"I saw by the light of the silvery moon,
the meacing glint of her shiny harpoon"
Perhaps her online name of "Captain Ahab" should have been a clue.
Perhaps my nom-de-plume of "Moby Dick" was a mistake.
Maybe agreeing to meet down by the harbour was a bad idea.
Not disheartened by the rebuffs on Bid # 35, it was back to the drawing board to compose a carol for people who are interested in cats. Here is the result, and I think you will agree, it has enough about it to secure a phone call from Justin Bieber’s agent, methinks. Or maybe Paloma Faith’s agent, she has the kind of voice that can and does turn any half-baked idea into a great sounding song.
“Good King Wencelas looked out
At the cat sh* in his garden,
All the mice lay round about
Dead, crisp and half eaten
Brightly shone his gun that night,
Though his face was cru-el
When a moggy came in sight,
He let it have both ba- rr-els”.
Everyone likes dogs* and everyone likes Christmas**, so how could the music companies not want to pay for studio time to record this gem? It is no wonder the record business is going down the pan when the entrepreneurial spirit has been killed in favour of safe acts who will sell shedloads of units. Is this noticeably inferior to Adelle’s “Skyfall”?
“Woof, woof, merrily on high,
In heaven the dogs are barking,
Yap, Yap, merrily the sky
Is filled with wullufs howling
Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, owwwwwww
The wolves all want their dinner”
*Admittedly, a large percentage of people may prefer cats
**Also admittedly, Christmas is not a big festival in large parts of the Middle East and Asia
Looking back, the months I spent working in the lentil processing factory were the only times in my life when I had my finger on the pulse.
"Lipstick on your collie told a tale on you, Lipstick on your collie, said you'd been untrue" Leave him, dearie, he's not good enough for you.
APPLE and BLACKBERRY - cool technology, great as a crumble.
RHUBARB - delicious in a crumble, seriously bad as a mobile phone.
(Mind you, it still has better coverage than Vodafone).
Reckless and Feckless – retro ‘tec thriller Despite having all the essential ingredients for a successful detective series, Reckless and Feckless only got as far as one poorly received pilot programme. The show, named after the two main characters, featured a pair of detectives – one of them a maverick, the other a supposedly bumbling fool. It was set in the 70s to give it some bang-up-to date retro chic which also had the advantage of allowing the script writers to get away with large amounts of swearing. Bob Reckless’ eating disorder and Bob Feckless’ shock of red hair gave them an opportunity to be incredibly offensive whilst retaining “period authenticity” about the only two characteristics about which it is still deemed acceptable to be unacceptably insulting. It was set in a glamorous Police department (in this case – forensic accounts) and shot in exotic offshore tax haven locations (the pilot was partly filmed on the Isle of Man). The pair’s 1967 Hillman Imp ticks the box for the distinctive ride, or what media types call an "iconic" car, that all the top TV detectives have. There was no obvious female love interest story line, the inference being that the couple were married to the job, or maybe there was some lingering underlying mutual desire, a fact which is hinted at occasionally through the pilot. Wast it a bromance or something more? The soundtrack too, ticked all the relevant retro boxes. Featuring artists like Bowie, T Rex, Captain Beefheart and The Wurzels it roots the audience firmly in the newly hip 1970s. Problems surfaced with the ending of the pilot which saw the duo gunned down whilst investigating VAT fraud in downtown Douglas, IOM. In a shambolic and poorly planned raid, they burst in on an armed gang sharing out bullion. They die in a hail of gunfire after exchanging some typical dialogue: Bob Reckless: “Where’s my f***ing gun, you ginger c***?” Bob Feckless: “What f***ing gun? We’re accountants not the SAS, you dozy fat b****? I’ve got a slide rule somewhere” Hoodlum 1: “Let ‘em have it, Knuckles” Cue slow motion slaughter scene. TV executives cited the death of the two main characters as being principal reasons, amongst a whole host of other ones, as to why the show will not go into production. Frustrated producers have been quoted as saying “what’s good for Taggart’s goose is not good for our gander”. The audience feedback was that they really liked the gratuitous swearing, enjoyed the extreme violence at the end, were happy with the implied homosexuality but were turned off by the explicit accountancy scenes.
I wish I was a butterfly
But not just any butterfly
Not a larva
Not a pupa
But a complete
and utter butterfly
I wish I was a moth
But not just any moth
A big moth
A huge moth
A bloody great behemoth
Dalek Masterchef:
Mr Dalek, what's the best way to prepare chicken?
"Marinate, marinate"
And your favourite way to preserve coconut?
"Dessicate, dessicate"
And what should we do with the two pompous presenters on the show?
"Exterminate, exterminate"
The success, at least in the UK, on a minor channel sort of way of the reality TV programme THE ONLY WAY IS ESSEX has led to that county being catapulted into the unlikely role of most fashionable place in Britain. In an attempt to cash in on this and knowing that film and TV companies are devoid of new ideas, a whole raft of possible big screen ideas have been pitched to the major studios and stations. If one of them bites, we could make the big time. Would you pay cash to go and see a film with an intriguing title like:
Thurrockly Modern Millie
Basildon the Great Mouse Detective
The Grays Escape
Lock, Stock (near Billericay) and Two Smoking Barrels
The Mountnessing Candidate
Dial M for Maldon
Once Upon a Time in West Mersea
Pulp Frinton
Epping Forest Gump
Butch Canvey and the Sundance Kid
I know I would. Maybe.
Watching a group of nurses demolish a heavily laden buffet provided by a pharmaceutical company for a meeting, it made me realise that there are probably only two types of nurses - the quick and the hungry.
Krill oil is the future. Forget Cod Liver Oil, your joints will be a million times more supple if you supplement your diet with Krill Oil.
The evidence is overwhelming.
Take Americans for example. Their diet consists, as far as we can tell from TV, of beef steak or burgers washed down with coca cola (Pomegranate, Guava, Quercetin and Papaya smoothies in California or “cwaffee” in New York). In 2005, there were 500,000 knee replacements in the US, due to people living longer and rising obesity levels.
Now look at Sperm Whales. Their diet consists of Krill washed down with sea water, as everyone knows. In 2005, none of them had a knee replacement in the US. Cynics may argue that American healthcare insurers don’t offer policies to aquatic mammals, but the figures don’t lie. Sperm Whales would be the first to admit that they have weight issues and since the ban on commercial whaling, many are living longer and yet they don’t have joint problems.
In this month’s Woman & Home “Christmas Feel Good Food” magazine, celebrity chef Gennaro Contaldo reminisces about his childhood food memories. “Risotto alla marinara con verdure. I dedicate this recipe to the Giardiniello Restaurant in my home village of Minori (on the Amalfi Coast) which has been making this beautiful dish since it opened in 1955. When I make it, I’m reminded of those summer evenings when, as a little boy, my mother would take me to enjoy a late-night supper cooked by Nunziata, the owner and chef”.
In twenty years time, will the food memory read "Fried chicken". I dedicate this recipe to the Chick ‘n’ Chip takeaway van on the A2 near Dover which has been making this tasty snack since it opened in 2009 (apart from a six month gap after a failed food hygiene inspection). It reminded me of summer evenings, when me and my mates would hang around in the layby eating chicken and chips before throwing the wrappers in the ditch. Happy days”
“Small Gardens” by Mongtomery Dee
The latest book by the TV presenter with the crumpled suit, crumpled face and crumpled hair will delight anyone seeking inspiration for improving their own small garden. Lavishly illustrated with pictures taken on his own estate, Dee’s book is full of time-saving ideas; “get your butler to do it” and cost saving ideas; “get a TV company to pay for it”. He shows that any small garden be transformed into a beautiful living space by anyone from the humblest Baronet to the richest investment banker.
The latest non-fiction bestseller by acclaimed sportswriter Gary Linament is called "Tits and Arses" and is a book which describes both Premier League footballers and their two main areas of interest.
It is ideal summer reading for the average football fan as it has lots of pictures and not many words. It is out now in paperback, Kindle and (for Darlington fans) in colouring book form.
That's him Officer! That's the man who hacked into my phone and has been listening to all my conversations.
(Picture from HeroComm)
From the mead halls of Valhalla, comes a new business the likes of which you’ve never seen before. No more, the terrified screams of people running away from hordes of flaming torch-bearing rapists and pillagers. All you will hear now are the delighted squeals of people opening parcels full of competitively-priced stationery items delivered next day. The Viking Office Supplies catalogue has arrived.
Who would have thought that the Vikings would have diversified into office supplies in anticipation of a downturn in the rape and pillage market?
Surely there were other more complementary industries for psychopaths with a trading inclination to go into - nightclubs, scrap metal, football or the drugs trade for example?
Did the conversation in the longship go along the lines of?
Olaf Forkbeard:
"So, Erik the Red, when we hit landfall, are we going to ransack the convent again? I can’t wait to get my hands on all those yummy nunnies?"
Erik the Red:
"No, Svein Forkbeard. We have to put a stop to all our mead-fuelled high jinks. The times have changed and we must move with them. The systematic treatment of women as sex objects has no place in Dark Age society. We went on the Nunwalks and we learned that although women may dress as nuns it doesn’t mean that they are “gagging for it”. We went on the Slutwalks and we learned that “No” definitely means “No” and not “Unhand me you herring-breathed brute…oh, go on then”.
Erik the Red:
Fair point. What about pillage, plunder and looting. That’s still OK isn’t it?
Olaf Forkbeard;
“Have you not heard of Fair Trade you plaited-pig-tailed horned helmet wearing fool?
We need new ideas that don’t exploit local populations. Ikea Ikeasson, what do you think we should do?”
Ikea Ikeasson
"How about we sell all the bits of smashed up furniture we stole from Lindisfarne back to them. We could throw in a bag of screws with each pack with instructions on how to put them back together”.
Olaf Forkbeard;
“That’s an awful idea you plaited-pig-tailed meatball eating fool. You’re fired. Tiffany Tiffanysson, any ideas?”
Tiffany Tiffanysson
“We could turn all our looted gold and silver into amulets, rings, amulets and err, amulets”
Olaf Forkbeard;
“That’s an awful idea you plaited-pig-tailed bling-encrusted fool. I’m out. Staple Staplesson, do you have anything sensible to offer?”
Staple Staplesson
“There’s got to be a gap in the market for cheap stationery delivered to your door by longship. You can never find vellum or quills round here, especially since we burnt down all the monasteries and stole the cattle and geese. Hur hur”.
Olaf Forkbeard;
“By Thor he’s got it. That was en evil laugh, but we’ll overlook that as you don’t get anywhere in business without being a heartless bastard. Office supplies it is. I’m in”
Werewolves are sick of getting a bad press and have decided that the only way to clean up their image is through Accreditation. From 1 January 2012 every werewolf in the world will have to follow new strict guidelines laid down in a Lycanthrope Code Of Conduct.
The three main Werewolf governing bodies have agreed to join forces and bring in new regulations to improve the reputation of their species. The British Association of Werewolves, the World Association of Werewolves and the All American Association for the Advancement of Werewolves will now formally be known as BAW-WAW-AAAW. They will try to dispel the myth of werewolves as fly by night characters that you only see once in a blue moon.
OUT WILL GO
Unsightly shapeshifting transformations
Dangerous looking fangs
Blood-spattered carpets
Spine chilling howling
The monobrow
IN WILL COME
Customer friendly phrases
Health and Safety talks
Customer satisfaction surveys
Corporate Uniforms
Equality initiatives
Stricter waxing regimes
“We want to get away from old fashioned phrases with negative connotations”. Things like “victim”, “slaughtered” and “in a grisly stomach-churning massacre” are not appropriate these days. Our members prefer terms such as “valued client”, “treated” and “at an intervention location” to describe what they do” said a Spokeswolf today.
The BAW-WAW-AAAAW regulations are very similar to those used by the UK’s Confederation of Registered Gas Installers (CORGI), only with more teeth.
In future, werewolves, about to pounce on a “valued client” will be required by law to give read them a full Health and Safety information sheet outlining the procedure before ripping their throat out. It is recommended that clients are made aware that they will be allowed a full 30 seconds to scream, that once bitten, they will experience a sharp pain prior to feeling strangely weak, followed by collapsing to the ground and dying. They must be offered the use of a cycle helmet and knee and elbow pads to reduce the risk of skull and bone fractures during their fall. No fee is to be charged for the hire of this equipment. The helmets must be checked by a registered technician between each use.
Clients must complete a customer satisfaction survey before the “intervention”. There will be an opt-out clause on the form, but it must be in a font no larger than 6pt Curlz MT. Consumer groups argued that on a moonlit night in the woods, this may not be legible, but this request was rejected as being “picky”. The Survey will ask questions like:
Was your Werewolf;
A)Polite and chatty, B) A bit creepy, C) Terrifying D) Like a hound from the gates of hell?
Did he/ she/ it:
A)Buy you a coffee first and show you pictures of their cubs B) Explain the procedure clearly C) Howl incoherently D) Tear your jugular vein out without asking permission?
Would you recommend this service to a friend?
A)Yes B) No C) D’Uh?
Prior to being attacked, each werewolf will need to prove to their regulatory body that they carried out a full Equality Check on their client. They are obliged to ask the following questions to ensure fairness in their transactions. If you are not asked these questions, you are entitled to refuse to be bitten. Consumer groups point out that how much weight such objections will carry in the depths of moonlit forest clearings with no witnesses is in some doubt. However, the questions are:
Ethnicity:
Would you describe yourself as:
A)White B) Black C) Asian D) Mixed E) Undead
Sexuality:
Would you consider yourself;
A)Heterosexual B) Homosexual C) Other D) Strangely attracted to wolves if that helps right now
Disability:
Which part of your body would you like to have ripped off first?
A) Head B) Chest C) Legs D) Pinky
Lifestyle:
Would you describe yourself as:
A)A college kid who split up from the group B) A hot female driver who broke down on a deserted stretch of road in the woods C) A vagrant D) An American backpacker in London
To get away from the stereotyping and social stigma of being a werewolf, the old image of a hirsute, malodorous and often threatening wolf/human hybrid will soon be a thing of the dark past. The new guidelines suggest a smart burgundy polo shirt, open at the neck with a small silver W embroidered over the heart as the corporate look for all lycanthropes. Personal hygiene and good grooming are also being recommended as a result of discussions with focus groups carried out by BAW-WAW-AAAAW’s PR agency Zevon Remus Lupin/ Kessler Goodman.
Growing up in 1970s Yorkshire, there were some career choices that just weren't available to us. Our teachers never offered us a choice of "Extreme Cake maker".
It was either British Steel or farming and that was that. Youngsters today, they don't know they're born.
The Police Chaplain was talking to us at the weekend. He was saying how he was washing the mugs up at the station when one of the new young Constables came in.
"Why are you washing up, Padre? It's not your job" the officer said. "My guv'nor used to wash people's feet, so this is not too bad" the Chaplain replied. "Who's your Guv'nor then?" asked the fresh faced youth.
I challenged the goalkeeper for a looping high ball into the area. He made a phenomenal leap and caught it way up in the air. "You leapt like a salmon there,buddy" I said. "You wot? Like a salmon? That's a funny thing to say. Fish don't jump" came the reply from the confused netminder.
LOL, WTF, ROFLMAO are the kinds of things young people say when communicating with each other nowadays. Using their own language speeds up their semi-literate ramblings and excludes older people from their world.
They probably don’t realise that years ago old people were young people and had their own acronyms that were just as rebellious. They had NORWICH, OMO and SWALK long before the invention of mobile phones and yet young people seem to be the only ones who use acronyms these days.
Many of the older generation have no idea what OMG and WTF mean. If they did, they would doubtless be appalled at the swear words and casual blasphemy hidden within.
Next time you send a text, try using less offensive abbreviations and more classic expressions. To express surprise, instead of OMG, use OMGA - Oh, my giddy Aunt.
In the place of WTF, why not say WDYSD - What did you say, dear?
Why type IMHO, when what you really mean is LTMSJ - Listen to me, Sonny Jim.
Replace ROFLMAO with ROFLFMCA - Roll on the floor, looking for my Carer Alarm
Add IIASA (If I am still alive) on to the end of talk to you later (TTYL)
Put INTL (I need the loo) after BRB (be right back), as young people love getting TMI.
LOL is an overused expression, rarely are text messages so hilarious you laugh loudly. Why not go for a more honest and accurate simple comment of SP – smiling politely? If of course, what you have just been told was side-splittingly rigolo, you could type ITIWM – I think I’ve wet myself. Play them at their own game!
These are the 6 most popular searches carried out by Spiders on Google:
1. Quick after work Fly recipes
2. Web developer jobs 100k+
3. Incy Wincy topless pics
4. Web idol
5. Heston Blumenthal Fly recipes
6. Spiderman truth or urban myth
It is rather cruel to describe somebody as being "no oil painting". It is also inaccurate. Next time you go to use that expression about somebody, just remember that Heironymus Bosch and Pieter Bruegel the Elder painted in oils. Their people were hardly attractive but were definitely oil paintings. It would be more sensible to describe less than aesthetically pleasing people as being "no late period Picasso".
If you have slept in and are late for work, you could try using the following euphemism to disguise the truth behind your lateness; “Sorry I’m late, there were long delays coming down the wooden hill from Bedfordshire”.
The news that the PLO are to get involved in the Middle East peace talks in America next month highlights the growing prominence in Middle Eastern politics of tribute bands. The fact that the Palestinian Light Orchestra will be around the table instead of Hamas suggests that Western tribute bands hold far more influence than was previously thought. They won't be the only band trying to bring peace to a region troubled by religious conflict since the beginning of time. Ever since John Lennon sang "Give Peace A Chance" music has been striving to reconcile the factions. The other acts invited to the talks include Bahrainarama, Sunni and Cher, The Rolling Stonings, Talibananarama, Nile Young (Cairo's own "Heart of Gold"), Rammadanstein, Echo and the Iraqimen (who play under the name Echo and the B'nai men in Israel) and 10,000,000 Maniacs.
Bob Geldof was not invited.
"Itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini" is a classic example of a song that could have been so much better it the lyricist had only taken time to write more interesting words. The recorded version was just sloppy.
A small change to my lyrics would have created a much stronger visual image in the listener's mind and made the song so much more memorable:
"She wore a Mangalitza, Teeny Weeny,
Curly ginger wool bikini"
What could be better than a bikini made from Mangalitza?
See them here
What is the difference between Western Philosophy and Chinese Philosophy, you may ask? Western philosophers like to discuss the question "if a tree falls over in the woods and nobody sees it, did it really happen?". Chinese philospohers discuss the question "if a panda falls out of a tree in the forest and nobody sees it, did it really happen".
I asked this question to one particularly gifted student of Chinese Philosophy who replied "if it happened, there would be pandemonium".
Cricket only gets one mention in the bible. It is the apt advice of:
"let he who is without spin, cast the first bouncer".
Middle-aged pub musicians across Britain need to be afraid. The Government have just introduced a new criminal offence targeting all those pub cover bands that murder once loved rock n'roll and blues classics. From now on, anybody mangling an old rock n' roll tune could be arrested and charged with Grievous Bo Diddley Harm, or GBH for short.
It's Health and Safety gone mad I tell you! Have you heard that all Wonka bars now have to carry the warning "May contain traces of Augustus Gloop"? It's a scandal. Children know what's in them, they are happy to take the risk. Adults - grow up!
A group of tired and angry policemen are clustered round a sheet of Perspex in the incident room of CSI Bombay. Strangely, they all appear to be Londoners. The Inspector in charge looks harassed and in a very, very bad mood. He jabs a pudgy finger at the incident board and starts his tirade:
“Right you lot. Here’s where we are. We’ve got a missing persons investigation that’s going nowhere. We’ve got a name “Nellie”. We’ve got a witness who heard her saying “goodbye to the circus”. We’ve got forensics looking at iron chain that’s been slipped. We’ve got CCTV of her talking to a suspect on the road to Mandalay. We’ve got a witness who heard, and I quote “a trumpety trump, trump, trump, trump”. But that’s it. We’ve got nothing else. Nada. Zip. Diddly squat. We’ve lost a bloody elephant. A huge soddin’ elephant and you bunch of losers can’t find her. We know there’s somebody behind this. Elephants don’t just walk off. There’s got to be a Mr Big. Have any of you got any ideas?”
A nervous looking young officer puts his hand up and says “Colin, sir. The head of the herd was Colin, sir. He’s your Mr Big.”
The RSPB have asked members of the public to count the number and species of wild birds they see in their gardens this weekend. It is an unofficial census of birds done for free by people who like staring out of the windows. Unlike the official census the birds won't be allowed to claim that their religion is "Jedi" so it will actually carry some accuracy and relevance. We filled the form in yesterday and posted it off. It confirmed a largely dull collection of British birds - a robin, a couple of sparrows, three goldfinches and a pair of blackbirds. Imagine my surprise then when I looked out this morning to see a buzzard, a kittiwake, a condor, a parrakeet called Bernard, a dodo, two cassowaries and an ostrich perched on the washing line. Admittedly the ostrich and the cassowaries soon fell off but the RSPB will never know about this. Still,if I told them they'd only ignore it and think I made it up.
Little Miss Muffet
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Wondering what a “tuffet” was.
So she googled it.
I kissed a gorilla and I liked it
The taste of his banana chapstick
I kissed a gorilla just to try it
I hope his keeper don't mind it
(Things not to sing when you are "Keeper for a day")
This is the 2009 version of an old favourite "When the Boat Comes In":
Come here, maw little Jacky,
Now aw've smok'd mi backy,
Let's hev a bit o' cracky,
Till the boat comes in.
Dance ti' thy daddy, sing ti' thy mammy,
Dance ti' thy daddy, ti' thy mammy sing;
Thou shall hev Spider Crab, Lemon and Lemon Thyme Risotto with Tea Smoked Scallops, Pan Fried Grey Mullet, Spinach and a Beurre Noisette on a little dishy,
Thou shall hev Spider Crab, Lemon and Lemon Thyme Risotto with Tea Smoked Scallops, Pan Fried Grey Mullet, Spinach and a Beurre Noisette when the boat comes in.
You can't not love the Hairy Bikers.
Hawkwind have announced that they are planning to organise holidays where their fans can go with them for boat cruises, vineyard visits or to stay in villas. You get to hang out with the band, maybe have music lessons or jam sessions with them and perhaps go to a gig at the end of the break. This seems like a top idea, although a friend of mine did suggest that if they argue as much as they used to in their heyday, it may not be such a fun time.
The thought of going on holiday with your favourite rock stars sounds like a good one, but the practicalities and the reality may make for a less than perfect break.
Sure, a fortnight spent lolling about by Gene Simmons’ pool in LA sounds good, but if the rock stars came on the sort of holidays we have, I can see problems.
Would you want your daughters to share 10 nights in a caravan in Brittany with Amy Winehouse? “Dad, Amy says we can go to the bar, they’ve got a tattoo parlour and they’ve got coke down there. Can we go? Can we? She’s really cool and says we can drink vodka with her and we don’t have to come back at 9 o’clock for bed. She’s not stuffy like you and Mum”. “Coke?” you’d be thinking. You’d have them sniggering in the back of the car singing “Don’t wanna go to Carnac” on days out. It would be like a living hell with croissants and cocaine.
How would Guns n’ Roses get on playing Pictionary with our girls for 10 nights? Do they have the sort of attention span that could cope with that intensity of game? Would they blush at some of the drawings 15 year old girls can do? On the other hand, how good would it be to “hang out with the guys” drinking beer after the family have gone to bed? Maybe not too good, when you walk round “La musée du champignon et de la vie troglodyte” the next day feeling like death with the girls mocking and calling you a “lightweight” and “a loser” for not keeping up with the band.
As a parent on holiday you have to constantly keep track of the family to make sure they don’t come to harm. I can see it being a nightmare if you had to take the seven members of Madness to Disneyland Paris for a weekend. You’d spend the whole time counting and recounting them. “Right you lot, stand still and let me count you. I don’t care if it is the Night Boat to Cairo, give me a break”. Getting back to Waterloo station with a wife, 2 girls and only 6 nutty boys would not be an option. Mrs Suggs isn’t going to accept “musical differences” as an excuse as to why her Graham is still sitting in “la Légende de Buffalo Bill” at Eurodisney.
The only upside could be that when you first arrive at the park you could announce “”well, boys and girls, welcome to the house of fun!” and smile quietly inside at your own wit.
We didn’t have much money when I was young and taking a family on holiday can be expensive, so we knew not to ask for too much. Imagine Dad’s face if Elton John came on holiday with us and we happened to wander into a florists! “Dad, Elton says he wants 50 of them pink things, they look dead expensive. If you get them for him, can I have one of them buckets shaped like a castle?”
Having a younger sister meant that lazy summer days on the beach were a bit rubbish for me to say the least. On some of the deserted coves in Cornwall, you couldn’t find anybody to play cricket with all summer. Had we taken Showadddywaddy with us, we could have had 4 or 5 a side cricket every day. That would have been brilliant. I don’t know if the TCCB in those days would have allowed them to play in their brightly coloured costumes, seeing as whites were compulsory. I also don’t know how mobile they would have been in soft sand in blue suede crepe platform shoes. They would also have been very hot in those long coats running about in the outfield/ dunes/ incoming breakers. A round of ice creams would have been very pricey and I suspect that Dad would not have let us all run to 99s and a bottle of fizzy pop as well as the basic cone.
"Have I got time to go to the loo before we go out" was my innocent question. "If you are quick" came the prompt reply. "I can be quick, after all, it's not like I have to aim or anything" seemed a funny quip at the time. However, the long lecture on my less desirable personal habits which followed rendered the whole exercise pointless and made us both late.
I have always wanted to be described as "a little hottie". The good news today is that with UK temperatures in the high 20s, I'm not only a little hottie, I'm a little sweaty too!
mmmm.
Andrei Arshavin has signed for Arsenal once day after the Transfer Window closed.
Did he get through a Transfer Catflap that nobody was aware of until now?
...as they are known locally, or computers to the rest of the English speaking world, can be difficult things for some older people to get the hang of. Having tried in vain to train some staff to use a new system at work, it has become apparent that some of them would see Ned Ludd as being a "bit nerdy".
I don't know why it took so long to occur to me. Even though I've heard the name thousands of times on the news, it was only yesterday when I suddenly thought "What a great name 'The Bush Administration' would make for a waxing business".
Good news from Santa's little helpers. They are pleased to report that their language is prospering and is being more widely spoken than in the past. They can categorically confim that Elvish ain't dead.
All your favourite pop stars and Sting will soon be appearing in a brand new range of children’s books. The newly written stories will feature some of the giants of popular music in reworkings of classic tales that have been loved by generations of children. The project is part of CareerAid ,the charity that helps pop stars get back in the public eye. The first 12 titles to be released will be:
Elvis and the Shoemaker
The Lion, Madonna and the Wardrobe
Horton hears The Who
Noddy Holder & Big Ears
James Brown and the Giant Peach
Sting of the Dump
Feargal the Bogeyman
Charlie Watts and the Chocolate Factory
Alice Cooper in Wonderland
The Famous Jackson Five
The Adventures of Huckleberry & the Finn Brothers
Just PiLiam
If everything is black, then you are probably looking at the world through woes-tinted spectacles.
How times change. When Eddie Cochran sang about the "Three steps to heaven" back in the 1950s he was describing simple, optimistic times. Were things always that uncomplicated? Looking at the original 1920s version of the song and some later cover versions, we find that dating has undergone many changes.
1920s – Original version by the Manhattan Men in Spats Orchestra
Step 1 - You find a girl you love
Step 2 – You ask her family if the two of you could spend some time together
Step 3 - You find a chaperone
Step 4 - You meet at Aunty Mabel’s
Step 5 – You chat in the drawing room
Step 6 – You give up and begin an inappropriate relationship with the maid
Now that sure seems like heaven to me
1950s – Eddie Cochran’s definitive version
Step 1 - You find a girl you love
Step 2 - She falls in love with you
Step 3 - You kiss and hold her tightly
Now that sure seems like heaven to me
1980s – Millie ‘n’ Bobbie's bubblegum pop version
Step 1 - You find a girl you love
Step 2 – You tell her friends you fancy her
Step 3 – You push your jacket sleeves up
Step 4 - She falls in love with you
Step 5 - You kiss and hold her tightly
Now that sure seems like heaven to me
1990s – The Flash Boyz britpop boy band's version
Step 1 – A girl says she likes you
Step 2 – You’re not bothered either way, so you go to bed together
Now that sure seems like heaven to me
2000s – DJ Busta feat. the Groovy Train's RnB version
Step 1 – You go online
they would say things like;
Edam:
“I was going to get some flavour, but then I got high”
Brie:
“Is it me or is it warm in here? I’m melting”
Camembert:
“Don’t look at me, it was ze dog!”
Irish Cheddar:
“Oi’ll have annudder Guinness, so I will”
Stinking Bishop:
“I said exactly the same thing to Nick Park on the set of ‘Curse of the Were Rabbit’. Did I tell you I had a major role in that film”
Mature Irish Cheddar:
“Not for me thanks, Oi’m driving”
Taleggio:
“It’s not mould; it’s a carefully cultivated air of rakishness”
Caerphilly:
“Ha, ha, very funny. I’ve not heard that one before - “Just do it caerphilly,” How droll.
Roquefort:
“Zat is wrong. Ze mouse in ze ‘Aristocats’ was named after me, not ze uzzer way round. Idiot!”
Emmental:
“Is it me or is it warm in here? I’m melting”
Gruyère:
“I’m fond of ue too, Emmental”
Song to the tune of “Postman Pat”, the once popular children’s TV programme theme tune:
Postmodern Pat, Postmodern Pat
Postmodern Pat always talks a lot of crap,
Uses words like ”über”
Drives a Mini Cooper
He gets all his ideas from better men
Postmodern Pat, Postmodern Pat
Postmodern Pat and his leather man bag
Wakes up deconstructing
The essence of the zeitgeist
His cat thinks he’s a really shallow man.
How do you tell if you are a success? The quickest way would appear to be to take a look at your armpits. If your shirts are moist a lot of the time then far from being unpleasant to be around, you are almost certainly a success. If Thomas Edison's adage that "success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration" then you can take heart from knowing that you are 90% there.
Keanu Reeves is back on top form in his new movie “The Germinator”. He plays a cyborg gardener fighting evil forces to protect the woman and the plants he loves. One reviewer described the film as like “Rosemary and Thyme on LSD, with guns, meets the Matrix”.
Directed by Martin Calabrese, we see Reeves in one of his most pumped-up, adrenalin fuelled roles for many years. Some critics have argued that the movie is one the most violent mainstream
Where the film differs from many other “shoot-‘em-up” pictures is the love interest in the storyline. The Germinator (Reeves) is infatuated with a woman and has to fight a ruthless gangster (played with extreme menace by George Clooney) for her heart. The object of his desire is real-life TV Gardening presenter Carol Klein. Calabrese says that mixing real-life with cinema brought interesting challenges to his work – “Audiences these days are so used to celebrity that we have deliberately tried to blur the edges between fiction and reality”.
Opinion is divided on whether this has worked and fans at preview screenings were said to be “disturbed” at parts of the film, especially the graphic sex scenes involving Reeves and Klein (played by Scarlett Johansson).
The film is high on energy, action, Latin plant names and explosions. The thrilling final scene sees Clooney and Reeves wrestling in pouring rain in a mixed herbaceous border.
“The Germinator” premières in the
Fears are mounting today for the British Mars Mission being led by popular billionaire Sir Dick Chutney. Chutney’s craft, Ego I, crashed while landing on the surface of the Red Planet and the crew face an agonising “race against time” to repair it to fly it back to earth.
The only trained astronaut on the flight, Charlie “Buzz” Bumble III, was knocked unconscious during the failed landing when the onboard EgoCam dislodged itself and hit him on the head. He is expected to be well enough to commence repairs by 0300 Earth time.
It is thought that things started to go wrong when Ego I hit the wreckage of the previously lost British probe Beagle 2 and “suffered some well-scary damage to the technical bits underneath it that help it to land” according to a Junior Mission Spokesman at the Biggin Hill airfield.
Chutney, 62, was said to be stoic and composed following his earlier historic walk on the surface of Mars. As he left the vessel he tripped on the first step and fell over. He thus became the first human to set head, backside and then foot on Mars.
The crew consists of Sir Chutney, his hairdresser and assistant engineer Bishan Singh (the first Scottish Sikh in space), “Buzz” Bumble, CallumMcBroon (the British Prime Minister) and Li Chan (the ship’s chef, who was chosen mainly to complete the ethnic diversity requirements of prime-time TV in the US and UK). They have about 4 days supply of oxygen, water, Bolllinger and crispy duck left.
Asked about the voyage, the flame haired tycoon told reporters that “it had been OK, but would have been more comfortable if I hadn’t had the Prime Minister’s nose between my buttocks for most of the flight”. With an election looming McBroon is said by aides to be desperate to attach himself to anything successful or newsworthy.
Singh, 32, from Musselburgh, has denied reports that during the crash has was overheard at Mission Control laughing and saying “It’s nae good, Captain, I cannae hold her, she’s breaking up!”. Writing on his blog singhwhenimorbiting.blog.com, he said “While I’m boldly going in the great tradition of Scottish space engineers, I have new and original things to say. I seem to recall saying something like Crivvens, help ma boab.”
Interestingly for scientists, the only thing visible from the EgoCam before it broke was a sign on the surface of Mars which clearly said “BTW, I do exist. Who else do you think made this planet? ps - I cn also do txt spk, lol, God”.
Sir Chutney must be suffering a sense of déjà vu after the crash as it resembled elements of his recent ill-fated “Microlight to the Moon” adventure. This mission ended in failure when his microlight ran out of fuel shortly after it left the earth’s atmosphere. “The moon is a lot further away than it looks from the ground” said Chutney, explaining the calculation error that nearly proved fatal. Luckily for him he was saved by the cloud of hot air that accompanies him wherever he goes causing a thermal which cushioned his fall to earth.
At Mission Control, staff were remarkably sanguine about the possibility of fatalities on this mission. A reliable source quoted a spokesman as saying “Ah well, sh*ts happen and if we lose two of them on this trip, c’est la vie. It will be sad to lose the astronaut and the two civilians, but life must go on. At least we now know what happened to Beagle 2.”
Did you know that the word "alphabet" comes from the ancient greek word "alphabeti" which means "spaghetti"?
Did you know that the only song sung in English and Icelandic ever to make No. 1 in the UK pop charts was "Bring your dottirs to the slottir" by Iron Maiden?
Traditional British Bed & Breakfast
A traditional English breakfast of a piece of toast or a bowl of CocoPops is served in front of the TV every morning from 7-9am. For children the TV room will be open from 4am-7am. Breakfast of either a bag of crisps or a slice of toast (unbuttered) will be available to take with them. Children must only eat breakfast outside.
Our chef is able to order in a range of hot take-away food from a variety of sources. Whether you want fried chicken, curry, pizza, something Chinese, something deep-fried or just a traditional burger, all our food is locally sourced from one of the many fast foot outlets and vans on our nearby industrial estate/ leisure complex.
Guests are reminded that all used cartons or wrappers are to be left on the floor in the dining room, out in the street or disposed of in our neighbour’s front garden. Please do not use the bins.
A typical British evening’s entertainment is provided. For adults we offer a well-stocked bar and 52” wide screen satellite TV together with X-Box , Wii and Playstation. Children are banned from the house from 6pm – midnight. For their amusement we have a range of facilities nearby including a bench, a street light and a half-vandalised bus shelter. Red Bull, Vodka and Cider is available at discount rates from the local corner shop or supermarket.
Guests are reminded that smoking is forbidden indoors. You are asked to smoke in the road or on the designated patio area. Guests are asked to leave cigarette butts on the floor provided.
Guests are free to make as much noise as they like.
April – Pigs (rising feed costs)
May – Poultry (threat of bird flu)
June – Sheep (threat of blue tongue)
July – Cattle (threat of CJD, if the bovine TB didn’t get them first)
August – Domestic Cats (no particular reason)
The popular Hebrew given name Shlomo does not actually mean "peace" as some believe, but is in fact Hebrew for "action replay". People who speak like Sean Connery also use the word in this context.
"How best to display figures showing rising levels of obesity?" was the question. "Will graphs have the most impact?"
What about using a "Who ate all the pies-chart?" I asked.
When asked "what is your favourite era in art history?" I usually reply "I love rococo - it sends me to sleep wonderfully"
I am working on a pilot for a new Reality TV programme. It is called Celebrity Kidnap and the idea is that each week 2 people compete to see how much money they can raise from ransoms paid for celebrities they have kidnapped. It will be a winner as it has all the elements of great TV. It has famous people in stressful situations, adventure, small amounts of criminality (ahem..), ordinary people getting rich, glamour, seediness and there's a winner and a loser.
So far I am holding Bobby Davro in my garden shed. His ransom has been set at £15 but as yet there are no takers. I have Basil Brush chained to the Black and Decker Workmate. He can walk for £10. Mr Roy will cost you £5 more. I've took Elaine "EP here" Paige hostage but she is really annoying me now and if you'll take her off my hands I'll give you £20 a signed copy of the "Evita CD" she takes everywhere with her. My loft is full of the panpipe-playing Bolivian tramps Incantation who should raise about £50 for the set. The only problem there is that they are eating my chilli con carne faster than I can make the stuff. Also, the loft is beginning to smell a bit.
My efforts aren't going too well but my competitor, Jack, is planning on kidnapping someone called Justin Timberlake. I've never heard of him but Jack tells me that he's a bit like a modern day Roger Whittaker. Jack is hoping for $5-$10 million dollars.
He assures me that we should cover all demographics with this line up, make millions and soon be in a position to be featured on MTV Cribs. I just hope they don't want to film in my loft.
It probably seems churlish to question a new word in the language so soon after it has fallen into common usage but does the word WAGs really convey what it describes? The name for the rich and glamorous Wives And Girlfriends of overpaid football players doesn't describe the full range of relationships. Would Spouses, Lovers And Girlfriends be a better description?
When Ricky Martin sings his classic hit “Livin’ La Vida Loca” live on stage, he often ad libs at the end. For all his fans across the globe who can’t find them anywhere else on the web, here are some of the lines he uses to close his favourite song:
“She gets short of breath, she’s a heavy smoker,
She like Batman films, her favourite baddie’s the Joker,
She’s a steam railway fan, she likes to be the stoker,
She paints in monochrome, mainly with burnt ochre
Come on,
She likes soccer administrators; she used to know Ted Croker
She likes stately homes, her favourite Hall is Holker,
She loves jewellery, she likes to wear a choker
She loves playing cards, she’s fond of a little poker
Come on
Livin’ la vida loca
Collar doves are well-known for their repetitive but catchy calling. So much so, that they now have their own "Download Chart" on the internet. Here are this weeks top 5 tunes downloaded by collar doves:
1. Coo-Coooo Coo by Cool Dove
2. Coo-Coooo Coo by The Koller Dovez
3. Coo-Coooo Coo by The Dove Formerly Known as Collar
4. Coo-Coooo Coo by Dollar Cove
5. Coo-Coooo Coo by Dove (feat. Collar)
Next week Status Quo are due to release a new single "Coo-Coooo Coo" which they hope could hit this niche chart, but pop experts think it may be too repetitive, even for a collar doves' taste.
A colleague of mine has just come back to work for the third morning in a week having had her children's school sports day cancelled 10 minutes before it was due to start. On the first occasion it had rained the night before and although the sun was shining the staff were concerned that residual water could be dangerous. On the second day there was a heavy dew, causing cancellation. On the third day, despite the sun shining and the dew being moderate, the sky looked a bit cloudy so it was cancelled again. All this in the interests of the children's safety.
If this is how this great nation approaches sport amongst it's under 11s, what happens when the Olympics arrive in 2012? I wouldn't like to be the one to tell the Greco-Roman wrestlers that their event is off because we haven't PAT tested the kettle in the Olympic Arena's staff room. What if there is a moderate breeze when the sailing is about to start? Will they all be told to abandon ship? I dread to think what the Risk Assessment for the Javelin will yield. Can we allow competitive cycling to take place when the riders could get badly scuffed knees or friction burns if they come off on those indoor tracks. I fear carnage if we allow the world's athletes to compete unsupervised and not wearing the right PPE.
I wonder if Louis Pasteur ever said "do you want pasteurising, 'cos pasteurised is best?" by way of a chat-up line to his wife? I wonder if she replied "Louis, I'll be happy if it comes up to my chest!" If so, did it tickle old Louis?
He may need to have heard the Benny Hill song "Ernie", that came out 80 years after his death for this to be funny, but you never know.....
"Just because you don't look like the other girls at school, doesn't mean we don't love you darling" I told our teenage daughter this morning. "Talk to the beak, the paws ain't listening" she said to me. Which illustrates my point, really.
For those of you who struggle with Latin, here is a well-known Latin phrase translated into English (UK): Quid Pro Quo means "I've booked a well-known legendary rock band to play at your party and it will only cost £1!"
Hey, loser! Are you too stupid to recycle? Which part of recycle don’t you understand? You’ve got 6 black sacks full of rubbish and only 2 bags for recycling; we’ve got a paper pile, a cardboard pile, a bag of plastics and only 1 sack of rubbish. To make matters worse, your recycling is 100% beer cans. Are you too smashed to save the planet?
OK, I admit it, I’m a competitive recycler, but a man has to have a competitive hobby and I’m not terribly good at football.
Do you derive a perverse sense of superiority when you walk out into the street on recycling day to see that you are the most eco-aware family in your area? I know I do, it is the only positive aspect of having two compost heaps for all green waste, separate trips to the tip 8 miles away for batteries, metal, fabrics and large items and regular car rides to the bottle bank, not to mention trips out to the large recycling depot for all the paper and cardboard from work because the local authority don’t recycle trade waste.
I do wish that everybody would make an effort to break down their waste into all the reusable elements and that our local authority would actually recycle it rather than taking all the separate piles of waste and throwing it in the same landfill.
Call me a hippie dreamer, but it would be good wouldn’t it?
The phone rings and in the absence of caller ID, it has to be answered. “Hi uncle, can you help me?” says a familiar voice. What does the young lad want, I wonder? Does he need some help rebuilding a mountain bike? Does he want to come snowboarding in Zermatt? Does he want to join me marlin fishing in Mauritius? Perhaps he wants to talk over some teenage guy issues? Does he need help stripping down a motorbike engine? It is great being an uncle, especially to such fine young men. The eldest is intelligent, but isn’t that bothered by school things, he’s a lightning fast sprinter, he’s good looking and loves being outdoors. His younger brother is full of energy and life, loves doing stunts on his bike and getting dirty. He’s also got a cheeky smile and is great with people.
What does he want? “I’ve got some really boring homework and need to know what DNA stands for.” So there you have it. I’m the uncle they ring for really dull homework answers. I’m not “adventure uncle” – the extreme sportsman - they’ve got one of those. I’m not the rugged outdoors uncle; they’ve got one of those too. I’m the one they call when something obscure and not even remotely exciting comes up in homework. I’m “lo-tech Google man” for boys without internet access.
The only consolation is that they called me and that I knew the answer. I’d rather be out on a boat on the open ocean with them, but I suppose I’ll settle for being useful, I know my limits.
I've just done one of the receptionist's post-induction training quizzes at work. I scored appallingly, but there again, I haven't been trained as a receptionist. I got most of the answers wrong.
No 49 - Avoiding germs in babies’ mouths for Dummies
(Not for sale in the USA)
Is time running out for the much-loved fictional dog, Treacle McBeagle? After being revived in 1998, the publishers of her new books are about to hang up her lead for the last time. “Despite our best efforts to modernise the stories, sales have been disappointing and it isn’t financially viable to continue” they announced today.
Created in the 1950’s, author Clemency Pedant wrote the stories to amuse the children at the Sunday School run by her and her preacher husband, Rev Brimstone Pedant. They tell of a talking beagle called Treacle McBeagle and her owner, a shy schoolgirl called Morag McNicnac. After being picked up by publishers DC Thomson, Treacle McBeagle quickly became the best –selling children’s book character in Britain. A generation of children lapped up books like “Treacle McBeagle and the naughty cat” in which Treacle rescues a ball of wool from a mischievous feline, allowing grandma to finish repairing Dad’s slippers, “Treacle McBeagle and the missing apples” in which Treacle finds the missing apples and saves owner Morag from being slippered by her father, “Treacle McBeagle tells the truth” in which Treacle tells the village Bobby what really happened to his bike and saves Morag from being slippered by her father and the classic “Treacle McBeagle and the stolen slippers” in which Treacle steals Dad’s slippers to prevent Morag being slippered for something she actually did do wrong. After Clemency’s death in 1958, her husband wrote one book, “Treacle McBeagle and the evils of drink” in which Treacle drags an inebriated tramp into the church where he hears a sermon from a charismatic and debonair preacher called Fiery Pendant which converts him to a life of sobriety. It failed to sell as parents deemed it unsuitable for young readers and as a result no further books were published.
Publishers Doomsbury bought the rights in 1998 and resurrected the series with a modern twist. The authors were given the brief “to make them relevant and interesting to the young readers of today and capture the zeitgeist of what it is to be aged 6-11 and middle class”. Morag became a feisty outspoken and precocious child and Treacle adopted a more street-wise talking style, dropping her trademark Scottish colloquialisms, in favour of gangsta rap slang. A talking dog that says “crivvens!” when startled was not deemed sufficiently hip for today’s youngsters. However, in modernising the stories they lost much of the charm and innocence of the originals. In “Treacle McBeagle buys to let” Treacle finds a bag of stolen diamonds and uses the reward money to buy a run down house which her and Morag convert into apartments for rent, in “Treacle McBeagle averts a Greek tragedy ” Treacle saves the life of Greek fisherman who rewards every child in Morag’s school with a free lifetime’s supply of Taramasalata and in “Treacle McBeagle travels carbon neutral” Treacle is flown to Bolivia on Virgin Airlines to see Virgin’s tree planting scheme to counter the carbon emissions from their flights.
The last two books, “Treacle McBeagle – smacked up bitch” in which Treacle appears on MTV with Snoop Dogg and “Treacle McBeagle goes to the hajj - beagle in a burqa” became the most spectacular publishing failures of recent years.
I recently received a letter which said: “Dear Sir, we would like to remind you that under ABSO regulations, the phrase ‘as hungry as an ant’ is not an officially sanctioned expression and must not be used again”. It was on letterheaded paper from a body called the Animal Based Sayings Organisation. It would appear that they control all usage of animal related expressions in the world.
I had casually compared my hunger to that of an ant in a passing comment in the kitchen. How they overheard me I will never know, but now that they have slapped an ABSO on me, I will have to compare my hunger to that of a wolf, or else eat something and stop whingeing about it. I could argue that ants can be hungry too, and a modern family taking their dinners through to the living room on trays to eat in front of the TV do have similarities to ants – especially if the “dum, dum, dum, dum, dum” music is playing in the background. I suspect however that arguments could be futile, their letter states that anybody who transgresses a second time will be “hunted down like a wounded fox by a pack of hounds.”
As well as being omnipresent, the ABSO also has a surprisingly long memory. I was also warned not to restore use of the Rodent scale for drinking session measurement. This was something we introduced in our college days to gauge the quantity of alcohol we had or intended to consume. It came from the expression “to get ratted” which only covered one level of debauchery. If you wanted to go out for a swift half then getting “ratted” wasn’t appropriate. Hence we coined the expression “to get field voled”. A leisurely drink would get you “moused” and a major bender would see you “coypu’d”. The bureaucrats at ABSO have decreed that it only “ratted” or “pickled as a newt” is permissible.
It looks like the nanny state gone mad, I thought. Shortly after thinking this, I had a call from ABSO reminding me that, technically, goats were a patriarchal breed and the correct phrase should be “billy state”.
It looks like I may have to change my leopard in mid-stream and let sleeping cats lie if I want to avoid being a dog’s dinner.
Must go, I can hear barking outside.
If the current campaign to mark the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery with a formal state apology and the payment of compensation to the descendants of slavery succeeds, we may have a case to start a new campaign. If the criteria used in this case are upheld, then surely the descendants of the Anglo- Saxon victims of Viking rape and pillage in the 10th century deserve an apology and a return of Danegeld from the Norwegian and Danish governments.
Those who clamour for an apology for slavery are surely taking a few facts and ignoring a whole host of others in making their case. It cannot be denied that it was cruel of white slave traders to take slaves from Africa to the new world and force them to work on plantations amidst much brutality. However, this does ignore the fact that many slaves were sold into slavery by black slave traders, that living conditions for most people in the UK were truly appalling in the eighteenth century, that most working people had very few freedoms and were treated brutally by the authorities if they stepped out of line. The average life expectancy for poor people in the UK in 1807 was 20. Descendants of former slaves are now free to live in the UK, the 13th wealthiest country in the world, descendants of those not sold into slavery enjoying a much lower standard of living I would venture to suggest. The gruesome instruments of torture and branding used on slaves are very similar to those than can be found in any small town museum throughout the UK. They were used just as mercilessly on supposedly “free” citizens.
If my plan to secure money from the Danish and Norwegian governments fails, compensation could be funded via the UK tax system. Anybody whose surname is “The Unready”, “The Confessor” or “The Great” would be entitled to receive money from taxes levied on anybody whose surname was “Bloodaxe” or “Forkbeard” or “Harefoot”. This I think is a simple, fair and effective solution. I may have been touched by the hand of genius.
Veterans relax before a moving ceremonyIn a clearing in the woods, we stood in silence, staring at the distant tree line and watched and waited. Despite this vigil, we were all taken by surprise when a lone glider appeared from behind the trees and flew silently overhead. Behind it, four helicopters skimmed the treetops in formation.
Last week saw the 62rd Anniversary of Operation Varsity, when 440 gliders flew to Hamminkeln to drop 3,380 men and vehicles behind German lines in a bid to capture and hold the town and 3 bridges across the River Issel. Such was the danger of this one-way mission that only 88 gliders remained undamaged and 204 pilots were killed or wounded.
The bravery of the Glider Pilot Regiment can only be marvelled at. To go on such a mission, flying gliders full of men and machinery into a heavily defended area knowing that your chances of survival were slim is very humbling.
The Service of Remembrance last week was a truly moving occasion. It was attended by the band and soldiers of the Army Air Corps, a detachment of Cadets from Colfe’s School, veterans, families of veterans and members of the public.
The quiet dignity of the service, the thoughts of all us towards those who served, the beauty of the setting and awe inspiring grace of the solitary glider caused a few tears to be shed. Standing there shivering in the bitter cold meade me think of the horror of war, the courage of those who fight in wars and the impact this operation had on people’s lives. One of the civilians came forward and laid flowers on the memorial. He comes every year in memory of his father who died in the battle.
Many good people died fighting that day in 1945. They are not forgotten.
When you use marijuana
you can do what you wanna
you can fly like a haddock
you can swim in the paddock
you can go to Tijuana
you can do what you wanna
marijuana
marijuana
You really must be jokin’ *
It messes with your septum
And facts you can forget ‘em
While you’re bent over the loo
Feeling like poo
cocaine
cocaine
I don’t wanna end up
sniffin’ bags full of glue
Out of economic necessity
‘cos crack is excessively
Far too expensive for me
Just like LSD
Was back in the sixties
When admittedly
I was a school chiddley
And was hugely unaware
Of the big bad world out there
before mohicanned punks
replaced pineapple chunks
as the most fascinating sight
on a Saturday night
Also
I didn’t expect my dealer
To look like Garrison Keillor
I really thought a pusher
Should look a bit more like Usher
I don’t really need drugs
At this moment in time
What I could really do with
Are laminated floors
Or some interior doors
Or even of course
A share in a racehorse
If you’re supplying
At the price that I’m buying
And the discount is good
For middle-aged men in this hood
If you know what I mean
Who could strike a deal
For what I need to buy
To really get me high
Is nothing more badder
Than a two section loft ladder.
* the second verse relies on the first two line endings rhyming so make sure you pronounce one or both end words accordingly
As it is still early in the year, the rhododendrons and azaleas are not yet at their peak. There are plenty of them, acres and acres of the things, and they will be hugely impressive later on, but for now the camellias are the stars of the show. They have two walks amongst the most wonderful red, pink and white flowering camellias. They are well worth going to see and a return visit or two later in the year would also be worthwhile. The estate is large enough and well-designed enough to have largish areas of interest throughout the years.
One thing that strikes you is the number of plaques beside trees stating that this one was planted by Her Majesty the Queen, this one by Prince Philip, another by Lady Di etc. Not only have all the royal family planted trees but the Queen and her mother must have planted at least 10 each on separate occasions. How rich can the de Rothschild family be if they have the British royal family do their gardening for them? It makes you think….
If I was ever to own a bar, I’d like to call it “The Purple Fop”. As is the way these days, it would need a tagline, and I would suggest that you couldn’t do much better than “where regency decadence meets post modern zeitgeist.”
With that name and tagline, the whole concept of the business falls neatly into place. The décor would be mock regency, all chandeliers and pastel striped wallpaper. The clientèle would be well-heeled, pretentious poseurs, professional footballers, metropolitan go-getters, media types and dim-but-wealthy party animals. Drinks would be outrageously priced. They would have names like “The Madness of King George” (a cocktail of 9 parts of absinthe, 1 part vodka – just to dilute it a bit) or “Madame Guillotine” (a cocktail of 1 part absinthe to 9 parts battery acid – for drinkers who might find “The Madness” a little tame). You could stretch to existing cocktails like the Scarlet Pimpernel (made with Pimms) if you really had to, but new versions of old ideas would be the most popular. Your customers wouldn’t really be original thinkers or even remotely creative, so would be happiest adapting the familiar and pretending it is new. The lavatories would be named “Ladies” and “Dandies”. Security would be told to only admit guests if they were flamboyantly dressed. A supply of bonnets, ruffs, lacy cuffs and velour waistcoats would be kept in a “dressing-up cloakroom” just in case a super-rich celebrity showed up dressed unadventurously. They could then be made to wear these clothes, a bit like when you were young and turned up for PE without your kit, only this time it would done with panache, rather than acute embarrassment.
Including the word post-modern and zeitgeist in the tagline would attract all the superficial people in your city at a stroke. The joy of this concept is that anyone who is shallow, rich and basically stupid would be drawn to it like a bear to a honey-smeared salmon. Which gives me an idea for the menu…
Next time you’re in town, call in to The Purple Fop - where regency decadence meets post modern zeitgeist.
You know that you are probably quite a dull, sad individual when you are able to answer a question like "I'm ordering some labels today, do you have a favourite type?"with "Oh yes, I prefer the Avery L7161 labels". A "friend of mine" (ahem) did just that today....
The huge number of people claiming to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's orphan child could be seen as quite heart warming. Here we have a poor little waif orphaned at a tender age. Luckily they shouldn't be parentless for too long as a queue is growing of men claiming to be the father. A cynic might think that the $240mn fortune this child inherits is a motivation, I prefer to think of it as a reaffirmation of the goodness of modern mankind. Could you stand by and let some unfortunate child go through life with no parents? Not even somebody as shallow as Madonna could do this, she even adopted a child BEFORE it was an orphan.
The line of people saying "I'm the father" reminds me of the scene in Spartacus where a whole hillside of slaves defiantly stood up and said "I'm Spartacus". The only difference being that their reward was substantially less than $240mn.
I urge you all to say "I'm the father".
When it comes to creative variations on Pizza, you can’t beat the Americans. I really thought that they’d hit the depths with Rachael Ray’s “Pizzagna” creation. This was the dish that, as she kept explaining to her presumably stupid audience, was a cross between Pizza and Lasagne. Really? We’d never have guessed.
The “30-Minute Meal” show was hugely entertaining, not from a food-lovers perspective, but more from an “oh my god, the Americans really are stupid people with a rotten diet” angle. I’m simply not used to seeing cookery programmes that say; “to make a béchamel sauce, simply open a jar of béchamel sauce and pour it in the pot”. It’s not exactly challenging is it, Rachael?
It appears that the woman is making up her own language now. When I saw EVOO listed as an ingredient in a recipe I had to Google the thing to see what it was. EVOO turns out to be what the rest of the world calls Extra Virgin Olive Oil. People seem to be buying her EVOO as well. I wish I had thought of this. I might try and market APOH – a pinch of herbs. I may need to change its name for the US market and promote it as APOU – a pinch of “urbs” due to American failings in the pronunciation department.
As if all this wasn’t bad enough, the geek in me was searching Google’s website for Firefox add-ons when I find this link: ttp://www.google.com/tools/firefox/index.html.
With this add-on you can add text clippings, images and links to your Google Notebook and share them with friends. The clipping they use to illustrate the point is Kraft Foods.com’s “Pizza on the Grill” recipe! What kind of diet and what kind of friends must you have to want to share this clipping with?
Visit this blog next week for my very own “Pizzaroni Bolognese alla griglia” recipe, made with EVOO, APOU and SOSQUAT (some squashed tomatoes).
One of the joys in life is our local Arboretum. Here is the view today from the Coach House.
The UK Government are issuing all sorts of advice to inform the public of the risk from Avian Flu. I have read some of it and it appears that the best way avoid catching the disease it to follow this simple advice: "don't handle infected birds." This rule of thumb has served philanderers well down the ages and is still relevant today.
The UK has had 1 inch of snow overnight, causing chaos in the transport system and half of the country’s schools to shut for the day. Admittedly 1 inch is well over 25mm of snow and it did fall within 24 hours, but even so, it is hardly a problem.
It beggars belief that Britain used to control 1/3 of the world.
How did they ever manage to conquer and rule Canada, for instance, when they can’t even deal with a “light dusting” of snow in their own country? Are Canadians getting tougher? Can you face any danger with a strong heart simply by wearing a toque? What were the Victorian Brits made of that the current lot aren’t? Perhaps there’s something to be said for covering up the legs on pianos and having antimacassars on your armchairs.
Controversy once more surrounds Flad Baddery, the legendary TV producer, after plans for his new reality TV series were today leaked to the media. Condemnation is expected to flood in from all sides over his intended new series “Celebrity Psychopath Cross Training” in which a well-known celebrity and a convicted murderer will change places for a month and train each other in their respective disciplines. The programme will be advertised with the tagline “Like Strictly Come Dancing – with an edge”
The convict lined up for the programme has been named as Boris Putzneschko, “The Vladivostok Vampire,” currently in prison in Russia for knifing 17 vagrants to death in the disused railway sheds of Vladivostok. He will be freed and will spend two intensive weeks showing a celebrity from the UK how to murder tramps. At the end of this period it is planned for the celebrity to kill a hobo, live on TV.
So far, no celebrities have signed up for the show, Teri Hatcher having pulled out of negotiations when the Desperate Housewives role came up. Insiders have however revealed that a well known British politician is said to be interested. A source told me “when his current position in the government comes to an end in the next few months, our politician is very keen to take part. He initially had ethical reservations to the concept of the programme but was persuaded that it would be a good way to highlight the plight of homeless Russians and earn US$250,000 tax free and a fortnight in Daryl Hall’s New York penthouse apartment for two weeks work”.
After this, the programme will switch to the US where the politician is expected to undertake a lecture tour of universities. Baddery is planning to give Putzneschko two weeks to be taught public speaking by the former politician and at the end of that period to deliver a lecture to invited guests at Harvard Business school. Putzneschko too had ethical reservations to the concept of the programme but was persuaded that it would be a good way to highlight the plight of jobless former British Prime Ministers and earn US$250,000 tax free and a fortnight in John Oates’ New York penthouse apartment for two weeks work”.
I don't eat Brazil Nuts,
Brazil Nuts don't eat me.
It's an arrangement that works
Satisfactorily.
I don't eat wild tigers,
Wild tigers don't eat me.
It's an arrangement that works,
Obviously.
Paxman Heliotrope died yesterday at the age of 947. He had been unwell for some time and passed away in strange circumstances at St Cuthbert’s Church, Whitby.
Heliotrope arrived in Britain from his native Transylvania in 1248 fleeing from persecution in the mountain kingdom in what is now Romania. Before his retirement in 1732, he ran a very successful topsoil import/ export business.
A gregarious socialite who enjoyed the nightlife of his adopted country, he attended many black tie events down the years.
A well known breeder and collector of bats, he often gave talks to winter meetings of the WI and the Townswomen’s Guilds. He was credited with introducing a number of rare and some say, dangerous breeds into the UK.
In later years he volunteered as a courier for the blood transfusion service. His position was terminated in 1996 after an internal audit discovered a number of missing consignments. Investigations were inconclusive, but Heliotrope was dismissed after failing to attend a disciplinary hearing at midday on August 15. He was said to have become depressed after this and was rarely seen at his old haunts.
Friends recall that he had been increasingly worried over the British Government’s plans to clampdown on workers from Bulgaria and Romania after those countries’ accession to the EU in January 2007. As he had been in the country without a work permit since 1248, he had become increasingly fearful of deportation.
He died while hastily trying to flee from a “decorate your mirror with a frame of garlic and mini silver crucifixes” event which he had walked in to at St Cuthberts’ church. Friends said that he had been in the crypt taking brass rubbings and had probably lost track of time. Upon emerging he didn’t want to disturb the brownies and so tried to creep out, unfortunately slipping and falling on a silver spike by the rood screen in the process.
He leaves behind 128 nieces.
Here are my New Year's resolutions:
To write my resolutions down on time next year.
To fight for world peace.
To support a winning sports team for once in my life (I have applied for Australian citizenship).
To drink less than my bodyweight in tea at least one day a week.
To be kind to small animals. With the exception of possums in New Zealand. It’s OK to kill them.
To only play my guitar with headphones on the amplifier. I like Bill and Ted’s Wyld Stallyns, the neighbours don’t.
To not watch any Big Brother or BB spin off programmes as it only makes me cross and use language that is inappropriate in an educated man.
To find a beat in music that I am dancing to, and once found, to try and move in time to it. My old excuse that Yorkshiremen are descended from Cubans has been rumbled by the other people at my dance club.
Or is that "rumba’d"?
To not try comic wordplay, I'm no good at it and it isn't funny.
Somebody needs to expose the shameless greed and double standards of the Roman Catholic Church in Britain. There are four million starving people in the Sudan who get to share a two word name “famine victims” between them. In the UK, the head of the Roman Catholic Church has a whopping six names all to himself. As Sir Bob Geldof may have said to him “The Archbishop of Westminster, Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O’Connor, give us yer f***king names……....father.”
There comes a point when sledging can go too far. For those unfamiliar with the art of "sledging" it is a term used to describe the abuse that fielding cricketers give to batsmen to put them off their game. "We've all slept with your mother, and she wasn't up to much" being the sort of thing that gets said.
Shane Warne, the great Australian bowler was repeatedly telling England fringe player Paul Collingwood that he was an embarrasment for getting an MBE from the Queen for playing one game against Australia last summer. This is a fair point and was proven to be true when Collingwood flopped again.
Where it becomes unnacceptable is when Saddam Hussein gets sledged shortly before being executed. If you are going to kill somebody, the least you can do is show some respect for them, otherwise it just isn't cricket.
Percy Fysshe-Fingers was one of the greatest unknown poets who ever wrote in the English language. Although largely forgotten nowadays, such was his influence on contemporaries like Shelley, Keats and Byron that he was once called the “First Great Romantic.” 1 Indeed, many of his poems and ideas were later copied, adapted or incorporated in some of the Romantic Poets’ great works, most notably his epic “Song of the ancient sea dog.” Shelley even changed his name from “Paul” to the more pretentious “Percy Bysshe” in honour of his mentor.
Upon leaving school, he married childhood sweetheart Birdseye Captania in what became known as the “Humberside Society Wedding” of the year. Unusually for a woman of that era, she refused to change her name upon marriage, reasoning that her new name would make her “the subject of much playful mockery.” This dilemma is one that many modern women are free from. When you have been christened “Apple” or “Peaches” for example, there is no surname on the planet that could make your name even more ridiculous, except perhaps “N’Cream.”
Their marriage was to be characterised by debauchery, drunkenness and decadence, much admired by young Romantics. Many younger poets tried to copy this lifestyle but paid the ultimate price by dying young. Fysshe-Fingers lived to be 97 claiming that “whereas the young rapscallions smoked opium, he smoked nought worse than herring”. The other parallels are also noteworthy; Shelley died in a boating accident rumoured to be sabotage, but Fysshe-Fingers never had any cause to trouble the lifeguard whilst sailing his trawler.
1 Goole Enquirer, 21 October 1778
“Oz, man.
“The eel of
“Ode to a night in gale force 7 seas”- 1798 (later plagiarised by Keats)
“I wandered lonely as a Cod”- 1799 (later plagiarised by Wordsworth)
A hugely enjoyable film, well-written with good strong characters that you actually like. Being able to like characters in a film makes it much easier to get absorbed in. Aside from the four main stars, the two children and Arthur the aged screenwriter were also likeable and interesting.
The only gripes I had were with the product placement. The film was produced by companies in the Sony group. Any shot where there was a chance of put some electrical equipment featured Sony gadgets with prominent logos. In one scene one of the actresses was typing on her laptop but you couldn't see who she was because the screen was filled with the Sony Vaio lid. They did screw up though in the scene at the scriptwriter's house where Kate Winslet picks up a clearly labelled Panasonic recorder.
After you have ravished or been ravished by your partner, how often does the bra stay on? Cameron Diaz managed to keep hers on after a coupling with Jude Law. I know she probably has a nudity clause in her contract, and fair play to her, I don't want to see her breasts, but they could have strategically draped a sheet or shirt or nightie over her. The white lacy bra was a touch ridiculous.
Our other complaint was in the scene where Cameron Diaz runs through a field in the English countryside to (understandably) get her hands on Jude Law. She opens a farm gate and runs off up the lane to the cottage. She didn't shut the gate behind her. Anybody brought up in the country knows that you ALWAYS shut gates behind you, it's the law.
1. If all the leaves are brown, what colour is the sky?
2. What has Beelzebub put aside for me?
3. How old is the Dancing Queen?
4. There are Three Steps to Heaven. Name them.
5. “Let me take you by the hand” and what?
6. What happened on the day I drove my Chevy to the levee?
7. What will happen if you Minuetto Alegretto?
8. How many bicycles are there in Beijing?
9. Man's shirts, short skirts. What do I feel like?
10. You're gonna be the one who saves me. What are you, after all?
11. All in all, its just another...what?
12. What happened after I saw your face in a crowded place?
13. If you're out of luck or out of work, to where can we take you?
14. On which river can you sail away, sail away, sail away?
15. What has purple French tail lights and thirty inch fins?
16. Who will make you buy cars, make you cut cards?
17. Who and what do you wish your girlfriend was like?
18. What do those who run seem to have?
19. Who said "there must be some kind of way out of here" to the thief?
20. I don't know anything about you baby, but you're everything I'm dreaming of. Who are you?
21. What do you always take with you, everywhere you go?
22. Where did Johnny used to work, before the Union went on strike?
23. What ought you to be doing when you keep lyin'?
24. If you've been asked to "meet the gang", what are the boys here to do?
25. Who had a rival called "Two Ton Ted"?
