Yep, it's nearly 3 am and I'm up again with toothache. There is now more than one gremlin knocking on my tooth. I'm thinking the infection I have is most probably now an abscess as the 4 days of antibiotics, the Nurofen and paracetamol aren't making the blindest difference.
So I've decided to resort to a tried and tested formula for such times.... alcohol. Yep, I've just examined the drinks cupboard and I've elected for the 35% proof Glayva, a whisky liqueur. Yummy! Of course, I don't really recommend such a cocktail of drugs but hey it's Christmas, I've got severe pain and I'm prepared to try a new tactic for a few hours kip. So if this post ends abruptly you'll know I've passed out with my head on the keyboard.
Ooo..glass no 2 already. Excellent!
Dentists. Don't you just love 'em. Still I suppose I can be glad The Butcher has retired and on Friday I had a lovely young dentist (who God willing will see me tomorrow at short notice again.) My current problem is The Butcher's fault who just did not listen when Mrs T said she had a problem brewing. "It's just sensitive teeth." Ah.... God bless him for that other occasion when removing my wisdom tooth he broke the tooth in front as well and I had to have that one pulled out too. 2 abscesses in a month on that occasion. Fantastic!
Ooooo glass no 3! Only small glasses you know....it is liqueur. Ahh Glayva has a nice little bite to it! With any luck my mouth will be numb in a minute and hey, since everyone is asleep it won't matter if my tongue lolls out my mouth like Deputy Dawg. Thank God for small mercies!
Hmmm..another 2 glasses and I reckon I might be able to manage a chocolate Brazil nut - on the other side of the mouth of course. I mean, I wouldn't want the constabulary around thinking I'm conducting human scientific experiments when my screams reverberate down the street.
Ohhh..glass no 4! Again, I think I need to reiterate that these are small glasses.... but you know I'm beginning to feel strangely warm hearted. In fact, I'm even beginning to feel an affection for Tom Cruise..... the stuff is clearly working. I'm entering into the Christmas spirit (literally) and feeling generous to my fellow midget. I mean, "man" of course. A happy Christmas to the lovely Tom and I just like to say I loved Tom Thumb. A masterpiece if literature - why the hell doesn't he make it into a movie. I reckon he could produce that on a very small budget. Ho hum.
Right..what next? Ahhh... yesterday evening Mr T, myself and the two younger masters went to a lovely carol service conducted and arranged by Mr A (or Dr A I should say) - that's Mrs A's other half. It was lovely.... apart from the fact that just as I'm getting into the mood Master Ben nudges me, I lean down and he whispers to me;
" My dingly dangly bit is going stiff."
Okay readers. He might have used another term - but I think you know what he was saying. Blimey, I had such a hard time stifling the giggles! Of course, what I should have been doing is wondering why Master Jacob wouldn't say boo to a goose and why Master Ben feels the need to discuss the intricacies of his manhood during church. All I can say is - I hope he doesn't want to become a vicar otherwise I could have a serious problem on my hands.
Well, he could. I'll just have to stump up the bail.
Ohh...I swallowed then without pain. Things are looking up!
Umm...nope spoke too soon. Time for a refill.
You know I'm sort of approaching a new year's resolution. I think it's time to start taking care of myself. I've spent the last 18 years taking care of my family (and nothing's gonna change that) but I think I need to quit some of the other things I do and start taking more care of myself. I'm mid forties now and well....things aren't what they used to be. Hmm.... something to contemplate there. 10 days to mull it over before the New Year. Any suggestions anyone?
Yep, so a few days ago Master Sam turned 18. I 've got to admit that apart from the underpants issue, the filthy bedroom, the inability to remember anything he was told more than 5 minutes previous, the almost daily routine of missing the school bus no matter how much I prompt him, the decaying sandwiches under his bed, the fact that I haven't seem a letter from his school in about 5 years, the inability to decide what he wants to have for breakfast without contemplating for at least 30 minutes and using all the hot water from the tank so there's never enough for me.... well apart from all that.... he hasn't been a bad son. In fact, he's been pretty good. Of course, there's been times when I've told him otherwise and raised the suggestion that he was swapped at birth by the midwife. Of course, I've swiftly had to retract that statement by the following one....
"Unfortunately, I know you're mine. As there was only one other child born that night. And that child wasn't Caucasian."
Yep, he's definitely mine; I never fancied that milkman; it was the acne that did it.
Did you notice how politically correct I was there? Blimey, you can't say anything in the UK these days without being labelled a racist just for even mentioning colour or religion. It's kinda ridiculous. And a "Disabled Toilet" isn't a "Disabled Toilet" anymore - it's an "Accessible Toilet"...... unless it's not working. In which case it is "Disabled."
Get my drift?? All a bit crazzyyyy!!!
Anway, with any luck (and with a good boot up the backside) Master Sam will be off to university to study History and Politics next year. I guess he takes after me in that respect as he's fascinated by history and, frankly, he's far better read than I was (in historical terms) than I was at his age. I'm a bit worried about the "politics" bit though. I mean I'm pretty sure he's inherited my political viewpoint.... which is sort of right wing with leftist tendencies. But not down the middle. Sort of.... tyranny with a humanitarian feel. Know what I mean? Nah, you don't do you ?! Don't worry neither do I..................
Anyway, what I'm contemplating is... what if Master Sam goes into politics? What if I then had to assassinate my own son? Gez, that would be a hard card to call!
This Glayva is good stuff you know. I heartily recommend it. I would recommend a beaker though ... just for ease of administration.
Umm... I've now lost count of how many glasses. But hey, I'm feeling quite jovial but unfortunately for you readers not likely to pass out just yet. So what next?
Hmm.... let's talk Christmas TV viewing. Look, I'd just like to say I love Morecombe and Wise...but well they've both been dead for 10 years or more...can we have something new?? Blimey, every year it's the same old stuff. It's no wonder half the nation watches the Queen's Speech at 3pm when the only alternative is The Sound of Music again. Look, I love Julie Andrews but when I start to think a nun's habit is fashionable I start to get really worried.......
And let's not even mention those dreary soap operas. Am I the only person in the UK who doesn't watch that drivel? Why is that that the cast spend all year fighting, punching and generally just being unpleasant and come new year they all have a big shin dig and love each other to bits? Come on get real! I want to hear about a massacre on Albert Street - you know like in real life when the mother and law and daughter in law fall out over who is basting the turkey or whose going to pull the cracker with her son.......
Hmm....well back to the Queen. She's great isn't she? 80 plus and still going strong. Mind you, she needs some elocution lessons - I just can't understand a word she's saying during that her Christmas speech. And as for Charlie Boy... well he's special... in a sort of heir apparent sort of way.... that talks to flowers. But that's good because we need a "green" monarch. And Charlie sure beats the hell out of Shrek. Although I kinda like Shrek... I think it was the ears. Hmmm.. something he and Charlie have in common.
Ohhh.... I just like to make a formal complaint about Comet the electrical retailers who failed to deliver Master Sam's laptop I ordered especially for his Big Day. Yes, not once, not twice, but THREE times they failed to deliver. I loved that excuse they gave to Mr T on the Saturday when I had to leave home half way through my extended call to them....
"We tried to to deliver on Friday at 6.15 but no one was in."
Hmmm.... could I just point out to the lovely customer service team at Comet that at 6.15 on Friday I was on the phone to your good selves asking where the laptop was. In fact, I was in my kitchen, Master Sam looking concerned at my side, which happens to overlook my driveway. So I might just have noticed a van pulling up outside, perhaps a gentleman walking up my drive way, the floodlights going on AND someone knocking on the door. Indeed, had I been suddenly struck by a sudden paralysis and acute hearing loss I might also have noticed that little calling card they are suppose to leave when you are out......
Hmmm... two words spring to mind. " Blatant" being one and the other being "Lie." I feel an Arnold Schwarzenegger type letter coming on. Although it is Christmas so maybe something more poetical would be appropriate....
Let me think.
Comet rhymes with Vomit!!! Ohhhhhhh....................................................
Unfortunately, I may have to leave that to another day. Because you know what.... I feel... a little drunk............
You know that keyboard looks surprisingly attracti....................