Posts filed under 'Great'
Good Morning and welcome to the Nonny Market.
The Nonny Market is a brand new and exclusive business only available in selected parts of the country which gives only CERTAIN people the chance to experience the whimsy and wonder. Do you want to be one of those people? Can you sing all the words to ‘China Girl’ by David Bowie? Fill in a ten page document with all your personal details and maybe, just maybe you might be one of the lucky few who get to enter the Nonny Market. Before it goes on general release and any old codger with a codpiece can get in.
There are rules for entering the Nonny Market though. Whilst it does have everything you could ever want ranging from simple items such as bread and milk to luminous uncertainties such as howling guinea pigs, sweaty cheese plants and face magnets you must ensure that you do not touch nor buy any of these. Nothing, nothing at all. They are not for you.
So good luck with the draw. We hope to see you “shopping” at the Nonny Market very soon.
August 2nd, 2010
The 2010 State of the Beans Address
Delivered by Dr. Humphrey Bumfrey M.D.
Settle down, everyone, settle down. Thank you.
It is a great honour to be invited back here to Da Beans for another time, and to be asked to deliver my analysis of the current state of this fine web institution. Being a scientist with all sorts of clever gadgets and fancy equations out of books and that, I am incredibly clever, much more so than any of you, and therefore you have to listen to me and think I’m great.
First to the trends in posting volumes here on Da Beans.
After a steady, level second half of 2009, figures become erratic around the New Year 2010 period. This is down to a number of factors.
- Ian making many posts in December, each composed of thousands of deadly nanoposts.
- Everyone losing interest for a bit.
I have rubbed my stethoscope on Da Beans and given it some calpol, and I am pleased to say it has made a full recovery. Posting volumes are now back at normal pre-blowout levels and, as you can see from this graph, this is unlikely to be a temporary result.
Next we turn to comment levels and quality.
It has been observed that there were “good old days” on Da Beans when posts were excellent and comments were both humourful and numberous. These things tend to change upwardly as well as downbound, but in general there are comments being made today that are as good, wholesome and nutritious as anything posted in 2006. It is easy to see the past through lead-lined glasses.
Finally, I will leave you with a note of optimism for the future. I believe Da Beans has a bright future ahead of it, partly for the reasons outlined above, but mostly because Saint King has been told where to stick it.
Goodnight.
June 23rd, 2010
Following on from the highly amusing and disturbing list put forward by Mr Head confirming what type of individuals are visiting our site when we are looking the other way, I think it would be nice if we added some random words, phrases and other things that would attract more and more, hmmm, like weirdoes but in a nice way. Like a nice us sort of way.
In any case I’m going to do it and would encourage you both to do the same thing as well. Are you in? Deploy:
- This fruit is bad ass.
- Loser orange.
- Folicles.
- Feace, feace, feace and more feaces.
- Cousin Clive (don’t go on the floor with him).
- Chasing the Northern Lights.
Furthermore I would like to add gesticulating, ponyfying and Chaka Demus!
June 7th, 2010
This morning I had a shower and it was excellent. I am going to tell you about it.
My shower, right, is a thing in my bathroom where hot water comes out and makes me less dirty. This morning I adjusted the settings and made it hotter than I normally have it.
It was ACE. It was rather a lot like a volcano, but a ceiling-mounted volcano where it’s above you and the stuff is all coming downwards. And instead of a cone of ignacious rock protruding from a zone of geological instability close to the margins of tectonic plates, it was more like a plastic shower head mounted on the wall. And where the hot, burning lava and pyroclastic flow would be on a normal volcano was actually just fairly hot water, not hot enough to burn or otherwise damage human skin on contact.
That was what my shower was like this morning. The towel was green.
February 3rd, 2010
The onslaught from the severe weather that has hit the country within the last 28 days has been immense. There have been schools closed, roads paved with ice, power shortages, electrical problems, endless panic buying, people pushed to their limits. It has been the the freeziest and worst December / January for a long time.
Luckily London has not been affected by any of this. We spoke to fashion guru and local MP Quaff for the reasons behind this.
“London is the centre of everything. Everything revolves around London. I have always lived in London because London has always been here, for me and for many others. If I were to leave London it would only be to travel around the world and return to London, on the same flight, possibly the same plane, so London would have a fresher taste when I gazed upon her sweet, sweet enclosures.”
5 minutes later.
“London is as London does. You think you’ve done something new? You think you’ve found something undiscovered? No. No you haven’t. London has discovered it first. That’s what it’s called Lon-done. It’s done, all done. London did it before you. Don’t try to steal it from London!”
Another 5 minutes later.
“So you see, it comes back to London. Everyone comes back to London. She is the sweetest flower in the pack, the tastiest bone in the kennel, the juciest plumbs in the meadow. Nobody owns London, London owns you. But she doesn’t own Quaff though, at least I don’t think so. Perhaps she does. There is a part of me in London that will never leave…”
(For the full 87 hour interview please contact Mack Mackford at Mackmackford@mackfordtowers.co.uk)
January 14th, 2010
Audrey: Don’t let the beg bugs bite!
Reuben: That’s alright, I know kung fu.
Ian: Why don’t you give your grandad a hug as a present?
Reuben: That’s not a present!
Reuben: I saw broccoli in the pan but there’s none on my plate…?
Siobhan: That’s not fair! I was winning!
Reuben: Do you enjoy losing mum?
Reuben: Wow! A Wii! Now I have two!
Ian: Erm I think you’ll find the one at mine is Audrey’s.
Reuben: Yeah but it’s a little bit mine.
Reuben: SANTA IN YOUR EYE!
December 26th, 2009
So we’ve now managed a full twenty-four days and with only seven still to go I believe that we can finish this year well. When I say well though I do mean with a post for every day. ‘Well’ has so many… no actually it doesn’t, it’s pretty straightforward. So for all you lovers out there here is a song to warm your cockles and melt your heart:
Love My Face
Lady
Do you like my face?
Could you love my face with all your eyes?
If you loved my face would it taste
The sweetest you’ve ever spied?
‘Cos one thing I wouldn’t want
Would be to hear the lies
The ones that taint the taste
Taint the looks of your eyes
If you can’t look
At my wonderful face
And feel the thrills we once cried
Then you should walk away now, tootpaste
The well trodden path I despise
I might still call you
On the odd occasion, with no ties
To hear the words from your face
Let them drift into my eyes
There’s no rushing, no time to waste
I hope you know Ted Hughes is a spy
Once you lay waste to my face
Then my face will be disgraced
It will taste like mace
Do you want me to taste like mace?
I’m a waste of space without my face
But like space I will chase
Chase you and your face
Your face, full of grace… and raspberries
Actually that wasn’t very romantic and I think the last verse was supposed to be rapped. Erm… MERRY CHRISTMAS!
December 24th, 2009
Episode 23 – If I Were You, I Wouldn’t Want To Know You
During a fatal ice skating accident in which three dwarves, presumably looking for Santa, are maimed by a falling electrical pylon, Sir Chester Lester manages to frame Vixen Hawk for the aggrevious error and sends her into hiding. Whilst hiding Vixen must face several home truths including the concern she has about the mysterious door in her mum’s cellar that leads to suspicious surroundings. Then there’s also all those picked body parts clogging up the freezer. Then there’s also the man from the Council who claims he’s Vixen’s estranged father and that he would have been back sooner were it not for the amount of paperwork after the 1979 boating gala confusion and general filing over the last ten years.
Meanwhile Sir Chester Lester, with nobody to hold him back, goes on a rampage across the many eateries within a three mile radius, stopping only to take in a show between mouthfuls of chaos! Vixen is stuck at a crossroads. Literally. The traffic is so bad on the M17 that she can’t even reach the top of OD Cliff for a dramatic “what should I do” cliffhanger pout of multi-national proportions. But she doesn’t have to for by the time she gets to the scene it’s all over! Another mysterious character draped in tea towels and sporting a ridiculous Australian accent has single-handidly put Sir Chester Lester behind bars and vanquished his cronies to the far nether regions.
The man moves forward to shake Vixen’s hand, but can he be trusted?
December 14th, 2009
Ian’s Christmas Party
Weren’t there? Well now you can be. Here is the 384 word version of what happened through the eyes of someone who was there but also in some ways wasn’t. Let’s start from the briefest of beginnings:
“I started off early. It was only 5pm and I’m buying a bottle of Jack Daniels, walking briskly through the streets and by coincidence I bump into the three guys from work I was looking for. They’re in a rush to get to the World Cup draw – I’m following because I’m not the person with a room at the hotel.
Inside and the bottle of Jack is gone in about an hour and a half, and that’s me taking it slowly. The room isn’t whirling but my balance has been compromised. They get ready and I sit feeling slightly under-dressed in my dark blue t-shirt, grey jeans and steampunk goggles.
I don’t remember how we got to the ground floor but it must have been the lift. I get outside and meet the people from my team – they can tell I’ve been drinking if not from the smell then surely by the slightly slurred speech and red cheeks. Inside moves quickly. Between initial hellos the first course is brought and I’m ordered to drink my soup. I think I had a conversation with my boss that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. I pretend I ordered the chicken and tuck in. I hope whoever got my beef is enjoying it.
There is a blur and an empty space where the desserts should be.
Plenty of dancing wildly to various guff the DJ plays. I drink some more, red wine from the bottle, occasionally handing it to my now equally drunk friend. I make out one of the senior partners in the middle of the floor. A lot of people stand around the side probably too afraid to chance it. I don’t really care anymore and continue drinking until I am in a delirious state of bewilderment. My steampunk goggles seem to be popular and disappear for half an hour.
When the f*ck did they serve the desserts?
It’s approaching the end. The last five hours obviously weren’t long enough. No amount of sensible behaviour and coffee will bring this yuletide bender to an end. After another hour of drinking alcohol other people have been kind enough to buy me I feel too distanced from the rest of the crowd and make my own disappearance into the night. I’m home in twenty-five minutes.”
December 6th, 2009
Here’s a song I wrote about Sandi Toksvig, Radio 4’s resident Danish lesbian, a few years ago.
Clickety clickety click!
It crashed Ian’s computer, which indicates that it was not influenced by the Clash.
December 3rd, 2009
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