Wear bling-bling – and get ahead…..

Watching the World Athletics Championships on the box last week, I was struck by the amount of winners that wore wall to wall ‘bling-bling’. Time and again the ‘slo-mo’ would show chiselled athlete after chiselled athlete dip to breast the tape with their bling. The blingless losers (usually British) wallowed through, in 5th, 6th, last position, dazzled by the bling-fest they had just witnessed. Cool winners got even cooler by being awarded even more bling in the form of gold medals.

Where were our athletes in the bling medal table? Nowhere! That’s why we lost every event. Sure, we had the odd subtle necklace, or the finely honed earring, but no bling-bling. No ‘smack you in the gob’ bog chains. No links forged for ocean going liners around OUR athletes’ necks. Just a few wispy pieces that looked as if they had been fashioned from 13 amp fuse wire and some old ‘Rolo’ toffee wrappers.

Blingyness is something we want more of – there should be a Euro directive. We need more Bling-Bling.

I wonder how it would look if I got some? Would it go with my wool mix grey suit, white Rael-Brook shirt and paisley tie. Would I have the neck muscles to support it? Would people think ‘Christ, what a lot of dynamic Bling – he MUST be a winner!’

Should I wear it whilst jogging? Or maybe when I’m playing snooker? Surely wearing a ‘subtle as a brick in the chops’ piece of Bling is as good as a 50 break?

Wake up Britain, get some ‘Bling-Bling into your life!




The power of suggestion ……

Mars. Bom, bom bom bormmmm. Bom, bom bom bormmmm.
Harbinger of doom, celestial neighbour and brooding red sky marble is the closest it has been for 60,000 years.

Wow, 60,000 years! From Neanderthals to Neon, I REALLY must find the old binoculars and show the kids. Yeh, I really must do that ……. I'll just watch this really interesting programme on 101 things you can do with twine......

Youngest son, "Dad, have you found the bins, have you Dad? Have you?"

"There’s no point, it’s too misty, too cloudy, too clear, too dark, too light, I’m too tired"………. Well, that delayed actually having to find the binoculars for a good week. Pretty soon though, I ran out of excuses. Rog’ had done his last dodge, I would have to find the bins’. Two hours and much swearing later, I emerge triumphant from the garage. "Let’s go Mars hunting!"

"Now Son, hold them carefully now. Look through the eye-pieces, point them up to the sky, over there towards the South East. Now, focus, twiddlle the knurled ring until the Red Brooder sharpens up".

"Can you see it yet?"

"No" ……….."Wait!" …… "I see it! I see it. Dad, I see it!"

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I THINK I can see it – sort of"

"I’ll take off the lens caps"