“Youth is not entirely a time of life; it is a state of mind. Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. People grow old by deserting their ideals. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubts; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.”
Douglas MacArthur
The Old Lady That Refused To Die
After more years than most can care to remember – and on the same day it was announced thousands of jobs are to leave Bradford for Leeds – at last some good news.
No – Hapless Hinchcliffe has not resigned but the efforts of Bradford Live have finally secured the future of the Odeon as a live music venue to rival anything of it’s size in the North – see here.
This is simply brilliant news and credit to Lee Craven and his team plus countless others before him who protected this jewel in our tattered crown from the wrecking balls and the ineptitude of Bradford Council.
An Old Lady Has An Orgasm
Following on from my distribution of free produce to the locals in The Scruffy, word came that one lady was far from pleased to have missed out.
So I made my way nervously to our local house of fun with a special gift wrapped offering for local diva Our Jackie. Fortunately, she was not in and so I left it with stand-in manager and full-time customer Graham.
As she was next on the following night, I fully expected the police helicopter to be circling Idle following reports of wolf-like howling down in the village.
It was quite a surprise to find that the helicopter had been out and about as usual, but that this was only for the weekly shootings, car chases and drug dealers.
Rumour had it Our Jackie had been saving the little tube of fun for the upcoming network premiere of Fifty Shades Of Grey. Based on the best seller clearly written by a three year-old – am I jealous as a struggling blog writer? – this has made millions.
The National Grid was said to be expecting a power surge akin to FA Cup Final day as 9pm last Sunday as women up and down the country shoved their menfolk to the pub laden with cash and a hearty “stay as long as you like love!”
To avoid disappointment Our Jackie had topped up her home generator with diesel and all was oiled…so to speak.
Unexpectedly I was greeted by the sight of her behind the bar last Sunday, munching her third packet of Quavers, the attractions of Slimmers World still lost on her.
Graham was still in ‘Nob ‘Ed Korna still pissed so the world was turning on it’s normal axis. Fortunately, he showed no signs of having been ravished down the cellar…not that he would have known.
It was then I discovered that Our Jackie had just obtained the well-used tube of lube. The Scruffy’s Saturday Swingers Club had had a lock-in apparently.
Several women had been seen wiggling excitedly home like belly dancers gasping “oohs” and “aahs” faces flushed, nervous menfolk having already given up on Match Of The Day.
“It’s going home wi’ me tonight!” said Our Jackie having already tried some in her hair. “Half of Idle had a go wi’ this so it’s my turn now.”
Notorious local doggers Tony & Lynn secretly squirted a drop in an empty Quavers bag and made their excuses, keen to liven up their wedding anniversary.
Nobody has seen Our Jackie since last Sunday and rumours abound as to her fate after a night in with the lube tube.
As for Graham, last seen fast asleep in the cellar, brother and landlord Michael thankfully survived a week in Benidorm and is now back at the helm.
One Hundred Years Ago
Carnage on the battlefield, ructions on and off the cricket field – read it all here.
Naked Ambition
Hapless was in the press this week calling for devolution for Yorkshire – see here – once again offering normal people an insight into why we despise politicians so much.
As Brexit threatens to derail one political gravy train, devolution for Yorkshire rolls into town. Hapless and her cronies just do not get it; we need less not more of her.
A Message To You Rudi
As the final test match of the summer began, Tuna Man and I took our respective sofas. The clouds were amassing outside, there was no more tuna in the cupboards and beg as he might, the central heating would not be going on just yet.
He looked out of the window quizzically.
“So that’s the end of summer? Was that it?” he asked somewhat disbelievingly.
I checked the temperature in Johannesburg and assured him it was just as cloudy there albeit 27C. Warm enough for real tuna.
Soon be home Rudi!
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