Monday, 11 February 2008

Alien in the basement

The word is out - I have an alien in my basement. I would like to make this quite clear - he is not an illegal alien. He does however, appear to be making himself quite comfortable in my basement and I am starting to think that we may never prise him out of there. Just yesterday, he was making enquiries about squatter's rights. Today, he announced that my favourite chair was moulding itself nicely around his backside, which happens to be quite a bit larger than my own. (N.B. Having a bum larger than mine does not mean he has an abnormally large backside - on the contrary, it is due to the fact that I have a rather small one, lacking much in the way of padding. Now, this could be considered to be a good thing, but there comes a time in one's life when a nice, slim, pert bottom becomes a bony arse and I am a bit worried that that time might be getting a bit too close for my liking). Now, don't get me wrong, I have loved having him here (notice the ever hopeful past tense?). He is my brother, after all and I haven't seen much of him in the past 10 years, but one has to start worrying when your favourite chair has started to mould itself around his arse!

There are other worrying trends going on in the Don't Bug Me household. One of these is the tendency to sound and act like Eddie Izzard (for those of you who don't know Eddie Izzard, he is an English comedian who also happens to like make up and dresses - I believe he refers to himself as an executive transvestite. Go look him up on YouTube). Anyhoo, for the past week or so, I have been running around the house like a giraffe, covered in bees and the cats have been behind the sofa drilling - they no longer purr, they drill. The other day, Willow wanted to go out and my brother asked her if she had her keys. When the door bell goes, we both have to go and eat. Even more worrying than this is my brother's tendency to sound and act like Mr. Izzard, even when having a - relatively - normal conversation. If I were his lovely wife, M, I would start hiding my make-up and dresses! I don't need to because a). He is not my husband and I don't care if he starts wearing make-up or dresses and b). I don't actually have a busting lot of make-up to hide!

Now, if most of the above paragraph did not make much sense to you, that is because you have not gone to YouTube and watched any Eddie Izzard. I can particularly recommend Pavlov's Cats and anything to do with bees.

Well, I think that is enough for any reader to take in right now, but stay tuned for further updates on the alien in the basement!

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I once had a lodger, we mate who turned up, stay with me for a while, and he certainly left a sizable butt groove in my sofa, Homer Style !!

As for Mr Izzard, anoth friend of mine though he was talking the piss when he wore so much make up, but after telling her, no, thats how he lives his life, she decided to watch again, and clucthed her sides at "cake or Death ?"... oh, cake please !

English Mum said...

We've got Eddie tendencies in our house too: Hubby is know to utter 'le single est dans l'arbre' randomly. Oh, and get your lodger doing something constructive - he's got far too much time on his hands x

Don't Bug Me said...

Doesn't lodger imply some kind of remuneration for lodgings?