Just Plain Odd

First off, just want to say congrats to Captain America and his official photographer J who have just taken delivery of a beautiful baby daughter. Well done, good work.

Anyway, on the train into work this morning we were entertained by a group of travelling musicians made up of gay New Zealanders. I know they were gay New Zealanders because they had on T-shirts emblazoned with the legend "I am a gay New Zealander". What is the collective noun for a group of gay New Zealanders I wonder?. Kiwi fruits would be my guess.

Once at my place of work I was chatting with a Swiss colleague just back from vacation. "How was your holiday?" I asked. "Oh I have been to Hell and back" he replied. "Oh dear" says I. Twigging that I did not understand aforementioned Swiss colleague proceeded to tell me that Hell is actually a delightful little place just down the A3 and which boasts some fine tufaceaous limestone grottoes (me neither). Oh how we laughed at my ignorance. He stopped laughing when I asked if he had seen the England-Switzerland game last night and has been blanking me ever since. 3-1 to England in case you missed it.

Going slightly off theme for a moment; another colleague asked me this morning if I liked football. I said I did. "Isn`t that Wayne Rooney a pig. With his pregnant wife and prostitutes" she said with some venom. "Why did you ask me if I liked football?. What the hell has that got to do with football" I replied. She is also blanking me now. And, yes there is more, last night the wife was watching the game with me and suddenly made what I can only assume she thought was an incisive footie related comment. "Oh it`s rare to see two handsome goalkeepers isn`t it?". What!!!.I refused to dignify the comment with an answer but 5 minutes later I found myself considering the relative merits of both keepers as lovers and potential fathers. What the hell!!!! I had been enjoying a simple game of footie on the telly and now I had to avert my eyes from all further camera shots that involved the keepers in case I had unmanly thoughts. This meant I missed the last three goals. That’s another innocent pleasure down the swanny. I am starting to realise that women may approach the beautiful game from a totally different standpoint.

Ok, now back on track again. Living on a hill in Switzerland I often come across amusing things that foreign people say and do. There is the Blumen Eck, not a drinking club for ex-pat Yorkshire men but rather a fragrant flower emporium on the street corner. Likewise, Pfister is a Swiss furniture store and not a niche market sex club.

A local restaurant will invite you to sample the appetisingly named Tageshit (daily special) and when asking for your breakfast cereal never, ever confuse Müesli with Müüsli. Both sound pretty much identical to the untrained ear but former is the crunchy alpen-like cereal while the latter is a small mouse and, while also crunchy, is something of an acquired taste. If you are in a Swiss bar and some drunk turns to you and your mates and says "chuntsch!", do not take offence, he is not looking for a fight but rather enquiring if you want to come with him to a party?

Only yesterday I read a story about how a local Swiss village plans to use the heat generated from a crematorium to heat the next door old folks home. I bet you could cut the atmosphere with a knife in that old folks home at the moment as they eye each other up wondering who will be providing the hot water next week. It also throws up all sorts of questions, not the least of which is what will happen when they need to crank up the thermostat during the long winter months?. Will some of the old birds be "encouraged" on their way in order to meet demand? They must be living in fear of news of an increase in the winter fuel allowance. Aren`t foreigners funny.

An Hommage to Fromage

Here is a letter I have sent to all of the contenders for the Labour Party leadership. I know you are all as enthralled as I am about the future direction of the Labour movement.

Dear Labour Party Leadership Candidates
I live on a mountain in the Alps and I am strangely, and vaguely erotically, excited by the current scuffle for the Labour leadership.
I want to share with you a dream I had last night. Well, right after my favourite bit involving Cheryl Cole, a gym slip and warm custard, the spectre of a floating voter appeared and revealed to me the top ten policy commandments. Unfortunately, that is what eating cheesey wotsits after the watershed does to you at my age. So, here are the top ten policy commandments the floating voter said that you should adopt if you want to win instant popularity and become the next Prime Minister.

1. Slap a massive tax the agoraphobic to plug the fiscal deficit. Nothing against them personally, but it would be simple and cheap to collect as you just know they`ll be home, and they are not likely to come out on a protest march. For similar reasons a tax should be considered on the claustrophobic and the clinically obese as. Even if they tried to avoid the tax and do a runner, the latter would never make it past the end of the sofa before collapsing in a puffing, sweaty heap and the former aren`t likely to go underground to avoid the tax. Brilliant!
2. Do not bother with upgrading Trident. Lets face it, nobody is actually going to think that you are a cheapskate in their final, terror filled, pant soilingly awful milliseconds on the planet because you vapourised them with last season`s ICBM. Spend the dosh elsewhere, say on schools, healthcare or ex-pats living in Switzerland.
3. Legalise drugs and set up free dispensing clinics with health checks. It would stop the junkies biffing old ladies for their pensions every Thursday or taking a dump on your new Axminster shag pile after they have stolen your flat screen TV. The drug gangs would simply go off in a sulk, they do that. Most drug dealers are Lib Dems. We could even pay malodourous third world farmers to produce the stuff, thus depriving those foreign johnnies of a major source of terror funding. Is this really such a crazy cheese inspired idea?
4. Let local people vote directly on local issues. I know, I know. You are uneasy about the idea of the great unwashed actually making any decisions, it is a bit scary, and of course those fizzing little balls of hate from the shouty crackers brigade would ooze out from under their Daily Mails, but at least no one could blame the government when it all goes tits up. Maybe, just maybe, it might encourage people to get involved in politics.
5. Make Aston Villa illegal- I hate them and it would really piss off the Prime Minister. Ok, so that was one I made up. Be nice. Mr Cameron had his "hug a hoodie" campaign, why not take it a step further with a "cuddle a currency trader", "blow a banker" or a "tenedrise a traffic warden" campaign?
6. Tax- Come on chaps, tax doesn`t have to be taxing. Bin it and start again. A wealth tax not inheritance tax- excluding ex-pats natch - a national, county and local tax set up bringing flexibility and direct accountability to areas to do as they think best.
7. Decriminalise prostitution. The spectre was quite adamant that we have to accept that, after several thousand years and Ms Harriet Harman, it ain`t going away anytime soon, so why not at least give the gals protection from pugnacious punters and pimps, and allow them to receive health care and help?. Again, what am I thinking, it`s wotsit inspired madness, quite bonkers.
8. Execute all children. Sorry, educate all children. Teaching not targets, local schools for local kids, top terms for top teachers, pride in performance, tough on stuff and any other poor quality semi-alliteration you can come up with. It cannot be beyond the wit of man to sort this all out. They do it in Switzerland.
9. Implement radical environmental policies: I have to admit that I didn`t pay attention to this bit, it`s all dippy hippy speak to me, but I think it went something like: off shore wind and wave farms..blah blah.. Charles and Camilla to be mulched and made into Duchy Originals…blah blah…nuclear power…blah blah… Jeremy Clarkson adapted to run on legume fumes…blah blah, …this royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, this earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, this other Eden, demi-paradise, this fortress built by Nature for herself against infection and the hand of war, this happy breed of men, this little world, this precious stone set in the silver sea, which serves it in the office of a wall, or as a moat defensive to a house, against the envy of less happier lands,-- this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. Sorry, that was the cheesey wotsits repeating on me again.
10. I only have a vague recollection of No 10, as I suspect do you as the days and weeks pass by. If you ever want to see the inside of No 10 Downing Street again it`s gonna take balls. (The author would like to point out that this does not constitute an endorsement of any particular candidate, particularly Mr E Balls)

Good luck to all the candidates whoever you are.

Best Regards

Sun Flowers and Starting School

Despite popular demand I am back. The interregnum, for which I now have a soothing balm, was caused by employment problems, to wit, my getting a bloody job. And no, just for the record, I do not work for the international parcel delivery service UPS. Well, what has been going on in Sunny Mountain Street?

Yesterday, the daughter started at the big school, very emotional. When the kids arrived, the school director, Herr Reditary, gave each child a sun flower. Most of the rich kids knew that this was intended as a gift, a symbol of beauty, a new dawn and a warm sunny welcome. A few kids from the poor side of the street assumed it was an early lunch and had to be whisked off to A&E for a precautionary pumping.

Each remaining child was then assigned a Year 6 hoodie to lead them off to their new classroom and, presumably, to mug them for their lunch money on the way. The proud parents of those children not already in the ambulances were then invited to follow and to view the first lesson.

The school itself is a charming example of the Führer Bunker School of architecture. Obviously, only the very best reinforced concrete had been used and the arrow slit windows flood the building with light at exactly 6.45 pm each evening. All of the landings had brightly coloured anti-suicide nets lovingly strung across the gaps, charmingly decorated with Hello Kitty and Spongebob Squarepants motifs so as not to unduly alarm the first years.

On the way to the classroom we lost a couple of parents from the local traveller community. I think they were Roma or maybe Welsh. They were later spotted on the roof stripping off the lead guttering.

Finally, the parental rump was asked to sit on the itsy bitsy teenie weenie hard wood pixie chairs that had obviously been designed by someone into derriere based S&M, probably a Liberal Democrat. I tried to lighten the atmosphere by asking the teacher "does my bum look big in this?" No of course I didn`t, but it`s the thought that counts. We sat there for an hour and I lost all feeling from the waist down. The kids all had a great time which I am informed by the wife is the most important thing.

She says it was, all in all, it was a delightful experience despite what my memory bank log says. And she is always right despite what my memory bank log says. Strange that.

Rich Man Poor Man

Yes I am back. Sorry. People never ask me how I manage to combine a high maintenance wife with a new job and still manage to produce this wonderfully entertaining and insightful blog. Easy, now that I am rich I simply employ poor people to write most of it for me.

A quick word of thanks to the team for all their hard work ( in lieu of payment again this month I`m afraid chaps). There is Large "Mad" Ron Kollida, easily the Street`s most outstandingly obese American, disgraced particle physicist Mrs Higgs-Boson and of course not forgetting old whatsisname.

One thing that I have noticed is that my new found wealth slips through my fingers like a football through an England goalkeeper`s gloves. I am now working simply to pay for Frau Nanny McPhee to look after the daughter, Frau Mop to clean the house and of course not forgetting the wife`s new state of the art sunglasses holder/hairdryer, or BMW 328i Convertible as it is more commonly known.

The pittance that is left over I am allowed to put towards surprise presents for the wife and daughter. Any remaining funds are mine to do with as I will, as long as I put them into the savings account to which I have no access.

Life is so unfair. My new high powered Alpha male status is certainly not as I imagined it would be. I had visions of Montecristo cigars, beluga caviar, high class hookers and bull semen hair treatments, but not necessarily all at the same time. Trust me, it`s not like that. Still I musn`t complain, I`m not a Liberal Democrat.

The Sands of Time

And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain...and damn me if it isn`t dirty, I`ll have to pop it into the wash. That`s one more job I have to do in the dying days of what I had thought was my long planned for early retirement.

A week ago I decided that I would try and cram in as much of my life`s remaining "To Do" list as I could in the last few days beforing returning to the coal face. For the past three years my aim in life has been to do nothing and I must say I have hit it with amazing accuracy. I know hard work has never killed anyone, but why take the chance? And can you, hand on heart, say you would have done it differently?

So to be honest, it wasn`t actually a list, it only had one target and that was to do as much "sitting in the sun toasting my toes" as humanly possible. Who knows when I will be able to do it again. Anyway, done that. Tick. Does anyone have a remedy for sun burned toes?

At least we seem to have the nanny situation sorted. Last night the lads at Pot Bellies snooker club were getting very excited when they heard about the nanny. They asked me all sorts of probing pedagogical questions like, "is she fit?" Actually that was the only question.

I had to inform them that she has beautiful eyes, only one of which she removes at night, and that we would all lose an arm wrestling competition with her. The sense of disappointment was palpable so we had another beer.

Better go and wash that final curtain. Ciao for now.

The Vagina Monologues

Oh what a busy weekend. On Saturday, the first really warm day of the summer, I had to do community service, helping local piano dealer Yorkshire T and his lovely wife Ursula Von Deutschland move into their new country estate.

Ursula loves foreign travel but this year they will have to stay home after the expense of moving. Always able to think outside the moving box, Ursula hit on the bright idea of importing her own beach. I shifted several cubic tonnes of sand, a fully functioning donkey ride and a frightened looking ice cream vendor. There is now a perfect replica of the Costa Del Sol in a small village in Switzerland. I may never walk again.

Sunday and it was the daughter`s circus school performance. She was simply great on the high wire and the other kids were pretty rubbish. Pics available upon request. To celebrate we had a BBQ Sunday afternoon. All the great and the good were present, very select guest list, non of the local riff raff.

The guest list was as follows:

The Right Hon. Big J and Lady Annabel- Zurich`s social butterflies they were sadly only able to stay 5 minutes as they had another engagement. Three hours, several bottles of fizz and half a pig later they finally stepped into their waiting limousine and sped off followed by reporters from "Greuzi" Magazine, Switzerland`s equivalent of "Hello".

Richie Rich and Filthy Lucretia with heir and spare- they are the richest people in Switzerland. They arrived in their new 666 Series BMW FU Phallus convertible. Richie said he had only managed to get the car up to 270 kmh and complained that on a hot day he was sick of having to scrape bits of poor people off the windscreen. Well known philanthropists, they do alot of work in the community. Recently they erected a dung heap so that local children, if they stand on each other`s shoulders, can just about see the Rich family enjoying their olympic sized swimming pool. Jealous? You bet.

Mrs J Cameron-Clegg and the Rev. A. B`stinence and assorted Young Conservatives. Mrs CC is Gruppenfuhrer of the local Conservative Association and a leading light in the Prosecco Players, the local AmDram Society. There is a rumour that a New Years Honour is in the pipeline for her services to Blancmange. The Rev., a teetotaller, was hounded out of his native Australia for trying to ban "the devil`s tipple" and has now formed the Adliswil Temperance Society. Current membership 1

Beyoncé Lactose-Intolerant and children Brie and Gruyére. A tireless campaigner against the evils of cheese, Beyoncé made the front pages in the UK when she tried to fill in the Cheddar Gorge. She is a founding member of the Anti Fondue Front and lives on a hill.

Miss T Louboutin and fiance Mr D Head-Hunter Esq. Local "It" Girl Miss Louboutin is Zurich`s premier party organiser/attendee and a member of the "Prosecco Players". No champagne cork pops in this town without her approval and perhaps just a glass or two. She is affianced to Mr D Head-Hunter who controls the local Teamsters. No one works in this town without his say so. He is also a volunteer fireman and rumour has it that he and Miss Louboutin met when he rescued her from a burning hotel bar. She had gone back in to save the Kristal champagne and her address book but had been overcome by the fumes from a burning super model.

Yorkshire T and Ursula Von Deutschland. Frau Von Deutschland is one of Zurich`s best known architects. Her design for a SpongeBob Squarepants inspired pitch and putt crazy golf course to replace New York`s Twin Towers following 9/11 were narrowly beaten into 17685th place. She currently has 7 children and is expecting the 14th next Tuesday. Yorkshire T likes pianos,pot plants and Yorkshire tea.

After a lavish banquet, entertainment was provided by Miss T Louboutin and Mrs J Cameron-Clegg,"The Prosseco Players", who gave the assembled guests their charming interpretation of the "The Vagina Monologues".

I had hoped that Yorkshire T would tinkle the ivories accompanied by the extraordinary vocals of Ursula Von Deutschland and perform a version of Stair Way to Heaven. Unfortuantely, their piano was stuck halfway up their own stairway at home. You just cannot get good piano movers these days.

Luckily one of the Young Conservatives stepped into the breach and amazed guests with his Acrobatic Al Fresco Urination Routine. Guests were still talking about it hours later.

The evening was rounded off with dancing. I had planned a waltz but the Prosecco Players wanted to test out their new Macarena routine. Video footage is available upon request. I then telephoned the local taxi firm and a fleet of cars/ambulances arrived to take the guests away.

Suicide Isn`t Painless

The weather here is still as bleak and depressing as a UK election result, it`s really getting people down. I just drove past the Dignitas assisted suicide clinic and they were queueing round the block. There were also many religious groups protesting with banners saying things like "Don`t Let Worry Kill You- Let the Church Help" and "Honk if You Love Jesus".

I did honk the horn but only to clear the road of tambourine tapping happy clappers who were holding up the traffic. As I drove by one of the God Squad threw a leaflet into the car. All I can say is that any unemployed grave diggers reading this? Grab your shovel and hot foot it over to Zurich, you`ll hit the mother lode, guaranteed.

To add to my personal sense of doom and gloom I haven`t been able to find a decent shirt for my return to work. Actually thats not quite true. I did find and buy one shirt. To say it was expensive would be an understatement. I couldn`t afford it but the shop assitant gave me a special price. In the end I only had to sign over a tenth of my future income, agree to undertake a little light housework twice a week and perform a sex act. Shirt buying over here can ruin you and that really leaves a nasty taste in the mouth.I do miss Pinks and Hacketts.

Anyway, I have just had my 11am Pink Gin and I decided to read the leaflet chucked into the car at the protest. It had been helpfully translated into English and reads as follows.


REFORM CHURCH OF SATAN
CHURCH BULLETIN


Thursday night - Potluck Supper. Prayer and medication to follow.

Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.


This afternoon there will be a meeting in the South and North ends of the church. Children will be baptized at both ends.

Tuesday at 4:00 PM there will be an ice cream social. All ladies giving milk will please come early.

Wednesday the Ladies’ Liturgy Group will meet. Frau Würst will sing, "Put Me in My Little Bed" accompanied by the Pastor.

Thursday at 5:00 PM, there will be a meeting of the English Speaking Little Mothers Club. All ladies wishing to be "Little Mothers" will meet with the Pastor in his study.

Thanks to Frau Grun for her help at Easter when she came forward and laid an egg on the altar.

The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of every kind. They can be seen in the church basement this Saturday.


Who thought religion could be so much fun. I`m off to church. Have lovely weekends.