ORDINARY BLOKE v's ORDINARY BLOKE

It started back in October.

Find out what all this "Blog" nonsense is about, sort out a decent title, and have a go.

But the blog had to have a point (of sorts!). So I was delighted - not to say amazed - to find that the address "Ordinary Bloke Down The Pub" had not yet been used. It seemed perfect for a blog that intended to air all the subjects you'd find blokes (and blokesses) ranting on about down your local boozer. In fact, it seemed not far short of total fucking genius!!

But then I became a lazy twat and did nothing for months - well, there was Christmas and all that.

So finally getting off my arse and posting something, it was all excitedly that I typed Ordinary Bloke into Google, expecting to see the one and only Ordinary Bloke Down The Pub popping up at the top of the list.

And what did I get??

Steve bloody Irwin!!

Now, there's nothing wrong with Steve Irwin. I quite liked him.

But ORDINARY BLOKE?

You are having a fucking laugh!

I've wrestled a few Mooses in my time (reminder to self - YOU CANNOT HANDLE KRONENBOURG) and had to fight off the odd pig or two after one too many, but CROCODILES? AND SNAKES??

Don't be silly......

Left is Ordinary Bloke Down The Pub posing outside a bar on holiday.

Nothing more dangerous than the odd stray dog (nothing a well aimed brick can't sort out) and the occassional bothering of the beach vendor (honest, I can't carry money in these shorts!).

Right is Steve Irwin - not quite the same ordinary bloke as above, I think you'll agree (although the crocodile doesn't look that fucking scary to me!).

Now I admit there is an uncanny resemblance that could be an episode of Who Do You Think You Are? all in itself. And I'm sure you're wondering if Steve Irwin looks as good in the old "Englishman Abroad" vest as the Ordinary Bloke Down The Pub.

But I do have to admit that he would have been a lot more use to you down by some Australian river bank than I would. And let's face it, probably a lot more use to you outside the Kebab van at midnight as well!

But ordinary? Sorry, Steve.

You were a top bloke.

Cool and Funny.

And you look almost as good in shorts.

But ordinary - I'm afraid not.

And believe me - that's not such a bad thing!

P.S. The Ordinary Bloke search also threw up David Cameron. I like it. Google has a sense of fucking humour.

Pass me my gun.......

THOUGHTS FROM THE LOUNGE BAR

ADOPT-AN-ANIMAL
Last Christmas (2005), I adopted a turtle for my youngest. He got the certificate and everything on Christmas day. Who knows, by Boxing day, the poor little baby turtle could have already been lunch for some enormous fucking sea bird or shark. Who would know? My 9 year old, bless him, has wonderful visions of his cute little turtle swimming happily away in the Indian ocean without a care in the world. I haven't got the heart to tell him that he doesn't actually have a specific turtle (named Eric I believe) and that MY hard earned money, although it helps, is actually funding a couple of blond haired, bearded Norwegians in their quest to spend their entire lives on a boat in the fucking sunshine so they don't have to get a proper job!
Anyway, come this December, the emails start flooding in. Our further subscription will help continue the life of Riley, sorry, exceptional work carried out by the small team of selfless volunteers! Not a word about my bloody turtle though. Where exactly is Eric, my 10 year old wants to know? (see, one year older, ever more cynical).
How many late night skunk and firewater beach parties has our subscription enabled?
Sorry guys. we're not buying it. Find some other poor suckers to fund your Maldives island hopping.

This year our moneys going to those cute little Tigers.

Lets see some scrawny seagull try to eat those fuckers!!


JORDAN LOADED
I read recently that Jordan (she of the pneumatic chest and twat on her arm) is worth about 10 million quid!
How did that happen, then? Where's it all come from?
Yes, she is a model. Yes, she has big tits.
She has written (ha ha) a book.
But how do you get that sort of money? Who the fuck is gonna read that book, let alone buy it?
You can see why that desperate loser she married couldn't wait to get hitched. Pretty unlikely he's going to be a big earner anytime in our lifetime. But living off the earnings of Jordan can't be far off pimping!
At least I can feel happy that neither of them have got their hands on any of my hard earned.
I can honestly say that not one single penny of mine has been deposited in her bank account.
Although I can't guarantee she hasn't had a deposit of mine somewhere!!!

Jordan shows off her twat again!

ORDINARY BLOKE AT HOME

The plan is that ocassionally I will also add a small section about myself, so the reader (if there should be such a thing) , gets to know a little about what the ordinary bloke down the pub gets up to when he's not down the pub!
No, don't panic, this isn't the start of an autobiographical bore-fest, it will just be a short piece now and again giving you the odd insight into my personal life, outside of the pub orientated opinion that will make up the bulk of this bog. Something like this...

EX WIFE & KIDS
The ex has been the ex for a few years now. In fact, even my replacement "Mr. Wonderful" is now an an ex as well. Which is where the problem starts.
'Cos when she had her bloke in tow, I was an unwanted irritation. Had to pop round to get the kids, but was generally about as welcome as a muslim with a rucksack at Kings Cross underground.
But now he's gone......
On the phone all the time, wants this doing and that doing. Even asks me to run down the shop for some fags!
Well sorry love - NO!!
An ex is just that. EX. Surplus to requirements.
And that's the trouble with ex-wives. You can nevr quite get rid of the "wife" bit.
If I was an ex boyfriend, you need never contact me again for 20 years (when I'll pop up on Friends Reunited and you'll forget what a total arse-hole I was and try e-mailing me).
If I was an ex pet I'd be in a Cornflakes box buried somewhere at the bottom of the garden that you can't remember.
If I was an ex friend then you'd do everything in your power to avoid me in the street (having never forgiven me for buying the same pair of shoes as you!).
But as an ex-husband, with kids, you can never quite break away completely, no matter how hard you try.
And subtle messages rarely hit the mark. So lets try another way.....
It's time to get over it. You're an ex for a reason.
Get your own fucking fags!!

GIRLFRIEND
Anyway, now there is the girlfriend. Not exactly new, as we've been seeing each other for 3 years now, but a younger model that takes some getting used to.
Different outlook on life, perhaps.
Take a few weeks ago. A problem "down below" resulted in a trip to the doctors, who promptly suggested a Chlamydia test! Now correct me if I'm wrong, but most women would have gone absolutely ape shit at their partner, wanting to know where they've been, what they've been up to and, most importantly, where they fucking caught it!
Before, of course, passing it on to her.
My girlfriend? Never questioned it. Could have been lying dormant for several years, she said. "If I've got it, I've got it. No point worrying about it." Apparently, according to her, either one of us could have caught it years ago from another partner and it's only just reared it's ugly head.
In the end, turns out there was nothing wrong. All clear. Nothing to worry about.
Except, maybe, the rather calm attitude of said girlfriend to the whole scenario...