Hindsight and regret

A few weeks ago I noticed that the youngest brother of a family I used to be very friendly with, was on facebook. I had known them since I was twelve and the eldest son was best man at my first wedding and I was best man at his. Another brother, John, became a good friend as we got older and his elder brother went off to university. John and I had similar personalities, both opinionated and smart arses and we argued as much as got on over all manner of trivia. We were both overly sarcastic at times but we had a real friendship.

John queued for tickets for us to see Led Zeppelin whilst I provided the transport. We went to see King Crimson. I dragged him to see Budgie and he blackmailed me into a Trapeze concert. A group of us Island Hopped around Greece in the late seventies and he dragged us along on two skiing holidays with a group of his adrenalin junkie friends. As we got older, we drifted as we all had jobs in different parts of the country. I divorced with the usual acrimony that entails and we lost touch. I built a new life with new friends. Over the years, I'd hear snippets about them from mutual acquaintances or from my sisters bumping into their parents. I was told I should call and see their Mum and Dad but didn't.

Rather bizarrely, over the last six months, I began having dreams about my old friend David. I say bizarre as he still looked 30 and, in my dreams was a complete bastard. He is anything but. I began to think that it would be good to get in touch but, apprehension ruled. I couldn't help thinking that perhaps, all we would have in common is the past.

As I said at the start, the chance to communicate presented itself and I took it. Three weeks ago, John was killed in a mountain bike accident. He was 59 and still an adrenaline junkie. All being well, I will be meeting all these people next Monday, at his funeral. I cannot think of worse circumstances.

A saying you so often hear is "It's never too late". Sometimes it is.

School (part one)

Just last night I realised that is is fifty years to the week since I started my first term at Grammar School. Ours was the first "post eleven plus" year but I think I can say without arrogance, I was probably bright enough to have passed that anyway.

I was a catholic and went to catholic Junior School. I can still vividly remember my first day, at four and a half years old, walking up the road with my lovely Granddad who stood and watched as I was ushered into the place. It seemed vast, milling with kids of all shapes and sizes, none of whom I knew. My big sister was there but I didn't see her as we had started an hour later on the first day.

My teacher was Miss Ellison and I fell in love with her immediately. I reckon she was about 21. She had short curled hair and wore cotton v necked jumpers and a tweedy type skirt, over the knee of course. It's a little disturbing now that I actually remember what my first school teacher used to wear. It would probably freak her out. My oldest sister saw her last week at a funeral. She will be around 77 we worked out. I can only see her as a lovely 21 year old.

I was teachers pet. I learned to read very quickly and went through the blue books and green books in no time at all. Miss Ellison used to let me pick a more challenging book from the small library they had so I didn't get bored but I think she was right when she told me I wouldn't find "The diaries of Samuel Pepys" too exciting. I made friends. John Ellerton, Michael Carter, Mark Abberton and others. I haven't seen any of them for longer than I can remember.

The school day seemed to mainly consist of catechism with Miss Mullarkey. She was the head teacher and a formidable woman. She scared the bejesus out of the kids and many of the parents too. Oddly, I remember her deferring to my Dad. Most people did. Who made you? God made me. Why did God make you? God made me etc etc etc. I can still recite all that crap now. We learnt them all off by heart. On a positive note we also had our times tables hammered into us. I am grateful for that now. It should still be compulsory. Teachers were allowed to slap kids but, by and large we were well behaved and I can't remember any punishments. That changed dramatically at Grammar School. We all got a bollocking when the fist male teacher arrived at the school. John Leedle. He was the first teacher who seemed to have a first name too. He played the violin and we were amazed as we crowded at the classroom door to see him play. Miss Mullarkey was not amused.

I could waffle on for hours about this period of my life, playing football in the tiny yard, rolling up for Robin Hood or William Tell. Red rover was one of my favourites as I always broke through the chain. I must have been a little fat sod. I must tell my favourite story though. All the school was assembled in one classroom. We were being given some instruction or other when the most disgusting smell permeated the air. We've all had the farts at inappropriate times but this was the gold medal of stinks. It had an odour of egg belch and mature Camembert. Kids were holding their noses and the odd one was retching. Finally, the teachers broke ranks and it was the lovely Shirley Ellison who asked the most amazing question. "Which one of you hasn't cleaned their teeth this morning"

I loved that woman.

My Guide to Twitter

It's over two years since I wrote this blog so I thought it was time to update it having had much more experience of Twitter and considerably increased my following.. I am basically here for the humour. I joined a couple of years ago, followed Stephen Fry as you are supposed to, found it boring, and dropped out. In April 2011, Gabby Logan mentioned Twitter and my interest was piqued again. She advised us to follow Gary Delaney, adding he was hilarious though sometimes risqué. I did so and enjoyed some of his early posts. I particularly enjoyed one about him entering a semaphore marathon but after 18 hours he was flagging badly. I replied to a couple of posts he made but didn't, at the time, realise there was a hierarchy on Twitter to conform to.

Twitter basically falls into four levels or "social classes". There are the D listers where I am firmly rooted along with the majority of people who subscribe. Us D listers know our place. We sometimes tweet above our station and, feel excited when someone from an upper level gives us a compliment or a reply. Some might call it common courtesy but on Twitter, these are rare gifts. Most of the people I correspond with are also D listers, even though a few of them do comedy professionally.

The C listers are a strange breed. On here are unknowns who have become famous and lauded within the Twitter family. They feel they have elevated themselves to a higher status and they are due respect from their inferiors. There is an arrogance in their response to tweets from lower orders. Woe betide anyone who tweets a funnier reply than their post. That is unforgivable.They will not follow you, no matter how entertaining or funny you may be. If you do happen to attract a c lister to your following, don't post a funny reply to their tweets. They hate this and will immediately unfollow. The easiest way to spot a C lister for newbies is to check the retweets. They constantly retweet each others posts telling us how funny they are in case we didn't notice and commanding us to follow them.

They often grandly announce in advance that they are going to treat us to an old tweet of theirs so we can prepare ourselves for the merriment to come and gasp in admiration. I have taken to doing this as a piss take. I have no fear of retribution for saying this as no-one from this level would lower themselves to read an inferiors blog. I have lost quite a few C list followers. I am, of course, broken hearted. I do however still see most of their stuff as I follow one or two others and they constantly retweet them. None of them was much of a loss as there was often a touch of arrogance in their musings. I find far funnier tweeters at D level. To be honest, the people at this level are much better too. One thing you must never do to a C lister is question them or disagree with their pronouncements. That is a recipe for immediate banishment. If you tweet something with a copule of words in it that a C lister may have tweeted previously, boy are you in trouble. You will be accused of plagiarism and stealing from these talented folk. Personally, I am sure that 90% of one liners on twitter must have been done before in once form or another. I have seen my own done frequently but wouldn't dream of challenging someone (unless they copied them word for word)as I have no way of knowing if mine was original in the first place.

B list is the celeb level. On this level it can be quite confusing. There are celebs who wouldn't reply to their own mothers whereas some reply generously to questions or to remarks. A good example is David Baddiel who will comment if he sees something funny he likes or will reply if asked a direct question. I do. of course, take into account the fact that these celebs may be bombarded with tweets and it may be very difficult to answer a large number but, if you can't be arsed replying, don't bother posting. I still follow a couple on this level as I find them amusing or informative. I don't expect them to acknowledge my existance or humour me. C listers want to court the B listers. They suckle up to them and massage egos in the hope of kudos amongst their peers or admiration from their implied inferiors.

The A list is in space. It is reserved for the Lady Gaga's and Justin Biebers of this world. It is a publicity tool and offers little or nothing to the substance of Twitter. I follow no A listers.

I am more than happy to be a D with my contemporaries. I am more than happy to see some of them elevated to 2 or 3 and I will still follow them if they remember who us mere mortals are, when they ascend. I will however, continue to view the majority of C's with suspicion. Pride often comes before a fall. And, just in case I become famous (more likely infamous) I will continue to acknowledge the lower orders with a quip or remark, just so than can remind me of what a twat I have become

Dogs v People

As some will know, we have a poorly dog. Steffi has continued to have mild strokes. We got back from holiday last Saturday and on Sunday she collapsed again. She hasn't walked since. She neither ate nor drank anything for 36 hours and we called the vet to euthenise her.

The vet explained that, due to her heart failure, giving the traditional injection would be very difficult as her veins will have contracted. The alternative, an injection of sedative, can have a short term but distressing effect on the dog causing her to thrash around until it takes her away. We could not stand the thought of that. He told us that, as she wasn't neither eating nor drinking she would probably go during the night. With trepidation, we crept downstairs on Monday morning, expecting to find her dead but no, she was still with us, still hardly moving but following us with her eyes.

Come Monday afternoon, she was drinking again and showed interest when we fed Harry so we steamed her two chicken breasts which she wolfed down. Since then she has eaten two more along with a tin of tuna and a number of biscuit treats. She will still not get up. Jan is cleaning her when necessary. It is a real dilemma. I have already started to dig a hole in the garden where we can put her. She is in no apparent pain. We will ring the vet again tomorrow for more advice.

We had quite a bit of snow on Monday. Harry and Steffi loved the snow. They used to charge through it and dive into it. Steff wouldn't move and Jan took Harry out in it. He just stood still looking forlorn. It wasn't the same for him without his sister. He peed, turned and walked back into the house. He has stopped bringing toys over to Steffi to play with. He realises there is something wrong. He is just moping around. I have no idea what he will do when the inevitable happens. They are inseparable. Steffi and Harry have been perfect pets and companions. We have not had a second of bother with them. They have been totally loyal,protective but never aggressive. They adore the girls, making a fuss of them every time they visit.

They will be my last German Shepherds. I wept buckets holding my last GSD as they put her to sleep. I hope I will be more pragmatic this time but it will be tough. Dogs give you unconditional love and loyalty asking for nothing in return. How I wish I could say the same of people.

December posts

Chuck Berry had a wine making brother who was two years older than him. His favourite was elder Berry.

Just read a great book about a kiln operative who juggled ale bottles. It was the autobiography of Beer Tricks Potter.

My mate, an airline pilot, was bet that he couldn't land the plane with his eyes shut. He was sure he could but wasn't banking on it.

Who the hell was good king Wences? What was so special about his lass that they wrote a bloody song about her?

Food critic Ronay's venture into social media with his food "myface" site, has flopped. A major investor Quoted "I am left with Egon Myface

After a hearty Christmas dinner, we like to eat a tasty eczemas pudding, made from scratch.

I always thought that Yuletide was the dirty water mark around Brinners bath.

I splashed out on a new pair of shoes yesterday. Fortunately they were leather so they dried quickly. Bloody prostate.

The height of palm trees is measured in hands.

I only ever buy real buckets. I hate pail imitations.

My mate tells me there is a bungee jumping school opening locally. He thinks I'm stupid. I'm not falling for that one.

Went to a gents outfitters yesterday and came out stinking of piss with a packet of condoms in my pocket.

The act of buying a copy of the "lion sleeps tonight" is often just a whim away.

Last time I was in Jerusalem there were lots of people blubbering over a pile of bricks. It was later I found out it was the whaling wall

I was followed by one of the George Mitchell minstrels so I blacked him.

Surprised to hear that Strictly's Dani Harmer is engaged to Will Self. I must admit though that Dani Self Harmer is a cutting edge name.

Bought the kids a "Moggies' boarding home" game for Christmas only to open it and find we couldn't play it as Catteries weren't included.

I have found a cure for people who cannot help letting out breath audibly. Clinical trials have shown there to be no sighed effects.

I've written a new novel called 13 Amp and I want to plug it in here.

I bought my wife the cricketers almanac last year not the biography of Oscar Wild. I thought she said she wanted a few words of Wisden.

My wife won't give me a hint at what she wants for Christmas saying It's the thought that counts. I bought her a book on mental arithmetic.

I was admiring my waxwork figure in Tussauds when the eldest Beverley sister walked over and stood next to me. I was beside myself with Joy.

I once tried to steal some broken bathroom scales despite knowing I was unlikely to get a weigh with them,

Very surprised to hear that Hank Marvin has joined the labour party and immediately given the job as shadow minister for music.

Our local solicitors, Fi Fo and Fum, operate on a no win no fee basis.

I went into a shop and asked for jump leads yesterday. Assistant sold me tickets to the next athletics meeting at the Don Valley stadium.

Couldn't understand why my piano stank of fish when I opened the lid until I was told the Tuna had just been messing about with it.

My mate is so dumb, he moved to Essex when he heard there was a Brain Tree there.

Local barrister caught "In flagrante" with a heavily sedated sheep said he couldn't resist being called to the Baa.

The Mum of U2's guitarist got told off for sitting on the bonnet of the new, Spanish built car he bought. She was on the SEAT of her Edge.

Just heard from the horses mouth at my agents that I have a bit part in the new Warhorse movie.

Just got a part in the remake of Hitchcock's "The Birds" which is being filmed locally. Mine is only a Mynah role however.

The makers of, Chicago based, hospital programme, E.R. are filming an offshoot in the West Country. It will be called Oooo R.

Saw the school nativity play yesterday with little devils instead of angels. It made quite an imp act on us all.

After creating his monster, Frankenstein found it kept vomiting after every meal. Doctors told him not to bolt his food.

A huge boil has just exploded on my dad's sisters neck. There is aunty matter everywhere.

My mate has been bumped off. With his strange sexual preferences, he really shouldn't have taken that job on the dodgems.

The hosts at the wedding complained the wine would run out as I hadn't provided enough carafes but they failed to see the bigger pitcher.

Our local Abbot has expelled an obese, secretive monk caught cooking chips alone. He said the monastery was "no place for a deep fat fryer".

Just officiated at my first funeral and the car carrying the coffin broke down. I knew we should have re hearsed earlier on.

I was hoping for a gift to complete my collection of the works of Charles Dickens by today but I don't have Great Expectations.

When a group of North east school children were asked to draw their favourite cartoon they all drew a sketch of Sunderland.

Typhoo have launched a guaranteed 100% toxin free brew for the super rich. It costs £150 per packet. It's wealth and safe tea gone mad

I don't mind hailing from earth and being an earthling but spare a thought for the poor dumplings.

My mate who lisps, dresses in a dark and morbid fashion, sings spirituals and practices black magic, has formed a Gothspell Choir

It must be awful being Jewish when it's cold and not being able to pull your hood up.

Down at heel local prostitutes who have leaky bits and have cut prices to get work are calling themselves the tenner ladies.

Our toilet is looking old and grubby so I've decided to splash out on a new one.

I have the new Islamic advent calendar. I just daren't open any of the doors.

My wife and her poor hearing. Yesterday she bought me a tad bent colander

When my Mrs. said it was time to hit the sack last night I anticipated a nights sleep, not a trip to casualty with swollen testicles.

I was delighted when the army medic ordered me discharge papers as I suffered from dysentery. So pissed off to receive a jumbo toilet roll

Octobers offerings

My dyslexic mate came to our toga party dressed as a goat

I was excited when told I had won a jackpot until I was told it belonged to the bukkake club

I always thought a Wagonwheel was Victoria Beckham on a unicycle

I tried to write a story about a man playing solo pontoon but there were too many twists and turns

I can do a North American Indian accent but it's a little bit Apache

Media? No you dear

Sodding well wet through. last time I go swimming.

A man walks into a bar with a goblin holding on behind him and the anagram expert barman asks him "why the conga elf"?

Life is what you make of it. I have made file.

Marriage: Where a partner knows how to turn lights switches on but not off and their partner exactly the opposite.

I'm off to Bury market this morning not to praise it.

The postman left my new Dyson on the doorstep. I found it covered in bird shit and piss wet through. Nature really does abhor a vacuum

I've just seen a huge fish floating on the water with 6 Austin Allegro's on it. It turned out to be a carp ark.

Wink old wrinkled Freddy Starr. How I wonder what you are.

In the Brinner household, Yul logs were a common sight and smell all year round.

Damn my dyslexia. I thought I got a job as a spy with M.I.5. I was actually selling pies on the M15.

The spottiest, smelliest people in the UK live in or around the Acne marshes.

Late News: Freddy Starr arrested for making a bad impression on young kids.

I'm not up with modern technology. I thought an MP3 player was the left back for the house of commons football team.

Amstrad are behind a string of new clubs where wealthy, elderly men can take their young female consorts. They call them Sugar Daddies.

My mate poured a tin of custard into the doorway of his local chemist when asked to act out Puss in Boots.

I just saw two married bees bare their backsides in the hive. They were honeymooning.

My new stereo system came with two 6 foot 6 Town Criers. I should have been more specific when I asked for huge loudspeakers.

I have a German friend called Gunther but I never let anyone hold him to my head.

If you don't pluck the duck before you eat it, there is every chance you will feel down in the dumps.

2G, 3G and now 4G. My internet connection is so slow it would be faster to send data by GG

A lactating woman at the door was not what I was expecting when I opted for milk from Express Dairies.

A mixed up atheist may eat shit.

I've been set a challenge to make an airtight sweat shirt but I can't see any way I can pull it off.

My mate and his wife have just been dismissed by the Leith Police.

My mate wanted to be an army chaplain. He had the bowler, walking stick and moustache but could never get the funny walk right

I keep dreaming that I am a successful kleptomaniac and I don't wake up despite pinching myself.

People say I am narcissistic just because I take a full length mirror with me and ride alone on the tunnel of love.

I could put up with Claire Richards,Lisa Scott-Lee and Fay Tozer but Ian H Watkins was a step too far

Referees have been instructed that when asthmatic players foul an opponent, it is not permissible to go wheezy on them.

I keep ours heating bills lower by not switching it on and keeping the bills in the bottom drawer.

I understand that the original paintings of the kids programme "The Herbs" were done with a Basil Brush.

All my clocks went back last night. I couldn't keep up with the payments.

Q. What do you call a young, upwardly mobile person, high on life, trying to get her horse to move forward. A. A giddy yuppie. Cheers.

I gave my Japanese pal an Argos catalogue when he said he wanted to buy a blender, I had no idea he was looking for an escort for the night.

The actor who used to spend the most time pondering his lines was Arthur Mull Hard.

My mate, Paddy O'Doyle who had chronic insomnia has just died. The O'Doyle family didn't seem to see the irony in having a wake for him.

Just made up a joke about a novelty toy pulled by two people at Christmas. It's a cracker.

My neighbour calls her cat Potato. I think she intends having it chipped.

The local Tourettes sufferers club has been licensed to sell wines and spirits and has opened a fuck off license.

I was looking for a new angle in retail shopping so I opened a corner shop.

I entered a cartoon competition and won first prize for my landscape of Sunderland.

Keeping water stored behind a wall. You're damned if you do and Damned if you don't.

Just looked in the window of our local funeral services shop and saw a coffin to die for.

Police have raided a slimming club for the obese. False readings are recorded to increase fees. Police say it took place on a huge scale.

My wife is going to Mount Kilimanjaro. I am shocked. I had no idea she even had a Japanese lover.

After the attack at Hillsborough the EDLand BNP have launched a "kick football out of racism" campaign saying It sickens racists everywhere

The local farmer has just crashed his combined harvester into the barbed wire fence whilst cutting the field. Everything has gone hay wire

My mate is so romantic, he turns off the lights, cooks a candlelit dinner for two and plays a Barry White c.d. every time he masturbates.

I couldn't understand why I was sacked from the Royal Mint. Then the penny dropped.

Disappointed when I heard a story about Bob-sleighing was on the Beeb but it involved no union leaders.

The annual conference of Tourettes sufferers will take place tomorrow in the Cornwall resort of Foulmouth.

O.K Ageism I can cope with but beejism is a whole new ball game.

Just written a play, a Scottish tragedy about a Dutch religious sect member who joins the police. I called it Amish Macbeth.

The faster than light race departed and I went into waters uncharted, How really absurd, I only came third but finished before I had started

It was staring us in the face all the time. Jimmy Saville paedophile is an anagram of Jimmy Saville paedophile.

Objects one tenth the size of a pinhead can be seen with the naked eye. Objects as big as Everest cannot be seen with the clothed eye.

Marriage eh! Got into bed last night, kissed the mrs on the cheek, looked at her naked body and said, "I remember when this was all feels"

Just passed a junction with a notice saying there were 52 deaths there last year. It's a worrying sign.

When was Africa's best drought? We only hear about the worst ones.

To err is human, to im is histrionics.

If all the MP's at Westminster were laid end to end from Westminster going north, there would be a line of MP's from Westminster going north

My studies into the bottom shapes of fairies, goblins and elves is now at an impasse.

One of my favourite authors writes stories about a long distance lorry driver set in the future. Check out H.G.V Wells on Amazon.

The world diarrhoea championships are very exciting this year. It's end to end stuff.

I know a dyslexic record store owner with attention deficit disorder who loves Angus Young. He suffers from hdad dc ccad

I opened an account with a branch of the bank of China yesterday. Half an hour later I felt the need to go and open another one.

Whilst I agree that Rowling's Harry Potter works were very entertaining I still think that J.K's best work was done with Jamiroquai

Hypnotists rarely go to auctions as they get someone else to do their bidding.

My mate is such a raving atheist he has changed his name from Christian to Godfree.

A woman whose children died in a bath filled with a popular orange fizzy drink, apple juice and alcohol has been charged with in fanta cider

Pets

I have had some lovely tweets today following my posting on twitter that one of our two German Shepherd dogs, Steffi, had a stroke this morning. None animal lovers will no doubt find it weird as it's "Not as if it is a person or anything" but it just shows how much we all care about our pets.

I had never owned a dog and inherited two with Janet. I wasn't keen but was soon won over, especially with the spunky Jack Russell who was once caught with a step ladder under his arm when he found out that the Great Dane next door was in season. We had to lock him in a cupboard at night if a local dog was on heat. I was pleased he was not aware of Jan.

Thomas was killed outside the house when the door latch blow open in the wind and he walked straight out under a car. The shithouse didn't even stop though there were car parts in the road. Thomas never ran anywhere so he must have just ambled into the road. It was early evening and I suspect drink was involved. Not Thomas you understand. I buried him in the back garden but, whilst I dug the hole, out last German Shepherd, Eva (as in Braun) sat next to him. Every time we let her out for a month after this, she went straight to the same spot, checking that his smell was still there. It was sad and touching to see. Harry is the same with Steffi. Steffi was the runt of the litter and we took them both as we felt sorry for her. They are inseparable.

I cannot imagine not having a dog in the house. It wouldn't seem quite right. We live in a remote spot so it is a good idea for security but I would still have one if I lived on the top floor of a tower block. All pets ask for is that you look after them. They ask for nothing else. They don't sulk or cheat. They don't argue with you and are always on your side.

As I type, Steffi is at my feet, dosed up with steroid injections. She looks woe begone and is very shaky on her legs but 10 hours ago she couldn't get up at all. If she lasts the night we should be o.k. unless she has another stroke. Another one will probably be fatal. We would probably put her to sleep even if she survived another one as we could not stand by and watch her suffer and fade away. We owe her much more than that. I hope that someone will be kind enough to do the same for me if I am ever in this position.