Wednesday, 14 November 2012


These are the things that my wife, the Sultan of Fun, taught me this week. They are apparently vital rules for me to understand if I wish to continue to live in the domestic bliss I have become accustomed to. The threat was very thinly veiled and accompanied by her standing by the door with a sneering leer of judgement and a suitcase.

1. "There's not much more to this than kangaroo balls and Helen Flanagan's boobs" is not an acceptable critique of I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here in front of the children.

2. There is not an albino slug in the back garden that likes San Miguel beer and kebabs. The children do not need to hear such stories.

3. "There's always a price to pay for genius" is not an acceptable excuse for being drunk enough to be caught chatting up a tree in the back garden.

4. Chips are not one of the children's five a day, and neither is strawberry cheesecake.

5. The "floordrobe" at the side of our bed is apparently unacceptable and constitutes a dangerous obstacle course. It is most certainly not "a Mexican stand-off with my imaginary friend, Tony the Scruffy Ghost".

6. The washing basket is not a modern art installation and it does not constitute a crime against art to disturb it in any way.

7. Modern art is not all "emperor's new clothes bollocks for insufferable pedantic bores".

8. Shouting "help, call the cops, I'm Barbara Windsor" out of the car window as I drive through town with the kids is wrong "in so many ways".

9. The washing machine is not R2D2 who has let himself go and I am allowed to bother him even though I think he is asleep in the corner.

10.  It is entirely unnecessary to leave dirty clothes on any floor or to operate a "voluntary rotation system" for washing which involves leaving it there until someone moves it to a wash basket and or machine and back to the floor.

11. The utility room is appropriately named and worth visiting, even though it has not got Batman style gadgets in it.

12. Waving at every car in a mock thank you gesture as I drive past them is not as funny as the kids and I think it is.

These are shortened and cleaned up versions. You didn't see the looks I got.

I will post my new rules in the next day or two. Admittedly, I will not be mentioning them to her at the moment until Tony the Scruffy Ghost and I have them fine tuned.


  1. I think you'll find sultana is the female version of sultan, my sweet.

  2. I think you should listen to your wife. And avoid driving anywhere where the other people on the road might carry guns. xxx

  3. Springburn then. The female of Sultan may well be Sultana but do I care? Hold the line there dear while I think.....Nope, don't give a flying rats arse.

  4. You've never taken on board the concept of "When you're in a hole, stop digging", have you, Mr L? xxx

  5. I can only echo Debbie's words many times over.

    The sultana's rules for the currant bun man may seem harsh, but I fear they they are wholly necessary. I look forward to publication of Mr Rantparrot's own rules and his subsequent visit to London asking if I have a spare room.

  6. I fear nothing, I am the parrot that roared - briefly and pretty quietly to be honest. But it was a bloody roar, OK everyone, a ROAR.

  7. You may find that following the gentle guidance for the fairer sex is, indeed, very advisable.

  8. yeah whatever, I am therefore I am, oh wait, hang on a minute. I got a bit confused there. I am, yeah whatever.

  9. And here was me thinking, you'd written "I am, yeah, underwear"... how appropriate since you did go on about the washing, eh?

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