Archive for August, 2007

Bank Holiday goodness

Monday, August 27th, 2007

Here’s one I found earlier
One of my formative youthful influences was the Blue Peter stickybackplastic frenzy whereby all manner of worlds and empires could be rendered from unpromising materials. My John Noakes [He’s 73 can you believe it?] Beano rack fashioned from old coathangers was legendary in its time. But even a juvenile such as I must leave childish ways behind. Unless of course they could be reconstituted as serious, purposeful home-enhancing projects. Not only that, but with the added gift of Ikea too.
Ladeezngennellmen I bring you Ikea Hacker. Get down Shep. Make that turntable ironing board you know you want to.


I stumbled upon this collection of photographs recently. Christian is 19, lives in Trelleborg, Sweden and is blessed with a home location and photographic eye which has yielded a portfolio that I could just not stop clicking through. So many compelling images and some truly beautiful landscapes. Recommended. Christian’s other gallery.

Graveltastic
Regular readers will know that re-landscaping of the Bignjuicy grounds is ongoing. I’ve been stuggling to track down some rather nice gravel I saw on my first ever visit to Gardening Heaven a few weeks back. Every company I called wanted to charge me a small fortune to deliver south of Derby. I decided to get radical so I emailed the designer of the source of my inspiration. Who says celebrity gardeners never answer their own email? I am about to order my gravel from a celebrity supplier. Mwah.

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007

Silly season
All the staff are on holiday and things are quiet in the bignjuicy newsroom.

Katy, the bunny boiler from The Apprentice, gets her own full page feature to give us her ‘guide to family life’. Coming next, President Bush’s brain training workshop for intellectual success.
Alf Hitchcock ( a real police person – I kid you not ) discusses slasher proof school uniforms. ( Doesn’t say if they are shower proof ).
Bring on the schizophrenic mice. Mildly emo hamsters to follow.
A recent survey of Tracey and Duane revealed that most major iconic cultural sites, such as Stonehenge, The Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty are ‘disappointing’. Plans are now being drawn up to pimp them with MaccyD, KFC and Elizabeth Duke franchises. [ Mark my words, ‘Mall of Munters’…]
A police inspector “kept in contact with his office by mobile and radio” during an illicit sex session at Gatwick Airport railway station. This is wrong on so many levels: Location, location, location. ‘Calls are recorded for training purposes’ and what was he going to do if an emergency [ahem] arose? Dickson of Doc Green we need you now.
First there were ASBOs. Now there are CRASBOs. I wonder if they have CRASBOs on Lesbos? Just a thought.
The Blackshirts were WW2 fascist paramilitary groups. Now they are policemen and women. Hmm.
Time to stock up on choccy.

Thursday, August 16th, 2007

Tuesday, August 14th, 2007

Bignjuicy product recall notice

URGENT
BIGNJUICY ENTERPRISES WISHES TO ANNOUNCE THAT THE FOLLOWING PRODUCTS MAY DEVELOP UNINTENTIONAL FAULTS.

CUSTOMERS ARE ADVISED TO RETURN ANY OF THE PRODUCTS LISTED TO THEIR NEAREST BIGNJUICYMART FOR A FULL REFUND.

drD’s amazing hamster magic show.
Fault : hamsters may explode on contact with nylon upholstery.
drD’s cold meat kitchen.
Fault : cold meat may be from Morrisons.
drD’s my first NHS colonoscopy set
Fault : severe intestinal damage may occur.
drD’s junior colonic irrigation kit
Fault : very wrong and morally questionable.
drD’s queen for a day – mini monarch outfit
Fault : fur on cape is from endangered gerbils.
drD’s gangsta rap bignjuicy recording studio
Fault : stick on gold teeth may short circuit and cause unexpected death hazard.
drD’s bignjuicy flying banana space shuttle kit
Fault : made from asbestos – run away now.
drD’s blackforest gateau cake mix
Fault : contaminated with angel dust.
drD’s junior spy outfit
Fault : check plastic pistol for ‘USSR’ markings – may contain polonium tipped dum dum bullets from Chernobyl and should not be fired.
drD’s my little cutthroat razor barbershop
Fault : may necessitate blood transfusion and extensive reconstructive surgery.
drD’s foot n mouth ago go
Fault : may cause economic meltdown and increased sausage costs.
Your statutory consumer rights remain unaffected

← 8 domes to go – cmon cmon

Friday, August 10th, 2007


No 4: Going forward
These days, most corporate meetings will feature at least one person who includes the phrase ‘going forward’ when talking about some corporate bilge or other. ‘Going forward’ has supplanted ‘at this moment in time’ in the bilgespeak popularity stakes. I speculate that this may be due to the fact that it is further ahead in the corporate projectosphere. No point in hanging around at this moment in time when you can be mentally somewhere else which is in front of where you are now. Why would you want to be in the present anyway? You’re probably sitting in a cheap n nasty meeting room with those horrible suspended ceiling tiles made of polystyroabsorbosoul – they’re sucking out your essential lifejuices you know. There’s probably some drinky stuff around n about – maybe polystyroabsorbosoul cups or corporate china if it’s a bit posh. Biccys? Do I see ringbinders? And I bet there is at least one highlighter pen in the house. Perhaps you’ve recently been Powerpointed too? The lighting is unflattering and everyone looks tired. That’s because they are. Tired of corporate bilgeothons. Tired of corporate a*holes trying to further their sad careers by scoring bilgeo points avec their latest little scheme to take over the world. Let’s hang in there for a moment. Let’s go forward with Mr/Ms Bilge. So where will we find ourselves? At the end of an Excel autolinegraph in a shiny primary coloured 3D futureplace where all boxes are ticked, compliance is total and everyone is smiling. Mr/Ms Bilge has been promoted out of the corporate mire and is driving off into the distance in a high performance sportscar en route to a middle class barbecue with carefully screened guests. So, are you going forward or do fancy a subversive beer in the distant past with moi?
See? I’m unemployable now, what is to become of me?

Wednesday, August 8th, 2007


No 3: The Wow Factor
The Wow Factor was discovered by Septimus Wow of Shanghai in 1843. He was fond of exposing himself to unsuspecting tourists on the waterfront during al fresco lunchbreaks. The impact of such displays was not lost on Wow. Drinks spilled into laps by his open mouthed affronted victims. Plates of food thrown at him as he fled. Being locked up for months on end in stinking, disease ridden, airless jail cells with only sex starved cockroaches for company gave him an insight into the essence of modern marketing. He decided to systematically document his theories and, in essence, these have become known as the ‘Wow Factor’. The basis of the Wow Factor is a limited vocabulary. Wowees are stimulated into opening their eyes and mouths wide and saying the word, “Wow” often with added exclamation, thus “Wow!”. Wowers achieve this effect by a. Judging the relative inarticulacy of the potential Wowee and then b. Overloading their sensory cortex with stimuli pitched just beyond their ability to cope with it. Arthur C. Clarke’s third law of prediction, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”, is a useful maxim in this regard. Thus a ball of dung is enough to provide the Wow Factor for a dung beetle but it may take a little more to bamboozle a bimbo.

The consumer society has, as one of its key foundations, the impulses engendered in Wowees to acquire things which evoke this primitive magic. Perceived novelty and a belief in the transforming power of the object, seen as able to transport the Wowee to experience the previously fantasised or unimagined, creates the desire to obtain it.
However, not all objects work for all Wowees. To assist you, dear reader, to assess your own Wow Factor, I have assembled a collection of trigger images. Glance at each one in turn and the first one that causes your mouth to fall open and the word ‘Wow’ to emerge into your conscious mind – this is your personal Wow Factor. It would greatly assist my research if you would kindly note which image triggered your Wow.


postCount(‘wow1’);


postCount(‘wow2’);



postCount(‘wow3’);



postCount(‘wow4’);

Tuesday, August 7th, 2007


No 2: work hard and play hard
During the 1980s a lot of British people pretended to be American. At least they thought they were being American but this was in the days before you could fly to New York for 25p return or get three months at DementiaWorld, Florida and still have change out of a £35.50 M&S gift voucher ( no air miles allowed if you are not buying a drink with your sandwich ).
All most people had to go on, in order to learn their American ways, was Dallas and Dynasty. This is what people used to do to amuse themselves before there was the possibility of sending photos of your privates to strangers on the internet. As a consequence, British Homestores, Tesco Home n Wear and C&A, in a prescient extrapolation of the fashion zeitgeist, commissioned what was perhaps the biggest consignment of shoulder pads known to mankind since Abraham Lincoln compulsoralised the playing of American Football and everyone had to sew their old socks into worn out bras and strap them onto their shoulders to prevent chafing when Ten Hutting at the 25 yard line (I’ve done my research as you can see). A whole generation of aspirational young people were seduced by Baroness Evil into believing that mortgaging your granny to buy a council house, setting up your own business to sell customised anklewarmers at railway stations, trading options in your offshore whelk mining conglomerate and wearing unfeasibly large shoulderpads to work would allow you to become Blake Carrington by the time you were 30 when you would be retiring to Bali in a tuxedo. Essential to the WorkHardPlayHard (WHPH) Lifestyle – (for this too was the era when Lifestyles were first made available by Terence Conran) – was the heavy regime of exercise and bodily honing required to develop the hulking musculature needed to support ever increasingly massive shoulderpads. One’s day would consist of pre-breakfast meetings, often before one awoke. A punishing and sweaty run would be followed by a healthy breakfast of Alpen washed down with a designer cup of The Max (Maxwell House, made by business god Captain Bob). Mornings of cut-throat ankle-warmer action might involve the arbitrary humiliation of subordinates, ball-breaking, back knifing and grimacing menacingly to camera whilst stitching up a deal on your BT Viscount. Filofaxes, expensive lunches in which you stub out your fag in the prawn cocktail whilst breaking someone else’s balls over your garlic bread were de rigeur. When it came to the other half of the WHPH Lifestyle, most devotees liked to do something aggressive. Thus squash, shooting things and driving horribly around the M25 became very popular. The latter, in the late 80s, took on added appeal because it became possible to stitch up anklewarmer deals whilst driving, using the newly available carphones which could, at that time, be obtained by evicting your granny and re-mortgaging your council house to Carphone Whorehouse. WHPHers today have evolved. Now there are far more opportunities for Working Hard ever since Tony Blair launched The People’s Capitalist Enslavement (Call Centre) Act of 1999. At the same time he built the Millenium Dome so as to provide opportunities (with attendant responsibilities) for The People to play in a kinder, gentler way. Less emphasis was placed on gratuitous aggression and more on large models of Tommy Cooper’s brain and invading other countries. This represented a new sublimation of the PH aspect of WHPH since it would be possible for most to view the PH bit on telly whilst eating high calorie foods such as the newly discovered Kettle Chip. The cult that is Jamie Oliver was then born to save us from obesity. Jamie is the iconic twenty first century WHPHer – he is British, his work is his play, he is his own brand, he is a rich tosser.

← 10 domes to go – new clues

Monday, August 6th, 2007


No 1: passion
I’m passionate about blogging me. Every night I log on, fire up my word processor and issue forth with my thoughts, feelings and ideas for world improvement. You see, I can’t help myself. My passion overflows into my postings like the partially restricted outfall from Tewkesbury pumping station / sewage works after a heavy flood ( which was recently – just like my passion except that that is all the time – I’m full-on passionate me ). When I get up in the morning I think, ‘God I’m so glad it’s another day – I can mentally document all the interesting and entertaining things that will happen today and later on I can blog them for my reader!’ I imagine my reader sitting down in front of my blog, licking their lips and playfully scanning my text for the latest full-on revelation about my hilarious anecdote filled life. God I feel all passionate just typing that! Are you feeling my passion yet? I spend hours crafting my posts; crossing my T’s and inserting html codes to show my passionate feelings ♥♥♥. I artfully craft witty and amusing graphics to decorate my passion filled blog. Sometimes I’ve almost come close to writing a mission statement. Perhaps the greatest and most passionate moment of my blogging vocation – ( for truly I’ve been called, I feel ) – is the moment I click ‘publish’. Then I know, dear reader, that my outpourings have begun their irrevocable trajectory to your desktop, there to splatter across your monitor and slide slowly down your browser before dissapearing, leaving you satisfied once more. I’m fully committed to your pleasure dear reader. Fully and passionately at your service.