Sunday, 31 March 2013

Easter thoughts from a...


are my chosen subject; it seems only right
on Easter Day.

What a breath of fresh air the two
new Ecclesiastical big cheeses are.

I think before I start, I ought to lay my stall out...
I love all men, yes I know, gay men are a particular secret pash
of mine...  It's their wit don't you know!

These are my subjective thoughts on 
homo erectus.

Every British Summer Time Sunday morning across the land,
men will mention the change of clocks and the effect on 
their manly bodies; this will carry on for a few days until the next mid-week
football game comes on the telly.

Men never get the message behind the words.
They take what you've said as what you actually mean.

They get pneumonia, when women get a sniffle.

Their shoes are the best turd magnets known to man.

If it's a weekday... dry toast with Marmite.
Weekends... toast with Europe size butter mountain
topped off with 26 varieties of jam, honey, marmalade.
One guy I knew in the Highlands, his wife told me
for six months of the year he would have a boiled egg for brekkie,
the other six months a fried egg.

Routines are of especial importance.

The colour of the fob on keys are not noted ie
Red for the studio
(my thinking... red for space!!!
Blue for the utility...
Fridge, washing machine, cold.)
I explained that this morning, not for the first time,
only to hear the chuntering reply
'If they're not on the right hook...!'
on man's abortive return from the cold outpost. 

Tripping carrying cups of tea are a constant
floor show around here.

They just love walking up to the village for the papers.

Lawn mowing is a speciality.

They still love you (just!) when your rapier words
cut them to the quick.

Men I salute you!


Happy Easter!


  1. I lost all three of my thumbs in a nasty texting accident in the days of rotary-dial telephones.

    Marmite is the food of the gods.

    1. Those were the days I suppose, when you had the money and the inclination to call chat lines?


  2. You are SO right re their shoes being turd magnets. I know this, having cleaned chicken shit and straw off the stair carpet again......

    1. Ted reaches six feet tall, before he realises that it's not in fact his Sarkozy Specials working their magic, but shit on the bottom of his shoes.


  3. I only glanced briefly at my thumb as I knew this was yet another urban myth. I either have extraordinarily long thumbs or a very short... Never mind.

    Men do not get pneumonia, they get something far more serious. Man Flu. A viral pandemic infecting all men who dress on the right. The only known cure is palliative. Constant TLC, lots of exposure to favourite TV channels and sustained cardio-vascular stimulation administered by wive's and their best and most considerate female friends.

    1. 'Oooh! You are awful but I like you!'


  4. I know no man like this! Mine are all in a teenage time-warp - they lose all keys and find hidden, hurtful meaning in everything I say.

    Heard this Easter Joke today on Radio 4:
    Jesus was probably not a man, but a secret woman because:
    men just didn't "get" him,
    he sometimes had to provide food for large numbers of people at very short notice,
    when he died there was still so much to do he had to get up again!

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  6. Right, here's another try at pasting you a link to a wee film. Nothing to do with men really, but I liked it:

  7. I identified with so many points in your post. The keys, the wallet cause more searches in our house. I even bought a key hook, keys never seem to hang on it though!! Another enjoyable post Linda, love the new header although found it a tiny bit scary until I realised what it was! x