HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR PRESIDENT

So, it was Mr Obama’s 49th birthday today. And I for one, don’t trust him. And not because of his legislation on banning rainforest gases (right?), or even due to his likeness to the children’s TV character Pob, who terrorised my nightmares as a child (as did The Moomans and Gary Wilmot). No, it’s because our dear Mr Obama was born and raised in Hawaii. And one of the last things my father told me before I left home was ‘Gary, never trust a Hawaiian. They are smug, resentful, and they always welch on sex-based bets.’ He also told me not to trust any man that wore his mothers clothes whilst welding, and to steer clear of hardcore Queen fans. Approx 60% of all rapists are of the latter.

It can be hard to trust people sometimes. The Italian poet Petrarch said ‘Suspicion is the cancer of friendship, with jealousy being the spina bifida.’ And I couldn’t agree more. I have been watching a lot of Jeremy Kyle this week, and his magnificent, life-affirming show is awash with couples who have had their relationships ruthlessly wrecked by one partner being suspicious of the other, just because his mates in the pub were telling him that she was a slag and humping half the lads on the scheme. And to be fair, in 30% of the cases, the lie detector came back showing that the girls had been completely faithful, and only indulged in some light petting, i.e. snog and a cheeky finger in the chip shop car park.

I have discovered recently that I am not a great judge on what is inappropriate in modern day situations. Sometimes the inappropriateness of something I say or do, only becomes apparent to me when it leaves my mouth, or when I get impolitely asked to leave the church. It’s like I have inappropriateness dyslexia or something. For instance, an ex girlfriend of mine had no issue whatsoever in peeing in front of me, like if I was in the bath or whatnot. But then she hits the bloody roof when I do it in front of her. And her mum. And her gran. At her sisters funeral.

I’m still not entirely sure what the tone, the unique voice, or even the reason for this blog is yet, but I’ll get there.

Happy Birthday Mr Obama. Or should I say Hau'oli lā hānau.