Archive for May, 2010
Unlike Our Gracie, not too many people will be sorry to see “El Gordo” leave Downing Street this evening. If I were the Queen, who constitutionally is the person who officially must accept his resignation, I would be asking “What took you so Long?”
Now that the election is finally over all bar the shouting, and when Sam & Dave finally get to order the new drapes and bedding from Dunelms, perhaps we can look forward to more important things; like this summers cricket tourists – Pakistan I think this year – Wimbledon, the British Grand Prix and not to mention, the world play acting championships taking place in South Africa next month.
All in all a good summer of sport to come, and the politicians hopefully taking a back seat at last. I may even get to finish the Queen Mum’s biography before we go on hols.
Well what a waste of time that was staying up all night to watch the election results, just so the polls could be proved right about a hung parliament. Believe me, there is nothing worse than watching smug political pundits being vindicated in their predictions, although I imagine there must be alot of ducking and diving in Downing Street right now, as Gordo throws yet another tantrum – and several mobile phones – after being rumbled by the public at last.
So it would appear that her Maj cannot as yet, ask one of the three Caballeros to form a government, this being the case, I think I will concentrate instead on defrosting the gammon steaks we are having for dinner tonight and ask “She who wears the Trousers” to pick up a bag of salad on the way home.
Meantime I’m off for forty winks again to replace some lost shut eye – and maybe get into practice for when I come back as Max the Cat.
Later on, Max decided it was time to stretch the legs and go for a meander around the Close, clearly all this laying out in the sun was maybe proving just a little too stressful for him. The other day, he decided to risk one of his nine lives and play chicken with an oncoming car out on the main road through the village, while he was on one his “patrols” round the neighbourhood. Later on he could be found curled up on his owners shed in the shade of an overhanging tree waiting for them to return from work so he could be fed. This is Max deciding to get a bit closer to have his photo taken – clearly he is at home on a “catwalk”.
So Lil, forget working for a living, lets all go out gallivanting, get fed, lie asleep in the sun and occasionally stretch ones legs – just to make sure they work when it’s time for dinner.
Yep – no doubt about it, if there is such a thing as reincarnation, then I’m definitely coming back as Max the Cat!
I am depressed; absolutely mortified; inconsolable in fact; you may well ask what it is that has me in this state? Chelsea won at Liverpool, okay the rugby semi-finals were a disappointment if you’re Irish, but something far worse has now occurred in village life.
“She who wears the Trousers” popped into Morrisons the other day and observed a new form of ploughman’s pie on sale. You will recall that over Easter, I expressed my distress that the beloved and now much missed Pork, Cheese and Pickle Ploughmans pie had been removed from sale. Well having brought a slice of the new version for my delectation, I can only report that this is not only an inferior version of our much loved stodgy delight, but it looks absolutely nothing like a ploughmans pie. In fact one would hesitate to call it Pork.
I have a picture of the aforementioned material below: you can draw your own conclusions.
Leaving aside the assault on my tastebuds by the cheap imitation above, I feel moved to report that there doesn’t appear to be much in the way of election fever around our village. Apart from a few leaflets from the main candidates – all delivered by some miracle via Royal Mail – there is a particular dearth of actual candidates knocking on the doors. As a keen observer of village life, not even our prospective local councillors have paid us a visit, they are also relying on leaflet drops and the odd telephone canvass. The British Numpty Party have managed to festoon the front of one house in Brownhills with it’s posters – either that or they’re skimping on the decorating again.
With a live candidate about as common round here as rocking horse manure, the Labour candidate did pledge that if elected he will move into the Brownhills ward – assuming he can affect a mutual exchange with another tenant to move closer to Walsall – as if people are that keen to move closer to Walsall ha ha.
Seems like I now have a reason after all, to retrieve the polling card from the recycling bin – and vote for someone else!!