Sunday, September 30, 2012

Message from Mabel

This isn’t one of those sorries you see on the television when you know the person doesn’t really mean it; it’s a proper, grown up sorry. The sort of sorry you say when you’ve torn the electricity bill into little pieces, or chewed the arm off a Barbie doll. A real lie-on-your-back-with-your-legs-in-the-air type of sorry. 

Here goes: I’m terribly sorry, my Dad Tom can’t write his blog today because he’s not feeling well.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Moment of Truth for Bapman

The appointment sat in my diary like a pool of rancid milk in the bottom of the fridge. It had to be dealt with, but the thought made me feel sick. 

I’d cancelled twice already, claiming a busy schedule. Now the insurers were insistent: my policy was up for renewal, and they needed me in London for a medical, presumably to check I wasn’t going to die on them. 

“Bring a towel and loose clothes, and don’t eat for two hours beforehand,” the letter said. 

That meant one thing: the dreaded treadmill. They fix electrodes to your chest, switch the machine to racing mode, and you run till you drop. 

When I found out about it two months ago, I resolved to immediately get slim – which for me is quite ludicrous. A bit like putting a pint of oil in the car just before its annual service. You can’t disguise years of excess with a few bottles of Activia and a jog.

Monday, September 17, 2012

It's A Man Thing

Just as they were about to leave the Garden of Eden, Eve found Adam rushing around in a blind panic. 

“I’ve lost my figleaf,” he shouted, furiously scrabbling through a pile of half-eaten apples. “I can’t go out without it.” 

With a heavy sigh, Eve pointed down: “Adam, you’re wearing it.” 

It’s a man thing, apparently. We were born to lose stuff.

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Naked Lady of Northumberland Revealed

She’s certainly a big lass, with deep lines rippling round her voluptuous curves. Her two breasts are more Titian than Playboy. 

“Is that a boobie?” asked Granny, squinting up at the prone giant silhouetted against the sunlight. 

“That’s the face, Mum – look, there’s her forehead and her nose.” 

Izzy giggled: “Daddy’s got boobies”. 

“Nonsense,” I snorted. 

“You really must go on a diet, dear”, said my Mum.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Living in the World of Three

I’m really sorry I missed my post last week. Every Sunday I’ve tried to write something vaguely amusing to lighten things up, but last week I simply didn’t have the time. Not one free minute in the entire day. Or in any of the following five days either. 

Last week I was out of this world, spirited into a parallel universe. Emails lay unanswered, post unopened, no time to watch the news or go down the pub: I’ve been living in the world of Three.