What Song Are You Listening To, Right Now?

I'll be honest. I'm sat here with my head in my hands (obviously i'm using my mutated third hand to type, you pedantic fools). My eyes are currently dressed as a bride in a traditional Chinese wedding ceremony (in other words they are very red) Tsk! You try to bring a bit of culture to the party and look where it gets you, eh? Anyway, you sort of get the idea with that...

So, what could possibly be the reason for this shameless display of torpor? Well, after spending a particularly fruitful day, out and about, indulging in my hobby of extreme masturbation, i returned home yesterday, quite literally, spent. After washing my hands, uploading the photos, videos, etc., and applying an ice pack, i retired to the bedroom. To sleep. And i did sleep. Like a log. Probably the log of a recently tapped rubber tree.

Until, that is, i was awoken at some ungodly hour by the unmistakable sound of screaming children. I really must get a more appropriate ring-tone. A glance toward Mickey Mouse confirmed that his little hand was pointing to the number 3. A sight i never thought i'd have to witness under the blanket of night. What could be so urgent? A death in the family? Or even bad news?

When the chap on the line identified himself as being from London's St Bartholomew's hospital, i admit, i feared the worst. Thankfully, however, my worries quickly subsided and i followed the famous dictum of Adolf Hitlers - to “turn that frown upside down”. For it was glorious news. This fellow was the hospital's chief of orthopaedic surgery and had taken it upon himself to ring round every household in the country to let us know that, after years of paralysis, parliament had miraculously regrown a spine and voted against the Prime Minister's “Can i, like, bomb some shit, yeah?” request. Marvellous.

So, despite my exhaustion and the very real possibility of yorkshire puddings being renamed freedom puddings, i have a new found spring in my step. That will probably be rather welcome later today, as i plummet down the eastern face of Scafell Pike astride an ironing board, with my lad in my hand. Huzzah!

Good Day.

Billy Bragg – 'Honey, I'm a Big Boy Now'
 
charver said:
I'll be honest. I'm sat here with my head in my hands (obviously i'm using my mutated third hand to type, you pedantic fools). My eyes are currently dressed as a bride in a traditional Chinese wedding ceremony (in other words they are very red) Tsk! You try to bring a bit of culture to the party and look where it gets you, eh? Anyway, you sort of get the idea with that...

So, what could possibly be the reason for this shameless display of torpor? Well, after spending a particularly fruitful day, out and about, indulging in my hobby of extreme masturbation, i returned home yesterday, quite literally, spent. After washing my hands, uploading the photos, videos, etc., and applying an ice pack, i retired to the bedroom. To sleep. And i did sleep. Like a log. Probably the log of a recently tapped rubber tree.

Until, that is, i was awoken at some ungodly hour by the unmistakable sound of screaming children. I really must get a more appropriate ring-tone. A glance toward Mickey Mouse confirmed that his little hand was pointing to the number 3. A sight i never thought i'd have to witness under the blanket of night. What could be so urgent? A death in the family? Or even bad news?

When the chap on the line identified himself as being from London's St Bartholomew's hospital, i admit, i feared the worst. Thankfully, however, my worries quickly subsided and i followed the famous dictum of Adolf Hitlers - to “turn that frown upside down”. For it was glorious news. This fellow was the hospital's chief of orthopaedic surgery and had taken it upon himself to ring round every household in the country to let us know that, after years of paralysis, parliament had miraculously regrown a spine and voted against the Prime Minister's “Can i, like, bomb some shit, yeah?” request. Marvellous.

So, despite my exhaustion and the very real possibility of yorkshire puddings being renamed freedom puddings, i have a new found spring in my step. That will probably be rather welcome later today, as i plummet down the eastern face of Scafell Pike astride an ironing board, with my lad in my hand. Huzzah!

Good Day.

Billy Bragg – 'Honey, I'm a Big Boy Now'
Click to expand...

When you say lad in your hand, do you really mean old chap?
 
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