My Dad smokes cigarettes. he say "Why not."
"I can afford it and it stops me getting angry. Well, anything that stops you getting angry must be good for you.
"If I was still in England," here we go again, "I'd have to pack up because it's so bloody expensive." Why can't he just say"expensive"? He's always swearing which isn't nice because I'm so 'pressionable. "I costs me less money to smoke than I'd save if I packed it in." he said.
Even an 'pressionable 8 month old can tell that's dibberish.
"Anyway, It doesn't affect my health like Heir Hitler would have us believe." Heir Hitler is what he calls the government, all governments, and it's true, smoking doesn't affect his health. He can chase after me for ages and only gets a little out of breath and doesn't have to have a sit down that often.
Dad says governments should be against the law. "All they do is go around shagging each other and lying about it. He says everybody is stupid who votes for them. They never say thank you. They just kick you up the bum.
His ideas of Heir Hitler may well be right. What do I know at 8 months old. I just wish he'd say it nicer.
"Now you can't even smoke in pubs. What's that all about?" I heard Gary tell him the other day. "Pubs are where you go to have a fag for fucks sake."
"You see Gary, the brewers are scared of being sued by their staff that's why they let Heir Hitler ban it. Now they'll pay the price for their stupidity and all the politicians will loose their jobs on the boards of breweries. It's what we clever people call 'poetic justice'." Gary didn't answer, just nodded, drank his beer and smoked his cigarette.
"For bloody hell's sake Gary, don't blow your smoke over India you stupid bugger."
"Who're you calling a bugger?" he replied.
"I don't see anyone else here and even if I did, it would still be you. You're the most selfish smoker I've ever met. You stupid bloody moron."
Great, they're off. Gary had been here over an hour and dad hadn't lost his temper once. They were having a fight. It was so exciting.
"Oh, that choice coming from you. You're a smoker."
"Yes, but I don't blow smoke in anyone's face and I don't smoke near India." Dad was getting mad. it was dead cool.
"Oh, India, India, precious fucking India, don't blow smoke on India." Gary being stupid made dad slap him on the ear, which made Manchester cry. Whoa, I know he wouldn't but I wouldn't want a slap from my dad. I thought Gary might try to fight dad back but he didn't.
My dad is right, Gary is chicken poo. But my dad isn't he's brilliant.
Showing posts with label new authors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new authors. Show all posts
Friday, March 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A lesson in the kitchen
Sorry I didn't write yesterday but my dad was working all the time and didn't stop. Only to have a wee. Then it was bedtime. I really, really need my own 'puter.
It was quite funny though, watching him work, getting all twiddly and sweary at the keyboard and humbling funny music with his nose. He said they were called 'she santys' and he learned them when he was a sailor. My dad's been many things. He's been a soldier as well and a cowboy and a mafia man. Now all he does is write about it.
I can't wait until I can read and I can see what he's written. I bet they're rubbish though. He never writes about love affairs. That's what I'm going to write about when I grow up.
I know what his password is already, it's 'spittoon'. He doesn't know many words 8 letters or longer. I got it on my fifth try. I don't know why i didn't try it first. He's the only man in the world who uses the word spittoon I think.
Dad says that during the war, here we go again, his Nan used to make rabbit pie. I think that's just a name. You can't make pies from rabbits, they're too small and you'd have to use a whole one to make a pie. OK, cows and buffalos are different, you can cut a big piece off one and he'd not notice but you can't do that with rabbits and I know my dad would never kill anything to make a pie.
He told me this when he was making a beef pie for his tea. He says I can have some when i get my teeth. I have two already but he says I have to have lots. I don't thing you have to have a whole mouthful though, otherwise he wouldn't be able to have beef pie.
He says making the pastry is the best bit. "It doesn't matter how dirty your fingernails are when you make pastry, they always come out clean." I think it was one of his stupid jokes. He forgets how 'pressionable I am. If I wasn't a clever little bugger I'd probably believe everything he says. I expect Manchester believes everything Gary tells him but then Gary isn't clever enough to make pastry and if he was, his fingernails would be dirty and I'm not joking.
SPA IN A JAR
"In the old days," he was telling me how he lived with his Nan because he had lots of brothers and sisters and there wasn't enough room in his dad's house for him as well. The toilet was in the garden and there wasn't a bathroom. Well, it's the same here in Thailand nowadays. For Nans that is. We have a concrete house with lots of bathrooms and toilets, all indoors but my Nan doesn't. She lives in a wood house on big legs with steps to get in and her toilet is in the garden and she doesn't have a bathroom.
It's quite funny to watch her having a bath. She wears a long nanny dress like all the old ladies wear over here in Thailand and washes herself while still wearing it.
she has a big stone jar full of rain water which sits all day long in the sunshine. It sits there all night long as well I suppose but in the moonshine instead. The water is lovely and warm in the evening when she has her bath. She sometimes strips me off and dunks me in the the jar. It's lovely and great fun. I wish we had a stone jar in our garden so's my mum can dunk me every day. I have a pink plastic bath. It's fun too though not as good as Nan's stone jar.
Dad says his nan didn't have a stone jar in her garden. "What's the point, there's no bloody sunshine in England." She had a tin bathe that hung on the outside wall and she'd bring it into the kitchen every Friday and fill it with hot water from the 'Ascot' (Google it yourself). He'd have a bath and then his nan would get in after. "Every Friday night, whether we needed it or not." Another one of his stupid jokes.
It was quite funny though, watching him work, getting all twiddly and sweary at the keyboard and humbling funny music with his nose. He said they were called 'she santys' and he learned them when he was a sailor. My dad's been many things. He's been a soldier as well and a cowboy and a mafia man. Now all he does is write about it.
I can't wait until I can read and I can see what he's written. I bet they're rubbish though. He never writes about love affairs. That's what I'm going to write about when I grow up.
I know what his password is already, it's 'spittoon'. He doesn't know many words 8 letters or longer. I got it on my fifth try. I don't know why i didn't try it first. He's the only man in the world who uses the word spittoon I think.
Dad says that during the war, here we go again, his Nan used to make rabbit pie. I think that's just a name. You can't make pies from rabbits, they're too small and you'd have to use a whole one to make a pie. OK, cows and buffalos are different, you can cut a big piece off one and he'd not notice but you can't do that with rabbits and I know my dad would never kill anything to make a pie.
He told me this when he was making a beef pie for his tea. He says I can have some when i get my teeth. I have two already but he says I have to have lots. I don't thing you have to have a whole mouthful though, otherwise he wouldn't be able to have beef pie.
He says making the pastry is the best bit. "It doesn't matter how dirty your fingernails are when you make pastry, they always come out clean." I think it was one of his stupid jokes. He forgets how 'pressionable I am. If I wasn't a clever little bugger I'd probably believe everything he says. I expect Manchester believes everything Gary tells him but then Gary isn't clever enough to make pastry and if he was, his fingernails would be dirty and I'm not joking.
SPA IN A JAR
"In the old days," he was telling me how he lived with his Nan because he had lots of brothers and sisters and there wasn't enough room in his dad's house for him as well. The toilet was in the garden and there wasn't a bathroom. Well, it's the same here in Thailand nowadays. For Nans that is. We have a concrete house with lots of bathrooms and toilets, all indoors but my Nan doesn't. She lives in a wood house on big legs with steps to get in and her toilet is in the garden and she doesn't have a bathroom.
It's quite funny to watch her having a bath. She wears a long nanny dress like all the old ladies wear over here in Thailand and washes herself while still wearing it.
she has a big stone jar full of rain water which sits all day long in the sunshine. It sits there all night long as well I suppose but in the moonshine instead. The water is lovely and warm in the evening when she has her bath. She sometimes strips me off and dunks me in the the jar. It's lovely and great fun. I wish we had a stone jar in our garden so's my mum can dunk me every day. I have a pink plastic bath. It's fun too though not as good as Nan's stone jar.
Dad says his nan didn't have a stone jar in her garden. "What's the point, there's no bloody sunshine in England." She had a tin bathe that hung on the outside wall and she'd bring it into the kitchen every Friday and fill it with hot water from the 'Ascot' (Google it yourself). He'd have a bath and then his nan would get in after. "Every Friday night, whether we needed it or not." Another one of his stupid jokes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)