I fight with Nestle! It’s a cream thing!

So, my final visit to Croydon has brought me to the feet of my nemeses. I stand opposite is tower of power and strength and plot my attack!

For months and months I have failed to track down the infamous tin of Nestle Cream, the original blue and white tin version, not the wannabe fake n flaky Carnation cream that is airy, puffed up and inflated almost to the point of premiership footie player status. I am talking about the thick n creamy, yet slightly odd tasting original Nestle Cream.

I watch the Tower of Nestle closely from my advantage point (across the crazy car infested street that divides the ever so quiet and tranquil Croydon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I watch the army of creamy employees climb into work, but I see no leader, I see no big chief of cream, no head poncho, no CE EEE Ohhhhh, no business captain or darling of the cream world, no, my creamy white nemeses has not showed his face!

He’s in there! I know he is! Just as Donald Trump resides at the top of Trump Towers, I know Nigel Nestle sits luxuriously in a pent house at the Tower of Nestle.

I want to see that smug white cream faced fraud and ask him what on earth has he done with the original, and still the best, Nestle Cream!! I’ve be dining on since a wee lad. 40 years man and boy I’ve tucked into Nestle Cream with apple turnovers and Kiplins pies. But over the last few years they have disappeared only to be replaced by the weak and pathetic carnation can of crap! Did Nigel think, did he seriously think we wouldn’t notice the difference? Once is delectable, thick n creamy . . . the other airy white creamy ish crap in a tin, jeepers its as plane as the cream on your pie, it ain’t the real deal Nigel!!

What is the sick and twisted girt playing at? I’ve based my diet and body shape on that stuff, he can’t take it away now! Not now, I’ve still a few years of munching cream left in me, not now! You get me addicted over 35 years of ploughing me full of cream, then just as I start the last lap of life, you take the tender tasty tins away from me! Most lunch hours as a wee ish teen, I’d cycle to Williams the bakers, grab an apple turnover, then straight into the corner shop for the delightful Nestle Cream, straight home to Baron Rd and lunch was bon app it tite!

I will wait my time, I will stalk you and your Tower of Nestle, then when you least expect it, I’ll storm your concrete creamery and wage war on you, your staff and Tower of creamy force. And If I have to take you hostage in your cream filled luxury penthouse, I bloody will, and I’ll not release you till I get the real bloody Nestle Cream!!

Ohh that ‘thing’ :(

Due know that thing, that thing when your lill belly is struggling to contain around 7 of those 11 greasy spices. It’s a rumbling and a jumbling and needing a quiet little area free from unsuspecting noses and ears. You wait for what seems like an age for the office to be free, the last of the group tramp off allowing you to trump off! Only for a couple of them to make a sudden appearance without warning! Just after the Colonel’s spices go AWOL from sphincter barracks, they bump into a group of nasal nomads. 😡

Expressions are formulated and built from the aroma picked up by a noses that’s nervously twitch more than Dr Fox counting down his brand new playlist!! 😱

That look of disgust, that nose turning look of horror, like there has never been a smell like this ever before in the entire back end catalogue of guffs n puffs! From the light and free n easy talk that was endured pre-guff, to that quiet awkward minimalist mumble that occurs while belongings are gathered and haste is added to a real ‘I’m leavin now!’ moment.

You know that they know what I know I’ve dropped something, they know like you know that it’s too late to pick it up, I know that they want to exit quickly, they know that I know I’ve problems with spices, we both know these spices are not very posh, very scary, not sporty of me to drop them, worst than a babies smell and can turn anything ginger! I know that they know that I won’t claim it, I know that we know there is no man or beast to pass the blame to, We both know the paint is starting to peel off the walls, they know that I know I’m a smelly ol git 😩

Nice1 Rita

Nice1 Rita

Just when you think ‘celebs’ can’t drag the arse our of our young influential generation any further, Rita Ore wears a Teen C**t t-Shirt!!!
Nice move moron, let’s make a derogatory and foul word fashionable amongst the young and easily influenced!
As boring as it sounds, I reckon these so called ‘celebs’ or modern icons have a chance to become positive role models in a tough ol world, instead each hands another a shovel to keep digging a desperately deep but shallow and foul hole.
On the down side millions of young fans will now think being a teenc**t is cool, on the up side, Rita has made a few extra quid out of the publicity stunt!
I think she’s too old for the ‘teen’ tag but she definitely fits the other tag!
Nice1 Rita

Guilty Pleasures

Guilty Pleasures 

Tell me your truth asked a man with a dagger, looking disheveled with long lost swagger

I’ll tell you I’m no one and with heart I will plea, I have no money no life please don’t kill me

I can see through your tear you come with a lie, put away your plea and tell me why

My heart I have bruised for the wife left behind, cast aside in pursuit of the new love I find

Why are you bruised if it’s love that you claim, your heart is with joy and she the same!

The one my heart left is loyal and sweet, with my life she has traveled making complete

Why did you leave that special one so right, if heart and head still have her in sight

My eyes they did wander and eventually did see, she who brought lust and found weak in me

No need to leave you must stay with your wife, forget she with lust think of your life

With child I will be with the wrong woman is she, her man does not know from him she will go

I am that man and with love she is mine, she carries your child you both crossed the line

I beg of you kind sir don’t kill me I plead, my actions are poor and stupidity I feed

Your fun has returned to you it will bite, in the years of your life let this be your site

With a look of despair and grip on his knife, he thrust at his own heart to end his life

With ebbing life he drew his last breath, with a few chosen words before his death

My own wife you took and fun you did reap, over your callous heart my blood forever seep

Guilt now travels and with him will stay, his act played out in his sons eyes each day

With deception we walk and with sin on our breath, waver not will guilt until we succumb to death

It’s right there!

Most days we strive to stay alive and thrive n dive we will
With head down and sense in town we grapple till we frown
It only takes a little look to see what we mistook
In that time we see a line that was crossed then lost, not good
A life that’s free with family and friends to see n be
Lost not thee just wake and see and fill your life with glee 🙂

Ol King Sole!

Ole king Cole was a merry old sole

And a merry ole sole was he

With a flip and a fin

He swaggered with a swim

And reigned the maine did he

 

This ol fish was a dish

and had any girl that he wished

With looks that could kill

Other fish he would grill

And these were all he could see in the sea

 

It was on one sunny day

This beauty he did sway

with his swagger and a smile

he stalked her up the Nile

And looked did she with a grin

 

You Mr Cole are full of it

You scallywag and twit

With a huff and puff

She said that’s enough

And stood on his scaly little shrimp!

Long John!

No wonder that ole pirate always had a tasty chirpy bird hanging of his shoulder with a name like Lon John Silver! There is some missing evidence to back up his bold and brash name, and where, why and how ‘silver’? Did this buccaneer really have a glint in his eye!

He appeared to drag his ol bird around with him wherever he went. All corners of the sea fairing globe and a cocky little bird nagging away at him 24/7!

There will be no ‘cockatoo’ jokes here, although if you’ve a bird at hand who is willing to follow you to exotic places then ………. No!

Oh dear, maybe this ol pirate had more about him and his social life that history really knows!  A brazen pirate and swashbuckling treasure hunting menace of the sea, or a well-endowed lover off the beaten track!

I’m not proud of this post, but sometimes random stuff just needs to be ousted!

Do we need pretty patterns on them?

It’s always jabbed at my little overworked and under paid little cell why oh why are there pretty patterns on bog rolls?

Of all the random crap that my cell deals with, this one leaves me flummoxed.  Your typical bog roll can have many functions, but its main role is to support the toileting needs of its owner!

It’s in its title;

‘Toilet Roll’ roll for the toilet, a roll of paper that is used in the toilet for toileting needs!

‘Bog roll’ roll for bog, a roll of paper used in a bog, for boggy and toilety use!

‘Arse wipe’ wipe for arse, wipe that is used on or for ones arse!

Different names with one common use. Our good ol toilet roll is cheap disposable paper whose purpose is to live in a toilet and wait for its moment of glory, where on command it will be used in a toiletry fashion on an area of the human body that has strong links with toilets, after said use it is thrown to a watery death in the pool of no hope. It is transported through miles of underground piping, and after a few stops will eventually arrive on a beach near you. These beaches are often flagless and fishless!

The heroic toilet roll has a brave basic function, but does it need to look pretty?

Will it make a difference to the user! I’ve never bought bog role thinking my hairy arse will just love these delicate little flowered patterns! And I’ve never heard my hairy arse complain when I use plain roll or that cheap tracing paper that schools use to use! I’ve also not studied the selected patterns available in Tesco, trying to find a match! Will my arse look good in this pattern!

Do I think patterns have added to the general experience? Have I hung around long enough to find out! Have I conducted a survey!

All questions rhetorical and ludicrous, no I don’t care if there are patterns on a bog roll, so why are they there? Shit knows! (No pun intended, but I’ll claim it all the same)

I have a strange play in my head, just before this lovely patterned bog roll meets it’s hairy and often smelly destination, I can hear my hairy arse say in a high pitched excitable tone ‘ohhh look at the utterly gorgeous pretty patterns on that worryingly flimsy sheet of paper’

While the bog role screams ‘AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!’

Matter of!

Matter of fact, or fact that matters, does the fact consist of matter, does it matter if it does or not, matter is a fact, but it has to matter to matter or life is less, fact, so let fact matter, it’s fact you all need and all need factual fact, coz it matters, that’s the fact of the matter, so it’s matter of fact!

Sesame Street did the alphabet far better than this!

Aaaarrrrrsssse becomes combustible delicate effortless farts gather heavy intolerance jeering loudly mimicking natural odours painfully questioning real stinkers status testing under valuing with xero yeasty zing