Her Ladyship has gone away for the weekend, so I'm home alone, on me tod.
Now, I'm quite a domesticated geezer really, house trained so that I don't pee on the carpet and quite capable of hoovering afore she comes back.
However, yesterday I decided to try out what it would be like to be a single bloke, a la me ole mate Trucker GB.
So. I left the washing-up out all day, tea-bags on the drainer, had a Chinese curry for tea and left the cartons out on the kitchen tops, watched a bluey in the afternoon then watched the football on the telly and finished up in the pub drinking beer and guzzling a Pepperami laden with chilli and garlic.
Regrettably, Trucker says that I failed miserably in the noble art of blokeyness. A real bloke would have left the chinese food carons on the floor in the lounge, his mates would have watched the telly with him and left beer cans everywhere and would have then got so sozzled in the pub that they would been unable to find their way home anyway.
A real bloke would have put his old Nike trainers in the engine compartment of his car so that it would always have that distinctive blokey smell once it heated up. A real bloke makes his underpants last at least 4 weeks between washes by the simple expedient of turning them round after a week, then inside out, then round again, then inside out again. A real bloke would not even own a hoover otherwise the carpet would not have that delightful stickiness so reminiscent of a back street Indian restaurant.
So I've failed. Miserably. I need some educating here. Please feel free to post what you think is an essential ingredient of true blokeyness.
Thank you.
Englishman.