Wednesday, 27 November 2013


I recognised a long time ago that although I have my moments, other people are usually funnier than I am.

With this in mind, let me offer you these items of evidence on the subject of old age:

Don't let ageing get you down. It's too hard to get back up. - John Wagner

Age mellows some people; others it makes rotten. - Anonymous

The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly and lie about your age. - Lucille Ball

I'm 59 and people call me middle aged. How many 118 year old men do you know? - Barry Cryer

As you get older, three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can't remember the other two... - Sir Norman Wisdom

There is absolutely nothing to be said in favour of growing old. There ought to be legislation against it. - Patrick Moore

When I was young I was called a rugged individualist. When I was in my fifties I was considered eccentric. Here I am doing and saying the same things I did then and I'm labelled senile. - George Burns

As we grow older, our bodies get shorter and our anecdotes longer. - Robert Quillen

I refuse to admit I'm more than fifty-two, even if that does make my sons illegitimate. - Nancy Astor

A stockbroker urged me to buy a stock that would triple its value every year. I told him, 'At my age, I don't even buy green bananas'. - Claude Pepper

You know you're getting old when everything hurts. And what doesn't hurt doesn't work. - Hy Gardner

I'm so old they've canceled my blood type. - Bob Hope

I think age is a very high price to pay for maturity. - Tom Stoppard

Respect old people. They graduated from school without Google or Wikipedia. - Unknown

Sunday, 24 November 2013


Jingle jangle, jingle jangle - it does my head in. I'm talking about coins and all the shrapnel you collect in your pockets.

The traders try to make us feel things are cheap by pricing everything at £3.99 or £4.99 which means you keep getting a penny change.

Like most men, I drop my coins in a little tray at night and then stick it all back in my pocket the next morning and off I go, jingle jangling down the street.

Well not any more. Now I have two coin trays. I put all the small change in one and the serious stuff in the other. As soon as the small coins add up to 10p I take them out and spend them.

Why has it taken me over half a century to think of doing this?

I pay £1.30 to play table tennis so sometimes I pay with a £1 coin, a 20p coin and ten 1p coins. 

They must be so glad to have the small change from me occasionally don't you think?

Wednesday, 20 November 2013


I am very fond of cheese. My preference is for the milder but tasty varieties rather than the 'blow your head off' cheddar which my wife prefers. 

On my recent visit to Annecy I was introduced to Comté cheese, a local speciality, which suited me beautifully. I also love Raclette. Both have a lot of taste and yet are subtly delicious.

One cheese which I probably won't be trying though is a new creation called 'Christmas dinner cheese'. Who have thought it? Apparently it contains tastes of turkey flavouring, carrots, Brussels sprouts, festive fruit, candied cherries and apple in a block of Pilgrims Choice Cheddar cheese.

There is also a 'Christmas Pudding' cheese which includes brandy-soaked sultanas, raisins and currants, candied cherries and apple, cinnamon and a special Christmas liqueur.

Can you imagine the family's reaction when they sit down to Christmas dinner, pull their crackers and are then presented with a slice of cheese?

Sunday, 17 November 2013


In which I extract the poetry from popular song lyrics.

Warning: If you are easily offended by bad language please piss off.

I've already cited 'Passenger', a current favourite of mine, and this is another song which I've just discovered. The lyrics, by Michael David Rosenberg, are full of swearing, full of hate and full of brutal honesty. I love it.

I Hate

I hate racist blokes, telling tasteless jokes
And explaining where people belong
I hate ignorant folks, that pay money to see gigs
And then talk through every fucking song
I hate people in night clubs, snorting coke
And explaining where you're going wrong
And so if you agree, then come hating with me
And feel free to sing along


Well I hate pointless status updates on Facebook
FYI we were never "m8"s
We pretend to be friends on the internet
When in real life, we have nothing to say
To each other, oh brother I have love for my mother
For good times, for music and my mates
Yeah I laugh, and I live and I have love to give
But sometimes all you can do is hate


Well I hate them fussy eaters, you cook them fajitas
They only eat pizza and chips
I hate stepping outside, for a smoke and some guy
Coughs, like your lungs are his
And I hate queuing up, for festival toilets
Especially when you need a shit
And I hate the X-Factor, for murdering music
You bunch of money-grabbing pricks


And I hate them magazines, aimed at insecure teens
That make ten year old's race to grow up
Hey kids, let's all be anorexic or better
Eat chocolate until you throw up
Keep your Hollywood stars, and their stupid cars
And the Bo-tox, that makes them look fucked
Just grow old with grace, have you seen Cher's face
She looks like she's been hit by a truck

Wednesday, 13 November 2013


It was my birthday recently. Someone bought me socks.

They obviously don't know me very well because they are long socks. I always wear ankle length.

They are made from 71% Cotton, 26% Polyester and 3% Elastane. They clearly didn't know I always wear 100% Cotton.

Worse still, they are striped. Surely they realise I only ever wear plain.

They didn't buy them from Marks and Spencer. I always buy my socks from them.

When I say 'long socks' they are actually boot socks. I'm wearing boots and the new socks work well with them.

The material works perfectly to keep my feet feeling comfortable but not too hot.

As for the stripes. My wife said they look great. Then she said 'Wearing stripy socks is one way for older people to have fun'.

Perhaps the person who gave me them knows me so well that she felt I was stuck in my ways and needed livening up.

Anyway, I'm off out to flash my socks in public. I know how to have a good time. 

Sunday, 10 November 2013


I often tend to write about issues which have been on my mind for a while. Unfortunately for you dear reader, my current preoccupation has been with my bowels.

I've been laid low with food poisoning and the associated effects of this and because I am a person who likes to share, I wanted you to hear about 'The Official Diarrhea Song'. (U.S. spelling).

This is an ongoing creation to which you can contribute by submitting your own verse.

I've selected a few examples.

When you're on the seat for hours 
and it doesn't smell like flowers: 
Diarrhea, diarrhea.

When your stomach is in pain,
and you're making chocolate rain
Diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're riding in a sleigh
And you hear something spray
Diarrhea diarrhea 

When you think your friends are joking 
but your pants are brown and soaking: 
Diarrhea, diarrhea.

When you think it's chicken soup 
but it's really liquid poop. 
Diarrhea diarrhea

Oops - sorry have to rush!

Wednesday, 6 November 2013


Its funny isn't it how things can change in a flash. One moment you're happily driving along the road and then suddenly you skid or an idiot driver collides with you and your life is turned upside down.

Many years ago when my wife was expecting our first child she lovingly prepared the nursery in readiness and then a burst pipe poured through the ceiling ruining all her efforts.

Recently I have experienced more trials and tribulations. Life was good. I'd taken a new interest in the garden and my efforts had paid off as it was attracting compliments. 

Grand-parenting was rewarding us richly and we had made a few home improvements which left us with a warm glow.

Then the weather started to deteriorate. Halloween arrived along with crashes and bangs as fireworks were let off. A relative died. A funeral had to be fitted into an already busy schedule. Another relative died. Another funeral to accommodate. 

Our health took a bad turn. The children's health, along with their babies also suffered. A treasured possession went missing. A couple of bulbs blew.

Then a minor disaster as strong winds took down our treasured pergola and devastated our lovely garden.

When will it ever end?  The answer is now. Listen here you fickle finger of fate - yes I'm pointing at you - is that the best you've got?

I shall repair the garden with renewed vigour. We will get healthy again. The weather will brighten up. I enjoyed the first funeral - bring on the next (as long as it's not mine).

Sunday, 3 November 2013


I came upon this little gem recently. It involves an Australian lady who was on a work trip and having coitus which was rudely interruptus when a light bulb (presumably screw-in) broke and fell on her nose.

She claimed compensation for her injuries - you have to admire her cheek - and though originally granted, after some deliberation her claim was reversed.

The poet in me couldn't resist this: 

A woman who hails from down under, 
Was at work when a light broke asunder.
She was having a bonk
When it fell on her conk
Ending her moment of sexual wonder.

Being filled with much indignation
She then sought to claim compensation
But when brought up in court,
The judge said he thought,
Sex was not in her job specification.