Once again i have been conned by a smiling young lady .Well not exactly conned as she works for the RSPCA ,trying to raise funds and one could see from her delivery that she had been on some sort of course designed to persuade the softheaded .The smile was so obviously manufactured and was accompanied by very contracted pupils, which are the true message conveyors, but i was sort of beguiled .Her smile has cost me £120 for the year but i have to believe its a good cause and the fact i like cats and dogs ,rather speaks for itself .Still her manufactured smile bothered me and like the greasy salesman from the used car garage, she delivered her patter with relentless conviction.Because her delivery was so obviously manufactured I wanted to get rid of her but at the same time the same smile had me trapped so I went along with her objective, besides I like pets.Nell never seems to be around when i need her and that smile was doing my head in
I felt inclined to take the mickey but she was a Swede and i do have sympathy for foreign nationals trying to earn a buck in this country., so instead, I told her about the Normans because we live in Normandy lane.Was she interested ?I doubt it. She has an English beau so I suggested she ask him who they were ,like descended from Vikings i.e. fellow Swedes.Beau, though, is a business analyst so small historical facts are hardly likely to be of interest to him.Then I showed her are our garden but her reactions was, shall we say, rather brief i.e. "yes very nice".

I can just sense my dear wife doing her nut but this Swede had RSPCA printed on her in big letters plus she had a card and the resulting paperwork is obviously genuine , so no fear of a con but i feel conned nonetheless.Why??? Maybe its because I like to make my own choices without feeling pressured in anyway.I like to feel the power is with me and I have not been coerced .These charities are clever because they play on your conscience and give you no opportunity to give things another thought .Time is not on your side ,you decide there and then and smiling Swede knows how to play the game to a T.
I decided to take things to the more inane and away from the business end . Why, I asked her, did she die her hair auburn if she is a natural blonde.?It made no sense.I mean Swede = blonde, right? Or am i stereotyping?
Anyway i found it difficult to indulge in small talk other than 'are you living here because the beer is a lot cheaper?' "No my boyfriend is English", was her curt reply.She does curt very well and always with that smile.Small talk wasnt exactly brill on my side either.She asked politely ,as one would expect from a disinterested salesperson-"what are you doing this weekend?"
'Err ,working all day tomorrow and sunday my wife and I will decide.No we are not going to any rip roaring club and will probably sit in our garden supping a few vinos. Are you really that interested or am i being neurotically defensive?' Maybe I should have said we would be going to a transvestites annual jamboree where Nell and I would be switching roles, but somehow I didnt feel she would be shocked .

Her smile was like a weapon designed to beguile but her eyes wore a steady determination which seemed to run counter to her smile.

There comes a time in ones life when one has to take stock and make the kind of decision most of us would rather not do, if only because it reflects one unending truth about life i.e. we get older , slower, less agile and less assured about ones capabilities,I say this because I recently completed a task which in hindsight I should probably have left alone given all the above and that I didn't have the kind equipment that would have rendered the task quite straightforward .By that, I mean a mobile platform and a motorized pole cutter to compliment my existing hedge cutters.

The task in question involved the heavy trimming of a massively overgrown Leylandii hedge which was all of 15 ft high by 10 ft wide across the top.The length itself was not an issue but the greenhouse which butted against it was.Such hedges at the very least should be trimmed once year but Mr W, its owner, decided to let it grow for two which meant that the branches standing proudly at the top which needed cutting, were, in several cases, at least 1 inch in diameter.

When I first looked at the hedge my mind was still at the 30-year-old stage and I saw it as a challenge.When I finally finished cutting the bloody thing I quickly came to the conclusion that my body was no longer at that stage of my life.By that time, I was trying to work out what words to use to MR W which might be a politer version of "from now on you can stick your hedge up your arse "

A regular extending ladder was never going be enough especially with that ferking glasshouse in the way so I bought some stabilisers which I attached to it thus transforming it into a de facto very tall step ladder.Fine, except the stabiliser plus ladder, was extremely fiddly and time-consuming to use.The words "boludo, me cago en la puta que lo pario" and whatever English variants I could think of, gushed out of my mouth with complete alacrity.

As time went on I came to the decision that such a ladder was never going to be enough.Fine around the greenhouse provided I took my time and was extra careful, but the rest of the hedge was going to need something a lot more robust i.e. a 12 high double width scaffold tower,(about half the height of thishttp://www.laddersandscaffoldtowers.co.uk/acatalog/Industrial-Scaffold-Towers.html).

I thought assembling it would be a piece of piss and that I could complete the whole job last Friday.WRONG! .I asked the delivery bloke if it was quite straightforward.He gave me a rueful look, took a breath of air and proceeded to explain what to do ending with a "once you have done it once just normally quite simple but I would rather you gave me a ring if you find yourself struggling with it because there is a knack to getting the higher level on top of each other" 

'Nice chap' I thought, but the 30-year-old brain was having none of that.I was going to get that contraption assembled on my own no matter what.Fortunately, I had a step ladder to help me on my endeavours although it still meant raising the side sections to head height but at least.Then the 9 foot long boards, all four of them and as I went so the side poles slotted in.By the time i finished my 62 year old body kicked in and I was totally fooked.No more work for me that day, I decided.

Next day, I roped Nelly in to give us a hand.She were proper good she were, raking all the cuttings, disposing of them and helping me drag the tower along and around the hedge as and when required.For cutting purposes, I used a regular hedge cutter, a long handled hedge cutter, a pair of loppers and a long-handled lopper. All told we spent a good 5-6 hours, at the end of which the end result looked pretty good.Then the dismantling.'Fuck it', I thought, 'I'll do that tomorrow'.That didn't take too long, but it was almost as arduous as assembling it due to the weight and my paranoid fear of dropping a section somewhere unwanted such as a greenhouse.

I have decided to name this day as JC day in honour of the great messiah who will one day return .I say that because the BBC have in fact not sacked him , instead they will not be offering him another contract to present Top Gear.

This means they have left the door ajar for him to return in some other guise which means his followers can salivate in anticipation or beat their bishops if they happen to be male.

Its in light of that, that I have decided that all JC followers should celebrate the great man's life and his deeds by having a meal at a Mexican restaurant ,that is if you can find one . Better still go to Mexico for there are plenty there.
I thought this one would be a good way of honouring him, his co presenters and one of Top Gears most infamous programme .The one in which they likened certain makes of cars to the national character of the particular nations they are made in .Not that they were stereotyping in anyway but it appears that the one made and designed in Mexico ,ie Mastretta MXT , is in their view very like your average Mexican ie “lazy feckless flatulent and likely to fall asleep staring at a cactus”. Excuse me a minute -hahahaha , There i laughed .Hard work but i did manage it

Apparently they cant do food either because its “all like sick with cheese on it”.Now those two comments cant exactly be attributed to JC himself but as all three presenters are in it together , they might as well be , besides he chuckled noticeably as they “discussed” the merits of a car which looks very much like a Lotus Elize but only does about 0-60 in 5 seconds , which is obviously very lazy ,feckless and flatulent.

As an added extra I would change the number plate to one that reads ElAlamo1836 because I cant think of another that might wind Mexicans up.They won that battle but ultimately lost the whole of Texas .
Upon arrival you will disparagingly ask Manuel for a table .I say Manuel because as an avid Top Gear fan you will have decided that all Spanish speaking men are called that .Once seated you will look at the menu and decide that refried beans would be the perfect embodiment of Mexican cuisine .

It is known to them as frijoles refritos , but you wont waste any time in speaking to the natives in their native tongue . Instead you will firmly demand “refried sick with cheese Manuel, and we want it pronto ,capiche?” Manuel has been here before because he has had dealing with many an arrogant gringo so he just pretends not to feel insulted .Instead he makes sure that refried sick is gobbed on repeatedly before serving the dish, which also turns out to be luke warm.

As a committed JC fan and supporter your moment arrives ,the one you have been waiting so you then indulge in a barrage of verbal abuse lasting not less than 20 minutes - ”I asked for hot sick not lukewarm ,you lazy cnut.I wanted sick hot you hear , hot !”

Dont forget to froth at the mouth, stand on your feet, wave arms around in unrelenting fury at the end of which you may deliver a well aimed punch at the scoundrels lip.”Do you know who I am , have you any idea.I am the immeasurably great JC?”. Another punch may be delivered as your colleagues cheer in unison.Its the only thing the natives understand ,you know.

The patron will obviously ask you top leave but dont be too despondent because a petition will be
raised using Change.org into which 1000 people will sign demanding a full apology from the patron, the Mexican government and any Dago that takes your fancy .A years supply of hot sick should be delivered to your doorstep as well.

I hope no ones thinks I am being ironic, heaven forbid.

By the way frijoles refritos are very nice, can be bought at Sainsburys (or other stores) together with other Mexican delights such as guacamole ,enchiladas, burritos and tortillas .Should you be brave enough you could always attempt making a Mole Poblano which is Mexico's national dish.
None of it looks anything like sick with cheese on

must be losing my fear of spiders .as i walked through the front door I felt this fluttering feeling just above and to the right of my right eye. I thought it might be a daddy long legs .It wasn’t ,it was a Boris the size of a something nasty .It didnt bite me which is just as well, but i didnt throw a fit either

So because you have been a taxi driver for the past ten years and know the streets of London like the back of your hand, you think you are something special? You can fuck off ten times over. Do you know who is special? I am because not only have I locked myself in a cabinet but I have also counselled countless queens(gay blokes) and i am an award winning broadcaster of loads of shite on Facebook albeit in print, so there! Realise you are inferior to me .Bet your wife doesnt even have a title as in Duchess or Lady.Was she given a CBE by her royal highness ? Thought not.
When I tell you how to do your job, its in the sure knowledge that it is because of my work experiences mowing lawns ,weeding ,pruning and planting roses.For that reason I know loads more than you do.,plus unlike you i am not a peasant with a nasty accent for I was schooled at St Johns .Bet you didn't go to Cambridge either.Only special people get to do that ,so just do as you are told

I really do not understand why you are complain about the "tradesman's" ,i.e. roofer,quote ? You say he is expensive ,maybe he is but he comes highly recommended and from what i have been told , does very good job because he takes pride in his work. It is on that basis that he values himself and his work. Of course you do not have to hire him as I didnt because I could not afford his prices .Difference here is that you are a very wealthy woman with 3 houses ,all for personal use ,at least four posh cars all of which you keep parked in full view of the passing public ostensibly because you like showing off , so you can easily afford his services but choose not to .Obviously you prefer spending money on prestige possessions rather than on something as vital as a roof.
Can i please ask you to stop complaining about said roofer.He like you likes to be well rewarded but unlike you ,does not complain

M first ever blog albeit in the form of a letter I sent to my best mate

M first ever blog albeit in the form of a letter I sent to my best mate

Dear Julianus

Well I have almost run out of superlatives that would adequately describe our latest Rhytm festival experience. Lets say its has gone up several notches from last year's offering.The weather was brilliant for which I suppose we must thank Zeus , Mahindra, Krishna or whichevcr deity is in charge of meteorological matters .Apart from a brief period on saturday morning ,the sun shone on us throughout each day.

Must make a mention of the fellow revellers who behaved impeccably- no wretching everywhere, no pissing or crashing on someones tent. In fact everyone was remarkably civil, all except me of course . Both my snoring and penchant for pissing in the middle of the night outside our tent ,this time on Christine's rear offside tyre , brought a chorus of disapproval. One bloke bawled out “Can someone turn that snorry bloke off .Its not fair!!”.He woke me the inconsiderate sod. Anyway these were minor matters as on the whole the atmsophere was excellent.

One of my favourite passtimes there was people watching- both young and old.The kids as always are a delight as they run around kicking footballs ,chucking frisbies etc but the old timers are also quite interesting.There was a prepondence of lard buckets this year which helped make me feel quite at ease.I guess the logistics and the relative smallness of the event make it a viable attraction for the more horizontally challenged amongst us. They were able to waddle along quite happily guzzling their lager and chips free in the knowledge that no one would shout “you fat bastard!”.Another group that caught my eye were the superannuated hippies from the seventies , some even sporting long greying hair, beads ,rings ,leather waistcoats and lurid shirts.One particular character sidled up to the bar ordered his pint of grog and proceeded to chat up the young waitress. When I say chat it was more of an incomprehensible blurb but she seemed quite taken. Maybe the idea of being rogered by “old craggy face” kind of appealed to her. Rather oedipal I thought but charming none the less.

Must tell you of an experience I had re the porta loos. Saturday morning saw me making my first use of them. They'd just been cleaned out and I thought “perfect”, so I ventured into one sat down and let my bowel movement take place. It was one of those pleasant ones when you know the end result will be firm but will ease out with minimum effort and nestle at the bottom of the bowl. “Mmm” ,I thought, “not bad” Anyway upon completion I went to pull the lever and the brown 'un wouldnt move. Three ,four times I tried ,each time with more vigour and still it wouldnt budge. “Fuuuuck!!” Shall i leave it and hope no one notices ? No I am too much of a gent, so I got a piece of toilet paper and gently eased the offending turd down. Task done except somehow in the tooing and froing movement I managed to get some lumps of excrement on both my t shirt and trousers.”Bugger, gotta clean that off, but, how, there is no water?? I know, I'll use spit” Spit spit, rub ,rub, got most of it off but the very evident brown stains would not shift. Now I have a choice tuck the t shirt in and display the stains on my trousers which are on the arse side ,or leave the tshirt untucked. I opt for the latter and scurry off back to our tent . First thing Nelly asks me is “ have you shit your self ?” The perceptive bitch!!”Nahh someone spilled some curry on me” I blurbed. Must have worked because she did not press me further.

Now to the music but before I start a special mention must be made for Jim Driver who organised this event.This guy in my view is the cojones de perro. Last year he made a loss but it didnt deter him having another go. He just upped the stakes, got some better bands , a decent programme and “Robert is your father's sibling”Bearing in mind this place can only accommodate 5 k ,his spending budget was always going to be very restricted so he aimed for passed their sell by dates, on the fringes or never heard of acts. The one thing he insists on is THEY MUST BE ABLE TO PLAY and he'll have no truck with useless ,here today gone tomorrow indie bands with attitude.With this in mind this is what we received or at least these were the bands I personally watched.

Friday

The Yardbirds . Only three surviving original members but they were tight and played with a lot of composure - R&B ,psychedelia and some of their well known hits

Hothouse Flowers – good oirish band whose efforts were slightly marred by the singers idiotic belief that he is some kind of sex God. He chucked his jacket down and proceeded to shake his body around obviously hoping the girls in the audience would chuck their soiled panties at him- sad git.

The Levellers- Now why the fuck have I never seen this band before??? They were just plain awesome. Been around for about 20 years as well.

Saturday

Joe Bonamassa . The day kicked in for me watching this dude from the good ole US of A playing shit kicking blues the likes I hadnt heard since Steve Ray Vaughn. This guy is an axeman supremo, go watch him ,buy his records he is that good.

Dr John- different kind of blues ,a much more laid back Misissipi confection. We know all about him and he didnt disappoint.

Seth Lakeman- a modern day English folky I feel sure we'll hear more of

Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel. Arrogant cnut, never did like him and he quite obviously resents the fact he never rose to become a big time Charlie. Doesnt stop boasting about how many women he's laid. As I say a prize cnut. Neverthteless I will admit through gritted teeth that he can play some good stuff.

Prince Buster – now I should have stayed and watched this dude , instead for some assinine reason I went in search of Tony Mcphee (ex Groundhogs axeman from the seventies)Should have stayed where i was as he was shit . On top of that he was late, about an hour late so I watched Ian Mathews( remember him? He made a hit single called Woodstock) instead . He was competent but I'm not one for crusty folk club atmospheres - all very earnest and solemn . Barnsley hippie pipes in “have you seen Terry Reid?” Who?? I smiled at him and kept quiet for fear of appearing ignorant. Then Long haired friend of Jesus appears from nowhere as he would , the guy is a dead ringer for the Messiah and I stand there wondering whether I ought shit myself or not.Then I remembered I had done that already and a repeat performance defnitely wasnt in order. "Jesus" had the most amazingly luxuriant long hair reaching down to his arse a ,neatly trimmed beard and steely blue eyes, his clothes were loose fitting, the kind one would associate with the Ist century AD. He stands there for a minute or so and as soon as I look away he glides off. Yup maybe I should've shit myself.I later consider that self defecation is probaly quite common at these events and, what, with the shere logistical nightmare that is maintaining sound cleanliness and hygene, decide those brown stains I commonly saw around me were probably good evidence of bowel movenents gone crazy , portaloo ineptitude or a poor ass wiping action.

Sunday shit last day

(I am wearing a clean shirt and trousers this day and decide to spend it at the main stage area guzzling beer)

The Blockheads - minus the late Ian Dury.I quietely admonish the lead singer because of his fowl mouth “ there are kids running around you moron! ”Have to forgive him, though, as he is plainly off his head and besides the band is shit kicking good.

Alabama 3- another massive highlight, this band plays a weird sort of elctro techno southern country western rock type stuff. They appear on stage clad in white suits and stetsons and one of their main men talks in a kind of southern drawl which emanates from a southern state I've never heard of . Thats because he and they are from London .He looks bit like spiv with a lecherous grin which he squarely aims at the young ladies . I can well imagine him sitting in a train behind a group of women ,grinning ,eyes bulging and with a length of spittle dangling from the side of his mouth. Dirty man. Good singer though. Then there is the fat bloke. Yes him standing in one corner clutching a beer can in one hand and a tab in the other . Again the same grin, but whats he doing there? Then it becomes obvious he is the “provider” as the band members slide over to him for a line or a qualude or even a tab. Every band needs a grinning fat bloke on the side I decide.

John Mayall

Well there is nothing i can say about him that you dont know already except I think you should tell the bloke who saw him and thought he was crap to get his ears syringed. Mayall is a consumate professional who doesnt do bad shows. It doesnt happen. One of the characteristics of this blues genius is his ability to unearth brilliant guitarists. On this occasion Buddy Worthington filled the role that others such as Clapton and Page did with so much aplomb. Who is Buddy you might ask? Well he hails from Fort Knox and he is serious lardy.Must weigh about 30 stone I'd guess. Mind you his guitar playing is sublime and ,whilst shaking his booty may not be welcome, he can certainly nestle his guitar on his considerable girth and play like the rest of us can only......well I can do a passable air guitar imitation but thats about it

Anyway it was a very pleasant weekend on the whole and one which I would certainly wish to repeat next year, they are already taking bookings now with a discount. I wanted to relay my experiences so that you might feel a little envious given your penchant for doing the same re the WC. I am also going to watch Alabama 3 in Brighton and Manu Chau in Brixton just so that you know that we in the SE enjoy an enormous choice of bands which you guys can only dream about in Cornwall. Is the envy gnawing away??