Wilson has just seen the new John Lewis Xmas Advert, and he's not happy.
He complained bitterly about the lack of anteaters in advertising, but conceded that the presence of a cute badger might help in its battle against being culled.
'PLEASE tell me this one didn't cost £7M like last year's!' he exclaimed.
Wilson — a seasoned film-maker — proceeded to explain in some detail how he would have made it for £1M plus snacks, AND included his friend @I_am_badger in the trampolining scenes...
As I predicted, Wilson has left the TrumpCave and returned to the house, having run out of Cheesy Wotsits and Ant Gin.
He almost ran out of oxygen too, and had been forced to tell his fellow-evacuees Antony and Tiny Toy to breathe more slowly.
I can judge from his breakfast conversations how far he's progressed in the New Scientist Metaphysics Special Edition. This morning he's mentioned Coal, Elephants, SETI, Mars and NASA's Juno Probe to Jupiter, so he's still reading the Upfront and 60 Seconds sections.
He's had no luck making up Chaser jokes — I suggested he has a word with the Joke King, Tiny Toy...
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❤️ Both Wilson and I are enormously saddened by news of the death of poet, songwriter and singer Leonard Cohen. ❤️
🎶 "It seems so long ago, Nancy..." 🎶
Never knowingly off-trend, Wilson has gathered his family to take part in the Mannequin Challenge.
I'm not in the picture because, well, somebody's got to hold the camera.
I'm aware it's supposed to be a video, but I haven't worked out the video function on this camera yet — sorry! 😕
Wilson stayed awake all last night listening to coverage of the US Elections on the wireless.
By the time I came down to breakfast, I found a note on the kitchen table explaining that he had taken Antony and Tiny Toy with him to the Asteroid Shelter in the garden for safety, and requesting that I retrieve them all in four years time after the next election.
I'm not unduly worried about Wilson — I'm sure he'll be back in a couple of days once he runs out of supplies.
Trump, however, I am much more concerned about...
Today Wilson busied himself taking out the Recycling in time for collection later today.
In spite of my hiding my 'Adult Reading Material' — New Scientist Magazine — Wilson has an uncanny knack of finding it.
I like him showing an interest in ALL the sciences, but the issue he's unearthed is the Special Metaphysics Edition.
This does not augur well...
Wilson and all the children had a lovely time last night — Wilson lit the fireworks (under my supervision, of course) while the kids watched safely from inside the conservatory.
After the fireworks there was a big BBQ Feast, in which Ant Snacks featured heavily — this is the price to be paid for Wilson doing the catering. :-/
Now that Hallowe'en and Bonfire Night are over, though, Wilson is trying to occupy himself to make the time pass more quickly until Xmas.
First thing after breakfast this morning he invented 'Smokeworks' — these are apparently a lot like fireworks but, instead of fireballs and starbursts they just emit coloured smoke. And loud bangs, obviously.
The point of them is that you can let them off in the daytime, while you're waiting for it to get dark enough to light your fireworks. Also you can use them in summer.
I'm not at all sure about this but Wilson is, as ever, enthusiastic and certain of success.
Once he'd finished inventing Smokeworks there was still a lot of day left — I hope he doesn't get into any mischief...
In an attempt to break his Writers' Block, Wilson has been to the supermarket where he was outraged to find Giant Pumpkins, for which he'd paid £1.50, were now marked down to only 10p!
He's bought a trolley-load, telling me that he'd be able to sell them at a huge profit next year in the run-up to Halloween.
In other news, there is no room in the freezer.
Right now he's in the back garden checking his bonfire for hedgehogs, and after lunch he's going to produce a spreadsheet for the fireworks display and accompanying barbecue.
He likes everything to be done just right...
Before he contacts Bradley Walsh with his offer to be a freelance joke writer, I suggested to Wilson that it might be wise to actually write some jokes to send with his application. This would demonstrate the level of jocularity and mordant wit he could achieve in his writing.
W considered this for a moment, then agreed that this would be a good idea. Even if it did mean he'd be giving away four top-quality bon mots, he'd easily recoup that small loss once he was on a retainer to The Chase.
Now he's sitting in the dining room trying to be hilarious on paper. It's very quiet in there — he may be suffering from Writers' Block.
A couple of days ago, W received a Tweet from Ms Anne Hegerty off The Chase, reproving him for letting the children play Snakes and Ladders (a game of total chance) instead of the board-game version of The Chase (highly educational).
This personal contact (or Celebrity Endorsement, as he's calling it) may be making it harder for him to be acerbic about someone he now considers he knows personally...
Every afternoon Wilson likes to settle down with a cup of coffee and a slice of cake to watch The Chase on ITV.
Lately he's been a bit worried about the host, Mr Bradley, who seems to have a very sore eye. He was thinking of contacting him to suggest using his Mum Mrs Vermilingua's sovereign remedy for everything, an Ant Poultice, when he suddenly had a moment of Satori!
Before introducing the 'Chaser' of the day Bradley Walsh always makes mocking jokes about them, caricaturing Shaun Wallace as humourless and boring, Ann Hegerty as a cold, sexless monster, Mark Labbett as eating nothing but pies etc.
Wilson has decided to contact Mr Bradley offering to write his opening 'Chaser' jokes for him, on commission...
Hello, we are The Bees, Polly and Billi, and this is our Guest Blog!
As you know, we would usually bring you some fascinating and vital bee-related information about pesticides and stuff, but this month we can't. We just can't.
The truth is, we're both the tiniest bit red eyed and bushy-tongued after last night's Hallowe'en party.
We're not going to lie to you, but we suspect someone gave us a dirty ice-cube, and now we've both caught Cocktail Flu.
We're off to bed with a big glass of Royal Jelly to sleep it off.
If our children, Johnson Major or Johnson Minor, ask about us, could you say you haven't seen us since last night, but you're sure we're alright?
Sweet!
Anyway, we've been the bees and we'll see you next month. Until then, BEEEEEEE GOOD!
As I explained earlier, Wilson has decided not to go out Trick-or-Treating this year, opting to stay at home and scare the living daylights out of any Trick-or-Treaters foolish enough to come to our house.
His Treats are all prepared, and everyone is in costume ready to jump out terrifyingly at any visitors.
Even Uncle Zoltan is joining in, wearing a tiny witch's hat instead of his old topper. He looks really scary — not just pretend scary but REALLY scary!
The Bees are particularly excited because they're wearing their 'sexy nurse' outfits again, and they love them. Last year, they refused to take them off for days!
The sTone Brothers are once again Egyptian Mummies. They agreed to this only if Wilson promised to remove their costumes quicker than last year, when they were stuck in them for several weeks...
Wilson
has asked me to warn you that this year's Hallowe'en photo — which will
be up tomorrow — is especially terrifying, and if you're of a generally
nervous disposition you might like to ensure you're sitting down, with a glass of Ant Gin in your hand, before
you look at it...
If you're really nervous, I'd suggest looking at it with your eyes closed — we don't want any trauma-related law suits coming our way...
It took a while for Wilson to make his selection of Christmas Necessities — regularly popping outside to top-up his mince pie supply slowed him down quite a lot.
His 'first round' pick seemed to include at least one of everything in the shop, but eventually he narrowed things down to his final, FINAL choice, and he went to the counter to pay for his purchases.
As he left, he saw Mr James, the Christmas Shop's owner — Wilson shook his hand and told him what a lovely time he'd had in his wonderful Xmas shop.
As we walked back to the car, W remarked that he'd wanted to ask Mr James if he could do the official opening next year instead of the mayor, but he'd been too shy to bring it up.
I hope he doesn't decide to run for Mayor of Uckfield again...
As expected, Wilson was desperate to go to the newly-opened Allsorts Xmas Shop at the top of the high street.
When we arrived, the town was heaving with people, and apparently the Mayor had just left after declaring the shop officially open.
It was no wonder it was crowded — apart from a general air of excitement and Xmassyness there were free balloons and mince pies, plus face-painting.
Wilson declined to have his face painted on the grounds that, sooner or later, I would insist on him washing it off, and his dislike of soap and water is legendary.
However, he accepted a mince pie and a big red Xmas balloon before making his way into the shop, which he described upon entering as, 'A Winter Wonderland!'
Wilson is still muttering about the advantages of a winter holiday — how the beaches won't be crowded, hotels will be cheap etc — but at the moment he's in the kitchen, baking.
He has decided not to go Trick-or-Treating this year, but instead to put something back into the celebration by preparing some treats for any Trick-or-Treaters who call on us.
'I've used EXTRA ANTS!' he told me proudly.
He also plans to open the door to them in as terrifying a way as possible (although he has not yet revealed how this is to be done).
At least when they regain consciousness after their fright, our young visitors can be revived with Fairy Cakes...
Last night Wilson stayed up late to watch the Orionid Meteor Shower — it peaked a few days ago, but he only found out about it yesterday.
He sat in the garden in a deckchair, (within easy reach of his Asteroid Shelter, just in case!) staring at the sky, accompanied by the sTone Brothers who said they would be there anyway, and in any event had nothing better to do.
At 10:30 I went out with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate for him, but he was sound asleep and snoring, so I carried him gently indoors and popped him into the tumble dryer for the night.
Over breakfast this morning I asked whether he'd seen any meteors.
He answered my question with a question of his own: 'Do meteors travel in threes, quite slowly, and flash? And make a droning sound?'
'I'm not an astronomer,' I replied, 'but I'm pretty sure they don't.'
'Oh,' he replied with a shrug. 'Then it was probably just the EasyJet flight to Perugia that I saw...'
Once inside the shop, Wilson was transfixed by the magnificent array of fireworks on offer!
He eventually settled on the Gold Selection (which, as it happens, includes some of my childhood favourites as well as many other exciting-sounding pyrotechnics) and a packet of Giant Sparklers.
As W paid for his purchase, Mr James — the man who runs Allsorts — told him that these fireworks were made by the same company that made the fireworks for the London Olympics display, and that each and every one was 'packed full of gunpowder!'
As we were leaving, he added that he would be opening a special Christmas Shop in Uckfield on the 29th.
Wilson's face lit up — I imagine we'll be on the doorstep waiting for opening time that day...
Before we went home, Wilson popped in to ALLSORTS at the top of the High Street, to buy some 'Hallowe'en Essentials' as he describes them: Lanterns, Masks, Ghost outfits, Cobwebs, Trick-or-Treat Goodies Bucket and so on.
I would have thought we had enough of this stuff left over from last Hallowe'en but, like his bucket and spade, W insists on replacing everything each year because 'The scaryness wears off'.
As he approached the shop, he saw a banner advertising fireworks! He told me later that he had 'Totes forgotten about Bonfire Night,' due to his excitement about Hallowe'en.
However, the thought of fireworks drew him into the shop like a pin drawn to a magnet, powerless to resist...
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In the UK we celebrate with fireworks not on July 4 but November 5, commemorating Guy Fawkes not killing King James I in a Roman Catholic plot in 1605.
Effigies of Fawkes are still burnt today — we really know how to hold a grudge!
The celebration is variously known as Bonfire Night, Fireworks Night or Guy Fawkes Night.
This morning we took Byron back to the zoo so he could be with his family once more.
All his (many) siblings and half-siblings were very pleased to see him again, and greeted his carved pumpkin as a thing of great wonder!
As we drove back to Uckfield, Wilson asked me to drop him off in the village, as he wanted to visit a Financial Advisor for some investment advice.
I waited in the car park until he had finished and he returned to the car for a lift home.
The advice he wanted, it transpires, was to be told how to convert £17.50 into £1M before his next birthday; the financial advisor advised him that it was not possible to do this legally and without serious risk of losing his original investment.
This strikes me as very sound advice!
W shrugged and said that if he couldn't convert his £17.50 into £1M within a reasonable period, we might as well spend it on a holiday.
'We can just fit one in before Xmas and me being Best Man at a dear friend's wedding,' he explained, adding that he's heard great things about a seaside resort called Weston-Super-Market...
Following a night in which nobody got much sleep, both Byron and Wilson were very tired this morning.
However, Byron will be returning to the Zoo tomorrow, so this is his last full day here, and he's determined not to waste a minute of it.
Accordingly, they have both popped down to Tesco in the village, to choose Pumpkins for Hallowe'en, then they'll spend the afternoon carving them.
I've given them money to buy one each, so they don't have to spend their precious earnings... and so that they buy only ONE pumpkin each! It's all too easy to get carried away at this time of year...
