Category: Stylish

Avatar Mandolin – A Song

Let’s crack off 2019 with something that I should have done in 2018.

I set myself a challenge whereby I was to write and record a song about a Mandolin (the chocolate bar, not the musical instrument) using a Mandolin. I wrote the song words, or lyrics as they are commonly known, and even worked out a basic rhythm with which to astound the listeners with. Sadly, when I tried to record it all on my very primitive phone, it was not good enough. I did expect this to happen, as I don’t own any proper recording equipment like everyone else does, so the project was duly shelved. That said, I do not want to deny the public what is a very beautiful song. Here we are then. Make up your own tune. It’s yours for the taking:

“Hit me, mandolin,
You don’t think that I can handle him so
Hit me, mandolin.
My arms bent over like a pangolin so
Hit me, mandolin.
You see that growing? It’s a dorsal fin!
That’s right, yeah, mandolin,
It’s much, much bigger than a phantom limb.

Oh, trick me, mandolin,
Writing my way to the loony bin.
So strict, yeah, mandolin,
The nurse on hold for my next of kin.
I left my mandolin,
Picking up pieces of a mandarin.
You’re on me, mandolin,
Hiding in shadows like a mannequin.
So leave me, mandolin,
I’m sick an’ tired of ya panderin’.
You heard me, mandolin,
I’m done, it’s over, time fo’ finishin'”

If Pharrell Williams or Dr. Dre are listening, I am free in March to collaborate on any future projects you may have.



Avatar What kind of alpaca are you?

Here at The Beans, we get a lot of questions and enquiries from our adoring fans, but there’s one issue that comes up more than any other: what kind of alpaca you are. It’s obviously impossible for us to investigate each person in full and answer each letter individually to let people know what kind of alpaca they are. Instead, we’ve produced this handy quiz that you can score for yourself and find out approximately what kind of alpaca you are.

Record your score for each question and then scroll down to find your match.

Read More: What kind of alpaca are you? »

Avatar Loudermilk

Loudermilk. Loudermilk. Is it a request? “This milk is a little quiet for my liking; could I have some Loudermilk please?”

Is it a company? A Finnish crime drama?

It’s none of these things. Loudermilk is a surname. I recently caught the beginning of an episode of what seems like an endless stream of Power Rangers series’. The newest is called something like Mega Team Force Pencil Schnapps Eyebrows. One of the actors is the brilliantly named John Mark Loudermilk.

Then, just to seal the deal in a wigwam, if you type it into Google something else completely different comes up.

‘Loudermilk’ is an American TV comedy series about a recovering alcohol and substance abuse councillor with a bad attitude.

This morning I was not even aware of the word and now I know two very differing kinds of Loudermilk. Could there be more? As I once told Eamonn Holmes, “there’s only one way to find out!”

Unfortunately the library is closed today so we will all have to wait.

This just continues the theory that everything that should be invented has already been invented. Had I been in charge, however, I would have preferred the name ‘Shoutymilk’, and Brian Blessed would have had top billing.

Avatar Fashion Guru

After the roaring success of my washing machine repair business, I have been on the lookout for another venture to dip my respective success toes in. I have been inundated with suggestions from fans as to what I can apply my brilliant effortless skills to but nothing seemed quite right. That is until I took a long hard look in the mirror.

“What do you see, Ian?” my subconscious murmured. “What do all your various pairs of eyes see / view / peer etc?”

What I saw that day, I cannot utter again. That image is for m-me and m-me alone. What all you need to know is that I made the grand decision that I would become a fashion guru. I know clothes, and I know people, so it was inevitable that the two would eventually meet. There are a lot of people out there who don’t know how to dress. Why can’t they do it? How hard is it to put clothes on in the morning? Luckily for me though, without these chumble buckets I wouldn’t be in a job.

Using all my knowledge of people and clothes, I will be establish the empire of the 21st century. There will be those who will doubt my prowess and I am more than ready to take on their comments and their egos. There will be those who will make fun of my previous professional career turns, and I can tell you now I am nor will I ever be ashamed of where I came from. Those washing machines were mended with all the love, care and attention I will now be pushing into, erm, denim jackets.

I will be opening up my fashion shop cum studio cum money-spinning franchise in the fashionable area of Benwell, Newcastle upon Tyne. When I reach my first cool hundred mil, which no doubt will be before the end of the year, I will set my sights on the next great style capital of the world; Middlesbrough!

If you need me, make an appointment with my PA.

Avatar Picture of the Week

My phone is gradually filling up with all the chaff of modern life so taking any new photos is completely off the cards. Sometimes, however, you see an image that needs to be captured. A picture just so vivid and beautiful that you cannot put into words how it makes you feel.

This photo, taken recently, is one of those pictures:

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Breathe that sucker in.

It is not just a tree in a phone box. It is not just a futile attempt to avoid the responsibility of having to get rid of the last remains of Christmas, or some teenagers’ attempts at a funny “joke”. No, this is art in every sense of the word and I am making arrangements for this to be moved into the Laing Art Gallery as soon as possible.

Avatar Kareech Mantell and the Key of Destiny

Kareech looked at the ground. Sitting there, isolated from the rest of the bunch, was a singular key. For some reason Kareech always assumed that keys traveled in groups rather than by themselves.

The key shone in the mid-morning light and in it was reflected a distorted, bendy view of the street he currently stood in. There was nobody else around and so, with nothing much to lose, Kareech bent down in the incorrect fashion and picked up the key. It was much smarter than it should be; there were marks along the long edge, little nicks where the key must have been used to open a parcel, help with a struggling tin opener or possibly used to pick food out of an old woman’s teeth. No discernible indications as to whom owned the key or where it should be left in case of emergencies.

It was Sunday, the lazy day, the day for not doing much. Kareech had a very limited ‘to do’ list; other than picking up some salt for his mum and tying his shoelaces that was it for him. The world does not expect much from a fourteen year boy.

At first he left the key in his pocket, to jingle against the metal fixtures of his sad, faded foldy out velcro wallet. Maybe next year he will get a proper wallet rather than something that resembled a permanent reminder that adulthood was still way too far away. At the top of Evershed Terrace, however, he stopped to take in the brisk air and his hand grazed the intimate sides of the key. It was then that he made a decision, a decision that would ultimately change his Sunday and make it the kind of Sunday that he would look back on as an old man and possibly point a pipe up into the air, desperately trying to remember what happened.

Kareech tried the key in Number 1 Evershed Terrace. The metal reached about half a centimetre in before the mechanism forced it to stop; this key was not the key for 1 Evershed Terrace. And so onto Number 2 Evershed Terrace. It reached a little further in before stopping. Another failure. And so onto Number 3 Evershed Terrace. It barely got the tip in before the inevitable prevention and overwhelming sensation of failure. And so onto Number 4 Evershed Terrace…

Avatar Unconfirmed individual on nondescript greeting card

I like making cards. Making cards is fairly easy and fun providing you know what to draw or write on the front. If you don’t then it’s a painful and frustrating experience. Thankfully, most of the time I know what I’m doing, which makes a change (ba dum chish!)

It was recently my sisters’ birthday. Sisters plural, as in they both had their birthdays, in that despite being three years between them their birthday is on the same day. Which is weird. I decided to crack off a couple of cards in my usual manner.

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Now I know what you’re thinking. This card seems like it was destined to be for one particular sister, but you would be wrong. Without looking in the top-right corner that is.

This card was for Sarah and despite the uncanny resemblance to a certain intepretation of a Christian deity that is not a drawing of Jesus Christ.

I now open up the floor to see if anyone can guess who it is supposed to be.

No clues now.