Lordly matters….
OK, the House of Lords application form is all filled in and ready to go. Hardest job was finding any people who were willing to say I was of sound mind and a bit of a decent kind of chap. It’s amazing what the odd threat and the swift application of a judicious Chinese burn will do. But now comes my toughest task. The word is, in the corridors of power that ‘donations’ to certain political parties help the smooth sashay into an ermine robe. Anyway, I’ve had a whip round down at the Blood Tub Pub. Thanks to all patrons who willingly gave up their hard earned wedges for the cause of OKedness – and for the lucky falling into my lap of the PDSA collection box from the pub bar. How much ‘sashaying’ will £18.56p and a 2 Euro coin get me? Am I looking at Ermine Street, Easy Street or Ere’s-the-door Street?

Christmas Day is on 25th December this year isn’t it?
I was in the local Spar the other day. Waiting to pay for my stuff, I noticed a huge pile of seasonal Christmas Selection boxes, each with a fat jolly smiling Santa on, standing on a snowy roof with Rudolf and all the rest of his faithful crew. Think of all those kids on Christmas morning, stuffing their faces with this choccy bounty.

Right next to Santa’s chubby beaming smile was a nice, bold, clear message printed in a regulation EC approved typeface. - ‘Best before 10th December, 2005’…….

Ross Kemp – a big girly…
For tough guy Ross Kemp, recently beaten up by his feisty flame-haired, Sun Editor wife, I have a suggestion.
Ross, if you’re suffering from battered hubby syndrome, call me in total confidence – (sort of). I can offer a shoulder to cry on, a look that I really do give a damn on my face and present a convincing argument that you can still play a hard man in Eastenders and an SAS killer on the telly, even though you’re the world’s biggest wuss.

A bit of sad news….
Near where I live, there was a big guy who used to manage the local petrol station. He had a completely shaven head and the most startling collection of tattoos I’ve ever seen. They were all over his face, like a mask, from the front of his ears all the way round the top of his head and down to his throat. His nose had tattoos all over it – and his eyes poked out from a lavish pattern of paisley swirls all over his cheeks and forehead. Even his filtrum was tattooed.

In spite of his scary appearance, he was a really nice guy – a real character. I often passed the time of day with him after filling up with regulation BP unleaded.

Sad to read in the local paper that he was killed last Thursday in a motor cycle accident. He leaves a partner and five kids.

Werewolf meets Zombies and wins - again!

The other night on the 31st of October I had a visit from a couple of ghoulies….. or were they ghosties? Neither actually, they were both a total pain in the bum.

I was alone, working late at the office – and I heard these dysfunctional noises outside the window….. "Go on, you knock on the door, I did the last one". I saved them the trouble, leaping from the side room to reveal myself in all my glory through the full-length clear glass door.

Now when I want to be, I can be very scary. Eighteen stone big hairy person – a cross between Hagrid, Chewbacca, Rolf Harris and Fungus the Bogeyman can intimidate 15 year olds with latex masks on, no trouble. It’s no contest really…..

After all, I did it last year. When some 'trick or treaters' called, I said sorry, I didn’t want a ‘Watchtower’ journal as I was already a Jehovah’s Witness. Then I went into a Lordy, Lordy death and retribution act. From nowhere, I acquired a Southern States of America accent – and finally finished off my fire and brimstone rant with …."Eternal damnation will be yours unless you repent! Cast those demons aside from your infernal and vile bodies. Repent and embrace the Lord, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!"......

They couldn’t get away fast enough…

Anyway, back to the present. As a result of my startling appearance, these two zombies, with donned zombie masks and zombie suits took a step back. 1 – nil to me I think. Time to press home my advantage. I opened the door. "Yes, whaddya want?"

"Trick or treat Mister?"

"Trick or treat eh....... OK, give us a Carol then"

"What?"

"A Carol, gizz a Carol…. Something like, ooooh, er, tra la lar.Let me think… - ‘Hark the Herald Angels Si – ing’ will do, give us a rendition of that then"

"It’s trick or treat Mister. You know, a terrick, or a terreat"

"Great, I do not require a terrick, thanks very much, but I’d love a terreat. And the terreat I would like is for you to sing me a Carol. I’ll help if you like, altogether now, after three, 1 – 2 – 3, Hark the Herald angels siiiiii – iiiiing. Galllorrrrie to the new born Kinga..……."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they retreated, back into the inky blackness and disappeared….. One of them whispered…" He’s a right Nutter"

I couldn’t possibly comment.