Fairy Tale Ending.

Once upon a time in the marvellous city of Manchester there were four lads who joined a boy band. Except it wasn’t called a boy band in 1990

They were joined by the Artful Dodger from the country hamlet of Stoke. The Five lads became more rich and famous that anyone could possibly imagine.

At this time there was a snotty Chemistry teacher who taught in the city. She cruelly mocked her female students about their devotion to these persons - until one day she saw them on the telly and thought they were sexy dancers (well not Gary Barlow obviously).

However, the Artful Dodger didn’t do team work, so harsh words were spoken. He left and got fat, then he got thin and then he became a mega superstar.

The other four turned into sad losers.

7 years later, in a different college, the Chemistry teacher met Oliver Orange who was in her A level Chemistry class. He was good looking, charismatic and energetic. He managed to pass his exams, go to uni and get an MSc in Chemistry. Then he too became a Chemistry teacher.

He often talked about his older brother Jason who was a bit depressed. So Jason signed on at the college himself to do an 'access course'…usually filled by young mums.

A brave move for an ex superstar.

Gary Barlow pretended that he preferred his piano and his kids to a having a hit record. Howard became a deejay and Mark was on CBB.

Then someone suggested a documentary.

Then the remaining four made a comeback.

On Monday there scenes of shrieking hysteria in HMV on Market Street.

And now they are at no 1 again....I do like a happy ending
KAZ

KAZ helps you out

Only 27 shopping days left.

Because you are all busy at work everyday (and some of you may even have a social life) you can’t be expected to find the time to search out the perfect presents for your loved ones.

So I’ve done the work for you.

No! Don’t thank me - I kinda enjoyed it.

I scanned some pics from a booklet that dropped out of the Radio Times (or similar). The others I found on the Wundaweb.

However, for the person who Really has everything, how about this?

Or if you can’t find the loo at the end of the party even on your hands and knees, you need a LavNav.



FULL Details here.

This is for Kev: What kind of sadist would invent this? I suppose it could be a member of AA.


Anyway I don’t think Kev will be getting a present this year do you?

To cheer up a friend who is feeling depressed - How about a death clock? Click here to find out more

Anyone would be delighted with this Big Maoi Tissue dispenser. Specially ‘dad’

Go on - You know you want it

And here’s one for Grandad:



But just to show that I’m not favouring homo erectus here’s something for Murph.



Happy to help.
Have nice Day
KAZ

The Importance of Being Idle

Reading recent news has disturbed my equilibrium a bit.
The latest shock was that Nancy Pelosi (age 66) is now the most powerful woman in the States. Instead of worrying about osteoporosis and renewing her bus pass she is seeking world domination.

Hillary Clinton will be well over 60 by the time she is President in 2008. (Aren’t Bill and Hill a bit like Tony and Gordon? Watch out for Cherie.)

Perhaps Ming the Lib (age 65) should try HRT. He gets a lot of stick, but Margaret Beckett was appointed Foreign Secretary at the same age.

OK I’m cuter than she is and I don’t do caravanning - but such information does corrode away at the foundations of my retirement philosophy.

After years and years of hard work I decided that I was due for a life of loafing. My plan was to be a free spirit, no schedule, no alarm clock, no meetings and no pressure. Goodbye to the tyranny of the timetable.

And anyway I sometimes get a slight pain in my left knee.

So why is all this news about post menopausal power undermining my hedonistic convictions?

I can assure you that arsing around and enjoying days free of constraint and responsibility is extremely interesting and entertaining. But, just maybe, I sometimes think I should be using my massive brain for the benefit of the human race. Maybe I’m still experiencing the work ethic or guilt.

It could be that wherever I go on a weekday it’s full of pensioners and baby buggies.

When Esther (ex colleague) retired she drew up a nightmare timetable. If it was Wednesday it was ping-pong - Thursday was God bothering - Fri … you get the drift. She taught maths, which might explain her failure of imagination.



Rob (ex husband) suggested a reading group. WHAT? Not me - I’d be in trouble straight away for not doing my homework. Anyway, I’m allergic to the word ‘group’

I loved Leo Sayer’s story about getting a phone call about Meck’s remix - *Thunder in my Heart Again* - which went to no 1 earlier this year.

He said ‘I was just sitting around and it happened out of the blue’.
KAZ

Living ICONS

Do you watch the Culture Show on BBC2?

I thought not. You’re probably at a posh dinner party or a riotous piss up on a Saturday night.

Last Saturday, Lady Heather’s (soon to be) ex husband was talking a load of old shite about 'Ecce Cor Meum' to Lauren Laverne (The thinking person’s Sarah Cox). During the chat it turns out that Paul had just remembered the sainted Linda!

Now, everyone has/had their favourite Beatle - I fell madly in love with George Harrison in 1963. He was my perfect man - shy, witty, thin, curmudgeonly and with lovely floppy hair.

I respected John and warmed to Ringo - especially after Thomas the Tank.

But I couldn’t love Paul. He tried too hard to please.

Lauren was trying to persuade us (unconvincingly) to vote for Paul as ‘Best British Living Icon’. NO!

But hard bitten as I am - one thing did soften my heart to old Paul.

He hasn’t had a facelift.

He looked like a little white prune with a small furry rodent on his head.
Remember - Money can’t buy you love youth.

Anyway - Who do you fancy for Best British Cultural Icon?
Here’s the list:

David ATTENBOROUGH
Alan BENNETT
David BOWIE
Kate BUSH
Michael CAINE
Stephen FRY
Paul MCCARTNEY
MORRISSEY
Kate MOSS
Vivienne WESTWOOD

How can I choose between Bennett and Bowie?
Of course it has to be Bowie.

You can vote over here ….and don’t forget to tell me who you chose.
KAZ

Accessories

I’m a city dweller, but I often visit Barbara in a small town in Tameside.

The girls are dead smart round there. They wear bum starver padded gilets with fur trimmed hood. Below this is a bum starver denim skirt with frayed hem worn over black leggings and pointy shoes. Hair is highlighted à la Maria from Corrie and the ‘bigger the better’ gold hoop Gypsy Rose Lee earrings set it all off a treat.

But - the indispensable ‘must have’ fashion accessory is a small child in a large buggy with bull bars, hood, raincover and capacious shopping container.

No male companion is ever observed.

The local buses have 2 spaces with first priority given to wheelchairs and then to a maximum of one buggy per space. So when 4 of these mega buggies struggle onto the bus, mayhem follows.

The driver doesn’t give a toss - so the girls fight it out.

It beats reality TV any day. Or even Simon King’s red deer rut on Rum.

I’m waiting for the day when a macho wheelchair user gets on and claims priority.
KAZ

Lost in Translation!

I agree with Vicus that 'No bugger reads your Saturday post' so I thought you might like to look at this sachet from Barcelona railway station.

It contained sugar and a stirrer.

Bonka is the coffee and Ars is the café.
KAZ

We need to talk about Kevin.

While the cat’s away ….

THINGS I DID WHILE KEV WAS AWAY.

Bought a special posh glass and drank champagne cava in the bath.

Saw my ex husband (Rob) and listened very patiently (yawn) to his tales of AA meetings. He thinks he’s the bees knees now he belongs to the same club as Jane Tennyson/Helen Mirren.

Is there a Blogaholics Anonymous?

Went to Yorkshire (!!) twice and admired the imposing appearance of Huddersfield.
Saw the Hockney Exhibition in Bradford with Eileen and Norma (From Bradford to Hollywood and back again). It was so sunny that Bradford looked like Paris.

Saw The History Boys film .. marvellous .. I can’t understand the poor reviews. Lads are so funny before they start talking about house values and cholesterol levels.

You have to hand it to Yorkshire - Hockney and Bennett are both wonderful and they both declined knighthoods.

Hired a man.*

Watched a lot less telly - but didn’t miss Corrie.

Achieved a lifetime’s ambition - I put up a shelf.

Didn’t feel a pressing need to support Everton (though they are doing a lot better than Rovers).

Bought disgustingly expensive mega gigantic king tiger prawns to put in my stir fry

Wore stripey tights

KAZ

* to fix the electrics

Rebecca and Sara

Dear Bloggers,

Thank you for your suggestions and support in connection with the ejaculating tube of Vitapointe.

I think of you whenever I look at my lustrous blonde tresses enhanced by the Charles Worthington and Sunsilk products you recommended.

I haven’t tried the extra virgin yet.

I sent an email to Rebecca Addison and Sara Lee customer relations department. I referred them to the post and pointed out that it was second on Google blog search for Sara Lee and first for Vitapointe.

Over the next few days I had lots of hits from Sara Lee.

Rebecca still hasn’t replied but someone called Lois Sharma wrote back. She told me that Rebecca was a highly valued member of her team who had received many testimonials from *satisfied customers*.
The fault was caused by a *rare technical problem with the crimping machine*.
She then said would I accept ten quid and the dry cleaning bills paid in full.

Well that’s a bit more like it .. As you said ‘The power of the blog!’

I tried to persuade Rebecca to post a comment - but she must be shy. I still haven’t heard from her

I’m a trifle puzzled by the advert above. I know A is for apple so P is for pomme. But what is H for? That little chap in the Tommy Cooper hat looks like he’s strong - so is it F for Fort? Why is that fish sitting on that woman’s head? And what’s it all got to do with Vitapointe?

Perhaps Rebecca will congratulate me. It’s my blogging birthday tomorrow.

Yes - it’s ONE year since I started. I believe that bonfires are to be lit all across the country in celebration.
KAZ