Wednesday, 25 June 2008
P lives in horse country - the little blighters are everywhere - clip clopping down our country lanes...snorting in our hedgerows and krapping on the road.
Unfailingly, P is polite - moves the dogs away - slows down the car - doffs his cap (if he had one it would be doffed). The model of propriety, decorum and Good Citizenship. Horse riders smile at The P, doff their caps and acknowledge P's gentitlity.
That's the way it is. But P lovers - hear the words of The P -
Once P lost it with a horse - and this is a moral tale for you all. Have you ever lost it with a horse?
P was in his Volvo Estate - couple of kids in the back - mate in the front - coming back from "Dads and Lads camp" - mates and P take their lads for a weekend of camping, footie, camp fires and lager....in the country.
So...we come around a corner in the car - to find two big beefy women on two beefy horses. Big arms - big legs - big thighs - big enough to snap your spine like a twig(the women I mean).
Beefy gals signal furiously to The P to slow down - lot of arm waving - lot of grimacing - lot of guffawing...lot of pointing.....ANGRY BIG WOMEN.
So P slows down but then copies all of their arm movements, the waving, the grimacing, the pointing and the guffawing. A wonderful spectacle to behold: P in full flight. BRILLIANT.
So beefy girls clip-clop up to P's car - stand by P's driver's window on their horses and calls P an "Ignorant Gitt". Well P lovers - that was it!!
P had started.
P waits for horses to clip-clop to back of His car and lets it ripp on the car horn. Absolutely wacked that horn.
P HIT THE MOTHER OUT OF THAT HORN - IF A HORN HAD EVER BEEN MOTHERED IT WAS THAT HORN.
Not just a BEEP, but a PBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.BLOODY....BBBBBBEEEEEEPPPPPP...
Hitting that horn - totally wacking that bleedin' horn.
And wow! SEE those horses MOVE! See those girls hit that saddle.
It was like the bleedin rodeo had come to town.
Like the wild west - BUCKING BRONKOES......big horses and big gals - red faces and fury.....HIT THAT HORN...MR P.
My Gawd - those horses just legged it well down the road...and them big girls? Well they were MAD as a bag of squirrels.
But once they'd gathered their wits, they came galloping back towards The P. So P hits the horn again....BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP....and off they go once more like a bleedin Rodeo.
Hey NEDDY...whoa Girl......BUCK THAT PONY.
Then P drove off. Fun over.
How juvenile was that? Unbelievable! What an example to the kids eh? Kids said:
"Dad..that was mad".
My kids still laugh about it - but my mate was dumb struck. He's moved to Australia now, but I bet he will carry the image to his grave of those big beefy girls and those big horses - doing the rodeo......in sweet, sweet olde England.
I am sorry for 99.9% of the bad I have ever done in my life; but sorry for my actions that day?
NAW - IT WAS BRILLIANT.
Horse riders: be polite to us road users.
Road users: be polite to polite horse riders.
LESSON OVER P CLUB....LESSON OVER.
Sunday, 22 June 2008
But having kids (especially girls) - P's used to it. But here's the story:
Contacted an old pal by email out of the blue. Tracked him down and wanged off a message - nothing elaborate - just "Hello ole mate..." that sort of thing.
Heard nothing for weeks - and then he replied....
....and what a shocker...what a reply!! Oh me Gawd - Bloody-Gobb-smacked I was.
Because instead of saying "Hey me ole mate...long time no-hear...." oh no nothing that prosaic - instead the cheeky bugger said:
I DON'T REMEMBER YOU.
YEA - NOT EVEN THE NAME RANG ANY BELLS.
DUH? YOU HAVING A LAUGH?
P picks himself up of the floor and replies - suggesting a few events to trigger his memory:
1. You remember - we worked in the summer camp teaching drama to students for 6 weeks - every year ?
2. We shared a room? - (for bleedin' heck's sake)
3. P always in trouble - snogging too many girls- nearly got sent home every year?
4. We went to Blackpool together for a day?
"NOPE NO BELLS RINGING"
OH STRIKE ME DOWN!
So P sends another email:
6. P introduced you to your wife? I was with some other bird...nice looking...I even stayed at your wife's parents' house...with you....you.... YOU DICK.
"OH IT'S COMING BACK NOW".
Oh, it's on it's way back? Nice one - starting to come back eh? That's just great...I am so bleedin' grateful.....oh joy.....how bloody impressive.
WELL - TOO BLEEDIN' LATE NOW OLE BUDDIE...TOO LATE...
....IF YOU GOT TO DREDGE P UP FROM THE BOTTOM OF YOUR MEMORY...
...THAT'S JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
So P Club what does this all mean? What lessons can we take from this sad little story?
The obvious one: Perhaps P isn't memorable. We are heroes in our own minds, but to others - just so forgettable.
But this can't be true... P would stick in your mind. BELIEVE ME. P is not easy to forget...He is after all "The Famous Mr Pineapples". So that cannot be it.
So what else? What else explains this vile forgetfulness?
The reason must be this: (and it's shocking):
SOME FOLKS LIVE IN THE PERPETUAL PRESENT.....(like pets)....WITHOUT ANY TRACKER TO THE PAST
But that is so foreign to The P....so alien that is has shaken me all up.
I spend a lot of my life thinking about what has gone before: collecting and organising the past: friends, former girlfriends, things I felt and said, lessons learned - all that sort of krap.
I divide and order my life in blocks of events, of people, places, times, dates. I apportion it into eras and play it back like a video in my head.
The past is always with me - hanging like a worn and easy coat.
I remember so much - but it all adds up to make me what I am. What has gone helps me understand and interpret what is happening now.
Am I normal in that regard? I used to think I was. Aint so sure now. Perhaps I am unique. Perhaps strange and odd?
Come to think of it Mrs P don't live in the past like me - to her - what is past has passed. She thinks I waste my life thinking about what has gone.
Bloody hell - it's been an eye-opener...let me tell you.
As for my ole mate? Forget it.....he's history.
Monday, 16 June 2008
Ten things you need to know about The P - hit me with your 10 things......HIT ME
1. Have an Italian family - wine producers - Northern Italy - and here's the thing: None of the Weird Buggers drink wine. I swear to Gawd it's true. We have thousands of gallons of the red and white stuff in the cellars and the pillocks wont touch it. P takes friends to Italy to play tennis - they are the only daft sods who will drink the wine. They get fundamentally pissed before breakfast. Once played tennis with a mate who had drunk 11 glasses of red before 9 o’clock in the morning - I hammered him on the court and rubbed it in big time - THE SOAK. P's family couldnt give a monkeys who comes to the Italian houses - gang of Hells Angels? Didnt even notice them.
2. P has had a lot of beatings in His time - for instance: got caught in a park once - sitting on a bench - approached by gang of 5 idiots - asked P if He could swim (strange question no doubt)...P's mates had legged it by then. P said "Yea....and?....." Next thing - one of the dicks had booted P in the face and the rest joined in, kicking and punching big time - P got a major beating. This is life in the UK. Does it resonate??? Does it??
3. The Greatest Compliment paid to The P: "You treat everyone the same you do..."
4. P's best friends (at the sake of sounding Krap) - His wife and kids. P dont allow them to run around amok (the kids) - and He keeps good control. But the kids actively want to be with P and Mrs P - we have such a Bleedin' Laugh. Kids are the greatest. So much bad stuff happening to kids in society today - neglect and selfishness. Makes you weep.
5 P loves: kind and considerate people - it is a STRENGTH. A cliche - but Notice how folk treat those who are not important to them e.g. waiters -anyone who acts in a superior manner towards those folks gets the P write off. Dicks and frauds. Everyone is equal - regardless of class, status, job....Preach it P.
6. P used to break into houses (in His youth). Did a few jobs - broke in - didn't steal a thing - simply re-arranged the furniture. It was my surrealist phase. Never got caught. Have never stolen a thing in my life...
7. P has a bag full of faults: main one - gets bored easy and takes risks to perk things up. Can get depressed with the same old shit. P needs noise and activity. Is manic in the morning - ridiculously cheerful - plays "All Right Now" top volume 7am. Missus P - is not "Alright" at 7am and kicks P's arse big time. P has radio or music or TV on in every room. It masks a death wish - the whisper of time passing....passing......passing....drown it out....drown it out.....drown it out...
8. P thinks 1970's Rock is the greatest: T-Rex, Bee-Bop Delux, Black Sabbath, ZZ Top - OH Good Gawd !!
9. P hates Public Schools and Public School Boy twerps. We must have a meritocracy. If these privileged little shits get a leg-up when it comes to Oxford and Cambridge then the little toads need to earn it. Any comprehensive kid should need 3 Bs to get in whilst the Public School boy shit needs to get 4 As - it makes sense don’t it?
10. P loves sports - boxing is the most noble of them all. Every kid must be taught how to fight - P allows his boys to scrap - never discourages it. P kids have had some brilliant public scraps. Most notable one - in centre of Rome. Beating two colours of poo out of each other whilst the liver lilied Italians formed a circle and watched. Best entertainment those pillocks had had in years. P had to break it up as it started to get out of hand. P in a great mood and tried to take on a few of the crowd. None of the Buggers interested. Pathetic.
You tell us your 10 facts - go on you lurkers....have some guts....tell us your 10.
Tuesday, 10 June 2008
What a day I had yesterday:
European Football Cup - Italy lost 3-0 to the bleedin' Dutch; got the dogs draped in the Italian flags - little good it did. Made the kids laugh - but no Voodoo magic there.
But that's not the worst of it. I smacked my head with the car door again.
Getting in the car - opens door - heavy - SMACK - straight in the head. Got a cut going from the top of my left eye to half way down my nose. Get in the car - blood streaming down face - kids concerned.
"What happened dad?"
"Smacked my head with the car door"
"Why d'ya do that dad?"
"Cos I'm a pillock".
Kids dabbing head with tissues - clucking concerns.
Get into the house - wife sees me - and absolutely cracks up....laughing, .....no sympathy whatsoever.
Trouble is: got to give a closing speech in Court today. What do I look like? Like a man attacked with a machette. Suspicious.
Is it only me that smacks car door in the head?
Last time I did it - September. Wife had her two (very nice) friends to tea (husband and wife). Mr P had never met them. Came back from work about 8 o'clock - parked car - closed car door and then opened it again to get my bag.
SMACK! CAR DOOR IN THE HEAD.
Hit head so hard - I fell and lay on the grass for a couple of minutes in a daze.
Eventually walked into the house - with mud all over my trousers and a lump on my forehead the size of a golf ball - blood trickling down my shirt as well.
Walks straight into kitchen and wife introduces me to the friends.
"Oh - me Gawd! What's happened to you" - hand on mouth - startled - concerned.
"Hit the car door in my head".
The whole room just cracks up - laughing - even these new friends - who I've never met - no decorum whatsoever. And not one of them suggested I lie down - have a glass of water - think it through. Stuff like that.
Just made em all laugh. They were borderline cheering.
I mean - Bloody Hell!!
Still it broke the ice I suppose. There they were - expecting to meet the famous barrister - and what do they get?
Don’t know what the Judge is going to make of me today.
That's life eh?
Saturday, 7 June 2008
How many times has The P been down the school for cosy chats with headmaster - senior teacher - form tutor?
P needs His own room down there - so when problems brew He can pop out and say -"Trouble? Here I am - let's sort it."
Yesterday...little P in school. Big lardie mouthing him. Totally out of the blue. Problem is that kids know my boys are boxers and the idiots try it on in front of their mates. To look the part - the hard man.
The Little Ps are not the biggest of lads in the school but they are not at all small. They are all fit as whippets and have real muscles. So anyone picking on a little P - is either a mentalist or on a death wish.
So little P shrugs and walks away (Mr P's advice - walk away - stay from trouble).
But lardie - then shouts out some filthy stuff about little P's mother (who he's never met - and knows nothing about). Can you bleedin' believe it?
Little P turns - says "What?" - nothing more - just "What?"
Lardie gets all arsie, more mouthing, and Lardie makes a big MISTAKE: he takes little P on and comes at little P with hands down.
BAD BLEEDIN' MOVE. (I wasnt there - it's just what I've heard).
So little P hits him with a straight right and then a left hook. So easy it's laughable.
Listen P club - If you're going to crack someone (and I say this to my boys) - you must do it with bunches of punches; never one punch in isolation - always a combination. Your combos must be hard wired into the system - and that comes through practice and repetition; so a left hook always follows a straight right, and a body punch follows in turn.
BANG, ZING, POP.
Anyway - lardie - gets hit hard and falls on his arse in the dirt.
FIGHT OVER - DONE, DUSTED
Okay - so Little P hauled before headmaster and suspended.
Can you believe it? SUS-BLOODY-SPENDED
P comes home from work finds little P waiting on the stairs for Him - worried - scared to tell P the latest school news. Little P does his story - says he's sorry - for all the latest trouble etc....etc...
Scared that I'm going to be disapointed with him.
Well P is very disapointed.
ONLY TWO PUNCHES???
Little P should have followed up with a left to the body and then a knee in the teeth.
If you don't let pratts like that feel the pain - well next time - who knows eh?
Anyway - so it's off to school for P - for another cosy chat.