The Caboodle List – The Seven Tasks of Kevin

I’ve had many jobs in my long and illuminating life. Everything you can think of from washing machine repair man to office monkey to cleaning jockey to whipping boy. I have ticked a lot of boxes and with so many years left to go it’s fair to say that I’ll have a couple more under my belt shortly.

Will any of them ever compare to my bingo trophy though?

That said, recently a new responsibility was thrust upon my paws. Kevin has been at a loose end since his doctor told him that he could no longer perform any further alteration work to his property because it could mean the end of his plica semilunaris. So what does someone do when their very livelihood is taken away from them? They need… BORING CHORES. Normally it would fall to Mr Hill’s lovely but lunatic wife to fill this void, however she has been kind enough to pass the mantle to me so that she is free to pursue her various worthwhile pursuits. Things like, oh I don’t know, goat chasing. That seems like something she would do.

It has taken the last fortnight or so but I believe I have drafted a list the likes of which has never been seen by human EYES before. It is so demanding, so time consuming, so all-encompassing that the chances of Kevin ever doing anything else ever again is slim to none. Kneel before the might of the Caboodle List:

Caboodle List

1. Slice each and every pea in a full bag of frozen peas in three equal portions. If at any point an unequal portion is discovered then Kevin must throw out everything done so far and start with a fresh bag.
2. Remove all of the trodden on chewing gum from the pavements of Main Street in Garforth. A particular haven for the delinquents and youths of the surrounding area, this battered lane of masticated gum receives new donations on a daily basis.
3. Phone every person in the Thomson Local phone book to offer them a free bag of yeast. There are over two million people currently living in West Yorkshire; that’s a lot of minutes and a rather large crick waiting to develop in his neck
4. Recreate ‘Earthly Delights’ by the artist Bosch on the beach in the sand using only a stick within two metes of the sea. Hopefully the water will continually lap against his work thus making the task impossible to complete.
5. Travel from Lands End to John O’ Groats using only a skateboard with a broken wheel or a bike made of marshmallows. This one seems the most feasible of the five so far.
6. Read every book in your nearest bookshop without purchasing any books and without the owners realising. This will require a fair amount of stealth and a lot of patience, especially considering the long and winding narrative of Jonathan Swift.
7. Count out ten thousand pounds in one penny coins. Kev hates change.

There were much more fiendish tasks that could have been set but I believe this is enough to get started. The great thing about the Caboodle List is that matters can be added at any time to bulk them out a bit in case Kev feels bored.

These are the endeavours one must endure as his secretary.

Newsboost – Rowdy Roland Rat Tumble Rumble Roundhouse

NEWS JUST IN!

Roland Rat has fallen down a manhole into the sewer close to his home near Stepney Green.

We have received a report that eighties megastar Roland was enjoying a mid evening jog with fellow tv personality Kevin the Gerbil when he lost his footing and accidentally dropped through the ground into the murky depths below.

Roland Rat shot to fame after discovering he was a puppet and children have a short attention span. Before long he was gracing everything from television to lunch boxes to a really terrible game on the ZX Spectrum.

Rat’s mansion is rumoured to be the second-largest in the whole of the UK, closely behind Mr Chang and his up until recently ever expanding home improvements centre. It also has ten times, or tice, as many toilets as the number in Chris and Elena’s new flat.

The BBC have a newscopter hovering over the manhole and George Alla… George Allegeyah… George Alegra… Nicholas Witchell is being lowered on a rope to interview him.

More to follow as the action happens.

Nana Nanas – Behind The Scenes

Oh hi. I didn’t see you there. Well, seeing as you’ve already jumped over the 8ft high chain-link fence, snuck past the security guards and dodged all the bear traps I left in the lobby you can stay.

We are currently shooting fresh scenes for ITV2’s newest fly-on-the-wall cum soap opera ‘Nana Nanas’ about a group of bananas who join the police force but can’t help get into the strangest and yet also thought-provoking scenarios that reflect the problems of everyday people and everyday life. The only problem is that the cast have a lifespan of about seven days which means that we are constantly having to recruit new actors to fill in the roles. The new actors are given new roles meaning that there is a constant revolving door of bananas starting out, breaking through and retiring within the space of a week. It is a constant headache for the writers who have only been doing this for the best part of a month but are running out of ideas for new characters.

You should also not confuse ‘Nana Nanas’ with ‘Nana Nanas’, which is a coming of age documentary about retired bananas trying to start fresh careers in the twilight of their years and something completely different.

Here you can see young heart-throb Jacob and seductress Cleo indulging in a sexy hot tub moment after a busy day shift. Jacob is in two minds about the whole thing, given how Linda stopped him in the corridor at the station to tell him just how she really feels. Cleo has had designs on Jacob since the last episode and has finally found the chance to make her move. Meanwhile Cleo’s dad, who also happens to be the chief superintendent leader police person king man, has followed them to Jacob’s flat and is furious that his star officer is fraternising with his daughter. As the chaos ensues, notorious, as in for the last two episodes, sex addict and pervert next door neighbour Shonky T. Nuisance looks on, hiding in the corner pretending to be a particularly unconvincing corner lamp.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right that it is very little work that results in a huge amount of reward. But isn’t that most of ITV2’s programming schedule?

Guards! Please escort this ruffian off my set, thank you.

Owl Kitchen. Or not?

When you’re walking around a shop there is a fair amount of pressure. You, as a consumer, need to spend your money otherwise the shop won’t be there anymore. So what will you buy? What wonders would you prefer to spend your hard-earned cash on?

For instance, would you like to buy this?

Now I am all for knick knacks and tat yet I am confused and perturbed as to what this owl wants. Clearly it wants to cook but it can’t spell ‘cook’ so it looks like it is asking for ‘cok’. So is this an owl with poor spelling and grammar? Was it the result of bad education?

Unless its eyes are the o’s but then there’d be three so the item’s message is ‘coook’ which is the kind of enthusiasm I can fully understand. But then why a spoon and a fork? Why is the owl trying to eat a fish when owls don’t eat fish?

I stared for a good five minutes at this the other day and I am still no further forward. Perhaps somebody else might be able to solve the mystery.

I like owls but this just seems wrong.

Positive Moments

I know there’s been a lot of bad things happening recently. Just today I discovered that the patent on application number EP96923892.2 expired on 21 June. Very, very sad times.

It can’t be all doom and gloom though, right? There has to be some bright cheeks peeking out between the hazard clouds. It’s a good job that I am here to wheel out the happy high fives.

In addition to the thrilling news that my new book, ‘Thirst Pocket Hysteria; a Nation in Crisis’, which deals with the sudden outbreak of panic amongst the general public due to the baffling rise of the Vanish Tip Exchange and people bulk-buying kitchen roll at an alarming rate, available at all general and local book stores come this Friday, is out, I also have a story which will warm the very deepest and very murkiest corners of your hearts.

Those with a keen mind will remember that my very first post on the then new look Beans on 3rd February 2014 dealt with a mild irritation concerning a lollipop man who works near my office. If you can’t remember it then it is also here like a tasty mung bean salad. He clearly could not handle how great I was, and still am, and chose to deal with this by being quietly hostile, ignoring my attempts to break the ice. A period of two years elapsed with no further instances until a couple of months ago I crossed the road and in reaching the other side he finally spoke up with, “Good Morning.”

I was stunned. All this time and now he chose to speak up? A lessor man would scoff and walk on, but there was something in his approach which made me re-consider my choices. The conflict was over. The battle was done. I dusted off the dour days go by, held my head up and retorted with an equally chipper, “Good Morning!” Now it happens each time I cross the road at his crossing. He sometimes even smiles. We are the best of fake office grunt and lollipop man friends.

I am still a little confused as to why the council would pay a man to stand next to a pelican crossing and help people cross the road where an automated system has been put in place for that very reason… but hey, that is not my beef.

This has been Positive Moments for the Beans Network. If you would like to share your positive moments with us then please don’t.

And now back to Chris…

Slut-Dropping in the USA

I am the master of the slut drop.

This is not one of those X Factor “I can sing and I’m going to show the world just how good I am only to fail miserably as it turns out I’m not very good at singing in the slightest and I’ve just shown sixty million people how stupid I am” moments. This is one of those “I am so good” moments.

For those who are not in the know, a slut drop, as defined by the urban dictionary, is, “a move in “dirty dancing” involving standing with legs bending the knees, squatting until the buttocks almost reach the floor and standing back up with a body roll.” I have unwittingly been doing this most of my modern life and it wasn’t until recently that I learned that it was an actual thing with an actual name. It’s a little like Stop, Drop and Roll but with less roll.

Having conquered the world of fixing washing machines (erm…), it was only a matter of time before I moved on to the next thing. It had occurred to me that the list of things I am excellent at is so vast I wasn’t sure how I was going to narrow it down. Whatever I needed to do to work it out, it was certainly going to be an all-nighter. And just so you know, it’s very difficult being this accomplished because it opens you up to an awful lot of criticism and jealousy.

So, what does one do when one possesses talents such as these? Sit on them and hope to get famous anyway? Hide in a cupboard? No. I have to take this out on the road and head direct to the heart of the action. The World Slut Drop Championships are held in Kansas City, Missouri each year. Without a shadow of a doubt I am convinced that I can win it. So, with the financial help of the beans massive, I will be flying out in the next couple of weeks to face the creme de la creme of the slut-dropping community.

Can I beat Sophie ‘Um Chuka Chuka’ Candice? Will I be able to defeat the two times winner Bish Bush Cacklewonker? Will I have the strength to take on the Qwindle Twins?

With your money in my pocket, I’m sure I will.

Smidge-tastic Advert Break

After last year’s expedition to Finland, in order to drum up some of our European cousin’s interest in the Beans, I decided that a further visit should be arranged in order to follow up some of the key points of interest. Indeed, some might say it was quite reckless of me to fly out to somewhere I had never been before, without any financial contribution from the kitty, with barely enough coppers to rub together to warm a vole’s index finger with, and so on. To those some what I offer is a non-sensical response, scatted with expletives and a rude drawing done on the back of a napkin.

Anyway, the main point of this was to explain my most recent discovery.

It seems as though our exports are doing much better than we believed them to be. Even though they are quite clearly blatant knock-offs, Smidge Manly has been seen promoting and advertising a wide variety of different items and services. His face has been adorned plugs for veterinary clinics, hedgehog windmills, fussy hooting clocks and even plugs. His viso/volto can be seen cheering on cyclists at the Toot De La Monge in July, handing out beef jerky to tourists by the Fleecox Bantymudge and even yelling for encores at the most recent Scanty Fox Cubs tour dates.

This has been my favourite so far:

Not only are these posters on most of the abandoned buildings in Ivalo in Finland’s town centre but some people have taken to stealing the unblemished copies, framing them and proudly displaying them in their living rooms. An unmitigated honour you’ll no doubt agree. The company even hired a sound-a-like for rolling radio adverts, mostly in broken English, to be wielded about the general public’s ears for the best part of the working week.

If this carries on, who knows? The real Smidge Manly may even be asked to advertise actual real life living things. He could become a local celebrity and have his own midnight questions and answers show. He may even get his certified gold double LP ‘Double Bugger: A Selection of Manly’s Musical Mutterings’ covers album into the European charts.

The word on the street is ‘pumpernickel’.

The Face Update: My Face

After an overwhelming number of requests, it was only fair that I provide an update about my face so everyone can stop pondering their ponders and querying their queries. If you have seen my face recently you may be a little shocked as to the present state and condition of it, so I would respectfully and humbly ask that all of you take a seat before reading the rest of this post.

The Face

As you can see, the majority of my face is now just a nose. This nose takes up approximately 80% of what used to be my face. Can you even still call it a face when most of it is a nose? Nobody knows. All I know is that things have become a lot more nasal as a result of this.

The Nose

The nose continues to grow at an exponential rate. Scientists predict that within three weeks I will have lost my face altogether. It will cease to exist and only one massive, humongous nose, attached to a pair of arms and legs, will walk around pretending to be me. I will resemble Chris the Cheese but instead of a large block of cheese I will resemble a huge conk, and small school children will haphazardly wander into and up my nasal cavity in the hope of finding their lost kites and skateboards.

The Eye

In addition to this, another shocking revelation is that one of my eyes has been replaced by a BBC news presenter in the middle of reporting an interesting piece about China. This article repeats every seven minutes and whilst it has become a repetitive and somewhat annoying inclusion, it is very informative and has won several awards. Seeing through it is no longer an option; I have taken to wearing an eye patch, much like pop chanteuse Gabrielle, to cover my iron shame.

Conclusion

… I should probably go see a doctor.

Pouring
Beans

Author: Ian “Air Travel Regulations” McIver