64. Her name was Shirley Annus Horribilis

2019 Finger2019 was more than a bad year. It was truly an annus horribilis for me. If it was a blind date it would be where a hairy bloke in a wig turned up, drugged and imprisoned me and made me call him Shirley. In some ways it was even worse than 2018, the year of my operation. In 2018 I only had one big ‘de-prostation’ problem to deal with. 2019 would stand out for practically one major issue per month right up to December.

Read More »

63. Santa you can take those presents and your Christmas talk and stick them right up – Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la

The Undertaker

You may have gathered that I am not filled with the Christmas spirit or it’s festivities. In fact, if Santa was somehow really unfortunate enough to have consumed a mince pie laced with strychnine you can guarantee that it would be myself and Ebenezer sitting down comfortably and smug, talking about the shock and horror of Father Christmas’ surprise demise.

Then we would consume the remainder of the packet of mince pies.Read More »