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Tag Archives: Micky Flanagan

Back in the game

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Last bus home on Tuesday from Leeds was uneventful in the end to say the least.  No pissed-up olds with wet underwear in their handbags cackling away or dancing in the aisles.  Disappointing really.

    I about coped with the crowds of other Micky Flanagan fans at the Leeds Arena, many of whom had clearly been propping up the bar in ‘Spoons since teatime.  Micky was very funny and I shall not be able to eat an iced Chelsea bun again without a smirk on my face.

Sadly, mingling with the masses seems to have brought on a cold.  Lovely.  Snotty tissues and lemsips all round.

I did manage to venture to Manc on Thursday for a surprise meet up with the Fam at Altrincham Markets at lunchtime.  Thought I ought to make the most of an opportunity to do that kind of thing while I am still off work, particularly as my time in the arena of the unwell is coming to an end.  Discussed with doctor on Friday and I will officially be fit for work on a phased return from the 5th June! I’ve had no further counselling but think I could maybe do with some more.  I need to arrange a new person to see though I think.  My usual lady lives out in the sticks so I’m limited to when Bman can drive me and hang around waiting. When I emailed her to say I couldn’t make it it the other week, I got no reply whatsoever and have heard nothing since.  I could be swinging from the ceiling or crumpled on the bathroom floor in a pile of my own chunder clutching an empty bottle of paracetamol for all she knows!

Today I’ve had a meeting with my boss to organise a phased return to work timetable.  It looks fair enough on paper but I guess only time will tell how it will work in reality.  Everyone at work is being very supportive – possibly out of fear that I’ll either flid out again, burst into tears or I’ll go postal & start taking potshots at people from the school roof like a proper loon.
But hey, at least I didn’t get my meds at the local chemist and realise that the pharmacist was a parent from school or anything… oh hang on!
Could’ve been worse I suppose.  I could’ve been collecting Methadone or genital wart cream or something rather than just ‘anxiety’ tablets.


My youngest is at a Wheatus gig tonight & then sleeping out at her friend’s – on a school night no less (because she’s just a teenage dirtbag baby).  Naturally I will be unable to sleep until I know she is home, so she better not forget to text me.

Ciao Tutti


Puzzles, Thrones & Going Out

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My rock and roll weekend consisted of finally firing up a jigsaw, sent to me at the start of my self-imposed house arrest, by a good friend.
It has been sat on the kitchen table for over a month.  

It didn’t take long to get into the zone once I started.  It was a ‘Carry On’ themed puzzle.  That bastion of British TV from the 60s & 70s, soon my brain was awash with thoughts like, “is this Hattie Jaques’ cheek?. **insert duck whistle or close-up of heaving cleavage here**

The cat is claiming it did the jigsaw alone. I helped.

Along with that, I had rediscovered Game of Thrones on Catch Up TV.  (You know you can’t just watch one episode). Pretty soon my restless mind was overloaded at bedtime with phrases and earworms like ‘House Baratheon’, ‘Unsullied’ & ‘You know nothing’ all interspersed with tiny images of dwarves and Sid James’ laughing face, stocking tops, Joan Simms bursting out of her nightie and Kenneth Williams doing that face that he did. Chuck the theme tune in on top of that and it has made for a few restless nights trying to get off to sleep. 

carry on girls

jon snow


sid james

Can’t help but think that if the Carry On team were still in their prime, that their take on GoT might be worth a watch.  The tits and booze are already a given.  I can just see Sid James and Bernard Breslaw dressed as whores for one reason or another in one of Littlefinger’s brothels.

I’d finished the jigsaw by Sunday night anyway and now have a new one to sit on the kitchen table until such time as I start it.  1970s sweets and chocolates this time – once again a gift from a very thoughtful friend.  

Tonight I am venturing out.  Not Out Out. But most definitely outside.  Into Leeds no less for a date with Micky Flanagan for some casual cunting and peep maintenance.  I am a bit nervous TBH.  It’s a huge venue and it means being in Leeds after tea and coming home on the last 508.

Wish me luck.

Ciao tutti Xx

Oddball neighbours, death (& a little bit of Micky Flanagan)

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I am of curious mind today.

Right now I am mostly wondering why my neighbour (ANB) has been alternating between sitting on his front garden wall and leaning up against his car for the last hour? 

Is he locked out of his house?¬† Has he had a barney with the wife?¬† Why isn’t he sitting in his car like he usually does (why does he do that?)

I know he sees me watching from the office window. 

I was peeping, yes, I freely admit it (and yes, I was hardcore and maintained the peep!) 

If he has nothing better to do, why doesn’t he¬†shift that skanky mattress that’s been propped up against the front of his house for 6 months?

Also.  I watched the news and saw that sadly, 2 teenagers have chosen to end their lives in Hertfordshire by stepping infront of a train.  The head of their school read out a statement of condolence, there was talk of counselling for the students and of course the obligatory floral tributes.  Even a sign that advised mourners where to leave their flowers.  All very tragic and sad and I do feel for the family and friends. 

My question is this. When did the whole floral tribute thing begin?  It is so very normal now for people to do this but when did it start? 

Two of my friends ended their lives in exactly the same way in 1985, when I was 13, (also in Hertfordshire funnily enough and I have a sinking feeling it was the same dodgy crossing that has claimed at least 4 other lives since!)
I may be remembering this wrong but I don’t recall any statement from the Head,¬† counselling, or floral tributes.¬†¬†¬† I remember a girl on the school bus being distraught because her dad was a police officer or fireman or something and had been at the scene and she’d overheard him telling her mum about it.¬† She knew on the bus, what we didn’t yet, that it was our friend and her boyfriend!

¬†¬† Maybe people did go and lay flowers at the crossing, but I don’t remember, I just remember it being a harsh lesson and a time of suddenly growing up (a bit).

Please do correct me if I’m the only one who thinks the accident-site floral tribute is a relatively new (like in the last 20 years I mean) thing.

Morbid topic of conversation I know but I blame a certain ‘Mrs Window’ and her R.E. class today which resulted in maximum¬†tissue usage¬†for the weepers and bubblers as¬†we discussed the theme of death!

I may not have left a floral tribute or had counselling or be able to find a single thing about you on the information superhighway but I haven’t forgotten you Melanie…
….or Bevin, or Carl or any of the others – the car crashes, the grandparents, ¬†the in-laws, the terminal¬†illnesses or that boy in Y3, when¬†I was 8 years old, ¬†who just dropped dead in the dinner hall when we were stacking our chairs away!


Hopefully later in the week I’ll have something less dismal to babble about.


You couldn’t make it up my friend

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Double busy again today. 

I got hot-seated this morning by 30 bemused children as I was masked-up, dressed as Mrs Mummy Bear, whilst channelling a cross between Micky Flanagan and a Cockney Dickensian strumpet.

I fucking love my job!