One of those things

Childhood, ah, such a bewildering time to be alive. For one, you have no responsibility and so much potential. You have no money but everything you actually need is provided to you for free. If you want to spend the entire weekend sat with your face in the television with a mouth full of marshmallows then you can, or at least until one or more of your parents objects to this. The point is that, as everyone is aware, life is so very different as a child.

I could bore you to tears with stories of my time as a tiny Ian. You may or may not have heard them already and the ones you haven’t heard are just as tedious. Believe me, I am doing you a favour by keeping my mouth shut. I haven’t quite reached the age of telling every single person I meet in the street (not that they would given how bovona has given everyone carte blanche to ignore you even if you have a leg hanging off or knife at your throat) of the time I found £1.10 in the front garden in the snow and became so excited you would have thought I had discovered the Turin Shroud hanging off the bin.

Do you remember those… things that you used to make? I want to remember the name and I don’t want to have to Google it like everything else. The power of words (Words!) don’t fail me now. You folded it up and asked someone to say a number. Then you would use your hands to move it the appropriate number of times and ask for another number, repeat, and then open one of the panels to reveal some mystifying piece of knowledge. It looked a little like this:

No, I haven’t lost my mind and made one I did something much more reasonable; I found one on the floor and brought it home. A scruff I may be and nothing more because there is no other way of finishing that sentence. I wanted to remember a time that was much more innocent, of whistle pops and candy whistles, running around the park until your lungs bled with Tizer (you know, before they changed the formula and made it taste like a shark’s coldsore). I am not clever enough to make a fully functioning version of this, nor an interactive snazzy one on a computer. I do want you to know this though:

If you pick 0 or 1: You are a banana
If you pick 2 or 3: I am in love with you
If you pick 4 or 5: You are in love with me
If you pick 6 or 7:

?????

Newsboost – Old Codger Couple Cooks up Controversy

Shock news today as it was revealed that the two old people in the UK road sign are not actually two people, it is one person and her ventriloquist puppet.

The sign, which warns the general public of the impending danger of the elderly, has been in use for over 70 years and only now has it been revealed by the UK government that the second person is a puppet. At the time it was intended that two people be present in the picture only when it came to paint it one of them took a longer nap than intended and didn’t show up. Luckily the original model, Constance Felling, was an avid marionette aficionado and had her puppet, Swallow Thard, fill in the gap.

Constance has since passed on but we did manage to speak to a surviving relative, her daughter Rosemary. “David never arrived. They waited over an hour for him and he never emerged. His house phone rang and rang with no luck so the team divided into two; one set went to check that he hadn’t died and the other carried on with the sign. Mum was ever so resourceful and whipped out Swallow so the work could progress. They had to make the legs look less lifeless so they drew mum’s legs twice and put a set under Swallow. David was fine, a little drowsy from his sleep and nothing more. He was too late though as it was all finished by the time he arrived.”

She took a sip of her Special Brew and carried on, “That’s why it looks the way it does, as though the woman at the back is squeezing the bum of the guy in front. Everyone has been laughing at it for all these years and it’s nothing to do with sexual harassment; mum actually had her arm up his arse.”

The ‘Elderly People’ sign was voted the fifth most popular in England and Wales after a poll in 2011.

This follows on from February’s news when it was revealed that the person in the ‘Caution: Pedestrian Crossing’ the road sign wasn’t crossing at all, he was punching an Irishman in the stomach for sleeping with his wife.

Old news

It’s hard to know what to say, these days, when you talk to people, because nobody has any news. What do you talk about when nobody has anything to talk about? How do you fill a blog post when you haven’t done anything worth remembering?

Luckily for me, I am now quite old, so what I’ve decided to do is go back and see what past Chris was doing on this day years ago.

Letter to the RSPB

Way back, many moons ago, there was a suggestion from myself that Chis and I had written to the RSPB to complain about the lack of dinosaurs. The conversation can be found in the comments below the post An Admission of Sorts, a summary is included here:

“It is a letter that needs to be sent. I imagine that much like the one me and Chris wrote to the RSPB about the lack of dinosaurs at Fairburn Inngs, it will be ignored, but it must be sent nonetheless….”
Kev

“Two things are needed here… The second is more information about the letter to Fairburn Ings, which I have no memory of.”
Chris

“Is the letter mentioned on here, Kev?”
Ian

“I’ll have a chumble[sic], it feels like it should be.”
Kev

It wasnt. There was no mention of it which led to comments such as…

“Maybe the right thing to do now is ask whether it happened at all, or whether it’s some sort of weird dream.”
Chris

Well today, I have BIG NEWS. I found it. Just the letter mind, sadly the enclosed drawing must have been a one off and is lost to the mists of time. It’s a doozy let me tell you.

Sadly Mr. Steven James never received a reply to the RSPB, it’s almost as if they didn’t take us seriously.

RSPB.doc Download

In a side note, the little bit in the comments below the throw away bit about a letter that might not exist, is an excellent little ‘choose-your-own-adventure’ riff from Chris and Ian. Well done chaps, it made me lols all over again.

14 today

It’s 14 years ago today that the very first post was made on the Old Beans. That’s 14 solid years of stupid blog posts, half-baked comic strips and comment threads laden with impenetrable in-jokes. Hooray for us!

I will admit to being both surprised and vaguely horrified that we have clocked up a full decade and a half on this silly website. It seems a bit over the top to regard this as an achievement, especially since we have achieved literally nothing: 14 years in, we still have no audience beyond ourselves.

But I will allow a moment of pride and back-patting for the minor achievement that, 14 years in, we are posting far better and more interesting stuff than we did at the beginning. This is not a project that ran out of steam, it’s one that has developed and grown. Well done us.

I was hoping, at this point, to see how close we are to overtaking the Old Beans with the New Beans, because in my head the Old Beans ran for millions of years and the New Beans is some cheeky young upstart that’s barely old enough to be in long trousers. But that’s not true.

The Old Beans ran from 17 May 2006 to 23 January 2012, a total of 2,078 days.

We will ignore the comic strip era and step ahead to the New Beans, which began on 6 January 2014. As of today, it has been running for 2,324 days.

The New Beans actually overtook the (Duration? Longitude? Lengthiness? Vastness?) length of time the Old Beans had been running back on 15 September last year, a day on which we celebrated this milestone by making no new posts at all.

Anyway, the point is: the Beans has now been running for 14 years, making it one of the longest-running and greatest achievements of my, or anyone else’s, life. And for that we should be thankful. Let’s all raise a glass, or at least an eyebrow, on this momentous occasion.

Nostalgia – Young Me (and him)

Look at you. How old are you? You’re very old. You have done lots of things in your life and more often than not someone will have been there to make a note of it or possibly take a photo.

Nostalgia is what sells lots of old crap in that you remember how it was “back in the day” and then you want to get that feeling back by, I don’t know, buying your first car again, playing that Atari you had up in your uncle’s loft or investing in Microsoft shares. When I was looking for a photo for my brother I found a few photo albums, most of which were filled with sentimental (i.e. pointless) photos of my bedroom when I was 9 and other guff. I did, however, stumble upon several re-discovered gems of what used to happen when Kev and I, and sometimes Tom, would get whammed.

Now don’t get your hopes up, dear people. If you’re looking for sordid, filthy accounts of unscrupulous behaviour then you’re really on the wrong website (you took a wrong turn at boobpedia.com). What I’m talking are polaroids (easy now) of us all looking young surrounded by drinks bottles and cans. If you ever wanted to know what Kevin looked like with a bog roll on his head, holding one of those plastic separators you get with cans of lager, then you’ve come to the right place. If you were “desperate” to see a photo of me fake passed out on the floor then go no further.

I don’t remember ever looking that young but I know it happened. Here’s the proof:

Episode 16: Socks

I know, I know, I missed a month. It’s sort of worth the wait though, Chris gets sweary at the start of this one and wait ’til you hear next month’s episode… phew.

Anyway, this time we discuss:

Socks
Socks over Socks
Bed Socks
Socks
Clothes over clothes
Fleece.

Dating Profile

Hello

It has been several years since I was last on a dating website so I am not sure if the same rules apply or if things are exactly the same. Let’s start with the basics:

I am definitely single. I check every single day and not once has there been someone lurking in my flat, claiming to be my girlfriend or significant other;
I have been single for a while. The last time I was in a relationship you could step outside without needing to fight a pensioner for bog rolls or drive to seven different types of Tesco, looking for any kind of pasta available;
I have two arms and two legs. My third leg I left outside to dry in the sun and someone took it. I do have a spare fist which I keep in kitchen cupboard; it’s quite handy.

What I am looking for in a girlfriend is nothing out of the ordinary, in fact you could even argue that my tastes are quite plain. I want nothing more than a ten out of ten (out of ten out of ten) stunner the likes of which would make my friends and anyone else who catches sight of her drop to their knees and weep with joy. She should have long, rich, chocolate hair that I can nibble on when snacks are scarce. The kind of car she has is fast; I get to use it whenever she’s away in her glamorous job of testing theme park rides. She is well-known and well-respected in her field so we can go on any rides we want whenever we want. Even if they’re already being used. I can prise whatever kid is in my seat on the Nemesis at Alton Towers, throw them to the ground and laugh at their misfortune without any consequences.

What can I give you in return? I own three pairs of shoes and you are welcome to borrow one of them whenever you want (one shoe, not a full pair). I can cook two different types of cuisine: jam and brown. I usually opt for the latter as there are much more options available to you. I have had several compliments from friends and family that I cook the best brown they have ever tasted. If you have a sweet tooth though I am more than happy to “jam” it up. Have you ever tried Jammy Bolognaise? Sit down and let me astound and amaze you, my candied lemon eyes.

My achievements include two swimming certificates (10m and 25m), runner up in the Cotswold Olimpicks shin-kicking contest 2013 and I once accidentally dropped a caber on Russ Abbott’s toe. We’re still firm friends to this day.

I look forward to meeting you all; I have already acquired a broom to keep you all at a safe distance. Gone are the days of beating women off with a cricket bat, it is no longer seen as a safe and PC pastime. Please form an orderly queue, two metres apart, of course, and I shall sex you all up individually.

Pouring
Beans

Category: Ageing