This post is about taking a shit...and not taking the shit. Also I have a hairy back.

Is it silly to be put off a music radio station because the DJs are a bit too 'into' the music they play? Not everything is great and they should stop acting like it is.
Then there's the phase I went through of taking pictures of my body hair and sending them to my friends, asking them to guess where the hair was from.
And let's not forget my
Then my friend said she was having trouble finding enough presents to get her boyfriend for Christmas. I was like #relationshipproblems #bitchplease. Somehow I came out badly, according to her refracted view of things!
And another friend is so crap at replying to texts I had to tell him someone had stolen his sperm and impregnated herself and was raising the child with a robotic substitute father!
I was also called a 'god amongst men' recently, i believe sincerely too!
I got trodden on on a dance floor by a lady wearing heels apparently made of knives.
I've gone the past couple of years shunning achievement, under the impression that since a zombie apocalypse is inevitable, why bother doing these things?
And so on...

During my 'crazy experimental months' this year where I decided to start drinking scotch, I had a double one evening at the pub and it took me so long to drink it that I had to get the ice replaced.
On my way out to a wedding, pre-drinking was demanded so I necked the remains of a bottle of scotch i had in the cupboard, then did the 5-10 minutes walk to the train station. and it hit me on the platform. Not the train, obviously, the alcohol.

Anyone who takes a 'pre-funeral' selfie should do the honorable thing and be buried/burned with the deceased. Frankly you have no worth and should look in a mirror (like u dont do that enough anyway u vane dick(!) and hate what you see. You make the person who's funeral it is the luckiest person in the room as they no longer have to put up with your scumbaggery.
Moving on...

My back hair is encroaching more and more over my shoulders, but as long as it's symetrical it's basically OK right?

I've come to some realisations about sitting on the toilet that I want you all to know about. So listen up!
Firstly I was sitting there for a little while and I was like, this is actually quite comfortable, wish I had my book.
Somestimes also you might be in a hurry, for whatever reason maybe you've left the oven on, or you were playing multiplaya and can't pause it (a nightmare). My personal advice is sit back, relax, and takle your time. You'll find the stress of the day just evaporates and you run less risk of busting a sphincter. Also when I am seated, I often have no top on (not for any dodgey reasons, I might be in pyjamas, and I dont have those fancy pyjama tops I just stomp about the house in boxer shorts, much to the chagrin/admiration of the neighbours. Anyway so imagine the dilemma. You're on the loo, and you've just heard some great advice to sit back and relax, but u lean back and AHHHH it's freezing porcelain for goodness sake! (if you dont have a porcelain toilet, like yours is made of wood or something, then dont worry about these 3rd world problems).
Also as previously mentioned, even when I am topless I do have such huge back-hair, (used to be a problem, but I've just started referring to it as my mane, now) anyway it kinda resembles the cloaks worn by the Starks of Winterfell in the first few GoT seasons (massive spoiler) anyway so that offers me a bit of protection but not everyone can rely on this. I've kind of lost track but just, for fuck sake, be careful.
Also one day I got home work and slipped and almost fell into the toilet cos someone had left the seat up. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes.
Also yes I have tried using the toilet backwards (and i dont mean drinking from the toilet) I mean sitting backwards. It's a bit weird and definately worth trying once, but it's not for me.

Look, I was talking about some old friends of mine

I had a best friend at college, but since college she's become like impossible to pin down, and I do miss her cos we've met up once or twice, and we bumped into one another in a karaoke bar once, and it was great.

I also have many friends who are just plain shit at replying to texts! I mean I'm not patting myself on the back or anything (although I do enjoy running my hands through my soft, downey mane), but I am good at replying to correspondence! If soemone's like 'wanna hang out' I'd be like 'yes!' or maybe 'no!' but I wouldn't just ignore the text. and as to those people who text back like the next day and saying they haven't had time to reply, you're not lying to me, you're lying to yourself! Let's face it, unless you work underwater or in a job where you rub urself up against giant magnets, you probably have your phone on you for most of the day. I ain't no mug, i don't hold tea/coffee and i certainly dont hold with ur shit!
Do i come across as a demanding friend? Maybe. I also dont readily tolerate lateness.

So in conclusion if you wanna be my friend you have to essentially be 'on call' 24/7 in case I need something.
(I admit that's not as catchy as the Spice Girls line : If you wanna be my lover etc etc...hold you 'you gotta get with my friends?') Has anyway ever analysed that line? Why would you exclusively want boyfriends who were your friends' sloppy seconds Also I dont know what u ladies talk about most of the time but are possible STIs on the agenda? Would you risk being with a girl who you know had been with ur friend who maybe had the clap?

I love Christmas and Christmas songs, but 'This Christmas' has been eternally ruined by being overplayed at a previous place of work I had, and also by being a heap of shitty fuck. Smeared with cum.

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!

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!