Sorry to end the month on a downer, but I think this has to be shared.
I no longer eat at the canteen at work. The reasons are varied, and include steadily deteriorating portion sizes, a reduction in options and eye watering prices. The thing that finally put paid to my days as an occasional canteen customer, though, was this.
This was sold as a Yorkshire pudding.
I don’t know what it was made of or how it was produced. It was not a Yorkshire pudding. It neither looked nor tasted like one. And even leaving aside the hideous insult this presents to my homeland, and taking it only on the merits of it being a foodstuff someone had prepared, it was pretty much inedible. Somehow its creator had created a substance that was simultaneously chewy and inedibly hard.
Anyway, it was a little while ago now and I’m not nearly as upset as I was, but I will be referring the matter to the police all the same.
It’s finally happening. You know that venerable old videoconferencing system Microsoft has produced for years? You know the one that changed the world of video chat. No? The one EVERYONE used to use… right up until the point that the world went to shit and everyone needed to video call people? No not Zoom… Skype! Yes Skype, the underappreciated grand master of video calling. Well not for much longer…
As reported by ARS Technica skype is going to be put to sleep on 5th May after 21 years serving the VPC (Virtual Pub Community). Sad times.
It seems like we are going to be able to move to teams with personal accounts, which is nice, but what are we going to do without the incessant ‘tech titting’ or the random interjections of an animated prawn? I’ve tried it and I can sign in to Teams with my outlook.com account, although it hasn’t brought across any of the old chats, which the article suggested it should.
It truly will be the end of an era. How do you feel about the death of an icon (even if it is a pretty crappy one)?
Do you feel like a mystery today? I think you’re looking for a mystery and I’ve got exactly what you need.
As I wandered the barren desolate wasteland of Florida, in the hopes of finding something worthy of my time (tad over dramatic, I know) I kept noticing these signs dotted around the place. I saw some on a highway as we drove to a mall one morning and there were also some lurking around the massive McDonalds.
Who keeps leaving these signs? What kind of website are they proposing? Why are there no details or pictures? Who would be insane enough to give money to a random stranger advertising on the corner of a McDonalds?
I kept imagining some sort of lummox on the other end of the phone and he would spin a wheel for every customer. Whatever the wheel would land on, that’s the website you got. You didn’t have a say in the matter and if you tried to he would send the “website boys” round for a little “chat”.
I’ll never get answers to my questions and, settling into my chair at home, thousands of miles away from website man / woman and their shady empire, I’m quite content to leave it that way.
Shock news from across the water as a new perfume is about to hit the market with a familiar smell that may turn your stomach.
Australian nose fondling magnate, Winter de Socket, will soon be releasing a fragrance that harnesses the essence of faeces in a move which has confounded critics and befuddled just about everyone else.
“It’s all about turning that notion on its head,” said de Socket at a recent promotional event, “the idea that something is bad. Oh, you can look at something and dismiss it as uncool, pathetic or sad then ten years later that same thing is the talk of the town. Trends change. People change. Why can’t the same thing happens with smells?”
The particular type of faeces chosen for the perfume is from our four legged friend, the cow. Surely the most well known of all poo types, next to our own of course. The fact that de Winter is releasing poo perfume is quite mad, the idea of paying £200.00 for a 200ml bottle surely bordering on insanity and yet since the pre-order window opened, the website has consistently been sold out. Who exactly is buying this guff?
We turned to fashionista Melandra Melody for an insight into this madness. “You have to understand he’s been pushing these kinds of boundaries for years,” she says, “so he knows exactly what he’s doing. You smell poop and you wince away in shame. What Winter smells is the future, what he can smell is fresh money and possibly a new conservatory the size of your house. I saw him waiting tables back in Melbourne and two years later he’s the genius who decided to bottle the smell of fresh hands. Harness the power of scent and you too could be as successful as him.”
What exactly can we expect from the future then? Is going to harness the power of sick and flog it to the rich and wealthy?
“That is a distinct possibility. Stranger things have happened. This is only the first perfume in his new line so your guess is as good as mine. Whatever it is though you can guarantee it will be a hit!”
Comforting words from a world most of us will never fully understand. Will his next perfume be earwax? That weird stuff you find in your belly button? Would you pay two hundred pounds to pour essence of cadaver over your body? If you’ve got deep enough pockets then you too could smell like a hobo for the right price.
You know what’s mad? The world of jeans, specifically women’s jeans. Sure, you could easily say the world of cheese (“let’s roll huge wheels of it down a steep hill and let people chase after them,”) or the world of imaginary policemen made of earwax are equally bizarre, and you’d be completely right. The difference though is that I can take law enforcers made of cerumen (it’s a medical term, I looked it up), what I can’t take is wandering into a supermarket and seeing rum and pineapple mixed in with my cheddar. MY cheddar. No. Stop that. None of that.
The world of jeans was so straightforward for me until a recent trip to Marks and Spencer looking for Christmas things brought forward this oddity:
“Mom ankle grazer; what the deuce is that?”
It was then casually explained to me by Vikki that women’s jeans all have these wild and crazy names. How sheltered I must have been to have not realised this sooner. Not that I go wandering around the women’s section in clothes shops (despite what the British press continue to write about me, all of them made up and, no comment, you can get one from my solicitor). I then immediately looked up more details on the M & S website.
Blimey. Was this always the case? Are men’s jeans the same? Not in the slightest. What we have is very basic: loose fit, straight fit, straight let, slim fit, blue, black, grey, tapered. Nothing remotely interesting. It’s nice that everything is so much more playful in the world of women’s jeans. Perhaps it wasn’t always the case and fifty years ago slightly muddled women formed queues around the building for dull, lifeless articles of clothing with names like ‘big’, ‘small’, ‘stocky’ and ‘no’. That said, I wouldn’t fancy wandering into a shop and asking if they have anything in Magic Shaping High Waisted Flare or a Harper Supersoft Cigarette Jeans. Throw in a few more vowels and you may as well be reading Harry Potter spells.
This means that men’s jeans need a radical overhaul and given my vast, rich experience dealing with many different lines of work, I believe I am the right person for the job. This is what I’ve been working on:
Stretch fit changed to Elephant Limo Garrison
Slim fit changed to Furious Corner Pop-up Shop
Straight fit changed to Nothing Flouncy Sunshine
Straight leg changed to Recess Chimney Warrant
Loose fit changed to Barnacle Profit Tax
Tapered changed to Wounded Poison Ranch Dressing
All it took was a little time and a little thought and now everything is so much better. You’ll thank me next time you’re walking around Asda and notice that they have a pair of Furious Corner Pop-up Shop in your size. Yes, you will.
We all know that I have a turbulent past (turbulent, I say!) with spending my disposable income. Kev has gotten so mad in the past based on my “pointless purchases” that he literally cannot even sometimes. It’s all heartbreaking stuff.
As we wandered around the slightly freezing Lake District in mid-November, me forgetting a proper coat and taking a photo where my nose looks as bright and pink as a carnation, I came across the following in a shop. It was hidden away towards the back along with some other shonky and partially damaged goods:
Now I’m one for a bargain but unless I have another set of draughts with only the black pieces, possibly acquired from a rival store with a similar problem, then surely this is going to remain unsold for some time.
Did they eat all the black pieces thinking they were licorice? Were they stolen by a deranged kleptomaniac with specific requirements? Did anyone get a video?
We will never know the full story and normally I would put good money on them still being there the next time we visit, however human beings are weird and I reckon someone will snap them up sharpish. Possibly as a joke present.
The new film by acclaimed Swedish film director, Sherburt Bergmun.
‘Skon På Papperskorgen’ (‘The Shoe on the Bin’). What begins as a seemingly innocent piece of footwear dangling on top of a waste receptacle soon turns into the calling card of a madman.
Police inspector Kalle Alexander is called to the scene of a crime where the body of a young man lies dead. Nearby a note attached to one singular shoe atop a bin speaks of cataclysmic actions and further deaths in the future. He has very little to go on but after ten years in the job, he’s more than ready and prepared to get started.
He has a drinking problem, he smokes too much, he can’t make connections with anyone and leads a solitary life since his wife ran off with the local chemist. There’s a cat from a neighbouring flat who may well be his only friend.
When you’re faced with life and death though, friends are the last thing that you need. Kalle will find himself both in the firing line and gripping the trigger as he chases leads down in the most disgusting and darkest recesses of the city: he’ll scour every shoe shop, browse every Etsy listing in the surrounding area and he’ll even make his explosive presence known at the shoe factory downtown.
Alfred Binko (the award-winning actor of ‘Get up, Get off’ and ‘The Room around the Curtains’) stars in a career-defining role alongside veteran character actors Klaudia Shinn (‘Carry on, Mr. Scrappenberg’), Veronika Graaten (‘Solitary Mammals’) and Dhillon Ratiz (‘A Man for Many Flowers’). Ably abetted by the deft and kinetic cinematography of Shalein Tracker and a plump orchestral score by Gérard Picko, ‘The Shoe on the Bin’ is a modern Scandinavian classic that will show you the heart of darkness that can lie within the wonderland of everyday menace.
