CAN'T BLOODY FIND IT! COTTON WOOL! COTTON WOOL! CAN'T BLOODY FIND IT! YOU WHAT? YOU WHAT?

To set the tone of my day I must have calm and tranquility first thing. I must be able to roll around Granny and Grandpa’s bed until my heart’s content and my hair is stuck up on end. Then I must be allowed to lie back and dream of the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Dales. Diva… who… me? Never!
So you can imagine how angry I was the other morning when I was rudely awaken, not by Blur’s Parklife Dustman (no that’s on a Tuesday morning) but Mama J playing her version of the EastEnders theme tune with her cupboard door and storage box lid for instruments. Then all this crashing and frantic sounding movement was followed by the words, “Can’t bloody find it!” Then again, “No, I can’t bloody find it!” 
   Granny, Grandpa and I had all being awoken from our slumber by this point and to put it bluntly, we’d had enough of Mama J’s drum, base and dulcet tones. Granny enquired as to what was wrong and Mama J loudly replied, “You what? YOU WHAT?” Again Granny asked what was perturbing Mama J and upsetting her morning and Mama J answered in a questioning voice as well, “YOU WHAT?” Grandpa by this point had had enough of what he described as Mama J’s uncouth language and shouted, “I think the word you’re looking for is pardon not you what!” Mama J cheekily replied, “You what?” 
   Once Mama J could hear the rest of the household from her vantage point across the landing she yelled back, “Cotton wool. Cotton wool. Can’t bloody find it!” Granny by this point was exasperated and marched around the landing into Mama J’s bedroom and head dived straight into her cupboard and storage boxes where there was no cotton wool to be found. Mama J clearly had lost her marbles and not her cotton wool, as she never purchased any cotton wool in the first place.

Now this isn’t where this story ends, as Mama J being ever the creative started singing (well if you could call it that) the words, “Can’t bloody find it! Cotton wool! Cotton wool! Can’t bloody find it! You what? YOU WHAT?” All this was done in a Cockney accent. There could be voice over work for Danny Dyer if he wants it. I’ll give him a tweet once I’m done here. To make matters worse Granny then joined in and it became like the battle round on The Voice UK. They were going back and forth like Eminem and his rapping opponent in the film 8 Mile. That or a pair of demented parrots crossed with The Chuckle Brothers. I actually now believe the spirit of Barry Chuckle is inside Mama J and he’s channeling his new material through her!
As a commercially minded pooch the least I feel we could do with this “material” is turn it into a GIF and the most is a full on rap. Let’s go with rap! However I may need a little help producing it as the music industry isn’t my forte yet. I’ve whittled down who to ask to Will.i.am, Kayne West or Simon Cowell and on reflection feel Mr Cowell may be the one to turn mine and Mama J’s dream into a reality. This is because he has three Yorkshire Terriers so there is already an infinite point to start my negotiations from, as I can bribe Squiddly, Diddly and Freddy with doggie chocolate drops should the need arise. Right I’m off to get myself a baseball cap, a gold medallion and sovereign ring so I can dress like I know all about rapping in the 21st century. 


BARRING LOVE OF THE PUB FOOTBALLING GAME

Now is today too late to wish you all a Happy New Year? I reckon I’m doing pretty well with my sentiments as we haven’t quite got to the love-in that is Valentine’s Day and I haven’t see any Easter bunnies hopping around this morning but I’m told on good authority that Creme Eggs are in the shops already. Living in the countryside the chances of seeing nature working at its finest are high so I’m poised to see a rabbit or twenty before the week is out. I’m going to go with the fact that it is still a safe minimum distance in time and say, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
My New Year’s resolution this year is to get some love in my life. I’m not talking the family kind, sorry Mama J, Granny and Grandpa you just don’t apply on my loving hit list. I’m talking the romantic kind where I get wined and dined. Okay so I’m a Yorkshire Terrier and I’m only nine years old, so that makes me under age for the wining part therefore we better stick to a bowl of water when out and about. I’d hate for my blossoming love life to be the cause for someone losing their alcohol licence. 
   This all started on New Year’s Day. I’m one fast worker on the romance front! I was whisked away to the pub in the village by my lovely and extremely handsome friend Watson. My Grandpa and Watson’s Dad decided to go for a beer and this was the perfect opportunity for Watson and I to have our first proper date. I’ve been to his house several times now for playdates with my stud muffin Lurcher/cross but this was a really big deal for us as we could show the whole village that we were “an item”… Oh ah Mrs how exciting!

Firstly we went for a stroll, paw in paw of course around the village and then we followed Grandpa and Watson’s Dad in through the back door of the pub. The two gents ordered their drinks and took a seat each and Watson and I were waited on paw and paw by the lovely lady behind the bar. She brought us over some doggie chocolate biscuits, which we munched on until our hearts were content. Grandpa and Watson’s Dad chatted as I got animated with all of the goings on in the pub. The football was on the telly so it was a lively affair as local team Leeds United were in action. Being a Yorkshire lass you’d think I’d be cheering them on, however coming from Bradford originally I put a hex on them as soon as we walked in the building. Not very sporting I know but you can take a girl out of Bradford City but you can’t take Bradford City out of the girl. Now I’m obviously very good at this voodoo magic malarkey as Leeds lost 4-2 to Nottingham Forest that day. Mama J is pleased to know that I’ve removed my hex against her team, Manchester United and they are back to winning ways with Ole Gunnar Solskjaer at the helm. I reckon he not only has crisps and cake whilst watching games himself but he has incentivised the team by offering them a packet of Walker’s Salt and Vinegar followed by a few of Mr Kipling’s exceedingly good cakes for a win. 
Watson and I enjoyed our rowdy date and I managed not to get myself barred for barking and wagging my tail to much as the ball was flying passed the Leeds Goalkeeper and into the back of the net. However I’ve got a taste for going different places with either my Grandpa or other members of my family. 



THE SWOLLEN DOOR OF THE CAR SHOWROOM

Since I last pawed a blog post I’ve been abandoned by my Granny and Grandpa not once but twice and for multiple days at a time. I wasn’t just left to fend for myself but Mama J also! You see having Mama J as my appropriate adult didn’t ensure an easy ride whilst my human grandparents were away on their jollies, as you are all about to find out.

The first time I was cast aside in favour of the bright lights of Brighton, Portsmouth and Winchester was way back in July. The World Cup was in full swing and England were riding high on the crest of a beautiful wave into the semi-finals. We all know what happened next, so I won’t go into anymore footballing detail, other than to say the St. George’s flags that Mama J tied to our railings for the world to see, were swiftly removed two minutes after the final whistle had been blown. She was in and out faster than a cheetah on speed.
Whilst I was robustly in charge of Mama J that week we had daily security incidents. No, please don’t worry we weren’t involved in any Bodyguard style terrorists plots. These were more low risk in nature but frightening for me all the same. As a fearsome guard dog with a very ferocious sounding bark, I like to make sure my home is safe from predators. Now I’m not just talking predators of the human burglar kind but also visiting squirrels, Flora our neighbour’s cat and most recently sparrow hawks. Well, someone’s got to protect the sparrows and their nuts! 
   So you can imagine what I thought to the door being left unlocked whilst we were out for our tri-daily strolls. This had to happen though as Mama J simply couldn’t lock the door due to the wood swelling up with the excessive summer heat.
   At first she tried putting her back into it, as she thought it required brute force of the ultimate Ross Kemp nature but when that didn’t work, she thought that trying to create a new dance routine with the handle being her Anton Du Beke replacement partner might work. This could’ve being the next Floss, another Internet sensation had it actually worked. It went along the lines of down with the left hip, shift the right leg backwards pulling on the door handle with her right hand and trying to turn the key with her left hand. Mama J it turns out is worse at learning dance moves than Ann Widdecombe, John Sergeant, Jeremy Vine and Susannah Constantine combined.
   Following this failure Mama J decided drastic door locking measures were required. She took a duster and polish to the front door and started spraying the handle and locking mechanism. I hardly think turning into Kim and Aggie and frenziedly cleaning the door would work and guess what, it didn’t.
   She then thought taking the heat out of the door might work, so went to the freezer, pulled out an ice pack and started thrusting it at the door for around twenty minutes. When she came back inside the door was still swollen up but Mama J looked more like Olaf from Frozen. If it hadn’t have been nearly 30 degrees outside I think she’d actually have put the heating on to warm her hands up.
   Towards the end of the week Mama J’s hands were getting sore from the handle rubbing them to shreds. No amount of moisturising hand cream was going to sort the reddening friction burn out quickly, so action needed to be taken, action in the form of rubber gloves! The inner workings of Mama J’s mind told her that creating traction between her hand and doorknob may allow her to turn the key without causing greater skin damage. She got me ready, lead, harness and all and donned her boots and rubber gloves. Now Mama J, I think has a long standing fetish for rubber as in her partying days she proudly wore purple rubber trousers. If you really use your imagination you could take this fashion look one stage further and put Mama J in purple rubber trousers, with green rubber wellington boots and the ever stylish blue rubber gloves. What a vision I’ve created for you all today! Dress up time didn’t really work either other than to cause embarrassment for Mama J and I when our neighbours walked by looking strangely at us, So Mama J and I became vampires and had to go out looking for blood before sunrise and after sunset, which suited my embarrassment levels and the front door no end.

So you can imagine my delight when Granny and Grandpa told me they were jetting off to Lisbon for a few days the other week. This time there were no security issues and we could stop just racing up and down our road and actually leave the confines of our village. Not only did we go to our neighbouring villages but we travelled in the car to a local retail park. I got excited when I saw the golden arches of McDonald’s, as I thought Mama J was going to take me to the drive-through and get me some French fries and scrumptious chicken McNuggets. Mama J had other ideas and instead of turning in for belly filling food decided to take me to a forecourt. There wasn’t just one car showroom but several all in a line. Are we going to replace Matt LeBlanc on the next series of Top Gear? Oh no that’s not The Stig, it’s just one of the garage mechanics getting ready to service another motor. As we strolled along I could see that Mama J’s luxury lady complex heightened as we walked passed the Volvo franchise and peaked when we got to the Audi one. However I being a Yorkshire Terrier preferred a better value car and tried to drag Mama J towards a Vauxhall Corsa. When we got back to Mama J’s Mini, Primrose and set off home her exhaust snorted in disgust that we’d viewed other cars in such an enthusiastic manner. I think if she wasn’t an automatic she’d even have stalled herself!    


  

THE VOICES SAID, "DON'T PAINT THAT BLOODY MIRROR!"

So since the last time I pawed something to you guys, a whole two months ago now, I have joined a doggie nunnery! This is because I was turning into a hussy with all the gentleman pooches in my village. Sometimes my boyfriends are so young that I could start my own advice phone in entitled, “How To Pull A Toy Boy - By The Village’s Hottest Cougar!” I’m available This Morning team should you require my extensive skills and knowledge. However Mama J said I had to calm myself down and stop giving the furry guys in my life the glad eye and refrain from sticking my tongue out at every opportune moment, otherwise I would be getting a ‘reputation’ for myself. In my most humble defence, it is summer so what’s a girl to do but pant? Also the young hairy ones are cute, so yes Mama J, I’ll pant some more. 
   Anyway I saw Mama J’s tongue firmly outside of her mouth whilst we were watching Poldark on catch up this morning as Ross (Aidan Turner) was strolling masterfully out of the sea wearing his Long John’s. Okay so it was slightly more of a James Bond style turn on than I’m describing here I promise you. Anyhow I think you can see where I get it from now people! She’s a giddy mare just like me!
This past weekend I have been supervising Granny and Grandpa with their decorating exploits. Yes, I’m the one cracking the paint brush and barking, “Paint faster! I demand fuss, love and attention!” Not only have I been barking orders but if I don’t get my hourly fuss, I’ve learnt to take myself off to the spot of halfway down the stairs Muppet style and whine for dramatic attention grabbing effect. Works every time as Granny normally comes looking for me and asks me the burning question of, “Elsie what are you doing up there sweetheart?” Then I give my most endearing look and get a cuddle. Result!

Now my managerial role has been made more difficult by the fact that Grandpa is hellbent on injuring himself within his everyday life plus his sporting endeavours. He came home from his karate class on Saturday morning with not one, not two but seven individual injuries. Not bad going for an hour long class. At least the poor guest characters on Casualty only normally end up with one ailment per episode. With Grandpa the Holby medics would have an absolute field day. The worst injury he sustained, this time was to his knee when he was drop kicked by another member of the group. I didn’t know Eric Cantona had kept up with his kicking sessions and was training at Grandpa’s class. Anyway King Eric sure caused a stir at Soccer Aid last night recalling his leg swinging action in an interview with a shocked looking Kirsty Gallacher! 
   However Grandpa’s karate injuries are nothing compared to his back injury from the other week. He was sat down on the floor painting (oh dear this doesn’t sound good seen as he is up a ladder as I type) a mirror and suddenly yelped out in pain. Granny thought he’d cramped his foot but oh no he had pulled his back.
   After ten minutes of him assessing the damage… Initial consultation over, this was bad! Granny tried to help him up. I was on hand to give a few motivational looks. Well, I thought my stroll filled optimistic face with the word ‘walk’ plastered on it would perhaps be just what the doctor ordered? No, not helpful Elsie, back inside I go to bark at the lorries passing by the window instead of trying to be the next inspirational guru. I may have to do some work on being Oprah of the dog world then?
   Mama J came home from work to find Grandpa firmly laid up on the sofa. He only moved for comfort breaks and tummy filling activities. On the rare occasion he did venture off the couch, he then had to circumnavigate his way back into a seating position. This was done by facing the sofa, then flipping his body around and launching himself strategically backwards. Don’t you able bodied people try this at home, you may cause yourself an injury! Mama J thought this manoeuvre was so strange she very bluntly but ever so amusingly enquired, “Where are you going? You’re facing the wrong way!” I thought Granny was going to explode with tears of laughter at this point and Grandpa was frozen by the sheer funniness and indeed painfulness of the question/statement. What’s a poor Grandpa to do to get some relief around here? Don’t paint mirrors or get drop kicked perhaps would be good start!

Now Hollyoaks are never ones to shy away from controversy in their storyline selection but I honestly thought Mama J was taking Alfie’s schizophrenia theme to heart, when she announced that the television was talking to her the other week. 

   The commentary of voices began in an episode of Hollyoaks with a woman describing what was happening on screen and then continued when a man’s voice took over the role in the following recorded programme of Emmerdale. At first Mama J thought it was Hollyoaks being clever with their mental health awareness campaign, as they are at the cutting edge of highlighting issues in a creative and uniquely brilliant way. Then when Emmerdale was laced with descriptive words it was time to call in the big guns of Granny to see whether she could hear the voices too. Granny looked at Mama J a little alarmingly at first and then came downstairs to see what all the fuss was about. She listened and indeed what Ross Barton was doing was being described in annoyingly minute detail and had to be stopped. Who are you going to call Granny? The A Team or Ghostbusters? Granny plonked for Google as she realised that Grandpa had inadvertently knelt on the remote control the previous evening and summoned the voices all three of us were hearing coming from the TV set. Dr. Google had the answer and normal none audio commentary service of watching Emmerdale description free was resumed!


TURNING THE HAIR TINKY-WINKY PURPLE!

Mama J’s shower took on somewhat child like realms this morning. No, she hasn’t bought herself a rubber duck and started quacking like Donald. Nor has she found the showering equivalent of Mr Matey Bubble Bath on Boots shelves and thought she’d recapture bath time memories from her youth. Although I’m reckoning she has the potential to add another ten minutes onto her morning routine should she invest in these splashing activities. Now that really would mean she was in her ensuite all morning instead of just the usual hour and a half! Not that I’m saying she’s high maintenance. Heaven for bid, I’ll never get another doggie treat again if I start making those sort of accusations. No, her and Granny just like to gas while they are getting ready to set about the tasks of their day!
   So her shower turned into a purple version of The Incredible Hulk minus the rippling muscles and rage issues that would need a full on team of therapists to rectify. This is all thanks to Mama J’s new shampoo, which is looking after her newly light blonde bombshell hair colour. In between Mama J’s cooing of, “Oh my giddy Aunt Mary. I’m purple!” I could hear Prince’s ‘Purple Rain’ running around and around my overactive imagination. He only wanted to see you dancing in the purple rain. Well, Mama J thought we were all going to see her glowing in the purple dry! 
   With any new haircare product Mama J always goes a little bit over the top with her usage and this time was no exception. Her hands were full on purple and then the excess shampoo was running down her wet purple foamed body and all over the purple shower door, purple once white tiles and you’ve guess it, purple floor! All I could hear then was, “I’m going to come out looking like a Teletubbie!” Then her singing, “Tinky-Winky! Dipsy! Laa Laa and Po! Oh no! Teletubbies say HELLO!” 
   Fortunately once Mama J stepped out of the shower in-between her nails was the only part of her body where the remnants of the residual shampoo remained. Mama J’s Barney look was all but gone and she wasn’t going to have to go around all day looking like a Smurf dip dyed with purple paint. That’s such a shame as I do like the colour aubergine!
I thought Grandpa was going to blow a gasket and give himself a hernia last night. He was so enraged I thought he was going to throw his glass of Merlot across the living room at one point. What a crime against wine? Call the alcohol police someone before the carpet gets arrested by it! Was it the news about the attacks in Syria? Had one of Donald Trump’s Twitter rants sent him over the edge? Has he started getting passionate about football right at the end of the season and was disappointed that the team he had decided to support lost? Was he cross about animal abuse? No, to all of the above deeply troubling first world issues. This anger was over something far more upsetting than these problems. It was about BBC One’s ‘The Big Painting Challenge!’
   Grandpa is a very good artist and in his time has painted some famous landmarks, a cartoon car with myself, Marble, the families Cocker Spaniel at the time and Cedric, Mama J’s former rabbit in it and he’s also painted parts of the village where we live for community based charity auctions. However last night he took umbrage at the “artists” lack of artistic know how. He started ranting, “Look at that! They can’t even paint a f***ing dog!” Followed by, “What a hell is that meant to be?” They were trying to paint a woodland scene, which for some of the contestants was a simple challenge definitely too far! This was all under the tutorship of their mentors, who may I add set Grandpa off even further? “I couldn’t bloody stand being on this programme with those two “teaching” me to paint with my bloody knickers!” Well, one of the mentors looks and dresses like one of the Super Mario Bros., so I see Grandpa point that he hardly looks credible but would make an excellent guest at a fancy dress party, where computer game characters were the order of the day.
   Anyway Granny and Mama J were rolling around the sofa laughing, I was barking at the dogs they were unsuccessfully trying to paint and Grandpa was searching the Internet to look for an application form for next years series so he can go beat up Mario. Should make for entertaining telly when he pops up dressed as Bowser, King of the Koopa!





BOXING'S NEW GREAT HAS A BREW, LISTENS TO 'ED SHEERAN' ALL BY THE POWER OF GREY SKULL!

We were all happy Easter bunnies yesterday morning after the excellent Anthony Joshua boxing result on Saturday night. Mama J was particularly pleased for him as she believes he’s a real inspiration for young children, he’s respectfully confident in his abilities and always articulates himself well inside and more importantly outside of the ring… Oh yes and he may have been punched a few times in his career but he’s hardly been slapped with the ugly stick has he? 
   Mama J and Grandpa watched the pre-fight weigh-in and Grandpa was politely envious about Joshua’s physicality while Mama J just made the statement of, “Look at his beautiful guns!” She said this while reaching over the back of the sofa for the off switch on the radiator, fanning herself down with the TV guide and having Nelly’s ‘Hot In Herre!’ tune playing over and over in her mind. The next lyric to the song goes, “So take off all your clothes!” Anthony please don’t remove another item of clothing until I can move all four of my Yorkshire Terrier paws up the stairs and into Mama J’s ensuite to turn her showers dial onto ice mode and then throw her in it! 
   Following the fight Mama J was not very happy about Tyson Fury’s uncomplimentary comments about Anthony and decided that she would look for a boxing gym nearby and train up and defend his honour. Now that really is modern day chivalry at its best! I did point out that Mama J would have to eat/drink more than a packet of Belvita and a glass of semi-skimmed milk for her breakfast and she agreed that maybe upping it to full fat milk probably wouldn’t get her up to her 18 stone target. So she’s formulated another plan which is hiring a sumo suit and using her handbag as a make shift boxing glove, just so she can give it some more welly in the swing department. Well, it is a red leather bag so she might just get away with left upper cut, right handbag smack around the side of disrespectful Tyson’s temples! Anyway I’m in Mama J’s red corner cheering her on and if necessary stepping in to bite his balls with my minus eight teeth. Blow the belt? Somebody please distract the Referee! 

Mama J had a rare night out with her lovely friend on Friday evening. They went to see an Ed Sheeran tribute night which they both immensely enjoyed indeed. Mama J did however show herself up somewhat as the owner of the venue and friend of hers since her partying days, asked if Mama J and her friend would like another drink to which she replied, “I know it’s not very rock and roll but can I have a cup of tea?” He then jokingly bantered, “Are you having a chuffing laugh? You want a pot of tea?” Mama J then went into full on Grandma mode and explained that because of getting ready for ‘Ed’ she’d had to forgo her 5.30pm post work cuppa! Honestly it was like the modern day equivalent of the infamous, “I carried a watermelon!” line in Dirty Dancing.
   Next months tribute artist is Tom Jones and although Mama J loves his music she fears things may get a little bit too raucous audience wise for her. This is because the real Sir Tom Jones used to get knickers flung at him whenever he performed in his heyday. Imagine the scene if you dare… There’ll be ‘What’s New Pussycat?’ playing and ladies g-strings flying everywhere and Mama J flinging her multicoloured (well it is a Friday evening event so nobody wants to be wearing plain knickers do they) high legged M&S panties at the poor unsuspecting tribute artist!    
   Anyway ‘Ed’ was absolutely marvellous and Mama J agreed on discussing it with one of her friends the next day that tribute acts have to be at the top of their game performance wise. Gone are the days when you can don a white shoulder padded jumpsuit, gel your hair into a quiff and pretend to be Elvis. The audiences want a little more than that, such as a nice brew! Tea’s up folks!

While Mama J was out galavanting Granny, Grandpa and I were glued to Coronation Street and the watery demise of Pat Phelan. Yes, people stood at bus stops around the country, you really can stop talking about when he is ever going to get found out and get back to more interesting topics of conversations such as the British weather! 
   Before his extremely timely plunge into the sea, Pat was seemingly trying to resurrect a childhood favourite of Mama J’s, ‘He-Man and the Masters of the Universe’. We honestly thought he was going to draw his sword and shout out, “By the power of Grey Skull!”
 That or he’d told the script writing team that he fancied doing a Shakespearian play next and thought that practising some theatrical lines might do the trick in his next audition.
   Anyway I’m signing off now as don’t want to outstay my welcome just like the dastardly Phelan did. Following this post I’m off to help Gail and Eileen set up a “We Love Serial Killers” support group on Facebook. Should be interesting fun! 


BABYBEL'S STYLE INFLUENCES MY FRIDGE ENVY

After my motivational you can do anything/call to paws blog post I decided to exercise my rights to do absolutely nothing for a whole month and a bit. My paws and claws were tired from all the tippy tapping that is expected in the role of doggie blogging supremo, that I just wanted to chill out and eat cheese! Dairylea, Double Gloucester and Cheddar you may all apply to pass my beautifully undershot jawline. Of course not forgetting Babybel here. Come on everyone singalong with me to the adverts theme song… If you don’t know the words I’ll put them at the bottom of this post for your amusement and entertainment. May I add that sadly no I’m not getting sponsored for this cheesy post or rousing free for all tuneful racket but may get in touch with the oh circular red one to start such a cheese loving revolution?

Granny and Grandpa have been away since I last typed. Yes, they were leaving on a jet plane only they did know when they’d be back again and that was a whole four days later. So again I was left in my favourite position which was to be the boss of Mama J! Now I’m quite a kind mild mannered boss. So no thinking I’m like the super talented but totally ruthless Meryl Streep character in The Devil Wears Prada. The only similarity is I look just as fabulous in my stylish red heart encrusted collar and selection of winter coats as she did in her sharp suited and booted outfits. Being with me for a few days clearly encouraged Mama J on the style front. Well, I am such an influencer and trendsetter for all the pooches in my neighbourhood, so it was obviously going to rub off on the human front eventually too.
    Yes, Mama J was with me for a few days and on Granny and Grandpa’s return she went a little crazy! Spending on clothes and jewellery like she’d joined the bloody Kardashian family. We sat down as a family the other evening to watch an episode from 2016 and we girls of the Chelton household had total fridge envy! Yes, I know it’s a little bit strange to get envious of someones cold food storage area but then just think how many cans of Chappie you could have on standby! For a Yorkshire Terrier with my eyes firmly on the belly filling prize this was really no laughing matter. Grandpa was the only one not impressed by any of it as he thought they were quite frankly slightly dumb. Okay so I don’t think any of them will be joining Mensa’s Facebook page anytime soon but they’ve certainly used what talents they were given to great commercial effect. Now guys let’s all pose for an Instagram selfie!

One of Mama J’s purchases was a red coat which she is going wear exclusively, this sounds like a backstage access all areas event, for walking me. Well, of course Mama J has to keep up appearances when stepping out with The Cool One! If Jose Mourinho can claim The Special One title then I’m definitely having The Cool One! She found that she wanted to up her game as the weather, paws crossed gets warmer. Chance will be a fine thing after last weeks freezing cold temperatures here in Blighty. One morning my leg hair came back covered in snow balls and I didn’t even get the pleasure of throwing any rolled up white stuff! They were like cling ons, velcroing themselves to my body. A new version of the game Dart Ball perhaps? Anyway she will hopefully be updating her look from her Liam Gallagher circa 1990s parka coat to that of the children’s fable that is Little Red Riding Hood. A story book character as a style icon is a start I guess!

Anyway folks let’s finish as promised with the immortal words of, “Bab, bab, bab, bab, Babybel!”