Friends and their kids

Friends and their kids.

Friends and their kids

Yesterday we had our old friends J and G over and their lovely kids E and J. It was a super day, just great to catch up and J is as madly generous as ever. I can’t believe it’s 18 months since we last saw G. But almost the nicest thing was the realisation that all of our oldest friends’ children have turned out to be really decent people in their own right; well-adjusted, good company, fun, engaging and the sort of people you’d like to be friends with too. Just like our own kids. And in almost all cases there’s more than 40 years age difference between them and us old buggers. Delightfully they even forgive my occasional slips into industrial language without resorting to it themselves. Great kids; I love ’em.

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Oh dear

Arggh my eyes….I’ve just switched on the tv to watch the Argentina match on ITV and there’s that fat fuck Adrian Chiles presenting the pundits’ preview in a pair of tight shorts. My lovely sister H forewarned me the other evening that she’d witnessed the grumpy one’s pallid legs and it wasn’t a pretty sight. My God she wasn’t joking. That just shouldn’t be allowed before the watershed. I was chomping on a cherry at the time and I nearly choked on the frigging stone. Just imagine if the last thing I’d seen before I died were the Chiles thighs. Shudder…

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They’re going home…

Well here’s the official England football shirt showing the single star for our sole World Cup win way back when I was just a young lad. And the FA aren’t going to be adding any more stars following our exit from the excellent 2014 World Cup. Still we did last 8 days at the tournament before getting eliminated. Sigh. Only two things make me happy thinking about this; the thought of Colleen having to re-pack those 15 cases and knowing that the extended holiday for the 70 people – that’s right seventy! – who made up the FA’s official tour party will shortly be over. At least we didn’t lose on penalties I suppose.

Now who’s your favourite for the World Cup? It would be nice to see a new name on the trophy I reckon – Chile perhaps? Then they too can enjoy decades of hurt waiting for the second one to arrive.  It’s nice to share.

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Horse’s Doovers

Oh dear readers I saw something on tv today that will will live with me forever. No not the end of Spanish tika taka football but an edition of Come Dine With Me set in God’s own comedy land of Halifax, West Riding. It starred a young woman, Caroline, who was truly lovely but with an accent so reet belting Yerkshire she could strip t’skin off a stick uh rhubarb from 10 paces.

Nuts about the Brazil World Cup

 

Well I don’t know about you but I’m loving this World Cup. The football’s sensational and exciting (when England don’t play that is), the Rio scenery is stunning, the girls look, well, beautifully Brazillian and the broadcast coverage is just great fun. My fave moments so far:

10. The opening ceremony which was joyously rubbish. Danny Boyle’s smashed it for every Artistic Director for the next 20 years hasn’t he?  Why was J-Lo there? Who was the Brazillian lass? What was wrong with the sound system? – I couldn’t hear a word of what was being sung. And who is this Pitbull character? He might have a street name that sounds all fierce and gangsta but he looked and danced like a gay Russian waiter. I loved it.

9. Colleen arriving in town yesterday evening with kids Kai and Klay and around 15 kases of Louis Vuitton luggage and immediately ran into a twitter storm for dragging her kids half way round the world for yet another holiday. She responded to the ‘thick’ trolls with a statement that it’s not a holiday; she’s out there to support her beleaguered husband Wayne for as long as England remain in the tournament. Well she should be back skirting around the favelas of Alderley Edge within a week or so then.

8. Phil Neville’s ‘expert’ analysis. His commentary is so flat and uninteresting he could make Southport sands seem positively Alpine. Listening to his droney voice is almost as amusing as his hair style – Bury chav chanelling Tintin. I’ve seen more sophisticated grooming on My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.

6. The BBC idents featuring the little subbuteo figures and those amazing street caricature graphics of the world’s leading payers. Brilliant.

7. Watching fat Phil Scolari having apoplexy on the touchline. Priceless. Loved it when Mexico drew with Brazil tonight – I’ve never rated their full backs Alves and Marcello and tonight they did me proud. Two glasses of caipirinha could defend better then these two munchkins.

5. Netherlands v Spain. Alright that knobhead Robben scored a cracker but RVP’s header was just a belter. Can we now say good bye to all that spunking over tedious tika taka Spanish football please?

4. Thierry Henry’s a sulky fuck but he looks effortlessly cool. Such chic dress sense, he makes Robbie Savage and Alan Shearer look like Steptoe and son in comparison.

3. Pirlo; any chance you could retire and stop torturing us, and Fellaini; any chance you could stop torturing us and play like that for Man U?

2. The Mexican goalie Ochoa, who gave the best stopper performance tonight since the inimitable Gordon Banks in 1970. Even Wenger might be tempted to splash out on him.

1. Talksport Radio’s official WC song; wrong on so many levels but I can’t get the damn chorus out of my head. Watch this and it’ll be in yours too….

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O lucky man

Yesterday was such a great day – my fabulous youngest grandson E had his naming/thanksgiving ceremony (so much more welcoming than all that ‘I renounce the devil’ nonsense) and my lovely daughter S and great son-in-law E threw a top party for him in Chiswick where we caught up with our family, S&E’s oldest friends (love ’em all) and lots of great kids. Super, super day. Oh and it was father’s day too which I’d quite forgotten about until my girls got me some lovely cards and pressies. I wasn’t able to try and get hold of my dad until later in the evening by which time I’d missed him, though I did catch up this morning and he was well and looking forward to his first break-away since my mum left us some 16 months ago. So I had a big smile on my face until I read that the actor Sam Kelly, who featured in Porridge and Allo’ Allo’, had died. I wasn’t a fan of the shows but Sam went through chemotherapy at the same time as me and we were on nodding terms in Ward 6 at the CX hospital when our treatment schedules co-incided. I guess somebody up there must have thought it was my turn to get the week-end pass. It made me realise I’m a lucky fella in so many ways.

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Time on my hands

Well I’ve finished all the work for my current batch of clients and need to find some new ones for my writing service It’s Write For You. So if anyone out there needs some words producing either for personal reasons – like a new CV, LinkedIn profile or important speech – or for business purposes – like a key presentation, press release, some fresh website copy, sales material etc – then check out my website at http://www.itswriteforyou.co.uk, e-mail me at wordsfrompaul@gmail.com or get in touch via the numbers in the website. My best qualities – great with women, great with words and utterly modest.  Ha! What’s not to like?

If I don’t get swamped with approaches this week I’m going to have to write that synopsis for a new sitcom with my good mate C.

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