I'm Crackers!

OK so I probably didn't have to remind you of that fact LOL

There's been many a thing I have wanted to write in here over recent weeks but to be honest I'm not sure it would have done me any good and would probably have bored you all rigid.

Instead I just wanna say a huge thank you to some great buddies who have given me loads of support and encouragement through what was a bit of a black time for me. Most of them don't read this rubbish but I feel better for having written that.

There is one person out there who does not know what a huge impact they have had on me and I will always be grateful for their friendship and their ability to make me laugh out loud when I have been down.

For the first time in ages I am feeling strong again and the fact that I seem to have stumbled upon a kindred spirit who happens to be sex on legs all bodes well for 2005.

OK serious bit over and just to let you know that I have stored up a few typical Steps stories for you in the New Year :-) Just because I stopped Blogging didn't make me any less accident prone or prevent me getting into sticky situations.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy and Healthy New Year

The BADOING! is back lol Long live the BADOING!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Recovery.............a song (edited version)

First I was afraid. I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
But I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong. I learned how to carry on

Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
You thought I'd crumble. You thought I'd lay down and die
Oh no, not I. I will survive
As long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I'll survive
I will survive

It took all the strength I had not to fall apart
Kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart
and I spent oh so many nights just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry but now I hold my head up high
and you see me somebody new
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you.....



.....I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me

Normal service will be resumed ASAP :-)

Love..............a song

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again Oh, no!

Downing the Dancing Queen

One from the vaults.................

It all started on Wednesday as I was tucking into a Big Ranch Microwave Quarter Pounder and some McCains. Gets a phone call from the estranged Mel asking if I wanted to go to a 70’s fancy dress disco. No mention of the porn ring or a sniff of an apology but I thought I’d let sleeping dogs lie. I said I’d go and dug out me platform boots and white jumpsuit. She was going as Agnetha and wanted me to be her Benny.

Turned up the place and it was full of the usual Croydon pram faces and a few surly youths drinking Stella and tugging at their groins. Mel looked more Aggie from How clean is your house than Agnetha from ABBA but she was still attracting lurching lads at the side of the dance floor. There was nowt there that I was interested in so I just stuffed my face at the free buffet and got trolleyed.

It was getting near closing time when YMCA came on and me and Mel made a dash for the dance floor. Mel slipped on half a sausage roll and pulled me down with her. I put my hand out to break my fall and connected with a pint glass that this bint in a halter neck and afro had put on the floor while she snogged a bloke from Showaddywaddy. Blood started spurting out me hand and wrist. It was going everywhere. Mel fainted as usual. She can’t even look at her own tampons without blacking out. Things were looking serious so the bouncer phoned 999 and tied a pair of tights round my arm to try and stop the bleeding. By the time the ambulance arrived my jumpsuit was covered in blood and I was feeling a bit woozy.

5 minutes later I’m back at Croydon General and rushed in for a quick stitch up. They couldn’t knock me out cos I was bladdered but I didn’t feel a thing. They were gonna have to keep me in for observation but no free beds so they stuck me in a corridor in a wheelchair.

An hour later and I was gasping for a fag so I asked this dumpy nurse with sparse hair and glasses if she’d wheel me outside for a ciggie. She mumbled something under her breath in Portuguese and took me out to the main entrance of A&E.

I was sat there in my bloodstained ABBA jumpsuit lighting up for a second time when this skinny man who smelled of wee staggered over. He swayed about for a minute and squinted his eyes and said ‘Can I have a taxi to Thornton Heath mate‘.............................

Love.............a poem

Angel breath fills our very being
Shining souls with velvet blood
A creeping dusk, the vampire hunger
Dark crimson tears obscure the light.

Wings strive to rise on morning mist
Held back by fear and icy words
Sinking under tumbling waters
Breathless, drowning in the dark.

Tram Trauma

Right it's nearly Halloween and have I had a gutfull of ghouls already. Channel 4 forums aside ;-) things had been pretty harmonious at home. Had over 2 weeks off work and although all my excursion plans and trips had to be cancelled due to building work in my kitchen the end result was worth it. Lovely kitchen and a pretty chilled Steps!

I hardly recognize my kitchen now and find myself gliding around in there with a Dettox surface wipe far too often than is healthy for a 6'3 bloke with a No1 crop and tattoos.

Only a few bits need doing now. Housemate has volunteered to do the tiling. Very nice of him and I am appreciative but he's one of these DIY Dangers that starts things but never finishes so I'm cautiously delighted.

He bought a huge shed/garden workshop kit to put up the end of the garden. Had it delivered, started to level off the ground where he was going to build it. 2 years later the level ground is a cat litter for the local felines and when I look out my bedroom window all I can see is 2 tons of pine rotting under a bright green tarpaulin.

Anyway he made a start and the tiles were looking magnificent. Perfect match. Very butch if I say so myself. You may remember that I'm getting quite blaze about going to the DIY sheds after recent expeditions. So when housemate says he needs some tile edging I leap to the rescue and tell him I'll nip over to Tile Base and get some. I could see the slightly unsure look crossing his face and after much silent shuffling he agreed that I couldn't do much harm with such a task.

Feeling dead chuffed and almost like a pseudo-builder's mate I pop down the road and catch a tram to the Tile Base Superstore just in time for school's out! Tram was packed with kids in baseball caps, polyester and arses hanging round their knees. There's a lot to be said for school uniforms.

Gets to Tile Base at last after suffering the stench of a sweaty kid who looked like he'd come straight off the basketball court after a marathon match and was stuffing his face with 2 Big Macs. Not a smell I care to encounter again. Must be on the look out for the McD/Acrylic combo in future.

The place has what I need. 2 lengths of tile edging in black. Perfect! Leave the shop looking even more pleased with myself and head for home. Whilst waiting for the tram I suddenly noticed that the other people waiting were giving me strange looks. I pretended not to noticed and shuffled around looking at my mobile phone for no reason and reading the barcode on the tile edge strip. Some people are so rude I thought. 2 minutes before the tram arrives.

It's at this point I suddenly look up to the end of the 8 foot long pieces of tile edging. Yes. I said 8 foot. OH SHIT!

As the tram approaches I can see my fellow waiters whispering to each other and a pushchair Mum with greasy hair and equally greasy child rolls her eyes at me and inspects her false nails. I return her eye rolls and throw in a screwed up nose into the bargain.

The tram's here. Doors open. It's quite busy. SHIT! I lower the edging strips and edge in the door almost knocking the cap off an old bloke who's dancing around in the gangway trying to get out the way. I try and pull up and the strips smack against the ceiling making a noise like the electricity lines have snapped. 2 old dears obviously headed for bingo let out a shriek and before they have time to wallop me with their bag of bingo markers an Inspector appears. 'You can't bring that on here mate' he says. I look indignant and desperately trying to maintain my cool blurt out ' Well how do you expect me to get get this home!'

I could have crawled into the old blokes cap. Why did I say that? The whole place was now a mix of sniggers and tutting and my face was beetroot.

I got off the tram pretending to be furious at the way I had been treated. Probably looked a bit like Diana Ross after being frisked at Heathrow. Stormed back to the shop who very kindly gave me a refund whilst I ranted on about public transport and pensioners traveling during peak hours. By the time I got home I was quite calm again and told housemate what had happened.

He looked at me in disbelief and said 'Why didn't you just get the shop to cut it in half'.............

Calamity Cuisine

Well the big weekend is here. My kitchen is being installed and I'm surrounded by enough cardboard boxes to house the Croydon homeless and there is so much dust around that it looks like the day after a nuclear holocaust. I've been sneezing so much that my nose has bled twice and my eyes look like Marty Feldman with a hangover.

Things started well yesterday morning although it was a struggle for me to get up in time for the builders 8am start. There's builder Dave with the nice legs and a chain-smoking, chubby youth with cropped hair with tram lines. Chubby youth has the job of building the cabinets and drawers whilst Dave does the more complex stuff. He has a really loud and annoying hacking cough and for some reason the dog growls every time he does it. That lad needs to cut down on the weed and suck a couple of fisherman's Friends. I was only on 5 Embassy Regal a day when I was his age. He got through a whole pack of Superking Black yesterday.

Everything was going smoothly until lunchtime when Dave asks me where some joining thing is? Apparently there should be some metal thing that covers the join in the 2 bits of work surface. I'm clueless about all this stuff but we checked through the inventory and.........bugger.........I haven't got one. Housemate sends me out to Homebase to get the missing bit. Me on my own in a DIY shed is a bit like the Pope at a Jewish wedding. Up and down the aisles I go trying to look butch and like I know what I'm looking for. In the end I give up and ask this lad who looks like the lead singer of Good Charlotte where the elusive 'thing' can be found. I'd only walked past them 3 times. None of them look right but hey......what do I know. Just to be safe I buy 3 different types. One is bound to be good.

WRONG! Dave says 'they're crap' and I'm dispatched again, to B&Q this time. Have the same problem there finding the 'thing' and once again it's located in a place you would never dream of looking. Miles from the rest of the kitchen stuff. This time there are bits that look more right but I'm not confident after the last failure so try phoning home. Try both home numbers, both of housemates mobile phones (don't ask) and Dave the builder. No one answering. Tried neighbour but she's engaged. 20 minutes later and still no contact can be made. Why the hell do people have mobile phones and keep them turned off. I decide to be brave and buy what I think is the correct one but have to get 2 cos I'm not sure which is the correct colour match. Tram home and Dave says I got the correct 'thing' this time. Feeling dead chuffed. Me getting it right at all is a bit of a miracle.

Things back on track but can't get the sink working cos the connector not right. Rather than trust me to another shed trek, Dave says he'll go to B&Q on Sunday. They finish for the day and chubby youth coughs his guts up on the way out.

Can't cook so we had McDonalds for lunch and had a couple of large Chicken Shish kebabs and twister fries for dinner. Was belching and farting all night. Even a Green Tea and White Lilly candle couldn't disguise the smell in the lounge.

Woke up early again stinking of garlic sauce and the boys start work on day 2 of the transformation.

I'm not a morning person as you know and was therefore sent into a blind panic when Dave tells me that there are 3 more 'bits' missing. No left hand fixings for 2 drawers and the wrong drawer box. I'm gutted but start to think that he's lying to me. How come the same 'bit' would be missing from 2 different kits? I'm thinking he's cocked up and buried the evidence after realising his mistake. I wander around looking a bit paranoid and searching for the 'missing' 'bits'. Anyway I pretend to believe him and we wait for MFI to open. I give them a call and the sales guy is bemused and sounds like he thinks I'm some sort of nincompoop. Which I probably do sound like as I'm trying to relay what Dave is saying whilst trying not to sound like I don't believe a word he's saying. Anyway nice salesman finally realises where we've gone wrong and points us in the right direction. The 'bits' are found. They just don't look like the 'bits' Dave was looking for. I point out that if he'd looked at the instructions he would have seen the 'bits' and what they looked like. I'm getting cocky now and chubby's cough is getting worse. The dog's ignoring it now but it's starting to really piss me off.

Dave's just asked me if he can borrow my iron? WTF. Has he brought his laundry to test drive the kitchen?????

Masterbating Mayhem

I've been having a few problems with my back recently. Probably down to the fact that I'm slouching at my PC all day at work and then most of the evening too - posting on forums, downloading music or looking at naughty pictures.

It was getting so bad that getting out of bed in the morning I had to follow a strict pattern or else I'd be stuck in a half shut position for most of the morning. Without lifting my head off the pillows I had to ease myself round to the left until my legs were hanging off the bed. Not dangling mind - had to keep them stretched out. Once I'd got to the optimum 90 degree position I had to grab the headboard, count to 10 and then propel myself erect into the middle of the room keeping legs and back straight.

Was OK most mornings but could be particularly gruesome if suffering from a hangover as hand-eye coordination not at it's best. The other weekend I'd had a heavy session and tried the manoever Sunday morning. Didn't see the floor fan next to my bed and landed head first in the CD rack.

OK enough was enough. I had to do something drastic. My old PC chair was comfy but it was not making me sit right. I lolled around in it and could feel a strain at the base of my spine after a long day.

One of my mates recommended this company that specialise in posture chairs so off I went, surfing their web site and found the answer to my prayers. It's a bit like those chairs that you kneel on which force you to sit with good posture. The only difference being this is an updated model that rocks back and forward so if you are moving around to answer phones, write etc - your centre of gravity always keeps your posture correct. OMG I was so excited.

It arrived at the beginning of the week by a lovely looking guy in a baseball cap and sky blue eyes. Why is it that most delivery men are really cute - except the ones who work for our Royal Mail. My postman looks like Bernard Matthews and wore shorts all Summer. Not a pleasant sight at 8am of a morning.

So after a quick assembly job I was straight into my room for a test sit. Wow it was really comfortable and I could feel how it was making me sit right. If I moved to pick up a cup or answer my phone it rocked forward and kept my posture right. This was the beez kneez! In a quiet moment or when I was on phone calls I could rock gently back and forward and it was very soothing and relaxing.

So far so good.

Right I'm sure that I am not the only bloke in the country to keep a collection of nice pictures on his PC for those moments when some tension needs to be relieved. Well I have these moments fairly frequently and was about to christen the rocking marvel.

This is when I started to realise I had a problem. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get myself into a suitable comfortable position to do the deed. Everytime I thought I was right and moved my arm or touched the mouse to view a picture I was rocking backwards and forwards. Now you would think that backwards and forwards would seem like an ideal motion to get you going but for some reason this feels so unsafe and unsexy that no matter how hard I tried to keep the chair still I was wobbling around and this had a very dampening affect on the below the waist action.

Shit! - a £200 chair that has an anti-wank feature!

Not one to give up I thought I'd move the chair around. Tried it backwards, sideways with my legs balanced on a drawer, pressed up against the raidiator so it wouldn't rock. Nothing workd and each postion was getting more uncomfortable than the last. I was breaking out in a sweat by now and getting more tense by the minute cos i could see the pics on my monitor.

AHA! I'm a genius! Rocker against skirting board, legs stretched out and resting on my scanner. Was a bit precarious but it was working at last. I'd be able to enjoy myself again without having to have 2 chairs in my room.

Just as I was getting even more happy my housemate knocks on the door and my house of cards wank arrangement collapses and I land up in a heap on the floor twisting my back and pulling my uplighter down on top of me in the process.

I'm shouting 'Just a minute' to my housemate whilst trying to get into my shorts semi erect. I'm semi erect in both senses of the word. My back is well and truly put out and my willy is not best please either.

I got to the door, wincing at the seering pain shooting up and down my leg and back. He's not there! I call him and ask what he wanted. 'Oh it's OK I found them' he says. 'Found what?' I say. 'My keys' he says........................................

Unstable Cable Fable

Woke up today in the right place. Not as strange as it might sound. I have been prone to falling asleep on the sofa recently and waking up with a crooked neck more trashed specs. So actually sleeping in my bed was a bit of a novelty.

So that was a good start and not even the dollop of dog sick in the hall was gonna dampen my mood.

Things started to go a bit skew-wiff around 11 when I was getting concerned that the Cable Guy hadn't appeared yet. I was having a box swap today and the 8-12 slot was getting narrower by the minute. I waited 20 more minutes and decided to check that he was on his way. I was dying for a poo and a shower and knew full well that the moment I sat on the bog and dropped one the doorbell would ring. A very nice lady called Helen told me that the system said my appointment was 1-6pm!!!!!!! I checked my email and it deffo said 8-12 but remained calm - nothing was gonna spoil my good mood.

Meetings and phone calls next and before you know it -it's 1.15 and I've de-poo'd but still not showered. Best wait for the Cable Guy I thought.

Around 3 he turns up. Cheerful looking guy with his pants hanging round his thighs and some grey Next undies on full display. He asks me 'What you having done mate?' Now call me old fashioned but I was kinda expecting that he would KNOW what he was here for. I explained that I was expecting to have one of the new model Digital Boxes installed. He says 'I thought that's what you were gonna say'. Scratched his head and said 'That's a problem then cos I don't have any'????????????

I'm still calm.

He says he'll get his boss to get him the box and he'll be back shortly. In the meantime he would go off and do another job. Gave me his mobile number - nice touch - maybe he fancied me I thought later.

17.55 - and still no sign and I'm minging. It's really hot and humid here and I'm definitely not cool any more. No answer from his mobile and can't get through to Service Centre.

Stuff it I thought and decided he weren't coming and made and ate dinner. called my mate and said would be round to watch BB and have a few drinks.

19.01 - doorbell goes. It's him. Full of apologies. In he swaggers and swaps the boxes. Everything going fine and he's chatting away about Big Brother and X-Box. Box doesn't work. Fiddles for an hour and still no joy. Told him I had to go out so he put my old box back and told me his Supervisor would be around in a couple of minutes to pick up the box. Off he goes pulling up his pants.

I get's back inside and find that I've lost ALL my channels - starting to hyperventilate now.

Supervisor arrives and fiddles for another half hour - HOORAY he's got nice new box working.

Before he left I looked in my bedroom and guess what - no signal on my 2nd box now!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was unconsciously muttering F words now. 20 minutes of him on the phone looking flushed as I stomped about and he finally manages to get it working.

He slopes of saying how sorry he is for all the inconvenience and I'm just grunting and directing him to the door.

I slam the front door, storm into the lounge with steam coming out my ears and stand on the dog!

How did that happen Hangover

Life sucks.

I was supposed to have an early night last night but oh no. Stayed up watching Big Brother drinking red wine........again!!!!!!!!!!!

This morning my head was throbbing and my speach was punctuated with long gaps. Had an argument with a cocky train inspector, who had excessive hair gel, en-route to work. He'd overcharged me for the excess fare on my Travelcard but it was pointless even attempting to argue as I kept stumbling over my words and was breaking out in a cold sweat so I just coughed up the dosh and slumped back in my seat.

Was lambasted for being late to the meeting and the fact that everyone was backing away from me was a pretty good indication of the reek of stale booze. I wore my new Abercrombie & Fitch gear, but that didn't hide the fact that I'd only shaved part of my face, my eyes looked like one big red vein and even my hair was hurting.

I felt like I had a second heartbeat in my head, which was actually annoying Dawn from Training as she kept shifting her chair further and further away. Alcohol vapor was seeping out of every pore and making me feel dizzy. On the first of many toilet visits I see that I have toothpaste crust in the corners of my mouth.

My sphincter was in perpetual spasm and the first of about five shits I take during the day was so putrid it brought tears to the eyes of everyone in the bogs. I could hear 2 of them coughing and spluttering as I suffered in the cubicle. God I hate crapping in work toilets. Any further attempt to defecate resulted in a fire hose like discharge of alcohol-scented fluid with a few 'floaters' thrown in. The sole purpose of these 'floaters' seems to be to splash the toilet water all over my ass.

Somehow I managed to get through the day OK and I'm feeling reasonably human again.

Which probably means I'll have a 'night cap' tonight and replay today all over again tomorrow.

I blame the lack of nicotine - still an EX-SMOKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meeting Mumbo-Jumbo

I'm really hungover today. I'll blog about the events that led to my malaise tomorrow when I'm feeling a bit more human.

Just wanted to blog a quickie today regrarding the strangest conference call in history.

I had a conference call booked yesterday morning to discuss some training requirements. There was me and 4 colleagues attending. After I did the introduction my face drained as I suddenly realised that it was me and the only 4 people I know in the company with speech impediments..........all on the same call!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I spent the next hour desperately trying NOT to finish their sentences as they stammered and stuttered their way through the call. After half an hour I had completely lost the plot and had no idea what we were talking about. As I supressed the giggles, I was trying my best to record the minutes of the meeting and on three occasions I found my writing was stuttering with them.

We got through it but even today I can't make head nor tail of what I've written.

Don't get me wrong - I think they are really brave and admirable. It was just a very bizarre experience.

Carry On Croydon

Well the last 24 hours turned out to another worryingly bizarre day and I'm starting to think I'm in some secret Reality TV show. I'm expecting Ant n Dec to pop out of the linen basket soon or find Dale Winton hiding in the shed.

Things started calmly yesterday and I was having a nice birthday. Lots of cards and pressies and mates coming round for the evening for a few beers. Not sure they were coming to celebrate my birthday mind cos the England match was on and I have the biggest telly.

Spent the duration of the match chewing the ends of my fingers off and 2 of them are still bleeding where I caught a big bit and pulled huge chunks off flesh off in the process. The match was the usual England roller coaster. Her upstairs was having hysteria again and at one point I thought my Habitat ceiling fan was a goner at her jumping up and down. She's only small but when she's watching football it's like having Giants Haystacks on a pogo stick upstairs. Dis-allowed goal, extra time and penalty shoot out obviously followed and after Beckham sent his ball into orbit around Pluto you just knew things were not gonna go well. Outcome = inevitable.

I could hear the police sirens and helicopters already. The lesbians were out so no doubt they were trashing some pool table with their mates.

Just as we recovered from the match and sinking a few half pints of wine events took a turn for the bizarre.

Housemate has suddenly gone a bit mad on the whole dating scene and is juggling 4 f**k buddies. I think after the events of the last 24 hours he'll be cutting back.

About 00.30 he starts getting abusive drunken texts and voicemails from 1 of them which escalates into f**k buddy 1 driving round pissed as a fart and causing a big stink on the doorstep. Of course housemate is hiding in his room so muggins here is left to play British Bulldogs on the front path with a hysterical skinhead to stop him getting into the house. The dog decides to join the fracas but limits her involvement to ear piercing screeching from a safe distance in the hall. I manage to calm the skinhead down with threats of Police and a Glasgow kiss and he eventually staggers off back to his car, falling into the hedge and a recycling bin on his way.

I'm now more hyper and land up polishing off more wine before drifting off to bed fully clothed.

Had the worst hangover today. Really bad. Nothing worked. Alka Seltzer, Berroca, hot bath, water, cooked breakfast. Haven't done a poo yet either which is a bit disturbing.

About 16.00 f**k buddy number 2 arrives for the weekend and everything going fine until a couple of hours later when the doorbell goes. I answer it and there's f**k buddy 3 standing there with a bunch of flowers. OMG. What do I do. Panic stricken I take him into the lounge. My mouth's not working properly and the hangover suddenly appears to take a turn for the worse so I can't get my words out properly and just keep saying 'You OK mate'. I shut him in the lounge. Luckily housemate and f**k buddy 2 are downstairs so I'm now thinking 'How do I get housemate upstairs'. After mind racing for a few minutes I decide to call him on his mobile. He answers it saying 'WTF are you phoning me. I'm here'. I explain the predicament and he comes upstairs looking flushed with eyes like organ stops.

So the plan we hastily come up with is that he will chat with f**k buddy 3 in the lounge whilst I keep f**k buddy 2 occupied downstairs. Brilliant! Except after 10 minutes f**k buddy 2 decides he wants a fag and heads for the stairs. I consider a rugby tackle or maybe locking him in the downstairs loo but he's too fast. We go out for a fag and thankfully not been spotted. However mid-ciggie I turn round and see housemate and f**k buddy 3 looking at us from the Kitchen.

The game's up and I'm thinking I can't cope with more brawling. However housemate just introduces everybody and we all land up chatting on the patio for 20 minutes about nothing in particular. Housemate is sweating profusely by this stage but it all goes off without a hitch and eventually f**k buddy 3 says his farewells and departs.

I think we're off the hook...............for now.

On a lighter note I went out for another fag about an hour later and caught next door's cat mid-poo on my flower bed. It got such a fright when I appeared that it jumped about 2 feet in the air and the last bit of poo shot out at high velocity and hit the fence LMAO!

Bumps, Beds and Soggy Bottom

I think I'm turning into Frank Spencer!

Having recovered from the D&G spectacle debacle I was enjoying a relatively tranquil day yesterday. The sun was shining and I was chuffed that I'd managed to complete all my work tasks by the early afternoon. Well you know that expression pride comes before a fall > I wanna slap the supercilious git who coined that phrase!

First of all I went arse over tip trying to get to my mobile phone and smacked my head on the wardrobe. I'm sure I didn't leave my gym bag there. Maybe the dog is getting it's revenge for the breakfast incident.

When I get up in the morning she usually rushes through to the kitchen with me to get her breakfast. Strange that she staggers about the place looking like she's an arthritic pensioner until there's any mention of food and suddenly she's whizzing about like she's on speed. Anyway I gets to the kitchen and there's no sign of her. I call her name but still nothing. I start to worry and walk back through to the lounge only to find her struggling across the room dragging her bed which had somehow attached itself to her back leg. Of course my initial reaction was to fall about laughing and she didn't take kindly to that and started whimpering. I gave her a reassuring kiss and tried to get her free from the bed attachment but the threads have got themselves well and truly tangled around her paw and her whimpering escalates for more dramatic affect.

I need to get scissors to cut her free so leave her while I go back to the kitchen and the whimpering takes on a 'don't leave me' tone. Back and armed I wrestle with the thread for about 5 minutes trying not to hurt her while she shrieks everytime the scissors go anywhere near her paw. At last she's free and somehow immediately forgets about her trauma and rushes through to the kitchen, tail wagging and dancing round her food bowl.

So I'm convinced she set the gym bag trap to get her revenge for the morning ordeal but luckily no more face damage - just a lump on the head to remind me that SHE is the boss.

Watched the footie in the evening and had some laffs with my forum buddies and prepared to watch Big Brother. Thought I'd pour myself a glass of red wine and recline on my Linda Barker. Grabbed the box of Bantrock Station and a glass and proceeded to the lounge. Just as I get through the door things went slow-motion. The bottom falls out of the box and the sack splatters on the carpet gushing red wine everywhere - carpet, sofa, walls, Next cushions!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The horror unfolding before my eyes freezes me to the spot for what seemed like forever. I manage to grab the sack and stop the deluge and run through to the kitchen, dump the remains in a casserole dish and run back armed with paper towels. 2 rolls later and the place is still sodden so I raid the towel cupboard and continue with the frantic mopping. Next thing housemate walks in and looks at me like I've just slaughtered the first born of every family in Croydon and without saying anything he stomps off to the shed. I'm hyper-ventilating now.

Back armed with one of those Aqua Carpet Cleaner things he takes over with a sarcastic 'I'll do it' look on his face. Huffing and puffing just to make sure I feel worse that I already do. 20 minutes later it's looking much better but we'll have to wait till it dries before we know if we've managed to get the stain out.

After a couple of fags to de-stress we polish off the remains of the wine from the casserole dish and retire to bed.

I'm sure I caught a glimpse of the dog smiling to herself before I closed the bedroom door!

The Dolce & Gabbana Spectacle

Now I have never been a huge fan of MSN because I'm rubbish at typing fast. I do however have a special MSN buddy who makes me laff before bedtime so was traumatised to discover I couldn't log on the other night. After much cursing at MSN and Hotmail I thought I'd snuggle under the duvet and watch a bit of telly. Wondering if there would be any more punch ups in the BB house.

Next thing I know I'm waking up with with something poking into my cheek. Lifting my head off the pilow to be confronted in the semi-darkness with my D&G specs staring back at me in bits. I was still half alseep so anger didn't hit me at that precise moment. Instead I just kinda stared at them for a bit - well 4 bits to be precise. After what seemed like an age I pulled a stroppy face and rolled over to check the time and sent the bed side lamp flying across the room taking the clock, my mobile phone and a bottle of Nivea sensitive balm with it. Needless to say the dog starts having hysteria at all this commotion. I slump out of bed screaming abuse at the dog and pick up the debris from the floor. It's 6.50 am on a Saturday morning!

Oh and did I mention that the tv is still on but has somehow changed from E4 to MTV Dance in the night and on comes Alice Deejay singing about it how we're 'Better off alone'................Belgian Bitch!

So I chase the dog down the hall to the kitchen muttering obscenities. Make a cup of coffee and chuck some Cesar in her dish to shut her up. Was just about to go back to bed when housemate surfaces in his Littlewood boxer shorts, smelling of stale Stella. I apologise for waking him and make more coffee aware that he's looking at me funny. I know I'm no oil painting in the morning but this is a bit unsettling. Finally he says 'What happened to you'. What did he mean? 'Your face'.

I go into the bathroom and there before me is what can only be described as a seagull attack! My face is covered in scratches. All over. With a chunk of flesh hanging off the end of my nose! How could the D&Gs have caused so much damage? Mind you looking at the pillow carnage it must have been quite a fracas during the night.

After a shower and an application of Tea Tree lotion the visage was looking slightly better but blimey - what a mess.

Had to go shopping to Sainsbury so I covered up in a baseball cap and sunglasses 'a la Posh Spice' to hide the chopped up face and just drew more attention to myself.

Bumped into fat bloke and his noisy bird from over the road (the pair that leave their windows open during love-making just so we can all hear her sounding like she's having her wisdom teeth extracted with a spanner) and she asks why I'm in disguise.

So I take the cap and glasses off and she says 'Oh Steps my Mum's got a cat like that'???????????????????????????????????????? I didn't feel inclined to tell it was a pair of D&G specs.

Lesbian Shoe Throwing 2004

I found a shoe in my garden this morning. Well I say a shoe but it was more of a faux Kickers ankle boot. It was a size 6 so it couldn't be mine and housemate is a 9 so it's not his.

I was pondering this strange uninvited guest over coffee and a fag after disposing of 4 Molly poos.........that dog must be 90% bowel the size of these muthas.

Anyways I got to thinking about football for some reason and the affect it has on Lesbians. Did I tell you we have Lesbians at the bottom of our garden. They are like foxes really. Never see them during the day but what a bloody racket they make when they kick off. We've had 2 outburst recently following the England games in Euro 2004.

Last Sunday we could hear them whooping and screaching during the game. Come full time and things went quiet for a while. Next thing the pair of them are hurling abuse at each other, doors are slamming and their German Shepherd is going nuts in the garden in between chucking itself at the living room window. No doubt trying to get in there to split them up.

OK so post-match madness is not restricted to our Lesbians. Apparently the entire contents of the Walkabout pub in Croydon spilled out after the match and mugged a tram and jumped on car roofs just to make sure everyone knew they were pissed off. We had helicopters circling for hours.

Yesterday the England boys were at it again and needless to say the Lesbians were on the terraces in spirit. Singing and cheering they're hearts out. They were ecstatic at the result and played Three Lions over and over again until one lager too many and the fireworks started again. This fight lasted another hour, indoors and out, until a police car rolled up and tranquility was restored again.

The point of this rambling is that it's strange the affect that alcohol can have on people. I'm lucky. I just get happy/daft and then fall alseep but some people get so aggressive and argumentative irrespective of whether or not they have had a good time.

Any-road-up - I've just been trying to assemble the washing airer that I got from B&Q yesterday and who should be hanging over the fence but Lesbian No 1. The one with the long mullett that looks like Gene Simmons from KISS but less attractive.

'Hey Steps' she says. 'Can I have my shoe back'

Take-a-way Terror

So housemate says to me he needs a hand getting new fencing from B&Q today. Fair enough I thought and off we go in the van to Purley Way.

Now I'm a really nervous passenger in a car since I was involved in an accident a few years back so not a great car partner on busy roads. Needless to say Purley Way was like Whacky Races as per usual and after a couple of near misses and cut-ups the old palms are sweating and the colour is draining from my face. Not helped by the fact that my mate is effing and blinding at everyone and it's starting to feel like I'm in that truck scene from Teminator 3.

So we finally get to B&Q and I escape from the van and breathing returns to normal by the time we enter the corrugated kingdom. Wandered around aimlessly for about ten minutes before approaching a B&Q assistant in ill fitting black shorts exposing his blue legs. The chirpy chappy tells us I need to go to aisle 46 for a clothes airer and mate should go outside for fencing.

We go our seperate ways and forget to arrange a meeting place.....of course. Needless to say we spend the next half hour playing hide and seek up down the aisles. I finally bump into him in Kitchens and he's sweating buckets after dragging the fencing around the store looking for me and gives me one of them 'where the hell have you been' looks. I decide it's best not to get into a barney and just smile and help him drag the trolley up to the checkout.

As we approaching the van my heart sinks. I'm looking at the size of the fencing and thinking 'this lot is never gonna fit in there'. My mate see's the panic on my face and tries to comfort me by saying 'Don't worry - we're gonna put it on the roof'.

OK so I'm thinking how the hell are we gonna fix this lot to the roof? He must have a plan I thought.

We lift the 6 peices of fencing (6' square BTW) on to the roof of the van after much puffing and blowing and 3 splinters.

My mate then produces an ancient washing line that looks as if it would snap under the weight of a pair of wet jeans and we proceed to lash the timber mass to the roof. My stress levels are rising again at the prospect of driving home with this lot wobbling around up there.

We start off on the journey home and after the 6th roundabout there is definitely something stirring above and a quick look back reveals the washing line is sagging. It's at this point we hit the busy road again and we are propelled onto the Purley Way with about a ton of fencing dancing on the roof.

I'm now visibly shaking and mate says 'Don't worry. It'll be fine'. The words had just left his mouth when a bloke on a motorbike pulls alongside waving frantically. I'm sweating now and think I'm having a seizure. My mate almost doesn't see the traffic changing and slams on the brakes. I grip the dashboard and shut my eyes. We're OK it's still there.

The motorcyclist is alongside again and tells mate that the washing line is unravelling and trailing behind the van. I'm expecting mate to pull up and tighten the line. Instead he says thanks to the bloke and off we go again down Purley Way. I think I'm gonna start crying by this time and too stressed to say anything. I just sit there with eyes closed and teeth and buttocks clenched thinking of ways to kill my mate and dispose of the body.

I think he was beginning to panic too by this stage and we slowed to a snail pace for the remainder of the journey and finally got home with the fencing in tact.

'That was fun' he says.

I've just finished putting his limbs in black bin bags and off down the local dump now!

Hello

Blimey so this is a Blog is it

Oh this should be fun :-)

Cryptic character assassinations (Jason take note! I know your binround)

Attention seeking 'boo hooing'

Telling all my mates how much I love them and how I will always be there for them.

Very personal revelations that really ought not to be in a public domain.

THIS IS GONNA BE WICKED!

Woooooooooooooooooooooo Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

LMAO