The Sunday Shakedown - 19th August 2012

...and on the seventh day there was waffle.

So after sixteen days of tossing off, peanut and budgie smuggling and running around in knickers with sand in the crevices, the London Olympics 2012 came to an end last Sunday.
TeamGB, didn't they do well? Sporting more bling around their shoulders than the average avenue in Essex, it was a joy to behold.

Prince Philip is getting very suspicious. He may well be ninety odd, but I think some of the timings of his illnesses have a air of dodgy-ness about them. Christmas gathering last year with all the family, "Oh, I don't feel well." Jubilee celebration culminating in the horrors of Cheryl Cole and Paul "prepare to be frozen" McCartney singing, "Oh, I feel awfully poorly". Last week, lovely summer family stay at Balmoral "I think I need the toilet again, and oh dear, I don't feel too good". Highly suspicious, but way to go Philip! Very clever, high five!

Had a now very rare haircut this week. I do try to get it as long as Ozzy Osborne before I spill it over the barbers floor, as whenever it is, it now it reveals a most hideous amount of grey beneath. I don't know when this started happening, but I suppose for now it is preferable to it all falling out.

Celebrations as Big Brother finally finished this week. Cries of joy across the country. Sadly these were promptly silenced by the next day, with Celebrity Big Brother beginning. Looks like its going to be on everyday now like Eastenders seems to be now. Lets hope for a murder crossover to liven it up. Might watch it then.
"Big Brother requests that residents do not bury fellow house guests under the patio."

With the Olympics finally over, I was horrified at the prospect that the lovely Victoria Pendleton was to race no more. However as is the want of modern culture, I have now found a new younger model to drool over and off course watch the wonderful skills of. Step forward the lovely, bubbly Laura Trott!

Photo shoot with these please, but drop the dress. Take a leaf out of Queen Victoria's book.

I know I am shallow, but I am hardly going to be looking at Sir Chris Hoy's thighs am I. Well, I don't know, maybe in outright jealousy.

Anyway, I am not going to write anymore, I am currently dissolving in the horrible heat at the moment. Perhaps I shall strip off and display my fabulous thighs in the street. At least it will distract them from my Philip Schofield hair.