One for the Toad

Coming home late the other night I was beaten through the back door by a toad. A real beauty. Don't get rated on their looks too much do toads. I think that's a shame. Our friend was big and gorgeous. Got Honey Badger Boy to scoop him up in a big bowl so we could take a picture before Mr GPants escorted him to the other side of the 'Fuck! He's jumped out!' Ah well. It was outside again at least. Keep meaning to look up those nice amphibian people I mentioned before and be all Citizen Scientisty with my latest sighting. Yeah - like, tomorrow...

The toad theme is echoing somehow. The show on near Xmas this year at our nice cosy theatre is The Adventures of Mr Toad. Now I like to take the little sodlets to see a show at Xmas, and I like to do followy-uppy things so something about a toad seems perfect right? And we're getting a schools rate discount. So what's the grief?



I fucking hate The Wind in the Willows.



So I'm busy texting the friend who's organising it. Minx, at their house, has said she wants to go, so I feel guilty enough to ask the boys what they think. Stupid. 'Right, does anyone want to see a show with like people dressed up as a toad and stuff?' Really stupid. This sounds cool to small boys. Bugger. At least Honey Badger Boy screws up his face and says 'Nah'. Was a bit worried there as he's the real animal-obsessor. Safeish ground tho' on the 'show' front - it's inside, you have to sit down, and it's usually a bit crap. Why did I ask the small ones tho'? They say 'Yes' to everything.


Mr GPants comes back. Thoughts pop up.

'Do you like The Wind in the Willows?

'No I fucking hate it. Posh boys shit.' - with added wanking hand signals.

Bugger. I text back 'Can Minx go with you?' I tell the boys 'Shame.... all the tickets have gone.'



Did I dun good or is I a bad bitch? I did consider it see? The make-up might be cool.... But I faltered at the point where I imagined me handing over money. I stumbled when I thought about luvvies in latex and tweed. I choked when I heard the first throaty jolly lines in my head. No. I can't do this.


I really can't do Wind in the fucking Willows.

Nor can I do Enid bleedin' Blyton. Or Alan twatting Bennett. I sometimes wonder if I am English at all? I also hate Wimbledon wankin' tennis. And The Last Night at the poxy Proms. Especially Pomp and cocksucking Circumstance. I hate David dickhead Dimbleby. Alan titface Titchmarsh. Both these last 2 could be described as 'toady' - no way! My toady was lovely. The English language is weird. The English are weird. Especially things considered 'quintessentially English'. Instant repulsion. Back to my hate list then... Chuffin' Chaucer. The bloody Boat Race. Blue pissin' Peter. In fact most of Radio knobbin' 4 is wank - even the bits I like (the dour pauses and tweety bird sounds whenever they do an OB). Not interested in the rancid Royals at all, or the arse-roll newspapers they appear in - whether they're 'toadying' (no!) to them or issuing poison. Nor do I have any time to waste (sliding further down the slimy scale) over the likes of Damian h'wanker Hirst, or Florence felchin' Welch or anyone from a shitty gritty Soap or or ANYTHING. I don't even like The chirpy bastard Beatles.


So what'cha gonna do? Slam me in the stocks outside the Albert Hall and pelt me with roast beef, yorkshire pudding and builders' tea whilst Vera Lynn sings The White Cliffs of Dover in a tin hat?


I'm gonna stay in my little 18th Century English farmhouse and be all English in my own way. I'm gonna drink Columbian coffee; eat curry, pasta and pain au chocolat; listen to Country & Western; wear clobber made in Asia somewhere; start that Stieg Larsson book and watch Match of the Day.


Having a laugh at the idea of the Commonwealth Games tho'. Mr GPants can't really believe it's still going. Just the word 'common-wealth' makes him ramble on about our dodgy history shenanigans til we're praying for Billy Bragg to crop up somewhere for some light relief. He thinks it's all a bit 'we are still the British Empire'-y and especially rubbish 'cos most of the winners wouldn't win if it was the Olympics. Not sure what I think. It's nice the competitors get a chance to do their stuff I suppose. And at least when someone English wins they now play 'Jerusalem' instead of God Save the cakkin' Queen.

I know it's still got god references but.... it's William Blake. Now I like him.