Author: Ian “Toasty” McIver

Avatar Strange Adventures in the City

One more for the road before the end of the month hits.

So it’s relatively early on a Thursday morning. It’s half term so I don’t need to take Reuben to school and decide to take it easy. I waltz into the city centre just after nine and help myself to an inexpensive coffee. Whilst I’m stood outside taking it all in I notice someone approaching from my left and I look up. It’s a young lady dressed as though she is returning from a night out with admittedly the worst fake eyelashes I’ve ever seen. She asks for a cigarette so I do the nice thing and pass her one of my spares. This automatically guarantees about three minutes of conversation; that’s what you get when you hand someone a tab these days.

She makes a point of stating that it would take far too long to explain just what is going on so I ask for a shortened version. As it turns out she is just returning from a night out and she is still very much drunk to the point where she can’t stand still stood up and leans against the wall. Her friend has received some excellent news, even though she lives in a different part of the country, and she has been out celebrating with some people for about twelve hours.

It is at this moment I should point out that she is clutching two plastic bags, one of which contains her effects and the other is over-flowing with crisps.

So I listen a little more and offer my opinion on what she should do. She’s tired; I suggest going home to bed. She’s cold; I suggest going home to bed. She wants another cigarette; I’ve only got a Vype vape with me. I’m not trying to get rid of her but it seems like that is the best thing for her at the moment. In her broad Irish accent she asks if I could phone for a taxi and because I’m running out of time to get to work I help her out again. She doesn’t want to be left alone so I stay with her until the taxi arrives. Most of her conversation revolves around how much she is looking forward to going home and that nettle cheese is one of the best cheeses she’s ever tasted. I get that about five or six times, the recommendation and where to purchase it from. I’m also told that pesto goes very well with pasta.

For all my assistance I get a hug and a fond farewell. Was I looking for anything else? My coffee has gone cold. The time has just gone half nine so I need to be on my way. I wasn’t looking for anything else, and I got a cheese recommendation to boot. That suits me fine.

Avatar Pointless Purchase of the Month – May

Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Good Night.

You don’t get a Good Morning though; you’re not good enough.

So it’s come to my attention that I haven’t been telling people about the pointless things I spend my money on. I know that you’re always dying to know so it was only fair that I eventually gave in and spilled the electronical metaphorical beans. I would literally love to spill some beans but I’m too busy for that at the moment.

Take a tasty look at my tasty wears:

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What you are looking at is the limited edition ‘Fort George’ 7″ EP. It’s a marvellous thing to look at, and not just because it is amber ‘beer’ coloured vinyl. A tiny robust collection of music brimming with hooks and other things. If you could put this into your eyes to see how it feels then you would do it. So why, do you ask, is this purchase pointless? The vinyl itself is not; it is a stupendous thing however to me it is pointless for the following reasons:

1. I already own the Minus the Bear song in two different formats.
2. I had to import it from the US, adding to the inital expense.
3. My record player is currently out of action so even if I did want to listen to it I can’t…
4. Well actually that’s incorrect. You do get a digital download with the vinyl but I can never bring myself to lessen the value of the product by actually using it.
5. I bought two just for the hell of it.

So as you can see this was a complete waste of time and an utterly pointless purchase.

Avatar Trendsetter

You start off with a short sentence to ease them in.

Then you lean back with a slightly longer one just to prove that you’re capable of doing more than stringing together a couple of flashy, sticky dib-dabs.

So, after what can only be described as the complete runaway success of my expertly put-together phrase, “Sweet Petunia!” it has unfortunately become far too popular. Everywhere I go these days it is being ushered on street corners, shouted on fruit stalls, giggled in dog-grooming parlours and whispered down sewer grates. It takes a brave man to take a step back and even though I still hold her dear to my heart I think it is time to retire, “Sweet Petunia!” and look to pastures new.

I was in recent discussion with Senor Menendez and Master Reuben about my plight and they too were sad to see her go so soon but understood my reasons for doing so. Getting rid of her was the easiest part; finding a suitable and equally genius replacement would be where the toil began. Luckily being around academics such as these, it was finger wiggle time within a matter of minutes.

Can you replace “Sweet Petunia”? Of course you can. You need something catchy, something clever but also something people can identify with. You don’t want to push that sweet, sweet candy away. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the worthy replacement:

“Penny Vincenzi!”

I would have had, “Barry Norman!” but Master Reuben came up with it first and told me I would have to pay him royalties whenever I mentioned it. You have to be quick off the mark in this game.

Avatar Newsboost – Bag For Life Binging Bad For Britain

The simple bag for life has a simple idea; it is your bag and you have it for life. There is nothing else about it. It doesn’t want to make your life any better apart from helping you to carry your shopping and occasionally maybe a child or a small dog if they can fit. So what could controversial MP Tub Barsley possibly have against them?

He could have a lot against them is the correct response. He has so much against them that he’s practically turning all his beef into a portion of spaghetti bolognaise that could feed seven elderly relatives for the duration of Lent (unless they have happened to give up meat, tomatoes or pasta for it). Mr Barsley has recently published an article damning bags for life because whilst good in theory they do not live up to expectations.

“People buy ’em all the time,” he writes, “and they clearly have good intentions but they never get used. You’ll find ’em at the back of cupboards and wardrobes or under carpets and hiding in trees rather than in your hand at a supermarket. They’re not convenient enough to carry around. We could easily point the fingers at the people who forget to bring them shopping but I would never accuse anyone in my constituency of such a thing. It’s much easier to blame an inanimate object, and for that reason I urge everyone to boycott bags for life.”

One person who doesn’t share the same view as Mr Barsley is Geraldine Ambicott, a voracious young gardener from Milton Keynes. Geraldine has developed an obsession with bags for life and has been known to purchase up to seventeen at the same time, even if she does remember to brings hers with her when she is shopping. Those suffering from this affliction are known in the community as ‘Baggers’ or ‘Bag-nep-pollops’ in Wales.

“I just like them. I feel compelled to pick them up and rub them against my ankles whenever I get the chance,” Geraldine explains, “On my last count I had around three hundred in total. The staff at my local supermarket now refuse to serve me if I am holding, clutching or drooling over a bag for life and I don’t blame them. I know I have a problem; I just wish that someone could sit me down or tie me to a chair and help me. I don’t think Mr Barsley is fair with his comments; bags for life are helping the environment and that can only be a good thing. It’s just chumpos like me who give them a bad name.”

The most publicised Bagger is pop sensation Quinze who declared last month that she owns five outfits made of bags for life and has been known to wander around Asda at 2am putting jars of peanut butter between her legs.

Avatar Best Laid Plans

Every man has a dream.

The great thing about dreams is that they can be as big or a small as you would like them to be. As long as they are relatively realistic then achieving them is just about putting your mind to it.

A man came to me at the weekend and told me his dream. He said that what he wanted most of all was a small herd of goats to keep at the coast so that they could enjoy the sights, sounds and marvels that the English coast do so well, and that when he feels like a jaunt to Scarborough or Filey he can share the experience with those very goats. I told him that such a dream was easily obtained and that he should immediately set about putting his affairs in order.

When a man has a dream though sometimes it just doesn’t go far enough.

Having set about the events so that the man could have his coast goats I then pondered the idea myself and came to the conclusion that it wasn’t enough. It would be nice to have some goats hanging about in Whitby, waiting for me to take them through the whale bones and then across the bridge for fish and chips, but how about a little bit more? What if I had goats not only at the coast but across the whole country? What if I could stop in for a cup of coffee at Costa and high five a goat on the way out? What if a goat would tell me when the bus was running late, or pass me a small pot of porridge when I’m running late for work? It would cost a lot but what about coast-to-coast goats?

Of course I did not reveal my plans to the man because he might steal them as I had stolen his idea. As well as this, his original idea would be besmirched by my much better plans and I am not prepared to besmirch my fellow man. He will eventually learn of my objectives and he will have to come to terms with them as the rest of you mortals.

Avatar Time for a Sing Song

What with April peeking around the corner, desperate to blast us all away with Easter-based hilarity, let’s take a moment to enjoy the last day of March with a wonderful ditty.

Part-written in turn by Reuben, but mainly by me, let us present to you the marvel that is ‘Barry The Chinchilla’. If you can remember the ‘Woman in a Tabbard’ song from the Big Breakfast then you should sing it along to that tune.

Barry The Chinchilla

Barry the Chinchilla
He bought a big gorilla
Used to play for Aston Villa
(His) favourite colour is manilla
Likes to dance along to ‘Thriller’
Wrote a play with Arthur Miller
Once was flattened by a pillar
Was an extra in ‘Godzilla’
Drinking pints of sarsaparilla

BUT

(Poor old) Barry the Chinchilla
Wicked Audrey was his killer
Bumped him off with cordless driller
(Finished off by his gorilla)
Then she went after Priscilla

(No more) Barry the Chinchilla
Nor his sister, sweet Priscilla