Bradders at home

Watched Wales versus France last night, fantastic rugby, watched England versus Ireland today, I thought it was an episode of "Strictly" Strictly pensioners fucking about that is, Vickery is not an international rugby player and never has been, talking of has beens, Tindall and Sheridan belong in an old folks home, I think we should disband the whole team and take a few years out of competition whilst we find some people that can at least play rugby a little bit, I've watched junior rugby that was more entertaining than this fucking shambles, I'm thinking of writing to the BBC and asking them not to waste any more of MY money on televising this garbage.

Today I used my extraordinary powers to make the recycling waste that
the council couldn't be bothered to collect dissappear with just the
power of my mind and a ten year old Audi A4, I am truly Bradders international man of mystery.

I stand exposed as an international man of mystery, see my exciting video telling the truth about me and the extraordinary powers that I possess, it all started with the revelation in Leamington Spa that I can indeed levitate, I have several witnesses to this event, prepare to be amazed.

Half past midnight and I'm pissed, I'm corresponding with three people and I don't want to be rude and fuck off to bed but I'm tired and I'm pissed so shall I just cut and run or what?

A picture of the Foxy Chick with her Aunt Phil, whilst i was courting the Foxy chick we would meet Auntie Phil in the local pub, I loved her, her and me used to disappear into the corridor by the bar to see who could fart the loudest, she always won, i miss the old days we used to have so much fun, now all we do is work and sleep, that reminds me. I must go to bed

It's late and the Foxy Chick has gone bed, I'm left with a 50 inch plasma connected to a media centre Pc hooked up to a broadband internet connection, I wonder what I could look at.
Any suggestions?

Went to Clearwater in Florida a Few years ago and saw this, some people think it's a vision of the Virgin Mary etched into the glass on the side of an Office block, I'm neither in nor out on this, I believe some strange things so why not this is what I say.

Joined Facebook, it's fucking mad, not a lot different from the Blog just a different format, I'm still not funny and there's a load of embarassing pictures on there so I don't know why I bothered.

I've just watched "Let's dance for comic relief", Claudia Winkleman was wearing her usual "Fuck Me" shoes, how does she stand up in those fucking heels, I mean if you wanted to take her roughly from behind in some dingey back alley you'd have to stand on a fucking biscuit tin, let's face it who goes out nightclubbing carrying a fucking biscuit tin? I thought it was funny though and the best act won the viewers vote, what had he got in that plastic thong though? me thinks a reptile house is one snake short this evening and a fucking Python at that, no grass snake that.

Proof if proof were needed that I once owned a leyland Montego, this pic is potentialy worse than the Lawnmower man.

During my 56 years on this planet I've been through some interesting phases but this one escapes me entirely, if ever there was a case for calling in the men in white coats this has got to be it.

This is the sort of skittles I was a champ at.

Our wedding day, not a very flattering picture and my hair was a fucking mess.

Went to see me mate run the London Marathon, his wife got us into a cheap hotel in Brixton, fucking hell it was a bit scary walking home at 1.00 am half pissed, I seem to remember us both squeezing into one of those single beds though, that was nice, in the morning there was a fire alarm and we all ran into the street in our fucking Jim Jams.

The Foxy Chick at seventeen, I seem to remember going for a walk in Cornwall, we left Mousehole and walked up and up and up but to our surprise there was a nice pub at the top of the hill so we got shitfaced and rolled down the hill back home, do you blame me for falling in love with her? BTW this seat was about half way up,I think.

I've been described as looking like a camp John McEnroe in this pic, very unfair on John McEnroe me thinks.

This is me throwing a few shapes with my niece, she's looking at me and thinking "What the fuck" and look, it's them fucking trousers again,

This was taken a few years ago as well, what possessed me to wear those fucking trousers, I must have thought that I looked cool, twat would be a better description.

I used to be a Skittles champ, quite a few years ago now, I was the first person to win this shield three times, fucking champ or what, where's that fucking gangster suit now I wonder?

I've just calculated the drag coefficient of the dumplings that the Foxy Chick gave me for tea and by my reckoning they should leave by the back door around Easter time.

Can anyone tell me why we are in Afghanistan? perhaps it's a safe way to get rid of all our old munitions so that we can make way for some new and more deadly agents of death, after all it must cost an ARM and a leg to get rid of all this old crap that we're throwing at women and children "Over There" never mind though I'm sure our brave boys are doing a great job and I'm sure that they're over the moon that 17000 more Yanks are coming over to shoot at anything that moves including them, god bless America.

Fuck it I'm off to bed.

Ta Da a bit

When the latest 1% interest rate cut was anounced by the bank of england Lloyds bank said they would pass it on in full to all mortgage account holders, so why the fuck do I get a statement today saying that my rate has gone down from 3.5% to 3%, whoopee fucking do, I'm supposed to be pleased, well Mr Lloyd or Mr Bank whomsoever you are I fucking ain't happy, especially as I'm supposed to be paying 1% above base rate, when I went to school 1% above 1% was two fucking per cent and not 3 and a half fucking per cent, I'm coming to see you tomorrow and you'd better have a fucking good excuse seeing that it's my own fucking money I'm borrowing.
I wish I was that good at maths I'd be worth a fortune, I hope that little Polish girl is behind the counter, if she is I'll ask the manager if I can take her up the arse like he's doing to me, a fair exchange me thinks, the only thing is I'm such a Gigolo that she might like it, mind you when she sees the size of my dick I think she might want an extra 2%, ah well they say small is beautiful, I fucking hope so.

I've just read that Tony Blair has won some Jewish award for leadership on the world stage, a million dollars goes with it, I've just brought up my tea, I'd prefer it if he was given an award for being one of the worst mass murderers of all time, funny how different people see the world in different ways, if there is such a thing as Karma I wonder what he can expect in his next life? I've got a pretty vivid imagination but I can't find it in me to plumb the sort of depths that God will have to delve into to find something heinous enough for this Bastard, of course there's always "Old Nick" I'm sure Blair would find succor in his company, all he'll need is a deck of cards so he can play "It's a bastard" with Hitler, Pol Pot and Stalin, in my view he could "Top Trump" all of them for genocide.

Everyone knows that Blair ordered the murder of Dr David Kelly whilst he was out walking, when Paul Moore's revelations about Brown hit the proverbial fan might we expect him to meet an untimely end whilst out walking his dog?
Blair/Brown same shit different day.

Alright we had an affair but it was just sex we never grew close, this picture was taken just before we split, she was a great shag.

Told you I was fucking handsome didn't I.

Bottom

The word bottom refers to the opposite end to the top so why do you call your arse your “Bottom”? It surely should be your “Middle”.
This has got me thinking, what if your arse was really at the bottom, i.e. the sole of one of your feet, how cool might that be?
When going for a shit you’d just have to stick your leg into the pan and bingo it’s “poo time” no more struggling for us overweight people having to reach around the back there to clear out some of the Clinkers that have accumulated over the course of a week, just pull your foot out of the pan and into a bucketful of antibacterial cleaning fluid, job done, we could have group shitting because there’d be no taking off of pants thus exposing genitalia, if you had a dose of Diahorrea you could have special Diahorrea shoes with a big fuck off hole in the bottom, when out on a Saturday night if you need to go just jump into the gutter stand over a drain and Whoosh “Chico time” you could just carry on drinking and make out you’ve trod in some dogshit when someone says”Pooh what’s that fucking smell”, on the other hand if you were prone to constipation and you had a “Leg full” instead of walking around in circles like Max Wall on Crack you could have a discreet hole drilled into one buttock and Dynorod could call and give you a good “Rodding” I will admit there could be drawbacks, whilst curb crawling if a girl asked you if you want business you might have to ask her if she “Takes it up the foot”, she’ll probably charge more for having to take off her shoe, but for us lads there’ll be no more of that nasty getting a bit of shit on your tongue when the Viperous tongue gets a bit adventurous practising a smidgen of fellatio and what about the Indian restaurant, no more worrying if the chef has washed his hands after abluting mind you that Lamb Bhoona will be a completely different colour, Gay men might have an issue because unless you’re a Ballet dancer it might be difficult to kiss whilst indulging in a bit of penetration and of course we all know how difficult sex can be when standing on one leg, “Don’t we”.
Im sure you’ll all have your own ideas about Pro and cons with this redesign of God’s creation so please feel free to post your comments “For or against”

It's probably not well known but I'm rather partial to some classical music, in particular, music for piano, I've just discovered someone called Yundi Li and I've just listened to his rendition of La Campanella, could you please initiate a search for me because I've just been "Blown Away" have a listen.

I ventured out today and visited Kenilworth, Royal Leamington Spa, Rugby, Lutterworth, Leicester and Northampton, I delivered to a variety of destinations from industrial estates that have never seen a gritter to a Cul de Sac on a housing estate, so why then was my paper recycling bin still full because those poor downtrodden council employees couldn't be bothered to leave a depot that's about three miles away to collect my waste when I live on a perfectly accessible main road? Should I refuse to pay my council tax? should I dump the fucking stuff in a Hedgerow?
I worked as a Bin Man for a fortnight when I was young to earn a few quid when on holiday from being a Coalman, it was when Dustbins were the size of Vanessa Feltz and made of steel, I remember picking up bins that were full of Bricks, Maggots and Sanitary towels and it was fucking hard work, how hard can it be to pick up a very small plastic box with a few wheaty bangs boxes in even when it's a bit slippery under foot?

I've reset my modem three fucking times tonight, I wonder if Virgin will set me on as a "Tech Guy"

I'm in the garden now, I have a gallon of petrol and one Virgin Media modem, oh and a box of matches, I'm trying to reason with the modem but it's having none of it, basically it's refusing to co-operate, so my bloggy friends stand well back because it's "Charcoal time"

The Foxy Chick is trying to listen to The Divine Comedy but her signal keeps dropping out, I did catch one phrase though and I think they sang "it's hard to get by when your arse is the size of a small country" eat your heart out Bob Dylan then, fuck me she's onto P J Proby now, I'm leaving home, anybody got a spare room?

The Mother of all Broadband, the mother fucker of all broadband more likely, traffic shaping packet loss bastards, the Foxy Chick and me are trying to have a "Youtube night" Got the idea from the Bloggers Arms but the fucking signal keeps vanishing and it's always half way through our favourite tunes, fuck Virgin Media, If I ever bump into old Branston I'll fucking pickle him or I'll ask him to explain why I'm paying £40.00 quid a month for fuck all, I mean I can get fuck all for fuck all why would I want to pay £40.00 for fuck all, what can I do with fuck all?
I can see the adverts on the tele, "switch to Virgin Media and get absolutely fuck all for forty pounds a month, even Sky don't promise that"
"When it comes to fuck all you can't beat Virgin" not wrong there then, I mean if you go out on the piss and you meet a Virgin you know you're gonner get fuck all so he picked the right fucking name, I suppose there's people out there that might want their signal to drop half way through a Take That single but not me I want all of Take That smothered in Goose grease and placed under a hot lamp, excuse me a minute I'm just going out for a wank, hopefully when I get back I'll be able to hear the rest of Rule The World, what a fucking song.
Ta Da a bit.
P.S The Foxy Chick is trying to play Rod Stewart, apparently he's trying to love again but the first cut is the deepest, I wonder if he's on about the cut in service from old Branston's lot.

I'm all frowzy, a bit like Fanlight Fanny, talking of Fannies, no not now, later.

I'm feeling slovenly (untidy or unclean in appearance or habits) so please forgive any dirty words that may appear here today, can't remember the last time I said fuck so it will make a nice change.