Sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop...............

Summer is here at last, so me and the family piled into the bluemobile and headed off into the distance, towards the beach, if, you haven't any children, let me explain the, sheer scale of a trip, long gone, are the days, of just getting up and going, long gone, are trips, that you, are interested in, you have to find a place where, a) the kids will enjoy. b) there's both, indoor and outdoor activities and, c) don't, cost the earth, which, initself is a hard thing to find, as most places charge for young ones.
You, also, have to pack everything, from nappies, to clean clothes, to snacks, to winter clothes, rain coats, summer clothes, then you have to pack some toys, so the little bleeders don't get bored, some days we don't leave the house until mid day.

So, anyway, off we pop toward Lyme Regis, this little sea side resort is about, a hour and half away, as we speed off, at a nerve wrenching 26 miles a hour some blokey type band called westlife is blaring out some drivel about flying without wings, I'll give them fooking flying without wings in a minuet, we avoid all major roads, as the missus don't do motorways. The sun is beaming down on us, my little, fat lilly white, left arm is glowing red with the suns rays, Westlife are no more, the CD is splattered across the road, along with a dead badger, what, a perfect day. I'm getting excited now, sun, sea and ice cream, just a few moments away, we drive around a corner, down a ditch, up the hill, around another corner, rip a wing mirror off a car as we sped by, down a hill into fog !!!!! ......Yes, fooking fog, we ditched Bristol, where it was, a sunny day to drive for a hour, into fog......My little round face crumpled, like, a fat chick eating a celery stick, but, we continued onward, it might pass, oh no it didn't, as we entered Lyme, Fooking, Regis, the temperature dropped ....... A lot.... I, stood, in the car park, in a short sleeved shirt and shorts freezing my barnacles off, it was so cold when you breathed out a plume of steam popped out !!!! ...... "This is why we have to pack for every eventuality" my missus blurted, fooking - winter conditions and, not only had it dropped to minus fook knows what, the whole, bloody place was awash with fooking hairy arsed builders .......Yes, the entire town was a massive building site they're redeveloping the promenade, the grassy bits leading to the car park....Fooking great...... The whole town is a building site ......

It can only get better, or, so they say so, determined to have a good time off we set, my missus wrapped in a coat, trousers and a fleecy top, the kids in winter clothing, me, the nobber, dressed in summer attire, shivering, chins a quivering, the first port of call, a loo, the missus takes Jess in. I try and fail to get the double buggy into the gents. I can't carry her in, I need both hands to hold my beastie !!!!! I wish, not in this cold anyways!!!!! Nor, can I leave her outside, I must admit I did think about this, but decided not to in the end, so no pee pees for me.

If you have ever walked along a seaside resort pushing a double buggy you'll know how difficult it is, the paths are narrow, people are stood gazing into the sweet shops as if they've never seen a stick of rock before (what, the fook is rock anyhows, does anyone like it???) now, add scaffolding, a town, full of 90 year old northeners, - deaf 90 year old northeners - with zimmerframes, a bunch of diggers, dumpers and ditches, whilst its raining, oh yes, there was even a little drizzle, oh the joys of British summertime.

I've been there a few times, so has Ally and, we know the lay out of the town and a few shops, chip shops, enough to get us around, well today was, pick a fooking dilly, half the streets where closed due to construction works, the other half was jammed packed full, of wrinkley, old folks with badly fitting wigs, stinking of piss and doing 1/2 mile a hour, all jabbering loudly about how Noras dead and their latest illness, then - oh ba jeeezzzzus, they spot us, well, I say us, they spot Shannon, that's it they're crowding around like a bunch of vultures. Shannon, loves the attention, she's smiling and being all cutesy, the grinning grannies start tapping each others shoulders, "oh look Mavis she smiled" - "wind" I reply, "oh how cute she looks just like you" - "she's not mine" I reply. I think they get the hint and fook off, going into a charity shop or other such shop to buy more flowery dresses and brown shoes probaly dead Noras old shite. I know they fought in the war, and, their bodily functions ain't what they used to be and one day, I'll be that age, if I'm lucky, but, for the love, of all that is holy, stop buying trousers, where the waist is by your neck and ladies, if, you have to bend, whilst wearing the flowery dresses, bend ya fooking knees, I don't want to see what you had for breakfast, nor does the rest of the world and would it kill you to pluck or shave occationaly??.... Thank you.

It's, about half two now and I'm getting a wee bit hungry, well, I could eat a scabby horse to be honest, we know there's a decent chippie around the corner, a bag of chips and a walk along the sea front British tradition - fookers shut, and so is the next one, and, the one after that, and, the one after that, we see a fella with a bag of chips and ask him, where did you get them, the look on his face, as two fatties came stomping over with hunger in their eyes was sheer terror, over there he pointed quickly, turning and scurrying away with his fish 'n' chips........We're fooking off, smoke's coming off the wheels as we hit 20 miles a hour, grannies or not, we plough through the gaggling grannies, pull up outside the chippie, with a squeal of tyres, out of breath we ask for 2 portion of chips - we're outta chips, sorry I can do you a pie..... A fooking pie, you can shove the pie, up, your fooking arse. I want me chippies.....I look at Ally, no thanks we'll go elsewhere, a chip shop that don't do chips, well I never.

We walk along the sea front and peer over the wall, a picturesque view, of diggers, dumpers and arses, meet our gaze.

I spy a shop, a sandwich shop, outside, on a shit splattered blackboard, write in bright yellow chalk, crab sandwich, hmmmm. I decide, that'll do for now, I wait ouside as Ally and Jess enter the shop, some old duffers are sat in the hazy rain looking at a building site, eating ice cream when, down swooped a gull and nicked their ice cream, even here grannies get mugged, shouts of "I don't believe it" ring out, that's it now, Noras death is put on hold, whilst the whole gang discuss Veras ice cream theft, jabbering away, did you see that, well I never, ohhh, mmmm, weeellll, tututututut,.....Not, once did anyone of them, get of their fat, saggy arses and get, nor offer poor Vera another ice cream, mind you, poor bloody Vera, could have, got her own, sodding ice cream....... I bet, the story is getting bigger and better by the day, they told their mates and families, well, anyone that'll listen, how eight youths, with knives, came on the promenade causing trouble and, how they fought them off, but Vera was badly cut in the fracus....... It gave them a story to tell at Christmas' and birthdays so good luck to 'em.

Ally emerged from the gloomy shop, sandwich in hand, I grabbed it off her, then off, we fooked before, the galloping gulls, had it away, after, the first bite, I'd wished they had, it was disgusting, the girls had a pasty, the lucky gits.

We walked toward the harbor, avoiding the masses of mong children, that stood in the way, I think they were dribblers to be honest, so not their fault, the harbour is nice, full of fishing nets and boats - hardly suprising really to find boats in a harbour!!!! On the way back we stopped and brought some fish, freshly caught this morning - bloody fish, how expensive, then we popped into the pub garden for lunch, and by god was that worth the wait, well no to be honest, it was fooking rank, the spiral cheesy chips were, a congealed mess of crap, the sandwich, I ordered was supposedly beef and onion, it was more like barf and bunion, but it filled a gap, washed down with 2 pints of warm flat cider, oh fooking hell.... Does it get any better.

Well, after this big crock of crap we headed back toward the car, time had passed us by and it was getting late the kids were getting tired and I was getting bored so off we popped.

As soon as we left Slime Penis, the sun was out, the birds were tweetting.......... Never again, well until the next time anyway...........