But it's SNOWING!
Time to uproot all the paths and grass and bung in some more trees!
And make a Snowman!
Such I shame I can't go to the City.
Just have to go Innuit and fish in the ice instead!
After some roachy stampage.
Oh, the maintenance...
Thursday, 8 January 2009
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
Nice girls, not one with a defect...
In yet another terrorist attack, Al Quaeda have taken a murder of crows to the limit and genetically engineered a race of psychotic pigeons!
Taking a leaf out of Daphne Du Marier and Alf Hitchcock (famed for constantly lifting his reproductive organ), they've only gone and bread a race of super strength suicide fowl to swoop down and pick up western unbelievers, to be carried off to their hidden lair to feast upon infiden entrails.
Luckily, ole Arsehola Bin-Liner didn't have any Brits to train them on, so he had to use monitor lizards.
And, due to an Arabic-to-Pigeon-English translation error, the result was that the jyhaddi aeronauts just kept nicking pewter screens.
Unfortunately, this played into Arsehola's hands, and he set up a website so that gullible gormsters would log onto to a site to access their PC anywhere in the world, so he could pop in the back door and bring down Western Civilisation through some ecomonic credit crunchy virus. And indulge in a bit of Identitty Theft (nicking some birds name and turning his djebella into a dress).
But the fool forgot that without their pewter screen, they wouldn't be able to see the web.
And those that did have screens, didn't have keyboards, as the pigeons forgot about them.
Especially the policing ones, as they preferred guitars...
Taking a leaf out of Daphne Du Marier and Alf Hitchcock (famed for constantly lifting his reproductive organ), they've only gone and bread a race of super strength suicide fowl to swoop down and pick up western unbelievers, to be carried off to their hidden lair to feast upon infiden entrails.
Luckily, ole Arsehola Bin-Liner didn't have any Brits to train them on, so he had to use monitor lizards.
And, due to an Arabic-to-Pigeon-English translation error, the result was that the jyhaddi aeronauts just kept nicking pewter screens.
Unfortunately, this played into Arsehola's hands, and he set up a website so that gullible gormsters would log onto to a site to access their PC anywhere in the world, so he could pop in the back door and bring down Western Civilisation through some ecomonic credit crunchy virus. And indulge in a bit of Identitty Theft (nicking some birds name and turning his djebella into a dress).
But the fool forgot that without their pewter screen, they wouldn't be able to see the web.
And those that did have screens, didn't have keyboards, as the pigeons forgot about them.
Especially the policing ones, as they preferred guitars...
Monday, 5 January 2009
94.1...
94.1!
Crivens! That is not good AT ALL!!!
I's been given T minus 19
But I wants T minus 28.
Laugh.
We shall see what Maggie brings...
Crivens! That is not good AT ALL!!!
I's been given T minus 19
But I wants T minus 28.
Laugh.
We shall see what Maggie brings...
Sunday, 4 January 2009
Beaver patrol...
Well, you learn something new every day!
Well all know some people can't stay dead, and now aminals are at it!
As I had time off over Xmas, being a fat, sad, lonely git, I had to sit through {shudder} DAYTIME TELLY!
And apparently, next week, Jeremy Beadle is appearing on Dickinson's Real Deal...
...who I though died ages ago (Beadle, that is, not the orange faced mincefarmer), yet he's appearing on up-to-date telly shows like Elvis hiding in Priscilla's boudoir all these years!
And coz Sunday is the morst boring day in existence, I ended up seeing {huge shudder} Last Of The Summer Whine, where the majority of the cast have been pronounced dead previously!
And now, I hear of a beaver rampage in Devon!
Now, according to Sky News, Beavers became extinct in the 16th century, after hunters trapped them for fur. So how the hell can an 400+ year old extint aminal be on the prowl?
Now, the extinct beastie is often pictured as gnawing down trees, building dams, and serving up taters and trout to interdimensional travellers.
But secretly, in Devon, someone has built their own version of Jurassic Beaver Park, and managed to recreate 24 of the beasties.
Although, it seems they're more like velociraptors. And just like in the movie, there's been a shut-off of the electric fences, and one has escaped and on the prowl - stomping down trees like a bronto sore arse (or is it a diplody curse?).
Of course, this beast has to be brought down - otherwise we'll have man eating beavers on the prowl (and I'm not talking Chicago's or Mercy on a Saturday night, dance, I like the way you move, pretty baby), so they've set a honeytrap.
Now, I thought a honeytrap was for bears that live in 12 Achey-Breaky Wood, but it's apparently they've nicked and idea from Jurassic Park 2. Instead of baby scent, they're luring the behemoth beaver via a females scent.
So, a honeytrap is where they entrap the subject with the smell of a female beaver.
Like Colin Stagg.
Although I'd've thought they'd've used dough for him.
Buck their ideas up, Merli...
Well all know some people can't stay dead, and now aminals are at it!
As I had time off over Xmas, being a fat, sad, lonely git, I had to sit through {shudder} DAYTIME TELLY!
And apparently, next week, Jeremy Beadle is appearing on Dickinson's Real Deal...
...who I though died ages ago (Beadle, that is, not the orange faced mincefarmer), yet he's appearing on up-to-date telly shows like Elvis hiding in Priscilla's boudoir all these years!
And coz Sunday is the morst boring day in existence, I ended up seeing {huge shudder} Last Of The Summer Whine, where the majority of the cast have been pronounced dead previously!
And now, I hear of a beaver rampage in Devon!
Now, according to Sky News, Beavers became extinct in the 16th century, after hunters trapped them for fur. So how the hell can an 400+ year old extint aminal be on the prowl?
Now, the extinct beastie is often pictured as gnawing down trees, building dams, and serving up taters and trout to interdimensional travellers.
But secretly, in Devon, someone has built their own version of Jurassic Beaver Park, and managed to recreate 24 of the beasties.
Although, it seems they're more like velociraptors. And just like in the movie, there's been a shut-off of the electric fences, and one has escaped and on the prowl - stomping down trees like a bronto sore arse (or is it a diplody curse?).
Of course, this beast has to be brought down - otherwise we'll have man eating beavers on the prowl (and I'm not talking Chicago's or Mercy on a Saturday night, dance, I like the way you move, pretty baby), so they've set a honeytrap.
Now, I thought a honeytrap was for bears that live in 12 Achey-Breaky Wood, but it's apparently they've nicked and idea from Jurassic Park 2. Instead of baby scent, they're luring the behemoth beaver via a females scent.
So, a honeytrap is where they entrap the subject with the smell of a female beaver.
Like Colin Stagg.
Although I'd've thought they'd've used dough for him.
Buck their ideas up, Merli...
Saturday, 3 January 2009
Nip yer breasts, arrest by penis...
I'm not a girl
Not yet a woman
All I need is time
A moment that is mine
While I'm in between
I'm not a girl
Hah!Not yet a woman
All I need is time
A moment that is mine
While I'm in between
I'm not a girl
If Britney's Pears ain't a girl, she must be a boy.
And if he ain't yet a woman, then he must be a pre-op trannie!
I further assume, that if he's 'in between' then he's had the camel toe implanted, but not had his wanger and sack snipped off at that point.
Which makes him an He-She hermaphrodite Aphrodite when belting out "Oops! I did it again!" in tight red lycra, with 'his' nob sellotaped up his bum, like in Silence Of The Limbs.
But clearly, the final op was a great success, which explains why 'she' was so keen to keep flashing her brand new minge all over "most outrageous celebrity moments", before shaving her bonce to match it.
Or something...
Friday, 2 January 2009
Hit the North (and hit the arcades)...
Forget Ibiza. Forget the Ministry Of Sound. Stuff yer Astoria and bypass The Hacienda and pop down to that centre of musical excellence.
Wigan.
And not only that, just like Cromer and Great Y'ha-nthlei, it's got it's own pier (and you know what end-of-the-pier shows are like!).
Obviously, Lancastrian music won't sell very well, so they've had to rebrand it. No more Dance, Trance, House, Rave, Techno, Drum & Bass, and all that bollocks. By 'eck, it's "Bounce And Donk" now, our kid!
Bounce and donk? Clearly thoughts shift to fabric styled tumble dryer sheets, and the bopping on the bonce by Wiganite thugs. But no, this is the new name for lancastrian music.
Presumably, this music being being the vaguely-popping-up-and-down-on-the-spot sort of bounce 'dance' popularised by George Formby, with the 'donk' of the slap of some coal on a washboard.
Bounce and donk, my best flat cap!
Whippet! Whippet good!
Before t'cream sets aht too long...
Wigan.
And not only that, just like Cromer and Great Y'ha-nthlei, it's got it's own pier (and you know what end-of-the-pier shows are like!).
Obviously, Lancastrian music won't sell very well, so they've had to rebrand it. No more Dance, Trance, House, Rave, Techno, Drum & Bass, and all that bollocks. By 'eck, it's "Bounce And Donk" now, our kid!
Bounce and donk? Clearly thoughts shift to fabric styled tumble dryer sheets, and the bopping on the bonce by Wiganite thugs. But no, this is the new name for lancastrian music.
Presumably, this music being being the vaguely-popping-up-and-down-on-the-spot sort of bounce 'dance' popularised by George Formby, with the 'donk' of the slap of some coal on a washboard.
Bounce and donk, my best flat cap!
Whippet! Whippet good!
Before t'cream sets aht too long...
Thursday, 1 January 2009
Old K.D. Lang sign...
Should old aquaintace be forgot
and never brought to mind?
We'll drink a cup
of milky tea
For the sake of auld lang syne
Written by Robert Burns, host of The Krypton Factor, we're supposed to sing this at midnight whilst holding hands with people the wrong way round.and never brought to mind?
We'll drink a cup
of milky tea
For the sake of auld lang syne
Which goes to show how pissed The Scotch are when devising dances!
Shid ald akwentans bee firgot,
an nivir brocht ti mynd?
Shid ald akwentans bee firgot,
an ald lang syn?
CHORUS: Fir ald lang syn, ma deer,
fir ald lang syn,
Wil tak a cup o kyndnes yet,
fir ald lang syn.
An sheerly yil bee yur pynt-staup!
an sheerly al bee myn!
An will tak a cup o kyndnes yet,
fir ald lang syn.
an sheerly al bee myn!
An will tak a cup o kyndnes yet,
fir ald lang syn.
We twa hay rin aboot the braes,
an pood the gowans fyn;
Bit weev wandert monae a weery fet,
sin ald lang syn.
an pood the gowans fyn;
Bit weev wandert monae a weery fet,
sin ald lang syn.
* CHORUS *
We twa hay pedilt in the burn,
fray mornin sun til dyn;
But seas between us bred hay roard
sin ald lang syn.
fray mornin sun til dyn;
But seas between us bred hay roard
sin ald lang syn.
* CHORUS *
An thers a han, my trustee feer!
an gees a han o thyn!
And we'll tak a right gude-willie-waught,
fir ald lang syn.
an gees a han o thyn!
And we'll tak a right gude-willie-waught,
fir ald lang syn.
* CHORUS *
There's been a muhdohr in the street
Coz yeez spilt mah pynt
Mah purple curly whirly's heer
fir ald lang syn
Coz yeez spilt mah pynt
Mah purple curly whirly's heer
fir ald lang syn
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)