Kiss the Frog

　
It’s a fact that girls are brought up on a diet of fairy tales mixed with nasty doses of Barbie dolls and Disney fabrications; no wonder their dreams contain large spoonfuls of Princes riding in to sweep them off their feet, and the world is pink.



You might believe that girls outgrow this, but traces of fantasy remain. 

This explains the fondness for dangling glittery things that hang from their person, and  oversized bags (also pink.)

Although they appear street-wise and talk tough, the dreams linger on. Underneath the face paint , remains the firm conviction that Princes are for real, and all you need is the ball gown.
Not the best idea to leave teenage girls waiting for a shining knight, or a Prince, huh?

Tough on the blokes as well. The average male has no idea how to be a Prince, let’s face it.
Too much for any bloke; so he takes off for the pub, or his shed, the footie, anything,  to escape.

 

Far better to search for a Frog; look under large damp stones.

Find the Frog.

Kiss the damn Frog.
The Frog turns into a Prince. (Maybe)

Yep.
　
　

Get a Shed

Every man needs a shed, there is no doubt about it; a kingdom, an entire universe that he can rule well away from her indoors, and reminders about those jobs around the house.

Jobs that a bloke couldn’t give two curses for. Her indoors says they are essential.

Sheds give out the message that a bloke has work to do, serious work you know, the sifting of nuts, the grading of bolts, you get the idea.

Well out of the wife’s domain. Far, far away out of her reach – Wow.

Better still, blokes can have sheds as a group activity: they do, set up societies for Blokes and Sheds.

Without going near these meetings I can tell you what they talk about.

Women – how unreasonable they are, the wife, the girlfriend, the mistress.

If it’s the wife, ‘She wants a new kitchen’ the mistress “She wants more sex’ and the girlfriend “When is the wedding?’

Do they talk about sheds? No of course  they don’t. Wake up, for pity’s sake.

After the females, down to the important stuff; Cars, the Footie, the Pub.

There is nothing to worry about, really there isn’t. Blokes can only think one thought at a time. For a very long time let me tell you.

It takes well over 24 hours before the bloke moves on to the next thought; most women have gone through a whole books worth of thoughts in half that time.

Give your bloke a shed – then lock him in it. He won’t notice, far too busy  isn't he?

Yep.

Is My Egg Happy?

Need all the brain cells firing when you go shopping these days – gone are the days of just buying the bread, the milk and the eggs. Basic foods are now multi-choice, bread with nuts, bread without.  With added fibre or just the bog standard white stuff?

Can’t even just buy brown or white, it come in mixtures so you can have beige bread - if you want.

And eggs are complicated you know, I’m sure you didn’t; we have large and then very large, and Extra Large.

Sometimes, you can find eggs so large it makes you wince, well, think what it did to the hen. Enough to make your eyes water don’t you think?

No hen with feelings could sit there producing mammoth eggs without a great big squawk of protest.

Supermarkets get up to all sorts of tricks, and the deception begins well before the egg gets to the carton. Not content with the hen clucking her heart out, the buggers try to fool us into thinking that she enjoys it. Yes they do, why else would the cartons be labelled HAPPY EGGS? We are being misled, that’s what.

Think about it –each little bundle of egg is so happy, and the hen is smiling from ear to ear as she lays another size 8 egg? I don’t think so.
If this trend goes on I’ll be looking at my boiled egg only to see a little smiley face beaming at me.

It’s the stuff of nightmares

Yep.

Get Ahead Get a Torch

A word of advice to all you folks out there; go, get yourself a torch because we are entering The Age of Darkness. For real.

Where I live, we will be in darkness as the council has decided to turn all the road lights off ‘except the essential ones at junctions and roundabouts’.

So we can all creep up the road in the dark can’t we?

One local lady complained about the lack of lighting down her street, and guess what?

She was told to get herself a TORCH!

There you are nothing to worry about is there? No good if we do as you, me and the rest of the populace can jolly well look after ourselves.

It seems that in some parts of the country, the police won’t go out in the dark as it is too dangerous; and there we were thinking the police are employed to protect us. Afraid not, it seems that our coppers can’t face the darkness; in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire, officers will not patrol a playground plagued by teenage hoodlums.

“A senior officer told stunned councilors there would be no patrols after 8pm at newly-built Waterlees Park in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire, for health and safety reasons.”

The Inspector said his staff couldn’t go into the Park at night as …get this, ‘They can’t see where they’re going”

Understandably the council was stunned by this pearl of wisdom, and one council chappie asked” Don’t they carry torches?’

NO, that’s what the rest of us have to do, Councilor and the police are going to stay indoors with all the lights on.

But the Cambridge police did say that if a crime was committed they would turn out and ‘take appropriate action.’ So that’s all right then, don’t you worry none.

But get a torch – a stonking great big one, you’ll going to need it.

YEP

 Source/Mail Online Monday, Jan 31 2011

Yes Dear, No Dear

Now that the festive hols are over and the Christmas tree gets shoved back in the loft, blokes all over the country heave a sigh of relief and hurry off to places like B&Q, or any DIY they can find.
You see them pacing the store, brows furrowed in deep thought as they consider the merits of anodised bolts or plated screws, so happy to be free of domestic woes, the turkey that crisped a tad too much or the unwanted gifts from family.

And the Missus is still smouldering cos she didn’t get those hair straightners or the sparkly little trifle she had pointed out, very carefully.


Big Mistake, yes indeed, so he escapes to B&Q to get on with the things that matter like the new garden shed, or the essential refurbishments for the garage; no bloke can manage without a well equipped garage and I’m not talking about the car.

No one is going to bug them with unwanted reminders or suggest they get on with enhancing the kitchen, or ‘Do you need any help, Sir?”
Not in B&Q I can tell you, as the staff are either invisible or down the Job Centre, so it’s peace, folks, total peace.

But not for the couples who have decided to tackle the biggie, the NEW KITCHEN.

One of you has at be in charge, and I suggest to all the blokes that it’s left to the Missus or your life is going to be hell, the sort that never ends.
Just watch Madame as she goes into kitchen details, the hob, the dishwasher, the self cleaning sink and the toaster that lights up, but try to stay awake because it’s you that will be paying.

Don’t follow the example of our chum, telling his wife just what they need and would have, how this kitchen was really great, and so on. The expression on his wife’s face said it all.‘Kill, Kill, Kill




Poor sod, quite oblivious that his wife wasn’t on the same page, had left the room, and she will never ever forgive him.
Believe me, she won‘t.
Wander as a cloud or maybe a six throttle Black & Decker through the spaces of your DIY store, but leave the kitchen to your Domestic Goddess, and practice chanting every day,

“Yes dear, No dear, whatever you say, dear” and if you must, “Three bags full, dear.”But the last mentioned, is best kept silent, don’t you think?
Yep.
Red Fred, who is not a bloke or red, likes to rant; in fact has a Diploma in it. Has no interest in helping little old ladies across the road or kissing babies.
Boil babies? Of course

Red Fred 2005 -2011

 6R49GQCPQ9PG


 

The Other Side of Christmas

As we crawl out of the other side of Christmas falling over a mound of tinsel, paper and dying mince pies, there is a sense of surprise, that we are still here.
The world hasn’t ended and we have to get on with the business of greeting the New Year.
Damn.





Round about this time of year, folks who never take any notice of what us humble populace want or like, suddenly want to share their thoughts with one and all.
Of course there is our own dear Queen, this year she was fluting away in those eggshell vowels of hers about the value of Sport.


Sport? When the Public sector in this country is collapsing into a series of savage cuts, we wanna take to the Sports fields? I don’t think so. Then there was the Pontiff, who also made a speech: let me see now, God is a good thing and he wants to hug us, the Pope that is. Note to self; if the Pope comes here again, avoid Papal hugs.

Last, our Prime Minister, dear Davy Cameron gave us all a kick in the pants by sharing his Christmas thoughts: basically ‘things are going to be tough’.
Really?

Us great populace would never have guessed, would we, after all, there is only the continuing downturn in the British economy, the continuing loss of jobs and the continuing rise in the price of consumer goods.



We do a lot of continuing over here in the UK you know, we continue to put up with it: we can’t even take to the streets and protest with the enviable flair that the French show in troubled times. Change the pension age? No way, ‘C’est la guerre mon ami!” and the streets of Paris fill up with angry citizens who bring the city to a standstill.

Us Brits have different priorities, we know what the real issues are, oh yeah .
So empathise with the lady in Kent who dialled 999 to report the theft of a snowman outside her house.
She had used pound coins for the eyes and teaspoons for the arms, and as she said herself
"It ain't a nice road but you don't expect anybody to nick your snowman."



The police didn’t see the funny side of that but I’m sure you lot do, so with that thought I’ll bid you all
A Happy New Year.

Yep.


6R49GQCPQ9P

My Long Johns ?

Some deluded folks think you can be a fashion plate in winter, keep warm and still be a Vogue cover girl
Not true – in winter the young ladies wander around in skimpy t-shirts and something my beloved calls a curtain pelmet, but is really a skirt.
Quite, but that’s blokes.



I came across an article by one of these deluded people, but she’s a journalist, which kind of says it all. The items in her wardrobe could send me on holiday, several holidays in fact, so I’m sure she can be a fashion icon.

Let’s face it, wanna keep warm, then you wrap up and look like a Michelin man (or woman) and wear a bobbly hat, or one of those creations with ear flaps.
Have I got such head gear, yes I have and it’s furry as well.

In countries where snow is a serious business, people dress to suit the climate, everyone looks like a rubber tyre on legs and you wear them thermal undies, yes you do, but no one makes jokes about your Long Johns.
Of course they think us Brits are staring mad, we can’t dress properly but if we want to look blue and pimply with cold, that’s our misfortune.




I agree with the journalist’s comment
‘When tempted by The Military Look, remind yourself You Are Not In A Fashion Shoot’ but need to think about her passion for red coats. Must be thinking of Father Christmas.
If you see a shortish person in long red coat and furry hat with flaps, flapping...
Then it might be me – or Santa.

Expecting a picture of said hat are you?
Live in hope

Yup.




Quotes from The Guardian - Saturday, 30 October 2010.

Winter of Discontent

I have given up with the coaxing of the garden, there is no more so I guess we are about to enter our Winter of Discontent.


There is no more in the Councils' money box.
Up and down the country, councils look for ways of saving money they haven’t got. If the Government believes these bods can save millions in the year, they are dreaming.

But that don’t stop the morons threatening us all with cuts that will be ineffective, and worse, harm us all.




A little chip here, another chip over there – and a few part- time jobs go in the trash can leaving kids without help in school, and some poor sod looses benefit. But still disabled, you know and no amount of Cameron’s clap-trap will restore life to dead limbs.
As these politicians trot back to their country homes, pick up their snotty children from school (private), do they worry about us?

Of course not, and I expect some bastard is still creaming cash off us tax payers to finance the lifestyle he/she enjoys.




What we should do is begin a campaign of UTWS.
Useless time-wasting suggestions to stop the Government in its tracks, it will be so busy the councils will be left in peace.
And let me be the first bod to put up a suggestion

‘All road signs should match the surrounding environs, for example signs should be colour toned with the autumn foliage, so that everything….’blends’, yeah, just blends.’

Good one, don’t you think?
Yep.

Act of Faith

As the garden closes down at this time of year, hard to believe that it will come back to life.
It is an Act of Faith to plant corms and bulbs, pushing them into the cold soil and watching the frost decimate the last few blooms before everything packs up for winter.

I’m not sure about the power of positive thinking, but willing to try.
Each bulb gets buried in the soil with an injunction to “Show up next Spring you bugger, or Else!”
They must be sitting there laughing at the idea - such optimism.





Wish I could say the same about the politics of this country – no Act of Faith will turn our present Government from their chosen path.

The Tories have reverted to their old beliefs, that a few swishes of the cane will make the feckless and undeserving poor, jump to it and work harder, without asking for help.
It’s in the DNA of the Tory party to implement stinging cuts in State Services, so the poor, the old, get less, of education, of health care, basic requirements.

For the Tories, it’s the same old song and they follow the path of their Ancestors.




Politicians use new phrases, but underneath, it’s the same animal; punish them all for needing help, those without a chance, don’t have any hope, you don’t deserve it.
And any one who does ask for benefit must be a scrounger.

Some are, but not all of us.

We can plant tulips and crocus for the Spring, keep some faith, and be optimistic.
A pity that our current masters can't offer anything at all.
Yep.

The Killing Zone

The garden has been taking a great deal of my time, and you can banish any ideas of gently communing with nature.
It's war, folks, just war – every time you go into a garden centre, guess where people head for?


The Killing Zone




The Killing department gives no concession to tree huggers, bee lovers, insect collectors, nope, don’t’ try to save the planet just eradicate the little critters. Buy your choice of poison and water all those lovely flowers.

I have yet to meet anyone who loves the lowly slug; if you do, don’t write to me, as I declared a holy war on the horrible mollusc some time ago.
Last year, the buggers destroyed practically everything I planted – so, stuff ‘em and throw blue pills everywhere.

With gardens, you don’t win it all – my sunflowers never got to their promised 10 feet and the butterflies have refused to visit me.
Ungrateful, I call it.
If the ladybirds don’t make use of the special house wot I have purchased, there is going to be trouble.

You think I can’t frighten a ladybird?





Think again.
Yep.

Oh Darling

I think I have just about recovered from the election campaigns – of course the Labour Party made whimpering noises, nothing new there. The feeling in Britain is that Labour deserved to lose, sometimes us taxpayers bite back.

(I won’t mention the low life that don’t..’pay’) Much.



'Your place or mine?"

However, us, the great unwashed electorate did not deserve the spectacle of the Tory (that’s your Republicans, you Yanks) leader, David Cameron practically kissing the Lib Dem leader every time a camera came near them.



No wonder Mr Clegg and his Lib Dems decided to be friends with the Tories, what fun, all those parties and freebies, yum yum, yum.



The Twins then made beaming noises at us and the Press, promising that a hung Parliament was NO problem at all, no no, no.


A week before that, Cameron was quoted as saying that it ‘would be a disaster’ for the country, just a complete disaster you know.

My, doesn’t the song change?


The television pundits nearly choked themselves with excitement, gazing avidly at reportage of the new alliance, chortling away.
“Look!” screeched one of them “Look! He’s patting Nick Clegg!” Yes, there was David patting Nick.
“Oh doesn’t that body language look amazing!” breathed another; if you get excited by two blokes gazing at each other, I guess it does.



The bravado and the hype have a short life, and when Davy and Nicky (I expect they are on buddy buddy terms by now) get down to the gritty stuff, we will find out if this pairing is going to work.



I suspect not, more so for the Liberal Democrats, who will get sidelined and largely ignored. Inter-Party squabbles will become commonplace.
And for the rest of us?



Life goes on much the same - Bills, bills, and more bills.
Yep.

Run for the Hills

Run for the hills, if you live in the UK right now. We are heading for several months of pre -election garbage and I don’t intend to be giving much space to any of the political mouthings in the future.




It promises to be a dispirited and lack lustre campaign on either side of the political fence, with a weary electorate who have seen the last 3 years plagued by economic doom, and the sight of empty spaces in the High Street.

Brown has begun making speeches that veer from ‘You never had it so good’ to ‘Give us a chance’ which is Labour‘s best effort and doesn’t deliver any hope whatsoever.

His opposite number, David Cameron, who comes from the old rich families so beloved by the Conservative party in this country, has been telling his party that it is their patriotic duty to throw the current government out.

No, he just wants the top job.




And there are the rest of us, trying to make our bank accounts balance (and failing) pay off our credit cards (and failing) and induce our beloveds to finish off those chores that have been hanging around for a few years (and failing).
Not being politicians, we are unable to make the bank manager believe that

a) We can claim it all as justifiable expenses

b) Make our beloved understand that his/her, prospects are in considerable danger if he/she, doesn’t pull a finger out.

Or have said finger pulled out, instead.



Find something else to enjoy for the next few months.
Bury your pot of gold in the garden and stock up on some good DVD’s. After all politics and reality seldom make good bedfellows.

Well, never actually

Yep.

One Onion, Two Parsnips

‘Nearly Spring’ I keep hearing - these folks must be in a state of delusion: I rush into the garden expecting to see an outburst of flowering plants. Do I see any such thing? No.
I have plants, but they are mostly non- flowering you know. Leaves yes, flowers, no.

As winter got going, I bought some ‘Winter Flowering Pansies’ Here is my picture of these wonders.




Not a flower in sight eh? They have been like that all winter. Producing leaves. Wonderful.
Still, mustn’t worry, plant some bulbs, yes, they got flowers: so I stuffed the bulbs into a couple of tubs.
Here is my picture of the tubs.





Nothing, zero, nada, bugger all - the greenery is one onion which started itself in my kitchen and two parsnips, likewise. If the daffs ever appear, they can fight it out between them.

The snow came down, didn’t mind that, at least it was quite pretty -when the white stuff melted away, I was gratified to see several green shoots in the garden, no flowers of course, but green leaves, oh yes.

However, on the next day, guess what? One lone snowdrop. Here is a picture of the snowdrop, in case the unbelievers amongst you, don’t believe me.




The snow came down soon after that, so the effect is ‘understated’, subtle, that’s the word I want. There are still things growing in the garden. Here is a picture of something growing in the garden.





No, I don’t what it might be, hafta wait and see won’t you?
Yep.

So 'Shut It...'

It would be a good idea for the pundits to shut it, at least for the next 6 months, as two major companies in the UK announce the loss of jobs in the thousands.
No one is going to cheer the experts on as they promise us a rosy, and wealthy economic outlook.



Eon chose to fabricate a jargon laden excuse for the sacking of their workforce in Essex, with a ‘suit’ blabbing away to camera. I’m sure he will continue to enjoy his company car, and his nice house in a good area, before he moves on to another position, with a nice car and a nice house….I guess you get the picture.

In harsh contrast, Cadbury fell to the mighty dollar as Kraft flexed their financial muscle, but the result was the same.A massive loss of jobs, and a loss of tradition as well.

Sad as that may be, tradition has no defence against the economics.



The same day, we were treated to our resident incompetent, Prime Minister Gordon Brown, assuring the House (and us) that the Government would do everything they could to ensure that the newly jobless would be given work experience so that they could all skip gaily on to the next job.

Use a space to think here, which is more than Gordon does – folks who have lost their job, do they need more work experience?

No. They need a job.

‘Simples’ as Aleksandr would say.



Work experience is the great con-trick of our time, it takes the unemployment figures down, and in six months time the so- called ‘experience’ comes to an end.

It’s back to the job centre as the politicians beam and pat themselves on the back, cos’ they are Doing something.
Goodness Gracious Me.

Yep.

Crash and Burn

I’m sure that everyone has finished Christmas with a credit card that is going ‘crash and burn’ all the way to the bank; but feeling quietly satisfied that they have acquitted themselves with honour in the prezzi department; like a friend of mine who is glowing smugly as her brother wanted a new bird feeder, and that’s what he got – the lucky blighter. Apparently he was thrilled.


Me myself? I am the proud owner of a new ‘hoodie’, it seems I fit the profile, and that’s all I’m saying. I do like the very long sleeves, so I can hunch my shoulders and scrunch my hands together, in approved anti-social mode.
Of course, the vivid stripes of pink and green do make one rather visible




However, I did hit the bull’s eye with this, yes, the glorious Sheep Shaggers’ beer; it made the perfect gift and I expect that the lucky recipient will write a heartfelt letter of thanks to Santa.

Best if he does, eh?

And before anyone replies with indignant and outraged protests about sheep, and their rights, let me assure you that I am very fond of sheep, I think they’re very sweet, and tasty as well.
That's as far as the interest in sheep goes, thank you

Lastly, here is a picture of my latest Hat, which will induce feelings of envy in all who see it. And a Happy New Year to you all.



Yep.