Grow Your Own Toyboy

What a surprise, I got a “Grow A Toyboy” for Christmas.

The packaging says:

“Tout your toyboy around and be the envy of all your friends. He’s young, gorgeous and virile. He can grow all night and then go home!”

Sounds good to me! Gonna pop him in some water and by the time he’s big enough the rest of the instructions may start to make sense.

Anyways, I got a few other books to read and digest in anticipation for a new start in a new year.

Happy Hogmanay x

Festive Greetings

 Merry Christmas

  

Oh Come All Ye Comical

Oh come all yea comical, the skiving angels sang, whilst three sun seeker kings decked their beach huts with holly and scurvy. The little town of Blogsville was hoping for a silent knight to clear the snow in the winter wonderland, but the angels from the helms of a ferry had other ideas. They were about to invite the gritters’ to their offshore Christmas party.

O’Tannenbaum, rattled his silver bells at Mary who had brought her toy boy, ruddy red nosed Rudolph, along with a bottle of Ave Maria, which left them both walking in the air.

Less than twelve days to Christmas and Santa Claus is coming to town, not because the lady use to love a certain kind a chocolate, but because a child was born. God arrest all the ding, dong, merrily on high, gentle men and frisky ladies willing to have it away with a manager for the sake of auld lang syne. 

Stocking Filler

Seeing as party season is upon us, I thought I’d drag out an old poem I penned when contemplating a rather inappropriate proposition a couple of years ago.  

If I found you in my stocking

It wouldn't be all that shocking

Willing, able and hearty

For the Christmas party

You could be my date

To be a friendly mate

And seeing as you're single

We could even mingle

With a possible proposal

Aimed at your disposal

Here's a little clue

A hotel room for two

It wouldn't be all that shocking

If I found you in my stocking

So that was summit old. Now for summit news.

Since writing this poem, a lot has happened in my personal sphere. I am well and truly sin-saily single, with promising potential, should a rampant stud come sauntering past. Not such a wham bam phishing notion as I was once led to believe. Why, only this week, a rather nice young chap even offered to accompany me to a coastal retreat. Me finks he was coached by the great guys I work with, but who cares. It certainly made my day, even if tasks pending left the unqualified offer dangling somewhere between the fax machine and filing cabinets.

It was, without a doubt, the best articulated and realistically engineered offer I've had in years. 

The Return of The Triffid

Christmas is coming, and the snow has prematurely been and gone. Well it has down here, beside the sea. 

Just in case you been a wondering, I been pretty busy this week. It's taken me the best part of five days to pull out me Christmas decorations, sort ‘em, place ‘em, and discard the excess packaging.

Since moving into me perch, I've had to be very creative with ma storage solutions, which means me yuletide boxes were jammed at the back of the hall cupboard and under me bed. Took some huffing and yanking, I can tell yer, to get them all out. Phew!  

Anyhow, due to height restrictions, in a previous residence, me eco friendly, seven foot triffid hasn’t seen the light of day since 1999. Thankfully, ma new perch has a higher ceiling, and it’s a delight to have it up again.

The Seal of Approval

Thanks, Mister Valance. I'd like to thank, erm... Everyone and anyone I've stalked and talked to on the wonder wide web, especially Miss Patsy and the cowboy, himself. 

Is this smiley enough, Valance?