Come Dine With Me

I love it. Not just of the overall concept of the show but for the narration from Dave Lamb. As you know, i'm not a big fan of sarcasm as it's the lowest form of wit, so they say, but hey! Anyway... it got me thinking about hosting my own 'Celebrity Come Dine With Me' and who'd be the lucky souls to get the covetted golden invitations.

Now, apart from the grub, what's needed at a successful dinner party are a broad spectrum of guests. Firstly, you need someone who's very funny and can tell good jokes [so that's my role sorted out then, heheheheh]. Guest No.1 would have to be Pineapple Dance Studio's very own Louie Spence. He's like sunshine on a stick, nearly as flamboyant as moi and probably has bum cheeks just as firm ... ahem ??!!





Guest No2 would be Iranian comic Shappi Khorsandi. There's nothing more attractive than a strong, intelligent, confident, empowered, well-cultured woman ... plus she has a grrreat rack.



Guest number 3 would be someone like Lindsay Lohan. An out of control, coked-up [allegedly] Hollywood starlet would mean great entertainment and be able to regale us with tales of glitz, glamour and other dubious excesses. Plus, she'd be a real boon in the kitchen. It would save me the job of doing the washing up as Lindsay is more than qualified to lick the plates clean!!

Ba-dum-tishh

The road to nowhere ???

As something of an intelectual, i was reading an article in the local rag the other day regarding the ever increasing amount of traffic on our roads. Local 'experts' [i use the word 'expert' in the loosest sense of the word] were trotting out the usual bilge about cutting traffic by using car-share schemes and congestion charges. ie; pricing people off the roads.

Well maybe if public transport was up to muster, you know, reliable, clean and didn't cost an arm and a leg to use then people might start leaving their cars at home. Speaking personally, i never use public transport. It's cheaper for me to run a car, plus i don't have to put up sitting next to some smelly chav who has both hands jammed down the front of his trackie bottoms!!

Anyway..... as an intellectuall, this got me thinking of the best ways to reduce traffic, and i think i've got the solution. Just by banning all women off the roads will reduce congestion by over 50%, easy. Lets face it, most women don't even need a car in day to day life. Popping down to the shops to get something nice for hubby's tea does not require the use of a car.

Now, a tiny minority of bra burning feminists might say i'm being a tad sexist but in their heart of hearts they'll know i'm correct [a man always is]. And lets be honest about it, most women struggle to safely navigate a shopping trolley around Tesco's so driving a motor vehicle on the open highway simply doesn't bare thinking about!!

Nowt daft as folk

This has to be the best election we've had for decades.

Okay, when i say the best i probably mean the funniest. Peter 'Mandy' Mandelson giving scathingly dirty looks [off-camera] to journalists. The porn widow [Jaqui Smith] and Lembit Opic getting their P45's. To be fair i didn't mind Lembit too much as anyone that can put up with a Cheeky Girl singing in the shower must have balls of steel. Then there's poor Gordon Broon calling that old woman a bigot.. hhaahhah.

They were all funny, but what was funnier were the prize muppets who were told they couldn't vote because they 'rocked-up' at the Polling Stations during last orders then proceeded to throw their toys out t' pram. People had 15 hours to call in and cast their vote. What were they doing all day? looking for a clock? or maybe a brain cell?

I've never had any problems voting, just wandered in .... and wandered out again, simples yes? Now i'm all for democracy, but maybe it's better for everybody concerned if people born that stupid are made exempt from voting.

Politicians.... what a joke

While walking down the street one day an MP is hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in Heaven and is met by St Peter at the entrance. "Welcome to heaven," says St Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we‘re not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in," says the MP.

"Well, I‘d like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"Really, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," says the MP.

"I’m sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him. Everyone is very happy and in evening dress.


They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.

Also present is the Devil, who really is a very friendly, nice bloke who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They're having such a good time that before he realises it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises….


The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St Peter is waiting for him. "Now it’s time to visit Heaven." So, 24 hours pass with the MP joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realises it, the 24 hours have gone by and St Peter returns.

"Well, then, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity." The MP reflects for a minute, then he answers, "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell."

So St Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to Hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He see's all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the rubbish and putting it in black bags as more and more rubbish falls from above.

The Devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don’t understand," stammers the MP, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of rubbish and my friends look miserable. What happened?"

The Devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning…..today you voted."

Tidy house ... Tidy mind

I just don't know what's been wrong with me of late.

To quote David Brent; '' i've come over a little queer. ''

As you are aware, i'm usually such a positive, life-affirming chap who breezes through life casting goodwill to all who cross my path. But not at the mo. I can't put my finger on what's wrong. Maybe it's this credit crunch thing, social decay or the male menopause [about 20 years too late]. I've been thinking of trying that 'kitty kitty' stuff that everyone's going on about but seeming as i already rattle when i walk, i think i'll pass. Besides, i do like to think of my body as a temple of worship, especially for the ladies down at the local day centre.

One thing that did cheer me up happened whilst toiling down t'allotment the other day. I overheard a story on the local radio about misbehaving children. Someone rang in to say that a few years ago they were grounded because they'd put the gunpowder from some fireworks in an ashtray, resulting in their dad setting his arm on fire when stubbing out a ciggie !!

Well, it made me chuckle...

Anyway ... to try and cheer myself up i decided to give the homestead a good old clean from top to bottom. It's strange how housework can be almost therapeutic at times. I've now done the lot. The drawing-room, kitchen and even the bathroom. I've dusted, hoovered, done the ironing and made a Sunday dinner with Yorkshire puds to boot. Whoever said [probably a nagging woman] all us chaps are filthy beggars that can't do anything around the house are sadly mistaken.

Why, i even thought about washing the bed sheets, but seeming they were only changed at Christmas i figure they've still got a few more months left in them.

Poor me....

''My life is ruined'' screamed the headline from the downmarket rag.

So what's it all about (Alfie) ? Maybe it's bad news from a soldier that has been crippled by a roadside bomb, a newly orphaned child or someone terminally ill perhaps? .. err no ... not even close. Just the pathetic whinings of a £100,000 a week bi footballer who got dumped by some equally annoying WAG. Apparently he's thrown himself at her mercy, pleaded for forgiveness . Lets be frank here (don't call me Frank), if he's got any apologising to do then he should do it to the general public because no person on Gods earth should be made to witness the sight of C-Ashley Cole wearing a pair of Grandad pants and having a mouth like a ripped pocket !!

It seems to be the norm these days for micro 'celebs' and other wealthy types to constantly tell the world how hard their life is. Yes, i'm sure the paper cuts from counting all that lolly is a real bugger. People don't know they're born these days. Bye 'eck, when i were wee lad things really were tough. No shoes in the winter and 3 of us had to simultaneously squeeze into an old tin bath next to the fire, that was our only luxury. We had scurvy, rickets and T.B to contend with ... and that was just before breakfast !!

Broken Britain !!!

I'm not a man who likes to complain, but i sometimes wonder what has become of this once fine land. Nowadays, old people who default on their council tax are quickly jailed but hoody gang members who carry knives are given community service or an ASBO. Cancer patients die because they can't afford to buy their own drugs but people who stuff themselves with lard-pies get gastric band operations because they have no will power. Prisoners get legal aid to sue the government because they dont have cable TV in their cells whilst OAP's in hospital die of malnutrition. And don't even get me started on those parasitic MP's !!

Anyway.... the other day i stumbled across an article in a newspaper comments section [damn those new slippers]. It sums up this country to an absolute tee.


My 25 years of tax count for nothing


'' I was born and bred in this country and used to be proud of being British but my faith is waning.

Being employed for the last 25 years and paying tax, NI etc, i assumed that if i was made redundant, i would be entitled to some benefits.

How wrong could i be, especially as i was in a high tax bracket.

First the Jobcentre tried income-support but i was not eligible because my wife works part-time.

They have managed to get me Jobseeker's allowance at £65 per week for six months.

I applied for tax credits only to be told i am not eligible unless i remained unemployed until the new tax year starts as i earned too much last year. The fact i have no income now does not matter.

I then applied for free school meals for my daughter. I think you have probably guessed what they said. I was turned down. The Jobcentre refused to sign the application form as i am on contribution-based Jobseeker's allowance and not on income-based Jobseeker's allowance, but in six months i will be eligible. In the meantime i will have to pay £40 a month from my Jobseeker's allowance.

Also, i am not entitled to help with my mortgage payments for three months.

I even asked to go on a CAD training course. A local firm had been advertising for months wanting designers [which is my trade] but, you guessed it, i am not eligible for six months.

About 18 years ago, i was in a similar position and tried to get on a training course, but i was told i could not go on it for six months. there were exemptions though, if you were disabled, an immigrant or just out of prison. Also the maximum training costs you can apply for are £500, so when training costs £300 a day, i won't get much training.

The Jobcentre has said an adviser will contact me about training courses but i'm not holding my breath.

When i tell people that after paying tax etc for 25 years, i am not entitled to anything they don't believe me. I wish i could opt out of paying these contributions.''


THE END.


Don't we all mate . . . Don't we all.

Reality bites..

Whatever happened to proper telly?

I remember those nights after a hard days toil down at t' allotment. Coming home being greeted by our Gert with a bottle of stout, some ham & eggs for tea and then settling back into my favourite armchair for a spot of evening telly. The 'yoof' of today don't know what they're missing. Proper telly back then you know. The Generation Game with Larry 'shut that door' Grayson, Blankety Blank and Beadle's About. All compulsive viewing. What do we get nowadays? Just cheap, boring rubbish aimed at the chav / giro baby generation. Luckily for me, being a senior citizen makes me exempt from paying the licence fee, thank God. Just a quick squint down the TV listings page reveals a plethora of vulgar, insipid reality TV shows such as... Britain's Best Butcher. Celebrity Chain Smokers. The Farm (see pic). The Salon. Celebrity masterchef. Come Dancing. Britain's Best Vet. Big Brother. Stars On Ice. Hell's Kitchen. Pop Factor.

To be frank (that's not my name btw) i've had enough of this bilge and will be contacting my local MP- George Galloway, to complain in the strongest terms possible. It's an outrage i tell you, and i'm taking a stand on this matter, even if it kills me!

What's that you say.

''there's another reality show just started, it's called 'Pop Star to Opera Star' hosted by the lovely Katherine Jenkins.''

Well, i for one won't be coerced into viewing this 'crud'. All those years spent fighting in the war relying on hand to hand combat in the jungle (never once folding under torture) means i'm made of stronger stuff, i'll have you know.

Now..... where the flaming hell did i put the TV Times!! *cough*

Oooh i've still got it Patsy, it never left me.

It's finally arrived !!

I've been waiting for some time and now it's here. I'm of course talking about my zit! Boy it's big (not often i say that). I think it has it's own micro climate. So big i can see it as i look downwards. Fantastic. Those annoying teenagers get spots and i'm gonna wear mine with pride, really show it off like an Olympic gold medal ... 'bruv'.

Maybe i'm starting to regain my youth? Kipper ties, Kevin Keegan style perm, winkle-pickers and oodles of pent up sexual frustration! If i'm honest i haven't changed that much from my days as a young whippersnapper. Yep you're right, i used to cut quite a figure down at the 'Talk Of The Town' and Gaumont come friday night. Sigh.. who am i kidding, those days are long gone just like the shoes, ties and my olde footballer's perm (these days i'd happily settle for just something to comb) and the sexual frustration ... yep ... that's still going strong!!

I guess there are some things in life that never change..

We're all doomed !!!

Well i couldn't believe my 'mince pies'. The shelves at the local shop had been stripped bare. Outside i heard a commotion. People running around like headless chickens. A woman ran across the street screaming like a mad banshee then proceeded to set herself on fire!! (OK, a slight exaggeration there). What was happening? A nuclear war perhaps or maybe the arrival of the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse?!! Err... no, a few flakes of snow falling from the sky. What's wrong with people these days? Have all those years slobbing out on greasy take-away meals watching rubbish reality TV gone and dissolved people's backbones?

When i was a lad, i'd walk miles to get to school in PROPER snow. Not once was my school closed. The heating always worked, most of the teachers made it into class (no fancy 4x4's in them days) and Ted the Caretaker would cut a deep channel through the snow and grit the paths... all before 8:30am. Nowadays teachers (and kids) will use any excuse for a day off. Clearly the 10-12 weeks holiday they already get during the rest of the school year isn't enough.

Churchill would be turning in his grave if he could see the state this country is in. I say what's needed is a dose of National Service. By Jove, that would straighten up those backbones and sort out them hoodie ruffians. Yes, it never did me or my chums any harm. Although Corporal Dobson did get bayonet'd in the testicles during a drunken prank in the army mess hall .. !!?