Avatar Dear Beans… hot groin action

Dear Beans,

Monday seemed like a regular day. I had woken up, gone to work, come home and eaten a hearty meal of mince, mince and mince. It was a good day.

It was a good day apart from the weather. It was freezing. I couldn’t feel my hands and feet, I clearly needed to do something to warm my flat up. But what can a regular Joe do in these awful times? Modern life is so expensive and there was no way I was turning the heating on for anything less than a blizzard. We were still several hundred flakes away a blizzard.

I therefore turned to my old friend, the hot water bottle. It has saved me from the cold on so many occasions and after a period of ten years was still going strong. I boiled the kettle and filled it up, and got comfy on the sofa with it positioned on my lap. I could feel the heat and it was so nice. I warmed my hands up on it then moved it to my back when it got a bit too much for my stomach. That’s the best thing to do with a hot water bottle, give it five minutes somewhere and then move it on. You have a whole body to warm up and there’s only so much one little HWB can do. Perhaps someone should invent a device that moves it round for you so you don’t have to?

I was sat in front of the TV watching a film with the HWB on my lap again when I noticed something was amiss. A searing kind of shock suddenly sprung forth between my legs. I’ve never set my testicles on fire however I would imagine the uncomfortable feeling I felt that day was very much akin to that. I pulled the hot water bottle from my lap to stop whatever was happening. Then heat turned to wetness, I could feel a wet sensation which confused the hell out of me. “What on earth is going on?” asked my prehistoric brain still trying to catch up with everything.

It was then after some close examination that I saw it; a little cut at the neck of the hot water bottle. Something (or someone) had cut a little slither meaning that any pressure applied to the bottom would force the water to come spurting out. I had accidentally burned myself with my own salvation during this chilly evening. Oh the shame I felt. Oh the humanity of it all! Who could have done such a thing to me, of all people?

My question therefore is what is the most embarrassing thing you have ever done to yourself either on your own or in public? I await your responses.

Yours painfully

Socket Mephistopheles

Avatar Beans: questions and mysteries – ‘Kevbeard’

It’s a new year and it’s time for a fresh ‘chude too. There has been a lot of fan mail recently asking questions about us, inquisitive and rather personal questions, so rather than respond to each and every person I have decided to answer the letters on here because it also gives me a scrumptious post towards my bean count. THAT and you know there were letters with duplicate questions so I’m not going to be a hack and start photocopying letters like some cheap so and so and then sign the bottom as if they’re all original, genuine articles. There are standards to be upheld, you know.

People (and by “people” I mean the two people who somehow managed to obtain my personal address) keep asking me, “what’s the deal with Kevin and his facial hair?”

“Where is it?”

“Does it live in a shoe by the back door?”

Calm down, I said, then pummelled a glass of Bichon Frisé and two slices of toast. Let me set the record straight before all you conspiracy nuts chase me down.

It’s all very simple and wholesome when you know the truth. Yes, it does exist. Kevin has the most wonderful, most bountiful, more buxom beard out of all three of us. He has been growing it since the late 90’s and to this day refuses to pass on his cultivation techniques. Many a time have I plied him with brandy and sought the secrets of his grooming (steady now) abilities and no matter how many bottles I tip down his throat he will not relinquish the goods. Though I may be a little sour of note, I do appreciate the moxie shown by this young man to keep steadfast his confidentialities.

Kevin chooses not to wear his beard in public because it would attract unwanted attention. In the early days when beards were still scorned by the general population he would occasionally bring it out on a lovely summer’s morn. If it were quiet the sun would glow and it would pulse like a rabbit in a hutch filled with alfalfa. His little face would fill with delight to feel the rays, the cool breeze blowing through his bristles, he looked like a young Grizzly Adams. The modern world has taken a shine (no pun intended) to a man’s face candy so there is no chance for any such displays anymore. When the heat got too much, Kev put his beard on a barge to Malta and there it lives in a stunning villa on the West coast. He visits thrice a year, sometimes more if his schedule will allow it.

To catch a glimpse of Kev and his beard would be a rare treat indeed. I get several lucrative offers from the paparazzo every year to disclose the location of the villa so they can but for one moment capture the beauty of the beard and each time I turn them down. Holster your wallets, I say, I cannot be bought. There are more important things than money. We could all learn a lot from Kevbeard (not a pirate however could also be a pirate name).

Avatar A Brave Old Beans

This scarcely seems believable, but it’s true: the first post on this incarnation of the Beans was made ten years ago today when Kev published A Brave New Beans. I still think of this as the “new” Pouring Beans, but it’s been running nearly twice as long as the original. This blog, and all it contains, now forms a record of the whole of our thirties.

Anyway, I wanted to make a post marking this slightly unbelievable milestone, so I have taken my inspiration from Kev’s original post. His “A Brave New Beans” was just a test to make sure everything was set up, and it just contains the word “words” repeated 127 times (I counted). So let’s see how many words we have produced in ten years.

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Avatar 2024 State of the Beans Address

Good morning. Thank you for joining me. It’s wonderful that so many of you have made the journey to be with us today here at the Hollywood Bowl. My name is His Holiness The Honourable Sergeant-Major Professor Lord Sir Elbert Louche, KBE, QC (Retired). I hope you agree that the trip to Los Angeles has been worth it, and I’d like to confirm at the outset that we are unable to reimburse your air fares.

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Avatar Owl threats

Earlier this year, I had a go at learning a new language on one of those language apps. It wasn’t very successful and started to feel like a bit of a chore, which isn’t the point, so I gave up after a few months.

I still have an account, though, and this particular app isn’t keen on letting you go. I occasionally still get a jolly email from them asking whether I’m going to come back. I don’t mind that. I do my thing and they do theirs, and everyone’s happy. Things are OK.

Until now.

Suddenly it’s not OK. Now the little cartoon owl is angry.

The message just gets worse from there. “Keep Duo happy, do your lessons” it says. Then it tells you an ominous parable about your feckless ways: “Every year, learners say they’ll learn a new language and Duo gets excited. Then they almost forgot their lessons, and Duo gets sad. That won’t happen this year, right?

Then there’s some other distracting guff, before it finishes with an outright threat. “I’m going to make you do your lessons… by any means necessary. No one wants to see Duo when he gets upset. A few minutes of daily practice can keep Duo smiling in 2024. And a happy Duo means a safe and happy you.”

Screw you, Duo. I’ve unsubscribed.

Avatar ABOFB 33: Disappointing Things

After only 9 months since the last episode, and because Ian made me feel bad for that fact, here comes episode 33!
I’ve dredged out from the lockdown archives this gem, where we discuss:

  • Gigs
  • Gruff Rhys
  • Ignoring the question
  • Food

Avatar Four Word Reviews: Tubthumper

We’ve visited the nineties before, in our Four Word Reviewing Time Machine, and found it a strange place. Suggs was there, of course, which wasn’t so bad, but on other visits we were left traumatised by Clock and Vanilla Ice. So it was with some understandable trepidation that I opened the CD case for “Tubthumper” by Chumbawamba. Released in 1997, this might be the most nineties album ever made – the first single, Tubthumping, was a massive worldwide hit, but nowadays it doesn’t get the nostalgic airplay that, say, Oasis or the Spice Girls or Dee-Lite do. It belonged so much to its own era that it seems to have stayed there.

By Scanned by User:Markaci, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2238867

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