December 13 2013
Blimey, here we go again then: blumming Christmas. Comes round quicker every year, doesn’t it? Where does the time go? Sort of sneaks up, doesn’t it? One minute you’re cursing the rain ‘cos it’s ruined your August bank holiday barbecue and the next it’s all mistletoe and wine, Marks and Sparks vouchers and Noddy screaming at the top of his lungs from every tannoy system and Juke box across the land. Holder, I mean, obviously… Mind you, get a few beers in the other little fella and he’s none to quiet himself, I can tell you. And as for that daft mate of his, Big Ears… Big gob would be more like it! He makes Foghorn Leghorn sound like whispering Bob Harris with laryngitis. More mouth than a cows got udder. And they have the nerve to call that nice little Goblin fella “Gobbo” – got some neck on ‘em those two, I can tell you.
I was talking to PC Plod the other day and he reckons they’re a right couple of villains. Word is they’ve been passing fake money all over toy town – the economy is shot to pieces. Mind you, it’s asking for trouble, isn’t it, having chocolate coins for currency. Easy as peas for anyone who fancies having a go at home. They’ve been boiling up cheap old cooking chocolate from Lidl and wrapping it in foil craft paper from the pound shop. Right little workshop they’ve got running out of their kitchen, but every time Plod tries to bust ‘em they swallow the evidence. Still, he reckons they’ve each put on a couple of stone since they started, so if he keeps the pressure on with the raids and that they’ll probably both be up for coronaries before the New Year’s in! There’s more than one way to skin a cat, eh?
Talking of cats, our Tibbles gave us a scare back in the summer. Disappeared for nearly a week, she did. We thought she’d gone and got herself run over. Heartbroken the boy was, ‘cos, as you know, he loves that cat to pieces. Silly sod got stuck in next door’s shed – the cat I mean, not the boy; though I sometimes think he’s daft enough! We only found her by chance when I went round to borrow their strimmer. God knows what would have happened to her if I’d decided to leave the edging for another week. Waste of fur, cats, if you ask me…
You know, I reckon cats must have come in quite late in the evolutionary chain, don’t you? Not the big beggars, of course, like your sabre-tooth tigers and things, but the littlun’s we keep for pets and that. Think about it: If you’ve ever kept a cat I bet you tripped over the daft beggar at least once a week, yes? Now that’s okay with you and me, but they wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with dirty great big dinosaurs stomping about all over the place, would they? Cuh – if little cats had been around in those days we would be digging up T. Rexes and Diplodocuses and things with short haired domestics squashed between their toes all over the place. They’d have been wearing ‘em like novelty slippers! That’s why lions and tigers are so big, you see – if they hadn’t been big enough to startle an elephant they wouldn’t have survived in the jungle for five minutes.
Blimey! I’ve just spotted the time. Gotta dash – I’m supposed to be meeting Frosty for a couple of jars.