Dedicated Texting Codes For the over 65’s

Dedicated Texting Codes For the over 65’s



The youths and kids of today, all seem to have their own SMS codes, like BFF, WTF, LOL etc.

Here are some codes I think from experience would be suitable and helpful for the more mature, decrepit, Senior Citizens of today, like wot I am!

ABT – Angina Bad Today

AFE – Another Fart Escaped

AMHO – Are My Hearing-aids Over there?

ATD – At the Doctor’s

ATM – All The Medications

BAS – Burnt Another Saucepan

BBCT – Bathroom’s Bloody Cold Today

BFF – Best Friend’s Funeral

BTW – Bring the Wheelchair

CGITB – Can’t Get Into The Bath

CGOOTB – Can’t Get Out Of The Bath

CGU – Can’t Get Up

CPMEB – Can’t Pay My Electricity Bill!

CPMGB – Can’t Pay My Gas Bill!

CSI – Coffin Seeking Invalid

CSM – Cameron Scares Me!

DAHA – Damned Arthritis Hurting Again!

DAFT – Damn, Another Follow Through!

DKA – Damned Kids Again!

EMU – Easily Most Unmotivated

FWIW – Forgot Where I was

FWIWS – Forgot What I Was Saying

GGLKI – Gotta Go, Laxative Kicking In

GGPBL – Gotta go, Pacemaker Battery Low

GHA – Got Heartburn Again

GMAT – Got Mugged Again Today

GTCMP – Going To Collect My Pension

HGBM – Had Good Bowel Movement

IHGO – I Hate George Osborne!

IMHO – Is my Hearing Aid On?

LFMG – Looking For My Glasses

LHSIPM – Laughed So hard I Pee’d Myself

LMBP – Lost My Bus Pass

MMMA – Missed My Medications again

PCA – Please Call Ambulance

PTCTP – Passed The Cemetery Today Phew!

TPOF – The Price Of Food!

SNOG – Sorry Nodded Off Again

SSTMT – Someone Spoke To Me Today

STA – Stubbed Toe Again

AMHO – Are My Hearing-aids Over there?- Spoke To Someone Today!

SUP – Speak Up Please

TFMMN – Time For My Medications Now

WAITT – Who Am I Talking To

WDII – What Day Is It?

WIWYA – When I Was Your Age

WIFI – With Indigestion From Infection

WTF – Watch The Forceps

WTG – Watching The Goldfish

WTH – Walking To Hospital


A Nottingham Lads True Tale of Woe – Part Two


Mothers Endearing Qualities

When she lost her son…

Ah, dear mother… occasionally she went home from wherever she happened to be at the time, often leaving me behind in my pram. I was forgotten and abandoned in the recreation park, at the tobacconists, at school and on the bus station. The most memorable occasion being in, of all places, Mablethorpe, Lincolnshire. 

She and I went on day trips to the seaside resort of Mablethorpe (Dad worked for the Railway and got free rail tickets).

Once there, Mother was in her element, smoking away and playing at the bingo stall to her heart’s content. I was usually left on the beach in all weathers and – if she’d had a win or two – I’d get a thruppence (1¼p) or a sixpence (2½p) from her when I eventually tracked her down to whichever bingo stall she’d camped at. She played with at least five cards; she could multi-task when it suited her. I’d then be told to get lost for three or four hours in the amusement arcade, so I had to play the halfpenny machines in an effort to make my vast fortune last.

On this occasion she actually caught the train home, getting as far as Lincoln before she realised I wasn’t with her.

She rang the Lincolnshire constabulary, who sent a massive, scary policeman to find me. I was still in the seafront arcade, on the only winning streak I’d ever known, having amassed an unimaginable fortune of over three shillings (15p) from the ha’penny machines.

So when the big bobby found me, I was not very pleased, and went begrudgingly with him to Station Road Police Station. From there I was given a lift in the back of a ‘Black Maria’ into Lincoln. I thought I’d been arrested.


We arrived at the Railway Station, where dear Mummy blew cigarette smoke into my face and promptly relieved me of my three bob (shillings=15p) winnings.


An Education in Nub-Ending, Roll-ups and ‘Homework’

She would regularly have me going around the streets picking up cigarette nub ends, taking them home, and rolling up her reconstituted cigarettes. I just thought everyone did it. With so much practice I became an expert ‘Rizla’ roller-upper of her fags.

She used to take in home work for a while, which meant that while she was out playing cards or bingo, I would have to occupy myself in putting fifty hairnets onto circular cards, slot 20 hairpins each into countless cut-away cards and assemble comb kits and the like for hours on end. Every night.

Mind you, she did give me a shilling (5p) a week for doing it.

Thank heavens she kept on disappearing and I had a bit of a rest from the constant worry.

As soon as I was old enough, dear old Dad made sure I took a morning and evening newspaper round on, got me a Saturday job at the hardware store and a night job at the Grove cinema, lighting the gaslights in the auditorium at the beginning of the shows, then going back late night to extinguish them. Child-labour sweatshops? Tell me about it…


Avoiding the Law

Even as a child, I thought my mother’s ability to keep out of court and avoid the attentions of police and debt collectors for so long was simply amazing.

I lost count of the number of times I was suddenly instructed to answer the door to a caller and deny all knowledge of her – as she hid in the larder, under the stairs, the outside toilet or coal-house in the yard.

Fast-forward about 40 years or so. She was eventually taken to court – by then I didn’t want to know, but my sister Jane (who was farmed out to rich relatives at a young age) did go to court with her. This is what Jane said about it:

“I was so embarrassed when they read out the charges. It took the usher about 15 minutes to read them all out, by which time everyone in the court was either nodding off or looking at each other in amazement!”

Mother even had some of the people she had conned over the years give her glowing character references during her day in court. On conclusion of the trial, I wondered why they bothered. She emerged from the court with a new, rent-free fully furnished flat, 50% of gas and electricity bills paid and only 12 months probatio


Mother and ‘Our Kid’

Mother’s antics drove my older step brother Pete into the forces. He got married to a Chinese gal while he was stationed in Hong Kong, where he lived for a few months. The time came when he had to decide whether to stay out there or return to England. Dear mother wrote them a begging letter, asking how much he had been earning in Hong Kong; which was enough for our kid to decide to stay there.

I missed and still miss him so much, but couldn’t question his wisdom in keeping away from her.


A Nottingham Lads True Tale of Woe – Part Three to follow ASAP…

Politicians Ode

They just tell untruths, for they cannot legally lie,

To keep or get into power, with anyone they’ll ally,

They shop at Harrods, not at the local ‘Bring & Buy’,

They seem to set the rules, that they themselves do not apply,

Their expense claims are fiddled, and go high and awry,

The laws of ethics and morality they always manage to defy,

They’ve the compassion of the sleeping sickness biting TseTse fly,

Being fair, honest and trustworthy, these also passed them by,

Their own salaries, they set so very overly high,

Nepotists they are, to last gal, gay and guy,

Surely their expenses fiddling they cannot deny?

To cover their shady dealings, they will surely try,

Only at elections, do they consider the electorate small fry,

Shame on the idiots who vote them in – like you and I,

Their Party Political broadcasts, are weirder than any Sci-Fi,

But more unbelievable, ambiguous, fallacious and wry,

Philargyrists (Lovers of money) with a very ample supply,

Their greedy uncaring attitude makes one want to wail and cry,

Where do the worst ones come from, Eton is the reply,

Rich mummies & daddies, taught them to be superior, not shy,

You can’t get into Government without the old school tie,

Their perfidiousness and double-dealing I cannot justify,

I’ve said my bit now, so have a good day, good-bye!