The melon list
Have coffee & smoke
Clean the loo
Have coffee
Hang out washing
Have coffee & smoke
Put away box of papers in hall
Have coffee
Bugger about in bike shed
Have coffee & smoke
Forget about garden as spent too long having coffee & smoking and run out of time  (only kidding!)
****
no joking, that was on my pc screen this morning.....
either she knows me too well, or she is being subtle....
todays melon list.....
Moderators: Aladinsaneuk, MartDude, D-Rider, Moderators
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Aladinsaneuk
- Aprilia Admin
- Posts: 9503
- Joined: Wed Jan 03, 2007 10:37 pm
- Location: Webfoot territory
todays melon list.....
Let's face it, you wouldn't go to a nurse to get good advice on a problem with a Falco - you'd choose an Engineer or a mechanic...
-
Aladinsaneuk
- Aprilia Admin
- Posts: 9503
- Joined: Wed Jan 03, 2007 10:37 pm
- Location: Webfoot territory
Buy a goat.
SHINY BIKE SYNDROME Motorcycle valeting and paint protection specialist.
Aladinsaneuk wrote:andy is having a VERY heavy period
-
Aladinsaneuk
- Aprilia Admin
- Posts: 9503
- Joined: Wed Jan 03, 2007 10:37 pm
- Location: Webfoot territory
funnily enough.... I have written the odd humorous piece in the past, and here is one I wrote some time ago:
I am buying a goat and shares in a concrete company

Now I am as much of a house husband as the next man, but, I have to be honest, some parts of the division of labour in a marriage are beyond my comprehension. Allow me to explain
I woke up at the crack of nine o’clock – nothing unusual there, beyond the fact that it was a Saturday, it was my day off and the pubs do not even open until 11 o’clock. So what dragged me kicking and screaming from the arms of morpheous?
The telephone.
The telephone I had specifically unplugged the night before, saying to my wife, I really am looking forward to a long lie in tomorrow. She did not respond, merely carried on picking her teeth clean – she did not even say a word as she popped them back in her mouth, and turned over to take all the duvet prior to sleeping.
Now I am not surprised she was not talking to me. As part of her wifely duties, right between Nagging and Ultimate pain on her marriage contract, is Secretary. As most know, and to paraphrase that silly bint Austen, “A man in possession of spare time must be in want of a job”. I had told her that I had a whole day off, and was planning to do nothing bar lazing around.
Obviously, to those who are challenged in the testosterone department, this is not good enough. Therefore, she had told her best friend, (They are close – I think they even hid from St George together), that on Saturday we would drive up and see her.
So – I get to drive 80 miles, to see my god daughter and her mother. – Not bad I hear you say. Well – I happened to over hear the end part of the girly telephone chat. (It was not intentional, I had merely finished doing all the house hold chores early).
“So if I bring him along, and you have the paint already, then we can go shopping while he decorates.”
Oh my, I thought – what will I do?
Thinking fast, I then opened the back door loudly, as if I had just come in. The phone conversation stopped and we settled down for a quiet evening watching TV together. (I say together – she was watching her soaps, buffy and ER, while I sat down quietly in the corner).
Excusing myself, I headed to the computer pit and sent a quick email – hard times call for harsh measures. I returned downstairs, and sat quietly on the floor – she must have had a speck of sentiment as she even through a cushion at me.
The phone rang – I let her answer it – she wrote down all the details and snarled at me:
“Your friend wants you to check over a PC he is buying - on Saturday – but you can’t can you as we are seeing YOU’RE god daughter can you?”
I took the phone, and chatted with my mate, making it sound as obscure and technical as possible. I hung up, and said, with sorrow in my eyes:
“Sorry Petal – Mark really needs me – and the only time he has spare from his wife is Saturday lunchtime – I am sorry but you will have to go on your own. And yes it is a shame as I would loved to have seen the baby.”
(This is of course total bollocks – the only time I would take any kind of interest in what my god daughter is doing would be when she gets to 18 and rings me up to ask if her and her friends can come round to do some topless sunbathing).
Now poor old fiery breath was caught in a dilemma – she could not bollock me as I was not aware, as far as she knew, that I had neatly evaded decorating. And in the same way as she helps her friends out – normally by getting me to do their chores, she knows that I help my friends out – normally by making alibi’s and drinking pints in a pub with them. So – I had the silent treatment, and was only allowed the outer quarter of the bed.
So back to the telephone ringing away. I sleepily answered her shouting – not because she was on her mobile phone, but just because she believes in getting the fear of god in me from the start.
“As you are not seeing Mark till Lunchtime, I thought you could do some gardening”
“But, flower – I am having a lie in today….”
(I can be very brave when I know she is out of range).
“Well – your awake now so get on with it”
With that she rang off, and muttering dark thoughts (Ensuring that the telephone was still not connected), I got dressed and went out to inspect the jungle.
I decided to start with the lawns – They are largish, and return the maximum amount of looking like I had been working hard for the minimal effort.
An hour later, and with enough grass clippings to enable a tribe of pygmies to thatch their village, the lawns were short and clipped. I then spent a fruitless 20 minutes trying to find the edge trimmer – I checked the shed, and the garage, and even the bath room in case old fiery breath had been doing her bikini line again.
Panic not I thought – she has her mobile, I can ring her and it will look good.
“Ermm – sorry to interrupt your shopping, but I can’t find the edge trimmer for the lawn.”
“I brought it over her with me – I thought if it was here then the next time you can be bothered to come and see YOUR god daughter then you can do her mother’s lawns.”
You can imagine the thoughts I was having – if nothing else this was going to cost me a fortune in pints to bribe friends into creating alibi’s for me. So – back to the garden. Now I am not allowed to do any weeding – not because of a bad back or anything, but because I was once clever. (A free tip from me chaps – when your good lady rottweiler asks you to weed an area, pull up everything – flowers and plants – just clean it all out. They will go ape shit after you have destroyed their geraniums and daffodils – but look sheepish, accept the bollocking they will give, safe in the knowledge that they will think that you are too stupid to be allowed to do such an intelligent process ever again).
So what to do next – has to be something that requires a minimal amount of labour, but looks like it has taken hours. So I swept the drive, and all the paths. Well, I say I swept them – I dug out my power washer accessory for the hose and wandered around with that for half an hour. Looking good I thought. Eleven o’clock, quick 3 S’s (shit, shower and a shave – don’t worry ladies, it’s a man thing), and down to the pub for opening time – and to meet Mark – as a part of the excuse he had told his wife that he had to help me.
A nice afternoon passed, and a few ales were quaffed in comfort. I returned home, and settled down to a refreshing nap while the football was on.
Old fiery breath kicked me awake, and through our digi camera at me:
“I took some photo’s of Helen’s garden – I thought it would help me plan what to do with it so I can see what you need to do work wise”
Oh lord, I thought – this could be rough.
Oh lord was I right – the photos showed a lawn that was knee high. A large pond, that I was told would have to be dug out as it was dangerous for MY god daughter. The hedges were so over grown there were whole families of illegal immigrants living in tree houses in them.
Bollocks to this I thought – on Monday I am buying a goat – I will let that bugger eat its way through all the grass, then I will concrete the whole lot. And in case any think that concrete is nasty for kids to play on – for her third birthday I will buy MY god daughter a family size box of plasters
****
some day when I can be arsed, I will update my website with the rest of the stuff I wrote
OFB or Old Fiery Breath, is, of course, my good lady wife...
I am buying a goat and shares in a concrete company

Now I am as much of a house husband as the next man, but, I have to be honest, some parts of the division of labour in a marriage are beyond my comprehension. Allow me to explain
I woke up at the crack of nine o’clock – nothing unusual there, beyond the fact that it was a Saturday, it was my day off and the pubs do not even open until 11 o’clock. So what dragged me kicking and screaming from the arms of morpheous?
The telephone.
The telephone I had specifically unplugged the night before, saying to my wife, I really am looking forward to a long lie in tomorrow. She did not respond, merely carried on picking her teeth clean – she did not even say a word as she popped them back in her mouth, and turned over to take all the duvet prior to sleeping.
Now I am not surprised she was not talking to me. As part of her wifely duties, right between Nagging and Ultimate pain on her marriage contract, is Secretary. As most know, and to paraphrase that silly bint Austen, “A man in possession of spare time must be in want of a job”. I had told her that I had a whole day off, and was planning to do nothing bar lazing around.
Obviously, to those who are challenged in the testosterone department, this is not good enough. Therefore, she had told her best friend, (They are close – I think they even hid from St George together), that on Saturday we would drive up and see her.
So – I get to drive 80 miles, to see my god daughter and her mother. – Not bad I hear you say. Well – I happened to over hear the end part of the girly telephone chat. (It was not intentional, I had merely finished doing all the house hold chores early).
“So if I bring him along, and you have the paint already, then we can go shopping while he decorates.”
Oh my, I thought – what will I do?
Thinking fast, I then opened the back door loudly, as if I had just come in. The phone conversation stopped and we settled down for a quiet evening watching TV together. (I say together – she was watching her soaps, buffy and ER, while I sat down quietly in the corner).
Excusing myself, I headed to the computer pit and sent a quick email – hard times call for harsh measures. I returned downstairs, and sat quietly on the floor – she must have had a speck of sentiment as she even through a cushion at me.
The phone rang – I let her answer it – she wrote down all the details and snarled at me:
“Your friend wants you to check over a PC he is buying - on Saturday – but you can’t can you as we are seeing YOU’RE god daughter can you?”
I took the phone, and chatted with my mate, making it sound as obscure and technical as possible. I hung up, and said, with sorrow in my eyes:
“Sorry Petal – Mark really needs me – and the only time he has spare from his wife is Saturday lunchtime – I am sorry but you will have to go on your own. And yes it is a shame as I would loved to have seen the baby.”
(This is of course total bollocks – the only time I would take any kind of interest in what my god daughter is doing would be when she gets to 18 and rings me up to ask if her and her friends can come round to do some topless sunbathing).
Now poor old fiery breath was caught in a dilemma – she could not bollock me as I was not aware, as far as she knew, that I had neatly evaded decorating. And in the same way as she helps her friends out – normally by getting me to do their chores, she knows that I help my friends out – normally by making alibi’s and drinking pints in a pub with them. So – I had the silent treatment, and was only allowed the outer quarter of the bed.
So back to the telephone ringing away. I sleepily answered her shouting – not because she was on her mobile phone, but just because she believes in getting the fear of god in me from the start.
“As you are not seeing Mark till Lunchtime, I thought you could do some gardening”
“But, flower – I am having a lie in today….”
(I can be very brave when I know she is out of range).
“Well – your awake now so get on with it”
With that she rang off, and muttering dark thoughts (Ensuring that the telephone was still not connected), I got dressed and went out to inspect the jungle.
I decided to start with the lawns – They are largish, and return the maximum amount of looking like I had been working hard for the minimal effort.
An hour later, and with enough grass clippings to enable a tribe of pygmies to thatch their village, the lawns were short and clipped. I then spent a fruitless 20 minutes trying to find the edge trimmer – I checked the shed, and the garage, and even the bath room in case old fiery breath had been doing her bikini line again.
Panic not I thought – she has her mobile, I can ring her and it will look good.
“Ermm – sorry to interrupt your shopping, but I can’t find the edge trimmer for the lawn.”
“I brought it over her with me – I thought if it was here then the next time you can be bothered to come and see YOUR god daughter then you can do her mother’s lawns.”
You can imagine the thoughts I was having – if nothing else this was going to cost me a fortune in pints to bribe friends into creating alibi’s for me. So – back to the garden. Now I am not allowed to do any weeding – not because of a bad back or anything, but because I was once clever. (A free tip from me chaps – when your good lady rottweiler asks you to weed an area, pull up everything – flowers and plants – just clean it all out. They will go ape shit after you have destroyed their geraniums and daffodils – but look sheepish, accept the bollocking they will give, safe in the knowledge that they will think that you are too stupid to be allowed to do such an intelligent process ever again).
So what to do next – has to be something that requires a minimal amount of labour, but looks like it has taken hours. So I swept the drive, and all the paths. Well, I say I swept them – I dug out my power washer accessory for the hose and wandered around with that for half an hour. Looking good I thought. Eleven o’clock, quick 3 S’s (shit, shower and a shave – don’t worry ladies, it’s a man thing), and down to the pub for opening time – and to meet Mark – as a part of the excuse he had told his wife that he had to help me.
A nice afternoon passed, and a few ales were quaffed in comfort. I returned home, and settled down to a refreshing nap while the football was on.
Old fiery breath kicked me awake, and through our digi camera at me:
“I took some photo’s of Helen’s garden – I thought it would help me plan what to do with it so I can see what you need to do work wise”
Oh lord, I thought – this could be rough.
Oh lord was I right – the photos showed a lawn that was knee high. A large pond, that I was told would have to be dug out as it was dangerous for MY god daughter. The hedges were so over grown there were whole families of illegal immigrants living in tree houses in them.
Bollocks to this I thought – on Monday I am buying a goat – I will let that bugger eat its way through all the grass, then I will concrete the whole lot. And in case any think that concrete is nasty for kids to play on – for her third birthday I will buy MY god daughter a family size box of plasters
****
some day when I can be arsed, I will update my website with the rest of the stuff I wrote
OFB or Old Fiery Breath, is, of course, my good lady wife...
Let's face it, you wouldn't go to a nurse to get good advice on a problem with a Falco - you'd choose an Engineer or a mechanic...
