HO HO HO

A guy walks into a bar with his pet monkey. He orders a drink and while he's drinking, the monkey starts jumping all over the place. The monkey grabs some olives off the bar and eats them, then grabs some sliced limes and eats them, then jumps up on the pool table, grabs the cue ball, sticks it in his mouth and swallows it whole.

The bartender screams at the guy, "Did you see what your monkey just did?" The guy says, "No, what?" "He just ate the cue ball off my pool table - whole!" says the bartender. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," replies the patron. "He eats everything in sight, the little twerp. I'll pay for the cue ball and stuff." He finishes his drink, pays his bill, and leaves. Two weeks later he's in the bar again, and he has his monkey with him. He orders a drink and the monkey starts running around the bar again.

While the man is drinking, the monkey finds a maraschino cherry on the bar. He grabs it, sticks it up his butt, pulls it out, and eats it. The bartender is disgusted. "Did you see what your monkey did now?" "Now what?" asks the patron. "Well, he stuck a maraschino cherry up his butt, then pulled it out and ate it!" says the barkeeper.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," replies the patron. "He still eats everything in sight, but ever since he ate that damn cue ball he measures everything first!"

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No! I’m not about to shove anything up my butt!

Its that time again for another thrilling instalment of the where’s and why’s.

So this week has pretty well flown by, trying to get the whole work thing finished up to date so I can take my time off without fretting about things being ballsed up. I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with my wife and family, who knows, by the end of this blog entry it could be extended…

So Christmas is almost upon us, I’m starting to get that ‘jingle bells’ feeling at long last, it sure as hell has taken long enough to arrive this year.

So Christmas, St Nick and all that… What’s it all about?

From my upbringing in deepest rural Devon, Christmas was about waking early, being told to go back to bed, sitting in your room, waiting for another 30 minutes to pass, then being told to go back to bed again, finally being allowed downstairs at around 7am, not being allowed to open anything until breakfast was eaten, the washing up had been done, and mum was dressed! By this time I recall having been shouted at about 10 times to calm down.

Finally, the unwrapping. My mum always had this trick that none of the presents had any tags, nor where they wrapped differently in his/hers paper (I have an older sister). We had to sit while a gift was handed out, we would open it, and ‘absorb’ it for 5 minutes. Fuck that man I wanted all of them right there and then, I wanted to rip that bow off with my teeth, I wanted to roll around in the crumpled wrapping paper, I wanted to pull my gift out of it’s box with wanton gay abandon (non-bent use of the word gay by the way) and shake it above my head while all the pieces showered my family like an Airfix hail storm.

This particular year I’m recalling was a particularly bad one in the behaviour stakes. My sister and I were fortunate enough to have new bikes. These bikes were perfect in every way, they looked like they had been carved from wood and blessed by Father Peter on his way to Bethlehem.

They were the mutts nutts. And I fucked up everything!

Now, in my defence you would have thought from a parents perspective that leaning two new bikes against a polished rosewood dining room table would be a bad idea, yeah well I would have!

I leapt on my gleaming bike at around a hundred miles an hour, and etched the deepest scratch cum trench about 10 inches in length right the way across the table, I mean, this trench was so deep you could fill it with water and use it as an indoor water feature.

That was it. bike was put outside, I was sent upstairs in disgrace for the best part of the day, my sister was in tears as hers was also taken outside, my mum was bleating about the table, my dad was cussing at “Christmas being ruined by that little shit” blah blah blah.

And that’s about all I remember of Christmas as a child. That one bad year.

I’m sure I had plenty good ones, but that one will always be remembered.


And now? I don’t buy rosewood that’s for sure…

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There were these two guys in a bar, which was on the 20th floor of a building. The first man said " I bet you $100 I can jump out that window and come straight back in!" The second man says "Ok, sure." and the barman holds the bet. The first man jumps out the window and disappears for a second before jumping straight back in. Disappointed about losing the $100, the second man says: " I'll bet you another $100 you can't do it again." So the barman holds the bet. Sure enough, the first man jumps out the window, disappears for a second, then jumps straight back in. Thinking he must have caught a freak gust of wind, the second man says "Ok, I bet you $300 I can jump out the window and come straight back in." The first man says" Ok, sure." The second man jumps out the window and falls to the footpath below. He is dead. Back up in the bar, the barman says to the first man " Gee, you can be a bastard when you're pissed, Superman."

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Before I go, I just want to say merry Christmas to all our kids.

Be beautiful folks.

cV