My Last Ever Blog?

I can't remember if I'd mentioned this, but I'm having knee surgery today (13th).

Hopefully, it will go well.

However, if I die on the table, this will be my last ever blog.

I'd like to say, once and for all, that I don't like cheap toilet paper or cheap sellotape.

Why can't long haul aeroplanes be done in bunk bed style? If the seats were all horizontal, then you could stack people and everyone would get to lie down.

I don't like tipping. You fret all the way through your meal knowing you have to tip at the end. How about tipping at the start. A big tip means "do your very best preparing my meal" while a small tip means "please feel free to spit in my lasagne".

I think we should do away with cars altogether. Put tarpauling roofing over the roads and give everyone motorized rollerblades. We'd save energy and stop obesity in it's tracks.

Finally, could everyone please keep an eye on my life partner Shirley and her various sprogs? If she's looking hungry, give her some cheese or maybe a nice sponge cake.

Wish me luck

Oh Land of Thy Birth

Last Tuesday I visited the City of my birth. I was born in Scarborough, Ontario, Canada. Scarborough is to Toronto what Onchan is to Douglas. Only Scarborough is the size of Leeds.

Frequently, my mother has commented that she wished our family had never left Canada and gone to the Rock. We actually left there when I was six weeks old and I've never seen it since.

Until (as I may have mentioned) last Tuesday.

What can I say that won't have me branded a fully paid up member of the KKK?

You see...we had to get a bus from the train station to the zoo. The bus was pretty full. There were actually 31 people on it. Five were white* Five. There's four people in my family for Gods sake. If it wasn't for us white trash tourists there would've been only one white guy on board! And he got off before us. And the train, train station and passers-by I could see showed we hadn't accidentally got on the Rasta Bus. We were surrounded.

The thing about going to another country is that you aren't really justified in ranting about it's way of life. If you don't like it, there's a boat in the morning.

So I can't wait to get home to really rip into the DHSS, MHKs, the price of beer in nightclubs, the lack of totty in Strand Street and the general state of the roads. And I'll have the right to do it.

Thankyou and good night.

*Out of interest, my definition of white goes from Finland to Greece. We're not just talking Anglo-Saxons.