laugh at life with gillie

We had a cockerel in our yard, he used to crow a lot. Now he does not crow at all; he's in a cooking pot. Ding dong bell pussies in the well, who put him in? I'm not gonna tell. a quarry owner was struggling to make a living cos his business was on the rocks.              There are no flies on the Welsh. Only dragon flies. Hey, this government are outlawing the term Pensioner, they are phasing pensions out. You will work into your 80s, Your next title (after worker) will be "The deceased"  I have decided to hang my dogs I.D. tag on the base of his tail to stop other dogs sniffing his bum. I said to my Mrs, "Don't let me be a cabbage. I would rather be a couch potato like all the other brain dead people." Posh bloke from a southern town visited Northern Industrial Town "What a Shit-hole!" He sa...

This is a tale of an unlucky man, if you like unlucky, then you'll be a fan. Resplendent in Lycra, aerodynamically swift, he sped down the lane; new bike; twenty gear shift! At speed his back wheel slid; Sloppy cow shite! He skidded into a wall, then, he took flight. Wore a helmet,  didn't do much good, landed in a field where a big bull stood. His butt was butted, by that bull, airborne again, stunned passing gull. Bike went one way, he went t-other, hated heights, he yelled for his mother. A flying cyclist, minus his bike. Aerodynamic, a high-vis sight. Then!  Like a streamlined rocket, back down to the ground, screaming like a jet, faster than sound. His landing was soft, smell couldn't be worse. He went down into something, helmet first. Sloppy brown matter oozed,  passed his ears, through vents of his hat. He disturbed a slumbering Rat. His streamlined body went in like an arrow, watched by a farmer tending his harrow. His trainer...

Staring eyes, twitching ears, a front paw off the ground. Head stuck forward, hackles up, sensing they're around. Ratty's hiding in long grass, Jacky knows he's there. Like a cobra, Jacky strikes, Rat squeals out in fear. That ones dead, more to kill, they scamper all around. Jacky kills them, though they hide, they are always found. I miss Jacky, that little dog; as fearless as could be. Now he's buried in the ground, beneath the old oak tree. www.any-uk-vet.co.uk/clee

The Great Nature show. Leave your TV, Game Boy, PC and Wii, come with me, away from all modern triviality. Without plastic beams and plastic brass; in disco clubs with writhing mass.  Where birdsong is top of the charts and creatures have the starring parts. Hedgerow, stream, meadow and tree, make up the stage scenery. The curtain rises on part one  SPRING. Music arrives on feathered wing. Robin Hedge-sparrow, thrush, dipper, wren, are trilling in hedgerow, wood and glen. Skylarks liquid melody flows from high; crystal clear tune from clear blue sky. yellow hammer flutters among the trees, singing, 'little bit of bred and no - cheese. Squirrels and dormice in acrobatic acts, with death defying leaps, they land intact. In athletic games hares run and jump. Toe to toe,  they grunt, hiss and thump. The dipper curtsies and bobs enthusiastically. What a great show; and its all for free. The scenery changes w...

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