A Post Dedicated To Kait. Summer Time In Britain.

The sun is shining. The birds are tweeting and there is a general sense of contentment in the air.

Summer time has finally arrived...And I'm scared.

The appearance of this particular season heralds much joy but it also brings with it unimaginable horrors. Because summertime can only mean one thing in the East End of London...half naked Brits.

Ooh, I think I've just found someplace to park my bike!

Now I like to look and appreciate the sight of a near naked form as much as the next person and I've got the restraining orders to prove it but summer in the East End isn't like summer on the beaches of Havana.

You wont find any tightly tanned bodies here. No six pack abs. No taut butt cheeks packed firmly into snugly fitted trunks. (Excuse me while I wipe the drool from my chin)

What you will find are lobsters, big red, sore, living and breathing lobsters, because British men have the unenviable ability to tan like no other humans anywhere else on earth.

It's almost fascinating to watch how in just a couple of hours, a person can go from natural skin tone to the colour of one of our great British landmarks, the pillar box.

And the worse is still yet to come.

Havana - DAMN! My eyes, how they fill with love.

Blackpool - DAMN! My eyes, how they bleed!

 The sight as they become insistent on whipping off their polo shirts at the merest hint of the sun's rays, is truly a vision to behold. If you were ever curious to see just how far the human skin can stretch, then look no further than the belly of an East End man going topless. Years of drinking copious amounts of beer, has cultivated a stomach so fat that the their BMI can only be measured in acres. Not only that but we are then subjected to the glorious sight of MOOBS! (Man boobs) I must allow, that there is a certain type of hypnotic quality that comes with watching the jiggling motion of a man with breasts so large, that they would have Dolly Parton spiting with envy.

2nd one down on the left...I've had him.

 Don't get me wrong, I'm not dismissing the allure of East End man, for I must admit that I do like a guy with a certain amount of fat to his belly region. I find it sort of comforting, like cuddling up to a big teddy bear. A big, hairy, beer swigging, fouled mouth, burping, farting teddy bear.

These same men cannot wait for the summer months to come along so that they can partake in and fully enjoy the most natural of sporting events, 'The Annual Bird Watching Tournament'.

On parade we can see a splendid array of species which when grouped together, come under the banner of the East End girls. The East End girl comes in various categories and can been seen in all their glory when the sun is at it's hottest.

See, even Obama is at it...perv!

First we have the 'Tanger' bird'. This bird is distinctive because of it's orange colouring. Originally this tangerine pigmentation was chiefly the product of 5 hours spent in tanning saloons  under such contraptions known as, sun beds. But over the last few years, we have seen a marked change in theses types of birds. Now much darker in hue, the modern day Tanger's iridescence is now sought through packets and creams, to give them that just been baked in the oven look.

Tanger Bird. Also commonly known as, stoopid bitch!

Next we have the 'Chaf 'Chaf', bird or to give it it's more often used title, 'The Chav'.

The Chav is well known for the amount of enhancements that it uses in order to procure itself a mate. Known primarily for it's mane of white hair and equally white stilettos, it maintains it's appearance of 'girlification' by add ons. These may include, add on nails, add on hair, add on lashes and add nails, as well as an assortment of body modification by way of, add on breasts and add on eye contacts. The chav's main mode of attire is to be almost near naked, with only the minimalist of clothing to ensure themselves a great deal of attention. This is marked out by the mother Chav's shrill cry of, 'shouldn't you be wearing a skirt with that belt?' As the younger Chav flies the nest.

Last but certainly by no means least, is the 'Muffin Top' bird. The Muffin Top bird can be easily distinguished by its ability to fit into the tightest of jeans, thereby leaving a portion of the belly pushed up and then splayed across the uppermost part of the body. This is then capped off by a very small vest top that reaches just above the region of overspilling flesh and is a very potent means of defence. This overflow guarantees that only the drunkest of the male predators will attempt to approach the Muffin Top, whilst All other humans tend to give it a wide berth, as the sight can be quite jarring to the eyes. In fact and on numerous occasions cries of, "my eyes," "my eyes," can be heard on seeing such a display for the first time, which is then often followed up by a loud retching noise and the sounds of dry heaving.

So as you can see, the summer months can bring with it such magical and wondrous sights but in the East End of London, it is definitely NOT for the faint hearted.

~Lily

Meet The Minions.

There was no use in fighting it any longer, things had to end. We both knew in our hearts that it was never going to work. And although our love for one another burned ever more brightly with each passing new day, the fact still remained that we were just two people born on opposite sides of the track.

 It was the summer of 89. I was sixteen going on seventeen and he, Guido was an Italian circus midget. Of course this didn't halt the fire of our passion, as we fanned the flames of our illicit lust whilst making sweet love by the light of the moonlight.

"Guido," I cried out with carnality. "Take me, take me now!" "Damn woman, he growled, a note of desire lacing his words. "I just fanned the flames of our illicit lust, whilst making sweet love to you by the light of the moonlight, five minutes ago." With our bodies smothered completely in baby oil, which we had rubbed delicately onto each other's..oh....on hold...this isn't my on-line diary! Oh shit!!

It's a bloody good thing that only a handful of people still read this sodding blog. This could have been SO embarrassing otherwise. Phew!

Meet the Minions

On June 15th 2012, mankind will take one step closer to extinction. On the 15th of June 2012, Worlds will collide as their fiery orbs split the skies and gravity takes it's final toll. On this very day, People will weep at the destruction of their existence, their cries tearing through the atmosphere. And the hopes and dreams of man will be forever shattered into tiny fragments, only to be then carried away by the winds of their broken souls. That's right folks, for on the 15th of June 2012, Spawn celebrates his 11th birthday.

I have to admit to feeling a slightly apprehension about celebrating the day that my womb fruit was cast forth from my  loins, making sure on his exit to stretch me wide enough that I can now accommodate two large cars, (with parking space) a thatched roofed cottage and a homeless shelter for the destitute. And it's not the fact that he is ever nearer to achieving his life-time dream of world domination, or that it tickles him to discover that he's still too young to be imprisoned for matricide. No, the trepidation that I feel is simply because this year, Spawn has asked for a birthday party. I admit fully that the thought of hosting such an event, fills me with fright. The reason? Let me introduce you all to the Minions. 

Ophelia

I am sure by now, that most of you have already met Ophelia. If you haven't, then lucky you. It means that your dreams will remain forever pure and free of nightmares. Speaking of which, I had a dream last night in which Ophelia stated that, "the shallowness of my existence, brought forth by a making of my own good, was the very reason for my current malaise". She went on to say that, " in this ever increasing world in which we live, selflessness must surely take precedence over selfishness." In my slumber I had imagined holding a newly sharpen dagger on which from the tip, hung the visceral remainder of an eyeball that had been plucked unceremoniously from it's socket. At my feet, it's young victim (Ophelia) lay writhing on the floor in agony, whilst I stood erect and laughing maniacally. Is it wrong that I then awoke with a huge smile plastered across my face?

Keith

Keith is originally from Portugal and he and Spawn have been best friends since they both attended nursery/kindergarten together. In 2011 and due to unforeseen circumstances, Keith and his mother Ada, returned to Portugal promising to return after a year. Before they left, Keith weighed in at a healthy 90lbs but once back in England, it did not go unnoticed by his friends that he had gained a few pounds since. However his re-appearance is now shrouded in mystery, for on his return, Ada, was found to be missing and remains so until this day. Reports that he may have eaten her, remain unfounded.

Julia

Julia maintains her delicate pale looks by the very nature that she suffers from an unfortunate and debilitating allergy to daylight... garlic, also running water, mirrors, crucifixes...


Archibald

Archie is of mixed parentage. No-one can quite work out whether that mix is part human and part alien, though Spawn is convinced that he is the result of a genetic experiment between a pygmy and a pot-bellied pig.

Olga

Although they are friends, Olga is the only person in existence, that Spawn is genuinely frightened off. This stems mainly from the fact that the Bride of Chucky has been stalking him for a over year and a half and believes wholeheartedly, that they are fated to be married. She is 9 years old. I first wrote about The Bride Of Death, when Spawn attempted to hide from her whilst in the school playground. Under what he believed to be the safety of his camouflage jacket, Spawn covered himself with his clothing and there he awaited, else closed for the moment that The Bride Of Frankenstein, would pass him by. After 10 minutes and breathing a sigh of relief, Spawn  opened his eyes... only to find Olga staring intently back at him...from underneath his own jacket.


Jack

This boy, is the reason why his parents sleep with a lock on their bedroom door.

Princess

Princess is from a highly religious family and each sentence that spews forth from her toothy mouth, contains the words "Virgin mother Mary, mother of the little baby Jesus," For example, "how are you today Princess?" "By the grace of the virgin mother Mary and the little baby Jesus, I am fine thank you." I have no problem with this, because despite appearances, Princess is actually a well-mannered and polite child...However, after hearing "Virgin mother Mary and the little baby Jesus, half a dozen times in under a minute, I do suddenly get the strong urge to pull her sizable tongue out of her equally sizable head and staple it to her forehead.

Jessie

*™BY THE COCK OF ZEUS! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE! Ahem...my apologies.

The Cornfields

Here we have from left to right, Arian, Ariana, Arianne, Aria and Sharon. Ever since their birth, there is a ridiculous myth going around the neighbourhood, that the cornfields are quite adept in the art of mind control. Though I admit that their eyes do have a somewhat hypnotic quality to them, I do not for one moment believe this to be true. Now excuse me while I draw out and hand over my life's savings, sign away the deed to my house, bark like a dog and pretend that I'm Queen Elizabeth the first.


Junior

The lovely Junior is by far the nicest and most normal of all of the minions. It matters not that both his parents went missing shortly after refusing to buy him the latest X-Box 360, nor that the flower beds in the garden of his family home (he lives there with his aunt) are grown atop two human sized mounds and have flourished due to the strange brew of fertilizer he uses, he is still a wonderful and caring child.
Obviously he sees me very much as a mother figure and didn't seem too upset when I told him that I couldn't possibly afford to buy him the latest Blackwatch Collector's Edition. The boy is forever showering me with bouquets of flowers, notably  Lilies and black roses. I haven't the heart to tell this sweet child, that these flowers are synonymous with death? I mean how could he possibly know? Aww bless him.


Now apart from Junior, who bought me  this rather wonderful storage bag,

would any of you willingly invite these kids into your home?


~Lily


*Stolen from the wickedly funny Chiz.

Ophelia Comes To Dinner.

If you haven't already met Ophelia, then please read here. If you have, then you have my commiserations and my humble apologies.

Ophelia (continued)

As we sat down to a fine culinary feast of la pizza un les pomme frites, of which I reassured Ophelia that the potatoes used, had not been 'wrenched screaming in abundant pain from the bleak darkness of the fetid undergrowth' but birthed naturally by the fecundity of the soil in which they were lovingly contained, I decided to find out a little bit more about the 'Child Of The Night'... I honestly wished that I hadn't sodding bothered.

"So Ophelia, what is it that you're parents do? Assuming that your parents are still alive and that you haven't murdered them in their sleep."  *Though admittedly, this last part was said under my breath*

"Ah, well my father's opus in this multi layered existence of which we call life..." 

"Oh for the love of god."

 "... is to maintain the physical condition of those who have gone before. Those whose corporeal  being have not yet ascended to the realm of the hereafter and as such, remain tethered to their earthly bonds upon this very earth".

"So he's an undertaker?"

"You are most correct in your affirmation of my father's application".

"And your mother? What does she do?"

"Mater is currently ensconced within the confinement of an establishment built to nurse those that are most vulnerable to matters of the cranium and that which causes untold cognitive shifts in patterns, by fault of the deep Limbic system".

"So she's in a psychiatric hospital suffering from depression? 

"You are correct." *Looking slightly surprised by my understanding of the situation, Ophelia turned her astonished gaze to Spawn*.

 "My, you were right. she is quite good at this isn't she?

*With a non-committal shrug, Spawn answered* "She has proven to be a somewhat worthy adversary these ten years, since she coupled with he, that I loosely term father, it is true".

*As I rose to clear away the half emptied plates from the dining table, the 'Princess Of Death' asked,* "I wonder spawn's mother, if I may be so bold as to trouble you for some light refreshment?| For my throat runs dry like parchment that has been scratched  with the sharp ink of  sand"

 *I cast an annoyed glare towards Spawn but he, having clearly read the message behind my hooded lids, looked quickly away. The message? Get her out of my house before I bludgeon her to death with her own foot*  "Of course you may Ophelia, though unfortunately, we're all out of holy water".

"MOTHER!!"

"Sorry, just a little joke."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. Never mind". * I poured the 'Queen Of The Damned' a glass of fruit juice, once again offering reassurance to her that the fruits had indeed been plucked by the hands of vestal virgins and not by any common farmer, whom might rip away their soul by plucking them with rough calloused hands* "So Ophelia, do you have any pets? We're thinking of getting a dog come this summer holiday".

*Here Ophelia cracked what I could only assume to be a smile but looked more like a fissure opening up to lead the way to the gates of hell* "Oh I did have a python by the name of Monty whom I was quite fond of. But he passed not these three weeks hence".

"Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. What was wrong with him?"

*With bulging eyes, I was at once regarded, in much the same way as one would regard a simpleton.* "He was dead". *She explained in a voice denoting great annoyance, before looking once again to Spawn*  "I had thought that the dictum, "passed  not these three weeks hence," might have given your mother an inkling as to the direct nature of the creature's condition. She may have the limited intellectual capacity to decipher the complex knowledge, elements and combined composition of our language. But it is suffice to say, that the simplest syntax of a sentence, is way beyond her comprehension."

*Holding tightly onto the glass which I had yet to hand over to 'She Who Needs A Good Arse Whooping', the sudden urge to violently break the vessel and lacerate Ophelia's porcelain like throat with the jagged edges, finally reached a crescendo* "SPAWWWWWWWN!"

"Ah that cry is the warning siren, which tells us that we should exit post haste. Mother, I shall be away to the place of much torture and peer degradation..."

"IT'S CALLED THE PARK YOU PAIR OF FREAKS! THE PARK!"

"...and shall be back before the moon doth reach it's zenith in the night ether."

"Oh for feck sake..." *But before I could continue on with my foul mouthed rant, there was a knock at the front door*

"Ah, that will be Princess come to frolic with us among the cobbles stones, fallen leaves and dead men's dreams."

"Hiya!"

"If anyone needs me, I shall be upstairs contemplating suicide and weeping for the passing  of what was once a normal life."


~Lily

Finally The End Is Here! The Concluding Chapter To 'The Talk'.

This is the third installment and final conclusion to 'The Talk,' a subject that has had laureates quaking with fear, critics weeping openly at my genius and agents knocking at my door. Of course this all takes part in my head, alongside images of Nathan Fillion and Hugh Jackman covered entirely in margarine and naked wrestling in front of an open fire.

 By now I can only assume that you, my dear readers, are at this moment praying for the the sweet relief of death. But fear not, we are now at an end to the shambles that has caused each and everyone of you, to want to scour your brains with bleach, in the hope that you will finally be able to rid yourselves of my musings.


For this post to make any sense whatsoever, I would like to advise those who haven't done so, to read the first two chapters, which are here and here. But most importantly of all folks, remember to keep all expectations of this tale low, very very low. ♥

********** 

The End Is Here.

As a deathly silence descended upon the room once more, the three participants in this seemingly never ending drama, took a brief respite from the unrest, to carefully gather their wits about them. Floored by the overwhelming task that had been bequeath to him by fault of his untimely arrival, a man sat, head buried in hands wishing vehemently that the woman that he had once loved, still loved, would just shut up and die. She, alone in the corner, begun making numerous plans on the various ways of maiming, killing and the eventual disposal of the other two occupants residing in the room. The little boy however had deep thoughts of his own. For he just could not fathom, no matter how hard he tried, how on earth one could get canned ham inside of a tin that was not quite square but was not exactly round either.
 Finally Beelzebub spoke, ending the quiet that had pervaded the room.

"Good grief! I think a part of my soul has died and withered away".

*Giving an air of nonchalance but quietly seething underneath, I could only stand and shrug my shoulders in mock indifference*."He started it."

"He...he started it?! For the love of all that is wicked woman, YOU are suppose to be the bloody adult here!"

"Meh."

"Meh?? Meh? Is that all you have to offer? Look Lily, I really don't have time for this. I've got the sinful to condemn, the innocent to corrupt and I not even half-way through to hitting my target mark yet. I  also have a full day ahead of me in making sure that THE SMOKE OF THEIR TORMENT ASCENDETH UP FOR EVER AND EVER: AND THEY HAVE NO REST DAY NOR NIGHT, WHO WORSHIP THE BEAST AND HIS IMAGE AND WHOSOEVER RECEIVETH THE MARK OF MY NAME...plus there's a two for one sale on Brimstone, down at the local quarry".

"And people call ME a freak."

Whatevs...I'm just going to push on with this, if that's ok with everyone. Any questions? Hmmm? Hmmm? No? Then I shall press on. Now where was I? Ah yes. As I was saying, you may find that as you grow older,  you start to  produce a lot more sweat than usual.

What? like mum does?

*I knew with an absolute certainty that Spawn was trying to goad me into loosing my temper and in knowing so, decided not to rise to the bait*. "Horses sweat honey, women perspire".

"Well I say no, you say neiiigh." (snorts and whinnies like a horse) 

*Obviously, my decision not to rise to the bait, turned out to be one big stinking pile of bollocks*. " That's it!! Ima gonna rip those potatoes from off your nutsack, boil em at a temp of gas mark 6 than ima gonna shove em down your f..."

"LILY! I cannot believe that a grown woman such as yourself, would let things spiral so out of  control!! See, this is why you need a man around the place. To take hold of the reins, as it were."

"Do you know Beel, you're right. When you find one, give him my address!"

"Ooh, You just got dissed."

"It would seem that this venture, is proving to be somewhat of a failure".

"Ahh! Those words bring back vivid memories of our time together in the bedroom".

"Oww, I have no idea what that means but I know you just got dissed again".

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT? I  DESPISE YOU WOMAN AND ALL THAT YOU STAND FOR! YOUR SNAKE LIKE VENOM, POURS CRUELLY FROM EVERY PORE IN YOUR VIPEROUS BODY. THERE IS NO MAN, NOR BEAST HERE ON THIS EARTH, THAT CAN STAND TO BE AROUND YOU AND YOUR CONCEITED CONTEMPTUOUS WAYS, YOU FIRE BREATHING CREATURE OF HATE!"

"Er...I'm sorry, you must have me confused with yo mama...more cake?"

"Ooh, dissed again...three times."

"Look Beel, are you going to to do this or not? Or do I have to take care of things myself...aaand we're back in the bedroom."

"Four times!"

*Looking like a man on his way to the gallows, Beelzebub breathed a heavy sigh of  exasperation.* "Lily, I can't do this."

"Beel you have to. Don't you dare pull out now...again magically transported back to the bedr..."

OK , ENOUGH VILE SERPENT OF THE NIGHT! VERY WELL, I SHALL CONTINUE!  *And like a dead  man walking, Beel seemed resigned to his fate*. "During the middle of the night, you may notice on awaking that the sheets are somewhat damp. This is what is sometimes known as, having a..."

"Oh oh, (excitedly) I know this one!"

"You do?"

"Yep. Anal leakage."

*At that very moment, I don't think that I had ever experienced a smile so wide, that it threatened to engulf the whole of my face. The look on Beel's face as it went through an assortment of colours before finally landing on ashen grey, was a joy to behold*. "You are soooo on your own with this one."

"I watched it on that program 'Embarrasing bodies'. The woman had a retched prolong."

"I think he means 'rectal prolapse.'"

"Yeah that's it and because she had tissues up her bum, they would fall out while she was sleeping...why did she have tissues up her bum anyway?...Oh I suppose to stop the anal leakage..That would make sense...

"Um...I don't think Lil man, that they meant that kind of tissue. You see, inside our bodies we have...(pauses and then) do you know what? I can't do this."

"Beel don't you dare."

"Seriously Lil, I'm not cut out for this crap. you do it."

"I do it?! For the past ten years, I've been doing it...ALONE! Would it be too much trouble to expect a little support from you now and then? Is that really so difficult? Because if it is, then I want you to leave!"

"What?"

"You heard. I have never once asked you for anything, not a single thing. Yet every time I think that you're finally going to step up to the mark and be a father, you fail at every turn. If you cannot be bothered to spend some time with YOUR son, then it's best that you go.

(After only a slight hesitation) "OK."

*As always, Spawn and I held on to the belief that walking away wouldn't come so easily to Beel. That he would challenge his right as a father and demand to be a part of his life. That the love he felt for his son would eclipse any obstacle and outweigh the petty squabbles and pointless point-scoring. That finally, finally he would care enough to fulfill his obligation as a parent. But he never did. He found it all to easy to slither away again, without shame, without remorse and without looking back. We both knew that he would do so but we still also hoped that just for once, things would be different. As Beel closed the door quietly, Spawn turned to me. "And remind me again why that man is my dad?"

"Alcohol!"

"But you were together for 5 years."

"Alcohol."

"Well next time you fancy a drink, can you get a puppy instead of a man?" (Then breaks out into a huge grin) "So, it looks like it's just me and you versus the world again".

"It certainly does Lil man. It certainly does."


~Lily