It’s all gone a little bit quiet, hasn’t it?
Since the smash at the end of May there’s been nothing (nothing) to start clogging up the arteries of June. In fact, it is as if everyone has forgotten about June. Why is it so quiet? What is everybody doing that is preventing them from “living it up” right here?
Luckily I am still here to be VERY LOUD and QUITE CLOSE TO YOUR FACE to carry on the tradition of nonsense posts that help to pass the time. I am currently exhausted after my recent jaunt as trendsetter. Trying to keep up with everything that’s cool is an overwhelming and mostly unfulfilling way to live your life. I have therefore decided to return to my sheltered, nerdy existence because that’s how things are. It also means that I can focus my attention on my (recent) life goal of writing a thing. We have all written things in the past (see ‘The Magic Star’ for physical proof of that) although this time it will be a solo flight.
I am going to write a book, using my psychic powers, about the marvels of Middlesex. Yes, you read that right; I am going to channel all of my energy into digging up the real story about the county that apparently does not exist anymore yet that I still know about. Is it only talking to me? Have I somehow managed to create a psychokinetic link to the past? Only time, and around £19.99 when it is eventually pusblished, will tell.
I WILL KEEP ALL OF YOU LOVELY PEOPLE posted on my progress.
15 comments on “Quiet Beans”
It HAS gone a little bit quiet, hasn’t it? While we all wait for your book on the history of Middlesex, I’m keeping busy watching over your stick, which is still outside my flat, and looking forward to the arrival of all those nice photos of the Tenniversary.
Is it being a good stick? Are you feeding it every day?
I have uploaded the photos of the Tenniversary, they went to the whatever pipes it was that you sent me a link to. Drop arse? Bum box?
I forgot to look in the Arse Box. I see them now. All those golden Tenniversary moments. They’ll be up and in your grill before you know where you are.
I never know where I am, that’s my problem.
Sometimes I know where you are. Nobody ever knows where Kevin is.
This is good. This takes the pressure off. If you never know where you are then I’ve got ages to put those pictures online.
Kev is up a ladder somewhere using a hammer.
You don’t use hammers on babies. Even I knew that from day one. Is he hammering some kind of mini baby mansion for the babies to “chang” about in?
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not using his hammer on a baby. None of his babies are at ladder height. Even Kev, with his prodigious and extravagant legs (or “lower arms”) hasn’t fathered eight-foot babies.
Mr Chang and his eight-foot babies. That could work.
Are you saying he’s too busy up a ladder, I don’t know, squat screwing his overpass to use a hammer on a baby?
I’ll be honest, I’ve both lost track of what I’m saying and also lost interest in it.
Can we talk about pineapples? We don’t talk about them much. Apparently the reason they sometimes taste a bit tingly is because they’re so acidic they actually start digesting your mouth when you eat them.
Rather than scrolling up and re-reading everything, which would take FAR too long, yes, let’s talk about pineapples.
That may be the reason why I don’t eat pineapples anymore, because they were trying to eat me back. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life.
Nobody needs that kind of drama. Pineapples have ideas well above their station, if you ask me.
But – that said – I do approve of the way they look before you slice them up. The nice yellow triangle shaped armour is good, and the spiky green flourish on top is a masterstroke. Other more dowdy fruit could learn a lot from pineapple.
They are the showiest of fruits. If you want something to look good, you put a pineapple on it. Job done. That’s how Torvill and Dean won all of the 1984 Olympics.
True story.
That explains why Big Frank keeps a pineapple on top of his car.
I’m off out to wow all the ladies, just as soon as I find a way to secure a pineapple to my head.
Check Carmen Miranda; she or he or they are very good at keeping fruit on the top of their bonce. Bonse? Bonnse.
Carmen Miranda is very much a they. I’m pretty sure they were a band of some kind. Carmen and the Mirandas. Yes. I have their third album.