Toe to toe, dancing very close. Barely breathing (too much men's aftershave)...

"And the dead in Christ shall rise first.
 Then, we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.
 And so shall we ever be with the Lord."

Well, them Old End-timers believe that today is The Rapture.

At first, I misheard, and thought that the name of todays apocalyptic annihilation was The Raptor, and we were all about to be devoured by rampaging Jurassic Pork type dinoclones.

But, sadly, it's not saurian shennanigans - it's either the abduction of humanity by Space Monsters to be feasted upon by invading interplanetary interlopers, or the Hosts Of Heaven will descend and take us up into Heaven/Nirvana/Enlightened Sphere/Valhalla, or whichever religious paradise meets your favoured form of faith.

And you gotta have faith (Well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has got a body like you, my pretty! xxx)

Anyhoo, it seems like today is totally uninterrupted by the trumpeting of trumpets, and the sounds of harpers harping with their harps. So it looks like no divine divinity is coming to take me up into her boudoir bower of paradise for a lifetime of rapturous rogering any time soon.

Hold on - Rapture... that's one of them portmanteau words, isn't it? Rape + Torture = Rapture.

No wonder there's no angelic beauties raising up all up to the celestial domain of eternal joy - it's that bloody Lynx Excite! "Even Angels Will Fall". One whiff of that, it it's the tossing off of the halo, and the tossing off of the hero with the perfumed 'pits!

There's us, all waiting to be enraptured, and these winged women are too busy tumbling into crowded foreign streets, and rising up like Arnie Terminators before rape-torturing undeserving muppets on mopeds based on their deodorantal preferences!

Right. That's it. Sod everlasting happiness in the afterlife - I'm off to boots to buy Lads stuff - Nuts, Loaded, For His Masturbation* magazines, and a stackload of Lynx.

Then I'm guaranteed a bit of "Rapture" from gorgeous goddesses.

Although it's going to be a bugger hoovering up all them feathers after all that rapturous shaggery.

* THERE ARE THEMS WHAT THINK THAT "FHM" IN FHM MAGAZINE STANDS FOR "FOR HIM MAGAZINE". THAT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE GORMSTERS, BECAUSE THAT MAKES IT "FOR HIM MAGAZINE MAGAZINE". IT'S QUITE CLEARLY "FOR HIS MASTURBATION" MAGAZINE, BEING FILLED WITH NAUGHT BUT PHOTOS OF FEMALE CHILDRENS TV PRESENTERS PORNING IT UP, AND HIGH STREET (NUBILE NEIGHBOURS THAT READERS ARE CREEPILY PERVING OVER) HONEYS.
IT'S A BIT LIKE SMARTARSES WHO MOAN ABOUT PIN NUMBERS, WHO THINK THEY'RE SO CLEVER BY POINTING OUT THE "N" IN PIN STANDS FOR "NUMBER", SO PIN NUMBER = PERSONAL IDENTIFICATION NUMBER NUMBER. IT HAS TO BE PIN NUMBER, YOU CRETINOUS TWONK, FOR IF SOMEONE ASKED YOU TO KEY IN  YOUR PI NUMBER, PEOPLE WOULD BE KEYING IN THE PHONE NUMBERS OF THEIR MAGNUM STYLE INVESTIGATORY TYPES BY MISTAKE.

And they said Elvis was dead! Pay attention, 9 seconds into the video evidence for the above mentioned lack of rapture. A great fatarse old Elvis is there, masquerading as one of them old italian momma in a big black dress. Rule #1 of Faking Your Own Death - stay away from cameras, especially video ones for televisiual transmission:

Whispers ain't doin' it for meself...

Not content with nicking essential items, that gorram Stamp Gnome has gone one step further with his thievery.

He's only gone and nicked me larynx!

A relief to all and sundry, all my vocal chords can emit is a guttural wheeze, more suited to chanting at esoteric rituals invoking ye olde ones whilst being subjected to the rites of cthonic irrigation. Or like that big fat black bloke in Live And Let Die.

"Your champagne, sir!"

Maybe a healthy diet can rectify it!

Prior to funerary travelature, I ordered one of them graze boxes. True to form, on my return, it had been slipped through the letterbox, and I tripped over it and grazed me knee.

Losing weight by the scraping off of bits of the outer layer of skin does seem a bit of a long haul to reduce the vast tonnage about the larditude and porkitude of my stomachey circumference!

Sim Salabin! Lets combine it with Xym's Salad Din(ner), for I have much to live for (such as you, my pretty blog reading goddess of beauty), instead of eating meself to death! For whilst in the sunny climes of Northern Engerlund, I discovered that my calculatory precision was out of whack. For rather than my demise being due on 1 March 2012, it was actually 2 March 2011!

So either I'm one of them reanimated brain munching zombified wanking dead, or I have cheated The Reaper!

He was probably mightily impressed (as most often are) by my mighty barnet (despite it being unkempt and wildly windblown) when we saw him on his Boxing Day holiday in Great Y'ha-Nthlei. 

It's nice when your bountiful boufant impresses even Death and thus grants you extended life. 

Shame I weren't in me shades, coz he'd've been so bowled over, he'd've granted me immortality!

Imagine that - me blogging bollocks forever! Perpetual perving at pretties...

...and unable to chat them up coz that gnomic git has me voice in a bag,
   

Who Juan's stool lit forever...

Immortality.

Apparently, it's a popular choice amongst Gormsters.

Clearly, they haven't thought about having to scrounge their benefits forever, otherwise they'll be really hungry.

Any besides, when the Sun burns the Earth up, they'll get all deaded anyways.

And if they did survive The Great Conflagration, it wouldn't be very pleasant being all burny and having to eat charred sand for tea, washed down with evaporated water.

Anyhoo, I saw a part of a documentary on the tellybox last night. It would seem that Sol is inhabited by giant dragons of fire from outer space , who sneak around in manbags before creeping up yer bum and burning yer innards whilst wearing you as a human suit as a disguise.. On the plus side, they do give you heat ray eyes like Cyclops.

So no immortality for me - I'm not being bumfunned by an flaming space dragon arseonist from outer space, just so they burglarize my body to zap people with my eyes!