Date: Wednesday 23rd September 2020. Location: Stuck on a field Specifically: I’m not repeating it I feel like a knob-head already. Deals with murder and other dastardly deeds but contains a modicum of less dreadful material that certain people might wish to have a stab at. It's all planned. I have the weapon my means of entry and exit, a vehicle with untraceable license plates. I‘m wearing a hazmat suit to ensure I don’t leave any trace evidence - don’t want to get my shirt lifted er....... collar felt I should say - and, since the victim is unknown to me, or so the feds will think, there will be no evidence of a motive. I have a body bag (actually a gro-bag purchased on eBay but it will do) in which to place the victims corpse and a perfect place to dispose of the body - a graveyard 2000 miles away - the cadaver dogs will have a hard time sniffing out one particular corpse in there! All that’s required now is a couple of plastic carrier bags, my wallet and of course the shopping list. Eh? Oh hell! I have to stop watching these forensic science documentary’s. I’m getting fantasy and reality totally confusified! Anyway murder or shopping my plans are scuppered because it has been raining heavily for hours - murder would be out because I’m not going to BLT someone in this filth (Not entirely sure thats correct but its whatever the initials are for bashing someone several times over the head) and shopping is out because my getaway vehicle (dammit!) I mean my moho aka ‘Hymie’ might become entrenched in the mud and he doesn’t like that at all. I don’t have a problem with shopping tomorrow, there’s enough food in the fridge, but I do have a problem in that I have run out of milk (ironic given that there are two cows literally a few yards away but I have no idea which bits I’m supposed to get hold of in order to obtain milk - all I know is it's not the long swishy thing hanging over the arse) ). So plan B Don’t have one. So it's back to the shopping plan. I need some cow wine and I won't get any on the farm or in the immediate vicinity because there isn't one single shop - not even a bloody convenience store. About all you'll get around here in hillbilly land is home grown farm produce and that is limited to eggs, spuds, real dairy ice-cream, moonshine and horse shit. I decide to leave via the main gate - that way I can avoid driving through mud and having to go through the enormous chain link fence that requires heaving around in order to get out. There's also the added inconvenience of having to prop the gate up against a hedge and aim Hymie through before it collapses and causes a dent in the side (Hymie doesn't like being dented in the side!). The alternative main gate is accessible via a concrete path where it's unlikely I'll get stuck (unless of course Sean has been out pouring wet concrete during the night!).
One successful shopping trip later (I'm sure you don't want any more shopping tales), one walk around a lake, and one failed visit to Whitchurch later - curtesy of an arse with a horse and cart moping about on the road - and I'm back on the farm. Yay! Time for dinner!
WATCH OVER MOTHER
In this shitty world of ours it is rare to come across a person who puts others before themselves. One such person is my friend Deb. I've spoken of her before but just in case you are a new reader to my blog (welcome to you - and by the way there's no charge) Deb is a person of many talents which include making steampunk jewellery (examples below), painting in oils (paint is yesterdays news apparently), creates art from coloured paper (known as quilling) fights off some of the worlds biggest spiders, falls over grass verges a lot and can *hold her wee for 12 hours! (In her bladder that is - not cupping it in her hands and hoping she doesn't spill any). She is a bit modest about having her mugshot on my blog so here's a photo of her legs instead.
*Proof! Deb's original posting to yer Facebook.
"Well today was definitely one of those days where I really wish I'd stayed in bed. Though I have discovered I can hold my pee for nearly 12 hours"
I could provide many examples of her genuine caring nature but this will do for starters. Recently the mother of an 'acquaintance' (safest description) suffered a myocardial infarction - which as everyone knows is a fun way of describing a heart attack by making it sound like a fart). This is someone who is well known to Deb but not related to her in any way - not Mother, sister, pre-op transsexual or any other kind of relative. Yet she gives up to 5 days of her week in caring for her!
Imagine that
Well go on then - and put the kettle on while you're at it.
Now I get doing this for ones own mum. My sister and myself had it to do for a couple of years. For anyone who's had it to do (or has the porta-potty peeping over the horizon) I can assure you that it is short on laughs. But doing it for someone else's mother! I'm afraid that in me Deb chose the wrong person to impart this information. I thought she was crazy (well she is actually!) and said so. "What?! Give up your life of quibbling (or whatever it was), facing down arachnids and painting the town (red of course)! Are you insane!?" Her answer had me scratching my head, ceasing to breathe and reinserting my eyeballs. "I actually enjoy it!" At which point I had to fetch an oxygen tank and breathing apparatus. "You what!?" "You enjoy it!?" My response said more about me (or just as much) than it did about Deb. The worlds needs more people like her.
My own mother was the same. I used to say of her that she was far too good for this world. Many times both my sister and I found ourselves in a state of utter incredulity at some of the things she siad and did. There were occasions where she would receive an unexpected payment of some sort, perhaps a benefit that the DSS has missed due to an administrative oversight. She would then get straight on the phone and have the payment cancelled or send the cheque back much to the utter disbelief of my sister and I "Mother what the hell are you doing, it's yours keep it!" "Oh no I have enough money (she didn't) I don't need any more it's going back. This is why when she died I asked for the following words to be inscribed on her headstone, a line from the Don McLean song 'Starry Starry Night' To me it summed her up completely "This world was never meant for anyone as beautiful as you". Now years after her passing I often find myself wondering what she would make of the world now.
COVID-19
For a time when COVID-19 appeared and with it the plethora of lockdown procedures it did seem as though the world was indeed becoming a better place. The news and social media were full of reports about people showing greater kindness, compassion and consideration towards each other (overlooking the panic buyers queuing up at 3.00 a.m. outside supermarkets so they could buy 4 trolley loads of bog roll for their family of two and forcing everyone else in the community to clean up after themselves with leaves, old newspapers, wrapping paper or, if all else failed, sitting with their arse in the sink) . We began to appreciate why people often expressed fond memories of the war years, not because they were oblivious to the horrors being reported daily but because it was a time when everyone understood that it was people who mattered.
Many jokes have been made about the COVID-19 lockdown procedures; usually along the lines of how people should stop complaining because they're a doddle compared to what our grandparents went through during WW2 "Your grandparents were called to war you're being asked to sit on the couch". Whatever your views we are in the middle of a national crisis and times of hardship tend to bring people closer together and strengthen communities. One of the most bitter ironies is that material possessions tend to be pricey and there benefits short lived. Yet showing kindness to others actually costs nothing.
There was also good news about the environment. Lockdown meant that the only places people could socialise was their own kitchen and the nearest thing to a wild night was applauding the NHS from the back door. This meant that people were allowed out only for essential journeys like grocery shopping, collecting prescriptions or for exercise (although there were concerns about whether the latter was compulsory). Because of this the planet (so the theory goes) has been given a chance to heal from the pressures of everyone trampling all over it, choking up the atmosphere with exhaust fumes and industrial detritus and going round killing each other. Everyone seems to have a settled into a new 'normal' with compulsory mask wearing being the order of the day (although I'm still a little nervous about who exactly is performing operations in hospitals)
A CRIME STORY (Best read with an American accent!)
Poor guy was a total failure in fact you could say that he was so brilliant at failing that he was a success!His proudest achievement, if I might describe it as such, was killing his wife. Poor sap couldn’t even do that right. Fed up with her nagging at him about his failures “Elmer why can’t yo even hold down a job? Lawks a mercy yo ain’t nuthin but a whiskey slugging, tobacca chewin waste a skin 'n I tell you I aint avin any more of it. No sir. Why I am packing my bags n leavin you right this minit! "
Well that was the last straw. With the threat of his wife running out on him Elmer just saw green (crazy ol’ coot couldn’t even get the colour right!) n follered his wife upstairs where he grabbed her from behind n tried to strangle her with a pair of braces. Believing her to be successfully choked but not wanting to take any chances he fastened one end of the braces to the bannister, lifts up the sagging body of his wife n done throws her over the side.
Only trouble is the stoopid son of a bitch had used elasticated braces so instead of seeing the body of his newly dead wife dangling in mid air and choking her last breath she’s just bouncing up n down like a yo yo on a spring! So bewildered is he by this spectacle that he fails to notice his wife is on the upswing. Hell in tarnation if her head doesn’t catch him full in the mush knocking the wind out of him, liberating his false teeth and sending him sprawling backwards to the bottom of the stairs! At this point his buddy Billy-Bob comes through the door, walks over to him and asks “the hell are you foolin about at Elmer? Is this one ‘o your stuntman acts!?”
To further his pain and humiliation his wife looking a picture of health if not a little frazzled has freed herself from her danglers and says to him “well Elmer that sure was a fitting way for a loser like you to die!”
“But I’m still alive dearest..."
"You still got that baseball bat in the back 'o yo' car Billy Bob, my poor husband seems to have fallen down the stairs"
FAMOUS CRAP HAIRSTYLES
No 6: Permed hair for men
As we all know fashion is a strange beast. One moment your'e the coolest thing since ice-lollies the next you're a social pariah useful only for target practice and having your face laughed in.
Believe it or not this idiotic looking rug floated gaily atop the bonce of many men during it's heyday in the 1980's (maybe that should be Hay Day). Where did it originate? I don't know but I bet it came courtesy of some celebrity nut job (geddit!? - nut/head? - ah f**k off then!). I was fascinated by the style because in the area I was raised - South Yorkshire - if a man had gone into town with his hair permed he would have had his trousers removed and packed off to Swindon.
Did I ever have it done. Yes I confess that I did. Did I look cool? No I looked a complete and utter idiot. Why? Because I did what you should NEVER do with a perm - I washed it on the first day I had it done. Fortunately for me I no longer have a photograph of how it looked but I have dug out something that approximates to it. Stop laughing!!!
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