Fungrola

So a few days later we was orf ter Fungrola for our ‘oneymoon. I’d booked it fer Reen as a surprise like end, she was over the moon abhet it.

We’ve ‘ad a week at the ‘otel Alopecia (wot means souf Spain) all in, end it was blindin’. Mind it weren’t wifout its own ahps end dahns. We was in the queue at Gatwick end some chavs was playin' up so I’ve ‘ad ter ‘ave a word like.

Then on the plane there’s an announcement put out thet “the pilot’s took a turn was feelin a bit dickey end could anybody lend the plane?” So I’ve went ahp there end although it’s a bit tricky, it was more or less like drivin’ a tenk what I did when I was a Desert Ret, so I’ve got us down like wifout too much fass end thet was thet.

The local TV in Fungrola end Sky wanted ter interview me but I weren’t interested end told ‘em not to make a big fing outta, it so it’s all blew over.


The Alopecia was great though, end even better, there was a pub across the road called the Queen Vic what was run by Steve end Dora from Dagenham. So any time we couldn’t eat the grab what the Alopecia dished ahp, we could nip over there end ‘ave roast beef end Yorkshires end all the trimmings. Lavverly.

Reen suggested thet we ‘ad some Spanish grab too, so one day we ‘ad Bonjella, a sort of fing wif rice end sheels in it. Mind I near broke me top set on one of the shells end they didn’t taste of much really. Anuvver day we ‘ad Tampax, a load of little nibbly bits end bobs end they were lavverly. Just like some of our grub at ‘ome; little meatballs and taters. Lavverly.

I had took me white suit from the weddin’ wif me end one day we went fer a ride in one of them ‘orse end carts what’s on the front. Thet was a bad move though cos the bleedin’ orse ‘ad the wind and blew out all over it. It was destroyed end Reen says thet even the best dry cleaners couldn’t save it. Mind I weren’t too sad cause I fought it made me look like a nonce. I ‘ad ter sling it in a bin and spend the rest of the day in me yellow mankini. Reen said it made me look great and everybody certainly was lookin at me. I jast weren’t too sure why.

Anuvver day we went ter Mingus, a little village ahp in the mountains end thet was nice. Lots a bleedin’ tourists though so we didn’t stay too long. Reen bought Mrs Dukes a little flamingo dancer fer the top of ‘er telly as a present so thet was nice.

Me and Reen won the karaoke in the Alopecia when we did a duet of “Sammer Lavin’” outta Grease. We brought the ‘ouse dahn end ‘ad a kebab ter celebrate arter the show. Spent next day in bed wif a jippy belly though, so we reckon it was the kebabs thet was manky.

Annuver night the ‘otel’s put on flamingo dancers and wine ter drink outta one of them fings wif a long spout on it. We was drenched baht it was a great fahn. Lavverly. Then the last night we went over ter the karaoke in The Queen Vic. I done “My Way” by ole Blue Eyes and Reen’s done “Poker Face” by some bint what’s called lady Ga-ga. She near done ‘erself a mischief doin all the dancing and thet and at one time the punters could see ‘er bloomers. Shocking it was.

Then it was time ter go back ter Lahndahn. We’re gonner ‘ave ter get used ter livin’ normal lives for a while as we couldn’t keep ahp wif these last few weeks. Mind it ‘as been fentestic end we’ll never forget it.

I’ll update this bog wif the pictures when I gets a chance.

The Big Day

We’ve jast come back from our ‘oneymoon in Fungrola in Spain end what a coupla weeks it’s been what wif the wedding and everyfing. If you’ve been following me on the Tooter yer know abhet some of it already. But ‘ere’s the full fing, blow by blow any’ow.

We’d lined up this toffee-nosed git called Godfrey ter be our weddin’ planner, though what we wanted one of them for I’ll never know. ‘Owever Reen was insistent so we’ve ad one. ‘E didn’t come cheap eever as I expect an office ahp West don’t pay fer itself.

‘E’s lined us up wif a Cinderella Coach & ‘orses, a boy soprano trio, a bleedn’ fing of flowers fer Reen ter carry what’s cost four ‘undred knicker and a Grent Mitchell off of Eastenders, looky-likey meeter-greeter for all the guests.

I was wearing an all-white suit like thet Peter Andreas end Reen ‘ad a fairy princess dress like thet Jordan. She said we boaf looked lavverly but I finks we looked stoopid really, but when I said so ter Reen she gave me one of them looks.

Any’ow all thet lot was gonner cost abhet five grend, but more of thet later.

So the big day arrives and the first problem is thet I’ve slept in like. I’d ‘ad few shants the night before ter steady me nerves end I musta ‘ad a few too many. Any’ow I ‘ears Bert, me best mehn, bangin’ on me door like and we’ve only got ready and up the church with a few minutes ter spare before Reen’s due ter fetch ahp in the Cinderella coach.

We needn’t ‘ave rushed so much cos the bleedin’ coach ‘as ‘ad an ‘itch ain’t it? One of the wheels ‘as jammed up and the bloke what’s driving it’s ‘ad to squirt some gunk on it and some of it’s splashed onter Reen’s Princess outfit, end when she’s finally arrived she’s got a big fackin’ brahn smudge on it and a look on ‘er boat what would curdle milk.

Fr O’Shea’s done the business all right end thet bit’s went smoove like; no ‘itches. Only bit of the day what’s went good. Shame we couldn’t say for them little soprano gits. According ter Godfrey they ‘ad audition for thet Simon Cowell end they were the dog’s swingers. So they pipes ahp Pie Jesu jast arter the vows, and suddenly one of their voices breaks and ‘e starts soundin’ like thet Paul Robson singin’ a bleedin’ Negro spiritual. It all went ter pieces and they was asked ter shat ahp.

So then me and Reen’s got back out inter the Cinderella coach to be taken to the Bombay Mahal where the ‘oneymoon was being held. Reen used ter be married ter Sanjeev, a Bollywood actor, before ‘e died, so she’s got connections there. The Bombay Mahal’s run by Raj, one of ‘is uncles or sammink. We lav a curry end Raj was offerin’ a great deal so we couldn’t say no.

Any’ow we’re on our way ahp the ‘igh road and the fackin’ coach-wheel ‘as jammed again. This time matey’s not been able ter fix it so we’ve ‘ad ter abandon it and get a proper cab he rest of the way.

We get there and the Grent Mitchell lookey-likey’s there meetin’ end greetin’ the guests end’ ‘e’s gahin dahn a bomb. E’ looks the part end everybody finks ‘e’s the biz.

But ‘arter a while, cos I fink people’s been buyin’ ‘im one or two too many scotches, ‘e’s started to get a bit lairy. ‘E’s givin’it all “When we was in Afghanisten lookin’ deff in the eye” end “Yer don’t ‘ave time ter fink when the enemy’s comin’ atcha” Well I was a Desert Ret end I done me bit end seen real action and I know thet he ain’t, so I’ve told ‘im ter turn it dahn or’ e’d ave ter leave.

Well ‘e’s packed it in fer a while but all the time ‘e’s getting more kale-eyed. Next fing, ‘e’s started smackin’ a few of the guests so thet was it. I’ve went over ter I’m end grabbed ‘im by the nadgers and told I’m ter eff orf sharpish. ‘E was gonner kick orf so in the end I’ve stack the nut on ‘im and thet was thet. There weren’t no more trouble outta ‘im.

Rest of the day went OK but I weren’t ‘appy wif thet Godfrey and he noo it. There were no way ‘e was gonner get five K outta me, but when I went ter tell ‘im e’d done a runner end we ain’t ‘eard from ‘im since.

Any’ow then at the end of the day Reen and me’s forgot that we’re wed end we’ve went ‘ome to our own flets. We did laugh the next day when we realised it.

The Charabanc Trip ter Margate

I ain't done me bog fer a while cos I've been busy and thet. But I gotta tell yer abahet the Charabanc trip ter Margate last week.

It was organised by Tarquin, the lehndlord from the Fevvers, end we 'ad quite a day. Old Ron was nicked by the Lawr for snortin' coke in the lavs, end my pel, Bert, spent alf 'is pension on one of the gels in Melon Sorbet, the lep dancing club what we went to on the trip.

A snap of a couple of gels from Melon Sorbet what I took on the BlackCurrant

Ron's been warned ter keep 'is nose clean in future and been let orf wif a warning and Bert's went dahn the Social ter claim an emergency payment ter make up fer the dosh he blew.

Still it all ended up OK in the end as the gels liked the miwls (Scampi or Plaice or Chicken in the basket) end the fellas enjoyed the floor show.

Mind 'ow yer go niah.

Charabancs and Silver Surfin'

I fink I told yer thet I'm on the committee what's organising the Fevvers Charabanc trip ter Margate didn't I?

Cor, what a bleedin' can a worms thet is. There's 30 of us and trying to get sammink that suits everybody's a bleedin' nightmare. It's not actually gettin' there thet's the problem, it's what are we all gonna do once we gets there.

See my pel Bert's 'eard abhet a lep dancing place called Melon Sorbet end 'e's all for thet. I serppose I am too cos Bert's give me a leaflet end it all looks nice. They does a nice menu too, scampi in the basket, chicken and chips and baked 'taters with various fillings. Lavverly. Trouble is Reen end the uvver girls what's coming on the trip's kickin orf saying thet it degrades women end thet we should be ashamed of ourselves. How a menu like thet degrades women I'll never know. But thet's women for yer ain't it.

Tarquin, Lehnlord of the Fevvers, says he wants it sorted out before 'e books the charabanc. He says thet 'e don't want ter go away on a trip where the atmosphere is iffy and 'as told us ter get it sorted at the next meeting ternight.

Since my boy Norman bought me a computer I've become a right proper Silver Surfer. I'm doin' this Bog fing and I does that Tooter fing too. I loves it all. I went inter a phone shop last week and signed up for one of them Blackcurrant fings and naih I can do me tootin' when I'm ahet and abhet wif Reen too.

Enny 'ow, mind how yer all go.

All in a day's work

Been a fairly normal day for an average Plucky Pensioner like me.

I likes to do me big shop of a Fursday so I've gorn to the ole in the wall and drew out a fiver last night. I ken get me shoppin and still ave some left over for a cuppa frothy coffee in Tarbucks yer see.

I goes dahn Tescoses early like, to beat the rush, when I notices that there's a bit of a blag goin on. Tescoses security mush 'as legged it and there's this geezer what's got a sawn-orf running dahn the line of cashiers givin' it it all "Put the money in the bag and nobody'll get 'urt".

I was a Desert Ret end I weren't gonna stand for all thet old malarkey so I schleps up behind the geezer end gets me arm round 'is neck - but he's broke free ain't he?

"You're gonna be sorry you done that you old git", he says. "I don't fink so sahn", I say, end then before he knows what's 'it 'im, I've kicked 'im in the nadgers proper 'ard and he's dropped like a sacka spuds. Then the security matey's shown up again, after all the 'ard work's done, and we've 'eld the geezer until the Lawr shows ahp.

The Menager's well chuffed and wants me ter talk ter the papers but I ain't interested. I 'ave to get up the Fevvers to meet wif Reen as we're getting the plans for the wedding sorted.

Naih I'm a simple bloke end don't want a fuss but Reen's decided she wants the works for this weddin'. So she's want us ter look into gettin' a Cinderella Coach and orses to take 'er to the church. Gawd knows what that'll cost but I bet it won't be cheap. I reckon it'll see orf most of me savings but Reen's wurf it. She's a right smasher.

She's been married free times previous end the most recent was to a minor Bollywood actor, Sanjeev Singh. When we went dahn our local curry 'ouse, The Bombay Mahal, Reen was tret like Royalty and thet surprised me 'cos I'd no idea she mixed in celebrity circles. She's dead modest. Mind I'll 'ave a lot to live up to naih. Raj, the owner, is insistin' thet we 'old our reception there and 'e's offered OAP rates so we're finking abhet it.





Reen's Cinderella Coach & orses what she's seen on the Internet.



We're thinking of eskin' my mate, Bert, ter be best mehn and maybe Mrs Dukes, the widda woman from across my lhendin, to be Matron of Honour. Reen ain't too sure abhet thet though; she knows thet I had me eye on Mrs Dukes until recently. Matter of fact Bert and me come ter blows over it though but it's all sorted naih. 'E's gonna deny anyfing 'appened if the Lawr tries ter do me for ABH. 'E's a true mucker Bert is, a right diamond. But you know what they say - the course of true love never runs smoove.

My Reen

Here's my Gel Reen. She's a proper Brahma ain't she? This is taken in our local, The Fevvers, were we like to come after a trip dahn the park.

I normally has a Guinness and Reen's a port and lemon.

Ding Dong the bells are gonna chime

Fenks for taking time to read me bog.

I suppose I aughter start somewhere so here goes. I'm the Plucky Pensioner, thet's me in the photo, and I'm 85. I live on me own naih since my Lizzie died 8 years ago. I'd 'ave ter say thet it ain't been easy since then but I manage.

I live on the 10th floor of a block of flets sarf of the river. I serpose people calls me plucky because I've been known to 'ave the odd go when fings is kickin' off.

I spends me day dahn the precinct or if the wevver's nice, say in the Sammer, I goes up the park to feed the ducks and thet. I have a few mates what's still arhend too. There's Reg, he was in the Army wif me, we was both Desert Rets, and there's Bert too.

Bert's been a forn in my side ter tell the truf and jast lately he's been my arch-rival as we both 'ad our eye on Mrs Dukes, the widda woman what live across the lhendin from me.

We come to blows over her recently when Bert's accused me of trifling wif her infections. I stuck the nut on 'im and naih the Law might be goin ter do me for ABH. Mind me and Bert's made it up and we 'ope thet thet's the end of it.

Since my Liz went I've been knocking around wif Reene Cooper (Reen) and she's smeshin'. We frequently goes up the park and thet together and the odd time we goes inter the precinct, and if we feels flush, we might get a couple a cups of fuzzy coffee in thet Tarbucks. Mind it costs a bob or two so we don't do thet too often.

I'd never considered Reen as anyfing uvver then a friend and companion until recently and to tell the truf, thet's why I'm doing this on line gubbins what yer readin' naih. Cos we's just announced thet we are gonna be wed and this Bog fing's is gonna tell the story of thet as it unfolds. I decided that Mrs Dukes was a moment of madness and as far as I'm concerned she end Bert can crack on wif it. Reen's my gel naih.