Saturday, 18 December 2010

Christmas Fruitcake recipe

1 C Water
1 C Sugar
4 Large eggs
3 C dried fruit
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 C Brown sugar
Lemon juice, nuts
1 FULL bottle of your favourite whiskey
Sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Take out a large bowl.
Check the whiskey again to be sure that it is of the highest quality.
Pour 1 level cup and drink. Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer; beat 1 C of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add 1 tsp. sugar and beat again.
Make sure the whiskey is still OK.
Cry another cup. Turn off the mixer.
Break two geggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Mix on the burner.
If the fried fruit gets stuck in the beaters,
pry it loose with a screwdriver.
Sample the whiskey to check for toxisisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt.
Or something. Who cares? Check the whiskey.
Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one tablespoon of sugar or something...whatever you can find.
Grease the oven. Turn on the cake tin to 350 degrees.
Don't forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window.
Check the whiskey again. Go to bed.
Who the hell likes fruit cake anyway???

I think you have a problem with your brain being missing.

Having exhausted my supply of festive based ramblings, I now resort to writing my own inane drivel again. With less than a week left of work, 2.5 days to be exact, I can only hope that the wage elves are working extra hard on ensuring that my wages hit my bank account in time to do shopping. We’re having friends in for Boxing Day so Trudes and I shall have a quiet 25th and make up for it on the 26th with festive frolics, fun and frivolity. There will be six persons in attendance, including me and Tea, so one thing I would like to do is a never mind the buzzcocks type quiz, assuming the visitors will be up for a bit of music trivia. There’s the chance of a visit to Dover castle on the 27th, I would like to go as I think that it is the best castle in the world, a view swayed more than a little by the fact that I grew up in Dover and spent a great deal of my younger years exploring the site. There are a few secrets that remain as such, I doubt that I’ll ever get the place to reveal everything about its history, but that’s ok because I like not knowing if some of the secrets are the stuff of myth and legend. There’s enough in my head to entertain a party of visitors for a good few hours and if I do get to go along I will try very hard not to bore the group with useless facts, unless I get asked of course, although there is the high risk of opening the flood gates and not being able to shut me up.

I had one of the worst trips into town after work today, mad people everywhere and each and every one of them buying as much bread and milk as they can stuff into a trolley, purely because they are worrying that the light sprinkling of snow we had yesterday my shut the country down again. So after cutting the shopping trip short, due to chavs hogging every check out, I headed to the bus station, only to discover that the busses were running to some very odd timetable, they were running bad enough this morning, or should that be not running? Forty five minute I waited for a flipping bus, needless to say I was late in this morning. So I waited for any bus heading in the right direction and ended up getting on one that had a small child that screamed constantly from the moment it got on the bus up until it got off, the mother of said screamer did nothing more than tell her darling little offspring to shut up. There were two other words in there but I can only write one of them here, and it was “the”. I think all the little fella wanted was a bit of comforting, instead it got sworn at. Mummy had obviously run out of patience, if she had any in the first place.

Tomorrow, being Saturday, I’m off to the shop for the last, official, club meet up of the year. I’m rather looking forward to it, not because it’s the last one for 2010, but because I get to hear the speculation from the lads about what they’ve got by way of 40k stuff. The beauty of it is that I know most of it and I doubt there will be any disappointment on the 25th. I expect to see some very happy faces when we start up again next year.

Well that just about wraps up this entry, Hope yawl have a good’un

Friday, 17 December 2010

Christmas Is Coming – A Turkey’s Tale

When I was a young turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop,

Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there was something that I had to know;

His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of..... Black November;

"Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you'll get six meals instead of just three,

"And soon you'll be thick, where once you were thin,
And you'll grow a big rubbery thing under your chin;

"And then one morning, when you're warm in your bed,
In'll burst the farmer's wife, and hack off your head;

"Then she'll pluck out all your feathers so you're bald 'n pink,
And scoop out all your insides and leave ya lyin' in the sink;

"And then comes the worst part" he said not bluffing,
"She'll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing".

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat,

And decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked,
I'd have to lay low and remain overlooked;

I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High roughage salads, juice and diet cola;

And as they ate pastries, chocolates and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes;

I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed;

But 'twas I who was laughing, under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death;

And sure enough when Black November rolled around,
I was the last turkey left in the entire compound;

So now I'm a pet in the farmer's wife's lap;
I haven't a worry, so I eat and I nap;

She held me today, while sewing and humming,
And smiled at me and said "Christmas is coming..."

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Christmas dog

Tonight's my first night as a watchdog,
And here it is Christmas Eve.
The children are sleeping all cozy upstairs,
While I'm guardin' the stockin's and tree.
What's that now---footsteps on the rooftop?
Could it be a cat or a mouse?
Who's this down the chimney?
A thief with a beard---
And a big sack for robbin' the house?
I'm barkin', I'm growlin', I'm bitin' his butt.
He howls and jumps back in his sleigh.
I scare his strange horses, they leap in the air.
I've frightened the whole bunch away.
Now the house is all peaceful and quiet again.
The stockin's are safe as can be.
Won't the kiddies be glad when they wake up tomorrow
And see how I've guarded the tree.

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog,
And we'd begged her not to go.
But she'd left her medication,
So she stumbled out the door into the snow.
When they found her Christmas mornin',
At the scene of the attack.
There were hoof prints on her forehead,
And incriminatin' Claus marks on her back.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin' home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
Now were all so proud of Grandpa,
He's been takin' this so well.
See him in there watchin' football,
Drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle.
It's not Christmas without Grandma.
All the family's dressed in black.
And we just can't help but wonder:Should we open up her gifts or send them back?
Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin' home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
Now the goose is on the table
And the pudding made of fig.
And a blue and silver candle,
That would just have matched the hair in Grandma'swig.
I've warned all my friends and neighbours.
Better watch out for yourselves."
They should never give a license,
To a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
Walkin' home from our house, Christmas eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe

Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Christmas Shopping

It was Christmas Eve closing time, nearly
Where a last minute shopper, frustrated clearly
Was rummaging through the freezer cabinet
At her nearest out of town super market
Desperately searching for a frozen turkey
And couldn't find one big enough for her family
Then she saw a young shop assistant pass by
And decided that she would give him a try
"Do these turkeys get any bigger?" she said
Puzzled he replied "No madam, they're dead."

Monday, 13 December 2010

A Christmas tale

At this time of year it is patently clear
That the males are the ones who are blest.
Thoughts like "goodwill to men" we hear time and again
And we find them quite hard to digest.
As we women all know, men think they run the show,
And sometimes we allow them this pause.
But it gets on our nerves, like too many hors d'oeuvres
When we want to get at the main course.
Many times out of mind the same problem we find,
Leaving plans to the menfolk is risky.
Christmas spirit they think is some kind of a drink,
Such as vodka, Baccardi, or whiskey.
Since we carry the load, men keep out of our road,
We are ready and willing and able.
For it's perfectly clear, that the stuffed turkeys here
Are not always confined to the table.
The traditional way is now rather passe,
Lets give credit, where credit is due.
Then you'll see, man or boy, in return you'll enjoy
The fruits of OUR goodwill to you.

Sunday, 12 December 2010

My Christmas

Hark the herald angels sing,
please put an end to my suffering.
I can’t take much more of this,
a slobbering cow I’d rather kiss.

Why can’t grandpa find his dentures?
One of the holiday’s misadventures.
Hard liquor is the only way
to get us through this Christmas day.

At least it comes but once a year.
Otherwise I would live in fear
of Aunt Gertrude’s fruitcake and shrieking spawn.
I think I’ll hide out on the lawn.