How Clean is Your Liverpuddle?

Hi all

I will be away until the beginning of next week as I am off to a wedding in Liverpool at the weekend.

I am hoping to bring you back lots of stories about the wedding. At the advice of several friends I have been practising my alcohol drinking skills so that I will hopefully be able to consume more alcohol than I did at the last wedding I attended without feeling ill. I have certainly been trying and really pushed the boat out last night at a work do in Wakefield by having two glasses of wine and drinking the last one in 10 minutes flat as we had a train to catch. Ooh I’m such a wild one am I not!??!

Anyway we will wait until the weekend to see if my training has paid off.

Before I go I’d like to go back to the subject of dreams. I had a really funny one about Kim and Aggie (of “How much can we Criticise the Cleanliness of your House?” fame) last night. It was incredibly funny and I woke up in hysterics. The only problem is that now I can’t remember the full details. I think it had something to do with finding out that the one with the blond beehive (Aggie I think) was actually only in her twenties but that years of obsessive cleaning had led her features to deteriorate so much that she looked like she was in her 60s.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my subconscious has a bit of a problem with reality sometimes, but it’s a wonderful feeling when you wake up laughing.

Well I must go because my trusty green packing case is calling and it’s not sounding very happy.

Have a lovely weekend whatever you do.

When Planning World Domination, Get Your Facts Straight First

In a series of very occasional pieces entitled Strange Dreams I Have Had (this only being the second in the series) I will relate an odd dream that I had last night.

There I was innocently checking my e-mails when a spam e-mail popped up and caught my attention.

The message was simple, direct, and to the point (and strangely had nothing to do with pulchritudinous ladies) “Phone this number now” it stated.

Perhaps in a rather ill-advised move (but it was a dream remember) I called the number and all at once, I found myself magically transported to a small untidy office wherein sat a man of indeterminate age (but probably about 60) and his lady wife. The lady wife had a non-speaking part and just sat behind her husband smiling benignly during the course of the scene.

“I’m glad you came” the man started. “We want you to join us and help us to take over the world”.

“I’d really like to help you, but not today thank you” I told the evil genius (as I now supposed that he must be) “I’ve got a perfectly good job to go back to and lots to do there so I really don’t have much time for taking over the world. It’s nice to be asked though, but I had really better get going now, if, you know, there’s nothing else”.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong” cackled the evil genius (well he is, isn’t he?). “I’ve contacted Mrs X in the Building Control Department of Inverclyde Council and handed in your resignation so you can’t ever go back. You’re stuck here with me! Ha Ha". (Imagine here an evil genius-like laugh if you will).

“Your plan is therefore thwarted” I countered “I haven’t worked in Inverclyde Council since 1999 and it wasn’t in the Building Control Department either. You may be an evil genius but you will have to work on your research gathering skills”.

At this the evil genius looked genuinely rather crestfallen and gave his wife a rather stern look. However, if you remember she didn’t have a speaking part so she could only give the evil genius a look that said “Whoops, sorry dear, I’ll be more careful next time”.

I did at that moment feel a little sorry for the evil genius. He looked genuinely distraught at the thought of this knockback to his career in world domination.

“So erm does that mean I’m free to go?” I asked.

“Well yes I suppose it does” he said looking a little confused. “I mean are you really sure that you don’t want to help me in my quest for world domination anyway”?

“No, not really I said. “The more I think about it the more I just don’t see the point, but, you know, best of luck and everything”.

And at that, as if by magic, I was transported back to my own bed where I had another strange dream about a cross dressing groom on his wedding day, his wife-to-be very put out that someone had turned up with the same outfit on, and then I woke up.

Feel free to analyse this rather strange concoction or, maybe just advise me not to drink so much before I go to bed of an evening.

A Decadent Westerner

I had a rather scary dream last night in which a terrorist was trying to blow me up because I was a "Decadent Westerner". I tried to persuade said terrorist that, while I could not quibble with being a Westerner, I really try not to be too decadent if I can possibly help it. I did refer him to my previous post but I'm not sure if he read it or if it made any difference. I woke up before he had had a chance to detonate the bomb. Will tense negotiations reoccur in the wee small hours tonight, or will I have somewhat more pleasant dreams. The thought plickens.