Pizza Express.

I enter the revolving door of the Pizza Express and note the turning resistance is higher than it should be. My sister, still recovering from major surgery, follows in the quadrant behind. As I enter the warmth of the restaurant, I look back to see the door stopped and my sister’s face contorted with the effort of trying to overcome static friction.

Later, during the meal, the conversation turns to Rock Hudson. She’s explaining how her girl friends couldn’t watch the interaction between him and Doris Day, in Pillow Talk with the same enjoyment knowing he was gay. I added that, to my surprise, my friend Ric had known, long before he was ‘outed’. Something to do with him knitting.

“I dunno,” counters my adorable sister, “A lot of sailors used to knit.”

After a short pause she adds,

“Point taken.”

Teeth Cunt

I entered the above two words into Google Images and guess what the first image was?

I Want to Play a Game.

OK, I'm a bit anal on this. I just feel that little things make you suddenly aware of the rectangle surrounding the world you would otherwise have totally bought into.

F'rinstance, in Saw III, why does the fat husband, walk through three separate heavy doors, leave them open and become surprised when they slam lock shut behind him. Doesn't he see a pattern there? Then each time he makes a decision, he fannys about so much that by the time he does the right thing it's too late.

Maybe it's just me, but if you find yourself in a position of mortal danger, should you fail to release yourself from an ankle maniacal chained to a pipe, you may wish to consider the following;-

1. Why start sawing in the middle of a heavy chain? If you succeed, you'll be dragging a large length of heavy chain around with you. Cut next to the ankle maniacal.
   
2. Any chain worth it's salt would be made of high tensile steel. The pipe however will be brittle cast iron or malleable iron. Both can be sawn with a cheap hacksaw blade.
3. Why, when you feel you're out of options, would you cut your foot off? You only have to cut your heal off. If you're really clever, you could make an incision across the soul over your heal, strip the flesh down from the bone and cut just below the Achilles tendon. That way an almost full recovery could be made surgically later.

*only have to cut your heal off*

I love that bit.

My Fucking House, My Fucking Phone!

I've just been across the road with surfer dude.
Flick is asleep on his sofa. He's drunk.

"I've just had an argument with your ex."

"Word of advice..." I interject.

"Never argue with my ex. You see it's not about an exchange of viewpoints. It's an animal thing, purely about hurting you. As long as you remain calm and unaffected, you're winning."

Surfer Dude stopped blinking some time ago. This indicates he's very drunk. He stares at me for a while then replies.

"Yeh, I know."

I'm also drunk, so I continue,

"Even if you are clearly winning the argument, she'll just switch to another attack about something else. It doesn't even have to be justified. She'll just switch again the moment she's obviously loosing."

I can see he recognizes exactly what I'm talking about.

"Yeh, I know............. So I phone Flick your daughter, from my works mobile phone, to my house. Your ex answers. She says she thinks it inappropriate for me to speak to Flick right now. She's in my house, answering my fucking phone, I don't know why she's in my fucking house, answering my fucking phone, so she's got a fucking cheek telling me I can't speak to her daughter, who's enjoying the benefits of my house. Did I give your ex permission to be in my house, let alone permission to use my phone?"

I can picture the whole thing. We laugh together. Two drunks laughing at something that's even more stupid than we are.

For First Nation

Just to satisfy First Nation's lust we have,



#1. Makes You Cum Quietly.




















#2. Cums With a Monkey.















#3. Cums with Tazzy.






















#4. Cums With a Big Package.












#5. Cums to Plunge Your Waste Pipe.
























#6. Cums in Short Pants.

What Does It All Mean?

I’ve had that re-occurring dream again. The one where Count Down’s, aging, geek, glamour girl, Carol Vorderman, ties up Weakest Link’s domineering presenter, Anne Robinson, throws her into a bath tub and starts pouring in buckets of fish entrails to drown her.

This is not to be confused with my similar daytime fantasy, which features more Johnson’s Baby Oil and less marine products.

I’m not sure of the significance, but I somehow think Anne Robinson represents my ex-wife.

Frobishers picture of the back end of Mr C has inspired me to publish the picture of how I imagine him to look.

Not the Only Tickersoid Then?

A friend recently emailed me the following link,

http://www.tickersoid.blogpot.com

Weird or what?

I'm Thinking

Has anyone ever seen comedian Sean Hughes and 'Mad' Magazine's Alfred E Newman in the same room together?

Have You Ever Noticed?

Ladies, have you ever noticed that little thing men do the moment they slip into the drivers seat of their car?

They drive off!

Congratulate Me Boys.

I'm really on the ball this year. It's not even March yet and I've already taken down the Christmas decorations.

Charity

It has been scientifically proven that the endorphin release induced by altruism is greater than that caused by wealth.

Put simply, it really is better to give than to receive.

To this end I’ve been looking around for a charity to subscribe to.

Something that’s always made me feel better during hard times is that, no matter how bad things are, if I’d just been released after five years of routine torture in some godforsaken foreign prison, I’d feel bloody ecstatic.

So I’ve joined Amnesty International. Whether you have more time than money or vice versa, you can still input.

So make yourself happy whilst also helping others. If you haven't already done so, Join a charity today.

Drown Me Sorrows.

Five pints later, the already attractive landlady, was looking fabulous, if a little blurry.
I'm convinced she adores me.

At Last The Post Has Arrived!

Two letters.

One from the DVLA advising me I can renew my tax disc online.

One from my credit card company trying to give me a cheque book.

No one loves me.

I won't give up hope.

Not as long as the emergency condom remains within it's expiry date.

Oh the stress of it all.II.

S'funny.

Nothing yet.

Postman must be late.

Oh the stress of it all.

Just got home from a night shift.
Got to wake up at lunch time for a few appointments in Cardiff and Nelson.
I expect I'll have to leave by the back door 'cos of the huge pile of Valentines day cards that'll be blocking my front door.

I Hold Your Hand In Mine.

I hold your hand in mine, dear
I press it to my lips
I take a healthy bite from
your dainty fingertips.

My joy would be complete, dear
If you were only here.
But still I keep your hand
As a precious souvenir.

The night you died I cut it off,
I really don't know why.
For now each time I kiss it,
I get bloodstains on my tie.

I'm sorry now I killed you,,
For our love was something fine!
Until they come to get me,
I shall hold your hand in mine!

Lyrics by Tom Lehrer

And what do you think this is children?

I can do an impression of a bunny rabbit using my hands but what do you think this is?

Top Gear

I've just seen Top Gear. The three presenters driving old bangers across the Southern States of America. They had the challenge of driving through Alabama with the following slogans painted on their cars.

NASCAR Sucks

Hillary for president.

Country and Western music is rubbish.

Man-love rules. OK!

The priceless part, is where they stop for petrol and the woman proprietor is so outraged, she calls 'the boys' who arrive in a pick up truck and start assaulting the presenters and camera crew with rocks. The advice at the end of the show was, don't go to America.

Tickers Tackles Targets

When the management of an organisation start setting targets, it sends out a clear message.

We have no idea what to do for the best, so instead, we're going to compile a wish list.

The attraction, for incompetent managements, is that they make them appear to be doing something, whilst at the same time, implying that things will improve.

In reality, at best, but not very likely, it'll marginally improve performance. More probably, it will either make no difference, demoralise the workforce, or, in the worst case scenario, cause performance to drop as a consequence of pitching the target too low. Employees know that the next target will be set based on this periods performance so want to have something in reserve.

I doubt dangling a carrot on the end of a piece of string in front of a donkey would fool it for long, so why would management think it would work on us.

Fantasia Sexual

You see, you've got to start out small and work your way up.

Tickersoid Tackles Global Issues.

Things were starting to get a little damp in Cardiff.

Perhaps I'm not the best qualified person to tackle global issues. I don't subscribe to a news paper (not necessarily a disadvantage from what I've read in the 'Star') nor do I watch the TV news.
I do, however, glimpse a window to the world through radio news (assuming 'glimpse' is an appropriate verb to use for an auditory medium). Further, I sometimes peruse some of the weightier articles from the Times, should I happen to find a copy lying on the toilet cubicle floor, that isn't too sodden for page turning.
I will however, give you the 'He's Got To Be a Bit Gay' view of Global Warming, right here from my collapsed office chair (Ikea of course) at one end of my badly decorated bedroom, looking out on a snow covered valley.
I seem to recall some one concerned with global worming, ( yeah, you're not going to find anything involving names, times and places or anything vaguely verifiable here) saying we shouldn't go from denial to despair.

Jeez, that was my plan exactly.

I'm impressed, mind you, that he should have recognized such a common place attitude.
Those of us who listen to Terry Wogan on radio 2 in the morning will notice a cynicism aimed at 'latest research' and global warming.
Most of his 8.5 million viewers, ( believed to be the worlds highest. Eat your heart out Howard Stern) are, shall we say, of a certain age.
An age that remembers when we used to 'make do and mend', instead of buying new. When we used to take glass bottles back to the shop or leave them out for the milk man. When the only disposable item in the weekly shop was toilet paper and that was only because news paper blocked up the soil pipes (if you didn't scrunch it and rip into small pieces).
This was an age when the latest research told us that dairy products such as eggs, cream and cheese were good for you. When eating boiled sweets and brushing after every meal was thought to be beneficial for your teeth. When the latest predictions of the future told us that the worlds oil would have run out by 1984, but that Britain had enough coal to last another 300 years.
No. Us oldies don't hold much store by latest research or predictions.
OK, I'll admit I used to be in denial about global warming and maybe 'man' has actually contributed to it by emissions, but hey, what you gonna do?
I know for sure people aren't going to modify their lifestyles by any significant degree, and I say significant in terms of what can reasonably be expected, not in terms of what needs to be done.
People act according to economic pressure. End of.....
And what of the emerging economies. China building power stations at the rate of one per week. How many TV's turned off, instead of on stand by, is that?
How are the Chinese going to react to being told, just as they're aspiring to own their own motor cars, "Ooh we've all agreed here in the West, it would be a good thing if we all rode around on bicycles." Like you're ever going to get consensus on that in Sussex or Oxford, let alone Los Angelis.

So now I'm in despair.

Except for one thing.

Didn't someone predict that, any day now, Yellow Stone Park is going to explode in a super volcano and plunge us all into a nuclear winter?

Thought for the Day.

Afghanistan must have the most convincing trannies in the world.

The Student Doctor.

The student doctor, in her final year of seven, leads me to a featureless examination room. I’d only popped in for a ‘productive’ cough that I’d been four weeks trying to overcome.

Any experienced general practitioner would have written a prescription for amoxicillin with out even looking up and sent me on my way saying, “If it doesn’t improve, come back (and I’ll examine you properly).”

Instead she examines me thoroughly. After the examination we wait for the real doctor…………..we wait………….in a featureless room……………trying to avoid eye contact…..in a featureless room……

Eventually she says, “I’m sorry about the wait.”

“No need to apologise,” I reply, “I was married for 20 years, I’m used to awkward silences.”

She laughs, not nervously but sincerely. After which the silence and eye contact avoidance, continues.

“You caught it on New Years eve?” She ventures to break the silence.

“Oh yes, I think I got it from being intimate with a senior staff nurse. I mention this for two reasons. Firstly, It just might help with the diagnosis, but secondly and more importantly, in spite of my age, I’m still immature enough to want to brag about it.”

She laughs the sincere laugh again. I continue.

“Normally, in speech, my statements aren’t so complex but the awkward silences give me the opportunity to compose.”

I relieve the tension by asking her about her career intentions and actually listening to the answers.

The doctor arrives and we reassemble in his room where Student Doctors examination is itself examined.

Real Doctor- “So what would you prescribe?”

Student Doctor- “A course of Amoxcicillin?”

Real Doctor- “Quite right.”

Two thoughts spring to mind.

‘Duhhhh!’ and ‘Should I swallow this phlegm now or retain it in my mouth until such time as I can dispose of it?’