It’s terrible poetry time again curtesy of Chelsea Owens. This week the impeachment case rules are as follows
It’s terrible poetry time again curtesy of Chelsea Owens. This week the impeachment case rules are as follows
We brought in the New Year by watching End Game.
Dad got to end the decade with the highest grossing movie. Wonder what movie will be watched in 10 years time. Please don’t let it be Avatar 2.
The movie was paused at midnight so we could see how many fireworks were let off in the distance. Living on a hill we often get a wide range of free displays to view. In the end a few but not as many as usual. Then it was time to go back into the house. As a kid this was a big deal. LETTING IN THE NEW YEAR. The youngest in the house would be thrown out of the house a few minutes before midnight. Thrown at without a coat regardless of the weather. Bit of a bugger when I was always the youngest. My job would be to stand outside and basically freeze my nuts off. Then at midnight I would be allowed back in carrying a piece of coke (coal) and a new coin. I would then have to go round every room in the house wishing happy new year. I always found the tradition thoroughly cold and most definitely bizarre.
A couple of hours before this midnight our son had asked about traditions. When he heard about our old bizarre ritual he decided to start his own.
Dad let’s restart your old family one.
“Ok I’ve got some coins but I definitely don’t have any coal. Suppose we can see what stones we can find in the garden. Probably got some black paint somewhere,”
No Dad got a better idea. Much simpler and definitely more tasty.
So a few hours later son welcomed in the new year. Visiting each room carrying one pound coin and a bottle of Coca-cola. A New coke tradition started.
After a couple of hours sleep it was then an early drive to the Zoo. We have done this for the last four January 1sts. One of the first traditions started after his mum died.
Arrive when the zoo opens and try to get round before the crowds start to arrive. Basically we need to be back in the car by no later than midday.
Some traditions never die out. Dad being a plonker.
“Son looking at the map the zoo has a bug zone. Not seen that before.”
Dad the zoo doesn’t have any spiders or bugs.
“The map says bug zone. So which bug do you hope they have”
Well I wouldn’t mind seeing a Tarantula. Maybe a Goliath Birdeater. Bullet Ants. A Tarantula Hawk would be cool. Quite excited now.
“It’s just round this corner”
Dad you complete muppet.
“Erm. Not quite what I expected but you don’t see many 4ft ladybirds……”
Another cold and beautiful morning. Doesn’t look like the expected wet and windy weather forecast.
Robyn on her brilliant blog was taking about someone who played Death Metal music during a gym session and yet looked so UnDeathMetally. I remember a few years back going into a HMV record store and trying to buy a Hardcore German Death Metal CD. The young guy at the counter looked at me then looked at the cd and said “this might be a bit heavy for you”. I managed to stop him before he directed me to either the Country Music or Dire Straits sections. Clearly I didn’t look like a head banger. I should have warn my Motörhead Tour T-shirt.
I remember another time at work when a particularly gruesome Salesman barged into the office and asked to speak to the Chief Accountant. When he was pointed in my direction he walked up to me and announced “you don’t look like a Chief Accountant” and laughed. In an unusually sharp response I came back with “you don’t look like a person with an appointment” and proceeded to ignore him until he sheepishly left.
But apart from these two moments ‘not looking like something’ has not been applied to me much in my life. Well apart from this year. It feels like it’s been open season on me. The following have all been said to my face over the last 12 months
– You don’t look like a vegetarian
– You don’t look like someone with depression
– You don’t look like that photo on your driving license
– You don’t look like your passport photo
– You don’t look like a boxer … the physio said this as apparently I had a muscle injury normally associated with boxing
– You don’t look like your best pleased
– You don’t look like a single dad … said to me by someone in the village
– You don’t look like someone who plays Pokemon Go
– You don’t look like an XL … No but is it a crime to like wearing baggy tops for training
It’s not just me. It’s a team issue this year
– Your Son doesn’t look like he has Autism …. said by a teacher
– You don’t look like a boy with your hood up you have girls eyelashes … this was immediately preceded by the longest and hardest Paddington Bear Stare by our son.
– Your dog doesn’t look like he’s partly Cocker Spaniel
– Your dog doesn’t look like he’s partly German Spitz
– Your dog doesn’t look like he’s calmed down
– Your cat doesn’t look like he gets much exercise
These were all said very innocently and are rather mostly amusing. Some you scratch your head and think what on earth is a single parent supposed to look like. Some are worrying – too many still assume that if someone tells a joke then they couldn’t possibly be depressed. Then there are the ones which are breathtaking. An educational professional demonstrating such staggering ignorance of Autism. It makes you realise what a long way we have to go as a society.
Apparently the 29th November is much more than Black Friday.
Its is also
Can we think of any other International Day we can introduce today. Maybe
It’s time for some poetry. Some really bad poetry. Terrible poetry. It’s the weekly challenge run by the wonderful Chelsea Owens. This weeks rules are
It’s time for some poetry . Some Terrible Poetry. This week the wonderful Chelsea Owens has set the following task.
Is it time for Mad One to go to a hairdresser. I’m only jealous I would love to have that problem these days. It’s not so much Lush Amazonian Rain Forest it’s much more Barren Arctic Tundra.
Dad when was the last time you had to Combe your hair.
I do still Combe. Sometimes. Why?
I was watching a video of famous people who have had a Hair Transplant and I thought of you.
Are you saying I am Famous.
No Dad your certainly not famous. Must have been something else about that video which made me think of you.
I took the car back to the garage as it needed to be checked again. The poor technician took one look at my car and said ‘I better get a pair of gloves’. On his return he added ‘that’s the muddiest car I have seen in a long time’. I suppose that’s a badge of honour but I was filled with a certain amount of embarrassment. He’s right. You can’t actually tell what colour the car is these days. Oh the shame.
The shame day continued. I needed to go to the Bank but didn’t want to pay the extortionate parking fees. So I had a clever idea. I will put the bike in the back of the car so I can ride in. So the night before the 2 flat tyres were fixed. Unfortunately today has been wet. Very wet. The Yorkshire roads are muddy. Very muddy. So after my 15 minutes cycle ride I arrived in the city centre looking like the Swamp Monster. The looks I got. Oh the shame.
The shame day continued. I walked into the crowded Bank. Well when I say walked in that’s not strictly true. I did try to walk into the Bank but had failed to see the closed glass door. The looks from the hordes in the bank as they turned to see my face planted in the door. Suspect it was not a great look. Oh the shame.
The shame day continued. Now finally inside the bank I was stood in the long queue. I had to watch someone from the bank go to the infamous front door and clean the glass. Clearly the muddy impression of my face on the bank’s door was not good for business. Oh the shame.
The shame day continued. In the busy supermarket I tried to take a sharp corner at pace. Too much understeer and I crashed into a neatly stacked pile of soup tins. Complete devastation. Tins everywhere. Oh the shame. As I helped the not so impressed shop assistant pick up the tins he pointedly said ‘it took me ages to stack those’. Oh the shame. Eventually I moved away from the crash scene but I kept seeing random tins of soup scattered around the shop. Oh the shame.
The shame day continued. I had a couple of work reports to post. Going to be tight it’s a 5 minute walk to the post box and the last collection is in 3 minutes. So I jumped into the car and belted there. Letters posted just in time as the Postman arrived. Unfortunately I also posted my car keys. I had to sheepishly ask the postie if he could search the box for them. ‘That’s the first time I’ve had to do that. The crew back in the Sorting Office won’t believe me when I tell them this‘. Oh the shame.
The shame day continued. As I returned to the house I had a few minutes before the school bus was due. Let’s garden and prune in the pouring rain. Much good work completed. Then son arrived back. Shall we go in before he gets soaked. Hang on. Where are the house keys. After 10 minutes finger tip searching of the soil I remembered. I put them on top of the car tyre so I wouldn’t lose them while gardening. That look from our son. Oh the shame.
These days I’m with Spongebob and Patrick. Any day you manage to get your pants on the right way round is a good day. Everything else has gone wrong today but my pants are facing the right way ….. so it must be a good day. Oh the shame of getting back to front pants. That was yesterday.
It’s time to try and lighten the mood.
Let’s go for a bit of Terrible Poetry hosted by the wonderful Chelsea Owens. This week is the 50th Contest. The rules are
I like Blancmange but it has more than 50 calories
I have 50 really annoying allergies
I only have 50 hairs on my sad old head
Can’t get any sleep on my 50 quid bed
No money so have to be thrifty
Bugger I feel like I am over FIFTY
I had a lovely email from a fine American chap. Thank you so much for taking the time to write personally to me. It was most entertaining – best laugh of the day so far. Unfortunately I didn’t get round to responding to you for some reason. I accidentally deleted your email. I think your a big fan of my blog. I don’t usually get the following gushing complements.
Full of liberal bullshit lies
Keep your dumb motherf****** Limie views to yourself
I think you took great offence at one of my comments about your precious President. I wonder if it was when I compared him to a pumpkin. Or maybe it was calling his precious wall – stupid. Or maybe it was thinking I had seen this hairstyle somewhere before.
So to my American friend I must do another commie post real soon here. Don’t tell anyone but I’ve just done a guest post on another site which I’m sure you will agree with. I think I compared your leader to Nero.
But in the meantime here are a couple of Bernie Sanders quotes I’m sure you will love.
“And let me make the radical statement that I don’t believe that you can say something profound in the 140 characters that make up a tweet”
“You’ve got the top 400 Americans owning more wealth than the bottom 150 million Americans. Most folks do not think that is right.“
It’s that time again for hopefully some downright cheesy terrible Poetry thanks to Chelsea Owens. This week she has set the following challenge.
I got carried away and the first version was an epic unfortunately way beyond 150 words so this is the heavily butchered version 2.
Wandering round the stalls and jammed full car boots
Sellers imploring you to hand over your hard earned loot
In one car boot an autobiography from Donald Trump
Read that, no way rather have a session with a stomach pump
Then a special offer on CDs from U2 and Bono
Give you money for that, you got more chance of seeing a flying Dodo
Then a car boot with a portrait of a politician, Jacob Rees Mogg
I’d rather have my leg humped by a rabid flee ridden Rottweiler Dog
Some numpty called Farage is selling knocked off cheap French red wine
He bought the bottles with loose change from his European Pension goldmine
Then finally a chance to buy the actual Boris Johnson our countries so called leader
I bought him for 10p he’s now planted pretending to be a Japanese ornamental Cedar.