It's eight in the morning and a blogger sits down at his keyboard and begins to type:
Jeez Louise! I got up late and nearly fed the dog to the kids. Oh the kids! What trouble! And me at that time in the month and Him getting ready for work! Sometimes I could just hug the love out of the little blighters. I really could. Can't say the same about Him. And then the dog threw up on Nigel’s shoes. He wasn’t happy about it. Who would be! They’re suede. I blame Pedigree Chum for having those big lumpy bits of meat. Why can’t they chop it up, I don’t know! It’s not as though horse meat is that hard to get right. Right?
So, I got the kids to school before the bell and then it was My Time. I got home, poured myself a nice big steaming cup of coffee, climbed beneath the duvet and watched Quincy on UK Gold. I love that Jack Klugman. He’s such a wrinkle faced doll!
Before I know it, I’m looking at the clock and I realise that I have to pick up the kids again. But then I think to myself: why not leave them at school? They’re warm and have lots of things to do with the cleaners and that strange man who they hire as a caretaker down there.
But, of course, you conscience begins to prick. I eventually reach for the car keys and I’m off to pick up the kids. And ain’t that the thing about having them? They might get on your nerves but you wouldn’t want to leave them with a stranger who has named his mop George and calls his bucket Mildred. Not even for a million Quincies!!!!!!
Thirty seven seconds later, this bad and bitter old man sits back, chuckling with spite. His blog is written for the day and now he waits to receive 59 comments before lunch and to know that he truly is the voice of the people.
Life is that simple.
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10 comments:
How did you know I'm wearing suede shoes? That's uncanny...
mmm...59 comments before lunch. Well, I seem to have missed that. There is, unfortunately, no mention of dinner.
Still, you’d be surprised. That’s the type of blog which gets publishing deals from Hello! magazine. For the life of me I don’t know why, but perhaps it’s something to do with the national IQ, or what Goebbel’s called the “lowest common denominator.” Unsurprisingly, that’s how he met Hitler, Goring, Himmler, and Ribbentrop. I’d call that the Nelson touch. No praise can be too high for the work of those thirty seven seconds.
Keep ‘dem coming....
Nige, it's funny but I never thought of you as a Nigel. Nor, for that matter, did I imagine you own suede. I've always seen you wearing brown leather shoes or slippers. Definitely slippers.
Selena, what can I say? I'm a failure at this kind of blogging too. Nige mentions a woman's armpit and already has 12 comments. I don't know what I'm to do...
Man, that is actually 95% of the blogs out there and you're right -they all get more readers than us Joes.
I'm still waiting for my prunes..
It must be nice to be so much cleverer than everyone else..if only people knew!!??
Elberry, I couldn't possibly comment.
Twitch, so glad to see you're back. I was getting worried.
Mutley, I don't understand it with these tart comments. Have I done something to annoy you? You have plenty of readers so you wouldn't know what it's like for us mere mortals who struggle to get readership.
Mutley, you know how devoted I am to you, but you must be reasonable - you must not upset my friend Richard.
Come over to my place, I left you a note...
xxx
Hello. I'm drunk, I've been to a wine tasting. I wouldn't have commented, except that in my drunken state, I have deduced that you like comments. I'm sure I'll feel ever so cheap in the morning.
xx
Lola
Oh no that jumble of letters I have to type. It will probably take another 20 minutes for the stupid InterWebNet to accept that I'm a human
What's the matter Mutley, someone sneak up on you and slip on one of those little neutering rubberbands?
I was just watching a video last night of a show you may remember Richard, Grumpy Old Men. I had actually copied down something Arthur Smith said about bloggers, "People assume that their lives are interesting by merely having written them down, they're not." How portentous.
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