Easter Eggs Are Yummy And Dotty Has Eaten A LOAD Even Though It Isn’t Easter Until Tomorrow

I've eaten about this much worth of Easter eggs so far and I'm going to eat MORE.

 

This is a very big Easter egg. I wonder if it’s hollow.  I’ve been eating Easter eggs all day. Easter eggs have NEVER made me sick, no matter how many I scran. They’re fucking lovely. THE BERSERKERS can’t keep up with me. Nobody can.

 

I’ve sent Scotty out to buy some more – yesterday he DID return from his meeting with MI5 or whoever he met  (I didn’t think he’d be able to come back) and he has to leave tonight on a mission to fuck knows where so that’s why we’re having Easter today and not tomorrow.

 

Lottie isn’t joining in because she’s on a diet but I can see by her face that she wants an Easter egg, she REALLY REALLY wants an Easter egg, it’s like a battle going on inside her – NO NO NO EASTER EGG, YES YES YES EASTER EGG – but she hasn’t given in yet. I’ll give her another hour before she cracks (HA HA HA HA – did you see what I did there?) We always had Easter egg eating competitions when we were kids and Lottie always won, even Scotty couldn’t beat her, even dear dead Daddy couldn’t beat her, and alongside the lure of the Easter eggs themselves is the call of the FIGHT – if her stomach doesn’t make her crack (HA HA) her competitive streak will.

 

Scotty isn’t very well, he caught Man-Flu the other day when he was up the ladder in the blizzard so it’s his own fault he has it, and THE BERSERKERS have little girl stomachs so I’m winning so far with a grand total of 12 (2 Cadbury’s Creme Eggs, 3 Cadbury’s Caramel, 3 of those Lindt Bunny Rabbits, and 4 Cadbury’s Flake). I don’t know what kind of Easter eggs Scotty’s going to bring back but they better not be those cheap ones that clag to the top of your mouth, I don’t like them.

 

I might be back later to tell you who won.

 

It’ll be ME.

Dotty Day Out

 

Hello everybody. Sorry I couldn’t do a post yesterday, I was too knackered to write one. Why was I too knackered? Because I went OUT.

O-U-T spells OUT.

OUT is the opposite of IN.

That’s what I did, I went OUT.

For the second time this year. 

I’m a social butterfly with butterfly stitches. I bought butter. And I saw a fly, a big fucker that must have got IN the car when we were getting OUT of the car but luckily Lottie spotted it before we got back IN the car and she opened the door and the fly flew OUT.

And fuck-diddly-fuck, wouldn’t you just know it, 24 hour Tesco had Cumberland sausages on offer – buy one get one free – so I bought fucking loads and loads and got the same again for nothing.

It all happened IN a similar way to when I went OUT last time (see Dotty And Scotty Go Shopping) except this time Lottie came with us so I wasn’t left alone when Scotty did his recce of the aisles. And we went to 24 hour Tesco later than we did last time, yesterday we set off at 5.00 am which would have been impossible if I hadn’t dosed up on double beta-blockers, double anti-depressives, two vials of laudanum and a swig of Diet Coke to wash it all down. And THE BERSERKERS came too and they proved to be a great distraction for me and a great help when Lottie went off to the toilet – when a person happened to be IN the aisle I wanted to go down what they did is they walked up to the person who was looking at whatever they were looking at on the shelf, stood right up close to them, very still and very straight, and THE BERSERKERS looked up at them and kept looking up at them, and kept looking up at them, and kept looking up at them with their big wide starey little-girl eyes until the person got freaked out and ran away.

I’m loving THE BERSERKERS so much more than I ever thought I would.

So we got all the shopping and sent Scotty off to pay for it while Lottie and me and THE BERSERKERS had a wander round the non-food aisles. And that’s when I saw it – the perfect thing, the absolutely perfect thing that I have always wanted – the bench – THE BENCH that is made of solid dark wood and has little carvings of love hearts on the back, the bench that is BEAUTIFUL and LOVELY and COMFORTABLE with thick slats for your bum to sit nicely on, the bench that was advertised as a garden bench but I didn’t buy it for my garden, I bought it so I could screw my MEMORIAL PLAQUE onto it and put it on the HIGH SPOT ON THE MOORS that I used to love walking to, the spot that has a view to die for, the spot that I want my ashes scattered on when I am DEAD. So I bought it.

My MEMORIAL BENCH was too big to fit IN the car because of all the shopping and US even though the car is a big posh one, so Scotty took us and the shopping home and then he went back to collect my MEMORIAL BENCH. While he was gone Lottie put all the shopping away while I looked for my MEMORIAL PLAQUE which was where I thought it was, IN the top drawer of my desk. This is what my MEMORIAL PLAQUE says —

 

 This bench belongs to

DOTTY HEADBANGER

19?? – 20??

If you write on Dotty’s bench

she will haunt you

for the rest of your pitiful life.

 

When Scotty came back with my MEMORIAL BENCH he asked where I wanted him to put it. 

‘Put it? I’m not putting it anywhere, it’s going up to its SPOT ON THE MOORS. Now. When I’ve eaten my Cumberland sausage sandwich.’

He looked at Lottie and I could see by the way they looked at each other that they didn’t think I could go OUT twice IN the one day so I tried to reassure them – ‘It’s okay, I’ll take more medication’.

They looked at each other again. Lottie said, ‘Have you got something planned, Dotty?’

‘Yes, I’ve got it all planned – Scotty can screw my MEMORIAL PLAQUE onto my MEMORIAL BENCH then me and Scotty can go IN his car with my MEMORIAL BENCH and you and the girls can go IN yours.’

‘What else have you got planned?’

‘Oh. I didn’t think of anything else – should we take a picnic?’

‘I meant…’ she looked at Scotty again, ‘I meant have you got plans to… you know?’

‘What?’

Scotty looked at ME instead of at Lottie. ‘Fucking ‘ell, Dotty, are you going to top yourself?’

‘HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA — is that what you think? Well no I’m not, not today you divvy sods – I’ve just spent ninety quid on shopping. And a hundred and fifty on my bench.’

‘But memorial benches are for dead people. Their families buy them as a MEMORIAL and put them in a place their dead one loved. You’re not dead.’

I just laughed at them again and went for a wee before we set off. No I’m not dead – and that’s why I’ve been planning for years to buy my own MEMORIAL BENCH – why should a seat appear for me WHEN I CAN’T USE IT BECAUSE I’M DEAD? Why shouldn’t I have somewhere nice to sit when I’ve just slogged my way up a big fucking hill to look at the view? And ALSO – when everything’s back to normal and Scotty and Lottie and THE BERSERKERS have gone home and it’s just me and little Emily again, if I have my MEMORIAL BENCH to visit it might make me GET OUT OF THIS FUCKING HOUSE THAT I CAN’T GET OUT OF.

So we took my MEMORIAL BENCH up to the HIGH SPOT ON THE MOORS and set it in place (Scotty brought my shovel with him and I made him stop off on the way to buy a bag of ready-mixed concrete). The wind wasn’t too bad for March and the ground wasn’t boggy either because it’s been freezing these last few days so me and THE BERSERKERS had a wild old time racing up the hill (they beat me, I ran like a lame old donkey because of my butterfly stitched places). I asked Lottie and Scotty to take THE BERSERKERS for a walk so I could be OUTSIDE on my own for a while. Lottie made sure I had my Nokia Hard Bastard with me to ring her if I needed to and off they went.

I can’t describe how I felt when they’d disappeared out of sight, it was too lovely for words, but the BIG SKY was beautiful, I sat on my bench for ages and ages looking for faces in the clouds. I saw King George III, Muhammed Ali, Van Gogh, Jimmy Krankie, Britney Spears and I think it was Julius Caesar or more likely it was Caligula.

It wasn’t as quiet as I thought it would be, but it was a BETTER sort of noisy, no FUCKING MACHINERY, just birds and breeze and the odd baa from a sheep. It was the closest to silence I’ll ever get until I’m dead and I want to go there again soon. I WILL go there again soon because now I’ve got my MEMORIAL BENCH up there to park my arse on for a rest.

When we got home I went upstairs to rewrite my will — what they have to do is get me a basket coffin (basket case when living, basket case when dead), carry me up to the HIGH SPOT ON THE MOORS, make a big bonfire, chuck me and my basket coffin INTO the fire, eat a few Cumberland sausages and sing a little song but I don’t know what song yet, it’s a toss up between I’ll Fly Away by Alison Krauss & Gillian Welch and Bat Out Of Hell by Meatloaf.

Perhaps I’ll make them sing both.

 

 

Dotty Settles The Berserkers And Tells Them A Story (A Good One)

 

After Useless Judas stormed out of my house I locked and bolted the back door then I shouted to THE BERSERKERS to come back into the kitchen because Uncle Scotty had gone. When they appeared in the doorway they looked like little war orphans and I could have cried at how pitiful they were but I didn’t, I got them a cup of milk and a cold Cumberland sausage each from the fridge and I got myself a glass of Diet Coke and four cold Cumberland sausages from the fridge and I said come on, let’s take these up to bed.

I carried my glass of Diet coke and the two cups of milk (any pedantic wisearses reading this – before you say it, no I don’t have three hands – the cups have HANDLES). THE BERSERKERS carried all six of the cold Cumberland sausages between them in their pudgy little GERMY hands and normally after they’d touched them I’d have had to give my cold Cumberland sausages a good scrub under the cold tap before I ate them but that was before I had little Emily’s WABBIT PIE. No food can faze me now.

At the door to the spare room Prissy, the eldest, said, ‘Can we sleep in with you, Auntie Dotty?’ I didn’t get chance to say no, they were off like a pair of muggers into my bedroom, on top of my bed.

OY, mind the Cumberland sausages. Don’t get bed on them!’ I didn’t have the heart to kick them into the spare room even though I knew I was in for another night of no sleep if I let them stay (have I ever told you I’m nice and kind like that?) so I put their cups of milk and my glass of Diet coke on my bedside table (which was, to my surprise, surprisingly collection-free – little Emily must have had a tidy up) and I got onto the bed with them.

‘You two, give me my Cumberland sausages.’

‘Can we eat ours?’

‘Yep. Erm, why are mine damp? Have they been licked?’

The GLANCE OF NAUGHTINESS that usually passed between THE BERSERKERS when they were up to something didn’t happen so I knew my Cumberland sausages were spit-free. Poor little things, they’d been traumatised by Useless Judas shouting at them. I knew I had to ask them THE question, whether or not he’d smacked them, but I was nervous of the answer they’d give because he’d been so wound up he could easily have lost it with them, and if he had there’d be no way he’d admit it to me. I had to do it with subtleness though.

‘Did Uncle Scotty smack either of you?’ I said in the very slow high voice people use when they’re asking kids a delicate question.

Neither of them answered. Oh-oh.

‘Did Uncle Scotty hurt you? You have to tell me if he did.’

Prissy shook her head. ‘We hurt HIM. She bit his sore finger and I hit him in the front bum with the Wii remote.’

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA – I managed not to laugh out loud, I turned away and got my glass of Diet Coke so they wouldn’t see me trying to hold my face straight. ‘That was very naughty, girls. You shouldn’t hit people.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Thorry.’

‘Right, finish your Cumberland sausages and drink your milk so we can go to sleep.’ I wanted to ask them where Lottie and Fat-Fuck had gone and why Useless Judas had been left to babysit at all – he’s the last person I would have expected Lottie to leave her kids with – but that could wait till morning, I had to get them to sleep before the four beta-blockers I’d taken ran out of power.

We got under the covers, me in the middle because they wanted me there but I couldn’t do with being in the middle, it was too much like being trapped between two bald monkeys so I had to get Prissy to climb over to the other side of Cissy. After the scramble I said, ‘Lie down now and go to sleep.’

‘Tell me a thtory. Winnie-the-Pooh.’

‘I want Cinderella.’

Fuck. I can’t remember stories.

‘Please.’

‘Pleathe.’

‘Howsabout I make up a story?’

‘Yeth. Make up Winnie-the-Pooh.’

‘Okay let me think for a minute. Right, erm, once upon a time there was a bear who lived in the woods. He SL… ‘

‘That’s Winnie-the-Pooh. I don’t want a baby story.’

‘Yay, Winnie!’

‘Shut up and listen. He SLEPT in the woods, he ATE HIS DINNER in the woods, he PLAYED in the woods, but the one thing he DIDN’T DO in the woods was SHIT IN THE WOODS. His name …’

‘You thweared, you thweared!!’

‘… his name was WINNIE-THE-SHITE… ‘

gaspy screams of shocked laughter, hands clamped to their mouths as though they’d said the word themselves – EXACTLY the reaction I’d hoped for to cheer them up a bit (see, I DO know what to do with kids, I bet you thought I wouldn’t have a clue, didn’t you?) except now I had to think of more story.. ‘so one day Winnie-the-Shite had been for a shit in the nearby town and was trying to get back to his home in the woods when he got lost. He wandered round and round the trees but all the trees looked the same and he couldn’t find a tree he knew. He wandered all day and just as it started to get dark and he started to get scared he saw a pretty little cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney and Winnie-the-Shite thought to himself, ‘I wonder if anyone’s in?’ So he went and knocked on the door but there was no answer so he tried the door and it wasn’t locked so he opened the door and he looked inside. Everything was like it is in The Three Bears story —- do you know The Three Bears?’

They both nodded.

‘Goldiwockth’

…. ‘and Winnie-the-Shite thought to himself, ‘I think I’m in The Three Bears Story, I’d better get out of here before they come back and think I’ve eaten their porridge.’ But the porridge smelled lovely and when he went over to the cooker and lifted the lid on the porridge pot, and looked in the porridge pot, the porridge LOOKED lovely ..’

‘No, Winnie-the-Thite, don’t eat it!’

… ‘and he picked up the big wooden stirring spoon and dunked it in the porridge and he got a BIG gloop of porridge and he ate it. And it tasted nice but it needed a bit of salt to make it taste LOVELY so Winnie-the Shite looked round the kitchen for the salt but he couldn’t see any, so he started opening the cupboard doors and looking inside the cupboards but he couldn’t find it in any of the cupboards. He wondered if The Three Bears kept their salt in the bedroom so he opened the door to what he THOUGHT was the bedroom and ‘OH MY GIDDYGODDYJESUS,’ said Winnie-the-Shite when he saw what was in the room…’

‘What? What?’

‘It was a TOILET. But Winnie-the-Shite had never seen a toilet before and he didn’t know what it was, so he tiptoed across the floor to it and bent down and did what bears do to things when they don’t know what they are – he SNIFFED it!’

‘YEEEUUURRGGGHHHHH!’

‘EEEEEWWWWWWWWW!

‘And the PONG made him jump back in disgust. He ran back to the kitchen but the door he opened wasn’t the kitchen door it was the bedroom door and on Baby Bear’s small bed he saw a sleeping girl with thick, golden curly hair, just like Cissy’s hair, and he knew it was Goldilocks so he ran over and shook her awake and said ‘Come on, Goldilocks, we have to get out of here, The Three Bears will be back in a minute and THEY ARE DIRTY MINGING BEARS WHO SHIT IN THEIR OWN HOUSE, come on, come on, hurry up!’

‘Come on, come on!’

‘So Winnie-the-Shite and Goldilocks ran out of the bedroom and found their way back to the kitchen where Goldilocks stopped and refused to move until she had some porridge, but Winnie-the-Shite knew The Three Bears were on their way home so he said, ‘Let’s nick the WHOLE pot of porridge and we’ll eat it when we’re safe,’ so they each took a handle of the porridge pot and they ran out of the house and into the woods.

They ran and ran and ran, far into the woods, and when they stopped for a little rest Winnie-the-Shite said, ‘Hang on, I KNOW that tree.’ So he asked the tree, ‘Do I know you?’ and the tree said, ‘Yes, I’m Piney the Prickly Pine Tree,’ and Winnie-the-Shite said, ‘I THOUGHT I recognised you. Can you show me the way home, please?’ And Piney the Prickly Pine Tree swayed his branches in the direction of Winnie-the-Shite’s home and said ‘That way,’ and Winnie-the-Shite said ‘Thank you,’ and he set off with Goldilocks and the porridge pot and soon he was in his own cottage with the porridge pot on the kitchen table and a BIG bowl of salt, and BIG spoons and a new friend and they all lived happily ever after. Amen.’

Quietness. Stillness. Little breaths.

I waited five minutes until I was sure they were asleep then I shuffled round, carefully, and slid one leg out from under the covers. They didn’t stir so I slowly got out of bed and went downstairs. Little Emily was sitting at the kitchen table, writing.

She looked up from her page, ‘Oh, Dotty, those poor, poor little mites. But never fear – I will assist you, my dear friend. You are not alone.’

And she got up and made me a cup of coffee and brought me a packet of Hobnobs to dunk. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

 

 

 

 

 

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

 

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

DOTTY!

DOTTY!

The panic in his voice got me out of bed and down the stairs and opening up the locks on the back door in less than half a minute. Scotty stood there looking terrified, the same look he’d had the night dear dead Daddy died. Standing next to him, THE BERSERKERS, crying and shivering, still in their slippers, their coats thrown over their pyjamas.

‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?’

‘Let me get in first.’ He half-pushed THE BERSERKERS inside and the youngest let out a sob and came and attached herself to my side. The other one did the same on the other side, their cries getting louder and louder.

‘Is it Lottie? Tell me what’s…’

‘STOP YOUR FUCKING HOWLING, WILL YOU?‘ he shouted, clapping his hands over his ears.

‘WOAH!‘ I gripped THE BERSERKERS closer and walked them back, away from him. ‘Go in the living room, girls, put the telly on. Prissy, get a tissue and clean Cissy’s nose, I’ll be in in a minute.’ They went.

He started pacing the floor of my kitchen, his hands shaking, sweat on his forehead. I could just make out ‘fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’ under his breath.

‘She’s left you babysitting, hasn’t she?’

‘They’re animals, they’re fucking monsters.’

‘Don’t you DARE call them animals.’ Monsters, yes, animals, no.

‘They never SHUT UP. That little one, fucking milk then biscuits, I said get to fucking SLEEP will you, no, she wants the toilet then a story, fucking Winnie-the-fucking-POOH then another story then the toilet again, then the other one starts and SHE wants a story NOT Winnie-the-Pooh, some fucking Disney thing and I said no, get to fucking SLEEP and that one started crying then the other one started and THEY WOULDN’T FUCKING SHUT UP they went…

‘Right, okay, okay. Did you smack them?’

He looked at me like I’d just bitten his ear. ‘What?’

‘Did you smack them?’

‘Did I smack them? What do you think I am, a fucking baby-batterer? Fuck this for a game of soldiers.’

And he walked out

and left me with THE BERSERKERS.

ALONE

WITH THE BERSERKERS

who were upset and crying in my living room so I took four beta-blockers and I said to myself, get a grip, Dotty, the poor little buggers need you.

I am going to KILL Lottie for this.

 

 

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