ah memories - give me a mammary gland any day over a pipe, cigar, banana, fag, etc etc and bye the bye you usually get two for the price of one remember!
ps: whilst working on a farm years ago I found myself lying under a cow cleaning its teats as they had become dry and caked - as I work on one teat…no; no; no I won’t continue with that story!
Did I ever tell you of my ‘wet nurse’ great aunt Amelia? My mother had run dry and nursing bottles and teats were hard to come by immediately post war. G aunt Amelia had had 15 children her last one dying of cord strangulation. And so she had pints and pints to spare and offered her services gladly to mama. She lived next door to us with my mothers’ mother. And so I was unceremoniously thrust upon the huge bosom of G aunt Amelia and huge it was or rather two it was!
She like many in those days used moth balls in her clothing and for many years after I could smell moth ball odor from a distant of 600 yards at least which usually made me wretch. Anyway back to the breast as they say! She was well endowed that was for sure and her nipple felt like an oversized gobstopper. During my infant years whenever I was given a gobstopper my eyes would glaze over and I would suck uncontrollable until often I fainted.
She of course would continue many conversations whilst I was attached to the bosom and when she burst into mirth would clutch me tighter pressing my nostrils into a flat dough like appearance, until my grandmamma would scream – “ he’s turning blue”, whereupon G aunt Amelia would pull me violently off the breast slapping my back vigorously.
I do believe my many encounters with ladies of the night have also caused me to turn blue at certain times of intimacy with the lady in question often slapping my back and administering CPR. I only mention this in passing to assist others with similar experiences.
My poor slender mama was distraught with these goings on but could do naught to thwart it and I was for a long time puzzled whenever I sat on her lap to gaze at her slender form and flat chestedness!
Whenever I met G aunt Emilia in later years she would embarrassingly clutch me to her chest again until I often turned blue and her murmuring “come to moma ; come to moma do” – I phrase which I could form no understanding of. I attended her funeral many years later and as I approached the open viewing coffin I was literally terrified that she would at any moment sit up and clutch me to her breast. I was never so relieved when I saw the lid firmly screwed down and no noises coming from within.
I think I have turned out quite normal really but do greet large bosomed ladies with my arm outstretched and avoid any further body contact. My wife as informed me that I have no noticeable breast fetishes but is concerned about me carrying a dummy around in my pocket – I cannot explain why!
Excellent Gumbud! I got a good giggle out of that, you really were a right little gobbler weren’t yeh, Gumbud the little human hoover.
God the smell of those moth balls was overpowering, them and what seemed like gallons of Jeyes Fluid they used back then, how on earth did we survive all that.
Spitty must be wrapped up in mothballs for the Winter.;-)
aye he’s been spitting so much lately he’s probably put out the fire
I had to look up Brian Sewell RJ, the name didn’t ring through but once I saw his face I knew him.
Here’s two quotes I like from two amateur art critics.
“Avant-garde is French for bullshit”
― John Lennon
“Modern paintings are like women, you’ll never enjoy them if you try to understand them.”
― Freddie Mercury.
I was a very hard up hippy, I used to have to make my joints with bread crumbs, one day I was sitting smoking in a run down bar in New York when I saw an old friend pass by, I left the crumby joint and went out to meet him. It was his first day in the big apple, my second, he was tall, I was small, I said hi, he said low, hello hello, you say hello and I say goodbye, well you know the old song. We were like two idiots standing on the sidewalk looking for the path, suddenly a streetcar whizzed by and he was caught up in the gust and squashed beneath the wheels, what a mess, I went back to my stool in the bar and wept into my Bud. “Closing time Buster” growled the bartender as he lifted my glass and swished a filthy cloth under it, “Aint you got a home to go to?”. Little did he know my home was a cardboard box on zero street, I was never very good with street numbers. “Aint yeh got no heart?” I asked through my tears, “I just lost my best buddy, can’t I just kip down in the corner over there” Whada yeh think this is a hotel?" I didn’t answer not wanting to spoil his illusions of grandeur so I walked out into the freezing January New York air.
last one put the light out PLEASE!
At last, somebody is in the house.
I am having to decide which of my kids (42,40 &32) shall be my attorney, etc etc etc.
They have only just realised that nurse Gillian and me are going ga ga.
Panic, they’ve all said they’d take in the surviving parent, but we’re both nearly 70, no age these days, but they have heard alarm bells.
goodness me its 11 pm, time for my sanatogen.
It’s all balls chums.
Oh to hell with it all, I am having a large
SOUTHERN COMFORT.
Fcuk the Diabetes, Parkinsons etc etc etc.
did you turn out the light - we are trying to save energy!
the way things are going the lad will take me in eventually and probably my first wife [his mother too] and we’ll be back to square one again! fcuck!
did I ever tell you about my second wet nurse Aunt Veronica?? ah well another time perhaps but she was pendulous!
What light , someone nicked the bulb…ages ago
but don’t you carry candles around for ANY eventuality?
I just love it when the lights go out " have we got any candles ? - yes - where are they - in the kitchen drawer - where’s the kitchen drawer - in the kitchen - altogether now - WHERE’S THE KITCHEN ?"
Where’d I put the torch
What’s kept in the porch
Under the bed
That’s what was said
By the front door
In a pot on the floor
THat’s about it
It’s quite lost
WE’re in shite
Replace, at great cost
I hope you relished your tipple RJ, I sorted out that will business a few years ago, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do and think of those left behind.
But enough of that kind of talk.
Have you ever eaten a Yam? I have not, although I remember an Aunt of ours sending us a big jar of them from the USA, that was back in our poor days of the 1950’s, horrible looking things they were too, the family shared out the jar, I did not partake and stuck to the usual three beans on a slice of cardboard, oh those barefoot days.
It’s like a potato but can be a lot bigger
Dug out by hand, you can’t use a digger
They’re good, filling, and taste very sweet
The cousins of parsnips, carrots and beet
Just be careful you don’t eat too many
‘Cos you can’t be righted by a simple Rennie.
And now the Yam song, in praise of good solid Yams everywhere, it’s from Jack Blacks film Nacho Libre, well that’s where I heard it first. “I am a Yam, I am a Yam/ I think I am/ I’m glad I am/ I’m proud I am…a Yam”
Well nothing surprises me anymore, after all they did write something about three blind mice and it became famous worldwide.:shock:
I’m Popeye the sailor man.i yam I’m Popeye the sailor man.
I’m strong to th finich, cause I eats me spinach.
I’m Popeye the sailor man.i yam
OR
I yam 16 going on 17.
or I yam pretty
Oh so pretty
or something fromANna & the KIng of S YAM
parthetic ennit
very original - that’s our modus operandi here!
remember the south pacific island yam festivals - now that would be my way of departing the fold!
http://www.anusha.com/trobrian.htm
I always keep yam in me pocket
It comes handy when knockin about
It makes the girls scream, when I serve it with cream
I’m not braggin but it can flop in and flop out
All sound advice gents, thank you.
When storing Yams it is important to remember this golden rule “Never jamb a Yam” always give them plenty of space, If you are unfortunate enough to find a bad Yam amongst the good Yams, do not despair, take it out very quickly but don’t throw it out, it can still be useful. In Sammy’s Mammy’s book “Gammy Yammies” she writes that a gammy Yammy when liquidised and left to dry naturally for a Month makes smashing boot polish.
I’m reminded of an old book I found in my granny’s attic as a young boy, I think it was called “Aunt Matilda’s corner cupboard” it was printed about 1840 or thereabouts, all sorts of interesting things in it, like how do make moving toys with rubber bands, real rubber bands not the kind of crap bands they make now, leave them out of the packet for a few days and when the air gets at them they just snap, these bands were the real mccoy. Other stuff like how to waterproof cloth, how to sharpen a penknife properly, how to store new potatoes so that you can have new potatoes with your Christmas dinner, all useful things like that. One thing I remember especially and it always stayed in my mind, a chapter about how sewing needles were made, how the eye was punched in and not drilled, there was an illustration of a small man sitting at a peddle driven grindstone sharpening a needle, the caption beneath read “Needle grinders rarely live to the age of 40” I was then that I made up me mind I wasn’t going to be a needle grinder when I grew up.;-)
And now for the weather.
Here is the forecast for the next few days
There will be frost and sleet with plenty of haze
My relations are all feeling grand
And there’s an Auntie cycling over the land.
Take out your beer and have a good sup
‘Cos a fridge of high pressure can blow you up
Don’t go swimming in the oily gulf stream
Or you’ll turn the colour of an old dead Bream.
Stay away from your garden and plant no flowers
We are about to be bombarded with heavy showers
Heading our way is a huge tornado
So take care of yourself and mind your lumbago.
Goodnight now and take care, there will be more weather tomorrow at the same time.;-)
I have had recent reports from local UK comrades who talk of ice and sleet and tornados - OMG - I had almost forgotten about them - you may start my nightmares off again!
While we laze in the sun
With a ice cold tall beer
And some gentle sea breezes
Till hell over freezes
The sun blazes down
On the solar panel power
And gives me hot water
For my morning shower
It would all be just fine
Except for one little thing
We walk upside down
And go through too many slings!
The Suns Ok for an hour a day
It helps mobilize your “D”
So good is it, appearing at Two
Then disappearing at Three
Ahh that is that, discard the hat
The daily wave is over
An hour of the stuff
Is quite enough
To avoid the Melanoma.
