The Diary Of The Man In The Multi Coloured Waistcoat
(Thursday the 24th of May)
(Saturday the 26th of May)
Hello, good evening, and welcome. It’s going to be great fun boring you to an inch of your wife or husband for that mattress, with some ridiculous tales of the undetected, but before I say, what I have to say, I need to stress, that everything, and I mean everything, you are about to read, is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing like the truth, so help me Bob. Now without further ado, it's time to strap yourself in, hold on tight, and get ready to hear an account of my egotistical life in thirty four and a half days.
Once upon another time (well there’s been so many hasn’t there) 20,000 leaves under the sea, Frankenstein danced in a telephone box, while his wife Phyllis read the news faster than a speeding bulletin. They both went from being nice people to evil senile delinquents. Up Penny’s Scope - Up Penny’s Scope, but it was far too late the damage had already been donated. With something gold, something blue, something horrid, something new, and that ladies and gentlemen was the nine o’clock news.
(Friday the 25th of May)
I like a sweet heart stout for breakfast, dinner and tea, however last night I had a cheeky drop for my supper. I’ve siphoned the stuff from my Granny’s broom cupboard for the last fifteen years, but it has now come to my attendance allowance, that I may have a problem. I have agreed for the sake of my wealth to join alcoholics monotonous, apparently they come with glowing referendums, none of which I can go into until I retrieve my membership card.
I saw a man today who was the spit of a cat on a hot tin roof. He strolled over to me and whispered, “if the world was to end yesterday, what’s the last song you wouldn’t play?” Like a pencil on a leash who’s easily led, I replied “anything by the Rubettes.“ He leaned over and muttered, “who knows, perhaps, we’ll see,“ and promptly left me alone in no mans land, a place you don’t want to be when its last orders at the bar. Some days are better than others, but this wasn’t one of them.
(Sunday the 27th of May)
Tomorrow will never be today, so I’ve decided without great a bunting, to compose a sentimental song in the attic. A song all about the great captains of industries, my grandfather was one you know. The late Liberty De Vito (he’s not dead he’s just never on time) says it’s an ego trip, but I’m undeterred with his petulant comments and know for sure it will be a phenomenal, musical interlude, that will successfully go through the roof. Eighty five jokes in a poly-themed bag? Don’t make me laugh.
(Monday the 28th of May)
After an extremely traumatic Sunday evening which I won’t go into at this moment in added on time, I decided to take a well deserved driving Miss Daisy and visit my old house in Maclellan Street, 116 to be extract. When I arrived at said address it wasn’t there. I was shocked, stunned, bemused, bewildered, confused and perplexed at this latest revelation (I wasn’t really but it gives the story more of an edge, don’t you think?) So what had happened to the building in question? Had it been knocked down by a bunch of Jimmy Ruffin’s singing, “what becomes of the broken hearted?” Maybe it was tired and had fallen down on its own accordion, either way I wasn’t happy (not much change there) and went home with a large tail pipe between my legs, for a hot sweet cup of tea, a large stack of beans and a very long chat with Ellen’s passive, aggressive monkey.
(Tuesday the 29th of May)
After an extremely traumatic Sunday evening which I won’t go into at this moment in added on time, I decided to take a well deserved driving Miss Daisy and visit my old house in Maclellan Street, 116 to be extract. When I arrived at said address it wasn’t there. I was shocked, stunned, bemused, bewildered, confused and perplexed at this latest revelation (I wasn’t really but it gives the story more of an edge, don’t you think?) So what had happened to the building in question? Had it been knocked down by a bunch of Jimmy Ruffin’s singing, “what becomes of the broken hearted?” Maybe it was tired and had fallen down on its own accordion, either way I wasn’t happy (not much change there) and went home with a large tail pipe between my legs, for a hot sweet cup of tea, a large stack of beans and a very long chat with Ellen’s passive, aggressive monkey.
(Tuesday the 29th of May)
Another day, another doughnut for all us working class pheasants from the North Pole, however the question on everyone’s lips is - cream or jam? It’s completely up to you, although I've been told by a baker’s dozen that it will be jam, as the cat got all the cream. It’s a disgrace what these feline follies are getting away with these days, they're going to rule the world in the future, you mark my walls, and the House of Lourdes wont lift a finger to do anything about it. What we need is an auntie hero, a woman who'll toe the party line with ice cream and jelly. But where do we find such a woman? Definitely not in my house Noddy. Whatever happened to watch with mother? I know, they all got equal rights and went out to work to make another crust, as if one loaf wasn’t enough.
(Wednesday the 30th of May)
Thought I’d have a picnic today, I baked some biscuits, made a gallon of home made soup, buttered six sandwiches with a nice drop of tea (who said men cant multi flask) and off I went to seek new adventures down at the local park, a place I hadn’t been to in a very long time. Along with my picnic basket I packed my ludo board, it was either that or monopoly, but the property market is in a terrible state these day’s and not worth a eurovision. I’m undefeated at ludo, a record that I’m very proud of, even though it might have something to do with me playing against myself. When I arrived at the park there was a large notice saying it had moved to pastures new, something to do with a lack of slings and roustabouts, I couldn’t believe it; first my old house had disappeared; and now the park which according to the New Testament, I had been conceived in, had also gone. There was only one thing I could do, and that was to go home and cry uncontrollably into a potato and mushroom cup of soup.
(Thursday the 31st of May)
Thursday is usually quite a boring day for me believe it or believe it not, but today was very different as I was unduly arrested for a crime I didn’t commit to. The officer in charge of this illegal sting said, “you don’t have to spray anything, but if you do, this may harm your wooden leg, which relies on your other leg to stand up in court, without you falling down. However, if you do spray anything I’m afraid this may harm or be forgiven in evidence against you. Do you therefore promise to drive and solemnly swerve by almighty God, that you’ll spell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, sincerely and without declaration or wise ass remarks?” I asked him politely if I could retreat quietly to the safety of my own hub to have a think about it, as it’s not something you want to rush into is it?
Written and reproduced with permission by Andrew West Boyd 2014
(Thursday the 31st of May)
Thursday is usually quite a boring day for me believe it or believe it not, but today was very different as I was unduly arrested for a crime I didn’t commit to. The officer in charge of this illegal sting said, “you don’t have to spray anything, but if you do, this may harm your wooden leg, which relies on your other leg to stand up in court, without you falling down. However, if you do spray anything I’m afraid this may harm or be forgiven in evidence against you. Do you therefore promise to drive and solemnly swerve by almighty God, that you’ll spell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, sincerely and without declaration or wise ass remarks?” I asked him politely if I could retreat quietly to the safety of my own hub to have a think about it, as it’s not something you want to rush into is it?
Written and reproduced with permission by Andrew West Boyd 2014
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