Boobies, Buckets and Bloomers

In the week my cousin Kerry told me you can go into a shop and get your boobies measured. I thought I would give this idea a whirl. Like to live life on the edge so I do. Anyways first up I tried Tesco. So Now I am on my final warning from there. Apparently going up to any member of staff in there and booby jiggling whilst saying 'measure these for me mate' is deemed anti-social behaviour. Then I tried Spec savers. They used to measure things with ruler thingys. Now its all done with an I-pad thingy. Well they take photographs. The man was quite obliging but personally I think he was a pre-vert and he said I need new glasses. Big ones. Move over Deirdre Barlow. Then I went in the shoe shop. They also have a measuring device but it stays on the floor. I have never been so uncomfortable as I was getting my boobies in that contraption. Not even when I had my mammuff gram with 'Hi, I am Alison, I am your receptionist/radiographer'. Anyway they said I had one size 9 and one 7.5. Oh and I think they thought I wanted to buy new boots. Nut jobs in there I tell ye. Talking of Boots- they don't do measuring but they did give me some extra large corn rings for mines nipples (thank you to Andrea for giving me that top tip for Beth's top nipple tips folder- seems its a Boots favourite). B&Q offered me a couple of large orange buckets. The Toy Cupboard offered me a couple of large swimming rings. Finally I stopped off at Greggs (any excuse)- and they said I would need considerably large buns which they had sold out off but offered me a couple of round cottage loafs and a couple of bloomers. Also did you know if you want to get your boobies measured you don't need to go naked. Just a top tip for ye all there- don't want ye to get caught out like what I did.

Also this week we had an adventure or two. After our last adventure using the sat nav thingy Mines Mr Husband and she fell out- BIG TIME! She wanted him to turn left. He didn't like the look of the road so he refused. She re-calculated and found him another road and he didn't much like the look of that either. In the end they argued so much so that I intervened (although I don't usually like getting in the middle of other peoples arguments) and I switched her off and put her in a box. That's where she stayed until this week. Mr Husband decided to give her another chance but she was fecking sulking and didn't want to talk - she only told him when to turn after he turned. He was livid. Then the arguing started. He called her a silly cow. She called him a dick head. I called her a silly cow. She was shocked- cos like I said I don't usually interfere. Anyway its official. They are divorcing. She is divorcing him on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour and he is divorcing her on grounds of her constant nagging and sulking. I just hope he gets to keep the jag- I like the jag!!

Finally this week on one of the magazine programs this week they asked if you would bury a loved one in the garden. I owned up. Apparently though they have to be deaded. I tried to bury mines Mr Husband once or twice, (or it may have been three times, I forget) in the garden. He was furious. He calls it attempted murder. I calls it forward planning. He can be so fecking picky at times. On a totally different note I need some help to build a patio.

Nipples, Sunshine and Goolies

A Week in Beth's Life................

A mixture of sunshine and showers popping up and the winds blowing a goolie or two.

 Friday - Ah had a nice shower today. Couldn't yesterday because mines Mr Husband came home from nights and sneaked in my bed and fell asleep. 'Why couldn't ye shower Beth?'  I hear ye ask. I will tell ye. Cos the shower is in the endsweethingymajig in my bedroom. I didn't want to disturb mines Mr Husband. Ye knows the saying 'let sleeping and snoring dinosaurs lay'. And he be a grumpy fecker after nights when disturbed. So in me nuddy pants with me towel in hand I went and asked the ironing board shaped person next door if I could borrow her shower. 'Feck off ye weird little naked person' she said. Personally I don't like her attitude. The family size gateaux shaped one from across the road (her with the integrated bike rack- I seen it when she bent down to tend to her tulips) she ignored me. Actually she probably couldn't see me stood behind her. The night nurse was asleep. The skinny bitch had gone jogging. So I had to come home and shower in the front garden with the hose, the fairy liquid and the loo brush. The things a gal has to do so her husband can sleep!!

Tis a good job I got a grip like a bulldog clip (as seen on National TV) because today we have to endure rain popping up. Has to hold my brolly in a very unusual place.

Tuesday: I graced the doctor with my presence yesterday. They must have prepared for my arrival. They have put in a little table and little chairs for short ass peoples. I climbed upon the big chair though because I was feeling brave. They have also removed the menus off the table- last time I was there I ordered three nicotine patches and couple of flu jabs to take out. Also they have removed the fish tank from where I usually sit. I think they done this to stop me poking the fish. The boy with the acne came in again. Well it might have been a different one. 'I see you still having a spot of trouble' I said, winking knowingly. His mother gave me a Paddington Hard Stare. Two women was yakkety yakking so much I couldn't get a word in edgeways. And I tried. (Always trying to make new friends me). So I swapped the babies over in their buggies. Somebody had a nice surprise when they got home. Yay -New Toys!! The Nurse come out and called Mrs Husband. Yep- that's right- Mrs Husband. Not mines Mr Husband. He was home in bed. But Mrs Husband (I thought surely not. That should be Mrs Wife). T'was  not mines Mr Husband, T'was nowt do with me. I think she must be in one of thems new fangled relationships. She was reading a book. I kid ye not she didn't get up and go. Just like a Husband she ignored the Nurse. The Nurse walked away. A few minutes later she returned. She called Mrs Husband again- only louder and with more authority and hint of annoyance if ye asks me. This time Mrs Husband got up and shut her book and she said 'I was just finishing my chapter'. Cheeky Mare. 'How rude -hold the rest of us why don't ye?', I said sticking me foot out in front of her so she tripped and peed her pants a little. That's also what happens to me when I trips a bit. I know, even with mines grip like a bulldog clip. Mines bladder is shot it.  Anyways I sees Dr Angry Jones. 'I am truly, truly in agony with mines back- it hurts to breathe' I tells her. 'Take painkillers' she said 'Take codeine- I can't see where the pain is'. I kid ye not I despair- I really do. I have no idea why I never thought of painkillers for pain. So I did take Codeine. Mainly because I am obedient and partly because I am in pain and now in despair. Packed with codeine  I am now like a wind tunnel. Mines Mr Husband (not to be confused with Mrs Husband- who is nothing to do with me)- came in from his night shift this morning only to be blown across the landing and is lying unconscious in his own room. I am still in pain!!

Sunday : I asked Mines Mr Husband when the internet racketeering was going to make us millionaires cos I have a few things on a shopping list that I would like- a yacht (I have already picked out the mooring up the muff), a holiday day villa, (or two), a Red Ferrari, a cake shop and some false eyelashes. You know the kinda things a girl needs. I pointed out he been doing this for mankywankydonkey years now and we still haven't gotten rich. He said he needs to attract an audience. I said 'well why didn't say ye eejit?'. Jeez- I am well good at that. I can help ye with that so I can. I tells him all ye needs to do is go up the shopping place and get naked and sing wrecking ball well whipping yer nae nae. It always attracts crowds, especially lots of people in uniforms who takes ye photograph-(I do like a uniform and a selfie). But then he said 'they are policemans- the ones in the blue uniforms and then they always arrest you and then you need bail money don't you little pickled pumpkin? And they are not selfies- they are mug shots'. So I am guessing that he won't be taking that idea up. Ye see I tries to help but he don't listen!

And one day it was National No Housework Day. Sorry Have I left it too late tell ye?  It will come round again- next year. Well I knew early that morning but I had been fantasizing about cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom for days. I don't go big on Housework- not that my house is dirty ye understand. Tis new and easy to keep clean is the skinny bitch house. Also I don't go big on conforming to National Days. Well except National Chocolate Cake Day. Or National Orgasm Day (although it has been known to come early and I have missed it cos I wasn't ready). I do observe National No Knickers day and National No bra day and National Sausage Day (as long as tis a good quality sausage). So I have been gave the skinny bitch kitchen the clean of its life. Tis been hard on me dodgy hip but hooray for me- even the toaster got cleared out of its wildlife. Spiders, woodlice and flies and such like things. Mines Mr Husband isn't happy- he likes the chewy bits. Adds texture to his toast. Well, I have to tell ye whilst I was cleaning the kitchen mines Mr Husband came over all amorous. Why? Why the Feck why? I wasn't even in the maids outfit. No- just me apron. Not like I was completely naked to the housework. If ye are wondering why do the housework naked it's so much easier  but ye must wear an apron to protect ye nipples from door catches and bleach. Last time on National No Housework day I didn't wear the apron and had to dial 999 to get me nipples freed from the toaster. Perhaps t'was just sight of me in just me apron with the jif in me hand or maybe he thought distraction would save me nipples from the toaster.  'Feck off', I says to him 'ye have all the other days and times, why today?' He looked sad and put his head down and done the puppy dog eyes thing then the cheeky fecker pinched one of me chocolate biscuits, ate it whole and went off to file his feet. Ye gods I was exhausted - I don't like this National No Housework day. They can stuff it where the sun don't shine next year.

As well as having a special tray under the seat to hide cakes and Scooby snacks my pea has a five whatsitdoodah for playing Elvis Cds. I have filled this with Elvis Cds. I find this very handy because now I can take Sing-along with Beth and Elvis on the road. On days when I think the neighbourhood needs cheering up (and days when they don't even) I am going to drive around the streets and introduce them to Sing-along with Beth and Elvis Mobile! I may even get a mention in the local paper- who knows. The Pea hosting 'Sing-along with Beth and Elvis on the go' could be coming to a street near you!!

Beth's top tip of the week :

Horseradish is good for clearing the sinus. Sat here with horseradish stuck up nose- must say it doesn't feel like its helping!

Notes to Self:

When Mr Husband appears to be having epileptic fit check to see if he just has an itch that he can't reach before dialling 999. Makes ye look silly otherwise- doesn't it???

Getting a Grip, Large Willies and Going Metric

I love my Samsung phone ye know. 'Why do ye love yer Samsung phone Beth?' I hear ye cry. Well I tell ye. It's because of the scheduling text thingymajig. Yesterday I was able to schedule a text and send it to myself to receive at 7am this morning. I won't be doing that time again- I was still asleep and fecking woke meself up!! On the plus side I wished meself a Happy Birfday. I know the brighter ones among you will be saying 'Your birfday is surely in September Beth'. Well, the official one is I know- according to mines mother (who reckons she was there when I was born) and the birf certificate I have. But I like to have two birfdays. So I am celebrating my 22 1/2 with 30 years and 2weeks experience birfday today. I am looking forward to cake. On the downside mines Mr Husband forgot it was mines other birfday and he hasn't bought me anyfink. Good job I still got some of the icing left he bought me for last years birfday!

I have been pondering what asshole put the two words 'fun and run' together. What is fun about it exactly? I didn't think the 40 mile fun run I did with mines Mr Husband (whilst he was dressed as superman) was much fun in my sleep last night- I have very feckin sore hips this morning.

Also I ask mines Mr Husband if we leave the Eurothingymagjig will we be able to go back to feets and inches? I have never been happy with the new metric doodah not since 1971 when they changed it. Mines Mr Husband pointed out that I was only 8 at the time and I should be used to it by now. Why? Why should I? A girl knows where she is with 8 inches. I argued with him (and a very valid point if ye ask me)- who ever says ' look at that 2km of willy'. He says 'nobody because that 2km is = to 3miles (I told ye ye learns someat new everyday- who knew? )and furthermore, not only but also, who would want one that big?'. I says 'my sister probably wouldn't mind giving it a bash. She is game for anything'. Anyway he says its time I got to grips with it. I tell ye I am grappling with it- he be a bit annoyed cos he wants to get dressed- I wish he would make his feckin mind up- either he wants me to get to grips with it or he don't.

Muff Buff, Piles and Moles

Uh oh. Big Pearl hears about Dirtie Gerties singed Minge. She was disgusted. Anyways she says to me 'since the muff buff I discovered I have a mole down there'- she whispered this bit. Oooo-er missus. She wanted me to have a look!! I am not a mole expert. Anyways I had a quick look- not that I intent to make a habit of it ye understand looking at muffs moles. Turns out it weren't a mole at all. Was a Hamster! Think she sat on it again! #awkward.

On the plus side today I am taking the risk of losing my parking space and taking the pea for a run to spend times with mines little sister- (the one with the issues and the day confusion, accidental blue hair and the constipation and part time camel toe - by her own admission- I won't mention her piles cos she is sensitive about it).

Vajazzle, Singed Minge and Soap

Mines Mr Husband was upstairs at the window. No don't get all excited. He wasn't cleaning or flashing. He don't do cleaning windows if he can help it. Its against his religion. He don't go much in for flashing either. Anyways he was stood there and he shouts down 'Oh gawd, here comes thunder thighs, walking like she has lost her hoss'. 'Who you talking about?' I said. 'Dirtie Gertie, yer mate with the vajazzle'.  Remember I told you we went to the nail bar and she had a vajazzle done? Well turns out she got an infection. I had to take her back to the nail bar. I said 'we will get a taxi cos I don't be wanting you sitting in my car with an infection like that with no knickers on and I bet you ain't had a shower in a fortnight- ye be a dirty fecker'. She don't like water. Or soap. I kid ye not they had not seen an infection like it. I told her 'ye should have just had the muff buffed mate'. She can't walk at all now. They had to take the blow torch to it and now Dirtie Gertie got a singed minge. Won't be just her face she won't be able to show in there again I tell ye!

Lost, Oddballs and Crablegs

I bet ye all wondering 'where is Bulldog clip Beth' (as seen on national tv) ? Well I will tell ye. I got a little green car now called 'The Pea' . I had a little trip out in the pea. I call it the pea cos when it be parked over road between the 4year old white van man and the 5year old white van man (he must be older cos he got a bigger van) my little car looks like a little pea in a sandwich. Anyways I went to seaside in Pea. I was worried in case I couldn't find my way home again. Mines Mr Husband said 'just ask someone pickle for directions home'. So I had a nice day walking along the beachy thingy and chatting to seagulls and oddballs. Collected a few shells, a pebble or two and a crabs leg. Then it was time to come home. I looked around the car park for someone to ask directions. I found an old person and his wife. I thought 'I bet he been about a bit, round the block a few times, so I will ask him'. So I went up to him and asked three times no less cos as it turned out his hearing aid was turned off 'do ye know the way home??' He said he did. So I said 'I will follow you then'. He nodded. So that it is what I did. I didn't think mines Mr Husbands suggestion would work but here I be. I followed the old person home. I must say tis good of them to make me a cucumber sandwich and a cuppa tea. And if you ask me there decor needs a bit of titivating- its a bit old peopleish. And if I am completely honest smells a bit of wee. They need ones of thems apricot and champagne flavour candles. But mines Mr Husband wouldn't let me buy one because he says it left my lips with a waxy feel.  Anyways I have no feckin idea how to get to mines skinny bitch house from here- I hope mines Mr Husband has managed to find something for his tea!!

Bum Feeling, Piri Piri Rubbing and Small Balls

Are ye all ready for a week at Beth's again?? Brace yourself Sheila as they say in outback.

Sunday : Mines Mr Husband took me in the Co-op- t'was an experience for me I tell ye and a new experience for them. Then he took me in the Country Park at bottom of our road. 'Ye don't have to lower ye voice and go down on all fours when we are in the county park just to photograph a plastic bag' said Mines Mr husband. 'It can hear or see ye and it won't run away'. (Well how does he know what I am down on all fours for??) Anyways like I says to him- 'If I don't do that and get the feckin photograph how the feck do I know its a plastic bag??' Duh. Anyways this plastic bag is quite nice- it even got eyes and a beak.

Monday: Mine's Mr Husband was bemoaning the fact it's steak and BJ day and he has had neither. 'Feckin stop yer moaning' I tells him. 'Ye had beef Bolognese for ye tea and if ye want the other I have left hair dryer plugged in on your side of the bed'. He gone to his own room whining now. Told him not to put hair dryer on hottest setting. Numpty.

Tuesday :'Get ready to go to the hospital please pumpkin' asked Mines Mr Husband today. 'I am ready' I told him. He said 'No, get dressed- I told ye before Dr wants to look at ye lump in yer neck'. I still protested. 'Tis nipply noodles out there, get dressed', he said all masterfully. Well how could I not resist. Tis true I need to keep mines extremities warm because I have thyroid thingy. So I am ready to go- I have four items of clothing - Slippers, Mittens, Nipple tassles and me bobble hat. Mines Mr Husband is sighing and tutting. But I won't be swayed- tis what I am wearing today!

When we done the hospital thing and after the nipple twirling and boobie jiggling the Dr decided it was just a naughty nymph node playing up we went to Dawlish to take photos of the baby cygnets. Mines Mr Husband took 300 and I only managed to get a few because I was hampered by a weird woman who wanted to give me her life story- from the school she attended first and then second to how she end up with Dippy Duncan and a sick parrot. Then without warning she thrust her backside sideways at me to tell me how hot her bum was. Well that was awkward! I didn't really know what the socially acceptable thing with other woman's bums being thrust in your face was. Did she want me to feel how hot it was?? What?? I don't know. What are you supposed to do? Feel it? Just Rub it. I didn't know. So I slapped it and sent her on her way. She had already noted that Mines Mr Husband would probably have a good stack of photos. I said 'so the feck would I if I weren't been feckin pestered by a arse thrusting weirdo'.

Wednesday : Mines Mr Husband gave me a sachet of Piri Piri Rub. 'What this for?' I ask. 'Tis to rub on yer Piri Piri' he said. 'Mmm, Don't like the sound of that' I says, 'sounds foreign to me- ye best rub it on ye own Piri Piri'. He spent all evening in the bathroom with a bag of frozen blackberries on his Piri Piri.

Friday: I bet ye was all thinking 'Mad Beth with the grip like a bulldog clip (as seen on national TV) be quiet'. Well mines Mr Husband is on nights so I have to be quiet or else I shall waken him. Anyways he be awake now. I been out in kitchen making truffles. Was going ok until I got to the bit that says 'Roll mixture into small balls'. I had to look around for some small balls- luckily mines Mr Husband was just passing the kitchen, although I had to feckin chase him all over the feckin house. He havin a bath now and is a huffin and a puffin and furthermore, not only but also, we have no truffles!

And before ye say -'ye missed out Thursday', I did. Ye can't expect me to have fun everyday!!!

TIts, Boob jiggling, Bushes and Lunchboxes

Diary of another week at Beths.

Tuesday : Mine's Mr Husband and I opened Frank and had a discussion. He thinks it would be helpful if I had a little job to keep him in the manner to which he has become accustomed, mine's Mr Husband not Frank. Who the feck is Frank anyway? Tomorrow I am off to building site at end of road to offer my services. Also I can work for them as an odd carrier. I can carry bricks on me mobility walker as long as they don't want me to walk the plank it will be ok.

Monday: Well ye all knows I be having trouble with me lump. I been to the Masochist- technical term Neck lump Doctor come radiowhatsit doctor. I stripped off soon as I got in the waiting room. There was poorly peoples laying in the corridors (on beds- we not that bad here yet!). I gave them all a little poke as I walked by. Lots of moans, squeals and a couple screams. The peoples on the beds did too. The old man in the wheelchair- never moved a muscle. Think he was dead. Edna in the wheelchair who has just had her 196th birthday didn't move much too. 'How do ye know Edna just had her 196th birthday?' I hear ye ask. Well I tell ye. She had a party popper still in her mouth and was blowing on it. I took it out. I was fearful of her disturbing the sick. Anyways according to the doctor, and they usually know these things, t'was not a party popper. T'was her oxygen. After that I didn't hear make a sound but then she didn't have her hearing aids in either so I wouldn't have. Anyways the doctor  (the radiothingymajig doctor) asked me why I was stripped off. I said 'feel my lumps'. He said put your clothes on. He was a miserable fecker. Even jiggling the boobies didn't make him smile. Although he has agreed with me and mines husband and mines dentist and mines doctor tis a lump. Tis just a nymphnode he thinks. I put mines clothes back on when I came outside- t'was very nipply noodles out there.

Also on Wednesday I realised Ben Fogle- likes to spend time with people in far away hidden places. 'He can come and live with me in my far away hidden place anytime' I says to Mines Mr Husband. He said 'We don't live in a far away hidden place'. Like I tells him- 'then I will find somewhere, somewhere hot where Ben has to keep stripping- and whats all this 'WE' Mines Mr Husband? you not invited'. He gone to his shed now. Sad really cos he don't have a shed!

Thursday : Well ye all knows I get quite excited on National Sausage day (and I do like a good quality sausage!) but today is National Packed Lunch Day- (basically same as National Sausage Day in my book). So I am off out to assess Packed Lunches in and around Devon. I may have the urge to handle one or two so I could end up needing bail money- (aw come on guys- I haven't asked ye for any for ages because I have been kinda of quite well behaved). Roll on National Orgasm Day- it came too early for me to take part last year!

Well go me! I don't do driving much these days but if mines little sister (the one with the issues and the day confusion, constipation, accidental blue hair and part time camel toe - by her own admission) can, then I can do it too. Mines wonderful father bought me a little pea green car to get out and about. I loves it cos it got a tray under the seat to hide cake and scooby snacks. I be well made up. So I had a little trip to Ottery (mainly cos I knows me way back from there with a good degree of certaintity). I wanted the other traffic to be aware of me so I drove down the middle of the road. Few cars are ditched but hey ho- such is life. Mine is ok. I walked proudly round Ottery telling everyone 'I drove yer by meself- no help or nuffin'. I got three smiley good girl badges and a tube of smarties. I checked packed lunches (see early status- oh do keep up!!). I forget it was pension day and all they have are cocktail sausages (like the one mines other sister cooks) and shrivelled grapes. Then I spotted two work men. I thought brilliant- they always have good lunchboxes. They thought I wanted to get past. I said 'no, just checking your lunchboxes'. They seemed ok with it. Then I said I needed to have a closer inspection. You would think they understood all about close inspections. It threw them. So would like to apologise to the one that fell in the wheelie bin and the one the fell off the curb. Hope you feel better soon- and by the way- I should sue that driver of that white van- he oughta be more careful and look where hims going.

I also been a walk to the post box. All this exercise is bad for me I be sure of it. Well blow me I have witnessed extreme bush trimming in action. All the tits are in disarray! On the plus side I got chance to check out some more lunch boxes. Nasty cut that bush trimming man ended up with- he should be more in control of his equipment is all I can say. Think I need a lie down now.

Sunday: Don't know what the matter is with mines Mr Husband. We had a lovely trip out to Dorset to see mines sister the other day. I seen lots of things I could get him for fathers day. I found not one, not two but three dead badgers. A dead fox. A dead pheasant. A dead rabbit and a dead sandbag! Did he want them? No he feckin too fussy by half. I told him he ungrateful. Its the thought that counts..

Minge Fringe and Trim

My other friend, Big Pearl from Splatford Split (I know, don't laugh, she used to live Upper Ting Tong and before that up the Fanny Bridge area) came with us to the nail bar- she had her Minge fringe trimmed and now she got a fanny rash. I mean a funny rash. Damn autocorrect. Her husband, little Ted (yes really) big Ted's little brother (yes really- their mum liked the name Ted) he didn't want her to go. He don't like change don't little Ted. Tis true is that. They married for nearly 40 years and she only just got him to change his underpants. They did have to be sand blasted off after they broke the circular saw. Dirty Fecker is Little Ted. He thought it would change his view of her if she had the minge fringe trimmed. It did too. Now he don't be having her hair in his eyes when he goes between her legs to retrieve the Jack Russell. Tis true tis a Jack Russell they have- Little Ted thought it was a spaniel until Big Pearl had her Minge fringe trimmed. Little Ted is learning something new everyday just lately it seems.

Muff Buffing and Moth Balls

Ye must remember me telling ye yesterday about Dirty Gertie and her Vajazzle and the muff Buff (mine) and today we was supposed to go to get her muff sandblasted. Mines Mr Husband took me in Tesco instead. I tell ye, he will take me anywhere that man. No shame!. Tis true they don't do muff buffs in Tesco. But there was a couple in front of me at the checkout and they were having such an argument about whether she has bought the right top curtains I couldn't get a word in edgeways. No matter how I tried. All I wanted to do, after surveying the contents of her shopping trolley, was to let her know that the muff wash she had bought was loaded with chemicals. When I did manage to get a word in edgeways (I got her attention when I kicked her in the shin) I told her it was true- mines very own muff doctor told me not to use it. 'Loaded with chemicals' I tells her. 'Bleach, drain cleaner, Formahide, weed killer, moth balls- the lot',  I tells her I gave mine to mines mr Husband to wash his hair with (nothing goes to waste in this house I tell ye). He said he didn't fancy washing his hair with it but he would use it to wash the car with. So he did. Took a layer a paint off. Took the shine right off our car I tell ye. Well, well I be telling her all this she then turns around to look at me. She was a right minger. I takes one look at her and said 'forget I said anyfin me ol' babber, if yer face is owt to go by yer be needing yer muff sandblasting'. I gave her dirty Gerties number- they can go together on the second friday of the month tis always buy one, get one half price.

Vajazzled, Buffed Muffs and Sandblasting

Ye are probably all thinking I been quiet today. Well I been out with me mate Dirty Gertie- so named because- well I best not go there! Well she wanted to go to the new nail bar. I didn't want mine doing- I am practical and I have such things as housework to do. Only yesterday I had to strip off and do me shimmy-  ye know the vertical limbo and holding the boobies to get in me skinny bitch shower to clean it. Has to be done naked for practical reasons. Well I had to use the wire brush to scrub the crusty and mouldy cracks and grannies. Or words to that effect. Ye can't be having nice nails when ye have jobs like that to tackle!! Mines little sister (the one with the issues, constipation, accidental blue hair and part time camel toe (by her own admission)-) she got nice nails. I don't know how she gets on with her wire brush cleaning. Anyways I went with Gertie to the nail bar. After she had her nails done she went in the back room for a vajazzle. Well I was surprised cos she don't normally do jewellery but she wanted to surprise the butcher.  I am not keen on that either to be honest. Not surprising the butcher (I am all for that- tis usually the postman or the bin man here as ye all know)- but the vajazzle thingy- no I didn't fancy that. Un-hygienic if ye ask me.  But she did persuade me to go in for the muff buff. Gertie wanted her muff buffed as well but they said they couldn't do it. Apparently Sandblasting is strictly on Fridays. So we have to go again to-morrow. But I tell ye I am fair knackered now so I am going to have me kitty nap before I gets mines Mr Husbands dinner.

ZEN, 69, Wet and Naked!

So Last night Mines Mr Husband came home and asked why there is a naked plumber roaming round yer bedroom. 'How do ye know he is a plumber?' I asked him- 'Cos he got his pipe in his hand and looking dazed and confused muttering about O rings and gaffer tape' he said. 'What is he doing?' he asked again- 'Ye tell me' I says- 'you bis the one that seen him with his pipe in his hand'. 'He seems to be searching for something' he said. 'Looking for his clothes I expect', I tells him. Anyways mines Mr Husband is always pissing on my chips I tell ye. He made it his personal business to search for Ben not Zens clothes. I had scattered them far and wide-when he took his shoes off I said 'don't stop at ye shoes, we don't be havin' none of that clothes wearing business in this yer house'. I helped him out of them. He protested at first. I told him they were wet and wet clothes is bad for ye. He said they wasn't wet. So I put the hose on him. 'They are now me ol' cocker' I said. His under crackers ended up on her chimneypot at number 53- you know the family sized gateaux shaped one with the integrated bike rack- woman not chimney pot- come on now have ye ever seen a chimney pot with an integrated bike rack?- no I think not!!! Then having rounded up all the clothes, except his trousers- who knows where they ended up?- he gave them to Ben not Zen and told him he was free to go. Ben not Zen said he couldn't go until I had signed his docket (he had raised it specially for me!!) and rated him. I said he looked good wet and naked and was not bad at filling holes so I gave him a 69. Also slipped him me phone number- just in case me hole needs filling again!

Feeling Lumps and Filling Holes and Tighter Nuts

Well I had to wait for the plumber again today- as mines Mr Husband made a big fuss about me keeping the last one under the stairs. Ranted about Kidnap being illegal and poor chap turning blue blah blah. Then one we finds the boiler is still leaking through a little hole. This proves I should have been allowed to keep the other one. Although to be fair he did have a heart condition. I had to ring the nice plumber people and convince them to send me another. Well I am glad I did because they sent Ben- I could have sworn they said they were sending Zen. He mumbled about loose nuts. How rude I thought- he barely knows me. He started off by saying he only needed tighter nuts. Now I am expert in this field so I stripped immediately. Its the quickest solution for tightening nuts I know of. He seemed shocked. 'Put ye clothes back on pleeeassse', he begged. 'Well', I said to him 'I think the problem is me little hole wants filling'. Anyways I thought I will keep this one. Not making that mistake twice. Don't think I was using strong enough rope to start with because he managed to escape no less than 7 times. Slippery beast indeed!! I was going to keep him in the cupboard under the stairs but he is too nice for that. So I have left him in the bedroom- still tied up of course.  Later I might untie him and hide his clothes and let him roam about looking to see if any more little holes need filling!

Yesterday I went to see the Machoist. The neck lump doctor is his proper title it appears. True. Says that on me invitation to see him. They didn't have not a magazine to read in that waiting room. No siree. All they had was a copy of Mog the Cat. And a cover of an a Woman's Own magazine. It didn't take me long to read that from cover to cover I tell ye. Anyways it seems when ye are going to have a lump inspected in ye neck ye don't need ye best bra and knickers on. So I took them off. Apparently ye are not supposed to do that either. I thought he said he wanted to feel me in nymph mode- but apparently Mr Husband said he asked to feel my lymph node and he never once had mentioned stripping naked. I am sure he did though. I heard it said when I was staring at the doctor who looked like Colin Firth- I am sure he did. I thought this same thing happened when I accompanied mines little sister (the one with the issues, constipation, accidental blue hair, and part time camel toe) to the lumpy bum doctor. I wasn't supposed to strip off there either. But there ye goes- I could have sworn I heard the doctor say 'strip off'. Good job I had me best knickers on that day as well. I came over all necessary when he offered me his hand and said 'place that on the place ye needs me to feel'. Mines Mr Husband said 'He meant the lymph node- the lump- in ye neck- ye are rude woman'.

 On the plus side I saved a woman's life on the way home from the Machoist - yes true I did. ' Oh Lordy, Lordy Mind that woman on the crossing' I screamed at mines Mr Husband- oh my days he could have killed her! I am a heroine.

Twerking, Stripping and Stitching

Well I bet ye all thinking I lost me computer and can't be doing updates. Tisn't true if anyone tells ye this. I have been up to me neck. Mines little sister (NOT the one with the issues, constipation, accidental blue hair and part time camel toe (by her own admission)- the other one- her house burnt down - true it did. We have been helping her. That was on a Tuesday. Then on this Tuesday we had to take mines mother to  A&E to have her hand stitched together- she didn't want them stitched together but she kept putting her hands in her pockets and skipping and T'was getting dangerous at her age. I tell ye I fast be going off Tuesdays - tis a shame cos Tuesdays is orange and tis my favourite day. Apart from Saturdays which is my loud music and naked dancing day.

We sat all the afternoon in that darn hospital waiting and waiting. All they had for entertainment was a screen with information about vegetables. People in Bridgwater don't do vegetables. They should have had some burger and chips adverts or a couple of adverts on coke (ye can decide for yeself which sort!). I told ye receptionist 'come on woman, tis an emergency mines mother have had an accident and it wasn't her fault'. She said 'Take a seat and I will get someone to come and help ye fill out a claim form'. How annoying. 'Beggar off', I said, 'she be needing stitching first'. T'was true there weren't many people in that room at first but did soon fill out. T'was boring. So I stood up and said 'let's play I spy'. They all looked at me like I was gaga. Three foreign teenagers didn't know what I was saying. I am not any good at foreign. So I just poked each of them in the eye with a pen so they got the hang of it. 'I spy', I said loudly, 'with my little eye, something beginning with N'. Everyone looked around. 'Nurse' shouted someone one. Everyone jumped up and tried to follow the nurse. She hid in the loo and wouldn't come out until we bribed her with chocolate. Anyways I told them it wasn't nurse- T'was Numpty- T'was the man who came in with his boxers round his ankles. Can ye believe it he tried to shimmy up a drain pipe like that- or down. Couldn't hear all he was saying. He said his father was a boxer. I said ' don't tell me, ye mother was a poodle'.  Anyways the I spy was a washout. So then I skipped around the waiting room singing 'she'll be coming round the mountain when she comes'. I tried to get them all to join and do a conga. Apparently they can't do it without the Agadoo music and the receptionist said she only had Green Sleeves. I said 'that will teach ye not to lay on the grass in the lunch hour with the gynaecologist'. She said that that wasn't funny- she was only showing him her spot. Ooo-er Missus.

Then I organised a game of pass the parcel- first prize was a do it yeself stitch kit. Pity mines mother never won that- she couldn't have done with that.  The runners up prize was a do it yeself plaster of Paris kit for a broken leg. Ironic I thought that was as a runners up prize. Shame the old man that couldn't breathe won that- he could have done with some oxygen.

When he came in I could tell straight away he was an old pervert. 'Look mother', I says 'Its an old pervert'. She looked 'How do ye know that he is an old pervert?' she asked. 'Well', I tells her, 'listen to his heavy breath- he be one of thems  that breaths heavy down the phone to thee'. She thought about this for a split second. Then she got quite excited. 'Oooo-er', she said 'scribbling her phone number on an old tissue she had been blowing her nose on and mopping up blood with intermittently, 'give him my number' she instructed So I did. Also gave him mines little sisters numbers. T'wasn't easy I tell ye. His wife was trying to push me off. That was when the fight broke out. Then the doctor came round and ask me what was I doing. I told him he was an ol pervert- the ol' man with the heavy breathing not the doctor- although the Dr was a bit dishy so I reckon I could have perverted him. Anyways the Dr said that the old man was not a heavy breather or a pervert. He was having a asthma attack. I ask ye, how the feck was I supposed to know??

Then I got the receptionist to find some music- then I did me stripper routine. Tisn't easy ye know to do that to Space Odyssey. There were a couple of strokes and a couple of near misses. I heard someone gasping rapidly. Twas the old geezer with the asthma. Mines mother said ' Get yeself down off that desk and behave theself'. All i was trying to do was liven things up. Peoples feeling bad wants a bit of entertainment to take thems minds of things. Mines mother said she agreed but that poor bloke with the broken leg tried to run away when I did mines twerking up against him (tis the rules of twerking)- then he fell over and broke the other leg. Cue the man with the plaster of Paris kit. 'See', I said 'bit of community spirit tis all it needs'.

Anyways mines mother is all stitched up and I am not allowed back in A&E even if it is an emergency. I shall have to get mineself a stethoscope and go and disguised as a doctor.

Testicles for sale, Sex at ninety and Whipping.

Well I expect you all be thinking I been quiet. I been to the dentist this week. On Wednesday that was it.  (Not mines Mr Husband. He don't believe in such things as dentists or God or other such mysteries. Even on that day that he was 55 years and one week old.) Yep, that dentist she sure knows how to shut me up! I was grateful today that she got so obsessed with that feckin lump in me neck- I know- lumps in necks not really her field, but failed doctors and all that. I think she thought it might be a root from me tooth. I told her 'the doctor said its me nymphnode- it gets bigger and painful when I be poorly or stressed. And you be stressing me out with sticking all them sharp things in mines mouth and poking mines gums'. Smacked me nose on the ceiling a couple of times and bit her three times. And she washed the chair before I got in it (i think- t'was wet. Could have been old lady peed her pants- but I prefer to think she washed it down specially for me)- then it looked like I had peed me pants when I got out. Anyways I got clean teefs, all buffed up and varnished -ooer go me- like Rylan Clarkes now. Also she is writing to a masochist specialist bout me lump cos she don't like it. So why ye be grateful Beth I hear ye say? I be grateful cos she didn't notice I cut me fringe with the nail scissors before I went cos I am too mean to pay 50p to have it cut. Sadly mines mother noticed but didn't like to say anything! Well she did say if you paid 50p to have that fringe cut my girl I would ask for 49p back!

Tuesday t'was like this : I was laid there on floor when Mines Mr Husband came in. 'What ye doing down there mines little pickled parsnip and why are ye writhing like a beached a whale and pulling a face like ye sucking a sherbert lemon?' See now I don't have a house with a mirror on the ceiling I don't know what I look like. 'I be doing mines pelvic floor exercises- ye have to exercise ye pelvis on the floor', I tells him. 'But why?', the nosy bugger asked. 'So we can have sex at ninety' I tells him 'do ye not want sex at ninety?'. He didn't have to think about the answer to this. He said 'Of course I do, as long as someone else is driving cos it be dangerous otherwise'. Then he asked 'why are ye thrashing about, up and down?'. He bloody inquisitive that man. 'I am practicing pelvic thrusting for the hairpin bends', I told him. 'Ye don't need to worry about that he said', ye already have a grip like a bulldog clip and the hairpin bends will be of no danger to us'. I told him 'tis important, many an old person gets a bit of whiplash when having sex at ninety' (I greatly suspect- I have seen them in supermarkets having a job to stand up straight to get the peaches off the top shelf) 'and I don't want thee to have whipped lash or cream because I haven't done me exercises. He has now gone off to the other room for some sleep he said. Sex at ninety indeed- he gets exhausted thinking about it at 55.

On Thursday the day began like this :

Mines Mr Husband came into find me totally naked. He said 'Ooooer- sexy. You is completely naked- not even got your socks on- I like'. I told ye he be a nosy bugger. 'That mines husband', I said to him, 'is because this is because I am in the bath and this is how I gets in the bath- completely naked'. Then he wandered off muttering about how I should then put some water in the bath and it would all make more sense. Can't mind his own for five feckin minutes he can't. Then we went and photographed a kingfisher. So excited I was I nearly peed me pants.

Friday I discovered ye can get $35.000 for just one testicle. I don't know if ye has to give ye own- if this is so I am buggered. But if not I am currently making a list of ones I can donate. So don't feck me off or I can add ye to the list. Mines Mr Husband has been walking round with his in his hand just incase.

Today Mines Mr Husband says to me 'what ye doing little pickle? Why are ye searching Amazon now?' I told ye he be a nosy bugger. 'I am preparing for a chemical attack' I tells him. 'Why are we having beans for tea? I am going to be at work tonight so I will do all me chemical attacking at work'. Tis true his arse can be lethal if ye happens to get down wind of it. 'Ye won't be needing plastic sheeting, duck tape, wind up radios and whistles little pickle' he says. 'Oh ye are a daft arse (even if a smelly arse)', I says to him. 'I am preparing in case they Dayesh launch a chemical attack- they are mad feckers thems and I been reading about it'. I know he thinks I am bonkers but he won't when I gets me duck tape and me whistle out and chase him to the our designated safe place- specially chosen by moi- tis our bedroom. He will be safe in there I shall see to it personally.

That be it. What ye mean is that all? Well ye can always buy me little book The Three Little Pigs a Westcountry Tale for Adults- Go to Amazon and find me or go through me blogs and read thems all again.

Something Fishy for his Birthday.

On behalf of mines Mr Husband I want to thank ye all for the birthday messages, hugs, kisses and cards. He is touched. Really he is touched. Been trying to get him certified. He was 55 this year. Did I actually mention how old he was? Yes he is 55. Last night after tea he went to bed early- because he was falling asleep on the sofa - 'this is what happens' I tell him when ye become an old person. We didn't even party the day before. Although I did wrap him up in a tartan blanket and walked him around Lyme Regis and Brixham. T'was a cold day. I was worried about the incontinence- his not mine. I Had to buy him some chips and cheese for his dinner. He lost his teeth over the breakwater wall so he had to suck his chips.  On our travels on Mines Mr Husbands birthday- he was 55 ye know- did I mention that? we found three dead animals. I have no idea what they were- they were unidentifiable. Bit squished to be honest with you. He wouldn't let me bring them home. He said he didn't want squished animals for his birthday. I did manage to find him a nice trainer shoe. He needs new ones. I just need another now and he will have a pair. Then when we was down the harbour I found him a nice seal but it was still alive and a proved a bit of a bugger to catch. Then I found him a fish. T'was already dead- 'tis a trout for ye', I said with much pleasure. 'Tis a shark' he cried. Ye never seen a harbour empty so fast in all ye life. He could have had it to go with his chips to have a little suck on. But nope- he made me leave it there- but I took this picture of it - will have it framed for him. A memento of a grand day with an ol' man on his birthday. (He was 55- I might not have told ye that).

Then we had cake when we got home - least he didn't need his teeth for that. Then I gave him the bumps. Well cos of me dodgy hip, and T'was just us two so I couldn't lift him do it by meself. So I stood him on a chair, and pushed him off 56 times- 55 for his birthday and one for good luck. And a few more times besides because I have to admit I was enjoying myself - 'a bit too much' he said for his liking. Well ye can get carried away. I think I just lost count. I am not good with numbers. I pointed out he will be 60 next. He says we don't age in increments of 5years- whaaaaaat? He has been an old man since birth. He was born wearing a cardigan and slippers and he never had a dummy- he had pipe. Tis true is that- I have seen his baby pictures. Anyway he says I am to thank ye all from his bottom. He is 55. Did I mention that???

P.S. He says that should read bottom of his heart - not his bottom.x

55 and Counting, Bumps and Wet Fish

Well today is the day. Mines Mr Husband has reached the grand old age of 55. To be honest he nearly didn't after last night. He washed up the cups and then turned off the kitchen light and shut the door because we was on the way to bed. Tis his little ritual. Then I asked 'did ye empty the bowl of washing up water?'- tis an annoying little habit he has of leaving a bowl of dirty washing up water. Remember I said he sometimes gets on me piggin nerves? Well this is one thems things. Anyway his answer was this 'not yet, just in case ye might want to do some washing up!' he said making his way back in the kitchen to empty the bowl. At this time of feckin night really?? 'Well ye have turned the light off and shut the door and we are off to bed', I pointed out. Then he said 'well even YOU are capable of opening a door and putting a light on'. That man sure knows how to get my dander up sometimes. So I reminded him that I am the one who will be giving him the bumps for his birthday so he should be careful what he says to me. (Well he be too heavy for that now and I got a dodgy hip so I am going to get him to stand on a chair 55 times and then I am going to push him off.) This was just after he started counting the stars. He started counting the stars just after I slapped him with a wet fish. Salmon nonetheless because we are posh here. Well it wasn't wet. Oily. And it was still in the tin. You would think at the grand old age of 55- yes 55 he would have learned to duck be now. As I left the kitchen I told him- put the light out and shut the door on ye way up to bed and don't get up in the middle of the night and put the extractor fan on like ye did the other night. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY OLD MAN!!!

Coming through the letter box............

IF ye thinking ye haven't seen me much well, tis true ye haven't. I have been busy- knitting. Yep knitting. What the feck are ye knitting? I hear ye cry. Well I am knitting a dolly for a little person. Despite following the pattern its seems I be knitting a little person. Unless the pattern is wrong- that could be it. Yeah- I bet that is it. Still I will motor on until it be finished. We had a lot of trips to wool shops. Well they not be made of wool- they just sell wool. Tis a very tricky job picking the right wool for this job. Mines Mr Husband isn't very interested in wool so he wanders off and examines googly eyes and such stuff. I found some baby knitting patterns- 'lets make a baby' I called across to him at the googly eye department. 'What in here?' he called back. 'Is that allowed in a wool shop?' Old ladies were gasping and one came all over unnecessary and another peed her pants. Well she may have done that before she went to the wool shop - I don't know. I waved the baby patterns at mines Mr Husband across the way. 'Look', I said ignoring the assistant have a little flap in the middle of the shop at the thought of me and mines Mr Husband making a baby in her shop, 'look', I says to him 'we can knit one or even purl one or both. T'will cut out the messy bits of baby making'. Phew- sighs of relief all round the shop. T'was the very way mines Mr Husband came into this world he assures me 'I was knitted and pushed through a letter box' he has told me on many occasions. I told him that I can tell that this is the Gods honest truth because whoever knitted his face dropped a stitch (or two) and his ears have been sewed on up side down. T'is the only reason I can think for his deafness.  And I can only but guess his little squashed bits are where he came through the brushes in the letter box. He agrees he was a bit of a mess but argues ye should see his sister- she was made up of the oddments. I have warned him mind you- 'any trouble from you me ol' cocker'- I said to him 'And I shall unpick thee and make a tea cosy and a pair of socks out of thee'. Tis how I keep him under control. Well I have to be off now me ol' babbers. I got another leg to knit!

Up The Muff

Mines Mr Husband took me up the Muff yesterday. We haven't done that for a while- and we had to get stuff done. T'was very wet and wild and I ended up with backache. Also Mines Mr Husband is getting too old to cope with wet and wild. Personally I like the Muff when tis wet and wild. Although tis true the tide was out. Then Mines Mr Husband took me in the chip shop. I Tell ye- he will take me anywhere that man. I was allowed to choose the table. 'Choose a table' he said. I chose a nice sturdy one away from people- I haves me dignity don't ye know. Plus its been so long since I been out I am not in a people person mood. Not only but also but I tries to keep Mines Mr Husband away from peoples (for thems own safety) after a night shift. Lets just say he is not a people person after a night shift- especially an unexpected night shift. In fact he is less person and more sort of bear with sore head. Anyways I chose a table away from people but near the window so I had a nice a view of the 'Everything is a £1' shop. Now MMH is expecting me to apologise to the holiday making woman from Birmingham (I ask ye, who goes on holiday to the Muff in January- get a grip holiday makers - we don't want ye down yer in January- we have to psyche up to ye visits- especially if ye are coming from Birmingham!)- yep apologise. Well ye did get on mines tits with ye incessant chatter whilst I was being taken in the chip shop. I told ye I am not a peoples person. And that my little brummy friend is how ye ended up head first in the deep fat fry. No apologies. Please don't be a coming yer again in January and try to engage me in small talk in my corner of the chip shop, specifically chosen away from peoples, whilst I be being taken. Tis bad mannered of thee.

Bust Thrust, Naked Dancing, Tits and Tea

Been up since early checking the New Years Honour List for mines name. Seems they have forgotten to put it on. I am sure I should be on there for my services to writing or genealogy or naked dancing, or services to the tits or something. Mines Mr Chunky Nuts says that the Queens secretary writes to you. I think it is because I have moved house. They have lost track of me. Its the tax office debacle all over again. Talking of which I see several tax peoples have had medals this year- I don't know what for- they always be losing people. And they didn't deport me to the Seychelles like I asked. I am always amazed by that list and the amount of people they have to order to Bath- (see the ORDER OF THE BATH). There must be some really dirty feckers out there. Glad see mines Brother wasn't on the list- but in fairness he did have a shower last year- no, I know not by choice but he did get one. Some of thems people on that NYH list surely don't need a medal - someone in Wales got a medal for services to Welsh Lamb (peculiar that one); Someone got a medal for Clay shooting target practice; someone got a medal for services to Hockey- Hockey of all things; one for services to the community of Lympsham in Somerset- I am dumbfounded- there only be three feckin houses. Ye drive though and miss it if ye should blink. And one for services to prisoners (another very curious one- all sorts spring to mind). Barbara Windsor got one for 'thrust the bust' scenes in movies and for slapping Pat Butcher (but she was asking for it)- and Jacqueline Gold founder of Anne Summers for rendering services- just that- rendering services. Plus ol' Liz at Buckingham Palace was particularly thrilled this year with the new hands free vibrator (and she wasn't the only one- read my book) and ol' Charlie was thrilled with the new design of Pink Poly Bags that the goods from Anne Summers arrives in. They are a nice fit over the ye old nags head- not just during sex, but during mealtimes and tv hour as well. And well done I must say to those who got awards for Scottish Country Dancing (tis true they did), the bloke who got one for services to the Gentleman's Night Out (organising piss ups for posh people- also true), and my favourite is Jane Pettigrew who had a medal for services in the Production of Tea (not coffee- it didn't get not any mention at all) but Tea- it solves a multitude of problems and keeps I upright for most of the day. So that one was well earned. I will have to check through again for mines name- it is obviously there- its just too early in the day for me to see it.

New Years Din and Gin...............

A little New Years ditty I did write for all ye hungovers peoples!

T'was the morning after the night before

And not an adult was yet stirring

For they had all been celebrating New Year

And they had drunk far too much

All their heads were sore to the touch!

All the kids were lively, more lively than ever before

So little Susie, Little George and Tiny Jimmy

Started Dropping tins and spoons upon the floor!

'Play with me Mummy, Play with me Daddy-

You be the good guy and I'll be the Baddy'.

Poor Mummy, Poor Daddy.

'Go Away Susie, Go Away George and take little Jimmy,

Leave us in peace, Watch the Telly,

Watch Shaun the Sheep and little Timmy'.

So off they trot and T.V on they put,

Loud and Crisp and Clear,

Loud enough for all the street to hear!

For at last nights party the T.V remote did disappear.

T'was fat Uncle Matt who sat upon the cat

After too much cake and beer

And now the remote was stuck up right up his crack.

All the mummies and all the daddies

How they tossed and turned and moaned and groaned

'OH gawd me head, me head'

And all the children cried

'Oh mummy, Daddy - are you dead?'

They poked, they prodded, tickled and slapped

Poor mummy and daddy to rouse

'Don't leave us alone in the house'.

They shouted and laughed and they screamed and they clapped

Til slowly rose mummy and then grumpy dad.

The room it whirred round and round

Until it looked like, just overnight, the kids had multiplied.

'My stomach is turning oh far too fast and My head is doing much the same- I think I am on a fairground ride'.

'And me, and me' in unison the kids all cried

'I want a fairground ride'.

All day they were sent to play with their toys

'And don't ye going making too much noise-

George don't bang that drum and Susie please not the bell,

And Jimmy don't cry- ye are the baby from hell'.

By the end of the day T'was all wearing thin.

The kids were exhausted and all were done in.

Tucked into their beds three sleepy heads.

But Mummy and Daddy was sure they had six.

Now feeling better to Daddy Mummy Said

'Oh Bert, Never Again'

Said Daddy to Mummy

'There still some drink left, lets not quit'

And he handed her a tonic - laced with some Gin.

©Elisabeth Lucas