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About this blog

a blog by Osbourne One-Nil

Entries in this blog

 

Another reason not to chat to Wibs

Laura says: and I lost a sock OON says: erm? OON says: how? Laura says: exactly Laura says: I had to come home with only one sock on OON says: erm! Laura says: I really don't know where it went!

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Reasons not to chat to Wibs, volume 3

She doesn't follow the conversation very well, bless her. I was reciting something off I'm sorry I haven't a clue, and...well...you'll see:- Piers says: Samantha has just visited the record library and took her little dog with her. She likes to dress it in her own stylish canine clothing range... Laura says: I'm drawing lines... but when I put the shrub beds in the lines aren't snapping Piers says: And the elderly archivists say the all appreciate her doggy fashion Laura says: oh god Piers says: fantastic Laura says: any ideas? Piers says: little bow ties in the shape of a bone? Laura says:

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Reasons not to chat with Wibs, volume 2

Sebastian says (15:19):brb gotta go capture stuff Laura says (15:19): ok Laura says (15:19):mousse? Sebastian says (15:20):mousse? Laura says (15:20):wilderbeast? Laura says (15:20):mice? Laura says (15:20):moose Laura says (15:20):LOL Sebastian says (15:20):small ferret called george Laura says (15:20):go and capture a fluffy dessert

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Reasons not to chat to Wibs, volume 1.

Laura says:bacck Laura says:-c Piers says:bacck-c? Laura says:bacck minus a c Piers says:bacck minus a c is bck Laura says:bacck minus a c is not bck, that would be minus an a, but I typed bacck... so minus a c makes it back, which is correct Piers says:no Piers says:(bacck - a c) = bck

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Norfolk holiday

My holiday:- Day 1. Arrived at Aunty's house after a non-stop drive from Cumbria to Norfolk to find myself helping my Aunty put up marquees for my Gran's 90th birthday party the next day. Uncle Howard took the prawns out to defrost. Day 2. Got up early to help my Aunty in some more pointless faffing and had to look impressed at my cousin's table decorations which amounted to some helium balloons tied at different lengths to some weights and placed on the crappy tables hired from the Cat Sanctuary. Had the party, during which no one died. Listened to my Aunty tell me how wonderful her daughter is because when she goes to agricultural shows to promote her "award winning " (Pobblezezzlez Garden Fete 2nd Prize in the Crisp Contest - there were no other entrants) she has posters and leaflets to hand out. Well that's just genius isn't it. Amused myself by wondering how many of the family (most of whom I didn't even know existed) would have been there had they not known about my Gran's sizeable fortune and dicky heart. Then got depressed realising that Simon (her late husband's cousin's youngest) was far more popular than me and I'd end up without a penny despite 36 years of having to eat her sodding APple Pie and pretend it's nice. Cheered myself up again a few minutes later watching the faces of my family as they drak tea from the urn brewed accidentally with Red Bush tea, instead of PG Tips thanks to me leaving them lying about by mistake. Prawns still defrosting in the warm sun. Day 3. Glad I hadn't eaten any prawns. Awoke to find everyone had rushed back home, leaving me to take down 5 marquees (I call them marquees but really they're crappy bits of green stripy nylon from Argos which cost £4.99 each) and pack everything away rather than go and enjoy myself on my holiday. Particularly enjoyed having to take 5 straw bales back to the nearby farm in my nicely hoovered car. Day 4. Came back to find that North Norfolk District Council don't allow plastic bottles in their recycling wheelie bins and that the chimps who empty them seem to think it time well spent to write a long and very detailed label as to why they didn't empty the recycling bin rather than take the 3 large plastic bottles out of the bin, and empty it. Day 5. Managed to find a household waste site on the outskirts of North Walsham and took with me some sacks of rubbish as the black wheelie bin was full. Was informed by Norfolk's Dimmest Man 1998 - 2004 that there was no such thing as household waste, only "recycleable or non-recycleable waste". I gave him a stare that I was very proud of. Didn't stop him opening up my bin bags to check I hadn't thrown away anything which could have gone in the recycling and then remembered that some of Babbydoodles' accident pants were in there. That cheered me up. Day 6. Ordered "Chicken Rogan Josh, pilau rice and some Bombay aloo too". Went to collect it and found it came to over £20. I said this seemed a bit steep, but was told that it was the right price for 2 Chicken rogan josh, 2 pilau rice, and 2 Bombay aloo. I then explained to them the difference between two and too, and they proceeded to smile politely whilst calling me a c*** ****ing m**** ***ker in Gujarati. Day 7. Went to Holt. Had a nice sandwich.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Christmas

Today I got it up again For the first time in a year And now I've shown it on the forum I hope it will bring you cheer I got the inspiration yesterday Driving past a pub called Tommy Tuckers And thought "I'll show it to the members" Because they're all such lovelies.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

A moan (even I moan sometimes)

I'm not a bad bloke to live with. I do more than my fair share, I do all the cooking, I don't count the pennies and I make sure I take enough time off to have quality time and I'm drop-dead gorgeous and very witty. Why, therefore, on only the 4th day of work in 7 years (as opposed to my 2400-odd) do I get a gobful in the morning about coming to bed late and waking a certain someone up? Even if I did wake that person up for 5 mins, they still managed 8 hours and 55 minutes' worth of sleep, as opposed to my 3 and a half. You know...sometimes, just sometimes I wonder why I bloody bother.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Just now

It's not that I'm unhappy that Babbydoodles Took her nappy off to do a poo It's just that I wish she hadn't done it on the carpet And then brought it to show me She should know I don't take crap from anyone. © Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Another poem

What do you mean you can't afford broadband? You don't have a mortgage - you live in your dead gran's house And marrying your sister must have saved on the wedding costs Did you choose the swirly carpet? © Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Yesterday

Old people Why do you have go to shopping when I do Trundling along two abreast Why not get home delivery And get out of my way At least you wouldn't get Cold © Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

It's been ages since I made an entry, and I woke up this morning and thought it was high time I changed that. So, while I wait for Bertha of Wigton to arrive, I thought I'd add to the spate of poetry which I notice is being offered in other people's blogs. My first poem is inspired by my life in Great Asby and is called My Life In Great Asby Oh, sod off. © Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Yesterday

I went to Chorley yesterday. I stopped at a newsagents and was served by someone who looked like his family may have orignated in the sub-continent. Imagine my surprise when he neither took me hostage nor blew me to pieces. Still...I informed the immigration service who will hopefully deport him for daring to live here* *yes....I am being sarcastic/ironic (never sure which)

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

I had a meeting in Lancaster this morning with a sculptor. The meeting was meant to be at 10.30am, but before I left, I had to print off a large drawing. The plotter was playing about, so I shifted the meeting back to 11.00am knowing that he and I had to be gone by noon. By the time the drawing was ready, I was running really late, so I bombed down the M6 to Lancaster, but got lost. I know, I thought, I'll phone and ask for directions. Nope...left my phone at home in my rush to get out. Hmmmmmm...I know, I'll ask in Waterstones. That's a good place to find arty-types who might know where this bloke lives. Sure enough, someone did, but they didn't know what number. I parked up and though I'll phone and ask which number it is. Oh...that's right, no phone. There was an Indian food shop opposite, perhaps they know him? Sure enough they did, because he lived right opposite. Knocked on the door, went inside, sat down, left the file at home. Bugger.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

I'm in shock and think I might move back to Chorlton cum (snigger) Hardy (snigger). Reading the Westmorland Herald this morning, I noticed that an 18yr old youth has been fined £2.50 by magistrates for having a tax disc which was a week out of date. We must never lose this sort of investigative journalism...well done to the Herald.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

Day started off quite oddly. I had a vivid dream last night whereby myself and Babbydoodles were both playing for Ipswich against Manchester Utd. Babbydoodles was on the ball and all she had to do was pass to me and I've have scored, but instead she went for glory and missed by a mile. At the end of the match I had a real go at her, and my mum and dad shouted at me, which made me angry. Anyway, when I woke up, Mrs OON informed that that in the night I'd grabbed her and started shouting at her about passing something. Can you imagine how upset I was? Getting violent with Mrs OON and not remembering it? (It's ok by the way, misogyny is fine where I live). Actually, there is one occasion where I was even more frustrated about not remembering something I did in my sleep, but some things are best left unmentioned in public. Anyway, had a nice day, finished my roof, just been watching QI and now have a real craving for some custard. I can't find any custard, so I'm eating a tin of mandarins. Doesn't quite hit the spot when you want custard. If you're wondering why watching QI should give me a craving for custard, then it's your fault for being common and not watching BBC2 on Saturday night.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Yesterday

Had my haircut in Carlisle yesterday. I look great. The owner of the salon was going around giving everyone their wage packets. He handed them to the blokes, but with the girls, he popped them, slowly, into their back pockets. When he did this to my hairdresser, I said "do you think youo should be doing that?" to which he replied "Oh...they like it and I like it" to which I replied "I don;t think they do like it....have you ever asked them?" Off he went. My hairdresser was very pleased with me, and consequently didn't make me look like a gay marine. Went off after that to get my new car, which should have been exciting, but wasn't. I'm so depressed with the cost of life nowadays, and it's the 3rd CR-V I've had, broken only by a stupid interlude with a Renault Scenic for a year. Anyway, when they were handing the car over, and had finished their demonstration of how to sit on the seat, and how the steering wheel works, they showed me the boot, which had a bouquet of flowers in. "We like the lady of the house to have something to look forward to as well" he said to me. Bloody hell....is a brand new car to dent the doors on and drive slightly too close to stone walls when passing other cars not enough? Flowers for the women....how sexist. I took the label off and have pretended they're from me.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today (and Yesterday)

I've got a dog....Billy...(Princess wanted to call him Poppy Lovely Blossom and Jnr wanted to call him Mr Woofy...remember?) Billy's lovely, but a pain in the arse. Billy makes a fish's memory capabilities look extensive, and a pheasant look like Oxbridge material. Billy isn't allowed in the back garden any more because he kept vaulting the wall to play in the river behind the house. The front garden is Billy-proof in terms of escaping, providing my wheelbarrow is left propped in a certain place, blocking the only possible escape route. Yesterday, my next door neighbours borrowed my wheelbarrow without asking. I don't mind, except it meant Billy escaped. Billy went for a walk in the village and was found by Don...an elderly gentleman, who went to retrieve Billy for me. Billy likes Don. Billy jumped up at Don. Billy knocked Don over onto his face. Billy licked Don. I told Don to sue me...I have insurance for Billy. But Don's a proper gent and wouldn't dream of such a thing. The least I could do, I thought, was ensure Billy never got out again. Billy was thrown in his run, shouted at, smacked on the nose (I couldn't find a rolled-up newspaper so I used a cro-bar) and left for a few hours to think about his behaviour. Later that afternoon, Billy got out again. This time I found him in the caravan park where some complete retard had decided to feed him. What a good idea...feed a dog which has obviously escaped from home with lovely wet dog food. That'll ensure he doesn't come back. I suppose you've got to be pretty stupid to like caravans, but that was astonishing. I called Billy. Billy came looking very nervous. Billy was put on his lead, and dragged home. "You're a stupid ****ing dog Billy" I said as I walked past the school. "Hello Mr Willet" I then said as I noticed the kids' headmaster standing there. Billy was thrown in his run, shouted at, smacked on the nose (I couldn't find the cro-bar so I used a broken bottle) and left for a few hours to think about his behaviour. This morning, Mrs OON put the kids in the car because it's Babbydoodles' day to go to nursery. Mrs OON drove off, and left the gate open. Billy went for a walk. I didn't know this, because I was inside the house. This morning Billy was at the bustop, licking something nasty looking and generally just pottering about. Billy was thrown in his run, shouted at, smacked on the nose (the broken bottle was in the recycling so I knee-capped him with a small firearm) and is still there now. What I particularly enjoyed was being blamed for this. It was Mrs OON who let Billy out. It was Mrs OON who opened the gate. it was Mrs OON who didn't shut the gate. I was in the house. It was still my fault. Morning.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

I got this letter to the Office of National Statistics requiring me to tell them some stuff about the business a few weeks ago. Sod this I thought....I already act as a tax collector for these sods, I'm not going to go through pages and pages of stuff for the government too. Then today, I got a reminder, saying I can be charged a penalty for not completing the form under Section 4 of the Statistics of Trade Act. Well....straight on the phone I was. This bloke answered and I explained the situation and why I felt it was unfair, and he said it was a legal requirement blah blah blah and I started to rant and rave a bit. I knew it wasn't his fault, but it was pissing me off. When I eventually stopped ranting, he said all they wanted to know was what my turnover was last month. It took me about 5 seconds to find that information (£32.5 million). I bet he thinks I'm a really grumpy sod.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

We used to get a milk delivery every other day. The milk came round with the daily papers, which were delivered every day (funnily enough) and it therefore always puzzled me that if they were coming to our house every day with the papers, couldn't they bring the milk with them as well? There was nothing wrong with getting milk every other day in itself, other than it would take up the whole fridge because it came in (wait for it) milk bottles. Anyway, that all stopped before Christmas because they said with the rising cost of diesel, they couldn't justify the expense of delivering the milk any more. I asked why not increase the cost of the milk, and they said that wouldn't be fair. There I was suggesting they charge me more, and they tell me it wouldn't be fair. It's always like that round here. I wanted a clothes hoist thingy once....the sort of thing that you rack up onto the ceiling to dry your clothes. Pygnie's in Appleby had one for £40 so I went to buy it. The bloke in the shop took a sharp intake of breath (like plumbers do) and said it was too expensive and I shouldn't be spending money on stuff like that. HE was telling ME that I shouldn't give him so much of my money, but instead should buy the necessary bits to make my own, and that way, save a tenner. I didn't want to...I'm a busy man...I wanted to buy one. Oh no....I went home with the bits. Every time I go into the pet shop and buy Billy's food they apologise about the expense of it. Charge me less then you stupid sods. Anyway, back to the milk delivery....they stopped coming to save on fuel, but they still come every day to deliver everyone's papers centrally to the village "bus stop" (an historical term dating back to when rural areas had buses). How much more fuel would it use to vist the houses individually and give them their papers and some milk? I hat buying milk from supermarkets as it always comes in those stupid bloody plastic jugs which you then have to recycle which means a 15 mile round trip for me. I phoned up the council and told them what I thought of their policy of giving us only two bin bags a week, and how hard it was to cater for all the milk jugs I had to recycle, and the woman at the end of the phone said that as a consumer, I should make more informed purchases. I want milk...I have three kids....how else can I buy it? Stupid cow (if you'll pardon the pun). Anyway, the reason I mention all this is that when I collected today's paper, I couldn't help but chortle at the sycophantic pap the Express and the Mail have about the Queen's birthday. Now, I like the Queen...if she was 50 years younger I might think about it, but to suck-up quite as much as those disgraceful papers have is laughable. Anyway, today, everything is the fault of the milkman.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

So, I wake up right, and I go into my office to sort my computer out (it keeps freezing and locking up) and I turn the telly on. QVC comes up. I think I was watching Paramount last night and QVC runs through the night on it. Anyway, it was some bloke that makes I Luv Snow look like Russell Crowe, waffling on about his range of beauty products. One of them (£28.99 I believe) was a bottle of little capsules of Vitamin C "serum" which you put into your normal moisturiser to add Vitamin C goodness to it. They proved you needed this by showing you two cut apples; one left untreated, the other rubbed with the Vitamin C "serum". I'll admit, the one rubbed with the Vitamin C "serum" didn't look as brown and as manky as the one left untreated. But what does this prove? I'm not an apple. If I was a fruit, it would probably be something like the pomegranate or something else that no one likes. No...I tell you what it proves. It proves that this country is awash with stupid people who watch this sort of crap and give these tossers their money because they are too thick to realise there is no link between a cut apple and their skin. They are so stupid that they think calling some gunk in a capsule a "serum" means it's some sort of miracle cure, and they are so stupid they think that because QVC have the only stock of this stuff, they really must buy some while they can, rather than wonder to themselves that if this stuff is so good, why isn't it being sold in Boots? I mean, if I was the boss of this company and I had to choose between selling it on a late-night, 30-minute repeated QVC infomercial, or selling it in every high street in the country, I think I'd go for the latter. I turned off when he started selling the skin souffle. He said this stuff "literally abosrobed totally into the skin, hence being called Souffle". What??? Is that what souffle is famous for? Being absorbed by your skin? Tosser. Have a nice day.

Osbourne One-Nil

Osbourne One-Nil

 

Today

I've been looking through my new phone today, and I think it knows me too well. I shall tell the story with pictures. How can a phone be so blunt?

Guest

Guest

 

Today

Ok, ok. Can you all stop pestering me for another entry now?Played tennis tonight in the first round of the Men's singles. I lost. I just couldn't get my serve going - I couldn't toss as well as I normally do. Practice makes perfect though.Nice to see the Pope making an appearance on the forum. All we've had up to now has been a few queens.I have undying love for Flagpole by the way.

Guest

Guest

 

Today

Letting Mrs OON have a lie in this morning for perhaps the second time in her life, but I don't want any thanks. Although having to watch Razzle Dazzle isn't how I pictured my Saturday mornings when I was younger. I always thought I'd hop out of bad in my luxury city-centre loft conversion, put on some wacky-coloured Boden trousers, take my Halifax cash-point card to the machine in the recently converted dock area and take the resultant cash to a trendy coffee bar where they even sell "Kiddys' Cappucinos" before grabbing the paper off my friendly newspaper-sellar, rushing home and hopping back into bed with my gorgeous wife with a tray-full of breakfast before meeting up with Jamie Oliver later in the day for some barbecued salmon on the beach. Perhaps I shouldn't have moved toGreat Asby?Babbydoodledoos' eye is swollen like a boxer's post-fight. Why does she always get ill on a weekend? I shouldn't complain I suppose; it's good to know that even on a Saturday, the whole of North Cumbria has a couple of doctors to rely on....if you can get to Penrith.....and have a few hours to spare. Was there just three weeks ago when her temperature soared.....I still have the sick on my shoes to prove it. Anyway, if the swollen eye doesn't start going down soon, I'll lance it with a pin. I think Mrs OON is really tired because she had a late night refresher course on driving yesterday with her new gentleman friend. She dialled me from her mobile by mistake and whilst I didn't catch all the conversation, I did hear her say "couldn't you have waited until I'd put it in first". She passed her test 10 years ago, so why she needs help changing gear is beyond me.

Guest

Guest

 

Today

Alone tonight looking after my brood. Mrs OON's gone out pursuing what I can only imagine is a new found love of acting as I saw a text message on her phone from a gentlemen friend which said "Am holding a small part for you which I think you can make big". Nice to see her enjoying herself.

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