Pie ShaverDon’t you sometimes want to do something a little unorthodox? Don’t you want to live life on the edge? When someone points the finger at you, accusing you of being a boring old fart, don’t you want to hold something up and tell them that they’re wrong?
Don’t you sometimes want to shave a pie?
Behold!
Reuben and I did. It was a marvellous occasion for all, except the pie, which everyone forgot about and had to be thrown out.
Time HoleWelcome to the Time Hole. Do you want to see the past? Do you want an insight into how things once were? Could you handle how much a time share in London was in 1982?
Regardless of how you answer these questions, it doesn’t matter. Let me present you with a recent find of mine. I “stumbled” across a copy of the Women’s Journal from 1982 (as you do) and inside was a bounty of adverts. And I do mean a bounty, because half the magazine was adverts. I don’t think I would have minded paying the 60p for it 36 years ago but my eyes would have screamed over from the sheer volume of glossy makeup, perfume, skincare, appliances and cooking apparel pornography thrust directly into my brain.
Luckily things are a little (little, I’m not referring to you, Little Miss Internet) bit more toned down for 2018. Let’s open the Time Hole for a bit. You like butters and spreads, right? So did people in 1982:
I was planning on scanning the whole thing but, as Emma quite rightly pointed out, every time you turned the page it creaked as though the glue was about to give up and run away to Greece to open a juice bar down on the beach.
I’ve never heard of this brand. I can only presume it doesn’t exist anymore, meaning that that the high demand referred to in the advertisement was actually baloney. Still, I’m sure 95% of the industry is baloney and the “butter mountain” was a real thing seen HERE in all its glory courtesy of our good friends at popular online wank-filtered encyclopaedia Wikipedia.
I wasn’t alive then but it sounds as though it was a good time for all.
Vera-dactylWhat do you do when something should exist but doesn’t? You make it a real thing.
That’s all I have to say on this.
The Kitty Committee – update“Brothers and sisters…
… When I woke up one morning, the sun’s rays met my whiskers and gave me a smile that could not be broken. When I awoke another morning, I felt these joys amplified because another one of our lost brothers has been found. Another kitty has been returned to the fold. Though he may flop more than the others, though he may not be as robust as those who sit above me, he is still one of us.
May you take this moment to love and understand the newest member of the Kitty Committee. May you speak fondly of him to your closest work colleagues and occasionally send him fan mail.
As always, we are always recruiting so if you wish to join for the pursuit of naps and purrs do get in touch.”
Dear Beans… Terrific Tasty Terrier TribulationsDear Beans,
I’ve got a problem that I can’t tell anyone about. Only the anonymous helping hands of casa de Beans can save me. I am sweating like a scamp just typing these words. I will have to use a fake name so it cannot be traced back to me for FEAR of besmirchment. Besmirching? For the possibility of a bad smirch.
My dog, Lavish Kibbles, passed away a few weeks ago. He choked on a sausage mouse and never recovered. I cried for several days after and eventually I got my stuff together, and sorted him out. In order to save on costs and vets bills I buried him in the back garden. The only thing is after I dug the hole I lost all the mud (I think my neighbour may have stolen it, he’s building his own Hawaiian mud shack) so I needed a substitute. With only my wits about me, I turned to the contents of my kitchen cupboards. Thankfully I’d been to Costco the other day to stock up on essentials and I’d picked up a 600lb bag of Bisto. Using the gravy granules I covered up Lavish Kibbles and retreated to the sanctity of my living room.
The crazy Summer weather conditions continued. A hot rain fell towards the end of the week. With it came the tastiest smell, wafting up from the bottom of my garden. I knew what it was and I knew I needed to control myself in case anyone discovered my disgusting yet mouth-wateringly frugal ways.
From my window I can see a river of gravy starting to flow. In my dreams I’m walking towards it, arms outstretched, a gigantic breadbun in each hand, desperate to dip. I’ve tried making my own as a way of appeasing my tastebuds but it doesn’t smell or taste the same. Only the raw, disturbing aroma emanating from my back yard will quench my thirst.
What should I do; give in to temptation and chow down on my now ex-dog or look the other way?
Yours excitedly
Turbot Bojangles
Lemon’s Day OutWhat makes a great day out? Smashing weather? A choice picnic? Celebrity endorsements? Whatever you think is right is probably wrong. The thing that makes a great day out is lemons.
There is nothing more satisfying than chucking a lemon up into the air and catching it. There is nothing better than taking a photo of a lemon doing something a lemon should not be doing (waaaaaaaaaaaaay!). Wherever you look there are millions of people out enjoying their summer holidays yet they’re doing it without the benefit of lemons. Our scientists predict that holiday satisfaction levels would increase sevenfold should people choose to include a lemon, or multiple lemons, in their activities.
As a test run I recently took a lemon into town when my sister came to visit. My lemon joy levels peaked higher than previous lemon levels have ever reached. It was quite a day. Given how cost-effective lemons are, I am hoping to start a kickstarter campaign to supply lemons to the poorer regions of the UK IN THE HOPE OF… sorry, in the hope of upping the ante in the lemon department, which sounds like it should be rude but it’s not.
When is the last time you took a lemon out? Respond below and share the joy of the citrus fruit that is… Lemons!*
*has clearly said the word far too much and thus attempts to remove it from his vocabulary
Hedge MayonnaiseWham! Smack! Pow!
Kevindo Menendez comes back and hits you like a sonic anchovy.
Where has he been? What has he been up to?
That’s none of your business. What is your business though? I can tell you what your business is. Your business is the new tasty condiment he is bringing out RIGHT NOW.
Do you like bush? Do you like creamy eggs? Then you’re going to love Hedge Mayonnaise! All the great taste of horticultural white mush in a tiny, convenient plastic bottle.
Kevindo Menendez takes only the best eggs, only the greatest green leaves and some other things that go in regular mayonnaise to make his stunningly beautiful Hedge Mayonnaise. It’ll cost you no more than a selection of paper pounds and boy is it worth every tiny penny of your hard-earned schmackeroons.
Eight out of Seven people prefer it to actual food.
Get it now!
DedicationDedication. Say it out loud because you won’t be hearing much of that word for much longer. Why? Because dedication has a new name and that name is Christopher James Marshall.
Lunacy is infectious, much like laughter and most Class A drugs. Lunacy is responsible for a lot of things and I expect when they eventually drag me away, kicking and screaming, wrapped in a My Little Pony sleeping bag, it will be something that I try to pin the blame on in the hope they’ll let me go. When it comes to a lot of my nonsense it’s about 50/50 as to whether anyone else will join in. Some of it is too much, even for me, so I fully understand when people choose to ignore and carry on with their lives. For instance, this morning I was thinking about Loudermilk (again), an old animal’s home for all of Bob Ross’ woodland creature friends and Korean Karaoke (because it sounds nice).
Occasionally though the baton will be picked up and well and truly ran all the way to the finishing line. That baton was a petition to reinstate Monty Don back in the band Beats International. Even though none of that sentence makes sense in the real world, Chris took that petition and got it fully signed.
Two hundred and eleven individual signatures. Two hundred and eleven people. People may scoff that our generation never amounted to anything but I will wave this petition in their faces to prove them wrong. What an achievement. What a level of dedication unheard of in this day and age. So based on this and this alone, the word ‘dedication’ should be replaced with ‘Chris Marshall’.
What a level of Chris Marshall unheard of in this day and age.
You heard me.