Pop it in then

2004-03-03T07:02:00.000Z

I have to move on. I was going to pull my jack about the cost of things in London...

...but there are two types of folk. Those who live in London and think that it is normal and those who live outside who think that those who do are stark raving bollocking bonkers. When I were 'up North', a lager and a curry were part and parcel of daily life - like farting and having a quiet scratch of your pubics - and it did not break your bank.
So, I have a Kronenbourg and a fruit juice with my eldest in Soho - £5fucking70p. Then I treat her and her husband to a lager and a curry in a restaurant (where the chairs and tables were multi-coloured painted Salvation Army furniture rejects) £64fucking30p, and she, dear London blinded love says - there's no service on that...

but I won't. No need for an alarm clock - fuckwit has been been in with my cup of tea and his morning need. Lovely old tosspot that he is - the only stupid name he comes up with is 'rumpy tumpy' normally it is 'Hey, let's shag'... ...whereas (ooh nice word Charlene) fuckwit one was full of stupid names.
I mean he used to call my tits Archibald and Mehitabel - Archifuckingbald and Mehitawhatever - what a twat (with literary pretentions). Fanny was 'pussicums' or somesuch and his dick was 'Tommy (would you cunting believe it) Todger'!- sad twannock. I did, for a short while, think that all men were as stupid.
No, fortunately not. Though fuckwit two started our life together being - to my mind, medical, he never said 'penis' again after I laughed constantly and publicly for a week about it. 'Caress my penis' - aw for fucks sake get down the clinic for some preventative treatment. Jeez - what pants men can talk.

Been lazy the past couple of days, cannot be arsed to cook for 'em when they get home from work/school. Frozen quiche, frozen chips, frozen whetever else is on the freezer shelf (apart from fuckwit's homemade seed bread, which clogs up the chip pan no end - how was I supposed to know). Been down in the dumps since Corrie had a happy ending on Monday - this will not do. Before you know it, we viewers will also be expecting good things to happen to us - come on Corrie - time for another train crash!

Hey, time for a poem? 'ere 'tis

My vote is my voice

Michael Howard
Tony Blair
Charles Kennedy
I am speechless

Cheers

2004-02-29T19:04:00.000Z

God, I have got the poetic flow again - not quite epic, but a smidgin of 'omage to Keats

Poem Clause 4

Tony Blair
To be fair
Has more hair
Than my arse
On his head

- next week

cummings

Iceland

I did not blog a lot last week because... I was freezing. It all came about when that charming Naked Blog Peter suggested Iceland, the shop not the country, when I banged on about his new fridge. We all have something which drives us and for me it is fridges

For my mate, Anna-Louise, it is - hey before the advertising campaign - washing machines. She gets off on them so much that before she last replaced hers she went round all of her friends to try out their machine. Load up, switch it on and shove her snatch up against it - give that girl a hotpoint and she is in ecstacy - often giving the load a second spin cycle.

Though he doesn't admit it I am sure that Fuckwit has a sex thing with vacuum cleaners - I remember when we bought a portable Dust Buster and he opened it up at home. He looked truly disappointed - 'What's up dear?' 'It doesn't had a round suction tool!' Oh yeah - and how useful is that for getting in nooks and crannies! (better my boy for getting... ...but I was gentle with him).. crestfallen as his fantasy died. This explains why he has moved the old Hoover into the garage now we have the Dyson! New lover's too hard 'on - back to his old mistress

I just love 'em the smell, the feel of the cold, rooting around on the shelves to find little secreted bits of left-over, at night when the light comes on in a dark kitchen - stuff it, it is sad I know. Its not a sex thing - me like Anna-Louise with my duff stuffed up against the veg shelf waiting for the compressor to kick in!!
Back to my theme - I went to Iceland, an orgy of freezers, not just a row or two like Tesco. Peter, I owe you a stiff one - this is the shop! ...Fuckwit and the girls are a bit pissed off with frozen ready dinners and ready puddings to follow and the freezer at home is full to leaking but hey - think themselves grateful - it is years since I did food shopping. You get to lean in the freezers as much as you like, they even have a fridge here and there. Fucking frozen, sad old twat, I fear, I made an exhibition of myself, but hey.
Gold Leith Peter - you don't know the country Iceland... Fuckwit two went to Iceland. He went with a Salford Uni team to visit the island of Chertsey that was formed by a volcano in the early eighties. He summed up Iceland as - cold, full of drunken blokes with nowhere to drive driving their 4X4s round in circles and everything smelling of fish fertilizer. Perhaps unjust (being from Kirkstall he could be blunt - ask him to describe London - one word - 'shite'. Shite, indeed, I loved that man) and certainly not my idea of bliss - give me the shop every time. Cheers Peter

2004-02-28T15:27:00.000Z

London

Reading Vanessa's trials on London buses and something in her comments

( by the way, a well worthy blog written in grown-up words with spunk - and I don't mean fuckwit milk, I mean attitude - but I am not certain she would have me judge - 'cos I like Tom Stoppard - but that is another story and if I do not stop this phrase thing - this sentence will become A Small House at Allington or some other droopy drawered novel - I mean we are talking deed-poll with a name like Trollope - oh for fuck's sake girl Get A Grip!! )

and then going to London to see my eldest - I decide to play safe and walk. Nice one, old tart fitted out with good walking shoes in amongst the many and varied tourists trekking through each others photo-shoots. There I am, not far off Westminster Abbey minding my own when this hairy 6' something 16 stone

(though he would say 183cm 97Kilo - and don't even think of reaching for your calculator to check my conversion 'cos I am old enough to remember when conversion was the real thing - yeah Towns Gas to North Sea Gas!)

ploughs into me while chasing after a bus.

Now I had thought in my mind's eye (mind's eye?? oh well) that Vanessa was a svelte, chic London Dolly Bird ( ouch - that may not go down well - but I am thinking praise here ) but I was pulled up short, after all - I only read her blog. I mean ? was he Vanessa? I only assume that she... and this hairy flying twat did say something like "..'king blog.. bitchy..popit..I..am..Van..issa" in hefty mid-european. I mean was he - her ? and did he/her recognise me/me or I am displaying that country yokel thing that everybody in London knows everybody else? or did those Tecquila's the night before remove the last neurons in my head?
I just have to get this mind's eye thing off of my chest ( though, it is usually a case of taking fuckwits mind's eye of my chest) - you will not believe this but - if I get off my back and go downstairs without a bra on under my blouse/jumper/coat/armour plating and heave the melons to the left yep his head goes to the left and to the right and yep his head goes to the right - shite and onions the man's a tit driven puppet!

Want him to say yes to anything - you guessed it heave 'em up and down. I will be the first to admit that they have lost some of their pertness over the years for the old bobble 'em yes dear trick but then... so has his neck. Almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the old sod. I ain't begging for comments here - but you boys out there - I am right aren't I - you just can't keep your eyes off 'em can you. Hey, no blame - just nature! Innit ( God I am turning into Glenda Slagg! )

Yeah, mind's eye we have but what about dick's eye (fuckwit in one!), belly's eye (me I am afraid)? Anyway, time to get back in the sack, I've been up for hours!

Ciao! (half a day in London and I'm cosmopolitan - and not the twat's eye magazine.)

2004-02-22T05:58:00.000Z

Jeez – what an old perv. I know some women come home to find their man in their frocks or underwear but not fuckwit. He has to mess about with my ‘things’. Like when I was expecting – I get some knitting kit and make a start on a hat and jacket – bang! There he goes borrowing needles, ‘Hey you aren’t going to need this wool’ and off he goes whipping up little cardies, socks, hats … the twat.

He even used to knit at lunch at work so you will know what his colleagues would think of me!

Then I get a knitting machine and he was itching to get at it – so I left work on it. I bet no-one ever took seven years to make the front left of a cardigan – gave the kit away in the end!
When I got a sewing machine, you bet – there he is sewing this and that before I even get used to it. New soft covers for his ‘study’ chair - he made a pouffe – he even took the collars off of his shirts and turned them around to ‘get a few more years life out of them’. What!
Now, last year, truly fucked off with them all looking around at dirty floors and carpets, I go out and buy a Dyson (no advertising feature here) – you guessed it – he’s here, there and everywhere with it – the place is so clean that the house mites are wasting away!

They are advertising up and down the village – House Mite Fat Club – come here and waste away those extra milligrams!

I’m sure that if I got on of those vibrating dildos – the shagbutt would do just that and have it up his arse before you can say cross contamination.
What am I to do with him! That’s all folks.

2004-02-21T06:22:00.000Z

What a day - spent most of it on my back as per usual but then got the cleaning bug and did the downstairs loo, phew and back to the sack. That, should anyone other than me be reading this, should set the reading buds salivating.
For the first time in ages, I went to the movies - "Lost in Translation". Fuckwit didn't want to go said he was tired (gardening, cleaning, cooking and all that other man stuff - dear boy, he did clean the Suzuki for me) so I went with A. We both enjoyed the movie, it was pleasant and funny and the Japanese city/hotel background is striking. Of course, she is studying Media Studies (what? is that a subject, has it a separate body of knowledge, etc) so we had to spend some time in the pub afterwards going through the analysis. (It has always struck me as wholely appropriate that analysis starts with anal). It almost took the fun out of the film - but bless her she works so hard and has such enthusiasm that I would a world class shite were I to dump on it.

Went to collect daughter B from a gig at the labour club - she was full of (knew the drummer in one band and the singer in another) it and half deafened. Daughter A asked why the Labour Club hired out their hall to the gig organizers. 'Well, can you imagine anyone going to the Conservative Club on the edge of town? or the sad little Lib-Dem club?" answered her sister - that's the politics done! and I am feeling that I have failed them.

Hey, there's a somewhat moribund end.

2004-02-19T06:23:00.000Z

So he has to do a man thing every once in a while - like every two days! First, he has a bonfire to burn lots of garden rubbish and the fence that blew down two weeks ago (two years after he 'fixed' it). So useless, he has to buy two lots of firelighters.. I cannot go on.
Then, yesterday, he wants to 'go walking' and I have to drive him to Porlock - from which he is going to walk to Minehead! No map, no guide - just man and mountain. Well Porlock is cute but there was nothing to do - so, I went to Minehead. Not the place of my dreams.

Eventually found some fish and chips and then went into a pub - The Hairy Dog all familyised for thousands of holiday meals. Almost had my customary Guinness but then decided, having read about beer festivals at Ale Fan I decided to have a bash.

So what do you do? "Have you got any real ales?" - "Yeah - these two" from a little imp behind the bar, wearing the company livery - including a cap. I thought this is going to be like buying a used car from some wide boy - but , in for a penny.. "Which is best?" DUH "Here, try them" and he pours me a splash of each in two glasses. Blood and sand! I try them, and must confess they both tasted like beer - nice beer but beer. No rich malty undertones nor fruity overtones etc

To cut to the chase - I tried a pint of ?? then had a pint of ?? - the 'boy' was starting to look handsome. I had a Guinness to give my tastebuds a reference point. I had another Guinness because that's the word that usually comes out of my mouth when a barkeep asks me and the 'boy' asked me again - was he on commission ( we talked about U2 - what the fuck do I know about U2? ). Needless to say, sad old slapper that I am - I was getting kaylied.

And so - "I've made it" - phones the fuckwit. Two tries to do it because I hung up on him by accident the first time. He bounces in, legs wrapped in socks, big boots on... well the story goes downhill from here. Why get a monk on, just because I found alternative entertainment and am incapable of driving him home? So I don't want to get some fish and chips.
Had a kiss and make up at home, though, as he pulled weary socks off of weary feet a flopped down on the bed - he proudly says " My legs are too tired to shag... but if you would get on... and off we go. I would have to say - he is easy meat, because I wasn't any great performer having slept enough, in the car, to feel more sleepy. But to the fuckwit on his back I was last hump he climbed that day ( ouch - that was sad ).
Oh yeah - the beers - I cannot remember the names - one had a gold label on the pump and the other had a place name in it. Hey, it must be a woman thing.

2004-02-17T06:07:00.000Z

OK - I've been to the muse again, though I fear some might find this poem a bit derivative. But, hey, I call it emulation not plagiarism.

My Hamlet

TO NY₁ or not TO NY₂
That is the question

1- pronounced 'toe knee' a frequently used collective for 'those things lower than your arse
2- ibid

Been blogging about a bit - found a cool sightwhich has a great section on why a lesbian would be better for us girls than a bloke. One 'reason' leads to a shop of sex stuff (strange how those two words fit together). Girl, I think I have been leading a sheltered life - APPARATCHICKS or what?

Jealous really, the spoiler for me was fuckwit one ( yes there has been more than one - I am on fuckwit three at the moment ). His idea of sex-toys was to get me on the bathroom floor and give my kit a going over with his dads electric toothbrush! For fucks sake - a sensation, yes, but not a tidal wave and every time I saw his dad smile - I fair pissed myself.

Hey, thought the ten reasons were good - the best, for me, was the eleventh in a comment - 'I can dance'. Three husbands and sundry blokes - and have I found one that can dance? Fuckwit has all the grace of one of those science experiments where they put the electric voltage through the frogs leg.
Bye for now - I have got to recover - cleaned the bathroom yesterday - well the basin and the loo. Absolutely knackered, but the girls had friends round and they do pass comment - the little twats.

2004-02-15T22:52:00.000Z

No panting sex fiend this Sunday afternoon while the girls are out - fuckwits out in the garden. His reply to 'why don't we go out somewhere' (do not give him the ammunition of 'you don't take me out...' at which he mounts 18 hands of high horse about why should he THE MAN take me etc. etc. ad nauseum) is to set up the lounger by where he is setting up his new compost heap. Of all the shite places in all of the shite gardens...

Interesting stuff, compost - you throw all the stuff that is rank and unfit for human or pig to eat into a pile - let it fester and then chuck it on the ground where your are hoping to raise the food you are hoping to eat. As if that isn't enough you chuck pig, horse, cow, bird any fucking bastard animals shit in the pile and (if you are fuckwit) your own piss.

Am I alone in thinking that having a gallon plastic carton half full of piss in the garage is a bit rank? When, as you are about to set off somewhere, he has to whip his todger out and attempt to fill it. The smell is rank - only worse when he proclaims it is ready and pours it over the compost heap. As in the toilet, there are the inevitable drips. What a twat - oh and the carton is labeled HLA Human Liquid Activator - blood and sand!

No way he is going to pop it in after going through that ritual - and of course, who is there to explain to my mum when I gave her a lift? Fear of fears - my nightmare is waking up to finding fuckwit rooting about up my duff saying "Semen makes excellent fertilizer - I thought I would recycle this mornings". Waking up to find him rooting about my duff is not unusual - I am sure that Ian Dury wrote 'Wake up and make love with me' about him.
Time to get back to the sack, pleasingly having done nothing more than make beans on toast today. Wore myself out yesterday - blogging and commenting all over other peoples blogs. May have made a bit of a fool of myself - sorry folks.

2004-02-14T06:51:00.000Z

I am never normally surprised by him (fuckwit), but yesterday he starts talking pensions! He is all in a knot about governments 'moving goalposts'.
What does he expect ? Gone were the old puritan days - of prudence and self-reliance, we were brought up in the paternal socialist era - Daddy state will (no fucking sugar daddy though) look after.
Now, Tony and Gordy - in their turn, are running back to puritan probity - with a hefty share of commercialisation from the city cut into it. Yet another slice of Tony, holier than though, shoving us up the gravyhole.

Fuck this for a blog - I'm itching to get over to France on my bike - thought of visiting my mate Yann but he's of to Paris to see his new girlfriend - more power to him - but triste-o (doesn't quite work like saddo) that he is, it has to be Valentine's. Haven't really got a problem with it, indeed perhaps I am jealous. Fuckwit with a rose? fat chance.

Shit and tuppence - period has started. Or as they say in France, oh I love France - 'les anglais debarque' (don't know how to do accents in HTMLstuff) - if your not familiar with the phrase - take a French historical view - what happened when the British got off the boats onto French turf? Too right - blood all over the shop.

The modern perspective would be 'fill the wine shelves with cheap red shite' - but that doesn't describe the state of my pants today - or....

Bit of a twatting litany this blog - speaking of twatting - I have been blogreading about and some get right up my arse. It's all sex dictionary stuff - glans, vulva, labia - jeez, get a fucking grip - poor old dick and fanny don't get a look in - never mind me old duff.

Cheers

2004-02-12T22:31:00.000Z

This poetry thing can get into your crop so much you near peck yourself blind. I have written another – same theme and this time with a title.

Stitch-Up Required

Tony
Split your strides?
Call Hutton

As you can see – I have moved on. No mere haiku for me, with strophe and fucking anti-strophe building the tension. More importantly, the use of northern working class vernacular must makes this work fit to stand tall in the realm of socialist realism. Plus, I can use it on the poetry reading round of Holts’ Pubs in Eccles – ‘mine’s a glass of mild’ landlord.

Jesus H Christ – I’ve been reading too many high-class blogs and all this sitting up makes my head spin – I’m back on my back for a couple of hours!. Good job fuckwit has brought the girls home and cleared the grime out of the kitchen and cooked tea. Beer batter fish, tomato and wine sauce, tagliatelle and stir fry pak choi and carrots in a pernod and syrup sauce. Lip smackingly good – he’s up for one tomorrow morning!

Hey – and it ain’t only me – this is taken from the sleeve notes of ‘Greek-Oriental Rebetika 1911-1937... ...the lyric is based on a couplet known in Istanbul:

If I were and if I were the hem of your skirt,
I would stoop and see what? The hole of your twat.

Thanks to some serious minor street poet and Terry Castle for that.
Shite, forgot to infuckingdent this - ah, well there is always tomorrow - now to give my bedroom ceiling another good coat of looking at.

2004-02-12T06:03:00.000Z

Oh Corrie – a girl has got to have her Corrie but last night I almost had to sit up to watch. Jeez – who puts together these story lines? A girl, who:

dated raped (pretend) an old duffer, gets up the duff by a bloke who becomes her boss who is remarrying his wife because she wanted a better wedding but does not want to have anything to do with the baby.

is ‘selling’ the baby for £25k to the old duffer and his wife who, of course, is transgender (don’t go there – don’t cause upset – but I wonder if they have taken Toad in the Hole off the Specials Board at Roys Rolls Cafe).

is now having doubts – because her gran, who gave here a house but didn’t and her mum who has been married 5 times and has next muscles that could play for England Rugby, have almost persuaded her of the error of their ways despite both of them constantly faulting their daughters and bemoaning motherhood.
has had a transplant from a guy her mother married (mixing cultures) who went back to whereverhis culture came from.

Phew – I will not even visit the kid across the road who, at three years of age, has nearly been killed by three homicidal maniacs!

This is the stuff of opera – all we need is some bellowing from a few fat tarts and their fuckwits and we are all down to Covent Garden! The only read I can remember that was more convoluted was Salvador Dali’s novel – more twisted and surreal than his moustache.
After all the excitement – I forgot to watch the news, presume the world has hot the blue touchpaper yet. I’m going out to read a few blogs.

2004-02-10T20:38:00.000Z

Tony is a twat
How about that

Struth, - if that does not win the Bradford, Manningham Lane Haiku Bienalle - what will. Don't fucking count syllables on me - we are talking free haiku here.

But this is seriously political - I can remember the first time I heard Fony - Radio 4 - Labour conference, and a winkie wonkie nasal voice - think he was shadow home sec at the time. I, no self aggrandisement, thought 'who the fuck invited a Tory into the Labour Party conference'?. Some years later I am dancing in the street to Things can only ..... and now I'm bitten on the arse by the holier than thou parasite.

More to the point - I can remember hearing Kinnock speak. Fuckwit 2 was on a course at Manchester Poly and invited me along. I learned that night what mellifluous really means. Silver tongued or what. I was wet down to the knees after half an hour. Loved the cut of his suit but there seemed to be little jib. Ah, fuckwit 2, nice bloke - regretfully I really dumped on my dental floss there...

Also speaking was a young Labour MP from Stockport South or West. I recall that he became a shadow education something or a real education something. He resigned a few months later on a point of principle! I have been in a room with a politician who was not got rid off but resigned on a point of principle! Now that deserves a prize!!

I have just edited this as earlier I tried to write it while watching telly - a mistake, full of mistakes. Mustn't tell fuckwit after all the 'women can multi-task' verbiage I have stuffed down his neck.

2004-02-10T04:57:00.000Z

Three fucking tries to get it right - but hey, now I am so proud. I may be able to join the proper blogging fraternity/sorority - is there a unisex version? Thanks to Ale-Fan for the how to do bullet points. Next blog may see indents and a real political perspective. Mind you, ala JuBindel, sticking your neck out for attention might not get you the stroke you were after - or perhaps it was the permanent contract?

2004-02-10T04:43:00.000Z

Out on my back for hours today. A girl has got to get her perspective and mine is bedroom ceiling. Now, if I could organise this laptop to work from there - but then typing with your arms in the air is a non-starter (blood would drain from my hands and bingo - dead cuticles) ( this is why I sold the chopper - thiry minutes riding and fingers were so lacking in blood that the gold band fell off and bingo - dead marriage). That was trite - nonetheless I shall press on. God, I could kill for my old cut-down Hog - the Suzuki I have now may be fast and reasonably reliable but it sounds like Milk of Magnesia and feels the same going down - revvy twat of a bike.
Where was I - oh - bedroom ceiling. I have not been watching much BBC24newswallpaper because I keep tripping over my personal percentage of: 80% newsmachine and 20% news. It is the medium - a bit like composing a photograph - that chronicle-ing is overwritten by reporting. Fuck this - sounds like I am getting back to school. I shall try a new trick - hopefully bullet points!

Fuckwit has taken the day off work because he is sick.

He says he is sick because of the fish and chips we had.

He sits about like a martyr, drinking lemon tea, and not sits about running to the loo.

He so wants to shag - but he is sick.

I'm sure he has wanked himself silly while I was out doing my 'voluntary' - what with him not being used to home on a weekday.

He still wants a shag.

Must leave now - to read some other blogs - found some life in them rather than telly. But still must get this thing on the ceiling - this sitting up all of the time is just too much like work. Back on my back - is that the sound of washing piling up - ah well.

2004-02-08T05:17:00.000Z

Previewed and read a comment - poor little girl died in the end. That is bad. If there is a God, he is full of shit - this sort of thing should not happen.

2004-02-08T05:11:00.000Z

Fucking cunts! There I have said it too. Thanks to that pervy little twat Ken Tynan we got Fuck in the air - Then some Dallallyio Rugby player (I'm no sports girl) raised Fart on the News and now no-talent Johnny Rotten Lid On gets his c-word out - oh and prissy US media upset as Janet gets hers out - tit not cunt, well iron-clad tit (Jeez there must be something wrong in that family) ( oh and she needed a sad little boy to help her) ( oh and please don't be confused - Sex-Pistols anytime over sex-holster Jackson !). One more oh and this is going to sound like pretending to oh-rgasm for a boy!

Speaking of which - the old boy was on top form today - nicely judged, kept him out this morning (packed him off shopping with the girls) and kept out of the way until after lunch - then with no girls and no gardening because it was raining (fuckwit has to be ploughing something) He has to burst in for 'rumpy tumpy' and a shag and a half it was. I took so long over the first that he was a bit stretched for the second. I still cannot understand blokes, or at least fuckwit, though - you are just finished with a good shag and what do you think of next - not a nice cup of tea (better then a fag any day) but another shag. One dimensional man-brain thinks " Well I am still next to it - better get on it again" Fucking cunts! There I have said it again. Must get down to marketing it - CNUT all over every pre-pubescent girls chest. Central News Uberalles Television. Fuck the German spelling - It has a nicer twang than SKY. Think I'll If that twat from Rumania interrupts my flow again I'll stick that web-cam up her fucking pop-up cunt try to push Greg out of the way and get down to business with Rupert CNUT Murdoch.
Struth I'm done in - better get back on my back for a couple of hours - and, hey a couple of nice blogging folk have replied to my comments on their blogs or indeed here - nice one - feels like I have joined a community.

2004-02-07T05:48:00.000Z

I did now want to know this but knowing it I have to share it. Get to the bottom and it says that - if my reading is correct - babies are born with second heads 1 in 2 million. Well that means it happens. No one told me about that when I got up the duff. Mind you - would you take it seriously if, while in the delivery room, your fuckwit shouts out 'I can see the head .. I can see two heads..' Which gas has he been on?? I better shut up this is morbid beyond words.

2004-02-07T05:14:00.000Z

My comment thing, that I was so proud of installing, broke down - so I have put in another. How does that happen. Was someones comment so profound that it China Syndromed its way through the bottom of the servers? Or so profane that the silicon on the processors censored it? Most likely, the comment thing got fed up of doing nothing that it packed up. A bit like my duster - which I bought a couple of years ago. I mean, they use dusters for all sorts of things (mostly dusting) and I wanted my own. Mine is proudly clean in its cellophane packet. Dusting?? My vote is for Quentin Crisp - after six months you cannot tell the difference. Must close this blog and send myself a comment to see if the new thing works.

2004-02-05T00:12:00.000Z

Missed a days post - too busy reading other blogs. Mind-numbing to exhilarating to heart-breaking. In between I managed to do a couple of hours voluntary and then today - did nothing, when the dick got home "I haven't had chance to prepare anything - shall I peel a carrot or something." Well - enough to say - he made dinner and good it was - mind you, I did charge his batteries this morning - but no funny stuff, just straight plug and chug.

If blokes really have brains - it is hard to imagine how they work. I mean, have you ever listened to the talk they talk to each other. I listen in sometimes when fuckwit's talking to the guy next door. 100% utter tripe - how things work, how they worked yesterday and how they might work tomorrow. Bonding stuff about sport - how it works, how it worked yester... etc. Beer stuff , how they drink, how they drank and how...etc. How much things cost, how much they... Jesus what mind numbing drivel. Though my Bible study days are long over - I reckon he (or rather the son of he) must have been a she ( or rather the daughter of he), because he seemed to spend little time on bloke talk and much time on talking sense about sensible things. Either that or he had a good editor.

Back to blokes brains - reptilian is the word that comes to my mind. Quick dart out - if things are sunny then stay out and baske - otherwise dart back in the crack and blink. No real involvement in anything more complex than sun-bathing (take that to mean something else - because blokes are shite sun-bathers - fuckwit always has to sit up and read or get up and swim with the girls or whatever - spinning on the spot to get comfortable with his book..., cannot just lie and brown). My bloke theories do start to weaken when it comes to politicians - not that male politicians are anything other than blokes with power - how to bomb/tax/control the fuck out some innocent, how they used to fuck/tax/control and how they might in the future ....etc. but that female politicans specialise in being men. Never mind power corrupts, power turns women into men, but with nicer voices (except maggie who was never a woman) but men all the same.

Where to stop - like a paining in work that is the hardest part - think that I will stop because I am tired, not because I have come to some great conclusion but ...need some rest. Goodnight blog.

2004-02-02T22:20:00.000Z

Another day of hard service - done my two hours voluntary and that is it. Well pushed the boat out and heated a frozen quiche and frozen peas. Time for corrie and a lie down. Had a blog or two read - cannot say I agree with some of the sentiments - because for me - that is what they are - sentiments...

Like forgiving - why? To forgive is to throw in the towel, to arse side up yourself and say have me, to open your purse and pay. Shite to that! Never forgive, carry the baggage to the grave, when it suits open the wound and bleed the bastard, sometimes just visiting the idea of scratching the old sore is enough to raise the self-esteem without having to dig the puss out in public. If he has done something wrong, anytime, anywhere - you wear it when you like. It will never go out of fashion and he can never sit comfortably. Hey and each visit can go deeper if you feel like twisting the screw. I'm not sure what tenterhooks are but keep him on them ( what do you hang them from? and which bit of him do you hang them on? - if anybody out there knows - do let me know)

I bless each time he puts a foot foul - like stuffing that pop tart he used to work with - day release for an amateur lothario and a practice swing for on your back betty. She, sad girl, nice arse, small tits and no moustache had the guilts and spilled the beans to me once she had another job. God I have loved that newscast - she thought I would be upset - well maybe - but what fun I have had. He could not shit, stoop or stomp for months and I could lord it over him breakfast noon and night. (I was about to say perhaps I should say "lady it over him" but no - lord it over him sound right! fuck PC language) Nowadays all I have to do is start to sigh and I know he is worrying. Three good sighs and his reptilian brain is looking for a rock to get under. One good wail at night and he is burrowing into ground as fast as his moleskin will let him.

And then- pop out of the mood - get cheery and the whelp does know whether to stand or to flee again. (actually, being a bloke he usually chooses to stand - hoping that a bonk comes on the end of whatever 'bad thing' has happened. Fuck and make up!)

Forgive! hell no! - enjoy it, invest it, live for it.

2004-02-01T19:24:00.000Z

I have been reading other blogs all day today - feel that I have been up my own a bit too much. After all there are important things going on everywhere. I shall pick up a small political statement that I saw on another blog - more direct, worthy and a lot less self-psychoanalytic than mine. It is about I believe the BBC - not the blog - the message. I have to take that on board. After all who can believe politicians - article in the Sunday Times about Mrs Yeo - supporting Tim Yeo - just another fuckwit splashing it around as frequently as he can and (yet again) not a good looking man but position, power, whatever opens another pair of aspiring thighs. As I understand, she (the aspring she) wanted it and kept the child.

I feel these things bring me to an essential element of why I have started blogging. I read something of fuckwits a few months ago - I wanted to see if he got new variations from what he read (an incessant reader) or the wank-web or from some other darling. He was reading some French bloke's novel. Fortunately translated - very blokey but then there was the description of one of the main protagonist's grandmother. Happy to be providing for others, existence like a true grandmother - full of giving, loving and taking the shit until deathbed. Here is the nub of my present (sorry, is nub a word? - hey I am an author here - Shakespeare made up words wholesale) paradigm - why should I do other than what I wish?

Mate, kids and kin - should I appreciate their efforts or just profit by them? I have to say, I should do what I want - should they wish to fill the gap then let them. That is their fulfillment and wholely satisfying it should be. Here is the measure - I cannot be arsed to clear up after making a valueable cup of tea. The tea-bag on the work top, the milk left out of the fridge and always a new spoon rather than cleaning one. They can do it - if they want it clean. (This the tea bag thing drives him bonkers, yet all I do is bend down to pick something up and his dickbrain makes him grab me from behind and do the old pokerino thing in hope of further fun). Male brain, every thirty seconds sex - struth - how do they drive???? Badly, of course.

Now for the real politics... no I am tired... time for corrie... maybe later.

2004-02-01T08:20:00.000Z

Yesterday morning the fuckwit wanted a shag - hasn't pestered me for the past ten days as I have been sick. No way! Sent him packing but he still came back with tea, cooked all the meals, did all of the shopping and generally tidied and vacced around. My room looks and smells such a hovel that I cleaned it! Phew - had to lie down.... again... Then stupidly agreed to do the running back and forth of the girls. Can they not become friends with the girls next door (I mean so what if they are 14 years younger - at least I wouldn't have to drive). This morning he did not recognise me, (joke) I had changed into jammies to go to bed, but he got his shag - and a good one it was too very nice, long and slow and gentle. Let me suck his tits (gotta be something good about old men - man tits!). I insisted on using his bed - after all mine just got clean. But he did not get a second dip of his pen ( how can he always want more? lying in bed with him is an endless round of prodding stroking snoozing and prod stroke snoo... But, So impressed with shag No. 1 and managed to get out of the sack - I made him a coffee - but that is enough - must slow down - bit of telly bit of bed you know, if you have been reading any of this, the drill.

I have blamed him for my illness - what else do I think of all day? I reckon it was him sticking his finger up my arse a couple of weeks ago during fuck 1, then giving my clit a good rubbing during fuck 2, then the general flow of juices all over the shop during fuck 3. Greedy bastard - I put it down to his balls - like tennis balls, they are. He ain't got the biggest bat but he sure does wallop my arse as they swing back and forth. Struth - much more of this and I will be getting all masculine and rubbing myself up against him! Rub? hmmm - Time for a shower.

2004-01-31T06:04:00.000Z

Another day, another night - had to deliver and collect B and her friends. Got back to bed late - slept with my clothes and shoes on. Hey - I had put the dishes in the dishwasher - how much should a girl do in a day. That lazy bastard went to bed early after a days work and cooking dinner! I have brough the patio telly into the house and am hoping that he will carry it upstairs for me - then I can watch from bed. Nice.

2004-01-30T05:58:00.000Z

What I do like to do is lie down. A limited variety of positions and a limited variety of swaddlings and a limited variety of drinks to accompany the rest period multiply up to a handsome range of options. Lying down today, flat on my back - well as flat as you can on an unmade bed with two duvets crumple-folded in and over each other, clothes still on and an extra warm jacket clutched on top and my seventh cup of tea - I work through a couple of afternoon hours. Its tough, might have a break and go downstairs and put in some time watching theBBC24hoursnewspaper. Then move a couple of things around in the kitchen, say eat a stick of celery and then chop another. I can then say, 'started tea but didn't know what you wanted to eat'.
Hey, do they care - do they? No they come in - get on with things, work, homework, cooking tea, tidying up, setting the table, then they watch their programs, then they talk about their stuff at dinner - when I tell them what I have seen on the news - do they care - do they? No. I'm off to the sack - I could get a couple of hours of lying down in before I 'go to bed' and take my shoes off and get under the duvets.

2004-01-28T19:51:00.000Z

Never mind the sleeping spider - up and away today. Chopped some onion and celery for dinner. Oh, and put some washing in the machine. Then - got the feet up and the telly hey.

2004-01-27T06:42:00.000Z

Gone sick again, B cooked dinner. Well enough to get down there to eat it, but back to my bed after. He will take them to school and mum will collect them. She will take me to the doc though I don't think she can do anything. I think that the spider web in the corner of my bedroom has changed shape a bit - either someone has been in with a vac or the spider has come back!.. I'm certain he went away because of the dust gathering on his web. I mean how do you dust a web. As so there is so little movement in my bedroom the dust will not get blown off. Perhaps someone has vacuumed - no they would have to move too much stuff first and anyway I am always in here lying down. I mean, I would notice! wouldn't I??

2004-01-25T20:51:00.000Z

Nice easy weekend - hey - I did some washing and ironed a blouse for A to go to work in. Otherwise a normal weekend, lots of sleep lots of meals prepared for me and plenty of telly in between. Topped off with a pleasant shag on Saturday morning - gotta keep his batteries charged otherwise he might stop working. He drove thegirls and their friends back and forth all weekend. Off to lie down again....

2004-01-23T21:51:00.000Z

I can get up now that the work is done - just do a load of washing and then wait for my dinner. Then Corrie and then to bed - how I do love my Corrie - how I do hate work.

2004-01-22T19:11:00.000Z

This is the way. The girls have invited friends home at the weekend. He teaches their friemds and does not want the embarrassement of his students seeing the shithole we have lived in since he stopped cleaning the house. So,the fuckbutt is back to cleaning the house as well as earning the money and cooking the food and fixing the house. Life is sweet - no wonder I am so tired - my muscles never get stretched.

2004-01-21T23:19:00.000Z

And another day sick - been up and about during the day but back to the sack now.

2004-01-21T05:11:00.000Z

Sick - thats it! No working at anything more today. They can make dinner, I am staying in bed. He can take them in tomorrow. Then I can get up and catch up on my telly.

2004-01-20T06:22:00.000Z

Jeez - I am a day out of sinc. Anyway last post was Sunday - Monday - ordinary day -couple of hours voluntary. Warmed up the meal he had pre-prepared at the weekend and lots of lying down.
This morning I am still feeling sick - may even not go into voluntary work. On previous performance -here comes the slide and I may not be doing even these few hours work. Then down to some serious BBC 24hour News watching alternated with bedroom ceiling watching.

2004-01-19T20:40:00.000Z

Another big day - got up ate breakfast made for me. Did a load into the washer. He took A out driving. Then he replaced the fence down one side of the garden. I made a cheese sandwich and took the girls to work - I'm knackered. Then he has the cheek to suggest rumpty-tumpy in the afternoon! Shagged ragged and big-time orgasm and all on my back - nice one. Spent the afternoon and evening in bed - apart from getting up for my dinner. Then the bastard irons all of his shirts and trousers and other stuff - where is my mountain of ironing now!

2004-01-17T07:01:00.000Z

Whoa! What a fib - I did not make a tuna bake yesterday B did. Today I did zero apart from run the kids into school. No washing, ironing, cleaning, tidying or cooking ( apart from my cheese sandwich at lunch ). Spent some serious time in bed. Got up to eat dinner when he had made it - fucking good - could not wait for anybody else to get seconds. Watched a TV programme and went back to bed. Cool - kept all my clothes on and saved having to get dressed again. Shoes - yeah them too! Next thing - I shall have some photos to enliven this sight. Gotta make a cuppa as he seems glued to some book in his bed.

2004-01-15T23:16:00.000Z

He had the cheek to ask me to post a couple of things - 'where is the money' I said. He thinks that I am going to break into the family allowance for anything other than myself - he is wrong. And as far as my Â£30,000+, well that is my money and .... He is working - he should pay for everything. Today he did a 14 hour day - comes in looking like a martyr. Hey! I did a tuna bake for dinner. Off to bed got a big day of doing nothing tomorrow.

2004-01-15T00:02:00.000Z

Tough call - had to drive in and then later collect. Lord knows what I did with the rest of the day apart from peel a few potatoes and put a frozen quiche in the oven. Settee does have a dent in it the shape of my arse though. Early to bed - got a couple of hours voluntary and loads of coffee to do.

2004-01-14T05:37:00.000Z

Another day - supposed to have been to do a couple of hours voluntary work. Did nothing around the house - don't know where the time goes while I am watching TV or just lying down. House is a mess but hey! Had to get organised at the end of the day - I took B to a parents evening where I had to listen and walk and talk, phew! Hopefully he will bring me several cups of tea to revive me in the morning. He may even take them to school. Then I needn't even get up!!

2004-01-12T07:51:00.000Z

He told me that he had been to Soho to look for a live sex show - I want to see one. I was disappointed that he didn't bring me any 'magazines'. Another good shag, I say he only thinks of me as a bonking machine - after all I do like lying on my back. He did the shopping, made lunch and dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. Me - I did a couple of washing loads and ironed a shirt, a pair of jeans and a blouse. Read the paper and lay down the rest of the day. House is filthy but hey. I complained that the girls had left the living room untidy where it had been neat just a few days ago when he had cleared the tree out and vacced and polished. I left the iron and ironing board there where I used them - why put them away when I might need them in a few days. I leave the teabags on the worktop in the kitchen when I make a cup of tea - why tidy them into the bin when the girls can do that later when they do the kitchen.

2004-01-10T22:58:00.000Z

Did a washing machine load and put it through the drier. Made my breakfast and lunch. Had to collect him from the station, Lay down the rest of the time.

2004-01-09T06:27:00.000Z

What a day - had to go to bed at eight from exhaustion. Went and did two hours voluntary - nice cups of coffee. Bought a loaf of bread and made dinner - grilled salmon and pasta. Fortunately managed to sit and lie down the rest of the time.

2004-01-07T22:56:00.000Z

Had a nice shag in the morning but then he started working while listening to R3. I showered and hummed classical melodies - cute. Now work today but needed the car. Went to the beautician - not bad for someone with no money for essentials. Heated a quiche and fried some chips for dinner. Tidied up the kitchen a bit - really pushing the boat out here. Went to bed - no kiss - no goodnight - as usual.

2004-01-06T21:16:00.000Z

Said I was going to work - two hours voluntary - but there was no work today so went to a lecture and got a free lunch voucher had lunch. Made dinner. Went to bed.
Next day didn't Went to work again - two hours voluntary. Made dinner. Went to bed.
Now more than a week since I cleaned anything.

2004-01-05T20:24:00.000Z

Up early - takng A to go to France. She wants him to take her as well. He can drive then.
Normal morning after that - fill the washing machine and empty the dishwasher. Then buy the paper to get a special deal on a holiday. Haven't talked about it with him or the girls.
Had to make lunch - beans on toast as he was working. Had a lie down all afternoon. Ate the dinner that was made for me. Ironed a shirt for him and for me. Then watched telly and went to bed.

2004-01-04T11:41:00.000Z

He had a lie in - I had to make my own tea. Made him one.
He went out for the paper and bought me one that I had mentioned - read it then hid it away in my room.
Normal morning - took a few dishes out of the dishwasher - loaded the washing machine and drier.
Sat down for a couple of hours.
He took A out for a driving lesson, they came back late but I had not made any lunch.
Ate the sandwich he made for me. Lay down for most of the afternoon but had to get up twice because A needs some clothes washing.
Came down later for tea - put the knives and forks out. Watched telly then took B to work and then went to bed early because I have to take A tomorrow morning early.
He will collect B from work.

2004-01-02T23:36:00.000Z

Another good sleep.
He brought me tea - with no knickers on. Before you know it - I am saying well pop it in then but be quick. He is reasonably quick and I don't have to remove most of yesterdays clothes which I slept in.
He makes coffee and his breakfast - I do not want any but have a quick retch at what he eats.
He runs A to her driving lesson, buys some euros for her week in France, goes to work for an hour even though it is shut, does the week's shopping - unusually on a Friday and then puts it away. I have showered and loaded the washing machine. It is past one but I haven't made lunch. He makes lunch for us, the I run B into town and then collect A. I lay down for a couple of hours. I peel some potatoes. He makes dinner. The girls clear up and clean the kitchen. I watch telly and follow the wine with a whiskey. Argue over what we watch and then go to bed at 10. Late for me.

2004-01-01T22:42:00.000Z

Good sleep.
Drank the two teas that were made for me, made two teas for him - I tell him - one for ruining my sex-life and one for telling fibs and lies about me.
Then he came downstairs and made up a bed and he made sure that I had an orgasm - indeed two. I tell him that he does not talk to me and that we do not do anything together.
He says that we shall go out together that morning.
He is going to collect the girls. I decide that it is too much and I would rather stay at home.
Stay at home, shower, empty and load the washing machine. Put some of the mess from last nights dinner into the dishwasher.
Lay down for a couple of hours.
B makes me a baked potato for lunch.
Lay down all afternoon. He comes in three times to tell me things.
Ate dinner that was made for me.
Leave them at the table and go to sit down on the settee.
Complain that the girls rule the telly and insist on watching what I want.
Go to bed without saying goodnight, without a kiss - like always.