Glossing over the Facts

Glossing over the Facts ©

By Michael Casey

I think we all need a laugh, maybe especially Theresa May, Putin is still laughing at the back of his super-sized car, as for Trump the whole world thinks he’s beyond a joke, but will his Party actually do anything? I bet not, but watch the news tonight to see if I am proved wrong. So let’s talk about facts and glossing over them, why let reality get in the way of a good story.

So when you arrange a blind date, but not in Helsinki, what do you do? You build up the girl. She’s so good looking she stops traffic. And she does, she has a stick and stops traffic so the schoolkids can go over the road safely to school. Or rather she has jam jar glasses and jaywalks into traffic, hence the stopping the traffic, or the crashing of traffic. But that’s fine she works as a loss adjuster for an insurance company.

My own wife was very scruffy when I first met her, now decades on, and two kids later she can still fit into the evening dress I bought her. We were in Offenbach in 2008 and they had two tall models filming a Honda Jazz advert in the courtyard of the Hotel Achat, me and the wife and  kids walked past, the models started to cry. Yes, I am that pretty, and the wife and girls aren’t so bad either, but I digress.

So your girlfriend wants somebody nice, so nice he could be gay, but isn’t, he is nice but knows how to please a Lady. Barry White is singing in the background, it aint what you’ve got but how you use it.  Which could be the kind of bloke your best sister from the tyre factor wants. Somebody who knows how to please her, just like Donkey said to Shrek. You gloss over the fact that he has spots, like a puzzle book, all you need is a pencil to join the spots up. But when they meet its perfection, you see she is spotty too, they look as if they should be in isolation together. He gives her a gift and she gives him one too, the new super spot removal cream. Her dad has a Pharmacy,  which will be useful as the relationship progresses.

We gloss over lots of things, like her bad breath and his smelly feet, but it’s a match made in Heaven, they have so much in common, like rambling, they can never hold a decent conversation, it just rambles on and on till they hit the bunkers. They fall into the bunkers by the golf course, but bunkers can be very nice places, so long as you don’t get too much sand in sensitive places.

So you decide you should move in together, not just share a bunker. Then you read the ads in post office windows, warm flat available with great views. It is a warm flat, it’s above the chip shop and smells of fish and chips. Look out back and you can see the yard with a mountain of potatoes, look out front and you can see the dual carriageway and interchange. But at least the bed really is super king size. But it’s been there since the time Henry XIII stopped by for some orange chips. One leg of the bed has been replaced by a tin of tinned roe, the other has an old tyre underneath it. But when you jump from the wardrobe onto the mattress you have the surprise of your life. It’s perfect, the chip shop owner got it on discount when the bedding warehouse closed down. Fat Freddie from the bedding warehouse was a regular customer, so thanks to those extra large portions of kebab the flat above the chip shop gained a great mattress.

We gloss over the fact that we hate our job, it’s challenging really means that every day it’s a challenge for you not to punch that bastard’s face in, or stab him with your stiletto. He never appreciated your hard work, and he had total disrespect for the fact you cross dress. Why could he not accept the fact you wore bright red lipstick and red dress split to the thigh, and if you wanted to shave your legs in the Gents at dinner time what was it do with him, the inconsiderate bastard. But you have to gloss over those facts or Danny la Rue your auntie might be very upset.  Nobody could ever accept her dressed as a man after all.

We boast about our cars, though not me, as I travel by bus. There is so much lying about motors, and the size of the spoiler,  spoil her with your larger spoiler, so much utter rubbish. So long as it goes from A to B and there is no hole in the seat, now that’s enough for me. The sound system is great, or in other words, a 4 seater becomes a 2 seater as child size speakers are in the back seats. Give me a DAB that’s enough, I have no need for my ears to bleed as we are stuck in traffic, though Traffic were a good band. And as for engine rumblings, an engine should be as  silent as a Rolls Royce.  I don’t need audible flatulence from any motor, on que a motor bike with chronic farting has just passed by. Pardon me while I close a window.

I just looked over to see Totoro our cat asleep on the armchair, I’ll gloss over the fact the fact that she is a one girl killing machine, but if you love your cat you will forgive the bodies she lines up outside the kitchen door. It’s been a long hot summer, and for Totoro this means open season, as she escapes my bedroom window at 4am as dawn breaks and let the hunting begin. It is no longer the dawn chorus, more like wake up wake up, killer cat alert. Even with her bell dingling she is faster than that sloth Hussain Bolt.

I’ve given you just a few samples of what we gloss over and why we gloss over. And what is the best glossing over? That’s when lip gloss rubs against your lips, from the Lady you love, I think I need put Barry White back on. Or I could just kiss my own reflection, but I am no Donald Trump.