The Big Four Oh!

Oh dear lord say it isn’t so…

Over the last few weeks I have been offered the following helpful advice or words of comfort…

“It’s only a number”

“You’re as young as you feel”

 

And of course…

“Life Begins at 40!”

None of these words offer any consolation in the slightest of course, as the milestone I’ve hit today sends shudders down my spine. Just say it out loud - FORTY. What a horrible sound it makes.

To those that have yet to reach this anniversary it sounds like this:

                To a child under 11          - “Do numbers go that high!”

                To a child aged 11-15      - “Ha ha I’ll never be that old!”

                To an adult under 25       - “By that age I’m going to have hit all my goals or I’m going to top  myself”

                To an adult aged 25-29   - “Forget that… 30’s on the way”

                To an adult aged 30         - “Bloody hell next stop 40!”

                To an adult aged 31-35   - “Ha ha a few of my friends are turning 40!”

                To an adult aged 35-38   - “It’s getting close, I’m going to think about something else”

                To an adult aged 39         - “Oh shit!”

Those over 40 always respond with the same comments to the reaction of turning 40…

“You wait till you get to my age”

and
“It only goes quicker from there!”

…this isn’t by way of sympathy or empathy, no it’s usually with more then a hint of pure loathing!

Here are a list of symptoms you will probably have suffered all or some of if you have reached this grand old age:

                A Bad back

                Muscle ache

Finding Gandalf the Grey in the shrubbery around the mighty oak (thankfully I’ve yet to reach this landmark!)

Bad knees

Getting out of bed without an audible gasp becomes impossible

The hope that you WILL get some socks for Christmas

A Bad back

The inability to comprehend that Top Gun came out thirty years ago

Repeating oneself without realising

Of course I can console myself with the thought that I have a fabulous wife and two wonderful children… at least they’re not FORTY... now that would make me feel old! But then you start doing the maths, when my seven year old son turns forty I’ll be (hold on let me get the calculator out, I’m not as quick mentally as I used to be!)… yes that’s it… I’ll be bloody ancient. I’m not even going to think about my 3 month old daughter!

I suppose I had better learn to accept it and get on with my life… right I’m off down the McLaren garage to get a nice new motor.

Humour – You’ve either got it or you’re me!

When I was eight years old I and a few other classmates decided to try making up jokes to impress each other. This is easier said then done, now I know lots of people are funny but they are either retelling jokes they have heard or commenting on current situations. No what we were trying to do was actually come up with a joke from scratch.

And I managed to do one!!!

Now what you are probably thinking now is tell me what this amazing concoction is, depart your pearl of comic genius upon me. Well it wasn’t funny, like I said I was eight at the time… everything is funny when your eight and this barely drew a titter! But it struck me as I got older that you never really meet people who have come up with genuinely funny jokes. We have all seen comedians on the TV or even managed to see one or two live… but very few of us are friends with these individuals.

However I had now become one of these founding fathers. I had longed to follow in the footsteps of those great visionaries who had given the world Knock Knock jokes, or Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road Puns. Speaking of which my brother was the Salvador Dali of Chicken Crossing the Road Jokes… at five years old he gave us this ditty:

Why did the Chicken cross the road?

Umbrella!
Sami: aged 5

Nine years later I was to have my dream fulfilled whilst serving in Her Majesties British Army.  One of my fellow Soldiers who was from Newcastle (or it could have been Liverpool I can’t remember which!) told me my very own joke back to me!

It still wasn’t funny (despite the comedy accent he told it in!).

The really strange thing however is this… the chap that told me the joke was born on exactly the same day, month and year as me! Weird! But anyway I have teased you enough, here in all its glory is the very joke I made up when a child repeated back to me nearly a decade later. Enjoy…

Did you hear about the Irish Lamp post? It pissed on a Dog!

Haf: aged 8

Boom Boom!!!

I TOLD YOU IT WASN’T FUNNY!

Can you believe my mother didn't believe me when I said I had made that joke up. Now why-o-why would I pretend to have made that up lol.

Well as a tribute to looking back at the gem I created I have attempted to invent some brand new jokes (these are equally as bad, well they only took me half an hour to come up with them so what do you expect!). I apologise in advance for what I am about to commit!

I was drinking a bottle of wine the other day, it said serve at room temperature. It was horrible… I was in a Sauna at the time!

They say one in eleven men are gay… that’s why I can only play 5 a-side football!

Someone asked me how I took my Tea, I replied orally!

My son asked me where babies come from, I told him I have no idea… I always fake it!

Did you know the most commonly used letter in the “alphabet” is E, I thought it was A!

Apparently it’s impolite to pass wind in public, that’s why I always drive patiently behind it!

Did you know the smallest bones in the human body are found in your ear… that’s why I never hear what my wife is going on about, I’m bone idle!

If things are going to get bad “The shit hits the fan”. If someone is provoking the situation they are “Fanning the flames”. Well personally I have always been a Fan of the Truth!

Did you know honey is the only natural food which never goes off, I always thought it was the most loyal thing in our pantry!

My son asked me what I think he will be when he’s older… I told him more expensive!

Apparently there are many allegories in the Bible… Does that mean it’s a work of fiction?

In Space no one can hear you scream… that’s why they only watch Rom Coms on the International Space Station!

Did you know frogs can't swallow with their eyes open… that’s why I always blindfold them!

If you fall in love, will you always land with a bump?

My love life is like Star Wars… Han Solo but always trying to Leia!

The Judge asked me why I killed the Board Guy holding the Golf Shop sign on Oxford Street… I told him I was shooting a commercial!

Did you know the hyoid bone in your throat is the only bone in your body not attached to any other… you can make up your own jokes for that fact!

This will probably be my last ever blog as I am sure I will be locked up for crimes against humour and tortured to within an inch of my life… and then tortured some more!

Chrimbo

Christmas...!

It’s that time of year again when peace and good will to all men (and women) is spread across the country in an embrace of Christian values.


Is it b*ll*cks!


It’s the time of year when you run low on cash, patience and personal standards.

Present buying can be a real nightmare, stripping you of cash and imagination. I don’t know how many times I’ve had the best idea for presents for friends and relatives the day after Christmas… known in the UK as Boxing Day.

• * Note: When I was a kid I always thought that Boxing Day was the day we disposed of the boxes that our presents came in! But apparently it isn’t, nor is it the day that parents box their kid’s ears for complaints about not receiving presents they thought they deserved! It’s not even the day that Cricketers give thanks to the protection they have received throughout the year guarding their Baubles from harm!

When it comes to shopping for gifts you’ll find me wondering up and down the aisles with an even more vacant look then my usual gormless features. Occasionally muttering to myself as I pick up the same thing for the twentieth time before replace it back whence it came “Oh bloody ell I got that for them last year didn’t I!”. I shuffle along as my memory plays cruel tricks on me – Yes Great Aunty Flo* does love progressive rock band ‘Satan’s Snot’ and their latest tune “Vomit In My Mouth Baby”, so buy her that rather racy poster of their new album cover for her bedroom!

• * Names have been changed to protect the innocent… namely me from irate relatives who may read this!

Shopping in my dressing gown, the only way to go!

But that gormless face is nothing compared to the one that accompanies that first reluctant look at your bank balance halfway through the month. Each January you vow that this year will be different – “I WILL spread my present buying over two or three months so as not to panic come Christmas Eve” and of course to have a few pennies left over to see you through the longest month of your life… the month between pay day in December and pay day in January!!! The thing is you not only have presents to buy, but also food, drink and the dreaded OFFICE CHRISTMAS PARTY… you can almost hear the dramatic music playing in the background as you read it!

This is the venue where you often lose your shame, morals, standards and the contents of your stomach often all at the same time. Why-o-why do we invest so much into the occasion when we know that the ultimate end game is disgrace and disappointment? The women in the office will often buy a new outfit for the occasion, agonising over whether the new dress they have just bought makes them look fat or not. Well excuse me, but I wish you had thought about that when you picked those incredibly tight pair of leggings that you thought was appropriate to be worn in a place of work! I've watched cookery programs where some amateur has to learn to fill a sausage but often the misshapen mess bulges through the delicate skin creating a vision of a blubbery balloon devoid of air, filled instead with offal! Well that is what comes to mind 5 days a week when you shuffle pass in your dire attire.
Before you accuse me of being a sexist pig, let me assure you we men are no better. Marvel at that carefully crafted head of hair gelled/waxed/moused into what can only be described as the Gaudi’s Unfinished Cathedral of Bouffant design! Add to the chemical mix the nasal burning half bottle of deodorant we absorb and the three fluid litres of aftershave we bath in, it’s the modern version of hitting a woman over the head with our caveman club. Waft them into submission!


The ultimate goals of Christmas parties appear as such:


Single Men: This one is a simple one… get laid. Hopefully more than once during the night with as many different woman as possible whether they are single or not. The reality is either an early night with the internet’s finest cinematic highlights, or a desperate liaison with Betty Thong Gone *

• * again names changed to protect the (not so) innocent!

The problem with the second result is one of pure mathematics… there are fewer Bettys then Men, Betty is a busy girl on office party night!
The sad desperate scene that we have all witnessed is Single Man who has been turned down come nights end, sitting or more like slumped comatose in the corner crying into his regurgitated glass of lager. He’s a pathetic mess of jilted pheromones and unfilled desires, his attempt at rising to his feet results in a rapid embrace of the alcohol soaked floor. His descent from vertical to prone embarrassment fulfilled by the urinal splashback soaked crotch cementing his new nickname of Piss Pants Pete!


Younger Women: I don’t know what it is about the office party, or actually nights out in general that turns perfectly straight women into mock lesbians. I’ve lost track of the amount of pseudo girl on girl action that happens on these nights, at first I thought it was to entice/frustrate or even mock the men, but no this seems to happen even without the attention of the elbowing to each other Oi Oi brigade. Either crack on with it or stop, the tongue between the split V fingers photo pose is just plain embarrassing!


Older Men: You are not young anymore. You did not once date a super model nor will you in the future. Despite what a certain London based soap opera will tell you, receding hair and wrinkles does not a sex symbol make! Your pitiful attempts to woo that 18 year old office junior are doomed to failure despite the amount of alcohol you try to ply her with!

The office couple: Public displays of affection just look like acts of desperation fooling no one into believing that your overblown romance is nothing but doomed to future awkwardness when you break up and still have to sit opposite each other with nothing but a couple of computer monitors between you!


The Sobers: The smuggest of the bunch, knowing full well that Monday morning will bring a wave of people asking you whether they really did what they only half remembered doing. Your reward for enduring the actual banality of the party has now come to fruition and you take great delight in tormenting the poor desperate individual as you take your time embellishing every little misdemeanour… and even making a few more up for good measure.


I won’t bring myself to confirm if I have ever fallen foul of any of the above clichés, suffice to say… well yes and maybe more then one of them! But my lips are sealed… until prompted by the prospect of some more free booze at the office summer BBQ!

We can all embarrass ourselves at the office Christmas party but in yesteryear without the inconvenient ever present reality of mobile phone cameras and social media this was perfectly acceptable. Now your transgressions can be displayed to all and sundry, including your children, parents and partners.

Bear that in mind the next time you decide to show everyone your elephant impression on the office party dance floor!!!

Bravery

I’m going to take a slight shift of tone for my latest blog and am going to talk about one of the most emotive of concepts, namely Bravery.

I think we have all witnessed some degree of bravery and probably even been brave in some way ourselves. I think of little moments I have witnessed like my wife giving birth determined to do it without any pain relief (much to my own relief she had a bit of gas and air towards the end). My infant son falling whilst learning to walk, wiping the tears from his eyes and getting up and trying again. These are moments in life that are fleeting albeit not at the time, which may define us. But the highest echelons on the bravery scale are surely reserved for those who understanding that the consequences of their actions may result in injury or even death carry on regardless. One such individual struck me more than most when reading about them recently - Noor Inayat Khan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noor_Inayat_Khan).

Noor was a woman who showed bravery on many occasions, individual moments that would have made lesser mortals breakdown and give up. Please read about her on the above Wikipedia link to get a better understanding of this bravest of brave souls. What struck me is that not only was she the first female wireless operator to have entered worn torn France to work with the resistance. Nor that she repeatedly attempted to escape when captured, not even the fact that she refused to give any information to the Germans despite the fact that she would have probably been tortured. No, the bravest thing in my eyes was more subtle. She did all of those things knowing that she was probably viewed by those she was fighting for as a second class citizen. Her father who was a Muslim from India would have no doubt been looked down upon by the Western nations that Noor was fighting for. She would have wondered in the deepest darkest moments of her captivity why she was fighting for countries that still operated under segregation (which her mother an American would have witnessed first-hand). She kept on going regardless.

Noor Inayat Khan was executed at Dachau Concentration Camp in September 1944 almost a year after being captured having given the Germans nothing, she was 30 years old.

We are fast approaching the time when the last veteran of the Second World War will have left us.

Reading through the article on Wikipedia there is a passage advising that Morse Coders can be distinguished by how they tapped out their Dots and Dashes. I remember my grandfather telling me the same thing when discussing his own experiences of WW2. He served as a signaller aboard a Battleship during D-Day and was in contact with SOE agents and resistance fighters in still occupied France. He told me that Morse Code operators had their own distinct accents and that he often wondered what had happened to operators who stopped signalling. I suspect he feared the worse.

My grandfather – Ronald George Russell had previously been serving on HMS Jersey when it was struck by a mine in 1941, 35 of his crew mates were killed. Ron had been in the heart of the ship when the mine hit, one of the harder areas to escape from. He wrote in a letter to his children many years later that this was the day they had come to be. 

HMS Jersey

He was trapped and the only exit refused to open. He sat down and prepared himself for death, I’m not sure if he had married my grandmother at this point but he certainly hadn’t had any children. He goes on in his letter that he heard a voice that he attributed to Jesus, telling him not to give up, this wasn’t his time to die. He had a life to live. Using this to gather his courage he tried the hatch again and managed to fight his way clear of the ship, swimming a number of miles to safety to the Mediterranean island of Malta. He survived the siege of Malta and the war and returned to my grandmother eventually having four children.

His letter was found years later whilst he lay in hospital, it was hidden in plain sight in a cupboard that was used often. It had laid there undiscovered all this time awaiting the right moment to come into our lives. He left hospital the next day and died two days later surrounded by his children. It was almost as if he intended us to find it in one of our darkest moments.

To my grandfather, Noor Inayat Khan and all the generation who fought in WW2, I thank you. We owe it to them and ourselves to remember bravery can come in all different guises, we just have to recognise it and celebrate it when we see it.

My Life – The Movie Part 1

My second blog and I think I already sense a common theme that will feature throughout my blogging career; Pop Culture references usually based on films.

It got me thinking – if my life was made up by characters from the movies which would I be?

I think that we all have a romanticised or fantastical view of what movie we would be associated with and which character we would be, but we can’t all be Han Solo or Holly Golightly!

Side Note – Sorry I have side noted so early on but I must confess I took a bit of a gamble with Holly Golightly. I have no idea who women would most like to be associated with but with the amount of merchandising the character from Breakfast at Tiffanys has, I thought I it was worth a punt. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong!P.S. I have never seen Breakfast at Tiffanys.

In my childhood I would love to have possessed the quick witted and self-reliant confidence of Kevin from Home Alone (I’ll forgo the smug little sh*t elements of his personality!). The reality however was less interesting as I was an only child at the time and so less likely to be left in the attic whilst everyone else jetted off on holiday. Our attic was cold and damp and definitely didn’t possess a nice bed to rest my weary head, not unless you counted the pigeon nest that we were infested with one year.

As for Secondary School that one is obvious… I was Ferris Bueller… alas unfortunately only in my own mind. The smart and charming teenager who outwitted his teachers, had a hot girlfriend and had access to a vintage, rare and extremely expensive Ferrari California (an example was auctioned in 2007 for $4.9 million - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferrari_250#250_GT_California_Spyder_LWB) was a million miles from my teen years.

Side Note – Am I the only person in Britain to despise the change from Secondary School to High School??? We’re not American, Proms and ‘High School Graduations’ are not in our heritage the same way as intentionally whacking a knuckle during a game of conkers isn’t found in the gun strewn playgrounds of the good ol’US of A. As for renaming failing schools – Academies – Don’t get me Started!!

Side Side Note – Don’t take the above side note as being Anti American because it’s not… it’s Anti Britain adopting American Culture.

Side Side Side Note –I can see the irony of not liking us Brits adopting too much of American culture while Blogging about my life whilst referencing mainly American movies… but hey as Judd Nelson says “Eat My Shorts”

Only a PG rating I'm afraid! (with me as a toddler with my Mum and Dad: note the flairs!)

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Ferris’ quote from his Day Off is spot on, I often feel like I just need to stop and smell the roses. BUT not when I was a teenager, only a middle aged man could have written that piece of truth. No when I was that age, time was painfully slow, the spot on your forehead seem to take a month to disappear. The embarrassment of being turned down for a date with a girl took months if not years to get over (now I know what you’re thinking, “Haf you’re a gorgeous hunk of studdliness, I’m sure you never got turned down even once!”… Well I’m sure I can do a whole separate blog on the inaccuracy of your statement! Suffice to say I had less success then a Jabba the Hutt lookalike Leper with the personal grooming habits of farmyard pig!

Analysing how close my life was to Ferris’ highlights how we as adults perceive our teenage years as opposed to the reality of the time. The only thing in common that I had with Ferris was liking the song Twist and Shout by the Beatles… and I would never have sung it on a float in a parade, I don’t even sing in the shower unlike Monsieur Bueller! In fact I really have nothing in common with the mainly middle class families portrayed in mainstream cinema. Ferris and Kevin both live in luxurious mansions in the suburbs (the Home Alone house recently sold for $1.6m http://www.chicagotribune.com/classified/realestate/luxury/ct-biz-home-alone-house-may5,0,5798589.photogallery).

The real truth of the matter is we go to the flicks to escape our lives, if our lives were really put up on screen it would bore the pants of us. That’s not to say our lives are boring, interesting things that happen to us in real life just do not portray well on the big screen. So the trick I suppose is to ignore the urge to wish you were James Bond and revel in who you are, the unique one of a kind you. Unless of course you really are James Bond and in that case get yourself to AA and an STD clinic sharpish (maybe it would be best to go to the clinic first as your results will probably need a few drinks to digest)!

My Uni years were as far removed from the movie equivalent as my teens were from Mr F Bueller Esq. I can’t think of one British film that portrays University years so again I have to fall back upon our American cousin’s depictions. My place of higher educational learning was the University of Lincolnshire and Humberside (it had recently been renamed from the University of Humberside, then changed in my third year to the University of Lincoln). A place so crap they tried to disguise who they really were by dropping the embarrassment of being associated with Humberside. The former polytechnic (for my American friends – read Community College) undeservedly upgraded to University status based in Hull – I think I may have mentioned my thoughts on Hull previously; unfortunately I neglected to use the words festering, sphincter and armpit in my previous description. My bad, sorry.

Side Note – please do not be confused with the University of Hull which is by all accounts a fine seat of higher learning that has also been a proper University for many decades. No this is the poor relative next door, the Ali Dia to the George Weah (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ali_Dia).

As a mature student at the ripe old age of 23 perhaps my closest reference would be the film Old School but much to the relief of the populous of ‘ull (drop the H to pronounce it like a local) I didn’t end up streaking down the street. I’m sure I would have been strung up like a Monkey (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monkey_hanger) if I had, by some of the tolerant locals. Don’t get me wrong I met some really nice Hullensians, but I also met some right rednecks! I can safely say that University was NOT the best years of my life although I did make a couple of really good friends.

And with that I am going to end Part 1 with my life at the stage of pre meeting my wife. Part 2 will be provisionally titled How I Met Your Mother (that sounds like a good title for a TV show if you ask me!) and will feature Vodka, a Mother-in-Law and Nappies (Diapers)… Re-reading that last bit I may have made it sound like my mother in law is an alcoholic with an incontinence problem (and as there is a danger that she may read this), let me assure this is certainly not the case.

Please feel free to leave any comments you have below, any negative or horrible comments will be taken to heart and I will hunt you down… and cry on your shoulder begging for forgiveness!

And don’t forget to register your vote in this blogs poll to the left.

My first ever Blog…

So I’ve decided to enter the world of the blogger, my reasoning being that I’m rubbish at keeping diaries and this will hopefully help Future Me remember what Present Me is all about.  Hopefully this will be as interesting a read as it is to write and I won’t come to realise that I am as dull as a butter knife in a self-harm clinic. 

The first thing that I have come to realise pretty rapidly in the first couple of sentences is - I have no idea what the rules are to make a blog a blog. Not knowing any different I shall make it up as I go along, and hopefully you the reader (or should that be Bloggee) will be enthralled enough to come back for some more. At the very least I hope you come back to feel better about yourselves – “At least I’m not as mind-numbingly dreary as this t!t I’m reading now”!

Side note – is Bloggee the correct name for someone who reads a blog? It sounds wrong to me, like some encrusted snot stuck to the end of one’s nose which goes unnoticed by no one except the wearer!

Another reason for taking it upon myself to write this little ditty is the fact that I have been without my mobile phone for the last 8 days and have felt lost without it. It’s made me think back to many years ago when I detested the very thought of owning that unsociable brick that would permanently and self-congratulatory be held next to one’s head with an “aren’t I cutting edge” smugness reserved for present day Apple owners.

Technology has moved on so far that I for one struggle to perform everyday tasks without the use of modern gadgets.  I awake to the alarm on my mobile phone (I had to borrow wifey’s whilst mine was being repaired). I use my electric toothbrush on the daily chore that is brushing one’s nashers. A quick check on my phone again this time – internet banking (a daily routine after some nasty Nigerian stole a couple of grand from our bank account a few years back), email, Facebook, Twitter and BBC News and Football…  All this within the space of 20 minutes after waking!

Blogging at lunch!

Work is sat behind a couple of monitors doing various Microsoft led tasks as well as other IT type chores. During the day I will take random glances to see if anyone ‘loves’ me on – Facebook, Twitter and emails. The disappointment you feel when you get a notification and all it’s for is bloody Farm Animal Candy Hero Gangster is something I’m sure we all share! Then a quick scroll to see if anyone has done anything interesting lately, and no your cat ‘insert action here’ on your lap/chair/pillow/head does not count.

Side note – don’t think the irony of my complaining about being tied to modern gadgets/social media in a blog is lost on me. I totally get that but you can sod of for pointing it out, I’m writing this not you and like I said, I’m making the rules around here compadre!

Then back home to TV, laptop and mobile mostly at the same time, we have become a multi-task society, unable to concentrate on one thing at a time. I now struggle to watch anything with subtitles as the occasional glance at my phone or laptop would lead me to miss half the dialogue. Gone are the days when I could easily pop on a movie from French or Hong Kong cinema and relax, an effort has to be made to switch off. I have to get my electronic fix like some drugged up junky sat in Mother Superior’s Den of wasters Trainspotting the next Bond impression.

Side Note – A couple of good foreign language movies I really enjoyed many moons ago, only saw them once but like to see them again to see if they are as good as I remember… the Italian crime film La Scorta (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0108059/) and the Wong Kar Wai film As Tears Go By (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096461/?ref_=nv_sr_1)

I suppose I haven’t asked myself the question… is blogging passé? I was late to the twitter band wagon, I haven’t gone on to Snap Chat and BB Messaging passed me by (although I never got the point of it!). Although having been on Facebook since 2007, I haven’t been totally behind the times. I was on Google+ just a day after it launched, that said I have only added two statuses in the meantime.  Google+ although nicely laid out is pretty pointless in the Facebook age. Yes I can search by email address for contacts but most of the people I chat with on the Book of Face I have no idea what their email addresses are. I think if you could have searched by FB contacts the uptake might have been a lot more then the 3 or 4 friends.

I do try to keep up with technology although not always successfully,  I remember having a heated conversation in 1998 over how long the internet would last… 10 years I thought! I would obviously make a terrible investor, I would be the Dragon who you would pay to avoid in the den!

And so here I am adding another fix to my electronic addiction…

If you’re wondering why the name Gone Back For A Refund  as the title of my blog, well I’ve always said that this will be the Epitaph on my gravestone… and I couldn’t think of anything better that hadn’t been used!

 

Please feel free to leave any comments you have below, any negative or horrible comments will be taken to heart and I will hunt you down… and cry on your shoulder begging for forgiveness!

  

And don’t forget to register your vote in this blogs poll to the right.