Sim - Happy fathers day dad - what could be the best gift you could wish for?

Father - A grandchild!

Sim - Nuh Narrrhh! Try again.

Father - For someone other than a pip squeak with pipes* to win Britains Got Talent

It's only been on a for a single solitary week, but this reality tv, hailing back to ye olde 80's variety telly, has been uber addictive. I'm loving it as much as Big Brother 8 (although admittedly I have been in mourning since Lesley left). However, the judges inability to see past tiny feet and tiny people and go for the cliche did get on the proverbial t*ts. So tonight, I have been laughing my socks off whilst watching the live final and thinking of my fathers wish. And okay - so it only took several dozen (rather expensive) phone calls to clinche it - but I think I did. And I did it for him. My dad.
That and my sanity as Bessie made my teeth ache...

Roll on the American series!

* I should mentioned that if a grand-rugrat decides to go for next years show, my father reserves the right to support aforementioned rugrat to the end. And slap any one who insults the rugrat with a cold wet haddock.

Double standards? Never...!!?!

There's a new terrorist group folks. More extreme than the Judean Peoples Front or even the People's Front of Judea, and scarily enough, they're just across the bridge.

The Cornish National Liberation Army (CNLA) has raised it's profile for Cornish independence by threatening to firebomb Jamie Oliver and Rick Stein for alienating the local people. After all, it's not like they don't hire local people in jobs nor bring tourists to the county do they?? As celebrity chefs, they must have caused war, world hunger, made local house prices sky rocket as well as the price of cream teas. And to retaliate, they are now also threatening second home owners within the county (which admittedly they have a point on as the locals can no longer afford homes in their own home towns) as well as Anglo-Saxons who have moved in 1500 years ago, occupied thier lands and taken their women, cider and money!

A sympathetic Free Kernow wrote on the Free Moon Forum

"Cornwall is OCCUPIED by the English and has been since about 1536... Now since the war they have FLOODED into Cornwall. A definition of war crime is replacing an occupied people's land with the occupiers own people - that is what is happening in Cornwall, Scotland and Wales and happened in Northern Ireland. Interesting you can see some parallels -what is Cornwall except the Gaza of the indigenous Britons? STOP THE CORNISH GENOCIDE!"

Now now, Free Kernow. We all know your real name is Reg and you're 14 with a slight pimple problem...

Admittedly, Cornwall is if not the most, then amongst the most deprived areas within the UK. The local businesses depend on seasonal tourism and with out of towners snapping up old farmland, seaside and country homes whilst not living in the area, there's no real stream of money coming in whilst local people can't even afford to buy flats let alone houses. As businesses, they have to try and compete with Big Ears who incidently doesn't pay Capital Gains tax and Corporation tax but posted profits of £14 million last year. The GDP is 62% of the national average and Cornwall is one of four UK areas that qualifies for poverty-related grants from the EU (European Social Fund).

Now, I'm not claiming Free Kernow is a member of the CNLA. But he does share some of their sentiment for independence and probably helps to spray paint the Kernow flag on any English heritage signs near the motorways. But I would like to make two points to readers who are members of the CNLA who sent the email to the Western Morning News this morning.

1. Surely your name should be the Kernow National Liberation Army?
2. And your email was written in English...

Girlpants - I've saved you half a cookie

Sim - You've saved me half of your cookie?

Girlpants - Not really...I had one and a half, but then I did think of you. And it's double chocolate!!

The tooth fairy was one incisor richer tonight. After weeks and weeks of playing with a wobbly tooth, the neices front tooth fell out as she grudgenly brushed her teeth, which more than made up for the chore she had just performed. Another mile stone had passed. And with it, the rising cost for the market.

For fear of sounding like my father, in my day, we got 10p for a tooth and 50p if we were lucky for a molar. But now the tooth fairy rates are the talk of the playground. The rug rats excitedly run in, showing gappy smiles and bragging about how much they made from natures ends. And natures ends going rate is £1 a tooth.

Now, I don't believe that the fairy rates have gone up that much - after all, the tooth fairy is just pixie vermin with wings and I doubt in fairyland the teeth can bring much in as much as they used to as there is an unlimited supply of teeth and they are much healthier than in days gone by. But then a demanded £1 coin is now a matter of face in the modern school play ground now, just like heely trainers and make-up for six year olds. All three of which I object to, which I pointed out to Talkative Sis.

Talkative Sis - But if I don't give her the pound, it will be around all the school

Sim - But it won't be you. It would be the tooth fairy. Something you need to consider, especially as she's got 20 teeth, plus then her brothers. It's not like she understands the concept of money anyways. Put 50p in her moneybox, take a pound out and nones the wiser whilst saving face.

You know, I think Girlpants thriftiness is rubbing off on me. Either that or I think I'm becoming tightarse with moths coming out of my handbag.

Professor Lovely was back in town this week, and greeted me with the usual big hug, snog, and a friendly pat on the bum which he followed up with complimenting me on the weight loss (mental note of a plus point), however, he did note that as I have lost weight, I was no longer as attractive (deduct five). I had lost my pleasantly plump sexual mojo.

There haven't been any diets as I really can't be arsed witht he starving of myself into a skinny mini for appearances sake. I did however stop the crisps, but then the chocolate have came out in force and I now have a small choccy hoard on my desk which is shared in the office. But then, there has been no difference in my life, bar the loss in working days - only the number of stairs I have to run up and down each day. So all I can see is I haven't lost weight - I just shovelled it into a new form, from cellulite to muscle. The clothes no longer fit as well as they previously did, but the bras still bust out, so no hope for back relief whilst jogging there then. But I didn't think that running up and down stairs had made that much of a difference. And thinking about it in that way, he was in a way giving a backhanded compliment.

Up until he told me to eat more as he preferred an ample arse.

With this in mind, I beemed the next day as an old friend greeted me by saying I looked so well and healthy. Then cringed as she rubbed my belly in farewell.

Sim - Bugger! What the hell has happened to my complexion??

Girlpants - That would be spots dear. And there's a lovely big one brewing on the side of your nose. Don't put cream on it - let it live and blossom...