Pet hates

We have a pending rodent problem in our house.  Yes, Jamie wants to get a pet.

He's asked for one before and we responded first by changing the subject and, when that didn't work, by warning that all animals have rabies and bite.

But he's learnt a lot about animals since then and has seen through our dastardly plan.

Indeed, he's become something of a wildlife enthusiastic/expert.

Plus, it's perhaps a bit harsh to tell your 8-year-old animal-loving son that he can't have a pet until he leaves home in around 30 years' time.

But what pet should he go for?  So I asked him tonight.

In an ideal world he said he'd like a bearded dragon.  Just like this one.

Yup, it's a lizard. And that is never, ever going to happen.

"Right then," he said, "what about a squirrel monkey?"

Like this one.

"I'm not sure you're allowed to have one of those in your bedroom," I replied.

"OK.  Pygmy goat?"

"No."

"In the garden?"

"Still no."

"Feral fox?"

"No."

"Sugar glider?"

"No."

"Pot bellied pig?"

"Don't be silly."

"Serval cat?"

"Wise up."

"Tarantula?"

"As if. And it's not even an animal. It's a..........tarantula. "

"Hyena?"

"Do you see me laughing?"

"Polar bear?"

"It's time for bed."

"Good night."

We'll talk again tomorrow.

Attack of the baboons

 

Have you ever seen a (real) baboon do karaoke?  No?  Me neither, although you could be forgiven for mistaking what you can see above as exactly that.

It is a baboon, yes. But instead of holding a microphone, our furry friend has our windscreen wiper in its hands.

Clearer?  And here's some final confirmation in case any scepticism remains.

Our fault really as the signs did warn that our car may be in danger.

We were at Knowsley Safari Park on a half-term weekend away.  And driving through the baboon enclosure was a must do for those of us without flash cars.

To be fair, some of our hairy acquaintances were cute, such as this baby one hugging its mummy.

Before it went and spoilt everything by nibbling on her big red bum.

Animal.

There were other fun sights too.

Yes!

Come on!

And even this zebra.

That was our Sunday entertainment. On Saturday, we went to Crosby beach to see a display of 100 naked iron statues of the same man (who made them).

I say 100 but one was missing, enabling Jamie to climb onto the empty plinth and pretend to be it.

I can't tell the difference.

Then it was on to sunny(ish) Southport for some traditional seaside resort activities.

It was the Hall of (Cracked) Mirrors first.

  

Ho ho.

Then the hobby horses.

You'll note that Jamie's mount was called "Girlie" which didn't please him when later pointed out.

It was fish and chips next.

Obviously.  Followed by ice cream.

Definitely.

And then we locked him and her in an overhead cage.

It's nice to get a break.

So that was our weekend away.

And for baboon diehards amongst you, I have a special bonus offering which - if you have three minutes spare - you might want to watch.

I'll relive it one day, just as soon as my psychiatrist has signed me off. 

Live on stage - two nights only

I haven't posted here for a while because I had nothing to tell you.

But I went out on Thursday and Friday nights - yes, two in a row - which must surely be worthy of comment.

First up, Jamie treated me to the Jean-Michel Jarre concert in Leeds.

Well I say that. I paid, obviously.  And he didn't really know who Jean-Michel Jarre was, other than the fact that he plays space tunes.  And he only really went because he got to stay up late.  But let me have my moment.

As luck would have it, he loved every second. Quite right too. I mean, look!

Keep looking.

Look a bit more.

That's supposed to be the Pet Shop Boys. Just a couple more.

That's his Laser Harp.

And they're big skulls.  Impressed.  Yes, so was I. And so was Jamie.

Job done.

Last night was an entirely different affair.

Vanessa and I joined some very special friends at a comedy night at Guiseley Theatre.

Big crowd, lots of fun, what's not to like?

Until the headline act arrived on stage.

He's a Canadian gentleman. I didn't catch his name.  And he started off well.

That was before he covered me in toilet roll.

Still, it could've been worse.

And then it was.

That's a fag he's shoving in my mouth.

He later tried to remove it with a whip.  Then he gave me the chance to do the same with him.

So, joint losers then.

I'll settle for that.