Eric, Ern and Bud

I can't comment on the news because I've not checked in. Yet.

But watching C & C at yesterday's press call reminded me of a bad double act. Possibly showing in Worthing.
The spiteful press guy who reminded the planet that Cammi once called Cleggy a 'joke' set the scene...
In mock shock and outrage Clegg saddened up and stormed off...Then in a ghastly attempt at acting, Cameron begged him to come back.
Eric and Ern they ain't.

I cannot see the pair of forty somethings sitting up in bed together discussing Cleggys new book wot he wrote.
And as for Cam chasing after the ladies wearing Wellington boots. I don't think so...He's more of a rubber mac man.

I am so uneasy about this pact, this coming-together of disparate souls, this pick-up on Downing Street.
Talking of pick-ups...I dreamt that Ms Sarah (Queen of the Empire) Tether landed the job of Mother of The Nation. She will, believe me, be plotting Nick's downfall. The tiny vicious ruthlessly ambitious M.P. is waiting for Clegg to slip up, then she, all 3ft 8ins of her, will, with yellow sceptre in hand, take root in Downing Street.
I'm not all that keen on her.

But what about Theresa (Look at my shoes) May becoming burdened with the almighty job of Home Sec. Blow that. I've studied the fashion queen and apart from her head teacher looks and
out-of-hours clothes, she's really quite unremarkable. But what do I know? For all I know she might have a dungeon.

Michael Gove has been given Education.
In all my life I've never seen a creepier politician. If any Vent acts on the south coast mislay the dummies, just stick an arm up Gove and problemo solvedo.

That's enough vitriol for this morning I'm a Woman with Work to do.
But before I make a loaf I must fess up about what I did last night. For those of you who think I'm nothing more than a hard faced scribbler, you're in for a great big surprise.

After tenderly eating 5 Cream Crackers I watched 'The Abyss' and although it has a great story and marines and oil workers and rats, the bit which tore me to shreds, which had me reaching for a banana was when our Hero, BUD, who was laying Christ-like on the sea shelf and dying, took the outstretched gelatinous hand of a SEA ALIEN.
I CRIED. God, how I cried.
I love Aliens who Care.




Ta Ta!

Clive Stiffjoint Part 2 (Audio)

I'm not a natural story teller, so this short story is a surprise to me.
Part one is here if you wish to look for it.
I'm working on part three.

Writing this has given me a tremendous amount of pleasure and I've taken quite a liking to Clive, I only hope he doesn't go and do something silly like fall in love with me. Because after all, I am not responsible for my characters actions or what they say. Those things are left in the capable hands of my Muse.
Inf act she is with me right now yelling at me to look into my heart and write. I can't do that I say and please will you leave me alone.
She's staring at me, willing and daring me to cry everything out, but I won't because no good ever really comes from allowing others to see the dreadful things which weigh us down.
I'll write more later...

The Rise of Clive Stiffjoint part 1

Hello there.

I must just lay a few domestic issues on you.
I bought a ceramic frog and a gnome. The frog is called Bill and the gnome, Jessamy.
Only one tomato seedling has emerged.
I stuck a plastic sunflower in a pot of dirt and gasped as the passing kiddywinks shout "Pathetic!"
On the menu today something with bacon or something.
Oh, by the way, it's the Eurovision Song Contest on Saturday, for my international readers who may be blissfully unaware of it, it's a competition for half decent singers singing awful songs in outrageous outfits.
I love it.

Now here's a funny little thing I've been playing around with, I'll be posting the next installment quite soon.

Now don't start worrying about me I ain't lost me marbles, well not all of them, it's just that last night something big popped up.
I had a VISITATION.
I was alone as usual, the great one having decided to spend the night with his Satanist chums in The Swan With Two Necks public house on the Albermarle Road, when all of a sudden there he was. A whopping great alien. I kid you not. He appeared just as I was beautyfying meself with a rough brush and a pot of petroleum jelly.
"Oooh I say" I said "And what's your name and from whence do you come?"
"Clive Stiffjoint" he said duly whipping out a large map of the solar system and then stabbing a finger type thingy on a planet.
"Blimey!" I gulped "Are you a fanatical phantasime?"
Well he took umbrage at that and got a bit shirty with me.
"I need to live in Rochford" he said "With you and the others".
"Others?" I asked, scared stiff he was going to liquify me or something.
"Yes others" he said "Others of your kind".

Now, I can assure you that by this time I was dying for a cuppa and an arm around me midriff, because, although I am a woman of the world, I am still mostly unsure about how to deal with strange men. Anyway, all I had for comfort was my moggy Monty and all he was interested in was watching the shimmering light patterns on the wall emanating from this Alien bloke called Clive.

"Well I don't really know how I can assist you with your request" I splattered
"I'm just a housewife who has a giant pussy called Monty and a small Satanic husband called Ralph, I really don't get out an lot dear."
My protestations however fell flat on large ears, and he sat himself down on hubby's dressing-up box making himself himself quite at home. Cocking his great big head to one side, he folded all his arms into an intricate Celtic knot and then propped his suited and booted legs up onto me cheval mirror.
"You are a fine earth woman and I want you as my kickywick as your great poet said".
"Great poet, who's that then sweetie, Pam Ayres?" I choked
"No, 'twas the other genius William Shakespeare, does he reside in Rochford too?"
"Well not now Clive, because he's been gone a long time you know, but he might have popped into the Anne Boleyn Public House on the Rochford Road in about 1613, you know, for a swift half in between writing acts one and two of King Henry The Eighth, I just can't be sure dear"
On that he sprung up onto all his feet and BOWED. Yes, BOWED.
"I will come tomorrow" he said sticking his map into his flaps.
"Oh, lovely" I squeaked and duly collapsed.
To Be Continued...