Home-made cakes and bicycles repaired

ALIEN SPOKE HERE - SHOPPING LIST

2011-12-06T16:37:00.001Z

TENTACLEES: We are here, Hugeness, at the humanoids' home planet of Urf.
PORTLYOID: Urf, eh? Excelloid. Your navigation is unerring as usua - watch out for the hatch!
(Crash and wail)
TENTACLEES (muffled): I have survived, sire, merely a bump on one of my bottoms. (Pants as climbs ladder) As I was squeaking, this collection of boxy whatsits beneath us is the Urflings' ancient Turkish settlement of Stonehenge.
PORTLYOID: Well I'm pharkled. Now squirt it to me one time, Tentaclees my friend - what be upon our shopping list this visit to Urf?
TENTACLEES: A smoother concoction could scarce be found - yeah, not within the sprawly corners of the star-sprinkled whatsit. We have four items. Firstly, a small green box of the Tupperware persuasion.
PORTLYOID: Wherefore wanted?
TENTACLEES: The Great Grubby of Twonker Seven requires said box to deposit his nose within, when partaking of a squelcher with his amazoid.
PORTLYOID: Ah, yes - the loosely secured noses of the Twonker Grubbies - words can but hint at their inconvenience. What next?
TENTACLEES: Fourteen assorted snails, a top radiator hose for a 1954 Chevrolet Delray, and the Pacific Ocean.
PORTLYOID: I am in a crinkly pucker just contemplating the challenge. Wallop me neatly and perhaps persuasively with info on said snails.
TENTACLEES: The inhabitooooonts of Urf look with reverence about the snail spoocies. It has achieved god-like status with the charm of its conversation, its wide toothy grin, and its invention of the hula hoop.
PORTLYOID: I frisk, pirouette and shake my lumpies in anticipation of our newly chums. What of the other two items?
TENTACLEES: Our data banks tell me noisily that vast quantities of the Chevrolet hoses were made, so we should have little trooooble finding one. Perversely, conversely and vexingly, only one Pacific Ocean is known to have been made. How we shall find a single item thus niggles and noggles me from armpit to hump.
PORTLYOID: Well, this be a tangle-twadger and no mistook. Furthermore, I hear tell said Pacific is a squelchy item, with a degree of slosh?
TENTACLEES: Glugging and dribbling can also be expected, sire.
PORTLYOID: Deploy the sponge.
TENTACLEES: It shall be done, sire. But wait - a weeny idea taps upon my brain. I have a scenario for you, thusly. We soak up the Pacific Ocean with our trusty sponge. We fix the hose to the soggy sponge and beneath the hose's bottom end we lay the Tupperware box.
PORTLYOID: And await the trickle? You have thunked goodly but the slowness of the oozings undoes you, my friend.
TENTACLEES: Ah, but sire - I fear you have forgotten the snails. We equip each with their own invention - the mighty hula hoop - and lay at their weeny slippered feet the Pacific-filled sponge, shouting in snail-speak: 'Here be your dancefloor, little ones - gyrate and bounce!
PORTLYOID: And, lo! The Pacific pours from sponge to Tupperware by gift of a Chevy hose. Brulliant! You have thunked massively, Tentaclees old chap, pharkled if you haven't!
TENTACLEES: A mere trifle, sire, I assure you. Anyone of my accomplishments could have come up with it.
PORTLYOID: To work, then! Post haste and - mind the hatch!
TENTACLEES: Aaaaarrrrggggghhhhhhhhhh!

THE MYSTERY JETS - 13

2011-03-14T23:04:00.000Z

Flight of fancy?

SOFA WORLD - 2

2011-02-14T22:04:00.000Z

He had always been on the bulky side - lumpen, squashy and saggy to a degree. Uncomfortable to sit on for more than ten minutes at a time, he blocked the view to the garden and the coast beyond. Pushing him was a trial: his castors squeaked in protest, his left-side bias rucked the mat. Crumbs and crisps collected in his crevices and on him the cat and the dog comfily reposed.

But she, herself, had long since preferred to take her ease elsewhere, so her timely call to Sid's Sofa & Spouse Disposal Service presaged but momentary inconvenience and, indeed, considerable relief. How truly wonderful life could be!

YOU HEARD IT HERE LAST!

2011-02-09T17:05:00.000Z

Well you asked for it!

YOUR LEAST FAVOURITE BLOG NOW HAS A COOL AND SHOUTY BABY SISTER!

CLUTTERED UP WITH SPACE

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STUFF THAT MOVES! - THINGS! - SOUNDS!

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http://clutteredupwithspace-nibslou.blogspot.com/

SOFA WORLD - 1

2011-02-04T23:54:00.000Z

As was their enduring custom, Mr and Mrs Horace Drabbe of Daisyroot Close, Lowfall, spent Saturday night in.

HOW COOL IS THIS?

2011-02-04T23:40:00.000Z

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THE WORLD OF DUZ - 1

2011-01-29T21:05:00.000Z

10.32 am

A slithering, squelchy hard-to-place noise was followed by a dull thud, a crumpling noise and a low groan from somewhere around her feet. She recalled, with a degree of surprise, that she had a husband.

GREAT TEXTS OF OUR TIME: THE GERMAN INVASION OF FRANCE, 1940

2011-01-27T19:47:00.000Z

As the land and air forces of Nazi Germany, fresh from their victory in Poland, massed threateningly on the border with France, the French War Minister, Emil Merdetete, texted German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop, deploying his Nokia with typical precision and gallantry.

10 Jan 1940 - 11.42 am
OMG! Awesome planes! Don't do anything silly! xx

16 Jan 1940 - 03.29 am
Its all the Poles fault! Were not blaming you! :-D They shouldnt have existed so close to you and everything, no wonder Mr Hitler got upset. We get fedup with Luxembourg! These small countries should be stamped out! Hows the weather there? Sunny here. xxxx

26 Jan 1940 - 12.12 pm
Masses of troops - how cool is that? BTW we got lots too! x

26 Jan 1940 - 12.14 pm
WE WOULDNT USE THEM THO! NO OFFENCE! XXXXXXX

17 Feb 1940 - 16.32 pm
Not being funny or anything but dont forget weve got the Maginot Line. U know the fortifications and stuff? Dont be horrid ok???? You know what happened last time - LOL! x

28 Feb 1940 - 14.50 pm
OMG! Those British! :-( That Churchill dudes been here tryin to get us to do stuff. Weight problems or what???? And cigars are like so last year. LOL! xx

13 March 1940 - 03.12 am
Dont come here ok? U wouldnt like it. The weathers awful. x

26 April 1940 - 01.45 am
Had u thought of invading Belgium instead of us? Its small and flat. Super for your tanks! xxxxx

12 May 1940 - 00.12 am
U know when I said about invading Belgium and stuff? Well now that you have invaded Belgium youve gone round the end of our Maginot Line and everything. U know the forts and that? You couldnt make it up! LOL! xxxx

13 May 1940 - 04.34 am
Did u get the map I texted showing where our border is? Could u check your multimedia inbox pls? Technology! LOL! xxxxx

14 May 1940 - 06.35 am
Please dont do this. :-(

21 May 1940 - 05.23 am
Can u just hold back for a bit u can have the peasants and art and wine and stuff but if we could just have like three days to get some ships so we can get off with our mistresses and cookery books and stuff? is that ok? Hope you and mr Hitler are keeping well. xxxxxxx

23 May 1940 - 11.18 am
Can I.......................
Signal fails

WHEELS DOWN

2011-01-24T21:51:00.001Z

      'Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Hazard again. Well, I hope you enjoyed our low-level tour of the sights of Miami - a little treat I like to give my passengers prior to landing in the good ole Sunshine State. A little pre-vacation taster, if you will.'
      'Now, don't you worry about that little close encounter we had with the Beachside Vista Hotel. Hell, they've got other chimneys and if you don't get in nice and low you don't get the smiles and the waves, do you? Those guests got a kick out of our low pass, didn't they? They surely did.'
      'So, as we drop down nice and easy to land at Miami International, we can take a last look up the beach and check out the families having fun... the dune buggies... a couple of surfers out there, see 'em? The barbecues... beachballs... the... er.... the... umm, the aircraft wheel....'
       'So, here we go then, on our final approach, ladies and gentlemen. In just a few minutes, a nice gentle touchdown, then taxi to the terminal and your vacation is on, ladies and gentlemen, on and rollin'! Hey - that's quite a noise you're making back there... hell, I'm excited too.....'

FAMILY CRAMMERS - 5

2011-01-24T21:20:00.000Z

SPOKANE, Thursday: Today the 1962 Family Crammers came to town, filling Bouncy Moose Stadium with unbridled tedium. Undoubted stars of the show were siblings Danny and Shelley Flobbins who swept aside all opposition in the 'Assume A Ridiculously Uncomfortable Position On Furniture Of Unsurpassable Vileness' section.
'Me and my sister hit all the targets damn rightly', Danny told a reporter from Fuck All Else To Do. ''We covered all the bases. I went in hard with the sick-coloured slip-ons but Sis came right back at me with some serious lace-up, thick-soled action - and by wearing most of the family tent. And, man, did we perch and gurgle?' 'We surely did,' Shelley said, showing the thickness of her sole.
Excellent shoe and straw work by the youngsters there.

HOPE'S WINDOW - 24

2011-01-23T21:56:00.000Z

'You see, Hope,' the voice said quietly, 'there can never be any compromise with Destiny Wires. To your great credit, you have felt their pull, recognised their truth and their permanence. But never think you can control, deny or replace the Wires. Be destructive, if you will, and postpone - but the Wires will seize upon the old decaying bonds you hold to you instead - they will be strengthened to pull disaster to you. Delay, or its sickly sister complacency, weakens the Destiny Wires not at all: instead, it summons the enemy forces to the walls of your future haven and it arms them.'

Hope shuddered, in fear of action, in terror of loss. 'What do I do?' she whispered.

'Have the courage of your convictions,' the voice said, more urgently. 'Sever what you can and must: the dying tendrils of the past. Cut them away fearlessly and without regret. Thereafter, nothing can or will harm you. All fear, pain and indecision will leave you. The decayed edifice around you will collapse in on itself - for, rotted from the inside, it can only fall. Seize the time, bid your prison and your gaolers goodbye, hail your distant landfall. And the Destiny Wires will pull you free.'

Hope stood in exultation, blinded by tears.

MRS WABBS' SIXTH FLYING LESSON

2011-01-23T18:59:00.000Z

'Well, yes, Mrs Wabbs, I certainly agree that musical accompaniment enhances any flight. And your spirited and notably unselfconscious renditions of old-time favourites has... pardon me? Well, yes, I did feel it necessary to remonstrate with you on the subject of your energetic air-guitar posturings - not least as they were conflicting, in my view, to an unfavourable degree with your control of the aeroplane. Say again? Well - umm - 'Wichita Lineman' is indeed a favourite of mine too, but, no, I'm not entirely convinced that an imminent performance is quite what we.... oh dear, don't cry, Mrs Wabbs, don't cry....'

KREENING THE POOP

2011-01-21T19:13:00.000Z

TV INTERVIEWER MIKE SKUPE: Well, viewers, I'm here on Bungler West, surrounded by throngs of excited faithful as they await the Pope's arrival. And I'm going to speak to one of the unquestioning, deluded - er - a very nice lady here. What's your name, madam?

LADY: Me, hi am Twara-Wong-O-Nong-A-Hanasaki-Kuki-Tong-Otara-Nakai-Hansegawa-Sok.

SKUPE: Well, that's excellent. Now, Sock, this no doubt will be an uplifting, life-affirming day for you.

SOCK: Hallerujah!

SKUPE: So - what are you expecting from the fat loony in the frock? Incoherent mumblings, glazed vacant expression, unendurable pretentiousness, silly hand movements - or perhaps a pick-and-mix of the four?

SOCK: I expect notheeeeng from da Pope. I come - I come - purery and simpry to kreen the Poop.

SKUPE: Yes, little bit tricky. Lost in translation. The shades of Pearl Harbor come between us. Is that a rivet from the Arizona embedded in your forehead?

SOCK: Ha no. Me, I have deveropted a kreening item for to kreen important peeeeeeples and am here toody for to KREEN the Poop with my special Poop Kreener.

SKUPE: Excellent. Oriental inventiveness well to the fore there, viewers, I think you'll agree. Yet, Sock, many of us will be surprised that you of such evident Easterly hue should be drawn to the ideology of Rome. I've long been under the impression that the sons and daughters of Nippon worship small trees.

SOCK: Ha - bonsai!

SKUPE: Bonsai indeed. And we Americans also worship, from time to time, rootless stunted growths. Recently, we followed a small bush, the Dubya Stupidicus, to give it its Latin name.

SOCK: Ha-so! Dubya! I kreen heeem too. I punce upon heem and kreen him with my Bush Kreener. Kreen-kreen-kreen I go, till he is squeaking kreen. I emptee heem out of all of his inner theeengs and now I keeep my pyjamas in heem. Hallerujah!

SKUPE: Hallerujah indeed. So there you have it viewers. Thanks to the Sock and her innovative nightwear storage solutions, trans-Pacific harmony is in full flower here on Bungler West. We await, now, the deluded old fart from Italy to cement global spirituality once and for all. And with that, back to the studio, where I understand Mr and Mrs Hiram Twonker from Vacant, Ohio - together with their daughter Millie and an extremely angry bee - are going to attack Turkey.

SOCK: Hallerujah!

FAITH'S DOOR - 10

2011-01-19T21:38:00.000Z

The sands of time

The hands of thine

THE MYSTERY JETS - 12

2011-01-11T23:22:00.000Z

Flight plan

THE MYSTERY JETS - 11

2011-01-11T23:20:00.000Z

The confusion

The purpose

The spur

The perfection

THE VIRAL SPIRAL

2011-01-04T17:29:00.001Z

It was a hot enough June day already, but when my computer began to hiccup, vibrate and emit puffs of smoke I sweated a little more. 'BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH' announced an on-screen pop-up and my beloved PC crashed in a heap. BLANKNESS!

      'Right, mustn't panic,' I told myself. Pausing in the hall only to have a tremble, I fetched my trusty hammer and chisel, hacked off the top of the computer, clicked on my torch and peered inside. Floodlit and chomping, stuffing my picture files into its mouth, a weeny venomous creature looked up at me and giggled hysterically. It was a virus alright.
      'Right,' I told myself, rising composedly - even majestically - to the full extent of my trousers, 'slight problem, nothing to worry about, nothing I can't handle. All will be well.'
      'I'VE SO TOTALLY FUCKING HAD IT NOW!' I shrieked and threw myself out of the window.
      Nevertheless, composure returned within a matter of weeks and I addressed myself with sagacity: 'Nigel,' I said, remembering my name with effortless ease, 'when was the last time you stared at the wall or slumped in a heap?' This shaft of insight, plus the realisation that getting the computer fixed smacked of defeat, I relapsed, with some precision and considerable relief, into slack-jawed vacancy.

THE VANTAGE POINT

2010-06-09T02:03:00.000+01:00

For the little boy, God had not lost his charm: he knew this because he'd been standing on it all the time.

FOUR UP

2010-06-08T01:41:00.000+01:00

Rock critics were generally in agreement: new arrival Maisie 'Meatball' Minger's thunderous keyboard riffing added both new maturity and a dark satanic edge to the Porno Philistines' raw early sound.

A WISER HEAD

2010-06-08T01:22:00.000+01:00

'There you go, old fella. Just a nasty bit of cardigan caught in the molars there... Now you're sorted. Your eyes are bigger than your tummy, aren't they? But it's like I always tell you: go for the smaller, skinnier kids . They slide down easier and they're tastier too...'

PEARL'S WIDOWER

2010-06-07T17:58:00.000+01:00

'Fuck. She's not in this one either.'

WHEN DATING GOES WRONG - 10

2010-06-07T17:53:00.000+01:00

'I'm losing patience, Cuthbert. You just come out of there, you hear? Mother does want to meet you. It's the next step and you are being so totally pathetic. What? You are so not picking her a nice bunch of flowers: you've been in there four days.'

DUCK!

2010-06-05T20:22:00.000+01:00

999 OPERATOR: Emergency - which service do you require?

CALLER: Umm... I'm not sure.
OPERATOR: Fire, police or ambulance, sir?
CALLER: Ummm... well, I'm calling from Riverside Way and I've had a bit of a situation in the bath.
OPERATOR: Have you fallen?
CALLER: Uh, no I... well, I'm going a bit bald and... I was washing my hair in the bath and I've got this hair restorer and... I tipped it into the bath water with me in it - the whole bottle and everything, because I really hate my bald patches. And, well... all these scary bubbles started up and the bath water sort of surged and I looked on the bottle and it said 'Contains Matter-Huger, on no account use more than two drops per treatment.' And then this big scary bubbly cloud sort of swirled me out of the bath onto the landing.
OPERATOR: I see - a toxic incident. Have you been sick - do you feel unwell?
CALLER: Well, the last of my hair's fallen out. But... oh dear, this is so embarrassing. You see, someone else was in the bath with me.
OPERATOR: We're not here to moralise, sir, just to help. Has something happened to your friend?
CALLER: Yes.(sobs) He's suddenly gone all huge. I'll never hold my little Danny in my hands again. Oh God, I can't bear it! HE'S GIGANTIC!
OPERATOR: He's your partner, I take it?
CALLER: No.... he's, umm... a duck. A plastic duck. (sniffs) He's about five inches across - well, he was, but now he's vast and he's smashed open the side of the house and there's a sort of slithery trail and uprooted bushes and stuff, all the way down to the river and... oh God, how could he do this to me? I want my Danny! WHERE'S MY DANNY GONE?
OPERATOR: Ahh. Now, I think I may be able to enlighten you there. As it happens, we've been rather inundated by calls in the last half hour - all, funnily enough, about incidents downstream from you. People trampled in a rush, three or four boats capsized, mass hysteria... that kind of thing. You know, sir, I'm rather pleased you got in touch. Put on your 24-hour news channel in a minute and you may well see someone you know. Meantime, just let me take a few details....

WITHOUT RESERVATIONS

2010-06-03T17:59:00.000+01:00

'So - slit, slit, slit all round, then give the hair a good yank - hehehe... see what I did there? - and bingo! - you've got your first lovely scalp to hang on your belt. But don't forget to tidy away your tomahawks and mop up the blood with a handful of buffalo fur or Mom will get ever so cross. Well, children, that's it from HOW? this week. Next time, I'm going to show you how to derail the Iron Horse....'

IN THE SOUP

2010-06-03T17:56:00.000+01:00

FIRST CHEF: No... she's not going to come up. Ten minutes now.
SECOND CHEF: Well, I warned her. Clip-clopping around the kitchen in those tall spindly heels - asking for it. Trip - slip - splash, there you go.
FIRST CHEF: Still, it's simmering nicely again. Umm... what have we got this on the menu as?
SECOND CHEF: Spicy tomato.
FIRST CHEF: Hmmm. What about - spicy BEEF and tomato?

THERE'S ALWAYS AN ALTERNATIVE

2010-06-03T17:53:00.000+01:00

FATHER: It's no good, Margaret - she just won't fit.

MOTHER: Whatever. Peel the stamp off and we'll send her FedEx.

THE SUMMER WIND

2010-05-31T18:05:00.000+01:00

She stood a little apart from the others: she had to, for only she harnessed the healing purity of the Truth and she knew she must not allow the web-weavers to soil it. The summer wind blew in from across the sea, the Earth turned, and with all the flawless certainties of the child, she felt the power of the Universe gather under her hand.

FAITH'S DOOR - 9

2010-05-31T17:36:00.000+01:00

All light, all colour, all freedom, all fulfilment - all lay beyond the door. And despite what others (for their own ends) had told her, none of these joyous rights was beyond Faith.

THE MYSTERY JETS - 10

2010-05-31T17:34:00.000+01:00

The heeded call

RIGID

2010-05-29T23:53:00.000+01:00

'Oh, it's mine. It's my shirt alright. I've got no problem with the garment's identity. On matters of ownership I am abundantly clear. To emphasise the point yet further - here is my name stencilled inside the collar of the shirt. I could take you to my home and show you photographs of me wearing it. Okay? Okay? My dispute with yourselves, as proprietors of this establishment, rests not with any failure on your part to return my property, but exclusively, entirely and absolutely with the stiffness of the garment. Look at it. Look at it! Why is it leaning against the wall? It's a shirt not a fucking stepladder! What? What? Starch? It's a silk shirt. You don't fucking well starch a two hundred dollar silk shirt! Okay?

And what happened when you handed my shirt to me? Huh? Yes, you've remembered well. Well done. Yes, part of it broke off. It didn't tear or rip or fray or decay in the manner of deteriorating apparel since time immemorial. No - part of my shirt BROKE OFF! Oh.... I see. It's got two arms and I can use the other one, can I? I suppose you'd like me to saw off one of my fucking limbs, would you? What d'you mean 'I might as well'?! Now you bastards listen to me and listen good in case one of us dies. I'm not going to even mention that sack of cement I can see peeping out from behind the... just a minute... just a minute... Oh, for fuck's... where the fuck are my pants? Where the fuck are my pants?'

FLY SINISTER - 5

2010-05-29T19:41:00.000+01:00

'Now, Mr Simpkins - you've been allocated seat C, row 20. And at Sinister Airways our regulations are completely clear. The occupant of seat C20 is required to perform a song and dance act in the centre aisle. Top hat and tails, some cane work, nice big smile. Just an hour or two of your time, that's all. Now, to the back of the plane with you, and let's fit you out with your costume...'

THAT MEDICATION MOMENT - 4

2010-05-29T19:38:00.000+01:00

'Well, it wouldn't be on the wall, would it? No fridge is ever on the wall, Marjorie - no, I think it's a cupboard very cold inside as an anti-revolutionary measure because I notice that all the groceries slow up and sort of huddle when the temperature drops so I reckon they've postponed taking over the house till the weather improves but I shall be ready for them, make no mistake about it, and of course the sugar bag is the ring leader, I knew HE was trouble the moment he walked through the door, all swaggering and puffed-up and as far as Mister Five Spice goes, well his power base was amongst the condiments and as I told you last time I've clamped down good and hard on the pepper and salt brigade, and the wall wasn't there yesterday so it can't be a fridge on it, can it? No - this is a cupboard that's had a temperature drop, it's the Cold War that's what it is, the Russians are behind all this obviously and I shall go on digging my shelter in the..... hello? Marjorie? Are you there? Hello....?'

MRS WABBS' FIFTH FLYING LESSON

2010-05-27T22:54:00.000+01:00

'Now just hold onto me, Mrs Wabbs, while they pull us back onto an even keel. No, not that tightly - just let go of the tie, Mrs Wabbs. The tie, Mrs Wabbs, please. Thank you. Now, it's just a matter of weight distribution, you see, and it's my fault for letting you bring the bag of oranges on board this morning. Sorry? I agree that the fruit does indeed match the colour of the aeroplane very nicely. What a show they are, aren't they? And thirst-quenching to a degree. Yes, I realise your mouth is dry, Mrs Wabbs - mine is too, as it happens.Yes, I'm sure it is terror, Mrs Wabbs - but, as I say, this is a very lightly-built aircraft and to have twelve dozen oranges rolling about in the cockpit is - oh dear, don't cry, Mrs Wabbs - don't cry....'

THE WORLD DOMINATION TENDENCIES OF SPIFFY O'DWEEB

2010-05-26T22:07:00.004+01:00

     The night was very still. The flangers of the Spiffymatic Mark II hummed - muted, exquisitely engineered, well-bred. Spiffy took a swallow of Coke and turned the lower sector B spiggleriser to full pooter. The tandem pointerettes quivered and swung right. The hum lifted a decibel. Spiffy swallowed more Coke. Then, with some deliberation, he opened the gravitisers to full flange, paused, glanced at the clattering printouts, then de-twonked both vaporettes. He sat back.
     Seven thousand five hundred and eight miles to the west, the Under-Secretary for Agricultual Development on the Philippines island of Luzon felt a curious tingling in his left leg. He peered under his desk and noted with some consternation that his trouser leg had unravelled and was lying, a pile of threads, on his shoe.
     Seven seconds later, flapping forty feet above the Sumatran coast, a blue-crested parakeet abruptly turned to stone, plummeted to the stony shore and broke into a thousand pieces. Yet further west, the sub-continent of India shuddered a trifle and shifted .01348 of a millimetre to the south.
     Spiffy took his eyes of the dials, drained his Coke can and wiped his mouth. Then he pulled a pad towards him and wrote in a small neat hand:
     'NOTE TO SELF
     1) The machine has control issues. Essentially, it's trying a 'Hey, who wears the trousers, Spiffy?' ploy. De-tune both binkies back to the orange zone and noolify No.17 and No.29 spigglerisers by 7.87 per cent each.
     2) Crank up the graviton flight enablers and aim them higher: 12.590643 degrees should do it.
     3) Put peanuts on shopping list.'
     Spiffy pushed back his chair, stretched, yawned and went into the kitchen for a fresh can of Coke. Sitting down again before the Spiffymatic, he reached for his pad again and wrote:
      'PS: India's on the move.'

WHEN THE BALLOON GOES UP

2010-05-26T22:00:00.000+01:00

     They were all having fun. All of them. Here they were - in her house, drinking her beer. Taking up her space. Breathing her air. And they hated her, she knew they did - and she them in equal measure. The vacuity, the pretence, the futility: they chilled her to the bone.
     It was time. It was over. She took a deep breath and pushed back against the bar. Ah! There it was. The hook-up, the priceless product of her ingenuity. Shifting slightly, she heard the gentle hiss as the pipe connected. She sought out the pedal with her right heel and, fixing her chief tormentor with a subservient gay smile, she began to pump.
     The hissing was audible now, but they were laughing so loudly at their stupid jokes that they would never hear it. It was the sound of freedom, the herald's call. She pumped harder now, her kneecap a blur. Puzzlement clouded her smirking suitor's brow but she smiled her inscrutable smile. She could feel the updraft now, the rise. And, slowly but steadily, with new joy in her heart, she began to inflate.

FLY SINISTER - 4

2010-05-20T23:11:00.000+01:00

'Tell him he's staying out there till that goddamned nosewheel is fully down and locked. Well, it's not my fucking fault it got stuck, is it? I'm the captain of this plane and he'll do what he's fucking well told. It's totally clear on the back of his ticket, for Christsake! Look...look... 'In the event of an emergency, passengers may be required to repair or land the aircraft.' If he can't be fucking bothered to read the simplest.... What? Well, I guess he probably is cold, seeing most of his clothing got sucked into the starboard engine... yeah, yeah... it's holding power, should get us into JFK okay. But tell that wise ass out there that if I have any more trouble with him we'll sue his pants off and... ha! Hey - did you hear what I said there? Hahahahaha... hahahaha... hahahaha... Hey, Pete - did you hear what I said just then? I said... hahahahahahahaha.... oooohhh... HAHAHAHAAAAAA....!'

COURT NEWS

2010-05-16T03:15:00.000+01:00

LITTLE GRIMLEY, BERKSHIRE. Lord and Lady Hogbott Trimpington-Trumpington-Chank of High Brooder Hall are pleased to announce that the engagement party for their son Bunty is to be held on Saturday 22 May at High Brooder. Bunty's chosen, Miss Fenella Tara Gaper-Hugely of Leaning Chimneys, Hothatter, will be wheeled in, greased. Ginnies and Snorters will be served in the South Drawing Room. Blasters are to be held on the Trimmy Lawn, facing south: furries will fall and chortlers ensue. Lunchers, Crusts-Off and Din-Dins will be served in the Great Hall, Gasper & Bow (Caterers By Appointment) being retained.
The couple will keep their present occupations until July when they will set up residence at Huge Purse Annexe. Bunty moves papers fractionally in The City and Miss Gaper-Hugely is a Junior Decorative at Loungers, Windsor. They have part of a cat and something small and tightly knitted from Persia. (Reprinted from The Times)

THAT MEDICATION MOMENT - 3

2010-05-13T21:49:00.000+01:00

'Ah yes, a very good evening to you. Now, as a doctor I am often asked: 'Doctor, is it safe to consume alcoholic beverages while using prescription drugs?' Now, the answer to this is yes. As you can see, I am relaxing after a taxing professional day with a nice glass of whisky, and OH MY GOD THE STARING GREEN BUNNIES ARE HANGING FROM THE LAMPSHADE! Now, as it happens, I also have in my system a modest amount of a benzodiazepine sedative - perhaps better known to you as Diazepam or its older brand name of THE BASTARDS ALL HATE ME I TELL YOU! Now, is is wise, I hear you ask, to mix the two? Well, let me reassure you. The therapeutic index of Diazepam is a comparitively narrow one and in a normal, balanced individual there is absolutely no SQUIGGLE-SQUOGGLE SQUIGGLE-SQUOGGLE HOLY MOTHER OF CHRIST WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!'

THAT PERSONAL TOUCH

2010-05-13T18:22:00.000+01:00

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THE FALL FROM GRACE

2010-05-12T02:40:00.001+01:00

He was a man of low breeding and talent, but of some self-importance, ambition and persistence. His wooing of the princess - so far above his station - had been long, measured, and dressed in lace and petulance. He connived, he skulked, he flattered and deceived. But she was vulnerable. Her shoulders were bowed with the weight of destiny: she feared to be alone and her court was cold. So the schemer, by default, came yet closer, his prize to seize and hold. Then, one May morning, to the gasping horror of the court, he glided obsequiously across the floor and - in a momentary aberration rewarded by his peremptory (and by royal command) disembowelling - he smiled, bowed, bent low, and wiped his nose on her hand.

WHEN THE EXCITEMENT BECOMES UNENDURABLE - 6

2010-05-12T02:39:00.000+01:00

At the Twoggler's wedding reception, the new inlaws discover that the peanut bowl is empty.

THE CAT WHO COULD HARNESS THE WARMTH OF THE SUN

2010-05-12T02:37:00.000+01:00

'Shimmy-shimmy-shimmy to the right....HA!'

'Twist - turn - shimmy - punch...HA!

Oh, man - how fucking cool am I?'

CUTTING DOWN

2010-05-03T02:45:00.000+01:00

Yes, the strain was getting to him a bit. Bit trying and all that. Long haul. Still, he had considerable inner resources. And, of course, Doctor Williamson - his friend, his ally and his prop. This time, though, the visit to the surgery didn't go quite as well as he'd hoped. On the minus side the good doctor had reduced his prescription for Prozac. On the plus side, he had at least given him enough to get him through the weekend.

THE BIG TASK

2010-04-30T23:15:00.000+01:00

'Hello, Production... hello, Production - Time And Motion Department calling. Hello? HELLO? Oh, hi Bill - this is Sidney. What? Yes, considerable progress here. The new office is fine - nice and spacious. No excuse for not working our asses off now - ha ha. Got myself three boxes of pencils today and they've just installed an excellent new pencil sharpener: boy, does it put a point on or what? Sorry? WHAT? No, it's not desktop - more a free-standing one. It's right in here with me. One teensy drawback - it's a touch on the noisy side. I SAID....'

MRS WABBS' FOURTH FLYING LESSON

2010-04-30T23:08:00.000+01:00

'Yes,well, I'm sure you are getting a little frustrated, Mrs Wabbs. Learning to fly an aircraft is a taxing and meticulous undertaking and.... umm... modest progress on the part of a pupil would not normally be seen as the fault of the aeroplane. Yes, I do take your point about hating the, umm... 'wretched stupid bastard object', as you so vividly describe it, but to me and I believe the rest of the aviation community the phrase 'inanimate object' comes to mid in this connection and - Good God!
I'm sorry, Mrs Wabbs, but your shriek unsettled me there for a minute. Yes, I can see it does hurt. Dropping a sledgehammer of such considerable size and weight on one's foot would indeed... oh dear, don't cry, Mrs Wabbs, don't cry...'

IN THE WASH

2010-04-29T00:09:00.000+01:00

'Give it to me. Come on, give me my sock. Yes, you've given me one sock. I now need you to give me the other sock. There are two socks to a pair. One for the right foot and one for the left. What d'you mean - 'it's just a rumour'? It's not just a rumour! People have two feet. It's a balance thing. Okay? A fucking balance thing! I want my second sock. I demand it. It's there on the shelf behind you. I can see it. Do you think I'm blind? Are you out of your fucking minds?
Now let's be clear here. I have the left sock. You have returned my left sock to me and it is, I grant you, nice and clean. So why all the drama over the other sock? Is it still dirty? Is that it? I don't care. Clean or dirty, I want it back. Now. Do I look like a one-legged man to you? What d'you mean, yes? Now stop this - just stop this, this minute! Give me my sock! GIVE ME MY FUCKING SOCK, YOU BASTARDS OR I'LL... wait a minute... where's my shirt? Where the fuck is my fucking shirt?'

TABLE FOR ONE

2010-04-28T23:42:00.001+01:00

'Well, good afternoon. What a super little place you have here. Goodness me, the delicious smells were wafting quite a way, I can tell you. All home cooking? Excellent. Well - the menu, I think. Plenty of plump children on it, I trust? Choice of sauces, that kind of thing? Good. Oh - umm - before I set to... do you have a bathroom I could use? The woods are like - well, you know, ha ha. Super. Then I'll order.'

THE TRUE POWER

2010-04-28T04:03:00.000+01:00

The needle dropped, the vinyl hissed, the crackle told its tale. She listened, intent, as her song spun its web of sound. She didn't look up, but she knew they were gathering - her past life peers and inspirations, her guides and comforters, her whisperers in the ether. How could she be alone? How COULD she? How could it be lost, what she had and that which she was promised?

The song ended and she reached for the arm - to play again and to hold her: and for the first time in her life, her fretting fretboard fingers brushed and truly stirred her soul.

THE CROSSING

2010-04-28T04:00:00.000+01:00

Not a man to be intimidated by a ash-spitting volcano or thwarted by the grounded coughing planes, and not a man to miss a meeting, he boarded the 84,000 ton Cunard transatlantic liner Queen Elizabeth and set sail. And, not a man who enjoyed chatter or distraction, he had the rest of the passengers duly thrown over the side.

EVE'S WATCHED EAVES

2010-04-28T03:55:00.000+01:00

And he'd watched and he'd watched and he'd watched his harvest grow. Now, in the fullness of the light the great machine roared and thrashed and gathered it in. And with each turn of its sun-glinting blades the seeds flew up into the heavens and the stars were blessed and the new growth began. In its turn it would fall to Earth... and he would be waiting that season as he would all the seasons, still and patient under the homestead's eaves. And, as they said so long ago that it would, this airliner flew in from the late 1920s.

THAT SINKING FEELING

2010-04-21T00:38:00.001+01:00

When they'd purchased their excellent new furnishings in Homeware Plus, Mavis and her husband Ernie had taken little note of their chosen carpet's name - Quicksand - assuming it referred to its colour. Now, just three hours after its laying, Mavis was moved to discuss the depth of their misunderstanding with her husband. Intrigued and oddly excited, she realised that Ernie could no longer hear her.

FAMILY CRAMMERS - 4

2010-04-21T00:36:00.002+01:00

Taking the Golden Hunch statuette for first place in the 1988 Family Crammers at Footling Drift, Missouri, were the Mooreons from Pittsburgh. Head judge Bartie Moustache spoke with studied dullness at the awards ceremony - first in his normal voice and then, as custom requires, in a high-pitched tremulous whine.

'The Mooreons really are in a class of their own when it comes to full-on, in your face, up your nose and down your socks cramming. No one believes less in the principles of personal freedom of choice, movement and independence. To keep them as the closely knit family unit the moral world requires, the Mooreons trust to a venomous and entirely ficticious Lord, their own in-bred vacancy, and industrial strength adhesives.'

The Mooreons' impressive repertoire comprised The Hug, The Grip, The Shuffle and The Rictus Grin, culminating in a traditional Crammers finale - The Sweaty Heap. Each intricate movement was repeated over a six-hour period as the family slowly circled Futility Hall, welded into a solid lump by clutching hands, Stickit Plus and friction-heavy tweed. A fittingly tedious piano accompaniment was written in thick crayon and performed by Uncle Artie Mooreon, who continued even after part of his brain fell out. 'There's more where that came from!' he shouted gamely to the loyal audience of five people and a cow.

Notable close-in work from the Mooreons there.

EARLY VIDEO CASSETTE RECORDERS - THE SHOCKING TRUTH - 3

2010-04-17T23:09:00.000+01:00

'Okay, guys - this is it. We're going in. Right... right... okay, the counter says something's recorded. See? Figures are different. And it's rewound. It's fucking rewound, thank the good Lord. Tape's full, that's what it is. Okay. There's hope, fellas. God damn it - there's hope. Fingers crossed, guys - I'm... I'm going to press Play. Okay? You all with me? Here we go. Pressing Play now... easy... easy... Yes! It's playing! God bless its little cotton socks - it's done it! We've recorded something, guys! We've only fucking recorded something! Hey... what...? What the fuck is... Oh God... Oh Jesus Christ, how can this be? Oh no... Dear holy mother of Christ - we've recorded ourselves.'

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2010-04-17T22:53:00.000+01:00

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ENCOUNTER IN THE FAR FIELD

2010-04-15T18:30:00.001+01:00

    Clark Twangler's study of a female Shuffling Shed suckling its young, taken in 1988, remains an iconic image in the study of these shy and misunderstood creatures. Twangler recalls the encounter vividly, even now. 'The light was fading and I was getting ready to go home. It had been a long day, up on the trail of the Loner Mountain strand of Shufflers. And never a sign of one. Man, they just keep themselves to themselves, and we have to thank the Lord for those times they show.'
    'I was starting the car when - wham! - a fully grown male Shuffler came scuttling up the road right towards me. His feet were fully extended - man, I can see those stripey socks to this day - red and yellow hoops, they were. He was movin', I can tell you - must've been doing twenty. And his roof window was flappin' open and shut and his little tin chimney was shooting smoke out - puff-puff, fit to bust. Man, was he mad!'
    'Well, I knew my Shufflers and, hell, this was full-on distractive behaviour if ever I saw it. This Shuffler was head of a family, for sure, and doin' the old diversion thing. That meant a female Shuffler wasn't far off, and probably a brood of Shedlets and Shedettes too. So I swung into the field, ditched the car and headed out on foot. Wasn't too long till I heard a rustlin' and a creepin' and then there was Ma with her little Shedette. Man, it brought a tear to my eye. People say these folks are unfeelin' and wooden but that ain't the case at all. Snapped away half a film, but it felt like I was intrudin', you know? And I could hear Pa returning, shufflin' through the wheat. So I left 'em. That there Shedette will be a grown Shuffler now - with babes of her own, I shouldn't wonder. Miracles all around us and that's the truth. Ain't Nature a wonderful thing?'

NOVELTY BARBERS OF THE WORLD - 2

2010-04-15T18:25:00.001+01:00

Vickie Vengeance - whose unusual and distinctively stylish 'Red Bob' cut was all the rage in London in 1963

FLY SINISTER - 3

2010-04-15T18:24:00.000+01:00

'Well, in all my years flying for Sinister I've never come across such a mean-minded, namby pamby, impossible to please bunch of fuckers as you lot. What the fuck is wrong with you people? Go back to your fucking Panam and British fucking Airways with their dry curled up sandwiches and warmed-over plastic crap, why don't you? Here at Sinister we try to please, we try to be different. And what fucking thanks do we get? Here, we say - have some juicy, tender steaks and hot chili dogs, pork chops and all the rest. Yummy though and through! And what's your fucking reaction? As soon as we lit the barbecue? Eh? Whining and moaning and scurrying about and wringing your fucking hands and 'Oooh I'll tell my senator'! Well, I've had it with you people. That's the last time you get hot steaks on this airline, I can tell you! And another thing....'

FLY SINISTER - 2

2010-04-11T01:26:00.001+01:00

'Now, madam, I believe you're the lady who complained that her coffee wasn't quite to her liking, aren't you? Now, I'm sorry to hear that, and I can assure you that every Sinister Airways staff member aboard is doing their utmost to ensure that you won't be troubled by unsuitable catering ever again. Is that satisfactory? Good. Now - on an entirely different matter altogether - I wonder if you'd be good enough to accompany me to the rear of the aircraft? We have a sticking door we'd like your help with. Nothing complicated - just putting your shoulder to it and giving it a jolly good shove. Is that okay with you?'

FAITH'S DOOR - 8

2010-04-11T01:17:00.002+01:00

There was no sinking, no failed crossing, no cause for despair. There was ever a port in a storm - and even in her deepest darkness there were always arms to hold her.

A LESSON IN QUANTUM PHYSICS

2010-04-08T16:56:00.000+01:00

'Okay class... uh, let's just recap what we've learned this morning. Can you see me okay, up here in the tree? Yes? Oh, good. Umm... so, we connected that big green cabinet thing in the corner of the lab to those terminals marked... uh, 'Do not use these terminals under any circumstances whatsoever'... and, well, there was that big green flash and everything and... um... and the college took off.'

'Okay, now, uhh... like, after the college did that hovery thing and sort of lowered us onto the, uh.... very pleasant meadow right here, umm... did any of you happen to notice where the college went, subsequent to that? It did yell something, didn't it, as it left? As I recall, it was 'Up yours, fuckers!' But it's kinda important that I know where the college has gone, okay? So put your hands up if you think you know.'

'Wow, you're any observant bunch and no mistake. Peter - where do you think it.... Over the sea? Uh-huh, uh-huh... Any more of you reckon the college disappeared in a basically overseas direction? That looks like... yes, you all seem to think the college has more or less left the country. Okay, cool.'

'Now, like, I think you can imagine what an awful shock this has been for me, and it's real important that I get the college back and stuff. 'Cos like, it's got my jacket in it and everthing. My jacket, okay? And, like, in the jacket pocket is my lunch - my sandwiches. So I've got no lunch. How mad is that? No lunch...'

ANGEL FLIGHT

2010-04-07T00:25:00.000+01:00

-o-

They came to the far sighing field. The evening was still warm; the wind had stilled. The skies awaited. They paraded their femininity and their certainty; they wore their hats. Their dresses were full and so were their hearts. Their pilot was there, as they knew he would be. It was approaching seven. It was the hour of the ladies who fly.

-o-

MEN. THEY JUST GET UNDER YOUR FEET

2010-04-06T23:50:00.000+01:00

Well, she mused, as she beat her batter - life's little problems certainly pile up. Men! Honestly, they're no support at all. The first one - what was he called again? He'd been comparitively straightforward. Knew his place. So she'd put him there. Number two... hmm, marginally problematical. Needed a shove.Yes, and the third was a bit of a struggler. For a while.

The private eye took up a bit of a space, too. Did Sid and Harry really call them in? If they did, they had it coming. If they didn't - well, they had no business living over her fence together anyway. Honestly! And the cops - well, they didn't even get out of the patrol car. And that was their undoing. It was hard to bury a Buick. But you just have to do what you have to do. Ahh - the blessings of a big cellar. Filling up a little now. Pity about the slanting floors up here - but what're you gonna do?

THE CLIFF'S EDGE AND THE GUIDING LIGHTS

2010-04-04T01:51:00.006+01:00

The Seven Sisters Lighthouse, East Sussex, England

-
The Seven Sisters Cliffs, East Sussex, England
-

The Seven Sisters Star Cluster - The Pleiades
Their God-given place in the Heavens and their everlasting Light

THE MYSTERY JETS - 9

2010-04-03T01:22:00.002+01:00

Take your partners, the sky is free.

YOU HEARD IT HERE LAST

2010-04-01T23:50:00.004+01:00

Well, that's the 400th Post on the Blog. All up and visible. In ten months. All produced to Template BX126-B in Blogging For The Socially Disadvantaged by Mr and Mrs Herbert Small and Maisie. A good point, then, to say sincere thanks to my regular readers for your support and loyalty since May last year. Both of you. Oh, and thanks for an email that poured in. And you can be sure that there will be lots more wit, laughter and funny pictures to come. Fuck all of them will be on this Blog, obviously.

THE PERFECTION OF PURPOSE

2010-04-01T23:27:00.003+01:00

Professor B. Stogbott Phunt and his masterwork - the Flangerette Mimsyiser, whose sole designed function was to make spare parts for itself.

NO BONES ABOUT IT

2010-04-01T23:12:00.003+01:00

REGINALD: Mmmm... delicious. Just remind me, dearest, who have you got?
DORA: Uncle Gerald mainly... mmm... though I mixed in some... mmmm... Petula.
REGINALD: They always went well together.
DORA: Absolutely.
REGINALD: I must say... mmm... mmmm... Cousin Jack is coming through very well. You can tell it's him.
DORA: Tender. Yet rich.
REGINALD: Indeed. How's the soup?
DORA: Bubbling nicely. It's stopped shouting.
REGINALD: Good to hear.

DOLLS

2010-04-01T23:06:00.004+01:00

Barbie Klogg. The hapless nineteenth and most unsuspecting victim of the Killer Weeny Flintstones.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ANIMALS

2010-04-01T22:57:00.005+01:00

'For God's sake, Carruthers - the beastly creature isn't listening to a word you're saying! Why would he understand English anyway? You're exhausting yourself, deluding yourself and looking a total fool. If we're going to make any progress with Jimbo you need to do as I say. For the third and positively the final time - unstrap the motor bicycle and put him on it.'

WHEN THE EXCITEMENT BECOMES UNENDURABLE - 5

2010-04-01T22:53:00.004+01:00

Looking forward to a traditional family Easter

FAITH'S DOOR - 7

2010-03-30T03:32:00.002+01:00

She kicked the door open and saw them sitting there - as always and ever - in her way and in her face. She wasted not a second. It was time to show it, to lay it down. Her yell, as it was destined to, was heard for blocks.

'THIS - you fuckers, is the winning hand!'

THE MYSTERY JETS - 8

2010-03-30T03:10:00.001+01:00

The hour had advanced by one. The Light was irresistibly in the ascendant. The crooked line to Air Traffic Control sparked and went dead: the Dark Controller swung in a black chair, baffled and out of the loop. Shadows fell across plots: the glimmering images faded and went out. Seven miles up, newly unfettered from control, judgement or calculation, the Mystery Jets put on speed and, glinting in the fading starlight, flew arrow-straight towards the dawn.

EXERCISE FOR THE EMINENTLY SENSIBLE - 13

2010-03-30T02:19:00.003+01:00

Combating senility by watching television

MRS WABBS' THIRD FLYING LESSON

2010-03-30T02:05:00.003+01:00

'Good, well, that's excellent Mrs Wabbs. But, umm.... again, I'm getting a clear impression of... uhh... you know - wanting to run before you can walk and... pardon me? Yes, I know we're in an aircraft, Mrs Wabbs, I was speaking metaphorically. Being, as it happens, a flying instructor, I'm comparitively familiar with the cockpit of an aeroplane - no matter how little there is left of it. Well, yes, the function of the hanger is indeed of interest to most pupils and, uhhh... Yes, yes, I understand. It is a little unsettled weatherwise and it's admirable that you felt a sudden urge to keep the rain off the aircraft, but, uhhh... oh dear, don't cry Mrs Wabbs, don't cry....'

EARLY VIDEO CASSETTE RECORDERS - THE SHOCKING TRUTH - 2

2010-03-30T01:26:00.003+01:00

'Okay... okay... Bill, are you still there? BILL? BILL? Oh Jesus, thank God! Right, okay... I've got the channel sorted... Yes, it's stopped flashing. Uhhh... uhhh... I seem to have set the film times. Or have I? Is that the one I'm watching? FUCK! What's this? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? Oh, that's the hours. I think. Yes, it's the hours, it's alright, it's alright. What's the time? WHAT'S THE FUCKING TIME?! Oh, right, okay....okay. Right, now this must be the minutes. Ummm... now if I... OH GOD NO! It's flashing at me! THE NUMBERS ARE FLASHING AT ME! Oh no please... please not again.... now stop... don't do this to me I beg of you! STOP THIS THIS MINUTE DO YOU HEAR? Oh no, oh no... OH DEAR SWEET JESUS IT'S REWINDING!!'

EXERCISE FOR THE EMINENTLY SENSIBLE - 12

2010-03-25T02:04:00.001Z

Knocking over a Mafia boss's mug of milk

FLY SINISTER - 1

2010-03-24T23:35:00.003Z

PASSENGER: Miss, might I have a word, please?
STEWARDESS: Yeah, what?
PASSENGER: Well, I don't want to appear a fuddy-duddy and it's not really like me to complain, but do you think you could turn the piped music down a bit, please?
STEWARDESS (chewing audibly): Why?
PASSENGER: Well.... we've just been through quite severe turbulence and.... you know, the engine problems earlier.... perhaps something more soothing might suit? What is this dreadful noise anyway? Punk?
STEWARDESS: Pal, punk is like so limp-wristed. This is thrash metal, baby.
PASSENGER: Oh, good Lord. Does it have to be quite so loud?
STEWARDESS: You bet. See the track list, look. It says 'play fucking loud' on it, doesn't it?
PASSENGER (perusing list): Oh dear, oh dear - 'The Wall In The Sky' by the Kamikazes.... 'Oh God Not Again' by the Flaming Debris.... 'Fireball' by the Jammed Engines.... for goodness sake, young women....'
STEWARDESS: Here, listen, this next one is shit-hot. 'We're All Gonna Die' by the Punctured Liferafts. Fucking ace, they are. Oi! Will you lot stop moving about down the front? If you wanna walk and stuff go into fucking First Class.
PASSENGER: They're on edge! Can't you see that? It's the music. Turn it off, please.
STEWARDESS: No can do, pal. Captain says it's the only thing that keeps him awake when he's had a pipe or two.
PASSENGER: Oh dear God.... well, this is the first time I've flown Sinister Airways and I have to say....
STEWARDESS: Hey - I've got some John Denver. That any good to you?
PASSENGER: Ah, well - now you're talking. I love John Denver. Lovely lilting ballads, absolutely charming. Have you got 'Leaving On A Jet Plane'?
STEWARDESS (examining CD): Yeah, that's on here. This is a live gig, recorded at a New York club in 2006. It's not Denver - it's cover versions.
PASSENGER: No matter. A good song is a good song, no matter who performs it. Who's the singer?
STEWARDESS: Some foreign dude. Osama Bin Laden. Whoever he is. I'll put it on then....

THE KILLER CANS

2010-03-24T01:58:00.004Z

Some of the most ruthless kitchen packaging was, of course, to be found in the remote wastes of British Columbia. The dense forests and rugged mountains provided ample cover for roaming bands of untamed polythene bags, suffocating all who stood in their way. On the lonely tracks and byways, renegade Tupperware boxes roared and ravaged - notably the Airtight Angels and the Tight Lid Terrors. Of the fabled killer cans, the Pine Fresh Dutch were the most feared: their savagery was unequalled, but unlike most pillaging packaging they cleaned up nicely after them.

WHEN THE EXCITEMENT BECOMES UNENDURABLE - 4

2010-03-24T01:53:00.003Z

March 20th, 1958: Cousin Harry's third attempt to hang himself.

HEAD WEARING

2010-03-23T19:06:00.006Z

RADIO INTERVIEWER MIKE SKUPE: Well, I'm here outside the Mutson's Millinery factory and with me is Mrs Tophat, the self-styled leader of the Hat Liberation Front, who have been picketing the works all week. Now, I suppose you're going to tell me that's your real name?
TOPHAT: Oooh, no, of course not. My real name's Sombrero.
SKUPE: I see. Well, Mrs Idiot - I'm sorry, did I say 'idiot' there? What I really meant was 'moron'. This is a wretched business, isn't it? What do you think you're playing at?
TOPHAT: Well, we're here to show solidarity with oppressed headgear of all kinds.... er, like with peaks and knitted and that. And feathered and those cowboy ones. Balaclavas? That's one, isn't it? And.... er, to stop Mutson's making them with glue and brutality and that. There's like a huge exploitation of things you put on your head.... er.... and we've nearly exhausted the planet's supply of felt. Felt, that's the one. Felt.
SKUPE: Good. Well, that's excellent. No more hats. Now, Mrs Oaf, being observant is part of my job and it hasn't escaped my notice that you and your followers here all have one thing in common. Specifically, they all have something on their heads. Outlining the scenario to you in yet more detail, your followers here - protesting, as you so vividly describe it - about hat-wearing, are themselves all wearing hats.
TOPHAT: Are they? Oh, right. So they are. I am too, aren't I? Right.... er.... well, that'll be to show people how silly they look wearing them. That'll be it.
SKUPE: And you have achieved a notable triumph in that regard. But what - I'm sorry, can you stop blowing your pipe smoke my way? And why is your left eyeball revolving in its socket?
TOPHAT: Dunno.
SKUPE: Perhaps if I fetched you a heavy blow to the side of your head it would settle things down a bit?
TOPHAT: Mind my hat.
SKUPE: Perhaps not. Touching you would be repellent and you might have a fall of soot. Now Mrs Thicko, what we have here tells us absolutely nothing about the twilight world of oppressed headgear, but a very great deal about a dumpling-faced show-off struggling with near-toxic levels of stupidity.
TOPHAT: Oooh. Who's that? I love them words you use. I listen to you every night, you know. Can I say what a big fan I am of yours?
SKUPE: Quite evidently you can say that, as that unpleasant opening below your nose has just made a noise. I think you mean may you say what a fan of mine you are.
TOPHAT: Oh, right. May I say what a fan I am of yours?
SKUPE: No.

OUT OF IT

2010-03-18T19:45:00.001Z

Hamsters. They do drugs, you know.

THE MINE-LAYING TROUSERS

2010-03-18T16:15:00.006Z

---

Say goodbye to vengeance impotence with the astounding

MINE-LAYING TROUSERS

---

Yes, from the makers of the Killer Hat, here's the enhanced carnage capability you've been waiting for!

People in the way? Put down, picked on and pursued? Live in a dull area?

WELL, NOW YOU CAN GET EVEN!

---

Operation couldn't be easier

1. Don your Mine-Laying Trousers, noting the trim, flattering fit and mode-ish style.

2. Insert one belt of 15 mines down each trouser leg.

3. Strap the combined feed and control harness around your waist and connect each mine belt to it.

4. Clip the crotch-mounted release lever into the socket on the feed and control harness and settle it comfortably.

5. Fold out the rear-view mirror and spotlight.

6. You're now ready to practise. Don't try to walk your usual way. Keep your toes turned inwards and adopt a hunched stance, squatting slightly. Try a few mincing steps.

7. The mines are laid two at a time, one being fed up each leg and deposited through the aperture in the seat of the trousers. Step forward, knees-bent and hunched. Jerk the crotch-mounted release lever firmly twice. Mince-mince-mince.... jerk-jerk.... squat.... LAY. Wait for the satisfying clunk-clunk as your mines are laid. If they are a little slow to release, give your rear end a little shake.

8. Set the mines' timer on the control panel. You will need time to depart the area of impending destruction.

9. Press the yellow ARM button. Your trousers are now fully armed. ON NO ACCOUNT ATTEMPT TO SIT DOWN OR YOU WILL GO OFF.

---

Recommended targets

Ex-partners, the French, annoying relatives and neighbours, people who drive Volvos, etc.

Work, school or college getting on your nerves? Why not rope in your colleagues and chums, lay minefields en masse and make your factory or school a total no-go area! Hours of fun! Breaks the ice at parties too!

Post-carnage enjoyment

Set up at a suitable vantage point with a six-pack and some tasty snacks. Thrill to the developing mayhem! Marvel at the increasing bafflement of the emergency services! Who will ever guess it's all down to you and your amazing Mine-Laying Trousers!

---

ALSO AVAILABLE

For the righteous female

The Mine-Laying Slacks

Elegantly styled and hand-stitched by M'Oronne of Paris

---

ACME ARMAMENTS

Big In Trousers

Measured Mayhem for the Middle Classes

Wabbles Towers, Moleville, Wiltshire, UK

---

See also: http://nibs2lou.blogspot.com/2009/06/killer-hat.html

EARLY VIDEO CASSETTE RECORDERS - THE SHOCKING TRUTH

2010-03-17T23:13:00.002Z

Herbert Woolly attempts, for the thirty-third time, to set the timer to record Gardener's World.

A GOOD YEAR FOR THE HUNTERS

2010-03-17T20:22:00.004Z

'Men, the Lord has smiled upon us! Ready the harpoons and man the boats. Great will be our harvest of the sea this day! There will be children now abed who will long thank us for a multitude of rubbers to erase their wrongful sums. There will be gentlemen parading the cobbles, driven to distraction by the tapping of their canes for the want of a rubber tip: their gratitude will know no bounds! Those aloft keep your eyes skinned for these creatures swim in fours - five, yet, should a spare be kept. But tread carefully, for they are monstrous shy. To your posts, lads - for England expects!'

CARING

2010-03-17T20:08:00.005Z

The last Sunday in every month was a very special day in the Williamson household: it was reserved for Granny and Grandpa's visit. It meant the best china and the home-made dessert, the dry sherry before dinner, the cut glass and the family photo albums on the drawing room table. This gracious show of respect for the family elders was freely and lovingly given. And, naturally, their delousing came first.

THE MYSTERY JETS - 7

2010-03-17T19:08:00.005Z

He climbed, alone and convinced, to the top of watchtower, called by the slowly tolling ancient bell. The sun was setting beyond the mountains. He looked up at the clock and then at the sky. It was time. It had begun. Summoned, unstoppable and riding the high winds of destiny, the Mystery Jets were gathering.

THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

2010-03-14T03:11:00.005Z

SCHOOLGIRL (arriving home): Gosh, what's going on?
HANDYMAN: Well, I'm only here to fix the lights, so I've just overheard bits and pieces - by mistake, like. But I gather the cops have discovered the counterfeit presses in the garage. All that digging in the garden - see that? Well, the guns have been found but not your uncle or the private eye chappie. Your dad couldn't pass the plans for the secret submarine base to Grey Owl and Black Jack grassed him up to the cops. Dad tried to hang himself but Caribbean Cutie's parrot chewed through the rope. He's lying in the shed with a bottle of Scotch - your dad is, not the parrot. That bent bearded woman with the eye patch - is that your aunt? Well, she was running the poison pen letters through the shredder in the attic when the hollowed out bit for the coke stache gave way and she fell right through into the cellar. Your mum's just finishing her escape tunnel. It comes up on the beach and Neddy Flares is going to pick her up in Secret Squirrel's seaplane at five a.m. tomorrow. I'm feeding the cable in to Mum now so she can put the lights on to finish the digging.
SCHOOLGIRL: Oh. I had a good day at school. We had jelly.

MRS WABBS' SECOND FLYING LESSON

2010-03-14T00:31:00.002Z

'Well, yes - uh, when you have your licence, Mrs Wabbs, you will indeed be able to fly yourself off on lovely outings... uh... but when one is learning one has to take things methodically and be patient and allow the instructor - that's me, Mrs Wabbs - to.... Pardon me? Yes, I did understand your urgent wish to divert to the zoo, as so vividly articulated in your cry 'Take me to the hippos, craphead!' And, yes, your pulling the gun was indeed a contributing factor in my agreeing to the change of flight plan. But I have to say that my nerves were... Well, yes, I think you can take it that it is dead and it's lucky that... Oh goodness, I like animals too, Mrs Wabbs, but.... oh dear, don't cry Mrs Wabbs, don't cry....'

ALL ROADS TO RECOVERY START WITH A SINGLE STEP

2010-03-14T00:15:00.004Z

Two things could be said with confidence about Doctor Ivan Bynne-Lynher. First, he was the county's leading referral consultant for mental health patients suffering from deep-seated delusions. Second, he knew better than any of his contemporaries how to make his clients feel at home.

THAT MEDICATION MOMENT - 2

2010-03-13T23:04:00.002Z

Her third day crash off the Prozac hit her with the usual jolt. She came to slowly and peered around blearily, flexing her neck. Still at the party, it seemed. Where was everybody? Then something brushed her leg and she stiffened. What's this? She felt around gingerly with her right foot. With considerable surprise and not a little excitement she came to the conclusion that two - or perhaps three - Boy Scouts had set up camp in her frock.

THE UNDERLYING CAUSE

2010-03-11T18:15:00.004Z

Reverend Runcibald took the cover off the organ and set out the tea and biscuits. Humming the ancient hymn of the moment, he placed a bible on each chair. He loved his Sunday evening seminars with the delinquent teenagers. They were riff-raff, some said - Philistines beyond redemption. But he knew better, for over the past weeks he had wrought miracles on troubled young minds, his only tools the loving lilt of the psalms, the certainties of prayer and the over-arching love of the Lord.

The good vicar smiled to himself. It was almost eight. His wonderful flock - his freshly knowing children, the fruits of his own hand-sown wisdom - would be gathering outside on the street. Under his gifted hands they had come so surely to identify and prioritise the enduring truths and values on the joyous path to salvation.

Time to let them in.

BUSINESS TRIO PULPED IN COLLAPSED RAILWAY BRIDGE HORROR

2010-03-11T17:49:00.003Z

They'd be late for the meeting of course. Albert mused. A vexing breakdown for sure, but chauffeur Pete, head under the bonnet, was a man who knew his business. Things would be moving again soon, Albert had no doubt. It was hot, but fortunately the bridge overhead, with its hissing stopped coal train, provided welcome shade.

And then Albert heard them again - the perplexing creaks. Distant, surely - or near? Something flexing, under strain. Miss Blunt shifted in her seat and smiled at him. Albert stiffened. Of course! He knew, in a flash, what the creaks were. It was some time since he'd heard them, of course: in the Twenties indeed - when he was a cad with a young man's needs and desires. He turned to the window and smiled a hidden smile.

Who would've thought it of Miss Blunt, so businesslike and correct, prim and icy to a T. But if there was one thing he, Albert - a man of the world with a sense for the sensual - recognised when he heard it, it was the expectant, aroused, flexing of the stays in a lady's corset. Ha! He could see what had done it, of course: the lengthy hot, confined wait - the frustration and the heat - all the while sandwiched between two fine men. Well, one fine man - and a youngster.

But now Perkins caught his eye. Clearly, he had heard the sounds too. The old dog and the young buck exchanged knowing grins. And Miss Blunt smiled as she glanced at them both and brushed down her skirt and coloured... and the creaks of the stresses came - louder - again. And the heat enveloped them and the sensed was unspoken, their voices stilled as their knowing increased.

So, Albert mused, as his own body responded expectantly - the night in the hotel ahead - there's life in the old dog yet. A charming moment, quite charming: one that - for its unexpectedness and its potency and the prospect of conquests ahead - he felt he might well remember for the rest of his life.

And, as usual, Albert was right.

IN YOUR SHOPPING BASKET THIS WEEK

2010-03-11T16:56:00.007Z

Advertisement

Say goodbye to lonesome tea-for-one misery with

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GOSSIPING BUNS

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Yes, invite to your table these charming, informed and voluble guests!

Operation couldn't be easier:

Simply place the ready-made buns in the sun on the cill of an open window. Leave for forty minutes, turning once. The buns' built-in North Korean surveillance technology selectively seeks out and records over-the-fence and telephone gossip within a radius of six miles. All you have to do is make a pot of your favourite brew, press Play on the buns' remote control and miniature icing-embedded speakers bring you up to date with all the scandal, tale-telling and rumour in your area!

Never be alone or ill-informed again - listen to your buns!

---

ALSO AVAILABLE The amazing
POORLY SAUSAGE ROLL

Bring out your caring and nurturing side with this ultra-dependent pastry-based companion.
It groans, it coughs and it sneezes! Its little voice asks you for a drink of water! It's pallid, soggy and it needs you desperately!
Yes, comfort it, tend it, look after it. Make it better. Then eat it.
---
THE GROSSER GROCER
Consumable Solutions For The Emotionally Disadvantaged
Succour House - Wanting - Lancashire LA4 0BH

FAITH'S DOOR - 6

2010-03-09T20:31:00.002Z

Her entrance

SMALL-MINDED

2010-03-09T20:14:00.005Z

'So you see dear, it really is quite normal for little girls to get funny ideas in their heads. Delusions, they're called. You read all these fairy tales about giants and magic spells and wizards and everything - and that's lovely for you. But only grown-ups know about the real world. So if you don't stop with this repeated silliness about how we are shrinking I shall have to ring up a very special doctor and he'll give you lots of coloured pills to make everything truthful and clear again. Now let's hear no more about it....'

POORLY

2010-03-09T20:12:00.002Z

'Yep - the hamster's still throwing up.'

THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION

2010-03-09T20:06:00.005Z

Totally pissed off by the useless lack of a view and by like such a totally obvious gay thing going on with the pathetic pair, she spent most of the trip picking her nose and flicking bogies at them.

THAT MEDICATION MOMENT - 1

2010-03-09T19:57:00.004Z

'Right, okay.... uh, that's collected you from the, uh.... the.... big building with the chalk and.... ummm.... the school, that's it. Collected you from school. And, uhhh.... right, now as far as I can recall, umm.... one of you - or maybe two of you - little creatures might well belong to me. Okay? Okay? Are we clear where we're going with this? And, so like, if you think I might be your mother or something, can you.... like.... can you raise your hand and stuff? Okay? Are we straight? Little help here? Hell-ooo?'

GOD'S HOBBY - 10

2010-03-07T03:44:00.002Z

His huge head seething with cool and whispy patterns for his excellent new cirrus range, our Lord inadvertently selects too fine a paintbrush.

EXERCISE FOR THE EMINENTLY SENSIBLE - 11

2010-03-07T03:40:00.003Z

Crossing the Pacific