Tiny tots with their eyes all a-glow...

...will find it hard to sleep tonight...

Drinking? Me? Good Heavens no.

God Jul one and all.

As I'm living in a strange, heathen country these days all the present-exchanging gets done today. Weird.

Why oh why oh why (etc.,) did I wake up with "The Lady In Red" on my tongue this morning? Bah. The crappiest of crap songs. It's a good job I've got a whole load of Elvis Christmas tunes lined up to listen to instead, eh? Everyone loves The King.

It will soon be time for the non-stop eat/drinkathon to begin. At my signal unleash hell...

She may only have one eye...

but she's got two or three of what counts...maybe four...

Okay...Spurs are creeping slowly away from the relegation zone. A creditable 0-0 draw with Man Utd. 90 minutes of Berbatov-booing. Happy days. Even Gomes has remembered how to keep the ball out of the onion bag it seems. All about confidence. Good not to have lost against the Arse, Chelsea and Man Utd. And to have beaten Liverpool twice, hoo hoo.

A little wintry weather for a while, but it has now resumed its habitual couple-of-degrees-above-zero-rain stylee. Bah.

Done a bit of Christmas shopping. I loves it. Only three point four shopping days to Christmas. Or something. Best do a little more. The sooner the better. Too sooner late than better.

In the city...

...there's a thousand things I want to say to you

Today...the sun is shining. Gasp. Makes my heart sing.

The mighty Spurs go marching (or at least limping) on in the League and UEFA (with any luck - just one point required to progress) Cups.

Two weeks left to work before Christmas. Mind, I love my job.

Oh God, it's raining...

...but I'm not complaining...

"According to a popular legend the two-fingers salute and/or V sign derives from the gestures of longbowmen fighting in the English army at the Battle of Agincourt (1415) during the Hundred Years' War.The story claims that the French claimed that they would cut off the arrow-shooting fingers of all the English longbowmen after they had won the battle at Agincourt. But the English came out victorious and showed off their two fingers, still intact."(courtesy of wikipedia)

True or not, you've gotta love that story, eh? Isn't the v-sign so much more, erm, classy than the ugly, American version involving just the one finger?

After a few days of pretend-winter it's now back to six degrees and rain. Mmmm...nice.

The mighty Tottenham juggernaut rumbles on in Europe. Ahem.

I've got an iPhone and I loves it. Are you surprised? The camera's a little crappy (especially compared to my old phone) but hey, I can live with it.

Actually, I was lying about the not complaining thing...miserable bloody weather bah grumble...

I could feel your heartbeat...

...across the grass

Winter is finally here. Excellent. Especially as I have a new car and haven't had chance to put the winter wheels on yet. Still, 18" is not to be sniffed at, eh? Mmmm.
Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat. Ho hum.
Spurs have finally lost their unbeaten record under Harry. We need to get back on the horse now before the wheels come off again. How's that for mixed metaphors?
From the worst ever start to a season to the best ever start under a new manager...over a hundred and twenty years of history to compare that to. Crazy madness.
What's for lunch?

All about chemistry...

Ha ha ha.
The Tottenham revival continues apace. Magic. So far 'arry's been in charge for five games...won four, drawn one. Serious - you couldn't make this shit up, could you? Go on Benty!
Joe Calzaghe also won, rather less surprisingly. Awesome. 46-0. That's a hell of a roll. Time to hang his boots up. Or his gloves. Or whatever.

Every girl is a something girl...

...she's got something...

If dressing up as a girly is wrong then I don't ever wanna be right.

As Anthony said to Cleopatra, as he opened a crate of ale...

...oh, I say, some girls are bigger than others...

It's Halloween. Wooooooo. Etc.,
The Mighty Spurs are slowly, I hope, crawling from the bottom of the League. 4 goals away at the Gooners must be good for confidence. And the injury-time equaliser was sweet sweet sweet, heh heh. Robbie Keane back at the Lane in a couple of hours. Hope he goes home unhappy.
Winter is almost here too. Frost in the mornings. Headwear is where it's at, I've decided. I need to keep my little head warm.
Note to self also: Eat more breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day you know.

thank u 4 a funky time...

...just call me up whenever u want 2 grind...

Woohoo!
'Arry Houdini has only been installed for one game and the mighty Spurs already have more points after one game in charge than they had for the previous (count 'em) eight. What a difference a day makes.
Jesus...finally...
An easy week now - the Gooners tonight and Liverpool up next. Six easy points in the bag. The sky (or at least mid-table obscurity) is the limit.
It's getting colder. Lighter in the mornings, for the moment at least with the clocks "fall"ing back. Hope we get some snow this year.

Before our juices run cold...

...and our flesh grows old...

Halloween is nearly here. How did that happen? It'll be Christmas next thing you know. Mmm...julmust...mumma.
Spurs are firmly rooted to the bottom of the League. Serious, it looks like a win is never gonna happen. Wonder who'll be bought when the transfer window opens in january. Surely they really are too good to go down? Or maybe they're not.
Time to stand up and be counted...
audere est facere baby.

Just because you're losing...

...doesn't mean you're lost...

Words fail me.

Of all the pirates on the sea the worst of them was Blackbeard...

...so damnable a fiend from hell he was the one they most feared...

Whatever happened to the art of whistling in pop music? It's a dying art and no mistake.
Difficult to pull off live, I should imagine, without looking a little silly.
I suppose Peter, Björn and Alphons or whatever they call themselves had a stab at it but it's not like the old days is it? Adam and the Ants' "Jolly Roger", Bryan Ferry's version of "Jealous Guy" etc.,
I like a good whistle. And a nice pirate. And indeed a good beard.

Did these feet in modern times...

...walk on soles that were made in China...

From The Jenkster

Two things:

1. The weather is bloody awful.

2. Spurs are bloody awful.

...and 3. Spurs are bloody awful.

Fate fell short this time...

...your smile fades in the Summer

We're s.h.o.p.p.i.n.g...we're shopping.
Today was a nice day. Apparently there are big storms around the corner but right now it's quite nice. A nip in the air. Mmm...nips.
I wanna go to Lahndahn town. It's been too long...catch a game at White Hart Lane, shop, eat, drink. Hmmm.

Tell me Tony, Tony, Tony, I know that you're horny...

...but there's something 'bout that Bush ain't right...

I have been rather remiss in my blogging duties of late. For that I apologise profusely.
This time of year is full of birthdays in the Slocombe household. No wonder I'm so horribly skint. Bah.
Tottenham have compounded my misery by recording their worst ever start to the season for 53 years. Even better than last time I blogged, ha ha. On the upside they're at least in the second round of the UEFA Cup and Ledley King plays now and again, as his knee allows. The team haven't lost a match he's played in all season. They've lost almost every one he hasn't played in, though. Doh! Note to manager: Play Big Ledley even if you have to wheel him on...
This week I have been mostly looking at knitwear.
Mmmmm...stripey.

In the night when things go bump, think of me...

think "Here comes the grump"...

Monday rolls around again. A little weary still, shall we say, after the exertions of the company party last Friday.
Some unseasonal sunshine is upon us which is okay by me. I'm not one to grumble. Ahem. It puts a spring into one's step, healing leg aside.
Tottenham struggled to a miserable draw in the League on the weekend which leaves them languishing in twentieth place. But a point is a point I suppose.
This evening is lovely - a clear sky outside and a new, exciting day tomorrow. Now what's for tea? Hmmm, crisps maybe.

I was the teenage Steve McQueen...

...my best performance escaped me...

It's the time of year when all the good telly series begin again. Simultaneously.
I hope Dexter doesn't take it a series too far. So far it's been magnificent, heh heh.
Finally got around to seeing the Batman movie. Tremendous. The Ledge will be sorely missed. What a waste.
I'm not even going to mention anything about football. When's the Kaisers' album coming out? Catchier than measles. I'm the doctor - but I've got no cure for it. I do the best I can.

And it's you and it's me...

...and we're sleeping through the day...

It's getting colder in the mornings. Single degrees. And darker too. Doesn't make it any easier to get out of bed.
I'm healing up now. My leg will be beautiful once more. Ahem.
The Russian revolution gets underway at Spurs tomorrow night. Let's hope the new boy finds it as easy to score in the Premier League as he does against England. And indeed Wales. Bah.
Time to dig out some warmer clothes. It's official. Purple is the new black.

Between the click of the light...

...and the start of the dream...

Stitches out. I feel like a new man. Don't we all darling?
Autumn is approaching. Back to school. Coats for goalposts. Hair on my molested pin growing back.
Suits you sir.

So give me coffee and tv...

Check out this guy - he's got it going on. He's like, I know, I'll wear a really cool t-shirt that shows what a crazy sense of humour I've got and that let's the laydeez know that I like them to wear poorly-fitting trousers pulled up really tight so I get an instant idea of the topography of their genitalia. I mean it's a win-win right? The women will be cat-fighting their way to me.
Style is like a second cousin to class.

We'll be the pirate twins again...

...oh my country...

I'm sat here struggling through a Wales world cup qualifying match. It does not bode well. A missed penalty (including the rebound). I ask you. I'm just waiting for one or both of the Spurs boys to be injured and this ordeal will be complete ha ha. I'm guessing that we might not be present in south africa in 2 years. Are you surprised? Newsflash...They've finally scored! We're gonna win the world cup! Wales Wales etc.,

In the gaps - between words - are the things that really intrigue me...

...It's the gasps and the sighs that say more about what's inside you...

I've always thought that dragonflies only have a lifespan of one day, so I was in a mad rush to let this poor feller out of the house...but it seems that that's not actually true. He was a big boy too. Lovely.

You used to take your watch off before we made love...

...you didn't want to share our time with anyone...

Today is a beautiful, sunny, late-Summer day. The air is warm, but has the scent of Autumn about it. Lovely.
The Berbatov transfer saga rumbles on, with just a few days of the transfer window left. Can he really be relied upon to make an effort if the deal falls through and he's stuck at lowly Tottenham? Bah. Hopefully there'll be some developments. Soon.
Today I'm at home. Convalescing.

Some of the older ones...

...remember the better idea...

This weekend I have been mostly listening to Elbow. See what I did there viewers?
The football season is now two games old and I'm already demoralised beyond words as the mighty Tottenham have started proceedings in their habitual rotten fashion.
I've got a brilliant idea, lads...what we'll do is sell nine-tenths of our team to the competition, including our top scorer of the last umpteen seasons. Then his equally gifted strike partner too - or better still, try and keep hold of the latter even though he'll then sulk, refuse to play and disrupt the whole team's preparations.
Some last-minute purchases must surely be in order, otherwise it'll be all over before it's even begun. Bah. Football sucks.

I'd like to kiss you baby, fall for your charms...

but that's all over when you lift up your arms...




Sunshine. Woohoo!
Sadly, it appears, with ten minutes left at least, that the mighty Tottenham have made another lousy start to the season. A goal down. Turncoat Berbatov has been brought on, but is he really even interested? Hmm...prove me wrong, alice-band boy...
The crayfish last night went down well. As did the snaps and beer, heh heh. I've fallen off the wagon. Big-style. Doh.

Never trust a man...

with egg on his face...



Okay...so it's been a week back at work after the summer break.
I can handle this. It's not so bad. The working week has flown by. Truly.
Maybe it takes a couple of days to get back into the swing of things, but once that happens it's downhill gardening isn't it?
I wonder how many weeks (days?) we have left of pretend-the weather hasn't changed its mind-"summer". Every day that's not wet and cold seems like a fluke. How did that happen? It wasn't that long ago that it seemed that the warm weather was never-ending.
Enjoy it while it lasts.

I want to believe...

19-19-19-19-1982...

...that was the year son...

Ah, a glorious year too - check out the top-quality 100% nylon on this centenary edition Spurs top. Was I ever that small? Really?
The last day of the hols and it's chucking it down. A nice lazy day in the sunshine wouldn't have gone amiss today but there you go. Mustn't grumble. I'll soon be back in the swing of things. Nothing changes, everything stays the same. It's been a while, mind, wonder if I still know how everything works. We'll soon see, eh, heh heh?
Summer moves on.

Yes and I'll make it all worthwhile...

...I'll make your heart smile...

Saturday. Just a couple of days left. The Charity Shield and the new Premiership season is almost upon us. I can't help feeling the mighty Spurs need another striker, but what do I know? Maybe it'll happen this week before the transfer window closes.
I think my body needs a holiday from what I've put it through this holiday. Gnerk.
Currently listening to the new Bloc Party single "Mercury". I can't decide whether I like it or not. It's certainly different, so full marks for effort.
I'm off outside to blow up a boat. As in "inflate it with air" as opposed to "insert dynamite and light the fuse". Ahem.
Back to school on Monday. Ho hum.

But it's alright if you act like a turd...

...cos I like...birds...



Monday - the last Monday of my summer holidays. How did this come around so soon? Bah.
Tottenham had better buy a replacement for Robbie Keane soon - only a few weeks until the transfer window closes. Mind, how do you replace Robbie Keane? *sob*
Back to Öjersjö tonight after a few days in Fiskebäckskil. Dead lucky with the weather as it's only really today that's been torrential rain. Looks like it's here to stay as well.
It's a good thing that I love my job, innit?

It'll end in tears...

...I won't cry

An evening dip in the sea at the end of a sunny day. The air still warm. These are the things that dreams are made of. Summer moves on. Coats for goalposts. Isn't it?

I've seen where rock is going...

...and it's not Tom of Finland...

This is alright, clarts. Out on the boat to an island. Swimming in the sea. Drying off in the sunshine. Summer skin. Mmm. It's a little before beer o'clock here. Locally-fished prawns and bread to follow. Guzzle. Everybody loves a chubby dude.

Arrrrrrrrr!

Whitstable Bay. The last day of the UK tour. This place is nice. Never been to this part of the country at all before.
About an hour from london right on the coast. I know this for a fact because the crazy crack whore lady gps in the car cleverly directed us through central London during the friday evening rush hour traffic in order to avoid the queues on the M25.
On the plus side we did drive past White Hart Lane (home of the mighty Tottenham Hotspur, viewers, as surely everyone knows) ha ha. And straight through the real east end of london ha ha. Magic.
I like pirates.

I'm the confuser...

...is it a boy? Is it a girl? I don't know and i don't really care...

Gimme.

And someone is calling my name...

...from the back of the restaurant...

After a couple of days in the english countryside it's one night at Alton Towers. Not actually as horribly busy as i'd feared bearing in mind it's the school holidays here. Lots of rides. Nice. Another morning of it before the next leg of the uk tour. Taking in nottingham. A few pics here of things totally unrelated to this post. As is my wont. I thank you.

i can't give you up 'til I've got more than enough...

...Infect me with your love...

uuh uuh uuh

Good heavens miss Sakamoto...

...you're beautiful...

Goodrich castle - on the way to England now for two nights in the countryside close to Tewkesbury. This castle is lovely with panoramic views in all directions. I do enjoy a good castle, don't you?

Come to me, plug it in so i can digest you...

...I will taste you...

the last night in wales. For this time. Today was sunny and warm for spells. Nice i say. I wonder if it's physically possible for me to eat and drink more than i have these last few days. We'll see won't we? Besides, i'm on me 'olidays...i've got me strapless on, like...

Hello Hello...

...it's good to be back...

Ah, country life. The green, green grass of home. Land of my fathers etc.,
It's been too long. I feel it in my bones.
It's been a while anyhow ha ha.
Now I'm sat here drinking a bottle of ale. Welsh ale no less. All is well with the world. Ah, to be in England (Wales) in the summertime....

No no mate you wanna hold the pears...

...cos I've been watching you from over by the stairs...

chish and fips. Half of it anyhow. What's wrong with a nice, dry chip? Nothing mate, but it'd taste better with chip shop curry sauce, spa.

While some sore heads may rue last night's endeavours...

...and make Sunday's vow that they won't get so leathered...

on the boat for 18 hours. Not actually as windy as we'd feared. Constant grey rain though until we came within sight of dear old blighty. Then the heavens cleared and mr sunshine showed his yellow smiley face. Cabin fever struck the slocombe clan hard, however, and the ensuing drive to south wales was no fun. For anyone. Small boys cooped up for a long length of time does not a quiet night make...

Don't you know that a love unrequited...

...is still love in the end...

Oh yes, one day she will be mine.

In the case of emergency...

...break the glass and stroke the shaft...

check out this feller. He's been caught with his pants down but he doesn't give a monkey's. He's like 'yeah whatever - you can go right ahead and just lick my salty lego balls pal'

The Megatron doesn't say urban freewheelers...

...it says sofa-masturbators...

Summer summer summertime. Today I have weeded, erm, weeds and cut grass. Very domesticated.
Tomorrow we're off on tour - beginning with Denmark for a couple of days before the boat back to dear old Blighty. Mmmm...sausage...mmm...beer. I love Denmark, me.
I'm actually quite proud of myself - I haven't even mentioned the weather in this blog for ages. Actually it must be...doh! Bah.
This week I have been mostly loving Gordo in Hell's Kitchen III (or whatever it's called). Sadly enough, I've even downloaded a few episodes as I'm gonna miss them while we're on holiday. The trouble is, they're the US version and all of the amusing sweary bits have been cut out. Rubbish.
"If you don't cook that risotto properly I'll BEEEEP stick that BEEEEEP spoon sideways up your BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP".
One week of holidays down, four more to go. Ho hum. I'll live through it.
Somehow.
*grin*

if i run for election...

...will you support my erection?

Another wednesday. I've brought the lads to Bushuset. Which roughly translated means "house of busses". Or something. Possibly.
They seem to be enjoying themselves anyhow and the weather is intermittently foul so it seemed like a good idea.
I am drinking bad coffee and eating a rather nice muffin. Mmm...sweet sweet muffin. Is muffin the mule a sexual offence? That used to be written on the wall in the toilets in a pub called Baileys in the 'port. Why do i remember that? Next time i post here there'll be a special guest appearance from Becks. King of the cockneys apparently. Whatever that means.

I like driving in my car...

...it's not quite a Jaguar

The summer holidays have landed. Which is nice.
I'm visibly excited about the new X-Files movie which is out later this month (around about the time we get back from dear old Blighty)...how could I have only realised it was coming out in the last few weeks?
Madness, madness I tell you.
Wimbledon was good this year - at least the men's final.
Is it just me, or does the boy Federer have a little of the young Mozzer about him?
Anyone...anyone...Bueller?

Lots of girls and lots of boys...

lots of smells and lots of noise...

Saturday in Fiskebäckskil. Just one more week at work and then five (count 'em) weeks' holiday. Happy days.
I missed the chance to see Mustasch at Liseberg this week. Bah. Next time...
Why do I always harp on about the weather? Anyhows, it's lovely today and the forecast says there's more of it on the way. Weather, that is, hur hur.
Soon back to dear old Blighty.
It's been a while...

Blue sky and city lights...

...yeah I'm coming in

Here's a thought for today, kids - never try and eat an apple that is more than half the size of your own head. Especially if you do have a (albeit perfectly-formed) head that is a little on the small side. Not that there's anything wrong with little heads. Big, bloaty heads can be plain scary.
Midsummer has been and gone, complete with ice (and I mean ice) cold dips in the sea, over-mature (for this read: horrible, dry, tasteless and impossible to light) cigars and copious amounts of home-made snaps. Mmmm. Of course, the day itself was less-than-midsummery, although not incessantly rainy like last year at least. You win some you lose some, eh?