Psycho Smurfs and a Lucky Break

As you know it was off to the zoo yesterday. I had charge of three kids, the daughter, a boy called Trotsky and a girl known as Amnesia. We had a jolly trip in the car singing along to the Best of Bucks Fizz.

At the zoo I went with the teacher, Frau Ning, to buy the tickets. I let Frau Ning go first as I had lost my zoo membership card and needed to get a new one. The woman behind the counter was not the brightest button in the box and an argument broke out between the two over prices. The woman also complained that the kids were making too much noise. Finally they got it together and it was my turn. The woman tutted about unruley kids. "I know, terrible innit" I said pretending not to be part of the group. I thought we hit it off quite well and she brightened visibly as we discussed falling parenting standards and the Swiss trade deficit. But it didn`t stop the bitch charging me 20 Francs for a replacement pass.

Then it was off to watch the penguin parade. All the kids lined the path and waited patiently. I say all the kids, what I mean is all the kids who weren`t in our group. I looked at the kids opposite, all immaculately turned out,quiet and well behaved in their straw boaters. Then I looked at the psycho smurfs I was with. Enoch and Flex were robbing one of the collection boxes, Trotsky was using a compass and ink to tatoo Love and Hate on Slab Murphy`s knuckles, Thor tried to pppppick up a penguin and the girls were all applying make up and swapping flirtatious looks and telephone numbers with the Boater boys opposite. They grow up so quickly these days, 5 is the new 17.

In the reptile house I had a man to man chat with Jay, the school bad boy and heart throb. The daughter had told me that Jay was planning to kiss her today. "What are your intentions towards my daughter?" I asked him while adopting my most concerned father face and taking occasional puffs of my pipe full of Scrotum`s Finest Old Fandangable Ready Rub. "What does intentions mean?" he replied. The boy is an idiot.

The rest of the visit passed off without incident, probably becuase the zoo authorities had insisted we had an armed escort by then. Then off home, dropped Amnesia at the local kebab shop and Trotsky disappeared under the bridge where he currently resides. I was knackered and I think one of the little bastards swiped my wallet.

Moving on, rumour has it that there is a new blog in town. Its called The Swiss Clinic so I am told. I decided I needed to find out more about the competition so I squeezed my local sources, Red Heinz and Big Daddy. Red Heinz said he believed it was something to do with the treatment of sexually transmitted diseases, Big Daddy that it was an exclusive forum for those with embarassing genitalia, a kind of very small members club is how he described it. When I find out for sure I will let you know.

Then off for snooker. Mixed night for me and Big J. Blind Jon gave me a beating, I congratulated him and reassured him that, despite what the barmaids were saying, this uncharacteristic victory for him was nothing to do with the fact that I was totally washed out after the psycho smurfs. I also didn`t mention the injury I was carrying manfully during the game. Even Land Phil, on his first canter out in the paddock, turned in a remarkable performance. Off to prepare lunch.