Aren’t little kiddies lovely? That Michael Jackson certainly thought so. But then again I always had a funny feeling about him. I don’t think he was quite as he seemed. To hear him talk, he had a nice attitude to kiddies. He thought that they were innocent, refreshing, open, honest, playful and generally a pleasure to be around. But you get the impression that he had some darker thoughts about them an’all. The filthy so and so. Besides. In general kiddies may be considered lovely. But there is always the exception that proves the rule. Every now and then you come across a vicious little bugger who would spit in your eye as soon as look at you and generally has no respect for their elders. Of course that’s not the natural state of kiddies. I blame the parents, pop music and ITV. If parents restricted kiddie’s access to pop music and ITV, then the world would be a much better place. I am convinced of it. If I was the prime minister I would invest heavily in the BBC and Easy Listening. In fact I will stick my neck out here and say that a Britain dominated by the BBC and Easy Listening would be admired around the world rather than being the laughing stock it is today. Any road. The kiddies in this picture come from an age before pop music, ITV, the BBC or Easy listening. They find their entertainment in nature and gentle play, smelling flowers, giving gifts, and generally being pleasant to one another. Of course, they are kiddies, and the world isn’t a paradise. gentle play, smelling flowers, giving gifts, and generally being pleasant to one another. Of course, they are kiddies, and the world isn’t a paradise. You can still see a bloke carrying a pikestaff or something in the background, walking towards a building which could easily be a prison tower. He is probably guarding some Michael Jackson type figure in there, both for his own safety and so that the kiddies can continue to play nicely without him disturbing them. In them days They wouldn’t have encouraged him by letting him release pop records and go on the ITV to play them to people. Ohh no. Although, in a chilling nod to the Peter Pan Prince of Pop, the little girl in the picture has a single white glove on her left hand. But perhaps I am reading too much into it. She might have just got some hot cakes out of the oven or something. Four things that you might do this week: (i) Do something nice for some kiddies. Buy them some sweets (sugar free of course). Make sure that their parents know what you are doing though. It’s a, crying shame, but people have some funny ideas these days and your intentions might be misinterpreted. I blame Pop music and ITV, myself. (ii) Listen to some easy listening. A bit of James Last or Klaus Wunderlich (the famous German cunnilinguist) or even Perry Como. You can’t go wrong. (iii) Take a tip from the kiddies and try and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Go for a nature walk, pick some flowers, build a den, try and ride a bicycle whilst you are holding the front wheel a foot above the road surface. You will feel much better for it, Unless you fall off and smash your ruddy pelvis to smithereens. (iv) Bake some cakes. Cake mix is cheap nowadays, and you only need to add an egg and some flavouring. My favourite flavouring is Sherry!
Well. He is definitely dead this one. He’s more ruddy dead than the people in the death card. And you can make an educated guess about how he died an’all. Live by the sword, die by the sword, that’s him. He must have enjoyed his sword so much that he has got one carved into the stone of his tomb, underneath his body carved in stone on the top of it. And there are three more swords on the wall an’all pointing down at him. Just in case he wakes up. But bless him. He looks at peace. With his hands together like he’s saying his prayers. So, another ruddy religious fanatic who uses violence because the ends justify the ruddy means. A bit like my father, although he didn’t use a sword to try and convert the infidel. He just used to pinch their legs. Hard. And it wasn’t even always the infidel too. More often than not it was me. And I wasn’t exactly a ruddy infidel. He would have just caught me listening to some jazz music on the radio, or reading a non-religious text such as the “Girl’s Own Paper” or “School Friend.” He was convinced that such activities would turn me into an infidel if he didn’t keep me on the straight and narrow through the judicious administration of pain.
Of course he was wrong. All he achieved was to give me lumpy legs in later life, and make me distrustful of religion. Half of those vicars are filthy so and sos anyway. More than half actually. It used to be all of them until they let women do the job. Men. They just can’t help themselves. They live in a world of self-righteousness, and violence, and filthy thoughts. You’ve got to love them though. We are genetically programmed to. Otherwise that would be the end of the human race. Funnily enough, the rare examples of men who are not full of all that nonsense, seem to have difficulty attracting women anyway. That Arnold Schwarzenegger always has more women chasing after him than that Mahatma Ghandi ever did. Then again. Ghandi’s wife Kasturba, was worth more than all the ones who chased Schwarzenegger around put together. She helped him emancipate India. Schwarzenegger’s dolly birds couldn’t even emancipate themselves out of a damp paper bag.
Any road, the four of swords bloke probably had a few women chasing him an’all. And he probably thought that he was onto a good thing. He didn’t expect to wake up one morning in a cold stone tomb with a sword carved into the side of it. None of them do.
Four things that you might do this week (i) Go and have a look at some of them stone tomb things in your local church. History is interesting. Take some sandwiches and reflect on life and death and the difference you make in the world while you are in it. Watch out for the vicar though. Unless it’s a woman. (ii) Get your legs checked out. If you suffer from bruising or rheumatics or anything get some cream to rub into them. And some support tights would come in handy an’all. Unchecked these conditions can only get worse. These days people live longer and lumpy legs in later life is no laughing matter. (iii) Have a think about how emancipated you are. There is no need to go throwing yourself under a horse at the Epsom Darby, these days you can emancipate yourself without going to all that trouble. Just refuse to do the ruddy dishes every now and then and have the occasional chip shop tea from time to time instead of cooking. Fish, chips and mushy Peas, “The Meal of the Great Emancipator.” (iv) Try and do something good for someone without kicking up a fuss and getting all stroppy. Be a bit more Ghandi than Shwarzenegger.