I’d love to see my family tree but I’m too busy(apathetic) to investigate it. I know that both my grandparents on the old fart’s side came from Welsh families who’d hopped over the border to Shropshire at some point. You could hear the Welsh influence in their accents.
There’s this whole English/Welsh enmity thing going on here. It’s such embarrassing bullshit and irritates me intensely. I love Wales and Welsh people. Countries that close have no right to be at each other’s throats. Bigger fish to fry man. We should join forces and hate people who deserve it, like the French.
I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Je suis kiddant, relachez vous!
I love the French too really, but it’s English law to make jokes about them since that nasty business with Guillaume LE BASTARD. It wasn’t a fair fight man. He surprised us and got tricksy up North and used nasty cheating horses – oh and he told dirty French lies too.
Again, kidding. I don’t care about all that bullshit really. (though technically everything I just said is true for the record – jus sayin(juste disant))
No, The English, Welsh and French, should all join forces and give Germany a damn good thrashing.
KIDDING AGAIN! I LOVE THE GERMANS!
I could punk you all night like this but then I’d risk being horribly misunderstood and ending up in some massive trans-continental Benny Hill style chase, pursued by a giggling gaggle of women dressed as sexy caricatures of all the different nationalities I’d offended.
Occasionally I’d turn around and put my hand to my mouth and giggle back.
Oh god. .. I … I just .. have to … err … yknow .. go and return some video tapes.
Back in approximately 12 seconds…
Oh Christ that’s better. Those tapes had been backing up for some time.
Anyway, mission creep is threatening to bollocks up yet another AMAZING blog post here.
Typical. I’ve come to hate this blog now. And so should you if you’ve got any sense. I’m not the blogger Gotham needs, or the blogger it deserves. I’m the blogger Gotham ignores because he writes non-stop horseshit that reads like a madman’s transcript of the Nuremberg trials.
Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway. All I came here to say was that I found this unusual Welsh lullaby that blew my socks off so I just wanted to share it with you. Seriously – it’s like trial by ordeal getting through a blog post on this poxy blog. I should get an olympic medal or something. Some small token of recognition for my courage under fire(send money).
Now this lady could sing me to sleep any time. Actually, technically she already did cos I dropped off while I was proof-listening that for you. Memories suddenly turn to the lovely Rachael from Wrexham, a buxom Welsh lass who I met in a nightclub in Manchester in 1992. Sweet lord, she was a keeper. I’d have fought a bear to go home with her that night but alas it was not to be. She was whisked away by a token over-protective friend who wasn’t getting any so made damn sure no-one else was. The next day, after I disposed of the annoying friend’s badly disfigured remains, I found out to my disgust that the lovely Rachael had gone home for the summer. I never saw her again, but she sent me a card with a pop-up crocodile inside, and loads of words spelt wrong. Somehow that just made me want her more.
Oh god … tapes … yes … video tapes…
Suffice to say the Welsh force is strong in this one.
One final note – Lord of the Rings fans may note how similar the Welsh language is to the Elvish language Tolkien developed. Coincidence? I think not little hobbitses.
TATERS? WHAT’S TATERS PRECIOUS?
OK you’ve suffered enough – here’s your sodding lullaby, I’m off to rethink my life now.