therealgazette-blog

[therealgazette-blog]

Quick trip to the dentist!

I’m in the process of having some extensive dental work done at the moment, so my visits to the dentist have become rather more frequent and decidedly more costly! I’m keeping legs and fingers crossed I don’t end up looking like Shergar, or worst still the 6th Osmond! For those of you unsure who or what I’m referring to either google it or jog-on as there’ll be plenty more references to the 70’s and 80’s in my posts!

Anyway, during my last visit I thought I may as well partake in a bit of Botox..... those of you new to this concept, it’s true, Dental practices are now offering Botox and fillers! Brilliant idea, it’s basically a one stop shop for all your facial needs!.... just stops short of full-on facial reconstruction!

“Make me look less like Keith Richards and more like Denise Richards please love.”

As the clinician only had 5 minutes and clearly unable to turn water into wine I’ve had to make do with a ‘Stella’......if unsure, that’s ‘Paul McCartney’ in drag. Incidentally Paul, if you ever read this your music sucks and your daughter can’t design clothes fer shit!.....

I may have to accept that ‘Denise’ might be aiming too high?! I think 90’s Denise was pushing it a tad! May need more time and cash and definitely less fruit from the vine! 🤔

I’m not overly vain but I don’t want to go quietly into the night without a fight either! I want to grow old disgracefully thanks! Might have to see how far back I can wind this clock, while ensuring my eyebrows don’t end up touching my hairline....

[therealgazette-blog]

An Ode to The Star..

Ahh.... the Star, drinking hole of the brave and beguiled. I should add this has nothing to do with the faint waft of gange, tree, weed or dank...... but most likely to do with parched mouths and broken promises..... get it?!

Trying to figure out the average age of anyone who dwells here is practically impossible; probably due to over indulgence and dermal fillers..although a few of the punters look like they know a fella who knows a fella who runs an illegal immigration racket, so it’s not out of the realms of possibility that this lot might know where to get fake ID for the purposes of adding or subtracting a few years....

It’s one of those establishments that’s earnt it’s reputation on the back of that final hour........when all the other pubs have closed..... caters to the needs of, ‘the last man standing.’

We’ll call it the bewitching hour!

You know what I’m talking about...what was meant to be one drink, “just the one”, has turned into a crate of ale, wine or spirits. You’ve gone from mildly indifferent ‘posh spice’ to her annoying ginger mate, chatting shit and making friends with the sort of people you definitely wouldn’t add to your contacts list if you were fully compos-mentis.

The more you drink the more gorgeous you get..... who needs Botox when you’ve got vodka and coke?!

This is quickly turning into a full-on rave without the class A drugs or ‘fat boy slim’ on the decks...... you’re now bessie mates with some bloke who looks like Shaun Ryder on acid (tough act to follow) and can’t string a coherent sentence together... to be fair neither can you but you don’t care, you’re loving life right now and walking around like you’re ‘Annie bleeding Leibovitz’, taking pictures you’re sure would make it into the National Portrait Gallery- if you could be arsed!

“Another rum and coke love? !“......”it was vod....ah f*^k it go on then yeah one for the road, aye love you know that holiday rental we’ve got on the south coast, can we let Shaun (your new bessie mate) have it last two weeks in August.... rent free?!”.

Your last memory of the evening is staggering a mile and half up the road arm in arm trying your hardest not to look like you need your stomach pumped....

“Ahh the stars, look at the stars love they’re amazing tonight!”...... “it’s a f^**#^g street lamp!”.

It’s more of a passing out than a good nights sleep..... you wake up the next morning with a mouth like Gandhi’s flip-flop, and you swear blind you only had a couple! “A couple what?!..... bottles?!”, “someone must’ve spiked my drink love?!” The worst is yet to come as you flick through the photos from last nights unscheduled bender and find a plethora of selfies with a bunch of randoms and a stranger you think you may have offered up your holiday home to!

Damage control time; the following questions are now entering my head like a scene out of the matrix!

• were we followed home, does anyone know where I live?!

• I could dye my hair or tash... right?

• can we move out of area? .....are we able to afford the stamp duty?

• what if I start a rumour around town that I’ve died and that I’m my own twin, who’s completely different to that drunk twat the other night!

Sound familiar?! ........ course it does, cause it happens every Saturday night!

Without the STAR none of the above would be possible! 😁