Philosophy and Madness.

Last night Mrs T was in one of her philosophical moods… which is a very dangerous situation for not only is Mrs T apt to do crazy things, more importantly she often poses to herself, and to her friends, seriously challenging and deeply perplexing questions. Such as;

If we can split the atom, fly to Mars and dive to the bottom of the oceans…

WHY THE HELL CAN’T WE MAKE A BLOODY KIDS DRINK BOTTLE

THAT DOES NOT LEAK?????

If you know the answer to this question, please tell me. However, I suspect it maybe something to do with the same reason George Bush was elected.

Now, I should warn you that my rare philosophical moments often herald a period of disturbing silliness form Mrs T. Mrs T is frankly.. nuts; I hope you’ve worked that out by now. However, she IS very fortunate to have some very understanding, supportive (and forgiving) friends that accept her for what she is and understand her rather madcap sense of humour.

Yes, Mrs T really does have some friends and every now and then 6 of them who live in close proximity to Mrs T join with her to discuss books. We are The Book Club. Oh, how terribly middle class I hear you say! Well, yes.. but us ladies need the mental stimulation otherwise our lives would be full only of pots and pans, School Runs and for some, that most dreaded of words “Work.” Once a month or so we meet, ostensibly to discuss a novel, but invariably getting distracted onto other important subjects like hair loss, weight gain, chocolate and sometimes even that most taxing of subjects…men.

Now I think I my lady friends warrant a description. Firstly, there's....

Mrs A.

Yes, that is THE Mrs A who comments here from time to time and her of the dry wit. (Fortunately it’s not a wet wit because you should see what a hell of a mess she makes with her chocolates. Lordy, lord do we need those baby wipes!)

Now Mrs A is actually a connoisseur and maker of fine chocolate and is married to the exceptionally finicky Mr A. Now Mr A has a superb photographic memory that always secures The Book Club certain victory in the village quiz which (luckily for him) outweighs his (unfortunate) love of precision cooking.

To which Mrs T says; “Hoorah!” ...There’s nothing Mrs T likes more than winning as she is highly competitive. For example; when there’s a queue at the supermarket and they open up a new cashier you can bet your life Mrs T gets there first! Mind you, those roller skates do help. (So does the mace but that’s another story.)

Now when I told my lady friends I was thinking of blogging about The Book Club this is the email Mrs A sent me;

“Can you not mention the fact that I am being stalked by David Tennant, Colin Firth and Harrison Ford. But you can definitely mention the facts about me being devastatingly youthful, dynamic, slim and fashionable.”

Yes, you’re absolutely right… Mrs A has very severe delusional problems… because...

I happen to know... that David Tenant, Colin Firth and Harrison Ford are actually stalking ME and Mrs A is in fact being stalked by TERRY WOGAN.( Never mind Mrs A,.. you may get a free seat at the Eurovision song contest.)

Mrs A’s vital statistics; older than Mrs T (Excellent) 2 children (Better bladder than Mrs T) Irritatingly clever husband (Annoying but useful.) Currently employed in a bastion of British broadcasting. Favourite chocolates; her own.

Now before I carry on, I‘d just like to say that David Tennant (aka Dr Who) is proving a right nuisance and keeps “appearing” in my bedroom. All I can say about his tardis is that outwardly it looks very, very small but actually it’d really rather big. In fact, it is enormous and also that thing that keeps pumping up and down in the middle is driving me absolutely crazy.

.. .Oh yes and as for Harrison Ford if he turns up one more at my house with that whip of his I’m going to have punish him severely. And as for Colin Firth I’m sick and tired of him arriving in his ruffles and breeches and declaring his undying love; I’m a busy woman and I’ve got plenty of brass rubbing to do. (Ho hum)

Now on to…

Mrs S.

Now Mrs S is another lady of dry wit and lives in a splendid abode on the hill which regrettably she plans to sell and move to foreign fields, which makes Mrs T really rather sad. However, this will mean that happily Mrs T will never again have to look after Mrs S’ guinea pigs for which she is most relieved…as last time Mrs S told all and sundry that it was Mrs T’s fault that the two male guinea pigs had suddenly become highly sexed and overtly friendly.

I’m afraid it’s simply not my fault all male creatures get inspired around me; I just can’t help being a sex goddess. It comes naturally. Read my book; “Guide to Attracting Guinea Pigs for the over 40s.” It’ll prove a real eye opener.

Mrs S’ vital statistics; younger than Mrs T (Blast) 2 children. (Again, better bladder) Married to the rather teccy but financially well endowed Mr S.( However, Mr S is not yet forgiven for refusing to retrieve chocolate from Mrs T ravishing lips during The Village Quiz) Currently employed as part time accountant and guinea pig attendant. Favourite chocolate; a very, very rich chocolate with a soft gooey centre.

Mrs M.

Mrs M is always, always, always... late. My goodness she would be late for her own funeral! Now you can bet your bottom dollar that if the world was coming to an end and the last of mankind was about to depart in a space shuttle Mrs M would still be late and arrive out of breath saying…

“I was just……………………”

JUST WHAT MRS M??????? JUST WHAT??????

However, I must not be unkind because poor Mrs M is married to the world renowned Mr M; a more complex and psychiatrically disturbed gentleman you will not find. He is the only person who prior to coming to Mrs T house for dinner will interview her for the menu and list his distastes until ultimately you end up with steak. Sadly Mrs M is also thinking of one day departing to the continent. But I ask you this Mrs M; Where will Mr M get his pants from? He is soooo particular I fear even the black, silken thongs they sell in Paris will not suit his most distinct tastes!

Now at this juncture ladies I had planned to post a picture of a lovely young gentlemen suitably attired in some devilishly attracted underwear. I thought it would take about 5 mins to Google some piccys… but ladies it has taken me a whole two hours. Lord, I never knew such skimpy males things existed! I have only just recuperated after passing out several times, emitting various assorted gasps of pure astonishment and oh, yes… changing my knickers. Now I decided to post a piccy of a G string made into an elephants head but the picture was copyrighted so ladies you will have to use your imagination (Not too difficult I feel!) So instead I’m posting something a little more tasteful.

I think ladies you will be interested to know that the manufacturers have called this item the “Special Forces” thong. What “Special forces” is that?! Would some one like to volunteer a description? Mrs T is thoroughly confused. I fear it is a deeply perplexing question I should ponder for some considerable time. However, I also noticed to my amusement that some of the G strings have been reviewed. For example;

Review by bigbob: absolutely brilliant!This string fits like a glove, the best I have tried in a long time and I am well middle aged. Faultless delivery within 24 hours of ordering; I will be definitely treating myself and my lady to some more in other colours. Look out for the photos!

Oh crikey; I fear it maybe sometime before I stop laughing!

Anyway back to…

Mrs M’s vital statistics; older than Mrs T (Hurrah!) 2 children. (Bugger.) An unfortunate (but most amusing marriage) to Mr M. Currently employed as a high flying PA and geisha girl to Mr M. Favourite chocolate; a highly addictive coffee truffle which possesses acute withdrawal symptoms.

Mrs W.

Now Mrs W is relatively new to The Book Club so obviously Mrs T cannot be so succinct in her descriptions for fear of irretrievably damaging her relationship through her wanton bad humour. However, Mrs W's vital statistics are as follows;

Older than Mrs T (Oh how absolutely spiffing!) 4 children (Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!) Married to Mr W, a man of taste. Currently employed as a Teaching Assistant.

Unfortunately, Mrs W refused to take my career advice which was as follows;

“Never work with children, animals, tax inspectors, call girls, estate agents and teachers; you will die young and no one will know who the **** you are.”

Succinct, I feel.

Oh yes, favourite chocolate; she doesn’t know cos the kids keeping nicking them before she has a chance.

Mrs R

Mrs R is a very, very UNfortunate woman because she leaves right next door to Mrs T. This is highly dangerous considering the toxicity of Master Samuel’s underpants. (Fortunately she keeps her gas mask by her side and her air freshener in her handbag.) Now Mrs R is blessed with a boisterous laugh famed (and heard) throughout the village. This is just as well because she married to the infamous Mr R, a toyboy like Mr A and Mr M. (Note to self; fire Mr T and employ younger hot stud.) Mrs T always knows when Mrs R has failed at her housekeeping duties as Mr R departs the house in a sullen fashion and drives off at apace akin to Michael Schumacher.

However, Mrs T commends both Mr & Mrs R on their patience and understanding as Master Jacob and Master Benedict have inadvertently kicked at least 1, 987,534 balls into their garden destroying all Mr R’s vegetable crops and making imprints on Mrs R’s laundry. Mrs T also commends Mr R for only using minor expletives when last year Master Jacob kicked the ball into the wet concrete he had been laying for his new patio.

True friends indeed.

Mrs R’s vital statistics; older than Mrs T (Excellent, excellent) One child. (Absolutely disgusting; almost a normal bladder.) Married to the debonair Mr R. Currently employed as a Lecturer. Favourite chocolate; one that melts in the mouth.

Mrs A(2) otherwise known as Mrs Midwife.

Mrs Midwife is a woman of great patience and virtue and is Godmother to Master Benedict. This is because in her role as local midwife she assisted in the birth of Master Benedict. (To which I say… WHY DID IT TAKE 20 HOURS???? Hadn’t I suffered enough with two births already without having a third which was like trying to squeeze a melon through a sieve?) Mrs Midwife still regularly collects vast sums of money into her swear box when Mrs T remembers the agony of Master Benedict’s birth; consequently Mrs Midwife is now a very rich woman indeed.

Now Mrs Midwife is a rare breed amongst woman as she has a HOUSE HUSBAND. And Mr Midwife’s skill at house husbandry is only matched by Mrs T. Still, Mrs T finds it a very refreshing, indeed a somewhat comforting situation.

Mrs Midwife’s vital statistics; Older than Mrs T (Yippee do!) 2 children (Depression setting in for Mrs T again) married to Mr Midwife, a man who knows how to a take a very, very long time doing very little. (Of which he is immensely proud and rightly so as Mrs T is also extraordinarily good at this) Currently employed as a Midwife but would like to work in a bakery. Favourite Chocolate; anything that is delivered on time.

Now that leaves...

Mrs P

Mrs P is a full time housewife like Mrs T! Mrs T and Mrs P play tennis together with Mrs D (and other numerous ladies) once a week. Now Mrs D is a tennis coach and to this extent she always thoroughly thrashes Mrs P and Mrs T. (Except for the one occasion when Mrs T wore her lucky orange bandana which unluckily she has since lost.)

Mrs P has a flock of sheep, 2 dogs and a cat. Oh yes and unfortunately, a plague of rats. Indeed she was mortified to find one in her bedroom the other day. So Mrs T has very generously promised her that she will call over with some suitable rat poison. (The Turley Pizza Surprise.)

Mrs P works extraordinarily hard at being the most efficient and charitable full time mum. To which Mrs T sends her this message;

YOU ARE SHOWING ME UP WOMAN; STOP DOING A GOOD JOB OR MR T WILL REALISE I AM A PATHETIC IMMATATION OF A HOUSEWIFE AND FIRE ME!

Mrs P vital statistics; younger than Mrs T (Damn, damn, damn.) 4 children. (Ha, ha, ha) Married to the sheep shearing Mr P. Not currently employed but studying under the guidance of Mrs T in the position of Housewife Extraordinaire in Training. Favourite Chocolate; Truffle Surprise. (The surprise being it tastes of lamb and mint.)

And that leaves just Mrs T about which you already know. But I’ll do my vital statistics anyway just cos I like waffling;

A mere 29 years old, no children, still well equipped in all the right places. Single but with delusions of marriage. Currently employed at the local pole dancing club and available for immediate hire to attractive, wealthy men with large pockets. Always completely truthful and honest. Admires Gordon Brown and Tony Blair. Deep respect for George Bush, Bono, Sting and Bob Geldof. Works incredibly hard at housework, cooking and cleaning the cat litter tray. Recently nominated for a noble peace prize for her thesis entitled;

“How to pair up two odd socks and get away with it.”

Favourite chocolate; still searching for The One Chocolate. In the meantime favourites are chocolate covered nuts. Small ones will do, but obviously the bigger the better. (It’s a girl thing.)

Now folks this blog has gone on longer than expected ( Damn those undie pictures) so I’ll have to continue it in a day or two…. Please prepare yourself for The Book Club II; a horror story.

(That's if I've got any friends left.)

Copyright Jane Turley 2008