Since the start of term, he’s been coming home and proudly telling us that he’s been on green, silver, and even gold once. The other week he told us that he’d been moved down to orange on that day. When we asked him why, he squirmed a bit then said,

“Well, I accidentally wee’d on Callum.”

I had to try really hard not to laugh, keeping the aura of a firm parent, but then my wife asked him where (meaning ‘where at school did this happen?’), and he replied,

“In his pocket”.

I had to leave the room.

No trip to Mickeyland would be complete without getting the kids photographed with the man himself, Michael T. Mouse, so my better half queued up with the youngsters while I got a into a decent position to take a photo. I got to watch all the folks come and get photographed with Mickey while I was waiting. Of particular amusement was the pair of teenage girls trying to pose while doing retarded rap/gang symbols. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll hand you over to ‘Da Flame’ of legendary internet fuckwits ‘Icy Hot Stuntaz’ to demonstrate (click=big):


Thank you ‘Da Flame’.
So girl number one does that sideways v-sign thing, while girl number two attempts that ‘Westside’ thing but can’t get her fingers to stick properly, so gives up and resorts to sideways v-sign too. I can hardly contain my amusement, she can barely hide her embarrassment.

Yeah bitches, throw out those gang symbols, because Mickey is GANGSTA!

Dog Beer.

Beer. For your dog.

Great stuff, get your pooches pissed on Dog Beer so they throw up and piss indiscriminately. They do that already. The other thing that got me was the price; £1.99 a bottle! Most of the brews I drink don’t cost £1.99 a bottle, so I’m buggered if I’m going to spend that much on a brew for the hounds. If, and it’s a very big IF, I do ever get the urge to give my dogs beer, I’ll nip down the local supermarket and get 4 cans of budget lager for the same price.

Dog Beer. What next? Hamster Vodka?

Come again?

When I was at school, the teachers were there to teach. Not to be your “much missed friend” at the end of the year.  Some were more tolerable than others. The occasional one became a favourite (mainly because they either let you get away with murder, or steered the lessons wildly off-track from the syllabus), but we never felt the need to go out and buy them cards & gifts when we were moving on a year.

I guess times have moved on, and now that the staff can’t beat the shit out of the pupils for minor infractions the boundaries have become somewhat blurred. Still, if it wasn’t for the parents committing selfless acts of unprotected sex, there wouldn’t be any kids to teach.  So I propose the teachers should be buying gifts and cards for the parents come the end of term, to thank them for keeping them in gainful employment.

I’ll expect my box of luxury chocolates by the end of next week.