Posts filed under 'Ian'
A man has cut off his head in protest at the costs of haircuts at his local barbers today.
Jimmy Bumble, a resident of the village Whickersham in Leicestershire, took a pair of pinking shears and sliced through his neck to leave him without a head. This comes after recent news that saw the price of a simple trim rise to the astonishing fee of £6.07.
“You can’t let things like this lie,” said Mr Bumble, 89, speaking from underneath his own armpit. “If they think that is a reasonable sum just to spend five minutes removing growing hairs from my pimply noggin, well, let them. I’d sooner cut my own head off than… oh wait.”
The village of Whickersham has received a fair amount of bad publicity recently after several accounts of granny napping and bovine juggling were reported by worried residents. People have blamed this on the tanker of glycol fog that tipped over last year, poisoning the water supply and causing general havoc.
The barbers shop in question do not wish to be named and have refused to comment on Mr Bumble’s actions, although they did offer to trim the whole crew for twenty quid.
Mac Mackford – June 2008
June 30th, 2008
Some interesting comments were brought up yesterday about Fireman Sam:
1) You never see his brother or sister who are the parents of those irritating kids who follow him around? Have they left? Are they charvers? Or is it the simple fact that Sam is actually their real dad and there’s some scandal going down in Pontypandy?
2) There’s a lot of action that goes down in such a small Welsh village. Do you think that the fire service are deliberately causing accidents, like pushing Trevor down wells and messing with Norman’s skateboard, so that they have something to do?
3) An Italian restaurant in a small village anywhere, where the population looks about 15, would not survive. Is Bella using the local cats in her recipes or does she have some rich Mafia boss living elsewhere in the world who funds her failing business?
4) Fireman Sam is a young, fit (not my words), active person and yet he’s single. This doesn’t happen in everyday life. Does he drive into town every night for some “Night Lady Action” or does he “bat for the other side”?
Your comments please.
June 3rd, 2008
So I recently finished Halo on the X-Box (after ripping through the last level in the jeep, falling 100ft down and not losing any energy, and then doing a runner to the big pointy space ship) and it wasn’t the hardest game in the world. This was probably due to the fact that I was playing on the normal level of difficulty. What did my eyes greet me when I had finished though? A short film of me blasting off saying in typical fashion, “I don’t think this is the last we’ve seen of them, in fact I think this is just the beginning.” Oh dear, are you setting me up for Halo 2? It was crap. If I had spent £300 odd quid on the console (remember it was free ladies and gentlemen) and then £50 on the game I would have been throwing my owl around in frustration.
Another disappointment was the last episode of Dexter. All in all I have no beef with it because it was exceptionally good all the way through and that they didn’t keep the other guy alive and he was forced to kill him was the best way but something so tacky as it being his brother? Predictable. Shod. They may as well have had the police chief in on it too and have some wise cracking good cop killed off a few days before his retirement. My loins hunger for more fufilling closing credits.
I might try ‘The Crying Game’…
May 19th, 2008
Welcome to the newest article to hit the shores of Beans Island. It’s sort of a sisterly accompanyment to the ‘Silly Bint of the Month’ but with fresh ideas and more longevity… actually that’s a lie because I’ve only managed to think of a couple of people who this might apply to. Nonetheless it’s never kept a good man down, head to the ground, keep the ground hit running fast nicely.
Today I wish to discuss current NME-w*nk act the Ting Tings. They’ve been hyped to buggery and to be honest their music is about as catchy as a peppercorn in a tuxedo. Everyone is wetting themselves about this “band”, because I use the term very loosely, and I can’t see the appeal OTHER than the fact that Katie White is quite attractive. Erm, not judging by the photo on wikipedia though (it borders on munterly). It’s best if we put that one to one side. I personally resent most songs that include the term DJ because it’s a lazy thing to do. Yeah come on DJ, play that song DJ, make me dance DJ, it’s hardly Shakespeare and even if Shakespeare knew what a DJ was I expect he could have written a better song. Let’s take a look at lyrics to previous single ‘Great DJ’.
“Imagine all the girls,
Ah ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
And the boys,
Ah ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
And the strings,
Eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee, eee.
And the drums, the drums, the drums, the drums, the drums, the drums”
And so on, grand! I hope that they die a slow death. Peace out.
May 13th, 2008
Yes I have returned, to so much fanfare I think my ears are bleeding in disgust *silence…*
I haven’t really done much to be honest. I haven’t been able to write anything for a while hence the lack of content on here and on Face-A*se-Book. It was mainly to do with work like pushing me into a small tupperware box, as with everyone else, and them expecting us to see the funny side of it. Sigh, but I’m better now.
Have I been living an active lifestyle? I’ll answer that right now and say, “chuff no!” Aside from squeezing in late night sessions on Halo on a free X-Box given to us by a nice lady at work, trying to learn the guitar and jogging twice a week it’s been the same routine of Reuben and work.
Have YOU *points* been doing anything worth knowing?
April 15th, 2008
Good evening, I’m Splash Gordon and welcome to the First Annual Duck-Stacking Extravaganza. We’re here in the beautiful city of Keighley with seven competators who are destined for glory. I won’t bother to mention all of their names as the games are about to begin but just for some cheap laughs there’s a man called Hudie Doody and a lady with celotape over her shoes who goes by the name of Royal Tw*t.
Oh and we’ve started, off they go. Each person has picked up their first duck and… they’re finding it very hard to place them on top of the second. The seconds, burp, pardon me, the seconds have actually done a runner. They’re refusing to stay in one place and let these people put another of their species on their head. I think that’s a little hypacritical don’t you think, Jim?
“Absolutely”
Just what I was thinking. They’re bringing on additional staff to help with the stacking of the ducks however there’s not enough to round and… yes, they’re asking the three people who have come to watch this momentous event to assist. Three minutes have passed and nobody has gotten past one duck. OH WAIT… no, another let down. Speaking of let down did I tell you about my recent surgery, Jim?
“Unfortunately yes.”
Well let’s go over it again to make sure everyone at home knows too. It started with this huge clump of hair just… *end transmission*
March 19th, 2008
I think we need to liven up this mo’ fo’ because ‘da beans hasn’t seen much action recently. We need another project to do, either a book or some more photos or something else. We can’t languish here whilst other websites (possibly) gain the ground to find the bigger audience.
Start shaking those loins for answers.
March 4th, 2008
One day Circulus Maximus was eating a pork chop with Triangulus Boonicus and the rain started to fall. As it happens there was a cave nearby and the two heroes of maths took shelter. Inside was a bear who was trapped in a cage of logic. Because he couldn’t reason he couldn’t work out how to escape and that was his fate. Seven long years had he been there, unbeknown to the two shapes, surviving on a diet of wind and hair. Circulus looked at the bear and gently stroked him on the head. Seeing the effect that solitary confinement had taken on him he took pity on the bear and threw him an equation of pig. The bear gladly took him up on his offer and demolished the snack without a pause to consider what the question was really asking.
The cries of the bear rattled through the cave all night. By the time morning came Triangulus had had enough and used his spear of subtraction to jimmy the lock of the cage. The animal was free! He promptly ate both Circulus Maximus and Triangulus Boonicus.
Q: What should we learn about this?
A: It’s all about the science, not the maths.
February 5th, 2008
Seeing as it’s 2008 and we’re all back to square one on the sh*t-o-meter I want to throw down the gauntlet right now and say, “Look Shizzlers, this is what I want and if I don’t get it I shall hold my breath ’til luminous jelly squirts from my nasum.” Obviously that wouldn’t get me anywhere so I would like to request the following:
1. More film reviews from Marshall (rated by jam)
2. The result of the competition that Kev started
3. Someone, anyone, putting up the second book of ness up here
4. I dunno, some posts involved knitted beavers, badgers and loins would be funky
That is all. This year will be ours gentlemen.
January 28th, 2008
Given Kev’s seemingly endless supply of scat-isms I suggest that we put him forward for the next series of ‘Britain’s Got Talent’, or whatever b*ggery b*llocks is auditioning around the same time. I mean he can also poom groodles, I mean groom poodles. That must count for something right?
We could make a bit of money from it. The proceeds could then be put forward for nationwide distribution of the ‘Nish’ series and perhaps even a publication of both copies of semi-autobiographical ‘Erudite Musings on the Human Condition’.
January 7th, 2008
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