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Hello, and welcome to my blog.

Yesterday, was our annual “rush home from work only to rush straight out again because we need to get a parking space at some random school where our child is singing in a concert” night. It’s always a fraught affair, as we never ever get there early enough to get a seat in the audience anywhere near the stage, but every year we set of in high hopes that things will be different.

This year, things were the same.

We arrived at St. Osmosis (or whatever it was called) and took our child to the classroom where the rest of her school mates who were taking part were waiting. The concert was a number of children from various schools singing individual songs and group songs, all around a central theme. This year’s theme was peace and unity, as it is 100 years since the end of World War One.

Once again, we had to sit miles away from the stage (just like we had park way away from the school). I presume that the reason for this was that all the pushy parents were camped outside the school since 2pm on the day, like people waiting for the latest iPhone to go on sale, and then they rushed in to grab all the seats so that they can take multiple photographs of darling little Tarquin or Persephone, as they sing and pout just like they made them practice for six hours every day because all that matters is being the best, when you have no personality.

Soon enough, all the children from the seven different schools filed into the sports hall where the concert was taking place. As they did, each of the children looked for their parents, and vice versa. Across the crowd, it looked like when people do that thing where they don’t stand up fully, but just rise up a little bit – like when a crowd at a football match watch a player approach the goal. They don’t do it all at the same time, but you see one or two at a time bob up expectantly – and then pockets of people bob up all other the place. While they were bobbing about looking for the child, they had (for some reason) a look on their faces like people looking for their baggage on the carousel at the airport – trying to remember what shape and colour it is, but knowing it’s got a dent in it. We saw our little cherub – who decided to dispense with the usual smile and wave, and responded to our waving by sticking her tongue out.

I blame her mother.

The concert was very enjoyable. All the children sung very well, and some of the songs were complicated. Our child did very well – despite spending much of the time pulling faces at me (I was reciprocating) or fiddling with her hair, uniform, or biting her nails. Despite this, I cannot adequately explain just how proud I was to see my child – I genuinely felt like my heart would burst out of my chest. Yes, it was just an inter-school concert, but my child has a few struggles in life, and had a rough year last year health wise, and it was so lovely to see her singing and smiling.

Can’t wait until next year!

Mind you, by next year I will be a millionaire!!. The other day, I was fortunate enough to receive an email from Jacob Wunder, the Account Director in United Bank of Africa (UBA) Ghana. Mr Wunder wrote to me to tell me how I would get almost half of a $12.8m fortune, that he has found (found!?) in the bank. I quote:

“In my Department here at the bank, I discover an abandoned sum of US$12.8M United State Dollars. The money belongs to one of our biggest customer whose name is General Valery Mikhaylovich Khalilov from Russia. The late General died on 25th December, 2016 on a plane crash en-route to Syrian where a civil war is going on since 2011.His plane crashed into the Black Sea off Sochi, Russia. I contacted you to enable both of us claim this US$12.8M United State Dollars,and have it transferred into your account in your country.”

How amazing is that! All that money being discovered 18 months after old General Khalilov snuffed it on Christmas Day. I wonder if he got to open his Presents? Jacob Wunder went on to explain what I need to do to get my hands on the money – and explained how easy it would be:

“No other person will know about this business deal, not even my colleagues in my bank will know about this golden opportunity which I want you to partake with me. Make sure you keep everything confidential, until we have the fund claimed and wired into your bank account.It is 100% risk free, this is because I have mapped out a guideline and procedure to use in claiming this fund on your names. You will be presented as the rightful next of kin to late General Valery Mikhaylovich Khalilov.”
So all I need to do is pretend to be the General’s son! That’s easy! I can find a Russian army uniform on Ebay, get some medals, and before you can say “Perestroika” I’ll be rich beyond my wildest dreams!!

Apparently, there is a small form to fill out – but my new best mate Jacob Wunder assures me it’s a formality to ensure we have the full trust of each other: “I will send you an agreement, you will study it sign and I will also sign it. When we have endorsed the agreement, both of us will have full trust on each other”

So, watch this space!

I’m in the money, I’m in the money…..

Friday Poem #8

Hello, and welcome to this weeks “Friday Poem”.

You are in for the long haul – this is the longest poem I have ever written. So strap yourself in, get comfy, and turn off your phone. You are gojng to be here a while……

Enjoy!

It’s Always The Quiet Ones

 

‘It’s always the quiet ones’ – they tell you,

Well, I thought that was just an old joke

Until I met one that damn tried to kill me

(Don’t eat as you read this – you’ll choke!)

 

I’ve not had much luck with the ladies

Though believe me, I haven’t half tried.

I don’t have the physique, or the talent to speak

And I don’t have that glint in my eye.

 

I keep myself to myself, if I’m honest

Nice and simple; I don’t do no harm

And it was while I was minding my business

That I fell for this Viper’s charm.

 

I was sat in the park, on my lunch break

When she approached, and sat down by my side.

And we sat there in silence – like a prelude to violence

When she suddenly started to cry.

 

Now, I may not be a Casanova,

But what I am is a right caring gent.

So I asked her if she was alright

And then prepared to get my ear bent.

 

Her voice was no more than a whisper

And as she spoke her body did shake

From her big brown eyes, tears poured as she cried

And at that moment I felt my heart break.

 

She said she was a recent widow

(little did I know that this widow was black)

Her husband had died on a charity bike ride

After being found with a knife in his back.

 

I could see her heart was broken

And she looked like it would never mend

So I felt it was my duty to help her

And to do that I became her best friend

 

From there, things happened so quickly

Friendship turned to love and much more

But while all my feelings were genuine

She had played this game before.

 

I thought that this was true love

And by gum didn’t it feel nice!

But all the while, behind her pretty smile

Lay a heart as cold as ice.

 

And cunningly she lured me in

With her shy little girl demeanour

But with every breath she planned my death –

Should it be poison, or toilet cleaner?

 

I guess I should have noticed the little things

Like how every one of her clothes was black.

Every time that I bought her a pretty dress

She found an excuse to take it back.

 

Now, most ladies like a good romance novel

Or some, even ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’

But on her bookshelf, were books on self-help

Like ‘How to kill – and get away’

 

But I was blinded by my love for her

My need for her was strong

And I foolishly thought she felt the same

But I was oh, so very wrong.

 

Then one day, her true self appeared

I saw her cold, hard stare – and the knife

Then she lunged at me without any warning

And I knew I was in fear of my life.

 

I leapt up from my seat in sheer terror

Mixed with confusion, anguish and shock

And I ran to barricade myself in the bathroom –

But the bathroom door didn’t have a lock!

 

I was trapped in this room with no weapon

Just the bathroom cabinet on the wall.

If I’d had something better, I’d be braver

But I only had cotton wool balls.

 

Then the knife slashed my ear in an instant

As the door opened up and she laughed.

I recoiled in fear, clutching my ear

And fell backwards into the bath.

 

As I felt the blood run through my fingers

My ending approached – I was certain.

But as she loomed overhead, in my mind a voice said

‘don’t just lie there – grab the shower curtain!’

 

I did as I was told, and pulled desperately

I didn’t have any time to think.

With a confused, smothered roar she slipped on the floor

And smashed her head on the sink.

 

But she wasn’t done yet – no by jingo!

She thrashed like a fish hauled on deck.

Then to my shock and surprise, she started to rise

And I thought to myself ‘flipping ‘eck!’

 

My escape was slowed by my senses

Was this real, or some horrible dream?

But the reality kicked in, as she stood with a grin

And I let out a terrible scream.

 

Her teeth were smashed to pieces and bleeding

And the imprint of a tap scarred her head

Where once was her eye, was a hole nice and wide

With a bar of soap sticking out instead.

 

And still she came on, this monster.

With her soap filled, blood dribbling eye

Her arms were outstretched, and with a guttural retch

She screamed at me “It’s time to die!!”

 

With these words I came back to my senses

Like being slapped very hard in the face

I knew that I had just one option:

I had to get out of this place.

 

So I turned on my heels and ran for it

And the demon behind me came too

The knife slashed through the air, shaving bits of my hair

Down to grade three, or possibly grade two

 

The pursuit through the house was relentless

As she thwarted all my attempts to leave

In the kitchen we ran, where I threw pots and pans

Two spatulas, a whisk and a sieve.

 

In the front room with the sofa between us

I had only a cushion as a shield

Which wasn’t much cop, ‘cos a knife it won’t stop

Especially in the way she could wield.

 

By this time my energy was flagging

There’s only so much adrenaline can do.

Plus, with the ongoing fear, and my still bleeding ear

I was in desperate need of a poo.

 

I knew I couldn’t last much longer

At both ends it truly was touch and go.

With all of my might, I put my strength into flight

And made a dash for it out to the road.

 

And still the she devil kept on coming

She was one gal who always got her man

But she wouldn’t get me, for as we crossed the B43

She was hit by a transit van.

 

The force of the hit sent her flying

And she spun, limbs outstretched through the air.

She looked grimly surreal – like a vile Catherine wheel

Spewing blood, and teeth, and hair.

 

With a sickening thud she landed

On the road, in a grotesque mangled heap.

And as I realised my ordeal was over

I broke down and started to weep.

 

I carry the scars of those events to this day

Both emotionally and physically on my ear

I’ll shall never forget the psycho I met

And I still wake in the night drenched in fear.

 

So heed this warning I give you

It’s the quiet ones you really need to beware.

If a sweet little thing, with a shy helpless grin

Comes up to you…..

 

GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!!!

Blog Ja-Vu: Death, Dreams………and Development Defers Decline In Successful Mafia Hits

Thursday, 23 February 2012

Death, Dreams, And…..Development Defers Decline in Successful Mafia Hits

I really should shower more often.

Not to say that I don’t shower frequently as it is, you understand. What I mean is that after an evening knowing I’ve got to write my blog yet struggling to think of a suitable subject, I take a shower – and hey presto! Ideas fall on my brain like the drops of water from my shower. Within minutes I was working through some ideas – and at the same time was lovely and clean and smelling gorgeous, Ladies……raowwrrr!

(Ahem) sorry about that.

So……. Death. Comes to us all, we can’t avoid it. But what happens after we die? Now, I am not going to get into any arguments about religion – mainly because I am not articulate or intelligent enough to convey what I mean clearly enough to make sense. Everything I am about to say is purely what I feel, and believe personally. So please don’t take offence. Well you can if you like – but I do not mean any offence.

I believe in God in a spiritual way. I don’t believe that he actually created the Earth. I know about the Big Bang etc. (I’ve heard of it). I carry God with me in my heart, but I do not go to Church on a Sunday – although, the last time I went to Mass I found the peace and tranquility a great comfort.
I also believe in Heaven – I believe that we go somewhere, or our souls do, after we die. I believe that my parents, and all those I have lost are there – and that they look down upon me. I do not like the thought that there is just nothing, just blackness waiting for us when we die. We all have a consciousness, which is more than the electrical impulses from our brain that make our muscles move. We are more than physical beings.

I am also partial to a couple of other ideas regarding what happens after we die.
Firstly, I could quite easily think it was possible that when we die, we get to start another life as another person. We could be a different sex or ethnicity and live in another part of the world, with no memory of any past existence.
Secondly, and furthermore, it think it conceivable that our ‘next life’ could happen at anytime in the past, and not just the present. This may sound far-fetched, but it is only my opinion. I don’t fully know how time might work. For all I know it might be possible to re-start a new existence after I die two hundred years earlier. I like the idea of being able to come back – even if I never knew I had ‘lived’ before.

Like I said, these were the thoughts that came to me in the shower tonight. Most of you will think them (and me) weird – and I can see where you are coming from. All I do know for definite is that when I do die – many years from now – I will be reunited with my parents, and my uncles and aunts, and everybody I knew that has passed away in my lifetime. That is what I believe.

Question: Is there a difference between being unconscious after falling asleep, and being unconscious after getting smacked over the head with a bottle?

Do you dream when you are unconscious just like when you are asleep? Or is it different because the state of unconsciousness is ‘forced’ upon you when you get knocked out, rather than you slipping into it as you fall deeper asleep. ?

I honestly can’t say one way or the other? My instinct tells me no – but I can’t quantify why.

If you have any thoughts on the matter, let me know.

The Mafia – always sending people to “Sleep with the fishes”. But was there a period of ‘research and development’ where they finally came up with encasing the feet of the victim in concrete?

Are there a multitude of Mafia informants in the Witness Protection Programme, alive purely because they were given Polystyrene shoes, or an overcoat made of arm bands? The mafia must have worked their way through loads of other materials before settling for concrete.

Surely ?

Well that is it for today. Tomorrow is Friday – and payday, so I’m in a good mood.

Hope you are too.

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Hello, and welcome to this evenings trip down blogging memory lane.

I say trip – but in reality it is more like being dragged down the lane of my blog memories, and having seven sacks of crap beaten out of you. And then have your wallet stolen.

Anyhoo – here is a blog I first wrote on 29th February 2012:

 

Villains Stuffed Cats, Nutter Experience, and They’re Strict At Mensa

You know the baddie with the cat in the James Bond films? Well there was no way that cat was real – or if it was. It was heavily sedated. I reckon it was a stuffed cat, or an animatronics puppet.
Cats are independent creatures, and seldom sit still if placed somewhere by its owner. Therefore if the cat in the lap (which is also the title of the only Dr. Seuss book to be banned worldwide) of the Bond villain was real, it would have been struggling like mad to get away.
As a result, the famous line “Ah, Mr Bond – I’ve been expecting you” would have been replaced by:
“Ah (ow! Ouch!) Mr Bond (sit still bloody cat! Ow! Stop scratching me), I’ve been (ouch! the sodding cat bit me – sod off then!) expecting you. Have you got any Savlon?”
And that also wouldn’t have looked very menacing. So it was a stuffed cat.

A well documented story from my life is the tale of my brief marriage, and the unfortunate experience I had with the girl I married (Hello Samantha – hope you are choking on something). That whole event has been classified by me as my “Nutter Experience”. Everybody is due at least one Nutter experience during their lifetime. This experience can take many forms – a strange man approaching you and saying that he knows where to get Goat, or that girl at the bar stuffing peanuts into her ears. It could manifest itself as a fleeting encounter, or as a relationship. However it happens, we’ve all got one due to us and you can’t avoid it. If you get to 70 years of age without having one, don’t think you’ve got away with it. Yours is still coming. In the first world war, there was a saying that somewhere there was a bullet with your name on it. Well, somewhere, somehow, there is a nutter with your name – on their pants.

And finally……

Did you know that the one condition of acceptance into MENSA (the organisation for people with a high I.Q) is that all memberships and associated privileges will be revoked immediately without appeal should the member in question be heard saying the word “Erm….?”