I've just got back from another wedding in the village. they're all the same. Only it's a different girl, but with the same cushion stuffed up the front of her dress. And a different man, but with the same silly grin stuffed inside his face.
It's the same big tent roof stuck on poles. The same long wooden tables, and the same choice of red or blue plastic chairs.
This time, I thought I saw some pink plastic chairs, so wanted to sit on one of them for a change. They weren't pink at all. They were red, but very old, and had been left out in the sunshine.
There was no jelly, of course, only the same plates of yuccky stuff. I had a cucumber.
I don't know why I told you that. I 'spose it's because I was so bored, I wanted to bore you as well, so's you know how I felt.
When I get get married, it won't be boring, 'cause it won't be the same as anyone elses. We're talking at least twenty years time here, so by then I'll be able to have my wedding on the moon.
Everyone will come in rocket ships. though by then, I don't expect there will be any petrol left for rocket ships. You'll all have to come in Magnet Ships.
They're not invented yet. My idea, if no one pinches it, is to to build a giant magnet on the moon. It will have a positive charge. the Magnet Ships will have negative charges in them, so when they're switched on they will attract each other. The ships being smaller than the moon, will be drawn away from the earth's atmoswhatsit, out into space. When the ship is about a mile away, the magnet will be switched off, and the ship will parachute to the moon surface.
A bit far fetched do you think? well you wait and see if I'm not right.
I will, of course, design my own dress, and have Auntie Pee make it on her special machine that she makes things on.
I already have the perfect dress, but it won't fit me when I'm old.
I expect fashions will be different by then, so maybe I won't keep the pink sparkly stuff.
What I won't have, is that stupid cushion stuffed up the front. It must be traditional Thai style, but I don't like it.
There will be beer flavour jelly for dad and his friend. The rest of us will have champagne flavour. The cake will be twenty tiers high (because of the low gravy on the moon it won't fall over). And the toast will be in Coca Cola.
I shall invite everyone, even famous people like Mr. and Mrs. Beckhamandeggs, that's what dad calls them. I don't expect any famous people will come though. They will all be jealous because my wedding is better than theirs.
Now I bet you're all wondering how people will get back home? Well I'll tell you. It's quite simple really. The ships will have a positive charge in them, as well as negative. All you have to do is; switch over to positive and the magnet on the moon will push the ship away.
Because it is downhill all the way to earth, you just enjoy a free fall until it's time to use the parachute again.
Dad says it's a good idea and he wishes he'd thought of it.
The only problem , as he sees it is; if the government can't think of a way to tax magnetic currents, then they will ban it.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Death of the knife grinder
He was an old man; 80 years of age. He lived in our village, and was killed last week, on his way round abouts, looking for knives to grind.
He used to grind our knives, and made them nice and sharp. He's dead now because children are allowed to drive motor bikes.
They are not allowed to drive with one hand holding an umbrella, and talking rubbish to their friend on their mobile phone at the same time, but no one stops them.
His head was smashed in when the boy driving the motor bike hit him.
The doctors here where we live, are only any good at sticking needles in my bum. They cannot look after smashed heads, so he was sent a hundred miles away, to Tesco Lotus Town.
The doctors there couldn't help him either. They'd run out of vinegar and brown paper.
No one seems sad. Dad agreed with them that it is better that he died quickly. They all said that he was a good man so will come back again as someone happy.
Dad didn't say they were talking rubbish this time. He only said that he hopes it is true.
THE INDIA ARMS
Dad has been busy re-building the pub in our garden. He said that the pubs in town are rubbish, so will save the travelling and go to his own pub in the future.
It will have a darts board, a snooker table and a fridge for keeping the gnat's piss cold.
He calls it that because it's not proper beer. You can only get proper beer in England, here we go again, In Thailand they cannot make proper beer, only pretend beer.
He said I have to 'magine a million, billion, trillion gnats all having a wee into a big tub at the same time. Then they bottle it and stick a beer label on it and sell it.
Well, I can't 'magine it. I only think he's stupid for buying it if it's no good.
He used to have a pub in the garden before I was born. He said he had to close it because I was too much work to look after as well as the pub.
Anyway, he couldn't stand the people coming all the time and getting on his nerves.
He says this time, their will be no customers (I don't think he will notice much change there), Gary will be banned and the beer will be free. His idea of the perfect pub.
DYING TO MAKE THAT CALL
Dad doesn't believe in banning things (except Gary from his pub) but sometimes changes his mind.
There is a nasty bend in the road to town, 2 kilometres from here, (about half way). on the bend is a junction.
Nearly every week, some one has an accident there. If someone is on a motor bike, they are usually killed. and it's usually a child riding the motor bike. The junction takes the road to a school and the school doesn't seem to notice that less and less children now attend.
Yesterday a girl of 13 had an argument with her mum and rode into town to buy a phone card anyway.
A man in a pick up truck started his journey to take the day's money to his boss in Siwilli.
Either on her way there, or on the way back, I'm not sure which, one, or both of them, didn't see the other one.
The pick up truck has a bump in it. The girl is dead.
Her sister was killed three years ago.
Dad says that phone cards should be banned.
He used to grind our knives, and made them nice and sharp. He's dead now because children are allowed to drive motor bikes.
They are not allowed to drive with one hand holding an umbrella, and talking rubbish to their friend on their mobile phone at the same time, but no one stops them.
His head was smashed in when the boy driving the motor bike hit him.
The doctors here where we live, are only any good at sticking needles in my bum. They cannot look after smashed heads, so he was sent a hundred miles away, to Tesco Lotus Town.
The doctors there couldn't help him either. They'd run out of vinegar and brown paper.
No one seems sad. Dad agreed with them that it is better that he died quickly. They all said that he was a good man so will come back again as someone happy.
Dad didn't say they were talking rubbish this time. He only said that he hopes it is true.
THE INDIA ARMS
Dad has been busy re-building the pub in our garden. He said that the pubs in town are rubbish, so will save the travelling and go to his own pub in the future.
It will have a darts board, a snooker table and a fridge for keeping the gnat's piss cold.
He calls it that because it's not proper beer. You can only get proper beer in England, here we go again, In Thailand they cannot make proper beer, only pretend beer.
He said I have to 'magine a million, billion, trillion gnats all having a wee into a big tub at the same time. Then they bottle it and stick a beer label on it and sell it.
Well, I can't 'magine it. I only think he's stupid for buying it if it's no good.
He used to have a pub in the garden before I was born. He said he had to close it because I was too much work to look after as well as the pub.
Anyway, he couldn't stand the people coming all the time and getting on his nerves.
He says this time, their will be no customers (I don't think he will notice much change there), Gary will be banned and the beer will be free. His idea of the perfect pub.
DYING TO MAKE THAT CALL
Dad doesn't believe in banning things (except Gary from his pub) but sometimes changes his mind.
There is a nasty bend in the road to town, 2 kilometres from here, (about half way). on the bend is a junction.
Nearly every week, some one has an accident there. If someone is on a motor bike, they are usually killed. and it's usually a child riding the motor bike. The junction takes the road to a school and the school doesn't seem to notice that less and less children now attend.
Yesterday a girl of 13 had an argument with her mum and rode into town to buy a phone card anyway.
A man in a pick up truck started his journey to take the day's money to his boss in Siwilli.
Either on her way there, or on the way back, I'm not sure which, one, or both of them, didn't see the other one.
The pick up truck has a bump in it. The girl is dead.
Her sister was killed three years ago.
Dad says that phone cards should be banned.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Can't get a decent sandwich
Dad is sleeping late today. He's been up all night re-doing his stupid book. He was sad yesterday because his editor lady told him off for making too many mistakes.
I don't know why he just doesn't tell her that its not his fault if spell check can't get its head around syntax. And there's no pluperfect button on the 'puter.
Anyway, its given me a chance to do my blog in peace and quiet, without him shouting at me all the time.
Now that I have had my birthday and I have SIX teeth, I've noticed that everyone has a different dinner to me. They have dinners with lots of lovely looking lumps in it. Though my dinners are lumpier now than when I was little, they are still basically stewed rice with pork or chicken in it. ( I sometimes think its chicken AND pork, stewed in rice.)
My dad has sandwiches. He has a different type each day. He sometimes shares them with me, they're lovely. He says his number one favourite is; Cheese and Pickle. But its just a memory for him, as you can't get Cheese and Pickle in Thailand. Can't even get proper bread.
You can actually. But you have to go to Tesco Lotus and its a hundred miles from where we live.
He gave me a cream cracker and said it's not the same as Jacobs. I expected him to have a moan, but said they are better than Jacobs.
He's always moaning about things not being as good as in England.
He's such a liar. He's always talking and moaning about things in England. The 'bloody government', the 'bloody taxes' the 'bloody stupid laws'. Then he goes on about the 'bloody weather', 'bloody traffic jams' and 'bloody traffic wardens'. Not to mention the 'bloody cameras everywhere' and the 'bloody nig-nogs', I think he means foreigners.
In Thailand they are called 'farang'. Me and dad are called farang. (Probably, bloody farang, though not to our face).
'Farang' comes from 'farangsee' which is Thai for French. Dad says he'd rather be called nig-nog than a Frenchman.
He says that in England you can be put in jail for saying nig-nog. Is that true? If it is then England is a very bad place if you can't say what you like without being put in jail for it.
No, I can't see how things can be better in England.
I think when my dad says they are, he's only really talking about Cheese and Pickle sandwiches.
I don't know why he just doesn't tell her that its not his fault if spell check can't get its head around syntax. And there's no pluperfect button on the 'puter.
Anyway, its given me a chance to do my blog in peace and quiet, without him shouting at me all the time.
Now that I have had my birthday and I have SIX teeth, I've noticed that everyone has a different dinner to me. They have dinners with lots of lovely looking lumps in it. Though my dinners are lumpier now than when I was little, they are still basically stewed rice with pork or chicken in it. ( I sometimes think its chicken AND pork, stewed in rice.)
My dad has sandwiches. He has a different type each day. He sometimes shares them with me, they're lovely. He says his number one favourite is; Cheese and Pickle. But its just a memory for him, as you can't get Cheese and Pickle in Thailand. Can't even get proper bread.
You can actually. But you have to go to Tesco Lotus and its a hundred miles from where we live.
He gave me a cream cracker and said it's not the same as Jacobs. I expected him to have a moan, but said they are better than Jacobs.
He's always moaning about things not being as good as in England.
He's such a liar. He's always talking and moaning about things in England. The 'bloody government', the 'bloody taxes' the 'bloody stupid laws'. Then he goes on about the 'bloody weather', 'bloody traffic jams' and 'bloody traffic wardens'. Not to mention the 'bloody cameras everywhere' and the 'bloody nig-nogs', I think he means foreigners.
In Thailand they are called 'farang'. Me and dad are called farang. (Probably, bloody farang, though not to our face).
'Farang' comes from 'farangsee' which is Thai for French. Dad says he'd rather be called nig-nog than a Frenchman.
He says that in England you can be put in jail for saying nig-nog. Is that true? If it is then England is a very bad place if you can't say what you like without being put in jail for it.
No, I can't see how things can be better in England.
I think when my dad says they are, he's only really talking about Cheese and Pickle sandwiches.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Birthday bash
I had such a great time on my birthday, I don't know where to start telling you about it. Loads of people came to see me. I remembered some of them and there were more that I've never seen before. They all brought me presents. Except my brothers who aren't my real brothers.
I don't know why they bothered really, all the presents were rubbish. except the plastic wrappers, that was good fun. Oh, the golf clubs were good. At first I thought; who could possibly think I'd want golf clubs? As it turned out, they were the best, and I had great fun bashing everyone with them. They're broken now.
The jelly was great. Blackcurrant is best. Strawberry is good too, but guava and mango made me feel sick. They were the last two I tried, and maybe I was a bit full by then, so don't let me put you off trying them for yourself.
I didn't get to eat the whole cake. Everyone just helped themselves and I only had a little bit for myself. I think that was very rude of everyone.
The next day we all went to the waterfalls. But dad spoilt it for me. I so much wanted to slide down the rocks and splash in the pool at the bottom, but dad wouldn't let go of me. He said I'll have to wait till I'm two. That's ages!
I have some lovely pictures of me at the waterfalls, but I'm not wearing any pants and dad says I can't send them to you in case the piddlefiles get to see them and come to get me.
I'd like to see them try. My dad would bash the all up. He says that all piddlefiles should be bashed up. I don't like them either, but I'm not scared.
I had some lovely birthday messages from some of you. But I have to tell those who didn't send me a birthday message that you are very thoughtless. It's not like I didn't remind you or something.
Anyway, Auntie June and Uncle Mick didn't forget. They are very old so could have been forgiven for forgetting. Is that why some of you forgot? Too old to remember? Maybe, if so, I forgive you. It must be difficult enough being old. You don't need to be told for it as well.
My Uncle June and Auntie Mick have been to Glassandberry, and danced with no clothes on like they were still hippies or something.
No one noticed that they had no clothes on. It just looked like their kaftans needed ironing. At least, that's what my dad said.
They had a great time and met Rolf Harris, their number one idol. He has a big didgeridoo. Dad says that's not rude you know. Even if it sounds rude. They met Willie Nelson as well, and that's not rude either.
I gave my dad a special treat for my birthday. I stood up without holding on to anything. I know it's not exactly like walking but it made him very happy. He called me a clever little bugger.
I love it when he says that to me.
I don't know why they bothered really, all the presents were rubbish. except the plastic wrappers, that was good fun. Oh, the golf clubs were good. At first I thought; who could possibly think I'd want golf clubs? As it turned out, they were the best, and I had great fun bashing everyone with them. They're broken now.
The jelly was great. Blackcurrant is best. Strawberry is good too, but guava and mango made me feel sick. They were the last two I tried, and maybe I was a bit full by then, so don't let me put you off trying them for yourself.
I didn't get to eat the whole cake. Everyone just helped themselves and I only had a little bit for myself. I think that was very rude of everyone.
The next day we all went to the waterfalls. But dad spoilt it for me. I so much wanted to slide down the rocks and splash in the pool at the bottom, but dad wouldn't let go of me. He said I'll have to wait till I'm two. That's ages!
I have some lovely pictures of me at the waterfalls, but I'm not wearing any pants and dad says I can't send them to you in case the piddlefiles get to see them and come to get me.
I'd like to see them try. My dad would bash the all up. He says that all piddlefiles should be bashed up. I don't like them either, but I'm not scared.
I had some lovely birthday messages from some of you. But I have to tell those who didn't send me a birthday message that you are very thoughtless. It's not like I didn't remind you or something.
Anyway, Auntie June and Uncle Mick didn't forget. They are very old so could have been forgiven for forgetting. Is that why some of you forgot? Too old to remember? Maybe, if so, I forgive you. It must be difficult enough being old. You don't need to be told for it as well.
My Uncle June and Auntie Mick have been to Glassandberry, and danced with no clothes on like they were still hippies or something.
No one noticed that they had no clothes on. It just looked like their kaftans needed ironing. At least, that's what my dad said.
They had a great time and met Rolf Harris, their number one idol. He has a big didgeridoo. Dad says that's not rude you know. Even if it sounds rude. They met Willie Nelson as well, and that's not rude either.
I gave my dad a special treat for my birthday. I stood up without holding on to anything. I know it's not exactly like walking but it made him very happy. He called me a clever little bugger.
I love it when he says that to me.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Countdown to my special day
I'm so excited I cannot sleep. Only two more days and I will be one year old. The best bit is; I'm going to have a party.
I don't know exactly what a party is, but I know you have to have a very tidy house for it. Mum has been extra busy with her scrubbers, and even dad has been busy, as mum has let him use the grass cutter machine. He had to promise not to go near anything that looks like it maybe a plant. So there are lots of clumps of big grass everywhere.
Mum has given all her friends an invitation. (That's a note saying; please come to my party). Dad made them on his 'puter, and they're in English which mum says is no bloody good because none of her friends can read English. Dad said; "That's good, maybe they won't come."
Dad said not to bother giving one to Gary as he can't read English either. Unfortunately he knows it's my birthday so will be coming anyway, especially as England can't play football in Africa anymore.
Dad says Germany beat England because they are rubbish. I think it's because Posh Beckham wouldn't let David play. Anyway, Uncle Giovanni will be coming which dad says is good. "At least he brings his own beer."
Uncle Giovanni used to be the boss of the mafia in Sicily, but he got fed up have to send hits out on everyone all the time. So came to Thailand for some peace and quiet.
He grows pigs now and sends rude e-mails to dad. he says he grows pigs to eat, but he's only joking. Giovanni only eats spaghetti and tomatoes.
I don't think mum is making spaghetti for my party. We're having brabeque. So he will probably have to go without and get grumpy again.
I wish you could come, but I know you live too far away. Two teachers from Kop's school are coming though. One of them is English and the other is American.
Dad says Americans are like English people but without any manners.
His name is John and he used to live in Alaska, which is nearer to Russia than it is to America. So he will probably be better behaved.
I hope everyone likes brabeque. I have six teeth now so am looking forward to it. That is if I don't get too filled up with the jelly dad brought back from Laos.
There are ten different flavours and I'm going to have one of each. I bet you didn't know there are ten different kinds of jelly did you. Well there are. I will tell you which one is best.
There's one thing I'm worried about though; I can't walk yet. Dad gave me one of his boring lectures today. He's told everyone that I will be walking before I'm one year old. He told me I'd better get my bloody skates on if he's not going to made out a liar.
Well, I don't have any skates. Even if I did they'd be no use if I can't even walk. Honestly, my dad can be so stupid at times.
I don't know exactly what a party is, but I know you have to have a very tidy house for it. Mum has been extra busy with her scrubbers, and even dad has been busy, as mum has let him use the grass cutter machine. He had to promise not to go near anything that looks like it maybe a plant. So there are lots of clumps of big grass everywhere.
Mum has given all her friends an invitation. (That's a note saying; please come to my party). Dad made them on his 'puter, and they're in English which mum says is no bloody good because none of her friends can read English. Dad said; "That's good, maybe they won't come."
Dad said not to bother giving one to Gary as he can't read English either. Unfortunately he knows it's my birthday so will be coming anyway, especially as England can't play football in Africa anymore.
Dad says Germany beat England because they are rubbish. I think it's because Posh Beckham wouldn't let David play. Anyway, Uncle Giovanni will be coming which dad says is good. "At least he brings his own beer."
Uncle Giovanni used to be the boss of the mafia in Sicily, but he got fed up have to send hits out on everyone all the time. So came to Thailand for some peace and quiet.
He grows pigs now and sends rude e-mails to dad. he says he grows pigs to eat, but he's only joking. Giovanni only eats spaghetti and tomatoes.
I don't think mum is making spaghetti for my party. We're having brabeque. So he will probably have to go without and get grumpy again.
I wish you could come, but I know you live too far away. Two teachers from Kop's school are coming though. One of them is English and the other is American.
Dad says Americans are like English people but without any manners.
His name is John and he used to live in Alaska, which is nearer to Russia than it is to America. So he will probably be better behaved.
I hope everyone likes brabeque. I have six teeth now so am looking forward to it. That is if I don't get too filled up with the jelly dad brought back from Laos.
There are ten different flavours and I'm going to have one of each. I bet you didn't know there are ten different kinds of jelly did you. Well there are. I will tell you which one is best.
There's one thing I'm worried about though; I can't walk yet. Dad gave me one of his boring lectures today. He's told everyone that I will be walking before I'm one year old. He told me I'd better get my bloody skates on if he's not going to made out a liar.
Well, I don't have any skates. Even if I did they'd be no use if I can't even walk. Honestly, my dad can be so stupid at times.
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