Winter Blunderland

I came across this snippet of news today and it was too good to miss!

Father Christmas was allegedly punched by a father who spent hours queuing and three elves are said to have been involved in the violent confrontations.

Lapland New Forest, located on the Dorset Hampshire border - which costs £25 a ticket - promises a magical festive experience - including a winter wonderland full of reindeers and log cabins, a skating rink and a magical tunnel of light.

However disappointed families have spoken of a "glorified car boot sale" with a Nativity scene on a billboard, a broken iceskating rink and huskies in a muddy field.

The park has now been renamed "Winter blunderland" and has received 1,300 complaints.

Adrian Wood, 49, a worker who resigned from the park said: "Santa was punched by a furious father who had been waiting in line for four hours.

"He had got to the front only to be told he couldn't take a picture of his children and that they weren't allowed to sit on Santa's lap.

"The family were then told they would had to get in another queue to get their presents - that was the final straw.

"He marched up to Santa and punched him in the neck and on the chin and the staff and his family had to pull him off - it was unbelievable."

It was claimed one child had to be comforted after finding a Santa smoking a cigarette outside his grotto.

Ivan Hancock, from Dorset County Council's trading standards department, said: "I've never known anything spark so many complaints in my 20 years of working with three different authorities. We have had 1,300 people contact us.

"I've heard of someone spending 3,000 pounds on tickets and terrible stories of real human misery," he said.

Henry Mears, from Lapland New Forest Limited, confirmed that his staff had been attacked.

"So far about six of our staff - three elves and three security - have been assaulted and all have been verbally abused," he said.

"One of our elves was slapped and had a pram pushed into her leg which has left a horrible bruise."

But Mr Mears insisted they were isolated incidents and most people were happy with their experience.

"I would like to point out that 95 per cent of the people who come to Lapland New Forest are extremely happy with it," he said.

Snowball of Time

I feel almost awkward writing here, its been such a long time, Ive been so damned flakey (as per title of the blog) and various time constraints have been the biggest problem with me 'getting back on the bike'.. I feel embarrassed because I made some good friends here and have lost contact over the past few months for which I'm ashamed, just because cyberspace is not visceral does not hide the fact that the people behind the words which Ive been in contact with are very much corpareal... I suppose having my own pc would have solved a lot of things but its still no excuse. But I shall be back this week with a few stories for anyone who wishes to hear my inane ramblings again. Im a git and I know it..

Goo!

Im not sure if you good folk across the pond are familiar with cadburys creme eggs that come out for a limited amount of time at Easter but these rather allegorical ads are making me and suolas convulse with juvenile laughter, is it just my perverse senso of humor or do you see it too???

I found my wedding band

If I ever get married this is the band I want!

Dreaming of Tom Waits

Today, Tickets to see Tom Waits went on sale in Dublin. I feel cheated, cheated by greedy bastard promoters who are charging 130 euro to see him live in a tent in a park here in Dublin (ok so its a marquee but when I have to fork out 130 euro for 1 ticket its a fucking tent, I want my acoustics damn it!)


It costs $80 or €50 to see Tom in America. Why the hell do we have to pay almost 3 times as much, its scandalous (question to MCD promotions -do you get a mask with that job of yours you fucking highwaymen??). Mr. Waits should, step in and force the promoters / ticket sellers to cut their prices in half, €116 to €131 for tickets is an outrage! for such a non-sell out icon his fans are getting financially raped.Even if I had that kind of money to go and see him I would wrestle with the fact Im being exploited by these greedy fatcats and Id like to think that I would enjoy Tom better with a glass of wine listening to Closing Time in the midnight hour..

Sleeping with the fishies

Having such a bijou place to live there really is no other option on choices when it comes to pets. Ideally I would love to have a dog but its impossible and totally unfair on a canine com padre with no place to roam (and if I was going to get a dog it would be two of them for companionship) So I decided that a surprise was in order for the girls when I passed by a charity shop and seen a beautiful glass fishbowl in the window for a steal of 3 euro. The fish where quickly named Knuckle and Sammitch and my daughters squealed with delight and enthused over them for many days.Both Suolas and I looked up about their care and habits online and even got a filter pump to keep the little buggers in top form until we noticed something was awry, One of the fish was swimming like it had suffered a stroke, upon closer inspection it was missing a side fin.

Suolas was worried about the poor little bleeder and didn't hold out much hope for it when he discovered that knuckle was indeed having a nibble at sammitch on a daily basis. I too observed this on occasion whilst doing the dishes (the bowl is in situ at the kitchen window) tapping on the side of the fishbowl did nothing to deter him , sometimes he would stop and swim over to the side of the bowl, almost squaring up to me with that look of 'what are you going to do about it then??' in his glassy eyes. I thought maybe if the greedy bastard gets more food he'll stop picking on poor sammitch- no - he started to have a chew on sammichs dorsal, the ruthless Lectar of the goldfish bowl that he is.

When I got up this morning Suolas announced on the QT that Sammitch's suffering was over and he had made the journey from the white porcelain tunnel to the great fish pond in the afterlife. The girls where concerned of his where abouts so I told them he had hurt his tail and was collecting him from the goldfish hospital that morning. They where happy enough with this explanation as the truth would have been too much to absorb into their sensitive little hearts. So later in the petshop asked for the biggest MOFO of the goldfish that they had in the tank Survival of the fittest he he he. Anyway later when drying my eldest from the shower we got talking about sammitch's supposed injury and I told her he hurt his tail when he slipped on the stones - how did he slip on the stones ? she beckoned the question, distracted with her younger sisters mischief I said non chalantly that he was dancing to which she replied with the tone of disbelief and demand 'Dancing??!! I don't see no dancing EVER in the goldfish bowl! I was rumbled. when she was dressed for bed she walked straight over to the kitchen sink and stared for some time and announced there was no dancing going on but the big (new) fish chasing the little one. Sammitch can rest in peace now but my daughters curiosity wont.

Spring Cleaning

I have not been able to any writing as of late or doing anything other than cleaning or decorating/DIY, Yes its that time of year again , a much needed clear out had been on the cards for a long time and after along days work Ive been rewarding myself with episodes of the very beautiful and sparkling 'Pushing Daisies' and enjoying a glass of ice chilled straight ameretti (Im a bit drunk at the moment so forgive me if I spelled that wrong ) So Im off now to shower and sober up before I get a bit too tipsy enjoy all of the below and I shall hopefully be back with something interesting to say.

Mitch Hedberg - My reason to smile these days

Murder in the Playground

The crescent moon of bark and mulch spilled over to the narrow pathway of the public seating in the play area of Merrion Park. The previous nights wind ensured the park attendant had its work cut out for him. I bring my girls here nearly every morning around 8:30am to breakfast with the birds and run the steam out of them before lunchtime. Its a ritual that starts off with them trying to climb up beside Oscar Wilde, then to the playground and then sitting on the late Dermot Morgans (Father Ted) Jesters chair to eat strawberry sandwiches and feed the birds.
Yesterday the little oasis of greenery here in the city took on a bit of a sinister hue. The playground is usually empty at that hour of the morning, so my girls have the run of the place. The silence of the playground was only broken occasionally with my children shouting me to look at them whilst they went down the slide or climbed a certain level of a climbing frame. Then a cacophony of noise invaded the air, I looked up to see two magpies rowing with a huge raven, the magpies where obscured by the foliage of the pine tree but I knew their machine gun caws and had no problem seeing the raven.

After about five minutes there was a cascade of feathers and alarming sounds from the birds that made the girls stop in their tracks. Clearly I could see the raven pinch one of the magpies neck and throw it with much force (and its owner) across a few branches where it slumped and fell to the ground just outside the perimeter of the playground fencing. The remaining magpie cawed furiously and the murdering raven absconded the scene. The other poor bugger flew down to its slain friend cocked its head and flew off. No doubt it went looking for the raven to avenge its friends death. I didn't think that ravens or magpies where predatory of their own species (as ravens and magpies belong to the corvid family) so I did a little bit of research to see why or what could have possibly happened - as it turns out magpies are notorious for eating other birds eggs so I surmised that it was possibly these partners in crime had upset the ravens nest and one of them payed a heavy price at the ravens beak. Did justice prevail ? Maybe. But explaining to my girls that the 'birdy was taking a rest' was easier than telling them a murder had just taken place amongst the flora and fauna of the park..

Object of Beauty

I have been a stranger here for a bit, One reason was that of the death of my Aunt and another was that I couldn't find the cable for the camera to do this post justice. A while ago I ran a caption contest Which Slaghammer of Alchemy Anyone won. He gave me postal details which where slightly incorrect, so the package was sent back to me and I returned it back to slags corner of the world with the correct address. The very over generous Slaggy sent me an urn of his which I commented on some time back as a gesture of all the two-ing and fro ing in the postal japery that occurred. But that was not the end of everything , the parcel arrived alright but the postal service demanded over seventy euro for it (it was 7am in the morning when it arrived and I had not been to the bank yet so I declined receiving it that day and told Slaggy about it, he was furious so to cut a long story short after some conversations between both sides of the Atlantic to the Irish postal system the urn arrived back to Slaggy where his lovely wife Jilly put the correct customs documents on it and hey presto! It now resides in Chez Aucturas. I have shown everyone whos crossed my door since the object of beauty with its stew of smoke on the neck and the luster of beetle greens and damsons at the base (unfortunately the light in my back room here does it no justice) But I feel immensely fortunate and proud to have it in my collection. For the time being its settling in between a copy of Poe and Le fanu (on one of the many book cases here) Until we install the glass shelves and lights for the alcove. Publicly I would like to Thank Slag and Jill again for their Generous Gesture and patience of the backward system that is the Irish postal system.

Tinkles

Something which is very overlooked music wise I think are Original soundtracks or rather movie scores. Nick Cave & Warren Ellis did the music to the Assassination of the Jesse James by the coward Robert Ford. It such a beautifully innocent mix of meditative and childlike wonder in music form.(what my girls refer to it as magic music) Ill let you listen to it and make your own decision on what it sounds like ..

Open letter to Naomi Cambell

Dear morally vacuous featherweight coke-snorting spoiled-rotten demon-spawn Naomi Campbell

For some time now I have been barraged by the media with your scowl and tantrums. I did not go looking for it, somehow your stories took precedence over world peace, the starving and global warming in the news. Normally I ignore the courtship the media and you have but your most recent outburst and attack have made you uglier than I have originally thought you where (taking into account of your appalling level of conduct you should have gained the beauty of someone who stood beside the opening of the covenant). Lets take a look at your criminal history;


1998: Caused uproar on a plane when she lashed out at a passenger, saying: "You are an ugly bitch with a head like an alien."

2000: Pleaded guilty to assaulting her PA with a phone and threatening to throw her out of moving car in 1998. Ordered to attend anger management classes. A second PA also claimed she had been attacked.

Nov 2003: Sued by assistant, who claimed Campbell threw her on a sofa before keeping her hostage and throwing a mobile at her.

Aug 2004: Accused of punching and scratching housekeeper in New York.

Nov 2004: Accused of headbutting PA.

2005: Actress Yvonne Scio said she was left "covered in blood" after Naomi attacked her.

July 2006: Allegedly slapped assistant and beat her round head with BlackBerry. Settled out of court in June 2007.

March 2006: Charged with assaulting housekeeper with diamond-studded mobile, leaving 3in gash in her head. Sentenced in Jan 2007 to five days' community service.

Nov 2006: Accused of assaulting her drugs counsellor in London.


Being a somewhat fan of wrestling I believe I may have found you an anger management coach; I only hope your people contact her people to halt your temper tantrums once and for all.
Failing that , after a hard day with my kids I invite you to come to dublin where you can do your present community service and act as a conduit to my stress.


Sincerely

Jude

Irish History X

Around the day after St Patricks Day I read an article about some English kid who got a finger severed off by a gang of anti English Irish youths in a scene which mirrored that in American history X. As soon as I read this I was quite confident the 17 year old in question was lying through his teeth. The following articles are the Irish Independants reports on the before and after stories..

Gardai cast doubt on Victims Story
HE made headlines when he claimed he lost his finger in a vicious attack by a gang of youths on St Patrick's Day because he was British.

But gardai said yesterday they were "happy" that the horrific injuries suffered by young pianist Guy Wallace were not caused by an assault and they want to re-interview him.

Mr Wallace (17) claimed the gang went ahead with the dismemberment, despite his desperate pleas for mercy.

During a shocking radio interview, the schoolboy, who is the son of a Conservative councillor in Somerset, said he begged the gang to leave him alone and even offered them money.

Ignoring his desperate cries, he said they put his finger at the edge of a kerb and jumped on it to sever it from his hand.

Despite an extensive search, his finger has not been found.

Last night, gardai said they were "surprised" at his account of an attack, which he had not mentioned during an interview with detectives in hospital.

A spokesperson said detectives were "happy" that Mr Wallace's horrific injury was not caused by an assault.

Gardai are seeking to re-interview Mr Wallace.

They said he had not suggested a racist motivation for the attack and had had no memory of being set upon by a gang.

Gardai are aware that he had been drinking in Temple Bar before going to McDonald's, on O'Connell Street, where he was involved in a minor altercation.

After that, there is CCTV footage of him running down O'Connell Street.

Members of the gardai later came upon him on Cumberland Street, holding his bloodstained hand.

Sources said that detectives are looking at the possibility that the schoolboy may have fallen.

They have interviewed witnesses who were at McDonald's and said it did not appear that Mr Wallace had suffered a serious assault there.

Headbutt

There were reports that someone may have tried to headbutt him in the fast food restaurant and he may have received a "slap" before running off.

In a radio interview yesterday morning, Mr Wallace claimed his finger was ripped off during an horrific attack.

He said he had became separated from his friends on O'Connell Street around 8pm on Monday night.

He claimed he met a gang that became aggressive after he said he was English and inflicted the horrific injury.

Mr Wallace, who is studying for his A-levels, made a hasty retreat from the city yesterday for a speciality hospital in Plymouth, where he received further surgery.

He arrived at Dublin Airport with his injured hand in a bandage at around 10.30am yesterday. He shielded his face from cameras as he spoke to his father, William, on the phone, before boarding a Ryanair flight to Bristol.

His father said he bore no grudges towards Irish people or Dublin and said it "could have happened anywhere".

William Wallace said his son had been a pianist for a long time and considered it a major hobby, although he was not contemplating a professional career.

"He's okay, but we're trying to get him to hospital to be treated properly," he said, following his son's arrival.

"Guy will get further treatment here but his finger has still not been found.

"This hasn't changed my opinion of Dublin and I love Ireland and the Irish."

His son also said he did not bear any grudge towards Ireland.

"It was a group of thugs not representative of everyone," he said. "I walked past a group of about five young men and they asked me where I was from.

"I said England and they got very aggressive. I was begging, I offered money and asked them not to hurt me. The next thing I knew I was on the floor.

"Then all I remember is pain in my eye and excruciating pain in my hand.

"My guess is they put my finger over a kerb and stamped on it. The surgeons at the hospital said it looked like a bite mark but I don't believe that."

But the young English boy, who plays rugby, said it has not changed his view of Ireland.

He said he believes his ability to play rugby and the piano could be affected but remained optimistic about the future.

"I play second row," he said. "I suppose catching the ball and passing might be affected."

"I have been doing research into bionic fingers so maybe I'll be able to get surgery."




OH HO HO HO HO HO Do I hear a Lee Major Wah wah Peddle??
(We Have the Shamrocks To Rebuild Him)



Severed Finger Found

A young man's claim that his finger was torn off during a vicious racist attack on St Patrick's Day has been dramatically disproved.

English tourist Guy Wallace's bloodied finger was found on top of a serrated railing in Dublin's city centre yesterday.

Eyewitnesses said the finger looked like a "burnt sausage" when it was removed from a steel fence surrounding an office car park.

Gardai made the gruesome discovery around 11.30am on Britain Place after CCTV footage showed the schoolboy trying to climb the jagged barrier.

The little finger from his right hand lay hidden for nine days in a gap on a steel bar that runs through the fence, and is impossible to see unless you stand back on the road.

It was positioned a few inches from sharp prods at the top of the eight-foot railing outside the Eircom building, which fronts onto Marlborough Street.

Sniffer dog

The finger's position at the top of the fence meant it had evaded sniffer dogs that had scoured the area for days.

Mr Wallace (17) claimed last week that he was attacked by a gang who callously ignored his desperate pleas for mercy.

He said the men had become aggressive after he told them he was English.

Despite attempts to offer them money, he said they ripped off his finger by placing it on a kerb and jumping on it.

He has since had surgery at a hospital in Plymouth but a re-attachment was impossible as his finger could not be found.

Last night, Guy's father William Wallace, a Conservative Party councillor in Somerset, and his mother, Lucy, insisted that their son had genuinely believed he lost his finger in an assault.

Frightened

"On the night of March 17, Guy had split up from his friends, he was lost and very frightened after suffering an assault in a fast food restaurant where he received a headbutt," they said in a statement.

"Due to this assault, he was sufficiently traumatised to link the event with the terrible accident that took place minutes later and genuinely believed that he had lost his finger in that assault.

"However, in reality it seems that during his panic-stricken run from the incident he attempted to climb a metal fence, which resulted in the loss of his finger.

"All we want to do now is concentrate on Guy's recovery from this terrible ordeal."

A senior member of the security staff at Eircom House said its 800 staff were terrified that a bomb had been found in the building after gardai began to comb the area yesterday.

Billy Nagle said he rushed outside and saw gardai remove the finger in a glass container.

"From a distance, it looked like a burnt sausage and was shrivelled up," said Mr Nagle, facilities manager at Eircom House.

"That finger has been out there for over six days up high on a railing where he was trying to get in. It slipped down off the railings and got caught in a bar near the top."

He did not believe gardai would have found the finger if they had not searched the CCTV footage.

"There were sniffer dogs here nearly two weeks ago and a female garda looked at the footage before last weekend but she searched the wrong part of the railing."

It is understood that there was "panic" during the afternoon after gardai discovered that the CCTV recordings are automatically wiped every few days and they only had hours to transfer it.

Detectives said Guy was drinking in Temple Bar before he was involved in a minor altercation at McDonald's on O'Connell Street around 8pm.

CCTV footage picked him up running down O'Connell Street before gardai came upon him holding his bloodied hand on North Cumberland Street.

Gardai arrested a youth (17) last Wednesday who was later released without charge and a file was sent to the DPP.

"Gardai investigating the alleged serious assault are now satisfied that the injured party lost part of his finger while attempting to scale a fence in a laneway off Parnell Street, Dublin," said a spokesperson yesterday.

"Investigations are continuing regarding a minor assault which took place earlier in the O'Connell Street area."

I hope this shameful story follows this kid for the best part of his formative years and his parents ground him until hes 30. We in ireland would have had no problem in supplying him with a new finger - granted it would have been a middle one.

Laughing at a funeral

My Brother sent me this the other day, I thought it was really funny because the whole mentality of irish teachers and its classroom was spot on. If youre easily offended dont watch it and certainly dont have the kids around either.

Minghella Memory

If you can ignore the alan rickman stalker in the making/fanvid and listen to Bach's - Cello Suite No. 5 in C Minor Im sure something will stir in the well of the soul, Minghellas movie 'Truly Madly Deeply' was my first real introduction to JS Bach allegros and sonatas and I have him to thank for. It is also a personal favorite of mine in the long list of movies that I love. To be honest its pisses all over 'Ghost' but then again most movies do. Mr Minghella - Thank You.

Unearthly Child

Excuse my geekiness but on April 5th Doctor Who returns for season 4. April seems to be my geek freak out with new Battlestar Galactica , Heroes, My name is Earl , & Reaper commencing once more after the writers strike. Its going to be shameful the amount of time the idiot box will have possession of my soul!

Lifelines

When I read my children their stories at bed time there is that lull before the sandman eventually calls and hopefully cements their eyelids shut until the next morning. In that hinterland of time I take to reading my own stories and books, the latest one is (although Ive had it for about 10 years) Lifelines. Between 1985 and 1992, under the direction of Niall McMonagle, a teacher of English, a small group of fifth formers at Wesley College, Dublin, wrote to famous people asking them to name their favourite poem, giving the reasons why. Those who replied had their letter and chosen poem published in booklet form by the students and the proceeds were given to sick and dying children in Africa which is always a most noble and worthy cause.In their letters to the teenagers, 223 famous people, including Carol Ann Duffy, John Gielgud, Maeve Binchy, Richard Branson, Mother Teresa, Jeffrey Archer, Raymond Carver, Paul Durcan, Glenda Jackson, Cyril Cusack, give honest, intimate, humourous, profound, but always revealing insights into themselves as they describe the reasons for their choice. Old favourites are dusted down and refreshed for us through their eyes. Poems once toiled over in school are seen in a new light




Ive been on a diet of fiction and non fiction for a while and it was a wonderful reunion to see my favourites and discover some new ones.When I read poetry in school, especially Yeats something changed inside me that stayed changed forever. To read Yeats or indeed any poetry, we must observe, measure, and judge the people and the properties of that particular universe. The interpratation of any poem is highly personal and is when the imagination, feeling, language and inspiration intersect in the mind, soul and heart of a talent. Sometimes we look to it for self definition, discovery, answers, consolation,humour, education, the list is endless as is their many worlds.
At the moment my favourite poem is No second troy by Yeats( on my playlist there is a song loosly based on this by sinead O connor ) A forgiving yet mournful tale of unrequited love Of Yeata and his muse Maude Gonne.

WHY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

If youre kind enough to leave a comment please include your own favourite poem and why.

St Patricks Legacy

What better way to celebrate St Patricks Day than an sitcom about irish priests?

Dumb Guy

This little story below tells me that Romance is a dying ideal, Ok so the guy thought he was doing something memorable for his love and a great story to tell his unborn children one day. But what it really tells of is not his dumb / nervous flummoxed idea of a proposal but of the reaction of his 'fiancee' - what ever happened to I want to spend the rest of my days with you because of you and not a rock? Clearly the biggest loss is that of his retarded emotions to the materialist wench he bought it for..


LONDON (Reuters) - It is the one moment every man wants to get right -- and which London floor-fitter Lefkos Hajji could hardly have got more wrong.

The luckless 28 year-old's dreams of giving his sweetheart, Leanne, 26, the ultimate proposal have literally vanished into thin air.

Hajji, of Hackney, east London, had concealed a 6,000-pound engagement ring inside a helium balloon. The idea was that she would pop the balloon as he popped the question.

But as he left the shop, a gust of wind pulled the balloon from his hand and he watched the ring -- and quite possibly the affections of his girlfriend -- sailing away over the rooftops.

"I couldn't believe it," he told The Sun newspaper.

"I just watched as it went further and further into the air.

"I felt like such a plonker. It cost a fortune and I knew my girlfriend would kill me."

Hajji spent two hours in his car trying to chase and find the balloon, without success.

"I thought I would give Leanne a pin so I could literally pop the question," he said."But I had to tell her the story -- she went absolutely mad. Now she is refusing to speak to me until I get her a new ring."

He is hoping the ring will still turn up.

"It would be amazing if someone found it," he added.

Thought for today

Storm In A Teacup

So last Weekend Ireland and the UK where told to 'Batten down the hatches' as the 'storm of the century' was bubbling up in the Atlantic and on its way to beat the glue out of these Isles. Now I love a storm , I know people out there in the USA who are living in Tornado Alley and the Gulf area wouldn't share that point of view with me - but Im from a mild and humble little country where the rain falls soft on green fields where the brae of a donkey is uninterrupted by the staccato resonance of raindrops. Its such a novelty for us. As children we where told of the mythical and humorous notion that the thunder was really the itinerants trying to steal the gates of heaven.

I was only 16 when the hurricane of 1987 came to these shores, and the romance of the lightning and the powerful winds did not conjure up fear in me, it made me feel alive with all things great. Watching the veined hands of electricity trying to grasp the earth, feeling the wind scream through your hair and having an almost exfoliating effect on your skin. The geography and landscape switching to from day to night in seconds, Beautiful yet savage, not thinking once about its consequential dividends.

So I was very much hyped up for the upcoming storm, we took all the flowerpots in from the veranda, made sure all essentials where in and watched the rainfall and satellite forecasts on the meteor logical Ireland site. And we waited .... and we waited until about 1am I gave up my dream of being 16 again.

The saying popped into my head as I lay my head on the pillow in a pissed off spoiled childlike fashion -'there can be only 2 things in this world that is certain; Death and taxes'



*this vid contains two of my favorite things tom waits & crystal gayle's album 'this ones from the heart' and some classy looking lightening.

You couldnt make this up

It seems to me that Im accumulating wounds by the second here, On mothers day I recieved a shiney eight inch bruise from a wheelbarrow handle under my left shoulder - I swear you cant make this shit up! I was out in my mothers house on sunday and after doing some painting with the girls , I went outside to dispose of the paper to the recycle bin, when a raised crack on the pavement sent me sailing into air and I crash landed onto a wheel barrow.

I will post the distressing photo up as soon as I can but it will carry a warning - until then I can forget cutting a rug like Tommy boy here

Through the tears

My Dad is extremely prudish, in fact I remember when we where kids, if any sign of nudity or talk of sex the newspaper would be raised to camouflage his beetroot hue, or he would walk out of the room saying nothing. He is old fashioned in that respect, its just around his kids or daughters he was like that I expect. So you can imagine how surprised and taken aback I actually was when he relayed the following story last Sunday to me.

The scene. My mother sitting at the dining room table leafing through the newspaper before settling down to the crossword.

Dad; Monica I literally have a pain in my arse, I think its those new underpants, it just feels so uncomfortable down there

Mom ; I have the very thing for you

fetches a spray

Mom; Now you would be better off spraying this on some toilet paper and applying it

Dad ; right so

My dad trusts my Mom with everything, down to choosing his clothes to giving him unprescribed painkillers/medication.

Dad did what he was told for the application, he liberally sprayed the toilet paper and made first contact, a white hot pain coursed through his arse, his eyes went like knobs on a church organ and to quote unquote,his toes curled so much that he 'pulled the bleeding tiles off the floor' .

Through the high pitched howls and the tears he looked at the offending spray which stated its main medicinal purpose was for athlete's foot and for jock itch. I think my dads tushy problems where misinterpreted wildly by my mother due to my dads communication breakdown to precise the area and the symptoms. Dad said he shuffled back to the kitchen 4 hours later to find out what the fuck (in his words) my mother was exactly playing at.

Relaying the events to my mother nearly gave her a migraine from the laughter. My dad did not move from his seat for the rest of the day and he said he felt like the was sitting on machette blade.


He said he couldn't watch the tv either through the tears.

Poor bastard.

Bad Smell

For the small few of those who have returned to my blog to find yet again , day in day out I have written sweet FA I hope my presence here again comes as a pleasant surprise - you see on new years eve my infection that plagued my right leg since September decided to upsticks and move into the des res that is my left leg - but it was not as near hellish its first attempt to seek and destroy the first one. Leg one is doing nicely - despite the scar no longer needs to be bound like a chinese foot at a ripe age; Leg two is donning the mummy look with an elastoplast rigid bandage with harbours a coal tar paste muslin - so in zombie confectionary terms I would be classed as a double centre - hard but with a soft centre. My kids have been demanding and I dont feel like making entries if you'll pardon the pun, in my blog with both legs ellivated and spread (Id feel like I was missing a web cam in the process yknow) So to keep in with the tone of flakiness Im back, back in so far as when I can get the opportunity and when suolas has the apple free and down stairs where the net access is. I know it sounds very pishy of an excuse that I havent found at least one hour a week to do this but ask any mom of toddlers to find and hour a week to themselves and they will tell you that its the stuff of urban legend..So instead of disgusting you guys with details of pus filled wounds etc I decided to throw you a bone of humour that had me chortling way above the the prohibited decibles for sleeping children..
TOKYO (Reuters) - A Japanese man was arrested for trespassing this week after turning up at a high school dressed in a girl's uniform and a long wig, local police said.

Thirty-nine-year-old Tetsunori Nanpei told police he had bought the uniform over the Internet and put it on to take a stroll near the school in Saitama, north of Tokyo, on Wednesday, the daily Asahi Shimbun said.

When students standing outside the gates started to scream at the sight of him, he dashed inside the school grounds, hoping to blend in with the crowds of teenagers, the paper said.

They also screamed, forcing the man to flee, losing his wig in the process. A school clerk pursued him and stopped him at a nearby riverbank, the paper said.

Police confirmed the arrest of the man in school uniform and wig but declined to give further details.