Archive for March, 2003

Crackin weather Grommit

Monday, March 31st, 2003

Cracking day at the ranch. Nature looking all bloomy and gorgeous. Climbing into my car this morning a large mango was waiting for me.

Looking all juicy and gorgeous. [The mango that is] A rogue mango that crawled liver like from the confines of my bag for life late on Friday night after I left the shopping in the car. Nothing else for it – the mango was coming to work with me. Not only does it get to fly from Puerto Rico in a temperature controlled Jumbo Jet it also gets a gratuitous early morning tour of the East Midlands. If you were a mango could you think of a better adventure?

Enjoying muchly the brilliant Double Take. Sven’s pants being a particular favourite..

Q: Is irark anywhere near irack and where the hell is eyerack?

…and the verse is…

Mr Brown Goes Off To Town

To buy a few more Guns

But He Comes Home Each Evening

And He’s Ready for his Fun


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Mothers day

Sunday, March 30th, 2003

For the mothers of this world – and especially for mine:
I miss you more than ever. x

I’ve spent far too long this evening investigating this fascinating site.

Highly recommended for when you need to reawaken your jaded intellectual faculties – makes a nice change from boozing shagging and fighting :p

Long-distance transport of solid goods by pipeline – Truck drivers be afraid

How does Video Plus work? – One for the algorithmically inclined

Why do humans cook food? – Far more disgusting options are detailed too

How does ironing work? – It doesn’t in my case..

Why does laundry which is hung outside to dry always smell so much nicer? – Laundry? Outside? wassat?

Does beheading hurt? – My neighbour will soon know if he doesn’t stop screaming

What will my neighbours head weigh? – [Prepares extra strong carrier bag…]

Currently listening to: Neighbour screaming at TV. Anyone know a good hit man?

“A pint of your best Irish non opaque beverage with non coalesced mie scattered foam topping please”

It appears that colour is not the only thing rendered more intense by light. This article from the New Scientist partially explains the mystery of my favourite pint – for nobody can fully possess the true spirit of the black velvet – 😉


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Here comes the sun

Saturday, March 29th, 2003

All this bright sunlight is showing up the dusty dark corners of my house. It’s time to do some spring cleaning. There’s a lot of medical evidence to show that sunlight has a beneficial effect on people. The brightness of the last week reminds me that growing up in Britain I had never truly understood what a visually impoverished climate we endure until I travelled south and saw what real sunshine involves. When I was about 18 I went on an Inter Rail trip around various European countries with various friends. We sure covered some mileage and got more than our money’s worth from the ticket which then cost £126. [Dunno why I remember that I just do] Anyway on one leg of the journey we got as far south as Avila – just North West of Madrid. Avila is a medieval walled city. Reputedly the best preserved walled city in the world. It is famous as the birthplace of St Teresa. Teresa was instrumental in reform of monasticicsm. She had an eventful life and is famous for her ecstatic visions which have been interpreted with various degrees of favour by modern comentators. In Rome there is a famous Bernini statue of her having one of these visions. Her own description of the experience and the expression on the face of her statue might give you an idea of why the interpretations of her visions vary…

Anyway an abiding memory of that trip is sitting on a rocky hillside overlooking the walled city as the sun was setting. The walls were glowing red with the spectacular sunset and we were too after a fair quantity of local el plonko. I remember feasting on some local tomatoes – they were well juicy. Bright sunlight renders colour far more richly than the more subdued light in Britain. If you look around you when you are out and about most of the colours of our buildings and our clothes are subdued. Whenever bright colour is seen it really does seem to stand out. I think a lot of British people have an inherent conservatism when it comes to colour.


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Sad's army

Friday, March 28th, 2003

Who Do You Think You Are Kidding Mr Saddam

If You Think We’re On The Run?

We Are The Boys Who Will Stop Your Little Game

We Are The Boys Who Will Make You Think Again

‘Cause Who Do You Think You Are Kidding Mr Saddam

If You Think Old Tony’s Done?


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Friday, March 28th, 2003

Lingua bellica:

liberating = invading


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In sooth, I know not why I am so sad

Thursday, March 27th, 2003

‘Avin a bit of a downer today.

It’s them bleedin biorhythms.

I’m on me lowpoints for physical and emotional but highpoints for intellectual.


I’m orf to slap meself around with a large trout.

Is it just me?

Do I need help?

Do these two share any DNA?

GailDill the dog

Lingua bellica:

Shock and Awe = “If you go down to the shops today you may not come back”


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Wednesday, March 26th, 2003

I’m a very friendly lion called Parsley.

I am always very glad to see you wave.

But please don’t shout or speak to me too harshly.

Because I’m not particularly brave.

click here to play the song

Parsley was not my favourite Herb (see yesterday’s post for him).

You always knew where you stood with Parsley.

As the star of the show he was an everpresent, slightly melancholic, figure. But he was very friendly in a slightly bumbling avuncular sort of way.

I seem to remember he would occasionally get a bit agitated. For Parsley this normally meant raising an eyebrow or summat equally understated.

A frequent source of Parsley eyebrow movement was Dill – Parsley’s antithesis and best mate. Best mates are often antithetical to yourself I’ve found.

For some strange reason Parsley now reminds me of ITN political editor John Sergeant – who also seems a thoroughly nice chap.

John SergeantParsley, Dill and a junior chive

Wednesday, March 26th, 2003

Lingua bellica:

Gas gas gas = “Let’s slip into something less comfortable while we wait to die horribly”


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Tuesday, March 25th, 2003

This little fella has always been there in the back of my mind since I was a wee laddy.

Jumpin around breathless and excitedly doing his thing. Yep – it’s Dill the Dog– and I luv him still – awww

Only one week in and a quick gallivant around blogland uncovers souls in need of laughter and others doing their best to provide it.

This from the bluetealeaf I liked muchly. My name is Squeezit Toiletfanny – according to a reliable source – which brings me Peter Purvis like to:

DG’s anti-sex crusade – (are wing tipped spectacles being polished as I type?) – I offer the following passion killer link as a prophylactic – does it for me every time.

Lingua bellica:

WMD = Weapons of Mass Disinformation


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Laugh? – I nearly did

Monday, March 24th, 2003

A panda goes into a restaurant and orders a pizza and a beer, eats the pizza and then produces a gun from his pocket, firing five shots into the ceiling. The panda then runs away. Armed police surround the area and eventually arrest the panda.

“Hey,” says the police chief, “what’s the meaning of this outrage?”

“I’m a panda,” says the panda.

“So?” says the police chief.

“Go look it up in the dictionary. That will explain exactly why I did what I did.”

The police chief looks up “panda” in the dictionary. The dictionary entry reads: “Panda: a bear-like mammal. Eats shoots and leaves.”