Fanny Whacker

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The plan is to write something daily in this blog section but that will not happen. I suffer from “Can’t be arsed” every now and then, though that might be different now that a certain bearded person has been killed. We have been told that we live in a safer and better world now, so to test that theory I’m going to walk through a local ghetto with money hanging out of my arse and a sign around my neck that reads “Fuck me and rob me.”

I feel pretty confident that nothing will happen. Who would have thought that the botched arrest of the unarmed most wanted man in the world would lead to such a safe environment.
When I first heard the breaking news about the Beard of Terror I was half asleep and half not paying attention, I spent a good ten minutes sat in absolute incredulity, “Why the fuck has Seal killed Bin Laden?” I mean what would Heidi Klum think of her husband now? Turns out it was the Navy Seals, who are real people by the way. Which is slightly disappointing. It’s also disappointing that Fish and Seal have never done a duet.
This morning I have a renewed sense of vigour now the world is a safer place, so with that vigour in hand we are off to look for a decent second hand car. We have spent the last couple of days glued to Autotrader in the hope of spotting something within our budget and capable of lasting at least three years. People have been banging on lately about this being the best time to buy a second hand car now the economy is knackered. Some of the things I have heard are a little unbelievable,

“I got a two year old BMW with 10,000 miles for two biscuits and a fingering!”

What has been particularly interesting is the various consumer reviews about some of the cars, which to be honest are not that helpful. They seem to range from the OTT to the dull.

“This car is brilliant, I had a shit in it and it doesn’t smell. Very economical on petrol.”

“This is the worst car I have ever had, I keep knocking people down because of a blind spot. On the plus side the boot is big.”
I don’t drive myself, never learned. She does the driving, so she will have the final say on the car. It amuses when me people find out that I don’t drive, the same conversation always seems to happen.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 42”

“You’re 42 and you can’t drive?”

This fascination with my age against my lack of driving makes me giggle, It’s as if I’m breaking some cosmic ruling concerning age and driving ability. They usually follow this line of questioning with,

“What, so you have never driven?”

“No.”

“Really? Wow!”

You get the sense that I could ease their disbelief by saying that I used to drive but had a terrible accident and decided to never

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drive again.I would like to drive but as I said earlier I suffer from “Can’t be arsed” I have phoned a few driving schools about Intensive driving courses and not Crash Courses as one lady was at pains to tell me is, “not the correct terminology.”
Anyway, I blame Bin Laden. His beard of terror has stopped me from enjoying the freedom of carefree driving.

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