This dieting malarky seems to have had some unfortunate side effects. Not only have my belly and arse shrunk but other parts of my anatomy have too. I understand that parts of a blokes body shrink in the cold. I was doing a”proper bloke” thing earlier and was scratching my balls and remember thinking,
“Hmmm. Smaller than I recall. I hope it’s cos it’s cold. I could do without testicular shrinkage right now.”
My work colleague, Banzai, was able to confirm it was the freezing weather rather than my age or diet. Thank God for that!
I hasten to add that much as he would have liked to, Banzai didn’t actually physically check me out.
No, it wasn’t that problem that concerned me.
I took some selfies the other day for reasons I no longer remember. I looked at them today and on looking at one I thought
“Bloody hell! My ears are big! I’m sure they were never that large.”
I concluded that my ears aren’t really that big but rather, due to my rabbit and guinea pig food diet allied with the chimp food for lunch, my bloody head has shrunk as well as well as my gut! Bugger!
Just for a change I thought you would like to see a more realistic photo of Dick Dastardly.
Have a brilliant day.
More Dick soon.
It has to be said that I’m the sort of bloke who considers a working lunch should consist of a piece of meat wrapped up in bread. PIL has known this for years. So what has been in my lunch box this week? Bananas! A bunch of bananas! So now she thinks I’m a chimp! I remain extremely grateful to PIL for getting my lunch prepared each evening for the next day. I really do appreciate it but Bananas? I’m trying to see if there’s a trait here or if she’s trying to tell me something.
There are certain things I know she thinks about me:
She thinks I’m a bit of a plank.
She thinks I’m pretty useless at D.I.Y.. She’s not wrong
She thinks I’m just a little bit pervy because I like to see her in her underwear but she actually quite likes that. (Yes chaps. This is what she wears. Who’s a lucky boy?)
She thinks I’m a guinea pig because she gets me guinea pig food for breakfast and tells me it’s really something called Mews Lee. (Don’t forget she thinks I’m a plank).
And sometimes the Mews Lee she gets is actually parrot food. For variety of course. (Plank again)
Then there’s the stuff PIL calls “salad” and I call rabbit food. (Plank)
And now she thinks I’m a chimp by only letting me have bananas for lunch. (Plank)
Just give me chocolate!
Dear Father Christmas,
I have been a very good boy all year.
I have been quite good
Ok, I’ve been a bit of a bastard but it’s all this rabbit and guinea pig food I’m being fed. Now, it’s the chimp food.
Please, please, please can I have a chocolate fountain for Christmas?
I promise not to dunk my head in it. Ok, maybe I will once or twice but no more.
Thank you very, very much you
old bugger old goat splendid chap.
Now it’s time for me to go get my lunch ready for tomorrow while PIL is wrapped up in watching soaps! Ha! I hope there’s some pig or cow that I can wrap up in bread smothered with butter.
Bollocks! No bread!
Curses! Foiled again!
Have a great evening.
More Dick soon.
Posted in Family, Humour
Tagged banana, Bugs Bunny, chimp, chocolate fountain, chocolate mmmmm, diet, DIY, fat arse, Father Christmas, healthy food, parrot, stockings, underwear
In July, the tribe and I went on holiday to Florida where we had a blast. We also scoffed huge quantities of food. Eating in America is an experience that’s for sure.
Portions were enormous and the food itself was smashing. Now I wasn’t exactly slim went we went. I was bloody enormous when we left.
Me. Before and after. Yeah. Right! Maybe the one on the right.
A small elephant springs to mind! What’s that? A very large elephant? That’s not very nice is it? What do you mean ‘It’s true’? (I hate it when PIL is looking over my shoulder reading what I’m trying to write and making comments – usually rude and derogatory.) What? Look, when I write in italics it represents my thoughts and you’re not supposed to read my thoughts! Yes I know you’re a woman. Ok so as a woman you can always read a mans thoughts? It helps when they’re on the screen does it? (Will you bugger off and let me does this?) Oh dear. PIL has the hump now. I won’t be seeing her naked any time soon!!!
Anyway, on our return PIL decided to put me on a diet and it’s not fun. Breakfast is guinea pig food. PIL calls it “Mews Lee” but I think that’s just a posh word that the residents of Chelsea, Shoreditch and Shad Thames use as, due to the plum in their mouths, they can’t say “Guinea Pig Food”. We have two varieties I have to eat. One of them has lots of seeds in it so that version looks like parrot food. They’re both awful. All my other meals are chicken and pasta and every now and again I can have pasta and chicken for a change. Sometimes, when I’ve been really good I can have spaghetti and chicken and, on occasion, taglaitelle with chicken. It makes a change from pasta but as to whether it’s a pleasant change is open to question! Some days, PIL will add rabbit food to my meal. She calls it “salad”. Must be those people living in Shad Thames again who call it that. However, the upshot of this so called “healthy diet” is that I’ve lost a ton of weight and my trousers don’t fit anymore. That’s all well and good if you’re 18 like my son Greg, wear a baseball cap back to front and are happy with the waistband of your trousers sagging under your arse.
However, for a middle aged man like me…. Look, I’m middle aged. I am NOT old. I haven’t even got a bus pass yet. (Will you please let me get on with this in peace and quiet?) Where was I? (No, it’s NOT dementia setting in woman. You just made me lose my train of thought). Bloody hell, this is hard work! Anyway, for a middle aged man like me, back to front baseball caps and trousers hanging on the wrong side of my arse is NOT a good look. Hopefully, I’ll get some new clothes for Christmas or, if not, it’s off to the sales for me. I hate shopping.
On that note, from a skinny Dick, have a great day.
More Dick soon.
Posted in Family, Humour
Tagged Chelsea, chicken, diet, fat, middle age, muesli, pasta, saggy trousers, salad, Shad Thames, Shoreditch