Just returned from a birthday visit to my Mother which is always an experience. Experience One involved me having to attend the burial and small funeral service for half a dead mouse she found in the garden. The ARSE end of the dead mouse at that. My cousin's cat has recently gone to live with her and despite the evidence being a bit on the circumstantial side, he is the prime suspect. In fact, not so much a suspect but the official guilty party. No trial, no witnesses, no nothing - just half a corpse.
The other observation I have involves her TV. She has about 4 different remote controls and it drives me crazy as I can never work out which one does what! I don't even know why she bothers; the TV is always set to some US Crime channel and she just watches CSI (NY, Vegas and the dreadful Miami one - how did that ginger arse David Caruso ever get work? He looks like his eyes have been sewn in with red thread, he over acts in a comedy mean and moody way - but he believes it, and is a thoroughly unlikeable person. Out of the 3 in the franchise, his is the shittest by far), NCIS, Law and Order and god, other similar shows all night EVERY night. I actually found myself appreciating them, even the one's I'd seen the previous night and knew what was going to happen, and that's why I could never go back there to live permanently. I might just give up on rational thought in order to sit with an anaesthetised brain watching made up crime. At least I'll know if someone is poisoning me with Selenium - I'll have horrendous garlic breath.
...and so to THE conversation. Before I continue, I have to advise that whilst I love my extended family, they can be very judgemental, mocking and erm.....I won't beat around the bush - EVIL. I had mentioned to my Mother that I hadn't been feeling very unwell and my (cough) lady internal bits seemed a bit sluggish and, being the hypochondriac that I am, I was assuming I was terminally ill.
Mother: You aren't PREGNANT are you?
Me: Well, he hasn't performed that one since Bethlehem actually Mother.
That brief exchange made me reflect and once I again I got lost in bizarre and unnatural thoughts. I did think that if the Lord was going to pick someone to carry the new Messiah, she'd at least have to be a genuine virgin and not someone who's basically become 're-virginated' due to the very real fact she can't get any! I then thought about me having a new Messiah and how 'the family' would behave. Of course, they wouldn't be supportive or believing. They'd mock us both. They'd laugh behind our backs and question why he was wearing a dress, take the piss out of his sandals and whisper about his decision to hang about with 12 other guys. They'd make snippy comments that his hair was too long and that his beard would look like he'd got a vagina stuck to his face. In fact, his secret family nickname would be 'fanny-face'. See, I know my family, have heard the stuff they've said about people and know that this would be the way. No Messiah, new or old would survive my family without ending up with a whole bucket full of neuroses and paranoia's. My cousin and I have discussed this at length and know that we've gone wrong. We've only survived by doing strange things for our own amusement and by small acts of evil here and there. We both know this. We both know that we're never right. For fuck sake, she PUNCHED a baked potato and doesn't even know why! I pissed everywhere at work once 'cause I had to find out whether incontinence pads really worked (they don't. Well, they do for drips but not for the entire contents of a full adult bladder) In fact LINK to story.
So, in conclusion, I worry for the fate of mankind if I was forced to be the re-virgin mother to the new Messiah.
Finally, I had a gig in the week and suspect I'd travelled into the world of the strange. All I knew is that the promotor was called Dave and I only had a sketchy idea of what he looked like. My cousin and I went into the pub and found a bloke sitting at the bar in the lounge area.
Cousin Lisa: Hi, we're looking for Dave
Bloke: Oh, I think you'll find him in the bar.
(we duly went next door into the other bar room. When we got there we discovered that the bar was the same one for the lounge and this bar with one elderly guy serving both rooms. We could see the first bloke from where we were.
Cousin Lisa (to ancient barman): Hi, we're looking for Dave
Ancient Barman (shouting through to the first bloke): Dave, have you seen Dave?
First Bloke: No, I thought he was in there with you!
(Enter another bloke)
Ancient Barman: You alright Dave?
(Lisa and I perk up our ears)
Ancient Barman to this Dave: Dave, have YOU seen Dave?
Dave: No, dunno where he is...
...and that's how it went. We did find the correct Dave in the end but the situation made me wonder why all the other Daves didn't just assume they were the Dave we wanted. Do they spend their family lives never thinking anyone requires them? As for the gig, it was at a venue I'd never played before. The set went quite well actually with plenty of audience participation despite the MC quietly whispering an apology to me for killing the atmosphere in the room prior to my set. Cousin Lisa filmed the set and I might even put it up on YouTube if I can be arsed. I'll be sure to post a link if I do!
Sketty (30 September - ?)isn’t a 17th Century English naval administrator or Member of Parliament. Furthermore, she has never met King Charles II or King James II. This may be due to both being dead at the time of her life. In fact, this isn’t so much a diary but the unedited spewings from the brain of one of the Century’s leading cretins. Some of it may develop into comedy unless I get to spend time in a lovely facility where someone will give me dinner.
