A Terrible Time Of it......

I'm having a terrible time of it at the moment.

First up, my ingrowing toenail is back.

That's not good.

My foot hurts, but there is very little I can do because the nail is still too small to get a good hook into and yank out.

More exciting news to follow on that story.....

Next up, the month of August saw a rather stupid statement from your's truly when my friend Ste (remember Ste? he's the one who fell asleep with a candle on his head and cheated at the £10 challenge) offered to have another £10 bet with me.

The challenge this tie round involves betting £10 on any sporting event between the 1st of August until the 31st of December with the option to spend any and all winnings to see who can make the most money by the end of the year.

As of writing this post, Ste has not made any bets.... I, however, have been a very busy bee opting to spread my chances of making a profit by betting on horses, the cricket and the football....

I have pretty much lost all of my money.

As of today I have 40 pence left.

For anyone who is not familiar with English money, 40 pence can get you a funny look, thrown out or barred from any pub,bar, charity shop in the UK.

I am terrible at betting.

40 pence is pathetic.

There is a small chance I can come out this a hero.

I have some bets still to come today including the horses and kicking ball.... My hopes are not high though.


As the saying goes; If it wasn't for bad luck - I would have no luck at all.

Let this be a lesson to you all.... if you want to know how to make money from gambling, just do the opposite of me and you'll be a millionaire by Christmas.


More news on this (and my impending insolvency claim) to follow.

When Mrs H Fell Down - A Poem

Here it is then.
The final part of this little journey of interactive posts for June.


I do hope you have enjoyed this experience as much as I have struggled to complete the tasks I have set myself.






We end our little trip with a true story story that took place last friday morning.

Enjoy.



When Mrs H Fell Down.

t'was friday morn, afore the birds reach the sky
when from my deep slumber i did hear a cry.

twas the voice of none other than my Mrs H
who suggested I reach her and with somewhat haste.

Upon my arrival what did i spy?
But mrs H lying there, a tear in her eye.

"my ankle's popped out! and before i PROLAPSE,
at your earliest convinience call me an ambu-lance?"

DISCOMBOBULATED though i was, i dialed 999
and the lady i spoke to told me everything would be fine.

rushed to the hospital and through A&E
a nice nurse offered to make me and hot cup of tea.

5 and half hours - her surgery lasted
and Mrs H's leg is 60% plastered.

But she is tucked up in bed with her leg in the air
she got crutches and a zimmer and a wierd toilet chair.

But although shes in pain she can still be sarcastic
and asked me whats the meaning of the word ENDOPLASMIC?

So  mrs H is not well - she is not SALUBRIOUS.
Mrs H is bedridden and it is all because,

she slipped on gravel which is harder than it sounds
and she crushed her ankle, when MRs H fell down.

Ouchy!

Many thanks to Rob, Addman, Darren and Lily for your suggestions over the past few weeks.

I may do some more now Mrs H is out of the room and I can have the laptop on without dirty looks.

Cheers.

Women Don't Know What REAL Pain Is.

“The female of the species is more deadlier than the male...” or so says the song.

Science would happily tell us that the women have a higher tolerance for pain than men. And in turn women, while standing on their high horses atop of their sugar pedestals up there in their ivory towers, take great pleasure in informing us men how horrible and painful it is to carry a child in their womb for three quarters of the year and how difficult it is to cope with the excruciating agony of giving birth followed by breast feeding and piles and blah blah blah.

"well THAT was a piece of piss..."

But nothing NOTHING compares with the pain that every single man has suffered at least once in his life.

Before I go into detail as to what this ultimate pain is – I would ask you (especially the women amongst you) to pin a bulldog clip to your underarm... AND LEAVE IT THERE. Then after your eyes can water no more pull it off without opening the clip. Just pull – s-l-o-w-l-y.

It hurts doesn’t it?

Imagine that but 100 times worse and without the option of removing the pain.

THAT is what men have to go through each and every time they ...*it hurts to even type this* trap their “old fella” in the zip of their pants.

The work of the Devil (or a woman)

With a baby, you know it’s coming. You have the best part of a whole year to get used to the idea and brace yourself, let alone all the free drugs, water pools, nurses, hospitals, more drugs, paid time off work and money from the government.

For men, we get no warning whatsoever.

Not only do we find our most sensitive, delicate and personal part now trapped and exposed at the same time, but if this happens when you’re out and about, you are probably not in the most hygienic of places to find yourself in need of medical help.

It doesn’t stop there though.

Oh dear lord NOOOOoooooooo.......

The fact that your little winky is trapped means that the teeth of the zipper has well and truly snared you in its grasp. There is no easy way to undo this problem. Unzipping is not an option. This is not a plaster on some arm hair... this is thousands of nerve endings being systematically abused the most horrible way.

Sure, if you have a baby, you might poo a bit or get a tiny little scar but that is nothing compared to falling to your knees in a puddle of other men’s piss, crying in the gents with your hands shaking violently as you try your best to undo this magnificent injustice to your manhood.

Finding yourself in such a situation does nothing short of completely destroying your self confidence and bravado. Once done, there is no way you can simply rejoin your group of drinking buddies and attempt to gain alpha male status or even laugh at the stupid joke being passed around the table due to the paranoid thought of you cock hanging on by a thread.

The best you can hope for is for the night to end quietly and calmly so you go home and ring your mum.

...Ah. That's the wrong kind of fly - stupid Google search.

At least with pregnancy you get a baby and loads of presents and stuff.

When pants attack, you have lost the night.

Be careful out there guys. It’s a dangerous world.