Tonight has been one of those rare occasions as I spend by myself because I have no children with me and my girlfriend is busy doing the make up at a Pantomime. I planned my evening quite well actually, firstly I would go to the gym and tone up my fine body of twisted steel and sex appeal, then I would have a swim, followed by a light and healthy meal in the bar area before going back home to write yet another blog, just for you, my loyal fans. All went according to plan until it came to the light meal in the bar bit, which I opted out of after spotting a local school teaching couple who had pummelled me with their self righteous and pompous views on parenthood on my last visit. Because I refused to tell them how great they were (teachers love that) the tension had heightened and I had a feeling that they weren’t finished with me yet, and wouldn’t be until I had bowed before them and commended their heroics, so I went to Sainsbury’s to get some prawns to eat at home.

Once at home I deliberated whether I should cook then clean the kitchen floor before settling down to write my blog featuring a subject I still hadn’t decided on. However, just as my mind was swinging towards leaving the floor for another day, I opened the cupboard and a bottle of olive oil span to the floor in slow motion before sending shears of glass and all it’s contents across over every square centimetre of the surface. Oh rapture, here was the heady combination of thick oil and glass to clean up and I hadn’t even eaten yet, where was my relaxing evening going? To the bloody dogs that’s where.

I decided the best way to avoid injury was to hoover up the glass and then mop up the olive oil afterwards with the three twenty metre rolls of kitchen towel I had in the cupboard. Typically, the hoover was full, so I had to empty it, so I did this by popping open the lid the wrong way and emptying the contents on to the broken glass and the olive oil in what was now becoming an episode of “Some Mothers Do Ave Em”. As I began hoovering the dust that had already been hoovered once before, followed by the shards of oil covered glass, I began to feel like one of those bastards who empties a load of crap on a housewife’s floor before hoovering it up with a Kirby vacuum cleaner and demanding a knock down price of three grand in exchange for not raping her grandparents. All I was missing was bug invested pillow case and a nylon suit from Top Man.

By the time the time I had mopped up the last drop of olive oil my floor was cleaner than it had ever been, but unfortunately it now had a surface Torvill and Dean would struggle to stand up on. How do you get rid of olive oil completely, water just sits on top of it? Maybe it was time to invite my son around to be sick again. I hoovered it once more safe in the knowledge that no matter how many times I did this, there would still be a tasty little shard of glass left over especially for the next time I walk in the kitchen bare footed, it is a fact of life that when you break glass, you always miss a bit. By the time I started cooking my dinner it was 9.30pm. The night was frittering away and I had achieved nothing of note, but I will say that prawns fried with sliced ginger, green finger chilli’s, onions and turmeric is a tasty and easy to make dish that I can recommend highly with a few chunks of french stick. See, you get it all here folks, laughs, cleaning tips and healthy recipes. Fuck me, my talents know no boundaries, no wonder I have literally tens of readers each day.

This blog was likely to figure either an update on the disappointment that is Twitter, Masterchef Factor, or my final trip in to Basingstoke on a Saturday night. Isn’t it funny how the events leading up to writing a blog can change the content of it. You better have enjoyed it as it is now 11.30pm and is time for my bed with so much still not achieved on my free evening.

And it’s all the fault of those bloody teachers, the bane of my bloody life since the age of five!!