Curly toe slippers

Kazzy wants to raise Portland Hospital Radio's listening profile, with who I'm not sure. Recent correspondance has been limited to a request written on the back of a Dr Whites looped sanitary towel (unused I might add) and a complaint from the renal ward, which quite frankly took the parsnips. Even so Kazzy is eager to bring the radio station to the hospital and local community she's keen to get interviews with local celebs. Hence our new show, 'You're Fantastic, I'm Sycophantic' - a most biazarre concept but still she had me singing the show's promo today 'You're Fantastic, I'm Sychophantic. You're So Great, Can I have a date?' I am sure there must be a hefty dollop of irony in there but I she seems very taken with the idea. But then she was obviously very taken with the royal blue harem pants and curly toe slippers she sported today but it doesn't make them right though does it?

Love Missile F1-11

Thankfully my Team Leader called in sick today, so I was able to side step a grilling over my week long absence. Reception was unusually quiet for a Monday, with our ever cheery volunteer Mandy snapping at my heels for extra work I handed all my tasks over and I slunk off ten minutes early to pre-record a show for Portland Hospital Radio.
Since she started at the station Kazzy has been hounding me to overhaul my image. A comment about my hair here, a tug of my lapel there, I mean she is hardly Gok Wan or good old Jeff Banks for that matter. No this is style advice coming from a woman who arrived at the studio this afternoon sporting high waisted hotpants, stockings and a Sigue Sigue Sputnik frightwig, only it is her real hair. So with that searing image burnt onto my mind I have declined all offers from this lovely but crazy woman. However I fear I may require some style tips from someone soon as my online love Simone Loving has requested an 'eyeball' as they used to say in CB radio!

Mattress Dancing

I feel rather fatigued. I dragged my weary body and dad's heavy bags back from the Isle of Wight this afternoon, without dad sat by the window seat. The silly fool has been up to his old tricks again, engaging in carnal gymnastics with energetic widows who have nothing better to do. After a heated conversation with my Team Leader I begged off work and arrived at Mrs Maithwaite's seaside residence in Shanklin to discover dad propped up by three plump feather pillows on her leather armchair, eating a homemade steak and ale pie and listening to Radio Four. Turns out he has slipped a disc and Mrs Maithwaite was only too happy to wait on my poor, suffering father, whilst muggins here took buses about the island for his strange, healing lotions and potions (Emu Oil anyone?!). As I type the lucky fella is still recuperating down south whilst I must face the unpleasant consequences of taking unplanned leave at work tomorrow.

Jam Sandwich and other things

Went to delete Tony off my friends' list when I came across an invitation from Tony's sister inviting me for a drink tonight. Remembering her killer shoe wielding tactics I politely declined and turned my attentions to the lovely Ms Loving who has been rather quiet for the past 24 hours, so I threw a jam sandwich at her - surely that will get her attention. On a different note I hear Duncan Blackhorn has ditched Dunc's mobile disco in favour of pot washing. Seems scratched copies of Agadoo aren't cutting it on the dancefloor these days. Dad has just telephoned from the Isle of Wight. He is doubled over in agony, somehow he managed to pull a muscle whilst putting up a mirror for a windowed lady he met last month on a bus journey to Bude. He wants me to lug his bags on the bus back up. How can I decline my old father? Don't know what I'll say to the team.

She of the acid tongue

Awful week. Had Simone Loving not posted a rather revealing profile pic online I would have taken to my bed indefinitely. Yesterday I went to see my daughter Louise and her boyfriend Pierre off at the station before they embarked on their inter-rail adventure. Negotiating the time off work was a logistical nightmare, my team leader was reluctant to grant me the hour required as she currently maintains that I am 'shirking responsibility' and loading too much work onto Mandy, our insanely happy and keen volunteer. Nevertheless I cried sick, which meant I left the office late and arrived at the station in a fluster. Thankfully my daughter was waiting patiently with my bitter Ex who met me with a barbed greeting. I told her that a 'sharp tongue is no indication of a keen mind' (one I had prepared earlier) but she pointed her beaky nose in the air and turned to look for her new partner. Louise had prepped me the night before, telling me on the phone that I needed to be aware my Ex would be bringing her new beau. I kept my cool for Louise's sake until my he emerged from the train station toilets with a wild man's swagger. It was none other than my now old mucker Tony flamin' McNamara. He who romanced the evil sister in stitch, Mrs Nesbitt. I was totally aghast and felt like decanting a full bottle of mouthwash over both of them. I had mouthwash, toothpaste and birth control to hand as part of Louise's going away gift from me, a handy bathroom pack. Then I took three deep breaths, thought of Simone Loving in her string bikini, gave Louise her gift, Pierre a handshake and calmly walked away.

Crackers

Spent most of the weekend conversing with Ms Loving online. She is quite the temptress, leading me astray from my weekend duties of underpant washing and sock sorting. I can hardly tear myself away from the computer. Dad swung by this afternoon with half a battenburg and yet more travelling tales from the crinklies bus pass brigade but I was barely able to utter two words before I ran to check my inbox. Dad says he is a bit worried about this swine flu business but then preceded to tell me a joke involving crackling on the swine flu hotline. Before he fell about laughing and coughing. After dad departed on another expedition across the UK I went to email Simone only to find my internet connection down. After half an hour of faffing I found the modem unplugged and a note from dad reading 'Her last name must be Jacobs because she is a real cracker. Dad'.

Umbrage

Arrived home from work late yesterday, drenched in sweat with little time to freshen up before departing for my shift at Portland hospital radio. Kazzy has kindly added me to the broadcast rota thrice weekly - absolutely wonderful but it means I must depend on the erratic train service which yesterday was four minutes and three seconds late. It was sure fire practice of patience standing on the train platform with a bunch of lairy women on their way to Blackpool for a hen weekend. But my calm amidst a storm of oestrogen will come in handy when I see my Ex next week. Got to the radio station with just five minutes to spare before my special show dedicated to Louise and Pierre's travels.

The playlist included Paul Young's 'Where ever I lay my hat (that's my home)', Crowded House 'Always Take the Weather With You' and Supergrass 'Moving'.
Kazzy thought it was a great show. She kept barging in the studio mid broadcast to plaster me with stickers that said things like 'FAB!' and 'GREAT STUFF' and 'WOW'. I think she has even started a sticker chart in the office for each presenter, which some have taken umbrage with but I rather like (I am winning, actually!).
Got home on a high to find an online message from Simone Loving. It read 'Roses are Red, Violets Are Blue, I can't stop thinking, about little old you.' I felt rather elated, judging by her profile picture she is a very attractive young woman. After studying her photo for some time I then re-read the poem and wondered what she meant by 'old'. Then it occured to me that I'm not entirely sure how she knows me or indeed why she requested me as a 'friend'!

Facedate

In preparation for her travels afar my daughter Louise has insisted I sign up to an online social networking site. She claims its the best way to keep in contact whilst she and Pierre are tucked away in their chilly European hostel dorm with just each other and an internet connection for company. So I signed up last night and already I have been 'winked' at by Tony's sister and introduced to three new 'friends' by Kazzy, the new crazy station manager at Portland Hospital Radio. On a more disturbing note Duncan Blackhorn 'poked' me, I was just about to terminate my account when at that moment I had a friends request from a lady by the name of Simone Loving. Now things are becoming interesting!