It is the evening after the weekend before.
I swore blind i wouldn't go the Pimps and Whores night, but being a hooker at heart I couldn't resist.
Lorna was in black PVC, Claire had just stepped out of the old wilde west and I looked like a crack whore in drag. We ended up at the Gate, then the Coven. It was at the Coven that the Eccentric said to me, 'well, she might have a hedgehog, but has she got a concubine? It was a valid question that deserved an answer, but unfortunately the answer escaped me. I left the club in a state of confusion and walked home with the Corpse Bride. Orpan ( who had had a major ruckas and had been expelled from the club for approximately two hours) and Mute Boy arrived unannounced at mine and we stayed up all night drinking coffee and eating cake. Around 7 the next morning Filipa and the Ringmaster arrived sporting attractive hangovers and white wine.
When they arrived the Orphan and Mute Boy were is several states of disarray but they threw caution to the wind and preserved. around nine o'clock we composed ourselves and lurched up to Sainsburys to buy provisions for Marthas birthday. We wheeled around with the shopping trolley like 'Dancing on Ice', but without sequinned body stockings. It should have been ok but we got to the till and no one had any cash on them, in fact, most of us had left credit cards in weird places all over the house. Thankfully Mute Boy came up top trumps with his student loan and the five of us lurched home with £85 worth of snacks.
we arrived back to the Lane, cracked open the vodka and helped ourselves to liberal bloody marys as the Ringmaser rubbed marinade to dismembered chicken parts.
Now you might think it would have turned into a normal mash up but for the fact I had relatives over from America. Not just normal relatives. No. He's a renowned professor of nuclear physics and she is the director of the science department of the university of California. If it weren't for Trotter pissing up the trouser leg of infinity, i swear we would have nothing in common.
So they arrive to find the Orphan and Mute Boy pretending to be normal, sat with backs like ram rods on the sofa as the Ringmaster weaved his magic wand and very politely spoke with great charm and confidence. All was going quite well until filipa appeared from upstairs from where she had been taking a proper whitey and announced 'Honey, I'm hanging out of my fucking arse'. My Aunts eyes grew as wide as saucers and my uncle coughed politely into his beard. The Ringmaster decided, somewhat prudently, to take the poor sick boy home.
And so i spent three hours in purgatory with the rellies and Martha trotting over town. We went to the top of Jerico, to Smiths and Boots and Boots and Marks and Sparked and Thorntons and Primark. At that point I pleaded a loose bladder and shot off home for help.
I swear down the Orphan had been busy! He's whipped up a potato salad and had tidied the entire house while the Mute watched on from the sofa. I got back and we cooked for six hours. It probably would have been quicker but we forgot to switch on the oven. We made slaw and vegetable batons, prawn cocktail and a green salad, couscous, grissini, the Ringmasters marinaded dismembered chicken, half a side of Ham and some pickles.Then we sat and waited.
Our Good Friend Milly Pav arrived first, all a bit militant, and then it was like the little boy had removed his finger the dam. Before you could say 'BOO' to a goose and Fridge, Redcar, the Student, the Hairdresser, SAS, Mrs Warboise, Varne, Fly, Mr Cod and the Fuckwits turned up on mass.
Without saying, it degenerated into madness. Milan was erottering, Varne had her tits out. There was quite a special moment when i pulled out a small tray of plastic ice cubes from the freezer in the shape of fruit. The fuckwit Dean thought I was handing out a tray of frozen fruit and took one the cleanse his palate. I watched him as he sucked the fruit shaped ice cube wondering if he was just being a bit a peculiar and suggestive, sucking the fake lemon in out out of his mouth. To be fair, everyone was watching, but it wasn't until he tried to eat the fucking thing that everyone leaped in and shouted,
'NOOOOOOoooooooooo!!!!!!!!'
Except for our good friend Milly Pav who was nimbling around singing, 'Erotic! Erotic, put you hands all over my body!', Martha said, 'if you don't stop that soon I'm going to smack you all your body!
But that was last night and I'm being told off for taking hours to type, but being the evening after the weekend before, but what do you expect?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Bite one, get one free
Theres 2 hours till d-day. My american aunt and uncle are poping round for a cup of cha and some nonsensical chat.
I wouldnt mind, but he's a reknowned profesor of nuclear physics and shes the director of the science project for the university of california.
I wouldnt mind, but he's a reknowned profesor of nuclear physics and shes the director of the science project for the university of california.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Carpet Day
I have neglected to mention that Carpet Day has come and been!
Some time ago I mentioned our visit to Carpet Right and the off cut of carpet for the stairs. Since then there has been a hive of activity. Varne and Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, unrolled the off cut and measured the stairs, all the while with Trotter watching with a keen eye and slavering lip through the security gate.
Fing sat on the top step and shouted instructions to Varne, who muttered 'fuck off you pussy little bitch' under her breath and carried on stapling the carpet to the stairs.
Within the course of an afternoon each step was carpeted and the creak of the steps gone!
The following day Filipa arrived in her love wagon and took the girls up to Wickes to buy beading to finish off the job.
On arrival home Fillipa cut the batons into pieces and was given the job of painting them with wood stain in Varnes hallway, on top of the freezer underneath the stairs. Varne carefully laid down newspaper and Fillipa carefully and diligently painted all the wooden strips before sitting down for a cup of tea and a slice of cake.
Half an hour later Varne said, 'lets have a look at those strips then', so Fillipa went to the hall and came back and unravelled the wood/ newspaper combination to reveal he had, unwittingly, made a set of concertina blinds completely by accident. He then had to spend an hour picking all the bits of wood off the paper before they could be nailed in to place. I could be wrong but I imagine Varne may have used the word 'Cuntstruck' at some point during this period.
But all this aside, and a further trip to Wickes on Good FRiday has resulted in the stairs being loving finished in a wonderful, some may say cobbled, fashion.
Some time ago I mentioned our visit to Carpet Right and the off cut of carpet for the stairs. Since then there has been a hive of activity. Varne and Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, unrolled the off cut and measured the stairs, all the while with Trotter watching with a keen eye and slavering lip through the security gate.
Fing sat on the top step and shouted instructions to Varne, who muttered 'fuck off you pussy little bitch' under her breath and carried on stapling the carpet to the stairs.
Within the course of an afternoon each step was carpeted and the creak of the steps gone!
The following day Filipa arrived in her love wagon and took the girls up to Wickes to buy beading to finish off the job.
On arrival home Fillipa cut the batons into pieces and was given the job of painting them with wood stain in Varnes hallway, on top of the freezer underneath the stairs. Varne carefully laid down newspaper and Fillipa carefully and diligently painted all the wooden strips before sitting down for a cup of tea and a slice of cake.
Half an hour later Varne said, 'lets have a look at those strips then', so Fillipa went to the hall and came back and unravelled the wood/ newspaper combination to reveal he had, unwittingly, made a set of concertina blinds completely by accident. He then had to spend an hour picking all the bits of wood off the paper before they could be nailed in to place. I could be wrong but I imagine Varne may have used the word 'Cuntstruck' at some point during this period.
But all this aside, and a further trip to Wickes on Good FRiday has resulted in the stairs being loving finished in a wonderful, some may say cobbled, fashion.
Shiny, Shiny, Shiny
But not boots of leather. No.
On Saturday, before my sudden ailment and propensity to abrupt falls, our good friend Milly Pav came round for Tea. It was not before long however that the Fuckwits, Dean and Nikki, were on the phone. They were in the Jolly Farmers with the Orphan and Mute Boy (Have you been introduced?)and demanded our immediate presence.
To begin with we were rather unamused at the interruption, but as we are made of sterner stuff we made our way through the bleak mid winter weather and joined them at the pub.
Now, Dean, Nikki, Orphan and Mute Boy had been on it all night and as a result were as lively as corpses, occasionally talking complete shite, and sometimes some sense. Eryc arrived and we left the bitter cold garden and made the snug our own.
Our good friend Milly Pav decided that entertainment was the order of the day and proceeded to dance in a lively fashion whilst singing 'Erotic, erotic, rub your hands all over my body!'. He raised his leg onto the table and rubbed it suggestively then capered off to rub himself up and down the wall, all the while singing 'Erotic! Erotic', I really had never seen such a fine example of erottering.
'He'll be laughing in the morning', muttered Dean, 'last time he did that we had to fish out the Deep Heat'.
Erotic indeed.
On Saturday, before my sudden ailment and propensity to abrupt falls, our good friend Milly Pav came round for Tea. It was not before long however that the Fuckwits, Dean and Nikki, were on the phone. They were in the Jolly Farmers with the Orphan and Mute Boy (Have you been introduced?)and demanded our immediate presence.
To begin with we were rather unamused at the interruption, but as we are made of sterner stuff we made our way through the bleak mid winter weather and joined them at the pub.
Now, Dean, Nikki, Orphan and Mute Boy had been on it all night and as a result were as lively as corpses, occasionally talking complete shite, and sometimes some sense. Eryc arrived and we left the bitter cold garden and made the snug our own.
Our good friend Milly Pav decided that entertainment was the order of the day and proceeded to dance in a lively fashion whilst singing 'Erotic, erotic, rub your hands all over my body!'. He raised his leg onto the table and rubbed it suggestively then capered off to rub himself up and down the wall, all the while singing 'Erotic! Erotic', I really had never seen such a fine example of erottering.
'He'll be laughing in the morning', muttered Dean, 'last time he did that we had to fish out the Deep Heat'.
Erotic indeed.
Self
I must apologise for the lack of transmission. I have rather unfortunately been struck down with Labyrinthitis. This does not, as the name may suggest, involve David Bowie in extremely tight leggings popping round to sing to you while hobgoblins dance in the grate. No. What is does involve is sudden attacks of vertigo and spontaneously falling to the floor which, while it may look rather spectacular, is actually profoundly ouchy upon contact with the ground. As a result I have been erring on the side of caution and have been walking around very slowly making sure there's always something to grab hold off just in case of an attack of dropsy.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Eyes
When i told Varne about Trotters failing sight she said
'its alright, we'll take him to specsavers'
'its alright, we'll take him to specsavers'
Guest pet of the week
Name: Midge
Age: 8
Lives: Northway, Oxford
Distinguishing Features: Rotund body and squinty eyes
Likes: Sitting as close to you as possible and whining in your face
Dislikes: Being ignored
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Vet
Trotter has suffered a horrific ordeal tonight.
He has been to the vet. As you may be aware we have been becoming increasingly concerned about Trotters behaviour and as his pheromone collar no longer works, our options were castration or hard drugs to calm his frayed nerves.
But there has been a turnaround at the vets and Mr Forbes could not give me a prescription or a constructive suggestion and has decided he must consult some 'experts' before he can complete his diagnosis.
He fears that Trotter may be going blind.
This is a different ball game entirely of course, and may be accounting for his increased aggression as he may be relying on his hearing and too much stimulation may be leaving him confused and frightened.
It has left us all feeling rather shaken as the future is less than certain.
Trotter of course is completely impervious to this and is happily eating one of my slippers next to me on the sofa.
I'm too upset to stop him.
He has been to the vet. As you may be aware we have been becoming increasingly concerned about Trotters behaviour and as his pheromone collar no longer works, our options were castration or hard drugs to calm his frayed nerves.
But there has been a turnaround at the vets and Mr Forbes could not give me a prescription or a constructive suggestion and has decided he must consult some 'experts' before he can complete his diagnosis.
He fears that Trotter may be going blind.
This is a different ball game entirely of course, and may be accounting for his increased aggression as he may be relying on his hearing and too much stimulation may be leaving him confused and frightened.
It has left us all feeling rather shaken as the future is less than certain.
Trotter of course is completely impervious to this and is happily eating one of my slippers next to me on the sofa.
I'm too upset to stop him.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Can they?
The evening started well.
Mrs Warboise and Varne arrived first, and were shown to their seats by a very respectable Trotter, who had had his hair brushed and was sporting a bow tie.
Mr Cod turned up next on special brew and a little confused, but as this is not unusual, he was seated in the garden on the back bench, underneath the tree. Fly was the last to arrive with a crate of cider, and in due course, seated. Martha, proud mother, was closest to the stage so she could see all her darlings to their best advantage and the scene was set.
The pets had rigged up some curtains, so as a small drum roll was beaten out by Fat Boy on the drum, Lulu and Giggsey girl drew back the safety curtain and the magical backdrop of the bench surrounded by fairy lights was visible for all to see.
At this point Fing arrived dressed in a tux, baton under arm and mounted his special platform in the middle of the pond. He explained that we were there due to Tutz's wish to be a bat, and how he had re written an operatic classic.
'And with that, Ladies and gentlemen, he said to the crowd, 'i present: 'Madame, Can Cats Fly?'
And so it began, the cats voices raised in beautiful harmony to represent the arrival in Preachers Lane of a sailor, from distant shores, and his desire for a beautiful young woman, who lost her heart.
Their voices trilled and swept like swallows on the wing as the little opera unfolded, with Lulus tenor, Trotters base and Fat Boys soprano, it was enough to bring a take your breath away.
The crowd were awestruck, and a tear could be seen in Martha's eye, surreptitiously wiped away with an emotional finger.
The score progressed with the sailor leaving, and how, in her despair she withdrew into madness, and decided that she would follow him to distant shores by fashioning herself wings to follow him across the ocean.
All of a sudden, on a mellow note, Tutz swept out of the bedroom window and walked across the top of the ramshackle awning. It should have been a beautiful moment, but in her knicker wings and small grey crash helmet she resembled nothing so much as a crash test dummy in drag.
'FUCK ME!' Mr Cod exclaimed from under the tree, only to have a withering look from Fing and collective 'SShhhS' from every one else.
She stood there with tragedy across her little face, and as the other pets reached a crescendo, she leapt from the top of the ramshackle awning and took flight.
There was a gasp of collective awe as her little fat furry body was up lit by the fairy lights and the knicker wings took on a luminous glow. All of a sudden the world seemed a more wonderful place and a heartfelt feeling of joy appeared in the hearts of all the audience.
It was perhaps then tragic that the knicker wings, more a flight of fancy than a work in process, suddenly, and with no warning, abruptly folded upwards leaving Tutz unsupported. With no preamble and almost instantaneously, her tiny body plummeted into the fish pond showering everyone with water and fusing the lights.
There was a moments horrified silence before every cried out in alarm! Suddenly it was a hive of activity as Trotter got out the fish net and proceded to fish the poor drowned girl from the water.
Thankfully, Tutz only suffered from the blow to her dignity, and was comforted by Varne with a hot toddy and heated towels from the tumble dryer.
In the chaos and confusion Mr Cod, who had been forgotten in the garden and was staring morosely into the pond said 'I knew i hated fucking opera'.
Mrs Warboise and Varne arrived first, and were shown to their seats by a very respectable Trotter, who had had his hair brushed and was sporting a bow tie.
Mr Cod turned up next on special brew and a little confused, but as this is not unusual, he was seated in the garden on the back bench, underneath the tree. Fly was the last to arrive with a crate of cider, and in due course, seated. Martha, proud mother, was closest to the stage so she could see all her darlings to their best advantage and the scene was set.
The pets had rigged up some curtains, so as a small drum roll was beaten out by Fat Boy on the drum, Lulu and Giggsey girl drew back the safety curtain and the magical backdrop of the bench surrounded by fairy lights was visible for all to see.
At this point Fing arrived dressed in a tux, baton under arm and mounted his special platform in the middle of the pond. He explained that we were there due to Tutz's wish to be a bat, and how he had re written an operatic classic.
'And with that, Ladies and gentlemen, he said to the crowd, 'i present: 'Madame, Can Cats Fly?'
And so it began, the cats voices raised in beautiful harmony to represent the arrival in Preachers Lane of a sailor, from distant shores, and his desire for a beautiful young woman, who lost her heart.
Their voices trilled and swept like swallows on the wing as the little opera unfolded, with Lulus tenor, Trotters base and Fat Boys soprano, it was enough to bring a take your breath away.
The crowd were awestruck, and a tear could be seen in Martha's eye, surreptitiously wiped away with an emotional finger.
The score progressed with the sailor leaving, and how, in her despair she withdrew into madness, and decided that she would follow him to distant shores by fashioning herself wings to follow him across the ocean.
All of a sudden, on a mellow note, Tutz swept out of the bedroom window and walked across the top of the ramshackle awning. It should have been a beautiful moment, but in her knicker wings and small grey crash helmet she resembled nothing so much as a crash test dummy in drag.
'FUCK ME!' Mr Cod exclaimed from under the tree, only to have a withering look from Fing and collective 'SShhhS' from every one else.
She stood there with tragedy across her little face, and as the other pets reached a crescendo, she leapt from the top of the ramshackle awning and took flight.
There was a gasp of collective awe as her little fat furry body was up lit by the fairy lights and the knicker wings took on a luminous glow. All of a sudden the world seemed a more wonderful place and a heartfelt feeling of joy appeared in the hearts of all the audience.
It was perhaps then tragic that the knicker wings, more a flight of fancy than a work in process, suddenly, and with no warning, abruptly folded upwards leaving Tutz unsupported. With no preamble and almost instantaneously, her tiny body plummeted into the fish pond showering everyone with water and fusing the lights.
There was a moments horrified silence before every cried out in alarm! Suddenly it was a hive of activity as Trotter got out the fish net and proceded to fish the poor drowned girl from the water.
Thankfully, Tutz only suffered from the blow to her dignity, and was comforted by Varne with a hot toddy and heated towels from the tumble dryer.
In the chaos and confusion Mr Cod, who had been forgotten in the garden and was staring morosely into the pond said 'I knew i hated fucking opera'.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Carpe dium
There is great excitement amongst the pets.
Tutz outfit has been completed and Fings new musical score in place. The pets have decided to perform tonight in the back garden and have spent the best part of the day sweeping up leaves and arranging seating. Small paw written invitations have been posted, down to Varnes, then to Mrs Warboise, Fly and Mr Cod.
It has been decided that only Tutz will be in costume and that the rest of the cats, with Lulu, will sing from the bench underneath the ramshackle awning. With this is mind the glowing fairly light orbs have been taken down and polished and the other fairy lights rearranged to frame the edge of their stage. The over hanging plants have been pruned and Fing has inspected his platform in the middle of the pond from where he will conduct.
Trotter will be showing people to the garden and their seats, dispensing popcorn, and then singing from the safety of the pig pen.
As i type the cats are practising their harmonys and Tutz is upstairs, hanging from the scratchy pole, flexing her new knicker wings and dreaming of her first staring role. She is a little concerned about the tiny crash helmet she must wear. She did protest it would ruin her artistic license, but Fat Boy Faggot has told her is absolutely necessary under health and safety laws, but is sure that it will not impede her performance.
All in all I think we are due quite a magical evening.
Tutz outfit has been completed and Fings new musical score in place. The pets have decided to perform tonight in the back garden and have spent the best part of the day sweeping up leaves and arranging seating. Small paw written invitations have been posted, down to Varnes, then to Mrs Warboise, Fly and Mr Cod.
It has been decided that only Tutz will be in costume and that the rest of the cats, with Lulu, will sing from the bench underneath the ramshackle awning. With this is mind the glowing fairly light orbs have been taken down and polished and the other fairy lights rearranged to frame the edge of their stage. The over hanging plants have been pruned and Fing has inspected his platform in the middle of the pond from where he will conduct.
Trotter will be showing people to the garden and their seats, dispensing popcorn, and then singing from the safety of the pig pen.
As i type the cats are practising their harmonys and Tutz is upstairs, hanging from the scratchy pole, flexing her new knicker wings and dreaming of her first staring role. She is a little concerned about the tiny crash helmet she must wear. She did protest it would ruin her artistic license, but Fat Boy Faggot has told her is absolutely necessary under health and safety laws, but is sure that it will not impede her performance.
All in all I think we are due quite a magical evening.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Pants
At first it was the Fat Boy and Tutz sat in the bedroom, devising wings from knicker elastic. But then, one by one, the other pets got drawn in.
Giggsey girl the stupid slug face had been sat polishing herself in the sunny window, but couldn't help but wonder what they were up to.
Trotter sat and watched for ages before he felt compelled to make suggestions.
Lulu was baking a cake but when she realised what was happening abandoned the cake in the rain, even though it took so long to bake it, and she may not have the recipe again.
And so Fing found every pet in the bedroom, cutting pieces from girls pants, sewing lace to old bits of stick, watching Tutz as she lived her bat dream.
He sat, and he watched, and he felt inspired.
It has been quite some time since the Preachers Lane Pet Choir has performed. Fing, the chorus master, finds himself and his feline genius rewriting an operatic classic.
Giggsey girl the stupid slug face had been sat polishing herself in the sunny window, but couldn't help but wonder what they were up to.
Trotter sat and watched for ages before he felt compelled to make suggestions.
Lulu was baking a cake but when she realised what was happening abandoned the cake in the rain, even though it took so long to bake it, and she may not have the recipe again.
And so Fing found every pet in the bedroom, cutting pieces from girls pants, sewing lace to old bits of stick, watching Tutz as she lived her bat dream.
He sat, and he watched, and he felt inspired.
It has been quite some time since the Preachers Lane Pet Choir has performed. Fing, the chorus master, finds himself and his feline genius rewriting an operatic classic.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Its started
After several hours of consideration in the laundry basket Tutz decided that she needs to make wings, rather than rely on her own sparce unfethered limbs.
With this is mind she spoke to Fat Boy Faggot and explained her predicament. Faggot decided that if wings made of undercrackers were required that they would, at least, be clean ones. So, with screwdriver in paw and Tutz watching from the stairs, Faggy carefully undid the metal pig money bank and secured £3 in funds.
They decided against Trotter pulling them in the trolly, so Faggy popped the unpredictable Tutz into her security harness and they set off to Primarni to purchase some new clean undercrackers.
They discovered a sale was on and came back with an assortment of underwear and then sat down in the bedroom amongst their purchases and discussed the best way to make wings.
With this is mind she spoke to Fat Boy Faggot and explained her predicament. Faggot decided that if wings made of undercrackers were required that they would, at least, be clean ones. So, with screwdriver in paw and Tutz watching from the stairs, Faggy carefully undid the metal pig money bank and secured £3 in funds.
They decided against Trotter pulling them in the trolly, so Faggy popped the unpredictable Tutz into her security harness and they set off to Primarni to purchase some new clean undercrackers.
They discovered a sale was on and came back with an assortment of underwear and then sat down in the bedroom amongst their purchases and discussed the best way to make wings.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Cheat
Today, Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west has been inspired by Delia Smith and her insane new cooking techniques.
She has decided that at the weekend she will cook a large chocolate cake made mainly from potato.
Trotter cannot quite envisage this and in his tormented mind see's a steaming jacket potato with a big nob of cadburys melting in the middle. I found him upstairs explaining the situation to Tutz.
Tutz, who had just watched a program about Livingstone's flying foxes, was hanging upside down from the scratchy pole, little legs crossed upon her chest like withered sparrow wings.
'Yes, said Trotter, 'it's chocolate cake but its also mashed potato apparently. I'm not sure but i think its got cadburys buttons in it and maybe some pilchards'
'PPrrooot!' cried Tutz 'PPPRRROOOT' and spread her sparrow wings and promptly fell off the scratchy pole into the laundry basket.
'OK, maybe I'm wrong about the mash potatoes' said Trotter, and left the room as Tuts emerged from the laundry basket wearing a sock as a hat.
She looks at the laundry she has landed in and raises one furred eyebrow, wondering if she can fashion undercrackers into wings and sits there thinking about flying in the warm air around the coast of Africa.
She has decided that at the weekend she will cook a large chocolate cake made mainly from potato.
Trotter cannot quite envisage this and in his tormented mind see's a steaming jacket potato with a big nob of cadburys melting in the middle. I found him upstairs explaining the situation to Tutz.
Tutz, who had just watched a program about Livingstone's flying foxes, was hanging upside down from the scratchy pole, little legs crossed upon her chest like withered sparrow wings.
'Yes, said Trotter, 'it's chocolate cake but its also mashed potato apparently. I'm not sure but i think its got cadburys buttons in it and maybe some pilchards'
'PPrrooot!' cried Tutz 'PPPRRROOOT' and spread her sparrow wings and promptly fell off the scratchy pole into the laundry basket.
'OK, maybe I'm wrong about the mash potatoes' said Trotter, and left the room as Tuts emerged from the laundry basket wearing a sock as a hat.
She looks at the laundry she has landed in and raises one furred eyebrow, wondering if she can fashion undercrackers into wings and sits there thinking about flying in the warm air around the coast of Africa.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Shock win!
Trotters is very upset that the ChiHuaHua didn't win. So much so that he's gone to bed in a sulk.
Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the West says she is releived that the ChiHuaHua didn't win. 'What does it say to the rest of the doggy world?' She said? 'It's dogs like that that cause annorexia in other breeds!'
But i gave her a cake and it soon shut her up.
Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the West says she is releived that the ChiHuaHua didn't win. 'What does it say to the rest of the doggy world?' She said? 'It's dogs like that that cause annorexia in other breeds!'
But i gave her a cake and it soon shut her up.
Amy
It is calm on Preachers Lane after a hectic day in which Trotter was nearly strangled by the tape measure, and in which Fillipa drove Martha, Varne, Mrs Warboise and I to Carpet Right.
We arrived at Carpet Right and showed the assistant Martha and Varnes roughly hewn sketch of the sitting room and pretended a disabled relative had drawn it. Unfortunately, Martha and Varne had measured the widest part of the room so Fillipa and I were dispatched back to Preachers Lane to measure the grate so that no mistakes come be made with the new lino.
We purchased an off cut of carpet as Martha wants the stairs carpeted so that when were all here for a chill out it wont be so hard on her ears as shes trying to sleep.
All is not well elsewhere. Trotters and I had settled down to watch Crufts when I got a text from Dean on Milan's phone. The word was not good. At Deans fathers house Milan had fallen asleep on the dining room table.
Although Dean and his collected family had managed to carry Milan to the sofa, he is out for the count.
As a result Dean is dancing to Amy Winehouse with his Dads girlfriend and wondering what on earth to do.
I did suggest sending Fing over in his Ferrari to pick them up, well, picking Dean up and attaching some rope to Milan's legs and dragging him home, only to find that Fing has in fact crashed his Ferrari, leaving it neither use nor ornament.
Oh well.
Here comes best in show!
We arrived at Carpet Right and showed the assistant Martha and Varnes roughly hewn sketch of the sitting room and pretended a disabled relative had drawn it. Unfortunately, Martha and Varne had measured the widest part of the room so Fillipa and I were dispatched back to Preachers Lane to measure the grate so that no mistakes come be made with the new lino.
We purchased an off cut of carpet as Martha wants the stairs carpeted so that when were all here for a chill out it wont be so hard on her ears as shes trying to sleep.
All is not well elsewhere. Trotters and I had settled down to watch Crufts when I got a text from Dean on Milan's phone. The word was not good. At Deans fathers house Milan had fallen asleep on the dining room table.
Although Dean and his collected family had managed to carry Milan to the sofa, he is out for the count.
As a result Dean is dancing to Amy Winehouse with his Dads girlfriend and wondering what on earth to do.
I did suggest sending Fing over in his Ferrari to pick them up, well, picking Dean up and attaching some rope to Milan's legs and dragging him home, only to find that Fing has in fact crashed his Ferrari, leaving it neither use nor ornament.
Oh well.
Here comes best in show!
Marmoleum
In a moment of madness, martha and Varne decided to measure the sitting room/kitchenette for our new slate effect floor covering.
They had not considered Trotters beady eye as the entire length of the metallic tape was unrolled, or the effect it would have on his damaged mind.
He struck like a viper and bit the tape, and then began to twirl, until he was wrapped in the tape like a Christmas present too early.
'TROTTERS!!!!' i could hear martha calling out in an angst ridden voice, combined with Gina given it 'Oh my Fuck!', 'TROTTER!'
They had to abandon the measuring for fear that Trotter would either strangle himself or cut his tongue off.
They had not considered Trotters beady eye as the entire length of the metallic tape was unrolled, or the effect it would have on his damaged mind.
He struck like a viper and bit the tape, and then began to twirl, until he was wrapped in the tape like a Christmas present too early.
'TROTTERS!!!!' i could hear martha calling out in an angst ridden voice, combined with Gina given it 'Oh my Fuck!', 'TROTTER!'
They had to abandon the measuring for fear that Trotter would either strangle himself or cut his tongue off.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Guilty Pleasure
Fing doenst believe in guilty pleasure. He adores pissing openly, in public and preferably with an audience to witness his naughtiness. He likes to sit and smirk, especially if he has upset Trotters by peeing in his toy boy.
Trotter can derive no pleasure, innocent or guilty, from his toy bag and is so upset he has taken to barking at the vases in the grate.
Fat Boy Faggots guilty pleasure is cheese sauce, and as such, you need to keep the lid on the pot until you've served dinner otherwise, small whiskery indentations and lick marks can be seen on top.
Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug face likes nothing more than knawing the ends of chocolate bars and sucking the exposed milk chocolate.
Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west loves to read Jackie Collins novels, so we wont dwell on that.
Which leaves Tutz.
Tutz has only one love. Her scratchy pole which is now so hair infested and ripped that i may be forced to burn it in the back garden as a harbinger to spring and get a new one from Argos.
Trotter can derive no pleasure, innocent or guilty, from his toy bag and is so upset he has taken to barking at the vases in the grate.
Fat Boy Faggots guilty pleasure is cheese sauce, and as such, you need to keep the lid on the pot until you've served dinner otherwise, small whiskery indentations and lick marks can be seen on top.
Giggsey Girl the Stupid Slug face likes nothing more than knawing the ends of chocolate bars and sucking the exposed milk chocolate.
Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west loves to read Jackie Collins novels, so we wont dwell on that.
Which leaves Tutz.
Tutz has only one love. Her scratchy pole which is now so hair infested and ripped that i may be forced to burn it in the back garden as a harbinger to spring and get a new one from Argos.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Welome, welcome
As recently disclosed, the world of Trotter and Fing has gathered new friens along the way.
We have recently encountered Mr Cod, and this week I would like to introduce to to Dean and Nikki.
Dean and Nikki are hairdressers by trade, but yet so much more!
Deany boy has a penchant for home grown herbs, home made tomato sauce, home made chutneys and spending time with our old friend, Milly Pav. Thankfully due to Deans intervention, Milan has been spared calamity in our bathroom as he now has a permanent and lovely place to stay.
And what can we say about the delightful Nikki? She doesn't know who Stephen Hawkins is, but thats not a catastrophe!
At one point Martha was not sure about Dean and Nikki, but now she is she often enquires, fondly, about their where abouts.
'What are those Fuckwits up to?' she enquires?
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Lord of the Manor
Fing spent the best part of the afternoon lording it up on Marthas freshly made bed.
He spurned Tutz advances and refused to play, instead, striking her around the head repeatedly with a irritated paw and mealy mouthed face.
He watched Fat Boy Faggot as he clambered up towards to pillows and hit him with a determined 'I'm not sharing paw' and a withering glare.
He looked at Giggsey Girl the stupid slug faced and decided she was shiny enough to bask in his glory and let her stay.
To Rob
'Happy Birthday to you,
Squashed tomatoes and stew,
Bread and Butter in the gutter,
Happy birthday to you!'
Sings Tutz in her own small world of madness
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Drag School
I was sat recovering from 'Bridge to terabithia' when a phone call came from Varnes.
Do you have a long black wig we could borrow, was the enquiry.
So i went upstairs and rifled through the assortment of frocks and velvet gloves and false breasts and found the wigs, all encased in a hat box.
What sort of wig do we need, i enquired? Apparently tomorrow is 'world something day' and Chris's niece is going as Ugly Betty, was the reply.
So i tottered down the road with an assortment of wigs, and a handful of spectacles and felt in someway appeased, and yet, excited.
The world around us has accepted the dragness of Preachers Lane. Where once only young men came to pop on frocks, now schoolchildren ask to borrow accessories and high heels.
I would like to take this time to thank Fillipa Hole, Legs up Lucy and Trai la Trash for their time and complete indifference.
If you want to keep on storing your drag queen materials here you might think about paying us a storage fee!
God, you see how they are?
Do you have a long black wig we could borrow, was the enquiry.
So i went upstairs and rifled through the assortment of frocks and velvet gloves and false breasts and found the wigs, all encased in a hat box.
What sort of wig do we need, i enquired? Apparently tomorrow is 'world something day' and Chris's niece is going as Ugly Betty, was the reply.
So i tottered down the road with an assortment of wigs, and a handful of spectacles and felt in someway appeased, and yet, excited.
The world around us has accepted the dragness of Preachers Lane. Where once only young men came to pop on frocks, now schoolchildren ask to borrow accessories and high heels.
I would like to take this time to thank Fillipa Hole, Legs up Lucy and Trai la Trash for their time and complete indifference.
If you want to keep on storing your drag queen materials here you might think about paying us a storage fee!
God, you see how they are?
Hotter than an otters pocket
'Do you know what I've got in my pocket?', asked Martha as we took Trotter and Lulu for a walk earlier.
'I don't know!', i replied with a casual indifference, 'what have you got in your pocket?'
All of a sudden and with no apparent warning, Martha produced a retractable pencil.
'It's quite an effective weapon', she said, 'it can get through to the skin, even through jeans'
I looked at her with an appraising eye and enquired how she knew this.
'Oh, you know, if people torment me too much in the office i stab them in the leg', she said.
'would you like to feel how painful it is?'
I took a step back and replied in the negative.
'I don't know!', i replied with a casual indifference, 'what have you got in your pocket?'
All of a sudden and with no apparent warning, Martha produced a retractable pencil.
'It's quite an effective weapon', she said, 'it can get through to the skin, even through jeans'
I looked at her with an appraising eye and enquired how she knew this.
'Oh, you know, if people torment me too much in the office i stab them in the leg', she said.
'would you like to feel how painful it is?'
I took a step back and replied in the negative.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Tom Brownes Schooldays
I awoke to the sound of Martha holding a conversation with whom I assumed to be Varne.
I got up only to discover that it was in fact Fing, not Varne who was talking to Martha, in an attempt to be let out into the garden.
'He can't go out', she explained, 'there are cats who have been out all night outside'. Fing looked at me with anger in his eyes and went off and pissed in Trotters toy bag to make himself feel better.
'Its for his own good', she said, and I recalled that Martha used to have a teacher who used to say exactly the same thing to her when she was a girl. Miss Herring, aka 'Cods eye' used to regularly cane Martha for her naughtiness, whilst adding 'I'm doing this for your own good'.
I asked Martha if it had done any good, and she replied no. So i enquired if the same principle applied to Fing.
'Its entirely different', she exclaimed! 'Its not like I'm about to cane his tiny paws is it?'
We then discussed Martha's schooldays and her different teachers at her secondary modern school.
There was delightful Mrs Money who taught needlework and writing. Unfortunately Martha showed no aptitude for needlework and was allowed to do gardening instead. This was until the day that Martha decided to get on the rotavator and drove into the gate by accident, cutting her leg open in the process.
There was perverted Mr Harris, who taught geography and took the hapless students on a field trip to Shropshire in an attempt to teach them cartography. They dropped the students off in the hills, only to find Marthas team lost. She got a caning for getting lost.
Mr McCabe the art teacher who wouldn't let the boys and girls talk to each other despite it being a mixed school.
Martha's belief of predestination stemmed from Mr Mangle, who would make the children meditate and close their eyes, all so that he could pick his nose in private.
And of course, the redoubtable Mrs Herring, who had thin vicious lips that were always pained a bright red, with short mannish hair and weak watery eyes.
I think my favourite reminiscence of the morning was about Georgina, who arrived at the school epileptic, but unannounced, so when she took her first fit in the dinner queue the other children ran screaming into the playground. One day she took a fit in Mrs Herrings class, and sat thrashing at her desk, only to have Mrs Herring call out 'Pull yourself together Georgina and pay attention!'
I got up only to discover that it was in fact Fing, not Varne who was talking to Martha, in an attempt to be let out into the garden.
'He can't go out', she explained, 'there are cats who have been out all night outside'. Fing looked at me with anger in his eyes and went off and pissed in Trotters toy bag to make himself feel better.
'Its for his own good', she said, and I recalled that Martha used to have a teacher who used to say exactly the same thing to her when she was a girl. Miss Herring, aka 'Cods eye' used to regularly cane Martha for her naughtiness, whilst adding 'I'm doing this for your own good'.
I asked Martha if it had done any good, and she replied no. So i enquired if the same principle applied to Fing.
'Its entirely different', she exclaimed! 'Its not like I'm about to cane his tiny paws is it?'
We then discussed Martha's schooldays and her different teachers at her secondary modern school.
There was delightful Mrs Money who taught needlework and writing. Unfortunately Martha showed no aptitude for needlework and was allowed to do gardening instead. This was until the day that Martha decided to get on the rotavator and drove into the gate by accident, cutting her leg open in the process.
There was perverted Mr Harris, who taught geography and took the hapless students on a field trip to Shropshire in an attempt to teach them cartography. They dropped the students off in the hills, only to find Marthas team lost. She got a caning for getting lost.
Mr McCabe the art teacher who wouldn't let the boys and girls talk to each other despite it being a mixed school.
Martha's belief of predestination stemmed from Mr Mangle, who would make the children meditate and close their eyes, all so that he could pick his nose in private.
And of course, the redoubtable Mrs Herring, who had thin vicious lips that were always pained a bright red, with short mannish hair and weak watery eyes.
I think my favourite reminiscence of the morning was about Georgina, who arrived at the school epileptic, but unannounced, so when she took her first fit in the dinner queue the other children ran screaming into the playground. One day she took a fit in Mrs Herrings class, and sat thrashing at her desk, only to have Mrs Herring call out 'Pull yourself together Georgina and pay attention!'
Saturday, March 01, 2008
a SONG FOR jOHN
and she was out of tune god damn it!
Just what does John Barrowman know?
(Dr Who and Torchwood i'll give him that, but shite songs for europe? SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP JOHN, THIS IS EUROPE, NOT AMERICA!)
Just what does John Barrowman know?
(Dr Who and Torchwood i'll give him that, but shite songs for europe? SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP JOHN, THIS IS EUROPE, NOT AMERICA!)
Smack your bitch up
Since the world moved on and i dropped my last computer, smashing the motherboard, new characters have entered the world of Trotter and Fing.
One of these is the infamous Mr Cod, Varnes older brother.
Mr Cod is best know for trying out 'new raises', he works for the pikeys and likes to drink special brew at 8am in the morning.
He is known as Mr Cod because he closely resembles the cod in a multivitamin advert who winks in a lascivious manner to the viewing public.
Mr Cod came round one day in a drunken fashion and proceeded to torment Lulu (the chubbiest dog in the west), we tried to warn him, but to no avail.
He was feeling the heat of a hot summers evening and went to the sink and doused his head in cold water, smoothing his hair back.
He returned to the sofa and the disagreeable Lulu, and proceeded to torment her.
We warned him again!
Watch out! we cried, she still has 2 teeth!
He wouldn't listen, he wouldn't be told. She bit him, fair and square on the nose. Pierced it in fact.
He looked up in complete surprise, blood streaming down his face, as his previously damped hair stood up in a mohican.
It has to be said that for a moment we thought the Prodigy had made a surprise appearance as martha cried ' Oh! its the fire starter!'
Flea today, gone tomorrow
Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west is a very unhappy dog.
Today is flea day, in which we dispense small doses of poison to the back of the pets necks in the name of progress.
As Trotter was flea-ed earlier in the month by accident Lulu is suffering by herself. She hates the poison on the back of her neck and as I type she is feverishly rubbing her chubby body on the throw trying to get rid of the stuff.
Trotter is being pursued around the kitchen by Varne who has a pet wipe (for dogs who do not enjoy being bathed) in her right hand and a piece of ham in her left. Kind of like a 'good cop, bad cop' scenario. Trotter can only focus on the wipe and is skirting the outside of the room like a wary lion in a circus ring. She has managed to wipe the right side of his little scruffy body and as a result he is shiny on one side.
The cats are asleep upstairs, completely unaware of the wipe/ poison problem downstairs.
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