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And Lo our Lord saviour did die on the cross and we all got a 2 week holiday – Hurrah!

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Easter break been and gone.  Weird holiday that seems to have both flown by and also felt like ages.

Highlights included of course seamlessly infiltrating a crowd of dwarves and spending lots of time with my delightful nieces; taking tea with fairies and sheep and hunting for chocolate eggs in M&D’s enormous garden.







My eldest niece (aged 2) seems to already have got the measure of me.  Not too late yet to ensure the younger one holds me in higher regard.  Best way forward of fulfilling that would probably be to (a) not speak  (b) don’t do anything.


I spent an anxious 20 minutes on Sunday, awaiting certain death (or at the very least… a bit of a surprise!) in 2 of Eddie’s bizarre contraptions up at the The Crocky Trail in Chester.  One was a ‘Horror Show’ – a makeshift 4D cinema ‘experience’ if you will.  The second was ‘The Dungeon’, which I ended up going in alone because my childerbeast were too wussy and Mum’s excuse was that she had to watch Florence.
TBH I am glad they didn’t come with.  They would have cacked it!  At one point I feared I would be trapped by my own giant head  – dead at 42, wedged in-between 2 pieces of industrial grade rubber, entombed forever and considered by every passing punter to be simply just a part of the attraction.

Check it out if you are ever in Chester, it’s well worth a day out but just be sure to expect to get muddy (& possibly a little terrified!)


Low points of the past 2 weeks would probably be having an already ingrained feeling of inferiority and rejection signed, sealed and confirmed (on more than one occasion).  Put in my place it would seem & I now know exactly where I stand.  All previous delusions of self firmly smacked down to earth.


Happily this was counter-balanced by my Pops’ rose-tinted recollection of how I handled the baby & toddler years of my childerbeast.  (I think he may be getting me confused with someone else but I am happy to run with it) and on that note I shall take my leave.

Happy Easter, Happy Kwanza, Merry Christmas, Kiss my arse and Have a nice day.
















Retro drinks are the new Jagerbombs

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Finished off my half term break with a visit to Chester.  Great to see sib-dudes as usual and get a little lively in the pub with old friends.
Always fun to fuck with the landlord’s head and order ever more obscure and outdated drinks, then question his lack of maraschino cherries.

Martini Rosso’s all round and a Crispy Pancake on the side if you would, kind sir!



Just for ‘Lyns’, ‘Noops’ & ‘Herrarin’ here is a link, as promised, to the 1970’s Public Information film – ‘Apaches’   Be warned though!  It is way more disturbing than, erm….’Chorlton & the Wheelies’.  LOL!





Meanwhile, in a news week of bloody clashes in the Ukraine and hailing the British success at mopping the floor at the winter olympics. I prefer news stories like this one:-  Young Apprentice.
These young ladies should be on the next series of ‘The Apprentice’ for sure.  Enterprising genius!

I can see clearly now….. (pity)

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Not sure about the new specatecs (finally collected today). 
     Altogether far too much clarity for my liking.  Think I preferred the view when it was a bit blurrier and in need of a good clean.

Wish I’d asked for modifications. e.g. rose-tinted or with tiny windshield wipers for rainy weather or possibly mini roller-blinds for when enough was enough.  Or a tiny message scroll like on a bus, but instead of destinations I could wind it on to read things like FFS, WTF? or BFJ!





Hollyoaks spoiler alert.









… everyone dies.








… probably.




> and Jambo is back, and so is the bird who died from an ecstasy overdose after half a pill back in 1992 & Jimmy Corkhill from Brookie turns out to be Mercedes McQueen’s Dad.*


And like I’ve said before, it really isn’t THAT mental in Chester  – although with enough gin in me I could tell you a few tales…      but couldn’t we all!

.. there was this one time…

She did WHAT??

She did WHAT??

pictures courtesy of google images

Peter Driben – The Secret


* I made this part up for real.

Italian for Bin Raker is Bin Rastrellamento – apparently

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Movie Quote of the Day:   “Sometimes we don’t do the things we want to do, because we don’t want others to know that we want to do them.” – The Village

Name that Tune:  “Before you know it you’ll be down on your knees” – Easy Lover, Phil Collins

Just to substantiate my long held belief that I’m a bit crap and generally more of a scruffy bugger than most, on Saturday I ended up on my knees infront of a group of men (and not in a fun party time type way).

Let me illuminate you.

On the train on way to Chester and realised I couldn’t find my rail passes.  I’d had them in my hand not 3 minutes beforehand when I’d showed them to the guard before I boarded.  Cue much frantic emptying of pockets, looking under the seats with the childerbeast and emptying out the entire contents of my bag!
Then, the horror realisation that when we had chosen our seats on the train I had picked up a load of rubbish and stuffed it in the bin further up the carriage.  Had I, in a blonde moment, with my passes still in my hand, dropped them in the trash also?

Only one way to find out.

Naturally, as is the law of the sod, the bin was situated between the seats occupied by a group of rather handsome men.  Could it be worse?  Yes. They were also Italian.
  So there I was, on my knees, with my arm in the trash-can up to my shoulder; raking around among the empty coffee cups, crisp bags and half eaten sandwiches, trying to look cool and casual and not at all mortified as they watched me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust as I triumphantly and somewhat sheepishly retrieved my passes from the very bowels of the bin.
  Lucky that Italian is one of the most beautiful languages on earth, so even the words ‘filthy English fat baglady, bin-raking mental case and tramp’ sound far more enticing in le Bella Italiano.

Actually, I just bablefished those very words and even in Italian it’s pretty obvious:-

“Sporco grasso Inglese borsa da donna, bin-rastrellamento mentale caso e tramp”

F F S! *

Thank goodness it got better.

Seeing the Fam. Lots of fun bonding with baby niece who is now almost a year old! Drinking wine with my mum & Easter Egg hunt in the garden on Sunday.  Pleasant walk into the village to the park with a refresher at the Ringo’s on the way home.  Brunch at Hickory’s on Monday before meeting old mates for late lunch at Sergios.  Good times!
I was a tad subdued Monday but only because of day 3 of being the fattest giant in town at The Moss.  Surrounded by paper-thin Fam in beautiful surroundings that I could never hope to aspire to, does not give one the best of appetites.  Did have a laugh though, rather at the expense of the one-armed chef in the open kitchen.  Not that we ridiculed his disability (TBH I didn’t even notice it).  Rather the course of discussion went along the lines of whether or not he was still able to chop things safely and was he not tempted to customise his “withered nubbin” (not my words) with various interchangeable kitchen utensils:- stick blender, ladle, potato masher, can opener etc.

One of my friends said she’s “seen me on the TV again last night in ‘The Village'” – referring to her conviction that I look like Maxine Peake.

I didn’t watch it but have seen a clip.  To be fair, she has a point.  I think it’s the indecipherable hair colour, windblown and unkempt… the dodgy blouse and knitwear are also a giveaway, as is the grim facial expression.

Yup. I can see it.

Yup. I can see it.

I’d prefer it if she meant the more glamorous look she has in ‘Silk’:-


At least she has lippy on here

Just to cap that off.  On the train on the way home, some young girls were clearly talking about me and switching seats on the train to get a better look.  I caught the words “off the telly” so can only hope that they were also watching ‘The Village’ and not ‘Eastenders’:-

Maxine I can take but not Big Mo Harris!

Maxine I can take, but not Big Mo Harris!

* Which sounds way more pleasant in Italian:-    “Per scopate amore

PS:  Don’t blame me for some of the hyperlinked shit on here.  WordPress sometimes randomly assigns ads to words and I don’t know how to take them off.  Click on them if you like.  Maybe you’ll win some shit. (Or maybe you’ll inadvertently download a virus to your laptop!)  It’s your call! 


On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me…..Noro Virus

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Name that tune:  “Been a long time. I shouldn’t have left you. Without a strong rhyme to step to” – I know you got soul, Eric B & Rakim

Move Quote of the Day:  “I’m waiting for her head to start spinning round” – Parenthood



Since I last wrote. I am now half-way to 82.


Birthday last day at work.  Busy busy, Christmas jumpers, yadayada. No party bag AGAIN from the dinner ladies, even though I added my name to the list and mentioned it twice.

I think we all now know where I stand on that score…

Uneventful journey to Chester Y’s.  World supposedly was ending at 1713 GMT, at which point the childerbeast and I were on board the Arriva Trains Wales, Manc Piccadilly to Chester, sharing a chocolate orange.  I could think of worse ways to go if I’m honest.   The sacred time came and went and unless you count passing through Newton le Willows, nothing sinister or untoward occurred.

                    The World moved on…. pretty much in the same shit way as before


Apparently 2012 Apocalyptic end of days is so last year darling (well, technically, as I write, it’s still this year). 

2018 is the all new end of days. 

By then, unless I come a cropper in a freak washing-up accident, I will be 47 and about done for I should imagine, so bring it on I say.

Note to Self:  train childerbeast, Sarah Connors style, to survive all-out Nuclear holocaust/zombie invasion/breakdown of civilised society.

Birthday money –  Very nice thank you very much all.  May treat self to new mattress and I have just realised Thing1 needs new passport for July trip to France so £46 of it will go on that!


23rd Dec, we were back on train to Boro.  Christmassy feeling now kicking in.  Very nice. About time too.  Then on Christmas Eve very early morning as karmic punishment to my annual “Don’t like it Christmas” munterings, I was rudely awoken by a poorly Thing1 who only just made it to the bathroom for a Chunderbirds are Go situation.  Cue rest of night/wee small hours spent holding back her hair while she continued to barf and between barfs, begged me to make it stop.


Christmas Eve visit to Santa’s Grotto at the magical Boyes; lunch at The Hut and some last minute gift purchasing and casual retail therapy on self, now kiboshed and just another pipe dream.

TV in spare room at Grandma’s also bolloxed, so no festive telly to watch while I sat at my wee one’s sickly bedside.


She began to rally towards the end of the day and managed to make it downstairs.  Colour returning to her cheeks just as it began to drain from Thing 2’s.

Ding Ding. Round 2!   Older child = bigger insides = lots more hurlage!


This time, for added “Fuck You and your Christmas sucks attitude!”  This one was firing from both ends.

“Nurse! The Screens please” and “Grandma where do you keep the Vim?”

Bejeebus.  Someone somewhere was laughing at me good style, let me tell you!

Rest of evening not spent inhaling Quality Street and drinking self into acute liver failure, which is as it should be.  Instead it was buckets and bowls, showering children clean, changing bed linen and hoping against hope that they would both settle down and get to sleep and feel better for Santa…


Fortunately, they both did sleep and feel better.  We were up at a respectable 7am.  Santa HAD been, although some of his choices were a little bizarre.

I know what's on Santa's mind

I know what’s on Santa’s mind


An odd gift but much appreciated

It's as big as my face!

It’s as big as my face!

 Loved my Jenny Lawson book and Gil Elvgren calender though – well done the Bman!Xx


 For the children… he may have underestimated the height of Thing2 because when she opened up her new scooter & hopped aboard, it looked like a remake of Gulliver’s Travels or perhaps Santa mistook her gifts for Warwick Davis’s

I would have loved to have inserted an amusing picture here of her hunched over the handlebars, but she refused to let me take a photo.

She eventually saw the funny side once she stopped beefing and of course mummy dearest promised to make good Santa’s ineptitude, so a scooter more suitable for someone of her height, for the princely sum of £35 is on its way, in the early new year.

One year, I will spend my birthday money on myself.


Boxing Day, as I may have mentioned, is a day of drinking and catching up with (or hiding from) old school pals and exes in the bars and saloons of Scarborough.  A tradition dating back to when Fisherman’s Wives invented binge drinking in the days before alcopops.

I was looking forward to it.

In usual circumstances I would write an entirely separate blog entry about my adventures on this day. Painting a picture of hedonistic, debauched rumbunctiousness of a Bacchanalian nature.  Photographic evidence and possible video footage would be uploaded. Names would be altered to protect the innocent and those of a professional standing.

However…instead I stayed in my dressing gown all day, didn’t eat or drink a thing. Fell asleep on MiL’s bed at 3pm and woke up again at 7:30pm – drained and weak from the shits!

Karma – clearly a big fan of Christmas and all it entails, was very much laughing his ass off at me this year.


I even had an overnight pass out and a free room at a hotel in town so I didn’t have to shamble back to Grandma’s in a state.  I was going to help my friend who recently had a 40th birthday celebrate it, belatedly but in style and disgracefulness.

But No.

I had the shits instead.



Back home now.  Ready to see in the New Year with The Ludewig Posse tomorrow.  May 2013 bring peace, joy, happiness and possibly my being able to spend my birthday money on myself.

The DHW pictoral run down of 2012 will be in your face within the next few days.

Until then have a safe New Year whatever you may be up to.  May the force 9 gales and midnight hailstorms not keep you awake or blow the tiles off your roof!

And remember… don’t fuck with Karma, or that Mother will Noro-Virus your ass when you least expect it!

Ciao for now peeps




Honk if you recognise yourself!

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So I’ve got back into watching ‘Hollyoaks’ again even though I am 20 years older than everyone it, with the possible exception of ‘Jack Osborne’. 

It’s like a little dose of sedative at the end of the working day – don’t judge me!

I made comment at work about how fantastical the story lines were (not to be confused with fantastic, which is something entirely different)  and how I lived in Chester for many years and it was nothing like that in reality.

Not nearly as glamorous for a start.  No wall to wall eye-candy – everyone was pretty normal looking.  No insane stories played out for the public, no nutters, loons, players, wannabe gangsters and crazed bitches.  

I did recall a tale of a landlady who had some fingers allegedly chopped off by her jealous husband, but then I had a little think….

          “There was this one time….”

  • Some old dude did have the dismembered body of his dead wife in his freezer in the garage in the village next to ours.
  • They still haven’t arrested anyone for the murder of that ‘masseuse’ at Pinky’s in 1991.   massage-parlour-killer
  • No-one I know ever got dragged from their beds in their undies and their flats raided for drugs and contraband (ahem).
  • No 8-year old boys dealing from their Mother’s kitchen, with the ability to undersell to the unwary. (Oh hang on….)


  • No end of young dead boy-racers; young-uns biting the dust in bar brawls or leaving their pals half-dead by the canal.


  • Nobody ever burst into anyone’s flat with an axe or firebombed anyone’s car for reasons I forget now (or anything…)


  • No farmers shooting out the rear windows of theives’ getaway vehicles.


  • No crazy women hurling themselves into a football-rivalry-fuelled drunken mêlée to try and save friends and ending up saving Welsh rivals instead!


  • Nobody ever kept a written record of items shoplifted to order or recreational pharmaceuticals sold, including full names and addresses, thus attracting the full attention of the Chester PD Blue on those people for several months (because that would be really fucking stupid!)


  • There was that time a warehouse caught fire and burnt half the street down when all the roofs caught alight too.


Perhaps it wasn’t such a sedate little city after all in retrospect.

 Do enjoy my rogues gallery of classic Hollyoaks villians.  Personally I think they should bring back the dirty fireman (Ben) and Jambo from when it first started but I suspect they are dead (and not real) – killed off by one of the many serial killers that have stalked the ‘village’ over the years.

Serial killers prefer blondes

Killer Heels

crazy for crazy’s sake

best caricature ever

Couldn’t find a pic of psycho Rob who held loads of them captive in an old water tower after killing Kurt Benson with a jetski  and whom nobody seems to remember but me.

Happy viewing  Xx

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Don’t let my kids ever tell you I never do anything with them

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It is September 1st, there are 115 days until the C word and I go back to work the day after tomorrow, after 6 weeks off – and what a 6 weeks! 

I’ve been to Farndale & Saltburn; worked 2 festivals and attended another as a punter.  I’ve been to Scarborough, Whitby & swimming a fair few times.  Visited Manchester & Chester; I’ve sat in the belly of a metal whale; masqueraded as the Red Queen; soaked in a hot tub on a riverbank; climbed a giant dog turd in Stretford & danced atop a pile of haybales in a field in Northamptonshire.  I’ve met new friends; caught up with long lost old friends after far too long.  I’ve re-lived my lost youth and felt fantastic.  On occasion I have also felt about 89 years old!   I’ve discovered new music and heard some amazing live acts & bands.  I’ve laughed until I ached. I’ve cried buckets & felt  like I was at the bottom of the deepest darkest pit of shite, unable to climb back out (but I did).   I’ve danced in the mud; I’ve chatted freely to semi-naked people covered in glitter; I’ve swirled around in other people’s detritus in the name of research & entered the 21st century with a touch-screen phone with Internet access (it’s the devils own handiwork I tell you – Witchcraft! Witchcraft!).   I’ve been to the movies 3 times and I’ve loafed on the sofa for a whole day watching ‘Murder She Wrote”.   The excitement has been non-stop.

Well now it’s time to get back into work mode and pretend to be an intelligent, highly organised, calm and sensible grown-up again ready to impart knowledge and wisdom on a future generation of young adults.

I’ll let you know how that pans out…


In other news: Blunkett refused seat at Paralympics  Rather mahoosive social faux-pas.  Glad it’s not just me who fucks up on a grand scale then.


Also in home news, Bman tells me that at his work they are to be issued with new name badges which needn’t have their real names on.  They can choose an alternative name, which has to be agreed with the powers that be.  Oh the possibilities…

Apparently the usual suspects e.g. Phil McAvity and Phil McCreviss, have already been submitted (and rejected) but the potential for comedy is fabulous and too good an opportunity to miss.  All last night I was randomly interrupting conversation and TV viewing with things like;- “How about Lou Stools? or I.C. Uratwat”. 

Any suggestions worthy of mention, do feel free to leave a comment.  We have also been considering movie characters or musicians who aren’t too obvious.  We both liked Snake Plissken and Lux Interior but are doubtful they will pass the test.

In the meantime (while you think of names like ‘Mike Hunt’ and ‘Drew Peacock’) here are a few of my favourite pics of what I did on my holidays:-


Next thing to plan for: – HLTA course starting in October (work work work and how the Feck do I get across to the Harrogate Road side of Leeds by 0915) and hopefully our annual Halloween shizzle – this year am hoping for a Dia de los Meurtos theme to tie in with the date.  Sugar skull times!

Later dudes!  Xx