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It's the time of year when the air is filled with the tinkling sound of resolutions being broken right left and centre.  I am feeling uber-smug at the moment because my decision to have a 'dry' January has so far held out for 15 days.  Yay me!  The Shah announced that he would join me.  Approximately 10 minutes later I heard the distinctive sound of a can being opened and the Shah wandered into the sitting room clutching a tinnie of Fosters.  Yes - he had already "forgotten" about it.  Hmm.

I am going to be well tested at the weekend though, because we will be celebrating a significant birthday for the Shah.

Unfortunately, he is the world's most difficult person to buy for so he has a motley assortment of gifts awaiting him including (drum roll please) a MANKINI!  Yes - a lime green one just like Borat wore in the eponymous film. And this - for the uninitiated or just plain unaware is what a mankini looks like:-

He'll love it.  Honest.

Son has written the label on this lovingly chosen gift which reads "Better get down the gym if you're going to carry this off, Dad."  Which brings me on to my next New Year's resolution - lose weight.  I don't need to shift much but I'd be happier if I were about half a stone lighter (7lbs or just over 3kg for my foreign friends who don't have any truck with this Imperial measurement nonsense).  Frankly, I'm hoping the lack of alcohol will sort it out.  I mean how crap can life be?  No drink and no food?  You're having a larf.

The Shah agreed that this would be a good idea and, once again, decided to join me (he has since been away on business and phoned every night from a different restaurant, so I'm not holding my breath).

Anyway, very soon we won't be able to afford food as we've realised we have to get the whole roof of Crap Cottage replaced which, knowing our luck, is going to cost zillions.  Just to cheer me up, the Shah produced this recently:-

I don't know if you can see what he inscribed into the top but yes, it's Crap Cottage Pie!!

Pussy Riot - Scenes from Christmas

Hello chums and a very happy New Year to you all.  I hope you've all had a wonderful time over Christmas, clasped to the bosoms of your respective families.  I'm afraid that I am once again in need of catharsis and so, I am taking the liberty of sharing some scenes from Christmas at Crap Cottage with you:-

Christmas Eve

Mama’s flat.  I have arrived to collect her so that she can come and spend Christmas with us.  She has had a short power cut due to the massive storms we have been having here in the UK over the past week. 

Mama:  Well, we had a power cut and I can’t bear waste.  Points to a pile of carrier bags.  I investigate.

Moi:  Erm, what’s this lot?

Mama:  Just a few bits from the fridge and the freezer.  I can’t bear waste.

Moi: OMG.

Mama:  Yes, well...I can’t bear waste.  Did I say?

I investigate further.  The bags contain a mountain of epicurean delights amongst which I count two lettuce leaves, 5 baby new potatoes and a pint and a half of milk.  Oh and let’s not forget the quarter bottle of Sainsbury’s medium white wine.  No siree.

Christmas Day 
The day passes relatively uneventfully.  The only tiny fly in the ointment comes courtesy of mama’s love for our cat.  A love which is reciprocated. 

This is Paddy:-

As you can see, he is a fairly unremarkable (and pretty stupid) ginger and white moggy.  Despite his lack of neurons and fairly grumpy nature, he is much adored by us all.

Mama spends many happy hours mauling  stroking the cat and he is very happy with the attention.  However, mama’s failing memory means that she cannot, for the life of her, remember Paddy's name.  Consequently, she refers to him as ‘pussy’ most of the time.  This causes my vile and feral children to snigger wildly and me to cast them evil glances which they (naturally) ignore.

So we had the usual round of “ooh – look at this lovely pussy” (smirk from children), “What a pretty pussy!” (mild sniggering from children) and so on and so on.  However, on Christmas Day it all came to a head.  Like this:-

It is the evening.  We have eaten and drunk well and given and received lots of lovely presents.  Even Paddy has had a gift – a glittery gold collar to go with his ginger fur.  He is fairly unimpressed by this as he would have much preferred a leg of turkey but he is sanguine.  And here is the evidence:-

The whole family is lolling around in the living room, including Mama who is on cat watch.

Enter Paddy.  Mama, who is stone deaf much of the time can, bizarrely, hear the bell on his collar from the next street.  She tries to attract his attention.

Mama: Pussy!  Pussy!  (gesticulates wildly.  Children snigger loudly).

Paddy knows which side his Whiskas is buttered and jumps up onto her lap.

Mama:  Ah!  Good boy!  Look – I've got a lovely, sparkly pussy!

I hear strangulated guffawing noises coming from the children.  Son is lying on the floor in the foetal position sobbing with laughter and attempting to shove a cushion into his mouth.  Daughter is hanging upside down off the sofa, trying to turn her face away whilst mouthing the word “vajazzle” at her brother.  Even I can’t hold back the laughter.  It falls to the Shah (uncharacteristically) to behave like a grown up and admire Mama’s lovely, sparkly pussy in the way she intended.