Friday, November 18, 2011

Bad Parenting Guide: November 2011

Note to Self:

Whilst watching 'Children in Need', and seeing all the people dressed up; coming out with something like "They should have a Tarts & Vicars Do on TV to raise money, I'd pay a fortune!"

....Is not a good thing Infront of your wife or your 7 year old boy...
"Tarts and Vicars dad?!"

Sunday, November 06, 2011

Batteries Not Included

Still can't believe I actually did this earlier in the evening of last nights Bonfire Night, and hadn't realised until later on... but I'll just skip to the end and then recap on how I got there.

We'd been out to the Fireworks display at Sherdley Park, which involved us parking the car nearby, then walking about half a mile to the Park; during this walk I had felt what I can only describe as a "Pinch" in a rather delicate position in my "undercarriage", which I made en-situ 'adjustments' to but again, without finding the source of said "pinch" I made a joke about having some unwanted visitors in my Undies...

I never had any more episodes at all (from memory) throughout the evenings Bangs, Crackles and Fizzes, even survived a half hour queue for a £15 burger, hot-dog and 2 portions of chips.

It was only when we arrived back at home some hours later that the "pinch" revealed itself to me...

What you need to know at this point is that apart from my Chronic "Bladder-Shyness" (something I'll tell you about in another story) is that on occasion (usually 3am or when I'm worse for wear from a "Tia-Maria" session) I "Sit" when I "pee" partly because I tend to do alot of thinking and 'drift' off during this particular bodily-function, but also I have also had at least one event involving an 'unfortunate case of mistaken identity' with a 'dirty wash basket' in an unfamiliar bathroom...

Anyway... So there I am, entering my own downstairs toilet, unzipped, pants down, and "sit", when there was a...

"Huh?!" I pondered, doubling myself up to look down into the toilet, when I made out a.... Battery, YES a Duracell, Triple-A Battery.... resting in the bottom of my Toilet!

<Moments passed with an accompanying Frown>

"What the Bloody Hell?"

Then..... it all came flooding back!

Some hours earlier, while upstairs on the computer, my wife asked if I had any batteries for a Christmas toy that hadn't been used since.. well.. Christmas; and when I say Christmas Toy, I don't mean an "Ann Summers" Christmas toy, I mean a Child's VERY loud Guitar (Thanks Uncle Ant!), now when she was getting these batteries (the before mentioned Triple-A's) I was reminded that I also needed 4 of these so asked her to get some for me too.

Later on downstairs, just as I was going into the toilet, she gave me my 4 batteries, and rather confused (as to why I'd need them as I was going to "Pee"), I started my usual "nesting" procedure, which is going round and around on the spot until I'm good and ready, to then sit down, to then realise that I still had the 4 batteries in my hand, so what do you do with batteries that you have in your hand that your going to... err... well... NOT need in a while, well.. any NORMAL person would put them on the Sink, or Window-sill or Floor or even put them in their pocket... but its me were talking about here isn't it, so what did I do with them....?

"Looked down and dropped them in the 'Gusset' of my Navy Seal Issue Underwear"

Why? shit knows! I just did ok!? but its as good a place as any for a temporary 'holding' position isn't it?

Now remember, earlier I said, when I'm in this position I tend to 'drift' off into never-never land? well obviously I did here also, and when I'd finished my 'procedure' I pulled everything up, and as we were Venturing out, with 2 very disorganised children, and we were LATE, I never thought anything about the extra "baggage" I was now carrying, and I cannot for the life of me understand why I didn't realise I was carrying said "4 x Triple-A's"

So here I am, hours later, Again "Sat" in the Loo, and Pondering WHY I have a Duracell Triple-A battery drowning down the toilet, and its remaining friends in the gusset of my underwear?

Now, in conclusion I have 2 questions that come to mind:

  • That "Pinch" I felt, earlier in the evening...? was it a "Pinch" or was it an "Arcing" between 2 of those batteries, in which case I came very close to putting on my own 'little' fireworks display in the car-park on our initial walk!
  • One battery was down the toilet, and only 2 remained in my pants, so where was the Fourth? Thankfully, I have the 2 kids at each end, each with a  Baseball Glove, just in case I Sneeze!


Saturday, November 05, 2011

Bad Parenting 101 - November

So, in my usual Bad Parenting mode, the "present" wife's just been arguing with the boy to get him to come downstairs (away from the TV) for 2 mins to try on a new pair of Jeans...

After a good 30 seconds she was complaining that she couldn't get into the Pants....

I (unfortunately with an audience) exclaimed...

"Is that your excuse with Daddies Pants?"

Thankfully she didn't hear the Boys reply...

Friday, November 04, 2011

Incident in the Gents at Harvester

The toilets in this new 'Harvester' restaurant near us are Awesome....
(I find I appreciate an eating place much better if they have good toilets!)

Not only are they individual 6x4 cubicles (so someone with my 'bladder shyness' can pee in freedom) they have them very smart mosaic tiles and are very flash, but the floors have this weird 'waxiness' coating (either that or the previous occupier had a really 'bad do') which I found odd and albeit curious I figured it must be some sort of 'health & safety' Non-Slip thing,... now, although.... Not obviously "Slippy" (you almost had to force your feet along the floor) there was an 'Ooziness' about it, but while I was leaning against the wall, waiting for my eldest to finish something that may very well sink a ship when it makes it out into the atlantic, I noticed my feet slowly making their way across the floor??

Now, I have my moments of pin-point focus... Unfortunately now wasn't one of them, as I was very much admiring the new taps, so whilst my feet were sliding across the floor, "simultaneously" my body was rotating along with my head until I found myself forehead pressed against the wall.. now you'd think being an ex-Navy Seal, I'd be 'atuned' to being in compromising positions wouldn't you, but having my hands jammed in my pockets and stuck IN there, then this was going to complicate things... I Did say This wasn't one of my Times of Focus!

Anyway, by this time I'm sliding down until my cheek met the toilet roll dispenser and my heels butted up against the opposing wall, my son in bulk, until he realised he was "turtling" again and got back to his 'Bizzness'

The only way I could seem to get myself out of this disjointed jam was to bend, sliding my face down the wall until my knees were touching the floor (wet floor) the very same floor that contained 'shit-knows' what... God help me of I'm seen coming out of the gents with wet knees... Thankfully I'd be coming out with a child, but come to think of it, that may actually be worse?

"Damn You Shitty Focus!"

Getting back to my feet, the boy noticed that there was a smudge mark off my forehead on the newly painted walls!


I quickly got some wet tissue and wiped...

"Double Bollox!!"

...there was now some paint smudged from the wall...

I grabbed the boy and we exited...


Thursday, November 03, 2011


(Quick one from the couch!)

The boys been shouting from upstairs (for 5 minutes, I know I should have gone up but there was something on TV)
anyway... turns out he's had a nightmare....

Like a good husband that I am, I reminded the wife it was her turn, but also reminded her she might want to wear a HazMat suit, In case hs'd Sh*t the bed?!

(always looking out for them!)

Monday, October 31, 2011


Halloween was brilliant last year when the all the local kids were running about in the street screaming, I was that scary, they ended up calling the Police...

In hindsight, going to the door with no pants on wasn't my best idea?!?

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Near miss at Trafford Centre

"Steps" were turning on the Xmas lights at the Trafford Centre at 5pm Today...

What better reason is there for me be 'Shit in my hands and clap'

Sunday, October 02, 2011

Golf is not good for a Divorce

A good friend of mine was telling me a few days ago how he's taken up golf, well.. going to the driving range anyways, which is ok as a start and it got me remembering my "dabbling's" with Golf myself, many years ago.... I was Terrible and do NOT recommend it as a hobby if your looking for Stress relief!

This is a LONG story so you might wanna make a brew and a meal first....

Back in 1997 when I was going thru a rather turbulent divorce, my long time Wing-Man (we'll refer to him as "Goose" for now as he's shy) took me to one side, Bitch-slapped me and told me I should take up Golf to "De-Stress" before I topped myself and I think also that particular day I'd even been that frustrated (in all senses) that I'd propositioned a Lesbian colleague for a date... (that's another story)

Personally I think a "Lingerie catalogue", tub of hand-cream and a few minutes with a Barry White CD would have been more of a relief, certainly quicker and a damn site cheaper than Golf myself, for I was to spend most Sundays, a few Thursday nights, a Squintillion Pounds, an embarrassing credit card Decline in "American Golf" (a shop I can no longer legally frequent) and a number of near misses with the police going down the I'll-fated Golf route...

Anyways, off we went to "Gooses" local golf club, me with no golf clubs to my name but a borrowed set from sometime circa. 1900,

"Now First rule" He said "is NOT to swing so hard that You get a slipped disc... Just swing slowly"

I think this was about my 3rd. Swing,
one missing completely,
one missing just slightly, but just enough to force the ball off the Tee,
and one where the club had gone further down the fairway than the fucking ball did..

It didn't help that I had a set of office shoes on that had no grip at all (that was my excuse anyway)

I swapped the faulty "bat", to a  5 wood, smaller head but it felt better in my hands, stepped, called the Ball a "Dirty Little Bitch" Took aim, Yelled "Your mine!" And Swung.... BLAM!

Yes, Blam! (I OWNED the little Bastard this time) and it took off, Waaaayyyyyyy past the end of the Tee like a Rocket!

"You BIG Hitting B@stard!" Goose Blurted

However, my success at hitting long drives (occasionally) did not help my score card one bit, as the next shots that you're supposed to "tickle" onto the green and into the hole (like Prom night) were about as successful as my sex life, Not too often, and usually on my own as everyone else had left... Whichever idiot came up with the Parr scoring system and especially as single figures obviously didn't have me in mind...

There's a famous saying by Mark Twain about Golf that goes something like "Golf, a good walk Spoiled!" well I don't particularly like Walking either so I was well screwed!

After a few more goes, I regularly got my "18 holes" score down to the early 90's, something I was getting a little more happy with, still Crap but better... And by this time I'd spent a few quid on a set of Golf shoes (with spikes) so I no longer ended up looking up at the sky flat on my back after a Tee-off and no more incidents slipping backwards into Bunkers, something I was becoming rather adept at; I was amassing quite a mound of sand back at home on emptying my shoes; and I also had a "faux" leather (cheap but classy) golf bag and a set of steel clubs from "Argos" I was on my way.....

Don't Drink & Play Golf

It was around this time my Divorce took an ugly turn and after a rather bad week of being "Fisted" by both my ex-wife AND Divorce lawyer (a woman who looked REMARKABLY like "Cherie 'Fucking' Blair" AND enjoyed the financial perks of the similarity) I decided to drink lots of Vodka and Orange. Unfortunately the only orange in my parents' house (where I was now living) was cordial syrup, very thick syrup, the kind your supposed to Dilute with a gallon of water, I didn't.. I just 'Glooped' it into a few large measures...


I came downstairs for breakfast to a stern faced father and an unsympathetic mother...
"What?" I asked...?
It turns out, that over the course of a few hours, I had been coming back downstairs to the kitchen (in-between vodka top-ups) taking 'tomatoes' out of the fridge and commenting on my walk back upstairs, to my bemused parents 'how good these sausages are!'
What you need to know here is that I HATE tomatoes... I Heave at the taste of them...
That wasn't the end of it.... Apparently, later on (early hours of THIS morning) I woke my parents with lots of loud Clangs!?
Turns out I was "Chipping" golf balls off my bed against the radiator...?

Desperate Dating

During one of my "good walks spoiled" I was bantering with "Goose" about my desperate attempt at Dating when I'd asked the lesbian colleague out....
He was as bemused (as I was now, some months later) as to...

WHAT...? WHY...? HOW...?      HOW??

Well... As I said, I had been "without" for a while, and albeit the 'army issue' no  2 clipper haircut, long sleeves, tight "commando" pants & Doc Martin boots 'should' have given it away, she was however, very pleasant and had a great figure so... In for a penny and in for a pound, I thought I'd try my arm...
As it happens the awkward "Sorry.. I don't date 'men' (looooong pause) that I work with... Well 'Men' at all.... (looooooonger pause) just...... 'women' "

(awkward look and... DING!! Light bulb) was how it went down...

Golf 'Etiquette'

Unfortunately an element of Golf has an 'Etiquette' and a Pompousness about it which I cannot stand or adhere too, nor did I need it.  Some of the Golf courses have the typical "Anal Golfers" that will chastise you for not having the correct etiquette, and having the wrong "un-tailored" shorts or that your top button isn't fastened.. and Surprisingly?? they don't take kindly to being told (when I'd neglected to take my Tourette's medicine) to 'quote':

"Suck on my Ass" or "kiss my Squirrel"


Swinton (The course that should not be named)

The stress levels that golf enraged on me were non-stop... One of our favourite haunts playing was a non-too-challenging little number in "Swinton".

This course has a couple of awkward 'Tee-offs' alongside houses, One of which is from the crown of a hill onto a large 2 way fairway, but nicely prominent to the right side of you NOWHERE near where you should be aiming is a housing estate... those houses are the style that has wooden cladding between the upstairs and the downstairs...
I stood on the Tee, placed my ball, lined up my club, pictured the ball, became one... With the ball, took the club back and dragged it down, through the ball....
"DING" that beautiful sound that all Golfers listen for...

I Dared to look for it heading straight...?        But.... It wasn't there?  "Where the F...?"

"Oh Shit.... It's heading towards the houses....!"


Bloody loud, the Ball (probably the one I called a Bitch) struck the cladding!
"Bugger me??" I screamed, about turned and fucking legged it!
That... Was a quick game that night!!

On another occasion, Same hole ironically!  (but a few weeks of exile later) I was down on the fairway, where the ball was supposed to have been last time, but having equally as frustrating a game, I had just "chipped" my ball, supposedly with a light grip, straight over the green, over the trees and into (what I think was) the industrial estate at the back....


So, I did what every "stress-free" calm, grown man does in that situation.... I set about m golf bag with my pitching wedge like a caveman on Acid... That bag got a serious beating!

and I "Shit you not" there was a following group of Golfers that were on the "crown" of that same hole that turned about.

Don't play Golf in a Thunder Storm!

At that course that shall not be named, with my Wing Man "Goose" we set out one 'overcast' evening after work, got a few holes in and there was a sudden shift in wind dirction, now I'm not 'Michael Fish the Weatherman' nor am I blaming him for not seeing the Storm brewing, but it suddenly got very dark, and you got that funny smell (no not that smell, that was to come shortly), the smell of 'electricity'
the Heavens opened.... grabbed our Golfing Brollies (I also went through a good few of these as well), opened them up, and huddled to the floor....

The Thunder Roared and the Lightening Cracked, I very well may have Sh*t myself, and did not ever envisage dying on a Golf Course, but am pretty sure we came close to it that evening...

American Golf

I decided that the shitty Argos Golf clubs weren't up to my requirements anymore... And I needed a new bag anyways, so I went out one night to "American Golf" with my shiny new Gold Card that I'd acquired as I now on the last legs of my Divorce, and safe in the knowledge that my blood-sucking ex-wife could no longer get anything from me as this "stone" had been squozen dry, and I was purchasing for my new house (this is important to know as to what comes next)

I arrived at THE golf store, very excited, I was heading for the big time, I had a new set of clubs (and... errr.. Bag) to buy!
I had a mooch, went from stand to stand, looked at many clubs, tooooooo many clubs, too much selection...

Then... There they were!!!

A light "beamed" down from the heavens (turned out to be a Dodgy  Florescent Tube! but it 'could' have been a sign?) .....they were beautiful, ....Blue... Slightly shorter than some that I'd been pawing but still nice, and they had a wonderful "feel" too them ...Delicate even..

I tried them one after another, Wedge, Irons and the Putter... 'Tap, Tap, Tappity Tap...'   Perfect!

"Excuse me Sir? sir??"
"Are you buying those as a present...? perhaps.... for someone specific?"
"??? You..... GIFT WRAP?" I beamed!?

"err... No Sir... But you're in the ladies section... those are LADIES clubs?"

How Bloody humiliating!!!             I moved swiftly away...

I saw a name I knew... "Arnold Palmer"         am sure he was a good golfer!

KABLAMMO!!!       Those... Are Men's Golfing Bat thingies!!!

Black & Gold, Graphite Shaft Bastards!!       Oh YES!

Hmm... Pretty hefty price tag though, With a set of woods (also Graphite) a new bag and a new set of shoes... Why not, I deserve to treat myself, many hundreds of pounds but hey.... I got a Gold Card!

The sales assistant probably popped his sphincter when he saw me lumbering up with irons, bag, woods & shoes, probably knocking over a number of display stands on my way to the till.....


He tilled it all up and asked me those fateful words... "Cash or Card Sir?" Beaming at me with Pound signs in his eyes...
"That'll be 'Card'" as I slid the Gleaming Gold card across the counter at him...

"DECLINED" Flashed up on the machine, and what sounded like a Air-Raid Siren went off in my head, a Smugness with a tinge of Disappointment glided over the assistants face...

"Whaaaaat??! It... It... Can't be... What the F...?"

I demanded the phone... I was gonna call some Bastard at the credit card and rip him a new one!!

Turns out, in my haste to 'furnish' my new abode, those bastards at MFI had taken the full amounts on the stuff I'd bought a couple of days earlier and not the deposit they were supposed to take hence I'd "Maxxed" out the sodding thing within a week of having it... Gargh!

I tried to explain my case to the Knob-head at the till, but in between him being Pissed at me at the loss in commission on this order (to no doubt put speed stripes and furry dice on his mk1 Xr2) and his urgency in making me look like a Cock in front of the Queue that had amassed (where had all these people suddenly come from? Had he sold tickets?) he called for one of his other "gang" to as he out it "re-stock the unpaid for items" and asked me to move out of the way of the other 'customers'

I... went... F*cking 'Berserk'  

I was a man on the Edge, I had been screwed over for 18 months and wasn't being humiliated by this Tosser and went off at him, called him an Arsehole and demanded to see the Manager...

Another "Youth" arrived and... He had a "manager badge" that I'm assuming his Mum pinned on him each morning? (he didn't get that joke unfortunately)

But.... After Much-Ado he agreed to "hold" the items for me for a few days!

(I went to a different store with cash)

Surprising How Fast can you run with a golf bag?

Back to the same Golf course I'd frequented before, again in disguise, and with my wing-man "Goose" AND at the hole that I was cursed with.. Well actually the next one but close enough to cause me distress...
This holes strike path runs alongside the M61 and the A666 (St. Peters way) on the outskirts of Bolton, it's like a Ball Magnet!
There we were, on the Tee, to the right is a high embankment separating you from the Motorway.... and 'Goose' says

"ok... Take your time and just tap it... It's a long complicated hole, you're not gonna get to the Green.... You're in the 'Danger Zone!'".            (see what I did there?)

I couldn't help myself, I struck it and it lifted, nicely, up, up and then.... NOOOOO!
it started to "Slice" to the right... Out of vision and then Silence....


We ran like Bastards!

'Goose' had an expert opinion on this "Slicing", which did seem to ring true, as I had started to fill my (replacement) bag, back up, one-by-one with my cheap-shit Steel shafted 'Argos' Irons... In his very valued opinion, I had "Fast Hands"

"You have Fast Hands!"
"What's my sex life got to do with this?!"
"No... I mean you're just TOO quick for Graphite shafts... They're too 'Whippy' You should go back too Steel shafts, they're Stiffer and not so Whippy!"

How ironic!?
He could have told me that BEFORE I spent £400 Bloody quid!

Slice & Dice - Take Two

One of the other Golf course I played (only once or twice for good reason) was one in Manchester (remaining anonymous)
Now this course had a rather high First Tee on top of a Hill that you drive the ball across a small valley onto the opposite side of the hill, and this is only the first Tee!
Unfortunately.... the Car Park is to the right, and they didn’t (at the time) have 'safety' nets for bad golfers and Bloody Terrible golfers (like me!)
I lined up, weight in the middle (probably wrong), swung back, feeling that I needed to really let fly, and "THWACK!", again off it shot, then quickly VEEEEEEERED to the right, and started to dive...

"Oh Crap, Oh Crap, OH CRAP!!!"

I couldn’t look, I feared for my bank balance and my Ass, there were Mercedes galore in that Bloody car-park... DEATHLY SILENCE... (I'm sure that even the birds stopped tweeting to watch)

My co-players, (Not "Goose" on this occasion) didn’t see either, we all seemed to be huddled down on the floor like Telly Tubbies, a few moments passed, no raised voices were heard, so we stood up, checked my trousers, then that we hadn’t been seen (hitting the ball, or huddling like little girls) and continued on with the day.

Papa's Garden

And so it was, that from around this time onwards it came to be a regular occurrence that I seemed to break the heads off most of my "Arnold Palmer" irons:

(replacement) Golf bag,
Even... A frozen pond

All became merciless Assassins to my BLOODY expensive golf clubs (I blame shoddy workmanship by 5 years old's in a sweat shop and Piss Poor manufacturing standards)
Most of these "shafts"  now stand like Monuments anbd feint memories opf glories past..... In my parents garden as VERY expensive Garden canes!

It's not the Shed's fault is it?

I think on what was very likely the last time I played golf, I'd had a pretty awful game, was seriously Pissed off and at a loss as to why I was wasting breathe on such a Stupid activity so upon reaching home I went to my Shed to store away the (recently battered but replaced) bag, remaining clubs and shoes; I opened the shed door, took the bag by its Balls and Lunged it into the shed (I really was That pissed off) unfortunately, I seem to throw Golf bags much better than I Hit golf balls...

The Bag went part way through the Shed window on the other side....


Saturday, September 03, 2011

Lunch with the Brats

So... The wife's out, and I'm looking after the spawn again (such a Good Daddy) and it's lunch time, unfortunately they're not adept enough at opening tins of cat food with their teeth just yet so I cant leave them in the garage and go out...

Thus, Chips, Pizza & Chicken Burger it is..

I open the fridge and a "Shit Storm" of Condiments, Fruit, Veg and Jars descend on me like a Monsoon... (my favourite raspberry jam didn't make it)

So I set about Ranting about how their Mothers gonna get it bad when she finally falls through the front-door drunk later on this evening, when the boy (probably not taking his eyes off the TV whilst doing it) shouts back...

"You know mom can't hear you right?!"

I'm soooo owned!

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Petting Zoo's are a Dangerous place!

Now, Having kids, you have to do the 'Good Parent' things every now and again, and the 'Petting Zoo' is one of those things, as them being locked in the garage with 4 cans of dog food and a tin opener is no life for them really is it? it?

Anyways... I've been to about 3 'petting' zoos with my little monsters and unfortunately, me being Me, Of course.. I have been attacked...


Sheep are best found Next to Mint Sauce

On this particular occasion we went and duly bought the umpteen bags of Duck, Goat, Sheep & Mammoth food, and meandered around until we found ourselves walking up a dirt track with numerous stopping points for goats and donkeys etc, on what seemed like "Death Row".

As we approached the end of the track I noticed, up ahead, an iron gate separating off a small pasture of land; as I approached said gate, there was the oldest, nastiest looking old Ram (I'm not a genius but the big horns kind of gave it away) but such a sorrowful excuse for an animal I have never seen the likes of since, a real scrawny bag of bones all seemingly covered in it's own shit, and... there was a sign:

"Do Not Feed Ralph!"

I can't honestly say I DEFINATELY remember it being 'Ralph', but it was a name, and anything that has a name can't be all that bad... Could it?

I approached and Ralph looked at me through the bars of his virtual jail cell.. Chewing sideways on crappy grass and staring at me, well he was actually looking over my shoulder as he was also Bog-eyed, Scenning like a basketful of Welks!

"Poor Dishevelled Ralph" I thought to myself, no wonder it's scrawny, I took a Handful of food and leant over the rusty gate, stretched out my hand, evidently "offering myself" to the manky-creature to then be set upon!

This old piece of mutton was lightening fast, I was rammed over and over, clanging my hand between it's bloody horns and the gate, in a barrage of physical abuse from the seriously pissed off Mike Tyson of the Animal world.

This assault seriously affected my sex life for weeks!

Vietnamese Pot-Bellied Bastards!

My second, and equally as traumatic an incident happened a good few years ago.

Seriously, whoever thought of allowing "Wild F*cking Animals" to roam amongst children wants a good talking too...

Whilst partaking in the meandering around the various displays, and avoiding the little "munchkins" clipping adults ankles whilst on their play tractors, with NO regard for the "Highway Code" whatsoever, I happened to come upon a pack of Vietnamese pot-bellied piglets.. (now that's not why what happened next happened ok! and if you missed that one then your loss) and don't be mistaken in questioning "Piglets" YES... Piglets... Still wild animals non-the-less!

Again... Bent down, offering Food, NOT myself to these... Creatures!


Yes... Attacked, these little bastards are like "Pirahna's" of the land... VICIOUS, they have seriously nasty vampire teeth that set-about you like a band-saw...

They weren't interested in bird seed, it was Human Flesh they wanted!

Now, for some reason it was me on both occasions that was seen to be unreasonable, because it would appear that Screaming like a Telly-tubby and drop-kicking a "defenceless farm animal" into the next field is 'apparently' cruel?!


- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Wasp's need hairbrushes

Ok, so here we are in Wales, and amongst the stuff we haven't brought (like my Flip Flops) is a child's hair brush for the youngest, who looks like the "Wild Woman of Borneo" so we've literally got her one about an hour ago and she's not used it yet.

Just sat havin mi dinner on the deckin in the glorious sunshine, the brats are frolicking with the alligators at the lake (Geese actually) and I'm being harassed by Wasps... I really REALLY hate wasps, Nasty little b@stards who serve no purpose in life and should be exterminated on site.

Now, me being an ex-navy seal an'all, I've terminated a good few over the last couple of days and am now classed as an "Ace" (more than 5 kills), but I seem to have met my match today with the "Red Baron" of Wasps...

It Dives at me, Barrel Rolls, performs "Immelman turns" and Stall tactics, I've a sneaky suspicion the local hive has sent me a Pro that must have been trained by Russian MIG fighter pilots; No matter how many times I took a ninja swipe at it, he avoided me... Even the wife's "Woman's Weekly" couldn't Spank this little F*cker!

Then.... It landed... perched, teasing me, and the cocky little Bastard turned its back & pointed its Rear End at me...

"You arrogant scrote" I thought!

But.... I had a trick up my sleeve, my new weapon, 10 inches of Ass Destruction!!

The Pink Hair Brush!!

I calmly... Nee.. Stealth-like, slid my hand across the patio table, fingered the brush into the palm of my hand and gripped it like an Anaconda; I squinted and cocked my head to one side, I was primed...

And the Wasp..? He throbbed his ass and raised his sting up... "Game on!"

I lurched at it, Swinging the brush down like an Executioners Axe!


The brush exploded! All I had left was the handle!

Deathly silence.... That was until my "loving family" the ones I swore to protect, the ones I had offered myself up in sacrifice in a fight to the death...?


Even the family at the next caravan laughed.... (they obviously don't know how dangerous I am yet!)

And the Wasp...? My adversary, My..... Nemisis??

He was now perched on the bird feeder flipping me the Bird!

"Until next Time, Baron Manfred von Richthofen "


Saturday, July 23, 2011

What the Bloody Hell?!?

So here we are in the caravan... In Wales... With the kids.... Who are now in bed!

Were both looking forwards to getting SHIT FACED!
(you never know... I may not have to do it myself!)

The wife bought "Vodka",
I bought "Tia Maria"
(no jokes please, I have acquired tastes!)

Now... This morning, as we thought we had no ice cubes, and cos I want my Tia Maria "on the rocks" (me bein a real man an'all) we put the vodka and Tia Maria in the freezer...

(ironically, we've now realised that the top tray of the freezer is choc full of ice cubes?!?!)

Ive just got my Tia Maria out from the freezer, and immediately sussed something was wrong, there was no "Glub" as I lifted up the bottle...?
I shook it, nothing...?

I unscrewed the lid, looked in, hmmm.... That don't look right?

Dipped my finger in...


What The Bloody Hell?!?

Not exactly sure why?
The Vodka is as liquid as it always is, cos its alcohol, so it doesn't freeze? but my booze isnt coming out of the bottle?

Ironically, I left it 15 minutes and it had gone back to liquid..
But when I got back to my waiting glass... my ice cubes had Bloody melted!


Friday, July 22, 2011

On the road to our weeks holiday in Wales

Just cursing the wife for forgetting my leather flip flops for the pool...

She said "You should have bloody well packed them yourself then shouldn't you?!"

I retorted "I've had those flip flops as long as I have you.."

(I should have left it there but I couldn't let it lie could I?!??)

I then finished it with "and... they pay me more attention than you Do!"

The last I heard (before blacking out) was



- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

What breakfast cereal are you?

So the other night, me and the Mrs. were watching TV, and the topic of conversation was

"what breakfast cereal are you?"

"Fruit loop!" replies the wife... "cos I'm a Little loopy but healthy"

her attention focussed on me... Not too keen on that (thinks I)...

no pressure...
no pressure...

"No bloody Idea!" I Barked.... "Silly bloody Question anyways!"

... there was a pause ...

"You're like Rice Crispies!" she said, with a quizzical, yet.... Philosophical bent...

"How the hell do you get that?" I quipped back...

"Cos.. a little bit of spooning and its
Snap, Crackle & Pop!"


Saturday, July 16, 2011

10 again...

Has a mouthful of popping candy...
I'm 10 again...

My boy wanted it back but I locked him under the stairs where we normally keep him...

I'm a good Daddy!

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Tooth Fairys a Tight-Wad!

The boy has just knocked out his wobbly front tooth...

He now wonders if he'll still get his £2 from the Tooth Fairy as we can't find it...

I've explained that with the present Economic downturn in the UK and the influx of Benefit cheats it is unlikely then that the Tooth Fairy will pay up...

I'm a Bad Daddy... :0)

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Friday, June 24, 2011

Teachers... "F" is for FAIL!

Ok, I know I'm going to get a back-lash from people I know who are teachers, or who have teachers as relatives, and there are those out there that I know who work their asses off, but... todays Bollox announcement of Industrial Action next week has made my blood boil!

I'm not a teacher and admittedly I wouldn't want to be, and despite what I may voice below, I Do appreciate all educators, however... I don't appreciate my kids or anyone else's being used as Pawns!

Now, added to that, most people I know wouldn't want my job in "IT" either... but its what I do, personally (and some people might disagree) its what I do best, and I have a lifestyle thats accostomed to that Job.. and YES Christ knows there are days that I Don't want it; but don't come at me "Complaining" as to 'how hard done to' YOU are in your Job, I don't have that 'get out of jail' card where I can then turn around and say...

"You know what, I don't like that decision, so I'm going to stay home next Thursday and Sulk regardless of you and your kids..."


"Its snowing, so Bollox to you all... I'm not coming in..."

But you know what??? I didn't have that luxury, I had to get into work, because the "dependants" I have to look after in my job (i.e. my customers) who live in areas that its not snowing in, still need me to sort out their problems; I had to either get in work, or take holidays off my much smaller holiday calendar and look after my kids. I dont have the number of holidays a year that you do remember (somewhere around 13 weeks a year I believe?).

I didn't see you in the Summer holidays saying "Hey Mr. & Mrs. Parent, you know what... cos I was absent in the winter and didn't make it into work to look after your kids when everyone else had to, I'll make it up to you now... Don't you take a weeks holiday off at peak expense time, I'll come in on my holiday and recover those lost days for you"


"Next time you write to the Headmaster to ask if you can take your child out of school (cos they'll be missing out on valuable 'sticking and gluing' time) to go on holiday a couple of days early to save your self a Squinitillion pounds, I won't Decline it, cos I'm not being an arse this week..."

And then on occasion, the first day back after holidays, you have ANOTHER day off on the Monday to "prepare yourself" for the new Term, so I have to cover that day as well!
(I think I'm going to ask my boss for this privilege y'know?!)

Don't come back to me with that excuse "You don't know what its like, I have to work out of hours to get stuff ready for my classes

Gimme a Break...
So the Hell do the rest of us non-Teachers, along with Me, my Piers and my colleagues, we have to prepare jobs days and weekends in advance of Projects, we have to be away from home and our loved ones, sometimes on training courses, to keep 'us' clued up and able to compete in our jobs, and also come in out of hours, or accept a call from Hell at 5:20pm (Yes - not 3:30pm) from an Irate customer saying such things as...

"Hi there... Listen, The Sh*t has Royally hit the fan, cos I've dropped a Major Bollock... but... because its home time, YOU have to do it NOW until god-knows-what-time so that its fixed before they come back in at 9:00am in the morning"

but... thats MY Lot in life, I enjoy the job when its good, I get great satisfaction from solving those problems and of course I enjoy any small perks I get...

BUT in return, like you, I have to accept the Cr@p That I get back, whichever way it comes and accept it I Do! to use a phrase (that'll no doubt come back to bite me in the Ass...)

"Accept, that some days, you have to take it at both ends!"

Whats that I also hear.... following on from next Thursdays "Industrial Action" your also not in on the Friday because of "Warrington Walking Day"

...So Bloody What?
Do I get the day off???

Do I Bollox! But... I now have to take another holiday off because of it!

I understand your Grievances, I really do BUT I too have them in my job, and so does the rest of the working population, the current Economic Climate is affecting us all, its putting the squeeze on all Employers and Employees, not just Government or Council ones; I'd like better things, I'd like a pay rise, I'd like to be absolutely sure of job security, I'd like nice new 'material objects' at home, but the UK isn't in that position any more, and whether you or I think that Fair or Not (and I don't personally) there's F*ck all we can do about it, just be happy in the knowledge that you actually do have a job, and one that's more secure than most of the rest of the working population!

Bugger off with your Whining and Wailing, If you don't like your job, then change It!


Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Vasectomy - What I'll buy my Son for his 16th. Birthday

Why would I do this you ask.... because I have 2 kids, that I love Dearly.... some of the time!

ok, so by now you know that I have the 2 kids, they do have real names, but for the purposes of this story, just like my cats, I'll refer to them as "B@stard" and "Sh*t-head"

When the last one arrived (it was a joyous day that I'll remember always) I (we.. but I) decided I'd get "fixed", "Spayed", "Clamped" however you want to refer to it, I was being done.... like I say, Love them to bits, but enough was enough, and having a TV in every room in the house didn’t seem to stop whatever it was happening that was happening (I blame "Sexcetera" myself!)

We went to the Doctors, with them both as it happens (the youngest, "Shit-head" in her carry thingy, and had my Talk with the Doctors... it didn’t take him long to sign off on the paperwork and say he'd refer me; it might have had something to do with me sobbing uncontrollably as my other angel "B@stard" was bouncing up and down on the weighing scales, and tugging on the Doctors "Stethoscope" (I had told the Doctor to take it off when we went into his room!)

A matter of days later (boy he delivered on that one!) I got an invitation for a "Counseling" session at the local Abattoir in Runcorn (I believe it used to be a Vetinary clinic as well?)

Now, I'm not quite sure why they call it a "Counseling" session really, I wasn’t depressed or anything... they might have been after they met me, but I believe it’s so that they can gauge how serious you are about this, and that you do indeed want to end any chance of having more little darlings (apparently its almost impossible to be un-done, but as far as I was concerned they could take my balls away, unfortunately they declined and told my wife she could have them as "ear-rings" afterwards - she reminded them that she already had them in her bag, and duly handed them over!

Thankfully, that was all I needed to do, just look JOYOUS and be extremely Adamant (holding them by the throat while they signed the "Go Go Go" sheet seemed to do the trick!)

A month or so later (A VERRRRRRRRY long month) I went to the surgery to be Fixed...

Now... those Men out there who've had this done, will know this personal pre-grooming procedure that’s to come, those who haven’t, you might want to stop reading at this point (cos it’s all downhill from here!)

The "Home" Shave

The ladies out there will be laughing their Tits off at this point, as they "claim" to have to do this constantly for US, but I can tell you, I don’t believe for one minute that you will end up looking like "Z-Z-Top" or "Captain Caveman" if they don’t do this!

Men.... you have to Shave your testicles completely bald for the operation, and also (as I missed) your Inner thighs. IF you Don't do this, then one of the "Russian Shot-putter" female nurses they have working in these butchers, will do it for you, but there won’t be any of those nice expensive "grooming product" creams, or after shave balms that you all like when THEY do it, Noooooo!

...they DRY SHAVE you, and with a cheap Crappy BIC razor that they have hundreds of (from the local 'Pound Shop'), and they do it at break-neck speed as well, remember... these girls are working "piece-meal", they get paid by the "Ball-Sack"

The Reception
When you get to the clinic, on D-Day, your ushered into a quiet room first; on my visit, I was the only one there (in THAT room anyway), and I wasn’t kept long before I was called in (my sphincter wasn’t quite sealed up at this time, as I knew this wasn’t "the room"), this was the pre-op meeting....

A nice old lady (like my Gran) talked to me for a few minutes, offered me a drink of water (she must have noticed I was beginning to get dry-mouthed) to make sure I absolutely-positively wanted to go ahead with this "minor" operation... as the "counselor" had said to me some weeks before "A Vasectomy is a very small (and quick) operation in actuality, However.... its BIG in a Mans mind"

She got me to sign some last sheets of paper, "disclaimer" (in case my penis fell off as well, that sort of thing) and a "Last Will & Testament" (not that I could POSSIBLY have been assured of "Being in Sound mind and body" by any means at this stage) and then explained the contents of the package that I was then passed... a Jiffy Bag

Now, the Jiffy Bag contains a number of items:

*) Condoms

The Condoms (which confused the sh*t out of me for a moment) were there, well... for sex obviously, and this lady (Gran) took great delight in explaining that "When... you’re up-to sex, you should have it as often as possibly (I particularly liked that part) BUT...... should wear condoms, because albeit your knackers have been severed from their "Wing Man" so-to-speak, they’re still out to get you and you'll be as fertile as the 'Nappa Valley' just when you didn’t want to be."
Now, when I had the Vasectomy, I was initially told I'd have to have 2 "Jizz" tests done; the first at 4 months and another sometime after that (I forget) but when it came down to it, I only had to do the one, and... it had to be a morning test (not great when you have work & kids to get up) reason for only 1 - I suspect Cut-backs (excuse the pun)

*) Rubber Gloves

Not even going into that! (I went in for a Vasectomy, not a Proctology, albeit, I can now touch my toes and sing "Moon River" in C Minor)

*) Pre-printed stationary with various dates and "to be Signed here" forms

Forms to consent to having your Knackers chopped, and also letter to be filled out and enclosed in the return Jiffy Bag with.....

*) A small container

So... At 4 months (or 16 weeks or 119 days or 2856 hours or 171360 minutes, depending on how desperate you were for the "ALL CLEAR!"), you’re supposed to (when your able to piss without fainting) have sex as often as possible, but then, in a clinical manner, and (urgh!) squeeze out the condom, into the SMALL container (I think this is where the Rubber Gloves come in... shame they didn’t provide a Childs Bib and Welding Mask!)

*) A slightly bigger container

Once you've emptied the contents (not that I'm bragging or anything) into the SMALL container and err.... wiped up, you then put the small container into a bigger container. Now you have to make sure your all done and properly here, cos these containers don’t come back open very easily (Queue second Bib & Welding Mask)

*) Pre-Addressed (back to them) Jiffy Bag

for the return journey of your "Liquid Gold"

The Waiting Room

Ok.... pre-op meeting over, I was told to go down the corridor, and take a seat in the "Departure Lounge", I was told I'd not have a problem finding it, as there’d probably be sobbing coming from that direction

Me and the missus walked into a 'dimly lit' room (I panicked at this point, thinking this was where the "procedures" took place, alas not... it was filled with (mostly) couples, but some single blokes as well. I suspect mostly couples as they "Partners" were well looking forwards to this, in fact, if they’d been able to sell tickets, I suspect we'd have oversold "Take-That" for female fans.
The room was quite large, and all the chairs faced a wall, with about 4 or 5 doors in it, those must be "The Rooms"...

Looking around this waiting room, there was a definitive 3 group split:

1) "Couples Waiting"
2) "Single Women Waiting"
3) "Après Couples..." 1 Female sitting "Smug" with their respective partner in a state of Shock, knowing something’s missing, but just not able to put a finger on it (for obvious reasons)

I was initiialy with the "Couples Waiting" group, me being me (and trying to delay the impending thoughts of the inevitable) was laughing and joking as I usually do, with some men laughing with me in appreciation, and others in that "Rocking back and forth muttering 'we're doomed, doomed' zone" completely oblivious to me along with their respective "female" partners, reading "Heat" magazine and giggling uncontrollably...

The "Single Women Waiting" group were obviously in that state where they’d let their little ones go off into the "room", sat looking longingly at them as they waived them off dismissive, and then picking up their "Heat" magazines again, while dunking digestives into their cuppas

whereas the "Après Couples" were now, NOT reading, and NOT dunking, but asking in that caring way "Did it hurt baby?" and "Can I do anything?" (SERIOUSLY!?) whereas their partners were NOW realising what that "distant" look was that the other blokes in their group had when they'd first clapped eyes on the poor buggers!

Mr. Eastham??? Mr. Eastham Please!

The room went silent, I may have farted a little ("Oh Sh*t, I hope I didn’t follow through, my undies will be off in a moment and that would be awful")

A door was open, and a nurse was stood "provocatively" in the opening, I tried to picture the same scene on the Red Light District row in Amsterdam... but it didn’t come!

I walked in, the door shut behind me and I was asked to remove my trousers... (I thought to myself, "at least by me a drink first you scarlet woman" but again, the thoughts weren’t there...

At this point, it’s worth mentioning that I'd seen quite a few women on this day so far (and more were to come) but only ONE out of the dozen or so I had seen, were attractive in any way... this 'may' be intentional, as I suspect, an erection, mid procedure would not be a good thing, a jittery surgeons hand or a cough and BLAM, it Really is ALL OVER!

I removed my pants and lay down on the surgery table, it was more like a pasting table with some crappy blue kitchen roll on it in all honesty, but I was beginning to hyperventilate, and didn’t really take in much of what was going on...

"Have you Shaved yourself" I was asked...
"Aye, I have M'am" I thought I'd show her some respect, she would as it happens, have a scalpel in her hand momenterily... a bit of poking, moving of my Man-hood from side-to-side, and a deep sigh followed....

I quickly summoned up a voice  "I'm not at my best ya know?"  thinking that would break the ice - like that would matter, albeit there was a giggle, but I try to console myself in that it was my statement rather than my present state of "flaccidity"

"I'm going to have to finish you off" was her reply

(now... in a perfect world that would have been an Awesome thing to bestow on me, but alas, there was no movement from "Mini-Me" and I just wasn’t in the right place for that)

Flash-back to the cheap-shit BIC Razor, and a very quick scratchy one it was too... I'm pretty sure there was a "Oops" and a small thud to the ground, but I'm assured she dropped the Razor.... I'm sure these same "Nurses" actually shaved themselves and their hairy-top-lips with the cast-offs!

Now while this was going on, I was trying to distract myself from reality by looking around the room, much like "Kidnap Victims" do to try and remember as much about their Prisons.... This room had about 9 roof tiles (so that was gonna be a b*tch when I came to count), only 3 walls, one being the door wall I'd just come through behind my head, 2 either side of me - all of which were literally about 7 feet high, and they didn’t reach the ceiling, and then the facing wall, was in fact a full width curtain, with constant movement as people came in and out (usually women)

Because of this lack in height, I then started to take in the sounds around me... and I worked out that I was in the middle of a number of similar "Booths’", and the one to the right of me had the procedure taking place... RIGHT NOW.... I heard everything!

BOLLOX - this is the point I remember that the "counselor" had told me that "If you have an iPod, bring it, either that or a set of Cymbals that you can CLANG repeatedly either side of your head!"

In and out came nurses, I suspect they all had camera-phones and were taking pictures of my "erectile dysfunction", there was also a moment that I'll never forget, where the "surgical instruments tray" was passed across my line of sight... "HOW MANY F*CKING SCALPELS & SCISSORS DO THEY NEED?"

There was silence.... I heard a mumbling from next door... had I passed out?.... had it all been done while I was 'resting'?
Nope.... my curtains were whipped open, and there he was.....

"Harold  F*cking  Shipman"
(I SH*T You Not!)

I may have let out a 'squeak', there were more giggles and 2 more nurses came in... "Oh for the love of God!" I thought to myself, you wait for one nurse, and a bus-load arrive at the same time...

The procedure itself, lasts less than 8 minutes at the most (quite Ironic really if you think about it), it starts with some anesthetic injections into your Nads; Harold spoke softly (much as I'd heard he had on the News to his victims) and whispered something like "Your going to feel a little Prick"
"Again.... I thought.... NOT AT MY BEST!" but as I was biting my tongue (or was it a stick?) the words just didn’t come out...

I'll Flash-forward now, otherwise your likely to never want this doing yourself!

So.... some minutes later after much tugging, "clipping", wiping of my "Man Area", shaking of heads (more giggles!?!?!?!) and a pondering look from Harold (perhaps admiring his work?) he said "and... your done!" and walked off, the last I saw of him was a "Swoosh" of Curtain, off to his next Victim... and I heard the same words he'd just been lecturing to me to someone else.

A brief moment of silence, a stillness if you will and she was back... "The Bitch with the BIC"

she wiped me some more (Christ woman, how much fluid can I have lost?), packed my Nads in Sanitary towels, pulled up my Support Undies, and my Tracksuit bottoms and told me to stay there for a few moments... "To Compose Myself", but... gave a subtle warning, that the anesthetic (the little Prick) would last for about an hour, but to be gentle as any "Bangs" to my Nether-regions would be kept on a shelf for me for when the anesthetic wore off and come back ten-fold... Nice!

I stayed there for a while, feeling quite snug in all honesty, and then slowly moved myself off the Mortuary Slab, onto terra-ferma

"Hmm.... that feels ok, albeit a slightly heavy feeling in my stomach, but not too bad, not too bad at all..."

I opened the door, and there was my "Beloved"....."The love of my life"....."My TORMENTOR!"

she did ask me if I wanted a cuppa, which was nice, then when I nodded (my voice was still in a bucket somewhere with my balls I think) that I did want one, she pointed to the coffee/tee and biscuit tray on the other side of the room, raised her "Heat" magazine and giggled (Bitch!)

The Encore

Now, again for those who are planning on having this done, and those of you who will NOT be being operated under General Anesthetic (i.e. Knocked out) Yes... Gents... there are places out there that do this for you, now me being an ex-Navy Seal, of course I went for the "Double'Ard Bastard" option and remained conscious throughout, Once you've had the procedure done, you have to stay in the Waiting room, with all the other "Geldings" for another half hour... am not sure if this is to REALLY have the Females in our lives to poke fun at us, or more that we have to be checked to make sure were not bleeding to death silently.
30 minutes went by, VERY SLOWLY, and I bow bore witness to how the other 2 groups in the room passed the time, it’s not pretty, and I may have thrown a coffee mug at one of the Jokers in the room (B@stard!) HA! I knew what he was going to be getting in a short while Sucker!

I was called into another room again to have my dressings checked and redone. This was not at all pleasant again, and if you thought that the other women were vicious, then this one was the Queen-Bee; no sooner had I walked into the room, ready to give my usual "ice-breaker" show, when I was pulled to her (she was sat down) her head was at my groin level (sigh! if only!) and my Undies were Yanked (YES YANKED) down, "Phil and the Twins" were lifted, waggled and cleansed again (and it STUNG LIKE SHIT!), padding replaced, pants up and thrust out the door


The Honeymoons Over

The drive home, as you'd expect, was a somber one, I felt not too bad, no pain, but, I had been molested, many times over, and not one of them gave me a pat on the head (either of them!)
We got home, and then I started to take my 2 hourly paracetamol.... my friends..... should I be Brave and go-without and risk what might come, or should I be safe.... SAFE WON!
I was told to make sure it kept clean, the stitches would just disappear over the next weeks or so (not that you could see anything) and that I should keep a bag of peas in the freezer at all times, and regularly wrap them around my Goulies over the next few days..

What they don’t tell you is.....

"Gravity is a Cruel Mistress"

Before the few weeks is over, or the Frozen Peas do their Job, is that you will need to go Pee!
Now, Having a Pee when you’ve had a Vasectomy is not the easiest of tasks.... because the minute you pull down your "supporting undergarments" Gravity takes a hold of your Plumbs and Pulls them down to the floor like a Bull Mastiff!


I had to sit for the 2nd Pee (the first I don’t remember, I think I passed out and all I can say is "Thank God for Lino!"

...and the reason sitting is the thing to do, is that with one hand, you can "Cup" the Twins.... Take Note... "Cup NOT Grip!"

The Test (a.k.a "Tell me it was all Worth It?!")

4 months (or 16 weeks or 119 days or 2856 hours or 171360 minutes) Later...

That fateful passing of time had occurred, we'd tried not to let people know too accurately this exact time span, otherwise we'd have had Paparazzi camped outside waiting for me to come out with "The Jiffy Bag"

We did the do.... Rubber gloves on (before or after? I forget!?), filled, wiped, filled again... put one inside the other, signed the sheet, and sealed the Jiffy Bag and off I went to the Post Office....

Now... it was at the point I pulled up outside the post office, it suddenly dawned on me that our post office is manned by women, and that I was going to have to hand over the "Jiffy bag of Liquid Gold" over the counter, to be weighed, prodded, squozen, inspected and then asked "So.... what’s in the Bag Sir?... I can see it says 'Medical Specimen'"

There would be a pause, I would likely start blubbering, and then the police would be called, so I decided that I'd bypass the "Spanish Inquisition", load the envelope up with about £25 quids worth of stamps, and put it in the post-box outside...

All well and Good you'd think wouldn’t you.. but this is ME after all isn’t it, Jimmy God had left me alone for 4 months, and now he had a new sharp stick to poke me with!

I had the "Jiffy" under my coat (Christ knows why), I "slunk" up to the red post office box, whipped out the "Jiffy" and slammed it into the Opening.....


YES.... JAMMED..... it got Stuck...... my "Liquid Gold" was STUCK in the F*cking post office slot...
(Damn you Family Planning Clinic and your 2 containers)

...and there was company coming... it must have been Gyro Day or something, cos every B@stard in Sutton, decided they'd come to post letters that day, it was like the Oklahoma Land Race or something, there were hundreds of the scrotes, coming at me like Ants...

I smacked, smacked, smacked, punched, and may have even head butted the Slot... "Thunk" it shot in!

"Christ, I hope that’s not torn open in the box... again....
I was not at my best for my Sample,
I was in a rush remember....
It happens to lots of mean (I believe...)
You only get a Bucketful you know... and know this... I was nearly 40 Remember"

.....So, Here I am, 3 years later, thankfully we still only have the 2, but my "awesome" work colleagues all wait for that day when the "Wife" tells them she's late!

and I hear you ask "So... Why would you buy your Son a Vasectomy for his 16th. Birthday?"

well... because by the time he's 16, I'll be drinking Meth’s on a Park Bench smelling of Piss, I'll look 90 (well... 'nearer' 90) and my son will come visit me and say... "Thanks Dad!"


Monday, June 13, 2011

Trek to Reading - FaceTime

Well... Here I am in my hotel room (nr. Reading) alone...

and I've just had my first 'FaceTime' iPhone session with the wife AND (I know what u were thinking) kids!

It's taught me 2 things...

1) the Apple advert for FaceTime is Utter Bollox (video quality was pretttttty bad!)


2) I need a shave!

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Trek down to Reading...

WHat the BLOODY HELL was going on in the M6 southbound today?!?
30 miles in 1.5 hours!!


And... What's with all the roof top canoes on the motorway??
Have I missed an Ark/Flood announcement?!

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Really?? Your THAT surprised?!

An intrigued..

This sister-in-law of a certain footballer (team irrelevant) that was bumping uglies with him for 8 years and was pregnant weeks before marrying his brother, that's distraught and felt soooo.. Let down...

REALLY? I'm no genius but REALLY??

And why is HE the rat? (I'm not defending men in this by the way) You seemingly didn't give a shite about his wife (or your husband to be!) while you were making the beast with 2 backs!

At least you'll have some money out of it as your in today's newspaper...

Albeit that being tomorrow's chippy wrapper...

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Bad Daddy....

My boy got it into his head that he was invincible, and asked me to shoot him repeatedly with his "Nerf" gun...
He dodged, jumped and ducked, I only hit him 7 times out of 10 with the Darts, but now he hates me and wants a new Daddy...

Alas.. He's not Navy seal material!?

Mind you... I had ran out of darts and threw the gun at him as well...?

(posted later)

Second round.... I shot him in the eye!

Brilliant, I'm gonna get arrested & banged up...

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Pass the tissues...

Oh Cr@p!
My sons just revealed his new pyjamas....


Thanks Grandparents, they go well with the Autographed (in crayon) Rooney picture...
Served me well when I needed to blow my nose!


- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Saturday, May 28, 2011

It'd be rude not too...

Tremendous wedding reception food:

Turkey and gammon carvery (avin some of that)
Stuffin balls (avin some of them)
Half jacket spud (avin one of them)
Beans??? (why not... fart fodder for later)
Rice (go on then)
Chicken tikka curry (and a scoop of that)
Poppadoms (shut yeah, love those!)

Well... War might break out tomorrow and I'll need to be fightin fit if I get called back up to be a navy (baby) seal!

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Sunday, May 22, 2011

WWF in my bed

Well, obviously not really, or in any sort of sexual connotation either, (married with children [or as a friend of ours reminds me, FPO's "Fun Prevention Officers"] ) this involves my 3 year old coming in to do her usual

"...It's wake up time and I want 'up' & breakfast NOW....... Bitch!"

(she thinks very highly of me even at this age)

So far I've had a pile-drive, clothesline, head butt, bellclap (something that had I not already had a vasectomy would have saved me the hassle) elbow to the eye, knee strike AND a double axe handle...

Its like being in bed with the late WWF/WWE STAR 'Macho Man Randy Bloody Savage'
Oh! and Not forgetting the complimentary NERF darts shot point blank into my face (thankfully none to the Bollox thus far!)

I'm actually quite looking forward to my future booking into an old people's home, at least I'll get some piece alone (sex will still be a past memory as the present "mrs", being younger than me, will have done one with my pension) and if I do piss myself I'll be comforted in the knowledge that I'll be warm for a while, and no-one will steal that!

- Posted from Sparkys iPhone..

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Target practice

Am being repeatedly shot at by my 2 spawn this morning with Nerf guns...

The very same weapons used to pistol whip me in the Gonads earlier this week

Being smacked in the face by tiny little darts is a pleasure.... Something I shall repeat later with one of their legs!

The wife is not pleased with the new vocabulary I'm teaching them...

My answer ?

"It's never too early to learn the phrase "Clucking Bell"

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Spongebob's Gone To Spain!

(Apologies in advance, this story had a different name when I first posted it late last night)

About 4 years ago, I was working away this particular week Darn'Sarf, and on my way home, the "present" Mrs. rang me to say could we buy a fish (& tank) for the boy (aged 3 at this particular time)...

being not of sound mind OR body, I gave in and said, "Aye... go on, we'll go tomorrow"

"As it happens, were actually at PetSmart now, so I'll just go ahead and pay for it shall I?" was her reply...

So I gets home, some hours later, walks into the kitchen and there it is....
a rectangular tank, not too big, about 18 inches by 12, bubbling away, with 2 fish, a number of fake plants (not a bad idea, going off my track record with plants)
and 2 plastic characters embedded in the sand... "Spongebob" (SpongeBob Schwammkopf to my Austrian friend)
and "Patrick" from Spongebob Squarepants no less...

As such, the 2 fish were called "Spongebob & Patrick"

Now, these Fish, Tank, 2 bags of grit, 3 crappy plastic plants, a pump and filter along with various other tank-estate cr@p cost somewhere in region of £50, not a bank-breaker by any means (just yet) and it put a smile on my boys face (at this time I was a good Daddy!)

Flash forward a week, and the tank was green, had been ignored by the boy after about 2 days, used to make a humming noise that you could hear at night in bed.... and annoyed the sh*t out of me every time I went into the kitchen as it stank!

So, I would read up on it (Google) emptied about 40% of the water, put freshly boiled water in...


No... of course I wasnt that stupid, I'd let it go cold obviously, and then top up the tank.....

Next Day... NOTHING!..... it was still full of cr@p and the fish weren't looking too healthy either, in fact, Patrick was looking decidedly not happy at all....

Belly up, he wasn't at his best!

So, I flushed him, went back to Petsmart, got a new one, and also got conned into buying some crap chemicals and new 'charcoal' pellets (for the filter), put it all back together and said no more...

Harry (the boy) never noticed anything... like I said, he'd got bored by this point, probably sat in a corner and found that wobbly thing down his trousers far more interesting....

a few days later, down for breakfast, and checked the tank, DEAD....


another dead fish, God knows which one it was, they looked the same to me...

Off I went back to PetSmart, another fish, some more chemicals, one of those glass cleaner things that looks like a back scratcher But it had a razor blade on the end (Don't Worry... it had a "This Is Not A Back Scratcher - Not To Be Used By Mark" Warning on it!) and I think I had a PetSmart 'Pay on the Never Never' Credit Card by this point!

Got home, emptied the usual x% of Water, cleaned it out, fish back in (in a bag for an hour)... emptied out.... Child non-the-wiser...

Another week....
Another Dead Fish!

"Jesus Christ" (I said a little prayer) and Flushed.....

We told Harry that "Spongebob" had gone to Spain (for his holidays....)

He's easily lied to my lad (makes it easier for me to be a bad Daddy!) and Off I went back to PetSmart, No more Fish, No more chemicals (I seem to recall telling the salesman to go Bugger Himself when he offered me some) but I resigned myself to buying a tank hoover.... not one of those battery powered ones (that would have made sense had I seen what was coming) but a much cheaper option.... a Manual Cyphon that you had to SUCK, meaning that someone as stupid as me, should have been videoed using it, cos I must have swallowed half the friggin tank (so it went in the bin, along with most of my stomach contents.... and my underwear, cos it came out the other end I think!

So... here we are, some weeks later, down to just "Patrick", with still a smelly, skanky tank!

I get home, Wife and Boy not home yet, and "Patrick" is on his side, on the top of the water, gulping but lookin real cr@p!!


I ring my Dad (he has Koi Carp bigger than Me in his outside Ponds... He'll know what to do...

"The Fish are dyin.... I aint spending anymore money.... whats the most Humane way I can put it out of its misery..?"
"Well son.... when I have to 'cull' one of my carp, I get it out of the pond.."
"Sedate it..."

"...and then put a knife across the back of its neck... Done!"
"WHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAT!?!?!?!?!? I cant do that.... Jesus Man, how were you EVER a Parent?!"

I ended the telephone conversation, and went to PetSmart... Sickened!

"Hya... Me again (looking sheepish)... Whats the most humane way of putting my fish down..?"

< dumb look >

"Yes... Really!"
"Seriously Sir? Why... would you want to put a fish down?"

"Cos its really not well, I've spent my mortgage on it and its a £3 bloody fish... I COULD have just kept buyng replacements" (that just dawned on me by the way!) "but... NOOOOOO I had to let you lot keep conning me into buying chemicals and any old Tat you had lying around... well NO MORE MISTER!"
"ok sir.... you could flush it down the toilet?"
"Seriously.... NOOOOO thats awful... it'll get trapped in the soil pipes under my house, and lie there... FLAPPING..... for hours, GASPING.... WHEEEEEEZING.... DYYYYYING!"

< dumber look >

"Ok Sir... this is what you do.... Get a plastic SEALABLE bag..."
"catch the fish in it, with some of the tank water...."
"Seal the bag....."

(at this point I thought he was gonna tell me to hit the bag with a hammer)

"Then... put it in your freezer!"

.................. Dumb Look From Me...............
"?? Your Taking the Piss Right ??"
< Long Pause >

"No... Thats the most humane way to kill your fish, its like Winter, you put it into hybernation and then just leave it in there for about 2 hours.... to freeze to death.... but it'll be asleep!"

(I suspect they were taking pictures and selling pictures for that web site "" at this time)

Anyhow.... I googled it when I got home, and it is 'kind of' right...

So.... sealable butty bag in hand, I sat on a chair... in the kitchen.... chin resting on the kitchen worktop, staring at "Patrick" through the skanky glass..... then.... I said my good bye's....

In Bag, Sealed, Stomped into utility room (under stairs), Freezer compartment open, moved my Oven chips to one side, and shoved him in....

SLAM! Jobs a Good'un!

I shut the door, and left him in there.... alone.... without a friend (Cos Spongebob had gone down the Shitter already remember!?)

a few hours later, the Wife came home (with the Boy) Saw the Tank, CLEANED AND EMPTY and asked....

"Where's Patrick?"
"Spain.... with Spongebob!" I replied

I sat him infront of the TV (cos I'm a caring parent like that) and guided the "Mrs" under the stairs (I shouldn't have done that cos we now have 2 kids..) Anyways..., (Whispering)....

"Patrick's in the Freezer"

< dumb look >
"What?" (with a quizzicle look)
"Patrick... is in... the Freezer!" (with that dumb eye-brow twitchin thing that you do, when your being a sneaky b@stard! And nodding at the top compartment)

"Are you Insane?"
< very offended look >

"Of course not.... thats what PetSmart told me to do, to put the fish out of its misery.... HYBERNATION..."

< her gob hit the floor >

< startled and very unimpressed look >

I opened the Freezer door, expecting to see an Ice-Pop and was HORRIFIED at what was there.....

The bag was frosted over, but I could just make out.... PATRICK WAS STILL ALIVE.... and his poor little mouth was still opening and closing (albeit alot slower than it should be) but still moving....

(he had a little hat, scarf and gloves on as well... it was bloody awful!)

I slammed the Freezer door and threw my back against it (as if he was gonna get out?), hands over my face...

"I'm gonna be sick!"
"Have you rang your Dad and asked him what to do?"
"Yes of course, but he wanted me to cut its F*cking Head off for gods sake, How Sick Is That?!"

< long, sorrowful and bemused look >
"Ring your Bloody Dad... Moron!"

..ring ring..... ring ring..... ring ring...

"Hello..... is Dad there?"
"Yep hang on.......... Hello, what have you done now?"
"Dad... this fish..."
"I couldn't cut its head off, so I've done what PetSmart told me to do..."
"and that is?"

....."put it in a bag of water... and into the Freezer!"


(you have to picture me looking at you now with that "Twonk" look)

"Why didn't you do what I told you to do instead...?"
(Squinting... I replied) "....innnnnnnnstead?"

"Yeah.... take it to the Pond at the bottom of your road and release it into the Wild....? It'll most likely Die, but..... you never know?!"


I hung up, threw open the freezer door again and grabbed the bag... it was bloody cold as well, and had frosty sh*t all over it!

"Your gonna have to come with me!" I shouted at the wife....
"Cos If I've gotta drive down there, I'll have to put Patrick on the passenger seat, and he might roll off into the footwell and hurt himself!"

< she gave me that "open mouth" look again >

VROOM! off I shot down the road (its only about 200 yards, but I wanted to get there quick... every... second... counted!)

Now what you need to know at this point is that as a new Estate, we still didn't have too much street lighting, so it was pitch black as I got to the Lake; there are a few houses that overlook that part casting what little light they had over me as I pulled over, crept out of the car, took the little "baggy" and lumbered down the embankment to the Lakes edge.... I must have looked like a Serial Killer, disposing of his Prey... and I bloody well felt like it!

I looked into the bag, nose pressed against the bag.... said my apologies (twice), opened the bag and dropped Patrick into the freezing water...


he just floated there.... Lifeless....Still..... ALONE!

I prodded him, he twitched a little.... gave a flick of his little Tail and swam off... about a metre...

PHEW... I Won't goto Hell Afterall!

There was an Almighty SWOOSHING noise, and a HELL of a Gust of Wind...
I felt like I was being repeatedly hit by a Tornado.....

About a Dozen Canadian Geese set upon Patrick like a Baboon on a Toffee Apple...

I was knocked back... "PATRICK!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO?!"

and then..... SILENCE!
I was Sickened.... Again................................. to this day, I don't know if he survived......