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!

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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)

The Erotic Adventures of Shaniqua plus a brief evaluation of One Direction

This was my attempt to write amateur soft-core porn (rated 12A):

It was a lovely day in Wales when Shaniqua Barnes, a beutiful, mysterious brunette with great big long legs, opened her shutters and greeted the morning.
It was a traditional summer day, so there was roughly ninety percent cloud cover and the sun was nowhere to be seen. Shaniqua didn't let this spoil her mood, and set off for her job at the pet shop.
On the way she bumped into Roland the pie-maker and he was like 'Oh my god! Shaniqua you're so beautiful".
"Thanks Roland, that is such a kind thing to say", she replied with an alluring wink.
"Oh you're such a flirt! What would my wife, the good lady pie-maker, say?" said Roland.
"Goodness I am all a-fluster. You have such strong, manly arms", Shaniqua whispered in an erotic rush.
"It is mainly from making pies. I have a big one here for you, as you are so pretty", said Roland with a wink.
"Thanks babes, I will be sure to enjoy this big one with my supper, alone. Did I mention that I am afraid of becoming a lonely spinster?"
Saying goodbye to Roland, Shaniqua arrived at the pet shop where she worked. She was cheerfully received by her friend and manager Ivor Biggen. He was a boisterous and jolly fellow, and Shaniqua was forever ready to lend a hand to assist with his occasionally sexual frustrations. Although she found this perhaps a tad unprofessional, having read her original contract upon taking up her current position, she found this duty was a condition in the small print.
Her day passed in the usual way. A man interested in starting a home aquarium asked Shaniqua to show him her fishtank and she was only too happy to oblige!
"It looks very wet down there", he observed.
"Yes, and I always keep the weeds at the front trimmed and presentable".
"Well that's lovely to know. I will let my wife know that snippet of good advice. She's at home at the moment waiting to receive the boiler repairman and the electrician and the handsome young boy who cuts the grass."
"I'm sure nothing untoward is occuring", replied Shaniqua.
"I agree!" declared the customer. "I'm just going to buy some Stella and pick up my shotgun from the cleaners on the way home".



Let me know what you think!

In other news, I've begun writing my next epic, the story of Clarissa, Porsha and another one who's name I can't remember, who are three teenagers in the 90s. It's about Clarissa's powerful journey to becoming a woman. Expect high quanitities of 90s references, particularly about Noel's House Party and the Spice Girls, as well as talking about "lady-time" and other stuff.

Due mainly to boredom today, I searched the internet for anti-1d jokes. Imagine my disgust when I ended up on a site that was  fans* listing stuff that was funny that One Direction had done. I use funny in the broadest possible sense. By broadest possible sense I mean it was effing dire. Words begin to escape me as to how shit the quality of content was. I only gave it 2 stars. Out of a billion.
Anyway my favorite joke I found (on other sites) is as follows:

What do you call an old woman with a cat?
You don't. Harry Styles does.

I never saw that documentary about how mental One Direction fans are, but I don't feel like that means I cannot judge them all. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.

"Who's your favorite member of 1D?"
"Oh Niall definately! You can tell in his eyes he's the most damaged!"

Also Harry Styles' face and ADOREABLE dimples are actually wider than the rest of his face. I don't understand the biology needed for such a creation.

Speaking of Simon Cowell, I'd feel bad saying "I wish he died horribly in a combined plane-crash/bumming accident", but I would go so far as to say I would dearly like his inevitable fall from grace and consignment to the celebrity gutter to hurry up and happen. Hopefully his unborn child by the wife of his friend will grow up to combat his evil plans to completely destroy music.

Despite what I've said, I don't mind One Direction's music. By which I mean I like the song "What Makes you Beautiful", as I have never paid attention to any of their other tunes. "The best song ever" is just smug as they're singing about staying up all night listening to some amazing tune, and I bet if you asked what song the song is about they'd say some other song by One Direction!
Anyway my problem with them is just the massive hype and atmosphere surrounding them! Any of their phychotic fans, when asked what the best thing about One Direction is, would probably say how great it is how they personally are going to marry Harry or Zane or whichever one else they're soaking their panties for.
SPEAKING OF WHICH! Zane and Perrie (from Little Mix awesomeness) are engaged? What a match made in heaven! I wonder what the smart man's money is on regarding how long that marriage will last. In minutes, I'd imagine.

I admit this post has had mainly negative themes but it's all part of growing up. Thanks for reading!


*morons

If you've never heard of One Direction. This is what you're facing.