What?!

I'm riding on a wave of fury and so I think tonight it's possible to finish this story once and for all time (until the inevitable film).

Last time we saw PC Geist he was in a alcohol-fueled daze following Big Chief Hairyback's curious incident in the strip club. With Big Daddy's, and now Big Chief Hairyback's wives missing, presumed hilarious.
Geist got ahold of the chief and dragged him out into the street. His mighty viking helmet was badly askew. His mighty war-axe had had to be abandoned, wedged in a street sign that "LOOKED AT ME FUNNY". His mighty horse, Chonsy, was similarly inebriated, so Geist dragged the immobile Chief to the nearest airport and booked them a flight to JFK airport, New York City. It was time to wrap up this tale.
While they waited for their flight, Geist called the police force in NYC to let them know he'd need a couple of rooms for a few nights, he couldn't think straight with all this alcohol in him i mean I'm njot a bloody travel agent wtf? Anyway they picked up the phoen and the bloody story continues...

"Yee haw this is the NYPD, this is Officer Rachel Prejudice, how can I help you?"

He hung up.

The rest of the police force arrived within the hour. PC Panto had finished whatever he was doing (insert something hilarious later, sure I won't forget) and had booked enough room in a NYC travel inn for him and his supporting players as well as the stage and sound crew and a pantomine horse. Officer Chuckles wasn't allowed on flights for safety reasons, so he would have to fly his way across the Ocean on a single balloon squeezed into the shape of a nice doggy. Also along for the trip were the other two characters in this story, making a grand return from early editions of Let Thy Words By Furious were Big Daddy and his assistant Pissingham, who had luckily already booked a flight. The mighty host was assembled. Next stop: The Sequinned Rim.

OH EM GEE it's liked over a year ago the author planned this to be an amazing return to the beginnings of the entire blog.

After 8 hours of flight-banter, the police force were thoroughly sick of one another. And life. #Standardflight

"Who did you leave in charge of the village police department, Chief?" asked Big Daddy, reasserting his position as a main character.
"Well, young man", replied Hairyback, in between throwing up his guts over the stewardess, Sarah. "It was either Captain Morgan or my song, Hot'n'Cold Running Water"
"...Did you say song?" queried Big Daddy, raising one monogrammed eyebrow.
"Yes, but I am quite drunk so forgive the bad typing....I mean talking" replied the Chief. "Anyway as I couldn't decide I just in the end set fire to the police station and let mob rule take over!"

They arrived at JFK without further incident. When they landed all the people without respect for themselves clapped loudly, proving what muppets they were. They were soundly jeered by those fliers who were better than them. Morons.

Anyway so all the people got off the plane and went to the Sequinned Rim to look for clues. Big Chief was very glad to get to a drinking establishment as by then he was vaguely starting to remember who he was. As he helped prop up the bar, Geist floating around asking the patrons questions pertaining to the plot.
"Wanna buy some deathsticks?" asked one shady character.
"Fuck off".

"Officer Geist!" called a gruff voice from across the room. Geist was perturbed, as he had adopted a careful disguise as Nearly-Headless Nick from Star Trekk.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The person who talked threw back his hood and cackled insanely, showing gnarled teeth and a manic look in their distant eyes.
"Chief Hairyback? Why are you here? I thought Panto had taken you back to the Premier Inn to get some sleep?"

Suddenly, something plot-relevent happened!

"Hey you, the ghost policeman over there!"

GASP

"How did you know I was a policeman?" asked Geist, holding the ruffian by his beefy neck.
"There's no time for that!" he replied with a cry, as the window behind us exploded into a storm of glass shards. The man in Geist's grip was cut to pieces by the blizzard of glass, but luckily Geist was left unharmed because, for those who have been paying attention, he is a ghost.
The popular nightclub was transformed into a scene from a horror movie as several other patrons were thrown from their feet by the exploding window-pane. I heard the sound of a car speeding off into the night, but as I was the narrator there wasn't much I could do about it! I let Geist and the other coppers know about it though.

Geist, Big Daddy and Pissingham burst out into the street just in time to see the perpetrator's speed off in what looked suspiciously like a car.
"How are we going to catch the kidnappers now?!" cried Big Daddy.

That was when something amazing happened.
Officer Chuckles tumbled from the sky on the end of a poodle-shaped balloon. Geist had never seen such a beautiful, avenging angel of death. He fell like a metiorite and luckily landed in the back of his custom-built clown-Lamborghini and the quiet New York evening was split by the round of it's banging engine erupting into a million-horsepower pursuit! Then the inevitable happened. After about two seconds the clown-Lanborghini's wheels fell off and Officer Chuckle's seat ejected into the air with a no-doubt hilarious clown-noise.

But the chase continued as the trusted drunk, Captain Morgan, returned from previous-blog-obscurity and gave chase through the streets in his customised Pirate Ship, the 25A to Chiddinsburgh! Such an exciting pursuit I cannot even describe (due to laziness) but needless to say it ended in the 25A to Chiddinsburgh firing a harpoon at the kidnapper's car and running them to ground!

Geist was right behind the Pirate Ship, galloping along on Hairyback's faithfull horse, Choncy. Somehow, Big Daddy, Pissingham and Officer Panto were all on board the horse in a nice Pony-side-car. They drew up alongside the kidnapper's car where it had stopped, carefully parked. A shadowy figure leapt from the driver's seat and tried to make a break for it, but Geist used his Dream Eater attack and got a Critical! (He's a ghost) The figure collapsed in an untidy heap!

As Big Daddy prised open the boot of the car, he discovered his beautiful wife Shaniqua, as well as Chief Hairyback's wife Morag Bigknockers. What joy!

Geist approached the crumpled figure he had disabled and pulled off his terrifying mask (that until now I had not mentioned he was wearing)! It was none other that JASPER! FROM THE FLASHBACK!

"Why, Jasper?!" ejaculated Geist.
"Because I was cast as a mere extra in a flashback, that had no point to it!" retorted Jasper, the man from the lobby of the Travel Inn. "And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling police!"

Officer Panto and the Crew emerge to bow to the audience followed by encore

THE END.

There. I finished something. I feel all that bit more of a man. Hope you enjoyed!

It's all the bitches are talking about...Blog 29...and my muscles

I performed a live reading of my last post to an excited all-female audience the other day, and as I proudly re-read my work to her, it became apparent I made quite a few spelling and grammatical errors. I was thinking privately: what was I drinking?! I'll not make that mistake again!

This time I know exactly what I'm drinking.

I was very proud of the unfolding epic drama I began last time, but I'm not one to rest on my laurels (as my bed is much more comfortable). Looking back over all the posts I've written, the one thing I've noticed is that none of the little stories I write have satisfying endings! It's as if I just give up, as if I'm unable to finish what I begin, leaving my audience feeling dissatisfied and and unwanted...

No wonder I'm single :(

It's time to throw this record to the four winds and so without further ado I present to you Part 2 of...

PC Peter Geist and the Mysterious Carrying On of the story...

As you no doubt remember, PC Geist was just visiting the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland on a whim that his evil nemesis, Governor Tortilla, would use it to create a black hole even larger than one of the gaping holes in the plot so far. In the meantime Chief Hairyback and Officer Chuckles were fighting their way through October Hurricanes to Ghana, where Chuckles was hoping to be reuinted with his birth-parents, a couple of Giraffes. Before they could meet however, they were whisked away on an all-expenses paid trip to the Hubbel Telescope and after looking through it they glimpsed a vision that chilled their blood! They looked across the galaxy and on a distance planet many millions of lightyears away they were able to get a glimpse through the bathroom window of Mrs Regina Weatherly as she was taking a shower!
Meanwhile, Big Daddy and Pissingham, three years in the past, had just left the Sequinned Rim nightclub (or might have been a bar) and were trying to advance the plot with a much-loved flashback!

So where was I... So Big Daddy and Pissingham were on their way out of the Sequinned Rim and I vaguely recall they were looking for someone's brother. I really don't remember, but what I do remember is what's happened after this flashback so let's do less explaining and more plot-continuation!

They left the bar, with the words of whoever they'd been talking to still ringing in their ears (but it may well have been the phat beats being played in the establishment). The original plan had been to check out a number of other bars looking for whoever the fuck they were meant to be looking for, but Pissingham was feeling pretty unwell after the whole series of events that we all remember just happened, so Big Daddy took him back to their hotel and put him to bed, before running a bath for himself.
Shit!
They were out of Muscle Relax Bubble Bath. This day was going from bad to worse. Big Daddy cursed to himself that Smartphones hadn't been invented yet, and left the room and ran down to the lobby to ask a local where the nearest shop that sold Bubble Bath was.
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know", said the crazed New Yorker (not sure why he was crazed), "just please put some clothes on first!"
"I don't have time to get dressed", explained Big Daddy, "surely at this time of night the Bubble Bath emporiums are all closed!"
"What are you talking about? It's 3:00 in the afternoon!" said the confused local man, scratching his bonnet.
"Well where I come from it's 11:00pm!" replied our hero.
"Where's that?!" gasped Jasper. He's been given a name now because he's becoming the pivotal conversationalist in this chapter of the story. He might even accompany Big Daddy on his way to the shops! Fuck it, it's happening and you can live with it! But how to fit him in? Hmm -

"Say old man, want to come with me to the Bubble Bath shop?"  asked Big Daddy
"Sounds delightful!"

That was easy.

Big Daddy and Jasper decided to take a taxi downtown to the Bubble Bath capitol of the world....erm....Tubs'r'us. Predictably it was also a food outlet for plus-size women. Getting out of the taxi, Big Daddy regretted instantly coming out in nothing but a towel, as a gust of wind sent it fluttering away into a nearby tree. He turned to Jasper and apologised for his flatulence.

Ten excitement-filled minutes later they found their way to the bubble bath section. Unfortunately it was right between the ice cream section and the gossip magazines, so they had to force their way through several middle aged obese women to reach their target of the muscle relaxing bubble bath. Several outraged grunts and broken bones later, the pair got ejected from the establishment by the gruff, bearded, tattoed proprieter: Maude.

It was this recolection that was perambulating through Big Daddy's mind as, many years later, Peter Geist and Officer Panto knocked at his back door (oo-err Mrs!). He thought it was a flashback he might return to later, depending on how he was feeling at the time and whether he could think of an actual point to make it worth while.
Anyway the reason the police were knocking at his back door was because his front door had broken so he had to take it out of the frame and replace it with the back door which was in perfect working order. The fault front door was now lying on it's side in the back garden, which was now of course the front garden. Luckily not many people could see the front garden now as it was round the back of the house.

Big Daddy opened the door (back door, for reference) and Peter Geist and PC Panto could see he had been crying. All the signs were there: tears coming out of the eyes. That was it. He'd been a policeman long enough for that to be all he needed.
"Is this a good time?" asked Geist, "because if you're feeling emotionally fragile I'd rather come back when I don't have to deal with your anxieties".

To cheer up Big Daddy, Officer Panto struck up a rousing (and slightly A-rousing) verse or two of "If I were not in pantomine". After the song and dancing was over, Big Daddy sat the two officers down and a deeply tedious story about New York, but as it sounded like it contains a few important plot points, they were forced to listen. Officer Panto had to leave for a costume change and while he was out, Big Daddy leant across the table to Geist and whispered low in his ear "your flies are undone".
Giest nodded knowingly, and adjusted himself accordingly.

After leaving Big Daddy's handsome abode, Geist turned to Panto, glancing back once at the house. Panto was young and yet to secure even the most minor of roles on Broadway or in the West End, but he could tell something was bothering the ghostly detective. "What is it, sir?"
Geist looked him in the eyes for one second, then looked away, almost embarassed, as if the moment had never happened. "Never mind lad. I've just got a....feeling."

He floated away towards the busstop and Panto gazed after him, then whispered to himself (and the audience) "He's so....complex!"

That evening Geist was continuing to play the brooding detective character so he went to a bar full of lowlifes that he enjoyed to frequent. The barman eyed him suspiciously, while stereotypically drying a pint glass with a dirty rag as Geist entered. "We don't usually get many spirits coming in here!" he declaired in his deep manly voice as Geist floated onto a stool.
"Then get me a pint lager", replied the police officer sulkily. (Note. That was an effing clever joke there, so appreciate it!).
"Will water do? I have hot and cold running water. Only the best for my clientelle!"

Suddenly the bar door banged open with a bang!

"Did someone say they'd seen my son?!" bellowed Big Chief Hairback as he pushed his way through the mess he'd made of the door, as well as the couple of students who had been seated nearby sipping alcopops like a couple of nancy-boys.
"Chief! What are you doing here?" ejaculated Geist, spraying his lager all over the less-than-appreciative barman, who, thanks to being mentioned more than once, has been named Eoghan (pronounced Owen).
"I was pretending to look for my son, but since I'm here, time for a drink!"
"Right! So you do know where your son is then?"
"Absolutely!" roared Hairyback. "He's out looking for his mother and my wife" (name forgotten) 
"Why? Is she missing?"
"Absolutely!"

The plot thickens.

Get Ready with Big Daddy (Dedicated to Zoe Sugg) and Halloween Police and the Tale of Big Daddy

This edition I've decided to go for something different. Rather than tell 100% true stories from my life, and as a result of recently being introduced to the work of Miss Zoe Sugg on Youtube, I've performed my own Beauty-themed extravaganza for you all to enjoy! We hired a handsome model to pose for the shots so I was able to retain my anonymity. Prepare yourselves!

STEP ONE
First things first when I wake up, it's all about getting rid of that morning breath. If you've been necking back shots alone attending a private party then you're gonna wake up with some bare-bad breath and I find the best way to combat this is brushing them pearly whites. I favour Colgate. Also remember that if you brush your teeth you your dentist will give you stickers, which the ladies love!

No lady can resist a winning smile, and by flossing you can achieve this if you keep at it, but if you're about to go out and you need your hollywood smile in an instant, I also find Tip-ex works well! Plus then people can get high off kissing you, which means everyone's a winner!

Only a buffoon would leave the house without first applying some deodorant! Enormous sweat-patches go down as well as Jimmy Saville in a Paediatrics Wing, so lads make sure you apply that anti-perspirant!


I've decided to put "Getting Ready with Big Daddy" on hold whilst I take a look back at the roots of this blog. The rest of this post will be an omage to that exciting era in blogging, where no-one, not even myself, knew what was coming next!

I present: PC Peter Geist and the Case of the Mysterious Baggage Claim at Heathrow Airport.

One dark stormy night in the little town of Cricklebury, Police Constable Peter Geist (hilarious pun on poltergeist) was floating around the graveyard when a call came in over the radio.
"Hello? Can I do a shout-out for my wife Shaniqua, who's pregnant with our first child Ironica?" said the voice on the other end. "Also, can you play anything by Coldplay?"
"I've told you before, Big Daddy, please use this frequency for emergencies only - but I will do your shout-out! Where is your lovely wife this evening?"
"That's why I was calling Po-Po FM", replied Big Daddy, "I don't know where my wife is! She's been missing for the last week. Officer Panto came round this morning but all he did was shout "She's behind you!" and it wasn't all that helpful. I looked, but she just wasn't behind me! Then the Officer was chased away by a large pantomine horse and I never heard back from him!"

PC Geist's interest was instantly aroused. Big Daddy's wife Shaniqua was famous throughout the vallies of Wales and had once battled the great sorcerer Tom Jones on the hill of Trwnydyddlemukyilon for the much-coveted position of one of the judges on The Voice.

"I'll look into it, Mr Daddy", said the PC and told his assistant, Pissingham, to take over DJ-ing Po-Po FM (live from the Cricklebury Graveyard)  as he took the next bus to the police station. Ever since Big Daddy had incredibly solved the mystery of whatever he was doing in the first couple of stories I wrote about him (cannot remember or be bothered to check) and settled down to live the good life with the beautiful Shaniqua, Pissingham had begun living his dream as a character in a further blog of mine.

The next bus to arrive at Geist's stop was the notorious Dead Man's Hand, a creepy pirate ship captained by none other than the infamous alcoholic pirate - Captain Morgan! His was a crew of inebriates for which AA meetings were a faraway dream! They kept half the neighbourhood up with roaring laughter and off-tune karaoke parties that would have made Pierce Brosnan wince! When they weren't pissed as a fart, they openly challenged passers-by to freestyle disco dance-offs. Few of those challenged survived the experience without contracting serious dance fever.

"One single to the Police Station please, Captain!" declared the Constable.
"Certainly, officer!" replied the vicious rogue. "No officer Chuckles this evening?"
"No, sadly he was driving his ridiculously small car after a fleeing perp the other day, and when he pulled the fella over and the entire police force got out the car, the entire vehicle fell apart in a hilarious fashion. Luckily Chuckles was able to throw a bucket of glitter over the chief and and that difused the situation".
Captain Morgan raised one crooked eyebrow. "What about the other motorist? The one you were chasing?"
"Officer Panto gave chase offstage and we lost sight of both of them".

One pirate-ship ride later and PC Peter Geist (poltergeist remember! He is a ghost) arrived at Cricklebury police station and walked up the path to the front door. He cursed as he stepped in a puddle, ruining his shoes. He reached out to the door handle but his ghostly hand were straight through it! He sometimes forgot he was a ghost because as a character he'd only just been thought up, ain't continuity a bitch!
Luckily some well-established characters were just coming out of the police station, it was Ben G. Phresh and his life partner Mark Chubb!

*Canned Applause!*

"Well hello there fellas!" said Geist "last time the readers saw you two was many blogs ago in the swanky New York nightclub The Sequinned Rim. What have you been up to since?"
"G'day officer", replied Ben (of 'G. Phresh' fame), "Well quite frankly I could tell you what transpired in Quebec, and how I got my nickname 'meat-chimney', but the writer hasn't gotten around to thinking of why any of the above happened!"
"Well it's always a pleasure to see well-loved characters make a cameo in more recent blogs! Hope to see you two soon!"

Since Ben G. Phresh and Mark Chubb had opened the door, PC Geist could then float into the lobby. Going right through the lobby without stopping to talk to anyone (as there were too many distracting tangents to be caught up in), Geist floated along the corridor to the chief's office. Big Chief Hairyback had been Police chief for as long as his pet goldfish could remember.
"Ah, PC Geist!", bellowed Hairyback. If you need a mental image of what this guy looks like, this Brian Blessed but with a policeman's hat on. "Come in and meet my wife Morag Bigknockers and our son, Hotncold Running Water".

You get the idea.

What felt like hours later, but had in fact been a fortnight, our ghostly hero left the station on the hunt for Shaniqua. Having emerged from his dressing room after the intermission, Officer Panto was by his side. Geist would have preferred to have his old friend Officer Chuckles with him on this case, but apparently he had just had an accident after climbing all the way to the top of a rickety stepladder when he'd fallen into a hastily erected paddling pool.
"So we're searching for the beautiful Welsh prostitute, Shaniqua?" he all-but shouted to the audience.
"That's right, Panto", I replied.
Geist and Panto looked around, confused. That's because I, the writer, had suddenly spoken...


....carry on Geist!


"THAT'S right, Panto!" declared Geist. He wasn't in the best of moods.  Big Chief had kept him at the station until the wind had whispered the correct course of action to him (and with a woman as gassy as Morag Bigknockers around it was quite difficult what the wind was trying to tell us, except that she needed to consider a less meaty diet!). He also wasn't all that fond of Panto. Sure, the kid was a good enough policeman, but every so often he would stop to throw sweets into the audience or start singing "If I were not in Pantomime". Geist was starting to think his mind was too occupied with remembering his lines and not doing his...erm....LINE?!

Geist and Panto decided to get the number 128 bus to the Burley Estate, where Big Daddy and Shaniqua lived. As they were waiting at the bus stop, an evil-smelling old crone appeared from the shadows, cackling insanely and holding out a rosey red apple. Geist wouldn't have seen her approach were it not for the audience of children booing and hissing, as well as shouting out "She's behind you!". Panto whirled around, his face the picture of shock and surprise!
"Mother!?" he gasped.
"Yes dear", soothed Mother Panto, "You left this apple behind when you left the house this morning. You know what they say: an apple a day keeps the doctor away!"
"But Mother, that's only because he's traumatised from when his wife was run over by a greengrocer's lorry!"

If Geist had thought Captain Morgan's foul ship of sorrows was a hell on earth, he hadn't prepared himself for the grim reality of public transport. As he drifted into a seat, a mad old woman who'd chained herself to the railing in a Suffragette-esque protest to Robin Thicke's music career, shouted "ONE TWO EIGHT, BURLEY ESTATE!". Clearly this was some kind of macabre pilgrimage they had embarked upon. A gang of urban youths at the back were making battle with an epic-beard-man. The bus bent in the middle like some daemonic acordeon and I was pretty sure the driver was being assisted by some form of Wookie. Panto and I knew we were in for the ride of a lifetime, so we both disguised ourselves as escapees from an insane asylum, and blended into the crowd.

As the bus neared our destination, the Daddy Household, I nodded once to Panto and we executed our well-thought-out escape plan. I simply stepped through the window of the bus (after shattering it with the safety hammer). Panto didn't have my ghostly powers, but luckily he did have at his disposal a fully-trained stunt crew and a stage support rig so he was safely able to jump out of the open door of the moving bus, lifted by wires...and land on the other side of a nearby block of flats.

We arrived at the front door of Big Daddy's abode. Something reeked of evil, but to be honest Geist was pretty sure it was one of Morag Bigknocker's lingering woofters. Big Daddy himself opened the door and from the look on his face, I could tell that this case was only just beginning...



Next time on Getting Ready with Big Daddy....



You'll have to wait and see!

PostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPostPost

My recent thoughts:

My children's names are going to Ironica, so I can say everything she says is ironic; and Bruce Willis.

I want to make a television show called Keeping up with Big Daddy. Kind of in the spirit of Keeping up with the Kardashians but also a mashup of Catch Me If You Can. The only bit I've worked out is how the Police will eventually catch me (for illegally high levels of handsomeness). They'll have to hire Gillian McKeith as a kind of evil sniffer dog. My diet of pizza and energy drinks unfortunately will be easy to track for a manure-expert like her! 

Why can't people just bloody drive properly? I mean it's not diffcult to stay in the lines and indicate where appropriate, whilst at the same time drive at a sensible speed! AND by sensible I do NOT mean <40mph on a country road! When will the driving-law-makers make it acceptable for someone stuck behind a slow person to beep and flash them until they speed up or pull over?! 

So as it's October, people this year have been brainwashed by the media or some hippies into giving something up...and I'm always one to jump on a bandwagon! I've decided to give up pizzas for the month. It'll be tough but my bowels will, I'm sure, be glad of the rest! I've rather buggered myself as I'm going out to an Italian restaurant that does excellant calzones tomorrow night! Truly I am being tested!

After being put down my whole life (by people who, I now realise were just jealous) I've decided to start my own singing career! I was singing to 'Up There' from the South Park Movie (a very moving song) in the car on the way home yesterday and my 'friend from the neighbourhood' secretly recorded it and played it back to me today and I thought at first it was the actual song! I'm not just blowing my own trumpet (especially not at this hour!) as she also said it was excellant singing. I've been told in the past my kareoke skills are off the rail. I was belting out some Wrecking Ball in the shower and think I may do a cover of it.

Speaking of people, the last two days driving into work, we passed the local primary school and my 'friend from the neighbourhood' was literally gobsmacked by the ugliness of one of the mums. She was literally like 'oh my god look at that dog!' and other things to that effect. We need to roll on by with 'Who Let the Dogs Out' blaring next time. 

Also been introduced to the term 'fail whale' this week. If you want to use this yourself, just wait until someone fails, and go 'ooh did you see that fail whale swim by?' Reminds me of the great time I was in New York and was introduced not only to some lovely ladies from Chicago but they brought with them the exotic phrase 'awkward turtle' which me and my 'friends from the neighbourhood' brought back to England. Official. It's basically a way for you to tell someone silently that a moment is awkward, and multiply the awkwardness by ten because everyone else knows what it means.

That's enough to be getting on with!

Gillian McKeith

Excitement is in the air! Somebody open a window!

So I had to drop off my friend and work-colleague in the middle of Lewes today and I dropped her off on the pavement and noticed the way back was choc-a-block with cars. Sod that for a laff, I heartily exclaimed (in my head, I'm not a mental-case) and decided to keep going in the direction I was going and hope for the best. Who knows, I might discover a shortcut!
20 miles later and after a 20 minute journey became a 45 minute one, I pulled up onto my drive.
I judged the course unsuccessful and will consequently berate it in my monthly pamphlet "Shortcuts in Sussex Monthly".

...However...

It happened to be one of the most enjoyable drives I've had in quite some time! Once I'd fought my way out of Lewes, the open road beckoned, not my usual route of country roads being stuck up the backside of some cunt who can't push the pedal down far enough to go over 40mph.
I filled up on petrol in Lewes (I could almost hear my overdraft groaning on the wind) and put the pedal to the metal (literally!). I finished my day job at 5pm and was meant to drive home and start my evening job at 6pm, so on Tuesday's I am usually a bit pushed for time. This evening's 'dinner' consisted of an All Day Breakfast sandwich and a can of Monster Energy from the tesco petrol kiosk! Needless to say it was a delicious meal and I was able to scoff and guzzle whilst sitting in traffic. Rather than keep me up all night, all Monster seems to do is make me buzzing for about an hour then I happily escape the tiredness afterwa -zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

So I might partly contribute my jolly drive to the fact I was bellowing out some banging hits by the likes of Billy Joel and Eric Clapton whilst flying down the wide empty roads of East Sussex! It felt like the sort of wild roadtrip I used to enjoy before the price of petrol became more important than living life to the fullest! For about 20 minutes I had no idea where I was, and almost texted my evening manager saying "I might be late...I don't know where I am" which is the perfect excuse!

Whilst delivering pizzas in my evening job capacity I thought of the excellant idea of getting together some musically gifted friends of mine and performing a tribute to one of my all-time favorite bands, the Saturdays! I think we'd be fierce! It could raise much money for charity!

The only other important thing that happened whilst I was at work was I pulled up at the house, got out my car and some foxy blonde woman, who happened to be walking by, gave me a dazzling smile as she passed by. Score! It must be the ten-minute jogs I've been doing daily for the past two days!

Speaking of head-turners, I uncovered my phresh Nicki Minaj t-shirt from amongst my mountain of tshirts and strutted my stuff around work with it on. Everyone was impressed! A gent from legal said "Every time I see you you're in a different snazzy tshirt! Do you have a whole wardrobe for them?"
He's closer to the truth than he realises! When a friend and I were sorting my clothes out at the start of the year, we did have to seperate the normal t's from the 'novelty' ones that say hilarious things like 'Nice Pear' and 'Bro's B4 Ho's'. I just can't say no! I can only hope I find my Dr Dré top before work tomorrow morning!

In a tight negative turn, I'm finding myself having to address some people who have bothered me on twitter. I will preserve their dignity by not revealing names, but they'll know who they are.

Exhibit 1 tweeted "Just got some Paracetamol for 19p, what a bargain!". Less than nobody is interested in this! Also said something about getting a headache from the nostalgic feelings that being back at college was bringing on. This just doesn't happen. But I guess there are people who just mass-tweet everything and this person isn't the only one.

Perhaps the one that annoyed me slightly more was the person who goes off travelling and then says "It'll be interesting to see who bothers to stay in touch!" As if we're the one's being the bad friends by not coming with them! But then they took a picture of themselves in beachwear with the caption "Bit cheeky!" This I just don't get. How is it cheeky if you're the one putting it up? If someone else put the picture up of them without permission, THAT could be described (at the very least) as a bit cheeky! But how is it cheeky if you've clearly given your own permission as it's your own picture?!

It reminds me of when I had a go at someone who took a selfie with an expression that looked confused as to why a picture of them was being taken WHEN IT WAS THEM TAKING IT.

Also what's the point in scowling in a photo? Why would you try to look threatening and agressive? Then again I guess I didn't really grow up in da hood. I hear in prison you have to be tough or you'll end up as dropped-soap collector.

I won't include any written story this time as the viewership has tumbled in recent posts, much to my sadface as I do enjoy writing them, but maybe it would be better to simply start up a new dedicated blog for them rather than try and balance the two things?

I've heard the recent song by Macklemore called 'Same Love' and I'd definately recommend it! It's all about homophobia, and is a really good tune as well. Another excellant song I've purchased lately is 'Hold On, We're Going Home' by Drake. I wouldn't claim to be a big fan: I couldn't name any of his other songs; but I really like the vibe of this track!

Hope you enjoyed reading this!

Gorgeous!

Part two of the Zombie Apocalypse

     As a muffled dial tone droned from my mobile phone from where it lay on the carpet, I opened my desk drawer, rooting around desperately. There were no more sounds from inside the house, only the frenzied car alarms from outside. In my panic there were all I could think about. What was going on?
     I found what I was looking for and pulled from the drawer an old penknife. I selected the largest blade - still no longer than my finger - and took a slight comfort from the familiar feel of it in my grip.
     I gingerly made my way out of my bedroom and started down the stairs, aware that a creaking floorboard could give away my presence to...whatever was downstairs. I felt like my beating heart was as loud as a train rushing through a station at full speed.
     At the bottom of the stairs was the entrance to the kitchen and to the right of that was the doorway into my small living room. From where I was I couldn't see into the entrance-hall from where the sounds had come from. A slight breeze reached me, confirming my fears that I definately had left the front door wide open in my haste.
     My brow was damp with sweat by the time I reached the entrance-hall, my trainers tread quietened by the thick red shag carpet. Apart from some muddy scuff-marks on the floor, there were no signs of any intruder, but I knew I wasn't alone. More than the crash I had heard from my bedroom and the glimpse of movement I had spotted by the flash of streetlamp light, I felt in my bones that someone, or something, was in my house. I wasn't safe in my own home.
     The tiny blade on my hand was my only defence but agaist a real-life threat I didn't know if I could bring myself to use it. I forced my breathing to slow down as I approached the kitchen door.
     Now that I was closer, I could make out a shuffling sound from the other side of the door. it was slightly ajar, but all beyond it was in darkness. Odd that whoever had entered had not thought to turn on the light. Probably trying to remain undetected. Very slowly I reached out to the door with my left hand, with my right clutching the penknife tightly.
     Suddenly I stopped. If this trespasser was trying to be stealthy, surely that plan failed had failed the second I heard the loud crashing sound? Why also would they choose to break into a house in the middle of the night when the owner was clearly home and awake? Perhaps there were more than one of them and they thought that anyone home wouldn't be a problem for them to incapacitate?
     As I was pondering tis disturbing train of thought, a strong gust of wind from outside caught the front door and slammed it open, banging against the wall inside. It shattered the eery quiet that had settled in the house, but what happened next was much worse.
     I intruder burst through the gap in the open kitchen door in a furious blur of mangy ginger fur. I yelled in surprise and alarm, jerking back - right into the grasping arms of the dark figure that had been advancing on me from out of the lounge.


Hope you enjoyed that! They'll be more or the usual, plus the next installment, soon!

The First Steps of an Epic Zombie Adventure, With added food for thought.

The opening to a zombie story I've been inspired to write by The Walking Dead, Zombieland, and Shaun of the Dead. Hope you like it.


I woke up in my bed like any average morning, but that was as far as the normality went. The sun wasn't shining through the curtains and I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It stared back, telling me it was only 04:30.
I groaned and kicked the duvet off me, rolling out of bed and looking out at the street, In the distance a car alarm began blaring, breaking the morning quiet. A shape caught my eye. At the end of the garden, where my drive met the street, lay a crumpled bundle of rags. The nearest streetlight flickered on and off intermittently and I couldn't make out what I was looking at.
Without warning, a shadowy shape rushed out of the shadows by the bins and made a beeline for the heap of whatever-it-was. A fox! I didn't relish the idea of going outside to investigate, but it sat better with me than leaving it the fester until morning. I didn't think I'd be getting back to sleep anyhow.
It wasn't warm outside in the garden, so I threw on some jeans and a tshirt before unlocking the front door. As soon as I took my first step outside the smell hit me. My first thought was that someone had left a load of spoiled meat lying on the pavement. The fox was sniffing around the corpse.
It was a corpse.
I was only a couple of metres away and suddenly it was obvious it was a dead body. My mind just emptied at that moment. What the hell was a body doing here? A hundred other questions filled my head as quickly as my thoughts had fled. I wasn't tired anymore.
I turned on my heel and fled back into the house, getting to a phone my only thought. My mobile was on my bedside table next to my alarm clock. As I dashed upstairs, taking them two-at-a-time, as second car alarm began calling out, adding it's voice to the first. On the edge of hearing, I also thought I heard the sound of breaking glass from down the street.
I snatched the phone up and dialed 999 with shaking hands. As I held the handset to my ear, I walked back over to the window and peered out into the dark. The street was empty.
I strained my eyes trying to see into the gloom, but there was no sign of the corpse or the fox. The beast couldn't have dragged it off - did I imagine the whole episode? The dodgey flickering streetlight illuminated the scene for a split-second.
Something moved out of sight below my window, towards the front door. In my panic I'd left it wide open.  At that same moment the phone line in my hand went to a recorded message.
I heard a crash from downstairs.


END

Obviously not the end, but just for now. I do plan on carrying on with this one, as I do with all the character's I've written about, right back to the adventures of Big Daddy and Pissingham. Hope you enjoyed it!


In other unrelated news...


I'm going to try and remain positive for this post, and steer clear of subjects like Robin Thicke, Simon Cowell, and Syria.

Firstly I want to talk about Jameela Jamil (Jam-Jam). This week Radio One had a 'Reboot' event all Monday afternoon, where each DJ got one hour of broadcasting chosen randomly. It made an interesting change to the usual schedule and also offered me my first real experience of Jamil. I'd seen her featured in several girly gossip magazines....by 'seen' of course I mean told about by friends - so I knew already she was very glamorous and beautiful. Normally I only listen to Radio one from 9-5 at work on weekdays so I've never heard her Sunday evening programme, but I really warmed to her broadcasting personality in the hour she was on during the Reboot. Many excellant beats were played too! She just seemed very genuine, not taking herself too seriously, and I fancy she'd be great fun to know!

Also up on my list of appreciation (might make that a regular occurence) is US actor Lloyd Bridges. I recently had an Airplane! and Hot Shots! marathon so got a generous helping of Bridges in these classic comedies. In Airplane! he plays Steve Mckrosky, the airport official who picks the wrong week to quit all sorts of substances. He's brill! But even better I liked his role as Thomas Benson, a bumbling Navy Admiral who is just my favorite character ever! I'd seriously recommend these films to anyone with even a half-functional funnybone!

Lastly, and mainly because I was listening to it whilst writing this, I'd recommend giving the song "Sweet Hell" by Gin Wigmore a good listen to. I first heard of her when she was supporting Train at a concert I was at. She was excellant there, and her album, that came out this year, is a brilliant piece of work! "Sweet Hell" is my favorite track from it.


Hope you've enjoyed reading this. On the one hand I'm sorry it's not as rambling as usual (I'm not made of vodka you know!) but also I'm always trying to make this blog more accessible to a larger audience, so I will start including things such as Guest Segments, Reviews and Stories. If you have anything you'd like to see, don't hesitate to let me know, by commenting below!

Until next time, have a great week!

Lloyd Bridges in "Hot Shots"

Jameela Jamil

Growing up and becoming a woman in the 90s

This was my humble attempt to write a story about growing up as a young woman in the 90s.

It was a dark and dreary night. My good friend Mercedes was throwing up in the club toilets and Porsha was smoking a fag in the corner. We were in a nightclub called Club 69. Me and the girls often come here. You might say were die-hard 69-ers.
Speaking of Die-hard, I sure fancied a bit of that Bruce Willis, he was a bit of alright and no mistake! I wonder what he would look like bald?
I held back Mercedes' hair until she'd finished throwing up and she smiled and said "I haven't even drunk that much!" As she spat the last of the puke into the loo, Mercedes restyled her hair into what was described as "The Rachel", after Rachel from Friends. It was very much the 'in' thing at the moment and consisted of chin-length hair, with a fringe and highlights. She looked totally glam. Friends was my favorite show after Biker Grove. I also liked The Bill.
Porsha was rocking some Baby Spice bunches as Emma Bunton was an idol of hers. She wanted to be a glamour model but her strict father was very against it, and was a firm supporter of Promise Rigns and Chastity Belts. They were so not the 'in' thing. As she was a strong, independant woman, however, she refused to wear them.
"Say, Mercedes", began Porsha, "what do you think of our new Prime Minister, Tony Blair? I think he is phat!"
"Oh buzz off!" spat Mercedes, "I ain't in the mood to talk politics! But I tell you what: that John Major was a right scrub!"
"Word!", hollared Clarissa (who is me. I decided to stop talking in first person from here on out)
The trio left the toilets and headed back to the dancefloor. Mercedes was still pretty drunk so Porsha had to support her as they busted some moves to the latest hit from Mariah Carey.


I hope you all enjoyed that. I may come back to them later.

This has been a short post, I'm afraid, as I am shattered. I will make it all up to you with another post over the weekend!

These are the Spice Girls (Take note of the Baby Spice bunches)