Baldyman

As my groundbreaking life journey continues at what can only be described as breakneck speed, the highlights of the last few weeks have seen me;

• Spend half an hour frantically searching a pitch black carpark for my mobile before finding it in the pocket of the coat I was wearing (this above all highlighted how smart phones have forced the common torch into redundancy until of course you actually need a torch to try and find the phone that you usually use as your torch).
• Slice my finger open on the lid of a Beef Rib flavoured King Pot Noddle (this is wrong on multiple levels with the nutritional  choice and the chosen volume only trumped by the particularly high level of skill it takes a to get a paper cut from foil).
• Make the cowardly decision to relocate to sleeping downstairs on the sofa for the night when I failed to locate a gigantic spider I had spotted gallivanting across my bedroom floor (it was that big that I fully expected the furniture to be rearranged when I gingerly returned back upstairs the next morning).
• Receive compliments on my Uncle Fester Halloween costume when I wasn’t even dressed up (this is not the first time either).

In recent news, the national calamity of the petrol ‘crisis’ predictably lasted less than a week but was then swiftly replaced by the forecast of a hefty increase in the cost of future household energy bills. While an ‘open door policy’ is seen as a positive practice in the workplace, if you bring it home and extend it to an ‘open door and windows while the heating is on full blast’ policy it can turn out to be quite expensive. A Smart Meter was hastily installed but in reality only really served to confirm my own suspicions that burning piles of £5 notes in the lounge would almost certainly be a cheaper way of heating the house. In fact the last time I saw that much energy wasted was when I ran to the chip shop to arrive before closing only to find it was shut on Tuesdays.

Like an airline passenger desperate to discover their gate number, I quickly became obsessed with checking the screen every few minutes in the hope of an update. I soon realised though that all the Smart Meter really succeeded in doing was to deliver some home truths that despite being painfully accurate, I didn’t necessarily want to hear. It was the equivalent of spending an afternoon eating a whole box of Cadbury’s Chocolate Fingers whilst watching old repeats of Wheel of Fortune on Challenge TV (obviously a hypothetical scenario you understand) and then immediately receiving a text message stating “You are wasting your life you fat loser!”

Continuing the theme, the COP26 climate summit saw world representatives gather in Glasgow, with Boris Johnson once again excelling himself by returning to London by private jet rather than train and doing his upmost to kill off national treasure Sir David Attenborough by not bothering to wear a mask when sitting next to him. The coverage has also seen the return of Greta Thunberg, a staunch Swedish environmental activist that spent all her teenage years tirelessly challenging world leaders to take action for climate change mitigation. When I was a teenager my biggest concern was someone bursting into my bedroom at an inappropriate moment during my Saturday night weekly worship of ‘Jet’ from Gladiators (Awooga!).

Far from saving the planet, I would actually find it highly amusing to witness my Step Dad’s exasperated reaction when he returned home from a hard day’s work to find me lounging on the sofa with every light in the house turned on. His annoyance was of course fully justified, but did also lead to some particularly memorable quotes which as I remember included;

• “When was the last time you were upstairs? We’re giving Blackpool Illuminations a run for their money up there.”
• “You could stop boats from hitting rocks with less bulbs than we’re using in this house.”
• “When I was young I was scared of the dark but now I’m paying the electricity bill I’m scared of the lights!”

Many years later my attitude would change considerably however when, with the boot now firmly on the other foot, I myself assumed the role of bill payer. Over time I soon found myself developing the following daily routine that I would go through every night when on my way home from work;

1. On approach to the property assess any visible signs of unnecessary household illumination from distance.
2. Identify the most likely perpetrators and repeatedly curse them under your breath.
3. Mentally formulate a plan of action to most effectively rectify this environmental/financial breach.
4. On entry to the property immediately sweep and neutralise illuminated zones with an SAS like efficiency.
5. Lecture family on the cost of household bills/ turn off heating/ hand out salopettes, gloves & woolly hats.

Also back in the headlines is the singer Adele who, after 6 years away, saw her comeback single ‘Easy On Me’ streamed a record breaking 24 million times in one week (for a man who struggles to change the time on the microwave when the clocks go back this is a somewhat alien concept).  Her albums have always been titled in accordance with her age when writing them, with ‘19’,’21’and ‘25’ soon to joined by ‘30’ which has a launch date in mid-November. With the lyrics of her songs famously inspired by her relationship experiences, it does make you wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t recently got divorced from her husband. Fast forward to 2036 when Adele’s 20^th wedding anniversary co-insides with the much anticipated release of her new album ‘45’ which includes the classic hits;

• Hello (do you ever listen to a bloody word that I say?)
• Someone Like You (keeps leaving pants and wet towels on the bathroom floor and it gets on my tits).
• Rolling In The Deep (pile of plates that you always leave next to the dishwasher but never put inside).
• Rumour Has It (that all my friends’ husbands do a lot more around the house than you do).
• When We Were Young (you used to compliment me and buy me flowers but now all you do is spend every Sunday watching Sky Sports).

Heartbreak seems to have been the catalyst to her success with every romantic break up she has gone through swiftly followed by what has turned out to be a multi -platinum selling album. If only Kerry Katona had chosen to follow a similar career path she would have easily out sold Madonna, Michael Jackson and the Beatles put together.

Watched by 142 million households worldwide, ‘The Squid Games’ is the latest Netflix hit series that everyone has been talking about. The programme follows a group of people who compete against each other in a number of childhood games with grave consequences for any of them that fail to win. This is very similar to Christmas Day in my house when the family battle it out in Buckaroo, Guess Who, Yahtzee and Kerplunk with the only difference being that the losers are faced with a mountain of dirty dishes rather than being executed. Those who choose to participate are so desperate to change their financial fortunes that they are willing to face unfavourable odds and sacrifice their dignity just for a chance to win a large cash prize. So it’s basically the South Korean equivalent of the Peoples’ Postcode Lottery, a competition primarily targeted at frustrated housewives who are more than willing to part with £10 a month for the extremely minimal chance of meeting the immaculately coiffured Jeff Brazier.

 “Someone’s knocking at the door, somebody’s ringing the bell.”

Is it Jeff with a giant cheque? No it’s the bailiffs from ‘Can’t Pay? We’ll Take It Away!’ who’ve come to repossess your car because you keep spending the monthly repayment money on a series of nonsensical lotteries!

With Daniel Craig confirming that he is stepping away from his role as 007 there has been much speculation in the press as to who might be chosen to succeed him. The producers are apparently open minded as to how the character will now be re-cast, so I thought this might be the perfect opportunity for me to throw my own hat into the ring (unlike Odd Job who menacingly threw his in the direction of Sean Connery).

James Bond is rugged, drinks vodka martinis, has a license to kill and drives an Aston Martin DB10 with rocket launchers. I on the other hand am tired, drink Bovril, have a Blockbusters Video Card and drive a 15 year old Toyota Yaris with a passenger door that doesn’t lock properly. I can’t fight, shoot a gun straight or run for too long without getting out of breath but if a super villain ever tried to cut me in half with a laser beam I could easily deflect it away with my increasingly capacious and reflective forehead. And if we can put the importance of charm, charisma, good looks and physique to one side for a moment, I would also, at  6 years Daniel Craig’s junior, undoubtedly inject some much needed youth and vigour into the franchise.

Whilst on the subject of laser beams, it has always baffled me why the master criminals always choose to conjure up such elaborate ways for James Bond to meet his demise.

“ Mr Bond I expect you to die but rather than just shoot you I will handcuff you to a platform which is slowly lowering into a pool of piranha fish, leave before I see the outcome but then still be surprised when you inexplicably escape and dismantle the bomb with a second to spare.”

Daniel Craig first came to prominence in 2005 when he made his now iconic exit from the waves in a beach scene from his first film Casino Royale. In direct comparison I caused a similar stir in Lanzarote in 2012 when I emerged from the parent and toddler pool wearing a pair of spray on Tom Daley Team GB budgie smugglers that I had acquired in the sale from Sports Direct. Hit by an immediate volley of comments including;

• “It’s obviously colder in there than it looks.”
• “You should have packed more pairs of socks mate.”
• “Who does she think she is?”

It soon became even more apparent that my chosen attire wasn’t to everyone’s liking when poolside cleared considerably quicker than it had done during the fire drill we’d had two days previously. The positive was that it was the only time during the holiday that we got the use of two parasols for the day, the negative was that for the remainder of the fortnight I had the misfortune of being exclusively referred to by everybody on the resort as ‘The Speedophile.’ So I’d like to say that as with most things in life it was a case of swings and roundabouts, but on this occasion it wasn’t  as I was also banned from being allowed anywhere near the children’s’ playground.

I did once go to a James Bond themed work Christmas Party but quickly swapped cocktails for pints of Stella and wore a £16 Asda George tuxedo that was made of such poor quality material that I had to maintain at least a 3 metre distance from any naked flames. The overuse of a  free bar soon had me convinced that I had a ‘license to thrill’ but sadly the only time I ended up ‘shaken not stirred’ was when a bouncer ejected me via a fire escape for allegedly making inappropriately loud comments regarding ‘Pussy Galore’, ‘Miss Funny Fanny’ and ‘ My Special Secret Weapon.’

So with all things considered I think I have a lot of the criteria needed to take Ian Fleming’s literary secret agent successfully into his next era. Although if I were to portray the next 007 they’d probably have to re-work some of the films’ titles to incorporate some of my more noticeable attributes. These could include;

• Dr. No (hair whatsoever).
• The Man with the Golden Gut.
• Coldfinger (he’s the man, the man with arthritic joints).
• Never Say Never (that Custard Creams aren’t suitable for breakfast) Again.
• Live and Let Pie / Golden Pie/ For Your Pies Only / The (chicken & mushroom) Pie Who Loved Me.

Thanks once again for taking the time to read this. I hope to post again before Christmas but if for any reason I don’t, stay safe and enjoy the time with your family and friends.