Keeping It Real With Kathy Beale

Keeping it Real

Thursday night….a school night..and there I am ‘twatted’, (drunk that is…not a Welsh person’s name).

I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since Christmas Day, partly because the situation hasn’t arisen, and also because I’ve been dosed up on steroids, and the new medication for arthritis (Mincer’s Hip).

So I really needed a good night out and a chance to let my hair down with the husband and a few friends. Feeling like hermits in recent weeks, just the thought of leaving the house gave us the opportunity to have a good pluck of those eyebrows and trim our bushes. The hair on my chest was longer than the hair on my head!

Karaoke at the Rose and Crown…yes I know…true to stereotype, but I do like a good belter and since giving up smoking, Im sounding more and more like Gary Barlow every day..so it would be rude not to get smashed and bang out a few crowd-pleasers to our adoring fans.

Our friend Kerry arrived and we made haste into town without so much as a warm up drink, (we had no mixers). We were shortly joined by Rick, Ross, Katy and her mate…who I’m ashamed to say I was too drunk to catch her name.. I’ll call her…erm.. Lesbian.

You always know when Ross arrives that it’s going to be a messy night, and true to form we downed a few shots along with the obligatory Vodka and Diet Cokes, and started to form our own band. Rick had brought his air guitar, Kerry threw some shapes and we all lip synced for our lives to everyone else songs. The husband and I also had a good go at murdering George Michael. (I realise how terribly insensitive and premature it is to say that….but I meant ‘Don’t let the sun go down on me’)

Half way through the night we were treated to an elongated interval of ‘Play your cards right’. When  the 14th contestant still hadn’t won, it was time to disrupt proceedings by setting off the fire alarm with my super vaping e-cig. The Manager came round with the search committee, looking for the culprit and promptly challenged me on whether I had been vaping directly under the fire alarm.

“Of course not!”, I confirmed …as I peered through the cloud of smoke… like Diane Fossey in “Gorillas in the Mist”

Nevertheless… my plan seemed to work and the air-guitar was go again!  A bit of Girls Aloud, Steps and some 80s nostalgia, that only I seemed to know the words to, because everyone else is like…12 years old.

At the end of the night the music stopped and we were sat pondering which taxi firm to order, that would take us home,via McDonalds,when suddenly our saviour … Kathy Beale arrived to our rescue. Obviously not the real Kathy Beale, but we’ve seen her there a few times and…well..she bloody looks likes her. Kathy said she would take us home via McDonalds in return for an apple pie….you can’t say fairer than that. (Albeit we were a little wary as we knew Kathy had ‘previous’ for ‘looking after men’ in cars)

While Kathy fetched the car from the car -park we sat and observed a pikey couple having a lover’s tiff. I think he’d tried to grab her…this was in Hemel Hempstead…not Appleby Horse Fair.

We honoured our promise of  apple pie for Kathy Beale and also a large meal each, 20 nuggets and mozzarella dippers ..you don’t like to be rude. We sped home, said farewell to Kathy, ate our food and collapsed where we sat.

The next morning, the flashbacks started to come through and we vaguely recalled the Eastenders star taking us home, when the realisation suddenly kicked in. My husband had left his phone in Kathy Beale’s car.  How would we find it? We didn’t know who this lady really was, or where she lived but I was suddenly transported into the 21st century.

Within 30 minutes of realising our loss, and with the help of modern technology…we had found Kathy Beale (real name Sarah…huge disappointment), and the phone was safely returned. The ‘Find my iPhone’ app took us to her house and we instantly recognised her car, we had managed to find her on Facebook via mutual friends and got hold of her phone number.

She came to the door in her best dressing gown with bed- hair like ‘Linda La Hughes’ …all of a sudden she didn’t look like Kathy Beale anymore.

Needless to say we got his phone back and returned home to enjoy our hangovers.

 

 

Source: Indépendant.co.uk

If you like my blog, please get to know me better and visit my social media pages by clicking the links below

Facebook

Twitter

Pinterest

Instagram

The Curious Incident…

The curious incidentLast weekend we went to see The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night time… a little Christmas treat from my pal.

The plot was about a young boy with autism who was trying to find the killer of his neighbour’s dog- Wellington, and we were all drawn in to his life story and gripped by his tenacity and  methodical approach to the world. This was a real thought provoking play with sad bits, random shit, and a cute labrador puppy at the end to help take your mind away from the incessant crying.

While I was there though, I was drawn to a number of other curious incidents..

The curious incident of the 70 year old Usherette with Tuberculosis

As I said this was a play that required attention..there were moments of powerful silence where you could hear a pin drop….well…you could if ‘old Sylvia’ from the grand circle could control her whooping cough. Ironically the pensioner who was paid to make sure people were not talking or disrupting anyone’s experience sat dying in the corner….disrupting everyone’s experience.   Oh we did laugh…

The Curious Incident of the Tongue and Grooved Theatre

I have never been to Aylesbury Theatre, and unlike Drury Lane, it offered a much more modern motif  with   a sea of wooden cladding that gave the feeling of being in a scandinavian sauna. Luckily the heat was turned right down…although if we had thrown a bucket of menthol on the coals, then Sylvia may have been able to clear her chest.

The Curious Incident of the overweight gay and the pretty lesbian 

I’ve never met a real one… but a couple of rows in front of us, there was a gay boy with a stomach to his knees and the arse the size of Belgium. Sat next to him was a beautiful petit lesbian (an oxymoron in ordinary circumstances). It’s usually the other way round…but no the bloke was a dog and the dyke was a babe.

We had a great night with good friends and a lovely McDonalds to wash it down on the way home.

 

If you like my blog, please get to know me better and visit my social media pages by clicking the links below

Facebook

Twitter

Pinterest

Instagram

Your blog or your wife: A lesson from Bob and Shirley

1

Bob and Shirley had been married for 16 years and to all their friends they were a happily married couple…with 2.4 children a beautiful home and ‘artex ‘ ceilings to die for.

Bob ran his own building firm and Shirley was a domestic goddess.. they holidayed twice a year and enjoyed fine wine and gourmet dining…what could be better?

However Shirley was missing something in her life, she hadn’t been intimate with Bob in months, as Bob had just started writing a blog which took up all of his free time. When Shirley retired for the night, Bob was still busy pinning his favourite posts, liking stumbles, re-tweeting and sharing.

Bob was addicted to blogging….he’d finally found his niche and had read around 426 articles on “How to make money from your blog”. His intentions were in the right place…he just wanted to get enough followers to be able to earn some money and buy Shirley the conservatory that she had always dreamed of.

One evening when the children were at Tae-Kwon-do, Shirley slipped into her finest Ann Summer’s negligee  and danced seductively behind the laptop, where Bob was busily editing a post on “How to replace a drywall’.  So consumed by getting the post finished, so that he could share on social media before the  8 pm deadline when the traffic on Twitter was notoriously more difficult to get any re-tweets, he didn’t notice her advances.

Shirley decided to confront Bob and asked him directly…..”why won’t you sleep with me?”

Bob was too tired, he had worked all day and he just had to get his post finished. This went on, night after night, week after week until a massive row ensued.

When Shirley threatened to leave Bob, he finally agreed that Shirley’s idea to go and see a marriage counsellor was a good idea, aside from the fact that he could then write a post about his experience and engage with other bloggers in the same predicament.

The marriage counsellor advised Bob to take some time out and socialise with his friends, away from the computer to alter his mind-set about  “Bobthebuilder.com” and refocus on becoming intimate with Shirley. Bob agreed to this, and as a compromise, Bob went for a night out at the “Bloggers Unite” convention. Still a tenuous link to his addiction, however, it took him away from the computer and ..well…small steps.

Bob really let his hair down with the computer geeks and Dad bloggers and one Jåger bomb led to another.

That night Bob came crashing through the door, steaming drunk and called out to Shirley..

“You …upstairs now!”

Shirley’s heart started to race and she practically fell up the stairs ripping her clothes off as she ran. Bob was right behind her and they made haste to the bedroom. By this time Shirley was naked and ready to partake in Bob’s newly- found assertion.

Without making it to the bed, Bob demanded that Shirley do a hand-stand at the end of the bed.

Wow!, thought Shirley, this marriage  counsellor deserves an OBE for services to sexual activity…not only has Bob been cured of his reluctance to become intimate….but now he wants to be kinky…..my prayers have been answered.

Shirley hadn’t done any form of acrobatics since the honeymoon 16 years beforehand so performed her hand-stand aided by her husband. As Bob approached her, he pulled Shirley’s legs apart with one hand, while he held his mobile phone in the other. With legs akimbo, Bob buried his face deep between Shirley’s thighs as her hands took the weight.

Shirley began to cry….not through sadness but from relief. For so long she had wandered whether their sex -life was finished forever.

“What’s the matter?” mumbled Bob, his face still buried in Shirley’s loins

“I’m so happy’ exclaimed Shirley, “I can’t believe that we are finally going to have sex!”

Bob pulled away suddenly, “Sex??” he asked, “Oh no, sorry we’re not having sex” he affirmed. “I met a blogger tonight from Queereyeforthestraightguy.com and he said I would look better with a Goatee, I was just trying to take a selfie so that I could be sure and pingback.”

Moral to this story: Have fun with your blog, but don’t let it take over your life ……he says