Trouble’s brewing…

I have a terrible confession to make. One that jeopardises the very essence of my being. In fact I’m not one hundred percent sure that I’m willing to share this shocking revelation with you, my blog loving readership, although I have in fact alluded to it in an earlier blog – I was just hoping that the situation might resolve itself.
So perhaps I won’t tell you after all.
I do find it quite embarrassing.
Pardon?
Oh, you want to hear it.
Are you sure?
Well I agree I have ‘dangled the carrot’ as you so eloquently put it.                                       Do stop giggling at the back, madam.
I suppose you’re right and after all I can’t unsay it now, can I?
I’ve gone a bit too far.
Okay, here goes.
Perhaps you should sit down.
Ready?
No no, I’m not prevaricating – again.
Here goes.
Ahem.
Sorry, just clearing my throat.
I don’t like tea.

There you have it.
What?
You were expecting something a bit more risqué?
Well I apologise, but it concerns me.
Greatly.
After all it goes to the very root of my ‘Englishness.
As a native of Shakespeare’s sceptred isle I should probably be swimming in the stuff every day before breakfast. As a Brit I’m supposed to like it.
And I used to.
Until they ripped out my still beating heart and replumbed it before thrusting it back and stapling up my chest cavity.
Sorry madam? Yes, you go and have a lie down. I’ll try not to be so graphic in future.
Anyway – perhaps it was something to do with the anaesthetic.
Put me right off. I can’t even bear the thought of drinking a brew now.
Proper tea of course.
By ‘proper‘ I mean the stuff that you might call breakfast tea, builders tea or something like that. Tea to put hair on your chest madam.
Tea to stand your spoon up in.
Tea as thick as custard.
Not that wishy washy tea that the Queen no doubt gets served on a daily basis. I’ll bet a pound to a penny that Madge would like nothing better than to wrap her regal mitts around a nice steaming mug of good old Tetley instead of that crappy green gunk she’s given.
Tea worth fighting our former colonial territories over.
Good old British tea – made in India, or China.

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And that brings me back to my point.
If I no longer like tea, am I no longer a dyed in the wool Englishman?
Don’t get me wrong, if there’s a game of cricket going on I’m all for lounging around by the boundary rope and applauding politely when a wicket is taken or the bowler is struck for six.
I can deride Johnny Foreigner with the best of them.
I know the main verse of the National Anthem and am quite comfortable with the last verse having something to do with giving those damned rebellious Scots a good crushing.
I do my best to keep my upper lip as rigid and untrembly as possible.
I’ve never tried, but I have no doubt that I could probably pole a punt with the best of them.
Wha..? No madam, with a ‘P.’
I live here, in Blake’s Jerusalem in the heart of the country that gave industrialisation to the world, the land that Constable and Turner painted, that Dickens wrote about in the language spoken by most of the planet.
But I now don’t like tea.
I feel like a traitor.
Perhaps they’ll drag me to The Tower, lop off my worthless head and mount it on a pike outside Westminster Palace as a warning to others not to be so fickle.
Or suspend me upside down over a vat of steaming Typhoo and dunk me like an unworthy digestive.
I’m supposed to go to the States in a couple of weeks, after this shocking admission I’ll be surprised if they let me back into the country of my birth.
I’ll be forced to live a life in exile in some coffee growing republic.
It’s been nice knowing you.

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Vote DOGNAPPED! You know it makes sense

So – here’s something a little different from my usual scribbling.
Okay, who said, ‘About time too!
There’s no need.
And the rest of you can stop sniggering.
Honestly if I’ve got to come over there I swear that I’ll…
I should count to what?
Oh all right. 1,2…
…8, 9, 10. Thanks, I’m feeling a lot better now.
Now I may have mentioned this before, but Misty’s book, DOGNAPPED! is in the final of THE PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE and…
Eh?
Was that you – again?
It was, wasn’t it? ‘You never bloody shut up about it!‘ indeed.
I’ve got your card marked, matey.
Anyway, for the rest of you who are at least kind enough to show just a little bit of interest, then let me explain.
No not you, smarty pants.
You can go and stand over there – in the corner. No, go on, further, further and a bit more. That’ll do. I’m not speaking to you again.
Ever.

4
THE PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE.
It must be important, it’s in capitals.
And, ha ha, the final is in the capital too.
I know, I know – I don’t know how I think them up.

Well I thought it was funny! In fact I think a bit of wee came out. It must be an age thing!

So, London.
Down the smoke.
A week on Tuesday.
Me and Kate get to have a bit of posh nosh.
In Stationers Hall down by old St. Paul’s cathedral.
For the awards ceremony.
It might even be on a Sky News podcast thingy.
I’ve got to wear a dicky bow.
No, I haven’t bought it – I borrowed it off Posh Dave, he’s in a male voice choir, so he has all the gear.
I don’t even have to tie it, it’s on a bit of elastic. But don’t tell anyone, I’d hate to spoil the illusion.IMG_0216
So there we have it.
How about that then?

Of course you know what it’s about. The gang of dogs on the canal barge – got it now?

Well you said you’d read it, I told you to borrow it from Dudley library. Yes the one with Ashley in it, remember? I knew you’d bring that up – again! Here he is look, I know you like to see him, occasionally

I’m chuffed.
So’s Misty.
Pardon?
Will we win? Dunno – I’ll let you know.
Oh, hang on I nearly forgot.

You will vote for me & Misty won’t you?
Yes, that does include you in the corner.
Yes, I’m sorry – just a bit tense with all this going on. Hope you understand.

Anyway:-

Children’s section
DOGNAPPED!
http://www.peoplesbookprize.com

Thank you.

 

You couldn’t make it up! Oh – perhaps you can then…

Friendship is a wonderful thing. If for example you had the idea that you could run the country better than the present government, even though you had absolutely no experience and were totally politically naive, you would know that you could rely on your friends to heap upon you scorn, ridicule and to offer no help whatsoever. But in the unlikely event that you did succeed, those same friends would expect lavish praise for their endeavours.

So how would you go about such a venture, given that the political process is slow and that you are too impatient to go through the proper channels. It might be an idea to form your own party, over the internet of course, that should speed things up a bit. All you’d need to do then would be to increase your public profile – well they say sex sells…

This is such a story. It couldn’t possibly work of course – now how do I go about setting up a website?

You can call me Dave, by the way.

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pm. com – a play by David J Robertson. (Finalist with children’s book – DOGNAPPED! – in The People’s Book Prize 2017)

Coming to a stage near you – provided you live in The Black Country of course. (I know what you’re thinking, ‘Bloody hell, he wrote that quick!’)

See the results here – 9th and 10th June,       Gig Mill Methodist Church Hall, Witton Street, Stourbridge, DY8 3YG

 

For ticket information contact – acomedytheatregroup@hotmail.co.uk

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The Black Country – has it’s finger on the rest of the country’s pulse.

Bostin!

 

Isn’t copy and paste wonderful…

I know, I know.

Don’t keep on!

‘If I carry on like this I’ll never get anything done.’

Whinging on like that!

I’ll log out in five minutes, o.k?

…hang on, just got to…

…well, did you ever?

I’ve never seen one that shape before.

Have you?

I didn’t think so.

What?

Yes, I’m coming. (not in that way madam, you’re on the wrong blog site! If you want that sort of stuff I think you press ctrl, alt, delete and ask for Tarquin).

Where were we?

Ah yes, you were trying to get my attention.

And I was…

…any minute…

…hold up!

Did you see that!?

Blimey! She’s extremely flexible.

For someone with an Adams apple.

Yes I know.

It’s an addiction.

My name is David J Robertson and I’m a social media addict.

Extreme measures are called for – I really should write out one hundred times:-

I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.
I must stop procrastinating, get on with my WIP and ignore my social media accounts.

Ah now – where was I?

Oh yeah, have you seen that guy with the banjo and the goat on Facebook?

I must leave a comment.

‘Lol!’

And share it!

Funniest thing I’ve seen since…

Whoa!

What’s this?

Oh no, not the ice skating chimp with the puppy and the kitten again!

Some people!

Seriously, I’m going to have to unfriend them.

I’m just so sick of this cutesy stuff!

It just makes me want to chuff up my dinner.

But before I let them drift into social obscurity I’m going to comment,

‘FFS!’

Just to show them.

Bastards!

 

I wonder what’s happening on Twitter?

 

 

Blogging Away – Louise Wise author of ‘Wide Awake Asleep.’

Let me take you forward in time.
It’s Christmas Day.
You’ve eaten way too much.
Hold on, you didn’t have sprouts did you? Did you!
Oh dear!
You’ve watched the Doctor Who Christmas Special and stood to attention whilst Madge has told us how horriblius her annus has been again.
On Boxing Day you’ve queued for ages to get to the local mall, only to find that thing you wanted hasn’t been included in the sale.
You’ve got back home to find that you have to sit through all of the Back To The Future films – in reverse order.
And – hang on, what’s this!
You’ve got Tuesday off too.
What you going to do now then?
Well I don’t know about you but after these time travelling analogies I’m going to be downloading Louise Wise’s new book, Wide Awake Asleep.

And here to tell you about it in the first of a new series that I’m going to call, ‘Blogging Away,’ because it works on so many levels, is Louise herself – another Midlands author. I mean, the talent just flows out of this place doesn’t it..!

 

‘Past events can be changed but one must be careful of how one does it because it’ll impact on the rest of one’s life.’—Dáire Quin, Modify your Destiny if you Must, 2003

No one saw Julie’s car leave the road, no one saw her crash into the watery ditch, no one saw the gnarled tree branch pierce through the window screen and impale her to her seat.
No one heard her screams.
Yet, this was the beginning of Julie’s life.

Julie Compton, is a forty-something woman, striving for success in a male dominated business world. She thinks she’s made it. She thinks she has it all. Trouble is, her destiny has been travelling in the wrong direction and Julie is now forced to relive her life by occupying people’s bodies from her past in a time-travel, paranormal adventure.

For readers who enjoyed books like ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ and ‘The Lovely Bones’.

Universal link: http://bookShow.me/B01N2QW3VX

UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wide-Awake-Asleep-where-expect-ebook/dp/B01N2QW3VX/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481118398&sr=1-7&keywords=louise+wise

America link: https://www.amazon.com/Wide-Awake-Asleep-where-expect-ebook/dp/B01N2QW3VX/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1481118460&sr=8-4&keywords=louise+wise

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Excerpt from WIDE AWAKE ASLEEP – a paranormal, time travel romance.

Disorientated, I looked around at my surroundings. I had the strange feeling that I wasn’t here at all. I thought I heard a voice, and I cocked my head, but it was carried away on a gust of wind. The feeling of hands touching my body subsided and I was left in this paradox universe where I was me inside someone else’s body.

I looked down at myself and the first thing I saw was a plaid skirt, and thick tights, which sagged at the knees and ankles.

My heart began to beat in horror. No, no. Please, God, no.

My hands touched the stained cardigan over my large droopy breasts. Up further to my face…

My hands recoiled.

I felt a moustache!

I gasped in horror. I was ‘Auntie’ Iris Grimshaw!

It was bad enough being goofy Sarah Marshall, but now I had a moustache! And a bloody monobrow!

Iris began to walk, and I felt a sharp pain in my hip. I slowed, but the pain persisted. It shot down my left leg every time my foot touched the ground. No wonder the old sod was grouchy.

 

Louise Wise is a British author. She lives in the Midlands with her husband and four sons, and works as a pharmacy technician.

Her debut novel is the acclaimed sci-fi romance EDEN, which was followed by its sequel HUNTED in 2013.

Her other works include A PROPER CHARLIE (romantic comedy), OH NO, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE! (dark, comedy romance), and SCRUFFY TRAINERS (a collection of short stories). She has written numerous short stories for women’s magazines including Women’s Own and Take a Break.

Her latest novel, WIDE AWAKE ASLEEP, has just been released. In this novel, she has mixed time travel and romance with her on-going theme of isolation and loneliness.

Links:

Website: http://louisewise.website

Email: wiselouise@gmail.com

Books: http://amzn.to/1Ne7KX0

 

I enjoyed The Time Travelers’s Wife. Can’t beat a bit of Nifen.., Niffenbi.., Nibig.., Audrey. So that’s me with my feet up at Christmas then.

Who said ‘no change there!’

There’s no need!

Have a great Christmas everyone!

Me and Misty are going for a walk now. Yes we are. Go and get your lead. Yes and your ball. No you don’t need a stick too! Oh, do you? Come on then. No – we’re going this way, we went that way yesterday…

 

Misty’s Chrissymus Song Book…

Sorry folks, but you know what old Miss Cranky Pants is like.
‘Wouldn’t it be nice if you could sort out some nice carols,’ I said, ‘for the Christmas do’s that we’ve got coming up.’
But according to her there are none that suit.
No dogs represented apparently.
So she’s written her own, to rectify the situation.
Here they are!
Like I said, I’m so very, very sorry!

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I THINK I’M IN DANGER
(Traditional tune – Away in a Manger)

I think I’m in danger, I may come to harm
The farmer has left me in charge of the farm
There are creatures all over, it fills me with dread
How can one little collie, get this lot to bed

I run like a whirlwind, I ‘come bye’ like mad
I do all those tricks I was taught by my Dad
I round up some ducks, I herd up the hens
And if I was taller I’d open the pens.

The cattle are slowing, overtaken by sheep
At this rate of progress I may need a jeep
The horses are frisky and starting to stray
And some blooming piglets have stolen the hay.

The stars in the night sky are less than impressed
And I have begun now to run out of zest
I lay down my head with a feeling of sorrow
‘Oh sod it!’ I think, ‘I’ll sort it tomorrow.’

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A SHEPHERD WATCHED
(Traditional tune – what do you think!?)

A shepherd watched his sheep one night
While seated on the ground
A silly ass came rushing past
And chased the flock around

He scratched his head in stunned surprise
Not knowing what to do
‘Fear not’, spake forth a little voice
‘I’ll round them up for you.’

Looking round, the shepherd spied
A dog come into view
‘Pray tell forsooth,’ the shepherd said
‘What’s in the deal for you?’

‘Believe me’, spake the little dog
‘This really is no scam,
I only wish a bed of straw,
Maybe a leg of lamb.’

The man agreed, for he true knew
He was in trouble deep
In less than thirty seconds flat
The dog herded up the sheep.

The shepherd, he was most impressed
‘Pray what do they call you?’
‘Colin,’ replied the little dog,
Head in a bowl of stew.

The shepherd, who was Mutton Jeff
He heard this not the same
And that my friend’s the story of
How collies got their name.

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ONCE A DASCHUND
(Traditional tune – Once in Royal David’s City)

Once a Daschund loyal and so pretty
Had a kennel, it was painted red
Not a fan of anything so grisly
The garish hue was doing in her head
The colour really made her cross
So she went out and bought a tin of gloss

Daschunds they are really such a small breed
Being quite deficient in the leg
But our friend she really paid it no heed
The problem never entering her head
But when half finished, she was madder
Our poor mutt, she couldn’t find a ladder.

People came for miles just to wonder
This marvel all mankind could now behold
No one there could quite believe the blunder
On Facebook, Twitter, everyone was told
What an awful colour scheme
The top still red – the bottom painted green.

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Quite how Ashley got his picture here I’m not too sure! Did you know that someone started a movement to get him back in favour for book 4 – honestly, what a nerve!
CHUCK THE BALLS
(Traditional tune – Deck the halls)

Chuck the balls for hounds and collies
Fah la la, la la, bark, bark
‘Tis the reason I’m so jolly
Fah la la la la, la la, bark, bark
Chuck them further, chuck them higher
Fah la la, fah la la, bark, bark, bark,
You’ll be shattered, I won’t tire
Fah la la la la, la la, bark, bark.
And so, our little homage to dogs at Christmas is nearly over. Only one left to sing and just to warn you, there is a slightly naughty word in it. So sorry yet again! I did tell her, but Misty muttered something about it being artistic license. I just said that it was awfully rude.
Anyway that’s just about it for now. As I said there’s one tune left. Hope you enjoy it – put your fingers in your ears for ‘that’ word.
Oh, take a look around the rest of the blog site- there’s all sorts of stuff on there to give you a bit of a giggle.

By the way, these great pictures are from my children’s books, DOGNAPPED! IN THE DOGHOUSE! and the soon to be released ON THE DOG WALK! drawn by the very talented Mr Ian R Ward. What do you mean you haven’t got them for your kids yet!? It’s Chrissymus – sorry, Christmas – that could be construed as child cruelty. Quick, here’s the link – http://amzn.to/2e0GyRe

HAPPY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL

Clear your throats – that’s right madam, cough it up – it may be a gold watch! Let’s all have one last lusty chorus…

AN ALSATIAN
(Traditional tune – Good King Wotsiface)

An Alsatian, he set out
Told no one he was leaving
The pizza cooked, without a doubt
Was deep and crisp and even
His friends, he knew they liked it hot
But he had let it coo-el
A vital thing he had forgot
Oh what a silly foo-o-el!

He set out to the local shop
The weather it was snowing
He hoped no one had seen him go
But little was he knowing
A row of circles marked his trail
Of which way he would go-o
Steaming circles – yellow rimmed
Shining in the snow-o-o!

His friends who were all quite astute
Noticed their host missing
They all set off in hot pursuit
Following his pissing
They caught him at the checkout till
And mocked him till he blu-ushed
So don’t forget the garlic bread
Or you may end up flu-u-ushed!

rascal-running
Oh – and if you were wondering why I couldn’t put an end to this little venture before it went too far – the boss was watching every move very, very closely!

Tweets for the Stars…

It came to my attention the other day that a blog post of mine (on the old blog site that time forgot) had not perhaps had the attention it so obviously richly deserved. So I’ll put it here, on the new(ish) sparkly WordPress site, so that you can marvel at the rich following that I am now accumulating. This my friends is ‘Tweets for the Stars…’

I know that the title of this post sounds a bit like an old S Club 7 hit, but I really wanted to catch your attention.
This is important!
Well I think it is!

So, remember I told you that I was being followed on Twitter by the novelist, John Gilstrap and the excitement that caused – for me anyway. And then we had the Russian railways getting in on the act, watching my every tweet with rapt attention (o.k., with bored indifference, have it your way!)

Well now I got another follower, even more famous, even more off the scale of celebritydom. Wanna know who?

You do, admit it. Your interest has been piqued.

Yes I know I kidded you on last time with Transsib Petersburg not even being a real person and all, but this surpasses even that.
Not only is my new follower a machine, she’s also human.
How about that then!?

No it’s not Lynsey Wagner (the actress who played The Bionic Woman for those too young to know). A good guess though – you’re in the right area.
No, Wonder Woman is getting colder, what on earth was mechanical about her? She was very much all woman as far as I could tell. Filled the American flag quite admirably.

No, I won’t keep you guessing any longer, I was a tad cruel last time, dragging it out like that. Kept changing the subject. Ducking and diving. Holding out on you. Avoiding the punchline. On and on and on…
Sorry only kidding!

My new follower is – Susan Bennett!

Yes, honestly!

What do you mean, never heard of her!?
Of course you have.
You may even have spoken to her yourself.
Personally.
Perhaps you’ve even asked her a question.
You see my new friend, Susan is the voice of – wait for it, Siri!
4045574
Yay!
Yes, that annoying voice that comes from your iPad when you lean on the button slightly too long and activate that program that asks, ‘Hi, I’m Siri. How can I help you today?’
Now on my computer recently my Siri has changed into a man. In fact he might not be called Siri at all. Let’s just call him Boring Bastard so’s we don’t get them mixed up. Not being disrespectful or anything but my Siri was the first and as far as I’m concerned now that we’re busom buddies, undoubtedly the best.

Now I know what you’re thinking – this blokes mad. This Siri bird hasn’t followed him at all.
And you may be right.
Perhaps her algorithms or whatever they’re called plucked me at random out of the ether, I know your thought processes better than you do. So what if they did?
Susan is currently following a mere three quarters of a million people.
That’s all! A minuscule proportion of the world population.
And one of those is me!
After all what’s a virtual assistant supposed to do on a rainy Tuesday afternoon except to trawl through a few hundred thousand tweets from her adoring fans?
Not a lot is it?
Not when you consider there are around seven and a half billion people currently standing shoulder to shoulder on our little blue green planet.

Now perhaps there are quite a few among that throng that you wouldn’t want to even entertain getting to know. Most politicians for a start (no I’m not going to start on the European referendum debate again – not yet anyway).
But from the remainder, her computer chose me.
I bet she’s not mates with Ricky bloody Gervais and his cat anyway!
Very discerning you see.
Did I follow her back?
Of course. It’d be rude not to really wouldn’t it?
@SiriouslySusan – that’s her.

I wonder if I should call her Susan?
Or Siri?

Perhaps I should ask Boring Bastard – he might know!