There's No Smoke Without Fire............

TODAY IS MY FIRST BLOGGIVERSARY!

I found this pic by accident when I was googling for a pic of a cake.

So terribly naughty - and yet so funny.

I'm using it as today's blog post is kind of smoking related.

Before I begin my tale, I would just like to thank my bloggy friend Taz at Ratbag for my award...........

Taz always leaves such lovely comments on my blog.

In time honoured tradition, I now pass this award onto.............

elegancemaison

kcscourt

winnibriggshouse

menopausalmusings

indigoshirl

the vintage kitten

kelly's recipes for life

sandie's patch

are we nearly there yet

vintage vicki

I'm not sure of the 'rules'. I think you ladies are supposed to pass it on to 10 of your followers.

(Don't worry though, I won't check up on you!)

This is a TRUE story.

Before I begin I would just like to say that it's not that I have more funny things happen around me than most people - it's more a case that I remember them. I have an 'eidetic memory.' (It's what used to be called a 'photographic memory.' It's sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse!)

In the 1990's I worked for our local newspaper. I worked in the Advertising Department on the third floor.

Although there was a lift, at the end of the working day, most of left by the stairs. The lift only held 8 people, so the staircase was a much quicker 'escape' route.

We finished work at 5pm and from 4.55pm we would all sit at our desks, coat on, one eye on the clock.

Whilst we were running down the stairs, all of the smokers were fumbling about in their bags and pockets, eager to get their nicotine fix as fast as possible once we had all spilled out in the Car Park below.

One particular day, I was running downstairs with my colleagues Colin and Teresa. Colin smoked hand rolled cigarettes and he used one of these contraptions.

It would be in his pocket, ready primed, so that all he had to do was lift it to his lips and moisten the ciggie paper, with his tongue, left to right.

Colin had the fag tin in his hand and shouted, "Hang on a minute!" We all ground to a halt behind him. He lifted the tin towards his mouth put out his tongue to lick the paper. At the very same moment his mobile 'phone rang.

Teresa only half saw what was happening out the corner of her eye and didn't realise the noise was his 'phone.

Teresa is from Ohio, and with surprise and awe in her voice said..................

........................................................................................................

........................................................................................................

"Gee Colin! I didn't know you could play the harmonica!"

Close the Doors, They're Coming Through the Windows PART TWO

THE NEXT THRILLING INSTALMENT...........

If you haven't already read previous post, please do so now.

Go on! I'll wait 'til you get back.......................


(EFFECTS - Softly whistling "Where Do the Holes in Doughnuts Go" whilst shuffling from one foot the other, hands in pinny pockets, staring nonchalantly at the ceiling.)




My oh my, that was quick - where did I get to?
Ah, yes the knock at the door....................



"I wonder who that can be?" At this point I should mention that I don't have a spy hole in the front door, but I do have a small pane of glass. Looking through this did me no good whatsoever - There is one of those bullion thingeys in the middle of the glass. This makes any face completely unrecognisable. A bit like when you look at your face on the convex side of a large spoon. (As yer do.)
I peered through it anyway, and I thought I saw............

OMG! It's Eric Estrada from "CHIPS".

If you don't remember Eric from this telly programme, you're too young to be reading this post, and why aren't you at school?

Now I'm not daft, (really I'm not.) Even though I am a right raving beauty (Why are you laughing?) I realise that Eric Estrada is not going to come round here to show me his chopper, or any other motorbike for that matter.


It seemed that it would be a good idea to get me specs. My eyes are quite bad really, although I do only need to wear them if I want to look at anything.



As I went to the door I walked past the hall mirror and thought, "Ooooh look at that face it looks just like mine, only older."


ME: Who is it? (trying to deepen my voice to sound like Eartha Kitt.)
POLICE: I'm a police officer, Sir.
(Deepened my voice a bit too much there, didn't I?)
ME: I'm a 'Miss' actually.


Now you must understand, I always make a point of declaring my status to any man who comes within 4 feet of me. You never know - I am single now and I might get lucky. I don't scrub up bad and I still have me own teeth, well four of them anyway.


I've got a better view of him now that I'm bespectacled. Ooooh that's a big word, mind you, I did have a Dictionary for breakfast - I'd run out of Frosty Flakes.


I pushed my nose up to the glass. You know that thing about policeman looking young is a sign we're getting old? Well although he was wearing a cool pair of sunglasses, he bore more than a striking resemblance to the little boy from the toilet roll adverts. (Although the policeman wasn't crooning "Soft, soft, soft.")


ME: What d'yer want? (This time I sounded like Julian Clarey)



POLICEMAN: We've had a report of a disturbance from Mrs Got-It-All three streets away. She said it was coming from your house.



ME: Pardon?



(I'm stalling for time here, surely he can't mean my melodious offerings. I know who this Mrs Got-It-All is. She lives in one of the POSH houses, what a snob. Just because she's got a big bow front and has had her back passage widened, she thinks she better than me. She's obviously forgotten that I knew her before she got hyphenated. In the days when she answered to the name of "Legover Linda", and went around with a blow up mattress in her capacious handbag in case she got lucky, the hussy! )



POLICEMAN: I really do need to speak with you, could you open the door, Sir.



(I don't believe this, he called me 'Sir' again - what a muppet!)



(EFFECTS: Sounds of various yale locks, mortice locks, deadbolts and a door chain.)
I open the door about 5mm. There are 6 cats gathered around him. (Music lovers, obviously. They've popped round to join me in a rousing chorus of "I've lost the end of my Yodel.) They are attempting a bit of "How's Yer Father" on his blue serge covered legs. He is trying to smite them with his truncheon.

ME: Come in, Officer. (I can be quite polite sometimes, I went to a posh school.)

I open the front door a little further and help him up over the doorstep. I think I've already mentioned his lack in height and his resemblance to a toddler.

ME: I wonder if you'd mind leaving the cats outside. I've got *Telegram Sam, my son's dog staying with me and he doesn't like cats.



*The dog earned this name because he keeps leaving messages on the doorstep.



Well, I'm not really sure what happened next. One minute the policeman was waving his truncheon about, trying to discourage the pussies, and the next Sam appears, sees the cats and he's off!



It was definitely the policeman who was at fault so he shot off after them all. The cats scattered, the policeman tried his best to catch up with Sam. After a few minutes looking like he's been playing as rugby scrum half and the dog was the ball, he comes round the corner trying to get his breath back. The poor old copper is absolutely covered in mud. He comes over to me, dog in his arms, and grinning from ear to ear. (Ahhh, Bless)



ME: You'd better come and have a cup of tea.

POLICEMAN: That's very kind of you. Would you mind if I rinsed my helmet in your sink?



He's gone back to the Station now to write his report. He was quite a nice lad really. So nice in fact that I didn't have the heart to tell him that the dog he'd caught wasn't Sam!

Close the Doors, They're Coming Through the Windows

I hate Sundays! I don't know why, I'm retired now so you'd think every day would be the same, but it's not.

Today was quite exciting in a way....................................

There was a letter in yesterday's post, although it had been posted through a neighbour's letterbox. (Postie obviously getting revenge on me since I reported him for being careless and squashing my pontentillas.)

Aye up, listen girls, this is quite exciting. The envelope looked very official, and I ripped it open in anticipation.



Dear Miss Dollytub,

RE: "Tena Lady (Super Absorbent) Pads"

Over the last few days the sales of the above product have reached an astronomical record high.

A spokesman for Sainsbury's said their stores had not been so busy since Jamie Oliver was on telly showing housewives what he could do with his sausage.

I decided to round up my lackies, to investigate the matter further. (I even had to contact Bill Scroat who was on honeymoon and had him pulled out at the very last minute!)

After a meeting with our industrial intelligence/tea making department, (a.k.a. Nellie and Flo,) it has come to my notice that this is due entirely due to your postings on Blogspot.

As a token of our appreciation, we would like to offer you FREE Tena (Super Absorbent) Pads for rest of you natural days.

If , at anytime in the future, you are looking for a financial sponsor to pay your gigantic phone/broadband bills, we would be grateful if you would give us first refusal.

Must dash, Nellie and Flo have now returned with the tea wagon.

Yours sincerely,

Major Wettam

CEO Tena Lady Inc

What do ya think of that then? Am I famous now, would you like my autograph?

Anyway, as you can see from today's pic, my hair looks ok now I've put a few curlers in.

I was really bored this afternoon, kicking my heels, wondering what to do with myself. Sweet old Mr D (God Rest His Soul) wouldn't like me to be moping about, so I was looking for something to amuse me.

One of his belongings I still have is his trusty old guitar. He was a brilliant guitarist and completely self taught. How hard can it be? (Bl**dy hard actually!)

Luckily I kept his music books too. There was one called "How to Get on Top of the Pops with only Three Chords".

That'll do me, I thought. Three hours, two beers and four hand rolled fags later, I was ready!

What to sing first................................

After a good look through the manuscripts I finally decided on............

1) Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer

2)I've Never Seen a Straight Banana

3)The Night We Did the Boom Boom by the Sea

along with a couple of other well known songs

I was just beginning the final chorus of "Oh Come Spread Your Jam on me Flip Flops", when there was a knock on the door.

TO BE CONTINUED................................