I can smell a lie like a fart in a lift…

The best news Fatty and I have had all day is the fact that Judge Rinder has shown up in our Sky Planner again, and not only that, it’s for a 100 episode run. I know I know. There’s so much wrong with it I know, it’s very one joke, but we’re a sucker for watching people in ill-advised acrylic sportswear swearing and rocking at each other over bingo winnings. We once went along to a bingo hall in Scarborough and it was one of the most hilarious evenings, though I think I only saw enough teeth in total to furnish eight mouths, and there must have been two hundred plus cattle in there. I managed to get a house (well, the little tablet thingy that automatically dabs your numbers for you did, I was too busy looking slackjawed at the carpet) and I genuinely feared for my life on the way out – so much resentment and seething in the air, I was half-expecting the Premier Inn to be burnt out during the night. So yes, Judge Rinder. I know it’s all bollocks but it’s entertaining bollocks, damn it.

Just a quick post tonight anyway, as my ear is giving me a lot of pain. I can deal with flu, cold, anything – but as soon as my ears play up I just want to bubble. I’m completely deaf in my right ear at the moment, and it hurts every time I cough. Paul has the same problem with his left ear – we were in bed this morning and I was happily rambling away to his back like I normally do (he loves my nonsense and hints about him getting up and making me a cooked breakfast) only for him to completely ignore me – it was only after ten minutes of me gabbling on that my breath on his neck attracted his attention and he reminded me about his ear. I got my breakfast. I do feel that we’re both using our deafness to our advantage when it suits – the amount of times I just haven’t heard him when he wants a cup of tea made, or a toilet roll bringing, or that he’s on fire. Poor bugger!

Final day before the diet starts anew on Monday! We’ve got six┬árecipes lined up for this week:

  • tomato, fennel and feta soup;
  • baked cod;
  • omelette and chips (well, you might not need a recipe for that one);
  • grilled chicken salad;
  • flicked bean chilli; and
  • quick chicken curry.

We’re heading out now because Paul wants to see what a McRib tastes like. WE KNOW HOW TO PARTY!

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2 thoughts on “I can smell a lie like a fart in a lift…

    • Aaah the Geordie thing – if he grew up somewhere where bread with hot milk poured on it and sugar added was considered a delicious treat, he is a Geordie! Essentially it’s anything above Southend ­čÖé

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