Well...there we have it...another year over...another Chrissie gone...pretty peaceful and enjoyable time too - unless you happened to be in a church in Nigeria and on the receiving end of the Islamists....
Never mind...we're safe...it could never happen over here could it?
Had a cracker myself - hope you did too.
House all decked out with a wonky tree.....either the tree was leaning or I was...probably me...
Radio and TV is full of advertisements for giving your hard earned to some kids in Africa or wherever so they don't shuffle off cause their Dictator or dodgy government won't pay up to save them....sorry kids...if your own kind won't help you're screwed...buggered if I will...Bah Humbug eh?
Only Christmas spirit worth it is vodka...;-)
Courtesy of the Senior and Junior Management my Doctor Who Box Sets is now complete with both Matt Smith's series so I feel a 'Doctor Who Day' coming on....Rise at 10...slob in the arm chair watching every episode from Christopher Ecclestone's supurb one series outing through David Tennants extraordinary time and, I've finally got Tennant out of my system and started appreciating matt Smith's efforts.
A day of Doctor Who supplemented with bacon sandwiches and vodka......can't wait!!!
Jax aka The Junior Management was home for most of Chrissie - went out with 'the girls' one night but spent the rest either here or in Essex with Max. It was soooooo good to have her home!!!
Caz aka The Senior Management continued to decline making a personal appearance on DILLIGAF II - wise lady that she is.....I did, however, manage to coax her down The 5 Bells in Harmondsworth for New Years Eve and she admitted she bloody well enjoyed herself!!!
Jax headed off in the general direction of Trafalgar Square for New Years Eve - hope she wore a coat...it wasn't THAT bloody warm!!!...;-)
New Years Resolutions?
Carry on carrying on mainly. Say what I mean and mean what I say.
I think I may have startled a few SFRadio peeps during my January 2nd 2011 Review Show when they saw my BNP link on this blog. Tried to explain I'm not actually a racist I'm just a worried Englishman.....I suspect some are too left wing liberal to comprehend the danger this country is really in. Maybe not today or tomorrow but soon enough.
Never mind. I've often found that I can accept views I disagree with far more readily than left wing liberals can.
Odd really. You'd think left wing liberals would have an open mind. It appears not. You are understandably worried about the colonisation of your country by alien cultures therefore you're clearly a fascist nazi racist colour prejudiced islamophobe...not necessarily in that order..;-)
Strikes me most of them haven't got a mind capable of considering alternative viewpoints. Left wing liberals almost invariably seem to suffer from what I call 'Ostrich Syndrome'.......
Well...Tally-Ho!!! Bring on 2012 and be careful out there won't you!!!
Now if that 'header' doesn't get a few 'hits' from oddballs and pervs I don't know what will...;-)
In order to prevent this post being inordinantly long and, frankly, silly, I will explain.
Men, and previously, boys, as all men were previously boys, adore sex. Sex is the raison d'etre for many many males. Life is worthless without sex.
I have always been curious what precisely drives us males in this way. I have had many male friends who are clearly happy shagging the woman on their arm despite the appearance of said woman resembling the back end of a bus......each to their own I suppose....
I then considered my own tastes....which would clearly not be approved of by every man.
I actually vaguely knew Patsy Kensit when she was little......if only I'd known!!!!!
With the obvious exception of Caz to whom I have remained resolutely faithful to (apart from the occasional Fridays and gymnasts of Eastern European descent...well??....it's not my bloody fault that Eastern European gymnasts and Fridays exist for Gods sake!!!)......I have reached a conclusion.
I could cheerfully help Winona Ryder out with her shop lifting problems...probably down to a lack of sex if you ask me....
Men are eternally 18 in their heads...or possibly 16....whilst women grow and mature gracefully, ultimately losing interest in sex.
Debbie Harry is now very old...even by my standards....still...with a bit of help from a time traveller eh?..;-)
Women of a certain age....from around 40 or so I suspect...tend to use sex to reward their hubbies for a job well done that they required doing, or to encourage their man to do a job they require doing.
Men, on the other hand, expect sex to continue relatively unabated regardless.
Men, I believe, have the right idea....obviously I am somewhat biased in this opinion.
Sex is fun. The more fun (sex) you can get, the more fun life is.
Mary Millington (RIP) was my first introduction to the naked female form at around 12 years old...that was me at 12 not Mary I hasten to add...;-)
Clearly we are indeed from Mars and women are equally clearly from Venus.
Tastes however are even more clearly a very personal thing.
If I didn't put Katy Manning back up then I'm very clearly suffering from Call Me Al(zheimers)....
One pal of mine is married to a woman who can't walk without her inordinantly fat thighs producing sparks. He adores this lump of lard and finds her incredibly sexy. All attempts to get him psychiatric help have failed abysmally. He is happy so let's leave the poor bugger alone eh?
I will leave you.....OI! Who said "Thank Christ for that!"???....with my own list of desirable females above...not necessarily desirable now as they may be dead....although I do know a chap who thinks necrophilia is cool...perhaps I need to trim my 'friends list' a bit eh?...;-)....along with a couple of vids....
Saturday...which I agree is, technically, the previous week, was a blast. Jacqui came home from 6 weeks in Madagascar. A field trip related to her Geography degree.
Several days within the 6 weeks completely cut off from civilisation studying the wlidlife - which sadly, didn't include singing dancing Lemurs despite what the movie suggested. Damn. I wanted one.
She has some incredible pics which will, no doubt, filter down to me at some point and I will proudly display.
For now....the most important pic in my eyes....Jax hugging a weeping Caz as she appeared through 'Arrivals' at Heathrow Airport...Jax expression says it all!..."Oh for Gods sake mother!!!"....;-)
I readily admit....that was the hardest 6 weeks of my life...but also the proudest in a way....Jax worked with an Oxford Professor and her work will appear before The United Nations at some point regarding the natural environment of Madagascar against the needs of farming and such like.
Apparently...her work may even be published at some point...I'll let you know if and when....
My baby's back safe and well. Nuff said.
In the meantime a bus damaged my car during a driving lesson. The bus duly carried on with the driver seemingly oblivious.
"Follow that bus" I cried to my driving student - who was still slightly alarmed at a bus 'brushing' against the car - buses being inordinantly big.
The damage is minor....a bit of paint work...but, as the car is leased I'm buggered if I'm paying for the damage.
We caught up with the bus and I 'took control'. Using my dual controls, I reversed the car in front of the bus to prevent it moving away from its next bus stop.
"You clipped my car" I said to the (clearly Asian) driver.
In fairness he was cool about it and even said later "I doubt a driving instructor would do what you did if it wasn't true"
Being in a very large vehicle he didn't feel the 'brush' and I believe him.
As we exchanged details several passengers got off the bus, clearly annoyed at their journey being interrupted.
Oddly?....All the white passengers remained on board. All those who alighted were clearly Asian/black and without a doubt, muslim.- as was, equally clearly after learning his surname, the driver.
The muslim passengers became very aggressive very quickly.
"You are holding us up!"....."Leave our dirver alone!"....."You are a thief!!"
I have no idea what the last statement meant.
The driver, to his credit, attempted to usher them back on the bus.
Dinners, as you may not be surprised to learn, said "Piss off and mind you're own business...I'm sorting it out with the driver"....ever the diplomat eh?...;-)
One muslim passenger leaned into my face. "You are lying!!!"
My head went back as the 'red mist' descended.
It was similar to a 'Pimms O'Clock moment' really - as per TV adverts in Blighty....
"Picnic blankets? Mums and dads? It's Pimms O' Clock!"
"Wedding party? Embarrassing dancing? It must be Pimms O' Clock!"
"MY FOREHEAD? YOUR NOSE?......etc etc...
The driver - very much to his credit - suddenly appeared between us with his back to me and ushered the dickhead away.
As headbutting the driver in his back would have been grossly unfair I allowed the 'red mist' to dissipate.
So.
1) My car is damaged - albeit only slightly -
2) I was prevented from nutting a mouthy muzzie - probably for the best -
3) Caz burst into tears when Jax emerged from Customs at Heathrow - no surprise there then -
4) I didn't burst into tears when Jax emergef from Customs at Heathrow - I'm a man I am (I so so nearly did)...;-)
5) I am finally drinking a bottle of voddy as tomorrow is a day off for Caz's birthday and I've got the day off.
We're all off to Winchester for the day...I have no idea why...some'at to do with seeing the Cathedral I think but I'm halfway down my litre of voddy and can't remember....
Still.
A day with Caz 'n Jax. Just us. (Max would be welcome too incidentally...the only boyfriend I've never growled at and he did take care of her in Madagascar after all).
Life is good.
Stay out of my way First Bus.....I'm looking to stitch you up....and trust me...I will.
Later's and let's all be well careful out there eh?
I have sat cross legged on the floor, put my thumbs together and said "Ohmmm" several times.
Then I drank some voddy and repeated the exercise.....
My li'l bro Sime is quite right. I switched to DILLIGAF II to chill not rant away and off I went again...ranting away.
Daft old bugger.
As a Driving Instructor my car is like the bloody United Nations - not entirely surprising given I live near Heathrow Airport I suppose.
Ukranian, Bulgarian, Indian, Sri Lankan, Spanish, Kenyan, Vietnamese, Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Latvian, Lithuanian, Argentinian, Brazilian, Somalian.......and that's the students past and present I can bring to mind immediately...oh...yeah...a few English as well...;-)
I rapidly reached the conclusion that learning to drive and indeed, becoming a good driver is not related in any way shape or form to intelligence.
One of my students believed, and, as far as I know, still believes that the 30 odd sheep we saw grazing on a steep hill on one of the Staines Reservoir's all facing the same way were doing so as they'd been specially bred with their right legs shorter than their left in order to graze on steep inclines - turning around would result in them falling over and rolling down the hill.
I didn't actually think she'd entirely believed me until we saw a dozen or so the next driving lesson facing the opposite way.
"Oh look Dinners! They've got their left legs shorter!" she exclaimed excitedly.....
"Bugger the sheep...watch where you're going!"......I think I must be evil....;-)
Passing your Driving Test is a bloody lottery you know.
My best student by far took 3 bloody goes!!!
"You drive better than me" said the Examiner.
"I've passed then?" she asked
"Unfortunately not" he replied.
Uh?......Don't ask me...I'm just more qualified than the Examiner...he/she just asseses on the day....I train them for the day from scratch.
"You drive better than me but you've failed"......now explain that one to me!!!
Still, I've never been happier in my life than I am now - at least as far as a job goes.
"What's this £70?" I asked a student
"Well I forgot to pay you for the last 2 lessons so here it is"
I had no idea - it drives Caz crazy....."Dinners!!!! You're meant to be a businessman now!!!"
I took Caz...aka Carol....aka The Wifey....aka The Management to work this morning.
Traditionally 'supplies' are purchased in the evening but, for some unknown reason, I decided to purchase a cigarette supply from a shop on my way home in the morning. A shop I have never frequented before.
"WELL HELLOOO MATE!!!" said the shopkeeper (SK) who I've never seen in my life before.
Me : "Er...howdo...er....60 Mayfair Cigarettes please" I replied slightly uncertainly.
SK : "60? You having a good session with some bird then?"
Me : "Sorry?"
SK : "A good session mate! Lots of smokes in between eh?"
Me : No comment...just a slightly bewildered expression which SK patently failed to notice.
SK : "I tried it on with the wife last night. You know what she said?...Put the bloody kettle on!"
Me : "Oh....er....I see....um..."
SK : "Mind you when I say a good session I reckon you're thinking 'I could be so lucky mate' eh?...eh? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!"
Me : "Er...well...um...I suppose so"
SK : "Damn right! Takes me 6 fucking months to get randy at my age and what does the bitch do?....Tells me to put the bloody kettle on! I ask you! What a fucking life eh?"
Me : "Does she take sugar?"
SK : "You what???"
Me : "In her tea?...Sugar...er...one or two?"
SK : "What are you on about mate? Here's you're cigarettes...60 right?"
Me : "Er...yeah...thanks...
SK : "Lovely to see you again mate! Have a great session eh?...eh?....HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"
Me : "Er...ok...ta...cheers....bye"
SK : "Let me know how it goes!!!! Give her one for me eh?....eh?....HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Buying cigarettes around here has apparently become a rather odd process.
I would try nicotine patches and stop but, after today, I'm terrified what the Chemist might say to me.
How?...Why?....How and why do I seem to attract insane people? Even when I go in a shop to buy something mundane like cigarettes?
He didn't look crazy when I walked in...it isn't my fault....honest!!!
Laters and let's be careful out there eh?....eh?.....
When I was a small boy I had a best pal. His name was, and is, Gary Alan Turner. I was known as Bammy - an abreviation of my surname. He was my best pal for a long while after I was a small boy.....
Gary, or Gaz as he was then, convinced me to move to London to share a bedsitter.
Prior to that we'd shared pretty much everything else you could think of - apart from each others bodies...we weren't that way inclined. Beer, women (or girls at that time), fights, getting bollocked by parents and police.
We were pretty wild kids to be honest - although not especially malicious.
We did everything together. Played football for the school team, smoked cigarettes behind the school army cadet truck, shagged girls in the school army cadet truck....
Gary has 4 brothers. David, the oldest, Paul, Nigel and Graham.
One night, in the bedsit in Hounslow, Gary rang home to discover his baby brother Graham had a burst appendix and was gravely ill.
We hitched a lift back up north in an articulated lorry.
The driver kept getting drowsy and saying he had to stop so me and Gary took turns driving this massive truck (at the ages of 19 and without even a car licence) up the motorway heading north.
Not only did we, and many many other car drivers survive this lunacy, more importantly, Graham survived.
I probably spent more time around Gary's house than I did my own. His mum and dad were my mum and dad to me. His brothers were the brothers I'd always wished I had - selfishly so there was someone else for The Dragon to beat up.
At 21 years old he married - too young. He was trying to grow up and mature, I was heading down a very slippery alcohol and drug induced slope. We were growing apart. He'd protected me for so long he had to move on, with or without me.
Entirely because of my penchant for self destruction we eventually lost touch after I caused a fight at his wedding and, as he has admitted, he thought 'Bammy lad....you're lost...I can't stop this...I tried' - and he bloody well did try too.
This was the days before mobile phones and the internet so, when you 'lost touch' it was hard to find anyone again. Of course I could have contacted his mum and dad but I was far too wrapped up in self destruction to think of anything obvious like that.
By the time I met Caz - who saved me from myself - it was all a long time ago and, well, I didn't think anyone from those days would want to know me.
At the age of 49 Gary contacted me on 'Friends Reunited'......'I think it's time we had a beer' he said.
My daughter drove me to the appointed pub and I walked in and immediately recognised him after 28 years.
It felt like I'd seen him last week.
Is it weird?
Since that day we're close again....as close as we were all those years ago. His son told me he was quite tearful that evening when he got home. So was I.
There's a few - more than a few - cracking tales of what Gaz 'n Bammy got up to but, for now, I have my pal back. And even better, after meeting his first younger brother Paul on a trip up north last year, I got to meet the other brothers this weekend at Gary and Cassie's Silver Wedding bash.
"You haven't changed a bit have you Bammy?" they said - which may quite possibly be a worry.
Caz took a while to get used to everyone there calling me 'Bammy' as it's not a name she's particularly familiar with. EVERYONE called me 'Bammy'.....I felt like a kid again!
Paul hadn't made it down in person but his sons were there......"BAMMY!...We grew up hearing about you! Everybody said you must be dead!!"....oh dear....
"You were a name that never went away Bammy!" said Nigel, "Tales of you were told many a night"
Gary's dad died many moons ago but I have been to see 'mum' a couple of times.
"We never forgot you Bammy. I'm so glad you're alright now" she said to me.
The Silver Wedding was slightly unreal to me. My pal? Silver Wedding?....Still, I've had one with Caz so I suppose time happens and stuff happens.
Oldest brother David smiled at me benevolently and, I suspect, wondered how the hell I was still around - although he seemed genuinely pleased that I was.
I hadn't seen, or spoken, to my adopted brothers for over 34 years and it might as well have been yesterday.
If you ever want to understand the true meaning of the word 'PALS' it's here. Gary and his brothers.
Caz never gave up on me. Gary and his brothers never did - apart from considering the possibility I was dead.
Still, I'm not so I was there and I'm so glad and happy I was.
Thanks Gaz. The kids you grow up with are the kids who remember you and the kids who'll always be there for you - when they finally find you again.
'PALS'
Bammy 'n Gaz
Bammy 'n Dave
Bammy, Gaz 'n Dave
Bammy, Gaz 'n Dave singing 'Heroes' in Spanish....it's a looong story....
My best PAL ever...always
When you find a true PAL...never lose them...never lose touch with them....keep them. You'll never replace them...
Gary told Cassie (who I met for only the second time that night....she's a babe!!!...that if they made 25 years he would sing 'Hero' to her...in Spanish...AND HE DID!!!! INCREDIBLE!!! THE OLD BUGGER CAN SING!!!....I wondered why he asked me to print this songs lyrics out in Spanish at 11:30 pm the night before....we all sang along - although we reverted to English in the end....after THAT much alcohol English was hard enough!!!
Cassie cried a bit. My old PAL is an old romantic after all...he's also something of a hero of mine....er...not quite like the song I hasten to add!!! ;-)
Sing along now!!!.......and I'm nicking Gary's idea.....for you Carol.....totally for you xxx
