Time For A Spexit !

My last foray into the world of blogging found me attempting to experiment with ‘ The Third Person’ – not a film starring Orson Welles, as I had previously thought, but no, that useful little vernacular that allows the writer to ‘expand his repertoire’, so to speak.  Perhaps it’s always a good idea to ensure the third person ain’t reading the repetoire  before you go to press, or one could end up feeling well and truly Citizen Caned !  Ouch!

So, this morning, I am sticking well and truly to my tried and tested lexicographical path, and as it loquaciously unwinds I promise I shall not stray into further exotic linguistic ‘forests of the night’, but hold tightly to the hand of that true and trusted friend, the First Person Singular.

I have woken this morning with a head as bloody as John The Baptist and a body as parched as that of Joan Of Arc.  I am irreligiously overhung !

Andrew, on the other stake, is irritatingly chipper.  He has the demeanour of Shirley Temple and the look of a manic Buzz Lightyear – in my current medieval mood I could have him hung, drawn and quartered!  Twice !

I am now being forced to listen to ‘Defying Gravity’, a merry tune from the very loud Broadway Musical, ‘Wicked’.  For the fifth time !

Mr Kennedy has taken the lead role of Elpheba, better known as ‘The Wicked Witch Of The West’, and is belting it to the back of the stalls, whilst I am feeling decidely green and worrying that I  could soon be forced to lean over one of the said ‘stalls’ prior to  the interval.

If Andrew doesn’t take his encore soon, I may be forced to see to it that gravity is well and truly defied !

Of course the reason for my grey mood is no doubt due to the overdose of colour with which the past week has spoilt us. On Wednesday the particular shade happened to be white, as we were delighted to be part of the beachside nuptials of our good mates. All of the invitees were required to be clothed in the virginal hue to celebrate the happy event. It was a simple touch, but one that created a serene atmosphere – even when perched on a beer barrel and spilling half a  lager. Mind you, most of the celebrants had lost their look of purity by   ‘last orders’!  A marvellous time was had by all. I think !  It was a definite whitewash by the finish ! Probably quite a few of them !

Then, without even a theatrical pause to allow our boa feathers to settle, we found ourselves  making a coastal comeback – with a full performance mid the mini-cyclone that was Friday evening!  For a moment we imagined the chiringuito may literally take off with us and our audience inside, only to dump us, minutes later, in ‘Munchkinland’. With that damned witch again ! However, despite the great gusts battering our tornado alleys, we remained grounded, physically at least, even if the show itself took a rather unusual flightpath over that most amusing and of late, most ubiquitous of subjects, European Politics. Yes. ‘The Brexit’ made a ‘Brentrance’! Brussels sprouted forth and the whole indigestible debate had got in on our act!  It seems that’s all anyone wants to talk about at the moment.

In our household, we have struggled to keep up with the rather churlish arguments, via the media, that have meant to provide us with at least some elucidation.  Andrew and I have been ‘in’ and then ‘out’ on so many occasions it’s been like doing the political ‘Hokey Cokey’ for weeks.  That, or something much, much ruder !

I, had firmly come down on the ‘in’ side, no surprise there, that is until President Obama decided to throw his ‘two-euro-worth’ into the ring.

Back of the queue – Bloody cheek ! I presume that is precisely where we found ourselves back in 1940 Mr President ?!  Cheap gag I know- but cheap shot Barack. You won’t even be Commander-In-Chief then.  The Whitehouse will be just that again ! God help us !

And wasn’t it Rome that burnt when Euro fiddled? Something like that.

Then that strident, Tuetonic woman, with the terrible hair, begins dictating, or rather, expounding, and it all gets highly confusing. I could literally europop!  In. Out. Out. In.  ‘Fuck off ‘  has so far been my gut reaction ! I could happily drown all of them in their own merkel wine lake ! I mean murky !

I thought the voting at The Eurovison Song Contest was controversial – but this latest adventure in continenental drift has fast turned into ‘The Eurovision Wrong Contest’!  With all the misinformation and blatant ‘shit de bull’ that has been excreted from both sides, I’ve no option but to award them all nil points.

I’m not liking any of the entries in this year’s competition.  There’s no Buck’s Fizz about the whole thing.  Most of the ‘Outs’ seem out of their tiny minds, and the majority of the ‘Remains’ seem just that. Only an urn is required! Deathly dull argument from all sides – not a catchy tune in sight. No ‘Waterloo’.

Well, not yet !

I’ve sadly come to the current conclusion that one may as well just toss a Euro coin rather than attempt to make an informed decision.   In fact, I am so eurozoned out by it all, I’m not sure I even give a toss !

And presently, with Andrew downstairs, obviously intending to musically remain in ‘Oz’ for the rest of the morning, I find myself with a desperate need to get to the other side of the rainbow. There is only one way to escape this infernally wicked internal Eurobabble. I’ve been following ‘The Euro Brick Road’ for far too long.

Time to get up and get out into the Andalucian sunshine.

Forget about wicked witches, East or West. Export oneself out into the unoppressive sunny blue sky. Forget about quotas and trade deals, all of it defying sanity, and import the fresh free air.

Breathe. Import. Export…..

Time to make a sharp ‘Spexit’methinks.


Categories: The Lola Boys

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