A Right Cowboy

I am a man of a certain maturity; a well-ripened Cheddar; a well-cellared Burgundy; a well, you get the idea.
Never could I use the word "cool" to describe something that was whatever that word means and I could never say "well good" for something that was well, good.
I like to think I have sophisticated tastes in books, music and the arts. I won't go into them here but we aren't talking Potter, Sugababes or that bird with the nice tits and wonky jaw.
So why is it I turn into a hormonal pre-pubescent spotty eejit on steroids when I play certain stupid games on my iPhone?
Today I read in the newspaper of a 46 years old man who went and attempted to throttle a kid he was playing Call of Duty over the internet with because the kid "killed" him and called him names.
I can understand that. 
When I'm gunslinging on my iPhone on High Noon, dressed as a Ninja Cowboy with Union Jack boots wearing my Sidewinder Socks (for 20% faster dodging) and wielding a Stagemaster Shotgun with Double Dynamite up my sleeve as a surprise, I feel my anger well up when some bit of a hacker kid from Q8 (Kuwait) downs me with 2 shots to the head just as lining up my sights and I'm a-fixing to separate his legs from his torso.
I mean, I absolutely blow my stack: "The f**kin' cheatin' sod!" I cry out in anguish, oblivious to my surroundings. Then I feel like that throttler guy and consider booking a first-class flight to Kuwait City to exterminate the frauding little toad.
What use is it buying wooden teeth, silver bullets and voodoo dolls with my precious wampum to add extra ooomph when some twatty liddle twot on the other side of the world is prepared to risk his mortal soul by taking advantage of an old codger by nefarious means?
But then I gradually subside shouting "Get a grip, man!" to myself as I acknowledge my declining powers that come with age and gradually comport myself with the dignity that befits the advanced number of my days on Earth.
Suitably mollified, I go and read the Beano on the bog.

Phew

Intitot?

It's great in supermarkets

I saw a weird thing at the next till. A baby asleep eating an ice lolly. I was mesmerised. It was on a par with that fat woman I saw whose dirty joggers were almost hanging off, revealing a substantial amount of an arse that Cyril Smith would have been proud of. /me shivers.

Nice try

At the checkout counter one girl studiously ignored me as she gassed  to her checkout colleague who said: "He asked me if I had a pen. I said yes. He said "Write your phone number on this piece of paper then". She didn't but nice move.

Ayring their views

Just overheard in Sainsbury's.
Woman looking at Pam Ayres' new book: "Has nobody shot her yet?" 
Quite.

Crazy prices

Sainsbury's pricing strategy leaves a lot to be desired.

Treemendous

As that guy from Hot Chocolate might have said: It Started as a Twig. Never thought it would get this big.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Just seen a bloke in a red dressing gown coming home with his shopping bags. Thankfully, he was wearing trousers.

Can you smell me from there?

I have an achey leg.
I rubbed some Chinese medicine I bought from Llandudno into my achey leg.
Now I have a stinky achey leg.

Dreamweirdness

Last night, I dreamed I was in bed with Julie Hesmondhalgh who plays Hayley Cropper in Coronation Street.(Sorry Roy)
I also dreamed my son had designed a tee shirt with the word "Knobsplat" as the logo in yellow and red. This is weird as he hates branded merchandise.

Nasty Accident. Dial 999!

The poor pigeons were traumatised.

Taken in Richmond, London.

I'm not a virgin

I have to confess. I'm not a blogging virgin
I've had a couple of blogs before but that was BITD.
I'll keep those under my flat cap if you don't mind.
I'm having to get used to a new swish interface now
Looks like it could be fun. I hope.
Welcome back to those that may know me ;)

Bird Talk

Took a walk past where the farmers had been gathering silage today. The piles of mown grass were making an excellent buffet for one of our most colourful native birds: the Goldfinch. I have seen them hanging on the stems of dandelions picking the seeds off. They must be incredibly light to do that.
As I walked along the path, in the distance I saw about a dozen crows with a magpie amongst them. His black and white plumage stood out in such company.
They were enjoying an animated chatter but on my approach, they looked towards me and the crows flew one way and the magpie in the opposite direction as if they had been guiltily caught conspiring.
I wonder if birds communicate with another branch of the specie? It certainly looked that way.

Blatant Plug

In a shameless act of self-promotion, I have added a link at the top of my page to all my Ebooks on Amazon's Kindle. Please feel free to click on them and download a few dozen.

3-2-1 Go!

Right. I decided it's time to start a blog. Yes, I know it's 340 years after everybody else started theirs and blogging is so yesterday but there's stuff that needs saying and I'm about to say it. Well, when I can think of something. Give me a break! Anyway, come along for the ride with me and let's see how far we get. Welcome aboard!