Ernie

I passed Ernie on his way to church this morning. He’d stopped by the graveyard with some flowers. He was wearing his usual clothes: a navy blue suit with waistcoat, collar and tie. His shoes, as ever, were black and polished, the steel Blakeys c-click clacking down the stone path. He was clean-shaven, but he’d nicked his chin and upper lip. His thickish white hair is always cut high up the back of his neck and parted just left of centre – a habit from his army days. When he walks it’s like a half-march in slow motion.

Despite his always wearing a suit, collar and tie he never really looks smart. The suit always sags slightly and the edges are frayed; the shirt collars and cuffs are frayed too. The tie is faded and has food stains on it. The trousers have been ironed, but haphazardly, with areas still crumpled and creased, sometimes one whole leg. When he sits down you can see the holes in the back of his thin, diamond-pattern socks.

Stand close enough to him and you can smell Brylcream, cheap Whisky and fuggy, dusty rooms.

He always has the waistcoat done up, despite the obvious strain these days on the buttons. Even after Mabel died he’s carried on cooking for two. He still can’t bring himself to make the adjustment.

I saw him in casual wear once in Preston Park, a long time ago. I didn’t recognized him at first. He looked like someone else. A new man. But Mabel didn’t like it, so the next day he was back to wearing the suit, collar and tie. He always liked to please her.

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The old Windmill

TUMBY: There used to be a windmill there at the end of the promenade you know, Bert.

ME: Really?

TUMBY: Oh Yeah. Big one too. Proper one, you know.

ME: What happened to it?

TUMBY: Billy Butlin knocked it down to build the amusement park. Wanker.

PEGGY: Best thing he ever did.

TUMBY: Whad’ya mean? That amusement park was shite. Still is.

PEGGY: I know. But… I just hate windmills. They give me the creeps.

TUMBY: You hate windmills? How can a windmill give you the creeps? They’re lovely old things.

PEGGY: No they’re not. They’re creepy *shudders*

TUMBY: You’re mad. I grew up here with that windmill. I used to sell matches in front of it and do tricks for the holiday-makers. Charley Ferris used to be out front of it with his monkey. I climbed it once for a bet.

ME: What, the monkey?

TUMBY: No, you top hat. The windmill. I fell off and cracked me coccyx.

PEGGY: See? Windmills are evil. Sinister, dark horrible things. Best thing Billy Butlin ever did.

TUMBY: Blimey, Peggy, what was Camberwick Green, then, a horror movie?

PEGGY: (laughs) It bloody was to me!

TUMBY: You mad old bint!

ME: I’ve got to go, you two. See you later. Hope your ankles go down, Peggy.

PEGGY: Some hope. See ya, Bert

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Old Bert (via Twitter)

(via Twitter)

Bumped into Janice yesterday.”Hey Bert I’ve got you a birthday present”, and she lifted up her skirt. I thought…that’s not to be sniffed at.

Just saw Debbie Bodfish at the bus stop in her denim mini and corned beef legs burping Tizer at passers-by.

“Hello Bob, how’s your piles?” “Bloody agony, Bert, thanks for asking. I’d love to sit & chat but I’ve forgotten me inflatable bum ring.”

Saw Ernie the lollipop man shouting after some lippy kids. “I don’t have to do this, y’know, I’m a first-class joiner!” It fell on deaf ears

Up early today to give Maureen a lift to West London. I might try and take her up the Staines bypass. Laterz.

Think I’ll revisit my 1,000-piece jigsaw of Fred Dinenage in powder-blue slacks vaulting over a bollard. Look at his face. So full of life

Ray’s had a panic attack. He was sliding across the lino in his socks when he accidentally did the splits. We’re fanning him on the futon.

Maureen was watching a clip of the Beatles. “When Paul goes ‘ooooooh’ his mouth looks like a cat’s arse”. Ned went upstairs. He loves Macca.

Saw Beryl flouncing up the High St earlier with her Harrods bag, as per. It’s full of Asda rum & Smartprice mince and she’s fooling no one.

Saw Ron from Plumbase at the bus stop. I crept up behind & gave him a big wedgie.He chased me all the way to Poundland.And he missed his bus

Still reading Davy Jones’s autobiography ‘They Made A Monkee Out Of Me’. It’s quite good. Think I’ll take it up to bed now. G’night.

Saw Debbie Bodfish outside Wimpy. She’s still smirking about her casual night of shame at the Coco Lounge with Dave from Allied Carpets.

There’s only so much Spirograph you can do before you start going doolally, so I’m going to bed. You bring the Cocoa, I’ll bring the inhaler

Sat on the front garden wall. Ada stopped by to tell me about her Diarrhea.One of my plums popped out while I was picking a scab off my knee

Ray challenged me to a game of Swingball. He won 21-0. He is a Swingball Wizard though. And I was round the dogpoo side.I didn’t have a hope

Beryl’s popped round and is sat on the patio in dark glasses watching Ned oil his war wound. She’s sucking hard on a lolly.

Ned’s in the garden, knotted hanky on his head, Kestel Super by his side, plums out & oiled in the full glare of the sun. How I worship him.

I must confess I’ve found myself easily distracted while watching the Grand Prix by the rather attractive bevelled rim on this bowl.

Walking back with Derek when a driver stopped & said “Scuse me, do you know the Worthing turnoff? “I should do”, said Derek, “I married her”

Trousers checkered & tight. A hat set at a jaunty angle, and cheekbones that could get pickles out of jars. Ned’s a ladies’ man alright.

Ah, the Tunnocks Tea Cake – a miracle of biscuit engineering.

There’s Charley Puddles easing himself into his old Morris Minor. There’s a knob on the steering wheel because he’s only got one arm.

I might have a banana. Got some oranges too. Eventually they go to green powder and I bin ‘em and buy some more. Haven’t eaten one in years.

You can’t beat an egg in the morning.

Just jemmied Ned off the bannister.He was halfway down clinging on for dear life.”Sorry Bert.It’s these shiny slacks.I shot down & panicked”

Bumped into Ada later. She was sat on the bench outside Barnado’s. Her face was swollen & one eye was closed. “Bastards. My fucking cider”.

Corky and No-neck were in the Arcade.They’d got some Cider off Ada & were playing ‘nearest the wall’ up against the old closed-down toyshop.

Lost at darts to Racist Keith again. That boy can throw an arrow. I’d absolutely hammer the twat at Swingball, though, and well he knows it.

Might go to Rosie’s Cafe & see Tumby the midget. He’ll be there telling stories, stovepipe hat on the table, cup of varnish and a jam lardy

Ned & One-lung Ray just had a massive falling out. There were harsh words. A scuffle. Wigs slipped. Always happens when they play Kerplunk.

Popped out for a paper.Saw Fat Kev with a Twix, a CurlyWurly, 4 bags of crisps, a litre bottle of Coke, 20 Bensons & a copy of Men’s Fitness

Nice woman, Brenda. Look beyond the bingo wings, the Joe Bugner jaw & the tattoos & you’ll find a tender heart. Gave me her last Toffo once.

There goes Brenda on her way to the Coco Lounge. Leopard skin, fleuro-mini, white stilletos, sugar-sculpture wig and 20 Bensons in the bag.

Ned slipped on the lino in the hallway & did a panic guff. He strongly denied it, adjusted his wig & walked off, dignity intact, to the bog.

I’ll have to call Beryl. She’s left her book here. I presume it’s hers. ‘Coping with Schizophrenia’ by Dorothy Durdles and Dorothy Durdles.

Passed Ernie outside Poundland. He was trying to wipe fresh dog poo off his orthopaedic shoe. I held his arm to steady him.

Popped out early for a paper. Passed One-lung Ray jogging up Buckley Close. I could hear Eye of the Tiger playing on his Walkman.

Saw Derek in Asda, with his mum, of course. She was crouched down picking cakes for his 40th. He was stood behind, gently stroking her hair.

I’m sat on the Parker Knoll Recliner with a cup of tea, a packet of Gypsy Creams and ‘Fan Dabi Dozi – The Amazing Story of the Krankies’.

Gideon, my owl, has just swooped down onto the leather pouffe for Home & Away. He’s got my MilkyWay in his claws, the crafty little bugger.

She walked up close, put her face in mine & belched. I smelled KFC. “Better out than in”, she said, “Both ends”, and then farted & walked on

Sat on my front wall with a sausage roll & a cider. Debbie Bodfish from the Claypole Estate walked past in her denim mini & corned beef legs

Arthur won the Hendrix karaoke last time. His ‘Little Wing’ was a triumph.A tour de force. Didn’t even miss a beat when his wig slipped off.

It’s Jimi Hendrix karaoke night tonight at the Crown. Ernie’s already got his name down for Wild Thing. Bastard.That was mine & he knows it.

Mad Malc was in the Post Office. Funny bloke, Malc. Starer. Always mumbling. Big winter coat all year round. Loner. Eats his own earwax.

I’m no health & safety nut, but free-expression dancing with a full hard-on that close to an anglepoise is just asking for trouble.

Oh dear. Ned had one Sherry too many and did some sort of mad, free-expression jig round the room, naked. He’s done himself a mischief now.

Vince has pimped his mobility scooter. He’s lowered the body, got a new front spoiler and a bumper sticker that says ‘Honk if you medicate’.

I’m in a bidding war on Ebay for a Moulinex Blender. It’s up to £5.50 now. I’m pulling out before this spirals out of control.

Maureen just appeared from the kitchen with a plate of Sponge Fingers & 2 glasses of Mateus Rosé. “Come on, Bert.We deserve it”.What a woman

Gilbert was in Asda.He wears driving gloves when he pushes the trolley.Heard him doing gear-change noises in the Ready Meals & Tissues aisle

Don’t forget, Barry’s reggae tribute act, Bazwad, play the Crown tonite. Why not go as a ‘rasta’? Best outfit wins a pattie & a can of Lilt.

I nodded off & woke to find Gideon, my owl, pecking at my Toffee Crisp. I shooed him outside & he’s missing Flog It! now. That’ll learn him.

Off now to the Gurkha Tandoori for a Chicken Tarka. It’s like a Tikka but ‘otter. Laterz.

Blimey, that porridge went through me like a Porsche. Morning.

Don’t forget, it’s ‘singalong-a-yesteryear’ with Dave tonite at the Legion,7pm. Powdered egg & plum duff buffet. 30p (new pence) on the door

Off to Trad Jazzercise soon with Ray for the ‘Kenny Ball Dixieland Heel Hop’. Gladys has sprained her vagina, so Dolly’s taking the class.

Ned overdid it again last night on the Eggnog. He’s still fast akip on the futon, legs akimbo. I better clean that sick off his neck brace.

Sat on our bench in town with Johnny No-Neck and Ada, people-watching. The Ox came over and joined us, strumming on his two-string guitar.

Old Peggy was in the park by herself with a can of Super.She was on the swings seeing how high she could go, the tears pouring down her face

Poor Ernie. It must be soul-destroying when you try to ram-raid a shop front and just bounce back of the glass, and no-one even notices.

Stopped by Favourite Chicken on the way home.Fat Kev was eating in. He had 12 Chicken Dippers, a Belly Buster & a Diet Coke. He looked well

Denise was outside the chippy in her denim mini, texting.Someone shouted “Corned beef legs!”.She gave them the 2 fingers without looking up.

Been pointing Mrs Teedy’s wall. She gave me some salmon mousse as I left but I dropped it on the gravel while fumbling with her sticky latch

Someone blew off in the Post Office this morning. We all looked at Beryl, of course. “Well don’t look at me, I haven’t guffed!” But we knew.

Just ran down to the shops in my waterproof emergency poncho to get a paper. Bumped into Fat Kev outside BetFred. His gout’s back again.

Don’t forget Derek & His Incredible Organ will be coming over all nostalgic at the Legion tonite with his hits of yesteryear.40p on the door

Down there by that old mattress there’s a fat, middle-aged man in military fatigues & thick glasses eating an apple with a penknife. Always.

I can see that kid with the cleft lip & wonky eye up the road playing hopscotch by himself. He’s always by himself.

I said “This meat raffle’s a bloody swizz & you know it you smarmy git”.He tried to fob me off with a pig’s dick but I was having none of it

Guess what? Beryl won 1st prize at the meat raffle,again. And 2nd prize,again.Beryl is Derek’s bit on the side. It’s a swizz, I’m sure of it

Ada was sitting on the bench with Peggy drinking Asda rum. She was rubbing lard on her ankles. Best thing for scabs & open sores, apparently

Doorbell went as I was on the vinegar strokes. It was Derek wanting to borrow my Bontempi for tomorrow’s gig at the Drop-in Centre. Bastard.

Saw the ‘Lunchtime Erotica’ at the pub. It was Brenda from Plumbase. It’s amazing what she can do with a tub of flux paste & 4ft of downpipe

Slipped over in some dogshit outside Plumbase. I put my hand in it trying to get up as well. Still, I got that 15mm draincock I was after.

Went round Maureen’s mum’s for dinner tonight. Blimey, I thought my mum was a bad cook. At least her gravy used to move about.

Popped into the newsagents for a MilkyWay but ended up buying a Crunchie. Just did it. I went top end. Eat it on the way home.

Sat by the war memorial this morning sharing a Kestrel Super with Johnny No Neck. Saw Peggy by the bins eating a pasty & scratching her tit.

Ned’s looking good today in his Daffy Duck swimming trunks. Here he comes now with a big jug of Rola Cola and a hard on.

Had a romantic walk with Maureen up to the gasometers. Did a goalie kick with my chewing gum & fell on my arse. “Prat”, she said, lovingly.

“Hi Arthur. How’s trix?” “My piles are playing up, the shingles are back, my feet hurt & I think I’ve got scurvy.Apart from that I’m fine.”

Anyway, I’m off to bed now with a mug of cocoa and my copy of Fred Dinenage’s incredible autobiography, “Are These my Slacks?”. Sleep tight.

My hair hurts. My mouth’s like the inside of a tram driver’s glove & I look like I’ve just emerged from a hostage situation.

Doing the Sunday roast for me & Maureen. Roast beef, gravy, carrots, peas & Yorkshires – Lidl frozen ready meal. £1. Can’t go wrong there.

Sat in the park earlier with a can of Red Stripe and a CurlyWurly. One-lung Ray jogged past singing Eye of the Tiger. God I admire him.

Saw Janice too, flirting in her lemon velour romper suit & silver slingbacks. Her easy glamour always brings the boys to the yard.

Maureen just did a squeaky guff while hanging some clothes. “Did you just blow off?” “No. Must’ve been the clothes horse”. Unbelievable.

Blimey, that wind’s got up out there. I’ve spent the last half hour in the garden straddling a recalcitrant cloche.

Maureen’s cooking tonight & I’m banned from the kitchen area. I poked her fish pie & she twanged me in the cock with her pastry fork.

A set of dentures have been found under a seat at the Legion. They are stuck together with what appears to be a Toffo. If yours, call Derek.

Got cornered by Tony Teedy in the pub. He pressed his safari suit against me & gave me the 2-hour, unpotted history of gripper rods.

To the Crown for the meat raffle. The Six Bells has ‘lunchtime erotica with Brenda’, but even that can’t compete with 2lb of braising steak.

Saw Ernie the lollipop man shouting after some lippy kids. “I don’t have to do this, y’know, I’m a first-class joiner!” It fell on deaf ears

Maurice is in the garden dancing erotically round the rusty Swingball pole. Every time he slides down it he shuts his eyes & gently guffs.

Went for a wee earlier and slipped in some sick on the lino. The sick was still warm, so I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.

Bath time.Glass of Lambrusco on the side. After Eights fanned across a limited edition “Cockerel Collection” plate. Manilow CD on. Pure gold

Treating Maureen tonight: Fray Bentos Steak&Kidney Pie, chips & peas. Rum Baba. Liebfraumilch. After Eights. Live your life, that’s my motto

I’m off with One-lung Ray and Tumby Cludge, the midget, to pull some shapes at Trad Jazzercise. Gladys has hired a room above Allied carpets

Since you ask, I’m on the patio in a top-of-the-range bhs dressing gown eating a cream horn, reading The Joy of Dado Rails by Madge Feel.

Just trounced One-Lung Ray at Swingball 19-0. It would have been 10, but he took unbrage at Beryl’s laughing & stropped off to watch Minder.

Oh, it’s ‘Melodies, Memories & Dreams’ night at the Legion this Monday. Let Derek’s amazing organ fill you with the warm glow of nostalgia.

Passed Brenda having a fag outside the Bingo hall. I made an ill-advised joke about her fat ankles. She heard. I deserved that nipple twist.

Stopped off in the Crown for a pint. Brenda was leaning heavy on the bar and calling Valerie a ‘tuppeny whore’. That’s rich coming from her.

Going to rollerskate to the Legion now. I’m going to drink rum, talk bollocks & shoot pool with a midget called Tumby Cludge. Life’s good.

Saw Arthur in Debenhams earlier. I crept up behind him and gave him a wedgie in Soft Accessories. He did calm down eventually.

Saw Gladys in the park. She’d finished the Special Brew & was seeing how high she could go on the swings, the tears streaming down her face.

Saw Brenda outside Greggs having a fag. Heart of gold, Brenda. Face like a welder’s bench, admittedly, but she’d give you her last Toffo.

Right, I’m off up to m’boudoir with a Horlicks and a copy of ‘Fan Dabi Dozi – The Amazing True Story of the Krankies’. N’night.

Saw Beryl & Norman snogging by the fruit machine tonight. Beryl’s convinced he’s the ‘one’. “It’s love, Bert. Real love, like on the telly”.

Saw Janice outside Pounstretcher in her lemon velour romper suit, silver slingbacks & Dolce & Gabbana walking frame. That woman oozes class.

Gladys just called to say that Trad Jazzerecise (The Kenny Ball Workout) is off today. She twisted her ankle falling off a plumber.

I’m sat on the futon in my pants watching Emmerdale. I’ve got my feet up on the leather pouffe and I’m eating a sponge pudding.

Saw young Antony from the salon, lunchtime. A girl was chatting him up at the bar. I think he prefers the company of other young gentlemen.

The incontinence pants machine is still broken. But don’t worry, Derek keeps an emergency supply behind the bar (under the nuts). Just ask.

There was a kid standing at the bus stop tonight with a cleft lip. He was eating a Toblerone, which slid in, unhindered.

Lovely day here in the park, full of life & love. Saw, Gerald, now widowed, on the edge of the lake, talking to reflections of his wife.

It’s reggae tribute act night tonite at the Crown. Barry’s new band, Bazwad, are supported by blind reggae act, Bob, Marlene & the Braillers

Gideon, my owl, just came in. He’s sat on the leather pouffe over there by the clothes horse, eating a Wispa. He’s waiting for Casualty.

“Sure you won’t have a swig of Cider, Beryl?” “No thanks Albert. I’m on my way to Lidl. It’s 2-for-1 on Lil-lets. Offer ends tomorrow”.

Sat by the war memorial this morning polishing off last night’s cider. Beryl stopped by for a moan. Her ankles have ballooned again.

Me & Ned are off on a rollerskate race.Twice round the gasometers & up to Bog Lane for the dogshit slalom.Last one to Greggs gets the cakes.

One-lung Ray’s conked out on the futon. He had a funny turn while free-expression shuffling to ELOs Mr Blue Sky. Fuck knows where his wig is

I won 2lbs of braising steak on the meat raffle. Hooray! Got chased home by 6 dogs, 4 foxes and most people from the Claypole Estate.

Right, I’m going to rollerskate down to the Legion for the meat raffle. Hope Derek’s there. He’s promised to lend me his Charlie Drake DVD.

I’m off to m’boudoir with a Tunnocks Tea Cake and my copy of The Joy of Dado Rails, by Madge Feel. Night then.

I thought badgers were supposed to love peanut butter. I’ve left loads out & it’s all still there. Maybe they’re just shit at opening jars?

There goes Kenny from Dixons. Where’s he off to? All hips, is Kenny. Fat hips, no shoulders.He’s basically a weeble. You can’t push him over

Bugger. I’ve been on that settee all evening, and the whole time I was sat on a cream horn. It’s all up the back of me trouser.

My stereo tried to kill my Paula Abdul cassette by spewing out the tape, but I got it all back in by winding a pencil in one of the holes.

Just been beaten at Kerplunk again by Gideon, my owl.That’s an 8-match unbeaten run for him. I’d thrash him at Buckaroo & well he knows it.

Righto, I’m off to start my new 1000-piece jigsaw of Fred Dinenage in tight powder-blue slacks, vaulting over a bollard.

I’m watching one-lung Ray soft-shoe shuffle across my lino to Haircut 100′s ‘Love Plus One’. He’s doing the white man’s overbite. Silly sod.

Lovely morning here in Spadley. Bumped into Arthur outside Greggs scraping dogshit off his orthapaedic shoe. I held his arm to steady him.

I bought a Bounty today. I don’t normally go luxury with chocolate, but I’ve been a bit down lately. I thought, treat yourself. Go top end.

Savage Muff aren’t playing The Crown tonite.Frontman, Vince, went too fast thru a puddle & aquaplaned his mobility scooter into a pillar box

The singsong & sandwich buffet went well at the drop-in centre this morning, despite the disparaging remarks made about Beryl’s ‘sweaty’ ham

I just slipped on a loose stair carpet and did a little panic guff.

Stopped off to see Fred on the way home.Always immaculately turned out is Fred. Slacks, shirt, tie, v-neck. He’s a credit to that burger van

Brenda’s been house-sitting while I’ve been away. There’s lipstick all over my Des O’Connor jigsaw & not a Gypsy Cream left in the house.

As my dear old mum used to say, ‘Well, Albert, you’re ugly, but with a penis like that you’ll never be lonely’. And how right she was.

I’m meeting Janice later. Norks to die for, but a face that’d scare a dog out of a butchers shop. Still, you can’t have everything can you?

Saw a man in Wilton Rd perched naked on a grit bin with his knob tucked between his legs, singing ‘Careless Whisper’. Nice voice actually.

Gideon, my owl, is sat on his leather pouffe over there. He’s got one eye on Eastenders and the other on my Toffee Crisp. Yeah, dream on.

I’ll tell you what, I swear that meat raffle’s a swizz. Two years I’ve been doing that. Nothing. Not even a pig’s dick. It’s a bloody swizz.

Ray was all over Dolly last night. Lambrini here, Baileys there, all the crisps she wanted. That tramp’s playing him like a violin.

Looking forward to seeing Gloria Estefan tribute act, Glorius Astra Van, tonight at the Legion.They’re supporting The Cheeses & Dairy Chain.

Maureen’s round tonight. Fray Bentos Steak & Kidney Pie. Chips & peas. Lambrini. Titanic DVD. Single red rose on the bed. It can’t fail.

Bumped into Vince in Poundstretcher. He was moaning about the prices. “I’ll come back when the sales are on”. Typical Vince.

Just went for a walk across the fields. There were no birds in the trees and the horses were all wearing gas masks. I ran home.

Gideon, my owl, has come in. He likes Bargain Hunt. He’s sat on the leather pouffe eating a Caramac. Say hello, Giddy. No. He’s too absorbed

Trying out my new sandwich toaster tonight. I always end up getting the same model. Well, better the Breville you know.

Just went for a walk just to clear my head. Saw Maurice up by the pylons drop-kicking sugared almonds at a beige Volvo. I didn’t stop.

Finally got the toilet fixed, so we’re good to go. And as the plumber said, a flush beats a full house.

Just looked in the mirror. I’ve got a face like a grieving cod. I’m going back to bed.

I’m so hungover that I’ve lost the ability to generate saliva. My tongue is suffocating me. I’d cry but I need the moisture. Morning.

Just saw Beryl with Brandy Snaps poking out the top of her bag again. She likes people to think she has posh parties. She’ll bin ‘em later

Got carried away & did an Egyptian sand dance across the lino. Feel sick now. Hope that sponge pudding stays down. £1.19 that was.

Bumped into an old school chum today. Vic Pickles. Vic! He was selling packets of bacon from a suitcase in the pub. Always knew he’d get on.

Didn’t cop off though. I made my excuses soon after she whispered, “I’ve got me rags in this week but you can pump me up the council”.

bertflange: Knocked over the scrambled egg this morning & it landed in the cat tray. Wish I hadn’t eaten it now. Went through me like a Porsche.

I’ve just imagined Gloria Hunniford stuck halfway up a stepladder in a tight skirt and wanked so hard I set the smoke alarm off.

Well, The Crown’s ‘lunchtime erotica with Brenda’ was certainly impressive. I’ve seen it done with ping-pong balls, but never basketballs.

Got given a flyer in town about a new 80s club opening in the High St. Says here, “LUB TROPICANA – All that’s missing is the C”. Quality.

It’s Maureen’s birthday today. I’ve booked us a table for two tonight. Hope she likes snooker.

Mavis is a shallow, peroxided jezebel who drinks heavily & drops her draws for tuppence. I’m sure she’s got her bad points too though.

Meeting Mavis tonight. She’s been around a bit, has Mave. Taking precautions involves tying your foot to the sink.

The Gas man’s been. He was puffing. I said “You’re exhausted”. He said “You’d be if you’d just done 100 meters”.That never stops being funny

Went for a nice stroll in to town just now. Saw Gloria Hunniford helping a spastic over a low wall. Such a nice woman.

Once again the cat has ruined my Tuesday morning wank by insisting on staring at me while I do it. I can’t do it when he’s staring.

Ever morning, Gideon my pet owl, flies in & gives me the Spadley Times in bed. I go to the obituaries & if I’m not in there I get up.

Going for a curry tonight with one-lung Ray. Unfortunately Dolly’s coming too. Dolly looks like Joe Bugner in a frock & fancies me.

Maurice was up there in his clingfilm bikini, throwing Parma Violets at an abandoned Volvo. He’s working thru his problems in his own way.

Saw sexy Pam just now outside Greggs. She went lezzer when her husband left. Sexy Pam. Sooner she gets back on solids the better.

Someone blew off in the Post Office this morning. We all looked at Beryl. “Well don’t look at me” she said, “I haven’t guffed!” But we knew.

Brenda is the original good-time girl – had by all. She’s known down at the Legion as the ‘box of assorted creams’. Harsh but fair.

Brenda was in there too, knocking back the Baileys and calling Pam a ‘tuppeny whore’. That’s rich coming from her.

Stopped off in The Six Bells on my way home for a pint. Pam was at the bar in a yellow velour jumpsuit & slingbacks, the cockteasing hussy.

The latest goss is that Linda from the Tanning Salon has had her arsehole bleached. Apparently it doubles now as a tea towel holder.

Off to the Legion tonite. All Pale Ales are halfprice & they’re promising anyone who arrives before 7pm a complimentary sausage roll.

As much as I admire June Whitfield as an actress I still find it hard to forgive her the time she punched me in the cock in Debenhams.

From Maurice I got a framed photo of himself nude with his knob tucked between his legs and a Walnut Whip sellotaped to each nipple.

Maureen and I had a row tonight. She stormed off with: “Bert, you’re not even shallow, you’re just a damp patch”. No nookie for me, then.

As my dear old mum used to say,”Well, Albert, you may be ugly, but with a penis like that you’ll never be lonely”. How right she was.

Meeting Janice later. Magnificent tits, but a face that’d scare a dog out of a butchers shop. Still, you can’t have everything can you?

Of course Spadley’s most famous celebrity spot was Gary Numan standing outside Greggs in a jumpsuit eating a cheese & onion pasty.

Looking forward to seeing Gloria Estefan tribute act, Glorius Astravan, tonight at the Legion. They’re supporting ABBAtoir. 10p on the door.

Right, I believe it’s time for my Tuesday afternoon wank. Sod’s law the doorbell will go when I’m on the vinegar strokes. Wish me luck.

I just did 12 Tunnock’s Tea Cakes really fast. I’ve tripped on a marshmallow cloud & fallen 8 miles high, I’ve tore my mind on a biscuit sky

I’m so hungry I could eat a sweaty horse between two pissy mattresses.

Saw Maurice this morning wanking into a hedge. I said hello. He waved back with his free hand.

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