Brexit – Fucking With Your Five A Day

The EU may take our booze and our veg – but they’ll never take our freedom! 

A plate of fresh vegetables

THE MISSUS texted me today:

Darling, can u pick up wine tonight?
12 cases shd do it.
I will get same so Brexit doesn’t b***er up Xmas xxx

Keeping a cool head in a crisis is often all about remembering what’s truly important.

So, with this country’s biggest cataclysm since Dunkirk gathering, Her Outdoors has moved decisively to ensure that we can still get properly pissed – no matter what happens on October 31.

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Afternoons And Coffee Spoons – They’re Here Already!

A mix-up with my medicines has convinced me I’m in imminent danger of carking it….  

Pouring a spoonful of medicine
Image: Steffen Frank/pixabay

I WENT TO the Doctor recently because I’d been having tummy trouble.
At first, she thought it was down to my boozing and gave me the old 50 Ways To Lose Your Liver chat.
From now on, she said, I had to drink in line with the Recommended Government Guidelines. Just six scoops a week instead of my current 376,000,000,000,000,000…
But then a blood test came back saying that the doughty organ was in decent shape, despite everything, and that the problem was bacterial. She put me on three different sorts of antibiotic for a week.
Sorted. Except for a vague feeling of unease as I rocked up at the pharmacy. 

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Bad news For Rhino Kylie

An international conservation effort is returning a critically endangered sub-species of rhino to Africa. I’m no expert, but it’s a crap plan…

A cartoon rhinoceros
Image: creozavr/pixabay

IT’S GREAT NEWS – or at least it is on the surface.
A critically endangered African rhino species is set to bounce back, after being all but wiped out by poachers more than a decade ago.
Five eastern black rhinos raised in European zoos were re-homed yesterday in Rwanda’s Akagera National Park – some four decades after their descendants made the reverse journey north.
And conservationists are confident that the new arrivals will thrive in their vast new home.
The programme has the support of a number of august organisations – including The Rwandan Government, The European Association of Zoos, and conservation group African Parks.
But I think it’s going to go tits-up.

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Driven To Distraction

I love a Podcast and follow a ton of sport on iPad – but I mustn’t forget to live my own life

Billy Bonds consoles Bobby Moore after the 1975 FA Cup Final

NOW THAT I’M older, I’ve become a total homebody.

I write this blog at home, I do my house husband/housekeeper stuff at home, and there ain’t no-one with me for looong stretches of the day. *

I’m too lazy and introverted to make coffee dates with chums, so I turn a lot to los medios** for company.

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Grey Minge

A NEW shower has forced a surprise re-examination of my nether parts 

Grey pubic hair shavings

I SHAVED MY PUBES for the first time ever the other week.
It’s taken me until well into my 54th year to get around to doing a little topiary on my Man Garden – and I’d probably never have done it but for the new shower we got.
Suddenly, every time I stepped inside, the chrome control panel at hip height was reflecting back a daily – and frankly alarming – State of The Minge report.

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The Long, Baffled Hunt For A Handbrake

It’s wrong on so many levels to want to drive a car again…

An older man examines an aeroplane control panel
Image: Chris Leipelt/Unsplash

I HAD an odd experience today – I woke up fancying a drive

Actually, the first thing I thought was: ‘I need to book a car and take the cats to the vet’.

But I fancied driving.

For once, the thought of getting into an automobile and not on a bike, settling back in a comfy seat instead of perching on an inadequate saddle, and not having to do all the leg work myself gave me a warm, happy feeling, rather than a shudder. 

Drivers are currently a severely endangered species in this house. Three of us are old enough to set off for a spin whenever we want, but we hardly ever do. 

The main reason for that is that we’re Londoners. We don’t drive to work. That’d be silly.

The buses, trains and Tube all run fast and frequent where we live and, anyway, I am semi-permanently joined to my bikes; a middle-aged, sweaty, semi-centaur.

The other reason that we don’t drive much is that taking to the wheel in the capital is horrible.

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Spread Your Love Like A Bagel

I’ve not had that much white stuff on my hands since…

Spreading cheese on bagels

THEY SAY that you never stop learning, and what I learned today is – I fucking hate spreading bagels.

Now that The Youngest is in the thick of his GCSEs, however, he needs convenient and abundant fuel to take into school with him, ready to stuff into his maw at a moment’s notice.

So, like working mums and dads across the land, I get up early every morning to make the day’s tasty, nutritious, value-for-money lunches.

Around 7am, I knock out a simple cheese and salad sandwich – Mmmn, hmmn, breadmaker bread – for my daughter to take to work.

Then I turn to the mountain of food our (Six Feet Two) littlest needs to get him through the day.

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What Are You Gonna Do About it – Eyebrows?

I may be middle aged, but apparently I can still raise my brow game

Cartoon of overgrown eyebrows

I WAS WATCHING some soothing Golden Oldies on The YouTube today when I found myself unexpectedly lectured – by a series of irreproachably groomed young women who were waving some sort of pencil at me.
It soon became clear that they were flogging a product aimed at achieving The Perfect Eyebrow, a pursuit that seems to have taken over from achieving World Peace, or Abolishing Poverty, on many young ‘uns To Do lists.
I watched, too transfixed to reach for Skip Ad, as said babes exhorted me to ‘Raise your eyebrow game…. Raise your eyebrow game… Raise your Eyebrow Game….!’ and, blushingly, I wondered if it was not too late for me to do just that.
For some time now, I have been afflicted by Grandad Eyebrows – those sort of horned, sky-seeking tufts that blow in about two decades after Moobs and maybe 10 years before plugs of hair start to clog your actual earholes, like the unknowable contents of a blocked gutter. 

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