Bits and pieces

Some light relief from the everyday lunacy with some snippets of exceptional lunacy. Although it's all becoming rapidly normal anyway.

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It is, apparently, the opening of Winter Vomiting Season. I didn't know there was a special season for it. I suppose it gives us all something to do while the fishing season is closed, but I hope participation is not compulsory. With the current costs of food and booze, vomiting can be an expensive hobby.

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First prize for both loony question and loony answer goes here today. One of the answers claims it's as addictive as smoking. I'm not so sure any such comparison is valid. Smoking is not so strenuous and at least your coffee doesn't go cold while you're smoking. My answer, if I chose to give it, would be 'chop up chillis and don't wash your hands'. That'll put a stop to it. You'd never touch it again.

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Unless you are so thin that the only thing holding you on the ground is the weight of your shadow, you are obese. This from the Daily Mail that every day describes some skinny bint as 'worryingly thin'. Doesn't worry me unless she's the only food available. Comments are, as always, from the antismokitic standard handbook. 'You are not like me so you are disgusting'. Classic denormalisation by mindless drones. There's a lot of it about.

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Fake doctor Gillian McTeeth shows the world the true face of the antismoker and the professionally offended weak-and-worthless with her astonishingly capable jaw muscles (ooer, Matron), after many years of exercise in the cause of Righteousness. That mouth would make a hippo back down. The eyes, the very epitome of piss-holes in the snow, would make Dracula back away. That and the fact she's not worth biting because there is no true red blood in those withered and dusty pipes. All he's going to get out of there is broccoli puree.

Gillian - I smoke. I am one year younger than you. I look ten years younger than you. My doctorate is real. I am not scared of the entire bloody planet and everything in it. I have eaten things Shaun Ryder would think twice about. I would not walk into a food-starved camp and grab the last piece of fruit. Only those with the mentality of an antismoker would do that.

And Shaun, yes you should have used foul language. You should have also used a cricket bat and a chainsaw. Pity they weren't available. Antismokers, look very hard at Gillian the Withered there. That's how the world sees you too, you know. That's you, that is. That's how you look to those who don't share your spiteful and self-important world view. You are not the majority. You are a load of Gilly McTeeths and when you're not there, we all talk about you in unflattering terms. Oh yes, as soon as you leave the room you are the sole topic of conversation. There is much sneering and talk of sterilisation and surgery to make you look almost as hideous outside as you are inside. Count yourselves lucky - we can't afford that much surgery, not even if we won the lottery. To achieve that aim would bankrupt Bill Gates.

Shaun, if she fires up again, show her your willy. When she pretends to faint, say very loudly and clearly. 'Cor, great, pull her pants down and I'll have her while she's out of it'. The medical profession will be astounded at how fast someone can recover from a faint. If you play it right, she'll be the subject of medical experiments for decades.

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Phil the Greek is close to celebrating 90 years of two-fingered comments and has told his wife 'Don't you dare die first. That jug-eared twerp will get the throne and I don't want to be alive to see it.' I am in anticipation of this man's last words. They are sure to be words to remember. I hope it'll be some time before we hear them.

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Enough merriment. Let's travel back to the dark ages when cavemen wore ties and lived in black and white. Before the invention of colour and Pot Noodle (I know, it's hard to believe we managed to survive those times). Laddies and wenches, I give you the band that knocked the Beatles off the No.1 spot... The Dave Clark Five. {this wasn't the song}.





I know you whippersnappers under 50 think the world was always in colour. You take it for granted. Well here is the proof - there was a time when we lived in monochrome with none of your fancy modern wavelengths. It was those psychedelic hippies in the sixties who, tanked up on LSD, cannabis and Ajax, decided to expand the normal sensible and properly British staid greyscale into seven whole colours. Seven! Nobody can be expected to remember them all, especially when 'indigo' isn't a real colour but a treasure hunter in a wide-brimmed hat.

Well, it got out of hand and now computers tell us there are 64 million colours. Dammit, if you apply that to the population of the UK, that's nearly one colour each! Every one of us could be a minority.

I blame Liberace. Flashy bastard.

If he had worn a sensible grey suit and tie while performing, none of this would have happened.