The Real Blogger

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.