Daisy Dukes! Bikinis up top! Sunkist popcorn so hot...

..it'll melt yer Funny Feet, Mini-Milk, Fab and Knobbly Bobbly.

Or, as they call lollies in "The States", Songsmiths pukey cakeholes.

Anyhoo, the Kalifonya Gurlz is marryin' that Russel Brand. 'xcitin' innit!

So that makes her Katy Brand.

She looks so much different in her big ass show than when she's got creamy jugspurts going on in her poptastic videos.

It's all very well having trifley titties, gorging on melted lactatory desserts, and having a BBC3 show about your big ass, but don't come lumbering to me when Russell decides to boff Jane Goldman's daughter and brag about it on Wossies 1571.

[ERRATA] YESTERDAYS TALES OF ATTEMPTED MOTION FAILURE SHOULD, HAVE COURSE, NE'ER REFERRED TO WIDDERSHINS, FOR WIDDERSHINS PROVIDES MUCH EASE OF MOVEMENT. ONCE SHOULD, NATURALLY, HAVE REFERRED TO WINNALOT FLATS AND SPACE MONSTER AMBLING ABOUT THE CLOCKFACE, BUT, ALAS, ONLY LATER DO WE SEE THE ERROR OF OUR WHEYS.

Can I make it any more obvious...

Antipodean plughole reversal is most difficult in a northern hemisphere.

But neither is possible when not facing forth.

Either the gravity well is drawing the vast planetoid weigh of of gothboys and preventing rotational wheelage, or it is impossible.

I paid close attention to the methodology of the overshoulder slidings - wriggle wriggle wriggle Daniel Day Lewis.

No. Stationary Xym be the whore daves of the eve whilst overfrontaged becamelled Torville tarts soar past with mane strewn visage.

Nae widdershins nor F.E.A.R. for me!
   

Free love?... Anyone?...

In America, you can be insured against space monsters probing up yer bum. In fact, you can can get insurance for virtually anything! And the thought must be... 

...is there anything you can't be insured for? 

Well, yes there is, actually! The one thing that insurers would not touch is eternal infernal Hellfire insurance. 

I would assume that although anal probeage by ET is quite uncommon, the rectal insertion of flaming pichforks is quite a popular pastime. 

Not to mention the æons of torment listening to Dante Aguilera and the Go-Compare man via an iPod welded to the lugholes. 

Also, as everyone knows, all the lawyers are cast into the furthermost nether-regions of The Pit, so although the insurers could use them to wriggle out of paying out, the eternally damned would plague insurers by hiring dæmonic LucifersLawyersPitch4ku (or, more like Morningstar-Says-4k-u). 

I'm surprised insurers don't in Paradise insurance, as even if The Forgiven get whipped in the face and scarred by the snapping of a defective harpstring or break a limb toppling off a cloud, God will forgive and heal everything in Elyzian bliss. And because it's in heaven, everything's an act of God, so insurers never have to pay out! 

I think I'll pitch that to Dragon's Den - all the premiums and none of the payout! Risk free! Even that Deborah Cave-Troll trout would have to invest in that! 

Of course, I'd have to get by The lovechild of Gollum and Dobby the house-elf to gain access to the Cave Troll and the smarmy Smaugsters. 

Let me tell them where I'M at...
   

Providing it's with dignity...

You may recall my return to blogging with a post on the nature of dear little white haired old grandmothers guzzling garbaged felines.

Now, there was much furore over this event. But everyone seems strangely silent on previous matters of such abuse! Where were these complainants when Hannah Barbara dumped Top Cat in a bin and filmed it in homage to Sgt Bilko?

Once again, it's mob rule for miserable old pussy hatin' harridans, and another for beloved animated classics.

It's about time we took Big Bird to task as well, for keeping Oscar The Grouch imprisioned in the Open Sesame Street Garbage bins. Although, to be fair, he isn't starved or degydrated, due to Cookie Monster feeding him biscuits, and Snuffleupagus hosing him down with water from his mammoth trunk. Nor is he a cat. But don't Muppets deserve dignity too?

Free the fun-furred one, says I, and de-feather Big Bird and serve him up to Bert and Ernie for tea.
    

Your Tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker...

Her mammary lives on.

After marrying Juan "Shit Does Plenty", Ryvita was supported by "desk cam is a dos" (presumably the pre-Windows based operating system with table based soul capturing machinery). 

This 1950s "Steampunk" webcammery was operated by so-called "Shirtless ones", shirtless due to the hot Argentine weather (or, more likely, for norkal perusal for certain Credit Card Payments over their steamy punk websites).

A tradition which still holds firm today (especially by the peruser).

So, in modern times, imprisioned topless tealeafs breaks out of a maxumin security prision. Now, if this was Hamble, Faeces, Be a Maracas and "Dandy Lion" Burdock, they would have embarked on mercenary escapades whilst fleeing The Colonels (Mouthdream, James Corden and Single Father). 

But not these chaps.

They evaded justice by the hollowing out of Shorn and Timmy, donning their fleecey suits and blending in with Ovis Aries* and living among the Artiodactyla so successfully that they fool even the most experenced practisers of "Sheep Husbandry" in their wellies at night.

Jason and his Argos Night became quite successful. But then, he was greek, so that kind of thing is right up their back alley.  

"Hey Dolly! You sure got a purty mouth. Sque... um... Baa, Sheepy! Don't cry for me, Argy Bargy! Cry fo' yo' sore ass"

Still, at least we gave them Argies what for. Maggie Thatcher (MILF's Snatch Hair) duffed 'em up and we got back the Peter Falk Lands. Hoorah! Columbo for all!

Or Cobumbo, for those encased in muttonflesh, away from the prying eyes of justice.

* 'E WERE A GRAND BAKER, OUR DAD. WHOLEMEAL LAMB SANDWICHES, OFTEN WITH DISGUISED LONG PIG.
     

Bob Marley and the Oneiromancers...

OK, so he claimed that in the future, it would be all metal in the last human city - but he clearly got one thing wrong.

His ganja filled future fugue featured Aslan.

In fact, the only aminals appear to be humans (and even in the tabletured XL spreadsheet, there are only great fat pigeons and crows).

These rastamen should desist from mashing-up Christian Indoctrination Material and Squidward Worldwide Domination....

UNLESS...

He's confusing Ripleyesque exoskellingtons with Savannah hunting Predators.

Which would explain his dreads at least!
   

Affair weld two arms....

Post "Workshed"!

No-one is laughing now, for BOTH appendages are required to operate groovy deforestation equipment.

Which is a bit of a moot point anyhoo, as palm feastage by deceased GFs resulting in much cranial crockery crashing has a rather more urgent timeline when you have to wait for a 3-5 hour chargement.

But you DO get 40 mins of total bodily dismemberment to lay about the foliage with...

...alas, 40mins is insufficient topiary time, and I'm left with a partially trimmed front bush.

Let's just hope that the remaining tendrils of terror don't rise up in rapey revenge - I don't fancy coming home to find that passing ladies have been ensnared by vag seeking vines and are all entwined in the shrubbery with the grapevine gropeage whilst whipping wisteria branches beat their bare bots.

Ooooh! My very own ladygarden 13! I'll have to dig a slight hole for 'em to drop into at the end of their Ride For A Ride...