Walking in a Whiskey Wonderland

December 12, 2018 8:02am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 2 Comments

 

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

And this week I have been challenged by my friend, Anniesu of Runswick, to get all of the obsolete words pictured above into my next few blog posts.  I have decided to go one better and put them all into one post in my Christmas story below. How Obsoletely Fabulous!  Enjoy!

Walking in a Whiskey Wonderland

 

Some festive advice for the revellers that be,
Take care of imbibing when the hours are wee,
For what tends to happen when you get merry pissed,
Is to find you’re an insufferable aeolist.


Yestreen as I sat near the fire and the tree,
A Christmassy fever came right over me,
Perhaps ‘twas the whiskey being rather first rate,
That put me in such a potvaliant state.


Oh, what a marvellous idea came a knocking,
That I thought t’would be fun to go out late night shopping,
Whilst the Great British public lay far and asleep,
I’d get me some pressies and food nice to eat.


Awhile and a bit I arrived at the store,
And ungraciously slid ‘tween automatic doors,
And all and at once was aware of my folly,
I’d forgotten to bring a pound for the trolley.


I looked round about for some friendly assistance,
To find not a human soul in existence,
Instead pranced some elves and toys on the floor,
And unicorns trotting down aisle 24


Before I could turn and make my escape,
A proper set- to began to take shape,
I found myself witness to hollers and cries,
And a food fight involving some flying mince pies!


I ran down the shoppe past the dairy and spuds,
And tried to take cover near great suet puds,
When all of a sudden I had quite a fright,
For a bounder appeared in smugglers so tight! 


Oh! What a bawcock! So dandy and slick,
Who went by the name of Sir Spotted Dick,
But before I could give him a right Yuletide snog,
The witch stacking shelves turned him into a frog!


The amphibian through the air did spanghew,
And he ended up squished on a Tiramisu,
I looked at the witchety-witch quite askance,
And cried, “Why did you kill my hero in pants?!”


“That blatteroon and despicable cad?
He’s the worst flipping boyfriend that I’ve ever had!,
You should be thankful I’ve done you a favour,
And saved you from a terrible known poodlefaker!”


“Everyone knows when you go late night shopping,
You only end up with tat in your stocking,
So my gift to you is to send you back home”,
And with a lift of her wand cracked it right on my dome.


The next I remember I woke rather late,
And to my surprise when I checked the date,
It was overmorrow and I’d missed a day,
I leapt from my bed to downstairs right away.


And then in my head and most uncontrolled,
Visions of a story began to unfold,
A shopping experience quite mad and surreal,
Was it all just a dream or something quite real?


But once in the kitchen I spied my old mate,
Sat proud on the counter in full apricate,
As the low winter sun shone through on his form, 
I regarded my menacing playmate with scorn.


My Achilles heel and anagapesis,
Who plays on my lips with sweet golden kisses,
You satanic fiend, I won’t be your whore!
Jack Daniels I do not love you anymore!


So please let this tale be a serious reminder,
Think twice before going on a one- to-one blinder,
Or you could be stuck somewhere ‘tween true fact and fiction,
Which brings this here ode to full satisdiction.


~Jules~ 2018




Off My Trolley!

December 6, 2018 4:39pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 20 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

A little later than usual…

I don’t know what’s going on but I think karma is toying with me.

I’m experiencing a bout of normality.  It happened right after being forced to buy an old biddy trolley.

I made a trip to the NEC in Birmingham with my friend to visit the BBC Good Food Show. This is an exhibition of gargantuan proportions and it very nearly killed me.  

Tartan Trolley in a hallway

My friend insisted that I purchase one of those trolleys that old women take shopping with them because that’s what hardened, show going professionals do. You need somewhere to stuff your swag. 

I have to admit I was slightly alarmed by this but eventually went to Argos (undercover) and bought a tartan (because it has to be tartan) biddy buggy. 

I aged drastically in one afternoon. 

A Liquid Lunch Be -GINS

It took two train rides to get there.  All carriages were packed with the great unwashed public raring to get their hands on some of the finest drinks and food that Blighty and its European enemies had to offer. It took miles to walk from the train to the exhibition hall; longer than it took me to climb the highest mountain in Vail, Colorado. I was knackered before I even got there.  

Fortuitously, we descended upon the many gin bars that were giving out samples of the latest GINious flavours: mince pie, moonshine, and pomegranate popper, all of which I found rather pretentious but took for medicinal purposes.  

This was followed by sample after sample of food being handed out by the many fodder stations.  There seemed to be rather a lot of cheese going on. Cheese and gin.  Or maybe it was cheese flavoured gin? I don’t remember.

The tight-fisted exhibitors managed to cut their samples into the smallest of pieces.  I even saw a man slice a single sausage into 16 bits before laying it out with a bunch of cocktail sticks.  

“Steady on there, mate. I’m on a diet “ 

I’m very particular about who I share my snacks with and am somewhat fearful of buffet style food and the greedy public that attends such a place dive right on in before it’s all gone. Cocktail sticks totally ignored because time is of the essence as they snatch at the goodies with their grubby little mitts. 

“Do you want a piece?” my friend asked.

“No, I bloody do not. That chatty little swine just put his filthy fingers all over it. Did you see the state of his nails? Gross.”

It comes to something when you have to say that the most generous sample givers were the Scots at the whisky bar.  Who’d have thought?  I had to stop them from giving me any more single malts because I was in danger of running people over with my swag carrying vehicle. 

I arrived back home at 9 pm beaten by public exhaustion to within an inch of my life. 

Possessed by Jinn and Tonic

I woke up the next day mysteriously semi-crippled like an old codger.  I glanced at my tartan trolley suspiciously.  Hmmm….

Christmas tree in a sitting room

No time for sitting down with a nice cup of tea because it was Christmas tree day.  Two of them in my house – east wing and west.  This took all day long and I was so tired that I started to hallucinate a little as I could hear angels singing in the distance. I then realised I’d left the ‘Choir of Kings College, Cambridge’ on a repetitive loop. 

Feeling staggeringly exhausted and aging by the minute, I checked in the mirror for grey hairs and missing teeth in case I’d been possessed by something nasty. My eyes were too tired to see anything which was probably a blessing in disguise.  I took myself off to bed and had a horrible dream about being stuck in a sanitarium with gin flavoured cheese.

The Dawning of A New Chapter

Has happened. Since buying a tartan biddy trolley I have accomplished so many things that one might suggest I have been blessed with the wisdom of the elders. My usual chaos management has been replaced with organised madness.  Trees are up.  All Christmas gifts are bought and wrapped including the creation of organic homemade side gifts.  International parcels have been parcelled and posted. I’ve even made my Christmas dinner butters, fed a homeless man and attended social festive events with the charm and grace of a royal princess. I feel so mature and normal I nearly considered a tweed skirt,  Barbour jacket, and sensible haircut. 

Curiously, since arriving into adulthood, I have been rewarded with external gratitude. This is a very new experience for me.

The first being a text from my phone provider offering to pay off the final 3 months of my mobile contract so I could have a pre-Christmas upgrade.  Visions of an iPhone XS danced in the remaining part of my childlike head. 

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just rewarding you for your loyalty.”

Well, bloody hell! 

Nice.  Not gonna argue.  The very next day my beautiful gadget arrived.

iPhone XS on table

The most fun thing about this phone, which is not really a phone but a state of the art masterpiece, is that I can turn myself into a talking emoji.  I’ve already had so much fun responding to texts to friends with my digital talking head that I’m becoming a horrible nuisance. 

Oh how rapidly one reverts to type!

And then, another nice message arrived on my new gadget from the bank.  Yes, you read that right, 

“A Nice Message From The Bank” 

It said:

“Please go and collect your free bottle of Prosecco Rivamonte NV DOC from the wine merchants for being such an adorable customer.” 

To be honest, at this point, I thought I’d been hacked.  I took to my trusty car with my ready to fight attitude and grown-upness and sped off to the winery.  True to word my FREE bottle of fizz was waiting.  Oh, and a tenner off any further £30 spend – yeah,  that’s where they got me.  Weakness located. 

I arrived home with an assortment of lovely, top class fine wines (one free) at a marvelous discounted price and that’s when I went right off my tartan trolley, lost my sensibility and put my bewwwts back on!  

Phew…that was a close call.

 

 

The Wicker Deer

November 28, 2018 11:23am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 17 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

 

Evil is waiting.

 

 

A Wicker reindeer

Right next door to me, cunningly disguised as a Wicker Man Reindeer.  As Pagan Celtic gods go, this is as ridiculous as it gets.

Fortunately, I have a solution.

BB Gun

However, I don’t think my BB’s are strong enough to take it down.  Not that I’m going to quit trying, but it might be a long haul.

However, that said, it’s my aim to have  it end up as some kind of version of this:

unicorn gin bottle is shop

Because you should never look a gift deer in the mouth.  How’s that for sacrifice?

That is all. 

 

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