Some of you may recall the post I did regarding the Matchbox/penis/crunching noises/howling with pain trick I played on an ex girlfriend of mine.

Here is a far more rotten and contrived little bit of badness that the poor girl suffered at my hands.

So I am living at home and I had been out he night before to a rock club that we frequented. S, my then girlfriend did not come with me on this occasion for some reason but was coming round on this day at some point in the early afternoon.

There was a girl in our extended group of friends called J, who was stick thin but rather pretty and had waist length blond hair. She was very good at annoying other girls and played up the little girl lost image to its fullest to get her way in most things.
She was at the time going through the split-get back together-split dance with her boyfriend. Any way, she was at the rock club that night and S would have known this.

I had a rotten stinking idea, and put it into action. I placed my four foot long floor cushion into my bed to make a convincing sleeping body shape, placed an old football encased in a ice hockey helmet (don’t ask why I had one of those) on the pillow for a head, and placed a long blonde wig on this. Yes I had a long blonde wig in my room. It used to be my sisters and I stole it for comedy value and such. Just leave it OK!

Anyway, I had made a very convincing sleeping form, curled up in my bed facing the wall, with “her” long blonde locks flowing over the covers. You can see where this is going right?

So, S arrives and come up to my bedroom. I open the door and do Laurence Olivier proud.

“Oh, look, nothing happened right – she had nowhere to stay and I slept on the floor OK!”

A look of horror and shock comes over my face and S comes in as I step backwards with my hands held out in front of me in a calming manner.

S looks at the bed an a cold hard look comes over her face.

“Get. Her. Out. Now.”

“OK, I’ll wake her up”

I turn and with one smooth motion pick up my old acoustic guitar and swing it up over my head, Pete Townsend styleee and bring it down with loud “CRACK” on the sleeping bonce of “J” in my bed.

“Time to get up sweetie” I whisper at the now presumed corpse in my bunk.

The look of absolute horror on S’s face was something you don’t forget.

Nor the cry of “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” when I lifted the wig up and waved it at her as I grinned.

No she didn’t dump me on the spot. God knows why.

Now I have told you all on many an occasion what a good cook Shipscook is.

And how he and Mrs F are fine hosts, even to longstanding freeloaders like myself.

And I have made you all jealous by stating that when ever I stay over there, even if it is in the middle of the week and we all have to get up and go to work, that Shipscook brings me breakfast in bed. What a geezer eh?

Sometimes his skills in the presenting of the morning munchables slip a bit.

Now it may have been the wee jolly up he was out on last night that dulled his normally fine waitering ways, but he was a bit off his game this morning.

As he presented me with breakfast he said a phrase, which is guaranteed to set you up for enjoying your food.

“The bastard cat has been sick on the stairs”

Then on turning away and leaving me with my dish he spake

“I really need a poo”

Thanks dood

Michelin stars are in the post no doubt.

That, my dear and long suffering 0.5 of a reader, is the period of time that has passed while I have been trying to re-sus this knackered old work computer.

First I run the update which takes 15 minutes. "Re boot your pc to yadda yadda yadda" and such. OK.

Reboot takes 20 minutes! and doesn't work. Just sits there with a very sulky and indifferent looking purple blank screen.

So I turn the bugger off and on again. Hoorah! it starts and then tells me it is installing the update.

I don't know how long this took as at that moment the fire alarms went off and we had to walk down four floors to go stand in the cold and smoke at the building and scowl.

15 minutes later we come back in and my pc seems to be happy. Remembering that it is very slow I tell it to look for cookies. Which takes a while and I find about 170 of the little notepaddy bastards. And delete them.

Then a disc clean up which takes long enough for me to grow a beard, and then a disc defrag which just goes on for bluddy ever.

And now, after all that - here I is!

With nothing to say yet until I have had my first look at your posts, you witty and entertaining fellows.

Don't you just hate it when you settle down for a nice mornings blogging work and the first thing your pc says it that there is a new programme update to run!

Bum holes.

It's an update to our internal messaging system so it will take bloody ages....

Meh.

This was statement was issued on behalf of the blog every dull little thing that happens to try to look interesting party.

Thank you.