Wrap up tightly for this one. It is gonna burn like a case of hot pie (hot pie!) cold custard.
What is going on with toys for kids? If you ask Old Man Kevvers what he ‘ad when ‘ee were a lad he’d tell you that it was a drawing of a stick on the pavement, drawn in coal dust, and each morning it would blow away before he had a chance to play with it. Times were different in the 18th century or whenever Old Man Kevvers was around.
If you’ve ever had the misfortune to wander into a Smyths toy store then your eyes would be greeted by huge corridors of wall-to-wall dustbin fodder. They will stick a goofy face on anything and charge you fifty quid for the privilege, and your kids and your little sisters and your nieces and your cousins all want this steaming pile of excrement in their houses. Let’s take a look at some of the choices you have from my recent excursion to a toy shop with Professor Reuben:
- Has your child or small relation recently been turned to stone by Medusa? Are you wondering what to get them for their birthday now that they have no pulse? Take a look at the Zipline Play Set for the recently petrified. All the fun of flying through the air on a piece of plastic. Make sure not to push them too hard otherwise they’ll shatter on the ground. Also works for those pesky ghosts refusing to pass into the next life.
- Q: Where can we put something in an animal that isn’t provocative or sexy? A: In its mouth. Let me present you with the Number Crunching Squirrel! Put a piece of plastic in its mouth and watch it choke to death in the name of light entertainment. Jam disc after disc of brightly-coloured coins into Chip or Dale’s food pipe. It might play a song or add the numbers together, I don’t know, I was too horrified to find out.
- I couldn’t walk past this without laughing. I’m very immature.
It was these three items as far as the eye could see. They are your ONLY options for future purchases. Break out the Kunst-Dose!
So you’ve taken the plunge and out comes an orb. Well done! Please refer back to my previous post before reading on because we’re British here and we don’t like getting ahead of ourselves (see here: ORBS).
You will be completely perplexed at first but that’s okay, relax! Everyone struggles with their first orb so you are not alone in your endeavours. Gently place the orb on the sofa next to you and carry on scanning this helpful article.
Your orb will still be quite small and easy to deal with. The most important thing is not to treat it like a piece of luggage. Don’t put it in your rucksack or man bag, however you roll in 2019, underneath your gym socks and your eiderdowns. This orb has feelings and whilst it may warm your socks in readiness for your upcoming “stretch session” you will not win any orbular points. Carry the orb in your arms, either out in front of you or cautiously tucked into your side. If you have the correct equipment you can put the orb in a carry case on your back so you have the benefit of being able to use your hands whilst knowing the orb is safe. It will also allow you and your orb to grow closer together because of the contact you share.
When your orb is having a fun time it will glow a warmish, orange colour; this way you know you are doing things right. If at any point they emit a loud shriek like a pigeon in a pair of stilettos then you know something is wrong. Similarly, if they display any colours towards a reddish hue then that is also an indication that you should look at what you’re doing. Occasionally your orb may confuse you further by glowing a purple or lavender colour, the same as Prince’s rain, which will either mean they’re happy but worried at the same time or that they need the toilet. We would strongly recommend keeping some orb bags with you at all times in case they have a little accident. Replacement dungarees are also to be encouraged.
There is a lot to do at first, so much that there is not enough (fake) ink and (fake) paper to cover everything, and you may feel overwhelmed. Remember that everyone learns from their mistakes and you are not the first person to pick up a little mess from the ground because you misinterpreted the colour scheme of your orb.
Love your orb and your orb will love you right back.
Pregnancy, eh? What’s all that about?
I mean we all know what it is about, don’t we? Humans making more humans to fill the spaces that other humans have left. It’s the great circle of life, the wheel of fortune. If we didn’t make more humans, who would sit in all those prams? Who would use them nappies? And, heavens above, who would leave all those tiny Lego pieces on the floor for you to stand on them and wish you didn’t have legs?
Kevin has the luxury of having one tiny chilblain with another on the way. But does he? Research taken earlier today by Professor Reuben does now suggest that Kev and his lovely wife Sarah may just be on the verge of having an orb instead of a human baby. The most recent scan taken by, pft, “doctors” shows a much rounder form than previously anticipated. The subject, Mrs S Hill, has a very orbular shape around the stomach and wombular areas. When I gently placed my hand on top of the orb it kicked, then it hummed and then my palm felt warm. Orbs are known for emitting both humming noises and warmth.
This came as quite a shock to the both of them. Myself and Professor Reuben set out the facts as we saw them in graphic detail, which involved several large sketch pads, a teatowel, three inhaler cups (thanks, Kev) and a dozen bottles of mayonnaise. Within mere minutes both of them were crying with what could only have been joy. Yes, it did mean ruining the surprise of rolling out a glowing orb on the big day although we believe it was for the best. Society has not come far enough to embrace the orbs and welcome them into the playground, the classroom and, most upsetting of all, into our hearts.
What does that mean for the prospective parents? What do they have in store if they will be caring for an orb instead of a baby? In the interests of stretching out one very basic idea into several posts I have decided to extend this simple premise into a few separate articles of writing. I mean, why not? It’s the flavour of the month. Tune in next time for tips on how to look after their and maybe even your orb.
So here we have it.
These two giants of the rapping world have been teasing this for the last couple of weeks and the hype has reached unobtainable levels. Ian “Flashback” McBugle and Sheriff Rockingham aka Chris Marshall, both ex members of pioneering genre-bending super group ‘The Rapples’, are gearing up for what is expected to be THE rap battle of the week, maybe even the day.
If you’ve been monitoring their comments you’ll know the frenzy that surrounds this encounter. Tickets have been sold out for ages but you lucky, lucky people get to hear the whole thing as it happens right here on Beans FM.
Both competitors are still at the top of their. Sheriff Rockingham has been flexing his vocal muscles on a recent jaunt abroad, amazing the locals with his keen observations and spilt-second timing. Flashback, however, has been trawling the mean streets of the North East, picking lyrical fights with pensioners trying to buy stamps at the post office.
Take a seat, ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be a bumpy ride. Over to you, boys…
Around this time of year a lot of people get nostalgic. They remember years gone by, people who have left us and happy memories sitting next to your toxic gas fire, using the flames to make toast, rather than getting up and using the grill, like the little fat bastard you are (or I was).
Whilst I was rummaging around in some old papers I came across this little gem:
A single tear flew from my eyelid and hit the ground, no doubt causing a tsunami half a world away.
Pots Tatoas were my very convoluted and confusing way of asking Chris if he wanted to get a baked potato for lunch way, way, way back in the dim and distant past when we both worked in Leeds city centre.
Sadly we all missed Pots Tatoas Day this year but I hope that everyone puts it in their diary so we can rally round and stoke the oven (?) in time to enjoy its merits next year.
As promised, please see the premier pre-birth certificate for Mr Menendez and his lovely wife’s new child, expected soon.
I was rummaging in the extensive Beans Archive today, looking for inspiration, when I stumbled across this post, made ten years ago today. It marks the occasion on which Mr. Kevin Head turned 24 years old. Well, as you can imagine, I immediately got my calculator out, and blow me if that doesn’t mean that today is very likely to be Mr. Kevin Head’s birthday again. He will be older than 24 today, though I’m not entirely sure by how much.
What better day, then, to celebrate our acquaintance with the Beans’ resident DIY expert and master Giant Magical Computer Appeaser, Kevin “Kevindo Menendez” Menendez?
Read More: A celebration of the many Kevs »
My past is a shady, murky place. Little is known by the general public.
A while ago, it came as a surprise to everyone when I revealed that I was once jilted at the altar by a bear. But there are more secrets to be revealed, and today I am finally ready to share one with you. For a long time I wasn’t sure I could ever tell anyone about this, because to be honest I don’t remember it, but apparently – many years ago, longer ago, in fact, than I thought I had ever been alive – I was a stylish Edwardian lady.
It all seemed quite improbable until the evidence turned up: this lovely portrait, hanging up in my local Wetherspoons, that undeniably shows me in my previous form.
What hasn’t come to light yet (and I’ve asked the landlord about it, but he said he didn’t know, and he had other people to serve so I had to stop asking him) is what my name was in those days. I doubt it was Chris. It would have to have been something more delicate and ladylike. If your research produces any results on that front I’d be glad to hear them.