laugh at life with gillie

Drunken driver, at the wheel,  have fun  make tyres squeal. Drive at speed, Take no heed of signs and others around. Hit a curb, car air bound. Crashing, smashing, screaming, squealing! Horrendous noise, fear in the air. an electric shimmering atmosphere. Stunned onlookers. Silence. Running shouting, swearing! Horrified people caring. "What was he doing?" "This ones dead!" "Bandage that head!" Children, Parents crying. A day, lives ruined, Drunk staggering around confused, amongst dead wounded and dying. 'what have I done?' Sobering thought; not such fun.

          Timothy Hedgehog Finds a Friend.  One day when the sun was shining, all the animals were at play. Timothy Hedgehog went to join them, but they nasty things shooed him away. 'Clear off!' They shouted rudely, 'your prickly and play too rough: Why can't you be like the rest of us, all cuddly and covered in fluff?' Poor Timothy went away tearfully, shuffling and snuffling along. He sat on a stone and had a good cry, then from somewhere a voice said, 'What's wrong?' 'Who said that?' asked Timothy, as he could not see anyone around. 'Your sitting on my house.' said the voice, that seemed to come from the ground. Timothy jumped up quickly, from what he thought was a stone, thinking to himself, "well it looks more like a stone than a home." Slowly out of each corner, appeared a very wrinkly leg, then just at slowly at one end, there appeared a thumb shaped wrinkled head. 'Who are you?' asked Tym...

laugh at life with gillie:  'SAD, BAD,AND BARKING MAD.' available on Kindle or KDP select. The Sad ones are the incompetent London Gangsters and their accountant who absconds with their money; The Bad ones are the Gangsters and the Barking Mad one is the Accountants Dog who he buys from a scrap yard for protection from the Gangsters who are on his trail as he hides in a Northern fishing town. Will his fisherman and ex army nephew get home from sea to come to his aid as he did in London; will he beat the gangsters with the aid of his new friends? Amongst them another sad person- Walter Mittie type character- who falsely claims to be Ex S A S special forces soldier and  amasses arms that he obtained from Russia with a promise to cause mayhem on the British Isles or suffer the consequences from the Russian secret services who frequent 'Codshaven' Docks in their Russian spy ships. Explosions, lies, torture, adventure, incompetent planning and hilarious errors.

The cat burglar, moved like a cat, a snoop a sneak, a trespassing freak. He came at night, gave people a fright, through window skylight, through anywhere tight. then, he had a sticky patch, in a fight, he found a match; not a cricket match; it was a cricket bat. No longer moving like a cat; The rat!

Me and my mongrel aren't pedigrees nothing special, bony knees. He has flees; What? Not me! Oh please! This mans best friend, That'll never end. Friends for life... Upset the wife. She spotted a louse, not let in the house. Got him clean; struggled in bath; he thinks I'm mean. Doesn't like wet; doesn't like Vet. Or cats; Likes cow pats. Loves a roll, on a smelly dead mole. I don't mind, were two of a kind. No pedigree, we're Mongrels you see? No heirs and graces; A mixture of races. Not interbred; old, healthy, not dead. Our genes are a mixture, were old, a permanent fixture. We'll go on for ever, birds of a feather. I love my dog, he thinks I'm a God.              

Can't sing. Can't sing a thing. Wish I could, that'd be good. A celeb, a reb. Cool rule, women drool. Johnny Cool. X Factor, Mentor. Television, Eurovision. Perfection A mansion A velvet voice, Choice! A Rolls-Royce. If I-I-I-I could sing, I-I-I-I-I'd sing Something, mushy! gushy, lusty! Ohhhhh, how they'd lust, my autograph would be a Must. Iiiiiiii'd sing something nice! Cooooool as ice! Coooooool, I-I-I-I-I'd make em droooool, Nickers would fly aye, aye,aye! They'd scream and yell... Hell! I-I-I-I- Aye aye aye, wish that I ---- could SSSSSSIIIIIIIIING!

I got a dog -a bitch- she's only small -a titch-. A terror; a terrier; a bone buryer. It took me hours to plant some flowers. The terror pup dug them all up. Replaces them with bones... and mobile phones. A digger, a scratter, a very good ratter. She kills pet mice, not nice! And Rabbits! so many bad habits. She chases cats, and wind blown hats. She chases birds, rolls around in fox turds. She chased a fox, and savaged my socks. In the chicken run? She had lots of fun. The feathers flew, that's true. A one bitch Rat-pack. A hunter, a throwback to days gone by; She killed a fly. that buzzed her eye. She's very quick, she looks angelic, Small in size, Big brown eyes, Vermin hater,  terminator. Love her to bits. www.theoldie.co.uk www.any-uk-vet.co.uk/clee

Rock and roll singing soul or anything that rhymes, Ballads, blues, blue swede shoes, all parts of our times, Mu-sic to your ears, Happy, Sad, your in tears. Gra-nd parents didn't like it not as good as theirs Black bottom they got em, Jazzzz, Skiffle folk and Rock; Blu-u-u-u-es... B-BOP! HOP! Hip hop! Now...at the top. Where were you at the time, when you were in your prime? Left school, broke every rule, played that music loud. Fell in love, turtle dove, soppy ballad song. Baby due, pink or blue? Memor-ies, cherish-es, years fly by; Hey was it that long? You may be old show your bold, CO-O-OOOL, not cold, Rock on John! to every thing that's here been and gone.   www.theoldie.co.uk

There once was a cowboy called Jed, I said once, he lived long ago; he's dead. He was at the last stand in the Wild West land. He wore a mask... and a big hat, What about that? You could tell it was him, I think he was dim. a little black mask, well, I ask?; Yeah, a little black job; didn't cover gob. He robbed trains and banks. and had bad pals who were cranks. Quick on the draw; and breaking the law... So handsome with his lantern jaw He never ever went near a cow, Unless he was rustling em;  Now! Why call him a cowboy? I hear you ask, when all he ever did was rob folk in a mask. I really don't know; if I did I'd say so. But! the cinemas fill, when Jed's top of the bill. Whenever there's nowhere for Jed to rob; in his mask, that isn't big enough, to cover the task He has a whirl in bed with his girl; still wearing his mask! must be why the cinemas full, Cowboys and Cowgirls? I think its all Bull.

  The Mad Poet  Rupert was an aspiring poet, though the critics didn't want to know it. He began to rave and tear his hair out, his lips were formed in a permanent pout. He wasn't original. In time he was sectioned, he'd gone out of his mind, Well, he'd never been in it, I think you will find. He now sits in his cell dreaming up lots of verse Of silvery moons and a nocturnal hearse. frittering lights and a madman's curse. He was getting original. In time he was allowed to use sharp pens, so he wrote of ghostly shapes crossing fog shrouded fens. The critics read his work and now want to know it. Rupert's now famous; a celebrated Mad Poet. Now he's original. The Inn on The Moor.  I came across a lonely Inn across a lonely Moor, The clientèle were weird as hell so I legged it for the door. I made it to the threshold, the air inside was cold. Mine host appeared in front of me, a pale skinny chap, upon his bony head he wore...

I'm going to have a shout at rap, close this yawning generation gap. I'm 70 and  up for it. lets have a go, Yo! we'll strut our stuff in the hood, that's good. We have our soul,  and rock and roll Now live in this time, talk in rhyme, lets have a go; Yo! We all have our point of view, Now it's their time give them their due, let go, Yo! Come on you Dads, here's your chance strut your stuff take a stance shout at the pensioners rapping dance ... EN-IT! Dads Rap Pack Come on Dads' now here's the chance,  join in with Dads' Rap Pack Dance. Wave your hands up in the air;  Kids embarrassed? You don't care. Jump around on spindly legs, the blood will rush to those old pegs. Do a roll, you know you can, spin on the floor like a fresh air fan. The Mother Rap Packers follow on, fans of Walter, Fred & John. Wear your flat cap back to front, Your on the dancing partner hunt. Now we've all got on the floor, yo...

I'm going to have a shout at rap, close this yawning generation gap. I'm 70 and  up for it. lets have a go, Yo! we'll strut our stuff in the hood, that's good. We have our soul,  and rock and roll Now live in this time, talk in rhyme, lets have a go; Yo! We all have our point of view, Now it's their time give them their due, let go, Yo! Come on you Dads, here's your chance strut your stuff take a stance shout at the pensioners rapping dance ... EN-IT! Come on Dads' now here's the chance,  join in with Dads' Rap Pack Dance. Wave your hands up in the air;  Kids embarrassed? You don't care. Jump around on spindly legs, the blood will rush to those old pegs. Do a roll, you know you can, spin on the floor like a fresh air fan. The Mother Rap Packers follow on, fans of Walter, Fred & John. Wear your flat cap back to front, Your on the dancing partner hunt. Now we've all got on the floor, youngsters makin...