Tag Archives: ramblings

4-Turtles are nocturnal

17 Feb

So i thought id put a few words down as like a 70’s TV star i’ve been keeping very quiet!

Went shopping today with the new treacle to show her i am a modern man and that i will happily walk behind her like louie walsh does to simon cowell and carry his bag, i mean her bags. You walk into the 1,000,000 shop to look at clothes,shoes,shit and god knows what else, and you are greeted by what looks like a scene out of saving private ryan. Men are littered all over the shop leaning on clothes racks fully loaded with dorothy perkins shopping bags with that look on their face of “if i can get to B&Q i can buy some rope and end this misery”. These places need sofas in the shop, that way men will have somewhere to congregate to discuss the finer points of why england football shanked another big tournament. Why wayne rooney is clearly past his best in a football shirt and should just go back to working in greggs instead of eating the place! 

Failing that, a fully stocked bar in which men can be happily stood with a cold one, knowing their treacle is happily shopping surrounded by her own kind. She is then under no rush to find what she wants. She can chill try on as many pairs of heels, flats, shoes, pumps as she wants leaving her man to have as many beers which are accompanied by vast bowls of nuts, In the time it takes her to try on that Black top you’ve seen in 4 OTHER SHOPS!!
As you walk around these shops you see these men that have taken the day to spend walking around and being loaded up with bags like spanish donkeys. This is all part of a unwritten rule that man knows is going to happen when he gets his treacle home and what she is going to give him, the thank you blow job. You nod knowingly towards the other men, whilst staying silent, giving a little grin in their direction of the mutual appreciation of them giving up their time to earn this late afternoon delight. Whilst this is happening you are in constant fear of being that bloke on the receiving end of your treacle hollering from the other side of primark…
“ere babe, does this go with my red jeans at home and be honest”….
“yeah it looks really good that babe, brings out the natural color in your eyes………. ** under the breath** “fucking shut up!! 

I can be found at @notmartinclunes on all forms of social media, of me being and saying stuff by me…. so from me… bye!

2- Goats are related to hippos

17 Feb

I have been away for too long, so first taxi of the rank is blocked numbers, winds me right up!! 
This is almost as bad as when back in the day, my mum caught me with her pants. I Wasn’t doing any thing with them, apart from seeing if I could genuinely use them like Dennis the menace did with his mums,as a sling shot….You can’t by the way!
Why do phone company’s let people block their number, I mean surely they are just letting young boys ring up and shout “TITS”down the phone to the fit girl from their class or letting me ring up a random number and pretend I am there long lost family member from back in the day when their mother was a goer and fighting fit in her pre 70’s hey day… Now a days even Stevie Wonder wouldn’t ride her into battle!!!
Blocked numbers are a bain of my life, it feels as if I have my own eastenders plot line when they ring as i always end up answering the phone in the style of phil Mitchell ….. ‘elllo,,,, who’s thaaaat??? Shaaaaron!!!!’
They all ways seem to ring just as I am sitting down to food, or praying on the porcelain god. You then rush to either wipe really quickly which just makes matters worse for yourself and it spreads just like honey on toast, or you end up burning your bloody mouth on a roast potato! If you achieve to do either with out spreading or burning, THE FUCKING THING STOPS RINGING!! It’s right up there with ‘unexpected item in bagging area’ moments!!!!

I see on the telly that the Olympics is on and has gripped the country like a heart attack grips a O.A.P, a period grips a man’s ball bag on rag weekend, and like my face when asked for my number after a one night stand. So after a slow start like an old skoda, Team GB has started collecting gold medals like i used to collect rejections from all the girls at school. The cycling has been our most triumphant moment, with all sorts of goings on with hoy, pendleton getting in on the action as well as the rowers setting the tone with more gold than Mr T has hanging round his neck. However the most talked about lad is Bradley Wiggins as he has made me moist watching him fly round the streets of London Town on his treader eating up the miles like Vanessa feltz eats up the calories. He surely should be knighted Sir Braddo Wiggins of all of laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandan and given the back door key to buck palacee. Especially after his one tweet put down of piers ‘i should of been serving a ten stretch’ Morgan. If he doesn’t want any of that i will have him as my paper boy. I tip well at Christmas unlike my customers when i did my paper round back in the day, where the most i got was “you’ve ripped my fucking daily sport again you prick” Then there was seeing fat tracey out side, hanging her washing on the rotary line in the front garden because the back garden has her 9th husbands ford cortina in, which is currently under going its 14th engine change.

WOMAN GOING AS TAG TEAMS INTO THE TOILETS IN PUBS….. what is that all about…. god didn’t think to write it into the rules of evolution, that if two girls want to go and show each other how they piss, flash the monkeys forehead or talk about the next roast dinner they are going to cook for the bloke in the house hold, then surely men should be allowed in to witness this cave of confusion. Men don’t go two by two into the can to talk hair products. 

“all right Dave, nice hair your styling tonight… ”

“Yeah cheers terry I’m using loreal ultra strong with out the white residue and with complete 24 hour control”

FUCK OFF…..

I will tell you ladies what goes on in the men’s khazi. We talk about smashing fat Tracey because we heard she makes a tasty bacon sandwich and gives a half decent blow job, who’s got change for a fiver for the johnny machine, little boy wee’s, no spray no lay, sharing half a joke with the geezer stood beside you about the drunk who is leaning in the corner with his cock hanging half out, how much we could do with a kebab and why do woman go in twos to the toilet. Woman you don’t need to go into the toilet in twos… you don’t do it at home, you are quite capable of going for a piss with out your B.F.F. so why do it when your out. 
I am going now and I’m over on twitter  @notmartinclunes