In Vino Veritas

I have entered a short story competition on The Clarity of Night

I had a bash at this the last time. My previous effort consisted of my Uncle Cyril, a motorbike and sidecar and sheep.

I was left with the conclusion my effort left people a tad non-plussed, although they seemed to appreciate the humour.

I ain't a writer but what the hell?

My effort this time is number 57.

Just so you know.

I feel a bit guilty actually.

I've time to do this but not to visit your blogs.

If I'm honest my short story took, literally, ten minutes maximum.

Soz I ain't around much lately. I do love you......really.

Anyroad, go have a read of the stuff over there. Some very talented writers. A bit too serious sometimes maybe but very good all the same.

I promise faithfully to pop over soon and catch up with you all. Honest.

Laters and let's be careful out there.....

Who's dead?

Has somebody died or what?

Been a bit busy - as usual - with union stuff.

Apparently somebody died and I missed it.

Hope the funeral director accepts plastic.......

I wonder......

Could he be the first deceased ever to be recycled?

The 'memorial show' really missed a great trick.

Wouldn't it have been something if they'd played 'Thriller' and the coffin had opened and out stepped........well, maybe not but it would have been a classic eh?

"Because I'm dead,

I'm dead-come on (dead dead-really, really dead)

You know I'm dead, I'm dead-you know it (dead dead-really, really dead)

You know I'm dead, I'm dead-come on, you know (dead dead-really, really dead)

And the whole world has to answer right now

Just to tell you once again,

Who's dead . . ."

Laters 'n let's be careful out there.....

Man Flu, A Busted Door and A Power Cut In Kavos

I am slowly recovering from 'Man Flu'

As medical science has proven irrevocably, man flu is considerably worse than woman flu. Apparently women have more...er....thingys....whatchamacallits....I forget....ozone layers or some'at...that's it...immunity. They have more immune thingy's against viruses therefore we, the men, suffer far more than they, the women, do.


It is a medical fact.


Anyroad, Caz knew I was sick when I failed to consume any alcohol what so ever over a four day period.


This is virtually unheard of since I was about ten years old give or take.....


Two months ago :

"Dad, my drivers door is broken"
"Phone my garage and take it down. They'll fix it for you"
"Ok dad"


One month ago :

"Dad, my drivers door won't shut at all now"
"I thought you were going to Dennis and Steve to get it sorted"
"I forgot. I will. Promise"


Last week :

"Dad, as I'm in Kavos for a week with school friends can you take my car to get the door fixed?"
"Yeah ok"
"Love yooooooooou!"


This week :

"Dad I've run out of money"
"How?"
"I fell off a chair dancing in a nightclub and because of my back op the other year they insisted I had x-rays"
"Who did? How did they know anyroad?"
"My friends told them and I had to pay for a cab to hospital and pay the excess on the health insurance and a cab back and then back again the next day and now I've only 50 Euro's left and we're here until Saturday"
"How much do you need then?"
"Oh I don't know. Only three hundred should do"
"Three arrrrrrgh!"
"Dad? You there? You ok?"
"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh"


"Hello dear this is mum. Your father's having a turn. Don't worry he'll transfer it to your account on line in a minute when he stops lying on the floor making strange noises"

Yesterday :

"Hi dad, is the money there yet?"
"Should be. Have you tried the cash point?"
"I can't, there's a complete power cut around Kavos. No cash points are working right now"
"shame"
"Sorry? What did you say?"
"Nothing babe. Wait 'til it's back on and you'll be ok for cash"
"Thanks daddy. Love yooooooooou"

My ability to consume ridiculous amounts of alcohol mysteriously seemd to reappear today.

So I did.

And I have.

And I am.

You can have my last dime babe......

.....But give me a chance to earn it first for fucks sake!!!!.....;-)

Incidentally, Dennis and Steve have fixed her car door. And her exhaust. And her fuel gauge. And about £300 worth of stuff I didn't know about until I took it to them today.

Laters 'n let's be careful out there......

(especially if you're in Kavos. There's a power cut you know.....)

Life's A (Mobile) Gas

I have a friend. Don't laugh I do! She's a barmaid called Donna. Every Saturday she texts me the latest jokes she's received on her mobile. Most are crap but now and then I like one.

'The manufacturers of Fairy Liquid are sending gallons to Rio as some French have started washing up on their beach...' (ouch)

'BNP leader Nick Griffin was incensed at protesters throwing eggs at him as....

.....they hadn't seperated the whites....'

'At his first day at terrorist school Mohammed was late. "Why are you late?" asked the teacher.....

"I left my bag on the bus" he answered.

"Go to the top of the class!!!".....


'One day long long long ago was a woman who surprisingly wasn't a complete headcase

......this was long long long ago though....and it was only a day'....

Renault and Ford are working on a new small car for women. They're mixing the Clio and Taurus and it will be called the CLITAURUS.

It comes in pink only, with or without fur on the dash and the average male thief won't be able to find it even if someone tells him where it is'..........

To the tune of The Hokey Cokey.....

You put your transfer in
Your transfer out
In out, in out
You fuck your club about
You do the Christiano
and you change your mind
That's what it's all about...

Oooooh Ronaldo is a wanker
Oooooh Ronaldo is a wanker
Oooooh Ronaldo is a wanker

Knees bent arms stretched
Dive! Dive! Dive!


Well...made me smile anyroad....

Laters 'n let's be careful out there.....

Mother (fucking life)

"I'm having trouble with haemorroids"

"Mum. I'm eating my breakfast"

"I know but they are very painful and I have to put cream on them"

"Mum. I'm eating my breakfast" (thinks - 'shut the fuck up for christs sake')

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Mum, the England World Cup qualifying game is on"

"I'm not having bloody football on my TV"

"Ok. I'll go into town and watch it at The Blue Bell pub"

"If you must"

30 minutes later the mobile rings.

"Where are you?"

"In The Blue Bell watching the England game"

"You've come up to see me! Why are you there?"

"You said I couldn't watch it at home so I'm watching it here"

"Your bag will be packed and in the garden shed when you get back"

I get back after watching England beat Khazakstan 4 - 0 and my bag is in the shed.

I go and get it.

"T'ra then"

"You can't drive home now you have had a drink"

Perceptive eh? Actually I'm very pissed and I've had a great time. She nicks my car keys.

"Am I staying then?"

"You came to see me and went down the pub!"

"I came to see you, took you out for a meal Friday, lunch Saturday and I was taking you for a meal tonight. All I did was watch the fucking England game"

I crashed out and came home Sunday.

Sunday morning.

"T'ra mum"

"You came to see me"

"I can't hardly miss you as I'm in your kitchen eh?"

"You went to the pub"

"To watch the England game!"

"You came to see me"

"T'ra mum"

- which is loosly translated into 'fuck off you selfish miserable old bitch and why don't you do me the favour of dying so I can watch the fucking football without any grief as my wife whinges when I put it on and I say 'tough go watch the tv upstairs 'cause I love my footy and I'll divorce you before I don't watch England or Oldham Athletic on Sky and if you don't like it just piss off somewhere and leave me alone' and then I get my beer and start to watch and then she starts hoovering the bloody floor and gets the hump when I unplug it and I tell her to hoover some other time and then I get back from Oldham to find I've got two appeals to do regarding people getting sacked when they didn't deserve to and their entire lives are hanging by a thread and it's all down to me and I just know the management are going to uphold the dismissals 'cause if they don't they'll look like pratts to the Department For Transport who they've promised at least 5 sacrificial lambs and I won't have it so I save one and the other four are toast regardless of evidence and now they're looking to me to save their jobs and I can't do it 'cause the company won't do the right thing so it'll go to tribunal and they'll have no money until we get there and lose their homes and whatever else and we'll win - probably before tribunal - but by then the damage is done and I've done my best and I can't make it all go away and then I feel I've let them down and I go to The Five Bells or The Old George and get pissed 'cause I can't make it all better and then I drive home pissed and the management gets the hump and football isn't even on the fucking TV and I just want to go to sleep and wake up and everything is allright again and everyone is being treated decently and management aren't a bunch of tossers looking after themselves while everyone elses life is going to hell in a basket and I just want human beings to behave like human beings are supposed to and actually care about fellow human beings instead of sacking them to protect themselves and The BNP have made gains in the European elections and everyones slagging them off without realising it only happened 'cause the UK is now allowing Sharia Law in certain situations and the majority of Brits are bloody petrified that their country has changed beyond all recognition and they don't like it and, no, they aren't all fascists, they are ordinary people who want their country back thank you very much and even the union is all over the place and fighting internal wars instead of looking after its members and it's going to cost me a fucking fortune to send my daughter to university 'cause I'm not one of the rich and she'll only get the chance if I pay and pregnant women are being murdered for no reason and the police are too busy writing speeding tickets to care and my country, my England, is dying on its feet and all the mainstream political parties are too frightened to talk about it and I'm 51 and have lived a lot longer than I'm likely to live and I go to the fridge and take out another Stella Artois or whatever beer is there and I go up to my computer and start typing shite 'cause I'm crying inside 'cause nobody cares anymore.

I care. It hurts. I still care.

I'm starting to bare my soul on a fucking blog.

Fuck you.

Laters, and lets be careful out there...

Return of The Tired Dad

Tired Dad has returned.

He has informed me that my new blog is shit.

Don't you just hate people who are right?

Bastard.

I've been marking time in a skidmark kind of way.

I've been thinking.

This is not necessarily a good thing.

DILLIGAF was, perhaps, an occasionally halfway decent blog.

FOURDINNERS was, perhaps, ok in its own way.

PREACHER?

It is shit in't it. It in't me anymore.

I'm not fucking deleting another so let's make it me a bit more.

Not on a par with TD maybe but let's head in his general direction.

I'm a union rep. It's what I do.

Well. It isn't. I'm a Cargo Agent. That's what I do for money. The union rep stuff is a freebie. This is sometimes a problem in my head.

I'm representing some decent people and an inordinate amount of twats and I do it for free.

Decent Person (DP) : "I couldn't challenge the DFT guys for breaching security because I didn't even see them"

Manager : "I don't disbelieve that you didn't see them but I'm dismissing you anyway for failing to challenge them"

Union Rep (Me) : "Er....If you believe he didn't see them how can you dismiss him for not challenging them? How can you challenge what you don't see?"

Manager : "I agree but he failed to challenge them so he is dismissed"

Me : "Am I missing something here?"

DP : "You and me both"

The union will go to tribunal if needed and we'll win.

DP will be reinstated or win some money.

In the meantime he will lose his home as he can't pay any bills due to being dismissed for failing to challenge people management accept he never saw in the first place.

DP will almost certainly lose his home. He may lose his girlfriend as well. His life will have gone to hell in a basket of crap but never mind.

He's in the union and he will ultimately win.

He will be able to climb out of his cardboard box under a bridge over the River Thames and find a bar in which to spend his compensation as he drowns his sorrows over losing his home, his girlfriend, his job and, quite possibly, his liver.

Good job he's in the union eh?

Laters 'n let's be careful out there....

....and welcome back old bean.

George Hannibal Deefer and The Pinball Smile

I forgot to take a picture of George Hannibal Deefer or the pinball smile. Damn.

George Hannibal Deefer is Cappy's Beagle - he had Hannibal added to his name by me after seeing the Lecter like mask he wears about the house to stop him chewing anything edible or otherwise. He also has a very odd passion for ducks and quail.

Must be a Barnsley thing.....

Deefer incidentally, for those of a slower disposition than a plant is 'D for Dog'. Deefer. With me so far?

The Pinball Smile is Mrs Cappy. When she smiles her entire face lights up like a pinball machine. Their lad, Fin, thoroughly enjoyed calling his mum 'Pinball' for most of Saturday. Hopefully she forgave me the nickname....

Friday night was beer and curry night. A drunken ex-miner who claimed to be a personal friend of old miners leader Arthur Scargill took a shine to us when he heard us discussing union stuff.

An excellent night ended with me driving Cappy home with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a vodka and lemonade. Well? I wasn't actually drink driving. I didn't drink it until I stopped. Might have spilled it otherwise.....



On the Saturday we started early at a nice pub in Barnsley called The Courthouse. There we met Woody.

Neither Cappy nor I have the foggiest idea who Woody is but, after he offered to stand his round with only a pound coin we supplied him with sufficient cider for him to fall over, kicking a woman in the back on the way down.

Still he seemed happy enough when we left him sometime later face down in a pool of cider.

Then came the Cappy and Dinners Show on Scooter-Forums Radio.

5 hours of drunken mayhem including Dinners shagging a dog, a dog shagging a duck, Cappy confessing to an unstoppable desire to shag a muppet, a telephone guest denying he wears pink knickers, a Blue Peter Garden tale, a competition for a cd for the best reason recieved by mail or text to Cappy for wanting to shag a cartoon character, Cappy farting into the microphone and....oh....yeah....some music too.

Then it was Sunday.

The 30th Anniversary gig of The Specials in the Millenium Square in Leeds.

Warm up acts Pama International were good in second spot but topped by American outfit from New York The Slackers who even did their own version of a Northern Soul number. Excellent stuff.

Pama International - looking worryingly like another Gallagher brother....

Top New York Ska and Reggae outfit The Slackers


Both were outdone, however, by Kid British. As the name suggests they're young. Maybe still in their teens. They were hot. Very hot. Looking at them on stage almost put you in mind of The Specials themselves but their sound is very much their own and it is the business.

Then the main event.

"Yer much too much, much too young, to be married with a kid when you should be havin' fun with me!!"

The Specials 30th Anniversary gig in Leeds Millenium Square.

I saw 'em 20 odd years ago. I did not feel old. They were fucking awesome and that's an understatement. Words won't describe it so go check out Cappy's blog with a few vids I'm too lazy to put up.

Without exaggeration it was a TOP weekend.

Another is proposed in the year maybe two. Next year? If that pans out it'll be a stormer.

Ta for giving an old man a good time Cappy - I'll rephrase that.....oh fuck it you know what I mean.....

Later's and let's be careful out there....