Sunday, 14 April 2013

Oxymorons: My Exotic Holiday in Weymouth

Hello dahlink, it's been awful here. In between quaffing Bolly, I have been working terribly hard; something that I normally try to avoid at all costs. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. And I knew that I had overdone it when I broke a nail on my keyboard last week.


"Sacre bloody bleu!" I shouted at Naughty George, "I'm not the type of person who should be working really hard, I should be reclining on a chaise longue, being hand-fed Brioche and Caviar by porcupines!"

Naughty George responded by staring blankly into the middle distance and belching.

"Is that all you can do?" I yelled, watching him turn round and wander off to gawk at his favourite bit of wall.

It probably sounds a bit harsh, shouting at a mutt. But he is so deaf that I am thinking about mounting a pair of ear-trumpets onto his collar. Not only would it help with his hearing, but it would add to his comedy value.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my over-exertions on the work front: Just as I was contemplating the idea of an onerous work-filled future ad infinitum, I heard my iPhone ring. Well that's not strictly true: it just vibrated because I dropped it a week ago and now the screen is cracked and the speakers don't work.

Vibrate Vibrate! Vibrate Vibrate! ......... went the iPhone.

I made a dash to answer the it before it buzzed itself over the table edge. "WHAT?" I asked.

"It's me, Jane," said the voice at the other end. Jane is my cousin and she's not as tall as me. She likes wearing girly things with flowers and hearts on, whereas I am generally mistaken for a Mechanic or a Garbage Disposal Operative.

"Oh hello," I said.

"What's up with you, you miserable git?" asked Jane sympathetically.

"I broke a nail," I replied, before adding, "what can I do for you?"

"Fancy going on a holiday?" she asked.

"God, yeah," I enthused, "I'm exhausted - I answered four emails last week."

"That's lucky because I've already booked somewhere," Jane grinned.

"Really? Where are we going?" I asked, somewhat intrigued.

"Weymouth," she replied.

"Bloody Weymouth?" I exclaimed loudly, "that manky seaside place on the bottom of England?" (I am not a fan of places with sea near them, because the sea has 'bits' floating in it and the sand sticks to your legs - bloody horrible).

"It's not manky," declared Jane indignantly.

"It's just that I had somewhere a bit more like New York or Italy in mind," I responded. 

"Well, we're going to Weymouth and we're going on Friday," she stated firmly.

That proper told me.

And so the date approached ........ and for once I was uncharacteristically organised. I realised a whole day beforehand that I hadn't organised for anyone to look after Naughty George. But, following a few frantic phone-calls, everything was sorted and I dropped him off at a friend's house.

"God, he stinks," commented aforementioned friend.

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, "he needs a bath; it's been a couple of years."

"He's got a yellow haze around him," said friend after eyeing Naughty George studiously.

"Ok, ok. I get the picture ...... he's a bit ripe. But are you still ok to look after him?" I asked.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just open a couple of windows."

Having successfully dealt with the mutt issue, I allowed myself a day and night of relaxation. But I was rudely awoken from my reverie when Jane arrived at the house, eager as a puppy to get on our way.

"Let's go!" I shouted enthusiastically, running out to her car.

"Where's your luggage?" asked Jane quizzically.

Bloody nora! I just knew I had forgotten something .......... in this case ......... packing some stuff.

I gulped loudly after realising my omission, and Jane shouted "you're bloody useless," in an exasperated fashion.

Honestly, some people get stressed at the most minor of oversights. So I ran back into the house (in an energetic fashion) to sort it all out. 

Needless to say, I packed my case in about 10 minutes flat (by just picking the stuff that was at the front), and was soon good to go.

And because I like Mother Theresa (except I don't have a moustache), I have got some photographs for you ......................

Day 1 - Weymouth Holiday

Pic.No.1 This was Jane when we got stuck in a traffic jam on the way to Weymouth. She can drive with no hands and everything

Pic.No.2  This is me doing a half-hearted Zoolander on the way to Weymouth. We were stuck in a traffic jam and I took 237 photographs of bollards, lights and fences to try and keep myself amused

Pic.No.3 Finally, we arrived at our hotel. It's that big white thing that looks like Alcatraz

Pic.No.4 This was our room at the hotel. It was a lot better than I expected because the hotel looked like a prison from the outside

Pic.No.5 "JANE! Can you take a comedy picture of me lying on my bed?"

Pic.No.6 As soon as Jane saw the bed, she went to lie down. I am going to get her a t-shirt with 'I'm Knackered' emblazoned on the front because she always likes lying down

Pic.No.7 I got really bored whilst Jane was asleep

Eventually Jane did rise from her bed, at which point I told her that I was so hungry that I was going to gnaw a chair leg. She told me that we would get fined by the hotel if I gnawed a chair leg, so instead I entertained myself by reprogramming the TV to Arabic channels.

Pic.No.8 Eventually, we went to Prezzo Restaurant in Weymouth and the food was bloody brilliant. You could order loads of small dishes of pasta ...... a bit like Tapas

Pic.No.9 This is Jane in the Prezzo restaurant

Pic.No.10 This is me in the Prezzo restaurant. I like pictures with me in them. Earlier that evening, Jane had dyed my hair red but I am not sure if you can see it in this picture

DAY 2 - Weymouth Holiday

Jane decided that she wanted another tattoo (she already has three - but I am too wussy to have any and I'd probably get bored of them quickly), so we trawled around all the tattoo parlours in Weymouth to find someone good enough to do it. It was a mission that accomplished within one hour.

Pic.No.11 This is the outline of the tattoo that Jane and I designed. It features the name of her son, Mitchell Owen (my gorgeous nephew), with some flowery shit underneath

Pic.No.12 This is the tattooist at work. It was a bit like a scene from the film 'Deliverance' because she was squealing like a pig. Both Jane and the tattooist tried to persuade me to have a tattoo but I firmly rebuffed the idea

Pic.No.13 This is the finished tattoo .......Christ ..... there was proper pain getting this done. [Note to self: don't get a tattoo}

Pic.No.14 After the tattoo, we walked down to Weymouth harbour. There were loads of boats and everything

Looking at the boats got a bit boring after 3.5 minutes so we decided that we were going to visit the Sea Life centre in Weymouth. It's basically a bit like SeaWorld in Florida. Except 243 times smaller.

I had half expected the highlight of the tour to be a half-dead cod floating sideways on the surface of a stagnant pond, so I was pleasantly surprised with the plethora of fishy shit that they had on display .........  and here is a synopsis of it all ............................................

Pic.No.15 Look! some weird seahorses-that-look-like-stick-instects type of creatures

Pic.No.16 A Shark swimming through the big swimming pool type area

Pic.No.17 And then the excitement peaked

The only thing better than seeing a shark's bumhole would be seeing two sharks shagging. I put that comment on my 'customer review card' as I left the centre.

DAY 3 - Weymouth Holiday

I wanted to go and see 'Portland Bill' which is a bloody huge lighthouse situated on the Portland Peninsula. I am not quite sure why I wanted to see a lighthouse because they are basically just big pocket torches. I suppose it came down to a choice between that or shopping. And I bloody hate shopping.

Bring it on Portland Bill!

Pic.No.18 This is me outside the lighthouse thingy. It was bloody freezing and I had to wear THREE coats, hence the slightly rotund profile

Pic.No.19 This is Jane. She announced that she had hypothermia 5 minutes after exiting the car. That's because she only packed summer stuff even though it was April in England. Muppet

Pic.No.20 After looking at the lighthouse (we couldn't go inside because it was a cash-only entrance fee and because I am like the Queen, I don't carry cash - arse), we ventured another 50 yards to look at the sea

Pic.No.21 The sea can be a bit samey once you have seen a couple of waves. And the air is colder than a date with Ted Bundy

Pic.No.22 This is a rare picture of Jane surrounded by natural stuff, like rocks and water. It's a bit like capturing a picture of a Yeti because 99.99% of the time, her normal habitat has a 52" TV backdrop

Pic.No.23 A big pointy stone thing was situated just behind the lighthouse. I think that they are called obelisks or something like that. You can tell how big it was by looking at the size of the chap on the right hand side of the picture

By the time the picture above was taken, we had been outside of the car for about 13 minutes. 

"I'm not staying outside any more!" hollered Jane, "I am about to die from exposure!"

What a wuss. 

So we got back into the car and set off back towards Weymouth and the hotel ..... I could see that she was dying for a sleep.

Pic.No.24 But on the journey back, I insisted on doing a bit of sightseeing .... like stopping at the top of this cliff. There was an awesome view of Portland Beach and the blue sea even made it look a bit exotic

Pic.No.25 And then on our journey, we accidentally stumbled across a prison built into the hillside. It was full of very naughty people and reminded me of a quote from a film (can you guess which one?): "You are NOT the messiah, you are a very naughty boy."

Pic.No.26 This was the sign outside the prison. It details some of the history behind the building (click on picture to enlarge)

Our final destination of the holiday was a visit to a fort built in 1450AD by Henry VIII. Unlike me, Jane doesn't really like old buildings, but she readily agreed to visit because she had eaten some dodgy shellfish earlier in the day and was grateful to go somewhere with serviceable toilets.

Pic.No.27 This is the fort that Henry VIII built about 650 years ago to stop Johnny F (French and Spanish) invading England

Pic.No.28 Look! Here is the ancient door and flagstone entrance with Henry VIII's coat-of-arms above

Pic.No.29 This is the courtyard of the Fort. The serviceable toilets were through the door on the left

And so my dahlink, after making you trawl through that plethora of photographs, I am going to bid adieu to both yourself and Weymouth ...... bloody great holiday it was ........ thanks cousin!

Pic.No.30 This is me and Jane on our way home in the car. I am wearing oversized glasses because I read somewhere that it makes people focus on your eyes rather than your arse. 

So, have you been up to anything exciting recently? Pray do tell .......

Thursday, 4 April 2013

Loads of Random Shit

Hello dahlink! First of all, I must apologise profusely for being a bit lot elusive lately. I like to think that I have been a bit like the Scarlet Pimpernel and Fu-Manchu-the-Yellow-Peril, combined. Except better looking. And without a dodgy moustache.

'So, why the blazes do you keep disappearing like a box of chocolates within arm's reach of John Candy?' I hear you cry.

Well, to be frank, there is a LOT of stuff going on in the background. It's all Secret Squirrel at the moment, so if I told you, I would have to mow you down with a Heavy Gustav, which, after much research, I have found to be the biggest gun in the world. The phrase 'using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut' springs to mind. But looking at it in another way, if a job's worth doing ..........

Pic.No.1 A Heavy Gustav gun. Imagine trying to hide that bastard under your mattress

But something else was really cool. Whilst all the crap was going on, I got loads of lovely emails from peeps asking where the berluddy hell I had got to. Thank you dahlinks, that was REALLY appreciated. 

Anyway, with further ado, I have decided to give you a synopsis of the back-catalogue in order to try and get back up to speed again. So please sit back, put your feet up, neck seven Tequila Slammers and enjoy.........

Izzy Got Injured

Here in the UK, the Easter holidays started a week ago and Izzy was duly whisked off by her Dad (Steve) for her annual skiing holiday. 

On day two of the holiday, I received a phone-call from the aforementioned Steve which began: "there's been an accident......"

"What kind of a bloody accident?" I asked, with a feeling of impending doom.

"Izzy has broken her leg," he replied.

"Shit-a-brick!" I exclaimed, "how did she do that? Is she ok? When did it happen? Has she been treated? .... etc etc etc ......"

It transpired that the ski-school instructor had mixed her skis up with some other kid's, meaning that the binding settings were inappropriate for her size and weight, so that when she fell over, the skis didn't release.

Pic. No.2 Izzy ended up with a full-leg plaster cast and crutches

After her initial shock (and having a bit of a teary wobble), I have to say that she dealt with it really rather well and was quickly back to her chirpy, happy-chappy self; i.e. shouting, "MUM! Stop swearing!", whenever I said the word 'bloody'.

Apparently, when she flies home on Saturday, she's going to need a wheelchair and two seats on the aircraft to accommodate her leg. Result!

That is one helluva way to get extra legroom. That's my sprogl!

Comedy Birds

Randomly, I have discovered that if I do a funny dance in my garden (i.e. throw some proper shapes), the pheasants [a UK game bird -info for those who live in the US] who live in the field behind my house will start running around and make comedy noises.

I think they get disturbed by my erratic movements, and they emit an 'ARK ARK' sound. Then they run away with their heads staying completely level even though their legs are running really fast.

It's bloody well entertaining.

Pic.No.3 This is a pheasant. It's making me feel hungry

 Partying in Stratford-upon-Avon

Last weekend I went to a party in Stratford-upon-Avon. Stratford (as I will herein refer to it) is famous because Shakespeare was born there.

Apparently, Shakespeare was a world-renowned author, and I think I studied him at school [Merchant of Venice?], but from what I remember, he wrote everything in a foreign language.

Pic.No.4 This is a typically old building in Stratford (circa 1450 AD). It was older than the Christmas cake in the back of my fridge

Pic.No.5 This is the river Avon flowing through Stratford. See those Geese things? They are evil bastards they are. One of them tried to peck me in a vicious way

The party was held just outside of Stratford and it was bloody brilliant. Except for the fact that the music was too loud and I couldn't hear anyone speak. And they couldn't hear me. So I was free to mingle using pseudo Latin phrases that I made up. Things like: "Brutus addarat for tee, kaiser ad some yam. Brutus sic in omnibus, kaiser innis hat."

The day after the party, there was another wander around Stratford. It's quite a posh place, so imagine my delight when I discovered a new gadget ......................... wait for it ......... wait for it ......................

Pic.No.6 My new solar-powered comedy Meerkat light

Even better, it was on Sale, so I got it for £6.00 instead of £12.50.

I bet you have never managed to get a solar-powered Meerkat for £6.00!

Bargain! Honestly, why would they need to be on Sale? Surely the shop can't keep up with demand?

Naughty George has been Barfing everywhere

I have to say, I've been a bit worried about the mutt for the last couple of weeks. Not only is he 17 years old, but his new hobby (as well as randomly biting other dogs in the face), is making a horrible KACK KACK retching sound and then throwing up bile upon various soft furnishings.


To date, I have skidded through at least 4 puddles of yellow chunks.

It's a bit like that TV programme, 'Dancing on Ice', except the ice is replaced by dog vom.

Pic.No.7 I tried to distract myself from NG's dilemma by photographing Barbie riding a honking pig with a pissing dog in the background

But never fear, I shall keep you updated on NG's progress.

P.S. I am not going anywhere, but I am not sure how frequently I will be able to blog over the next couple of months, so please do bear with me dahlink and I promise to make more effort not to be elusive like a duck-billed platypus.

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