Friday 24th November 2023
Life is a bit on the shit side at the moment, or non-shit if you’re Dick. Taking codeine for his elbow pain has brought on an epic bout of constipation. As you know, Dick is a bit anal about his bowels at the best of times. Not being able to shit at will is having a detrimental effect on his mood. He’s cut back on the codeine a lot now his elbow has improved, but his bowel has yet to recalibrate. Bathroom eruptions are more likely to be of a verbal nature than a poop nature, as his frustrations get the better of him, and he rages about the doctor not warning him that codeine would turn his shit to perma-concrete.
Poo problems aside, there’s another source of frustration for him - Shane is still erring on the side of caution regarding bondage play, banning the more strenuous activity that Dick loves best. He just wants to make sure Dick's elbow is fully healed. Chuck in the fact that negotiations with his parents, regarding the family estate, are still rumbling on, and it’s fair to say that Dick hasn’t been the happiest of men lately. He and me also had a couple of fresh personal clashes that required intervention on Shane’s part. I’ll be honest and say the clashes were mostly my fault on account of my old mate Jealousy stepping in to cloud my judgement, aided by some misplaced guilt. Maybe I’ll write about it one day (lie detector breaks into hysterical laughter.)
In other quasi mansion news, we have no heating at the moment. The guy who called to do our annual service last week, announced that our gas boiler was more a potential flamethrower than a domestic heating device. In short, he condemned it as dangerous and banned us from using it. I was dismayed, as I quite like being warm, but not half as dismayed as Shane when the guy quoted us the best part of seven grand to replace it. At Shane’s insistence, we’re waiting for another couple of quotes before he makes any kind of decision. I’m just hoping we don’t get a sudden Arctic blast in the meantime. Shane reckons we’re far too reliant on central heating and need to toughen up a bit. More clothes and less expensive gas is his motto. It’ll do us the world of good and make us appreciate that instant heat is a luxury and not a right. And it will serve the planet better. This from the man who complains about all the fucking recycling boxes cluttering up the place.
Christmas is looming, and I have no festive feeling whatsoever. I have no idea what we’re doing and not much interest in it either. I usually get some jingly stirrings once the first Xmas ads land on telly, but they’ve left me cold this year. Not one of them has hit the festive mark as far as I’m concerned. The cost of living crisis has left too many people struggling to afford basics for it to feel right about indulging in expensive food and gifts.
I suppose with one thing and another I’m feeling a bit low. I need to buck up and approach life with a bit more seagull gusto. Seagulls never let life get them down. Their natural habitat has been decimated by man, so what do they do? They try to decimate man’s territory to see how they fucking like it. You take their share of the fish from the sea, and they’ll take your share of whatever is going. People moan about seagulls swooping to nick their fish and chips and ice creams at the seaside, but hey, they’re just trying to survive. They’ll eat worms, swoop on rubbish bins and fight a duel over a discarded Marshmallow Rice Krispie Bar. I witnessed the latter event in town last week, and it has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.
Someone had dropped the Krispie bar on the ground (dirty lazy bastards) and a massive herring gull swooped and was trying to shake it free from its wrapper when another gull charged in and tried to pinch it. They had a right old tug-o-war. Gull two ended up doing gull one a favour when his tugging brought the wrapper off. Gull one immediately swallowed the bar whole before gull two could launch another attack. You could see the rectangular shape of the bar stuck in its gullet, like something out of a cartoon. Gull two was furious and began screeching and flapping its wings, picking up the empty wrapper and chucking it about, having a proper tantrum. It was hilarious. There’s a message in there somewhere, but you’ll have to fathom it out for yourself, because I can’t be arsed to unpick it, and anyway, I’m getting cold sitting here.
I’ll say ta-ta for now and head off to the chemist to pick up another box of DulcoEase for Dick. I might pick up a portable heater while I’m at it. It’s supposed to turn cold this weekend. Just to finish, I thought I was well on schedule to complete Bits and Bobs this year, but alas I don’t think it will happen. Sorry, peeps. X
Life is a bit on the shit side at the moment, or non-shit if you’re Dick. Taking codeine for his elbow pain has brought on an epic bout of constipation. As you know, Dick is a bit anal about his bowels at the best of times. Not being able to shit at will is having a detrimental effect on his mood. He’s cut back on the codeine a lot now his elbow has improved, but his bowel has yet to recalibrate. Bathroom eruptions are more likely to be of a verbal nature than a poop nature, as his frustrations get the better of him, and he rages about the doctor not warning him that codeine would turn his shit to perma-concrete.
Poo problems aside, there’s another source of frustration for him - Shane is still erring on the side of caution regarding bondage play, banning the more strenuous activity that Dick loves best. He just wants to make sure Dick's elbow is fully healed. Chuck in the fact that negotiations with his parents, regarding the family estate, are still rumbling on, and it’s fair to say that Dick hasn’t been the happiest of men lately. He and me also had a couple of fresh personal clashes that required intervention on Shane’s part. I’ll be honest and say the clashes were mostly my fault on account of my old mate Jealousy stepping in to cloud my judgement, aided by some misplaced guilt. Maybe I’ll write about it one day (lie detector breaks into hysterical laughter.)
In other quasi mansion news, we have no heating at the moment. The guy who called to do our annual service last week, announced that our gas boiler was more a potential flamethrower than a domestic heating device. In short, he condemned it as dangerous and banned us from using it. I was dismayed, as I quite like being warm, but not half as dismayed as Shane when the guy quoted us the best part of seven grand to replace it. At Shane’s insistence, we’re waiting for another couple of quotes before he makes any kind of decision. I’m just hoping we don’t get a sudden Arctic blast in the meantime. Shane reckons we’re far too reliant on central heating and need to toughen up a bit. More clothes and less expensive gas is his motto. It’ll do us the world of good and make us appreciate that instant heat is a luxury and not a right. And it will serve the planet better. This from the man who complains about all the fucking recycling boxes cluttering up the place.
Christmas is looming, and I have no festive feeling whatsoever. I have no idea what we’re doing and not much interest in it either. I usually get some jingly stirrings once the first Xmas ads land on telly, but they’ve left me cold this year. Not one of them has hit the festive mark as far as I’m concerned. The cost of living crisis has left too many people struggling to afford basics for it to feel right about indulging in expensive food and gifts.
I suppose with one thing and another I’m feeling a bit low. I need to buck up and approach life with a bit more seagull gusto. Seagulls never let life get them down. Their natural habitat has been decimated by man, so what do they do? They try to decimate man’s territory to see how they fucking like it. You take their share of the fish from the sea, and they’ll take your share of whatever is going. People moan about seagulls swooping to nick their fish and chips and ice creams at the seaside, but hey, they’re just trying to survive. They’ll eat worms, swoop on rubbish bins and fight a duel over a discarded Marshmallow Rice Krispie Bar. I witnessed the latter event in town last week, and it has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.
Someone had dropped the Krispie bar on the ground (dirty lazy bastards) and a massive herring gull swooped and was trying to shake it free from its wrapper when another gull charged in and tried to pinch it. They had a right old tug-o-war. Gull two ended up doing gull one a favour when his tugging brought the wrapper off. Gull one immediately swallowed the bar whole before gull two could launch another attack. You could see the rectangular shape of the bar stuck in its gullet, like something out of a cartoon. Gull two was furious and began screeching and flapping its wings, picking up the empty wrapper and chucking it about, having a proper tantrum. It was hilarious. There’s a message in there somewhere, but you’ll have to fathom it out for yourself, because I can’t be arsed to unpick it, and anyway, I’m getting cold sitting here.
I’ll say ta-ta for now and head off to the chemist to pick up another box of DulcoEase for Dick. I might pick up a portable heater while I’m at it. It’s supposed to turn cold this weekend. Just to finish, I thought I was well on schedule to complete Bits and Bobs this year, but alas I don’t think it will happen. Sorry, peeps. X