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Posts Tagged ‘Life’

spermwithaperm

The Sperm With A Perm will be providing a regular update on his hopes and fears for impregnation. So, without further ado, over to you Sperm With A Perm!

Hi Everyone!

Been busy since I last wrote!

It was my cousin Tom’s 3rd minute birthday! Just imagine trying to play musical chairs with 120 million others! Takes Ages!  I never want to hear Three Blind Mice again!

No sign of impregnating an egg at the moment! Bit slow out of the blocks recently! Just as well! He has been on his own in a hotel room! And we all know what that means!

Sentient life will be great though – better than this load of bollocks! Think of it! Arthritis! Embarrassment! Laughter! Riding A Bike! Love! Having A Crush On Mother Theresa! ONIONS! Masturbation! (although would that be genocide?!) 

Just gotta find that egg!

Shame the Pope is stepping down! He was a true friend of sperm!

Hang on! I can hear New Kids On The Block being cranked up on the stereo!

Must Go!

Right……Ready Or Not…..Here I Come!

sperm_wiggle

But I Won’t Do That!

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spermwithaperm

Gingerfightback is pleased to announce that  The Sperm With A Perm will be providing a regular update on his hopes and fears for impregnation. So, without further ado, over to you Sperm With A Perm!

Hi Everyone!

Boy am I excited to be writing for Gingerfightback! In fact I get excited about everything! I go all wriggly and start bumping into my 120 million relations! Big Family or What! Got me hair done special too! I love a perm!

I can’t wait to get my chance at sentient life! Think of all the things to look forward to! Having a name! Dandruff! Chewing! Learning Spanish! Gripping things! Getting a bag caught on the armrest of a train! ONIONS! Inappropriate comments! Clothes!

Just gotta find an egg and let my 23 chromosomes do their best!

Hang on! I can hear MC Hammer being cranked up on the stereo! Always a sign with this lad!

Must Go!

Right……Ready Or Not…..Here I Come!

sperm_wiggle

You Can’t Touch This!

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You can see a normal sperm with a ginger wig here!

Here is the Heavy Metal (or maybe a 17th Century Dandy) sperm!

sperm_perm

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sperm

The mysteries of Genetics revealed!

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“I’m on the train,” the man brayed into his Blackberry.

I looked at him. He was staring out the window, oblivious to the notice on the window that read, “Quiet Carriage”.

“Yeah, yeah, it was OK. But I don’t think Gareth was happy with the sales projections. But you know Gareth, in love with his own voice.”

He nodded and said, “Yep! That’s Gareth to a tee.”

A middle aged man looked across the aisle. He rustled his newspaper profoundly and raised a bushy grey eyebrow in opprobrium. The Caller caught his gaze.

“No, it will be fine. Listen I’ve got to go, upsetting other passengers……… Yeah I know, it’s full of them. Catch you later.”

He rang off and apologised to the man, who returned to his paper.

The Caller was in his thirties. Suited. Very proud of his hair. He smelled of expensive balms. He wore a fine pair of shoes too. Leather uppers and soles. Hand stitched by the look of them. Classy.

His phone rang again.

“I’m on the train,” the man brayed into his Blackberry.

I looked at him. He was staring out the window, oblivious to the notice on the window  that read, “Quiet Carriage”.

“Yeah, yeah, it was OK. But I don’t think Gareth was happy with the sales projections. But you know Gareth, in love with his own voice.”

He nodded and said,”Yep! That’s Gareth to a tee.”

The middle aged man looked across again. He rustled his newspaper, raised both eyebrows and added a cough to highlight his dudgeon. The Caller caught his gaze.

“No, it will be fine. Listen I’ve got to go, upsetting other passengers……… Yeah I know, it’s full of them. Catch you later.”

He rang off and again apologised.

He moved to allow me to reach the carriage aisle. I nodded my thanks. His phone rang.

“I’m on the train,” the man brayed into his Blackberry.

As I reached the carriage vestibule, I noticed a green button encased in a glass casing. Above the casing a sign read, “In Case Of Knob. Break Glass And Press Button. Penalty For Improper Use £200.”

I broke the glass and pressed the button.

There was a hiss of compressed air. Then a mini sonic boom as The Caller’s seat shot upwards, towards the Coach’s ceiling.

A ripple of applause accompanied my return to my seat. The middle aged man extended his hand. His fingers were inky from the Newspaper so I declined to shake it.

The Caller’s head and shoulders were jammed into the roof of the carriage. He was silent.  His well shod feet dangled limply from the seat. Dust particles danced around them.

I saw his Blackberry on the floor. The reedy tones of a voice were emanating from it. I picked the phone up and held it to my ear, “Hugo? Hugo? Are you OK?”

“He’s in the train.” I replied.

The shoes pinched a bit to begin with but they fit like a glove now.

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He may just have been re-elected, but this is without doubt his greatest honour!

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Hello! This is the scond part of my muse on Sunburn and its effects upon us Gingers. Part one can be found above labelled, Part 1!

Part 2

To paraphrase President George W Bush, “The Sun and Red Haired people can never peacefully co-exist”. If he had said this history would not now hold him in contempt. But he didn’t. Poor lad.

If only Copernicus, Galileo et al had been Ginger.

Whilst catching some rays, their subsequent sunburn would have led them to the conclusion that the Earth rotates around the Sun. Just think about that for a second! Alright it is a load of cobblers but it might have happened.

Their subsequent ridicule, imprisonment and excommunication for a few centuries, may have been staved, before quite rightly Pope Nazi proffered apologies all round and allowed Catholics to believe the Earth is not flat, Brad Pitt can act and that condoms are more than a handy device for browning bananas.

Anyway enough of Science, back to my holiday.

The Mosquito bites were now in full bloom. So much so that a blind Greek beggar deciphered a Braille message from the wounds around my ankles that read;

“You are not suited to this climate, find somewhere cool and wet for future holidays. Fool!”

Even more impressive the message was in French.

And itch! But at least I discovered that Calamine lotion is an adequate replacement for coconut in Pina Coladas. Although it takes a bit of getting used to.

There is a lesser talked side effect of sunburn. It may be a bit “After the Lord Mayor’s show”  in terms of fame but it can cause equal discomfort in social settings. Peeling skin.

Not Very Apeeling!

Not the everyday shedding of skin that is a natural part of the regenerative process and allows cosmetic companies to fleece – there’s that word again – woman of a certain age –  but the wholesale peeling of layer upon layer of the old dermis that left me looking like I’d undergone dissection by cack handed medical undergraduate.

At one point an entire layer came away from my stomach region including the belly button area. At least I found somewhere to store loose change. It now sits on top of the mantelpiece as a conversation piece when people I don’t like arrive at Fightback Towers for nibbles.

“That’s an interesting piece what’s it made of?”

“My skin. Cheesey dips anyone?”

Has them rolling in the aisles. Not really. More like reaching for their coats and making a mercy dash to feed the goldfish. Sorry, Koi Carp. Shy fish? You live and learn.

Another handy application for profuse skin shedding is based upon the Greek Myth of Theseus and the Minotaur. For like Theseus, I could always find my way out of the labyrinthine beer fug the local Tavernas induced.

Not with the legendary ball of string though. I merely had to follow the desiccated skin peelings left by my soulless passage towards Hades (The Irish Theme Pub) to ensure a safe if wobbly passage home to me very own Athena.

A Cooking Tip!

Grating dead skin over pasta dishes for unwanted visitors clears a room quickly.

“This parmesan has such an intense flavour, where does it come from?”

“My buttock region. Want some more?”

“Really. We must go. The Goldfish are starving.”

But I won’t keep carping on about this.

“Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy.”

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Hello Folks,

My good friend Jo recently lost her long battle with Cancer and died  a week ago. She was a wonderful woman. Funny, intelligent, beautiful and strong.

Her husband Steve has kindly given me permission to reproduce one of her poems which captures the reality of living with Cancer.

I hope you will read and enjoy Remission.

REMISSION

1.

The panther prowls the gloom of my nightmare.

Stealthy with menace, it skulks on huge paws.

I hold on tight to a rickety chair

2.

I stand stock-still as it sniffs at the air

And idly yawns, opening steel-trap jaws.

The panther prowls the gloom of my nightmare.

3.

I will it not to detect my despair

At the glint of teeth, its talon-sharp claws.

I hold on tight to the rickety chair.

4.

It lurks in the shadows, I know it’s there.

Rigid with fear, sweat runs from my pores.

The panther prowls the gloom of my nightmare

5.

And casually stretches. I shrink, too aware

Of its power slinking close on all-fours.

I hold on tight to the rickety chair

6.

With razor-wire claws and its teeth sharply bare,

It doesn’t see me, obeys its own laws.

The panther prowls the gloom of my nightmare.

I loosen my grip on the impotent chair.

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Bluebell frillary

Shoots of Barley on the hillcrest field

Wet dripping barbed wire

Silver slivers of cold Spring light

Through a disorder of branches

A pallet of greens

Smatterings of shade

Brown muddy boots

And from everywhere

Birdsong

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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

When Emotions Boil Over

Dear Aunty Bill,

My girl Polly means the world to me. She has a lovely personality, speaks several languages and is, in the vernacular, a bit of a looker. I want to ask her to marry me and bare my offspring.

She suffers from the very rare Pollyputthekettleon Syndrome which means she cannot leave the house without a full kettle perched on her perm and she can never be more than 5 metres from a plug socket to ensure the water is always boiled.

Do you think if I bought her a flexi-lead to increase her roaming distance she would walk down the aisle with me?

Carlton, Stovely

Aunty Bill Replies;

Hey Carlton!

You lucky man, sounds like the girl of my dreams as well. I love a cuppa and with her there’s never one far away!

Rather than go to expense of trailing sockets and extension leads, how about an asbestos hat as featured in this month’s edition of “Practical Millenary”?

One of these titfers, a small can of lighter fluid and you are away. Simply spray the fluid on to the hat, ignite and place the kettle in the cradle provided. Within minutes you’ll have a nice steaming brew!

But ask her to let you know if her head is getting too hot.

These hats are designed to withstand temperatures of 200 degrees for up to five minutes (so it says in the brochure), ample time to boil a kettle, although if you detect any scalp disfigurement extinguish immediately.

How about some matching gloves to go with the hat? That way your steaming brew will remain hotter for longer (so it says in the brochure).

Remember not to ignite the gloves.

Sup up!

Aunty Bill

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