My Life Oy Vay 7 (Diary of a mad drunken bastard!)

MY LIFE OY VAY 7

Just came to after a 7 day jag, and looked in the mirror. Now I know I shouldn't do that, but it's the same as rubbernecking on the motorway after a pileup. It can get you killed. But you do it anyway. God I don't need to catch a plane to get the 'redeye'. I looked like The Wild Man from Borneo's scrofulous elder brother. So I decided I had to get some shampoo and generally clean up. So I wobbled in to Soho via Tesco and bought some Wash and Go; apparently there's one out now for kids called Go and Wash! I pootled around Soho, bought a sandwich and sat in Soho Square and checked out my fellow bohemians at play. I picked my way back on legs not unlike Bambi's when he first tried to stand. And so began the long process of getting cleaned up and stronger, ready for the next binge.
What's this I see in the paper about Metrolescents, which is merely a contraction of Metropolitan and Adolescents. It seems these city kids have spending power beyond their tender years but are urbane with it. Yeh right! It seems that they're going out there and getting pissed and getting laid. Wossyerproblem? Hasn't it always been so? I remember as a callow youth, an American girl who was 13 who lived with her parents on the American base that formed part of our village. Now I'm going to delve into the dank recesses of what's left of my brain and go Imperial on you. She had was what was known at the time, as having a perfect figure. It measured - 36" 22" 36". This was seen in those pre-metric days as the ideal Marilyn Monroe type shape. And did she put it about! I remember this 'octopus' of male hands in the bushes as she invited them to feel her wares and wondering why I hadn't been invited. Mind you I was only eight.

But my first huge crush was Betty Hunt. Now don't get me started. Well okay, I've started so I'll finish. And I did. We were all in the cinema my mates and me, and Betty was there in front of us and yes I was much older then, 14, and mad for it. Again there was this octopus of hands that just were in her around her and were part of her. She too exuded sexuality, like the American bint. I think I came into my mate's bag of popcorn. I didn't notice and neither did he. We were both sated. We didn't care. When I say that they both exuded sexuality, it's the difference between Anna Kournikova and Maria Sharapova. You with me?
There is yet another report this morning about the increase in Tesco's retail power. Apparently in Bicester near Oxford they have 5 Tesco stores and precious little else. It looks like there will be something done to reduce what they can acquire. I bet Asda will be rubbing their collective grasping hands. Oh it's all going to end in tears. We're all going to end up growing our own groovy tomatoes and funky cabbages - see - I can do it too. G'wan gis a job! God you need your mesolimbic reward centre at full peak not to burst into tears at the thought of what the future has in store for us all. Okay okay; I'll explain.
There's yet another report out that women are better than us males at another of our fields of expertise. Humour. Yes you read it right. I'm almost cataplexic about it. Apparently they use the left frontal cortex better than we men do, which is used in understanding humour. They have a greater understanding on language processing and better use the mesolimbic reward centre called the nucleus accumbens. It seems women were more analytical in this study and didn't expect jokes to be as rewarding as men, (Well especially if the jokes were told by women!) so when they got the punchline (If they did) they found it more rewarding. Well my mesolimbic reward centre in my nucleus accumbens is fit to bust at the news.
Well the bloody Yanks are at it again, if they're not content with sending over their disease ridden grey squirrel that strip the bark from our trees, thereby denuding us of our forests, they're now going aquatic with the American Red signal crayfish. This is The Terminator of all crayfish. Apparently they are larger and more aggressive than our own crayfish; they're American alright! They'll eat anything including small cars and can live on land for months on end. They'll be as common as rats soon if they're not stopped. What I propose is something radical. Send them off to war against a foe using some sort of pheromone to draw them out, and if they truly are American they will destroy themselves by so-called friendly fire.
I think one of the best stories missed by the TV stations over the festive period, is the one about the carolling coppers. Apparently a drug squad wanted to raid a 'crack' house but they had spotted that there were diligent lookouts. They knew they couldn't get near the house without the alarm being raised, and all the drugs going down the toilet. So they decided to form themselves into a group of carol singers, and slowly sing their way towards the house. So far so good. What they hadn't bargained for was that they were so bad, that someone just opened the door to them to pay them off, so that they would go away. No need for the battering ram. Happy Wassailing!
Did you see the research that concluded that families that have a predominance of females, tend to be more left-wing? Two British academics researched this and found that those families were far more likely to vote Lib-Dem or Labour. Now as I have five sisters that probably explains my easy-going manner. Mind you, all my sisters are Tories.
I see that The Gas Board or whatever they call themselves these days, are taking diligence to new heights, and times. No more waiting in all day just for an engineer to arrive, and then suck his breath in through his teeth when he sees the boiler, and say "that's not my field of expertise. "But you're a gas man and that's a boiler you say. "Ah but this is a particular type and I'm not allowed to touch them. S'breakin' the regulations. "I know what I'd like to break you mutter under your breath. Anyway, you can have this sort of thing happen in the wee small hours, so no need to miss time off work.
Well this is what happened to the Hopcrofts of Bristol when they had waited in all day for an engineer to switch their boiler back on, after there had been a gas leak outside their house and the supply was switched off. The engineer turned up at 3.35am and thank god he didn't wake them up; he just left a card under the door. A spokesman for the company said there had been an inordinate amount of emergency calls that evening, and that was the earliest that he could get there. Now I know that the new 24hr drinking laws were going to change things a bit - but come on.
In County Durham it seems that schoolchildren as young as 12 are to be given nicotine patches to help them stop smoking. How long before they're getting methadone to help them get off heroin. Pah! I bet they'll be smoking the patches and selling them on to the juniors as well as selling methadone flavoured orange juice to the parents of toddlers. Whether that will be for the toddlers or the parents is a moot point.
Breaking news! Youngs the Brewers, have been censured by The Advertising Watchdog for implying in 2 adverts that their beer will improve ones attractiveness and sexual potency. What's wrong with that? I know that after 7 pints of their finest brew my ex-wife began to resemble Emma Freud rather than her Grandfather Sigmund. And hence - my sexual prowess was increased.
I'm suffering from the syndrome Post Institutional Societally Stressed Emotional Disorder with it's useful acronym. I'm also sufferring from Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD and Multiple Anxiety Disorder or MAD.
As I'm only just coming round from the Yuletide festivities I'm beginning to start my diet a little late. I've cut out most things like carbs, proteins and vegetables; in fact I eat very little at all. I'm going to call it The Auschwitz diet. I'm trying to get sponsorship; The Gas Board have shown interest.