WorryingOAP

If there's one thing I've learned in all of my 81 years is that common sense ain't bloody common.

We’ve run out of Fox’s glacier mints and a trick or treater with a full beard and a voice deeper Frank Bruno just rang the bell wanting to bloody trick or treat us. We’ve turned all the lights off and are hiding in the conservatory.

Vegan week? What’re we going to get? A stick of celery dipped in icing sugar? A jacket potato dressed up as a bloody scone? An iron tablet in a cake case? I won’t lose #GBBO to those sprialising nutcases too.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it till the day I kick the bucket. Paul Hollywood has the hands of a bricklayer and the fact they’re covered in flour and bloody hundreds and thousands and not cement is a crying shame. What a sad loss for the building trade.

With all this Jamie Oliver business floating about, I’m a bit worried. The wife made something called a stir fry the other night which they reckon is of Chinese origin. Will I be arrested?

He’s fine. He and his wife have just returned from a week’s holiday in Scarborough. He’s having his driveway levelled on Saturday.

If having to watch the wife’s line dancing hasn’t killed me, then it’s going to take more than the sun.

Saw a pizza with pineapple on the top of it in the Co-op. 30 degree heat and now, exotic foods. People will be coming here instead of Spain now, as if the bloody parking’s not bad enough as it is. Moving to Mongolia.

Should’ve moved to Benidorm when we had the chance instead of spending money on the bloody conservatory we can’t sit in because it’s like bloody Siberia in there.

We’re down to our last four slices of bread and I don’t have a bobsleigh or a loaf in the freezer. We’ll starve before we bloody freeze.

If you're old enough for national service, you're too old to be knocking on my door wanting a lemon sherbet.

This Hurricane Irma is a worry. I've bought the recycling boxes inside and double locked the front door. I don't want tins all over my drive

Worst part of #GBBO is Hollywood. It's a travesty to see the sturdy back and hands of a tradesman wasted fannying about with bloody pastry.

Bloody bank holidays. Blood pressure's through the roof. Can't relax. Bet I think it's Monday tomorrow and forget to put the bins out too...

These bloody for sale signs moonlighting as school fete ads. Mick next door put one up. Had heart failure. I thought I was going to lose him

I was talking about fish and chips. Not cock. We only have chicken on Sundays, Grace, love. Don't talk daft. teapawt.net/ernstlapin1/status/841…

The fish & chip shop is closed. On a Friday. What are we to do now? Besides starve or order glorified cheese on toast from a yob on a moped?

Now I know how The Beatles must've felt. Well they can whistle. The only thing they're getting from me is a Millets fleece each.

There is a car alarm going off in the road next to ours. I've called the police.

The world has lost its marbles. Brexit, this Trump nutter, pasty tax. I've never been more excited to plan my funeral.