As the days unfold in a flurry of Autumn leaves it appears as though something is amiss. There is something missing from our lives that up until now has remained unbeknownst to the common man. There is a space in the cupboard where something should be. There’s a small burrow in your wardrobe where something should be hanging. You go to pour your boiling hot water and all you do is empty the contents of the kettle onto the kitchen top.
Yes. That’s it. Someone has been a little selfish and hasn’t been sending out freebies recently.
I always wear my Kevil brand merchandising with pride, and the fact that they get sent to my house for free is just a cheeky bonus. Those excitable moments peering through the cardboard at the latest nugget to drop onto your doorstep… I don’t know about you but I want more.
So here it is, the competition you’ve been waiting for.
So far there’s been a crab and a penguin but what animal would you like Kev to use his magic on and turn into a cartoon to be flaunted on mugs, t-shirts and other appealing merch?
What member of the kingdom of not humans could turn your mid-morning beverage into a statement rather than another part of your dreary, meaningless existence?
If you’re going to shake your bits at the roller disco what would you like splashed across your chest to herald your appearance?
Hello, sorry to interrupt the usual nonsense, but I think I’ve had a great idea, and I’ve called it ArtDisc.
Or at least I think I have, I don’t think I’ve stolen the idea, I think I had it. It’s quite simple, but I’ll break it down anyway:
- Everyone in the UK who owns a car right now probably owns a Tax Disc Holder due to the (until recent) need for everyone who owns a car right now to display a Tax Disc.
- We no longer need to display a Tax Disk in our cars anymore here in the UK.
- In a sad kind of way, I quite like my Tax Disc Holder, and I don’t want to throw it away or put it in a drawer to be throw away in a few years when I have a tidy out.
- Why don’t we all put something else in out Tax Disc Holders?
- ART! A photo, a picture your kids drew, a cut down post card with the Mona Lisa on it, whatever.
- We’d have a nationwide, free to enter, democratically curated national art gallery.
Are you with me?
I like the idea so much, I’ve already made it a website: www.artdisc.co.uk
If you like it too, will you help me push it all over the interwebs and things so that other people might join in?
Any suggestions welcome.
Today I arrived at work and found this on my desk waiting for me.
I am confused by this. Red fault tags are supposed to be used to label technical equipment that has been broken and logged with the appropriate department. I have not been trained in the correct protocol to use when cake has been labelled in this way.
Anyway, long story short, I ate the cake. It was nice. It didn’t taste particularly broken.
Is anyone here a doctor? If so, can you tell me if I am in any danger? Thanks.
Yes that’s right… you heard it here first… Mr Smith is back!
After a brief hiatus of only 7 years, Mr Smith returns in his latest tale of woe, murder and partying, “Mr Smith and the Cactus”.
Read it HERE now.
Today I looked round my desk and was faced with a sight that is all too common in modern Britain.
The grim truth is that we all take too many sachets of sauce from the cafe or canteen, we just do. Whether its some sort of instinctive nesting impulse or just the fact that we can get something for free so we do. The untold story though is what happens to all of these unwanted sauces once they are taken from the relative comfort of the canteen stainless steel container. Do they ever make their way home? No, for once they have been removed they somehow become dirty. Nobody has opened them, nobody has licked them, but they can never go back, they are alone. Destined to see out their expiry dates in the back of an office drawer, or become a ticking time bomb in the pocket of someone who never checks their pockets before doing the washing.
Spare a thought for the unloved sauces.
It was a nice evening. Everyone was there, everyone was having a nice time. Some of them had even managed to get hold of a drink and were feeling a little merry. Around the table tiny foods were consumed and the party spirit was rampant.
Suddenly the picture changed. Swinging through the air and landing on the table was the Evil Minion. His pallid, sickly yellow skin and greasy, limp hair were a sickening sight. Some of those with weaker stomachs had to turn away. He had landed squarely in front of the Partymaster, the Birthday Boy himself, and was presenting his foul dungarees as an unwashed challenge to us all. In front of him, on the table, was what looked like a small brown cake, but we knew it was really an explosive device, set to blow the whole deal sky high.
Mr Chang, the brave party thrower, was quick with his Samurai breadknife, beheading the Evil Minion in one smooth movement. He didn’t stand a chance to detonate his destructive delicacy. The show was over. A second blow bisected what remained of his torso, spilling hideous guts everywhere.
The emergency services arrived to cordon off the scene and the party dispersed into the Leeds night, some being rushed to hospital for trauma, and others the walking wounded, safe tonight but consigned to a lifetime of therapy to help them through their harrowing ordeal. As I got up to leave the scene, I dealt a blow for all that was good in the world and all that was right. My strong fist of justice obliterated what was left of the Minion’s grisly remains. I fisted that Minion good.
For as long as there are good people like me in the world, evil will not prevail.
If you go to one of the Thai restaurants in Crystal Palace (we’ve got loads of them) you will find them picking up on Kev’s latest business venture, which is brewing a fine, light and refreshing beer with his name on it.
Mr Chang’s is clearly a popular choice with customers here and we wish him the best of luck in this new endeavour.