I started these reviews when I got sent a Wang Chung album as a joke, and Kev and Sarah had just reviewed a Papples album in this format, and I thought it was a fun thing to do with a CD I’d been sent. Then more CDs started arriving. But I never thought we’d end up here. The CDs that arrived were just crap albums, and I would write reviews of how amusingly bad they were. Until now. Now I’ve been sent… I mean, what is this? It’s called “‘Til Their Eyes Shine: The Lullaby Album”. It’s a 1992 charity compilation of slow, snoozy numbers by female artists that will supposedly put a child to sleep, though for my taste half are too lively for that and the rest are too disturbing.
Am I being punished, somehow? Is this horrendous mush the price I pay for some indiscretion I committed? I don’t know. I just know it was awful.
What you’re looking at is a blackboard located at my local IKEA which I recently visited. Now I am mostly an open-minded person but I am quite averse to worshiping characters of any kind, whether religious, fictional, good or evil, when I am browsing home furnishings.
I can only imagine the kind of chaos that would ensue if someone got down on their knees and started to worship a fallen angel near the sofa department. That I do not want. If I am going to spend two hours of my life on a Saturday afternoon slowly walking around the various sections of IKEA I would rather try to avoid a small group of people clustered around a statue or photo, with fire in their eyes, bowing up and down.
Luckily for me, they were done by the time I passed.
Do yourself a favour; steer clear of furniture-loving Satanists.
After we premiered the first episode of Things! last month, it’s starting to look like this series might be the hot new TV property for 2016. Already we’ve had enquiries from prestigious TV stations in Yemen and Herzegovina about buying this lucrative format.
For those of you wishing to see the series in English, here’s episode 2, in which Dougie McLaughten meets a shy and retiring man who has solved a very particular problem.
Winter hits the roofs of many,
Like death would touch the life of Kenny.
There’s nothing to revive the heat,
A fanciful, audible, minty treat.
That is, or was, or should have been
Until now. I have foreseen
The future, oh it blinds my gaze,
This thing will astound and amaze.
You need to see this, you need to taste
The power of lukewarm toothpaste.
It cuddles and caresses your gums,
Whether on brushes or on thumbs.
It’s stroking all your sexy edges,
On the streets and behind hedges.
It nestles and nuzzles and frequents
Those areas food just cann’t dent.
It’s watching you as you try to sleep,
So it can heat where you can’t creep.
You may be scared but hear my words,
They stick to you like lemon curds,
It would be such a dreadful waste
To not adore lukewarm toothpaste.
Some say that the name Bird Goose is one descriptive word too many. Some may be right, but the majestic Bird Goose cares not for those people. In fact he poops in their garden and then struts away (seen above).
Bird Goose is an excellent strutter and can often be found swaggering, striding or prancing in a pond near you (not seen above).
Bird Goose often wears incredibly fancy shawls (not seen above).
You open your web browser and make your way to the Beans as the rain pours down. As you turn the handle on the great oak door leading in to the website, lightning crackles in the distance. Inside, instead of being orange coloured, it’s dark and scary.
You fumble with the light switch but the lights aren’t working. Maybe the power’s out. But wait – what’s that? There’s a scrabbling noise from over near the Bean Counter. Something is moving in the shadows.
You go over to investigate and begin making your way unsteadily down the dark stone staircase towards the Old Beans. The sound is louder here. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and a shiver runs down your spine.
Suddenly you’re dazzled by a bright light as an unfamiliar figure lurches at you from the other end of the great cellar. You gasp and recoil, falling backwards onto the slippery stonework. You shield your eyes from the light as the creature comes towards you, cackling horribly. It’s the Ghost of Beans Past. A disembodied Locker 29 is clutched under its arm, and it’s holding a range of overpriced designer pebbles. You think it might be wearing a Virgin Petcare name badge.
“All subsidising and no subsidising makes Ian a dull boy!” it screams at you through its slobbering, mis-shapen jaw.
As it looms above you, ready to sink its horrible teeth into you and consign you to an eternity of irrelevance as a forgotten comment in the Beans Archive, your browser pops up a window telling you that this monster has an unsigned security certificate.
You click “do not accept” and are redirected to the Google Homepage.