THE GREMLIN BOOGIE

The other day I was delighted to tell all about my 'restorer' or hangover cure. Well, I don't think it works anymore and am presently open to suggestions. Henderson thinks it's more to do with the smoking. Not me but everyone else. Things weren't 'right' until about seven the next evening and the cure came in tha aid of a 'smoothie' or maybe it was just the timing.

Today I had loads of time to kill so went on a mission to the Sabeco Hypermercado in the deluded belief I would find PG Tips teabags. I passed the hospital and there seemed to be hundreds of gypsies and I wondered if their king was about to pass over to the other side. I know a few people who work in the hospital and they tell me they dread it when a gypsy gets ill as the whole clan turns out. I wouldn't like to be sharing the same room with the sick gypsy if the sick Spanish are anything to go by. Last time I ended up in said hospital I had to shout at a number of familias to piss off as it was time for the ill to die or get some shut eye. Anyway, PG was not to be found but I managed to locate a nice sherry, French biscuits, Tabasco sauce and some decent pencils.

It's that time of year again and I am pretty sure The Pointy Hat Brigade should be passing my window sometime tomorrow evening. It looks like we may hurtle up the mountains where the village priest does a very good Father Ted version of this event. He just gets the locals to carry Jesus up and then down the 'high street' and then straight down the pub.

I told Henderson that I love the name of the acting Nigerina ( yes I know but Nigerina sounds so good) president. One Goodluck Jonathon and since then he has renamed him Hardluck Jonathon on account of him having to deal with comments from Gadaffi.