Monkeys Fist

Poetry.

So sorry to hear about your Dad Wykiki. My thoughts are with you and your family.

Man the barricades. I reckon we march south, start the Great Cull at Eton, then keep going until we can smell France.

2020 is beginning to look up…

I’m hoping to fit in a Champions League match and a massive horse racing festival before the urgent emergency measures are in place. I’m shit-out-of-luck if I want to sit in my mother’s garden for a coffee though…

Oh no, does this mean we can still go on buses but not meet our family? Or is it that we can go to an office with 50+ people but can’t have more than 15 for a funeral? Fuck it, I’m off to the pub before they shut them next week.

Earlier in the 1st lockdown, most/all of the supermarkets round me had security guards monitoring numbers of customers in and out of them. Should be easy enough to put the same blokes on the doors and turn away the maskless Freedom Fighters. Funny how the same blokes who managed to stride around shouting their lungs out about filthy foreigners, like this… … suddenly can’t breathe when they’re buying 6 cans of Carling with one on.

I have done, a few times- asked them if they’re not going to wear a mask to keep their fucking distance from me, and yes, I say “fucking distance”. So far, they’ve all mumbled off looking sheepish, but that might be because I can look a bit radge when needed. This time, I wasn’t in the shop, and was waiting to meet my laddie from school, so I couldn’t be arsed.

I’ve just seen a tubby, middle-aged bald bloke (no, not me, fuck off!) strolling in to Sainsbury’s without a mask, looking for people to challenge him.… The bloke is in one of the highest risk groups.… At 3:15pm, when the place is flooded with minging, infected school kids.… What a rebel.

Pelosi is supposedly considering a second impeachment, with the resultant trial tying up the Senate so that they’re unable to have selection hearings for any Trump nominated candidate. It’s going to get messy as fuck now.

Say please and he might.

Cheers lads. Not one, single Titty pic though- I’m disappointed.

One of the changes in my Dad a few days before he lost consciousness was a personality shift - my old man has always been an absolute gent, I’d never heard him swear more than the odd “bloody”, usually when the Tories pissed him off, and he was as polite as they come, to all and sundry. Anyway, he’d come back in to contact with some old school friends, one of which was an old girlfriend who’d left him when he did his National Service in 1953, and ended up marrying one of his former school friends- she’s been widowed for some years. He decided to ring her, was having a fairly normal chat, then asked her, out of the blue, who was the best in bed- him or the old mate, her now-dead husband. When she answered “ both equally good” I think he took it as a come-on, and wanted to be taken over to hers so he could “visit” her.… …85, on his last legs, and wanting a booty call. Fucking superstar.

That’s bloody awful Renton mate. I’d imagine a lot of the burden of arranging care etc will fall to you? Best advice I can give is don’t try to do everything, if you feel like you’ve got too much on your plate, ask for help. Tough times ahead mate, if I can help in any way, just ask.

Cheers man We all obviously knew it was coming, but it’s still a kick in the nuts when it actually happens. Telling the kids was tough, but they took it well.

And no…the curry wasn’t that bad. ( I know you all thought it, twats. ).

My Dad died earlier today. As gutting as it is, my main emotion right now is one of relief that he’s not suffering anymore. He went downhill incredibly quickly- I put him to bed on Sunday night after sharing a curry with him, him sitting on the sofa, eating as normal, cracking jokes, and then…he didn’t get out of bed again. By Monday morning he was semi-conscious, his kidneys packed in, and his lungs were filling up. He was given drugs to try to combat the fluid in his lungs, and some painkillers, but other than that, nowt, as per his wishes. Bravest man I’ll ever know. The team of nurses and care workers who came in to help us were just fantastically dedicated, overwhelmingly caring, and an absolute credit to themselves and the NHS.

“ Didn’t have any cherry tomatoes, used Fish Fingers instead”. Sorted.

Come on lads, with the salad in the middle of the plate this is virtually health food.

CT’s mushroom has just released spores.

Fyp

Oops.

19 years ago today. Shearer, camped out in Keane’s head, rent free

My old man has days, at the most, left. Good luck to anyone trying to stop me seeing him. It’ll be The Rule Of Five.… Five Knuckles.… I’ll hit them