I’ve the fan on. It’s so bloody hot!
I was asked if I had a bucket list at the weekend. I couldn’t remember if I did – or if I did have one I’ve forgotten what was on it. The only thing that blurts forth from my mouth when asked about a bucket list is ‘Climb Everest!’and my reply this time was no exception. I blurted out ‘Climb Everest!’ through a mouthful of sausage roll and glass of wine in hand, contemplating a fag. I doubt the irony of that blurting was lost on anyone. I get bored walking up a flight of stairs and am built for comfort rather than any kind of athletic, heart quickening activity.
No I can’t think of a single thing that I’d have on a bucket list. I certainly don’t have a yen for swimming with bloody dolphins. I always thought that was a weird thing to do. They’re just laughing at us from their moral high ground and relatively large cerebellum despite their relatively small hippocampus. They don’t want to swim with us.
Bucket list things should surely take the form of difficult things that require some effort. Things that would need a substantial lottery win to fund – not things that you could only be arsed to do if you knew your time on the planet was suddenly limited.
I can’t think of a single thing. Except climb Everest.
In other news, remember the drive-by teabagging of yesteryear? Well now I’ve been the victim of an aspiring Banksy. I discovered it during my morning parish inspection with a crabbit Tucker. My garage wall has been graffitied. It’s not likely to attract the erection of a brown tourist sign so don’t get excited and rush to view it. It’s a bit of a “cock and balls” affair accompanied by some disparaging remarks about people from Lincluden. I was forced to report it to the authorities.
“It’s averagely offensive”
“What do you mean?”
“The graffiti. It’s averagely offensive”
“Is it racist?”
“What does it say?”
“It’s a rude comment about a scheme at the other side of town and the people who reside there, accompanied by a crude cock and balls”
“How big is it?”
“Quite big. The graffiti I mean; not the penis. I’ve no recent frame of reference for that”
“I’ll pass it to your local constabulary. They’ll be in touch”
Oh super. I’ve to go through all this again. I’ve never had occasion to say “cock and balls” to a police officer before and I hope I never need to again. In fact I’ve never had reason to say “cock and balls” ever – not even during my foray into Tinder in the days before Mrs Baps came into my life (praise the Lord!) and rescued me from a life of disastrous dates and loneliness.
It would have been less embarrassing all round if I’d just sent the authorities a snapchat of the offending “mural”. Surely Police Scotland have Snapchat? They’re always cavorting around doing the Running Man dance or singing I Will Survive in karaoke bars – both perfectly snapchattable activities I would have thought.