A modern problem

In these sophisticated times, how does an elegant gentleman respond to the following situation?

When running for one’s bus and one’s shoes slide and one finds oneself flying towards the ground, only for a bus shelter to get in the way reducing your velocity due to the friction between your face and the glass but causing a ricochet casually onto the pavement, is there a correct procedure for maintaining one’s dignity?

Cos i bloody didn’t.

I don’t mean to be picky …

… but O J FUCKING SIMPSON?????????

It’s been staring me in the face

What this blog needs

What EVERY blog needs

Country and Western Lyrics

So, this is how it works. I’ll start you off – you add lines in the comments and when we get enough for a whole song, I’ll sell it to someone in Nashville and we can split the readies in the boozer.

Title: “I just feel 2 Down because of some 1 Across the sea”

“I’m just-a feeling H Blank Blank T
Cos U R going away and I’m blue
I feel SO broken HEARTED
like a mixed up ASH TREE DO”

well, it’s a bit of a Guardian C/W song but who knows? ….

Trouble With The Boiler

For a start, Sophie didn’t like getting woken up at 8:30 a.m. to let the repair man in.

She was even less impressed when he asked if anyone could have “accidentally” switched off the boiler. “Ha,” she cried, “He’d have checked that first, how daft do you think we are?”

Her response to the engineer discovering that “someone” had shoved the toolbox into the cupboard just hard enough to … um … accidentally switch off the boiler was not recorded.

If anyone wants me, I’ll be hiding in the garage until she calms down.

You CAN put a cork in your compostor

We’ve invested in a compostor or composter or compost bin, depending on your vintage and grammar. MY vintage means I’m picturing Tom and Barbara Good, in dungarees and holy (as in ‘With Holes’) jumpers. We’re not getting pigs, though.

To install it, you have to dig a bit and flatten some stuff and do some jiggery-pokery (stop me if i’m getting too technical). So shovels and sieves ahoy, we dug a hole and filled it in again. Some of us aren’t really gardeners, though:-

“uuggghhh a worm”

“Sophie, they’re kind of the POINT of a Compostor. Don’t be so girly”

“oh reeeealllllly – well YOU pick it out of the sieve, then”

“ah,well, um, I WOULD but ..ah…ooo look, more earth”

Sophie wondered aloud how good the earth was. I informed her that the way to tell was to taste it, rapidly adding that I had no idea what it SHOULD taste like and no, I wouldn’t like to try it, thank you.

20 minutes of grunting and shoving later and we have a rather natty black tub stuck in the soil. As I was putting the tools away, I heard an almighty “AIEEEEE” followed by a bit of a watery plop. Fearing for my Banjo (Sophie is of the belief that the best sound produced by said instrument is ‘Splash’ as it enters the canal), I dashed round the garage to find a sheepish looking Sophie lying on the ground with one foot soaking wet and a formerly-horizontal concrete slab now sticking out of the fish pond at a rakish angle.

From “The Good Life” to “Terry and June” in half an hour. That’s a record, even for us.

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