Warm City Night.

The lease had expired on our happy shared flat. My studio apartment was the furthest away from the crew. Too poor to have a TV or car. Mobile phones not yet invented.

I was lonely.

Thursday night. No point trying the vandalised public ‘phones. Walked the fifty minutes to the crew’s hangout.

They were getting ready for a fancy dress night at the 'Philharmonic'. If I could find something to wear, I could join them.

The overcrowded little mini, dived into the curb and stopped outside my place. I squeezed out following a passenger reshuffle. Ran indoors and changed. whilst considering what the sentence, ‘Take your time but hurry up.’ meant.

It’d been a hot summers day, Earlier, I’d cut the legs off a pair of jeans. Figured, if I wore a pair of briefs and used a suspender belt to hold up the leggings. Covered the whole ensemble with my full length Mac, I’d make a great ‘flasher’.

For finishing touches I’d made a round badge, slogan ‘legalise flashing,’ to cover my ‘embarrassment’. The half cup under wired bra, that add a special pervy touch, was considered, but abandoned due to fit.

Entering the club, filing past the handsome black bounder, he indicates the cloak room. I say I’m OK, but he does the sideways body check and adds, “It’s fire regulations sir, everyone has to remove their coats.”

Momentarily, I consider my response options, decide on a quick flash, and get waved through without further debate.

Having a legitimate excuse to be a pervert is fun. The best reaction was with the singer of the band, Lavern.

Lavern, a gorilla of a man, is a bit of a local legend musically. They reckon he could have made it big had he not sunk negotiations by getting arrested. On this night, he faced one of his biggest challenges. To keep singing whilst a perv’ in semi drag, suddenly flashes, directly in front of him.

He fails miserably. Result for Tickers.

It had been one of those magical 'fun night with friends' times.

They dropped me off outside my place in Pontcanna, and I watched the red tail lights bounce choppily down the empty road. Tyres making that sticky sound only heard on warm city nights. I breathed in the ambience and light fragrance of Budlia. Life is good.

Being forgetfull, and a drinker, I’d developed a system of ‘everything in its place’ to cope with daily life. I can always rely on finding my house keys in my front, left hand jeans pocket……

Ohhhhhhh Fuck!!!!!!!!

It’s 3.30am.
I’m dressed as a pervert,

and I'm locked out of my apartment.

Fortunately, being resourceful, I manage to break in with minimum damage or attention, but I’ve sometimes wondered, what would have happened, if during the climb in, I’d heard the immortal question,

‘Hello hello hello, what have we here then?’

Before someone asks why I'm in posession of ladies underwear, long term relationships finish, sometimes things get left behind.

I'm not a trophy collector, or a cross dresser..........................I'm not!

God is a Bastard.

Just a thought, having just read Fuckkit's post referring to 'fat armpits' (does she mean bingo wings?)

Why can't women, only lay down fat in their tits and arse.
If everything else stayed the same, especially their waist, they wouldn't loose anything in attractiveness.

similarly, men might start collecting fat in their willys. maybe progressing to their nuts.
OK it might have prematurely curbed my 'phone box leaping but surly that's a small price to pay.

My conclusion is the title of this post.

Six Things About Me.

This has been in my in tray for some time. Brianne of 'A hangover you don't deserve' Tagged me.

1. When I was five, my mother told me to stay away from a certain river as I might contract polio. I didn't listen and woke up the next morning unable to walk. Spent a long time in hospital having constant blood tests and my left leg in traction to stretch it.
Fortunately, the long term effects were minimal, such that I became a better than average athlete at school.

2. My favorite meal has always been, a bowl of slightly soggy Kellogg's Corn flakes, no sugar, full fat milk.

3. Unlike my older brother, I was sent to a military boarding school. It was due to difficult circumstances at the time.
Thought it would be pretty cool to 'play' soldiers.
Put me off the military for life.

4. My party piece as a young man was being able to leap frog the old red telephone booths. (no, not post boxes, telephone booths) In truth my bum would clip the trailing edge as I came down, and it had to be on a hill so I could approach from the high side.

5. My first motorised transport, was an ex police 250cc LE Velocette 'Noddy Bike'. It had a top speed of 40mph but you could get 45 if you lay on the tank. The second was a 1952 125cc BSA Bantum with no rear suspension whatsoever. I think Americans call that a 'hard tail'.

6. I once had a temporary job slinging fish heads into the back of a garbage truck.
Some of my friends avoiding me for a while.


I tag Lippy, Phlegm, Turboslut and Xtasy, to reveal six things about themselves. ( It was a long time ago and I think most of my other blogger community have already done theirs)

Girls Aloud

Which is the odd one out?
Which of these five girls, just scraped in by the skin of her teeth, based on singing talent?
Which one dances with less thrust and sway, self consciously, glancing at the monitor to see how dorky she looks?
The ginger one with the big nose, bow legs and too many freckles.

Nicola.

So why is it, I cant remember what the others look like? Why do I always want the camera to pick her out more on TV? Why is she so fascinating?

I thought it was just me again.

Last night at work we were discussing the joy that would come of being slowly dunked into a steaming hot vat of freshly buttered 'Pussy Cat Dolls'. When someone said, "or Girls Aloud."
Suddenly every one was saying how sexy Nicola was.
I checked this out with the guys in the laboratory, same result. Nicola's the sexy one.

Sexy? I think not. Fascinating? Yes.

Just look at her (far left) in the picture. Look at the body language. No pout or flash of teeth, even balance of the hips, no thrust. It's as if she's posing for a photo taken by her aunt.

So is it her seeming attainability? The girl next door thing.
Possibly, but I don't think so.
It can't be her dancing. I mean Sophie Ellis Bexter can't dance, but her dancing is confident and sexy in a minimalist kind of way. Nicola looks like she's only just learned the moves and is merely consolidating the order in her mind.

Part of it I think is the look. The others are so perfect they could never be truly attractive. All samey.
I despair sometimes at young American teenagers, all tweaking themselves with surgery to look like a young Farah Fawcett. That perfect, but oh so bland look.
British advertisers get it. Just look at their models and actresses. Big noses. (noses are the best feature to have a flaw in because they count for so little in the overall look) short upper lip, like Cameron Diaz.
You have to have some flaw to be sexy.
Take Michael Strachan. Guys think she's really cute, and yet her face looks like a caricature.

There is one other aspect to Nicola's allure.

Vulnerability. I just want to give her a big hug and tell her it's OK she can do it.
Now I've found out she's fine as it is. Keep on looking like you're a checkout girl who's won the chance to perform with her favorite girl band in a glossy magazine competition. Guys love it. Makes them think if they dated you, they would feel more manly.

Tell me. Are you as surprised by this as I am?



On a different note, but equally surprising.
Following my 'Bum Shag' post. A quick straw poll last night revealed that a majority of those willing to comment, said they'd not tried it but yes, were up for it.
We're talking butch steel workers here.
So maybe you'd better be getting the 'Bend Over Boyfriend' DVD, to please your man.
If you try it out and 'tool up' for the job, one word.

Wet-wipes.

It was a Dark and Stormy Night.

'Voice of Reason', has a penchant for big cars. My first glimpse of him was in 1986.
whilst driving through the steel works, I was intrigued to see a hearse, apparently being driven by one of the 'Blues Brothers', coming in the opposite direction.

Voice is a master story teller. This is one such tale, from the hearse era.

15th of October, 1987. The night of the 'Great Storm.'

'Voice' and mate 'Mohican', had taken the hearse to England on a fishing trip.
Storms don't usually deter most anglers but this time, trees had started to crash around them. It was getting dark, when they began to weave their way home through the Cotswolds.
The strong winds were buffeting the slab sided hearse. The road was strewn with branches. Leaves and debris tumbled down the road. Steel panels clanged alarmingly.
Thunder, rumbling menacingly, closed in behind them.
Lightning illuminated the angered trees, as they swirled and danced in the relentless winds.

They were starting to hunger, but all was shuttered or closed until, to their delight and surprise, they encountered a petrol station, its kiosk alight with life.

In the midst of Armageddon, the hearse glides through running water, up to the building.
The two men alight, bent in submission to the elements, clasping their clothing
'Voice' in homberg, wraparound mirror shades and full length fishing coat,
'Mohican' with green hair, piercings and tattoos.
The storm, now upon them, cracks thunder and lightning as they enter the shop, dripping with rain.
They stop to take in the contrasting, relative calm, and straighten to their full height.
The door slowly closes out the white noise of the driving rain.

Behind the counter, a young man, wearing a 'Save the Whale' 'T' shirt, who looked like he might knit his own muesli,

raises both hands in surrender.

The Awaited 'Splashing About' Photograph.

The moment of my arrest by a special armed unit of the Fashion Police.
They'd received a tip off from a hobo, traumatised by my appalling dress sense, whilst I was holidaying in Cornwall.

Bum Shag

Fred- " So why've you grown your hair so long? You were a skin head when I saw you last."

Bert- "Well it was the misses idea, she wanted to try doing to me what I do to her, yu' know, holding onto her hair whilst shagging her doggy style. She bought a strapon. Started off with a small attachment and worked her way up. I kind of like it really. Wouldn't you?"

Fred- "I dunno mate, when women start doing things like that, it's the thin end of the wedge if you ask me."

The above dialogue, is based on a third hand true (allegedly) story I heard from a colleague today.

Blog Addiction

At work today, whilst stopping for a ciggie with my learned friend 'Voice of Reason'. I had the following conversation.

Me- "I noticed on a blog yesterday that......"

Voice- "Stop blogging."

Me- "I noticed on a...."

Voice- "Stop blogging. It's ruining your life. You have a problem."

Me- "You could have a point there, my house isn't getting cleaned, I'm not opening my mail, the poodles aren't walked and the dishes are piling up."

Voice- "You've got to understand the internet is primarily for porn not blogging"

Me- "Funny you should say that, since I've started blogging, I've virtually stopped looking at porn."

Voice- "Jeez! Your problem is more serious than I thought"

-----------------------------

I've noticed hair hanging out of my Skoda's exhaust. When pulled, it's like Fluffy's long hairs in my bath plug hole, just kept on comming.

I don't know much about modern cars. Am I supposed to trim it, like nostril hair?

Shagging and Shit.

Evil Chicken, one of my daughters poodles, is 'on heat'.
Baboon But Bobby, the other poodle is wild with lust.
I've learned not to leave them together for a moment.
Last night, actually.
I made a quick call, rushed down stairs.
Too late.
Not only had they already started, but my mad panic to check them, had caused Evil Chicken to panic and spasm.
Found them stuck arse to arse like Siamese twins.

--------------------------------

At work today, an electrician was confessing to Max Cadey and his co worker Councilor, how he'd recently shit his pants and had to change back into the previous days dirty underwear. It had happened whilst he was on a job ( no pun intended ) at Port Talbot. Apparently, he was on his way to the bog when an unstoppable fart had suffered a 'follow through'.

We all know this because Max, having recently announced on the radio, something impressive like the 'shutting down of Zone 4', or the rapidly declining state of the dylithium crystals, had felt the conversation deserved a wider audience and had secretly left the mic' button on.
We know it was Max and not Councilor, because Max was asking for increasingly more sordid details.

Having strong feelings about this unforgivable, breach of confidence, I've decided to blog it.

The truth is now definitely 'out there'.

Portrait of the Blogger as a Young Chimp.

My contribution to 'Half Naked Thursday' I would have been about twenty when this was taken.

The Inner Thoughts of Baby Tinker.

This post was inspired by 'awaiting xtasy'.

There, I think I've got the hang of this crawling lark. Let's see, head down watch the limbs.

Yes! Left foot, right hand, then right foot, left hand.

Brilliant!!!!

Just think of the possibilities. I won't have to scream if I don't like where I am. Just crawl away to somewhere nice.
Ohhh and what about all those corners of the room I've never been to, or if I see something new, I could just crawl up to it and put it in my mouth. Fantastic!!

I could start with all those cupboards Mum fishes shiny things out of in the kitchen. I wonder what else is in them? I could empty all the stuff out onto the floor then I'd know. Easy, 'cos I can crawl now. Freedom! Brilliant!

I'll do it right now.

Don't need Mum.

Lets see, head down and watch, left foot, right hand, then right foot, left hand.

*Bangs head on kitchen door frame*

Fuck!

Where's Mum?

Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

---------------------

A week later......


Look at me! I'm standing. Oops, bit of a wobble there. Concentrate Baby Tinks.

OK, not proper standing, but I have taken one hand away from the play pen. Reckon I'll be able to do it properly with a bit of practice.

Wooaah, nearly lost it then but I'm definitely getting better.

I'll be able to reach the kitchen draws and find more cool stuff to bite.
Yes, I'm hardly wobbling at all now.
Look at me!

Wait a minute.
What's that up there? Haven't seen that before.

*Falls like a sack of shit*

May Day...May Day..Are you receiving me over.

Since starting blogging, I've noticed I hardly ever watch TV. In this valley I can't use a freeview box and the only channel I can receive well is BBC 1. BBC2 and ITV are of variable quality and S4C is in bloody Welsh!
Usually I stop for a coffee break, switch on, channel hop, think, 'God this is shite', then switch off.
So when the bill for the TV license arrived, I bin it.

I'm blogging when the 'phone rings.

Asian sounding lady: "Could I possibly speak to Mr Tickersoid please."

Me: "No I'm afraid you can't"

*hangs up*

It rings again almost immediately.

"Asian sounding lady: "I'M NOT A TELECOMS COLD CALLER."

I apologies. Turns out, she wants me to renew my license there and then with a credit card.

Me: "That pre-supposes I watch TV."

Asian sounding lady: "Don't you?"

Me: "God no! All that repetition, It's like being stuck in a lift with a drunk"

Actually she was very helpful, told me to take out the aerial lead and 'mess up' the TV tuning for when the investigators come.

--------------------

Little Miss stayed with me yesterday. Yea! She was a bit dismayed at the lack of TV, especially as the local video store had no available copies of 'Saw II'. The second choice movie didn't play. So we spent time in my bedroom showing each other, where we go on the internet.
After, she starts nosing around and finds a disc beside my TV/DVD combi'.

"What's this disc?" she asks as she turns it over.

"That is a cinematic classic." I say.

She reads the hand written title, "Sun, Sea and Shagging?" Miss looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"A masterpiece of it's genre" I announce.

------------------------

About fifteen minutes later we're in the smoke darkened kitchen.

"Do you want an apple?" I ask.

"No"

"Would you like to carve a face in an apple?" She loves a project.

"Oh yes" Little miss takes the apple and looks for a knife.
As she settles down on a chair to begin, she asks,

"Why carve a face on an apple?"

"Why climb Everest?" I reply.

"Well, then you can say you've climbed Everest?"

"Well, you can say you've carved a face in an apple"

"But loads have people have carved a face in an apple"

"Well then, there must be a good reason for it."

She looks at me smiling, to check I'm aware of the stupid logic. I'm smiling back, so she shakes her head and starts carving.