I Scare Myself
When I finally become a Grandfather, I realise I will need a bogyman, a ghoul, a scare-the-shit-out-of-yer evil bastard to quieten the little one with. You know the type of thing: "if you don't eat your greens, go to sleep, stop putting your fingers in the plug, XXXXXXXX will come and suck your eyeballs out of their sockets!When I was a toddler my mother used to scare me shitless with threats of the Teddy Boys coming to get me. Teddy Boys? I had this horrific image of fuckin' massive teddy bears with evil frowns chasing me all over the country with hate in their hearts, a taste for human flesh and profoundly empty bellies.
And it didn't do me any harm! *twitch*
For years I've actually made mental notes of potential candidates. From Hannibal Lecter to that bloke who 'allegedly' shot Jill Dando, I've filled notebooks with the inhabitants of Evil-ville. All worthy candidates.
But today, after watching Ronnie's funeral and seeing Margaret's pre-recorded eulogy, it's got to be The Iron Lady.
Eat your muesli or Thatcher's gonna get yer!
Oh yes. There's a certain ring to it. Isn't there?
Thanks to all and sundry for the good wishes for my Dad. Tonight he is a 1000% better. Alert, eating and, most importantly, laughing. Blood Pressure down, blood sugar under control and appetite back. Ain't morphine great?
Some more *explorations* will take place come Monday and then, hopefully, we can look at getting him back home. He's dying for a light ale.
Who watched The Ginger Geezer tonight on BBC4? I did. Followed by the first episode of The Prisoner
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