MY THOUGHTS
6th November
2007
It's been ages since I
actually put pen to paper with my thoughts. This is easily explained - I had
writer's block. Which for the dunderheads among you is when a creative genius
like me cannot write. It happened to Shakespeare, it happened to Dickens. It
didn't happen to that silly bitch in the pink. Her who's face looked like the
white Cliffs Of Dover after two crows had flown into them and been splattered.
What's her name.....Dropped dead a couple of years ago. That's it!! Barbara
Cartland. I often confuse her with two of my favourite authors, one being Enid
Blyton and the other Beryl Tattershall. Beryl is pretty much undiscovered
outside Wigan but her knowledge of Northern life is unsurpassed. One of her best
works being about a back street abortionist who it is rumoured still haunts the
wards of Wigan Infirmary poking unsuspecting midwives with a knitting needle and
leaving slithers of elm in kidney dishes. I knew Beryl's Mother and it did not
take Miss Marple to work out how she carved a niche for herself on account of
her prolific knitting and the 12 foot elm tree that grew in her back yard.
Still, Beryl as well as being genius when it came to writing could also knock up
an Arran turtle neck in about 3 hours. Anyway Beryl's new book - "Failing to
Stop A Pig In A Ginnel - A History of Rickets" is on sale now in all good
retailers. I am plugging Beryl because she has been very kind to me since my
return from Gran Canaria. I never did really tell you why I came back, but let
me tell you they were paid for.
If you can cast your
mind's back to just before I left these shores. I left because of a nightmare
encounter with Tricia Goddard. I left my children who had turned into an
horrendous liability. My eldest Mitchell had become a cross between Prince
Edward, Kathy Kirby and Mikhail Baryshnikov. That is he is bone idle, penny less
and spends half his time with his legs in the air. That useless drop out of a
boyfriend of his Warwick Glover has is still a patron saint of all under
achievers. He is currently working at Heskeths Black pudding Emporium. They have
a factory a shop and a heritage centre. He works in the heritage centre showing
the children how to stun the swine with electric tongs. I know all about
stunning myself with electric tongs I did that in 1979 when I was teasing my
bubble perm in the bathroom with my Remington Styler when I tested the water
with my life nipple I got such a jolt that I ended woke up in the Cleo Laine
Ward in Baccup. At Cleo Laine ward they never let you go until you can hit the
top C on "He was so Beautiful" I was in there two weeks. I don't think I ever
managed the top C but I could booby dooby booby boo boo boop a doobie better
than anyone, that and I slept with the charge nurse. So....back to Warwick,
apparently he lets the oldest children do two things at the heritage centre, one
have a go at stunning a Berkshire Pink and two they are allowed to thump him in
the balls. At the heritage centre you can see the blood churned, watch the
unique process of seeing it clot and the pudding makers add their secret
ingredient. I always wondered where those white sticky salty bits came from.
Warwick's choice of career is not going to keep my Mitchell in Dolce and Gabbana,
it's hardly likely to keep him in Primark.
When I went away I left my
youngest in the capable hands of Athena my daughter and her boyfriend Tripod.
They are the Ken and Barbie of Wigan. More like Ken Barlow and Claus Barbie.
Athena abused him and she abused my home and benefits. I will never be able to
claim disability living allowance again. She had been claiming it as me. The
benefits people had even seen her. So it came as a complete surprise for them to
walk down my street to see her on a pogo stick hopping to Bobby Isherwood's
store to get 20 Lamberts and a bottle of Traitor's Gate Gin. She said to the
claimant advisor that the pogo stick was in place of an inconti cart, invalid
car whatever they call them these days. I used to love my invalid car. I hold
the record for being the first person in all Wigan to be arrested for kerb
crawling in one. So, that other work shy bastard Tripod moved into my house
permanently while I was away. He was in charge of the bills and the food. When I
got back I saw a whole rain forest of letters crammed into one of my moon boots,
Food wise I see that KFC, McDonalds and Wok Wow are doing a boom. While Holland
and Barrett, The Happy Lettuce, and Subway continue to stagnate. I asked them
why there was no fruit or veg in the house. Tripod sad there were plenty of
Fox's Glacier Fruits in my cut glass figurine of the Queen Mother. I said "So I
see." the anti Royal scum that they are had substituted her teeth with fox's
glacier fruits. She was smiling green yellow and orange gems. Mitchell pointed
out that the Queen mother had been grinning yellow orange and green gems for
more than a century. I scratched my armpit and marched off in search of my
youngest.
Luckily for me Joanie had
had me on the council's waiting list for yonks so by the time I was brought off
the jet at Manchester, aren't blankets itchy? By the time I was down the steps I
was next in line for one of their luxury dwellings. the place I have used to be
a workhouse. It's lovely. I have a super view of the a bench people used to get
the birch on. There's also the pauper's graveyard just over yonder. There is
someone a little bit common next to me. I think she might be Middle Eastern
because she was going on about being Lebanese, well I think that's what it was
about. When I knew I had a place I just had to make sure that my youngest
Tarquin Keanu could be my my side where he has been all his 12 years. Well not
all, I was banged up for 3 all told and he was in care for 4 years while I was
on a recovery programme. I wont count when I was in a religious cult for a few
weeks or when they gave me electro therapy. that was when I had a very serious
nervous breakdown. I was anxious, depressed and the theme tune to 'Crimewatch'
brought me out in hives. It was only when I was caught earning money with a
punter from Orrell that treatment was offered. It was all over the Wigan
Observer. "The Penguin Hooker" I couldn't live with the shame. They called me
that because after my client had buggered off I was running after him with my
knickers round my ankles The Rozzers saw me and called out "Stop that penguin"
The shame was just too much to bear and the next thing I was in a psychiatric
ward. the Doctor said they were a little bit short on electrodes because the
Matron was using them for her slendertone machine. It don't think it had the
same potential for success when they gave me a fork and asked me poke around the
inside of the Russell Hobbs Thick 'N' Thin Toaster. not only did it burn my hand
it singed my new acid perm and made my uterine coil go rusty, thus ruining a
good Miss Mary Of Sweden Girdle.
So where did I find
Tarquin Keanu? That's right in Intensive Care at Wigan Infirmary he'd been on
dialysis since I was in Gran Canaria. I said to the district nurse when she
came, and let me tell you in Jamaica where she came from she was known as De
Strict Nurse. I said to her."
I am not a
Doctor or anything medical, so you what good am I in a dialysis unit? We won't
tissue type because I my blood is tainted. I am Rhesus D Methadone, I am afraid
of needles, and noodles. Furthermore my kidneys already belong to someone else
-" "Who" She boomed, I saidd "A MISTER Bentos if you must know., first name
Fray."
So I left to go to Gran
Canaria, knowing that if I was required to come back in an emergency or to sign
anything or collect any insurance that I was only a text message away. I mean I
cannot be more maternal than that. Besides which he's almost a man now he
wouldn't want me seeing him cry in pain or have me stood at the bottom of the
bed taking the piss out of him. the dialysis machine could do that.
To say that Gran Canaria
was difficult was a little bit of an understatement. I think Rommel's Afrika
Corps had a better time than I did when they were getting stuffed by Monty.
Every night the audience were a challenge - and they won most nights. One
night I had a certain overweight daytime TV star in the audience. She was
knocking back Sambuca and eating fudge. She drew all the attention away from me
when she started signing autographs, having her picture taken with sunburnt
British people and breaking wind with rasping tones. I was told by the company
manager that such an accomplished artiste wouldn't be so spiteful. I said "Oh
don't you be so naive - Professor Moriarty was not only Sherlock Holmes's arch
enemy he was also most accomplished bassoon player."
Well she went on and on -
getting louder and louder. Laughing and throwing her head back. I said "Madam -
do you make a noise like that when you are making love?"
She shouted back "No I do
not."
I said "Will someone hurry
up and fuck her now
The weather was against me
too. Every day constant sunshine, people walking around cellulite on their
cellulite and me so slim and dimple free. I decided to immerse myself in local
life so I took on the guise of a local - see picture:
 |
This worked a
dream and I not only became bilingual within a month but I had split up
those two behind me who had been childhood sweethearts. She overdosed on
paracetamol and he served a purpose long enough long enough to get sky
installed. That was his job you see, as well as knocking out some lovely
tunes on his guitar. I taught him a lovely Shakin' Stevens ballad I know
called Green Door. He taught me how to get my knickers off whilst
simultaneously undoing my bra and shaking a pan of paella so the prawns
don't get overcooked and go black. The Spanish I found were quite
considerate lovers. My previous relationships have gone from two pushes
and a squirt to don't bother with lipstick here's a thump in the mouth
are your lips red enough now? With Tony "Is it in yet" Mather and Colin
Rickman the much celebrated and now retired gynaecologist who told me he
still liked to keep his hand in. I did find the Spanish a little sweaty.
That's not a problem though when the men I am used to smell of engine
oil, chips and Swarfega. I did miss my friends and family, but
once Athena's family tax credit stopped I realised I just couldn't stay
in Gran Canaria anymore. I couldn't afford it for a start. How could my
Athena be so selfish. I am still claiming for my husband Jack and he's
been dead three years. Come to think of it I still get child benefit for
Mitchell and he's 21 now. That's how I believe the system works. I mean
look at the Queen, her majesty. she has two birthdays, an official one
and a made up one. she has at least two addresses. She has at least
three names. I'll tell you, she is fucking signing on.
When I went to the
hospital I was shocked at the tardiness of the place. All limbs hanging
off and people coughing. The patients were even worse. I mean I am a
modern liberated woman but I don't need to see receptionists having
bikini waxes whilst on duty. I recognised Ruby Elliot, well I recognised
the soles of her shoes. The only woman in all Lancashire with size
eleven shoes. She can stand upright in a force nine gale. Mind you her
boobs are like two Zepplins in a dead heat race so there's plenty there
to keep her grounded. She said Tarquin Keanu had come out of the
anaesthesia, out of the coma and out of the closet!
Was I stunned?
was I shocked ? Was I fuck. We D'Brays make Rose West's family look
functional and harmonious. My late husband Jack would be turning in his
grave. In fact Joanie went to a medium this week and was told she had a
message from spinning Jackie |
I asked Tarquin Keanu , my
twelve year old Angel. no he isn't my angel I wish he were but he's alive! No
that's a joke. he IS my angel and I asked him if he needed me to bring anything
from home to make his stay in hospital more comfortable. He said he wanted his
teddy called Judy some Jammie Dodgers and a boob tube. He slipped into sleep
asking if I could make sure I brought his MP3 player with the Streisand medley
on. I am so impressed with his bravery. Perhaps this gay thing is just a phase.
I remember I used to be crazy about loon pants now I cannot stick them. Tarquin
was always the rough and tumble sort of boy, never showing the least bit of
effeminacy. Mitchell on the other hand was a Brownie, A Majorette, and a could
wind on a pin up home perm in under an hour by the time he was eleven. Mitchell
says he is just claiming to be gay to draw attention to himself, like the time
when he aid he claimed he was autistic. I said "Mitchell do you ever listen to
anything other than what Warwick Glover says?" In fact what Tarquin had been
saying all along was that his teacher thought he was artistic because he had
done some lovely charcoal pictures of Wigan Baptist Tabernacle.
So when he comes home
there will just be Tarquin and me in the house, so I can go about my daily
business. I intend to take up Ballroom dancing after seeing Heather Mills do so
well on Dancing With The Stars. I mean if a one legged woman can manage to
cha cha cha then I can expand my repertoire beyond the flamenco and the hokey
cokey. I intend to abandon prostitution and get a real job. Athena has managed
it. she works for Gassum and Fingersum Dental surgeons. they don't have the best
reputation in the World. I had a troublesome incisor removed in 1978 for three
months the teeth at either side of it were like cat flaps. She is currently a
trainee dental nurse. At the moment it involves making sure the money is taken
before the anaesthetic wears off and scraping the gold off removed gnashers.
Mr.Fingersum said he wanted to melt them down and sell the gold to Beaverbrooks.
Anyway - As the festive
period approaches I have loads to do - so I'll leave you for a while.
Speak Soon
Take Care
Keep Warm
Keep Safe
Chris xx