Avatar Business balloon update

After careful consideration, I have decided that perhaps my first effort of Chris wafting into Europe with his business ideas was not completely on point meaning that a revision was on the cards.

I have therefore gone back and drafted a whole new version to unleash upon those unsuspecting Europeans. Boy, they don’t know what’s about to be shoved up their viso / voltos.

I feel as though I have got the likeness that was lacking in Chris version 1.0 and with the inclusion of a monobrow and a more jovial facial expression I have addressed the criticisms of comments past.

What’s left then is to bask in the joys of my efforts before the balloon can set sail in the morning.

Avatar Get in my mouth

Have snacks, will travel.

Having recently been on an excursion to the Czech Republic, there were lots of opportunities to fill my face with various offerings. Almost on every corner was a vendor or some kind of business selling the local delicacy; the chimney cake (or ‘Kürt?skalács’ as Google reliably informs me). It’s a sweetened flaky pastry baked around these hot rods making a little cocoon of joy. You then get to choose what you stuff into the aforementioned cocoon and the most popular choices were cream and strawberries, ice cream and strawberries, strawberries, ice cream, cream, some kind of minty option and any other variation I haven’t mentioned yet. They were/are delicious.

I am here though to speak about another “taste sensation” that came across my way whilst lumbering around in shops. Tell me, have you ever heard of a Corny Big?

Only the cool people call them ‘Corny B’.

No, I hadn’t either up until recently. It is best described as a cereal bar with the minutest of nutritional value, acres of sugar, possibly a full bag per bar, and the kind of chemical taste that you would need three goes from a mouthwash to get rid of. They were/are “delicious”.

I filled up part of the suitcase with a small selection to take back. I didn’t even get all the different flavours too as there were more hiding in other establishments that we were dawdling about in when waiting for a reservation at a restaurant. What stopped me from getting more? I do have some self-restraint sometimes I’ll have you know (someone told me not to go overboard…).

I only hope that there is a relatively cost-effective way of getting them to the UK so I can indulge some more.

Avatar Work in Progress

Back in August 2022 which was, according to the calendar, a whopping six years ago (it may be broken, I’m waiting for an appointment with the calendar technician), I said that I would draw Chris as a business balloon floating over Europe, ready to administer some kind of business thing to the people of abroad. They are his neighbours after all.

During my brief foray into insurance, I started a doodle inside my notebook and never finished it. It wasn’t a good doodle and it’s unfinished so really it’s a big pile of nothing. As this website thrives on big piles of nothing, however, I decided to display it for everyone to see.

Look at my big pile of nothing:

Big no’ thang

You will note the subtle brushstrokes around Chris’ balloon body as well as the gleeful look on his viso / volto. I thought it would be best to show him as a friendly business balloon rather than some kind of harbinger of doom, dropping acquisitions and harsh takeovers like they were Tic Tacs. The people of Europe, possibly the Netherlandians of the Netherlands given their close proximity to the UK and how I’ve drawn the coastline, are happy to see Chris, delighted even. What he’s bringing is right up their street and they can’t wait for him to unload the goods.

Don’t feel sorry for the man (?) whose body is missing; I will draw it at some point so that he can jump for joy and join in with the rest of the citizens. What does that blank, daunting landscape hold? Are there any houses in the Netherlands? Will they need to shoot him down or can Chris release the air himself and gently float into their lives? What exactly is Chris transporting all those miles?

There are too many questions so, please, refrain from asking any until the final masterpiece has been completed.

Avatar Tracking Ian

I’d been wondering where Ian had got to lately. He hadn’t been on the Beans much and there’d been nothing on the Whatsapp group. Turns out he’s gone on holiday to Florida where, by all accounts, he is absolutely tearing the place up.

This lady has been tracking him since Saturday. She wasn’t entirely sure where his holiday would start but she clearly thought Tampa was quite likely. Maybe he was heading for Disneyworld.

Sure enough, a few days later, he’d been pinned down in Orlando.

We all need a nice holiday from time to time. If you’re feeling worn out it can really perk you up. This man thinks it’s done Ian a power of good.

I don’t know when Ian’s going to be back but hopefully we’ll hear from him soon. I imagine right now he’s busy getting autographs from Minnie Mouse and all that. Have fun, Ian! Send us a postcard!

Avatar Everybody wants to rule the world… or do they?

In 1985 Tears for Fears released a song called ‘Everybody wants to rule the world’. It was a fearless, techno-infused death metal hybrid about the merits of being in charge of everything. That’s a big lie; it was a endlessly catchy pop song about the perils of being in charge. It does beg the question as to what would be the point in having the biggest chair of all chairs?

Lots of comic book supervillains are always desperate to take it over: Magneto, Dr. Doom, Lex Luthor and Darkseid to name a few. Looking at the state of the planet now, I’d say that it would be more of a chore than anything else to run the world. Earth isn’t fun anymore. It’s a dried up husk of a planet filled with dangerous morons outnumbering the sane, level-headed people by about fifty to one. We’re running low on resources, running out of space and now apparently plastic has been found in people’s blood. I don’t remember eating plastic, it must have been in a frenzy the last time someone put a box of Malteasers in front of me and I swallowed them whole, box, cellophane and all.

This all sounds very serious so before I completely step into my ‘Serious Ian’ shoes, let’s take a step back.

Imagine the paperwork involved; you would never leave your desk and certainly don’t even think about taking a full hour lunchbreak. You’d be running around 195 countries each with their own way of doing things. Sure, you’re the one with the big boots and flashy sash but you can guarantee someone is going to have a problem with your agenda or, even worse, your face.

“China wants a bouncy castle for its ten thousandth birthday!” shouts your secretary. Just before you pick up the phone to check what St John’s Community Hall can offer there’s an email in your inbox because Brazil called Peru a naughty name and now its sulking off the gulf of Mexico and it has to hand over the figures regarding its GDP before the end of the day. France has been in jail for nine days and no matter how many times you shock it with electricity it won’t tell you where your car keys are.

There’s a splat at the window. Poland is throwing eggs again. You’ve already cut off its pocket money and it still won’t respect your decision to hold the next Olympics in Australia.

Just when you think Thailand, Singapore and Qatar have their harmonies fashioned for your board meeting on Friday, Thailand sleeps in and misses the final dress rehearsal. Now you’ve got to go crawling on your hands and knees to Saudi Arabia in the hope that your fourth choice will forget the fact that you let them go in favour of the country with the slightly better baritone.

Even if you had superpowers and you could crush people with the weight of your toxic masculinity, where’s the thrill of being king or queen of the world? It’s not even something that would impress people anymore. The general public is impressed when a monkey rides a tortoise and someone films it. That’s an eight million hit on YouTube. Bragging rights for ownership of the planet Earth? Nothing. I bet all the other planets are always giggling about us because we still haven’t mastered space travel and Kanye West has now released eleven albums and still shows no sign of stopping.

No, I’m afraid if I was handed the keys to the globe I would turn and walk away. It’s just not for me. I’m out.

Avatar The Pompadoose Moose

In my long and illustrious career as, well, pretty much everything and everyone I have achieved a number of accolades to my name. I’m not going to list them all here because we don’t want it turning into one of those back-slapping exercises that other people seem to indulge in. I’m far too shy and retiring for that.

That said, I suppose 2020 was the worst time to change my career. I decided to be an animalogist just as the Bovona virus took hold of the world and squeezed it like a sad lemon to make a tiny droplet of lemonade so lacklustre it would fail to quench the thirst of a dung beetle.

For those not in the know, animalogists are those people who look like they got dressed in the dark / with their eyes closed and go out into the world to record all the different types of animals living in the world. All of them from such famous ones as the Alaskan mountain nut boar and the wig herons to the common ‘o garden hassle mice, they all need to be documented as many times as possible so that when you meet one of them you know what their star sign is and how they take their coffee.

When I was (secretly) roaming the more uninhabitable parts of Northern Russia in the later months of the year I came across a species of moose that was yet undocumented. It was tall and graceful, with a large volume of hair that took up most of the horizon line. I could see many nests of birds hiding in there. Worn high over its forehead, it was the most stylish moose I have ever seen with my moose-viewing eyes (they were commissioned especially for this expedition). After a general introduction I started asking it all of the pertinent questions starting with shirt size, favourite astronaut and whether or not their rivalry with raccoons had been blown out of proportions over the last few decades.

The information I acquired was priceless. In my bag I had reams and reams of paper filled to the brim with a veritable cornucopia of details. I was going to offer the definitive take on this new breed, coupled with one of my award-winning and best-selling books to boot. The only downside is that the pompadoose moose would not allow me to take its photo. I could ask all the questions I wanted but the world was not ready for its beauty and so I left pictureless.

To gaze upon its pompadour and its grace was a treasure like no other. I only hope that when the world is ready for it, that I am there at the front, pushing everyone else out of the way, ready with my trusty Kodak Ektralite to record that wonderful moment.

Avatar Trekkin’ Abroad: Norman D.

So many posts in so few days. It’s almost like it’s the end of the month and people have one eye on the Bean Counter.

No matter. This isn’t just any post, this is important. Listen carefully.

I am posting to the Beans from a foreign location. I am, literally, Trekkin’ Abroad at this exact moment. I am within a country apparently called Norman D., though as yet I have been unable to ascertain its surname. However, armed only with this rudimentary information, I’ve narrowed down some likely suspects.

Norman Dodgin

An English footballer, who mainly played defensive positions, Norman Dodgin’s professional career lasted from the late 1940s to the early 1950s and he died in 2000.

Norman Douglas

An author, most famous for his 1915 book South Wind, Norman Douglas died in 1952 – interestingly, at a time when Norman Dodgin was at the height of his professional football career. A coincidence? Unlikely.

Norman Dyhrenfurth

Confusingly born in Breslau, a German city that no longer exists because it’s now called Wroclaw and in Poland, Norman Dyhrenfurth was a cinematographer who produced movies for National Geographic in the 1960s and is apparently also known for a film released in 2007, which is two years after his death. He was born on May 7th, the same as me. Another coincidence? Unlikely.

Clearly these are the three most eminent Norman D.’s in the world, and so logically if I am in a place called Norman D. then I must be in one of them. All three are dead, which brings the unsettling but inevitable conclusion that I have gone on holiday to a corpse. However, it seems to be a reasonably nice corpse, with a pleasant apartment that has a balcony and a short walk to shops and bars around an attractive harbour front setting, so if this is life inside a dead body it’s not all bad.

I am due to leave this place on Sunday and if any further information about the location or identity of Norman D. comes to light, I will share it here.