Funky and Friends

Hi Folks’
I have taken the afternoon off to visit Ralph, my best mate who is not much longer for this world. He was treated for panciatic cancer a couple of years ago but now it is back with a vengence. Social services are moving his bed downstairs and a MacMillan nurse is going to help him when he gets out of hospital on Tuesday. To be honest they are sending him home to die!

He tells me there was a Ugandan woman in the bed opposite who had been on hunger strike in Yarls Wood immigration detention centre. This woman had two guards at her bedside 24 hours a day plus a social worker and a detainees friend who's main job seemed to be to be to 'nip up the shop' for this person. The 'dying duck' charade was carried out with some skill until such time as her bedside phone would ring when she suddenly mustered enough strengh to engage into animated conversation. When the call had reached it's conclusion ms Duck would then return to a state of taupor. This is a person who has never contributed anything to our country yet gets trated like royalty. On the other hand a lady of some 87 years could get no help to look after herself in her own home because she had over £3000 in the bank. Has the whole world gone mad?? T'is time our government paid more attention to our own people.

Anyway, tryng to lighten the mood a bit. It has been reported in todays paper that a crazed bat has been attacking people in and around Harrold in Bedfordshire. One of the first victims was Martha Costello, who was out walking one evening, with her feet, when the winged terror came swooping out of the sky and told her that the planet was about to be struck by a gigantic space cabbage called Colin. It then flew off, cackling hysterically and leaving a distraught Miss Costello in tears. In another incident, the bat leapt out from behind a bus shelter and accosted thirty-two-year-old Danny Fellows on his way to work. The bat made him watch as it performed a number of Billy Joel's greatest hits, and forced him to join in on the chorus of Piano Man, before finishing up with a novelty knife throwing act. Luckily the man was able to escape before the encore.

See you soon
FF

Hiyas
I won't be around much for a while. I just don't have the energy at the moment. I will be watching your posts though with interest.
Cheers
Funky

It's time to wander off to sow me seeds and splatter or whatever it is they say.Whoever they are?

I hope you enjoy your day.
Byeeeeeee

Crane Flies (Daddy Long Legs) carry the most poisonous and fast acting venom known - but in a cruel (as only God can be) twist of fate, they have no teeth with which to inject it. Therefore they keep getting their legs ripped off by small, sadistic children...

With the ground working down like an onion bed, we have been pressing ahead getting our spring sown crops into the ground (drilling) Today we managed to drill. Roll and spray 50 acres of Borage for pharmacutical use.

I have found a bit of info which I hope you might find interesting.

The bright blue, star-shaped flowers (which bloom most of the summer) make borage one of the prettiest herb plants, thought the dark green leaves are rather plain. The flavour of the leaves resembles that of cucumber. The plant will grow to a height of about 18 inches, and spread about 12 inches. This hardy annual has a messy, straggling habit. It is a native of northern Europe, and grows well in the temperate regions of North America.

Cultivation
Borage is not a fussy plant, but the richer the soil, the bushier the plant will be. It prefers full sun, and needs protection from wind as it is easily blown over. Seeds can be sown throughout the season, and once growth is established, it will continue to seed itself. Place plants close together so they can support each other. A plant or two in an indoor pot will provide leaves all winter, but it will need lots of sun.
Borage is an excellent companion plant for tomatoes, squash and strawberries. The plant actually improves the flavour of tomatoes growing nearby.

Culinary Uses
Borage flowers and leaves are the traditional decoration for gin-based summer cocktails, and may be set in ice cubes to garnish other drinks.
The flowers and young leaves may be used to garnish salads. dips, and cucumber soups.
Candied borage flowers make attractive cake decorations.
Chopped leaves can be added to soups and stews during the last few minutes of cooking.
The leaves can be cooked with cabbage leaves (two parts cabbage, one part borage.)
Borage does not dry well for culinary use.

Medicinal Use
Because it is a tonic plant for the adrenal glands, borage provides an invaluable support for a stressful lifestyle.
Borage is rich in minerals, especially potassium.
A tea made with borage helps to reduce fevers and ease chest colds.
An infusion of borage acts as a galactogogue, promoting the production of milk in breastfeeding mothers.

Other Uses
Borage makes an excellent facial steam for improving very dry, sensitive skin.
The flowers may be dried to add colour to potpourri.

PS

I'm planting a few seeds of my own right now. They are produce buds that in August you can pick off, leave to dry for a day or two, and then put in a pipe and smoke. Apparently it gives you a wonderful sense of security, and the vision to see things that the normal human eye cannot. I'll pass it around when I'm done!

Right, I have been called into work, so behave yourseves while I am gone. OK?

I leave whoever is the biggest in charge of the ship. So think on!

Good Morning.
It is a lovely day today. The sun is out and the birds are doing what birds do best. Squawking, cooing down my chimney, pooping on my car and generally really getting 'up my nose.' Only joking you bird lovers. I rather like birds actually but then you will already have gathered that.

The only bird I have a grievance against though are pigeons! they have been the farmers bane since crop husbandry was in it's infancy. Hey! that was posh? Were you impressed? Anyway I detract. Attacking crops in their thousands throughout the winter and leaving fields of 'Oilseed Rape' almost bare. It seems now though that some farmers are making a fortune, capturing the little varmints alive and exporting them.

Sales of pigeons to Sweden have reached an all-time high, due to environmental concerns and the fact that they are now bred to imitate an increasing number of ringtones. A survey last month revealed that pigeon sales have now outstripped sales of mobile phones for the first time in 150 years.

A spokesbird for the International Pigeon Federation was reported in last Monday's Times as saying, "Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo-coo, coo." However, he later claimed he was misquoted.

Well, that's my lot for now. I might be back later, if you're lucky To those that enquired about my poor, old, crippled back. It seems much better this morning, thanks, though still quite sore.
Bye for now.
Funky

Here you go. I said I might be back and I am. I just couldn't resist sharing this bit of environmental news with you both. Hi Mum, Hi Aunt Gertie.

MIAMI, FLORIDA - Scientists from all over the world have gathered in Florida this week to study the age-old question: Is a frog's ass water tight?

"Since I was a little kid, my dad has asked me that question. Now that I'm a scientist, I want to find the answer. This is an important study, far more important than global warming or the mating habits of garden spiders. If we can get the funding, we will also research the "other" very important question: If a frog had wings, would it bump it's ass-a-hoppin'?” one scientist said.

Many area frogs have volunteered for the project. Kermit, spokesman for the group states, "We too were asked those same questions as tad poles. It's time we also knew the answers".

Experiments are planned to test both theories. One such experiment involves pumping a frog full of water, hanging it upside down to see if it leaks. When asked why any frog would put themselves through this. Kermit replied, "We just want the truth. If this is what we have to do to get it, so be it!"

Scientists have stated that they don't believe any frogs will be harmed in the experiments. But there is a calculated risk that these frogs are willing to take.

"We have gone over the possibilities with them and they seem to understand that no experiment is without its challenges".

"If a frog had wings" theory may be harder to test. Several ideas have been presented. One experiment suggested involved attaching mechanical wings to the frog to see if it's ass does bump when it hops. "We tried gluing them on with superglue, but the frog's skin was too soft and slimy and they kept falling off".

The volunteer frogs we spoke with are unsure what, if any, changes will be made in their lives by participating in such experiments. But they do think at least the truth will be known and the truth is out there, somewhere.

The next generation of frogs will be able to give a definitive answer to the question: Is a frog's ass watertight? Well, perhaps it is. We are awaiting further testing!

A barnacle has the largest penis of any other animal in relation to its size

Geez-o-Pete, I think I might have mentioned that I have a new camera phone the all singing all dancing non picture sending Nokia something or other. For those that know me you will realise that I am a glutton for punishment having spent half the evening calling Orange help line (no it wasn't an indian) only to be answered by some six year old who was obviously thinking that granddads should be in bed at 8 pm and not interfering with their social intercourse on some other line.

Well, the outcome was that after over an hour selecting this option and that on one of these automatic response thingies and talking to Duane that I have selected 156 option 7: take a very sharp object and with a firm downward pressure draw across each wrist in turn, then lie back and think of England.(We are not talking about that) I even got that wrong I misplaced my glasses and had used the wrong side of the blade. I thought at one stage lying there I was having an out of body experience but it was only Baxter digging out a flea with such vigour I thought the earth was moving for me. I think that in the final analysis I'm not cut out to be a so called 'Silver Surfer' but instead should take up knitting or some such.

God alone knows what will happen when the next technological breakthrough is perfected? Brainiacs in Japan have announced that that are one step closer to producing a feasible system of teleportation a form of instantaneous travel that works by breaking up a person into his or her component atoms beaming them through the air and then reassembling them at their destination. Obviously, this technology is still a long way off but the Japanese team have had some success in dismembering volunteers stuffing their limbs into poster tubes and then sending them through the mail. Work still needs to be done on assembling the bits at the other end, and the limitations of the local postal service means that it's usually a good deal quicker to just get on a bus. Nevertheless, the team think that they are heading in the right direction and in future experiments they plan to chop the bodies up into smaller bits so that they can fit them into padded envelopes. You read it here first.

Irish is shopping for a new Chelsea Tractor. He finally finds one for a great price, but its missing a seal, so whenever it rains he has to smear Vaseline over the spot where the seal should be. Anyway, his girlfriend is having him over for dinner to meet her parents. He drives his new 4x4 to her house, where she is outside waiting for him. "No matter what happens at dinner tonight, don't say a word," She tells him," Our family had a fight a while ago about doing dishes. We haven't done any since, but the first person to speak at dinner has to do them."

Irish sits down for dinner and it is just how she described it. Dishes are piled up to the ceiling in the kitchen, and nobody is saying a word. So Irish decides to have a little fun. He grabs his girlfriend throws her on the table and drills her in front of her parents. His girlfriend is a little flustered, her dad is obviously livid, and her mum horrified when he sits back down, but no one says a word.

A few minutes later he grabs her mum throws her on the table and does a repeat performance. Now his girlfriend is furious, her dad is boiling, and her mother a little happier. But still there is complete silence at the table.

All of a sudden there is a loud clap of thunder, and it starts to rain. Irish remembers his motor. He jumps up and grabs his jar of Vaseline. Upon witnessing this, his girlfriend's father backs away from the table and screams, "OKAY, ENOUGH ALREADY. I'LL DO THE F** DISHES!!"

The Social Security Application

An old man went into the Social Security
Office and filled out an application.

He was too old to have a birth
certificate, so he was asked to
prove his age. He opened his shirt
and showed them the gray hair on his
chest. They accept that as proof, and
give him his first check.

He went home to his wife, showed her the check, and explained to her
what had happened.

She replied, "Well get back down there, pull down your pants, and see
if you can also get disability!"

The picturesque village of Harrold in the shires of England is a regular haunt for tourists. They come from around the world to enjoy its quaint 'olde worlde' charm, its splendid unspoilt environs, its invigorating waters and its strangely unpleasant local aromas. But in recent months its charming car park and majestic council estates have been terrorised by a strange and most unwelcome visitor.

Details are sketchy, and witness reports do not always agree. The first incident came to light last February. Late one night, as 72-year-old Lizzie Farmer (no relation) was walking home from an exotic cheese-sampling soiree, she heard what she described as a 'queer gurgling noise' coming from behind her. Fearing gusset rupture she stopped to adjust a certain appliance, when she was suddenly attacked by a small yellow creature, which rushed out from behind a bush, bit her on the arse then waddled off with her pension money.

The story was reported widely and even made the national press, though few were prepared to take it seriously, accusing Mrs Farmer of being over-imaginative and neurotic. Those closer to her pointed to her habit of dragging a frozen pike around on a piece of string as indicative of her unreliability as a witness.

Nevertheless, shortly afterwards, more victims of the curious creature came forward. Twelve-year-old Crispin Bakula was out walking his Airedale terrier one morning along a popular nature trail when the dog suddenly stopped stock-still.

"The hair on his back was up on end and he was growling," the youngster recalled. "He was staring into the bushes at the side of the path, but I couldn't see what he was growling at. It was very creepy, and I felt really cold. The trees seemed like they were closing in around me, and it was like someone was watching me."

Crispin decided to turn back home, but as he hurried back along the path he had a strong sense of being followed. In his mounting panic he broke out into a run. Suddenly something leapt out in front of him, snatched up his beloved pet in its beak and made off.

When Crispin returned home he was too distraught to talk of the ordeal - but after being beaten savagely by a local police officer, he was able to fight back the tears long enough to provide a description of the beast.

"It was bright yellow," he claimed. Its eyes were glowing red, and it moved really fast. It was like some kind of big mutant duck."

This description seems to match that of the creature spotted a few days earlier by local shopkeeper Harry Nimoy (no entry). Mr Nimoy owns a busy gentleman's trouser boutique in the town centre. As he was locking up one evening he noticed a curiously unexpected movement in his trousers.

"It was a pair of corduroy casuals that we have on special offer," Nimoy explained. "There's a rack of them by the door and I noticed that one pair appeared to be twitching. Suddenly they slipped from the rack, ran around in a little circle, then waddled out of the door."

Nimoy, a man of some considerable experience in the trade, has had a keen interest in trousers since he was a small boy, and in all his years he has never previously witnessed a pair walking out of the shop of their own accord. In his opinion it was something they simply did not do.

Thinking this uncharacteristic behaviour rather curious, he decided to follow the runaway trousers. Locking the shop behind him, he trailed them for some distance as - weaving from side to side - they careered apparently aimlessly down the high street. Upon reaching a junction a bright yellow head appeared briefly above the waistband. It looked left, looked right. Then, seeing the road was clear, the trousers ran across and disappeared into an alleyway.

Nimoy approached cautiously. Peering into the alley he saw that the creature had now emerged from his trousers and was examining the garment critically. Like Crispin Bakula, Nimoy also likened the animal to a duck - although he observed that it was larger and its behaviour was clearly more intelligent. He also adds another bizarre detail: apparently deciding that the stolen booty was unsuitable, the creature opened its beak and emitted a searing jet of flame, which incinerated the trousers in seconds.

"It was horrible," a terrified Nimoy told the police afterwards. "It was like some kind of demon duck - a feathered denizen of the underworld. Believe me, I've seen some scary things in my trousers in my time, but this was evil incarnate."

The last Nimoy saw of the devilish fowl was as it wandered off to investigate a chemist's in the next street, possibly to steal some corn plasters.

What could this strange creature be? Local researcher Iain Dean Anderson (no deposit, no return) has been studying the reports. He has come to a fascinating conclusion.

"These people are all fucking nuts," he claims. "What kind of freak expects you to believe some cock and bull story about mutant ducks? I'll tell you - inbred country bumpkins, that's who. These nutters worship tractors, for Christ's sake. When I first moved here they thought I was some kind of space alien because I had a mobile phone. Even today, they still bring their filthy, disease-ridden kids round so that I can lay my hands on them and cure them of the pox."

A more sympathetic response has come from Derek Shatner (no retreat, no surrender), another local researcher who lives next door to Mr Anderson. He puts considerably more faith in the reports.

"What we are dealing with here is clearly something beyond our normal realm of experience," says Shatner. "You can't ignore the evidence. After all, if it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck - and it breathes fire - then it's clearly a fire-breathing space duck."

Shatner's ideas have met with a mixed response. The newspapers have predictably promoted his space duck idea in a typically sensationalist and tongue-in-cheek way. The locals of Harrold, however, prefer to link recent reports of the duck with a tradition that dates back to medieval times.

Ozzypandoolah is a legendary fire-breathing bird that features in many myths and stories connected with the town. This unfortunate creature, the legends have it, was the result of an unholy union between a dragon and a duck. Neither one thing nor the other - cast out of the kingdom of the dragons and shunned by its brethren on the duck pond - Ozzypandoolah was fated to wander the mortal realm for all eternity, bringing terror to mankind, causing consternation and unrest, and stealing trousers.

For many, many years the people of Harrold have blamed all their misfortunes on Ozzypandoolah - or Oswald, as he has rather quaintly come to be known. Plagues, crop failures, wars and poverty have all been laid at the door of the mythical bird. In local tradition he has replaced the classic figure of 'the bogeyman', and it is still commonplace when a favourite shirt gets torn, or the car breaks down, to claim that it's just 'Oswald up to his old tricks'.

The mischievous nature of the Oswald of legend is borne out by some of the more recent reports of the creature. Take for instance the remarkably persuasive story told by Terry Pertwee (no worries), considered to be a witness of impeccable credentials, and also one of the most fragrant people you are ever likely to meet.

Pertwee was driving to work in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark, with just a faint shimmer of purple on the horizon to herald the impending dawn. A thin mist swirled in the beams of his headlights as he drove along the empty road, but visibility was still good - so, when something suddenly ran across the road in front of him, he hit the brakes straight away. Nevertheless, in spite of the sharpness of his reactions, a collision could not be avoided. The car skidded on the wet tarmac and there was a solid thump as it hit 'something'.

Pertwee opened the door and got out - in that order - and went around to the front of the vehicle. He found the nearside headlight smashed and a curious clump of yellow feathers wedged behind the bumper, but of the creature itself there was no sign. He walked back along the road, looking for some indication of it, checking the shallow ditch that bordered the carriageway but, puzzlingly, there was nothing. He was just about to give up when he heard a noise behind him: the pitter-patter of tiny webbed feet on tarmac. He turned just in time to see Oswald emerge from the hedgerow, leap into his car and drive off.

"All I remember is its manic quacking laughter as it sped away," says Mr Pertwee. "Even now it makes me shiver to think about it. It was the most thoroughly evil thing I have ever heard." Police found Pertwee's car three days later, full of bird shit and minus his collection of Queen CDs.

Stories like this have undoubtedly fuelled interest in the village, and there has been a measurable increase in tourism in recent months. Local businessmen have not been slow to capitalise on their new visitor, and Oswald has become a sort of unofficial mascot for the village. Tacky gift shops are brimming with Oswald T-shirts, Oswald mugs and lucky Oswald mobile phone covers, which ancient tradition says bestow good fortune on the owner. You can take part in an Oswald tour, taking in all the sites where he has reported to have been seen, whilst an over-enthusiastic tour guide regales you with some of the more grisly episodes from the demon duck's history. You can even dine at the Devil Duck Restaurant (formerly The Muntjac), where they have a reasonably wide selection of duck-themed delicacies on offer. Sample the duck's egg omelette, or the duck and spring vegetable soup - before being pecked to death by a seventeen-year-old college student dressed as a penguin. Apparently they couldn't get hold of a duck costume.

However, this commercialisation of the ancient myth does not sit well with certain members of the community. There is a small but vocal minority who believes that the duck is a portent of great doom. They warn that, far from being just a roguish trickster, Oswald is nothing less than the personification of pure evil - or at least, the duckification of evil, at any rate. They claim that the recent sightings are evidence of the reawakening of a dark and ancient horror, which threatens to consume the town of Harrold and, possibly, the world.

His evil deeds, they assert, have already been in evidence: the recent earthquake, a plague of locusts, and the approval of a controversial new bypass, to name but three. Some of the more zealous residents have convinced themselves that they are being punished for their sins and that the apocalypse is near. Panic buying has already resulted in serious shortages of bourbon biscuits and cat food.

Whilst their views may be a little extreme, the fact remains that the duck has started to become something of a problem. Its behaviour has become more and more unruly, and many locals are now genuinely frightened to venture out. At first it was little more than a nuisance, leaping out and frightening old ladies, stealing traffic cones and so forth. More recently it has been blamed for starting a fight in a popular village centre pub, it's been spotted selling ecstasy to kids on the village green and playground, and it has set up a local clinic where it practices medicine without a licence*. It is also rumoured that it made false representations to a senior member of the Church of England, a misdemeanour that has been illegal in the parish since 1842.

The latest news is that it has moved into a three-bedroomed semi-detached house just off the high street where Bridgemans used to be, the neighbours complain that it stays up until the small hours of the morning playing Queen records at full volume.

This proved to be the final straw, and the parish council has now resolved to rid the area of the duck menace once and for all. They have already attempted to poison it, without success. A system of strategically placed traps has also failed, succeeding only in snaring a few dogs and a couple of unwary children. And their attempts to lure it out of hiding with little bits of cheese then beat it to death with big sticks has also proved spectacularly unsuccessful. The attempt rapidly disintegrated into chaos and confusion, and gave rise to a frustrated mob, which charged around the village beating the living daylights out of anything and anybody that they considered to be vaguely duck-shaped.

Their own efforts having failed, and with the village teetering on the verge of civil unrest, Harrold Parish Council has decided to call in an expert. The question is, who could possibly claim to be expert at ridding the countryside of mutant fire-breathing ducks? Well, astonishingly enough, just such an expert has stepped into the breach.

Retired game-warden, Clint Majors (no ball games) has spent much of his life in South Africa where, during an eventful career, he has ruthlessly gunned down most things that manage to run, crawl or slither.

"Rhinos, elephants, lions, not to mention one or two of the locals who happened to get in my way," Majors proudly proclaims. "Still, got to expect a bit of 'collateral damage' as I believe they call it these days. Once the blasted chaps get in my sights, there's not really much I can do about it, is there? Blam! Best thing for them, really. Put them out of their misery, don't you know

Following an accident with an apple and a Turkish gum salesman ("Dashed unfortunate business. It would never have occurred if the blasted Turk hadn't sneezed") Majors was forced into early retirement. Nevertheless, he has not been idle and is still frequently called upon to deal with unwanted pests. Indeed, he has achieved a certain amount of celebrity, making his name in 1981 when he successfully rid Nairobi of Simon and Garfunkel.

"There were hundreds of the little bleeders," Majors recalls fondly. "The place was overrun with the things. People couldn't go about their business and children could not sleep safely in their beds at night. Something had to be done. Well, the Simons aren't so bad. They're timid little creatures, spending most of the daylight hours underground - but they do cause an inordinate amount of damage to root crops. But they're easily dealt with: once you've found the entrance to their burrow, you just pop a gas canister down there. They soon come to the surface, choking, and you can just blast them at point blank range with a shotgun.

"The Garfunkels are a different matter entirely. They roam the plains, destroying anything and everything in their path. Left to their own devices, a herd of Garfunkels can eat a whole city in four hours flat. But they do have a fondness for warm milk, and this is their weakness. All you have to do a put down a saucer of milk, select your vantage point, then - Blam! Splat! You blast them at point blank range with a shotgun."

At the moment, Majors is currently engaged in ridding a Lavendon farm of a particularly severe shark infestation, but vows that as soon as the problem in under control he will give his full attention to Harrold. And while the locals breathe a sigh of relief now that their duck ordeal will soon be over, Majors is confident that he will have no problem dealing with the demon fowl.

"The good citizens of Harrold can rest assured that their days of duck-induced terror shall be brought swiftly to an end. I shall study the ways of this duck carefully. I shall track his movements, record his habits, know the devilish fellow's mind as I know my own. Then, when I understand my enemy completely, I shall lure the bounder out with a bit of mashed up biscuit, and blast him at point blank range."

By raising your legs slowly and lying on your back, you can't sink in quicksand.

That's the title of a proggy on Ch4 tonight at eight!

Ms Funky on seeing the title said " It's no good talking about it they should do what you used to do when we were courting, Funky. Get on with it and bugger off home at first light, for your breakfast"

That isn't exactly how I remember it. LOL

PS: Ms F has decided to watch "Black Death" on the history channel. Say's that's far more interesting!!!!!!! Charming I call it.

BEIJING (AFP) - Chinese cemeteries are selling paper replicas of Viagra pills to be burned for dead relatives as a wish for satisfying sex in the afterlife, state media reported Wednesday.

Customers are snapping up the paper Viagra, as well as images of condoms and heavily made-up bar girls ahead of the annual Tombsweeping Festival on April 5, the Nanjing Morning News reported.

Chinese have traditionally burned fake money in honour of dead relatives during the festival, when families clean their ancestors' tombs and graves.

They believe the wealth will accrue to their ancestors in the afterlife.

But China's move toward a more consumer-oriented society has seen new offerings including paper televisions, mobile phones, cars and other luxury items.

A commentary in the Beijing Morning Post on Wednesday called for a crackdown on the sex-related "vice" offerings.

However, it said efforts by authorities to halt the sales had been unsuccessful due to high demand.

Well Bozeat to be exact.

Tomorrow is her big day! Her and me daughter in law have been brewing various concoctions for months now to sell at the annual Craft Fair.

Let me see:

Orange marmalade

Lime Marmalade

Strawberry jam

Raspberry jam

Fudge

Coconut ice

Toffee apples

Various cakes and sponges ..... All homemade and all as Granny used to make. My Gran I'm talking about so the recipes are really old LOL

.

One of my most embarrassing moments happened 30 odd years ago, while my family and I were on holiday at a well known British Holiday Camp situated on the east coast of England. My 3 kids, who were all under the age of 10 at that time, wanted to visit the very popular adventure swimming pool which was the main attraction of the camp. The pool was only about a hundred yards from our chalet, so we were able to walk there in our swimwear without looking out of place.

Once inside, my kids made a be line to the water slide which was at the far end of the complex,while I took my time, as there was thousands of people in the place, and there were loads of pretty girls to look at on the way. When I reached the water slide, my kids urged me to have a go, but as it was mostly children who were using the slide, I politely refused.

I may have gotten away with it, hadn't it been for another parent who decided to have a go, and this was enough to encourage my kids to start nagging me again. Hoping that nobody was watching, I climbed the stairs and within seconds was speeding down this water slide, which ended up with me shooting off the end right into the swimming pool itself. After surfacing again, I declined to have another go, and instead asked my elder daughter to loan me her snorkel mask.

This she did, and after fitting it over my face, I began to swim around the pool with my head under the water and my bottom sticking up in the air. It was a huge swimming area, so it took me about 15 minutes to encircle the pool and return to the water slide area. When I finally surfaced, I could hear loud laughter coming from all round the building, plus my kids were screaming at me to come out of the pool. As there was a safety barrier around the slide, I decided to swim back up to the other end of the pool and get out there, and as I was still wearing the snorkel mask, I ducked my head again and started off swimming.

Like before, when I surfaced, I could hear the whole place was in uproar, with laughter coming from the spectators gallery and from the restaurant and bar situated high above the pool. When I climbed out of the water, I had a good look around to see what was so funny, thinking that there must be a show of some kind taking place. My kids by this time had made their way round the pool from the slide area and were again screaming and pointing at me. I told them to stop shouting as they were attracting attention to us, but it made no difference.

It was then that I began to realise that all was not as it should be, I could sense thousands of eyes watching me, and I could hear wolf whistles coming from all around. Instantly, my hand shot down to the front of my swimming trunks to feel if any of my dangly bits had fallen out, but thankfully, all was in order. I did notice however that my trunks weren't as tight as they should have been, and when I felt round the back, I soon discovered why. There was nothing there, no trunks, nothing, just one big bare ass for all to see. My trunks had been ripped apart while riding down the water slide, and as nobody had noticed it, I then swam right round the pool with my head under the water, and my big bare arse sticking up in the air in full view of everyone.

I also remember letting off a few farts on my way round, so what they sounded like from a bare arse, is anyones guess. As for getting home from the pool with no clothes to wear, well, never mind.

If you have a story let's hear it.

Rocket Scientist
Scientists at NASA have developed a gun built specifically to launch dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity.

The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of the windshields. British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high-speed trains.

Arrangements were made.

But when the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurtled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield, smashed it to smithereens, crashed through the control console, snapped the engineer's backrest in two and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin.

The horrified Britons sent NASA the disastrous results of the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield, and begged the U.S. scientists for suggestions.

NASA's response was just one sentence, "Thaw the chicken."

Your intrepid investigator is now leaving to examine in fine detail, to leave no stone unturned,no cabbage unsqueezed,no label unread. To Morrisons in Wellingborough. We hear there is a penny off baked beans. Strewth!!

Lord give me the strength to do some
stuff, the courage to do some other
stuff, and the wisdom to do some other
stuff. And also a better memory.

Lately I find myself forgetting little
things. I think I may have micronesia.

Some worms have more than one penis (usually longer than their own body) and one vagina? Worms mate by wrapping their partner and themselves in mucous and this can take up to 5 hours. So it's not all bad news then?

Blu-Tack defies all scientific analysis!
How often have you used Blu-Tack to stick up posters, or notices, or... things? How often have you marvelled at its incredible adhesive properties? How many times have you wondered how it manages to stay sticky when it's all covered in dog hairs and bits of grit? Well now I can reveal the reason why - IT DID NOT ORIGINATE ON THIS PLANET! I have a friend who knows someone who works in a GOVERNMENT LABORATORY! I cannot identify him, because his life may be at risk, but I know for a FACT that Blu-Tack does not respond to ANY KNOWN SCIENTIFIC TEST! Why is this? Because it is in fact a highly sophisticated radioactive space jellyfish that has fallen to Earth and then been back-engineered by the Royal College of Military Science.

Why have we been lied to? Is this stuff safe? How can we be sure that the Blu-Tack holding up pictures of our favourite pop stars and sports heroes is not watching us as we sleep? Perhaps it is sending back data to its ALIEN MASTERS on the planet Xerox, who are even now making ready their INVASION FLEET?

We demand to know the truth! Sign our petition to Tony B by commenting here

OK having been tagged by Marvo here's my 5 W's
Why? Zed
Who? D’F***
When? 7pm
Where? Behind the wheelie bins
What? Don’t you mean pardon young man
So get going on your 5 w's then tag 5 more people.
Its the rules cause Mama says so!

Gawd I'm getting to be a right miserable, moaning, old fart in. my old age. My latest target for expelled bile is Blog friends lists or to be more precise the invitations to join other peoples lists.

Over the last few days I have received three invitaton from a Poker site, a firm selling discount medicine and someone else selling essence of nettle as relief for piles or something. When on invite I go to their blog I find nothing but product info. That's OK as far as it goes but some others have actually accepted these spammers as friends! OK one or two might have pile probs but I would bet my wooden leg that the others just clicked accept on their email without even checking the blog out. It would seem that the quantity of friends rather than the quality is all important.

To this end I will be doing a mass cull of my own list in the morning ( weather permitting lol) If I delete anyone that has visited my blog over the last six weeks then I'm sorry, just bollock me and I will put you back on. To the rest then it's toodle pip. It's been nice knowing you.

No animals were used in the production of this blog.

So much for my long awaited kip! There I am dreaming of my plan to earn extra income by offering myself as a geriatric gigalo. When I feel warm breeze blowing into my ear, then a hot wet tongue. The duvet is being pulled off me by a young, black beauty. I get up and take the flippin’ dogs for a walk. There is no peace around here.

As I stated earlier, first thing it was snowing quite hard then the wind got up and it was really quite chilly. I think it is getting to thermal 'Long John' time again. I got a new pair from 'Damart' they are wonderful with all modern conveniences as standard. They even have a letter box and a doorbell attached to the back flap and a bit of rope hanging out of the front, I have no idea what that is for, I was going to read the instructions but they are in Urdu? something to do with the Khama Sutra or somesuch I suppose. Can you believe that? The things they think of these days eh!

Who was it that said" never count your chickens until they are mashed"? As you may know dear friend, Funky thought he had got away with working today. Don't get me wrong, I like working the hours I want to and picking the jobs I want to do and the cash comes in handy to suppliment the meager pension. Anyway I got up at six to see it snowing really hard. I toyed with the idea of having a cuppa and returning to me pit but then I thought, no, I will wander out and just double check that all the machinery was ready for the off. Good job I did! The seed drill that had just been bought, second hand from a dealer a month ago, had a gurt great crack in the carrying frame! Yikes! This part takes the whole two tons of the machine when mounted on the back of the tractor. If that were to give way on the road, moving between farms, god alone knows what would happen?

Anyway to cut a boring story short I have been all day fabricating and welding a complete new part. I'm feeling a bit like Barnies Bull. Fed up, F****D, and far from home. So now I will repair to my bed for a kip.

OBTW: If you see Ms Funky Please tell ask beg her to hurry home. I hate this bluddy typing and spelling lark.

TTFN my fiends LOL

According to popular theory, the humble bumble communicates with its kith and kin by means of a complicated 'dance' - specific patterns of movement to symbolise the locations of food sources, approaching danger and other bee-related data. But this is SCIENTIFICALLY IMPOSSIBLE. After visiting hundreds of discos across the length and breadth of North America, a team of TOP SCIENTISTS FROM HARVARD, or somewhere, concluded that it is impossible to communicate COMPLEX INFORMATION using only the medium of dance. Nevertheless, the Government maintains this lie in order to shield a far more extraordinary truth: namely, that bees are able to communicate via TELEPATHY. Military chiefs have been studying these insects in the hope of unlocking the secrets of their amazing ability, and are now able to communicate with specially trained agents through THE PSYCHIC DIMENSION. They have also been working on a system of ULTRASONIC MIND BUGGERY, which would allow them to forcibly enter an individual's brain to access information and plant suggestions.

Will there come a day when no one's brain will be safe from psychic interference? Can we be sure that we are really thinking our own thoughts? And are those voices in my head really symptomatic of a deep seated psychosis, as my doctor seems to think, or is there something more sinister at work?

WE DEMAND TO KNOW THE TRUTH!

I'm Funky Farmer, and I'm a truth pilgrim on the road to cosmic enlightenment. I have to go now, because my dinner is ready.

A duck has three eyelids

After all the angst and gnashing of gums about going into work today.
Guess what? It's bloody well snowing hard! That has put the kybosh on playing at happy farmers for the next day or so.What a massive shame, eh?

We demand to know the truth!

Well I know it’s early but the day has come to get off me fat butt and do a little honest work. I don’t know if I will have time to jot a note later.

So long as I have no unforseen probs

I will be out of the door at 7 am sharp.

Tata I might be some time

My old boss said he wanted me to return back to work as the ground is ready for sowing the borage. 250 acres of it! Oh joy.

I don't really fancy poking my nose out of the nest to be honest, so I asked the nurse at the asthma clinic if I was fit enough to resume boring labour. Her answer stunned me! She said I had a bone complaint? Yes, on account of you're bone idle.

Charming I call it.

Guess what? I'm a godfather! Yeeeeees!

Sampa Ostara was born in the early hours of this morning.I believe she weighed quite a bit and is in good health.

I haven't been this excited since the waiter found my teeth in the swill bin.

For more info go to: http://thepeasant.blog.co.uk

I have decided to have a low thingy Sausage sarnie, as a small snack before lunch.
Here is the recipe I followed, plus an illustration of the finished result.

Grill 6 pork sausages until they are cooked through, and keep warm. Fry 1 large sliced red onion in butter with a pinch of brown sugar and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar. Butter 2 thick slices of white bread, spoon over the onion and sausages over 1, and top with ketchup or tomato relish, and the second slice. Fold in half and serve.

Mmmmmmm loverly grub

Wrong

It's Msanon's Birfdy (she is on my friends list). Please pop over and give her the bumps!!!

I now have a diet pill purveyor trying to be my friend!!!!

So either someone here grassed me up or they have an uncanny attraction to potential customers? Spooooooky!

As from today I will be going on a diet. This is my pledge.

* Note to Ms Funky .....

Only two doughnuts for elvensies tomorrow Please.

There you go. I feel thinner already

THERE IS ENOUGH IRON IN A HUMAN BEING TO MAKE ONE SMALL NAIL.

Now ain't that the truth!

The Spring Equinox is the mid-point of the waxing year. The spark of light that was born at the Winter Solstice has reached maturity and from this day forward, the days grow longer than the nights. This is the time of full Dawn, and was the time of the festivals of the Grecian Goddess, Eostre, and the Germanic Ostara, both Goddesses of Dawn - this is where we get the word "Easter".

Red Sky At Night...

The origin of the saying is unknown, although a form of it appears in the bible (Matthew 16:2-3). It has some basis in science and is a fairly good predictor of-though no guarantee-of weather at the mid latitudes in the Northern Hemisphere, where storm systems generally follow the jet stream from west to east. A red sky in the morning indicates a sun rising in clear eastern skies casting its rays on storm clouds approaching from the west. At night the clear sight of the red setting sun would tell a sailor that no storms are to the west.

Fly-By-Night...

A large square sail used downwind or on a reach that could be used easily and quickly. This made it very useful for sailing at night especially by people who dealt in contraband. Since these people's character was always in question they became known as fly-by-night-ers.
 

True Colours...
 
The national flag or ensign was known aboard ship as her colours - and a very important issue when ships engaged in battle. The expressions true colours, come off with flying colours both originated from this nautical tradition. Blazers... Uniforms were not common place amongst the lower deck but most captains like to show off their crews for ceremonies and since the captain paid the bills they were able to choose the outfits for their men. The snappy blue jackets worn by the crew of the H.M.S. Blazer were the most memorable and in no time the crew were known as 'the blazers' and that is how the garment got it's name.

Trading on the High Seas...

The first recorded sea voyage involved sea trading between the Greek Mainland and the Aegean island of Melos in 7250 BC.

Clew....
 
Evidence leading to the recovery of a missing sail.

Glim ...

A "glim" is a light of any kind. A candle or a lantern. Hence the term glimmer of light.
 

From the early days of signal flags when messages were recorded on slate and a canceled message was sponged or "washed out".

I have been DUMPED!!!!!

Mad lin wasn't best impressed with my Union Jack longjohns. Can you believe that?

For those M/F who are thinking of making a move on Ms Madlin

Hands off. She loves me and only me.

YOU HAVE BEEN DULY WARNED

I have three blogs on here. Are the stats relating to an aggregate(sp?) of all three or just the prime blog?
Just wondered?

The word "four" has four letters. In the English language there is no other number whose number of letters is equal to its value.

As I approach my sixty-sixth year on Mother earth there are several bits of knowledge that have come into my possession over the years that I feel are worthy of sharing. These bits of wisdom were acquired in various ways, many of which I don’t even recall, some by osmosis, others from experience, education, the school of hard knocks and still others simply by having the hell beat out of me and sometimes being able to remember why. 
 
Here are a few of my observations, in no particular order, which may help you to avoid the pitfalls, used chewing gum, dogshit piles, and other obstacles as you travel your path in life:   
When something is foolproof*, it ain’t. Fools are ingeniously clever when it comes to buggering something up. Even when you read the directions, the likelihood of it working the first time is slim, so you may as well try it without bothering. My old friend Frank never has believed in reading directions and at least half of his stuff works. The other half is screwed up beyond repair because he did something that the directions (had he read them) specifically advised against. On the other hand, I always read the directions and at least half of my stuff works. The other half is screwed up beyond repair because the directions weren’t foolproof. Always remember, nothing is as easy as it looks at first glance. 

     Everything takes longer than you originally think it will. Even the simplest task is fraught with unforeseen perils that work to delay its accomplishment in a timely manner. What this means in simple language is when you have an important meeting 15 minutes from now, it’s almost guaranteed that you won’t be able to find your keys and once you do find them, you’ll catch every red light and at least one slow tractor and trailer between where you are and where you’re supposed to be.

  
 Speaking of things lost; the likelihood of something being lost is inversely proportional to its importance to completing the task at hand. In other words, if you don’t need it, it ain’t gonna be lost.

  
The quickest way to recover something that is lost is to buy a replacement. You’ll find that almost immediately upon getting the replacement, the lost item will miraculously turn up, usually right where it was supposed to be in the first place. This is particularly handy when you have children, because for some reason when children are around, the replacement often turns up missing before you can remove it from the packaging.  

 
Gravity is selective. When you drop something like a power tool that can fall either onto concrete and break, or harmlessly land on soft ground, it will always hit the concrete. Likewise the tree that you’re removing which can’t possibly fall on your house won’t. --- Instead it’ll fall right in the middle of you neighbour’s brand new motor, taking out the power lines to half the village in the process.

    More selective gravity---A dropped valuable such as a wedding ring or diamond earring or something like that, will always fall into the spot that’s least accessible (the side of the sink without a strainer basket) or most likely to do it damage (the food processor while it’s running). And you can bet your life that you’ll knacker something else up while trying to retrieve said valuable. My daughter Lucy discovered the veracity of this the other day when she inadvertently dropped a diamond earring into the lavatory in the bathroom at her flat. Being the resourceful, independent, modern woman that she is, she reckoned, no problem-simply unhook the plumbing at the Peatrap and retrieve her earring. Wrong. She put her spanner on the union nut to unfasten the Peatrap and attempted to loosen it. It refused to turn easily as it is supposed to, so she applied a little more force. To make a long story short, she managed to loosen the nut, and along with it, the Peatrap and the entire incidental drain plumbing beneath the sink, winding up with everything from the bottom of the sink to where it enters the wall sitting in her lap. After extracting her earring from the hairballs, and other unidentifiable residual gunk in the trap, she managed with the help of several rolls of duct tape and two tubes of super glue to get the entire mess reassembled. The drain works fine, but pity the next poor soul who needs to access the Peatrap.

      As a result of my years of experience arguing with women I have reached the following conclusions: 1) A man will not win an argument with a woman which he started. 2) A man will not win an argument with a woman that she started. 3) If a man even remotely thinks that he won an argument with a woman, it’s all his imagination and if the woman suspects that he thinks this, she’ll pout for three days, throw a wobbly, or throw said man’s clothes into the front garden until he admits that he was wrong and she won the argument. So the best thing to do when a disagreement is imminent is to try to change the subject, but be careful as this may lead to the subject of yet another of your offences. Sometimes it’s best to just say as little as possible, forget about the issue and find something to do out of sight, like sneaking off to the  pub until it all blows over. (Of course the pub idea might not be too good if that was what originally sparked the disagreement.)

   
 Town driving. ---When caught in heavy traffic you can always be sure that the lane you are in will be the one moving slowest and if you’re lucky enough to be able to change into a faster moving lane, that one will come to a complete halt. If traffic is being narrowed from 3 lanes down to 1, you can be sure the one you’re driving in is number 3 and the people in the lane beside you are either unconscious or afflicted with tunnel vision, so your turn indicators, hand signals or pleading looks will have absolutely no effect. Also, traffic lights have secret special sensors built into them that will automatically give you the red light at every intersection when you’re in a hurry, just to piss you off. If you have time to kill, you’ll get the green all the way and arrive 30 minutes early. This is also true of railway crossings, if you’re running late they’ll run a 187 wagon train down a track they haven’t used in 15 years just to block the crossing and slow you down.

  
 “Neither a borrower nor a lender be!” Always remember, anything that can be borrowed can be broken and if you borrow it, the more expensive it is, the greater the likelihood of it breaking while in your possession. This is especially true of things mechanical and electrical. Tractors, cars, lawn mowers and boats are especially susceptible, but I’ve even broken hammers, anvils and chains. You might also want to be aware that borrowed things, which don’t break while in your possession, are likely to disappear. One time many years ago, I had to make a trip to Detroit in the middle of the winter. Having neither winter clothes nor a suitcase to put them in, I borrowed a overcoat and a suitcase from a friend. I thought the trip was successful until I started to exit the plane after the return flight and discovered the borrowed coat had somehow “disappeared” and when I went to claim the borrowed suitcase in the baggage area, ---yep, you guessed it, the damned thing was in two pieces held together with duct tape. I’ll repeat, “Neither a borrower nor a lender be!”       We all know our kids and grandkids are more intelligent, better looking, better behaved and just all around superior to everyone else’s. What we fail to comprehend is that it’s all just an illusion to keep us from drowning them at birth. (I won’t even mention teenagers.)   
 Expertise or proficiency in one field does not carry over into other fields. No matter how much advertisers expect us to believe it, the fact someone can hit a cricket ball, kick a football or sing a song better than anyone else, does not make them an authority on insurance or banking or nutrition or good deals when buying vehicles or anything else except hitting a cricket ball, kicking a football or singing a song. Personally, I’ve found the best recommendations come from drinking partners, fishing mates, barmaids, garbage men, and out of work encyclopedia salesmen.

Things which are almost absolutely crucial to a certain activity, such as nail clippers, tyre pumps and fly swatters will show up with uncommon regularity until such time they are needed, at which point said item will disappear from the face of the earth.  

  
Never completely discount the utterances of a drunk or otherwise mentally impaired person. Remember, even a broken clock is right twice a day and mother-in-law only has to be right once. So what’s not to say that one of these days a friend whom you suspect of being completely inebriated won’t come up with a statement that entirely changes the world as we now know it---But then again, all things considered it’s probably not likely.

   
 Never ever, ever bet against someone in a bar who tells you they can do something, no matter how impossible or outlandish their stunt or trick may sound. ---You ain’t gonna win. The salt cellar WILL stand on edge, the knife WILL fall into the beer bottle, the “dead” fly WILL resurrect and fly off, the coins, cocktail sticks, matches, etc. CAN be arranged in whatever geometric pattern or removed in “X” number of moves, ---no matter what your alcohol addled brain may tell you, if someone tells you they can do it and wants to wager with you about it, be assured THEY CAN do it. Hells bells, I even saw a fellow levitate from his barstool up to the ceiling one time over in Milton Keynes. So the next time someone wants to make a  bet with you in a beer tent, just go ahead and buy you both a beer and watch him work on some other numbskull.

   
 Everybody ought to have a jacked up 4-wheel drive vehicle. They enable you to do at least four things people can’t do who are limited to transport with just 2-wheel drive: 1) You get a large part of your recommended daily exercise by just climbing in and out of them. 2) You get to spend a lot of money for fuel, thus doing your part to pump up the economy. 3) You get to ride around on dirt, gravel and mud back roads drinking beer and slogging through the mud to pull out those unfortunate 2-wheel drivers who become stuck in mud holes or happen to drink too much beer and run into the ditch. 4) You can drive into the wet woods so far from civilisation that it’s a 2-day walk out to get help, before you become hopelessly stuck---But they really are fun toys. I enjoyed mine back in the days when the kids were still young enough to think they were having fun spending half the day digging out of a bog.

  .
 
I have more of these “pearls of wisdom”, but my old brain is getting wore out just remembering them, so I imagine you’ve had about enough reading them for now. I hope these tips and revelations make your path a little easier and your load a little lighter. Maybe we can talk about them again in the not too distant future.

Secrets---Do you have a rumour or experience that is just a little too much for most people to believe or do you just enjoy seeing how big of a BS story you can get away with? Here’s one way to lend credence to your story; simply tell people, “this is very confidential”, then draw them in close and tell your story in a whisper, looking up occasionally as if to check and make sure no one else is overhearing. I read an article on the Internet the other day where researchers have found that people tend to believe things, which are whispered to them in confidence much faster than when the same story is told out loud.

From the “You Can Never Have Too Much Coverage Dept.”---If you have unusual insurance needs such as coverage against being abducted by aliens, fainting while witnessing the birth of your child (I assume this is for fathers.), being injured by turbulence while on a flight, or being sacked for reading trash like this on the Internet while at work, there is a company interested in talking with you. Sir Huckleberry Insurance from Germany has written policies for these and other unlikely occurrences such as stock market crashes, lost lottery tickets and marrying a bigamist. According to the article I saw, they even would insure you against being subjected to alien sex experiments for an extra premium. So if you sign up with these people and then happen to marry a bigamist and are abducted by aliens who perform bizarre sexual experiments on you while you’re floating around in space, at least when you return you stand to pick up a pretty good chunk of cash from your insurance. (Not to mention the sale of your story to the tabloids.)---I’m not sure about all the details, when I “Googled” the company, all the information it pulled up was in German. A bit like BLUK ‘help’ then! 

* See my post of yesterday. 

Hi People.
 Well it's mission accomplished. I picked up my friend at the airport safe and sound and apart from one misadventure and a lot of traffic jams. Funky made his presence felt by ruining the car park barrier. How was I sposed to know that you don't put coins in where the ticket comes out. Anyway the barrier was ruined so I beetles off as fast as my old Primera will go. Apart from getting out of said car park, which was a mini adventure in it's self, there are only four ways to enter your credit card!! How come I find all three wrong ways first?

Here is the contents of an email my Friend Newt Harland from Texas, sent to my AOL group a few weeks ago. I had intended sharing it then but what with my bad asthma turn ect, I never got round to it. I hope you find it entertaining. I will pass any comments on to Newt to cheer him up.Poor guy is pretty poory I understand.

There is no mention here but I believe the Gent mentioned has a statue in his memory on thhe seafront at Bournemouth UK

"I understand there were several of y’all who were surprised to find that I hadn’t written anything in this space over the weekend of January 15th, 16th and 17^th, for you to read last Monday morning. Well there was a reason. I decided to wait until today to do my writing. I spent the weekend and Monday, January 17, in observance of the day set aside to honor a very special person.

This great human being, by the virtue of his talents and efforts changed the world and made it a much better place for those of us who have followed in his legacy. This unusual person had that special flame, that talent that enabled him to succeed where others had tried and failed for centuries before him. He had a dream and followed his dream to fruition. So great was his contribution to society that it has lived on after his death and even today his name is sometimes shouted, but more often spoken in whispers. We forget, as we go about our daily lives, that if not for his vision and efforts that we’d still be chained to the customs and mores of our forefathers. ---Yes, I spent the long weekend observing and honoring the life and deeds of that immortal visionary, Thomas Crapper!

Yes, Thomas Crapper the inventor of the flush toilet. The man who made it possible to take care of our personal hygienic needs in the comfort of our homes instead of making the trek out to the privy in the snow or sitting and sweating in the sweltering heat of summer, not to mention the smell or the interruptions by insects and the occasional snake. The man who made chamber pots obsolete and gained the eternal gratitude of big city pedestrians who no longer had to dodge the contents of said pots as they were emptied from upper floor windows onto the street below each morning. The man who gave his name to the slang description of the appliance we’ve come to take for granted. What shopkeeper hasn’t heard the question from some unkempt and uncouth passerby with an emergency, “Man, could I please use your crapper, I gotta go bad”?

Some have called the appliance invented by Thomas Crapper in 1884, “mankind’s greatest hygienic breakthrough and the high-water mark in plumbing history”. Without a doubt it has done more than any other to clear the indoor air in the Western world. Let’s consider the magnitude of his achievement.

The idea of a separate area to take care of bodily functions dates back about as far as recorded history. And even as far back a 2000 BC on the island of Crete there was a bathroom and a latrine with a reservoir for flushing. The Romans had public latrines with sponges on a stick dipped into buckets of water for finishing purposes (Nobility used lambs wool and water scented with rose petals.).

As mankind progressed, folks living in rural areas began building the familiar outhouse or privy to take care of their needs. Of course the chamber pot was always handy under the bed for those middle of the night and cold weather emergencies. Speaking of chamber pots, during this period it was fashionable to decorate the bottoms of chamber pots with bull’s eyes, pictures of the owner’s enemies (there were many chamber pots in Britain at this time featuring pictures of Napoleon) or cute little sayings such as, “Use me well and keep me clean and I won’t tell what I have seen”.

Folks in smaller cities and the suburbs also used the familiar privies, but in the larger cities and especially in multi storied, multi-family dwellings the traditional outhouse was impossible or at least unfeasible. In these homes there were indoor privies built in rooms called  “garderobes” which consisted of a very large chamber pot fitted into a box-like contraption with a tight fitting lid. This pot was emptied every morning by dumping it from the window of the apartment into the street below. In Britain it was customary before dumping to shout “gardy-loo”, much in the same way a golfer yells “fore”. This was to alert the pedestrians below and give them a chance to get out of harms way. Of course, there were many times when the dump came before the unfortunate had time to clear and many a Brit had their powdered wig or clothing soiled before they could move.

Somehow all this eventually gave Brits their term for bathroom, “loo”.

 The castles of royalty and others of affluence during this period had garderobes built in rooms on the outside walls of the castles with a chute for effluent that went directly into the moat surrounding the castle. Obviously the moat wasn’t an idyllic little river around the castle, but more of a cesspool. It was offensive as well as defensive. This makes those heroic swims across the moat by knights that are so popular in the movies that much braver and more stupendous. I wonder how Errol Flynn, Kirk Douglas and all of them held their swords, their shields and their nose all at the same time while managing to swim across the moat to rescue the fair damsel?

In addition to the garderobes, castles for royalty had many close stool privies located in strategic areas around the palace. These were upholstered with fine fabrics and elaborately decorated and served as “auxiliary thrones” as the monarchs took care of their natural duties at the same time as their queenly or kingly duties. It is said by some biographers that Lyndon Johnson customarily did this with members of his cabinet while he was president. ----Wonder if this is where the term “on the throne” as a euphemism for on the toilet originated?

The flush toilet or commode (loo or water closet or WC, as it is called in Crapper’s homeland) changed the course of history by allowing society to live with itself. It is more than valves and chains and floats that bubble and gurgle; the flush toilet is the very symbol of modern civilization. It has contributed about as much to public health as many doctors, all the way back to the time of Hippocrates.

Since its invention, many new and improved models have been introduced: composting toilets, laser-flushed toilets, electric toilets, incinerating toilets and biological toilets. But the old Thomas Crapper WC is still considered the best, standing head and shoulders above the ”Johnny-come-lately” models. Of course this is easy in many places, since the tank is mounted on the wall at about eye level.  Lift off the lid of your own right now, and you’ll see this basic mechanism---the genius of Thomas Crapper, which has stood the test of time. In more than a century, neither the inner workings nor the basic shape of Crapper’s invention has changed.

Actually, Crapper didn’t really invent the flush-toilet; it was around for quite a few years before he was born. What he invented was an improvement called: ”Crapper’s Valveless Water-Waste Preventer”, that made the flush toilet more efficient and enabled the average person to have one in their home. Back in those days the home’s water supply was stored in a cistern. The flush toilets in use required much water to do their job and often the mechanisms failed to work properly resulting in the entire water supply being drained through the toilet into the sewer. Because of this many people chose not to have flush toilets and instead used the old standbys like chamber pots, close stools and the ever-dependable privy out back.

History has been slow to recognize the contribution of Thomas Crapper. Isn’t it time we made Crapper a household name like Wright, Morse, Fulton, Marconi, and Edison. Who among these men built a better toilet? It's time for Thomas Crapper to at least take a seat in the National Plumber's Hall of Fame at Skokie, Illinois alongside plumbing greats such as Kohler, Crane, and John Hammes (inventor of the garbage disposal). In fact, it might be a good idea for them to rename it the “Thomas Crapper Plumbing Hall of Fame”. Some have suggested that we look into the Postal Service to coming out with a Thomas Crapper commemorative stamp, hell we do it for everything else (mailing the first-day issue from Flushing, NY), and observe each Jan 17^th as Crapper Day with a 21-flush salute and a toast to Thomas Crapper. --- Bottoms up.

http://www.poshcrapper.co.uk/thomas_crapper_history.htm

The world's first automatic dishwasher was invented in the USA, in
1889, by a Mrs Cockran

   
Back when you were young, did you hold your breath every time you passed a cemetery? I did. From the time I was old enough to understand the things I heard from my mates, until I was at least 14 or 15 years old, it was common knowledge that since the residents of cemeteries were all dead, that there were bound to be some planted out there who had died of some kind of terrible contagious disease, so any time you passed a cemetery you should hold your breath in the event that germs from the disease were still lurking around, waiting for a new victim.

 
 In case, heaven forbid, you couldn’t manage to hold your breath for the entire time it took to pass, you should at least filter your breath through your shirtsleeve or jacket. While this wasn’t as good as holding your breath, it gave you at least a 50/50 chance.

 
 
Every day the bus passed two cemeteries going to and from school and adult passengers were always impressed when all the chatter on the bus stopped when we passed them---they thought it was our respect for the dead when the driver told them this was the reason for our silence.

 
Everyone knows, that with the exception of buzzards and several species of shorebirds, birds in general don’t have a very developed sense of smell---birds can’t smell. But crows certainly can smell gunpowder. I learned this from Bill Dawson  when I was about 12 and a group of us were out hunting crows one September afternoon in our cider apple orchard.

 
 
Chewing gum is dangerous. This isn’t something we just believed, this is something we KNEW. If you got caught chewing in Miss Snyder’s or old lady Gooch’s class, it meant at least five strikes of the cane and neither of these were lightweights when it came to giving it their all.

 
 
 Then if you swallowed the gum to keep from getting caught, you were setting yourself up for all kinds of medical problems. Everyone knew that swallowing chewing gum caused appendicitis. That stupid-ass Raymond Jackson thought he was really smart by swallowing his gum when Miss Snyder almost caught him and sure enough, that night they had to rush him up to the Hospital to have his appendix out. He had to brag and show everybody his scar for three or four weeks after he got back to school, but he never did swallow gum again.

 
 
Another thing about swallowing gum, if it don’t get hung up on your appendix, it’ll just float around in your system for seven years causing all kinds of problems. Malcolm Wilcox had a sister who was grown up and lived over in the next village and she accidentally swallowed some gum and you won’t believe the problems it caused her. First off she swelled up like she was pregnant or something and the doctors had to puncture her like a bloated cow. They said that the gas that came out was likely to have made the whole town sick. The volunteer firemen had to wear gas masks. After she got over that she had problems with her hair and toenails falling out for about a year. Then they put her on a diet of nothing but kale, sprout and turnip tops for three months. She never got over that little chewing gum accident and till the day she died, she never touched another stick of gum. ---I don’t muck about with it very often myself. I ain’t taking no chances.

 
He said that his cousin, Paul Hill was out at the scout camp one evening sittin’ around the campfire, tellin’ a few honest lies with the rest of the boys, when this big frog hopped up beside him.  Paul started mucking around with that frog, making him jump and stuff and everybody told him not to bugger about with the damned thing because it would pee on him and cause warts.

Well, Paul was pretty bloody minded and the next thing you know, he’s got that frog in his hand and telling everybody to look, that he was holding that frog and wasn’t getting’ any warts.

Directly, that frog just up and cut loose and peed all over him. Paul swore and flung the frog just as far out in the woods as he could. The he took Joe Cotton’s jug of scrumpy and poured two or three good drinks out into his hand trying to wash that frog pee off of him and kill the wart poison.

 It didn’t work. The very next morning when he woke up he was itching something terrible and before dinner he was covered with warts on both arms and his belly. He had to make five trips to the doctor to get them all burned off.

When I was a kid, I used always to hear mum or some adult say, "Don't go swimming for an hour after you eat or you'll get the cramps". I had no idea what these "cramps" were, but they  did sound bad to me. To tell the truth, I was just a little bit confused by the whole idea. I understood " the cramps" to be something that would afflict a person who got wet too soon after eating, not just swimming too soon after eating. I thought that somehow this happened if water came in contact with your skin in any way within a half hour of your last meal. This raised all sorts of questions in my mind — How did the "cramps" know whether you were in a swimming pool or not? (You could get wet from a hose, for example, but nobody's parent ever warned us about running through sprinklers after eating, or by going out in the rain, which we sometimes did too.) How did the "cramps" know when the hour was up? (What would happen if you dived into the rhine only 50 minutes after eating lunch?) Did the "cramps" know the difference between someone who had eaten a full meal and someone who had merely snacked on a Scotch Egg or a Pork Pie? The whole thing was very confusing to me, but you can bet your life that I never did swim until that hour was up…. At least not while any adult was watching.

 
I have a lot more “beliefs” to tell you about and we will return them again  soon. If you can bear it.

  Dear Dog

 When I say to move, it means go somewhere else, not switch positions with each other so there are still three of you in the way.

 The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. (Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate of food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.)

 The stairway was not designed by Brands Hatch  and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

 I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the sofa to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs sleeping. They can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. (I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximise space used is nothing but sarcasm.)

 My compact discs are not miniature Frisbees.

 For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine , try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. (In addition, I have been using the bathroom for years...canine attendance is not mandatory.)

 The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog’s backside. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you.

 To pacify you I have posted the following message on our front door..... Rules for Non-pet owners who visit and like to complain about our pets:

 1. They live here; you don't.2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture3. I like my pets better than I like most people.4. To you it's an animal. To me he and/or she is an adopted son and/or daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and is speech challenged.

Dogs and cats are better than kids. They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug using friends, don't drink or smoke, don't worry about buying the latest fashions, don't wear your clothes, and when they have young, you can sell the results.

Please take a second to look here and say hi. www.thepeasant.blog.co.uk

Hi Y'all

This is Baxter sitting in for the corpulent one, who is sitting in his chair looking like a prime porker after his enormous lunch. Because of the impending invasion, visa vie the various fruits of his loins, Ms Funky put on an enormous crock of brown stew and dumplings at about six this morning. It looked and sounded delish but what do I get offered by way of a morsel? A bit of turnip that's what!

All is not gloom and despondency however. I think all my birthdays might have come at once. Fatboy has advertised my service as a dad on www.studyourdog.com. There is a great shortage of Scottie dads it seems!  Let me at them. I will soon change all that. Of course Where Funky is concerned there has to be something in it for him!! Like £400 a go. Oh well I mustn't or else he might  change his feeble mind.

Cheerio Dear Hearts

Bonking Baxter (elect)

Later in life it was apples  Same story. If you ate the seeds trees would grow out of you ass. It had it strong points though. At least I'll have enough air when they finish cutting all the rainforests down. And the army head hunted me for their jungle task force. they reckoned they wouldn't need to give me camoflauge gear!

For My Mum 1917 - 1999

I see your face each morning in the sunrise
When the warming rays come streaming down on me;
I feel all your warmth with those golden drops of light
And I see you just the way you used to be.

Good Morning.

Happy Paddy's day to any Paddys that are sober enough this morning and are silly enough to visit this blog.

We are off to london this morning, to visit the Queen. I this case it's Queen Jessie Ms Funky's mum, who has kindly granted the Funky clan an audience at her Battersea residence. Tomorrow is Mothering Sunday so we go bearing gifts such as pot plants, cards, photos and a fruit cake!!!! I assure you dear reader the irony of delivering that last item has not been lost on yours truly.  

A full report will follow on our return, Until that time 'oryvah' as they say in parts of Canada.

Author Unknown

Who's gettingto be a big girl then?

MEGAN. That's who!

Evenin' all,The vogue in a lot of bloggers today is to read papers and articles that all the rest of us have already ready then cut and paste them into their journal. So I thought I might follow suit as I too can't think of any interesting thoughts of my own to put on paper, or in this case my brand new 19” flat screen monitor. Oh I didn't tell you about that? How remiss of me? Another time eh? 

 For all those pious people that made new years resolutions to give up smoking and were bragging during ‘National No Smoking Day’,  how they have managed to give up the dreaded weed. All your effort may have been in vain. After trawling  through my own inexhaustible archives I have GREAT pleasure reissuing the following scientific, educational, inspirational article.    If after reading this you still bother to carry on suffering and do manage to beat the baccy. Do me a favour eh! Keep it to yourself and don't bang on about it interminably, Remember there is nothing worse than a reformed sinner.
 

Well, so I'm told. I ain't met any reformed sinners Harrold yet!  

Tobacco companies have reacted strongly to the latest attacks from anti-smoking campaigners with the publication of a new report. Spokesman Marmaduke Fagg outlines its main findings. "There is still much ignorance regarding the effects of tobacco," says Fagg. "And sadly many people find it all too easy to gloss over the benefits of heavy smoking. For example, it has been found that nicotine is a most effective way of reducing stress."This, of course, is well known. But it is also a widely accepted fact that smoking increases the likelihood of developing cancer and heart disease, and in some cases can cause large and important parts of the body to drop off unexpectedly.
 

So how does the tobacco industry respond to this? Fagg puts their case.   "Yes, we do recognise that these things can be something of an inconvenience. However, I don't think that the prospect of premature death should necessarily discourage a person from smoking. After all, many people smoke all their lives and they're perfectly okay when they die. Well, when I say perfectly okay - they're dead, obviously - but apart from that they're all right. Take my Uncle Tony, for example. He died when he was sixty-three, but it wasn't smoking that killed him - it was a combine harvester, which is a different thing altogether." 

 So, is that the real message of this report?  "Yes, I think so," says Fagg. "Tobacco can be dangerous, certainly, but its nowhere near and hazardous as farm machinery, or Funky cooking Sunday lunch for ten!"

I bet you never knew what all top racing slug owners know?

Because an Inflated Slug is a Happy Slug
There you go folks, where else would you find such important information? 

I better be off cos dinners ready. Mmmmmmmmmm ..... Mollusc marinaded in marmalade

A couple made a deal that whoever died first would come back and
inform the other of the afterlife. Their biggest fear was that there
was no afterlife.

"Not exactly, I'm a rabbit in Suffolk."

Hello you’re up for second helpings today. Ain’t you the lucky ones?

 I decided that as I have got all the machinery that is needed for drilling (planting seeds) ready for the off, I would take the day off to get a bit done in the garden. Veggies is my bag. Ms Funky does all the pretty stuff apart from hanging baskets, which I quite enjoy doing as it happens. The Petunias, impatians, geraniums and trailing aubretia have been growing away in the greenhouse for a couple of months now so nothing to do there.

   The veg garden is  thirty metres by ten so quite large by most standards. My first task was to dig it all up to a depth of 10 inches!!!  The job was started about 0930 and finished by 1000. “What??” I hear you cry. Half an hour for all that land? Funky, You little liar you!

Well, I did tell you I had got all the machinery ready, didn’t I. The rotavator is 6 metres wide and the tractor 350 hp. LOL, easy peasy.

   The machine leaves the ground ready to plant, so before 12 noon 1 row of strong garlic, 2 of shallots, 4 of onion sets plus 2 rows of first early potatoes were in the ground. I have a small Merry Tiller rotavator so the row spacings allow me to weed with that for a couple of months. When the time comes things like cabbage and sprouts will get planted between these rows, then when the onions, spuds ect get havested, the brassicas can be weeded in the same fashion. Clever ain’t it?

   Right, now that Mr Smug has sent you all to sleep with this boring post. He better gey back out there and get some broad beans and beetroot in. It looks like rain.

   I’m off now and maybe some time   LOL

New Commander of U.S. Forces Sees No Military Solution in Iraq
Needs more troops to prove it.

GEEZ-O-PETE. I can’t let those scurrilous remarks go unanswered! My life is SO hard right now, let me tell you. I’m like, stressed to the MAXX here, you know what I mean? Seriously, I’m “run ragged”. I’m, like, up at 6am every morning to get in some solid barking time before breakfast, then once They’re up, I have to totally beg ALL DAY for food. ALL DAY, people. Yes, It’s Baxter the Beggar and me with a pedigree as long as yer arm. I know! SO unfair and you might say that hey, The fat farmer would probably feed me anyway, even if I didn’t beg, but, it’s like, how can I take that risk? So I beg all day, then I have to take Megan for a walk, and then I have to beg some more for TREATS. So can you wonder when I nick the odd morsel if the opportunity occurs?

No one understands how hard it is being me. It’s like, you know that song what the Beatles wrote? The one where they’re all “Oooh, it’s been a hard days night and I’ve been working like a DOG”? Yeah, right, sure you have. The Funky clan wouldn’t know a hard day’s night if a hard day’s night came right up to them and BIT THEM ON THE BUMs. And as for workin’ like a dog, it’s like, yoos come and swap places with Baxter for ONE DAY, John, Paul, George and Ringo, THEN we’ll talk, hmmm’kay?

Hi Ya, tiz me agin!

Gotta love him, he has us totally under his control...

Since the completion of my motor caravan 'chicken shed' project at last. I am amazed at the worldwide interest there has been in all things 'shed'. Would you believe that such was the clamour for them that a company has started manufacturing in my own village using only the best organicly grown tree wood?   Shed City in Harrold offers some of the finest sheds your money can buy.  Big sheds, chicken sheds, small sheds, long sheds, tall sheds - you name it, they promise to have the right shed for you.  But their latest model, the T1000, has proven to be something of a retail phenomenon, with stock selling out as fast as they can order it in.  Retail manager Karen Ripsaw told us why.  "The T1000 really is the perfect starter shed,"  she informed us.  "It's the ideal choice for young couples who have never owned a shed before and are a little nervous about the whole shed thing.  After all, owning a shed is a big commitment, and not something to be taken lightly.  You don't want to just plump for the first thing you see, else before you know it you've got creeping dry rot beneath your joists and the wind is whistling up your floorboards.  The T1000 takes all that worry away."    According to Ms Ripsaw, the T1000 is both durable and easy to assemble, but the main attraction of the shed is the selection of extras that comes with it."Every T1000 comes complete with contents,"   she explained.  "What we mean by that is that it comes supplied with all the stuff that you usually find in a well stocked shed: jars full of old nails, parts of a dismembered bike, bits of wood that you hang on to just in case they might come in handy.   It has empty paint tins, strange, unidentifiable metal objects covered in rust, broken screwdrivers, bits of wire and an assortment of hinges.  The deluxe model even has a stripped down engine block and a wheelbarrow full of concrete."In other words, it comes full of rubbish, and this has turned out to be its biggest selling point.  Ms Ripsaw tells us that customers who buy the T1000 can be confident in the knowledge that it contains nothing of any use whatsoever, and that they can therefore happily lock it up and never set foot in there again.  Just like any other shed.   

The British Army has agreed to honour an agreement made in 1860 by the then Head of British High Command in India, Flight Lieutenant Osprey Dogegg-Jackson.
From next month, the Gurkhas, those nifty little Nepalese chappies, will qualify for the same pay and conditions as British-born servicemen.

Despite the fact that, in 1878, flight had not yet been thought of, Fl. Lt. Dogegg-Jackson was thusly ranked, and it was largely through him that Gurkhas were first recruited and trained to fight in Queen Victoria's army.

Gurkhas, not to be confused with Gherkins, which are pickled cucumbers, were designated a Martial Race, not to be confused with a Marital Race, which is a dash to a wedding, by Dogegg-Jackson. He afforded them 'Full English Status', not to be confused with Full English Breakfast, which is sausage, bacon, egg, tomato, mushrooms and fried bread, with toast and a cup of Twinings.

When Dogegg-Jackson died mysteriously in 1880, (the military file says: "choked on a Gherkin"), the rights of the tenacious little Nepalese cucumbers were buried with him, until today, that is.

When the news was announced in London, Gurkha representatives, normally a picture of restraint, could not hide their joy and relief:

"Hooray", they said.

Private Benjarn "Benny" Knowsnobetter, who has served in the Queens Light Infantry Cannon Fodder Regiment for 81 years since he was 12 years old, said:

"Today we good luck."

Another expendable recruit, Pi Dizelf, 22, of the Royal 115th Bayonet Practice Battalion, under the command of Capt. Suicide, was over the moon.

"I over moon", he groaned from his stretcher, as he was rushed to a field hospital with a gaping stomach wound.

Until today, Gherkins have existed on a quarter of regular Army pay, and on a one-sixth pension.

Ex-Army spokesman, Patrick Mercernary, said:

"Equal pay? Equal pension? Let 'em have it. None of the awful brutes will live long enough to enjoy it! Diiiss-miss!"

If you are interested in Travel, Photography and blogging....
Look here:

http://www.wayn.com/wayn.html?wci=homepage&tab=&location_key=0

Good Morning.Well it was until I watched the news! It seems that BT is about to charge us poor,  benighted Brits if we don’t pay their already extortionate bills by direct debit. I for one feel sick with rage. I have the misfortune to have BT Interenet together with the god awful Yahoo. I’m tied into an 18 month contract so there is not a lot I can do. I can’t say “sod you” and take my custom elsewhere because they would not issue me with a MAC number so they have me, the customer by the short and curlies each and everyway. 

When I changed from AOL to BT I agreed to pay £19 a month for broadband. I make that £57 a quarter. Then I have £40 on calls. £97.00 total for tangible service. OK, in that case can anyone out there tell me why my bill was £195 the quarter? 

Electricty bill next, £740  = £180 a month Estimated of course!

 Car insurance quotes Tesco £617  Post Office £198 For the same Fully comp package. 

Orange Mobile £40 a month standing charges   Cancelled. A charge of £100 for cancellation of contract! (I should fucking coco.) 

Sky television. My package £36 a month. For what? When was the last time they had anything new? The programmes get shuffled from one channel to another. Complete rip-off. Cancelled with a bloody penalty. Bugger off you ain’t getting nuffinck. 

These people will try getting money from my depleted account and my bank will write me a nice letter telling me they ain’t paid them . £35 per letter. 

That’s it I’m off before I explode and make a mess on the ceiling.

1) Moles are always smaller than you imagine.

2) At the end of every party there is always a fat girl crying.

3) One of the most awkward things that can happen in a pub is when your pint-to-toilet cycle get synchronised with that of a complete stranger.

4) You've never quite sure whether its OK to eat green crisps.

5) Everyone who grew up in the 80's has entered the digits 55378008 into a calculator.

6) Reading when you're drunk is horrible.

7) Sharpening a pencil with a knife makes you feel really manly.

8) You're never quite sure whether its against the law or not to have a fire in your back garden.

9) Whatever your age the desire to make plastic toy figurines assume intercourse positions is almost impossible to resist.

10) Nobody ever dares make cup-a-soup in a bowl.

11) You never know where to look when eating an apple.

12) Its impossible to describe the smell of a wet cat.

13) Prodding a fire with a stick makes you feel manly.

14) Rummaging in an overgrown garden will always turn up a flat ball.

15) You always feel a bit scared when stroking horses.

16) Everyone always remembers the day a dog ran into your school.

17) The most embarrassing thing you can do as schoolchild is to accidentally call your teacher mum or dad.

18) The smaller the monkey the more it looks like it would kill you at the first given opportunity.

19) Some days you see lots of people on crutches.

20) Every bloke has at some stage while taking a pee flushed half way through and then raced against the flush.

21) Old women with mobile phones look wrong.

22) Its impossible to look cool while picking up a frisbee.

23) Driving through a tunnel makes you feel excited.

24) You never ever run out of salt.

25) Elderly ladies can eat more than you think.

26) You can't respect a man who carries a dog.

27) There's no panic like the panic you momentarily feel when you you've got your hand or head stuck in something.

28) No one knows the origins of their metal coat hangers.

29) Despite constant warning you have never met anybody who has had their arm (or neck) broken by a swan.

30) The most painful common household incident is wearing socks and stepping on an upturned plug.

31) People who don't drive slam car doors too hard.

32) You've turned into your dad the day you put aside a thin piece of wood to specifically stir paint with.

33) Everyone had an uncle who tried to steal their nose.

34) Bricks are horrible to carry.

35) In every plate of chips there is a bad chip.

36) Triangle sandwiches taste better than square ones.

37) Beneath every floating balloon is a tearful child.

It's A Fact:

Not all bald men wear toupees

Thought Of The Day:

Today you will find fly in your soup The added protien will aid you diet. Mmmm CRUNCHY

Good Evening.

There comes a time in every pet owners life when he/she has to grapple with the complexities of insurance for their loved ones and Baxter. Step one, paying the fee is straight forward enough but step two, finding a vet who is in the scheme another! Finding a vet of any description is difficult enough. After much research here and elsewhere. Like down the pub, there is growing concern over the dwindling numbers of veterinary surgeons currently practising in the UK.

Many vets are leaving the profession to take up better paid positions as hairdressers or butchers. At the same time, there is less and less new blood coming into the field, a fact which is blamed on the many years of training and the unnecessarily stringent examinations needed to obtain a veterinary licence. The final exam requires students to assemble a fully functional cat from a variety of spare parts, and candidates can often fail on the simplest of things, such as getting a spleen in the wrong place.

However, a radical new rethink is set to encourage more people to become vets. To make the profession more accessible the test will be made much easier. In future, students will be required to draw a picture of a dog with a felt-tipped pen, and we understand that even those that only display a passing resemblance will pass.

Still keeping to tonight's 'Scientific' theme I have discovered by reading through articles for sale on eBay that domestic appliance manufacturer,Phillips, have developed a new tallscreen television, which has a screen almost twice the height of normal sets. A spokesman claimed that the new TV will be ideal for watching programmes about trees and people who wear big hats. Next year they are bringing out a smaller model specifically aimed at bonsai trees and baldy bonces. Isn't it a joy to be living in this great technological age? What will they think of next?

I notice that I am nearing 12000 hits. Whoever gets that number wins a coconut. Names and addresses on a postcard please.

A Guy walks into a bar with his pet monkey. He orders a drink and while he's drinking, the monkey jumps all around the place.

The monkey grabs some olives off the bar and eats them. Then he grabs some sliced limes & eats them, then jumps onto the pool table, grabs one of the billiard balls, sticks it in his mouth, and to everyone's amazement, somehow swallows it whole.

The bartender screams at the guy, "Did you see whatyour monkey just did?"

"No, what?"

"He just ate the cue ball off my pool table whole!"

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me,"replied the guy, "he eats everything in sight, the little bum. Sorry I'll pay for the cue ball and stuff."

He finishes his drink, pays his bill, pays for the stuff the monkey ate, then leaves.

Two weeks later he's in the bar again, and has his monkey with him. He orders a drink and the monkey starts running around the bar again.

While the man is finishing his drink, the monkey finds a maraschino cherry on the bar. He grabs it, sticks it up his butt, pulls it out, and eats it.

Then the monkey finds a peanut, and again sticks it up his butt, pulls it out, and eats it.

The bartender is disgusted. "Did you see what your monkey did now?" he asks.

"No, what?" replied the man.

"Well, he stuck a maraschino cherry and a peanut up his butt, pulled it out, and ate it!" said the bartender.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," replied the guy. "He still eats everything in sight, but ever since he had to pass that cue ball, he measures everything first."

Hi
Are you as tired as I am, with all this spam that's flying around the BLUK? It seems a fairly recent phenomenon! I wonder if they will be able to devise some sort of filter? Sort of disallow keywords such as poker, gambling and viagra. I don't think these spammers are too bright actually! Poker usually precedes Viagra? I would have thought Viagra should be before ya poker. Anyway enough of that nonsense. I have more interesting things to relate to ya about the moral decline of the youth of today. My story starts a few years ago and concerns my friend 'Nipper' His real name is Alex but to save his blushes I won't use that here. After all someone might read this.

See ya tomorrow. Byeeeeeeeeeeee

Good afternoon to you.

Some of you might have noticed the lack of a blog or two from this direction. I was off for four months over the winter and on returning part time last Monday I have been working ten hour days!!! I told you it was part time? Nothing whatsoever had been done in my absence. All the machinery we need to sow the Borage at the end of the month had been put on the shed and left. Oh well, I think my hourly rate is about to rocket. I have been reading all my friends blogs but to be honest, haven't had the energy to comment on them all. I think I will post a wave or something just to say I have visited.

After my marathon session over the weekend trying to do things on here and again yesterday for a while I didn't get around to doing a blog last night so I thought I better get to it while things were quiet this afternoon. Quiet, did I say? It's like the preverbal morgue at the moment. The only sound to be heard is Baxter slurping contentedly at his unmentionables, Jen and Meg flaked out after a day sniffing at voles holes and yours truly getting a few slices of 'Apple, cinnamon upside down cake' down me neck before Ms Funky gets home and confiscates it, probably muttering something about 'fat pigs' noshing her contribution to tonight's 'Church tea' Oh well! What's new in Funkyland? I'm starved, I tell you, starved!

As you know dear reader, I was put upon this earth to educate and enlighten the masses! Well, you actually but who's counting? So I thought I pass on some really good advice on how NOT to pile on the pounds prior to your summer holiday. Stick to this regime and you will be fine:

1. If no one sees you eat it, it has no calories.

2. If you drink a diet Coke with ice cream, they cancel each other out.

3. When eating with someone else, calories don't count if you both eat the same amount.

4. Foods used for medicinal purposes have no calories. This includes any chocolate used for energy, 'Death by chocolate' cheesecake (eaten whole), and Walls ice cream.

5. Cinema-related foods are much lower in calories simply because they are a part of the entertainment experience and not part of one's personal fuel. This includes (but is not limited to)
Cornetto's, popcorn with butter, After Eight Mints, Mars bars and Jelly Babies.

6. Broken biscuits contain no calories because the process of breakage causes calorie leakage.

7. If you eat the food off someone else's plate, it doesn't count.

8. If you eat standing up the calories all go to your feet and get walked off.

9. Food eaten at outings and parties has 0 calories.

10. Roast Pork sandwiches used as a stress buster are purely medicinal.

11. STRESSED is just DESSERTS spelled backward.

That's my lot now

. Byeeeeeee

What a hectic weekend! Friday was my youngest's birthday but as usual it turns into a 'birthday month'? She was 25!!! It only seems like yesterday we were bringing her home from St Richards hospital Chichester, to Selsey where we lived at the time.

Yesterday was taken up with gardening instructions, putting up a rose arch, erecting Ms Funky's mini greenhouse and reglazing mine afer the high winds we have recently experienced. In the evening it was off to the local fish restaurant for dinner, or whatever your prefered designation. Ms F and I had the Telapia which was horrible!!!!!! Nothing like I remember it straight out of Lake Victoria, many years ago but then why am I surprised? nothing is ever the same revisited.

I will continue later as we have more visitors just turn up (Sigh!) I'm getting too old and grumpy for this lark I will try to give a full report later.
Byeeeee

A survey of a broad section of workplaces in the UK, to discover what people think about the use of bad language, has turned up some surprising results.

The investigation, ordered by Employment Minister Alan Johnson, found that, instead of the more obvious, all-too-oft-used four-letter expletives, the most offensive example of bad language was 'Work'.

A staggering 96% of those surveyed said they hated 'Work', many claiming that they felt unwell at the mere mention of it.

Another word which had the slackers in a sweat, was 'Toil', and more than half of those questioned said they didn't like 'Graft' either.

The only f-word amongst the list of responses was 'effort', which 47% said "angered" them, and then made them want to sleep.

The Government commissioned the survey in a bid to find out what the public really feel about swearing, in the wake of the Big Brother show, which exists "on a diet of filthy language, and would fail to attract viewers without it".

Sally Slacker, of Surveys-R-Us, said:

"Those interviewed had pretty much the same dislikes.
'Work' is really offensive to most people. The only words many people seemed to be able to stomach without becoming enraged were 'Sick', 'Sickie' and the less offensive c-word, 'Cash'".

Good news! The car has passed her MOT test with flying feathers, I mean colours.( I ran over a pheasant on my way down ) By 8:30am I had the sought after document in my sweaty palm and the garage had £ 42:00 in theirs. Not bad for about 15 minutes work? Oh well, we Brits would have nothing to moan about if we weren't being constantly ripped off.

On the way back home, I called into Tesco's to get some diesel. The things they sell in those places makes the mind boggle, they are mini supermarkets in their own right. According to the pamphlet I was given there is a new concept in fast food on the horizon with the introduction of the UK's first Soup Station. Soup Stations are already big news in Denmark, where they use the same technology that we are already familiar with on petrol forecourts. Customers can drive up to the pumps and fill up with a variety of different soups, then pay at a special kiosk, where they can also purchase breadsticks, napkins or brake fluid but not petrol for now it seems!

Soups currently available are tomato, minestrone and unleaded. It was hoped that leek & potato would be available by now, but in initial trials it proved to be too thick and kept clogging the nozzles. Research continues.

Everything bodes well for the summer trips in the caravan . Pull in, five gallons of fuel and two pints of mulligatawny please and a packet of fag papers. Aaah bliss, I can't wait.

'Til next time

Byeeeee

Hiya,
Being a true countryman, (a redneck I suppose our cousins across the pond might call me) I have been brought up to be very superstitious believing, for instance that magpies can decide my fate. to this day I will still salute one as a sign of respect and to ward off it's evil influence. Two and more however are a good omen, Talk about hedging ones bets! Another while I was fishing is whistling aboard a boat or ship. This is sure to whistle up a wind of hurricane proportions. Silly you may think but it will send a shudder down the spine of any fisherman or sailor. Of course there is the 'never light three cigarettes from one match' this came from WW1 I believe as that was all the time a sniper need to aim and fire. There are dozens of these superstitions I remember from childhood such as if a knife drops, a man will come to visit; if a fork drops, a woman will come to visit.

If a robin flies into the house; a death will follow.

If you eat cabbage you will grow large breasts.

If your right hand itches, you will receive money. If the left one itches, you will get a letter.

If your nose itches, company is coming.

Cross your fingers behind your back for luck; cross them twice for double luck.

Don't plant potatoes during the dark part of the moon.

Plant or sow seeds on Good Friday.

If you sweep under a maiden's feet she will remain a spinster (and, yes young girls are still referred to as maidens where I come from)

If you cross your eyes they will stay that way.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

When the wind is out of the east fish bite the least; when the wind is out of the west fish bite the best.

Red sky in the morning, sailors warning. Red sky at night, a shepherds delight.

It's bad luck to walk under a ladder, or let a black cat cross your path.

There are two ways of stopping a run of bad luck if you walk under a ladder by accident. Cross your fingers and keep them crossed until you see a dog, or spit on your shoe and let it dry.

Breaking a mirror bring seven years of bad luck.

Throw spilt salt over the left shoulder to dispel bad luck.

If the palm of your right hand itches it means you will soon be getting money.

If the palm of your left hand itches it means you will soon be paying out money.

You must get out of bed on the same side that you get in or you will have bad luck.

If a black cat walks towards you, it brings good fortune, but if it walks away, it takes the good luck with it.

A rabbit's foot will bring luck and protect the owner from evil spirits if carried in the pocket.

A rainbow in the Eastern sky, The morrow will be fine and dry. A rainbow in the West that gleams, Rain tomorrow falls in streams.

A horseshoe, hung above the doorway, will bring good luck to a home.

If you sing before seven, you will cry before eleven.

All wishes on shooting stars come true.

It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside the house, especially if you put it over your head.

It's good luck to find a four-leaf clover.

So good people there you have just a few superstitions that I can remember off the back of my hand. You can see why us bumpkins look old and wizen before our time! We have so much we are constantly worrying about.

I have to tell you that being a wee Scottie dog has it’s drawbacks. First and foremost I’m owned by the fat farmer. You would have thought that was enough wouldn’t you? But oh no! since my arrival here my world has been turned upside down. From being the only dog on the scene I now feel I’m No3 in the pecking order.

First to usurp various affections was my now wife and soul mate Jenna. Things were going so well, going away for weekends and running along various beaches. The wonderful smell of varied and diverse substances i.e.: dog poo , dead crabs and fish. I never forgot the day I rolled in a dead seal. What a fragrance that was! Of course fatso spoils it all by honking up as soon as I jumped in the car. Ms Funky almost fainted and I was given a cold hose wash at the next service station. One upside to this story is big ed got a massive roar for abusing the facilities. He goes red in the face, threatens to shove the hose where the sun don’t shine if the offending assistant don’t ‘eff off’. Which he did pronto.

Anyway I diverse. Ms Jenna is a lovely bit of totty so don’t get me wrong but as soon as she got pregnant I was the villain and she got all the fuss and attention! It takes two to tango after all. Before long there was the patter of twenty eight tiny footsteps. Seven lovely puppies. Do I get a thank you? No fear I just get sent to my bed for daring to protest with a slight nip, when my dangley bits get sort of chewed by god knows how many tiny, needle sharp teeth!

Peace descended once again on the homing of the little brats darlin’s. That didn’t last long, about two weeks in fact when young Megan arrives to pester the life out of me. Yep, nuts and tail are her prefered targets. I tell ya I’m going to be a nervous wreck before too long. This fatherhood business isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a young dogs game, after all I’m four you know.

Thanks for listening. I feel a bit better, nothing a Bonio won’t fix.

Nite nite everyone

I love you all

Baxter

Get ready for it. Cancel all appointments, throw a sicky, be home by 3;45 next monday.

Why?

Shaun the sheep is on CCCB

Here I sit, totally, totally fed up!!

It's my first proper day back to work after four months and already things have gorn "tits up".

Poor Ms Funky is in a lot of pain after her shunt yesterday and is walking about like the cheeks of her backside are sewn together. I tell her to sit down and rest but oh no! The settee looks scruffy and the covers need a wash! Geez-O-Pete! The woman only did them on saturday.

The crop sprayer is due for it's 'Fit for purpose' test, just so we don't poison you lot out there I get a call telling me he ain't coming this morning now. His excuse? the post hasn't come yet! What? Well, it's an original excuse I suppose. I will give him four out of ten for bullshit.

Right me, tea is down my neck and jam from my doughnut down me jacket so I had better toodle of back and at least look enthusiastic.

I'm sorry I didn't get to all me friends yesterday but what with one thing and another, mostly doing my Fred Nightingale bit and having to get to bed at a reasonable hour for a change, I just ran out of time.

Catch you later Byeeee