Thursday, February 28, 2008

A Case Of Murder.

They should not have left him there alone,
Alone that is except for the cat.
He was only nine, not old enough
To be left alone in a basement flat,
Alone, that is, except for the cat.
A dog would have been a different thing,
A big gruff dog with slashing jaws,
But a cat with round eyes mad as gold,
Plump as a cushion with tucked-in paws---
Better have left him with a fair-sized rat!
But what they did was leave him with a cat.
He hated that cat; he watched it sit,
A buzzing machine of soft black stuff,
He sat and watched and he hated it,
Snug in its fur, hot blood in a muff,
And its mad gold stare and the way it sat
Crooning dark warmth: he loathed all that.
So he took Daddy's stick and he hit the cat.
Then quick as a sudden crack in glass
It hissed, black flash, to a hiding place
In the dust and dark beneath the couch,
And he followed the grin on his new-made face,
A wide-eyed, frightened snarl of a grin,
And he took the stick and he thrust it in,
Hard and quick in the furry dark.
The black fur squealed and he felt his skin
Prickle with sparks of dry delight.
Then the cat again came into sight,
Shot for the door that wasn't quite shut,
But the boy, quick too, slammed fast the door:
The cat, half-through, was cracked like a nut
And the soft black thud was dumped on the floor.
Then the boy was suddenly terrified
And he bit his knuckles and cried and cried;
But he had to do something with the dead thing there.
His eyes squeezed beads of salty prayer
But the wound of fear gaped wide and raw;
He dared not touch the thing with his hands
So he fetched a spade and shovelled it
And dumped the load of heavy fur
In the spidery cupboard under the stair
Where it's been for years, and though it died
It's grown in that cupboard and its hot low purr
Grows slowly louder year by year:
There'll not be a corner for the boy to hide
When the cupboard swells and all sides split
And the huge black cat pads out of it.

Thanks to Vernon Scannell for that. Kinda brings to mind the Thanet blogging scene at the moment, doesn't it?
I wonder which one of our 'fat cat' bloggers went in the cupboard and which one is trying to hide?
I'm intrigued as to how this poem will play itself out!


Tuesday, February 26, 2008


At least, that's how a friend of mine described herself this evening.
Thinking she'd gone a bit 'potty' and was getting turned on by kitchen appliances (should be the other way around, shouldn't it?), she went on to explain that, these days, she was being turned on by just about everyone!

In the light of recent rumours, I thought it advisable at that point to go and sit at another table.

Light At The End Of The Tunnel In Mike Hunt.

I still don't know where the git is, but I've had a tip off as to where he'll be on Saturday evening.

Will keep you posted!

Monday, February 25, 2008

Seaman Found In Mike Hunt.

Still no sign of that gobshite milkman, however, I did manage to track down his brother (didn't know he had one of those!), who's a petty officer on P&O ferries.
There's something about a man in uniform that gets my, er, creative juices flowing, and this guy is better looking than his brother by a mile.
Not one to squander an opportunity, I invited myself in and started going to work on the fella straight away, plonking myself next to him on the sofa, hand on his thigh, rubbing myself gently against his arm, blowing into his ear and, well, all that kind of stuff.
Unfortunately, just as I was moving in for the snog, his wife suggested that it was maybe time I left.

Damn! Bitch!

All this is just making it worse for Mikey, when I eventually catch up with him!

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Mike Hunt Widens Considerably!

Initial investigation indicates that Milkey Mikey may well have moved elsewhere in Thanet.
As 'they' say, you can run but you can't hide!
I'll catch up with the fool!

And after that, I may have a go at weeding out that ECR fella. I know that Dr Dead didn't have a lot of luck, even with the backbone of MI5's IT department at his disposal, but my methods are probably a lot more unethical, and have often brought back good results in the past.

Though, on the other hand, 'ECR Hunt' doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

Maybe I'll go for 'Dick Hunt'.
I'm certainly no stranger to that!

Saturday, February 23, 2008

The Plot Thickens In Mike Hunt.

After being told tonight, that Milkey Mikey has also claimed that I can hold my boobs under my arms, hunch forward and do an almost perfect tortoise impersonation, I'm starting to wonder if 'friends' aren't ragging me a little. But if he is saying these things, when I catch up with him, he's going to spend the next week looking like he's walking barefoot on hot cobbles!

I will get to the bottom of this thing.
In the immortal words (almost) of that heron like French crooner, Celine Dion, Mike hunt will go on!

Friday, February 22, 2008

Mike Hunt Is On!

I just heard yesterday, that that errant milkman, Milkey Mikey, has been telling people that I liked to call him Michelle when we were making love.
I think I'm going to have to track him down and have this out with him, as my reputation, in that respect, has suffered quite enough over the last year.
And for the record, yes, I did like to call him Michelle, but that wasn't any reflection on MY sexuality!

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Blessed Are The Micks, For They Shall Inherit The Apple Of The Earth.

Not that I'm normally one for broad, sweeping generalisations, but every now and again I feel that one is necessary just to make someone go away and leave me alone.
So when I got stuck listening to this Irish fella pontificating in The Artillery Arms last night, banging on about how great Ireland is and what a pile of crap England is, it does beg that kind of behaviour!
It wasn't a long conversation (thank God!) and it culminated with the question of why he was living here and not in Ireland, if that were really the case.
He claimed that he was sent here to breathe on the vaginas of our women, and would I be interested in participating, for which he would give me the Princely sum of £20?
Momentarily confused, I asked him what his specific instructions had been.
"I was given a thousand pounds and told to blow up as many English twats as I could!" he replied.

Gracious me! What is the World coming to?

Tuesday, February 19, 2008


It's always nice to do something a little different, when celebrating someone's birthday, so when it was her turn, a friend of mine came up with the idea that she'd like to spend her birthday getting drunk and ogling naked men.
Well you can't argue with that!
Not having been to a hen night for many years, I was really rather looking forward to it.
I must say though, these events aren't what they used to be!

Maybe it's best not to build these things up too much, before hand?

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Sex Machine.

Second attempt at dispensing with all that 'bitch slapping, fight club' nonsense that appears to be underpinning the Thanet World of Blog at the moment...


Hint 1. It's important to be able to tell just how much women differ from men.

Hint 2. Online relationships can only extend so far.

Hint 3. Some things seem quite colourful, but aren't really.

Hint 4. Some things actually are quite colourful.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Old Flame.

Right then, dispensing with all that 'bitch slapping, fight club' nonsense that appears to be underpinning the Thanet World of Blog at the moment, let's move on to far more serious and positive issues.
I bumped into an ex of mine yesterday, bringing back some very fond memories of being made to feel like a Princess, particularly between the sheets, and some regret that only a handful of very special men seem able to do this to a woman, when we got chatting about his current pursuits in life. Once we'd established that he's currently single and that he has no interest, what-so-ever, in coming back to mine for a nostalgia shag (maybe I should mention that he's also a clueless idiot, at this point), we got on to talking about The Thanet Easter Beer Festival at Margate's Winter Gardens over Easter, and his role in making that happen. We also discussed the blog that he'd created, in order to keep people informed of how things were coming together. He seemed a little disappointed at how few people were visiting it, at which point I suggested that he maybe should post more frequently than once a month and perhaps encourage a few others to add links to him (there's that clueless idiot thing again!).

Well, being the kind soul that I am (and still in the hope of that elusive shag), I offered to risk life, limb and recognition by adding a link myself. In fact, I just happen to have a spare link in the shape of ECR's now dead one, so I'll use that.

For those of you that find it too much effort to force your pointers all the way over to the sidebar, I'll put one here too.

I went along for this Festival last year and it was a real blast!
I'll certainly be there again this year!

Individual, Unselective Sanity.

Right, having got all that off my rather shapely and well proportioned chest, I shall purport to getting over myself and getting on with things. Actually, no, I will do those things, and in a timely, non-melodramatic way, in the hope that the drama queens who represent our left and right wing views here in blogging Thanet will follow suit!
You never know!
And now that, as rumour has it, they are operating as one unit, covering a very broad spectrum of political ideals, maybe we'll start getting some sense out of them?

Or is all this going to drag on until they have proof that their dwindling interestship has now been restored to it's former glory?

I do hope not!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Collective, Selective Insanity.

I've been telling myself for years that I'd be the only sane one left when the rest of the World went mad.

Think I may just pop my blog to bed and wait and see what Spring (not the one in my bed) has to offer.


p.s. Happy V.D. celebrations to everyone that forgot to get me a card and I'm pretty sure I haven't left anyone out, there.

Blogs Away!

Call me suspicious if you like, though 'suspect' may be more appropriate, but when two of Thanet's most prolific and prominent bloggers disappear at the same time, one does have to wonder if said disappearances aren't related?!
What with that and the whisper that I heard last night, suggesting that there may be some kind of romantic twist to this strange saga, I really think that questions need to be answered! Just for a bit of a laugh, if nothing else.

They say that opposites attract and that there's no smoke without fire and there's plenty more fish in the sea and.... well, so on. But I'd like to hear what the pair of them (or should I say 'couple'?) have to say about it!

And if there is any truth in it, which one is the giver?

Sunday, February 10, 2008

The Truth Will Out.

Having recently had my cover blown by the bleedin' Paparazzi, I've been forced to reveal my true identity....

See, I told you I was cute!

Gay And Full Of Spunk!

As everyone appeared to be off to The Monkey Sanctuary in Ramsgate's fashionable Westend, for another of those Boogaloo thingies last night, I thought I'd tag along to see what all the fuss is about.
Well I never, it turned out to be quite a party!
And I got to meet some pretty interesting people, to boot!

No sign of Cliffy though. Maybe he thought his time would be better spent crying into a pile of rubble. I honestly don't know what's gotten into the fella of late. Midlife crisis? New year's resolution?
He certainly doesn't seem to fit the title of this missive, these days.

I think I might have to wander down to that pile of rubble after lunch and pull him off!

Saturday, February 09, 2008

Tern! Tern! Tern!

After copping one straight in my new hairdo from one of those bastard herring gulls yesterday, I'd like to dedicate the following song to them, in the hope that at least some retribution is meted out.

Cost me bloody fifty quid, that did, just to end up looking like an ice-cream cornet!

Lucky, my arse!

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Pub Chain Collapses.

Though on the bright side, it is nice to have the landlords back in the Artillery Arms, where, perhaps, they belong!
And how lovely, having Ing (their Malaysian landlord, affectionately know as Cook Ing to his patrons) back in the saddle and preparing a veritable feast to celebrate the Chinese New Year, last night.


On the darker side, it's now, according to the Chinese calender, The Year Of The Rat.

I'll bet that TDC were celebrating quite hard last night, too!

Tuesday, February 05, 2008


As there doesn't appear to be anything on YouTube that can't be used to represent one opinion or another, forgive me for plonking this into my blog for a little perspective on 2007.

Maybe we're not as badly off, or given such cause for celebration, as the rest of the World, here on our tiny Isle.

Perhaps we need a theme park?

Monday, February 04, 2008

Brittany's Peers In The Arrondissement of Quimper.

Rue Max Jacob, Plonéis, Quimper, Brittany, to be precise. At least, that's where the lovely fella that I met in Churchill's this evening claimed to be from. I know it's far more popular, these days, to swap telephone numbers, rather than house addresses, but this guy didn't have a phone.
He'd decided to spend a couple of weeks in Ramsgate to see if he can work out why so many Brits have chosen to live in and around his village. His English has become quite fluent in the two years that their 'local shop' has been owned by a couple from Yorkshire. Not that he was complaining, mind you, merely curious. He went on to say how much he enjoyed the fresh influx of culture, and "by 'eck, some thumpin' good curries".
I think he found most of his answers while visiting Margate yesterday, since when, he no longer has a phone. "What a bleak and desolate place that is, chook" he opined. I suggested that if he goes there again, it's best to go to Frank's Nightclub first, to desensitise yourself a little.

Well, that'll be my summer holiday sorted then!

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Sunday Morning Work-Out.

After a heavy weekend of sauce guzzling, I often find a good work-out with one of my exercise videos most restorative.
On special occasions though, after the White Cliffs Festival Of Winter Ales for instance, a much tougher regime is required. When the need arises, nothing less than Vera De Milo will do....

Good grief, she's ALL woman, isn't she?

Friday, February 01, 2008

Journey To The Surface Of The Earth.

Dear God! Is it really time for The Whitecliffs Festival Of Winter Ales again?
Where did that year go, then?
For those of you that have never been, or even heard of it, it's one of those speciality festivals that offers a range of winter beers from 5% ABV up to as stupidly strong as the brewers can manage to make them!
For more details, have a look here.

I'll be popping along there myself this afternoon/evening and, as practice for the career that I'm currently pursuing as a Medium (even though I'm only a size 10), I make the following prediction...