bloody 8 o'clock tonight that he has to do a powerpoint presentation for tomorrow. For this Critical Thinking thing he's on. The little bugger, leaving something like that at the last minute. Was furious with him. So once again someone else hogs the computer and does a big project that eats into Adult time. Can't remember where husband's gone - a brothel probably. Or an opium den. He's probably at Brick Lane.

Cat's birthday today. She's 3 years old. The little cow didn't like her new basket or her card or her catnip toy. Ungrateful brat! Worse than the bloody kids!

Going to Brentford tomorrow. Don't ask me why. I just feel it calling me somehow.

Sunday, 7 June 2009

Carry on....where?

Am at my wits end. Lady buyer was supposed to have paid for a surveyor a week ago. Have we heard anything? Have we shite? Why are they being so slow? So absolutely terrified we are going to lose the house we want. So absolutely terrified we will be stuck here forever.

And once you have the survey done, it doesn't stop there. The buyers have to ooh and aah at all the shit things in this house that need to be done. That would slow things up too.

Saw a house for sale that I've always liked up the main road. Cheered me slightly, thought we'd go and look at it. Until I looked up the price - £454,0000 - yes, I know. Three bedroom, fifties semi detached. So prices are creeping up again. Well, thats us screwed! There might be a one bedroom flat in Feltham we could afford. Am so broke up.

To comfort myself I watched Carry On Loving on BBC2. People generally slag off this film but I think its great! Nearly every line has a double-entendre! My top three are Carry On Camping, Carry On Cleo and this one...

Son walks in in the middle of it. What year was this film? , he asks. 1970 I reply. Oh, he says , are they still alive? (bless him). And everyone I point out - I realise that no, they're not.
Tell Son Charles Hawtry was an alcoholic and presumably died of drink. Sid James had a heart attack and Kenneth Williams killed himself. Don't know how any of the birds died - was too depressed to think about it by then.

By the time the credits came up, I was suicidal Syd. Bloody kids!

What a rotten sunday! Next week I'm off up to bloody Brick Lane, I tell you!

Monday, 1 June 2009

Return of the Bastard List

Another bloody rugby match this Saturday. When will this madness ever end?

Anyway Lady Luck fell into my lap (or so I thought) and I got a position on the Tills in the shop. However Bitch cow assistant manager spotted me and put me on bloody security! The old whore!

If popular fiction is to be believed, in a prison, the top and most privilleged job is in the kitchens - and the lowest of the low is in the Laundry. Well, the Tills are the former and security is definitely the latter! And they made me wear a green top! Bastards! Don't they understand how unlucky that colour is! And it wasn't even a nice soft green, it was a cheap and brutal dark and deadly shade! I read recently that Belle Ellsmore, Crippen's wife, recoiled in horror at the colour Green and regarded it as ill luck. Well, she had bloody good reason to, didn't she.

And don't think there was any violence either. I didn't get involved in one good kicking. Not even a bloody strip search! Bastards! Are they on my list or what???

Inset day today. Will this half-term ever end?