The merry blender doesn’t have a gender
It swirls and twirls and slices
All the things you throw in and a couple of spins
Later, a smoothie! Oh holy devices!
It never looks down, never appears unsound,
It’s always of sound body and mind.
If I could give it a name it’d be Churny Dufraine
Or something equally glamarous and kind.
A sturdy companion of sorts, like a dog or a horse,
It’ll take any challenge you throw.
But nothing too big, like a pineapple. Try a fig
As otherwise the fuses will blow.
March 10th, 2011
Ian
…
A young woman is sat in a restaurant. She’s sipping a cup of coffee, she’s got so many problems going around in her mind and she doesn’t know what to do.
Woman: God damn, I’ve got so much going on in my head. I can’t seem to focus on anything.
Takes another sip of her coffee.
Woman: Today is not a good day. I need something to take my mind off of…
All of a sudden her attention is diverted away from the hot brown grit in her cup, there’s a pungent aroma floating through the restaurant. She sniffs the air.
Woman: Hmmm, what’s that?
The woman walks down the centre aisle of the restaurant. There is a man sat at a table about to take the first sip of his soup.
Man: Yes? Can I help?
Woman: Oh sorry, I thought you were eating a sandwich.
The man shoots a confused look her way.
Man: What made you think that?
Woman: It was the pungent smell, it reminded me of a sandwich I once knew.
Man: Take a seat, and tell me more. In fact let me crack open a Pepperami whilst you talk. Excuse me.
The man opens a Pepperami and offers a bit to the woman.
March 9th, 2011
Ian
The results are in! Having investigated the state of love in the modern world for the last twenty or so years scientists from Hawaii have confirmed that there is significantly less romance in 2011 than there was fifty years ago.
“We measured a number of variables,” confirmed chief scientist Dondi Flabbergast, “including throbbing hearts, public displays of affection and the ratio of swoons to women and unfortunately what we discovered is not encouraging. There is at least 44% less romance in the world than there was fifty years around. That said though, fifty years ago was the summer of love and there’s no way anyone can compare with those sorts of statistics.”
Following the news Hollywood has increased the number of awful romantic comedies going into production by more than twice than what was expected. One MP from Doncaster is pushing for plans to introduce another Valentine’s Day in the middle of August, which of course outraged government back benchers. Several worried romantics in Florence, Italy have claimed to have discovered Casanova’s remains and are busy rubbling sensual oils and herbs into his bones to channel some good vibes although the timing has been criticised by most.
To make matters better, or worse depending on what foot you’ve been standing on, several factories around the UK have been creating artificial romance to be released into the wild. “It’s a relatively simple process,” stated Veronica Gronst, C.E.O. of Beating Arteries, one of the companies involved, “romance can be made from several base substances. We’re not at liberty to disclose that information but we can confirm they are all available in most homes and residences. Once they’ve been filtered and polished they are released through a small heart-shaped window in the top of the factory in the hope that they will find their way to men and women all around the world and bring them together.”
When queried as to whether there were any harmful gases contained in the aritficial romance the phone went dead.
March 8th, 2011
Ian
I don’t even watch a lot of television anymore, and if I do thanks to modern technology I fast-forward the f*ckers whenever I get the chance. One particular recent t*rd of note however keeps cropping up between the hither, the thither and whatever is left.
That advert about Disneyland / Disneyworld where the parents tell their children and they all erupt into a screaming void of excitement. As cute as it was the first time by the second and third rounds you despise both the kids and the mums and dads. Why? It’s so horribly scantily-clad it’s like a page three model; zero detail, nothing more, a simple and direct message of you should take your kids to Disney because then the magic begins and if you don’t you may as well throw yourself into a bonfire for denying your kin this level of happiness. The worst one is the moron who took time to make a sort of screensaver for his television so, his children with their faces so close they could see through the mechanism itself, they read a delightful message of ‘We… are… going… to… Disneyworld.’
Oh, and any advert featuring Martine McCutcheon should have vinegar rubbed on it first to remove any impurities.
March 7th, 2011
Ian
I know we complain about the lack of futuristic things and how disappointing the future has turned out to be, and quite frankly I don’t want to change that tide by swooping in and saying how great everything is and how content I am with how things are. Because I’m not. Far from it.
I think that instead of furthering man’s advance into space or looking for similarities between dogs and why they lick their balls or whatever it is scientists investigate these days we should start a petition for futuristic things. Let me start the list off:
1. Robot Pants – not that I’m really so lazy that I don’t have the energy to remove them myself but I think some sort of crazy trousers would go down a treat. Imagine if they could heat you during winter months or blow cold air around when it’s hot. When you take them off they stand guard by your door or there could be a switch you can trigger to make loud noises when approached by elderly ladies conducting surveys, making them scurry away.
2. Gadget Gauntlets – one button could extend to reveal Spiderman-like stretchy goo stuff allowing you to climb tall buildings or harness criminals, another could reveal a tin opener or flares to distract would-be attackers.
3. Lasers – it’s an obvious one, and one which would of course be used by criminals for nefarious purposes. If they could develop one slightly stronger than a laser pen so I could use it to melt marshmallows instead of having to savage them with a cigarette lighter that would be a big help.
March 3rd, 2011
Ian
Hooray! Hooray! It’s the start of March today!
After having bling-blinged my way through January (spent too much over Christmas, eating nothing but tinned ravioli and soup for lunch) and February (spent too much after not spending anything during January, eating nothing but tinned ravioli and soup for lunch) it’s nice to settle in a month that only contains one birthday, as far as I am aware, and nothing much else. Not that I will be needlessly throwing my money hither and thither; it just means there’ll be a little less worrying and a little more shaking my loins with joy.
Another point I should make. At first I thought it would be a good idea to change the name of the month March to March-tober but then that would be carrying on the spectacle of dark mornings and chilly trips at lunchtime so that’d be a big nay nonny no nay on the No Scale. Something else that also topped the No Scale with a spectacular nay nonny was the rise in train fares and the band Frankie and the Heartstrings.
March 1st, 2011
Ian
I was walking down the street
She was choking my chandoss
I was drinking in the club
She was choking my chandoss
I was eating my lunch
She was choking my chandoss
We was crusing in my ride
She was choking my chandoss
I was laughing at some pidge
She was choking my chandoss
I was watching Countdown
She was choking my chandoss
I was crossing the road
She was choking my chandoss
I was hit by a jeep
She was choking my chandoss
Bleeding outside Mr. Lynch’s
No-ones choking my chandoss
February 24th, 2011
Ian
I wake up as a member of Parliament or at least a Politician, because I’m lying in bed fully dressed in a suit with people shouting at me. When I eventually get up to go downstairs I realise there’s something in my hand and when I look it’s the budget for the UK only it’s not in a nice, posh red case it’s some horrible plastic wallet with a reusable zipper at the top. Even this makes me cringe.
Outside there are hundreds of other people in suits, presumably other politicians, cramming into cars. They’re all going somewhere and I’m obliged to follow, but I make up an excuse that I have to go to Jack Fultons before I can attend wherever they’re going. Really my mind keeps wandering back to a beautiful woman I came across the night before and I’m convinced I’ll find her in Fulton. So, leaving them to drive off, I walk down main street and into the shop. It’s closing down and the woman is not there but I do find a fellow politician cooing over some Jaffa-Fakes for 99p. I tell him to get his act together. It’s then I decide I don’t want to carry the budget anymore so I hide it behind one of the checkouts. Satisfied with my work we walk out beaming, convinced it is in a safe place, and then I cack my pants when I notice there is a cleaner still in Fultons and that she could steal my magical document.
It’s too late for that though. The beautiful woman is nowhere to be seen, I could have lost a very important document and unwillingly I am bundled off in a 4 x 4 to some unknown destination.
February 23rd, 2011
Ian
February 18th, 2011
Ian
This month Des’ree turns her attention to another lost and lusty soul. Who’s turn is it you ask? Or maybe you didn’t ask. Quite frankly if you didn’t then we don’t care for your sort.
Desmond Deptford of the Roving Panthers would like a little help with this semi-autobiographical quandry:
Desmond Deptford: Dear Des’ree, life in the Roving Panthers is one full of excitement and wonder. A few days ago I discovered that the capital of Belgium is Belgium. You can imagine how long we laughed about that. Recently though the afternoons have become a little timid. We party all night and then sulk around in the mornings but just after lunchtime things go a little too niche for my liking. I’ve taken to eating Yumyums and watching Loose Women. Does this mean that I am approaching middle age because I quite enjoy the mix of topical female banter with twisted sugary pastries.
Des’ree: Life, oh life, oh life, oh life.
We are glad we could help Mr Deptford.
If you need your personal life pushing into other people’s lives then please contact us on the details below.
P.S. The capital of Belgium is Berlusconi, everyone knows that.
February 17th, 2011
Ian
Next Posts
Previous Posts