Down or Off

I’m worried that I'm turning into my dad. He does have a very good head of hair mind, and keeps a fabulous cellar, so I suppose it wouldn’t be all bad. I would be worried though if I started to choose green cords from M&S based on practicality alone.

No the key reason is because having mastered whiskey, marmalade and red wine my interests are now turning to radio 3. I like it, the music does have a proper tune, and there aren’t any young people shouting or trying to shank me up.

You see sometimes I just can’t listen to my natural home - radio 4, if John Humphries is ranting annoyingly at some politician so I have to find an alternative. But I can’t have Radio 1 as it’s too noisy with hoodies having their fuck ons or piss ups bleeped out. Radio 2 is ok sometimes, but too much inane Daily Mail chat, and it’s usually John Barrowman or Michael Ball talking about Lesley Garrett. So I turn to 3, and I find a lovely idyllic valley of calm, with bunnies hopping and swifts soaring above on an Elgar stylee breeze. Or it’s German dissonance and then I have to revert to silence, which is definitely underrated.

I suppose the next chapter of turning into my father, if we class marmalade, whiskey, red wine and radio 3 as the first four, will have to be telling stories about why Raymond Baxter is a very rude man – I’ll let you know, just as long as it isn’t the cords.

You’ll have noticed I’m using a lot of street words – ‘piss up’, ‘hoodies’ etc., well we’re all very urban these days. Apparently if you diss somebody’s Bedouin then they’ll shank you up. I was pleased when I heard this though because people don’t discuss tents as much as they once did. And I'm all for others camping.

To try and learn me up some more new street lines I had a look at an online urban dictionary and low and behold Dan was there. Apparently the young refer to needing a Danny la Rue. ‘I need a Danny La Rue’, ‘I'm off for a Danny.’, Who's just been for a Danny?’. Also the cock en ees say 'you ain't got a Danny La Rue mate" for when someone is being clueless.

Keeping up with the urban motif of this instalment I’ve been Banksy'd. Well it might not be a Banksy but it isn’t simply your normal tag. It is of a stylised light bulb which someone has placed upon my pebble dash with a stencil. My first thought was that the electricity board were simply marking their manor, like a dog uses a lamp post. I’m thinking of having someone from the Royal Academy  round to verify it’s authenticity, then having that bit of wall removed, and retiring on the proceeds. Knowing the Council though it’ll be painted over, without my consent, in a different shade to the rest of the wall, before I’ve even finished flicking through my static home catalogue and choosing between a Pageant in Great Yarmouth and a park home in Scarborough.