The Compostual Existentialist

Wordpress flavour with added crunchy bits


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In Alton Towers you Will find you can leave your cares behind

Apart from when Mrs Gnomepants V1.0 and I visited in the early noughties, and when Mrs Gnomepants v2.0  and I went swimming there in 2016, the last time I was in Alton Towers was when I was 14. So what poetry it was to take my 14 year old niece there as an Uncley Treat.

Of course, when I was 14, my fun Aunt had passed away a couple of years previously and my remaining grandparents were too frail to attempt the trip, let alone the standing around waiting for young me to get off the rides. Instead I had to wait for the school to take me which, tradition dictated, they did with all the other boys as an end of academic year treat right through secondary school, although during following years they offered other trips such as climbing mountains or some such.

So it seemed right that I took my niece to the Earl of Staffordshire’s pile where upon I took great delight at having her walk well over 9 miles in a day without actually realising. Hah! Alton Towers, for those not in the know, is the UK’s premier rollercoaster theme park. Or at least that’s what it claims to be. Set in the gardens and grounds of the ruins of a former stately home, some enterprising cove set about building elaborate nests of  twisted metal upon which people can sit and experience accelleration and exhileration at high speed with the associated pull and tug of gravity on their leathery chops.

One such ride is Oblivion which teeters on the brink of an iron precipice before plummeting its screaming riders into a pit of darkness. There was no way I was going on that.

IMG_2158

Death by splat

Another such ride was Nemisis which Mrs Gnomepants V2.0  claimed was “Nice and smooth” which must be the alt-fact definition of “OMG I’m going to die” as I found out. As for Smiler, well I’m quite attached to my legs so I didn’t fancy going on that and I also didn’t fancy whiplash so I avoided Rita too. However, I did manage Hex, Thirteen and Grand Canyon Rapids so I think I got my £30’s worth. Especially as I was also tricked by Mrs Gnomepants V2.0  to go on Enterprise which by all accounts was just a tumble drier simulator.

Of course Alton Towers is not just death roulette machines, its acres and acres of picturesque landscaped gardens. Some of the ruins belay the once grand manse that was Alton Towers. Summer houses and decayed greenhouses now overgrown with vegetation while here and there are hidden speakers piping irritating music into area where irritating music shouldn’t be.  The cable cars over the area do give you a better, plinky-plonky-less experience.

If you’ve ever played the PC classic Rollercoaster Tycoon or early nineties Bullfrog classic Theme Park then, like me, you’d probably have spent the day imagining people walking round with think bubbles saying things like “£2.75 is too expensive for a bottle of pop” or “I feel sick” while sporting green pukey smileys above their heads. Or looking skyward in the hope of spying a pair of pincers dropping in a new ride or even imagining that the popcorn tasted good because the themepark management AI decided that it could do with an equal mix of salt and sugar.

In all though it was a most enjoyable day out. I can’t wait to do it again when my nephew is a little taller/older, but probably by that time the rides will all be different again.


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Throw

Last night I had a fire. It was a small fire. I didn’t bother asking G the Human dog to take his washing in. More confidential waste. Fire. It’s nice is fire. Cleansing. Good way to dispose of things……..

Yesterday Mrs Gnomepants picked up her new car from the garage. It is red. I suggested putting black spots on the paint work so she would look like a ladybird. I fear she took me seriously.

Yesterday I went geocaching. Well, I tried to. I got to the cache only to find it was more coordinates but in a format I can’t use on my current GPS devices. So I had to go home.

Yesterday I had fish and chips for tea.

Mrs Gnomepants’ music is doing my head in. She has about 20 songs which she plays over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. I’m tired of hearing about someone “Shaking ma titties”.

I feel slightly dispossessed.


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Bath – A wife free post

So I’m feeling a bit poo today. My head hurts in a weird way (like round the sides in front of my ears, not like on the forehead), I’ve been weeweeing like one of them tacky little white cherub water fountains you see in garden centres and I feel run down and poo. Not very pleasant.

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Sleepses

So last night I donned my tartan pyjamas, picked up teddy and hopped into bed at a respectable hour as opposed to “ungodly o clock because Warcraft is addictive”. The reason behind the early night will become clear after the weekend (because I like to add a dash of mystery to my entries these days). Anyway, I had but just nodded off, the opening credits for the nights dreamingses were starting and went something like this:-

 

Stegzy Gnomepants Subconscious presents
A Stegzy Gnomepants Dream
Dreamed in GlorioustechnicolourAvril Lavigne

and The Tight fitting cat suited lesbian vampiresses with comedy inflatable breasts

In

Steamy Sex Orgies on Underground Trains Vs the Binbaggers and that woman with the green poison VIII

In soft focus

Avril Lavigne – Ooh Thelma Blair, Liv Tyler and Hayden Panettiere come and help me rub this olive oil into my pert nipples while I do rude things to Kirsten Dunst with this cucumber. You fuckin bastard I fuckin hate you you fucking cunty bastard sweary sweary bum bum

Shouty Man on street out side – You fucking bitch I fucking hate you I’m going to smack you yadda yadda yadda shouty shouty shouty

Back to real life with a start

At this point I woke up. Very annoyed. I mean just what rude things did she mean? What a point to start and end a dream! Vexxed and annoyance levels heightened by the fact that my bedside alarm clock revealed I had but been asleep for 20 minutes, I looked toward the window in response to the shouty man on the street outside who was still shouting, wtf was going on?

Shouty Man on street out side – I’m fucking gonna slap you just fuck off fucking fuck fuck fuck slap hurt bitch arrgh toilet roll fucking pot noodle
Shouty Woman – Just fuck off you fucker

By the window Mrs Gnomepants was peeping out down onto the street with all the subtlety of a flamboyance of flamingoes in a blizzard. I shuffled grumpily toward the window listening intently. There on the street was a car, the doors wide open and a rather shouty shouty man shouting at some woman, getting rather rough and slapping her about a bit. Obviously drunk (the police in South Yorkshire don’t give two flying fucks about rural drink driving so it is rife) the man was seriously and scarily shouting at everyone in the street that he had roused from their slumber, who had obviously also started to peep out of their bedroom windows, instructing them to “FOKIN MIND YO’ ORN FOKIN BIZNIS”. At which point I shrugged and thought well fuck it then, and climbed back into bed.

Mrs Gnomepants called the police. Not to inform them of my disinterest in local drunks fighting it out on the street, but because she was concerned that a woman had been assaulted (Believe me the woman was giving that bloke a better slapping than he was giving) and that there was a drunk driver on the street and could the police come. Shouty man and Shouty woman went separate ways, shouty woman headed towards Grimethorpe still shouting at shouty man even though shouty man had driven off noisily (and dangerously) toward Pontefract Road.

As I desperately tried to get back to the sticky girl on girl action in Dream Theatre, I could hear Mr Shouty Man squeeling about further up the road and Mrs Shouty Woman screeching like a banshee in the other direction.

Honestly, it’s people like that that give booze a bad name.

Eventually I nodded off:-

Avril Lavigne – (Licking buttercream off her fingers while zipping up the all in one tight fitting pvc catsuit over her rather curiously large voluminous comedy inflatable breasts) Right then Drew, Lets get him
Drew Barrymore – (Brandishing a rather large hypodermic syringe filled with green liquid) Ok but don’t forget to bring those bin bags

Bastards. I always seem to miss the best bits.


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Poop

I’ve done polls on this very subject.

This morning I was making my daily ablutions and that creeping feeling, which normally occurs an hour after adjourning from bed, held me by the hand and sat me on the porcelain chair. Eager to get on with the day’s tasks I hurriedly made the necessary bodily function and reached for the toilet roll. To my absolute horror there was none. Just the little cardboard inner tube with a 1 ply sheet wafting mockingly at me.

I glanced round. No fresh virgin toilet roll could be seen. Plenty of paint pots, brushes, sponges, shampoos and exfoliants, but no bog roll. That feeling of dread started to grip me as I began to realise that there was a severe toilet paper drought in the new bathroom. Luckily I was on the toilet and I had already done what I needed to do. I just needed to wipe (Yes I know I said this was nice lunch time reading but bear with me). Trying not to make a bigger mess than necessary I rose, trousers around my ankles and hobbled carefully to the bathroom cabinet.
The bathroom cabinet is facing the wrong way at the moment. This is because the bathroom is in a state of decorating flux and there are other anomalies like a dining chair and a heap of newspapers and dust sheets to navigate before one gets to the cabinet. The difficulty is heightened by the fact that the cabinet, as I alluded to earlier, is facing the wrong way. Normally access to the cabinet would take a brief yank of the door and egress could be made. Alas no. With the cabinet in it’s current position one has to lean over the dining chair and pots of paint, risk ruining a perfectly good black shirt with white paint and gamble that the splats of paint on the floor are actually dried. I opened the cabinet to find no toilet rolls.

Now, through the miracle of memory and Livejournal let me take you back but three quarters of an hour earlier.

***wibble wibble wibble***
8:10am

Mrs Gnomepants – I’m just going to the toilet then I’m off to work.
stegzy – OK dear.

8:15am

Mrs Gnomepants – Bye!
stegzy – Bye!

***wibble wibble wibble***

Ok, do you see what happened there? Shall I run it past you again? Did you miss it??

***wibble wibble wibble***

8:10am

Mrs Gnomepants – I’m just going to the toilet (for a shit) then I’m off to work.
stegzy – OK dear.

8:15am

Mrs Gnomepants – Bye!
stegzy – Bye!

***wibble wibble wibble***

Ok now do you see? **nods sagely**

So I was trapped. In the bathroom. Trousers round my ankles. Marmitized. The nearest loo roll I knew of was down stairs, past some very open and public windows and in the pantry. I’m sure the police will be calling shortly with charges of indecent exposure.
So in retaliation I intend to leave the toilet roll, the empty one, exactly where it is. I have hidden the new toilet roll. This is what will happen tonight upon arrival home from work.

Mrs Gnomepants – Hello dear, I’m just nipping for a poo
stegzy – Very good. Exit stage left, goes for a long walk.

See how she likes it.


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Rlindz

Over dinner stegzypicking up telephone in mock panic Oh shit

Mrs Gnomepants – what?

stegzydialling number hurriedly I hope she’s ok

Mrs Gnomepants – Who? what?

stegzy – Shh Somewhere in Barnsley a mobile phone rings

Rlindz – hello?

stegzy – hello? Are you ok? I was worried. It’s 7pm and you haven’t called yet. Do you need a doctor? Or the police? Has someone hurt you?

Rlindz – You’re a cheeky monkey you are

stegzy – Are you ok then? Just say no if there is someone holding you hostage.

Rlindz – Yes I’m fine

stegzy – Oh good. I’ll call off the search party.

Rlindz – Is that all?

stegzy – Yes thanks Hangs up telephone

Mrs Gnomepants – in astonished amusement I can’t believe you just did that.

stegzy – Well she might have been injured.


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Whiter Shade of White

Mrs Gnomepants – What about this one?
stegzy – yes thats nice
Mrs Gnomepants – You don’t think it’s too square?
stegzy – It’s a tile. It’s meant to be square
Mrs Gnomepants – – You know what I mean
stegzy – Er…
Mrs Gnomepants – But what about this one?
*holds up identical tile*
stegzy – It’s the same tile
Mrs Gnomepants – It isn’t. This one is more fussy
stegzy – How the fuck can a tile be more fussy? Oh I don’t want to go on the wall next to that tile I want to go next to the other tile?
Mrs Gnomepants – Don’t be rude you know what I mean
Twenty tiles and 5 Tile show rooms later
Mrs Gnomepants – What about this tile?
stegzy – It’s the same as the first one you picked up
Mrs Gnomepants – No it isn’t, this one is squarer
stegzy – Arrrrrrrrrgh

I chose the wrong day to do without ciggies.