I have a hole in my left shoe, on the heel. It is an unusual hole, as if I have been balancing on one heel and attempting to do the twist from 10.14am on the 15th of August 2004 to 9.41pm on the 12th of September 2005.
Sometimes when I am really hungry and I have finished cooking my dinner I am reminded of a time when I had no money and one pizza and a dirty oven. I was getting the pizza out of the oven when it fell off the back of the shelf and landed topping down on the floor of the oven and became inedible, which made me very upset. So now when I am hungry and I have to move my dinner from preparation area to eating area I become very tense, in case I might drop it.
This morning at work, while I was making my cup of coffee in the little kitchen, the sun was coming through the window and the kettle was boling and it reminded me of coffee mornings at the Methodist church I went to when I was a child. I acquired my tea making prowess in the hurly-burly world of Church coffee morning and they have served me well.
I used all of Frictionless Bass's blue cotton to mend my flared jeans. They are girl's jeans with the words "Miss Sixty" on the arse pocket.
47 comments:
Reminds me of the time I had no pizza, one oven and some dirty money, and had to get them all across the swollen river in a rowing boat. The rowing boat could only carry three things at a time, including me, it was the rule, and I couldn't leave the dirty money alone because someone would steal it and I couldn't take the no pizza with the one oven because it just didn't make sense somehow and I couldn't take the no pizza and the one oven and the dirty money in the rowing boat at the same time because of the rule and I couldn't put the dirty money in the one oven and take it across the swollen river that way because although the dirty money was dirty the one oven was dirtier still and it may have ruined the dirty money and I coudn't risk that so do you know what I thought?
'I think I'm gonna need a bigger boat,' I thought.
So I bought a bigger boat with the dirty money and put the no pizza and the one oven in the bigger boat and I put the rowing boat in the bigger boat and I took it all across the swollen river, sure that it was some kind of allegory and disappointed that it wasn't.
Why didn't you clean the money in the swollen river, eat the no pizza, throw the oven into the swollen river, sink the small boat, steal the bigger boat, sink the bigger boat, throw yourself into the swollen river, retrieve the oven, repair the small boat, sink the small boat again, kill some ladies, dry yourself in the retrieved oven, feel guilt over the killings and throw up the no pizza in the swollen river, retrieve the bigger boat, sink the small boat again, sell the bigger boat for dirty money, clean the money in the swollen river, retrieve the small boat, throw the oven back in the swollen river, kill some ladies, retrieve the oven, burn the bodies in the oven and use the clean money to invest in bridge construction or a dam?
I would like to point out that the SATORI organisation would never countenance the killing (or otherwise) of ladies and that this point was made solely for the purpose of display purposes and should not be used as a climbing frame (or otherwise) nor indeed as a point of reference.
I hope that clears up any misunderstanding with regards our intentions as a beat combo.
I once managed a Little Chef off the M5 (junction 30 to Exeter). Ironically, our actual chef was Andre the Giant, grown bitter with Hollywood after the decision to axe The Princess Bride 2. We served a seminal Beat Combo.
Chicken, fish or both? I hope it wasn't too seminal otherwise it would be too salty. I always get very afraid when I think about cooked animals stuffed inside other cooked animals; Ostrich stuffed with turkey stuffed with chicken stuffed with orang utang stuffed with narwhal stuffed with adder stuffed with marmoset stuffed with anchovie stuffed with plankton stuffed with atoms etc.
Are there any food that you might not like to see stuffed inside other food at all?
Supernovae stuffed inside a mouse...
Rusty Lee stuffed with Snipe and Grouse.
Stanley Baxter stuffed with leeks and glass.
Sidney Poitier stuffed with Morgan Freeman and Danny Glover.
Stuffy the Stifled Sock stuffed inside Stockhausen.
Big Daddy stuffed in Sid Little.
Steve Cram stuffed in Seb Coe.
Jimmy Krankie stuffed inside Jeanette Krankie.
Harpo Marx stuffed inside Chico Marx stuffed inside Groucho Marx stuffed inside Zeppo Marx stuffed inside Karl Marx.
In reference to 'Satori (an apology), specifically the '(or otherwise)' bit - I would like to point out that there are some things you CAN do to ladies which don't include killing, are perfectly legal, quite enjoyable and which I condone wholeheartedly and even partake in from time to time.
By the way Monkey Chops, don't worry, I got the 'Jaws' reference!
You're certifiable, cunt.
Would have been a better film in my oppinion.
Rick Wright stuffed inside Nick Mason stuffed inside Dave Gilmour stuffed inside Roger Waters (if he agrees to it) stuffed inside Syd Barrett (if you can find him).
Cunt? That's a bit unfair; I obviously meant sexual things which the lady had consented to.
Sorry; to which the lady had consented.
The stuff of dreams, stuffed inside the stuff you pack other stuff in, stuffed into a box of paxo stuffing.
Nice grammatical 'save' there Mr Burns.
A thin person stuffed inside a fat person, trying to get out.
A raisin stuffed into a grape which you only find when the grape is old and dry.
I once stuffed myself with M&S finest onion and sage stuffing, basted myself in olive oil and stood next to a radiator for four hours. Silly me! It was summer, and the heating was off. What a waste of time that was.
Reminds me of the time I worked in a stuffing factory in Epping. Ah, the things we got up to! Whenever there was a stuffing surplus (usually on a Thursday after the sage convoys from Kenya made their drops and the Chilean onion barges had delivered) we'd stuff anything we could, left, right and centre. Machinery, books, lightbulbs, rats, each other; nothing was safe. We made our own entertainment in order to stave off blue-collar entropy. Each night we'd sing stuffing songs, play stuffing games, and act stuffing plays such as 'A Stuffing Named Desire', 'The Importance of Being Stuffed', 'Waiting For Stuffing', 'The Onion of Venice', and 'Titus Andronicus and his Lovely Stuffing'. One day, though, we went too far, with tragic results. After a particularly furious game of Where's My Stuffing, we challenged new boy Little Ned Two-shoes to 'stuff all he could'. It was our usual initiation technique, designed to separate the wheat from the chaff, the Stuffers from the Stuffees. And now, Little Ned Two-shoes is dead.
Remember. NEVER take a warm jacuzzi if all of your orifices are filled with dry powdered stuffing.
Monkey Chops, you are a comic genius and I didn't realise it before now; I used to think you were just a useless waste of clothes, but now my opinion of you has slightly improved. You should go on the stage - the last stage to Deadwood that is! Aahahaaaaaaaaaaghh!
That's alright, Mister Burns; I don't mind using wasteful clothes. In fact I am, right now, clothed in useless waste. That's an image I'd like you to take away and ponder on.
Thankyou for your initially kind words! If I had a penny for every time I've been called a comic genius - well. Put it this way; I'd be in no danger of winning at the penny arcade. Also I don't see how the mechanics would work. Who would give me the penny?
"You are a comic genius, sir! Here, take this penny. Away with you to the penny arcade."
No. How could I rely on each and every person who bestowed such lavish praise upon me to hand over a penny at the same time? How would they know to? Or maybe someone else gives me the penny. Impressed bystanders? No. Again, how would they know. The only logical solution is that I am being followed by a man or woman with enough pennies to cover all eventualities. Some would say that that is just paranoia. But I'm only paranoid because everyone's against me.
No, just me....
Oh, how can I stay mad at you? You're like a big old fluffy labrador or a lovely giant chicken sandwich with extra stuffing and some of those little sausages wrapped in bacon on the side; what I'm trying to say is....I love you Monkey Chops, and I want you to have my babies. No seriously, I've got a ton of spare babies crawling around, can I offload some onto you?
Oh, sorry Stu; your band is great by the way...
I love babies, but I couldn't eat a whole one. Aha ha, aha ha ha. No, I'd probably be pretty full up after just the legs and an arm.
It's like... it's like... "I'm hungry and thirsty."
"You're going to Hungary this Thursday?"
"No... Actually, Jamaica."
"No I didn't and I resent the implication."
"I implied nothing and cannot be held responsible for your inferences."
"Well then you pedantic cur, infer THIS." At which point he beat me in my midriff until my stomach came out the other side. This really happened and is not a laughing matter. It was extremely painful and I was in traction for two weeks. Oh, wait a minute... sorry I got confused; it didn't happen and I was in a tractor for two weeks transporting illegal hay to immigrants. That didn't happen either. I'm just seeking attention.
I love you too Mister Burns.
I still haven't heard the band and I'm still looking for someone to transport my illegal hay across the border to the mexican revolutionaries since Monkeychops' tractor broke down.
Any takers, or am I stuffed?
If I had enough money I'd buy two tractors in case the first tractor broke down or if I had a labour intensive tractor job to complete and a tractor driving friend willing to help me out by driving the second tractor whilst I drove the first tractor, assuming it hasn't broken down, in which case the second tractor would come into play but not the tractor driving friend, necessarily, unless I had something else that he could help out with whilst I'm in the second tractor. See, it's things like this that you have to think about and plan for in order to get ahead in life.
The only problem with having a second tractor is the effective doubling of your fixed assets register. Not to mention the implied increase in overheads caused by having the staff to run the tractor, fuel etc.
A better solution would be to lease the equipment on an as-and-when-needed basis and utilise casual labour through an agency, avoiding the need to worry about PAYE and employer's NI contributions etc.
So can you move this fucking hay for me, or what?
Is it fresh Fucking Hay, or has it been used and now needs disposing of? You're talking toxic waste removal if it's the latter and that costs a pretty penny.
How pretty is the penny? Will I fall in love with the penny and be willing to pay a handsome price in order to procure it from you?
It's about 12 Lolitas on the Nabokov-Kubrick Scale.
Phwoar... can we trade? I'll give you a whole pile of Fucking Hay (fresh, not soiled) for your pretty penny.
Hay first, penny later.
You drive a Hard Bargain. Me? I drive an Audi. Each to their own. Take your Hay (a handsome price indeed) and then show me the money*.
(*NB - this comment rates as a 9.2 on the Tom Cruise-Hollywood Feelgood scale)
Point taken, Mister Booze. If I had enough money, though, the doubling of my fixed assets register wouldn't be an issue. Equally, if I had enough money, I would probably simply scrap the tractors and buy a few hundred slaves instead (more ecological)
Mister Frictionless; if you need two tractors or a few hundred slaves to transport your new Fucking Hay, I have two tractors or a few hundred slaves that you can hire. Well, when I say that I 'have' them, I actually mean that I 'don't have' them, but don't let that put you off.
Oh, I understand. You "won't have any slaves" eh? Wink, nudge, wink, hop, wink, crouch, nudge, nudge, wink, hop, hop, skip, wink, wink, wink, blink, burp, nudge, wink.
...wink wink, nudge bonk shag shag fart burp wank spray vomit sneeze etc.
The problem with having 100 slaves is that you're gonna need a bigger boat.
Aha! The comments have met themselves! The serpent devours its own tail! The circle is complete and I have a lapfull of sperm.
Oh dear.
Fucking? Hey!!
It's what I like to serve up at teh Ambassador's conception.
Mrs Ambassador is always most grateful for a thimble full of man-fat tastefully wrapped in a gold coloured foil.
Funk King Hayes and The Roller Disco All-Stars.
Fork ring gay?
Well a bird in the mine is worth two in the bush.
Or is that the bird on the mine is all mine, all mine?
My memory for glib phrases, chirpy aphorisms and cliches has been severely impaired by the onset of age and the wear & tear precipitated by the excessive use of spunk references in recent postings.
As a result I have decided to make sure that everything that spills forth from me in the future on to any Blog is completely sperm-free.
I've decided to splash out on a new dictionary to ensure that I can come up with the goods with plenty of other things to say.
I have to shoot off now in order to bone up on its contents.
You're great too, Stu.
Love oooo, Stoooo....
Who is this Stu you talk of? No Stus round here. If we see Stus we eat up 'em up quick sharp.
I have no legend on my arse pocket. I have no arse pocket since today is my 'wear no trousers to work' day.
I love stew too. Especially with dumplings.
...By the way, is 50 comments some kind of record?
Fair enough; if I was you, I wouldn't want anyone to know who I was either...
You know who you are...
...by the way, is 54 comments some kind of record?
Post a Comment