"You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart. You’re heading for a breakdown, better pull yourself apart. " - John Cooper Clarke

>That’s ma boy.

>Last Sunday afternoon Todd came around for the last of his things as the children went back to school yesterday. As I was on the phone to my father I decided to pass the call on to Todd, seeing as he was there. They had a good chat and Todd finished the conversation by saying:

“It was a pleasure speaking with you, Grandpa.”

Shocked by my son’s courtesy I didn’t have much else to say to my dad so ended the conversation on a slightly more affectionate level, shall we say. I was proud of Todd, he has obviously remembered some of the things that I have brought him up to say, but that didn’t hinder him from leaving the house and slamming the door loudly. I did notice one thing though, and that was his missing piercing. As Todd was on the phone at the time, he didn’t say anything to me about it, so I called his dad.

It appears that his father told him to remove the new ring that hindered Todd’s ability to speak, looked ridiculous and no doubt got caught when brushing his teeth. Whatever I thought of Todd’s piercing, I really wanted it to be up to him to remove it and realise what a stupid idea it was, but that opportunity is now lost as the hole will have closed up by now and Todd has just thrown away €50, plus the new ring. For me, realising the mistake he’d made and then removing it on his own accord would mean growing up a bit, and I wanted that.

Oh well, you can’t always get what you want, preached the great Mick Jagger.

Apart from that, I’m bored. I applied for another job that has confused me greatly. It was listed on their vacancies page so I applied, and was asked on the page what my motivation and expected salary was. Not sure as to how many characters or words I was allowed in the little box, I kept it to a bare minimum, attached my CV and wonder if I’ll ever hear from them again.

Cooking seems to be the only valuable pass-time, but that only happens when the Twat is here. He no longer eats on Sundays as he goes elsewhere for most of the day so I settled for a CuppaSoup last night. It’s vegetable tart, spuds and glazed apples tonight, which is a bit of an odd pot, but we’ll see.

And for the first time, I actually feel sorry for Gordon Brown.

Whatever he does, he’s faulted.