Strike the Tubular Bells With a Felt-Tipped Pen - But Don't Eat It

The forces of angry self-righteousness are at work in my company following the announcement of the zero annual pay rise. Some are talking of union action; I will not be joining them. If prices are coming down due to he economic crisis then everyone is better off anyway. Interest rates are lower that they’ve ever been and the bargains available in shops are legion – what’s their problem?

I should have reported on this yesterday, but I felt it was a storm in a teacup. For some inexplicable reason the British PM, Darth Brown, is being castigated by all and sundry for writing with a felt-tipped pen. That arbiter of taste and decency, The Sun newspaper is leading the charge. I’d be surprised if most Sun readers could write their own names, let alone harness the artistic and calligraphic resources afforded by a felt-tipped pen. I sometimes wonder why The Sun bothers with a crossword puzzle – it must the most under-utilised few square inches of paper in the known universe. The average human uses 15,000 different words in his or her daily vocabulary; I doubt that the average Sun reader uses more than 200, and 50 of those will be ‘tits’.

I must admit though that from the picture of his letter in the news that Brown does seem to have the limited handwriting skills of a doctor or someone with Tourette’s, but he does try. The man is half blind and only uses a felt-tipped pen because he can see what he’s writing. I wonder if the dark forces of Parker, Waterman or Sheaffer put The Sun up to this smear campaign against his writing skills.

In a surprise move, initiated by stupid American parents who allow their kids to stick their fingers into the hinges of Maclaren folding prams when they are being folded or unfolded, all motor manufacturers are to recall all cars sold in North America to have the doors welded up in case their kids accidentally trap their hands in car doors when slammed shut. Motor cycle manufacturers are also going to get in on the act by issuing notices with their North American products saying ‘Do Not Eat’.

The winners of the Euromillions lottery were announced yesterday. Hay and I were talking about what we’d do with £43m if we won that amount. Hay said she’d do some serious bio-chemical research while I said I’d go to all the exotic places I’ve never been – Machu Picchu, Blackburn, Leeds, Barrow in Furness, Hull and Scunthorpe. I might even go so far as to splurge out on a cruise to the isle of Man.

Here’s something I put on my Xmas Amazon wish list last night. Brings back so many good memories.



Tubular Bells, anchovies and gorgonzola – heaven!

Nuclear Pay Rises

Well I’ve had my letter telling me that there’s no pay rise this year. Strike? You must be joking! If I’m upset by it I’ll simply look elsewhere for a better job paying more. Striking certainly isn’t going to produce a result and will be counter-productive. I’m bloody lucky to have a job! If I were unlucky enough to be stuck in a job where I didn’t have the skills to move elsewhere, then there would be only one person to blame.

I’m glad to hear that the UK government has decided to go nuclear. That means less reliance on oil and therefore less need to interfere in the internal politics of the Middle East in order to safeguard oil supplies, with a concomitant reduction in Islamic militants wanting to take a pop at us. The sooner we’re self-sufficient in power generation, the better.

Still no adverse reaction to my H1N1 swine flu jab – I’m still alive. Hay disputes that, but she’s biased.

Curried Wildlife

Hay was wondering whether ‘ladies things’ manufacturer Tena had a product for men specifically to cater for those occasions when they laugh too much following a particularly virulent curry the night before. She thought it might be a solution to my laundry problem. As it happens there is, but it faces the wrong way round as it's made for another related problem.

I’ve noticed that the 40 odd tonnes of house footings spoil sitting in the field has caused an explosion in the bird population around here. We have hundreds of the buggers flitting down to it from the bushes surrounding the field to snaffle insects. Seems we've inadvertently created a wildlife haven.

Mobile Charity Chic

Yay! Managed to unlock by mobile phones yesterday. Many people are under the impression that unlocking mobiles from their service provider is illegal. It ain’t. In the case of Vodafone it’s free and you don’t need to be any distance at all into your contract.

Overheard in the caravan:

Chairman: “Have you noticed how buying clothes from charity shops is becoming the new chic?”

Hay: “Yes, I’m considering buying only designer clothes in future. In fact I’m going to get a personal dress designer.”

I hear Lily Allen is considering leaving the music business. Never realised she was in it in the first place. I thought she was in the celebrity business.

Lost in Translation

Renewed my phone contract yesterday and got the promise of a new phone – decided to go for a simple slimline jobbie, the Nokia 6303. A grown-up’s phone.

Had a look on YouTube for a review and found this:



Can anyone tell me what language this chap is using, as I can’t understand a bloody word he says. I think it’s Serbo-Croat, but I can’t be 100% certain.

I’m going to take some of you back in time now and conjure up an image from the past that came to me yesterday while I was cutting a slice of bread on the breadboard. Who remembers their grandmother, or in the case of my younger readers perhaps their great grandmother, taking an uncut loaf (only the posh people bought sliced bread in those days), holding it close to her ample bosom as if putting it in a headlock and sawing a slice off with a bread knife as if she was sawing off someone’s head? Breadboards seem to be a phemomenon of the late 20th century.

West African Swine Flu Vaccine Consipracy

In a shock revelation, voters in the UK are thought to be set to sack their political advisors next year.

Chairman of the Political Advisory Committee, ‘Professor’ Gordon Brown, said: “How can they sack us? Our role is to provide political analysis and to present the public with scientific – well, sort of – truth, no matter how unpalatable that advice may be. For voters to sack us because they don’t agree with the advice we give is illogical and a travesty.”

A news headline this morning about the killing of 13 soldiers at a US army base by a gunman.

“It is not clear what motivated the attacker, named as 39 year-old military psychiatrist Major Nidal Malik Hasan.”

I think I may have an idea as to a motivation.

I’m not sure what set off the train of thought, but the other day I was reminded of some culinary delights from my early days at sea when travelling to West Africa on Elder Dempster vessels (known by we experts as Elder Dumpster). Two dishes sprang immediately to mind; palm oil chop and groundnut stew, both were special Sunday treats and simply delicious. I recommend them to you.

Anyone ever had pan-fried squirrels?

Remember my rant back in August about the Swine Flu vaccine conspiracy? I’m scheduled to have both my seasonal and H1N1 flu jabs on Saturday. I’ll let you know if I get killed in the attempt at genocide on the part of dark forces. As we all know, Michael Jackson was killed because he had inside information on the H1N1 vaccine conspiracy (how long will it take for that to become orthodoxy?).

Oh dear - I had a little look and I spoke too soon.

A few final words; corfam shoes. Can't be 100% certain, but I'm almost sure I was the first boy in my school to wear them. Anyone remember them? A boon to all who wore uniforms.

Creation of Art?

If art is anything involving a ceative act (regardless of whether you subjectively like it or not), can blogging be called art?

If you're having a firework party tonight (for my UK readers) take care with your fireworks tonight and be safe! For those from afar, November the 5th is Bonfire Night, when we celebrate the Gunpowder Plot being foiled.

The Rapping Philosopher

Overheard in the caravan:

Hay and I are both ill with colds or flu. Caravan was having lunch at The Dog pub yesterday and phoned Hay to ask if we’d like him to bring us some soup from The Dog.

Hay: “Caravan just phoned to say he’s bringing us some soup from The Dog.”
Chairman: “Soup Doggy Dogg?”

Here’s a word from beyond the grave by Bertrand Russell about the British Home Secretary’s sacking of his chief scientific drug advisor, Professor David Nutt.

Hunting For Squashed Animals

Overheard in the caravan:

Hay: “I’m fed up washing your clothes. They’re always covered in food, stains or squashed animals.”

I’m struggling with my massive security complex as well as my feelings of inherent superiority.

I hardly posted last week, but perversely I had more hits. Perhaps I should refrain from posting to boost my readership?

I heard on TV last night that if the Conservatives get into power in the UK they will repeal the Hunting Act, which forbids the hunting of foxes for sport. The argument used by the hunting lobby is that it’s a traditional country sport. I wonder if the Conservatives are amenable to bringing back those favourite old traditions of slavery and stuffing kids up chimneys to sweep them.

I used to be ambivalent toward fox hunting until I saw a documentary showing a farmer leaving carcases out over winter to encourage foxes so he could charge toffs to hunt on his land in the hunting season. Now if you're using the argument that fox hunting should be allowed as foxes are vermin, then you don't bloody well encourage the damned things to inhabit your land.

I'm Not Alone, Am I?

I trust I'm not alone in thinking Pink Floyd bassist Richard Gere and actor Roger Waters were separated at birth, am I?

Roger Waters (left) and Richard Gere (right)