WARNING: THIS BLOG POST CONTAINS EXTREMELY STRONG PORNOGRAPHY. READERS WHO ARE EASILY OFFENDED ARE ADVISED TO LEAVE THIS WEBSITE BY CLICKING HERE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
This is EastEnders legend Frank Butcher (don’t worry, the porn in no way involves him!). Frank was played by Mike Read. Sadly, both Frank and Mike are no longer with us.
I haven’t watched EastEnders for over 15 years, but I do remember Frank for running a used car garage, where he would sell dodgy motors to unsuspecting old women and gangland mobsters. He was a typical cockney geezer.
Why am I writing about Frank? Well, in the same way that he would con Ethel out of her pension, she had put aside to spend on Willy, (her dog, you sick-minded so and so), I too have fallen victim to a wheeler dealer…
There are, in fact, two cowboys who have targeted me. Unlike Mr Butcher, these dodgy salesmen don’t operate out of a small portacabin, which leaks when it rains.
One is probably the biggest retailer in the world. The other is one of the largest football clubs in the country. I am talking about Amazon and Leeds United.
Let’s start with Amazon. If you follow their activities in the news, you’ll know that they are hardly whiter than white. In fact, if you were to examine their metaphorical underpants, I am sure you would find some nasty skidmarks, that even Daz washing powder would struggle to remove. I am referring to their tax avoidance.
Tax avoidance is the legal way of paying less tax – unlike evasion, which is illegal and something Amazon are definitely not involved with. However, ask yourself – “just because something is not against the law, does it make it right?” That subject is for another blog post (which I will never get round to).
Moving on from Amazon’s tax issues and $11billion profit, to something a lot more important – my missing parcel. I placed a preorder for a Hannibal Lecter Funko Head. If you don’t know what a “Funko Head” is, it’s basically a toy for adults – and NO – not one of those “toys”. Bloody hell – your warped mind. I blogged about one of my toys a few years ago.
Amazon totally cocked up the delivery date and appointed UPS to transfer Hannibal from their Swindon warehouse to my home. Anyone who has seen The Silence of the Lambs will know that Dr Lecter doesnt travel well – and I don’t mean he suffers from motion sickness.
Luckily for the UPS driver, Hannibal didn’t escape and eat his face, like in the movie. Unluckily for me, my Funko Head was taken to a shop in Twerton, 3 miles away from where Iive. What did they expect? For me to just hop on my mobility scooter and ride to this mystery shop on the other side of town? Well, yes, actually.
As cockney Frank Butcher would say “YOU’RE HAVING A GIRAFFE!”
The second offender to shamefully rip me off was a loved one. Now that hurts. Sometimes I feel that this loved one just doesn’t realise how much I care for them – they certainly don’t reciprocate the affection. I am, of course, referring to Leeds United. The football club I have bitched and moaned about, throughout every one of my blog’s 15+ years on the internet.
If you have been reading my blog recently, you will know that I have been waiting for a matchday programme to be delivered. I initially blamed Postman Pat. Pat, I’m sorry…
By way of an apology, I did buy Pat a gift. Unfortunately something went wrong…
The reason I had not received the programme, was because it was never bloody sent! Honestly, Leeds United is like a rubbish boyfriend. He constantly promises you the world, but always finds a way to let you down. I am subjected to applauding emotional abuse. The only thing the bastard hasn’t done is hit me – although give that time – whenever I next get to go to a Leeds game, I am sure I’ll end up getting smashed in the face by a wayward ball.
I sent Leeds lots of love letters, I mean emails, asking about the missing programme. They blocked my email address. I’m fecking serious. I am blocked, like a dirty spammer.
Luckily, I still own my trusty pre-2004 Yahoo Mail account. I used this before GMail became a thing. Yahoo Mail was crap back at the turn of the millennium and it is still crap now. In fact, I think it has become worse!
I used this geriatric email address to further ‘spam’ the club, asking what was going on and where the hell my programme was. I also messaged the Supporters Liaison Officer. I don’t really know what they do, but they sounded helpful and once sent me a signed photo of the team.
Guess what? I have had no response from the club. As cockney Frank Butcher would shout “YOU’RE HAVING A BUBBLE BATH!”
Now this is where the hardcore porn comes in…
If you don’t want to see this extremely graphic photo, leave now…
I’m warning you…
Don’t say that I didn’t warn you…
Seriously, this is sick, sick stuff…
Twisted and vile…
Depraved…
OK, you’ve been warned. Prepare to see your last meal, as you puke onto your keyboard or smartphone…
“YOU’RE HAVING A BUBBLE BATH!”
If you are still with me and haven’t choked on your own vomit, well done. Foul stuff, wasnt it?
What can I say? Leeds United drove me to it.
There is a little epilogue to my tale of woe and it is good news!
I am now a happy owner of the two latest Leeds United matchday programmes. The one which originally went AWOL was sent to me by the Liaison Officer. Yesterday, I arrived home from work to discover the second programme sitting on where my doormat would be, if I owned a doormat – basically, it came through the letterbox.
Well done, Leeds United. You did good. Eventually…
As for Amazon and Dr Lecter – apparently he is in a white van, on his way to me at some point today. That is unless he escapes again.
Oh, just to let you know that by reading his highly pornographic blog, you have infected your browsing device with the most awful spyware, malware, ransomware and underwear.
Basically, I’ve stolen all your data. To get it back, you must pay me…
I feel like I have now got over Leeds United defender, Pontus Jansson, being sold to Brentford.
Having re-read what I put in a blog post, just over six weeks ago, I think that I can safely say I have moved on…
It pains me to admit that Pontus was my favourite Leeds player. In my eyes and heart, he is irreplaceable. Leeds won’t be able to come close to buying a new player themselves of equal quality and will be a weaker side as a result.
Meh. We’ll do alright…
Whoever called football supporters fickle?
I even created a few additional verses, more relevant now, considering Pontus plays for Brentford and not Leeds…
Pontus Jansson’s magic,
He threw some plates around
So Leeds sold him to Brentford,
In that there London Town.He beat the mighty Boro,
Then went to Hull and drew.
But when he played at Elland Road,
He didn’t have a clue!
See. Not bitter, not fickle and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Leeds beat Brentford this evening and are top of the league. No. Definitely a coincidence.
Some people say that our dreams have deep meanings, relating things we are unaware of. The only meaning behind my dreams are that I am bloody mad – especially after Saturday night…
I was forced to wake Claire up. It was about 3am on Sunday morning. My decision to awaken my wife at this time was not taken lightly, especially as she had to get up for work in under 3 hours.
A strap from my BiPap facemask had come off. I must wear this mask every night, to keep me breathing nicely. Reattaching the strap is difficult enough at the best of times, let alone when it’s pitch black and I am unable to see what I am doing. Claire, being the kind wife that she is, fixed the mask, despite being in a daze herself, before immediately returning to sleep – there wasn’t even time to thank or say that I love her.
Not exactly this type of face mask
The strap had become detached because of me. I had ripped it off. In my defence, I was asleep at the time, with the mishap occurring as a result of a dream.
I had spent much of Saturday watching Amazon Prime Video on our Smart TV. In case you were wondering, that really happened – we’ve not reached the bit about my dream yet.
A six-part documentary about Leeds United had been released the previous day and with Claire working all weekend, I was keen to have one of those ‘series binges’ so many people go on about, as if it is an achievement and something to be proud of.
It wasn’t that long ago, that if you were to sit down for six hours, watching back-to-back episodes of a television series, you would be called a ‘couch potato’, or worse, a ‘fat, lazy shit’
Anyway, I must have over indulged a little too much, as it affected my dreams! No, I didn’t dream about Leeds United’s failure last season (the basis of the documentary). That would have resulted in me removing my eye balls from their sockets, never mind a facemask strap.
I dreamt that I was setting up the Amazon Prime app on my Smart TV. See – I told you that my dreams mean that I am mentally unstable! Instead of using a television remote control, to enter a username and password, like in real life, I had to turn a plastic knob, very similar to the one attached to our central heating boiler. See – totally off my trolley!
This must have been a very realistic dream, as I clearly had a need to turn a real-life knob. Obviously I don’t sleep with the such a tool next to the bed, so in my wakeless state, I clearly reached for whatever was close to hand.
It just so happens that, in our bed, the thing which most resembles a knob is a clip, attached to a strap on my BiPap mask.
This is what led me to turning the clip until… guess what? If you said that I started dreaming that I was watching Amazon Prime Video, you’re an idiot. What obviously happened, was half the mask became detached from my head, resulting in a strange noise, filtered air blowing into my eyes and a lot of confusion on my part. Oh, and I woke up.
I actually have history of this kind of behaviour. Many years ago, I dreamt that I was on a canal boat. I took a holiday on one in August 2005 (if you’re interested, there are many blog posts from that time!). In my dream, I was steering the boat, when it became out of control.
I panicked and tried to force the break to work. Instead of forcing a break lever, I was pushing and pulling against a table football set, under the bed. The table must have been relatively cheap, as it was made from chipboard. As a result, one side of the table snapped off.
I woke up, the canal boat was saved and didn’t get damaged, but a previously working table football set did. I guess this latest episode of ‘sleep madness’ went rather well by comparison. Nothing was broken, apart from the sleep of Claire and me.
I’ve already told you what happened next. My wife saved the day. I then went back to sleep for the rest of the night, but not before jotting down what had happened, as I knew I would otherwise forget.
See, even in the middle of the night, I was thinking about what would make a good blog post. I’m so good to you!
We’ve all been there. You’re reaching for something on the top shelf, which you manage to retrieve, only for a monstrous pile of crap you didn’t know about to come crashing down.
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- NO ANIMAL WAS HURT IN THE MAKING OF THIS VIDEO.
- ALTHOUGH A RABBIT’S PRIDE WAS SERIOUSLY DENTED.
My weekend didn’t get off to the best of starts. When I left work, the rain was incredibly heavy. It was a scenario where I just knew, that no matter what I did, I was going to get very wet. God had his Super Soaker water gun out, and was determined to get me drenched. Was this penance for cursing to myself, after dealing with a rude and frustrating caller?
Donald Trump would no doubt tell me that I have angered the spirit in the sky, by placing a rainbow arc, in support of LGBT, on my Twitter handle.
Either way, if I was getting wet, everyone else was too, which makes me think the rain was simply a result of the hydrologic cycle and not a vengeful higher being.
A nasty event which did happen solely to me, was to occur when I arrived home. My lovely wife had spotted me, riding my scooter up the path to out house. By this point I was predictably soaked. A drowned rat, as some might say.
As I approached the front door, disaster struck. Driving up the ramp, towards the house, my scooter veered uncontrollably to the right. Part of the scooter was hanging off one end of the ramp. Had I been riding at speed, I would have gone straight off the edge, resulting in damage to the scooter and worse still, another stay in hospital for me.
Despite being shaken by the ordeal, I reversed back off the ramp and back onto solid ground. Maybe I hadn’t been concentrating and had driven up the incline at an angle. I rode my scooter back up towards the house. Yet again, I somehow ended up almost riding straight off the edge.
By this point, I had forgotten all about the rain, despite it continuing to pour from the sky. I was just a few feet away from the sanctuary of home, but being unable to climb the ramp, I may as well have been in Dover. So near, yet so far.
After much panicking, I calmed down enough to climb the ramp, with Claire at my side, supporting the scooter to prevent me from losing control again.
Slowly, we made our way towards the house. Garden snails, out in numbers due to the sodden conditions, looked on, no doubt bemused at my speed and how I could be overtaken in my ascension to the front door.
I made it home, safe and well, if not a little shaken and dripping with rain water. I went upstairs, changed into pyjamas, before returning downstairs, to sit on the sofa and feel sorry for myself.
Home sweet home
I stayed there pretty much for the rest of the evening. So, if you ever wondered how your favourite blogger spends his Friday nights, now you know. Ozzy Osbourne is green with envy at how rock and roll I am!
THE END
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
