Here he is, the little Nazi - you know, they teach him this salute at Beavers, bloody disgraceful I say! It's not like I cajoled, bullied and finally threatened him into posing like this or anything, it's all his idea!(cough) 

Fascist groove thing

Decided to hand over my credit and debit cards to the missus for safe keeping for the time being, I dunno, it’s not like I’m a spend-a-holic or anything, it’s just I’ve no discipline so a tenna here and a score there easy add up to an OD at the end of each month. Something she, I mean, we decided has to stop, especially as our summer holiday in the Isle of Wight is fast approaching and we have no spending money put by. So, if you run into me this month, it’s no use taping me for the odd quid, no use asking me to buy you a round, no use taking for granted my usual hospitality because from now on, I’ll have only what I’ll be standing up in.
This weekend was the start of our budget, lovely day Saturday, had ONE pint by the river then sipped a couple of cans in the garden while the missus re-grassed some bald patches in the lawn, mainly where bloody next doors overhanging garden shit is blocking out all the sunlight. The other day, by weird chance, someone was sending through the door, flyers for tree surgery! The missus called me at work and said, if we’ve got a flyer, so have next door…I said, don’t take any chances, post through our flyer as well…they need to get the message, we need some light on our faces this year and they’ve promised they’d sort it, but fuck me when?…
Anyway, the budget, sat in Sunday, only ventured out to see the elder smasher, in his Scout/Badger uniform, parade his neo-fascist erse through town for the St Georges day parade. It’s a hobby I suppose and he’s really got his goose stepping down tight these days and the missus has promised him she’ll side part his blond hair for him and give it a cocky flick, like the rest of his mates in his club….if he knew I’m blogging this, he’d report me, I know he would…

Soap dodger

Moving on then….tonight I meet the so-calleds for a couple of beers, nothing special, just us lads catching up with the latest news, bla bla holidays, bla bla diets, bla bla penis sizes, bla bla evi push…all the usual topics covered and ticked off.
Not totally recovered from the Easter break yet, for some reason I totally went for the sauce in a big way, not like me at all, so much so in fact that my eye lid tremor came back with a vengeance, something that only seems to happen when I drink a lot.

At one point, I vaguely remember I’m in the bath, drinking some red wine, relaxing while the missus watches her crap on TV, Casualty I think it might have been, which I totally can’t stand anymore, I’d rather watch DullEnders, that’s how much I hate Casualty now…Anyway, there I was, quietly drunk, the water gently lapping over the belly, and the missus comes in, so Casualty is over then, right..and she dips her hand into the murky water and fishes out me todger for a soap-me-up but instead of the usual response she gets, she’s finding that she’s having to dig about for it and it's flopping all over the place, so she says, you must be drunk, it won’t go up! Oh, says me, you want it up eh? And give her a wink…well, yes in a way I do, she says, it’s easier to clean erect!!…so then, practical as ever the missus and who can blame her, the logic is faultless. As it was, she gave up and did me nads instead, she can’t claim they need to be erect to clean, but I wouldn’t put it passed her at some point in the future, any excuse for getting out of a chore that one!
Anyway, after the few days I’ve had back to work I’m ready for a pint or two, talk about stressed out! I’m beginning to loose my rag with the boss, which ain’t good.

My name is Steve

Irony, Karma, whatever....I tell ya, it reads this blog, weighs up if I’m being a cant or not, then strikes out at me. The other day, I’m being pompous and snidey about ASDA shoppers, and the next day it batters my brand new car to bits so that it looks like it belongs in an ASDA car park! Alright, the missus took a chunk out of it, but the hand fate or karma guided her car into that bollard and no mistake.

The next time it decides, no, not good enough, this guys a twat, having a pop at his wife, having a pop at Turks, having a pop at the smashers, I know, lets steer his car into another bollard and this time, he’s driving!…sure enough, the other morning, dropping my dear old dad off at his sunnydale retirement home for the old and infirm, I’m backing the fuck outya there, when Bam! Not my fault, no way, I graze ever so slightly the back end, drivers side, of my brand new car and this time the dent is serious, well, it’s visible anyway, enough for the missus to gloat like I’ve never seen her gloat before, so smug was she, she actually forgot, for a couple of hours anyway, to be mad at me! You know, it was a little nauseating to witness actually, in the end I made her clean up my mess and fix it like new, just to teach her that, and especially over Easter, the twin sins of smugness and gloatiness where not nice…not nice at all…but I think I’ll be more circumspect when dishing out the remarks in future, you never know...

It's a book...no, a film...wait...a play?

I remember, oh years ago, as a young man, coming at the end of a month long holiday in Turkey and my guts were shot to pieces, so I go into a pharmacist and ask him for some diarrhoea tablets, but of course he couldn’t understand a word I said, so I had to revert to the mediums of sign language and mime…and draw…Eventually, I’d cracked it and was in receipt of my drugs, which, as it happened, turned out to be laxatives instead. One of the worst flights home I’ve ever experienced, I must say; these days I’d be tackled to the ground I’m sure, the speed I was shooting out of my seat to the front of the plane, where the bogs.....and flight cabin are…
Needless to say, my drawing techniques has improved somewhat since and lately I’ve had the opportunity to pass on my skills to the elder smasher; I’m particularly keen to get him to master perspective so that he can move on from drawing flat one dimensional objects. Every occasion in our house, fathers day, mothers day, birthdays are marked with the smashers terrible, one-dimensional drawings on floppy cards, but no more, with any luck….well, he knows they’ll go straight in the bin if I see another flat drawing on another home made card.
Things have moved on though, his attention is now set on Bamzooki, heard of it? No, nor me until the other day; the missus had downloaded some BBC software that allows kids, kids mind you, to create these weird creatures that then have to navigate over and through a virtual obstacle course.
Daddy, can I help him make one? Sure, son, I got 5 minutes, well, 3 hours later I’m still at it and fuck me, it’s hard, trying to get the shape right, the legs to move, the extra stuff to work, but I eventually manage to make this spider thing that at least moves like a spider, sort of, but so far, so hopeless at getting around the course.

You can then save these things and put them up against other players online and even get on the BBC programme itself and pit your monster against the best there is out there, think Monster Robots, or whatever that show was called…
What shall we call it daddy? We’ll call it “Steve” I say, oh, but shouldn’t we call it something creepy, weird, cool…or shouldn’t we call it after me?, it is mine after all…No, son, we’ll call it Steve. Tonight, I’ll add some more bits to him, my creation is taking shape! A-ha!…ahahaha

Hey!, I'm down with the kids, check it out, my iMusic downloads. Eclectic, innit, bit of electro, bit of hip/hop, yeah I know! I was suprised by that too, some rock in there too. 

Flight of fancy

You know, this morning, as a flight of fancy while brushing my teeth, I was thinking, what if I could time travel, wouldn’t that be great?! But, arh, I said to myself (spit) what if the magic fairy who gave me this wonderful gift said, but you have to chose between going back in time, or forward, not both.
Interesting I thought, right, well now, here is my imaginary chance to see how they built the Pyramids, what StoneHenge was used for and how on earth did they manage to get those huge rocks there in the first place…Wait! Imagine finding out what really happened on the Mary Celest, or why Rome fell…
Then I thought, nah, go forward in time to next Saturday, memorise the lottery numbers…Christ, that’s shallow innit?…Flash teeth at self, wipe mouth, add product to hair. Wink at self.

Bitch

Fucking Hell!! - she's crashed my fucking car already! un-be-fucking-lievable! I tell ya, why do I bloody bother?! - Talk about incandescent with rage! I can't blog on, I need a dark room to lie down in, punch me a pillow or two. fucksake!

Purple people eater

Today, somewhere in a wood in Broxbourn.

Me: Where are these sculptures then? We’ve been walking around in circles for the last hour

Missus: I don’t know, I said we should go back to the start and re-read the instructions but you said no…

Me: Wait a minute; you said we’re to follow the purple signs, which we have…

Missus: I know, but I was wrong, I..

Me: Pardon me?!…what did you just admit? You were wrong?…A-Ha!!

Missus: Oh for fucks sake, you didn’t even want to come here and now all you can do is criticise and moan

Me: No, I’m doing exactly what you wanted, you wanted to come to the woods and follow a sculpture trail and we're here, you wanted to follow the purple signs and we’ve been following them, tell me how I’m in the wrong here?…

Oh dear…re-wind 24 hours and it was a completely different story. There we were, sitting outside a pub, having lunch, in the sunshine. We’d had a lovely morning, breakfast in bed followed by some light wrestling and then some shopping, me books, missus clothes. Later that day we’d get some bets in for the National, I’d sit in the garden, drinking some wine and reading my new book. Then we’d watch the National and the smasher’s horse would romp home and we’d all cheer and everything would be fantastic and just like it should be..The day would be rounded off with a good film and Chinese take-a-way. Perfect or what?

How the hell did we get from there to here, screaming at each other in an empty wood over the where-a-bouts of some poxy sculptures? I tell ya, life and all it’s complexity sure does tax a mans reasoning sometimes.

Ma Mere

Hmmm, well, as birthdays go, yesterday ranked somewhere in between my 19th, which was my best ever, and my 13th, which was possibly my worst ever. I know I said to myself it would be a low key event but every other fucker that knows me also considered the same thing and couldn't even be bothered to send me a nasty eCard this year! I get home, and the missus and I have a 5 minute window, not enough for a birthday shag sadly, well, alright it was enough time actually, but instead I pretended to be pleased and delighted with my 4 small bottles of beer I got from the smashers (missus) and some face cream? (misssus) some smellies and a book token from the in-laws. Fuckit. the missus ran out the house to get to work, I sent the smashers to bed, cracked open my warm beer, had a curry, watched a crap French "art" film, well, when I say watched, I mean fast-forwarded, then went to bed. Happy-bloody-birthday to me.

39 Steps

Today is my birthday and rather than sinking my depression into some Kroni's I'm at work, keeping busy, keeping focused...trying not to think about what has happened to me lately and what will happen to me after this..

Restless legs

I think I have restless legs syndrome, every time lately I rest I have uncomfortable sensations in my legs, I jus need to move them, stretch them and it’s impossible to resist, all classic symptoms apparently, I’ve been researching! Ironic in some ways, just how lazy I am to have something like this, a strong compulsion to move my legs but an equally strong apathy to do anything about it…Ah well, my curse I suppose, I won’t go on about it.

So, another week, another leaving do, this time my old boss. Killing two birds with one stone I arranged to meet my so-called mates in the same boozah. An ok night, my so-called mates fecked off a little early really, not showing full commitment to the project, but then, I had booked the following day off and they hadn’t so, I won’t hold it against them, this time.

The following day I’m up and feeling a little worse for wear but thirsty too, so by mid-day I found myself in the boozah again, this time with the missus. It’s Easter half term, so the smashers are out of school early, so the missus had to leave me to fetch elder smash while I polished off my third and final pint of the afternoon. All very nice and civilised.

Saturday, I’m at M&S to buy a summer jacket for my approaching birthday, the choice is poor but I plump for a Harrington style affair which I don’t love, but will sort of do, typical of most of the clothes I buy, never the right thing, always just average, so long as its XL I'm happy enough...

The missus took elder smash to his saucy teachers wedding, all the kids got an invite and I was tempted to go myself having seen her lady colleagues the other day at his Easter parade show. I love it when the teachers are all young and cute and they’re dancing along with the kids and I’m perving away like mad….never recommended in and amounst kids I have to admit but my eyes were out on stalks some of the time. Yeah, so, but no, I resisted going to the wedding and had my afternoon nap instead with the younger smash. Nice out today, even managed sitting in the garden, away from the wind, enjoying the sun on my face for the first time this year, legs kicking away under me like a restless race horse.