Lord Chuff

@robbingham Cheers mate. Always loved your work!

Happy Christmas to all me old muckers here, if any of you are still around. First Christmas without me dear old Mother, who finally packed it in this summer. Her final words to me were: “Mrs Earl was burgled last week.” Bless ‘er. Peace and love to you all.

I suppose Twitter accounts end up like derelict homes. Abandoned, unvisited, unloved.

Found my spiritual tipple on holiday. It’s fackin orrible but makes a change from sangria.

The worst thing about getting old is the constant threat of sudden d

Found a pair of my y-fronts slung over the garden fence. They must have blown off my line into the neighbour’s garden. Kinda sorry I didn’t wash them first.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Find someone who loves you as much as I imagine I’ll love the sound of my shovel hitting the back of my neighbour’s fat little head.❤️

Nice to hear Ronan Keating on The One Show talking about how lucky he was to work with Burt Bacharach. Bacharach worked with all the greats. And Ronan Keating.

Had a small, discreet cough in the supermarket queue today and accidentally let out a less discreet fart. Any hope I had that only I heard it was dashed by the checkout boy’s inability to stop chuckling.

@JulieAnnNugent Thank you, my lovely. Hope you are well x

@THEDAILYCHUFF It’s good to be out. Cheers to you🍻💖

At the pub on a Friday for the first time in months. One old geezer at the next table talking away to me like he knows me. One of us is definitely mad.

Festive telly rubbish yet again, so watched a repeat of an 80s Christmas special by Val Doonican. Or “Old VD”, as Mother used to call him.

Remember those glossy publications you could get, where you could spend hours flicking through the pages looking at all the things you hoped to get for Christmas? God, I miss jazz mags.

No carol singers this year so I just went outside and sang the Neighbours theme at the top of my voice. “Neighbours / everybody needs nosy, judgmental, gossiping, interfering, begrudging NEIGHBOURS…”

Friday nights in the 80s were spent in video libraries, failing to choose a film and going home pissed off. Now I can do the same shit on Netflix from the comfort of my sofa and wake up, remote in hand, in the same spot next morning. That’s progress.

Went to the shop for 20 minutes and a delivery of mine was received by my neighbour. Now I have to go to his door and say something pleasant to the little shit for the first time in 12 years. Can I hire someone to do this?

Found my password. I’m back! Now all I need is to find my old sense of humour.

(Responding to Neighbour’s loud “tut”) 🎶It’s my garden and I’ll fart if I want to, fart if I want to, fart if I want to. 🎶

Neighbour’s putting up his own scaffolding to paint his upstairs windows. Poorly. You might call him “self-sufficient”, I call him “tight as a gnat’s muff.”