Of Soft-Tops, Gardening, Wales and Cillit Bang!

THIS IS POTTSY - SHE IS DANGEROUS. 'NUFF SAID REALLY...

THIS IS SHELLY - SHE IS A FESTITUTE AND HAS PROBLEMS WITH TRIFLE...

MORE THAN CAPABLE OF HANDLING MY WORK AS YOU'LL AGREE...

Wings
Hello one and all and welcome to another fun filled edition of Wings! We've been enjoying the weather and the cancer inducing heat wave that has caught us pasty opaque brits off guard methinks. We here at Wings Towers have been making the most of the UV by lounging around at BBQ's, sitting outside doing 'serious work meetings' in the sun and getting our pins out in our manly England shorts.
We've had a catch up at Stroponstokes abode with much banter of the forthcoming Blackpool Birthday party and the lovely Miss Minogue hitting that high 'C' on dvd. We've also been out to the flicks and in with a bottle of stolli with Madam and her new squeeze Casper (see M4rcus for the Barnett family tree of pinkness) which has also prompted me to demand that Bobby magic up a topless car for us to ride around in too. I'm so easily amused when I can watch stars at 4omph! It seems Madam is leaving the stick of spinsterhood behind for the meanwhile and we're mighty proud he's found somebody who isn't going to travel off with the local circus or theatre group for once!
Mother has also been making sure her offspring suffer umbilical whiplash with the use of 5 spades, a pick, some sekatours and a skip. 25 years after installing half of Mow Cop in her back garden she has finally decided to put her adopted family to good use and have all three of us bring our respectable others over to Whitehill for our best Ground Force effort. Although Glen lacked the lustre of a pitch fork with udders a la Charlie Dimmock she sure was handy with her little posy basket. Mum worked hardest of all of course pointing at lumps of dirt, pounds of rock and dropping half a pig on the table for us all to inhale when the heat got too much - LOVELY!
I'm now watching my week drag like a lackluster conversation with Susie Verrico (you know the pout with a double D who played the keyboards in that Rober Palmer video and hordes PG Tips and Charmin Bog roll of all things). Methinks it has something to do with the fact I'm going to spend the weekend in Wales where I spent the folly of most of my youthfull summers throwing boulders in cow pat and leap froggin hay... My Nan is letting me and Rob use her rather ample static holiday home (or 8 berth caravan to you and me) for a cheap and easy weekend away of doing very little and getting some QT together. Much needed it is too.
As for Big Brother (yes, that again) thank God we as a nation saw it fit to kick out Fugly Jayne, emissions and all. "It's a shame if I do go", sweats Jayne in the diary room in her damp leggings, "cos there's a lot more of me, like, to come out of my shell". For a creature who spent 14 days swearing, belching, farting, scratching her camels toe, breaking rules and demolishing beds, it's an ominous proposal.
And if like me you have a minute or five to waste on the glorious world of the interweb do feel free to visit www.stroponstoke.blogspot.com and check out the fantabulous Spiral style rave remix of our dear friend BARRY SCOTT AND HIS SHOUTY BANG!!!

Of Tarts With Hearts, Career Advice And Blackpool...

SPOT THE ROOTS...


IF I SAW THIS CREATURE IN MY HOUSE I'D STRING IT UP TOO!

Wings
Another week, another hairdo and another one of Sherrins booze mixing parties has passed us by. After finally meeting together under one roof for the the first time this year we have all made a date for Stella-fest '06. 09/09/07 will not only signify my 24th anniversary since I forced my mother through 20+ hours of stirrup hell but also our usual visit to the grey and polluted shores of Britains Armpit Coast. Can't wait!!!
I'm also still madly into Big Brother although I am weening myself off the websites and the extra programmes with the ever hypo beanpole of Russel. Still think it's the most amazing year so far. I even felt for Ash (the household Ghetto Princess... apparently) after she had to pick between Jonothan and an Irish rave monkey in a Kappa tracksuit complete with rave sticks and vics inhaler, to take back next door. Of course Ash doesn't want to cause offence to the people of Ireland. Well they've braved worse. She could try putting on knickers or shutting her knees when she comes to the diary room or buying a bigger pot of superdrug peroxide (she missed a bit).
And as for Leah, the tart with a heart, the paranoid plastic. She was upset at Dickie calling her fat but she's probably so off her rocker she's mishearing his voices for the toaster. Of course Dickies remarks about Wales are kinda putting me off mine and Robs lil trip there at the end of the month. After stating that if everyone in Wales was like Glyn and Imogen he would think again before visiting, the good people of Cymru are distraught. Devasted in fact. Yes as I type, news is reaching me that Cerys from Catatonia, Goldie Lookin' Chain and Charlotte Church are ganging together for a charity Eisteddfod to tempt the balding Canuck back. Dick-fest they're going to call it.
Seriously.
Also Glyn's bum-gifts of blackpudding and banana gasses can't be making the place friendly for scratch and sniff television, so I'm cutting down on my daily intake thanks to Emily at work (who has also funked my hair up in exchange for Linguini - NICE!)
In other news, Joey is applying for a job at voda, Skot is back off holiday with another bloody tan, Mark and Stuey have moved into a new place up the road near Hayley and Heidi, Madam and Casper have started to date now that Miss Lovatt's tonsilitis has stopped making him fall onto furniture and Mum still can't figure out the freeview, the TV, the computer or the mobile phone I've given to her this year. Still.
Anyhoo, I've a triple lot of South Park to fill my exhilerating saturday night with. Toodle-pip folks,

Wings xXx