Saturday, December 31, 2005


One of the many great things about having very young nephews is that you can spend an inordinate amount of time in the Early Learning Centre playing with toys whilst pretending to be looking for Christmas gifts. The day I was there earlier this month, they had a whole train set laid out and it took me more time than in should have to muscle the pesky kids out the way so I could get a shot. One little girl ended up running crying to her mummy, but in my book, if you lay your Barbie doll across the tracks then you deserve to get what’s coming to you. I tried to explain that losing a couple of limbs wouldn’t really be painful for Barbie but she wasn’t having any of it. Tough shit kid – life can be a bitch.

Anyway, for my youngest nephew Fraser, I selected a fantastic quarry tunnel to supplement his train set and you can see here the unbounded joy in his face as his big brother Joe helps him rip off the wrapping paper to reveal the treasure trove of wonderment. He was so excited in fact, that he literally peed his panties; not the most acceptable of social graces, the blame for which I place squarely on the shoulders of the parents. The father particularly.

So here you can see the quarry tunnel in action and the look on his face is either one of blissful happiness or excruciating pain as his little fingers get caught in the trap door mechanism. I’m sure it was the former but I was surprised that his father didn’t leap into action to soak up the blood.

Later the same day we were all sitting around the family dining table sipping our 33rd British cuppa tea of the day when a curious look spread across the features of young Fraser.

“Mmm, now how I can procure more of that good train stuff from my gullible uncle,” he thought as he stroked the furry dolphin in his lap. “Sure, I can turn on the cute looks and recite the alphabet in French. Backwards. But what if I kidnapped his favourite spy Austin Powers and strung him up over a tank full of sharks with frickin’ laser beams on their heads. Then I could demand a ransom of one HUNDRED pounds and buy as much good train stuff as I like. Mmmwwhoarghahahahha!”

What he doesn’t know, of course, is that my favourite spy is once again James Bond so the tables will be turned and he’ll be the one that ends up with egg (and jam and butter and beans and what not) on his face.

Just before I left Englandshire to return home, I was lucky enough to get a ticket (AND a backstage pass) to see Fraser’s Rod Stewart tribute show at the local Caesar’s Palace. Here you can see him being escorted from his dressing room surrounded by a team of no-nonsense security guards and warming his tonsils with a gutsy rendition of ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy’. I called out to him requesting an autograph but he just blanked me and got one of his heavies – Tommy I think it was – to give me a swift kneecapping.

Thanks a lot kid. Next year I’m keeping all the chocolate buttons for myself. Mmmwwhoarghahahahha!


At 31/12/05 8:12 pm, Blogger The Other Half said...

oh neily...i want you as an uncle!!!

At 31/12/05 10:32 pm, Blogger Neil said...


At 2/1/06 7:21 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You are a gem! Thanks for giving my day a boost and I hope you have a very happy and wordy New Year!
Just discovered your blog today and hope to become an adoring fan!
If you'll take an American that is, it's a lowly existence for most of us.


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