He Has Other Work Booked In.

Hello folks,

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Well, here it is again…Saturday.

Hopefully you are having a good one and not having to spend it all doing horrible things like catching up on the housework or doing necessary repairey-type things.

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Unless, of course, you are the sort of person who enjoys doing that.

In which case, I only have two words to say to you…you are weird!

Sorry, three.

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Today we have the decorator back with us again, to paint the outside windows.

Well, window frames actually, ‘cos if he painted the windows we would not be able to see out of them!

He is only supposed to be with us from Monday to Friday , but the weather has been so bad that he is getting worried that the work will not be finished in time, and he has other work booked in straight after ours.

I do not mind having to be here today too, because all I want is to get the job finished to schedule.

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It is like being on stage all the time when you have someone looking into your windows all day.

Big H finds it very trying but I cope with it wonderfully well.

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I do not see why all these Big Stars complain about intrusion, lack of privacy and annoying fans.

It is just a necessary part of their extremely lucrative job, and they should be bloody grateful and stop moaning on about it all the time, especially when you think of what an ordinary working man has to put up with, every single working day, and for very little remuneration in comparison.

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Amazing how a person who  once dreamt of fame, and who would  possibly have done absolutely anything to get attention, suddenly cannot perform without being provided with white flowers, or freshly baked apple pies from Outer Mongolia, or kittens, or twelve bloody virgins freshly flown in from bloody Honolulu, or some other equally bloody expensive, rare and unnecessary items.

The only demand that I can relate to, is for many bottles of Cristal on tap…I mean, that’s a total necessity!

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When you read about the Superstars, demanding that no one must look them in the eyes, or walk across their path, or sodding breathe near them when they finally arrive to do their bit of acting , it makes me laugh.

These same rarefied, delicate creatures, surely cannot be the same people who are sometimes reputed to have offered to do and be, anything that anyone with some industry clout, wanted of them.

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And the tantrums!

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On second thoughts, I? can understand tantrums, because I? have them myself, and that is likely to happen just because I cannot get possession.of the television controller.

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Would you like to be a star?

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If you were, what would you like to have most?

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I would like to have a beach of my own, with my own little house right on it.

Then, every morning, I could go down and see what the sea had washed up for me.

I would like it to bring me some of those coloured glass round things from a boat, a huge square wooden box with a fitted lid and brass locks and a big old statue that was taller than me.

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I would not like to find a stranded whale, or something like that, but I think that I would like some sort of rescue plan worked out just in case that did occur.

I mean, how awful if it did happen, and the poor creature died, because I could only rush around crying  “Oh dear. Oh dear.  The sky has fallen in”, just like Chicken Licken, instead of doing something useful, quickly.

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Luckily it is something that is far less likely to happen here, because we have to drive for ages in order to to get to the sea.

Unless, of course, you get one of those miraculous happenings where thousands of frogs or fish just pour down out of a blue sky.

But I expect that everyone would be running around like Chicken Licken then, and not just me.

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If that happened, would you eat the fish or not?

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I don’t think I would, because sometimes I don’t even like the look of the fish that I buy fresh from the fishmonger.

And I know him!

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Now I had better leave you to your own devices and go and make my painter and decorator a big cup of tea, with milk and no sugar please, or he will think I am neglecting him.

I have also bought him some expensive Dark Chocolate Macaroons, just to keep him happy.

Big H was not allowed to have one, he just lives here.

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LOL

JX

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Adult Poem. Roxanne.

Roxanne.

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Roxanne, the lady

at the net,

whose tight elastic

bites, in purple rings.

She has not been civilised.

I saw her balling

the backhand return

from some fucking Spaniard.

So help me God.

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Poem: Duckie.

duckie

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sitting in the steam

‘midst green fish friezes

i ponder on the why

and swap sad stories

with a plastic duck

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I Told Me Not To Do It.

Hi,

Well, as you might have guessed from last night’s post.  I am now somewhat the worse for wear, and feeling sorry for myself.

I was evil.

I did not keep to my own rules, so I must be punished.

I must play the part of both Sadist and Masochist.

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My decision will have to be that, because I did not even have the sense to stop at a couple of beers last night, I will not have anything alcoholic to drink AT ALL, for the whole weekend.

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OUCH!

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I can clearly see that although I might possibly be a closet Sadist, there is no appeal to me at all, in being Masochistic.

I do not like it.

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I am in a huff with myself now.

As always, I have gone too far and someone has to suffer.  Namely me.

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Oh well, no good going on about things that cannot be changed is there!.

After all , I believe that there will be another alcoholic weekend in the pipeline, in about seven days time.

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This morning, hangover notwithstanding, I went out and fed the birds with left over Pasta and Pesto, which they sensibly adore, and extremely hard and dry bread, which they will probably eat because they ARE Masochistic.

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And then I made myself the biggest cup of tea I could, using a massive pink cup with very self satisfied looking little girl and a cat on it, which I bought at a local Charity shop.

It weighs a ton, but it is massive, and will do the job of hydrating me very well.

The tea tasted a bit weird, but I expect that that is some sort of side result of last night’s wickedness too.

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But hey, look on the bright side, I have completed a painting and it is still pleasing in the sober morning light.

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My next move should be to go and toast some Warburtons pancakes, but I do not think that I could face any food as yet.

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Another huge cup of tea.

That’s the ticket!.

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Have a fine day yourself.

And don’t drink.

It’s bad for you.

Just trust me on this.

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SHH.

J

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Poem: Mrs. T-T.

Mrs. T-T.

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Mrs. Turningham-Turpington

Hitch-hiked to Widdrington

Turned left at Bellingham

Then lost her wellington.

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Mrs. Turningham-Turpington

Went off to Orpington

Got stuck near Warrington

Then bought some wellingtons.

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Mrs. Turningham-Turpington

Then drove to Washington

Got stuck near Bellingham

Then found her Wellington.

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Mrs. Turningham-Turpington

Fears not the driving rain

Now she’s the owner of

Two pairs of wellingtons.

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A Good Result.

Hi,

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I was so upset by the tiger story this morning that I quite forgot to tell you the good…very good…news about Big H.

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You may remember the first blog, where I told you all about his parasite problem, and then the following one about the next step to solving his problem once and for all.

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Well, he did go for the scan, and I know that he was very worried about it, because he was extremely distracted and grumpy for some time before……but he was all clear on that particular front.

The thyroid was very healthy and normal ( I was pleased to hear that something about him is normal), and the nodules  have gone from his neck glands.

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Now it all depends upon whether or not he still believes that he is harbouring thingies, if so then he must follow the ‘Doctor Of Tropical Medicines ‘  route, we shall see.

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Speaking of Big H, tonight is his night to go and play those mad computer games with his friend who lives nearby.

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Have you noticed that I am showing off in a most blatant manner tonight?

It is me being drunk with power since I learnt to insert the little coloured bits quite recently , thanks to the teaching of Mr. T.

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Sorry, I will stop doing it now…possibly.

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Anyway, since he (Big H) went out at six thirty, I have had two beers.

Now this is very naughty of me ,as, due to recent events, I had made a decision to drink only at weekends…and this is not a weekend.   ( OK. so I lied about the coloured thingies.  I don’t care.)

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The reason for the blatant naughtiness is that I have been doing another painting, and I have just finished it tonight.

When I am lost in painting  I get totally out of it and I like to drink lots of beer.

So I had some!

Who cares.

I will be good tomorrow…no, I will not, because it is Friday…I will be good next week.

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I am very happy.

I hope that you are too.

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I think I shall post a rude poem too, to celebrate!

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JX

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Adult Poem: Till Your Face Turns Blue.

Till Your Face Turns Blue.

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I love to fuck,

I truly do,

But I want more than that

from you.

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I want your eyes

In morning light,

I want your glance

to end the night.

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I need your voice

Upon the stair,

To hear you ask me

If I’m there.

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I want to spend

My life with you,

And fuck you till your face

Turns blue.

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Tiger, Tiger. (China Sucks)

I am very, very upset this morning.

Sorry, good morning to you all,

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Big H went out to get The Times and I could have cried when I saw what was on the front page.

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CHINA HAS DECIDED TO ALLOW THE TRADE OF TIGER PELTS.

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What is wrong with these people!

There are so few tigers left in our world.

What do we say to future generations that could possibly explain our behaviour, in a way that they could understand, or that could possibly show us in any other way than as savages.

No, savages do not know any better.

Criminal is the only word to describe the wanton destruction of irreplaceable beauty.

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We are privileged to live upon this planet for a short time and we should care for it, and each other, not destroy and pillage it for financial gain.

It is unforgivable.

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In India this despicable, shortsighted decision will most probably lead to the destruction of the largest remaining tiger population in the world.

A century ago there were about 40,000 tigers in India, but now there are only about1,400 left.

It has decreased from a pitiful 3,642 in 2002.  This is believed to be in direct correlation to the demand for traditional medicines in China.

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Although the Chinese breed tigers in captivity, supposedly as a tourist attraction, the  experts believe that they do this because they are hoping to use them to produce tiger tonics which sell for a great deal of money.

The thought is that the wording of this document which gives approval to….’the trade and use of tiger and leopard skins…AND THEIR PRODUCTS’….will allow it to be interpreted as a permission to go ahead with the lucrative production of Tiger Bone Wine.

Yesterday, wildlife trade monitors, working with the WWF, said that the wording of the Chinese document is very loose and can be interpreted as a permission to go ahead with tiger wine on a commercial basis,

Experts say that those who demand products made from tigers will regard ‘wild’ tiger products as more efficacious than ‘farmed’ products.

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It is also much cheaper to pay an Indian poacher £5 for a dead tiger than to expensively farm them.

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One tiger is worth an absolute fortune

The most profitable part is the tiger bones.

One tiger provides about 55lbs of bones.  These can be worth a staggering sum approaching a quarter of a million pounds.

Wildlife Trust officials are afraid that the wording of the document will be the forerunner to the decimation of India’s remaining tigers, by stimulating the demand for traditional medicine products in China.

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In 2007  the State Forestry Administration of China issued a permission to allow trade in legally sourced leopard and tiger skins, but it was kept extremely quiet, even to the extent of erasing mention of it from the Internet, to prevent damage to China’s international reputation  in the run up to the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

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Personally, I feel sick about what these despicable people are allowed to do.

It is like killing Whales.  Why are they always prepared to do things until the last creature is wiped out.

This beauty belongs to all of us, not to politicians, or to one country only.

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If I were in charge I would stop trade with China immediately and stuff politics and stuff trade.

Stuff doing things for profit.

Stop trading with China no matter how much money you lose, but then again I would have stopped trade with China the moment that they invaded Tibet.

That was, and is, a total disgrace and a cause for great shame on our part.

None of us prevented the destruction of a way of life and religion because there was nothing worth having in a ‘backward’ country like that.

Shame on us!

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Sometimes there is more to lose than cheap oil and profits from trade, there is decency and there are things called ethics.

Perhaps we should force all our politicians to have these words tattooed upon their foreheads, so that when they look into each other’s fat-cat faces they can be reminded of what they are supposed to be.

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When we all behave like this, we do not only destroy the animals we should be protecting,

We also destroy all that is best in ourselves.

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Sadly

J

Of course me writing this will not change anything will it?

People have a small attention span nowadays.

They  will say  “Oh, what a shame.  It is a disgrace”, and pass on to the next thing that catches their attention.

We live in a sound bite society.

The only time that I remember people getting out in the streets, and making their feelings known, was when they protested about the Poll Tax. A time when they were hurt in their pockets.

Will there be any similar protest now we are being hurt in our souls?

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Politicians are intended to be the representatives of the people.

They seem to have forgotten that they are in that position to carry out ‘the wishes of the people’, not whatever they feel is expedient for their own pockets and their own careers.

Why don’t we start telling them what we want for a change, and make them bloody do it.

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We should sanction China, until it stops allowing bears to be imprisoned in cages  so small that they cannot even move around, or stand up.

This is done so that they can insert tubes into the bears’ stomachs, to allow the daily draining of their bile from their gallbladders.

This is incredibly painful for the bear, when it is ‘milked’, and observers see them moaning and biting their own paws while it is being done.

There are several thousand of these bear farms and they collect 7,000 kilos of bile per year.

Most of these animals are caught out in the wild and then imprisoned until they die.

They are subjected to shocking procedures, carried out by by untrained people, and have no access to veterinary help. A great many of them die from infections caused by their cruel treatment.

etc, etc,etc,etc.

WSPA thinks that China is planning a move to register it’s Bear Farms with CITES.

This is just a ploy to circumvent the international ban on trade in Bear parts.

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And let’s not even start upon Human Rights abuse!

Poem: Red Can Spread.

Red Can Spread.

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You paint that stool red

While I’m at the salon,

Tommy’s nagging wife told him

To get the job done.

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Though he painted the stool

Just the best he could do,

All the table was marked

So he painted that too.

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He was pleased , till he spied

All the drips on the floor,

So he painted that too

And made marks on the door.

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So he painted the door

But he spattered the wall,

Other marks were concealed

When he painted the hall.

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Then the stairs were all smeared,

So he painted them too,

Then the bedroom, the bathroom,

And even the loo.

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In the kitchen he washed

But he ruined the sill.

As he painted the window

The fumes made him ill.

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When his lady returned

With her newly coiffed head,

She took one look around

And she really saw red.

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Poem. Geordie Dialect: The Seeance.

The Seeance.

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When me grannie fell deed

From a bash on thi heed

A seeance was thi notion

Wi got.

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So wi alle sat on doon

At me mam’s in the toon,

Whetha wi felt deed stupid

Or not.

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Though nowt much occurred

Just wa old moggie stirred,

Wi wa alle more than ready

Ti trot.

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Then thi room turned alle cad

An it frightened me dad.

Furnicha started ti crash

A lot.

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Then a neighbour bawled oot

Wot the hell’s it aboot,

Are yiz alle tryin ti wake up the deed

Or wot.

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