Jerome news update

I don't have a clue what the old bugger is doing. He spent Easter in Brum with H, corrupting her.

His housemates are cooking him elaborate roast dinners.

He's getting driving work quite regularly.

He needs a lad friend to watch football with. If there are any lads in the south Brum area who like birds, beer, all sport, and extreme competitiveness, apply here for membership of the Cult of Jerome. Warning: you will become the deluded follower of an insane demi-god.

He hasn't bought any O'Neill clothes or large shoes recently, so I can't take the piss out of him for that.

He very thoughtfully texted to tell me that the World Championships were on. That's ice skating, one of the few sports he doesn't watch.

That's all folks!

His Master's Voice

Today we texted Jerome. "Are you doing anything tonight?" we asked.
He has just replied "Boar's Head in half an hour."

At least he didn't say, "Get in the bath now."

Not Quite Perfect

Jerome is very skilled in many arts, such as truck-driving, Shut the Box and (so he says) lovemaking. However, his bunchofbanana-sized hands render him unable to tie knots in balloons.

More freight on rail

Occasionally, in what I thought was a futile attempt to annoy Jerome, I used to suggest that it would be a good idea if more freight travelled by rail. For environmental reasons, etc. He did a very good job of ignoring me and I thought this subtle pisstaking had had no effect. But I was wrong. One Friday evening I came home to find a message from Jerome on my answerphone. It went something like this:

"Marv, the Post Office has transferred all the post to lorries because rail is so inefficient. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha."

Job well done, then.

The Beatles In Shire Shocker

If Shoogs and Marv are in times of trouble
Mother Mary comforts them
Singing Musical Wisdom, let it be.
And in the heart of farming
There are times when lighting farts can help
Ed will hold the matches
Let it be.

Let it be
Let it be
In West Hendy, Let it be
Ed will hold the matches, But don't pee.

And when Jerome's playin' the fruity gambler
Speaking in his special tongue,
There will be no winner, let it be.
For though his brain is parted there is
Still a chance that we will see
The meaning in his gibber, let it be.
Let it be, let it be. yeah
Love your drunken brother, let it be.

And when the night is rowdy,
There is still a light that shines on me,
Jonathan is sober, let it be.
I wake up and I'm strangely grateful,
But don't know where I have had a pee
Rufus be my wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
There will be an answer, Where've I peed.
Let it be, let it be,
When will I learn wisdom, let it be.


Sorry, Had a couple of beers.

Jack sends a text

Last night Jerome texted me:

Do you fancy the guy on the right of the screen on A Song for Europe?

An innoccuous question really. As I'm gay, Jerome was naturally assuming that I was queening it wit' ma' fellow playas by watching the Eurovision run up.

But I wasn't. I was drinking copius amounts of beer in a straight bar with my straight friends in very straight Old Street.

Meanwhile, Jerome was at home on a Saturday night, texting his gay friend about some cute guy he just saw while watching A Song for Europe.

How the mighty have fallen.

Francis sighted in Birmingham

It's official! He's moved to Brum. He's staying with H for a week, then moving into a room in a shared house. He's going to the agency on Monday to look for driving jobs. He's done it. He's left Hobbiton. I hoped he would, but i thought wrong. Another triumph of hope over experience.

We're meeting him for a drink later to celebrate his arrival.

We went over to help him move his stuff and half his CDs fell on the floor. I picked one up and noticed that the cover was labelled 'to Tomuss from Jerome'. Generous, eh?