JLS, Cheesecake and the fat controller.

Some random musings since my last blog. First up and this week seen the announcement of the mighty JLS breaking up. I broke the news to my eight year old daughter who is a massive fan and especially of Aston ?? I informed her that she would still be going to see them later on in the year but a few tears were shed at such earth shattering news (well it was to an 8-year-old) I also told her not to worry as all bands break up and then in about 5 -10 years get back together for a money spinning reunion in my best cynical voice. In that split moment I had realised that was a type of comment that my dad would have made. Am I morphing into him, no somebody much worse (see below) Still with a few tears in here eye she had to leave for school. I read somewhere that a parent was saying that bands should only announce break ups at weekends, come on give us a break. What next a special prozac edition of smarties to keep the heart-broken JLS groupies from falling into severe depression ? I was thinking the end of JLS in her musical collection might lead to an opening to listen to an album by The Clash but 8 is still possibly too early for that. So I wonder what will become of the Aston from JLS doll she has ? Well last time I looked he was very good friends with my other daughters Harry from One Direction doll as shown below. I wonder if when I was out my mum and dad took pictures of my Star Wars figures in compromising positions. Maybe Princess Leia performing oral sex on Chewbacca ! Nope don’t reckon they did.

So those of you that know me well know that when it comes to the food I eat I am one fussy bastard. For those of you that don’t you know do. Such fussiness includes having burger and chips for my wedding breakfast and the fact I eat oven chips, micro chips and chippy chips but should you cut a potato up and cook it at home in a chip pan I wont eat them (there is no hope I hear you say) One food that I like but always forget I like is cheesecake. Now normally I only consume this when I am at weddings and it’s on offer for afters, normally I am already half pissed and by the end of the night that pissed I forgot I had cheesecake and indeed like cheesecake. So on Saturday in Morrisions I suffered a cheesecake flashback and remembered I liked cheesecake but had never actually had one apart from weddings. Wow there is more than one type of cheesecake I quickly discovered. I opted for a toffee cheesecake and in one swift transaction at the till I had lost my cheesecake virginity. I had to wait until today until I tried it and as I thought I do indeed love it. Now finding a new taste for cheesecake is most probably not what my restricted diet needs. maybe an actual slice of fruit (rather than orange juice that MUST have no bits in) or even some vegetables ? A cheesecake addiction will not help my waistline and speaking of which I was watching Thomas The Tank Engine with my 1-year-old when it suddenly dawned on me that I am slowly morphing into the fat controller as I hurtle towards 40. Maybe when we go to Benidorm for the 40th celebrations that I should buy a top hat and put some blusher on my cheeks and I could go around as the fat controller of Benidorm. I could but on a droning voice and being a native scouser maybe make a full-time occupation of being a fat controller who tells tales of Thomas the tank engine where to keep in character it is essential that I consume large portions of cheesecake to keep a fully rotund figure ? So there is the dream for when universal credit comes in and I have no job. Chooo Choooo.

Fat controller

Peace

Fay x x x x

15th April once again a TWAT of a day

Different year, same blog with a tiny tweak or two.

So the 15th of April comes around yet again and its a day I dont look forward to. 15/04/1989 and its now 24 years since Liverpool fans went to Hillsborough for a F.A.Cup semi final and 96 of them died. I didnt go the match that day but had friends who did and I still remember making the phone calls that evening wondering what I would do if I heard any bad news. All my close friends made it back. There was however one lad who I played football with who did not. His name was Philip Hammond. He was only 14 and I has played in teams with him from Sudley juniors through to APH. He was a good player, that good that he was in the year below us but often played with my year. Hid dad Philip Hammond Senior has been a tireless campaigner for justice for those fans. What a shocking waste of a life, the truth is now coming out but it’s still a slow and painful process. But still many people need educating about the facts of Hillsborough. Not much more needs to be said today, but remember never buy the sun.

As if by some cruel twist of fate 15/04/2006 came around and after battling cancer for the best part of 10 years my mum finally died after some time in a hospice. She was brave to the end and went through so much in those 10 years and I grab the positives that she seen me get married, and have our Eldest Elizabeth. It pains me that she never got to see Charlotte, and time does heal things a bit but certain dates stick out. Both my daughters have Lillian as a middle name after my mum so they will always remember nana. Last year another daughter born in early April called Holly who never got to see nana and also my mums mum is no longer here as well and Holly has her name Eillen (poor girl) as a middle name. Added to the misery is that my dad has now joined the great Fay/Roper party in the sky. Nobody prepares you for losing a parent and when the second one bites the dust it made me re-evaluate my life, a process which is still happening. No longer anybody to look up to and ask questions. All of a sudden you become technically an orphan. I have been giving Thatcher stick in my last two blogs but her daughter hit the nail on the head by saying  “It is a deeply sad and rather thought-provoking landmark in life.” Talking about losing a second parent. Now I am leader of the pack with a massive hole in the family make up.  Just a short blog today to remember my mum and those footy fans who went to see a match but never returned.

Peace

Fay x x x

The Thatcher effect (on my 1 year old)

So the dust is settling and as predicted Mrs Thatcher is either the saviour of Great Britain or the witch of Great Britain. Per previous blog “Margaret Hilda Thatcher a celebration (of sorts) “ I have nailed my colours to the mast. Also mentioned in that blog was the Spitting Image type puppet my dad had in his toilet as below.

Thatcher Spitting Image puppet.

I saved this puppet from when clearing my old mans house out as I knew how much he enjoyed having relegated her to his toilet. My eldest two children then 7 & 4 had to be accompanied to the toilet as they were scared of the puppet. Ha ha “The Thatcher effect” To settle the kids down I gave them some milk oh the irony. There has been lots of debate and more to come around Thatcher though I did notice Sky news quickly got bored with running with Thatcher and yesterday were heavily running a story on the killing of rhino’s and today on the new generation of entrepreneurs building app’s for phones etc. I suspect this is the calm before the storm of next weeks funeral. So without going off on an anti Thatcher rant though the BBC now deciding not to play the full song of “Ding dong the witch is dead” on the chart rundown which is on the same level as North Korea and China, deep breath, no ranting. The main purpose of this blog was to get this video (see below) of “The Thatcher effect” and the effect the above puppet had on my one year old daughter. Now apart from every night since her birth reading her the lead article in the socialist worker and recent nights playing my 79p download of “Ding dong the witch is dead”  I don’t know were she gets her intense fear of Thatcher from.

*****No babies were hurt during the filming of the above clip, just major parts of Britain during the 80’s. Soz just cant help myself.

Peace

Fay x x x x

Margaret Hilda Thatcher a celebration (of sorts)

Breaking news Margaret Hilda Thatcher has died. OK so not exactly breaking but didn’t have time to blog last night as you will see. So lunch time yesterday and working hard as ever the “bing bing” of my iPhone goes. This normally means one of three things (A) PPI insurance/Accident claim (B) My daughters school or (C) Somebody has died. What do you mean somebody has died. Well for a reason now unknown as it was that long ago when somebody famous dies amongst my circle of friends it is a race to break the news by text to everybody else with the text “name of deceased” followed by the word arse. So on looking at my phone there it was “Thatcher arse” (Congratulations to Dave for winning) So the day had come Margaret Hilda Thatcher the famous milk snatcher had gone to the great parliament in the sky to meet the devil. Tories might as well end reading this here and now. So I put Sky News on to see what they had to say. I think it was Sky News anyway. There are that many television stations that after watching just 30 mins of the broadcast I was wondering if I had tuned in to another news channel. Indeed it was sounding like a state-run television news something like North Korea such was the biased right-wing drivel being spouted. Ken Livingstone was given a chance to speak against what Thatcher stood for but was conveniently given a couple of minutes before the top of the hour (Christ I watch too much news using a phrase like that) and cut off for the adverts. Now as we know and have been told over the last 24 hours Thatcher was a divisive figure and you either loved her or hated her. The old like Marmite comparison was used somewhere but you can choose not to consume Marmite but many people had no choice but to consume a huge dollop of vile tasting Thatcherism. So with the Iron lady (ahem) now dead it had previously been mentioned to me that on this occasion that an impromptu party would be thrown to mark the occasion. Soon enough I had received the text inviting me to it. It was here I had to have a think about the situation. Here was somebody who has just died and was a mother and nan to somebody and would it be in good taste to do such a thing. On the other hand she destroyed my home city (and many other places) and her and her cronies were even thinking of the “managed decline” of Liverpool !! Let’s also face the facts that her fingerprints are all over the now uncovered cover up of what went on at the Hillsborough disaster. On my loony left shoulder was the devil, on my right-wing shoulder an angel of compassion. Quicker than it took David Cameron to say he was coming home from abroad (incidentally much fucking faster than when the cities of the country were burning and being looted) I decided it was off the celebration of her death. I mean I don’t get many chances to have a good drink on a Monday night these days.

Margaret Hilda Thatcher in a tank

So the destination of the party was Maghull which meant a train ride and added to the anticipation of the event as it was like a day out to Southport on Merseyrail. Luckily enough there is always a boozer by a station so a quick pint before we went onto the venue and on walking there we passed Poverty Lane although the anticipated Yuppie Drive wasn’t the next road. So we arrived at the party and there was indeed a mood of celebration. There were some of the older generation there who had indeed seen the destruction that Thatcherism had caused. Let’s face facts I was just 17 when she left number 10 for the final time, funny enough the only time you seen emotion in the Iron Lady, all that emotion for herself. I remember the moment so clearly as I watched BBC news. My mates had knocked for me but I had said I wasn’t coming out to play as I was watching the news (once a nerd always a nerd) I got talking to the older generation at the party who had some interesting stories to tell and my mind wandered to my old man who in his latter days had stopped going out for a bevvy but you can guarantee he would (like me) have been going “up town” in Clitheroe for a pint tonight. A man who like me has no morals as we have both had a bevvy in the Clitheroe conservative club as the ale was amongst the cheapest in Clitheroe ha ha. He also had a spitting image puppet of Thatcher above his toilet presumably as that is where she belonged. A friends dad of mine also had some Thatcher toilet memorabilia in the form of a framed edition of the Liverpool Echo with the headline “Thatcher resigns” presumably so he could smile whilst having a poo ! So the festivities carried on and a death cake was brought out to a slightly altered version of happy birthday with the lyrics altered to happy death day. Next we were waiting for 10pm but not for the news at ten but the letting off of the fireworks. What better symbol to celebrate than to let off some fireworks and it was just the one firework but as you can see below what a firework it was. The Thatcher choons were in full chorus, the effigy was keeping us all warm in the barrel full of wood burning somewhat reminiscent of a picket line. But sadly she had chosen to die on a workday which meant a dash for the train home to Liverpool as I had work in the morning.

So that was that, many thanks to the host of the party. A party to which will seem in bad taste to many and others who think energies could have been channeled into better things. But you know what it was like that and that’s the way it is. Ding dong the witch is dead and ding dong its number two in the itunes chart.

Margaret Thatcher effigy.

Peace and sympathy to the Thatcher family (despite what you think of them as well)

Fay x x x x

Holly is 1, Beating Berlusconi!

So Friday morning and up with the baby and family to what was Holly’s first birthday. My god how did that happen? She was just an ickle thing coming home from hozzi and now she is one years old and our final baby isn’t much of a baby anymore. That last twelve months has got to be the fastest year of my life. Know I know this is physically impossible but starting with the birth of Holly last April then spending the summer renovating our new house before moving into the new house and then the death of my old man followed by chrimbo its all been a bit of a blur. As such Holly went from new-born to walking and being one in what seemed like a blink of the eye. Quite scary really as I need they years to start slowing down not speeding up as I hurtled towards the ripe of age of 40 in September. Speaking of which the winning bid for mine and mate (Joel) 40th birthday bash has been decided. The envelope was being opened as the teams from the bidding cities held their breath, each city having organised an outdoor party with thousands of people packed into the squares crossing their fingers looking up at giant screens. Anyway the winning bid goes to the city of Benidorm. Ok not technically a city but then again there wasn’t a real fucking bidding process ! I am sure there will be a few blogs to come out of that little visit come September. So with friends and family and a posse of kids in the house making lots of noise and party food finding its way to the four corners of our house I was thinking I might be spending another summer decorating again.

Holly Fay 1 year old

So only one thing to do with a load a screaming kids in the house and that is to bail out for a pint and also this time a play. Now I can count the number of plays I have been to on one hand but tonight I was off to The Epstein Theatre (Formally The Neptune) for a performance of Beating Berlusconi! It’s the story of a Liverpool fan and ends up at that famous night in Istanbul. Link to Epstein Theatre HERE It is only on until Sunday and any Liverpool fan will enjoy it. A stunning solo performance from Paul Duckworth made even more great after finding out he is an Everton fan. The play has you laughing out loud but then has moments of complete hush in the audience as it visits the disasters of Heysel and Hillsborough. During the interval I met Keith Salmon who was promoting his book “We had dreams and songs to sing” which was the first book I bought for my kindle. Again well worth a read for any Liverpool fan. The last play I attended at the what was then The Neptune Theatre was the long the short and the tall to help my GCSE english language. Must be 1990 that and for information I only got a D in English Language which in itself was a miracle as I don’t think I read any of the books in full due to my discovery of Merrydown cider. So after the play had finished it was time to head of to a friends daughters 18th birthday party. The lure of party food after a few pints was too much to resist. Whilst reflecting at how it only seemed like yesterday I was 18 it dawned on the that this was the first 18th birthday party I had attended what I was indeed nearer 60 than 18. Jesus that was a depressing and sobering thought. I then glanced at my father in law who also took the wise option to bail from the crescendo of noise that was Holly’s party and had been the play with me. With some cracking Carol Vorderman speed mathematic calculation I worked out that he was nearer 100 then 18 which cheered me up and I had another Desperado to celebrate this. So on what was a rather longer than estimated walk home coupled with it being quite cold and the usual my house is only 5 mins away now so my bladder must insist it needs emptying syndrome kicking in I made it home after some olympic style walking for the last 500 meters. The party was over, there were a few balloons left those helium type silver ones with you are one on. You know the sort that no matter where you are in the house the bastard things always find their way to your side. I opened the kitchen and their it was a blinding light emanating from the kitchen table. Jesus I thought easter was last weekend. The light subsided and I was travelling along a tunnel, heading towards utopia a box appeared and there it was, leftover sausage rolls. A perfect end to a perfect day. Happy first birthday Holly Grace Eileen Fay. Original birth blog HERE

Beating Berlusconi

Peace

Fay x x x x

Bedroom tax, 20 songs for the end of the world.

So as some of you know, or may not know as managing director of Faymondo benefits limited (sounds much posher than it actually is) it is my daily duty to dish out housing and council tax benefit for a living. I started doing this for Liverpool council in 2001 which soon became Liverpool Direct. I left my position of chief sweep organiser in the office and went freelance which involved working for other councils in the UK. So when I go into work tomorrow I will be looking at some of the biggest changes to benefits for some time. The council I work for has already seen the number of queries increase with this rising even more as the effects of the changes kick in. So where do we start ? Now regular readers of these ramblings will know I occasionally (like in real life) go off on a rant. I try to limit this on my blog as the aim of the blog is to post my musings or what I have done and try to raise a smile along the way. So keeping it short and sweet we know the bastards are in charge, we know we are not all in it together, we must rise up and show some people power. The revolution starts here. Now I am willing to take on the role as leader of the new people party as long as you find me a safe seat in Liverpool that involves a house in Cressington or Grassendale Park, along with luxurious expenses, loads of other freebies and the chance to sort a few backhanders. Maybe sell off a bit of green space or set up a joint venture with somebody. Now after Leveson things have calmed down a bit in the papers so I wont be worrying about a headline in The News Of The World of “Sex, drugs and sausage rolls” but all joking apart in typical Tory fashion it’s a tax cut today for Millionaires and benefit cuts for the people who need it. What I cant get my head around is that the money being saved will come out of the purse or wallet of those who would do nothing else but spend it elsewhere. So the cuts are effectively a direct cut to the economy. The way the economy is surely we need every penny possible to be spent ? Ah well, managed to keep that to just a small rant. Just lucky that the weather is cold. If we had a mini heatwave trouble could return to the streets but we as Brits are fair weather rioters. If the introduction of Universal Credit goes ahead I will more than likely be joining the dole queue as my job will be no more. On the plus side at least I will know how to complete a benefit application form in.

Ian Duncan Smith

So in other news I was asked to compile my 20 songs to listen to before the world ended. The link to the blog is HERE  so below are the final 20 songs I would listen to if the world was due to end. I did want to add “Rasputin” by Boney M but thought it wasn’t cool enough. So in no particular order.

1. “Dignity” Deacon Blue
2. “Dont give up on me” Solomon Burke
3. “Never ever gonna give you up” Ruby Turner
4. “Words” The Christians
5. “Dog house boogie” Seasick Steve
6. “Greys the new blonde” Henry Priestman
7. “Left to my own devices” Pet Shop Boys
8. “Rock the Casbah” The Clash
9. “Champagne supernova” Oasis
10. “Let’s dance” David Bowie
11. “Hard times’ Baby Huey & The Baby Sitters
12. “Ghost town” The Specials
13. “Welcome to the pleasure dome” Frankie Goes To Hollywood
14. “Killer” Adamski feat Seal.
15. “Too young to die” Jamiroquai.
16. “Billy Jean” Michael Jackson
17. “Hole in the universe” The Destroyers
18. “Be at peace with yourself” Bill Fay (No relation)
19. “Love shack” B-52’s
20. “Get back” The Beatles.

Peace

Fay x x x x