Hair Products (to be continued)

Hair products don’t get me started. In no other industry could you get away with such claims. One that currently balances precariously on the top of the bathroom cabinet is Aussie Aussome (awesome) shampoo. It has a motif of a leaping kangaroo and states that its unique formula has extracts of Australian Hops. Who writes this nonsense?

Holiday Blues

Anticipation is sometimes greater than reality. I am sure that this must ring true for more than the shaking of dogs leads and ”walkies,” fishermen’s sizes of landing nets, or even a promise from the one you love? It is certainly true for holidays that you wait all year for, that seem to sneak up on you like a Michael Jackson GP on an O2 booking agent and announce at the last minute that you might not only have to give the money back, but it is going to cost you something (anything... well quite a lot) Like the many disappointed booking agents I also had not anticipated for my Parent s wanting their loft boarded, a small garden fallout shelter constructed that claims on the box to be a shed and plethora of assorted boards, posts and rails to be painted, primed and fashioned into a sturdy fence between the us and Jones (try and keep up) who live next door. No I had anticipated a week of leisurely bohemia, flouncing around with a paintbrush and watercolours quaffing bottles of Waxed Bat and talking nonsense. Unfortunately it is the former for me and my colour by numbers kit and bat based wine has remained firmly closed for the time being. Of course the weathers not helped either, offering up that ‘will it, won’t it’ rain that Carol Kirkwood never tells you about. You venture out with an overriding guilt because it’s not really raining into the cold and damp to start some fence painting to be only coming back in within 20 mins because most of your water repellent timber care paint has been washed off by the persistent ‘Yes it will’ rain. After the last few days of this I have now taken to grinding my teeth.

Sham-A-Ling-Dong-Ding - Jesse Winchester Spectacle

The Big Society

The Big Society
Dear Mr Cameron
After being woken surprisingly early by the cat hanging on my un-duvet outstretched foot I got to thinking about the mess the Coalition has got itself in with regards to the non funding of volunteers and charities.
At this early hour it was clear to me that a simple money generating plan would be needed. After a short time of cat-less thinking I had come up with the following;-
Lucky Heather. A business plan
We ALL need to sell lucky heather to each other. Firstly, this will generate additional revenue for the sellers and also increase the amount of good luck enjoyed by the purchaser. The sheer amount of good luck will then produce additional wealth and happiness for all. After only a short time it would be possible for the chancellor to add a small additional tax from everyone to offset the current debt.
I am sure that you will agree. This is a cast iron gold plated 100% sure fire hit.
Should you clear the national debt please forward any excess monies into my Barclays account.

Barry John Dead? I don't think so

Barry John is dead?
Yes, that is what I heard! Former Welsh fly half for Wales is now dead.
I don’t believe this for a minute. Absolute cobblers.
I heard him twatting on about something to do with rugby in November last year. Since then DEAD? I don’t think so.
If it’s not enough to get a man’s death wrong, they then said that he has written some of the finest theme tunes for a number of Bond films, The Persuaders AND the music for one of the best Sunsilk commercial ever.
Take it from me he is not dead

Shit Hit the Van

Would it be unfair to say that folk who drive Citroen Saxo’s, you know with the spoilers, scaffolding pole exhausts and a fairground PA system (in Blue..... and about an S reg) are twats? Maybe not all, but surely most!
Well this is a theory I have been working on since about 11-10am on Monday the 17th Jan. When driving out of Westcroft Shopping Centre after attending an important comfort break I was attacked by one Citroën Saxo (Blue.... S reg) travelling at an indecent speed across the car park. Unhindered by any thoughts of other road users or shoppers it managed to drive over a pedestrian crossing and a give way sign (within about 10 feet of each other) and park itself abruptly in AND around my front offside wheel / wheel arch. Thanks, nice grouping!
After that brief moment of NASA astronaut weightlessness where all my worldly possessions (and I) flew about inside my van cockpit at the moment of impact, I was able to regain my composure and glance down at my new Saxo attachment. As I parted the pages of my 1997 Milton Keynes road atlas hat I could see the now agitated driver (Blue, S reg) gesturing something like ‘Phones 4 U’ or similar. I, like a ham Italian silent movie star acknowledged with some sign language of my own which I believe was a passable ‘Mama Mia.’ Soon, just like Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson in Brief Encounter it was time to break off our short and tumultuous liaison and go our separate ways. For sentimental reasons as the Saxo spun its wheels out of my wheel arch and drove off I thought it prudent to jot down the vehicle reg and colour, but I really needn’t have worried because the driver stopped at some distance and got out to shout to me something with a F in it.
Unfortunately time was against us and as I pulled out my camera phone to start documenting the whole sorry affair, Saxo driver remembered that she really should be somewhere else (possibly anywhere else) and in a puff of smoke was gone. As I busied myself picking up bits of Citroen spoiler I found what appeared to be a glass slipper or a Saxo headlamp glass which I vowed I would return to its rightful owner via Thames Valley Police and the MIB as soon as was humanly possible.

Get me out of here

Obviously, I have been working undercover for some time now and have not been able to blog due to personal reasons. Well, basically my car hasn’t had any tax for a short while and the Rozzers have turned up the heat. I have been living a bit like Raoul Moat for some time now. Well, not so much living rough, eating squirrels and shitting in the woods but basically just trying to avoid Paul Gascoigne. That’s really why I‘ve kept my head down!
Last Friday however the city was awash with celebrities. I unfortunately was battling with severe flu type symptoms, that I had self diagnosed as yellow monkey fever which I had kept me away from my beloved roasted monkey nuts and off my favourite swinging tyre for over a week or more, my No 1 daughter Kirsty was hob knobbing with the cream of the acting and dancing world in the MK theatre district. In less than 24 hours of the curtain’s final fall the Dick Wittington crew were partying hard with a crazy smorgboard of ryvita thins and fizzy water with optional fruit slices at the Slug and Lettuce’s 1’st floors green room. Apparently, Dirk ‘the face’ Benedict excused himself early, to take advantage of a ‘special’ Botox deal going down behind Conniburrow community centre, and the word was that before the night was out; either Gavin & Stacey’s star Joanna Page or Greek disco dancing enthusiast, Stavros Flatly would be high on goats cheese canapés and Retsina and table dancing topless. Unfortunately for all, it was ‘Britain’s got a talentless Greek’ Mr Stavros Flatly that offered the top down, festival of flesh whilst Mss Page behaved herself impeccably.