Ian’s new book (new)

Yes, the moment you have all been waiting for is finally here. I know that I have asked a lot recently but the fact that you’ve all waited patiently means so much to me as a writer and a human being / doing.

Despite what some people have been spreading rumours about on here, as we and all the diehard fans know, ‘Three Shits to the Wind: The Secret Bathroom Attendant Within Me (M-Me)’ was a so-called spin-off book written by my old personal assistant and is not an official book in my ongoing series of self-help books. A hack can come in various different forms and there is nothing more hacky than passing yourself off as a competent author whilst releasing third-rate knock-off nonsense. Why settle for a mouse on toast when you could have the real thing right here, prime rib in your eyes? Disgusting behaviour.

The real deal. El trato real. La vraie affaire.

The name of my new book about to be released within the next week is ‘We: The New You’. Let me explain.

I have received letters from so many fans asking me to write a self-help book for those who have led multiple lives and may have multiple personalities within themselves. They can’t possibly use the assistance from my other multi award-winning volumes so it was only right that they have their time in the sun. Naturally I know that this will not be useful to everyone but as with my other New York Times’ best-selling books, even if you think you can’t learn anything new there’s bound to be something in there that will help you lead a better life. I guarantee it*

As well as that, ‘we’ can be applied to so many things: the royal ‘we’, ‘we’ as in couples, ‘we’ as in dogs and their owners, ‘we’ are in people living together etc. There are so many applications that it’s now my biggest book yet, literally; over one thousand pages of pure gold and at a low, low price of only £24.99 for the hardback and (coming in November) £17.99 for the paperback you can’t possibly go wrong. I’m not giving you this advice, I’m giving it to you for a reasonable price. I want you all to believe in yourselves and work through your problems in a safe and healthy environment, an environment full of hope and love and credenzas and little bowls filled with grapes and waterloo pumpkins.

*not guaranteed.

Chris GPT

An explanation is required. The temporary absence of Chris and the baffling disappearance of Kevin Hill (soon to be a hit West End musical) meant that up until recently I was facing the prospect of looking after the website on my own. Thankfully that didn’t end up being the case because with this much on the line (on the line!) there was a chance that 2007 Ian would come back from the pressure and nobody wants that. I was going to feed a bunch of Chris articles into AI and let them generate something to help post outside of my usual nonsense. Only one was fully finished so I present it to you as an indication of what could have happened…

I was wandering work thinking about the right temperature and colour of doilies when I decided that I needed a project. I needed something to get me back on trackingtons after several weeks on nightshifts with Lionel Ritchie. It was no use, nothing came to mind so I returned to France to ponder my future.

Then it hit me; build a wasp art gallery! Everyone loves bees and they’re coming back big like a big elephant so why not help the little guys and build a gallery? Bad press for wasps can only mean bad press for everyone. This was my greatest idea and I loved it so much I spent all night drinking tea and wondering why nobody had thought of it sooner. In the morning when the moon was dead Kate brought me some biscuits and I tossed them out the window at nobody (it’s a private joke we both have). I drove over to the roads museum and looked at maps with my eyes. I adore maps and roads and how they bring me joy. Their joy inspired me to draft a huge blueprint of my precious art gallery. I included bathrooms because (wheeeeeeey!) everyone needs to go at some point, even Wontons and Mike.

It was structurally sound after ten minutes. Not a boaster, never boastingtons ever, but look at me and how I work! Hard work too, the likes of which world push past IT BBC logical dreams are made of. Look, you don’t need to be me and don’t have jealous because my tools made something happen. I called up Gary Wilmot (who?) for some advice and he threw it at me like a puffin going after a kelp. Monstrous.

It only took seven years but I am proud of my efforts. Now the wasps can view the world in a different light and give them culture where it never was before. They can see tiny Cezanne and Van Gogh and other wonderful works of art. Will they stop stinging everyone? Probably not because give and take in the world of nature. I’ve given something back and they will appreciate me for doing so.

Dual life

I couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t even that funny but for some reason there I was, stifling my laughter in the corner of a Norwegian supermarket in the sweet aisle.

I was deliberately on the lookout for products that had unusual or silly names because I’m that kind of person. I take a look at the beautiful scenery, soak in the culture, sample the local delicacies and then push everyone out the way in the hope of finding a t*tbar or a c*ck pellet for a cheap laugh. You can judge me all you want.

We had already gazed longingly at the huge waterfall at the top of the hill and taken a multitude of photographs so it was time to see what other delights were available in this tiny village. The bank had been turned into a tourist shop, one of about half a dozen within the vicinity, and you could tell this because the store clerk kept disappearing behind the door of a massive safe for further stock. It was the only time it rained whilst we were away so the local swimming area was mostly abandoned apart from a couple of thrill-seeking nutters who had bothered to bring their swimwear.

The food shops and convenience stores were a bit of an eye-opener. With one product it explained just how wide the gap is between the UK’s pound and Norway’s Krone. A box of Pound shop, Christmas-only, I’ve-never-seen-anyone- eating-these-before-in-my-life ‘Toffifee’ was 73.90 Krone or £5.53. Imagine being so desperate for ‘Toffifee’ and having to spend over a fiver for the privilege; let’s hope it never happens to you. Further into the aisle I went and there I found a box of sweets with a friendly bear on the front.

The Bjornar Sota (sweet bear) is a loving, caring kind of bear and you can tell this in the way he gently caresses the sweets in his furry bear hands. Is he planning on eating them? Probably not, he’s too lovely for that. He’ll be tucking them up in bed and popping on a night light before quietly placing mugs of hot cocoa on the bedside tables for them.

The Bjornar sura though (sour bear) is a tired, grouchy old Grinch-esque character who doesn’t want to share his sweets with you or anyone you know, so don’t even think about it, sunshine. He’s clinging onto that confectionary for dear life (the expression on the bear’s face is priceless) and no matter how nice you are to him, he will not let go. He’s sour about you, me and everyone else in the world.

Are the sweet bear and the sour bear the same bear? Does he lose his rag and transform into his nemesis, his Mr Hyde? Are the two bears part of the balancing act the universe carries out so gracefully to ensure life can exist? You’re asking the wrong person so don’t even bother. All I know is that, more than ever, we all should be a bit more bjornar sota than bjornar sura.

Nish lives on

I decided I was too “hairy on the go” and needed to cut down on a bit here and there. The most obvious place was the top of my head so I decided to go for a haircut.

Modern life dictates that if you do not have a preferred barber or hairdresser then you have to choose the one that’s most convenient for you. I have tried a number of places over the last few years and can’t quite settle on one. They’re all fine, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing too special to go back to though (apart from the one where they gave me lots of coffee and made a huge fuss over my haircut however it cost twice as much as usual). There are two barbers near my work so I opted to walk past both of them, gauge how many customers were in each and select the one that was the quietest.

I meandered into the barbers with a queue of one and a half in front of me (the half was already in the chair and almost done by my eye but then spent another ten minutes having very little to nothing done to his bonce) and took a seat next to a glass cabinet of hair supplies and accessories.

It was a warm day so I stared nonchalantly out the door and around the room. It was then that my attention was immediately brought to the collection of items a little above my eyeline:

There it was. Nish Man hairspray.

In my mind what happened is that our mythical status grew and grew so much that we spread to the outer parts of Europe and Asia. There a large group of Turkeys (Turkians, Turkish? Turkpeoples) decided that in order to spread the word of how talented and funny we were, they turned us into an aerosol. I know it’s not the greatest explanation but what were you expecting, really? It’s me here, everyone.

It’s a legacy of some kind I suppose and one that will make your hair a good hair. I had a look and there are other products available for all your grooming needs including wax, hair wax, hair on wax hair, volume powder, styling powder, hair on wax powder, eye gel, eyebrow powder wax and strong fixative yellow.

Now available in all good barbershops.

Disappointment squared

What does disappointment look like to you? Is it a flaccid (easy now) aubergine that hasn’t managed to grow fully in your allotment? Is it a shiny new 50p coin with a huge dent in the edge? Is it learning that Claire Richards from Steps is coming back with a new solo album? It comes in many shapes and forms and sadly there is no escaping the silky, wet glove that is disappointment.

I recently went on a ship and sailed to a different part of the world. It was excellent all the time (whispers, “all the time”) and even though I must have eaten twice my weight in steak and burgers a good holiday was had by all. The ship was swimming in luxury. If you wanted to sit in a hot tub all day sipping champagne and eating tiny desserts you could. If you wanted to go to their cinema and watch four films back to back you could. If you wanted to watch a questionable stage production by one time flatmate of Robbie Williams, Jonathan Wilkes, then you could (the only time we went to the theatre was on the last day when we were leaving and there was no more time for japes).

Families with children were also catered for on a higher level. In addition to the various play rooms and activities there were pools, swimming pools, pools with pizza stations next to them and some kind of sports facility on the very top deck. I would have investigated however we all know I am allergic to 85% of sports in the general population. Did I mention the pools? They even had a night time nursery service so if you wanted to leave little Billy with a responsible adult so you could go get shit-faced in the bar and then return around 1am to pick him up then you could. You really, really could.

As two adults with no small people there was little chance that we could take advantage of any of these facilities. Not that we wanted to but, hey, nobody likes being left out. When the holiday was being booked there was the hint made by the company that some celebrities who would be onboard for a meet and greet. I heard ‘Wallace’ and ‘Gromit’ and I knew that I had to get involved in this kind of action. For four days there was no mention of them anywhere in the leaflets they left outside your day to inform you about the daily activities going on. Nothing whatsoever. Finally on Wednesday morning, cowering towards the bottom and wedged between something called ‘Jukebox Hero’ and ‘Pilates’, was the following:

“Wallace & Gromit Special Appearance – A special appearance from Wallace and Gromit. Come and say hello to the cheese-loving inventor and his faithful four-legged friend.”

We had to go. There was no way we could miss such an event as this. The queue was very long and started snaking through the whole of the atrium; clearly this was a big event for all. We decided to keep back and watch from afar rather than getting too close. Our location meant we could see everything. Like a couple of divas they were ten minutes late. What then happened can only be… well it needs… look at the damn photo:

Not even two people in suits. We’ve got a fully-sized Wallace and a tiny Gromit that he can fully pick up with one hand, no doubt sewn to his hand because he never put him down. I don’t know if the organisers of this even have ever seen ‘Wallace and Gromit’ but they’re fairly even in height due to the latter walking on his hind legs for a lot of the time. The kids that were hugging and posing for photos were fine with the arrangement; not a single one asked to speak to the manager or had some quiet words with a member of staff. It was clear that we were in the minority so we slipped away and discussed our respective disappointment over coffee and cake.

Missing, presumed busy

Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to cast a keen eye over the mostly-absent third member of the Beans trio, Mr Kevin Hill.

Hill is not dead or missing after hiking through the foothills of Cheveley or anything suspicious like that. We know that he’s still flobbiting about somewhere, possibly in his lovely house or one of the many, many locations he has to drop and/or pick up his kids from.

He has a made-up job title (at least according to his Linked-In profile) and may or may not still be running some kind of poodle grooming business on the side. Is this what takes up all of his time? Are dogs the reason he doesn’t visit anymore? Expert analysists seem to suggest so.

The important thing is that we remember he is still a thing and remembering is fun. Though he may have abstained from posting anything for the last eight hundred years, though his track record of editing and uploading the podcasts is as sketchy as an afternoon with Vincent Van Gogh, Kevin is still a valuable edition to the team and we all look forward to seeing his cheery little face once again.

Newsboost – When the mash hits the fan

Plans were unveiled today that will shape the face of mash for the future.

While it is unlikely that there would ever be a shortage, experts today have explained the plan that will be implemented should the worst ever happen. It has taken six months for the problems to be ironed out. We spoke with demi-goth soothsayer Wordell Numbstruck.

“The most agonising part was the font size,” explains Wordell, “as we had a split divide between those wanting to use size 11 font and those who preferred size 12. For an entire month neither side would budge and it was only when some bright spark decided to order in two dozen Danish pastries did the lines of communication open once more. That was a good day.

“We were originally going to use a kind of Doomsday clock however it was put to a vote and a more traditional American Defcon-style gauge was chosen. Counting down the days wasn’t quite the right image for mash. We’re still finalising the official art so we will have to make do with some of my crude sketches:

Level 5 – Mash common state
The world stock of potatoes is plump and bountiful. Mash is commonly available and nobody has any problems trying to get any.

Level 4 – Minus mash
One of the leading potato suppliers (China, India or the Ukraine) is facing difficulties due to a poor harvest or bad stock. Mash can be still be obtained albeit for a slightly higher price.

Level 3 – Mashtronomical
All three leading potato suppliers cannot cough up the goods. Russian, the USA, Bangladesh and Germany are overwhelmed with demands and struggle to keep up. Mash is slightly rarer and prices have skyrocketed.

Level 2 – Mash hysteria
The world is begging for mash and nobody is having any of it. Stocks are gradually diminishing in every single country. You cannot find a potato for love nor money. Black market trading is rife and the other, less popular potato products (chips, boiled and new potatoes, croquettes etc.) are also suffering.

Level 1 – None shall mash!
There are no more potatoes left in the world. Mash is gone forever.

“We want everyone to understand that this is in no way likely to be something that happens in our lifetime or the next at that,” continues Mr Numbstruck, “only that a crisis could happen and should it happen we want to be able to sort it out. This system we’ve created will explain to the powers that be just how severe or negligible the situation is. I am confident that the work we have put into this today will benefit others at the appropriate time. We also have t-shirts available in the gift shop and on our website should anyone be interested.”

Chair finder

The sun was out. The weather was fine. What a lovely day for a drive (and various other old man things).

As I pondered these thoughts my eyes started scanning the horizon line for something to catch my attention. There’s always something out there:

Simply Dutch – the home furniture shop in Northallerton that I always see when driving home to Leeds and still in 2023 have yet to visit (possibly always has a sale)
The Amazon Depot (around the County Durham area on the A1) – you can see it a mile away, the greyest, dullest building you’ve ever seen. It’s about as fun-looking as a machete through the face
Any sign with the village name ‘Shilbottle’ on it – if you know, you know

I was almost home driving North on the A1 when I came across a sign that I hadn’t seen before. There was no chance for me to take a photo so I made a mental note of the name and decided to come back to it later.

When later came about, after putting it to the back of my mind, I decided to see if I could find it. I expected to have it buried under a bunch of similar-sounding business names or other things. It shows what I know. Top o’ the list it was:

Chairs – Chair Finder

Chair Finder is an antiques store in Durham (and to a lessor extent London). They believe every chair as its own character and story to tell. They also have a range of curated interior pieces that they find along the way and simply cannot resist. Not only can you peruse a bunch of chairs but you can also get your nose into a other acquisitions such as stone owls and paintings of men riding donkeys. It’s a plethora of things to delight the senses. No wait, the donkey rider has sold. You’ll have to make do with the ‘Portrait of an English gentleman’ instead.

Now whenever I hear the name I can’t help but add ‘general’ to the end of it so it sounds more like Witchfinder General. There are a bunch of dangerous, drooling men scouring the world, ready to offer you good money for your chairs. They’ll take them away and make them look better or whatever it is antique people do. Something involving Pledge? Maybe.

If Chris had looked on Chair Finder maybe he wouldn’t have spent seven hundred years trying to find the foot rest, foot stool, foot hanger (?) that he needed to match his chair. They would have sent him one in a few hours. He could have saved himself a boatload of trouble.

Perhaps you’re in need of some chairs. Perhaps you need the guidance of a more experienced pair of hands. If you have a problem, if no-one else can help and if you can find them maybe you can hire the Chair Finder.

Pouring
Beans

Author: Mioccele ver MaccMaver