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Monday 9 April 2007

Bangers Sans Le Bang!

Linda, love, didn't you ever think he was trying to tell you something?

And on the third day he rose again from his bed and.......went to a barbecue.
Doesn't quite have the same impact or ring about it, I know, but that IS what I did yesterday. We chewed the fat - literally! - until the sun went down and I drank an awful lot of wine!
I had gone armed with food and booze having trawled the town to find a decent shop but ending up at the place I had feared all along would be the only one open on Easter Sunday. It was an Indian corner shop near where the party was being hosted. I say Indian, and not Asian, because the owner once nailed his colours firmly to the mast when a friend went in and got chatting about the length of time it was taking to build some flats opposite and the mess that was being made. "That's fucking Pakis for you," said the genial Indian proprietor.
His wine cellar is not expansive, to say the least, and so I ended up with two, two-litre bottles of Valpolicella! Hell, if you can't drink it you can always put it on your chips - class! His barbecue food selection was equally paltry. Cow-related products were not much in evidence, as I had anticipated, but he didn't seem to be overly keen on things porcine either. Consequently, I ended up with two packs of Linda McCartney vegetarian sausages!
I have made grander entrances to parties, I have to admit. I put my Valpolicella on the worktop in the kitchen - so everyone could share, you understand - and people immediately began reaching for the booze they had brought and clinging onto it tightly. Outside the chat flowed as freely as the wine and I actually started to get a taste for the red de-icer I had bought.
I was too much of a gentleman to start trying to help myself to the salmon, burgers, kebabs, steaks, chops and sausages everyone else had brought so I finally summoned up the courage to whip out my Linda's and toss them on the griddle. Bloody Nora! Have you ever tried to cook one of those things? They were over the sodding flames for about an hour but still looked dodgy. Christ knows what is in them? I'm sure that saving the lives of pigs is worthy and all that but packing your product with asbestos and fire-retardant mattresses is hardly an acceptable alternative. I name those products with care because, when the barbecue had eventually burnt itself out and my Linda's were still on there, I decided enough was enough and I would eat them. They taste absolutely awful! How the fuck Paul ever managed to survive, let alone pen anything of note, while she was feeding him and the kids that muck is beyond me.
Anyway, I was medivacced out of the party at about 11pm and am still recovering today. My head feels a tad thick and my stomach keeps wanting to auto-eject its contents. Henceforth, the delights of Valpolicella and Linda McCartney's food shall only be enjoyed by the people of Grantham.

7 comments:

Geoff said...

I'm amazed that muck is still being produced. It's about as appetising as her singing was. You'd be better off having beans on toast every day - would probably be more nutritious.

Barry Lawrence said...

How true, Geoff.
She was to singing what Stevie Wonder is to train spotting. Still, she was at least slightly more in tune than Yoko Ono on Who Has Seen The Wind and her "Imagine there's no possessions" pseudo-peace-activist Scouse husband.

Anonymous said...

Well done, Reg. Nothing is Asian. It's all Indian. Think about it:

Corner shops - Indian.
Best food - Indian.
The Mona Lisa - Indian.
Best wedding parties - Indian.
The Royal Family - Indian.
Christmas and Easter - Indian.
Football - Indian.
The Beatles - Indian.
Ghandi - Indian.
Robert De Niro - Indian
Margaret Thatcher - Not Indian...

Love
Big Ears - Indian.

Barry Lawrence said...

I'm going to give you your bus fare to go home, Big Ears. What was it again? 55p? Still one of my favourite put down lines. Now, get back to work, and work harder, HARDER IT TELL YOU!

Anonymous said...

Hard work - Indian.

It was a £1 I needed. The Manor Hospital is a fair distance from Bescot...

Doctors at the Manor - Indian.

Love
Big Ears

Anonymous said...

You would be better off eating the box that it came in. whilst I have the up most respect for the bad breathed, plastic sandal wearing, beardy weirdy bastard veggie loonies. Bet they started calling their kids Jocasta, Tamsin and Ruprect.

You wouldn't eat if you;

A. had to kill it yourself.
B. new how it was killed.

yes I fucking would, meat murder is great.

Yours Barbie man

Barry Lawrence said...

Hello Barbie Man,

At last! Someone who is angrier than me! They are indeed challenging views. You do confine your meat murder to animals, don't you? Killing people is not legal, you know, and eating your victims is frowned upon by even the most ardent mass murderers.

WEDNESDAY, 21 NOVEMBER 2007

SHORTS DON'T MATTER! 1. From the greatest programme ever made about association football, Barnstoneworth United FC manager Mr Dainty delivers one of the finest English soliloqiues of all time.......and afterwards, spare a thought for the club steward's wife Vera (YOU ONLY HAVE TO WATCH HALF OF THE CLIP!!).

Monday, 12 November 2007

Not everyone who agonises over their life is a painter. Some of us agonise because we're NOT painters.

....And On the Subject of Great Public Services

I know most of you have heard this marvellous song by those doctors who are the Amateur Transplants......but I think the video is a nice addition. P.S. If there are kids in the room I'd shuffle them out before hitting play.

...There's More

On the subject of those great doctors, here is their version of More Than Words which presents their challenging views on women outside Watford. The very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither, coming from Cumbria, is a huge fan. Again, get those kids out of the room!

Leave Britney Alone, Ok!!!

Oh...........my............God!!!!! My heartfelt thanks go to BGT for this. I won't say much more, I don't need to. Mr Loony of Loonytown, USA (I think it's a bloke, anyway), says it all. I fear he may be wound too tight for.....well.....well for everywhere, really!

Tuesday, 18 September 2007.

I wish I'd sung this! For non-Americans, and with apologies to all the smart arses out there who already knew, the FCC is the Federal Communications Commission and it monitors TV and radio output in the States - a sort of broadcast police - while the EPA is the Yanks' so-called Environmental Protection Agency, a body which does exactly the opposite of what it says on the can. (P.S. We went to the same school, you know? Eric and me, that is, not George, Martha, Dick and Condoleeza and me. I don't think they went to school.) P.P.S. Please see below if you are I Like The View, Malc or Doris.

To Make You Laugh and Cry

I was listening to this on a Sunday, the very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither is a Catholic, Tom Lehrer is one of my all-time heroes and this is one of his best.............no other reasons. On a more sombre note (and with thanks to Fish for coming up with this Woman's-Own-passes-the-time-in-the-dentist's-waiting-room nonsense), why not get a computer to tell you that you are a waste of space and your life is a sham of a mockery of a farce? Ok, it's from one of those poxy dating sites but...go on, take the test. You ain't got much to beat!!
This Is My Life, Rated
Life: 4.2
Mind: 4.1
Body: 2.7
Spirit: 8
Friends/Family: 1.6
Love: 0
Finance: 5.9
Take the Rate My Life Quiz
Apparently, in my case, "computer say 'no!'"

I First Saw This When I Was Little - And Loved It! I Hope That Explains a Few Things

Fuck, Fuckety, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck

It has been pointed out to me that, particularly for one whose profession is supposedly literary, my language is getting worse. My use of the "F" word is, I am told, far too prevalent and hence loses impact. To those who share this view I suggest you watch the following:

Tony Blair Isn't a Burglar - But If He Was.........

In the spirit of Gustav Holst's Jupiter and Manfred Mann's Earth Band, I feel like raising a smile today. The Big Green Thing alerted me to this and, for no other reason than to raise a smile on an otherwise crap Wednesday, I think it has to be shared. Grantham shall not have him - when he gets out of prison.

Life On The Edge - No Net.

I was wrong when I feared it might be a dull weekend, what with my pals being away, my soon-to-be ex-wife in rehab and only the dogs to play with. How wrong can a man be? This much fun must surely be illegal? Just click to see the japes and hoots I am having! Click again to see how things got REALLy exciting! Tomorrow we're going to chase pigeons.

The Good Old U.S. of A. - Guardians of Freedom and Democracy. Nothing to Be Scared of, Then?

Be honest........

IT'S THE QUIZ OF THE WEEK! JUST SCROLL DOWN AND HIT "FULL QUIZ".