4 0 0 P O S T S ! ! !!!

"Many famous people have viewed your Blog - which is somewhat infamous because of your irritating inane comments on other peoples blogs, over the last 400 posts - and if you had just once written something insightful, moving, witty, clever, sexy, charming or funny you would have been at least been mentioned in The Guardian or The Sunday Times as they are desperate for copy. But as you are a boring tit, you have squandered this opportunity by writing such complete inconsequential shit!" My friend Mr Beast confided this in me over a pint of his favourite port, tequila and sheep milk at my 400th post blog party last weekend. I am afraid he was rather in his cups, as we say in the South, and there was a distinctly unhealthy sweaty sheen to his skin.
However, my whip thin friend Giles a.k.a Lady Ga-Ga seemed also determined to bury the knife deep. He went on and on about how my tedious interest in Supermarkets and toothache was enough to drive a Nun to suicide (which I once did - but thats another story!) and that 'I should welcome the comfort of obscurity' - odd turn of phrase if you ask me.
Only Paul Weller who has transformed into a sea sponge and is living inside the Baby Belling was prepared to defend me, however as sea sponges communicate via chemical impulses conveying mood and and movement, he was not in full voice. I look forward to him taking some form with vocal chords and digits...

I started the day choosing a breakfast wine - I think only a Saturne wine truely accompanies a bowl of Aldi Vanilla Cushions - my preferred celebratory breakfast - don't you? After that I took all the small cups down to the yachting club where 'Fast Eddie' - our celebrated zombie barman - was mixing up a special punch for the day! The recipe contains kerosene and is not for the faint hearted! Luckily there was 70 of the 77 pints left - I shall drink like a king for months!

The VIP Lounger was erected - despite not having been out since 'camping' last year it seemed quite stable. I sat on it alone all night. Geoffrey the one-headed micro push-me-pull-you was there with his special friend the hair brush, as was the skeleton with a luminous skull who accompanied me the North Oremsby, and who I was not able to abandon in Appa Naya when we went ski-boarding that time. The Mayor and his scantily clad lovelies popped in boosting the 'crowd' to 11 for a while - but he said "I have better things to do than this - I thought Paul Weller and some authors were coming!" - and he pointed directly at me and said 'Get back in your taxi Sanwar - we need to get a move on!' Whats that all about?

I had prepared a delicious curried Black Forest Gateaus so that Mr and Mrs Patel would feel at home - and I felt like throwing it at him! Later Mr Patel asked me if I was insane? Its nice that our 'incomers; are so concerned for our mental health isn't it?

I took the left over 'food' home - it is hard to carry a whole 'bin bag' through torrential rain and a gale isn't it? Parties that finish early are the best my mum always said - because everyone had such a nice time they didnt need anymore fun! I think I have proven her right. Almost all the Sunday Mirror crosswords had been done - though later when I checked I saw that Lady Ga-Ga had tried to fit the words 'Satan Rules' and 'I hate MUFC' into every box, spoiling it for Eddie and me.

How would you have made a party a bit better attended? I am afraid I felt a bit let down....

Blog News

the 'turtle neck sweater' is almost in our grasp!!

399th post!!

Readers Letters

Far more of you than makes sense like to send me 'amusing ' emails. Today I produce a few excerpts - and a sort of commentary from me as far as I can be bothered! .


I have taken the hint from your blog that Lady Gaga is actually a man and is your whip thin friend 'Giles' hence your naughty remarks about his 'mangina'- are you sexually ambivalent at all?

I am hardly ambivalent Mr B! Is the curate still knitting you some 'wank mittens' as promised?


I have also experienced a situation where an eighties musician transformed into a larvae and back in my house – in my case the Echo and the Bunnymen vocalist, Ian McCulloch, pupated at the back of my sofa. Do you have any explanation for this phenomenon?

In this case the writer is Jimmy Saville. What can I say? Thoughts please everyone...

The subjects you have covered recently- rude bankers and poorly behaved chavs, illnesses, your dislike of practical jokes such as the one with exploding food -, all lead me to believe that you are not in your ‘forties’ as claimed but nearer to sixty or even seventy! Also - you seem unable to accept your Asian neighbours as normal human beings – a sure sign of geriatric problems. I expect you read The Daily Mail and go to bed at 10 in the evening with a mug of horlicks, because there few people as boring and predictable as you. I admit the explosion in the saucepan was a bit cruel though. Also your attitude to money shows you are either very poor, very old or both.


This anonymous comment cut to the quick. I raised the whole matter straight away at Darby and Joan...


I wonder why they make trousers with Velcro closures on the pockets? It’s a problem for those of us prone to wear silky scanties as they routinely become attached to the Velcro when in the tumble dryer and we end out going shopping with underwear attached to our clothes. Not that this has even happened to me.

Yes it has Merry dear! About 3 times a week...


I have read with interest on your blog – is true you like dogging? I also like the dogging! Maybe we do it together some time?

This comment was from my old friend Jeffrey Archer....

I am about to leave England forever and I will not forgive myself if I don’t ask you – Are you really that bloke who guest wrote an episode of The Wombles’ with Mike Batt and ended up as the fake guitarist in their Top of the Pops appearances… you know who I mean…

No, thats not me at all.... ahem...

I have a splinter in my left thumb. Can you recommend someone to help at all?
Pinnochio

Dear Pinnochio - how is that possible - its like me having a meat splinter....



I am looking for a home phone number for your friend Bonita. I know it is the Canterbury area, but there is no way of easily sorting phone numbers by first name. I have already made over 500 calls to numbers in the area - to no avail… please help!

This email was from Bryan Appleyard - I have asked him to cease and refrain....

Is there any reason we have no heard more about the adventures of Geoffrey your micro push-me-pull-you? Is he dead? Did you accidentally lower your vast bulk on to him as he lay sleeping in his window box? You really are a lardy arsed bastard…


Oh Honestly! I make this crap up you know- also many people prefer a generously framed man... ahem

My name is Myna I am an eighteen year old virgin and i want to show you exclusively some of the pictures from my first nude session. At first I was a bit shy but soon I managed to hold my legs open - when I looked at the pictures I couldnt believe how far I had gone...

This email came with a link - which naturally enough I have deleted. Who wants to see drunken cats??

Banking

I do not often have cause to visit a bank, but in preparation for my Christmas shopping which I like to finish before the end of October, I made a small ‘pilgrimage’. As usual I wanted to ‘withdraw’ £25.00 in crisp ‘fivers’ which I have normally found covers the presents I buy. (I get a lot less back I can tell you!) When I arrived inside the bank I was surprised to find a long queue of people between several temporary barriers awaiting service. Of course I joined the line full of ‘Goodwill to all Mankind’ at this season of the year – of course I do know it is not Christmas but still!

A burly fellow behind me was of a rather different frame of mind chuntering to himself about 'time wasters' and 'old people' cluttering up his bank. I managed to ignore all this 'bally-hoo' despite the fact that he was spoiling my day out and it was less than half an hour till I reached the front of the queue! Each of the nice people behind the glass had a number and over a sort of tannoy a lady with a strange voice assigned each of to a number as it became available oddly she said the same thing each time. I commented on this to my fat irritable friend - who responded "You need your head examined you tosser!"
Red faced with shame I hurried over the "Number 4" where I realised there was a little microphone to talk to the nice lady behind the glass. Unfortunately it was directly where the rude 'builder type' could hear my exchanges. I began - naturally enough by introducing myself and making a few discursive remarks about the weather. Then I asked for the ladies help in completing my 'cheque to cash'. She studied my book intently then called over a different older lady "Sorry" she says "These cheques are out of date!"
"I have had my cheque book since 1979 !"- I replied. "They have always worked till now!"

I spoke carefully into the microphone - but the lady replied "Please don't do that"

Well it took over and hour to get me a new cheque book so I had to go home - but I have my £25.00 and shall be off to Woolworths next weekend. The bulky man was charmless to the end, departing by saying I should use the 'cash machine'... I think not my bald friend. I think not...

Blog News

I have been sent a bag of chocolate peanuts - which fairness demands I should distribute on a one each basis to all my readers. If you would like one please just let me know! If you had a bag of sweets to distribute how would you do it? The mail strike is giving me some worries... I shall be glad when Mr Brown solves it...

I have some new posts here ** Alloted Span **

Cooking with Cheese!

There has been a lot of talk about 'anti-social behaviour' of late - personally I have often felt like doing some of it myself. I have recently decided to squidge the little wax wrappers of my 'Babybelle lite' cheese into revenge filled balls and leave them carefully on the chairs of my 'colleagues'. I have spotted several going out with red blotches on their nether regions and you know I am glad! Almost no one has had to tolerate the kind of 'anti-social behaviour' that I have suffered recently- including - inter dalia - occupation of my only window sill by a over sexed radioactive howler monkey, an escape of endangered animals being taken from the West counties safari parks and petting zoos -to the Euro-abattoir across the road which meant that lions and wildebeest roamed our streets for several days. I have endured persistent phone calls from the dreadful triple breasted Pie shop lady who is on heat, and I have been banned from the corner shop by Mr. Patel for mistaking the name of my wood working magazine and getting him to order 'Screw' - which is in 'The Hustler' range of adult titles (apparently). Mr. Patel was subsequently visited by some kind of salesman for that company who offered him no less than 27 different erotic publications. That is not my fault is it? Nor is it my fault that Mrs. Patel came home from her dry stone walling course early. I could not have anticipated that her 'millstone grit' would be of inferior quality could I? Even the millstone grit people did not know that and they have over 20 years experience with the wretched stuff.

I have a lovely new cookbook courtesy of a slightly batty friend (she must sadly remain anonymous!) ,called "Make a Meal of Cheese" published by the "Cheese Information Service" in Thames Ditton in 1973. I was tempted by 'Fluffy Cheese Ramekins' and by the exciting 'Cheese Roundabout' but as you can imagine - see above - the idea of 'Cheddar Curry' caught my imagination!

I fondly imagined a evening 'au deux' with Mr and Mrs Patel swooning over this Anglo-Asian delicacy wondering who their mysterious benefactor was and that I revealed at a suitable time and all modesty would quickly be able to regain access to 'The Sunday Mirror' of which I am currently starved.

I can only say that it is actually unimaginably horrid. The first part of the recipe went OK, the addition of sultanas was a bit difficult as I only had 'dried mixed fruit' but this substitution seemed to work. Then you add a lot of 'cheddar cubes' (I used cheese triangles!) to the gooey brown mixture which smelt a bit like Daddies Sauce and a bit like Christmas cake. This is where the recipe went down hill. The whole thing just turned into a sort of rubbery slimey gloop. It looked - if I may use some caustic imagery - like a dog who had eaten a lot of festive leftovers had accidentally relieved himself in an omelette.

Naturally the Patels were offended when I left it on their doorstep. I do not know what I was thinking. My efforts to contact the cheese people to complain have produced no results - I am not surprised they have gone out of business if all their recipes are as foul.

Can anyone send me more helpful cookbooks to help me 'build bridges' with my numerous gay and ethnic minority neighbours?

Blog News


The addition of a 'Glow in the Dark Yo-Yo' to the tray of 'objects to distract' in the upstairs gentlemens 'long-stay lavatory' for members and visitors with constipation at first seemed to have gone down well. Sadly, and perhaps predictably, Mr Beast was involved in an incident and the Curates trousers were ruined. I am now saving for some philately tweezers - donations to the usual account.

Practical Jokes

I think there are two kinds of people in this world – those that are fond of practical jokes and those who are not. I am one of the second kind of person, but I must say I seem to be surrounded by people who delight in them!

Last week a friend suggested as prank that I cook magnesium for my tea. Unappealing as this idea was I gave it a go, and was horribly blinded when the whole pan suddenly ignited. As it was the weekend and I didn't see anyone I did not know until Monday morning when I met my whip thin friend Giles in the stairwell that my eyebrows had been terribly singed.
“Ha ha ha!” He said scornfully “You look just like that little fat one from Little Britain!” I am unaware of what this means – but I have little doubt it was an insult. I can only say that my hurt was tempered when I noticed a damp patch at his crotch – it is a sign that the operation to correct his 'mangina' surgery has not gone well. Its wrong to take pleasure in someone else's discomfort isn't it? As it was raining I had unearthed my trusty umbrella – you may recall that last year someone filled it with dried cats poo as a joke. I found out as I unfurled it into the grey and rainy morn that this time it was ball bearings. I think that is spiteful don't you?

To make matters worse in my confusion I trod on some of them and sat down on the corned beef and piccalilli sandwich I had prepared for my lunch break – now reduced to fifteen minutes in our new 'efficiency drive'. I have had a yellow stain on the left buttock of my 'George at Asda' suit all week as a result.

We are now entering the build up to Christmas -a major part of annual sales is over the festive season, and this accounts for the diminution of our eating times. In the bowels of the factory the highly trained howler monkeys are at work in the bottling plant and the great clouds of vinegar and beetroot flavoured steam hang like a nuclear winter over the town.

But even at work I have not been able to avoid 'hilarity' of various kinds. Its been my habit for a while to slip off my shoes whilst working as they are a little small because I do not understand the new 'European' sizing system and accidentally purchased a pair of size sixes. They seem to have been made for an elf not by one. When I was ready to leave I found they had gone. Disappeared. Stolen of course. In their place was a small note. It read “We shall return your shoes if you take of your trousers in the foyer and sing the the chorus of 'Paparzzi' by Lady Gaga!” I had no idea who the Lady in question was of course – but that was when I discovered the piccalilli stain. No shoes appeared and I had to walk across the car park in bare feet scrubbing my buttock, and stepping in puddles. At least no one had seen my performance – I substituted 'Hot Diggity Dog' by my favourite singer Perry Como in place of Lady Gaga - I comforted myself – how was I to know that they have CCTV coverage of the office foyer these days....

Blog News

The Blog Restoration Fund is on track after a large donation by Richard Branson whose statue graces our town square named in his honour. His donation will go towards a retirement home for elderly mythical beasts and retired imaginary beings.

Where would you like to retire to dear reader? After this week I am favouring becoming a hermit myself...