<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-9128930095448289160', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Today, in the spirit of sharing, I hand my blog over to the almighty power that is He Who Only... Here he is, speaking on the topic that I chose for him, the topic being "What It's Like To Live With Shazzle". We are all humbled and ashamed.

Living with Shazzle is like a box of chocolates. You spend a lot of time scrabbling awkwardly at flaps with your fingers and you end up feeling a bit sick. Coincidentally we also live on Quality Street, as unlikely as this may seem, and the landlord, Terry, has an all over burnished yellow hue. However we've not met the neighbours and it would be inappropriate to speculate as to either their ethnicity or whether or not they indulge in certain occult rituals. What is more while there are flowers on the dining room table I don't know what kind they are, thank you very much, and as we have no cats or indeed hedgehogs, there has never been any need to pour white animal lactates onto a flat carrying surface notwithstanding how positively the female element of the domestic equation would react to so doing.

I think I've made myself perfectly clear.

Shazzle is the first lady I have lived with, unless you count that short period staying on Hilary Clinton's sofa, in which case Hilary was the First Lady I have lived with and Shazzle is the first lady I have lived with who is not the First Lady (I have lived with). Of course by that token there are several First Ladies I have not lived with (Nancy Reagan, Barbara Bush, Elenor Roosevelt et al..) and one first lady I have not lived with who would, I suppose, be the first lady I met after my mother. If of course we're going to count my mother... ( one ... yes, there we go... that's the right amount of my mother) as a lady I have lived with. In which case Shazzle is not the first lady I have lived with or the first lady I have not lived with. So who is the first lady? Well, as it's Christmas, we'll say Eve.

Here are some things I have noticed about the whole complicated business.

Shazzle likes plans. Everything that she does has to have been properly considered before hand. Me, I like to start things and see how they turn out (thankfully this is not reflected in my prose style). This means that, now I live with Shazzle, I am rushing into fewer bad decisions. To compensate I am rushing into them quicker (I want to write "BACK-ASS")..BACK-ASS!

Shazzle likes things to be clean. This means I have fewer infections than before and now no longer look like Colin off of The Brittass Empire. Strangely enough I look like Helen.

Shazzle is "Smooth Down There".

Shazzle makes me tea in the mornings. This makes me so happy I want to fart and laugh at the same time and often do. Shazzle thinks that I'm laughing at my own flatulence. Little does she realise that both things are a tribute to her.

That is all the things that I have notice at the moment. Grrrrrrrrr.


Post a Comment