Saturday, July 29, 2006
Queen seen cruising with old man Shock. Legal action may follow. "Perfectly natural", says spokespersonage.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Sweating,
..painting, eating, drinking loads of fluids.
Sorry for the paucity of postings.
More soon.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:38 PM
..painting, eating, drinking loads of fluids.
Sorry for the paucity of postings.
More soon.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:38 PM
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Millets
..have less camping quotient than this little lot.
Guess the target demographic. [ check out the purchase price ]
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:54 PM
..have less camping quotient than this little lot.
Guess the target demographic. [ check out the purchase price ]
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:54 PM
Monday, July 24, 2006
Note to self during long traffic jam
Never drink water from a bottle that you've left in the car for a week.
It tastes like the bottled essence of something that died.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:37 PM
HeatNever drink water from a bottle that you've left in the car for a week.
It tastes like the bottled essence of something that died.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:37 PM
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Slacker than a non celebrity Non Celebrity Shag Island thong - thats been me this week on this blog. Sorry n all for the non posting of postings only it's all been a bit hairy and sweaty here at bignjuicy central. [ I'll spare you the sordid details ].
Talking of sordid, I've been reading up on Eric Gill following a revelatory write up, in the Guardian. I've mentioned Gill before a few times. What I hadn't known before today is that he was, apparently, a bit of a paedo - which is pretty shocking. What I also didn't know before today is that Gill was, apparently, also into a bit of incest - which is also pretty shocking. However, what is not just shocking, but slightly disturbing, is that Gill experimented with bestiality using the family dog. He [ Gill, not the dog ] was a convert to Roman Catholicism. He used to wear a cassocky thing and would expose himself to visitors young and old at every opportunity. Gill sans knickers was apparently a regular thang and even put his young niece off the idea of marriage. As I've said before, Gill was undoubtedly a genius, but it'll be difficult not to think about these revelations when looking at his work. Every time I see the BBC logo I'll be reminded of Fido and the other misfortunes who encountered this pervy old goat. It's fair to say that Gill Sans will never seem quite the same ever again.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM
Too hotTalking of sordid, I've been reading up on Eric Gill following a revelatory write up, in the Guardian. I've mentioned Gill before a few times. What I hadn't known before today is that he was, apparently, a bit of a paedo - which is pretty shocking. What I also didn't know before today is that Gill was, apparently, also into a bit of incest - which is also pretty shocking. However, what is not just shocking, but slightly disturbing, is that Gill experimented with bestiality using the family dog. He [ Gill, not the dog ] was a convert to Roman Catholicism. He used to wear a cassocky thing and would expose himself to visitors young and old at every opportunity. Gill sans knickers was apparently a regular thang and even put his young niece off the idea of marriage. As I've said before, Gill was undoubtedly a genius, but it'll be difficult not to think about these revelations when looking at his work. Every time I see the BBC logo I'll be reminded of Fido and the other misfortunes who encountered this pervy old goat. It's fair to say that Gill Sans will never seem quite the same ever again.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
..to work = pretend to work / lay down 'til the work feeling goes away.
..to eat = OK, I'll try and force a little something down - maybe a little lager, just one of those small bottles or 5.
..to think = I'm the new manager of my local bank.
..to drive = I burnt my buttocks on the hot vinyl yesterday.
..to watch telly = Celebrity Shag Island / Big Brother / Richard & Judy get naked
..to finish my blogpos
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:53 PM
..to eat = OK, I'll try and force a little something down - maybe a little lager, just one of those small bottles or 5.
..to think = I'm the new manager of my local bank.
..to drive = I burnt my buttocks on the hot vinyl yesterday.
..to watch telly = Celebrity Shag Island / Big Brother / Richard & Judy get naked
..to finish my blogpos
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:53 PM
Monday, July 17, 2006
Suckage
A tad busy here at the ranch; what with all these spiders being born, dragonfly rustling and cutecat safari in the long grass. Bleedin mosquitoes eating my face too. I'd happily volunteer to reduce biodiversity if it meant an end to the bloodsucking bastardos. Thank goodness for Mr Dyson - he can suck like nobody's business.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:49 PM
The listA tad busy here at the ranch; what with all these spiders being born, dragonfly rustling and cutecat safari in the long grass. Bleedin mosquitoes eating my face too. I'd happily volunteer to reduce biodiversity if it meant an end to the bloodsucking bastardos. Thank goodness for Mr Dyson - he can suck like nobody's business.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:49 PM
Friday, July 14, 2006
Not a lot to report round here at the moment.
1. Hole in roof.
2. Phantom fly tipper living close by.
3. Strange neighbour man with strange children comes up to me at 11pm in dark street to apologise for the fact that they are autistic.
4. Cutecat is dissing me - for catreasons - unfathomable to human logic.
5. There seems to be a glut of spiders in my locale - webs all over the shop.
6. My sapphire blue petunias are a small daily joy to behold.
7. I'm sick to the back teeth of the 'Natwest three' and their overprivileged media manipulation.
8. I need to buy some more T shirts.
9. Shop assistants that call me 'mate' need to be retrained - a letter is in the post.
10. I discovered someone today that is a fan of Sarah Cox. I'd previously respected this person.
Much going on in your neck of the woods?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:19 PM
1. Hole in roof.
2. Phantom fly tipper living close by.
3. Strange neighbour man with strange children comes up to me at 11pm in dark street to apologise for the fact that they are autistic.
4. Cutecat is dissing me - for catreasons - unfathomable to human logic.
5. There seems to be a glut of spiders in my locale - webs all over the shop.
6. My sapphire blue petunias are a small daily joy to behold.
7. I'm sick to the back teeth of the 'Natwest three' and their overprivileged media manipulation.
8. I need to buy some more T shirts.
9. Shop assistants that call me 'mate' need to be retrained - a letter is in the post.
10. I discovered someone today that is a fan of Sarah Cox. I'd previously respected this person.
Much going on in your neck of the woods?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:19 PM
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Holey
I've been talking to several Mr Roofers to get estimates to fix the leak up above. It's very interesting how the same job performed by ostensibly established and reliable firms can vary in price by several hundred notes. How can this be? Either someone is seriously overcharging or someone is seriously undercutting and if they're undercutting then I'm not sure my roof is the best place for it to be going on.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:58 PM
I've been talking to several Mr Roofers to get estimates to fix the leak up above. It's very interesting how the same job performed by ostensibly established and reliable firms can vary in price by several hundred notes. How can this be? Either someone is seriously overcharging or someone is seriously undercutting and if they're undercutting then I'm not sure my roof is the best place for it to be going on.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:58 PM
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The demon duck of doom
... has been found hiding out in Queensland. Close by lies a killer kangaroo - with fangs. How long before, 'Skippy the flesh eating fangaroo vs Duckzilla' hits our screens?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:12 PM
Full / empty?... has been found hiding out in Queensland. Close by lies a killer kangaroo - with fangs. How long before, 'Skippy the flesh eating fangaroo vs Duckzilla' hits our screens?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:12 PM
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
a
Blog comments systems that take you to a completely new page / layout and force you to register and other stuff that just gets in the way. eeugh. Halsocan everytime please.
Sweaty armpits
Nuclear power / 5000 years of evil festering waste
David Cameron
Tony Blair
Celebrity shag island
Elsanta
b
Blogs with comments. gwan
Glorious sunshine
Nuclear power / reduced C02 emissions
er
Tony Blair
Long evenings in the garden
Glen Ample
Head butt a go go
Strangely satisfying n topical too.
Non Hebrew readers should click the red button for reload
via Ashley
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:52 PM
Monday, July 10, 2006
Lascia lo stile dell'italiano di insulto!
Prima
La vostra madre ha la faccia come il arse di Jacques Chirac
Your mother has a face like Jacques Chirac's arse
Heh baldy - quando voi iniziano a raccogliere la vostra pensione?
Heh baldy - when do you start collecting your pension?
Avete lasciato la vostra borsa nella stanza di preparazione?
Did you leave your handbag in the dressing room?
Dopo
Il mio sterno sembra essere fratturato
My sternum appears to be fractured
Potreste denominare un'ambulanza - i miei capelli sono stati disturbati
Could you call an ambulance - my hair has been disturbed
spaccare i diritti d'autore 50/50 dell'immagine?
Shall we split the picture royalties 50/50?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:00 PM
Things to do while the International Football World Cup overflowethPrima
La vostra madre ha la faccia come il arse di Jacques Chirac
Your mother has a face like Jacques Chirac's arse
Heh baldy - quando voi iniziano a raccogliere la vostra pensione?
Heh baldy - when do you start collecting your pension?
Avete lasciato la vostra borsa nella stanza di preparazione?
Did you leave your handbag in the dressing room?
Dopo
Il mio sterno sembra essere fratturato
My sternum appears to be fractured
Potreste denominare un'ambulanza - i miei capelli sono stati disturbati
Could you call an ambulance - my hair has been disturbed
spaccare i diritti d'autore 50/50 dell'immagine?
Shall we split the picture royalties 50/50?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:00 PM
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Take pictures with your phone in the park
Drink wine
Cabernet Shiraz from Sainsburys - surprisingly cheap [ £2.85 ], surprisingly good. Hic.
Do your ironing
Yawn.
Architecture behind the football
Listen again to the story of the Berlin Olympic Stadium and it's dodgy past. [ Don't mention the war ]
Scavenging oxygen from a Marcel Duchamps rubber breast
Those wacky V&A conservators sure know how to party.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:46 PM
Drink wine
Cabernet Shiraz from Sainsburys - surprisingly cheap [ £2.85 ], surprisingly good. Hic.
Do your ironing
Yawn.
Architecture behind the football
Listen again to the story of the Berlin Olympic Stadium and it's dodgy past. [ Don't mention the war ]
Scavenging oxygen from a Marcel Duchamps rubber breast
Those wacky V&A conservators sure know how to party.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:46 PM
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Privacy?
Knowing that computer systems often don't work as expected.
Knowing that computer systems are sometimes misused.
Knowing that confidential information stored on computers has a tendency to somehow 'leak' out.
Knowing that malicious individuals can cross electronic frontiers and manipulate information.
Knowing that your life might depend on the accuracy and availability of your medical records.
How do you feel about having your medical records stored on a nationally [ or perhaps internationally ] accessible database?
How do you feel about your medical records being accessed via the world wide web?
How do you feel about the possibility that your medical records may be transferred to any number of computer storarage facilities without your knowledge or permission?
Do you feel confident that they will be treated respectfully, stored securely and not sold for profit to commercial entities that will try to make money from them?
Do you think you own your medical records?
Think again.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM
Knowing that computer systems often don't work as expected.
Knowing that computer systems are sometimes misused.
Knowing that confidential information stored on computers has a tendency to somehow 'leak' out.
Knowing that malicious individuals can cross electronic frontiers and manipulate information.
Knowing that your life might depend on the accuracy and availability of your medical records.
How do you feel about having your medical records stored on a nationally [ or perhaps internationally ] accessible database?
How do you feel about your medical records being accessed via the world wide web?
How do you feel about the possibility that your medical records may be transferred to any number of computer storarage facilities without your knowledge or permission?
Do you feel confident that they will be treated respectfully, stored securely and not sold for profit to commercial entities that will try to make money from them?
Do you think you own your medical records?
Think again.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM
Friday, July 07, 2006
Relief
Couldn't they come up with a better name for Sport Relief ? Every time I hear it I think of Wayne Rooney and his prostitutional procurements. Even the logo looks like a stylised high jumping penis.
[ I'm fully aware that this post may indicate that I may need to get out more so I'm going out].
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:48 PM
DripCouldn't they come up with a better name for Sport Relief ? Every time I hear it I think of Wayne Rooney and his prostitutional procurements. Even the logo looks like a stylised high jumping penis.
[ I'm fully aware that this post may indicate that I may need to get out more so I'm going out].
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:48 PM
Thursday, July 06, 2006
There's a hole in my roof. I realised this yesterday when I heard running water close by. I turned around and there it was running down the wall, cascading across the bookshelf and puddling artfully on the floor. A torrential downpour was in session outside. Inside a vortex of panic was in session as I ran to grab buckets bowls mops and tissue to save my precious books. Today there is that damp plaster smell. Thankfully no major damage done but I'm praying it stays dry until Mr Roofer comes next week to patch. Nothing like the intrusion of the elements to remind you of how fragile is our civilisation.
All over rover
Suddenly, if I've understood correctly, the International Football World Cup Tournament is nearly over. One is most pleased to learn of this. Does anyone else reckon Sue Barker has been botoxed?
Scum
How predicatable that the scummy little propaganda machine would vomit up a scummy little video from the nasty little man who blew himself up last year just in time to stick the knife in for the anniversary. Why is it being given airtime?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:39 PM
Bye bye BrotherAll over rover
Suddenly, if I've understood correctly, the International Football World Cup Tournament is nearly over. One is most pleased to learn of this. Does anyone else reckon Sue Barker has been botoxed?
Scum
How predicatable that the scummy little propaganda machine would vomit up a scummy little video from the nasty little man who blew himself up last year just in time to stick the knife in for the anniversary. Why is it being given airtime?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 10:39 PM
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
It might be that I'm just getting older and crustier or it might be that I'm getting older and wiser or it might be none of the above. It might be that Big Brother really is past its best and has become overdone, overstuffed and over. The novelty of the first few series was due partly to the edginess of a format new to British TV. The undoubtedly clever production and the mix of ordinary people - [ for then they were pretty ordinary ] - lent it a widespread appeal. There was a sense that these were people you could, in the main, identify with. Something has happened though. For now the house/s are inhabited by needy knowing freaks, many of whom have been surgically enhanced. Some of whom may need to be surgically removed from each other if this heat keeps up. I've tuned in a few times and been bored. Bored with the predictability of it all [ another row, housemates in pool bitching, housemates in bedroom bitching, frisky infra-red goings on etc etc etc ]. What convinced me of it's terminal decline was a diary room 'highlight' in which 60% of the words used by the housemate were of the four letter variety. Maybe I missed the context somewhere but I think broadcasting high-expletive ranting in primetime is not doing it for me. I need a little something extra - like entertainment. I wonder how long it has left. Another year? I'll be surprised if it's still around in five.
Germaine Greer has written an interesting BB piece in the Guardian. As a former housemate herself she's well placed to comment and her conclusions that BB is all about manipulating the public I think could equally be applied to contemporary politics. Has anyone else noticed the steady drip drip of 'Cameron good, Labour bad'?
Escape from your desktop
It's been too long since I looked at the ever marvellous Satan's Laundromat. He's been to SF and Japan recently.
Ugly rumours
I can't really give too many details, but yesterday I confronted someone who had decided that they were going to spread nasty rumours in the belief that they could do so with impunity. They, of course, didn't factor on the moral force that is I. Words were had, sheepish denials ensued but the body language said it all. I expect the rumours to cease. Why are some people so nasty?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:30 AM
Hairtales 2Germaine Greer has written an interesting BB piece in the Guardian. As a former housemate herself she's well placed to comment and her conclusions that BB is all about manipulating the public I think could equally be applied to contemporary politics. Has anyone else noticed the steady drip drip of 'Cameron good, Labour bad'?
Escape from your desktop
It's been too long since I looked at the ever marvellous Satan's Laundromat. He's been to SF and Japan recently.
Ugly rumours
I can't really give too many details, but yesterday I confronted someone who had decided that they were going to spread nasty rumours in the belief that they could do so with impunity. They, of course, didn't factor on the moral force that is I. Words were had, sheepish denials ensued but the body language said it all. I expect the rumours to cease. Why are some people so nasty?
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:30 AM
Monday, July 03, 2006
Continued from Friday:
Boss no 4
Phil had a lovely grey combover thatch expertly glued to his head with lashings of harmony hair spray. This was no match for the gusting winds that used to blast across our hill top site as he walked from building to building. He was a very nice man with very bad hair. He left when I had been there a year. He was replaced by John, his former protege.
Boss no 5
John also purported to be a very nice man, albeit with Machiavellian tendencies in a sort of Opus Dei stylee. He had two tufts of wispy hair growing from both corners of his rather squat head. He also had a serious dandruff problem and this, combined with his penchant for wearing the same charcoal M&S suit every day for six years gave him a sartorial visage somewhat akin to a corporate bag lady. I left when I'd finally had enough of being Machiavellianised. I think it was the prayer cards he kept leaving in my office...
Boss no 6
Was a breed apart from all the others. Here was vanity personified. His entire persona was constructed around the notion that he was VERY IMPORTANT. He appeared to own about 50 suits [ even more than me which is not allowed for starters ]. These were all variations on a theme of beige. There was beige with graph checks. Beige with dog toothy bits. Beige with pinstripes. Beige with a hint of beige and beige with a fine weave of beigeness woven through. All in all it was a bit beige. I suspected that he had seen a colour consultant during one of his many holidays because he returned with beige hair. What had previously been a rather typical thinning middle age VERY IMPORTANT combover was now transformed into a swept forward pseudo caesar power thatch. Somehow it did seem to make him look even more VERY IMPORTANT. I think it was the shock value. There was nothing else quite like it that you had ever seen so you were transfixed by it upon meeting him. It bordered on frightening because you were uneasy in the presence of a man that dared to present himself in this way. If he had the b******s to coif himself up like a tonsorially neutered Peter Stringfellow then what else was he capable of? The scariest part was, though, when he acquired a bottle of beige dye which completed his transformation into Biscuit Boss. Like most Biscuits he fell apart when under pressure or in hot water. He messed me around no end with his vacillations and pompous preening. I left to get a life and never looked back.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:42 PM
Defunct flags:Boss no 4
Phil had a lovely grey combover thatch expertly glued to his head with lashings of harmony hair spray. This was no match for the gusting winds that used to blast across our hill top site as he walked from building to building. He was a very nice man with very bad hair. He left when I had been there a year. He was replaced by John, his former protege.
Boss no 5
John also purported to be a very nice man, albeit with Machiavellian tendencies in a sort of Opus Dei stylee. He had two tufts of wispy hair growing from both corners of his rather squat head. He also had a serious dandruff problem and this, combined with his penchant for wearing the same charcoal M&S suit every day for six years gave him a sartorial visage somewhat akin to a corporate bag lady. I left when I'd finally had enough of being Machiavellianised. I think it was the prayer cards he kept leaving in my office...
Boss no 6
Was a breed apart from all the others. Here was vanity personified. His entire persona was constructed around the notion that he was VERY IMPORTANT. He appeared to own about 50 suits [ even more than me which is not allowed for starters ]. These were all variations on a theme of beige. There was beige with graph checks. Beige with dog toothy bits. Beige with pinstripes. Beige with a hint of beige and beige with a fine weave of beigeness woven through. All in all it was a bit beige. I suspected that he had seen a colour consultant during one of his many holidays because he returned with beige hair. What had previously been a rather typical thinning middle age VERY IMPORTANT combover was now transformed into a swept forward pseudo caesar power thatch. Somehow it did seem to make him look even more VERY IMPORTANT. I think it was the shock value. There was nothing else quite like it that you had ever seen so you were transfixed by it upon meeting him. It bordered on frightening because you were uneasy in the presence of a man that dared to present himself in this way. If he had the b******s to coif himself up like a tonsorially neutered Peter Stringfellow then what else was he capable of? The scariest part was, though, when he acquired a bottle of beige dye which completed his transformation into Biscuit Boss. Like most Biscuits he fell apart when under pressure or in hot water. He messed me around no end with his vacillations and pompous preening. I left to get a life and never looked back.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:42 PM
The Bignjuicy Guide
Sunday, July 02, 2006
1. Buy a 49p sampler tub of Homebase Brilliant White Matt Vinyl. Apply to the ends of the cross leaving a small unpainted remnant in the centre. Affix the modified flag to your house, thus allerting local ruffians to the emergency medical services on offer in your front room.
2. Buy a 49p sampler tub of Homebase Brilliant White Matt Vinyl. Apply to the whole cross. Sell the finished flag to a French person.
3. Using a pack of low price Aldi* felt tips colour over the flag in the colours of your least-hated-alternative-potential winner-nation. [*Essential to use Aldi as they are water soluble in the event of unexpected groinal stampings, fractured eyelashes or on pitch hair gel catastrophes]
4. Carry out your own European health service analysis. Buy a low cost Easyjet ticket to Berlin. Pack your hand luggage with defunct car flags. Attend the World Cup Final and evacuate the contents of your bag at a key moment of your choosing. Take careful notes of your experience of the German health service and report back to your MP ondeportation return.
5. Leave the flag in-situ on your car for 4 years in a disconnected sad cheapskate style. Enhance with a red plastic comic relief car nose from 1983 [ebay 28p + postage].
6. Staple a number of flags together to make a lose fitting pair of fashionable shorts*. Shave your head and lie in the sun for four hours. Buy bulk pack of Stella Artois from Sainsburys [currently on special offer]. Drink contents before going on skinhead style rampage in local shopping arcade. [* you may need to use velcro to assist lager throughput]
7. Attempt to return your flag to its place of purchase for a full refund. The following phrases may be useful:
"I want my money back you slags".
"We wus robbed and so was I - refund now or I strip"
"This flag is not working for me - I need something a bit more directional - do you have any Somalian thongs?"
"I received this flag as a gift from my mad auntie, I'm actually Norwegian* so I'd like my money back please" [* remember to affect a Norwegian accent - think Sven with a broken jaw]
8. Cover the walls of your toilet with reclaimed flags. Buy bulk pack of Stella Artois from Sainsburys [currently on special offer]. Invite all of your right wing friends around for a political symposium. Drink bulk pack before soaking up the full-on nationalist in-toilet ambience.
9. Collect every flag you can find and string them together using a low cost ball of handistring [ 13p from Aldi ]. Sell your innovative bunting to a middle class parish council just ahead of the next occasion for national rejoicing [ eg: Tony Blair's appointment as supreme commander Baghdad ]
10. Staple a flag to your forehead to prove how hard you are.
Later that day
I've been languishing all day in a pit of perspiration, unable to exert myself beyond pressing the buttons on the tv remote whilst weeping into my replica Beckhamique nylon wig n chest hair combo. How could he leave us in our hour of need? What's the matter with these modern footballers? In my day it'd be some straight talking in the changing rooms, a rub down with a wet sponge and a manly handshake for the cameras before a swift departure by the backdoor for a life of alcoholic despair. Now it's all touchy feely moistness and Prada voiceovers. Get a grip for goodness sake, think of the children. On second thoughts don't; they've got stupid names and the wife's a bit suspect if you ask me - which you didn't.
Time for another light sponging Smithers...
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:58 AM
2. Buy a 49p sampler tub of Homebase Brilliant White Matt Vinyl. Apply to the whole cross. Sell the finished flag to a French person.
3. Using a pack of low price Aldi* felt tips colour over the flag in the colours of your least-hated-alternative-potential winner-nation. [*Essential to use Aldi as they are water soluble in the event of unexpected groinal stampings, fractured eyelashes or on pitch hair gel catastrophes]
4. Carry out your own European health service analysis. Buy a low cost Easyjet ticket to Berlin. Pack your hand luggage with defunct car flags. Attend the World Cup Final and evacuate the contents of your bag at a key moment of your choosing. Take careful notes of your experience of the German health service and report back to your MP on
5. Leave the flag in-situ on your car for 4 years in a disconnected sad cheapskate style. Enhance with a red plastic comic relief car nose from 1983 [ebay 28p + postage].
6. Staple a number of flags together to make a lose fitting pair of fashionable shorts*. Shave your head and lie in the sun for four hours. Buy bulk pack of Stella Artois from Sainsburys [currently on special offer]. Drink contents before going on skinhead style rampage in local shopping arcade. [* you may need to use velcro to assist lager throughput]
7. Attempt to return your flag to its place of purchase for a full refund. The following phrases may be useful:
"I want my money back you slags".
"We wus robbed and so was I - refund now or I strip"
"This flag is not working for me - I need something a bit more directional - do you have any Somalian thongs?"
"I received this flag as a gift from my mad auntie, I'm actually Norwegian* so I'd like my money back please" [* remember to affect a Norwegian accent - think Sven with a broken jaw]
8. Cover the walls of your toilet with reclaimed flags. Buy bulk pack of Stella Artois from Sainsburys [currently on special offer]. Invite all of your right wing friends around for a political symposium. Drink bulk pack before soaking up the full-on nationalist in-toilet ambience.
9. Collect every flag you can find and string them together using a low cost ball of handistring [ 13p from Aldi ]. Sell your innovative bunting to a middle class parish council just ahead of the next occasion for national rejoicing [ eg: Tony Blair's appointment as supreme commander Baghdad ]
10. Staple a flag to your forehead to prove how hard you are.
Later that day
I've been languishing all day in a pit of perspiration, unable to exert myself beyond pressing the buttons on the tv remote whilst weeping into my replica Beckhamique nylon wig n chest hair combo. How could he leave us in our hour of need? What's the matter with these modern footballers? In my day it'd be some straight talking in the changing rooms, a rub down with a wet sponge and a manly handshake for the cameras before a swift departure by the backdoor for a life of alcoholic despair. Now it's all touchy feely moistness and Prada voiceovers. Get a grip for goodness sake, think of the children. On second thoughts don't; they've got stupid names and the wife's a bit suspect if you ask me - which you didn't.
Time for another light sponging Smithers...
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:58 AM
Saturday, July 01, 2006
OK I'm slacker than Sven's boxer shorts. I'll be doing some updates tomorrow. My excuse: it's bleedin hot in here.
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:44 PM
freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:44 PM