The Bedside Crow

Praise the Lord! And pass the ammunition...

 

How does that hymn go again?

All things bright and beautiful

All creatures great and small.

Blast them out the sky. 

[When in Leicestershire look out for man carrying a cross and a gun.]

A Christmas message

 

We were walking back from our annual visit to Peckham Rye when I spotted this message. It seemed appropriate.

Thanks to everybody for their kind comments. Use it to the max, every sweet minute, say I.

Happy Christmas x.

Mind you, I'm not the only cranky one.

This is very good, I say, picking out a copy of The Road Home by Rose Tremain.

Pah! my customer explodes, I can't give him a book by a woman!

So, anyway, I finally went and did some Christmas shopping for myself.

And I was in one of my favorite shops for buying things for Justine and they were playing a great, sort of world/stroke/upside yourhead mashup of Golden Years, and I asked the guy who was serving me what it was, and he said, I don't know, it is just random, the radio from Paris.

And I thought,  oh fuck off you too cool cunt, but actually I liked him really, and I got fantastic service and everything I bought was thoughtfully and individually wrapped - it has to be said that they were not very busy, and also, I didn't buy anything in the adjacent Myla, because, you know, I know Justine's tit size and I don't need to be told I'm wrong by an, obviously always right French bint, who has never met her in her life. I wasn't in Paris, by the way, just the King's Road.

Anyway, if anybody knows what that version of Golden Years is, I would be grateful for the headsup, as the kid's say.

And sorry for the C word, I am a bit more cranky than usual as my dad died yesterday. It must be Christmas.

Excuses for not writing on the internet recently #1

The Norovirus.

That was fun. Last week I took the piss, on Twitter, out of a flyer that had flown it's way into the doorway of the shop, for an *incredibly gorgeous Balti Pizza* and then, in the middle of the night suddenly felt as though I had eaten six of them at one sitting washed down with a scooner or two of snakebite.

Friends,it wasn't fun.

Modern Toss

 

Modern Toss Christmas Special, out now. 

Do they know it's Christmas?

It's five to ten and I'm putting the hoover across the carpet in an attempt to make it look a bit less like the bottom of a hamster's cage, when a lady with a buggy starts pushing at the door.

I don't want to lose a sale, I think, so I go and open it with a smile.

I just wondered if you had any of that free magazine left? she says.

We do, I say and fetch her one.

Can I have two? she says.

You can, I say and fetch her a second one.

She thanks me and continues her journey down the road.

I return to the hoover. It lets out a sigh.

Banter.

A gent just rushed in from the pub across the road. He picked up a copy of Harry Hill's Whopping Great Joke book, read a couple of pages, and then ran back across the road.

I hope he remembers them.

Like the man said: So it goes.

  

Used without permission, sorry. Click to make bigger etc.

Inconvenience

 

On my way to work.

Blimey, looks like the bottom has fallen out of the portable toilet market. This credit crunch is so bad that you can't even spend a penny any more.

Or as the bookies across the road would have it, Disabled Facilities - when of course they mean facilities for the disabled. 

Lovely morning.