Fat Whale Falling

Posted: October 17, 2012 in holidays
Tags: , ,

We’ve been on holiday for three days now, it’s alright actually. Not as good as last year I guess but the staff are friendly (most of the time) and overall there’s less riff-raff.

Speaking of riff-raff, there is this fat woman here with her friend / sister and daughter. Lets call her “Les Dawson” for no particular reason. No reason other than she looks like Les Dawson anyway.

This woman is proper rough. Really. Her three year old daughter is left to run around the pool all day long, unsupervised and just goes around chatting to random strangers even sitting on sun beds with them and asking for sweets! I know!?!

We just got back from breakfast and I’m happy to report that some level of justice has been served. Les Dawson fell flat on her arse. I’m not sure if its the scream I heard first or if I just felt the ground shake.

I guess the hotel can look forward to a law suit now, after all, if it wasn’t All Inclusive here then just maybe she wouldn’t have been too fat to see her own feet.

Ooff! Two hours later and Kids Club is over. Must stop the cocktails now. Time to sober up and get in the pool!

My posts are getting few and far between now and I am finding it a struggle to be miserable enough to post. This is pretty much down to the fact that on the whole 2012 has been a good year to me.

This morning isn’t much different than the rest of the year, though I am staying at a hotel, well, a pub in Oxfordshire. The place is called the Doghouse. There’s little to complain about here, the food is good, they serve good beer the rooms are pretty decent and so this morning, life is good.

I have a few complaints from this room, they range from the fairly minor (I can’t get my laptop to display on the cheap flat panel TV) to the fact that once again I find myself in a room with two single beds (it’s like they bloody well know I’m coming… which they do, I suppose).

To my (I’m not ashamed to say… delight) I found this morning that a minor victory was mine in the daily battle with the bog. This one was a particularly weak specimen. Four flushes no-less were required to clear the devastation.

Needless to say that brought a smile to my face. But then that isn’t the point of this blog is it? It’s supposed to be a blog of misery and complaining.

I suppose sometimes life really is a box of chocolates…..

Chocolate Poo’s – courtesy of www.pooparcels.com

Now here is a question, is it ok for me to pick on the disabled? Of course it is! I’d pick on anyone, I don’t exclude myself from ridicule, you’ll have seen that if you’ve read any of my other posts, so why should somebody escape just because they have a disability? Isn’t that a form of positive discrimination? Why yes it is. So let’s rock on…

I went to the cinema at the weekend, the film was popular, so the theatre was full up, we basically got first row seats, just behind the “flid zone” – great I thought, I can stretch my legs here, right where the wheelchairs would go. After all, there is not likely to be any wheelchair types coming in tonight.
WRONG! As soon as I said it, in comes wheelchair dude. He parks himself right in front of me. Suddenly my clear view becomes a clear view with head-shaped chunk cut out of the bottom of the screen. FFS!

I’m sat there thinking to myself, “can I ask him to lower his head?”, I shift uncomfortably in my seat muttering to myself, reassuring myself that I should let him disrupt my view because, surely, he is a really nice guy. Aren’t they all? The Inbetweeners had a go at this one, the wheelchair guy in that show was a complete berk.

Anyway, I contemplate moving, there are a couple of free seats over to my right, but wait, will I get frowned upon for getting pissed off by a disabled guy? I don’t know!?! What is the protocol for these situations.
Can I simply wheel him away like Alan Partridge at the Colmans party?

Anyway, I don’t have any cutting remarks or nasty things to say about this guy, he did fuck all to me and to be fair, he probably didn’t even realise his egg-shaped head was even in my way. But what I want to know is why nobody has invented a wheelchair with a system to lower the seat or even some sort of trap-door that I could activate to get him out of my bloody way.

The Dark Knight rises. I wish I fucking had. Maybe I’d have been able to see above his fucking head!

Blog Moved

Posted: May 15, 2012 in Uncategorized

Hi grump-fans.

This blog has now been re-homed. You can find me at www.themiseryguts.com – there will be no reduction in the level of whinging.

That is all.

Today is the day of the long-awaited “nadscan”.  Of course that means getting the old boy and his two siblings out for yet another stranger.  I looked down, things were getting a bit out of control down there, a bit like a wild bramble bush but without random litter (or as was the case before the internet “random porn pages”) strewn in it.

 And so it was, yesterday that I decided that I should have a bit of a tidy up “down there”.  Out comes the shaver, time to do a buzz cut on the old fella.  After a bit of buzzing around I was startled by the sheer amount of hair in the toilet.  Bollocks (no pun intended), I’d inadvertently left it on a number 1 setting.

This is great!  Just bloody typical.  Now I look like I’ve “made an effort”.  Or worse still, that I am trying to make it look bigger!  I swear, sometimes I am my own worst enemy!

Whats worse, when the wife saw what I’d done, she just laughed.  Uncontrollably.  Wow, thanks.  I’ve got to show this to a complete stranger tomorrow, you laugh.  What will they think!?!

Anyway, cut to today (full of puns), the day is here.  I actually started writing this early morning, its now late afternoon and I am finishing up, having thankfully got the all-clear.

An ultrasound on your balls is not the most dignified of procedures I can say that much, but there are bound to be much worse things.  Catheter springs to mind.

When I was in the waiting room I was called along with another man, I looked at him suspiciously at first then said “I didn’t know they’d be calling us in together, nice to meet you!”, I think this made him feel uncomfortable, ah well.

Google and their infinite wisdom.  Don’t you just love it?  Innocently searching for instructions on how to insert some adverts into this very blog (why not?  every other twat is doing it!) I started to type “how to insert” at which point Google thought it may have an idea what it was I’d like to insert.

All of the entries were wrong, but its the first one I particularly take issue with.

Being a helpful sort of bloke, perhaps this would be knowledge worth gaining.  You never know, one day I may be heading down the street at which point a lady may approach me, desperate for help with a problem she is having.

“Please sir, could you spare a moment to help me?”

“Why of course” I would reply.

“There is something I have been having difficulty with sir, I was wondering if you could just  help me, here take hold of this…” she would continue.

Anyway, I think you get the picture.

Google… No.  Improve your algorithms.  I do not want to find out how to insert a tampon.

Well… I do have five minutes to kill….. :-/

Oh what a strange day, particularly the start bit. That was certainly unusual. So really it all started on Friday night, but before I get to that its probably best to warn you that this is going to get a bit personal, but that’s ok, I have very little shame anyway.

To get to the point. I found a lump. On Friday night. Way to ruin the evening. I was up for some action and it has to be said, finding “a lump” is a sure fire way to kill the passion. For at least 5 minutes anyway. Really, I’m married, I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of my weekly sex.

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Needless to say however, the lump got me slightly upset, for the whole weekend. I went from moping around to angry and all the while obsessively fondling my nut-sack. Every cloud eh?

Naturally, I followed my established routine of google-based self-diagnosis. “Fucking hell I’ve got testicular cancer!”, this despite the fact that what I could feel, did not quite match the descriptions or diagrams I’d found on-line, but never mind that, some of the symptoms matched. My bollocks did indeed feel heavy. And there was a lump.
By Sunday I’d practically convinced myself I was doomed, but on the way back from swimming I noticed that my balls were hot, really hot. This was new. Back to Google.

So after a bit of eDoctor and then a bit of Wikipedia I found out a little (a lot) about Epididymitis (google it yourself lazy boy), the symptoms sure did sound very familiar, and the outlook was a lot more appetising for sure, so feeling a bit more relaxed I spent the evening with my scrotum elevated (nice image, I was just lying down) enjoying watching the american version of The Office having decided to visit the doctor first thing in the morning.

Right, so its Monday morning (again) and I’ve already signed up to Bupa, I tell you one thing, I am not going through this shit again with the thought of spending time on a public ward on my mind! Next thing, get a doctors appointment. Done. 10:50 it is. Get your cock and balls out for a stranger time!

Between 9:00am and flashing time I had several reasons to pull out, but one very big reason to go ahead. Hell I didn’t want to get my balls out for a stranger! No way, but then I really didn’t like the downside much either. Time to man up.

I’m in with the doctor, I get straight to the point. I found a lump, I foolishly self-diagnosed, I reviewed my self-diagnosis and with my vast knowledge and experience I’ve come to the conclusion that I am happy with my diagnosis. “Epididimdididididisiss (or something)”

“Epididmytis” – he repeated.

“Yes, thats the one”.

“Ok, come with me” he said. Already reaching for the latex gloves. Hold on cowboy, no need to be so eager I’m thinking!

So he tells me to take my trousers off. I wish my wife was this keen. So I drop my trousers.

“I suppose you want my pants down too” I said.

“umm yes” he replied.

I’m not too sure which one of us is more uncomfortable with this part of the conversation.

He tells me to lay down and relax. I’ve heard this before, relaxing is NOT that easy. Whilst he feels around with my jewels I distract myself by recounting to him my exploits with Wikipedia and why I came to the conclusions I did.

Annoyingly, I already know I’ve been feeling a bit better this morning, but what really grinds my gears is that he confirms this by saying “Ok, I can’t find any signs of a lump, so I don’t believe that you have testicular cancer, can you find where you think the lump was?”

Well, I’ve not touched myself this morning, the constant man-handling of my “wheels” had contributed to my weekend of soreness, so I said “Yes, of course”.

Of course my arse, nothing feeling out of place, I point him to the right area. He confirms it may have just been a cyst, but he will refer to me for ultrasound anyway. Great, another stranger can look at my bollocks.

Whilst this is being explained to me, and I am being told that I did the right thing by coming in to see him, I am laying there, nuts out, cock out thinking two things to myself.

“Why am I just laying here with my knob out?”

and

“When is a good time to get up and put myself away?”

It feels like two minutes have passed, in actual fact, its probably been about 20 seconds. Am I enjoying the air on my man-parts?

I sit up and look down at my genitals. WHAT THE FUCK HAS HAPPENED TO THEM?

“Hey Penis!!! Where have you gone!?!?” (ok, I thought this, I didn’t say it. I hope).

I can’t believe it! It’s retreated into my body. FFS! Seriously. I look at the doctor, I am sure he is smirking. Fucker. So ok, it’s not normally something majestic to behold, but its a typically somewhat more magnificent than this!

Talk about mixed emotions, I mean, the temporarily relief that there is nothing wrong together with knowing that a complete stranger things I have an inverted penis!

Bring on the ultrasound.

Posted: April 30, 2012 in Customer Service, Featured, Health, men, Smug Gits
Tags: , , , ,

Fuck you Tesco. You have RUINED Strawberry Bon Bons. Back in the day you could look forward to getting your fingers covered in pink strawberry dust after popping a Strawberry Bon Bon into your mouth, you would suck off all the flavour, then once that lovely flavour has gone, you’d bite it gently so that the sugary shell (approx 3mm thick) crumbles off to reveal the toffee centre.


Tesco in their wisdom, have seen fit to “improve” the recipe. The packet proudly declares “Improved! Recipe (Recipe)” – I was intrigued at first, curious to find just how the (clearly) brilliant minds employed by Tesco had utilised their vast genius to improve something that hasn’t needed to be improved in 50 years (this is an approximation – no scientific or statistical effort was used in calculating this time frame).

Sadly, I didn’t agree with them that their recipe was improved. NO MR TESCO! You’ve not improved the recipe at all. What you have done is totally ruined / altered beyond recognition, one of the all time greats.
A hard, strawberry-flavoured ball covered in pink dust is NOT a Strawberry Bon Bon.

Take my advice, shoot the chef. Shoot the testers. Bring back the authentic strawberry bon bon. In-fact, your marketing department can then put a positive spin on things by branding the new packaging as “Authentic Traditional Strawberry Bon Bons”.

This one is a few days late but thats pretty much just because I forgot about my blog.

We took the kids on a day out that had so much promise of being great. The website really should have sounded the warning bells, after all, what tourist attraction has a website with just three pages and minimal pictures?

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The website proudly states “Pay once & all manned rides are free” – completely misleading to skim readers but hardly the parks fault. What is their fault though is that the place is a complete joke and a rip off.

The so-called rides are total shite, mostly hangovers from the 80’s and the dinosaur models are uninspired hunks of plastic.

Fancy a game of uphill golf? Don’t bother, it’s a total joke. This place is like something out of a comedy sketch show.
The kids went ip to the top of the wavy slide thingy, from there you can easily see just how awfully wank the place is. Up there I mentioned this to a mum who was supervising her kids, her response was that they wished they hadn’t bothered going but as they’d travelled down from York, they HAD to go after promising the kids.

So the day out, for a family of four cost just shy of £40. That’s quite steep for two hours of “fun”. Money that would perhaps have been better spent on a few minutes of lap dancing.
We only lasted two hours because we got lost in the maze…

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In short, because the place doesn’t even deserve this much effort, we left because the kids actually ASKED to go.

This place could actually be great. The idea is a fine one, that could work great in this part of the country, what it needs is a considerable amount of dynamite and an experienced demolition team.
Start from scratch before we see kids turn to suicide bombing in protest at the utter shite they are being subjected to.

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Posted: April 8, 2012 in Crap Day, general annoyances, holidays, Tourists
Tags: , , ,

So I just noticed that some wanker has parked outside of my house. I guess this doesn’t seem like being much worth moaning about, only the twat is in my space.

He better not be there when I go back later or he won’t be leaving at all without the support of The AA.

What sort of person does that anyway? I bet he is exactly the sort of person who drives at 40 miles an hour in a 60 zone. Aka a complete arse.