In the second installment of Crazy Religos, I’ve decided to bring you the wonderfully insightful pamphlet, “Who Really Rules the World?” from the Jehovah’s Witnesses. If you didn’t think they were a bit odd for spending time going and bothering folks on their doorstep to talk about their imaginary friends then maybe you’ll be fine with the conculsions in here, but for the rest of us…
I said I’d bring you good news in these dark times and I jolly well will. The “jolly good” series continues with a tale of more free food.
It wasn’t a good easter for supermarkets and other food retailers. Near where I work, the food hall of a big department store remained open throughout the present mess, because it sold essential groceries, but as it wasn’t being visited by tourists and families any more, and as its customers were mainly just trying to buy food to help them survive, they didn’t sell all the chocolate they’d ordered in.
Now, if you go there, they are literally giving away chocolate at the exit, in an effort to shift it before it goes off.
Today, one of my colleagues headed out from work, explained that my department are all still working in central London, and that we’d be happy to help out with their problem. The food hall’s delighted manager couldn’t load him up with free chocolates fast enough.
We now have this.
The “this” in question is, at a rough estimate, more than 500 Cadbury’s Creme Eggs, plus a random assortment of whatever other Easter eggs and other things were lying around the storeroom.
I have eaten several Creme Eggs today, and I feel a bit sick. But in a good way.
I would like to call this version 3.0 but I don’t believe I can. It is more of a downgrade than anything else, a version 1.5 or 1.7 and a little bit more. The face you once knew has changed so dramatically that you may not even recognise it anymore and certainly not in the way I was planning it. This great year of 2020 was going to be the year that my face soared into the stratosphere. I had so many plans lined up and this Bovona Virus has sent all of them crash-landing into Mike’s Carpets. It’s gone proper Lesley Pipes, no no, worse, it’s gone Chesney Wipes. Look at what has happened:
- Original Eyes – they’re still there, still the best. In fact the last opticians appointment I went to they had gotten slightly better. I reckon that all the new eyes have prompted them to up their game because they didn’t want to be left behind. Good on you, original eyes!
- Looking Eyes – the viewing eyes had to be removed and replaced with last years’s looking peepers. I couldn’t go an unknown amount of time without looking at things.
- Peering Eyes – sticking strong at three, a non-mover by all accounts. I peered outside today and saw a lovely sky. Worth every penny.
- Seeing Eyes – another one locked in. I believe that based on previous comments the “chin boobs” are a favourite amongst my admirers and I did my damnedest to ensure they remained.
- Perception Eyes – it was a difficult choice between holding onto these instead of my others. Their tactically favourable position around the back of my head gave them a distinct advantage and in the end the decision to keep them was a wise one.
- Spotting Eyes – these were moved from their previous position, above the ear, into a more fancy, bobbing effort round the front. I expected that any spotting would need to be done at a moment’s notice so there is a little switch next to my right ear which launches the Spotting Eyes when I need to do some spotting. They hide underneath my fringe (now quite long and droopy) until they are required. It was the last project my team did before most of them were disbanded.
During these financial hardships we are all going through, I had to remove and sell my glimpsing, viewing, noticing, mysterious, triple and poker eyes. They’re all gone; sent through the realms of the black market to those who probably do not deserve them. My crack team have also been significantly reduced to just one lady scientist and a robot with a limp. They’re the best at what they do and I know they will keep plugging away although when I will be able to afford new eyes again is anyone’s guess.
Such a sad state of affairs. My face has never felt so open, so vulnerable, so naked. What happens when I need to notice something in the distance? What do I do when I need to glimpse ahead to see how busy the petrol station is or how long the line into the supermarket is? I don’t have the answers and I don’t expect anyone else to have them either. To give into despair about one’s lack of ojos though is to give in to life itself. No, I will not allow myself to dwell on this. I still have six perfectly good pairs of eyes at my disposal and I will carry on, friends.
Look, peer, perceive, spot and see me and I hope you are all inspired.
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 over Socks
- Bed Socks
- Clothes over clothes
I’m so lazy. Look at me and be uninspired. Just look at me, one big ol’ slobbery mess. I haven’t looked this bad since that stage in my teens when I was gelling up my fringe; a tidal wave of greasy hair fixed in place. God, what was I thinking? It was aggressively bad. Now is worse though. Since the lockdown all I have done is indulge in everything I can get my chubby paws on. I find myself daydreaming about desserts. You know in cartoons when hungry characters start hallucinating? Last week I looked over and where Reuben should have been was a roast ham. It is time for a change.
As Kevin has confessed that he has a soft spot for the doggos, I have done a thing and signed up for a sponsored walk. In May I will be raising money for guide dogs by walking up and down my flat. Yes, it sounds insane and I reckon that by the end of it I may have finally crossed the line, gone through the looking glass. Is it worth it for the doggos? Of course it is. I plan to walk 100,000 steps to get some much needed cashola / dough ray me / fresh bread for Guide Dogs. In order to keep it realistic, I have set a target of £100.00 which would be enough to buy a kit for one guide dog trainer.
It takes 52 steps to walk from the front door to the window in the living room and back again. Based on my poor grasp of maths, I will have to do this 1,924 times in order to accumulate the aforementioned total of 100,000 steps. I have a full week in order to pin down this sucker, which means if I can manage about 275 times each day that should be enough.
If I had Kevin’s legs, which we all know are thrice the length of a normal person’s legs, I would be able to get from front door to window in a handful of leaps. I believe that would make the process a lot more tiresome so I am grateful for my small leg span and smaller step count.
Nobody is rich at the moment. The world is in chaos. I say this sat wearing an Adventure Time hat to keep the hair out of my eyes (my fringe has seriously lost the plot, it needs a chop). Am I still in my pyjamas? What day is it again? The point is that if you can, please sponsor Chesty at the link below:
Remember: the doggos have noggos and without the training they cannot help the peopoggos.
Newsboost is going to be 11 years old this year. I watched it again recently and I’m still pretty pleased with it now, but back when we made it, it’s fair to say it was the crowning achievement of my life.
Obviously we wanted to do another one, and for a while there was a short-lived plan to follow up the news bulletin Newsboost with a late night current affairs programme called Newsboostnight.
It was going to be a special programme looking in depth at a scandal surrounding The Papples. This was when the only Papples album was “Masterpiece”, and we’d realised that all the songs on that album basically had the same tune.
Since there’s nothing in my life at the moment, and I have nothing much to write about, I thought I’d post the three pages of script that were written for Newsboostnight so you can enjoy them.
We’re all trapped indoors these days, since the prime minister lost everybody’s house keys and we all found that the front door wouldn’t open any more. I’m sure that’ll all be sorted out soon, of course, and I’ll be able to take the bins out, but for the time being I’m not getting around much and neither is anyone else.
While I’m being kept inside, like a neglected dog, I find myself missing the north. I usually go north regularly and now I can’t, and it’s only when I can’t go that I suddenly find how important it is to me to immerse myself, on a regular basis, in its rich culture and its even richer gravies.
So, as a consolation in these difficult times, I’ve created this moving ode to the north. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and that your cockles are warmed.
Thank you, or as they say in the north, ta.
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.