Sunday, August 31, 2003
Signs and wandersMake me over in the clover
This Brooklyn based photoblog I found to be very enjoyable indeedy.
Quirky, esoteric, an eye for the unexpected image all in a New York state of mind - the man has talent and I'll be back.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:40 AM
Saturday, August 30, 2003
So far the typeface, background, colour of typeface, paragraph stucture, colour of comments box and my dancing persona have all been deemed in need of removal / change. As far as I can see that leaves just the blog title - though I can see that going for a burton any minute. Still I suppose that's what happens when you ask for suggestions - people actually make them and then you get all twitchy and defensive like they have walked into your ensuite bondage chamber and criticised the colour of the leather or summat. Speaking purely hypothetically here of course as ensuite bondage chambers are not my thang I hasten to assure you dear reader - most definitely.A few of my favourite things - 10 off
I'm feeling it's important to point out that BnJ has been listed grade II on the register of blogs in need of aesthetic protection and as such cannot be altered willy nilly. Any alterations have to be done sympathetically and in keeping with the structure and style of the blog. UPVC cannot be used nor can synthetic materials of any kind be employed - so those pictures of Elton John's syrup are definitely never going to appear here. Likewise only organic compost can be used to power the server upon which BnJ resides and this only from humanely treated plants that gave their lives willingly in the cause of free speech and general amusement.
So keep those makeover suggestions coming. I'll put my ego on hold and then sit back and absorp the multi-faceted frenzy of aethetic cogitations whilst I contemplate my next move. Is it to be Verdana or Arial? #FFFFFF or #FF4040? 8 point or 10? contrast or harmony?...so many options...so many people to please. Anyone know David Hockney's phone number?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 3:46 AM
Friday, August 29, 2003
Le Croissant du jour
Fi n chi
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:51 PM
Thursday, August 28, 2003
The recent theft of a Leonardo painting from a Scottish Castle brings out the sharp contrast in the extremes of human motivation and perception. 'Pearls before swine' is a nice epigram for this. On the one hand there's an object which is among the most prized human creations - revered as an example of beauty from the hand of an icon of western art. So prized that people are prepared to pay huge amounts of money to 'own' it. On the other hand are the machinations of thieving lowlife who know enough about the monetary pull of the object that they steal it and risk it's damage or destruction. There's a poetic angle to this. Reminds me of The Thomas Crown Affair - was a nice exposition of the exquisite tension and base motivations at work. The Pierce Brosnan character, I would say though, is pretty untypical of your average art thief. Multi millionaire tycoons with Caribbean hideaways and luscious bimbettes pursuant do not generally feel the need to resort to this sort of thing.
When you look at the painting that was stolen I think that the serenity of the image is very arresting. Leonardo was highly skilled in producing works with this power. His style is almost synonomous with the idealism of beauty and peace in renaissance art. There are several images in the collection of the National Gallery in London that have similar qualities. Most celebrated is the 'Leonardo Cartoon' - a detail of which is above [ I'm living dangerously reproducing this but what good would a piece about art be without images eh? - and the thrill of art theft is upon me - hence the heavy linkage to assuage any vexatious copyright enforcement from the NG...I hope (quiver) ] The Cartoon was damaged some years ago by a disturbed individual who fired a pistol at it. Now restored, it is displayed in a softly lit shrine behind bullet proof glass and thousands pass through to pay homage every year. I like to go and spend some time in there every now and again and just study the lightness and mastery of the lines, the expert composition, the earthiness of the ochre coloured lines against the cream parchment give the drawing an ethereal quality that takes you out of your everyday plane to a more harmonious and contented state [ who needs drugs man? ]. More than anything the gentle beauty, the expressions, connect in some way with your soul. Leornardo knew what he was doing - the castle raiders don't.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:55 PM
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
" and now you really gotta burn it up, and make another fly by night
get a run for your money, and take a chance
and it'll turn out right
and when you see how its gotta be, you're making your mind up."
How crap are these lyrics?
The whole Bucks Fizz scenario is deeply disturbing.
Robert Alan Gubby ('Bobby G' to afficionados) is the only remaining original member of the funky combo that won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1981. Bobby Baby, who is now looking a tad elderly beside his fellow Fizzers - (all second or third generation cloned replacements) - has a penchant for white outfits and permatan.
"David Van Day's Bucks Fizz Show" - a rival Bucks Fizz outfit featuring David Burger Van Day also includes a fair degree of orange tinted saggy flesh. Why do they do this to themselves?
Anyway, 'where is this leading?', I hear you groan. Well today has been a day full of indecision. Nothing gets to me more than people who make a big song and dance about having their own way. Insisiting that things are arranged according to their exact requirements and then - just as you are about to fullfil their requirements they change their mind about what is what they had insisted on in the first place. What was so crucially important now becomes the thing they least want. This tends to really annoy me - especially when these people attempt to mask their pathetic indecision by trying to suggest that I got their requirements wrong or somehow misunderstood the psychic messages they were sending me that strangely contradicted completely the written specification they had signed as being what they wanted. Why can't people make their minds up and then stick to it? I am in danger of alienating large sections of my readership here but I am finding that there is a definite sex differentiation when it comes to changing minds - guess which group does it more often - men or women? This makes me think that the whole 'choose a course and stick to it' thing is a male construct aimed at organising the world in a structured and controlled way. Changing the ground rules is far too subtle for most men. If it involves ripping off items of clothing though that's another matter entirely.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:27 PM
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
...more juicy bits tomorrow when I can keep my eyelids openFarewell 192!
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:31 PM
Those new directory enquiry services - drD's cut out n keep guide
Monday, August 25, 2003
With the demise of 192 a range of new services become available to greatly improve the choices and service available to you the victim. Choosing the right directory enquiry service is a simple matter. You simply need to consider a few basic considerations before considering which choice of new service to use. This handy guide should make that process even easier - why not cut it out and evostik it to your thigh?
118 999 - Use this number when you need your number in a hurry - charged at £34 a second - we guarantee to answer your call within 1 second [ subject to availability and traffic conditions on the ringroad ] and to wear a green uniform when doing so.
118 118 118 118 118 118 etc etc - Great for when you can't remember the second set of digits - just dial once and press the redial button ever after. If you can't remember the first set of digits think of '11' ie a man with spindly legs - Michael Barrymore, for example, then add a fat lady such as er Rosanne Barr before the plastic surgery and then you have 118 - easy!
118 666 - A useful service for Satanists and others with evil intent. Charged at $6.66 per minute. All calls routed to our Transylvanian callcentre.
118 121 - We will not only find your number but connect you to a serious prospect of marriage [ press 1 after the tone ] or casual sex [ press #*! ]
0800 118 - This is a free number [ a call queuing system is in operation between 7am and 6.59am - queue charged at 5p per second ]
118 100 - Ask the operator to look up a number in her phonebook - phone between 10am and 3pm and ask for Phyllis - make her an offer.
118 747 - Calls may be kept in a holding pattern over west London.
118 222 - Have your number dialled by an eastern european ballerina.
118 101 - Get the number you most fear.
118 mc2 - Directory enquiries for the very clever.
192 - Forget it - far too simple transparent and cheap.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:12 PM
Sunday, August 24, 2003
Yesterday I was at Gatwick Airport. Like most of the airports in this country it is a sad reflection on our ability to showcase our abilities in architecture and to provide a fitting environment to greet people who visit the country. Essentially a utilitarian shed with a tacky shopping mall elbowed in to every available space; the airport has the usual mass of confusing yellow signage - most of it arrogantly in English only, inaudible public address anouncements all of them in English only and thousands of people moving hither and thither - most of them not English or British. As I had some time to kill I decided to carry out a little retail research by buying a newspaper - half of which was missing but they still insisted on charging me the full price claiming that the saturday supplements were 'free extras' - only they had none left. [ yeah right ] I bought an expensive coffee - served by Italians for that authentic Italo-Sussex experience - Matteo was very kind, offering to sprinkle chocolate on it - all for £2.75. I then went to have a look at the Virgin Music store - offering "2 CDs for £20" like this is some kind of bargain summer offer. Is it just me or does Fifty Cent look like a well cured side of smoked bacon on his album cover? After shelling out £5.60 for an hour's parking I left this 'gateway to Britain' several pounds lighter but not before inhaling deeply the stale urine stench in the car park stairway - do they use a special paint for these places that stinks of piss or is there some kind of secret subculture whose role it is to seek out freshly built stairways and scent mark them to ward off other passing incontinents from their territory? Kuala Lumpur has a micro rainforest in it's airport. Singapore has huge expanses of walkways lounges and shops. Hong Kong has a stunning 21st Century Norman Foster building on a man made island. We have piss soaked carparks and tacky rip off shops. That'd be right.(at least) Five interesting motorway factettes
Bat burger anyone? Would you like fries with that?
Encore du vin
No more excuses - it's time to crack open the red wine - you need those polyphenols - they're very good for you - enjoy.
I'm currently going through a Shiraz phase myself.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:56 PM
Saturday, August 23, 2003
1. The M1, Britain's first major motorway was opened on 2nd November 1959 by then Minister for Transport Ernest Marples. The ceremony took place at Slip End, Toddington. When traffic waiting at the junction to be among the first to travel on the M1 hurtled down the slip road Marples exclaimed. "My God, what have I started!" My God indeed. Some people were very pleased when the motorway opened.
2. 27 years later the M25, London's orbital motorway was opened by a bossy woman with a handbag. The concept of an orbital road around the capital had been discussed since the Royal Commission on London Traffic in 1905.
3. The 70 mph speed limit on motorways was introduced in 1965. Prior to this people drove at whatever speed they fancied. Not much has changed then.
4. The highest motorway in Britain is to be found on the Lancashire section of the M62 which reaches an elevation 1220 feet close to the county boundary. The M62 is a spectacular route in places with some beatifully elegant bridges. Near Rishworth in West Yorkshire the east and westbound carriageways diverge around a small farm which now lies surrounded by thundering vehicles night and day - a poetic testimony to one man's protest during the motorway planning when he refused to sell out and move.
5. The A64(M), part of the Leeds Inner Ring Motorway, is arguably Britain's shortest motorway at 550 metres in length. The longest motorway is the M6 at 362km.
Motorway geek heaven
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:21 PM
Friday, August 22, 2003
1. Use your indicator to make other drivers aware of your intentions -
remember: mirror > signal > manouevre not
manouevre > mirror > obscene hand gesture
2. When leaving the motorway get into the left lane in good time - not 15 seconds after you've overtaken a Volvo in the OVERTAKING lane.
3. Remember Volvos are generally driven by over 45s who lack the confidence for racy behaviour. Their natural habitat is the centre lane, they probably have symmetrically arranged ornaments above their fireplace and feel the urge to vote Liberal Democrat. This is reality so deal with it - these people need to be undertaken if there is a flash tosser in the OVERTAKING lane.
4. Take regular breaks and if you are thinking of stopping at a service station come with plenty of cash and a cast iron stomach. This book - now out of print - seemed a great way to avoid the unWelcome Break.
5. Imagine you are being followed by you. Would you feel threatened / annoyed / intimidated / in danger?
If any of these change the way you drive.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:36 PM
Thursday, August 21, 2003
5 More things not to do on the motorway
1. Walk between towns on the hard shoulder to 'save time'. (seen in 1993 on the M4).
2. Go cycling on Sunday afternoon with your wife on folding bikes on the hard shoulder. (seen in 1990 on the M25)
3. Park in the OVERTAKING lane whilst it is coned off and being resurfaced - because your sun roof has fallen off a mile back and you want to walk back and retrieve it. (seen in 2003 on the M1)
4. Abseil over the side of a motorway bridge whilst bolting new railings onto the parapet. (seen in 2003 on the M1 - OK someone has to do it I suppose)
5. Tow a caravan - ever - anywhere. What's wrong with hotels for gawds sake and if you want a mobile toilet buy a portapotty or a motorised commode. (seen everywhere at all times but particularly on Friday nights at Bank holiday weekends when I want to get home) (plus Margaret Beckett owns one and do you really want to be like her?)
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 2:01 PM
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
1. Drive at 48.8mph in the centre lane - always and unceasingly in perpetuity - ie take ownership of said lane and budge not from it on any account.
2. Propel your articulated truck, without indicating, at speed from the centre lane across the inside lane onto the hard shoulder and back again whilst in my immediate vicinity.
3. Lean your elbow on the windowsill of your SLK whilst you drive in the OVERTAKING lane at 90mph+, talking into your mobile phone.
4. A variation on manouevre no3 involving joining the motorway from a slip road and crossing all three lanes within 10 seconds.
5. Drive your motorbike across the hard shoulder to undertake me when joining the motorway from a slip road - unless you want to be the next customer of the undertaker.
In general: try not to be a total tosser when you get in your car / on your bike.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:11 PM
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
For some reason today this story reminded me of the famous Headington Shark - who knows why. I wondered what had become of the beast - which hit the headlines in 1986. I remember at the time thinking how great it was. So I dug around and came across this rather neat summary of the story and apparently it is still there! So I'm planning to go and have a look when the opportunity arises. Photos may well be taken.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:52 PM
Monday, August 18, 2003
I'm knackered again - you'll have to forgive the scant postings in the next few days as I'm running around like a headless chicken on acid from dawn to dusk. Here's a lazy man's post which is a round up of some gems I've seen recently.When I were a lad
This is good - I may well invent my own acronyms for describing my clients. I liked UBI (Unexplained Beer Injury) a lot.
This I enjoyed muchly - pushed my buttons; history, London, architecture, design, Eastenders, great writing - what more could you ask?
This got me going - as you can see from the comment I left.
How true - how bluetealeaf.
This was inspirational after a day in which a £50k order I have been dealing with has not been backed up with the customer service I was promised - tomorrow they will be getting a little BW style therapy from me.
I'm honoured - thanks to Alan.
Finally here's a piccy I lurve. It once made me cry.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:01 PM
Sunday, August 17, 2003
When I was growing up adults would offer plenty of unsolicited advice. This would often be prefixed with something along the lines of, "When I was your age...". I'm sure you're familiar with this one either as a giver or a receiver. It's almost as if it's programmed into us that we try to pass on the benefit of our experience. Indeed a large part of our GNP is spent on it - I think they call it education. I've often thought that so much human energy and potential is wasted learning the same things and making the same mistakes that have been made by countless others before. Setting aside the arguments about curriculum and what young people are compelled to 'learn'. We seem to come hardwired with an inherent sense of danger when it comes to our physical safety. A classic experiment showed that nothing on earth, for example will get a baby to crawl over a glass covered pit. This discussion of 'Animal Instinctual Passions in the Primitive Brain' reveals that survival is second only to food as a primary instinct in newborns. The discussion goes on to suggest that :
"Our dearly held feelings and emotions – the same feelings witnessed in animals, are the cause of all the malice and sorrow, violence and despair, and we come pre-wired, at birth, to be animal at heart."
This is a bit depressing because it seems to imply that we are doomed as a species to go on repeating the same patterns. I suspect, though, that this cycle is benefical in evolutionary terms because each generation adapts anew to it's environment. Advances in knowledge and experience, where they are made, are tried and tested before being adopted wholesale by the population. What's interesting to me is that we have moved beyond this into risk taking with emerging technologies. Nobody really knows what the long term effects of plastic food wrappings, mobile phone use, MRI scanning, laser correction of shortsightedness are - to name but four examples. It seems we are prepared to conduct vast experiments on ourselves for short term gain. This is quite an interesting aspect of behaviour - I suppose less sophisticated activities like smoking and drinking might be seen in the same way - altough the risks here are better known - nonetheless we live with the risk. We are risk takers by nature I suppose. Anyway, following this line of thought and finding that the 2000 film, Frequency is being shown again on BBC1 tonight I began to think about what we could tell future generations that would really help them. I wondered too if we will ever find a way for a more efficient transmission of knowledge. Are we doomed for ever to spend a large part of our early lives being drilled, coerced and conditioned into what society deems is important for us to know and understand? Could our bodies and brains cope with 'instant on'? Imagine, you have a mind implant shortly after birth which your growing brain can access. All of your emerging desires, thoughts and quest for knowledge can be satisfied by the data in the implant. Your mental progress is thereby accelerated. No need for clumsy experiments in eating lego bricks or worms - you will know that they are 'not food' - straight onto advanced calculus for you baby. Only one problem I can see with this idea: We'd need to find a way to accelerate physical development too. I could see it all getting a bit messy - 2 year olds hitting puberty and knowing everything.
Perhaps the old way is best after all.
Are ladybirds with white spots and yellow wings dangerous - and why do they try to fly up your nose?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:08 PM
Saturday, August 16, 2003
My First is in lift but not in shift
My Second is in urge but not in glove
My Third is in age but not in old
My Fourth is in dog but not in cat
My Fifth is in saint but not in mild
My Sixth is in lagged but not in foam
My Seventh is in smell but not in bad
My Eighth is in french and also in german
My Ninth is in load and also in moan
My Tenth is in face but not in arm
My Eleventh is in sick but not in film
I can be very useful on a long journey
You read it here first
He wants to take over Songs of Praise - now there's a surprise...
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:21 PM
Friday, August 15, 2003
BnJ taking a well earned break today - back tomorrow ;)
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:12 PM
Thursday, August 14, 2003
Fact: The fees at Eton College last year were £19,098 per year.
Fact: The average UK wage last year was £24000.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:47 PM
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
I'm very partial to E102. I was reminded of this by BW's comment on yesterday's post. Strangely enough E102 is the same colour as my juicy background and also the same colour as the spray on cheese - from yesterday's non stylish snackette. E102 is one of the more controversial 'E's because it's linked with a number of side effects; migraine, blurred vision, itching, rhinitis to name but three.
The most interesting side effects are:
purple skin patches
hyperactive behavioural disorders
I'm thinking that purple skin patches could be a good look for me - no hair and purple skin patches; if I ate plenty of lard for a few months I could reinvent myself as a Mr Blobby wannabe or tribute artiste. This might allow me to earn enough money to escape from my capitalist enslavement and follow my whims. My life could become my blog - writ large. If I woke up one day and fancied doing a bit of nude rambling - [ You would be amazed at the number of bignjuicy hits have been from folks curious about nude rambling - there is such an untapped market here - I could buy Devon and turn it into a sanctuary for compulsive disrobers..] - I could. Another day it might be wallpapering farm animals. My life could be so different. If only I could free myself from my capitalist ideals and NHS indoctrination long enough to make it so. I'm wondering too if those snack a jacks I inhaled as a boy (when I was even more gullible than I am now) have lead to my Dill the Dog hyperactive persona. Not that this is much in evidence at the moment. There'll come a time though when through careful use of E102 - [ look I can handle it OK? recreational use only ] - I will achieve more than I ever thought possible. This will not, though, be in Norway or Austria where said additive is banned. I've managed to ascertain that the Norwegian for "I need an E102 fix mate - have you got any snack a jacks" is:
Jeg trenger en E102 reparerer make - har De fått noe matbit en jekker - so that should come in handy when they release me into the community.
Interesting item flagged up for tonight's Newsnight
"Can Conservatism be reduced to a series of psychological reflexes. Researchers have found that Conservatives typically are dogmatic, intolerant of ambiguity with beliefs rooted in fear and aggression. The research was funded by the US government in Washington, which of course is led by..."
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:41 PM
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
The heat is taking it out of me
I'm driving a hundred miles a day
Multi tasking with a vengeance
And still no sign of a holiday for several months
Don't you feel sorry for me?
I'm not a Porta-Potty Cleaner
or a peepshow cleaner
or a slaughterhouse processor
or a burnt potato crisp picker
or a gay bar cleaner
or a railway human remains removal specialist
or a road hump designer
it could be worse
drD's non stylish snackettes: 1
Snack a jacks cheese flavour - powdered cheese style orange dust sprayed onto recycled polystyrene ceiling tile circles - yummy. Less than one nanogram of fat per tonne - try spreading with beef dripping for a low cost emetic
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:46 PM
Monday, August 11, 2003
Simon's recent postings strike a chord with me. Yesterday I was going on about how resilient we are physically as a species. The flip side is that we are not always so resilient emotionally. Love him or hate him Sting has something in the lyrics of his song, 'How fragile we are'. Human beings do things to themselves mentally that don't always seem to make sense and I believe a great deal of suffering originates in our perceptions and mis-perceptions of 'reality'. A few people around me at the moment are going through life changing times and I've been struck and surprised by their reactions to very distessing situations. When faced with crises, loss and grief a different side of people seems to emerge - one that is often hidden in our tight lipped buttoned down society. The whole 'Jerry Springer' syndrome of announcing your darkest secrets on national TV seems somehow to meet a need that many of us have to express our inner selves publicly - it's interesting that these sort of shows are often derided and the people on them seen as silly, weak or foolish. Interesting too that there are such healthy audiences for the same shows - so there are obviously echoes of experience within the audience. When faced with tough times I find myself reacting instinctively; to try and understand what's happening, to make sense of it and fit it within my 'meaning structures' and thereby seek to establish some control over what's happening. If I'm able to relate it in some way to something that's happened previously then it somehow seems more manageable. I think grief has elements of this. Loss is painful - babies know this from an early stage and nothing really changes as we get older - it still hurts like hell and can be all consuming. Simon is right - loss and grief are very personal experiences. I once heard George Michael speaking about the loss of his mother. So profound was his sense of loss and so changed did he feel by it that he spoke of the world being divided into those who have experienced the loss of someone close and those who haven't. Life sometimes appears to stand still; we construct regular routines around this notion but I think these are illusory - once again a control system so that we can cope with 'everyday life' and other people can cope with us. I'm interested as to how you break out of this. How you integrate the inevitable loss of others and your own mortality into a healthy living existence. The ripples of September 11th are still being felt - perhaps this polarised, most publicly, the paradox at the heart of our existence as people. Our lives our hopes our dreams can all vanish in an instant - tomorrow may be too late. Dramatic but true.Cosmic relief
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:56 PM
Sunday, August 10, 2003
As I type, an angry thunderstorm is rolling across the skies of Bignjuicyville and the rain is lashing down onto the scorched pavements; now gently steaming. Nature abhors excess and just as we were all getting to the point of tetchy neighbourcidal tendencies down came the rain. Thankyou God. I have just returned from the garden where I desported myself as nature intended and have been well and truly showered - who cares what the neighbours think - can you be arrested for in-house nudity? If the police come knocking I'll suggest in the subtlest of terms that the heat may have caused Mrs Twitchcurtain next door to hallucinate - 'I wouldn't dream of exposing myself to such a woman officer - she sucks her teeth you know'. About 5 years ago I went to Darwin during a trip round Australia. I spent a week there in what they call the dry season [ Guess what the other one is called? ] That was the hottest place I have ever been in my life so far. Every night was a sweat bath. I was staying at the local YMCA which consisted of glass fronted concrete cells leading off an open concrete balcony - these were north facing [ ie bleedin hot ] Every day involved lots of slow preplanned movements optimised so that only essential activity was undertaken. The pace of life was slower and nobody really got too excited about anything - not having the energy. After a week I had begun to adapt and the locals told me that you did get used to it after a while and your body just functioned fine. Human physiology is very resilient and adaptable - far more than we credit. We all have inner physical and mental resources bequeathed by millennia of adaptation and evolution. We are equipped to deal with all sorts of conditions and can survive in most of earth's environments. Granted we do seem to experience most of them in the space of a few months in the UK - maybe that's one of the reasons we used to have an empire. You'd never think that though, listening to some of the folks round here: "It's too hot - this can't be right", "I can't cope with this any more" etc etc - all in whingerama surround sound. DrD say's, 'getta grip gripers - grit your gizzards and geddonwithit'.
drD's stylish snackettes: 4
Peanut butter and marmite (or vegemite) fingers - yummy.
[ Not very stylish - granted ]
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:48 AM
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Wagwaan dudes! such a heavy day - safe for sure.
Saw this groovy survey earlier - what a phat thang. I was stroked when I knew I could understand the googleygook the kids are coming out with. Wicked. Now know chilly wax aint a hot thing - doh! no it's a cool thing for sure. So hot here right now - all I'm wearing is my bling - chilling with a beer - respect! It's nang for sure. Heavy bling too - I'm minted - kerching!
Anyway dudes - later - whatever.
History in the making - our man at the scene.
drD's stylish snackettes: 3
Toasted pine nuts. Good for veggies who crave bacon ;)
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:20 AM
Friday, August 08, 2003
Pictured are our mystery duo - yes it's Kylie and Jason - as we used to know and lurve them.
Jason used to play Scott Robinson in the aussie soap, Neighbours. He became a teen heartthrob, got it together with Kylie (before she had the raunch implant from Mr Hutchence) had several poptastic chart hits under the tutelage of Mr Pete Waterman and went on to prove in court that he was not gay before landing the title role of Joseph in Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical which meant he got to dress up in a lovely multicoloured number. This was followed a while later by a starring role in the Rocky Horror Show in which he played Frank-N-Furter, a transvestite from the planet Transexual in the galaxy of Transylvania who is trying to create the perfect man. The character wears variously kinky ensembles involving a lot of PVC. Jason developed a well publicised drugs problem, lost his hair and got married - allegedly he is now v.happy.
Kylie lost the toothy tomboy image she had as Charlene Robinson in Neigbours and went on to have the most famous arse in the Western Hemisphere. This had it's greatest exposure to date at the end of the 2000 Sydney Olympics when she did her Abba tribute and was seen by a global audience of millions. Scott and Charlene are still living happily in Brisbane, along with most of the other ex cast members apart from Mrs Mangel and Bouncer who both carked it. Scott and Charlene's wedding remains one of the cheesiest ever epsodes of Neighbours. So cheesy it has had to be locked away in a cheese proof bunker at the BBC for fear that it will stink out the rest of the vault.
Well done to Simon and Birdman for correctly identifying K&J. Both of you can have a large format copy of this picture to print out display and worship - just let me know. Thanks to all the others who had a go.
drD's stylish snackettes: 2
Strips of red and green capsicum drizzled with lemon olive oil. Choice.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:01 AM
Thursday, August 07, 2003
1. Do as little as possible of everything.
2. Avoid contact with large and vexatious people.
3. Run cold water over your wrists for a few minutes - lovely.
4. Shave your head - but wear a hat outside.
5. Drink cooling arctic strawberry drinks from the BP garage.
6. Remove all your clothes when indoors and open all the windows - lovely.
7. Stay away from the windows when indoors - passing animals are easily frightened.
8. Don't whinge about the heat - you've waited for this - it'll be freezing soon enough - enjoy it while it lasts.
9. This one just in from Australia where it gets f.hot: Use a spray mister to spray your bedsheets at night.
10. Wear deodorant and lots of it - especially if you travel on public transport - no - that's not enough - keep spraying.
drD's stylish snackettes: 1
Sainsburys smoked almonds - very tasty with summer drinks on the terrace
whos is he?
It was once rumoured that he liked lemon juice.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 1:03 AM
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Need I ask - well if you are in the UK my guess is that you are feeling very hot. Unless of course you're reading this inside an air conditioned room or vehicle - if the latter - please concentrate on your driving; you may like to pull over to finish reading so as not to endanger your safety or that of others. You may, too, be reading from within a walk-in fridge or freezer - I've not yet become aware of any readers who live or work in such conditions but please let me know if you do. I'm very interested to know how Bignjuicy goes down at low temperatures. Well, enough of the preamble - you can tell the heat has affected my brain - I'm even more incoherent than normal - what was that I was going to say? Oh yes I was going to give you my top 10 tips for top temperature times - such as now in my blogchamber which is full of heat emitting equipment, faces due south and has a large unshielded window. Truly a more armpit unfriendly environment could not have been designed - even if a certain poncy long haired pseud had had anything to do with it. Anyway enough rambling - well almost enough do you think? - a bit more perhaps before showtime? Apparently nude rambling is taking off in a big way in certain parts - I noticed a Daily Scum headline when I was round at the BP garage earlier buying a cooling 'Arctic Strawberry' drink. Now correct me if I'm wrong and I know planetary warming is thought to be occurring - (as if we needed to be told that at the moment) - but strawberries do not yet grow in the Arctic and even if they did I'm not sure that such a rare and exotic fruit would be harvested and turned into cooling drinks to be sold at BP garages do you? No they would be airlifted in delicate temperature controlled conditions to selected venues such as La Gavroche, Jamie Oliver's underpants, Lloyd Grossman's B&B down in Catford etc etc - so that they could be lovingly nurtured to a higher plane of existence through subtle master-culinary interventions before being scoffed by large people with too much money - yes that's what would happen surely. So, yes, nude rambling - I quite fancy that: walking through a shady woodland path as nature intended gathering Fruits of the Forest that I could sell to BP. My guess is that there would be no fruits to be had anyway because given the industrial quanitities that must be required to flavour all of the items available in this particular variant (ie Fruits of the Forest) - there must be none left for simple souls such as I out for a casual, impromptu nude ramble whilst trying to avoid the attentions of Daily Scum reporters after a quick cheap front page scoop to be sold in BP garages to passing cooling drink purchasers. That's called collateral marketing I think - you sell people stuff that they didn't come into buy by tapping into their lifestyle vibes. So people coming in for a cooling Arctic Strawberry drink are likely to be the sort who also might enjoy Fruits of the Forest flavoured items. These people are more than likely to long, in hot weather, to actually gather those fruits themselves, whilst rambling naked through said forest. Given the propensity for:
a: Interest in Fruits of the Forest flavourings
b: Nude rambling
These individuals are highly likely to be interested in 'Nude Rambling' banner headline stories when printed on the front page of the Daily Scum. So there we have it.
I'm too hot to do the top 10 now - can you come back tommorow?
I need to go and lie down in a walk in freezer with ice cubes in my pants and Anne Widdecombe on the telly.
who are they?
The mystery duo are partly pictured here here here here here and here
She was born in 1968 and has a brother who is a cameraman.
He has a mother who is a newsreader.
Simon has correctly identified she - well done Simon. Now all we need is the identity of he - so here's anudder clue:
She met He when they were 11.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:23 AM
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Today was a day I'd been dreading for a long time. Little sleep last night - partly due to the heat and partly due to fretting about today. It was a day that just had to be got through. One of those days that are thankfully rare in life - where you go onto autopilot and do what you have to do and get through it that way - not completely engaging with what is going on because it's just too much to take but still present as best you can be. Holding it together because you have to. And today little acts of kindness meant so much, a cool glass of water offered after a long hot journey, being given time because time was needed, being listened to when listening was not expected - people doing their very best to make a difficult day a bit easier. In this world where we attempt to go at six million miles an hour over a lot of what we do and you feel sometimes as if people would trample over you in the race to get ahead if you stood still for too long it was heartening today that there were people who made an effort to make the day easier. So tomorrow, if I can, I'll repay the favour in any small way I can to anyone I meet because you never know - that stranger may be having a day like I had today.
It is in the shelter of each other that the people live
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:20 PM
Arrivals on the right
Monday, August 04, 2003
It's like Heathrow Airport in my garden today. There's a takeoff and landing every few seconds. Regular flight paths over the patio. Taxiing near the trellis and miniature biplanes buzzing up and down all day long. Those insects know how to party when it gets hot. No hanging around taking it easy and drinking beer for them - they get straight on with the job. They love the lavender so I spent a while this afternoon staking it out and trying to catch some of the goings on. Bees are a bugger to photograph - they won't stay still for a nanosecond but I'm quite pleased with these shots - bigger versions if you click on the smaller pics below.Kit kat
PS - Does anyone know how to remove a red admiral from your bedroom without damaging delicate airframe?
who are they?
Lord Chaffinch has flown into the zone.
Try this one.
Text clues begin soon if it's not guessed succesfully.
previous image clues here here here here and here
It's Cherie innit
"When people realise it's Mrs Blair, it is difficult to know how they will react, but it is set to be red hot this summer."
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:32 AM
Sunday, August 03, 2003
Having a wee break today - more tommorra in Glockamorra...Wigfest
meanwhile you've got several body parts and a puzzle to solve - get to it
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:00 AM
Saturday, August 02, 2003
When l was little I was obliged to be a regular churchgoer. When you are as little as I was then, the workings of a two thousand year old ritual are lost on you. Far more interesting staring at the strange looking people around you, trying to decipher the mumbo jumbo they're all mumbling in unison or better still becoming fixated on a rather ancient priest with a well worn face topped off with what can only be described as a section of shag pile carpet glued strategically to the top of his head. Supposedly present to worship God and thereby save my soul I, and most of the other wretched souls present, would spend the entire time either:
trying to spot the join
detect any signs of slippage or movement
imagining what he looked like sans rug
and no time whatsoever communing with the almighty.
I've never really understood why men who lose their hair are seduced by the illusion that by sticking a clump of expensively woven hair carpet on their head for hours at a time they will recapture something they feel went along with their hair when it fell out. It's fair to say that this may well be because I've never been in the position of having to make this choice. Coming from a family in which male pattern baldness seems to affect about 99% of of the men - I have, through some genetic quirk, managed to retain most of my follicles to date. Recent events, then, may appear
ironic; perhaps I'm trying to achieve some sort of tribal slaphead affinity - who knows?
This early religious training, perverted through the vanity of Father Wiggy - [ Priests - perverts? Go straight to hell drD, do not pass the holy water, do not collect the rosary beads - bring the bacofoil it's about to get hot ]
- into a wig fixation has remained with me. Thank God that's the only priestly perversion that came my way - others have been far less fortunate. Anyway my next wiggy encounter came at secondary school. The head of Religious Education - [ are you picking up the pattern yet? ] - had a very thick head of hair worn in a sort of thatched hippy style. If you can't imagine what a thatched hippy looks like see Fig 1 below- but imagine it a bit more controlled with lashings of Harmony Hair Spray. Given his age and the fact that this was the seventies, it was not an unusual hairstyle; never mind he had a face like a ferret and it didn't suit him one bit - we are, after all, here to explore the wigosphere - not the tonsorial-facial shape aesthetic. So Mr RE spent most of our RE lessons with us idiots holding our hands over our mouths, lifting them up in a hinged style and saying nasally, "WIGGGGGG, WIGGGGGG WIGGGGGG". Of course we did this whilst he had his back to us. He knew it was us [ they always do - so don't kid yourself for minute schoolchildren that you can get away with this one undetected ] - but he never rose to the bait. I suppose that's how you become Head of RE. As the seventies wore on and hairstyles became more 'normal' - [ see fig 2 ] - Mr RE succumbed to the years of mental torture we had put him through and finally got a decent haircut. This proved, if proof were needed that no axminster was present up there but it didn't stop us - oh no we carried on just the same. "WIGGGGGG, WIGGGGGG", could still be heard whenever he walked past or stood in front of us in the lunch queue. We even did it once when we were sat behind him on the stage as he gave an assembly. This all goes to prove that I have a bit of a fixation and I can spot them coming a long way off. This can make it very difficult to concentrate sometimes, particularly if Terry Wogan, Bruce Forsyth or Elton John are involved. I once had a Saturday job working for a Frankie Howerd lookalike - [ lookalike mainly by virtue of a thatch ]. I spent much of the time trying to avoid looking directly at this bloke for fear that my eyes would be drawn inexorably upwards to that sleeping pussycat up there and the the rest of the time studying the join whenever his back was turned. This was a particularly bad example of the syrup - certain it was acrylic or some other nasty stuff as it used to give off a kind of mild static discharge when his head brushed past curtains. The recent Tony Bennett concert also involved me working very hard indeed to enjoy the music - there was lots of eye closing involved I can tell you.
Last week I had my latest wiggy encounter when trying to hire some equipment from a local emporium. A man with an unfeasibly large bottom and matching restofbody was busy talking on the phone when I arrived whilst at the same time tapping details into his computer with one finger. As CIA levels of security seemed to be required for this telephone booking - "Name?..tappity tap..Addresss?...Cick tap tap..Phone number?..tap tap..Memorable phrase?..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..click clicktap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..tap tap..Date of Birth?..Birthweight?..Colour of eyes?..Any convictions for illegal sexual practices in the US?..etc etc" - I was able to conduct a detailed assessment of the captive creature up top. Approximately three inches thickness, coarse black with grey interweave - apparent horshair or synthetic replica - no visible hairline ( indicating low budget thatch ) - total coverage apart from mismatching tuft sprouting from rear shirt collar. Mr Thatch then proceeded to tell the caller how hot he was and that he was not feeling well. At this point I noticed he was perspiring heavily and sweat was dripping from his bushy grey eyebrows onto the keyboard. I also noticed that it was a fairly chilly day. It was then that I realised - wearing a toupee can overheat your brain and make you ill. It's time something was done. I urge you, write to your political representative - have these creatures set free - campaign for the establishment of syrup sanctuaries and for gawds sake encourage all slapheads to be proud.
Meanwhile you may like to consider if you would like a wee quiz on this theme posted - let me know via comments.
Fancy working on the other side? Why not try Arabic Google?
who am eye 2?
Look closely -this may give it away...
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:18 PM
Friday, August 01, 2003
When journos go tropo...
Nothing like a dame
Gardener sues Dame Elizabeth Taylor for £183000 for 10 years work claiming he was not paid because he was not gay.
Bad boy Russell Crowe names Rolf Harris as childhood hero and vows to appear in Rolf tribute concert.
Kylie may top her Olympic 'Dancing Queen' routine by importing her Kyliebuttocks to the RAH for the occasion.
Anglican church backs gay bishop. This should not be confused with the recent 'Anglican Church divided over Gay Bishop' scenario. They don't know if they're coming or going.
Great White shark spotted in English Channel. Now we know why madman flew across so fast.
Alan Bennett meets 'The Office'. This is great. I've been a closet reader for a while now and I can contain myself no longer - linkage has been implemented. Loving it.
who am eye?
This eye belongs with the ear and the lips.
Anudder bit tomorrow if nobody gets it.
^ See that?
That's me that is - happy bunny - why?
Graham Lester has kindly described this here site as "Best of British Blogging". Umbled I am, umbled - there are far worthier ones than I across there on the left for starters but thanks muchly Graham. Incidentally, he's been breaking records himself on Thursday with a particularly amazing nine minute job application / rejection cycle ironically demonstrating the power of email to disappoint ever faster. The SMS divorce has been widely reported this week. How long before someone lives out their whole life in one day via the internet?
Thanks too to Mark for the recent linkage - much appreciated.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:01 AM