Wilson is a bit grumpy today, as he hasn't been invited to Ms Julia's 80s-themed Hen Night — he thinks as Best Man it is his duty to be there, and had laid out his Adam Ant costume in expectation of receiving a last-minute invitation.
Over breakfast today Wilson confessed that he'd made no progress in writing jokes about the 'Chasers' for the tv quiz show, and had decided instead to sell questions to Potato, the production company that makes The Chase.
He spent a long time ferrying all his Encyclopaedia Britannica volumes in from his 'museum' and stacking them in front of the tumble dryer, to which he has retired to 'study'.
I suspect The Chase's production department is about to be inundated with questions about and relating to... well, ants, but least while he's reading his encyclopaedias he's not reading that troublesome copy of New Scientist.
I'd take it away from him, but when he's not reading it he hides it from me, knowing I don't like him reading that particular issue.
Our conversation over breakfast was mostly about a new method of rousing people trapped in a Minimally Conscious State. So far, so good — he's still only on page 12.
Later, Wilson replied to the Mayor's Office, stating explicitly that he would be available for the Grand Xmas Street Lights Turn-On Ceremony, should his services be required.
Assuming a favourable reply (you can't say he's not an optimist!) he retrieved his medal from the fridge, taped it to his chest and went into the living room to rehearse the Big Turn On, as he calls it.
'Fellow Uckfieldians!' he declaimed loudly, 'Or perhaps Uckfielders! I don't even know, but probably one or the other! Welcome to the Uckfield 2016 Xmas Lights Big Turn On! It is with ginormous pleasure that I declare these lights... Turned On!'
With that, while Polly and Billi the Bees applauded enthusiastically, Wilson stretched out his paw to turn on the living room lights.
The switch was just beyond his reach, and he toppled off his podium onto the floor.
Happily only his pride was hurt, and as he gathered himself up he remarked, 'I hope the real switch is a bit lower than that...'
This morning the postman brought a letter bearing the Seal of the Mayor of Uckfield and addressed to Wilson.
He carried it into the living room, opened it carefully and read it in silence.
Twice.
It didn't help that Uncle Zoltan was reading it over his shoulder and began to snigger.
'What does it say, then?' I asked.
'It's not even really from the Mayor!' Uncle Z jeered.
W replied despondently, 'Well, it's from one of her secretaries, and she says the Mayor is quite interested in having a celebrity to switch on the street decorations.'
'That sounds encouraging,' I said.
'But it goes on to ask whether I know any celebrities who might be willing to do it!'
Uncle Z burst out, 'Hahaha! THEY know you're not a celebrity, my boy — talk about illusions of grandeur!'
'Well,' I replied, 'I'd just ignore that and write a nice letter saying that YOU would be willing to turn on the lights for them if they'd like. And remind them that you do have the Freedom of Uckfield — if that doesn't make you a celebrity, I don't know what does.'
Wilson agreed, 'That's exactly what I'm going to do.'
Uncle Z unhelpfully added, 'I'd start the letter with "Don't you know who I am?"'
Late last night Wilson went out into the garden to observe the Supermoon — apparently the moon would be closer to the Earth, and appear brighter and bigger, than at any time since 1948.
This is not the sort of event W likes to miss so, equipped with a mug of hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows) and a lantern he went outside to observe this lunar phenomenon.
When he came back inside I enquired, 'So how was the moon — was it super?'
'Hmmm...' he replied, 'It was okay, but I think "super" would be to overstate it, honestly.'
Collapsing onto the sofa, he continued, 'But while I was out there, in the dark, contemplating this disappointing extraterrestrial occurrence, I had an idea!'
My heart sank a tiny bit at this news, but I did my best to control my features.
'I shall re-launch my range of "ODDSIES!" Non-Matching Socks, but this time in a limited "Pro HD" edition! I'll do it In time for the Xmas shopping bonanza.'
I have no idea what HD socks are, and I'm not about to ask — I shall doubtless find out in the fullness of time...
Breakfast conversation this morning touched on Google's race to build a world-beating Quantum Computer, and the risks posed by solar flares to our nearest Earth-like planet, Proxima b — meaning that Wilson still hasn't reached the New Scientist Metaphysics feature. Thank goodness.
Having been disappointed in his bid to cut the ribbon when the High Street was re-opened, and not being invited to open the Allsorts Christmas Shop, Wilson has written to the Mayor enquiring whether she'd like a Local Celebrity to switch on the Uckfield Xmas Illuminations.
W was on quite good terms with John Carvey, one of Uckfield's previous mayors, but he's never met the new Mayor, Ms Louise Eastwood, so he's very keen to make a good first impression. To this end, he's asked Antony to proof-read his email for grammatical and spelling errors.
OMG — I've just noticed that while W fine-tunes his email, Antony is passing the time by reading the New Scientist Metaphysics Special Edition! I don't know what I'll do if HE starts to display 'Reality Problems' — I imagine psychiatrists for soft toys must be very difficult to find... and probably expensive too!
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...
______________
❤️ 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...
