Pool Bars – Another reason it is hard being a parent.

It’s hard being a parent. Kids ask you questions and you are expected to know the answer. For example when we went to the Coliseum in Rome, Frankie wanted to know why it had holes in it. I couldn’t be bothered explaining that during the Middle Ages poor people had chipped holes in the stone to get at the copper that the Romans had used to lock the blocks together. So the missus told her it was made of cheese and a giant mouse had eaten some of it. She loved that answer a lot more than the ‘searching for copper’ story would have gone down and it was also fricken hilarious listening to her explain the giant mouse situation to a group of American tourists. But sometimes it’s more complicated. Like when we were at the pool bar at a hotel. I had to tell Frankie not to splash, because the drunken English guy beside us was trying to smoke. She didn’t understand that at all. We were in a pool. If you cant splash in a pool, where can you splash? She had a point and I didn’t have a good argument. All I could do by way of defense of what is one of man’s greatest inventions, was to point out that this was one bar where you didn’t have to bother leaving to go to the toilet. Mind you, I have been in a few normal bars where that happens.

Naivety. The birth of christ.

M – You took your time. Lets get up to the room I’m knackered.

J – Well, there’s a bit of a problem.

M – Problem? What do you mean problem? It’s late, and my bum is sore. This saddle you made is rubbish. What do you mean problem?

J – The Inn is full.

M – Full! Really. Well I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact there is a fricken census on and everyone has returned home to this poxy little town. ‘Book a room’ I said. ‘The place will be full’ I said. But Oh no not you. Not Mr ‘Hey it’s my hometown they’ll have a special room set aside for me’. So what are we supposed to do now? Turn round and ride home?

J – Well no. They can fit us in. They said we could stay in the manger.

M – Manger? What’s a effin manger?

J – Over there.

M – You’ve got to be joking. That! It’s a fricken stable! Do they call it a manger so they cant rent it out to suckers like you.

J – They said we could have it for free.

M – Free! Oh really! How bloody gracious of them. They are letting the PREGNANT WOMAN! STAY IN THEIR STABLE FOR FREE!!!!!! THANYOU VERY BLOODY MUCH.

J- Mary quiet. Someone will hear you.

M – Who Joseph? Who will hear me? Everyone else got here hours ago. You know why? Because they came on horses. Not stupid little Donkeys. And now they are all tucked up safely asleep in their rooms. Which they booked months IN ADVANCE! Oh shit!

J – What is it? What’s wrong Mary?

M – My waters just broke.

J – On the saddle? I was going to sell that when we got home.

M – What did you say?

J – Nothing. How about we get you into the stab… the manger, and get you comfortable.

M - What are you doing with that hay? You expect me to lie on a bed of hay like a pregnant cow?

J - This? I was going to feed the donkey. He’s come along way.

M – The donkey! You were going to feed the donkey!

J – He cost a lot of money. I have to take him back to the rental company in the condition we got him.

M – You are unbelievable. What kind of carpenter doesn’t even own his own bloody Donkey anyway. I’ll tell you what kind. A bloody useless one.
You know this kid isn’t even yours don’t you?

J – Mary, please. Calm down. You’re just tired and emotional.

M – Emotional eh. Well you would you be too if you were having the SON OF GOD!

J – Mary. Please, be quiet. People will hear you.

M – Well I don’t care. I don’t care if everyone knows that I AM HEAVY WITH THE SON OF GOD. And let me tell you something Joseph, when the messiah arrives things are going to change for me. No more riding around on rented donkeys for a start. What do you have to say to that eh?

J – Well I guess the planet could do with a new messiah. I just wish you had told me earlier.

M – Why? So you would have had time to dump me? Immaculate conception freak you out eh builder boy? Can’t handle the idea of havin your missus womb used for God’s work?

J – No. It’s just that I bet the owner of the Inn would have given us a proper room if he’d known. Now lets get you inside eh, here come those three blokes on camels. I’m, sure they’ve been following us.

Mr bollocks

So I am on this road trip this weekend. The missus and the sprog are asleep, but I want to listen to some tunes up loud. Cunningly I had prepared for the eventuality as I had packed my trusty I shuffle.
Problem was, that when I loaded it last week I was in this Lah De Dah reflective, sunny mood where I felt like listening to acoustic strummy tunes and it was filled with stuff by David Gray and James Blunt.
Do you think David Gray wants to kick James Blunt’s arse, cause he was like the easy listening pommy guitar troubadour back when Blunt was fanging around in a tank and then as if traveling overseas and killing people at the tax payers expense wasn’t enough fun for one lifetime, he drops his camo gear, picks up a guitar and suddenly Blunt is the new Grey…….…or do they just shake hands when they meet at industry functions and say stuff like, ‘I really like your lyrics man, lets find a really fucked up African country and write a duet for them. Flick some of the royalties their way, get our photo taken with some skinny kids and score ourselves a few centimeters of exposure in Time magazine.

Anyway…back on the road what I really wanted to listen to was some loud guitars and if I couldn’t have then I didn’t want nuttin, so I dumped the shuffle and decided to think up
all the ‘Mr’ products I could.
Mr Chips, Mr whippy, Mr guy that cuts your keys whose name I cant exactly remember. I think it was Minute. And then I thought of Mr Mister Mister, the band, who as far as I know only ever had one hit. I could google them to find out more but I’m not really interested to be honest. In fact the Mr game lasted about as long as it took you to read about it. Wonder where they are now? Probably gearing up to play New Years Eve at the Niagra Falls Holiday Inn. ‘Take, these golden wings, and learn to fly, something, something,… up so high……again….. blah blah blah.

That was it really….That was what I thought I would write about. Obvioulsy looking back now I am not sure why I bothered, but when I started out I didn’t know it was going to end up like this did I? Bit like ‘You’re Beautiful’. I’m sure James didn’t mean that song to be such an annoying f#&*ing waste of 3 minutes and 33 seconds. So count yourself lucky by my reckoning you’ve only spent about 1 minute and 27 seconds reading this. Maybe a bit longer for all you slow readers who never had the gumption to invest in the speed reading course for only 39.95. Actually it will be a bit longer than 1 minutes 27 seconds because when I timed it I hadn’t put in the bit about the speed-reading course. I only thought of that now and I can’t be arsed going back and reading this again. I have proper stuff to write. Tonight it is a short story about a gold fish that works in a sex bar in Thailand but really wants to be a pilot. True story. Well it isn’t obviously. But it is one of the sort stories I am putting in me book. So that's something to look forward to. That and the New Years Eve Buffet at the Niagra Falls Holiday Inn. Brilliant apparently.

Santa Bollocks.

So here we go again. That time of the year where all the stranger danger we instill into our kids is undone. The time of year where we take our kids to the mall and tell them to go sit on the lap of the strange old man and get a sweetie from him. This is the guy, we tell our kids, who will creep into their bedroom on Christmas eve and give them a present. But only if they have been good, because this old man has been watching them all year. He knows what they have been up to. Seen an old man hanging around outside your kid’s school this year? Don’t call the cops, it’s probably just Santa in disguise. We even leave out milk and cookies so Santa can take a break form prowling around our kids bedrooms. My dad used to leave out a beer, he thought Santa would like that more. Imagine if Santa had a beer at every house he stopped at. Hell, even if he only had one at every 20th house, he’s still be completely trashed after a couple of hours on the job. This year I am leaving out some carrot sticks and a low fat yoghurt. Lets face it, the guy is a heart attack waiting to happen and I don’t want him keeling over in daughters bedroom. 12 Reindeer? To pull that lump of lard and a sack ful of presents? Bet Doner and Blitzen and Rudolf and the gang wouldn’t mind if the old boy lost a few kg’s.

Thank you for bombing countries faraway from you America.

The US Space Program gave us velcro and the cordless drill. US long range bombing gave us mid air refueling, and it is this technology that allows Santa to get around the world in 24 hours. Think about it. If he had to keep stopping for reindeer food and more presents he’s never get it done. So each year when he takes of in his sleigh, another, super sized sleigh crewed by specially trained elves, also takes off loaded with reindeer food, presents and red bulls for Santa. Here’s another little bit of Christmas trivia you might not know about. Ever wondered where all the reindeer wee and poo goes? In the old days they used to just take a dump on whatever roof they were on at the time. In the 50’s, America paid Santa to make his reindeer unload over Russia just for a laugh. But after some bad PR Santa’s people had to review their operation and came up with a solution that the special forces use. Santa and his Reindeer now poo in bags and take the waste with them. There’s a conversation starter when you sit down for Christmas dinner this year.

Posh Spice havin a Ball

Costume Malfunction? Maybe. But on closer inspection it does look a lot like Posh has a small right testicle tucked under her arm. Hers you think? Or is it a precaution she takes when she is away from David. He strayed once before. Maybe if she keeps hold of his nuts. Even just one of them, he will think twice about any offside play. Nervous times for David. I don’t think he would be worried about her losing his nut, she has an army of minders and it probably gets better care than the little sprogs it helped create. But how does he feel about her taking it out and showing it off to the world? And wouldn’t those hot stage lights make the poor little thing dry up? Maybe it is her way of saying to the world ‘I am making a sack load of money on this tour.’
I noticed it appears to be shaved. Maybe that’s so it doesn’t cause Victoria any chaffing. But that begs the question why she put it under her arm like that and didn’t wear it in a bag round her neck? Maybe that would have clashed with her costume. I bet Dave cant wait till the end of the Spice Girls tour when he can be reacquainted with his family and his right nut.

Gravy Bollocks

Why do they call it the Gravy Boat? Is it because it looks a bit like a boat? Tenuous link. Maybe after grandma has had a few sherries it starts looking like a boat.
I have heard of the Gravy Train. Why not call the gravy container the gravy train and then people would get it. Maybe they could make a little gravy server in the shape of a train.
But while we have the Gravy Boat, why doesn’t a gravy maker do ‘Gravy Boat in a bottle’ and it is a bottle of gravy and when you have poured out all the gravy there is a boat in there. You wash it out and have your very own ‘Gravy Boat in a bottle’ on the bookshelf to impress you friends. You could collect a set of them and you wouldn’t know what boat you had till your bottle of gravy was running low.

Bang!

In Britain the Scots Guards Association is preparing 650 Christmas parcels for soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan but they have to take the crackers out because the RAF classify them as explosives and they are banned on their planes. I assume that rule doesn’t apply to the bombs their bombers carry or it wouldn’t make them a very effective air force.
But back to the crackers. Do you think a soldier in Iraq or Afghanistan really wants a cracker in a care package? In a country full of things that go ‘BANG!’ all the time is it really necessary? It’s a bit like giving a bar tender a bottle of booze for Christmas? Or giving a builder a present he has to assemble himself? Or giving a hooker a porno film?

Bendy straw bollocks

The way I see it the bendy straw was a complete waste of time. You can’t get anything out of a glass with a bendy straw that you can’t get with a normal straw. And do those few centimeters of bendiness really make it easier for you to get your lips around it?
When alien life forms come to post apocalyptic earth and start looking at all the stuff we have invented the few remaining survivors of the human race are in for some major embarrassment when the aliens question them about the bendy straw.
‘What is this?’
‘It’s a bendy straw’
‘How is this different to the normal straw?’
‘It’s bends near the top.’
‘Why?’
‘So you can……. Bend it.’
‘Why?’
‘….Ummm…. Hey have you seen these. They’re called post it notes. These are really useful.’
The aliens would totally get it if it were a bendy anal probe. You need something bendy if it is going up the poop canal. But a straw? I doubt they will say anything to our faces. But when they go back to their home planet, they are going to get a lot of intergalactic laughs telling their mates about how the earthlings wasted time and money inventing bendy straws.
There is an ad for Shell oil on the box at the moment. One more of those big budget hand jobs the oil companies put on, to try and convince you they aren’t running round raping the planet and ripping off the locals. So this Dutch guy watches his son finish a drink with a bendy straw and gets an idea for a drill the goes down AND across. Which the bendy straw would have done if it were upside down. But it wasn’t. Why? Cause while that might be useful for sucking oil out of the ground, you don’t need to do it to finish a chocolate milkshake.
Just think what the inventor of the bendy straw could have put his creative energy, time and effort into instead of the stupid straw. He might have invented cornflakes that don’t go soggy in milk. A music video concept for Shakira that doesn’t involve her dancing like a stripper for 3 and a half minutes. Or a better ending for the Matrix films. I don’t know who invented the bendy straw. Maybe they went onto bigger and better things. Maybe the bendy straw was the inspiration for the bendy bus. I hope so, because the bottom line is the Bendy Straw sucks.

Sweet Caroline. The dodgy truth.

So it turns out Neil Daimond got the inspiration for Sweet Caroline 40 years ago when he saw a picture of Caroline Kennedy beside her horse. She was about 9 because he fessed up to her at her 50th birthday.
It kind of changes the way you view some of the lyrics of the song eh.

Where it began, I can't begin to know when

(Yes you do. It was when you saw the photo of the 9 year old)
But then I know it's growing strong

(What is growing Neil?)
Oh, wasn't the spring, whooo

And spring became the summer

Who'd believe you'd come along


(If she did, I hope it was under parental supervision)

Hands, touching hands, reaching out

(your little secret eh)
Touching me, touching you

(that is known as bad touching Neil)
Oh, sweet Caroline

Good times never seem so good

I've been inclined to believe it never would


(you’re lucky the Secret Service didn’t arrest your arse)

You’ve got cock

Before the internet, email and spam, how did men find out about how to make their dicks bigger? We truly live in a magical age.
I'l tell you another incredible thing about the internet. Because I have written the words penis enlargement as one of the labels for this post, people searching 'penis enlargement' on the net will have this blog entry turn up as one of the results. If you are one of those men and are reading this, my question is why are you looking it up on the net? Don't you get 5 or 6 emails a week giving you all the details about how to get a more pronounced pecker? It's like Nigerian scam letters. They find you. These have to be two of the most popular spam emails in cyber space. Some smart spam scammer should combine them to create the ultimate bullshit story.

Dear Sir I am writing this with deep regard for your honorableness. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Matheiko Twathanass. Last year my husband died on a plane crash in Sth Africaa (news link attached). All they recovered form the charred wreckage of the plane was his huge 21 inch schlong for which he was famous in our village.
I have been left to care for my 8 children, but with no funds for my good self I have been forced to sell my husbands super sized man handle. It is currently being held in a chilled vault in Switzerland. All I ask is your help gaining access to what is rightfully mine and in return I will be happy to share a good portion of the length with you.