A BAD DAY FOR ME WEATHER-WISE

‘This joke’s funny eh? It’ll make you larf, ma lav’ 

aka

 ‘Thus joke’s funay. Ut’ll make ya roar, pal’

Try saying ‘whale oil beef hooked’ without sounding like an Irish man swearing - Jack Dee

VIZ TOP TIP

Bread knives can also be used to cut cheese.

JERSEY AND WEST LINTON WEATHER FORECAST BROUGHT TO YOU BY JOOLS

JERSEY’S FORECAST, BY CRI

 I just fand art that the UV index is going to be abat 8 tomorrow mon vie, rub in some chip oil, eh to keep the rays art. There’s going to be thunder storms too, ma lav so if you desard to go dan to green ahland for a swim at hagh tad bat then it rrrains a bit then dant put up your umbrrrella cos you maght be strack ba lightnin and end up in hospiddle, mon vie.

IS IT GONNAE RAIN AGAIN IN WEST LINTON?

Ut’s gonnae be guff again, pal.

REALLY? I DIDN’T KNOW THAT

Boo’s Bulletin

Awww hill, that jerzee bend ‘Brave Yesterday’ played at Glastonbury, eh. Ah think they’re kwat good, eh. A bit loud for my years and not tas good das Legend, eh?

A Scottish flea is called a midge. 

This is a picture of a Scottish midge. They love to bite my Jersey flesh. They are about the size of a small female sparrow.

This is also a Scottish Midge but he has never bitten me.

WORD DU JOUR

‘Puce’ - a dark red or purple brown colour. It originates from the French word for flea - puce because a flea is dark red or purple brown. I think that’s right, I’m confused.

Here is how you could use it…

‘If a midge bites my finger it swells to the size of a prize- winning marrow and goes a nasty puce colour.’

JOOLS  TRANSLATES FOR YOU

Today’s translation relates to a straightforward farewell. If you are, for example saying goodbye to an acquaintance or even a close friend in Jersey you would say…

…What lavlee weather we’rre havin’ today. Anyway ma lav, ah’ve got to go nah. A bi’tot, mon vie. 

And in Scotland….

Och, isnae the’ waither crap. A’m aff tae count th’ midges. Ah’ll see yoos in a wee bit, pal.

LIFE ADVICE

If you eat a caterpillar-type insect that you didn’t see on your lettuce, spit it out because they taste horrible. Also, it’s always handy to have a bucket nearby because you may barf.

THINGS THAT GET ON MY WICK

1. People who moan about the Scottish weather all the time (tee hee)
2. The Archers omnibus edition on Sunday morning
3. People in a supermarket who come too close to you in the packing area when you have finished packing your shopping and have paid but are not quite ready to walk away yet (ie you are just putting your card back in your purse). One day I am going to nut someone who comes and stands next to me poised with their f******* ‘bag for life.’
4. The name of the free food magazine from Tesco. It’s called “Real Food.” I mean WTF is that all about? Real food? As opposed to what? A magazine about cooking the plastic toy food you can get from Bambola? 
5. Ann Robinson

THE FUNNY STORY

My funny story today isn’t really that funny. It’s a wee light hearted short story I wrote a while back. It’s written from a young teenagers point of view and it was ‘Editor’s Choice’ on an online short story site. Robin Pilcher left some really nice comments about it. Sorry about blowing my own trumpet but no one else will!

Mia and The Meerkats

I was chillaxing with William and Liam on our bench in town. I was bored and wished I had stayed at home, ate Skittles until my tongue turned green and watched ‘Glee’ re-runs.

‘Mia, has anyone got a dog we could walk?’ Liam had asked me. He liked animals. He looked like a Labradoodle; he peered out at me from behind his bushy hair. I think he brushed it with an electric toothbrush.

‘My Aunt Melanie has a dog called Dalek.’ I said.

I liked my aunt. She had crazy red hair and squashed her chubby body into skimpy clothes. Her dog was a cross between a Chihuahua and a ratty rat. My mum told dad once that Aunt Melanie was a fool.

‘Does he exterminate stuff?’ grinned William.

William twitched and fiddled a lot. His mum made him wear a weighted Therapy Belt. The belt ‘promoted self calming, balance and increased body awareness.’ I knew this because I looked it up on the net. My mum told my dad the other day that William’s mum was a looney.

‘Do not lose the pooper-scooper, Mia. I have just bought it.’ Melanie then went into a long nag about scooping the poop

‘That dog looks gay, Mia.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being gay.’ I told him. My mum’s boss was gay. He married his boyfriend; I was the flower girl. I refused to wear a frilly, flouncy frock.

There were loads of chavvy chavs in town. They were puffing importantly on cigarettes, dropping the grimy, grey ash down their Burberry tops. I recognised the boys from the Kittley Estate. My mum told me once that the kids from Kittley were minging.

We ignored the thugs and sat on a bench. I tied Dalek to it. We tried to look cool. The Burberry Boys sneered over at us. I sneered back. William looked sideways at me opening his eyes wide like an owl.

He hissed, ‘The one in the fake Sergio Tachinni tracky has an ASBO.’

‘How do you know it’s fake?’ I asked.

‘They’re from the Kittley. If it is real then it’s nicked.’

I had just been learning about stereotyping in PSHE. *

‘You’re a stereotyper, Wills.’

The Kittley Kids stood up like a mob of meerkats.  I stopped sneering and waved; this annoyed them. They galloped towards us like William Wallace and his gang storming the English (I watched “Braveheart” the other day). I think Dalek could sense the danger (or hear Will’s sobs) because he started yapping and pulling on his frayed lead. I wished he could exterminate chavs.

The bullies started to push us. We bounced off each other like bumper cars. A looping left hand arrowed it’s way onto Will’s nose.  He stumbled landing with a dull thud on his bottom.

Dalek made frenzied Tasmanian Devil noises. The lead snapped; Dalek flew into the fight. He sank his sharp ratty teeth into their ankles. He went ballistic when they squealed. He bounced up, snapping furiously at bare flesh. My mum snapped furiously at my dad the other night when he came home drunk.

The meerkats ran snivelling towards their manor. I stayed at home the next day and ate Skittles.

·       Personal, Social and Health Education

Julie Myatt ©