Today is clearly a sad day.
However, after giving much thought into leaving the EU, I have come to the conclusion that things are not all bad.
So, for everyone worried and upset about Britain no longer being a member of the European Union, I have created a list of positives, in what I like to call…
Despite the fact that this is Britain’s final day in the European Union, you would have thought that those who got what they wanted, would have acted with some class and dignity.
Sadly not…
I may be British, but the views of these yobs and their behaviour, are in no way representative of me.
This is not a blog post from a bitter remainer.
This is a blog post from somebody who voted remain, has accepted the result, but will never accept hooliganism and people displaying impertinent behaviour.
If you have read a news story or article online recently, chances are that the website had a fairly large number of adverts – unless you were on BBC.co.uk.
Like most normal people, you will have ignored the advertisements. At worst you may have cursed them for being too intrusive. You certainly wouldn’t have clicked on them or even remembered the nature of the spam.
I don’t like or pay attention to site spam either, but will admit to noticing a familiar trend with one set adverts.
A peculiar looking man, most likely in his seventies, frequently appears when I am attempting to read about the latest stupid thing Donald Trump has said, or which Premier League football player has impregnated which member of the Geordie Shore cast. Don’t be alarmed, I would never choose to read about the latter, so please don’t lose respect for me!
Back to the odd-looking pensioner. Do you recognise this man?
No?
What about if we gave him a bit of paper (to me, resembling a medical prescription) to hold?
Surely you recognise the chap now? Even with the hand, which almost certainly isn’t his own.
If he still appears unfamiliar, have a browse through the Independent website. He frequently appears in the footer of pages there.
Here he is again. By the looks of things, this time in London.
He is accompanied by headlines like ‘UK Seniors Over 50 Are Rushing To Claim This New Benefit’.
I must admit to finding the headline amusing. Many of my relatives, including parents, are older than fifty and would probably not appreciate being referred to as ‘senior’.
I can only laugh so much at that, though. In little over twelve years, according to the advertisers, I’ll be considered senior too.
You never know, like the strange old man, I could be all over the internet in 2032. My presence alone could ruin your online experience, with cheap and tacky content, on every website you visit. At the moment, you only get that when you read my blog!
You will probably be unsurprised to know, that I didn’t click on the original advertisement. There is one obvious reason for this. I’m not over fifty.
I am sure the advert is genuine and our wonderful Tory government have introduced a great new benefit, guaranteed to make everyone born before 1970 richer. Especially poor, vulnerable or disabled seniors – they’ll get ten times as much.
It’s not just benefits this old man is advertising. He must be in a great mood! According to another headline he has lent his face to, ‘People Born 1948-1979 With No Life Insurance Are Celebrating’.
Celebrating what? Being old? Being irresponsible to their loved ones? I am disappointed. Being born in 1982, I only just miss out on that one. Plus, I took out life insurance when I bought my house. No champagne for me. Booo!
You’ll be very relieved to read that I have almost finished this somewhat strange blog post.
Before I wrap it up, I need to report my concerns. While on some website the other day, I saw this…
It’s a new old man! Coincidentally, in the same spot of London as the previous gentleman and coincidentally, also celebrating his unwise decision, to avoid taking out any form of life insurance.
Mind you, looking at this one, I would say he was born before 1948. Either that, or he’s a 26 year old from Middlesbrough, who has had a very hard life.
What’s more worrying, is that I haven’t seen the original man advertising anything for a few weeks. I hope that nothing bad has happened to him, leading to the even older, flat cap wearing pensioner taking his job.
If something truly horrible has happened, I can only pray that he had life insurance. If not, his wife will be anything but celebrating!
I’m telling you, Leeds United will be the death of me.
2-0 down, at home to Millwall. Promotion as good as over. I don’t know whether to weep or write a ranting blog post. Probably the latter.
Leeds somehow win 3-2! When the third, winning goal was scored, I think I must have experienced what taking heroin is like.
You big, beautiful bastards! However, if next time you could avoid scaring the poop out of me, it would be much appreciated. Ta.
LEEDS UNITED ARE LIKE CIGARETTES.
FRIGHTFULLY ADDICTIVE AND VERY BAD FOR YOUR HEALTH.
My left arm remains broken, I am still signed off sick from work and I feel fed up.
Don’t be alarmed – I am not about to sink into a downward spiral of depression. Despite my ongoing health problems, I continue to remain generally upbeat. However, it would be dishonest of me, if I was to say that everything was a bed of roses and tickety-boo.
I recently received a reality check from my GP. As my absence from work is longterm, I am required to periodically submit doctors notes to my employer, to prove that I am unfit for work and not simply suffering from skiveritis.
My last two notes from my doctor each stated that I would be off work for four weeks. Given my frustrating slow progress, I thought that it would be wise if the next note cover six weeks. I reluctantly made this request.
My GP was very willing to write a note, explaining that I need to avoid work for longer than four weeks. The problem was that my doctor was so concerned by my current plight, that he insisted on excusing me from work for three months!
Cheers, Dr Dolittle! Actually, that’s unfair – my GP doesn’t do little. In fact, he works very hard, and the only time I felt any resentment towards him, was when he made fun of my Leeds United wallet.
Three months. Wow. That was a reality check. By the time this latest note runs out, I’ll be a year older, have eaten a chocolate egg and should know if Leeds have won promotion, or bottled it for the ten thousandth time.
I wasn’t happy. How was I going to break the news to my work? They were probably expecting me back at the end of February. I needed to speak to my GP again and ask that he provide me with a replacement note, covering just six weeks.
I didn’t call my GP. I thought rationally about the situation and talked to my wife and dad about it. I realised that my doctor has my best interests at heart, and like it or not, three months was probably a realistic estimate into how much time I required, in order to complete my recovery.
If somebody was to buy me a visit to a faith healer for my birthday (hint! hint!), and my broken arm was to get magically fixed before late April, I can contact my GP again, to ask that he writes me a new note, stating I’m better and ready for work!
By the way, if any generous friend or family member is reading this and is stuck for what to buy me for my 38th birthday, don’t bother with a faith healer. I don’t believe that they’re anything but frauds, praying on the sick, vulnerable and desperate.
Nothing less than the second coming of Christ would convince me that there are any genuine faith healers on the planet. Save your money and pre-order me a PlayStation 5. Now THAT’S what I call a birthday present!
I was worried about breaking the news of my break to work. I don’t know why. I work alongside a fantastic team, with a manager who is very supportive, especially where my health is concerned.
As I have discovered so many times throughout my life, the worries I felt were unnecessary. Work took the news of my three month doctors note very well and were understanding when I mentioned my frustrations about the slow recovery process.
The most frustrating element of my current situation, is that two of the three limbs I originally broke – my right leg and arm – are pretty much fixed. I am just waiting on my left arm, which remains in a sling and problematic.
This one limb is keeping me bedridden for the vast majority of the day. I normally use a walking frame to transfer from bed to toilet to stairlift to sofa to… you get the idea. Therefore, with one of my two arms remaining very much out of action, use of the frame and regaining all the independence that it brings, continues to be impossible.
I have a hospital appointment next Friday, where my arm will receive an x ray. Sadly for me, this probably involves the use of torture equipment, or as radiologists call them, “x ray cassettes”. See previous blog posts, if you have no idea what I’m on about.
I am hoping that the x ray images reveal further healing to my left arm, meaning that I can finally throw the sling in the bin and teach myself to walk again – albeit with a frame.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY:
Did the word “sling”, as in “sling that ball to me”, originate from the horrible contraption used by orthopaedic patients? E.g. “hooray! My arm is fixed. I can now sling that fecking sling in the bin!” I’m willing to say “yes”.
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.
