So, I’m back on my blog and eager to start annoying y’all again but I won’t be annoying y’all as much as I used to annoy y’all because, unbelievable as it might sound, I’m helping to look after the BABY who lives here, and babies (even good babies like the one who lives here) are demanding little fuckers who take up a LOT OF TIME.
How did I end up with a baby in my house? This is how…
It was almost midnight on Christmas Eve. I was sitting on my sofa watching Christmas shite on the telly when I heard a tap-tap-tap on the back door. Who could it be? Lottie and THE BERSERKERS? Nope, I know what their knocks sound like. Branwell? Nope, he’d be hiding under a pew at midnight mass necking down the Christmas wine. Little Emily? Kumblant? No, it wasn’t them. I’d never heard a tap-tap-tap like it – it scared me. But then suddenly I wasn’t scared because it dawned on me that the only other person who’d be knocking on my door at almost midnight on Christmas Eve was SANTA CLAUS so I jumped up off the sofa and ran to the back door to let him in and to give him his glass of milk and Cumberland sausage sandwich (which he never usually TOUCHES, the ungrateful twat), and to see how many CHRISTMAS PRESENTS he had for me in his sack, and to see if the jingle bells I’d been hearing all week were REAL jingle bells, but when I flung open the door all I saw was a BIG BELLY and a SAD FACE, neither of which belonged to Santa. I know this because —
1. The BIG BELLY was BIGGER than Santa’s big belly.
2. The SAD FACE didn’t have a big bushy white beard at the bottom of it.
3. Whoever the BIG BELLY and the SAD FACE belonged to wasn’t dressed in RED (it was a sort of manky beige).
4. Between the BIG BELLY and the SAD FACE sat a HUGE pair of BAZONKAS that definitely didn’t belong to Santa (unless there’s something he isn’t telling us). The presence of the HUGE BAZONKAS suggested to me that the person standing in front of me was a woman.
She said, ‘Are you Dotty? Dotty Headbanger?’
‘I might be.’
‘Oh God, Dotty, I’ve been looking for you all day, I’ve been up and down the streets trying to find your house but no one knows who you are or where you live so I had to knock on every single door to find you and I need a wee and I haven’t had a cup of tea or anything to eat for hours. I know you don’t know me but pleasepleaseplease will you let me go for a wee and give me a bed for the night?’
‘Are you pregnant?’
‘Seven and a half months. And I need a wee. Please. And a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor if you don’t have anything else, I’m just so tired and I need to get warm.’
Why do I attract all the nutters in the area, even at Christmas? I was just about to say, ‘Go away. Do I look like a stable?’ when I heard the first chime of my grandfather clock and I thought, fucking hell it’s Christmas, I can’t turn her away on Christmas Day or Santa will find out and he won’t leave me any presents at all. So I let her in and she’s been here ever since.
Because she turned up looking for a bed on Christmas Eve you’d think her name would be Mary. Her name isn’t Mary. Well, yes it IS Mary, but she’s only half a Mary. She’s called Mary-Mona, the poor cow. Mary-Mona Onken. And the baby’s name isn’t Jesus and he wasn’t born at Christmas, (he arrived at the beginning of February, which makes him, to date, almost 4 months old). And the baby, whose name isn’t Jesus, is NOT the son of God, he’s the son of my feckless fucker of a brother, Scotty.
The baby’s name is BUSTER. Buster Onken-Headbanger. Hyphenated because when it came to registering his birth I told Mary-Mona I’d throw them out on the streets if she didn’t give him the Headbanger name, even if she does want to kill Scotty (she’ll have to get to him before I do or she’ll have lost her chance, I’m going to FUCKING SLAUGHTER him when I see him). I insisted on Headbanger, she wanted Onken (for fuck’s sake) so we compromised and added the hyphen.
So here they are and here they stay and, surprisingly, I haven’t (yet) drop-kicked the baby into the bin or shoved a foul nappy into Mary-Mona’s mouth to shut her up. I’m patient and caring and kind to them because with the baby’s arrival I’ve discovered something new about myself –
I am a BABY LOVER.
Dotty the BABY LOVER.
Who’d have ever thunk it?