Posts Tagged ‘Deidre Macbeth’

MERRY MICKELMAS…or something…

Guten Afternoon-en,Reality Surfers and Splitters of the Infinitive!!

‘Tis I,ब्लॉग कुत्ता !!!

And in the words of Sir Noddy Holder…IT’S BLOGMAS !!!!!!!

A time to remember the important things in life,such as getting rammed out of your cabbage on Asti Spumante at the office party and waking up the next morning with Dawn,the fat girl who fills the photocopier.A time to think of those less fortunate than yourself,the poor souls who,believe it or not,aren’t intergalactic pug-dogs of mystery with a vast fortune amassed in a life of adventure,intrigue and leg-humping.For even though I am a fabulously wealthy adventurer in time and space and elsewhere,it doesn’t mean that I don’t think of those less fortunate than myself.

*By the way,the people from the gas board called..they’ll be round to switch off your supply on Tuesday,….*

Ha ha…umm…yes thank you for reminding me…I’m switching over to electric heating.I’ve heard wonderful things about Economy 7-

*…and I’ve taken the magnet off the electricity meter…the bloke from n-power said,and I quote “Low usage is one thing but we were just taking the pi-*

SShhh…ha ha yes you do that,I don’t know how it got there…bloody kids.Bring back National Service,that’s what I say….Anyway,shouldn’t you be packing ?
*I’ve nearly finished*

Yes indeed,Constant Reader…you read right…I am vacating my current Fortress of Blogitude and relocating to a swanky drum in the Docklands…West India Quay to be exact.Tube stations are so last year.And Mornington Crescent is rather too big for me and Rizla now that my former love,Miss Deidre Macbeth,has run off with that Tennant person.Where is he now,eh?
Eh ?
Answers to this,and other,questions shall be forthcoming during the next twelvemonth,for The Dog of Blog will be back in business very soon,banging one off the wrist,as it were,with more gusset-ripping installments of The Necronomnomicon and more tuber-troubling terrors with everyone’s favourite psycho-bitch,Marjorie Misnomer.
Christmas is a time for family..but seeing as I have no family,I’ve decided that Blogmas is a time for me,so if you’ll excuse me,I must away to my new pad to install the shark tank and gruff a box or ten of jelly fruits while watching Her Majesty (God Bless Her) on the tellybox,for was it not John The Baptist who said-

*Umm you may want to stop it there,actually…*

For why,pray,for why ?

*Well there appear to be two very large gentlemen with hurty-sticks  attempting to squeeze themselves through the barrier you put up to keep the council tax bloke out-*

SHIT!

*I think I already have*

Oh Buddha it’s the Theydon Bois !!!

*Big lads,aren’t they?*

Wapping!

*Oh Arsenal*

Down the secret tunnel!! Time to blog off,Dear Reader…until we meet again in futures uncertain,Happy Blogmas !!

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The Blog Kitten—MISSING!!

‘Tis I-The Blog Dog!

I speak to you today,Constant Reader,in a state of some agitation,and not a little preturbation.

(Is that a word?)

This very morn,upon waking from a shit-hot dream involving Bettany Hughes,Eva Mendes and a tub of swarfega,I rolled over in my 5-poster bed to greet the dawn and my beloved,Deidre, with a snuggle and a kiss,and to possibly try a few things I’d worked out in my dream.

(Eww)

Imagine,then,my horror as I beheld my beloved,who was conspicuous by her absence.

Gone.

Now this was not really that unusual,as it is part of our pre-nuptial agreement that Deidre should be up before I wake in order to get the tea on,so I was not unduly alarmed.I slipped on my yeti-skin dressing gown and griffin-hide slippers and sauntered into the kitchenette,to be greeted with a sight of abject,screaming horror,the like of which I had never before encountered,and no married man should have to endure….

…the teapot wasn’t even on the hob.

Searching around for Deidre in order to remonstrate with her and to extract a reason as to why my morning cup of  Earl Grey was,as yet,merely theoretical,I came swiftly to the conclusion that she was,as my Latin teacher used to say,non adest.

To whit,buggered off.

Not a soul in sight.

This was,as the Ameriyanks say,an “issue.”

Not only would I have to make my own tea AND breakfast,I’d have to most likely feed the piranhas AND go and whip the students in the dungeon.

This was not on.

The Blog Dog,as you know,has no time for the trivial matters of existence….for the Blog Dog is a roisterer,a rodgerer,a puker and a gorger-a shafter of time and space.

The Blog Dog cannot save the universe twice over whilst making his own cornflakes.Simple as that.

I trotted,stressed,onto the platform of my secret London Underground lair,cunningly disguised as Mornington Crescent,to see if maybe Deidre was polishing the third rail or something;it was possible that she had got her chore shcedule arse-backwards.

I was about to enter that state of mind known as the “hissy fit” when I spotted it…although how such an abomination came to be in my residence,I knew not,nor dared to wonder.

Plastered to the far wall was a poster of…..David Tennant.

You will know,Constant Reader,that normally I would not even debase myself to cleanse my lower extremities with such a tawdry piece of stationery,so how it came to be here was a mystery,wrapped up in an enigma,then sodomised by a “what the fuck?”

The third-rate actor who got lucky was gurning horrifically from the poster,but this was not the worst thing assaulting my retinas at this moment…there was more.

Someone had added a speech bubble which emanated from the vicintiy of his gruesome visage…these very words of horror chilled me to the bone:

HOOTS MON,YE WEE DOGGY BASTARD!!!

YE WEE WIFEY AND I ARE VERY MUCH IN LOVE,AND WE HAVE ELOPED TO GRETNA GREEN WHERE WE GAN GET MARRIED!

(Rubbish Scottish accent)

I know…bless him he hasn’t worked in ages,it’s probably affected his mind.Anyway back to the action…

DEIDRE SAYS YE CAN CLEAN YOUR OWN THIRD RAIL,YE WEE SASSENACH BUM-SNIFFER !!

P.S I’M THE BEST DOCTOR WHO EVER!!!!

P.P.S SO THERE !!!

P.P.P.S TOM BAKER IS RUBBISH!!!

The horror…the horror.

Dumped for Doctor Who…and not even one of the good ones.

Mother-appreciator.

So this is how you now find The Blog Dog,my Constant Reader…Deidre-less,tea-less and very possibly custard-cream-less.And even worse than that…I’ve got a fucking David Tennant poster on my wall.

What will my guests think ??

I suppose I’ll have to take it down myself ,too.

(Aw bless)

I’ve still got you,dear Rizla, my faithful retainer…my wife has left me for a has-been,my reputation is in tatters….and I haven’t had a cuppa for hours,put the kettle on would you-

-OI! Come back you sod !!!

Shit.

‘Tis I,The Blog Dog…the dog’s dog,the Hocus bloke,the lad himself,the cosmic dick,the mutt’s nuts,here to celebrate my blog reaching the ton! Deidre and I would like to thank all of my fear-fans for their faultless following of my adventures over the past 99 blogs.The little woman and I are currently on holiday in a flashback in Devon,so the blog has been left in the hairy palms of my slave, Rizla…but fear not!! I am,at this very moment,while Deidre puts the dinner on,banging out another existential episode of the orgasmically exciting Marjorie Misnomer series.I do enjoy banging one out of an afternoon..anyway…I’ve also commissioned that fine piece of brainy crackling,Bettany Hughes,to write my life story which will be appearing in the pages of this very blog in the not too distant future,if she can pull her finger out.AND as if that wasn’t enough to make you wet yourself unselfconsciously,I’m also working on the next cranium-cracking chapter of The Necronomnomicon…get in!!!

The future is here,the future is me…a peristaltic smack in the mush,a bunch of fives,madder than a cartload of arseholes,the pan-dimensional scream of terror,the piece of blue cheese you found under the cooker,the standing-in-the-middle-of-Tesco-with an-itchy-arse feeling of helplessness…I am the Hound of the Baskervilles,humping your leg…quite simply,The Blog Dog!