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’.

Testing…testing… 123

Hello? Hello?

Can you hear me at the back? If you can, then we have successfully transferred over to the new magical computers.

Things do seem to be a lot faster around here so I can only assume that the computers were very pleased with the ceremony I conducted on Saturday evening.

I couldn’t get any of the magical computer banks shown in the first post, but by way of apology we now have a full room of these pumping things out instead.

I hope this is still worth £15.

New Job Celebration

About a month ago Elena got a new job and, as you may remember, we decided we should celebrate it here on the Beans. Unfortunately, due to the hectic posting schedule we work with, and the huge backlog of important information that must be posted to the site, we have only just found time to fit it in.

So here we are with our celebration of Elena’s new job. Let’s get some facts from The Fact Penguin.

Behold The Fact Penguin

We asked The Fact Penguin these questions and it offered the following entirely factual answers.

What is the new job?
The new job is unstupiding children. Children are idiots.
Where is the new job?
The new job is near Orpington, which is a place that evidently has a problem with stupid children that needs to be addressed.
How much money will Elena earn?
Elena has signed a contract that guarantees her a weekly income of at least eight (8) London pounds, which at current exchange rates is equivalent to approximately ninety seven thousand Newcastle pounds.

After answering these questions The Fact Penguin indicated that we had reached the limit of questions for today, as specified in his contract, and decided to go for a swim. Please do not ask The Fact Penguin any further questions.

Champagne and low-cost nibbles will be served in the Banqueting Hall from 6 this evening. (The Banqueting Hall can be found at the far end of the lower ground floor picture gallery from the “Things” page of the website.) Please wear black tie so that The Fact Penguin does not feel overdressed.

Appeasing the magical computers

Right, lets just get all the “Oh look Kev’s back” crap out of the way upfront… I haven’t been here. I know.

I’ve got a 3 month old boy, a tired (lunatic) wife and myself to look after. As I’m sure Ian can testify, this is hard work. Nobody gets enough sleep, everyone is cranky and there are very few spare minutes in a week let alone a day.

It’s lovely, wonderful and bloody hard work. Anyway…

This wonderful little commune of excellence we have going doesn’t happen for free. The magical computers that carry the bits, bytes and sandwiches of data backwards and forwards have to be periodically fed cash money else they get angry and stop.

The magical computers we have used for the last few years have gotten greedy, wanting more and more cash money whilst simultaneously getting fat and a bit slow. The ceremonial feeding is due very soon and I’d like to try moving to a new group of magical computers, which both eat less money and claim to be faster at carrying sandwiches.

I’m plan to appease the new computers with a feed so large it will last for 2 whole years, but to do so I need your helps.

If you want the Beans™ to continue, I’d like you (Chris and Ian) to agree to hand over £15 each so that the ceremony can be performed. I have appeased the current computers with a light snack which will see us through another month, but I’d like to get moving on this pretty sharpish. Let me know your thoughts…

Gaffer Tape Adventures

Are you bored of walking home from work the same way? Sick of seeing the same sights as you trudge to your girlfriend’s house? Have you had enough of using your eyes and witnessing a monotonous, predictable series of events every day of your life but can’t afford a holiday to sweeten the deal?

Then we have the product for you.

Gaffer Tape Adventures is the newest of the new. All it takes is a simple idea; covering your eyes, and possibly your ugly mug, with gaffer tape. Now the whole world is a brand new place.

No longer do you face boredom as you leave the office. No longer do you tire of the familiarity of the way to your significant other. You see nothing; every day is a new challenge as you shuffle slowly down the street, attempting to avoid hitting people and falling over objects. Each road is a potential death trap. Each moment could be your last.

Our impressive kit can start you out on the road to adventure. We will provide you with everything you need to get started with your own Gaffer Tape Adventure. Our easy ONE – TWO – THREE step program will get your up and away within minutes.

You will be awash with fear and excitement. Not only can you bite the bullet big time but you can also look forward to these other thrilling activities:

* Muggings
* Stabbings
* Groping
* Wedgies
* Nuggies
* Unexpected Conga Lines

We can guarantee you the time of your life as soon as you put your life in the hands of Gaffer Tape Adventures.

£49.99 from your nearest aviary.

The Timps Chea Party

It was a small gathering, but it was enough to garner interest from the highest rungs of society’s ladder. That was always the case for the Timps Chea (pronounced “Chi”) Party.

Bolderville sniffed at the contents of his cup and scoffed; a little noise emanating from the back of his throat, “Is this what counts as an acceptable blend these days?” Emmental peered up from the book she was sifting through, mid-sip of her own drink, and shot a daring, lacklustre look in his direction. This was not the first time Bolderville had interrupted her book, her story, her line of thought. His opinions could be heard from the other side of the room, even through the most heated of debates. Once something upset his tastebuds, or his stomach, he was first to announce it and always at the top of his voice.

“If you don’t want it you are more than welcome to try to find something more to your tastes in the back of Nanny’s cupboard. I think she still has some Oakenfold Harbinger from her trips to the Ivory Coast. It goes remarkably well with civilised company,” she quipped, hoping to dismount his verbal attack before he even had a chance to regroup his efforts. Bolderville didn’t even bother to acknowledge her remark; he was too preoccupied with the flavour rolling around his mouth. Usually he had ripped the drink to pieces by now.

Could it be that he had changed his mind and the chea was growing on him?

“I’ve tasted better down the crack of even the most slimiest, more repugnant shops in the sweatiest districts of Backgammon. In fact, the last time I threw up I’m almost entirely sure it had the texture of this!” That was more like him. Those were the words of a blunderbuss, a person botherer, an unpleasant, parsnip-twitching, egotistical hammock of a man.

Emmental sighed. Her own chea, a blend she had cultivated herself after long afternoons in the portland stiles, was as light and bewitching as the eyes of the black kitten Nanny had given her just the other day for her twilight birthday. Between the two of them they had enchanted just about every member of the Tripod Dynasty, even burned out Haggard McPondPoodle. The chea reflected her personality. It gave good lips and a savage grace. There was no point wasting any on Bolderville though; he would not understand the subtle nuances, and fake a gagging noise to attract attention from the clot of Susan beasts in the courtyard.

No, today was her book and her chea. Let him with his he and his ho waddle in the puddle of his own discontent. Let him dampen the air with foul language and disharmony. Crash away, my good man, Emmental thought, for you have no business here.

Only one problem but remained; nobody knew what a Timp was.

Turning back the clock

This week I’ve left behind the glamorous world I have occupied for the last year and returned to my old job. Those of you with long memories will recall that it principally involves pushing buttons when foreign people point at me.

There have been several effects as a result of this change.

I find myself catapulted back into a life I last inhabited in January 2015. We all remember that month and everything that happened in it. For me, Uptown Funk is still at the top of the charts and Lithuania has only just adopted the Euro. I won’t actually buy the blue and green striped jumper I’m currently wearing for another ten months. I am living in the past.

I am left with a sense of malaise, which comes from the feeling that my career is moving backwards and not forward, and from the changes that have happened to my old job in my absence. I am also getting re-acquainted with many of my old colleagues which involves talking to people. I don’t like talking to people.

Others have been affected too. My beloved Crab Mug, once the darling of a major broadcaster’s master control room, has returned to my flat, where it feels deflated and redundant, but conversely my white coffee cup (ceramic with silicone lid and grip, in a design that makes it look like a disposable cup from a coffee shop) has been liberated from my locker, which had been shut for the last 14 months, and is enjoying something of a renaissance.

This has been a difficult transition for me, one whose effects will be felt through my life, like aftershocks from some sort of career-based earthquake, for months to come. Some of the results are positive and others are negative.

But one thing is for sure. Everyone I know will have to put up with me complaining about it for the forseeable future, and in that sense, they may be the real losers here.

Pouring
Beans

Category: Business