old sarge's sad, but true tales from The Lockdown presents (vol. 1)

old sarge's sad, but true tales from The Lockdown presents:  'hit me with your postponed wedding stick, two fat persons, click, click, click', incorporating 'reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three'...

gentle reader, sad, but true...The Colonel and me and, as I lovingly refer to them whenever possible, Our Rancid Offspring...

 

(...sweet fucking creeping covid-19 jesus, it just occurred to me that there's the hideous prospect of a supergroup of the same name to form/have formed somewhere in the multiverse, featuring members of Our Chemical Romance, Rancid and The Offspring...you have been warned, I do appear to have developed the Lockdown Superpower of being able to bring unlikely, even fictional scenarios into existence these last few weeks...it compliments my almost supernatural ability to pack boxes of assorted household shit into the tightest of cupboard spaces, first time, every time...you know, like Magneto but with cardboard boxes...again sad, but true...Shiteneto, if you will indulge me...but is it actually a mutant superpower or, as is more likely, a throwback to the awesome Presto-hewn shelf stacking skills of my youth, developed and mastered with Jedi-esque clarity and dedicated sense of duty and purpose in the 80's and 90's?...perhaps it's my actual mutant bollocks – once again sad, but true – or the Lockdown Logan/Wolverine mutton-chops, hairdo and, piest de resistance, Great British Sewing Bee-inspired home-sewn yellow skin-tight Lycra Lockdown X-Men costume I'm rocking, 24/7 night and day, to the increasing abject horror of those closest to me...but, I digress...)

 

...were originally going to be guests at two weddings this past weekend, one on the Friday night and the other on the Sunday, postponed and now re-organised for later in the year...sad, but true...but now also something to look forward to, so every cloud and all that...as the great man himself said, reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three...

 

I gather that the same goes for the Spectator journalist Katy Balls... apparently her nuptials have also been postponed...also sad, but true...watching a recent episode of HIGNFY, she made an amusing aside about not expecting the Friday night of her honeymoon in the Seychelles to be broadcast on Auntie Beeb...now, she didn’t reveal to the nation whether or not either her or her husband to-be are some kind of sex-tape enthusiasts, the Pammy and Tommy-Lee of the Lockdown, perhaps, but you never know with these Liberal-metropolitan-elite types…

 

anyway, she also didn't reveal what her fiance's name is, the Journalist’s Code being what it is, respect for privacy and all that jazz, but I am looking forward to hearing about her wedding finally going ahead in the autumn, perhaps to Mr Dicken Fondled-Roughly, and them setting up home as Mr and Mrs Dicken Balls-Fondled-Roughly...

 

gentle reader, reasons indeed to be cheerful, one, two, three...