My male staff is always banging one about how stupid certain Chinese men are to believe that powdered rhino horn will make their willy stand to attention. He says that if they chewed their own fingernails it would have the same effect because it is essentially the same stuff. Something he calls keratin. He also says that those same stupid Chinese men believe that powdered tiger penis will also make their willy rear it's ugly head. My female staff wants to know why they can't put an additive into someones supply of powdered rhino horn or tiger penis that makes willies shrivel up and fall off. Word would soon get around, and that would be the end of that. It's not only the Chinese either. Rich Yemenis will pay a mint for a rhino horn which they turn into ornate dagger scabbards and give to their spoilt, rich, bratty sons upon reaching a certain age. What a bunch of bastards; bringing an entire species of animal to the brink of extinction just because they can't get it up, or because little Osama has just turned thirteen.
Humans are very naive animals who will believe almost anything they're told. I mean really! Who the hell started the rumour that rhino horn would give you a stiffy? Is it the phallic shape of it that convinces people?
The ancient Incas had a good one too. They believed that if they rubbed a live black guinea pig all over their naked bodies it would cure rheumatism and a number of other ailments. Who thought of that one I wonder? Probably some smart arse at a stag party. Why a black guinea pig anyway? Badger is worried that a swarthy South American type could knock on our door at any moment and make an offer to my staff that they can't refuse.
In any case, my male staff himself has his eye on Badger for his curative powers. One of a raft of blood tests he had while he was in hospital recently revealed that he has something called pernicious anemia. It is a well named disease because it is indeed pernicious. Apparently it is usually fatal in less than three years if left untreated. It's caused by the body's inability to absorb vitamin B12 and is incurable. However, a life long course of excruciating intramuscular injections mean that the sufferer can live a normal if somewhat perforated life. Alexander Graham Bell had it. He felt so ill that he invented the telephone so that he could call an ambulance. Annie Oakley had it too apparently. My male staff is blaming his lack of vitamin B12 on the fact that he's had to cut down on cheesecake because his cholesterol is up at 8.3. To me, that sounds like a pretty good score out of ten, but his doctor wasn't so impressed.
Neither Badger nor I can understand how someone so fit (He runs almost every day.) can be so unhealthy. He's never even tried a cigarette in his life, though to be fair he did spend his first sixteen years inhaling his mum and dad's secondary smoke, so there was no need for him to have his own. He doesn't even drink that much, despite being an Australian citizen and a West Ham United Football Club fan. So, where does all this ill health come from? I can only think that it must be the tablespoon of powdered rhino horn he stirs into his morning coffee every day.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
A German Soldier's Helmet
Not long after the last woolly mammoth closed its eyes and lay down to die in the frozen wastes of an ice age that was drawing to its frigid conclusion my male staff was born. Seven years later his father had had enough of the brat and went to Aden. He was in The Royal Air Force and insisted it was they who sent him away. Having lived with my male staff for almost two years now, I feel certain that he volunteered to go because he felt that life in a war zone would be easier than being at home with his obnoxious offspring.
In Aden the natives were getting uppity, wanting to kick out the colonials. It wasn't a great place to be. There were daily shootings and hand grenades were being lobbed about like confetti. Still, better to be there than locked in a house with a seven year old kid. Before he left, my male staff's dad asked him if he'd like him to bring him something when he returned in six months. Knowing his father was heading into a war zone he said, "A German soldier's helmet." His dad sighed and left, returning after his stint of duty with an amazing radio controlled toy car. The German soldier's helmet was forgotten.
While his father was away in Aden dodging casually chucked grenades, my male staff spent a lot of time with the next door neighbour - Mrs Hardy, a kindly old lady whom my male staff always referred to as Best Friend. One summer day Best Friend found my male staff and his his girlfriend Janet aged seven, (He's always been one for the older woman.) playing an innocent game of doctors and nurses in a quiet corner of her garden. Janet was cradling one of her dolls against her chest.
"What are you two up to?" Asked Best Friend with not a little trepidation.
"Janet's just had a baby." Piped my male staff.
"Goodness!" said Best Friend. "Where did it come from?"
"Out of her froat. Where do you fink?" Best Friend breathed a sigh of relief and that was the end of my male staff's medical career.
Not long after than his hamster died of suspected alcohol poisoning. Remember Jenny?
http://pemery.blogspot.com/2011/10/jenny-hamster.html
My male staff organised a state funeral for her. I think he got the idea from watching Winston Churchill's funeral on their black and white telly. His mum, Mrs and Mrs Hardy, Janet and her mum and dad were all invited. Everyone stood in the back garden wearing black, except for Annie his pet lamb, while my male staff with as much dignity as a seven year old kid can muster lowered Jenny's shoe box coffin into her grave, which had been dug earlier by his mum. Then he stood smartly to attention, his large plastic US army soldiers helmet crammed down over his ears. He sang a quick verse of "All Things Bright and Beautiful", saluted crisply, then turned on his heel and marched inside to make a start on the sandwiches and cakes that his mum had prepared for the occasion before the others had time to join him and snaffle all his favourites.
I was going to add that all this happened in more innocent times, but that really wouldn't be true would it? The British, including my male staff's dad were fighting the Yemenis in their own country and the Americans were fighting the Vietnamese in theirs, having taken over from the French. JFK had already been assassinated and his brother Robert had only three years to live before he went the same way, as did Martin Luther King. It was the year that Malcolm X was shot and killed and in South Africa the Apartheid regime was at it's brutal height. Why am I telling you all this? To prove a point. Nostalgia ain't what it used to be.
In Aden the natives were getting uppity, wanting to kick out the colonials. It wasn't a great place to be. There were daily shootings and hand grenades were being lobbed about like confetti. Still, better to be there than locked in a house with a seven year old kid. Before he left, my male staff's dad asked him if he'd like him to bring him something when he returned in six months. Knowing his father was heading into a war zone he said, "A German soldier's helmet." His dad sighed and left, returning after his stint of duty with an amazing radio controlled toy car. The German soldier's helmet was forgotten.
While his father was away in Aden dodging casually chucked grenades, my male staff spent a lot of time with the next door neighbour - Mrs Hardy, a kindly old lady whom my male staff always referred to as Best Friend. One summer day Best Friend found my male staff and his his girlfriend Janet aged seven, (He's always been one for the older woman.) playing an innocent game of doctors and nurses in a quiet corner of her garden. Janet was cradling one of her dolls against her chest.
"What are you two up to?" Asked Best Friend with not a little trepidation.
"Janet's just had a baby." Piped my male staff.
"Goodness!" said Best Friend. "Where did it come from?"
"Out of her froat. Where do you fink?" Best Friend breathed a sigh of relief and that was the end of my male staff's medical career.
Not long after than his hamster died of suspected alcohol poisoning. Remember Jenny?
http://pemery.blogspot.com/2011/10/jenny-hamster.html
My male staff organised a state funeral for her. I think he got the idea from watching Winston Churchill's funeral on their black and white telly. His mum, Mrs and Mrs Hardy, Janet and her mum and dad were all invited. Everyone stood in the back garden wearing black, except for Annie his pet lamb, while my male staff with as much dignity as a seven year old kid can muster lowered Jenny's shoe box coffin into her grave, which had been dug earlier by his mum. Then he stood smartly to attention, his large plastic US army soldiers helmet crammed down over his ears. He sang a quick verse of "All Things Bright and Beautiful", saluted crisply, then turned on his heel and marched inside to make a start on the sandwiches and cakes that his mum had prepared for the occasion before the others had time to join him and snaffle all his favourites.
I was going to add that all this happened in more innocent times, but that really wouldn't be true would it? The British, including my male staff's dad were fighting the Yemenis in their own country and the Americans were fighting the Vietnamese in theirs, having taken over from the French. JFK had already been assassinated and his brother Robert had only three years to live before he went the same way, as did Martin Luther King. It was the year that Malcolm X was shot and killed and in South Africa the Apartheid regime was at it's brutal height. Why am I telling you all this? To prove a point. Nostalgia ain't what it used to be.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Security Cameras
I've been threatened with a haircut today. It's been hot and I've been lolling about on a freezer block which my staff wrap in an old tea towel and place in my cage. It works a treat. There's nothing like a freeze block on the old tummy to cool a piggy down. However, just after breakfast this morning my female staff strode up and said in a cheerful voice, as if it was something I was going to enjoy, "We'll give you a haircut tonight Billy, that'll help keep you cool."
"Oh great." I thought. The Butcher of Black Mountain strikes again. Last time she gave me a "little trim" I looked like a Lady Gaga outfit for a month until it grew out again. I wish I had hair like Badger. He has a permanent number two buzz cut. He still gets a bit hot sometimes because he's black, but there's not much my staff can do about that. Except I wouldn't put it past them to paint him white. He'd look like a miniature polar bear.
Now, like most guinea pigs I've been taking great interest in the American Republican Party primary elections. The bitter infighting between candidates is rather surprising, and it's not only the Republicans that do it. The Democrats are just as bad. I half expected Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama to settle their differences during their primary elections with naked mud wrestling. I'd give up half my parsley ration to see that. Wouldn't you think that it's not such a good idea to tell the public what arseholes your rival candidates are, (And bear in mind that they are from the same political party.) and then endorse them later. Why should the public vote for someone you've effectively called a dick head for the last six months?
You would think this attitude would be as welcome as a vuvuzela in a Trappist monastery, but the electoral system encourages it. John Howard may have been a lying rodent, but he was absolutely right when he said "Dis-unity is death." At least he was right as far as politics in Britain and Australia goes, where the political parties squabble in private before coming up with a candidate that they can put before the electorate. Then they can concentrate on smearing the other party's candidate instead of their own.
Finally today I'd like to share with you a truly inspiring story. It's a story of how our senior citizens can influence the youth of today with tales of old fashioned wisdom. My staff and I were having lunch at a local cafe recently when I overheard the following conversation at a nearby table. A thin, world worn old man was talking to his teenage grandson while sipping coffee through toothless gums.
"You know." He said. "When I was your age, mum would give me a dollar and I'd go down to the shop and come home with a loaf of bread, two pints of milk, a dozen eggs, a pound of sausages and a bar of chocolate for myself and still have some change to give mum." He wiped some coffee foam from his trembling lips. "You just can't do that these days. Too many fuckin' security cameras."
"Oh great." I thought. The Butcher of Black Mountain strikes again. Last time she gave me a "little trim" I looked like a Lady Gaga outfit for a month until it grew out again. I wish I had hair like Badger. He has a permanent number two buzz cut. He still gets a bit hot sometimes because he's black, but there's not much my staff can do about that. Except I wouldn't put it past them to paint him white. He'd look like a miniature polar bear.
Now, like most guinea pigs I've been taking great interest in the American Republican Party primary elections. The bitter infighting between candidates is rather surprising, and it's not only the Republicans that do it. The Democrats are just as bad. I half expected Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama to settle their differences during their primary elections with naked mud wrestling. I'd give up half my parsley ration to see that. Wouldn't you think that it's not such a good idea to tell the public what arseholes your rival candidates are, (And bear in mind that they are from the same political party.) and then endorse them later. Why should the public vote for someone you've effectively called a dick head for the last six months?
You would think this attitude would be as welcome as a vuvuzela in a Trappist monastery, but the electoral system encourages it. John Howard may have been a lying rodent, but he was absolutely right when he said "Dis-unity is death." At least he was right as far as politics in Britain and Australia goes, where the political parties squabble in private before coming up with a candidate that they can put before the electorate. Then they can concentrate on smearing the other party's candidate instead of their own.
Finally today I'd like to share with you a truly inspiring story. It's a story of how our senior citizens can influence the youth of today with tales of old fashioned wisdom. My staff and I were having lunch at a local cafe recently when I overheard the following conversation at a nearby table. A thin, world worn old man was talking to his teenage grandson while sipping coffee through toothless gums.
"You know." He said. "When I was your age, mum would give me a dollar and I'd go down to the shop and come home with a loaf of bread, two pints of milk, a dozen eggs, a pound of sausages and a bar of chocolate for myself and still have some change to give mum." He wiped some coffee foam from his trembling lips. "You just can't do that these days. Too many fuckin' security cameras."
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Katter - strophic
Check out the letters page of the Sunshine Coast Daily newspaper, third of January edition. There's a letter there from one of those serial whingers who haunt the letters page of every local newspaper throughout the world. This letter is titled "Snake warnings leave out the helpful advice." Above it there is a nice picture of a large taipan. It was this photo that drew my attention to this particular letter as I was about to lower myself onto the paper (which was lining my cage) to have a wee, when Out of the corner of my eye I saw the photo. It made me jump I can tell you. There's no way Badger would suck the venom from that part of my anatomy if the thing had bitten me. I was forced to relieve myself over Hugh Jackman - or at least his photo. Please don't tell him.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the letter. Our serial whinger was complaining that an article in the previous day's issue had warned people to be wary of snakes as this is their breeding season. The article said if you see a snake "Just leave it alone." The whinger, let's call him Geoff because that's his name, wanted to know why the paper hadn't published an emergency phone number to ring in the event - heaven forbid, that he should see a snake. He said he couldn't call 000 because that number is for the police, fire brigade or ambulance. Now hold on just a cotton pickin' minute. Have you humans become so detached from nature that you need a phone number to call in the event of (horror of horrors) seeing a wild animal. For God's sake! If you're unlucky or stupid enough to get bitten by a poisonous snake ring 000 or 911 or 999 or whatever, otherwise just leave the snake alone and it won't hurt you - just as the advice in the newspaper said.
Does Geoff the serial whinger seriously want to call someone every time he sees a wild creature?
"Darling, there's a spider in the bath. Call the fire brigade will you."
"A magpie has just landed on the TV antenna Sweetheart. Better call the police."
"Quick, call an ambulance I've just seen a bat."
How sad that some humans have come to this. Another sad human being is Maverick Queensland Member of Pairliament Bob Katter. Why do the media always call him "Maverick"? I've looked the word up in the Australian Oxford Mini Dictionary. It means unorthodox or undisciplined. There's no mention of insanity at all, of which I'd bet a million dollars to a bucket of bush chocolate that Bob Katter has a substantial dose. You can tell he's mad by his stupid white cowboy hat. No sane person would wear one. The worrying thing is that thousands of Australians vote for him every three years.
For the benefit of my overseas readers this link will take you to a photo of our friend Bob.
http://tools.cairns.com.au/photo_gallery/photo_gallery_popup.php?category_id=12401&offset=3
His good friend John Molony - the Mayor of the northern Queensland town of Mount Isa was charged with a drink driving offence on New Years eve and Bob popped his empty head up and said that police should concentrate on fighting crime rather than bothering drivers. Well Bob. For a start, last time I looked, Drink driving was a crime and secondly I think you'll find that more innocent people are killed by drink drivers like your friend Mayor Molony than by the rest of the Australian criminal fraternity. So why don't you and your mate John just resign now and do us all a favour. Meanwhile I hope there's a picture of Bob Katter in the next edition of the Sunshine Coast Daily to line the bottom of my cage.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the letter. Our serial whinger was complaining that an article in the previous day's issue had warned people to be wary of snakes as this is their breeding season. The article said if you see a snake "Just leave it alone." The whinger, let's call him Geoff because that's his name, wanted to know why the paper hadn't published an emergency phone number to ring in the event - heaven forbid, that he should see a snake. He said he couldn't call 000 because that number is for the police, fire brigade or ambulance. Now hold on just a cotton pickin' minute. Have you humans become so detached from nature that you need a phone number to call in the event of (horror of horrors) seeing a wild animal. For God's sake! If you're unlucky or stupid enough to get bitten by a poisonous snake ring 000 or 911 or 999 or whatever, otherwise just leave the snake alone and it won't hurt you - just as the advice in the newspaper said.
Does Geoff the serial whinger seriously want to call someone every time he sees a wild creature?
"Darling, there's a spider in the bath. Call the fire brigade will you."
"A magpie has just landed on the TV antenna Sweetheart. Better call the police."
"Quick, call an ambulance I've just seen a bat."
How sad that some humans have come to this. Another sad human being is Maverick Queensland Member of Pairliament Bob Katter. Why do the media always call him "Maverick"? I've looked the word up in the Australian Oxford Mini Dictionary. It means unorthodox or undisciplined. There's no mention of insanity at all, of which I'd bet a million dollars to a bucket of bush chocolate that Bob Katter has a substantial dose. You can tell he's mad by his stupid white cowboy hat. No sane person would wear one. The worrying thing is that thousands of Australians vote for him every three years.
For the benefit of my overseas readers this link will take you to a photo of our friend Bob.
http://tools.cairns.com.au/photo_gallery/photo_gallery_popup.php?category_id=12401&offset=3
His good friend John Molony - the Mayor of the northern Queensland town of Mount Isa was charged with a drink driving offence on New Years eve and Bob popped his empty head up and said that police should concentrate on fighting crime rather than bothering drivers. Well Bob. For a start, last time I looked, Drink driving was a crime and secondly I think you'll find that more innocent people are killed by drink drivers like your friend Mayor Molony than by the rest of the Australian criminal fraternity. So why don't you and your mate John just resign now and do us all a favour. Meanwhile I hope there's a picture of Bob Katter in the next edition of the Sunshine Coast Daily to line the bottom of my cage.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Paranormal Piggy
Remember Paul the psychic octopus from the 2010 soccer World Cup? He correctly predicted the results of every game Germany played. Well sadly Paul is no more. He's gone to the place where all good octopi go - stir fried in a wok with coriander, basil, garlic, chili and a variety of Asian greens. However, never fear. I have found a replacement - Me. Meet Billy the Paranormal Piggy. I'm going to make a few predictions of my own for 2012 and I bet they're every bit as accurate as Paul's.
Charlie Sheen will be a surprise nomination for the the Republican Party Presidential candidate. He wins the election in a landslide thanks to a promise of free cocaine for all. President Sheen nominates Lady Gaga as Vice President. (Hey, it could happen. Look at Ronald Reagan.)
North Korea becomes the first nation to put a man on Mars. At least according to Kim Jong-un. He also becomes the first man to play eighteen holes of golf in eighteen strokes, beating his father's record by two strokes.
Great Britain invades Europe because Prime Minister David Cameron is deeply unpopular and needs some sort of distraction. Europe is so impoverished by the Euro-zone crisis that all it's armies have been disbanded, giving Britain an easy victory. A victory made easier because it was Britain's turn to have the communal aircraft carrier. Emperor Cameron then tours his new empire and commandeers all of Europe's legume farms. He returns to Westminster with the legendary statement - "Peas In Our Time."
Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard falls on her sword, or to be more accurate is pushed on to it (multiple times) by Foreign Minister and former PM Kevin Rudd. Half a dozen government MPs slip on the resulting pool of blood and sustain serious injuries making them unable to take their place at Parliament House. This means that the Australian Labor Party loses it's slim majority. A general election is called and is won by the Liberal Party under Tony Abbott. As promised, his first act is to "Stop The Boats." Several cruise companies go out of business and fish disappears from menus across the nation.
Several Pacific island nations are inundated by rising ocean waters due to global warming. The inhabitants make for Australia in boats, but are met on the shore by Prime Minister Abbott waving his arms and yelling "Go back to where you came from. Just because we Australians are the world's highest per capita producers of greenhouse gas doesn't mean that it's our fault that your islands sank. Anyway, global warming is just a lefty - pinko conspiracy. Try Tasmania. Oh wait, that's Australia too isn't it? "
In the sporting world Tiger Woods wins the US Philandering Open by three holes and the Democratic Republic of Congo's all pygmy basketball team is a surprise winner of the World Championships over the United States of America, who's coach after the game sportingly praised the pygmy's tactical use of stepladders.
Both Australia and New Zealand rugby unions teams cause an upset by picking a player who was actually born in Australia and New Zealand.
There we have it then. My predictions for 2012. Keep an eye on the news to see how many of them come true, and remember where you saw it first.
Charlie Sheen will be a surprise nomination for the the Republican Party Presidential candidate. He wins the election in a landslide thanks to a promise of free cocaine for all. President Sheen nominates Lady Gaga as Vice President. (Hey, it could happen. Look at Ronald Reagan.)
North Korea becomes the first nation to put a man on Mars. At least according to Kim Jong-un. He also becomes the first man to play eighteen holes of golf in eighteen strokes, beating his father's record by two strokes.
Great Britain invades Europe because Prime Minister David Cameron is deeply unpopular and needs some sort of distraction. Europe is so impoverished by the Euro-zone crisis that all it's armies have been disbanded, giving Britain an easy victory. A victory made easier because it was Britain's turn to have the communal aircraft carrier. Emperor Cameron then tours his new empire and commandeers all of Europe's legume farms. He returns to Westminster with the legendary statement - "Peas In Our Time."
Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard falls on her sword, or to be more accurate is pushed on to it (multiple times) by Foreign Minister and former PM Kevin Rudd. Half a dozen government MPs slip on the resulting pool of blood and sustain serious injuries making them unable to take their place at Parliament House. This means that the Australian Labor Party loses it's slim majority. A general election is called and is won by the Liberal Party under Tony Abbott. As promised, his first act is to "Stop The Boats." Several cruise companies go out of business and fish disappears from menus across the nation.
Several Pacific island nations are inundated by rising ocean waters due to global warming. The inhabitants make for Australia in boats, but are met on the shore by Prime Minister Abbott waving his arms and yelling "Go back to where you came from. Just because we Australians are the world's highest per capita producers of greenhouse gas doesn't mean that it's our fault that your islands sank. Anyway, global warming is just a lefty - pinko conspiracy. Try Tasmania. Oh wait, that's Australia too isn't it? "
In the sporting world Tiger Woods wins the US Philandering Open by three holes and the Democratic Republic of Congo's all pygmy basketball team is a surprise winner of the World Championships over the United States of America, who's coach after the game sportingly praised the pygmy's tactical use of stepladders.
Both Australia and New Zealand rugby unions teams cause an upset by picking a player who was actually born in Australia and New Zealand.
There we have it then. My predictions for 2012. Keep an eye on the news to see how many of them come true, and remember where you saw it first.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Annus Horribilis
My staff, Badger and I were watching the Queen's Christmas message on Christmas Day when I was reminded of one of her most famous and often repeated phrases. No not "Oh for heavens sake Philip. Put it away, you'll frighten the corgis." Rather "Annus Horribilis." Why was I reminded of this? Well, firstly my male staff was bending over to pick up one a Badger's pieces of bush chocolate and secondly 2011 has indeed been a horrible year in my household - at least for my staff.
My female staff's dad broke his hip and had to spend seven weeks in hospital, where her also broke his arm while going to the toilet. Dementia then invaded his brain and he had to be placed in a care facility, which he alternately loathes and loves depending on what his poor old brain is doing on any given day. Then in May my male staff's mum was diagnosed with a inoperable brain tumour and given between six and nine months to live. My male staff and I have since been flying between Australia and London at regular intervals to help care for her. On the latest of these trips my male staff developed a DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) and had to be put down. I'm kidding - he had to spend a week in hospital and is now on so much blood thinning medication that if he nicks himself shaving he's likely to bleed to death in under thirty seconds.
This DVT thingy also means that he can't fly long haul for three months. Even a guinea pig with four digits on each paw can do that sort of arithmetic and come up with the fact that my male staff is not likely to see his mum again. Finally my male staff's mad sister went even madder and has had to take stress leave from her job. I say "finally" because I'm crossing my paws that nothing else happens between now and 2012. It's only two days, but as a precaution my staff have decided not to go outside just in case. They have a good supply of chardonnay and cheese and have asked not to be disturbed until one minute past twelve on the morning of the first of January. In my opinion they are already very disturbed.
Meanwhile I've been preparing a list of New Years resolutions that I can break within the first week of 2012 like everyone else. For instance I vow to get in behind the telly a lot more because it annoys my staff and takes them ages to entice me out with all sorts of treats. I also vow not to mount Badger any more - or any less. Badger says he'll try not to get things stuck to his testostricles. I really have no idea how he manages to do it. They do drag on the floor and are not as hairy as mine so there's less protection. My female staff went to the pet shop the other day and asked if they sold jock-straps for guinea pigs. The pet shop lady thought that one of the inmates from the local psychiatric hospital had escaped and called the police, but that's another story.
My male staff was going to play over thirty-fives soccer again next year, but his blood thinning medication has ruled that out. He's very disappointed, though the rest of his team aren't. His coach once described him as being "deceptively slow". "He's not as fast as he looks." He said. So he's going to have to take up lawn bowls or something less risky. My female staff says that 2012 will be the year that her shoe collection overtakes that of Imelda Marcos and my female staff's dad has vowed to escape from the care home by digging a tunnel and with the aid of forged papers will make it across the border to Switzerland.
Happy New Year Everyone.
My female staff's dad broke his hip and had to spend seven weeks in hospital, where her also broke his arm while going to the toilet. Dementia then invaded his brain and he had to be placed in a care facility, which he alternately loathes and loves depending on what his poor old brain is doing on any given day. Then in May my male staff's mum was diagnosed with a inoperable brain tumour and given between six and nine months to live. My male staff and I have since been flying between Australia and London at regular intervals to help care for her. On the latest of these trips my male staff developed a DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) and had to be put down. I'm kidding - he had to spend a week in hospital and is now on so much blood thinning medication that if he nicks himself shaving he's likely to bleed to death in under thirty seconds.
This DVT thingy also means that he can't fly long haul for three months. Even a guinea pig with four digits on each paw can do that sort of arithmetic and come up with the fact that my male staff is not likely to see his mum again. Finally my male staff's mad sister went even madder and has had to take stress leave from her job. I say "finally" because I'm crossing my paws that nothing else happens between now and 2012. It's only two days, but as a precaution my staff have decided not to go outside just in case. They have a good supply of chardonnay and cheese and have asked not to be disturbed until one minute past twelve on the morning of the first of January. In my opinion they are already very disturbed.
Meanwhile I've been preparing a list of New Years resolutions that I can break within the first week of 2012 like everyone else. For instance I vow to get in behind the telly a lot more because it annoys my staff and takes them ages to entice me out with all sorts of treats. I also vow not to mount Badger any more - or any less. Badger says he'll try not to get things stuck to his testostricles. I really have no idea how he manages to do it. They do drag on the floor and are not as hairy as mine so there's less protection. My female staff went to the pet shop the other day and asked if they sold jock-straps for guinea pigs. The pet shop lady thought that one of the inmates from the local psychiatric hospital had escaped and called the police, but that's another story.
My male staff was going to play over thirty-fives soccer again next year, but his blood thinning medication has ruled that out. He's very disappointed, though the rest of his team aren't. His coach once described him as being "deceptively slow". "He's not as fast as he looks." He said. So he's going to have to take up lawn bowls or something less risky. My female staff says that 2012 will be the year that her shoe collection overtakes that of Imelda Marcos and my female staff's dad has vowed to escape from the care home by digging a tunnel and with the aid of forged papers will make it across the border to Switzerland.
Happy New Year Everyone.
Monday, December 26, 2011
The Christmas Pelican
Boxing Day has arrived. It's incredible how often it comes straight after Christmas Day. What are the chances of that happening almost every year. There are three hundred and sixty four other days in could fall on, three hundred and sixty five days some years - just amazing! Anyway, many of you will know that Boxing Day is so called because it is the day that most fights break out - often due to the excess consumption of alcohol the day before. My male staff says that he prefers Boxing Day to Christmas Day because all the hoo-hah is finally over with and he can get on with being miserable.
Yesterday we all went out to a restaurant for our Christmas dinner. There was myself, Badger, my staff, my female staff's mum and dad and my female staff's sister and her partner. Quite a tight squeeze in my female staff's Hyundai Getz, especially has her dad had to fit his wheelchair in too. We were actually a bit worried about her dad as he suffers from dementia and just a couple of days ago had escaped from his aged care home on his walking frame and was heading up the road towards home with several nurses in hot pursuit. It was like the closing scene to any Benny Hill show you care to mention. However, on this occasion he behaved himself admirably. It was a lovely restaurant right on the Noosa River. Santa was there and everyone wore those stupid paper hats and read aloud the painful jokes from the Christmas crackers. A good time was had by all - even my male staff didn't say "Bah Humbug!" as often as he usually does.
The only fly in the ointment on this occasion was Badger. Being right next to the river the restaurant attracts quite a few pelicans, to whom the patrons like to feed their scraps. Badger was sitting on the table next to my female staff (He'd been eating her greens and was now eyeing her plum pudding.) when a large pelican (Actually they're all large to a guinea pig.) waddled in and snatched him up. It was all a bit surreal. There was Badger, his eyes standing out like a dog's dangly bits being paraded around between the tables of festive families by an opened billed pelican hotly pursued by my staff, who were knocking people's wine over and bumping food out of waiter's hands while apologising profusely and chasing the bird. I sat back on on my female staff's dad's lap to watch the fun. Luckily pelicans need a long runway for take off, otherwise things would have been even more interesting.
Finally the bird ducked between two waitresses and waddled into the gents washrooms followed by my female staff with a triumphant shout of "Hah! Got you cornered now you bastard." This somewhat surprised Santa who was standing at one of the urinals minding his own business and was not expecting to be called a bastard by some mad woman accompanied by a pelican with a fat black and white guinea pig in it's bill. Santa was even more alarmed when the pelican hid behind him in a bid to escape the clutches of my female staff who kept grabbing at the bird's bill between Santa and the urinal. It's amazing how fast a jolly, fat man can move when he wants to protect his candy cane and his sack of goodies from grasping hands and a pelican's snapping bill.
After a couple of entertaining minutes of this, the pelican finally spat Badger onto the floor, glared at my female staff, waddled back through the restaurant to the river and swam gracefully away as if it was the kind of thing that happens every day. Meanwhile my female staff scooped up a somewhat fishy smelling Badger, wished Santa a merry Christmas and returned to the table to finish her glass of sauvignon blanc. So all in all it was an excellent day. We all received the presents we wanted - even male staff's mad sister's dog Bella. One of my best Twitter friends Dalton the dog from Wagg Foods sent her a sample of their doggie chews. Apparently Bella told mad sister that she thought they were delicious, but she'd like a few more just to be sure. http://www.waggfoods.co.uk/
Lastly I'd just like to mention the Christmas turkey in his SUV who ran into my eighty three year old female staff's mum's parked car yesterday. She was just about to get into it as it happened. The turkey then blamed her - in a bullying tone for parking badly. However, I don't think the insurance company will see it that way and the turkey will end up coughing up the insurance excess at the very least. He needs to learn that if you drive into something stationary it can only be ever be your fault. May his Christmas pudding be filled with bush chocolate.
Yesterday we all went out to a restaurant for our Christmas dinner. There was myself, Badger, my staff, my female staff's mum and dad and my female staff's sister and her partner. Quite a tight squeeze in my female staff's Hyundai Getz, especially has her dad had to fit his wheelchair in too. We were actually a bit worried about her dad as he suffers from dementia and just a couple of days ago had escaped from his aged care home on his walking frame and was heading up the road towards home with several nurses in hot pursuit. It was like the closing scene to any Benny Hill show you care to mention. However, on this occasion he behaved himself admirably. It was a lovely restaurant right on the Noosa River. Santa was there and everyone wore those stupid paper hats and read aloud the painful jokes from the Christmas crackers. A good time was had by all - even my male staff didn't say "Bah Humbug!" as often as he usually does.
The only fly in the ointment on this occasion was Badger. Being right next to the river the restaurant attracts quite a few pelicans, to whom the patrons like to feed their scraps. Badger was sitting on the table next to my female staff (He'd been eating her greens and was now eyeing her plum pudding.) when a large pelican (Actually they're all large to a guinea pig.) waddled in and snatched him up. It was all a bit surreal. There was Badger, his eyes standing out like a dog's dangly bits being paraded around between the tables of festive families by an opened billed pelican hotly pursued by my staff, who were knocking people's wine over and bumping food out of waiter's hands while apologising profusely and chasing the bird. I sat back on on my female staff's dad's lap to watch the fun. Luckily pelicans need a long runway for take off, otherwise things would have been even more interesting.
Finally the bird ducked between two waitresses and waddled into the gents washrooms followed by my female staff with a triumphant shout of "Hah! Got you cornered now you bastard." This somewhat surprised Santa who was standing at one of the urinals minding his own business and was not expecting to be called a bastard by some mad woman accompanied by a pelican with a fat black and white guinea pig in it's bill. Santa was even more alarmed when the pelican hid behind him in a bid to escape the clutches of my female staff who kept grabbing at the bird's bill between Santa and the urinal. It's amazing how fast a jolly, fat man can move when he wants to protect his candy cane and his sack of goodies from grasping hands and a pelican's snapping bill.
After a couple of entertaining minutes of this, the pelican finally spat Badger onto the floor, glared at my female staff, waddled back through the restaurant to the river and swam gracefully away as if it was the kind of thing that happens every day. Meanwhile my female staff scooped up a somewhat fishy smelling Badger, wished Santa a merry Christmas and returned to the table to finish her glass of sauvignon blanc. So all in all it was an excellent day. We all received the presents we wanted - even male staff's mad sister's dog Bella. One of my best Twitter friends Dalton the dog from Wagg Foods sent her a sample of their doggie chews. Apparently Bella told mad sister that she thought they were delicious, but she'd like a few more just to be sure. http://www.waggfoods.co.uk/
Lastly I'd just like to mention the Christmas turkey in his SUV who ran into my eighty three year old female staff's mum's parked car yesterday. She was just about to get into it as it happened. The turkey then blamed her - in a bullying tone for parking badly. However, I don't think the insurance company will see it that way and the turkey will end up coughing up the insurance excess at the very least. He needs to learn that if you drive into something stationary it can only be ever be your fault. May his Christmas pudding be filled with bush chocolate.
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