The Capital of Grim

Have you ever been to Dungeness? I have, twice now. I’d be happy to go again because there’s nowhere quite like it.

It’s made of gravel, you see. Miles of gravel with bits of grass growing on it.

There are houses on the gravel, all made of wood and looking a bit battered. There are abandoned fishing boats on the gravel. There are rusting shipping containers dotted around randomly on the gravel. There are brick-built kilns standing on their own in a desert of gravel. There’s a miniature railway with tiny steam trains. There’s a lighthouse with a fog horn that makes a really loud beeping sound. There’s a massive nuclear power station. Everything is grey. And I really can’t emphasise enough that there’s lots of gravel.

It’s fascinating and lonely and strange. While I enjoyed being there, and will probably go again one day when I’m bored, it’s quite grim – the most beautiful and pure grimness anywhere in the world. Visit today! Dungeness, the Capital of Grim.

The sting

I was going to make a content-free post that would be blatantly and cynically intended just to get me up to four posts for December and win me a coveted bean. But then something happened that was worthy of making a whole post, so actually this will have something in it.

I’ve decided to buy myself a big Lego set as a Christmas present to myself, because I want one, and I’m a grown up so nobody can stop me. I was going to do it on Friday night, but now I have plans on Friday, so I set off to do it after work yesterday instead.

What actually happened was that I got to the Lego store, found the shelf where my Lego set should be, and saw that it was empty. So I asked one of the staff.

While he was explaining to me that it was sold out, and looking up when a new delivery would come in, I felt something odd on my head, and put my hand up to see what was in my hair. It felt like sticking my fingers into a ball of needles. A spiky black thing fell on the floor, crawled away for a bit, and then flew off. “Oh yeah,” said the assistant, “we’ve had wasps in here today”.

Wasps? In the Lego store? In a big shopping mall? In December? Unlikely, yes, but a wasp is what it was. A big bastard of a wasp who tried to sting me several times and did actually get his syringe of doom into my little finger.

So last night I went home, very very late, with no Lego, but with a wasp sting on my finger.

That’ll show me.

Christmas inventory

It’s the end of Christmas now, and there’s no more Christmas left to be handed out, so it’s time to count up and see what this year’s season has poured into my jug.

Clothing

Ten socks
Brown and yellow checked shirt
Mr Bowie t-shirt

Confectionery

500g slab of chocolate
bag of hilarious chocolate “sprouts”
Box of generic Sainsbury’s assorted chocolates

Kitchenware

Small saucepan
Camembert baking dish
Carrot peeler in the shape of a giant pencil sharpener

Books

XKCD book
Road Signs history book
Something regrettable by Su Pollard

A reasonably good haul, all things considered. Well done everyone. Let’s raise a glass to Santa.

A close encounter

So, the other day at work, I was being at work and doing work stuff in one of our little glass boxes, when I became aware of some sort of kerfuffle or brouhaha taking place just outside.

I turned to see a whole crowd of people from around the office floor all trying to take pictures on their phones. In the midst of them was a camera crew trying to set up to film a TV interview.

With them – dressed all in white from head to toe, and wearing the most tasteless crown imaginable – was Miss World.

Virtually every man on the entire floor queued up for a picture with Miss World (none of the women seemed interested), but because I was working in my little glass box, working and doing work, I didn’t actually meet her or get a picture to prove this happened. But what I DID get were these two incredible pictures taken through the glass that clearly show the close encounter I had with someone who is, according to an unassailably democratic process, officially the most beautiful woman in the world, apparently. And that is basically just as good.

Sexatronic eviction

Gentlemen, we have a crisis. Sexatronic – my oddly named neighbour and subject of a hit single by The Papples – is about to be evicted from her ground floor hovel overlooking Church Road.

I suggest you do as I have done and write to your MP (remembering to CC the Queen) demanding that the Government steps in to prevent this impending tragedy.

In Memory of Bert Papps

You remember Bert Papps, don’t you?

Recently I was sitting on his bench and it reminded me of some of the amazing things he did.

Like the time he ran the four minute mile to check if it was safe for Roger Bannister to have a go. What a star.

Then there was the time his plane was shot down in the Battle of Britain, and instead of giving up he landed tail-first so he could carry on firing his guns up into the sky at the enemy.

Or do you remember when he invented Worcestershire Sauce? It’s hard to believe it now, but before he came along, if you wanted to put something obscure on your cheese on toast, you had to whisk some vinegar into egg whites and pour that over instead.

Let’s all share our Bert Papps memories here.

Loyalty

Where do your allegiances lie? Are you loyal to the Royals? Are you allied to the River Clyde? Are you dutiful to anything beautiful?

Until recently this was a question I just couldn’t answer. I didn’t know whose side I was on. But then someone handed me a little card and my life changed.

Yes! Now I have a Porridge Loyalty Card, I am officially loyal to porridge, and I have the documentation to prove it. Nobody can doubt my porridge credentials.

What are you loyal to? Are you a porridge compatriot? I must know.

Fire Drill

As the Pouring Beans Health and Safety Officer, it has come to my attention that this site has been running for almost a year now and we are yet to have a fire drill.

In the event that this website catches fire, it is important that everyone knows what to do, where to find their nearest fire exit and how to close their browser window quickly and safely.

Imagine the horror if you were trapped in the Beans, the navigation bar ablaze, smoke coming out of the search box, and your only escape was through the Old Beans and down the Character Hatch™. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

Please take some time to familiarise yourself with the fire exit signs so you know how to leave the website in an emergency.

Furthermore, at 11am on Saturday, we will have a fire drill. When you hear the fire alarm sounding, please make your way calmly to your nearest emergency exit and assemble outside on the Google homepage. The fire alarm is easily recognisable as it plays the ear-splitting sound of some baked beans being tipped out of a can.

Thank you.