Oh Joy unbounded tis the season to be grumpy!

Gentle readers all. It has been a while since I waxed lyrically in gloriously bad grammar and I were I 20 years younger I would apologize for both but sod it I was busy doing stuff that kinda got in the way 🙂

Anyway it is the start of June and “the boss” more commonly known as Val has just booked the annual McDonagh Summer tour. Rather than seeking the sun we are revisiting the jaunts of 10 years ago and heading for the south west of Ireland for a week of dolphin watching, walking  a spot of painting and lots of eating and Guinness. This has cheered SWMBO up no end as the inclement weather of late has somewhat soured the summery feel of the end of May. She does like to have something to look forward too 🙂

June! Oh Sweet June month of blooms, gentle breezes on warm days and amazing sunsets… my fat Irish arse it is! So far the first 8 days have been replete with ample Novemberish misley pish and huffy gales 🙁 Sod that for a meteorological game of soldiers. Even I (and I burn under a 40W bulb) wouldn’t mind the walk to work being warmer and dryer!

June is also the month when some of my fellow country-persons get this sudden urge to wrap every available sticky up thing in flags. I am the owner of a large nose and if I were to lie down outside the house some passing Orange man would fly a flag from it!

This general flaggishness has been compounded by our Monarch the doyen of the milliner’s art , Queen Lizzie the twoeth having her Diamond Jubilee which should be for 75 years, but because her “one is not amused” antecedent Queen Vicky the oneth was a bit down – so the privy council had the brainwave of moving Diamond from 75 to a meager 60 years to get her out and about again. So this being the 60th year since Queenie was moved by act of some traditional established bollocks from mere princess to monarch. It was beholding on the UK and the raggedy remains of “The Empire” to wrap itself in a big snugly blanket of flags and spend a sodding fortune to congratulate, celebrate and be as obsequiously gushing at every possible moment of someone who … well.. was born rich and titled and has managed to remain so. A thing so important that the one from”Take That” that isn’t Robbie Williams was inspired to go on a 6 month jolly around the world in pursuit of a song that would do justice to our chronologically gifted monarch … he really shouldn’t have bothered.Perhaps next time we can pass the hat around to make sure he stays at home?

Queen Lizze did wear a nice hat and as our Monarch-Lite neighbours in France might say about the whole “Royal” thing “plus ça change, plus c’est les chapeaux restent les  mêmes”.

I am left a week later wondering was it worth the time effort and money? Personally I would have pinged her a £50 Ladbrookes prepaid card for the horse racing and been done with it. Hell all I got was a pen for slaving away as a handmaiden of mammon for 25 years!

I will be accused of jealously … damn right … I would love to be King, however I was born dirty stupid and common and I just have to doff the cap and tug the forelock to my betters* (*betters = people in possession of their great great great great granddaddy’s big golden hat. A  great great great great granddaddy who drowned in a vat of brandy when he collapsed after a surfeit of lamprey pie and ravishing a few comely wenches. )

But to my royalist readers shouting “she is useful, she brings tourists and investment.. yada yada yada”  so are/do Nail Clippers, Regent Street and Low Corporation Tax and we don’t give them a party.

Ah this is great I do love being 50+ the general license to grump and not feel old when I do is so liberating – so with that in mind I will get my money’s worth.

Glee is shit ….  not the emotion the TV show if there was every a reason needed for the invention of a stargate it would be Glee at least then we could sod off to another galaxy and not have to put up with the over carbonated precious always sunny shite that is GLEE.

Oh and guess what? Big Brother has started and yes they have found yet another level at the bottom of the barrel of humanity to scrape up and lock in a house for 8 weeks so we the viewing public can sit transfixed by the antics of the grotesques in some modern day bedlam … and shame of shames there is a Norn Iron Spide (*translation = A person of very little brain, no taste and extreme sartorial inelegance) letting the side down on national television. There are times when a zombie apocalypse would actually be useful. All I can say is thank goodness for the OFF button.

Talking of the OFF button .. why oh why oh why could the arch deacon of all that is evil Mr Murdock not outbid terrestrial TV and purchase the rights to Euro 2012. The thoughts of that much football would make me turn white haired overnight had not the deleterious effects of Big Brother turned it that way already.

Not content with Jubliee, Big Brother, Euro 2012 I have the unmitigated joy of 2 weeks of grunting female tennis players in Wimbledon (most unattractive that grunting) and then the Irish Open Golf is being played 6 miles up the road in Portrush, I suppose I shall have to make do with the Ladies Beach Volleyball and 4 Day Eventing at the olympics but the Beeb will probably show the synchronized blowing up bouncy castle competition on all four channels and in HD.

Perhaps June and July are a cunning plan by the chaps with the pointy heads that are planning the new world order to make folks like me go for long walks , think deep thoughts and as a result work out how to save the global economy, bring peace to the middle east and work out once and for all the best way to get into a pack of M&S BLT sandwiches without using an arc welder.

With that I am off to get a beer and write a chapter or two of the novel I have suddenly decided to write as I have an urge to win The Literary Review’s  Bad Sex Award in literature for 2013. I have this idea that involves a wheelbarrow, wellingtons, a bracket fungus, an industiral tub of swarfega and an amnesiac nun running in a brothel in the potting shed of Blenheim Palace.

Nighty Nite