Breaking News: Swine Flu May Have Hit Sunnymountain Street, Possibly.

It is like a particularly sniffy, snotty and thoroughly coughy episode of House here on Sunnymountain Street. Both the wife and daughter are down with suspected flu.

I wish I had paid attention to all the Government infomercials about flu. I have a hazy recollection that there are different types. Bird flu which I suspect only affects women, absolute bloody pig flu, that one has to be men only and of course the dreaded Tamiflu, which has decimated female country and western singers across Mississippi.

Anyway, the upshot is that I am now the main carer for the entire family. I tried to think what my mother used to do when we were sick and needing TLC. So I stuck a postit note to the fridge door saying there were pop tarts in the freezer and popped down the pub for a large G&T or three. Dear old mum, bet she is looking up at us and laughing.

Must dash, the wife needs me

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I had my hair cut this morning. That qualifies as a noteworthy event in my life these days. It is not often I get to go beyond the garden gate. I have been going to the same place now for over two years. The place used to be run by a chain smoking old boy by the name of Herr Peace. I remember the last time I saw him. I went in with a picture of George Clooney and asked him to work his magic. I heard he dropped dead a few hours later from a stress related condition. I refuse to believe that the two incidents were connected. Very sad, I never achieved that Clooneyesque look. Makes you think though, he was only 82.

So I have decided to be positive, to live life at full throtle from now on. That means I have no time to write anymore today. Have lovely weekends. Pip pip

Georgie Porgie and the Bearded Lady

Still no missive from Dave. I did get an email from young George Osbourne, the Shadow Chancellor and Head Tuck Shop Monitor. In a nutshell he said Alistair Darling is rubbish and smells a bit. I told the cheeky young chipolata that I used to work with Alistair and he was not at all rubbish, but that yes, I was already aware of the personal hygeine issues.

He also asked if he could copy my homework and if he could catch swine flu from email spam. "No George, no. You will only be cheating yourself and one day you may be running the economy, and email spam is not the same as the delicious pork based product you may have enjoyed as a boy" I said. Honestly, the problems I have with these politicians.

Just got back from the supermarket where I bumped into Fat Kath in the men`s grooming section. She was holding a beard trimmer. "For my husband" she said when she saw me glance at the trimmer. I suspect not, partly because her husband is as hairless as a new born badger and partly because Kath has a five o`clock shadow and something approaching a handlebar moustache.

Kath told me she was starting up her own blog. I said " given that you are as wide as you are tall, almost globe like, you will bring a whole new meaning to the term blogosphere. Are you going to be addressing lots of weighty issues on your blog"?. No, you`re right, I didn`t say that, only thought it. I am too chicken.

After exchanging a few more fake pleasantries we swiss cheek kissed three times as is the norm here. I now have stubble burn.

PS- I now have advertising (see above) Please help the poor starving Africans and my bank balance. Klick away like it`s going out of fashion. This time next year I`ll be a millionaire!

Love Thy Neighbour

Still no reply from Dave "Big Tent" Cameron. I can`t understand it, I thought they were the new touchy feely Tory party, engaging with the less fortunate,not the old devil take the hindmost party. It appears they can hug a hoody but not love a looney. Doesn`t bode well for NHS mental health service funding when they can`t even be bothered to reply to someone so obviously off his rocker. Is this newly minted niceness just a front?. Surely not.

Anyway, all quiet in the compound this morning. The question I am mulling over today is: " am I a good neighbour"?. I am only pondering as we have got through two sets of nextdoor neighbours in the last two years and the house currently stands empty.

I think I am a good neighbour. Our dad always brought us up to respect people`s privacy and property. I remember once, a man stopped and let his dog do his doings on our front lawn. The old man went ballistic, the dogman said it was only a dog doing what dogs do, doo. Pater replied that in that case he would bring his three sons around to the man`s house and let us have a number two on his front lawn. After all that would be just boys being boys doing what they do. Defeated, the man scooped the poop and left. Imagine my unadulterated joy when I moved up to middle school and found dogman was my new headmaster. My life chances were blighted.

Moving on, some people did come to view next door a couple of weeks back. I remember because it was a warm day and I had opened all the windows. The house was really rockin as the daughter and her friend were dancing around and screaming to "I`m a Barbie Girl in a Barbie World" and other classics.

I saw the prospective neighbours from the kitchen window as they left shaking their heads. The estate agent who has been trying to shift the house for six months gave me the kind of stare that could dissolve a gall stone at 20 paces. She hasn`t been back since. Perhaps word has gone round that I am not a good neighbour. My father would be turning in his grave if he were actually dead.

A Letter to David Cameron

As the UK General Election is fast approaching I thought you would wish to know where the parties stand on issues of import. Below is the letter I have just emailed to David Cameron, Leader of Her Majesty`s Opposition, The Conservative Party. I have adopted the guise of a ignorant,half cut, and politically quizzical London expat. Some may say that is a pretty thin disguise. In the interests of political impartiality for which this site is not noted, there will be follow up letters to the Prime Minister and to the leader of the Liberal Democarts, you know, whats his name. I will of course keep you posted on any response. (See how many names of Tory Front Bench spokespeople you can find, oh fun, a quiz!)


"Dear Dave

I am a retired Londoner living in Switzerland with the wife. We was thinkin of voting for your lot but we are your typical floating voters (I am writing this from me yacht).

Me and the wife is a bit concerned about Europe. Why cant we ahve a referdendum as you promised? The wife thinks you have got yourselfs into a right Eric Pickles over Europe. She says you are perpetrating a massive Francis Maude on the Britsih people. The wife don’t trust you politicians, a Liam Fox on all their houses is what she says. I must admit I am a bit William Hague on where you stand . I can tell you alot of the lads down the yacht club are holding a Greiveance about what they see as being betrayed.

I try and defend you, telling them that you are a good Gove. You were a member of the Bollinger Club I think. Im quite partial to a drop meself, in fact me and the wife are on our third bottle right now. The lads all says they will vote for UKIP becos the Torys are full of merchant bankers and Euro loving Jeremy Hunts (essquse my French),. Idont belive that. I was always bought up to belive the Tory way is the true blue Brutish way, Queen and cuntry ect. And I think you are quite a liberal democrat, you dont appose Theresa Mays in the army for instant.

If you could just reinsure me that you belive you are on the extremely right track then I think I will vote for you Dave..I look forward to your reply.

Yours faithfully from Zurich

Mr Ian Welle-Skitt Esq"

The Deaf and the Dumb

Just when I thought the day couldn`t get any worse, it has. I was sitting at the laptop trying to bang out an article that is overdue when there was a ringing of the door bell. I shouted through the open window that I would be there in a sec as I was at a critical juncture in plot composition (the title is always the trickiest bit). Well would you believe it, the doorbell went again. "Just a minute" I yelled, loudly enough to be heard down most of the street. Three seconds later it went again. Well that was it, by now I was shouty-crackers mad. I stormed to the door, but not before the bell sounded for a fourth time.

Flinging open the door I scowled and growled menacingly "Are you deaf or what!". The sweet young lady at the door smiled, and then handed me a card without a word. It said " I am deaf". Well, I ask you, what are the chances of that?. Needless to say I bought something out of guilt.

Fashion Victim

My postion as Sunny Mountain Street's resident fashionista is fast unraveling. How can this be, my fashion CV is to die for?. I was the first person to introduce flourescent lycra and leg warmers to a certain Worcestershire village (it`s still too dangerous for me to go back) and I knew Calvin Klien when he was just plain old Kevin Small, operating his bespoke pants business from above a chip shop in Tipton.



But it's all going pear shaped. First there was the incident of the ladyboy jumper. Regular readers will remember that my manly equalibrium was unsettled when I saw a woman buying a jumper I had my eye on. Well I can no longer wear that jumper in public, it`s simply not worth the risk.



So I found a new jumper. Really liked it. Then at a recent party where I was wearing my new favourite jumper two people said "oh you`re wearing your Christmas jumper". I was devastated. Thats another one for indoor use only.



Today I was walking past the Town Brothel when I was jeered by the penniless old Italian men who gather there to lick the windows. The semi naked girls in the windows don`t seem to mind them and it saves on the window cleaning bill. Anyway, the old gits thought my red drainpipes and winkle pickers highly entertaining. Normally I would just turn and give them a withering stare, and they would run away giggling, Italians do that. But yesterday the wife told me I was too old to wear my jeans turned up a la Morrissey. My confidence is shattered. I just skulked off home and had a little manly cry.


Moving on, the Christmas party season is upon us and I thought that there is no reason why I, as a worker, should not have a Christmas do with the boss, or the daughter as she is otherwise known. I am in the process of organising a full sit down meal at local mid range eatery with secret santa gift giving thrown in to spice up the proceedings. Oh, wonder what I will get?.



The daughter has just informed me that she can`t make the Christmas party after all as she has to wash her Barbie`s hair that night. No secret santa for me then. Just as well really, I have absolutely nothing that I can wear out now.