Hmmm...

At this time in my life I have only laughter and the wrath of the Gods to remind me I am still alive. Or as others call it, the Pigeons game. There are no other emotions left as the rest of the time I am asleep.

Now then, I'd like to think I have a keen eye for a joke, but of course in order to stay sharp one has to push the boundaries a little.

At this time I find myself contemplating a gag, a wheeze, a stunt, a lark which could be the stuff of legends, but could also go disastrously wrong. In fact you might say it's two larks in one. What are two larks in the hand worth? At least five or six in the bush? I don't know what the exchange rate is.

Do you find that even though there is a danger of disaster you sometimes have to see the joke through anyway cause otherwise you'll always be left wondering? Like should you urinate in a pint glass and leave it on the coffee table at a party for maybe someone really enormous to drink?

I've been thinking about this for some time now (not urinating in glasses). I've got what I think is a cracking idea in my head, but I may have built it up too much. What if it's not even funny? I have horrible visions of Violet Beauregarde in Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. John Wayne said that so it must be true. I'll keep you informed. I might wait until Suki and Ling Ling have been installed as heads of my personal medical staff. Best be on the safe side.

Boys will be boys

The thing is with these cage fighting children, if they weren't in that cage they'd be in an alley way somewhere in the north and how would we be able to watch it then? You'd have to be local wouldn't you. You'd have maybe twenty people there max. That's not even enough people to warrant a refreshment's van.

Kids have got to be given the latitude to be kids and to police themselves. To settle their own scores. It's playground rules. Just sometimes they need a bit encouraging. But a few CC's of steroids, a baying crowd of low IQ blokes, and a diet of twenty bottles of lucozade and fifteen mars bars a day never hurt anyone.

What annoys me is the people who are up in arms about these contests, outraged by their immorality, are the same people who voted for Jedward when they clearly were less talented the Krankies.

It wasn't just Jedward who will suffer long term emotional damage from their rise to fame. Everyone will suffer. At least with these wrestling children what happens in the ring stays in the ring. Er...so to speak.

So unless you want Jedward in that ring throwing about bitch slaps and bursting into tears half way through round one, or in fact two eight year olds from Doncaster performing on XFactor, just leave it alone. Let it go. LET IT GO.

Nurses Suki and Ling Ling a step closer

As my regular readers will be aware, I have been struggling for some weeks now to finance the immigration visa expenses of nurses Suki and Ling Ling who are as we speak twiddling their delicate thumbs and pouting their soft full moistened lips in the departure lounge of Shanghai Pudong International airport waiting for the off.

They will head my personal nursing staff and oversee all of my medical and bathing needs. Nurse Ling Ling has qualifications in all the western medical fields and also several ancient eastern techniques unknown to us here in the west involving mysterious pain alleviating fondling. Nurse Suki is skilled in the application of soothing ointments even under the influence of alcohol and opiates.


It is of course imperative they join me here as soon as possible. There really isn't a moment to lose.

The financing of their immigration bureaucracy was helped enormously last night as we enjoyed a significant return on our Tuesday night Carling Cup footballing wagers. In fact my numbers people estimate that if the same returns on Wednesday's investments are realised, both nurses Suki and Ling Ling could be wearing the uniform of the house by Saturday evening. Assuming of course the boots and little hats are a snug fit.

So this evening if Everton, Cardiff, Liverpool and Southampton could oh-blige me, by Saturday evening I could be slippery and pliable, reaping the medicinal rewards of the many many ancient Chinese balms and oils which have been known to reinvigorate the old and relieve the wheezy.

Doomed

For me if tennis players are considering striking, the time for us all here in the west to take some time out and really ask ourselves some searching questions about what is really important in life has long since departed.

Our inability now to apply even a degree of perspective to the smallest of our trials and tribulations represents an unrecoverable position for society. Reinforcing the long since held opinion of the blog that we are doomed.

You shouldn't really be able to play tennis even part-time. No one should be able to make money playing tennis. No one should be able to make money playing any sport really, but tennis especially.

What adverse conditions are tennis players facing that they're considering denying fat women sat at home in front of the telly the pleasure of perving over Rafael Nadal from behind an enormous tub of ice cream?

Is it too windy out? Oh do fuck off.

It's every man, woman and child for him, her and itself. Good luck everyone.

So anyway..Ouch!

So the dire consequences of nurses Suki and Ling Ling's continued delay in joining me here from China to head my personal medical staff were laid bare literally before me last week as I was pointlessly rushed into A&E by my mother where I sat for hours waiting to be admitted to their emergency surgical ward where I lay for a further 16 hours before having a hernia operation that had had me wincing and ooohing in pain since the previous afternoon.

I had just bought a pizza in fact, which I didn't get to even open. Had Suki and Ling Ling been present they would have been able to apply soothing ointment to my chest and genitals while they played twister on the special oily mat I have here for them, offering me an essential distraction from my groinal agony and preventing me from going into shock.

They would also have been able to accompany me to the hospital where I wouldn't have had to wait ten hours to get a sip of water. I won't go into the entire experience, but suffice is to say I pity anyone who has to use the NHS for anything serious. It doesn't work, which makes it pointless. Even an expensive health service would be better than a free one that didn't work.

Perhaps we'd take more responsibility for our health if we knew it would cost us a fortune if something went wrong. Either way that was an undignified experience in many many ways. Even if they had been wearing those red 'Do Not Disturb' Tabards, I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. Except maybe swing my cock catheter drainage bag at them.

I had occasion to vomit on a nurse called Georgie and I apologised for that as I didn't mean to. It was her last day as it happened. She was last seen pelting down the corridor in tears trying to put as much distance between us as possible and reapply some perspective to her life. Even if it wasn't her last day I suspect it would have been after having her chest drenched in my green stomach bile.

Don't you hate that when you're sick and it's just foul tasting stomach bile that comes up? I was really nauseous too. You know how you get when just moving will make you sick so even though you might be sick anyway you don't want to reach for a bowl cause that will definitely make you chunder. A nasty business.

I'm home now. Horrah. I'm not allowed to drive or lift anything heavy for a week, which is a shame as I was just in the mood to lift something really heavy. Also I can't eat anything that someone from Scotland might eat. Also my penis seems to be a bit left of central. Like there's a gentle breeze wafting it towards the east. I'm wondering if they might have prodded a bit too much back in? Perhaps it'll straighten out when the swelling goes down.

The only positives I can draw from this is that this week's Carling Cup wagers will return such a profit that Suki and Ling Ling could be with me in time to remove my dressing and begin my physiotherapy which according to their emails I won't be able to begin until I lift both legs above my head.

I'd had that hernia since I was 18 you know. It was a femoral hernia, which apparently is rare and usually only occurs with women. I had a woman's hernia. Funny how things occur. One minute you're ordering pizza the next minute your bowels are strangulating and then someone called Mike with a beard is pushing a tube into your cock. This must be how it feels to be a Liberal Democrat.

We're doomed people. You can't rely on anyone for anything no more. It's every man for himself. Good luck everyone.

On a more positive note, my new sofa will arrive on Thursday.