‘Twas The Blog Before Christmas (2017)

‘Twas the blog before Christmas, a third year completed

Forty-four more entries, to which you’ve been treated

And now that it’s customary, here’s my review

Of the last twelve months – lucky old you.





We started in January, with blog ninety-nine

New Year’s Resolutions – a problem of mine

I sought inspiration from a website

But their ten suggestions turned out to be shite

The following week, in entry one hundred

I explained how, for a while, I had wondered

Whether quitting this blog was the right thing to do

I love all my readers, but there’s only a few

My fanbase is tiny, the numbers are shit

But at the last second, I chose not to quit

If one blog goes viral, I’ll conquer the net

I remain ever hopeful (though it’s not happened yet)

I battled the weather on the morning commute

A full inch of snow caused a treacherous route

Then, as the month ended, more travelling hassle

As I struggled by train, up to Newcastle

I recounted each station, some desolate places

A pair of young lovers, the sucking of faces

The angriest man, who seemed quite unstable

Purely because I had sat at his table.





A look at your horoscope is where Feb began

Our future in stars? I’m not a big fan

Boring Pisceans, giving Librans a miss

(I hope you all saw I was taking the piss)

I then had a birthday, and provided detail

About all the parts of me starting to fail

Pissing too often, and receding hair

I wish I was older, so I didn’t care

Then – without warning – a change to be had

Re-branding to ‘Confessions of a Middle-Raged Dad’

A new Facebook page, my own website domain

(it was a pain in the arse, and won’t happen again)





As we moved into March, I hit the end of my tether

When the UK was ‘battered’ by terrible weather

And I posted a blog filled with terrible jokes

About how we name storms after elderly folks

Then a lifestyle change, my biggest this year

I started back running (to combat the beer)

A specialist shop where – thanks to my mate

I tried to run in my pants, so they could see my gait

A misunderstanding, and I looked rather silly

(turns out they weren’t keen on seeing my willy)

Then more awkwardness, as I explained how

I took a trip to my dentist – the sadistic cow

Before ending the month with the country’s worst drivers

And how, if I’m pushed, there will be no survivors.





At the beginning of April, I agreed like a fool

To give a talk to some students who are at my wife’s school

Then the following week, I gained a new niece

And thought it appropriate to write a quick piece

Offering advice for new fathers-to-be

About labour, push presents, and ‘shitastrophies’

We took the boys on a trip to CBeebies Land

Never mind that it cost the best part of a grand

We met very weird people – without doubt the best

Was the peculiar lady with a big hairy chest

Lastly came cooking, and why Masterchef

Would be far more appealing were I blind and deaf

This popular show has become a disgrace

Thanks to John Torode and his awful ‘sex face’





A weird start to May, as some of you read

About my odd thoughts and the ‘sperm’ in my head

Back-to-back birthdays, as Isaac turned three

And the absolute horror that was his party

Then Ollie turned seven – ‘Happy BlogDay, Son’

I explained about how he is second-to-none

While as May concluded, I got poorly sick

And struggled to control my unruly dick

In a bout of fierce coughing, with sore throat and nose

I went to the toilet and pissed on my toes





At the beginning of June, I had the nerve and the cheek

To write a blog entry in the middle of the week

A series of questions: just make your selection

Then decide how to vote in the general election

A short trip to Norwich and two things which haunt me

Playing sport with old people, and dips in the sea

Another poem followed in ‘The Blogs and The Bees’

When Ollie asked me how to make babies

I prepared a handy verse, in a desperate bid

To help you when explaining sex to a kid

While in ‘Cracking The Blogs’ I got rather irate

It was so bloody warm I could not concentrate

I gave several reasons why, believe it or not,

We pasty Brits aren’t designed to be hot

And as the month ended, a new kind of heat

With romantic messages in a packet of sweets

They’ve modernised Lovehearts, but I don’t think ‘Swipe Right’

Or ‘Cwtch Me’ is something middle-agers would write

Far more appropriate is ‘I have a headache’

Or ‘Don’t get excited, that orgasm was fake’




Run Fatboy Run

At the start of July was a James Bond-esque farce

About a bint in a Volvo trying to drive up my arse

She followed me daily – I’ve still no clue why

If it was meant to be stealth, she’s the worst fucking spy

Then back onto running with some marathon tips

Like ‘create a mantra’ and ‘grease up those nips’

But no amount of pain, or running through walls

Will see Vaseline slathered over my balls

In the middle of the month, my wife left us alone

So I uncharacteristically had a big moan

She flew off to Germany, on a trip with her school

And Isaac, naturally, behaved like a tool

But despite single-parenting being quite frantic

I forgave her, and the next blog was rather romantic

A poem to celebrate the love of my life

And the thirteen years that she’s been my wife





Our summer holiday comprised this month’s blogs

We spent a week in a caravan, confined with our sprogs

The first entry of three was hastily written

As I explained why it’s good to vacation in Britain

There followed a ‘doubler’ – in ‘Blog Cabin Part One’

I shared my diary from our holiday just gone

We had a great time, though I suspect that I swore

When describing the chavs in the ‘van next door

Two massive women, each the size of a tanker

Seven vile children and one ‘full kit wanker’

Then the conclusion, ‘Blog Cabin Part Two’

Some Evesham skanks and a trip to a zoo

The outdoor pool, where my body went numb

And it took me an hour to locate my scrotum





Just a few months back, you may all remember

Football club nicknames kicked us off in September

Then more of my running as I spent a Sunday

Taking part in my first (and last) Sandbach 10k

There were times when I struggled and though it sounds dumb

I distracted myself with the girl in front’s bum

Next, my law conference at a posh hotel

An attempt at networking that didn’t go well

Surrounded by show-offs and arrogant fuckers

(not to mention two girls who were most likely hookers)

But the month ended well, when our eldest lad

Was the mascot at County – one very proud Dad





More poetry next, as I’d had a bad week

But I tried to explain that when everything’s bleak

Embrace what you have and enjoy every day

Because sometimes ‘fuck it’ is the best thing to say

In ‘Ernst Stavro Blogfeld’, I wrote about Bond

(a subject on which I have always been fond)

Imagining him as if he were retired

Would he still be so loved and admired?

Volcano lairs, ‘Operation Grand Slam’

Replaced by an eye test and prostate exam

And as the month ended, I became the proud owner

Of two special tickets to watch Barcelona

There’s no doubt that our trip has made Ollie’s year

No Christmas present can hope to come near

It cost me a fortune, but the expense was worthwhile

Just to see my son’s face with the world’s biggest smile





I concluded our trip in ‘Blogelona – Part Two’

Enjoying a match at the massive Camp Nou

Sat with my boy, I’ll have to confess he

Brought a tear to my eye while grinning at Messi

Even some low-life stealing from me

Couldn’t spoil our trip, and the memory

Next up – sorry – more running content

As I described my latest fundraising event

Despite saying that 10k still fills me with fear

I’ll be running ten more through the course of next year

Next, for ‘Movember’, I repeated my post

From this time last year – about how it’s the most

Important thing for men to debunk

The myth that they don’t need to check out their junk

And lastly I wondered whether it’s right to get surly

At the mention of Christmas – is November too early?





In – ‘Bloggy Hell’ – I went for a run

In freezing cold weather, and when I was done

Because I was soaked, and badly unfit

I clung to a bin that was filled with dog shit

Then when I got home, I spent half an hour

Feeling sad for myself looking down in the shower

With E.T.’s red belly I wished I was skinny

But worse, my penis went ‘outy’ to ‘inny’

Finally, last week (with parental warning)

I wrote about the magic of each Christmas morning

The myth of dear Santa, the world’s greatest lie

A fat man with reindeer high up in the sky

So now as St. Nick prepares to take flight

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night




That my dear friend, brings us to now

So I’ll take my leave, say goodbye, take a bow

I wish you and your loved ones much festive cheer

And fear not, I’ll be back, with more bullshit next year.


Merry Christmas, and thanks for reading x







GroundBlog Day

31st December 2016 – 23:32

Happy New Year everyone! Well, nearly.

I’m starting this week’s entry, which is all about New Year’s Resolutions, shortly before the utter shitastrophe that was 2016 comes to an end. As I sit here, on my own (Isaac spent an hour-and-a-half in his own bed, before waking and demanding that my wife accompany him to ours instead – affording him plenty of time to adopt his now signature ‘kicking Daddy in the squishy bits’ pose, ready for my arrival), I have a little time to reflect on this year, before the next one starts.

To honour the occasion, I have opened our drinks cabinet in search of something suitably celebratory, since the large bottle of Budweiser in the fridge seemed a tad crass, and I’ll never get through enough of a bottle of wine, to justify opening one at this late hour.

To my delight, hidden among the whisky (too strong), champagne (too extravagant, especially when drinking alone in your pants), and Baileys (too, well, Baileys), I discovered a half open bottle of special reserve port. Perfect.

This joy was short-lived, however, as it turns out my knowledge of port is only slightly greater than my knowledge of, say, quantum-physics, or women. See, I was under the impression that port doesn’t tend to go off once opened, but I now realise that this only applies to certain types of port. What I apparently have here, is very much of the ‘goes off, then tastes like feet’ variety.

Why don’t they put that on the label? Surely a quick ‘don’t leave this until New Year’s Eve 2016’ wouldn’t hurt? In fact, I would go so far as to suggest this would probably improve sales, as middle-class people would quaff it quicker, if they knew it would perish once opened.

Then again, middle-class people probably already know that this particular port goes off, whereas plebs like me, who get given a bottle as a gift – and then gently work their way through it over the next decade – aren’t their target audience.

I was about to give up and open the Budweiser, when I spotted a long forgotten gift-set hiding at the back of the cabinet, containing three miniatures of port instead. Not only were they unopened, but a hasty Google search revealed they are all in the ‘this shit’ll last for years’ category. I am pleased to report that, having taken my first hesitant sip, they are indeed much more palatable – and distinctly less feety.

Crap, it’s 11.58pm. Have I really been writing about port for twenty-five minutes? I best get Big Ben on, ready for the fireworks. Bear with me…..


1st January 2017 – 00:15

Ok, it’s now 12:15am – so, more officially this time, Happy New Year!

The London fireworks are always very impressive, but I can’t help thinking the exorbitant amount of money spent on them, could be put to better use – perhaps by funding the NHS for another 3-5 years, for example?

Robbie Williams is on now. Insufferable git. If he got paid for every word he actually sang, rather than getting the crowd to sing for him (while he struts up and down the stage, like a piss-poor Mick Jagger tribute), he’d have less money than me.

Where the hell was I? Oh, yes, New Year’s Resolutions. I think, considering I’ve strayed so far off topic, and even though I can assure you I am not drunk in the slightest, I might resume this entry when I’m a little more coherent.


2nd January 2017

I genuinely wasn’t drunk when I typed those opening paragraphs – although I did discover a rather unfortunate ‘port sediment’ in my mouth, when I brushed my teeth before bed. For a few, harrowing seconds, as thick, dark-red gloop appeared on my toothbrush, I did fear that it was the end, but it turned out to merely be the aftermath of my unfortunate choice of drink earlier that evening.

Anyway, back on track. I’ve been giving some thought to New Year’s Resolutions, and whether I should break my personal tradition of not setting any, but so far I’m undecided. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment of trying to better oneself, by altering one or two aspects of your lifestyle, but the only thing I can be certain of, is that whatever target I set, it will be ditched by mid-March at the latest.

To my shame, I am not very resolute when it comes to resolutions, and that rather defeats the object. I have very little will-power or commitment when it comes to anything other than devouring chocolate Hobnobs. If there was a New Year’s Resolution which only required adherence until Easter, I could probably manage that, but sticking with something for a whole year is, to be frank, beyond me.

So, if I am unable (or, at least, unwilling) to alter the time over which I must adopt my new regime, perhaps I can select a New Year’s Resolution which doesn’t take much effort on my part to complete? It must still be something that improves my life, or those around me, so it can’t be anything as basic as ‘I will always wear matching socks’ (as I will anyway), or something as pointless as ‘I won’t eat tuna for the whole year’ (I fucking hate tuna), but so far I’ve not been able to think of anything.

For inspiration, I’ve decided to check out the ten most popular resolutions for 2017 (according to www.statisticbrain.com):

1. Lose Weight

No surprises here, as losing weight/getting healthy was always going to be the favoured choice among Brits. We’re obsessed with gorging ourselves throughout December, then immediately switching to nothing but water and celery in January.

It’s bullshit, it’ll never work, and I’ll never stick to it for a whole twelve months. Even if I did, the vicious cycle of life would ensure that I put all the weight back on next December, so I’d be in the same predicament this time next year.

I may try to shed a few pounds from the gut region, but losing weight permanently just isn’t for me. I’d rather be happy and increasingly rotund, even if that means I can see less and less of my penis when I look down in the shower.

2. Getting Organised

Tough one this. I’m quite an organised person anyway, so unless it means de-cluttering at home, I’m already there. And, if it does mean de-cluttering at home, my wife is far better than I am at sorting through junk, so I might as well set my resolution to ‘go to the tip when she tells me to’.

3. Spend Less, Save More

Sounds great in principle, but I’ve never been an extravagant spender anyway, and have always been quite good at saving. That said, we’ve already decided not to holiday abroad this year (due to a combination of now having to pay for Isaac on flights, and the fact that last time we went abroad, the boys behaved like rabid chimps), so I’ll tick this one off my list.

4. Enjoy Life to the Fullest

And how, might I ask, am I meant to do that, if I’m supposedly spending less? I can hardly travel the world (unless I do it solely by hitchhiking, but I think we can all agree I would be trucker-fodder within a week). Nope, I’ll stick with enjoying my life in moderation, ta very much. At least until the kids both leave home.

5. Staying Fit and Healthy

I can’t stay fit, if I’m not fit to begin with. This should be ‘get fit, then stay that way’. I am, however, going to try running again.

I don’t mean that in the sense of ‘I tried it once, and was shit at it’, because running is relatively easy to comprehend (‘I honestly don’t know what happened. I tried to run, but after jumping up and down twice, and then spinning on the spot for three mintes, I skipped straight into a ditch’), more that I used to run, but had to give up due to injury. Essentially, I now have the lower back and knees of an osteoporotic pensioner.

6. Learn Something Exciting

Now, does this mean learning a new skill, such as a musical instrument or foreign language, or just finding out something exciting? If the latter, I’m not sure I have any control over that.

Perhaps one of my readers can e-mail me something exciting that I don’t know about? I suspect it’s the former though, in which case I don’t have the time, the patience, the inclination, or the money (I’m spending less, remember?).

7. Quit Smoking

Easy. Never have smoked, never will.

Having said that, the resolution does specify that I must quit smoking, so ideally I need to start smoking, then quit later on.

Maybe this can be my ‘learn something exciting’? I could learn to smoke one month, then quit the next. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

8. Help Others in Their Dreams

What utter bollocks. Aside from my inherent dislike of most other people, I have no control over their dreams whatsoever. I’m not the fucking BFG. If some poor sod is dreaming about being chased by a psychopath, what I am supposed to do?

I guess I could help someone overcome a bad dream, but that would entail breaking into various bedrooms, and hoping I discover someone thrashing around in a cold sweat, mid-nightmare. The odds are against me, and even assuming I did find someone unconsciously suffering, I’m not sure them waking to find me looming over their bed will help. In fact, I would go so far as to say it might make matters worse.

Oh, hang on, I see what they mean now. Help others to achieve their dreams. Nope. If I’m not achieving mine, I’m certainly not assisting others. Unless they’re a lingerie model, and their dream is to sleep with a tall solicitor.

9. Fall in Love

Not sure what my wife would have to say about this one. Then again, she’s probably still angry from the end of the last one. Pass.

10. Spend More Time with Family

I spend most of my spare time with my family anyway, so unless I quit my job and follow them around all day, I’m not sure I can do much more to achieve this. Besides, I’m pretty certain most of them don’t like me.


That settles it then. I’ll have to set my alarm for 5:00am every morning, then hang around waiting for my wife or one of the boys to have a nightmare, so that I can wake and console them. I’ll then go for an early morning run, followed by breakfast of a few cigarettes (I’m on a diet).

I won’t need to go to work, as I’ll quit my job in order to spend more time with my family, and because I’m no longer earning, I’ll also need to spend less. What little money I do have, will be going on my guitar and Spanish lessons, but I’ll only do these once a week, so I’m not away from the family for long.

Hopefully, either my guitar or Spanish teacher will be attractive, so I can fall in love.

Bring it on, 2017.