General Chat

Ooooeeerrrrrr Barb :-0

bleddy fireworks going off 'ere :-| :-| :-| :-|

What you been up to :-D

Hiya Barb :-D <3

Hello Billy :-D <3

Night Joy <3 :-D

Where is everyone? :-S

Oh, I know. It's your dancing night girls.

Just about to check dinner so have a good night all of you. <3 :-D

Afternoon everyone <3 <3 :-D :-D

Don't know where the morning went :-0 :-0

Princess just told me a joke, What wobbles in the sky? A jellycopter :-D :-D :-D

Dear Reader - beware.

If you are intending to read this piece of disgusting tabloid rubbish before breakfast, then I urge you to desist. Go ahead & consume your hot morning porridge first or is it a soft-boiled egg with soldiers. No matter - just ensure you have a full stomach because I'm back to one of my favourite topics. A few of you appreciated my talking 'dirty' previously - so, I'm having another stab at it. And I am not accepting claims for any nausea you may suffer as a result. You have been warned!

The Undertones famously believed that teenage dreams are hard to beat – but teenage smells are a different matter altogether. If you power-hosed them several times a day & scrubbed them raw with carbolic soap, the unbeatable powers of galloping male hormones would still render your fight a futile one.

My own mum always had great faith in the carbolic. But then, she ensured that all our clothes were well aired while hung-out in the back garden in that lovely fresh air that exists only in the West of Ireland. She did not depend entirely on a tumble dryer - too costly and, in any case, she didn't possess one!

But the natural smell of a male teenager is a pungent cocktail of stale sweat and Lynx, an antiperspirant spray that purports to smell of Africa, Vice or Dark Temptation – whatever they might be. David Attenborough's TV programmes taught me much about Africa & its wild life but, of course, I know nothing of 'vice' or 'dark temptations' despite the Devil's misleading ideas being subtly planted in my sub-conscience.

Thankfully, my mind is already bulging to the rafters with other mondaying stuff. And you will notice that I'm staying clear of the young ladies on this occasion, not having too much to do with them till I started shaving. That was a dramatic event, I'm telling you - the first wet shave I mean, blood everywhere. Scarface!

To the middle-aged nose like mine at least, the only smell of Africa the youngsters actually give off is the one I might get from animal dung that has hardened over several days in the sub-Saharan sun.

Don't forget that I was reared on a farm in Co Mayo (one of the nicer Irish counties) & am confident in what I'm trying to describe here for your eager delectation. By the way, don't panic if you have forgotten about my roots. Your Christmas present may be delayed by a postal strike or some other silly excuse like another Brexit Referendum - or worse maybe. But I digress.

Still the average teenager remains convinced that a toxic fug sprayed from a canister will somehow win the war against the sweaty stink emanating from their arm pits. In the fight against sweat, they see underarm deodorant as their very own chemical weapon of mass destruction - a possible distant relation to the stuff Syria's President, Bashar Assad unleashed in Damascus not so long ago. Deodorants, by their very name, suggest they might be a way to rid oneself of a sweaty pong – but they were never more a perfume that tried to mast reality.

Equally it must be remembered that, when assaulted by that smell of sweat, there is actually a purpose to all of this. The human underarm is among the most consistently warm areas on the surface of the human body and sweat glands provide moisture, which when excreted, has a vital cooling effect. See, I do read bits from medical stories in the Red-Tops.

This is all very well until you find yourself sharing a small room with someone, a younger brother for example, who has turned this cooling technique into an art form, and who consequently radiates the smell of a sports sock stuck down the back of the couch.

Teenagers, by their very nature, are not given to the pursuit any unnecessary exercise – even the simple things like putting plates and cups in the kitchen, let alone the dishwasher itself; or picking up clothes off the floor; putting football gear into the wash; or indeed simply lifting themselves off the couch.

So it shouldn't be any great surprise that a thirty-second spray of toxicity is infinitely preferable to ten minutes under the water in a shower, which would then involve having to dry yourself – and ultimately spraying on the same deodorant anyway. The one positive of said ointments - the midges & other irritating flies know better than to bother you!

*Note: No youngster was harmed in the creation of this dull composition.

Many Happy Returns to Maddie :-) :-) :-) <3 <3 <3

Thank you Emma. <3

Happy Birthday Maddie <3 :-D

Have a lovely special day <3

You know................in a cards, balloons, cake sort of way!

:-D :-D :-D :-D :-D

Why SPECIAL Maddie :-)

Good morning All.

Why smelly?

I think it is a LOVELY SPECIAL day today!!

:-D :-D :-D

Morning all :-D <3

It's a beautiful sunny, blue sky day here and not chilly :-D :-D

Never without Febreze in my house :-D

See you Munchkin :-D

Well better get moving so will catch you Laters Mwaahhhhh <3 <3

This is a different one Munchkin ;-)

Bye Joy ;-)