Life In a Scots Sitting Room

Feelgood Friday #7

2010-08-27T15:46:00.001+02:00

G'day cobbers! How ya goin'?

This week was my attempt at a philosophy-themed week.

Monday's entry, A Philosophical Post (too long and complicated to be described in this post), provoked mixed reactions, varying from one extreme - "Wanted a lie-in, did you?" (regular reader), to the other end of the spectrum - "Absolute Genius" (The Times Online).

The next philosophical entry (or exit, depending on one's vantage point!), Le Petomane, received overwhelming critical acclaim and so much attention from the international community of philosophers, that I had little time spare to do anything except answer the 'phone (which was constantly ringing off the hook) in between giving interviews to TV, radio and other assorted media. The London School of Economics has asked me to do an opinion piece for them about the increase in employment opportunities for "Fartistes" as a direct result of my post, which highlighted this little-known (and vastly under-rated) specialist industry. My imaginary literary agent has been ecstatic, and wanted me to accept an offer of Honorary Dean at Edinburgh University, but I declined, as it would leave me little time for blogging, and I didn't want to let down the little people (you lot), who I consider to have been a constant encouragement to me over the long haul of, what is it now? - seven, mebbe even eight weeks?

I have noted, however, that my philosophical musings have encouraged some otherwise rather shy readers (you know who you are, Doug) to come out of the comments closet, as it were, to offer a serious and well considered responses to my original question on Monday. I hope you now realise that this was ~~a mistake,~~ ~~waste of time~~ a much appreciated attempt to move the discussion forward in a positive and interesting manner (!). I'll look out for your future comments so that I can ~~ignore them,~~ ~~give a sarcastic reply~~ be sure to highlight your contribution to other readers.

I also noticed that we have some readers tuning in from Australia (thus the "G'day" intro), which surprised me a little as 1/. I have no relatives or friends there who know about this blog, and 2/. can't think of any ~~insults~~ references to Australia/Australians in my postings so far. If you're still here, please let yourself be known, and I will endeavour to make you feel included (in other words, I dare you to raise your heads above the parapet, so I can take a potshot! - go on, it'll be fun!!!).

And so I come to the end of this post, all that is left to do is insert the cartoon, and give you a teaser for some of next weeks planned posts on the frighteningly popular "Life In A Scots Sitting Room" (changed my mind about giving you the teaser - after all this media exposure, I'm getting paranoid that someone's gonna steal one of my ideas for what have become my massively successful posts, so just going to tell you to come back next week).

But, before the cartoon, I will leave you with one of the last, big philosophical questions, yet to be answered, of our time. You may muse on it over the weekend.

What's it all about, Alfie?

Alternatively, you could decide that you couldn't give a Castlemaine 4 X, and go get drunk instead!

HAVE A GOOD ONE!

PS This one's for the Aussies, as I happen to know that they're in a different timezone, so it could well be Easter there (!).

Le Petomane

2010-08-25T05:55:00.001+02:00

Hellooo Readers! Were you surprised by how short my post was on Monday (I was!)?

It wasn't planned, but I quite enjoyed the fact that last week's blog had a kind of theme going on... you know, it began with aliens in ice cream vans, peaked with kilts, and ended with aliens in kilts! It had a nice symmetry to it, dontcha think?

But I've been busy since then.....

The eagle-eyed among you will have already noticed that I have added a Blogroll (Oooooo - excitin'!) (down on the right ....- no, lower, ......lower still), so that you can visit some of my mad, not quite so mad, and positively unclassifiable blogging friends (don't any of you dare come back and tell me they're funnier than me (even though they all are (except Cheeseface))!).

And... I made my first Squidoo Lens. A lens is "a stand alone web page which can be used for a variety of purposes, including driving traffic to your blog". Now, regular readers will know that I'm rubbish at doing the most basic of computer-technically things. My first Squidoo lens is no exception. The title of a lens is the single most important thing about it, as it should clearly indicate what the lens is about. I called mine "Car-crash Lens Building at Squidoo". I think that it gives you all an indication on what level of skill I'm working up from. Go and have a look if you want (it's not really worth it!). I will get better at them, though!

As if that's not enough, I also managed to start a pseudo-feud with the gals over at the Gerry Butler mad-fan site (- result!)! I've joined their site so that I can heckle them on their own virtual turf (they're good sports that way!).

Anyway, I thought I'd actually plan a themed week this week. By planning I mean thinking about it, and then ~~telling you lot~~ announcing that it's going to happen. There is no actual planning as such, involved in this process. Therefor I have unanimously decided amongst myself, that this shall be PHILOSOPHY week here on Life In a Scots Sitting Room.

Monday's post was a Philosophical question - Is Fait Accompli? Doug, one of my newest, yet most dedicated followers, was ~~stupid enough~~ kind enough to ~~take the bait~~ rise to the challenge, and he left a deep, yet profoundly meaningless comment.

So, with fresh new follower Doug firmly in mind, I offer you, in this Philosophically themed post, a question to ponder:

Le Petomane -

Did He Have

The Most Ludicrous Job Ever

In the Entire History of Jobs?

Wickipedia says:

Le Pétomane ( /ləˈpɛtəmeɪn/, French pronunciation: [ləpetɔˈman]) was the stage name of the French flatulist (professional farter) and entertainer Joseph Pujol (June 1, 1857 - 1945). He was famous for his remarkable control of the abdominal muscles, which enabled him to fart at will. His stage name combines the French verb péter, "to fart" with the -mane, "-maniac" suffix, which translates to "fartomaniac". The profession is also referred to as "flatulist", "farteur", or "fartiste".[1]

It is a common misconception to state that Joseph Pujol actually farted as part of his stage performance. Farting implies the release through the anus of intestinal gases. Pujol was "gifted" in the sense that he was able to inhale air into his rectum and then control the release of that air using his sphincter muscles (avoiding any associated odour). Evidence of his ability to control those muscles can be seen in the early accounts of demonstrations of his abilities to fellow soldiers.

Check this guy out!!!..... he earned his living from being a "Fartiste"! I love it!

And how, exactly, is this meant to be Philosophical? I hear you ask (there are a few more of you now, getting louder - if you all stand closer together, you might even manage "rowdy ~~mob~~ ~~crowd~~ ~~bystanders~~ ~~clique~~ couple" sound effects!).

Well, stands to reason. "Philosophy" means to wonder about things (ok, rough translation, but gets the gist across). This guy is one of the things I wonder about on a relatively frequent basis (this is true.... very sad, but the true nonetheless). What a fabulously bizarre way to earn a living!!! {shakes head disbelievingly}. That's pretty much as far as I get before my mind wanders onto other mad ways people have earned a living, and that's me lost for the rest of the day.

I don't think nearly enough people know about Monsieur Le Petomane and his, shall we say, niche talent. I think he should be celebrated for his contribution to the world, and hailed from the rooftops as a shining example of where your life can take you, and how ridiculous the journey can often be.

"When one ponders upon the deeper meanings of Life, the Universe and Everything, one must inevitably consider the mundane, but one must never loose sight of the spectacular exception!"
[Me]

"Who'da thunkitt?"
[Also Me]

A Philosopical Post

2010-08-23T03:02:00.000+02:00

Is Fate Accompli...?

Feelgood Friday #6

2010-08-20T05:30:00.000+02:00

Hello to Feelgood Friday, our visual joke only, no blabbing rubbish from me, day! (Well, you can all only live in hope!......one day it might actually happen, and the five of you will be left feeling bereft and abandoned!)

I began this week with the shock announcement that the Klingons are planning to invade Scotland (oh yeah, and the rest of planet Earth, too), in my post The Klingons are Coming, at the end of which, I had placed a photo of Patrick Stewart (or J.L., as he likes me to refer to him) wearing a kilt. I got a comment from a new follower about the kilt pic., so I decided to enlighten him as to the "babe magnet" potential of the kilt in my post How to Wear a Kilt. During my research for which, I made the amazing discovery that kilts are possibly the one thing that will bring Earthlings and alien beings together to live in peace and harmony - Kilts: Could They Save the Known Universe?, a post that had a nice symmetry about it and kinda brought the whole week together, I thought.

I didn't learn any new computer tricks (a.k.a. basics that I actually need to know in order to do stuff). Instead, I spent my time having ridiculously funny chats with fellow bloggers, making new friends, and almost starting a fisticuffs fight! Excellent week for me then - job done (except the learning stuff part)!

I did notice that I seemed to have several new fans reading from Italy. Italy??? But I haven't even started fighting with the Italians (they'd surrender too quickly - ouch! did I write that out loud? That's just the type of careless comment that starts a fight........!). Some research revealed that they were coming from a Gerard Butler mad-fan site. One of them had clocked my pic of him in the How to Wear a Kilt post. He was the one in the pink jumper. The one where I couldn't decide whether or not he looked like a pansy-boy (no offence to any pink readers, it's a term of endearment, really!). His mad-fans seem to have been taken aback by the fact that I was "confused" by his choice of jumper colour (fine in Italy, still a bit suspect in Scotland), and his holding the sword in what can only be described as a phallic manner, and they actually slagged me off in their chat forum!!! How very dare they?

It got me quite a few page hits though. Which is why I'm now going to place another photo of him............

Gerard Butler fights like a girl.

.........and one of another Scottish actor, Dougray Scott, who I think is much better looking than Gerard Butler, AND a more talented actor...............nyah nyah nyah! (may as well see if there are any Dougray Scott mad-fan sites who find this!)

Dougray Scott - far more handsome and talented than Gerard Butler.

And, just in case that's not enough to draw them out, I'm going to put my new-found hyper-link-tag-thingy skill to use, and I'm gonna tag this post "Gerard Butler"............that should [polite cough] irritate them!

Apologies for so much talk on Feelgood Friday visual joke only day, but then I'm sure you, dear readers, understand that I couldn't resist the temptation!

Okay, here's the cartoon now!

HOPE EVERYONE HAS A MOST EXCELLENT WEEKEND!

Kilts: Could They Save the Known Universe?

2010-08-19T00:01:00.006+02:00

Whilst researching yesterday's post How To Wear A Kilt, I discovered something that struck me as rather odd. Rather a lot of Time Lords (of UK tv's "Dr Who" fame) wear the kilt (or at least some form of tartan which, for the purposes of tenuous connections leading to outrageous conclusions, will do me)!

See for yourself.........

Patrick Troughton clearly wearing tartan trousers....

.....but his mate wears a black and white kilt (!).

Jon Pertwee wears an Inverness cape.

Tom Baker wears full regalia (okay, probably NOT a Dr Who scene...)

Colin Baker wears a tartan coat and baaaaad hairstyle!

Sylvester McCoy wears a tartan scarf and hatband combo.

David Tennant tells it like it is!

Couldn't find Matt Smith wearing anything tartan...
so, here's his assistant Karen Gillen
(who's from Edinburgh, my home town, by the way!)
wearing a shirt that is definitely tartan!

Yes, I know that he's John Barrowman, which is Torchwood,
not Dr Who, but it's close enough for me!

And then I saw this..........

......a very obviously doctored photo (geddit?)!

And it made me do some more research.

Whereupon I found this......

And this.....!

Which obviously led me to this.....

All this evidence (which is clearly real and factual) can only lead me to one conclusion, and that is that.......

[SFX drum roll..........are you ready for the grand reveal?........

.............................you sure you're ready?............

.......it's pretty mind blowing stuff, do you want to get a nice cup of tea and prepare yourself first?..................

.............everybody ready....................???.....................

..............okay, here goes.....................................

...................... the BIG announcement...............(it's gonna change your life for sure)..........

THE KILT IS THE ONE THING THAT TIME LORDS, ALIEN SPECIES AND STORM TROOPERS ALL HAVE IN COMMON,

AND

THAT IT MIGHT JUST BE THE KEY TO SAVING THE WORLD AND, INDEED, MANKIND FROM A DREADFUL END!

TaaDah!

THAT ISN'T A DREADFUL END....

(anything butt, hahaha!)

THIS IS A DREADFUL END.....!

How To Wear A Kilt

2010-08-18T06:54:00.002+02:00

It has recently come to my attention that some of my male readership do not believe they are capable of wearing a Kilt. I think that this is a lamentable state of affairs, as the Kilt is one of the single most sexy pieces of apparel on the face of the planet. No matter if you're Scottish or not, no matter how tall, short, stout, skinny you, or your legs are, if you know the basics of how to wear it, a Kilt will draw women to you, like flies to sheep droppings!

So, for the benefit of men the world over who don't believe they can wear one, here is my guide on how to wear a Kilt:

How To Wear A Kilt - the Definitive 3-Step Guide

The Kilt - a Brief Introduction:

The kilt is a garment that has a long, and sometimes bloody, history. It began life as a cloak-cum-blanket (History of the Kilt - Wikipedia link), worn to protect the bearer from the harsh elements, and transcended to become a symbol of freedom of the Scots from the oppression and cruel degradation suffered at the hands of the English, during a time known as "The Clearances" when the English outlawed the wearing of Tartan by the Scots in an attempt to kill the spirits of the Scots...... utterly.

Part of the reason why the Scots were so outraged by the banning of the Tartan, was that the colours and patterns of each tartan (or "plaid") were unique to each Clan (or family), as unique as the Clan their surnames. The design allowed clan members to recognise friends and foe from a distance. So the English, in banning the Tartan, and putting to death anyone who disobeyed this law, were seen as trying to take the very names, the identities, of the Scots Clans, from them (which, in fact, was exactly the idea).

[steps down from lectern......]

Annnywaaaayyy....

(Off to a good start for a humour post, eh folks!

Keep reading - it can only get better...you hope!)

1/. STYLE & FIT

Question: What do you want to wear it to?

Is it to a special occasion, like a wedding or a funeral?

Is it to a sporting occasion (football, rugby, basketball (??? - you never know), or an outdoor pursuit like huntin', shootin', fishin'? (NB skiing in a kilt is not recommended for a variety of H&S reasons)

Is it for a bet?

Is it because you're mother wants you to?

Answer: To Your knees, of course (you stupid laddie!).
It doesn't matter what the occasion, you can find a kilt style to suit AS LONG AS YOU FOLLOW KILT GOLDEN RULE NUMBER 1 - MAKE SURE IT FITS YOU!
To test whether the kilt fits you or not, when trying it on (flat bit to the front, pleats to the back, by the way), kneel down on the floor. The waistband of the kilt should hug your waist, and the cloth should just be touching the floor. Any shorter is a mini-skirt, any longer is a blanket!

Here are some examples of Kilt wearing:

Cute boy wearing a kilt.

Cute boy wearing a kilt!

Liam Neeson doing it for a film.....

Ewan McGregor (Scots actor, btw)
wearing it to accept an award for a film (probably).

Proof that the Kilt is a babe magnet - literally!
(or mebbe it's Ewan whose the magnet???)

Kilts worn casually...

Kilts worn casually....

Kilt worn casually.....
Oh no! It's a towel, but worn like a kilt!
However did that pic get in there?!

Some guys trying to look cool in kilts...
BUT LOOK AT THE LENGTH!!!
SLIGHTLY TOO LONG makes all the difference!
Good under other circumstances (phnar phnar!)
but just plain WRONG if a kilt!

Some nutter wearing a kilt for surfing (???)
(I think he's actually using the surfboard as a caber!)
(as in "tossing the caber" - for the uninitiated,
a Scottish traditional show of strength
involving throwing a length of felled tree - the caber -
usually performed at Highland Games contests,
not on a beach!)

2/. ACCESSORIES

Kilt wearing can allow for a wide range of accessories. But the one accessory to avoid when wearing a Kilt is..............underwear! The number one reason why most women the world over are attracted to a man wearing a Kilt (and he's getting a wee bit nervous with all that female attention!) is because they are wondering if the man wearing the Kilt is wearing anything else underneath! The answer to this should always be.......NO! This is KILT GOLDEN RULE NUMBER 2 - PANTS ARE PANTS ! (Scots > English "pants" = rubbish)

Some examples of Kilt accessory choice:

How you would see a Kilt worn for an event

such as a Highland Games

(note: in a field, not on a beach!),

this time with a sword to accessorise.

Not entirely sure what I think of this one -

another example of a sword being used as

an accessory, but this time held in a

rather suggestive manner....

by a man in a pink pullover.....

Hmmmmm...I'm confused.

Pints of beer as accessories!

No accessories!

Bagpipes as accessories!

(you can just see them if you squint, phnar phnar!)

3/. WHO CAN WEAR A KILT?

I've heard it said that you have to be Scottish to wear a Kilt. Often, I've heard it given as a excuse not to wear the Kilt. Generally, this excuse comes from Englishmen, who are showing their pansie-ness, or young Scots guys WHO DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE MISSING OUT ON re: the babe magnetibility of the Kilt! Now, there is an ongoing debate amongst Scots, male and female alike, as to who should be allowed to wear the Kilt, the traditional garb of Scotland. Personally, I'm happy for guys of any country to wear the Kilt. As long as they wear it with a sense of pride. The one thing that kills the sexiness of a Kilt stone dead, is when the guy wearing it looks self-conscious. This tends to happen when they choose to wear pants underneath, as it just feels silly then. Go commando = you're a MAN and you KNOW IT! KILT GOLDEN RULE NUMBER 3 - ANYONE CAN WEAR A KILT, AS LONG AS IT'S WORN WITH CONFIDENCE!

Some guy (American footballer mebbe?)

(answer in comments please!)

Samuel L. - King of Cool

Gerard Butler (another Scots actor)

Geeky student.....

Some skinny guy, whose probably a fashion designer,
and probably French.
If he can wear it.......

HERE ARE SOME EXAMPLES OF KILT "DON'TS" (WARNING: CONTAINS SOME PICS OF AN UPSETTING NATURE):

Noooo....do I really need to explain why?

Health & Safety reflective kilts...
what - are they dangerous or something?

Noooo..... that's a TENNIS SKIRT you moron!

NOOOOOOOO! (not even in fun!)

NO! Please make it STOP!

CONCLUSION:

Any guy, of any shape, and any nationality can wear a kilt, as long as he follows the three golden rules:

1/. MAKE SURE IT FITS YOU! - kneelength is right, longer or shorter is wrong!

2/. PANTS ARE PANTS! - just go on an' no' wear them!

3/. ANY GUY CAN WEAR A KILT - AS LONG AS HE DOES IT WITH CONFIDENCE!

(a nice, cheeky smile helps as well!)

AND FINALLY, here's a wee joke for my blogger pals, Ilikecheese and Big Andrew.......

The Klingons Are Coming

2010-08-16T06:19:00.000+02:00

It's true - I read it in The Trumpton Times, so it must be true. The Klingons are coming! They're coming to take over planet earth 'cos we're messing things up. Fair enough, seems a good reason to me. But they're planning to make their base camp in.........(wait for it)........(a little longer)........(are you getting impatient yet?).....(SFX: drum roll)...... THE SCOTTISH BORDERS!!! That's fairly near me, in fact, that's exactly where I live (for those of you who haven't been paying attention)!

Wha????

So my inkling that something alien was afoot, as I described in my previous post The Phantom Ice Cream Van, was correct!

It's true. I thought at first that our local ~~joke~~ newspaper had got it wrong, and then I Googled it, and saw that other newspapers including The Daily Record, The Scotsman on Sunday, Portsmouth Today (???), and the Ilkestone Advertiser (huh? where's Ilkestone? - anybody???) had reported it. I felt a slight pride that the nationals had picked up on the Trumpton Times story, until I looked at the dates and realised that it was, in fact, the other way around - the Trumpton Times had picked it up from the nationals. Typical that our local ~~fish and chip wrapper~~ source of "news" is actually giving us "olds"! Aaannnyywayyyyyy..... back to the plot....
According to these reports, they've left an inscription on a rock in a forest, here in the Scottish Borders. The inscription reads:

"Due to bad management by its current inhabitants, the Klingon Empire claims the right to take this planet for the benefit of the greater universe.

This rock is an official legally binding claim marker. We'll be arriving soon, your future is assured."

Mind you, the fanatics (and I use the word advisedly) over at TrekMovie.com have an issue with both the spelling and the grammar of the translation to English of the message, but I'm guessing the general gist of the message stays the same. (I'm also left wondering about where these fans' priorities lie - if someone came up to them and said "I'm gonna pick a fight with you, and I'm gonna smash your face in", would they retaliate by saying "I think you'll find that the correct grammar is "I'm going to smash your face in"? They're missing the point, a bit) [at this point, readers, I'm going to skillfully gloss over the fact that I picked a fight with Cheeseman 'cos of his spelling, but that's a whole other issue, and I refuse to refer to him in any of my posts, thereby getting you all to rush over to his blog, until he draws another insulting cartoon about me and returns some traffic my way, dammit!].

A Klingon (probably a famous one)
(Trekkies, please inform me in comments section)
(And I'll pretend to care)

Anyway, as I was saying about the upcoming Klingon Invasion of Earth before I so rudely interrupted myself, fair play to them, after all we have messed up the planet. And I suppose that, if I were an alien life force looking to invade planet Earth, it would only take a little bit of research to realise that Scotland is the most obvious place to invade. That's because we're so experienced in being the brave and courageous, but ultimately defeated, underdogs.

So I've been considering the prospect of Klingons as neighbours, and how this would affect Trumpton.

Gangs of Klingon teenagers hanging out at the main Trumpton bus stop (in a shelter with seats) on a Friday/Saturday night 'cos they've nothing better to do? Well, that happens anyway, when the kids from Chigley and Cambelwick Green (a much smaller town, and a village a few miles from us) come up the road to the bright lights of Trumpton, looking for a bit excitement (e.g. a fight) at the weekend. No real difference there, then. At least we wouldn't understand any sweary words the Klingon teenagers may shout in abuse to one another, innocent passers by, or the world in general.

What about the adult Klingons though? Would they take over The Barrel (the local pick-up bar), to sing Klingon Karaoke favourites? Again, I don't know if we'd really notice that much difference.

And, if romance happened to blossom between a local human and a Klingon Rib Head, would we be bothered about an inter-species relationship? Nah, we're a pretty easygoing lot here. Apart from the fact that anyone who can't count their family as hailing from this particular town for at least five generations is counted as an "incomer", (referring to most of the current population), and at least it's racism of such an extreme and specific type that I don't think it really matters. The local human and the Klingon would be equally despised as both would be counted as newcomers in this situation (I've lived here for ten years, was born 21 miles up the road, and I'm classed as a newcomer, by the way - as long as it doesn't interfere with my drinking, which it doesn't - only cash flow to alcohol conversion interferes with that, it doesn't bother me).

Klingon totty?

The local police might have an issue with the Klingons carrying offensive weapons. They issued a warning to a friend of mine last year 'cos he was carrying a shinty stick (a bit like a long-headed hockey stick, but for a game that is not only violent, but seriously insane). He explained to the police that, before he moved to Trumpton, he was on the National shinty team for Scotland, and was just keeping his hand in. They wouldn't back down, and suggested he drive to the playing field with the shinty stick. He said he didn't want to drive - it was only a five minute walk from his home, and would be a waste of petrol. Seeing as my friend is of Viking proportions (much bigger than any two Trumpton policemen put together!), and realising that he wasn't going to back down, the officers in question gave him a warning, and told him to put a cover on the shinty stick in future - PUT A COVER ON IT? Like THAT'S gonna make it less dangerous!

All in all, I'm guessing that the local police will be keeping a very low profile when the Klingons arrive, especially if they're carrying any kind of stick thing (which I know they do, having watched Star Trek and seen Whatsisname with one).

Just because I found it.

In fact, the police are far more likely to feel the impact of a Klingon invasion through their eating habits. No more sandwich shops or Chippies for the police to get their five-times-per-shift snacks from. Oh no! I predict that these establishments will all change their menus to reflect the tastes of their new Rib Head clientele. It's going to be bowls of live worms (and whatever else the Klingons eat, but that's all I've seen them eat on StarTrek - bowls of live wriggly things - possibly a nice fan from TrekMovie will leave an enlightening comment for me on this subject - one can only live in hope) all the way for any would be snacker in Trumpton!

Things will change for sure, though, when the Star Trek crew come to save us. I'm really looking forward to that!

Us humans will be able to recognise the Star trek ground crew immediately, because they always wear 1940's gangster style suits whenever they make a visit to Earth In The Past. We'll have to pretend not to notice them, until the point where a few, brave but rebellious one's of us are left as the Resistance Movement. Then we can impress them with the secret hideout we've organised, full of broken and discarded equipment, which just happens to include something crucial to their ability to save the future of mankind [note to self: must organise secret hideout and piece of equipment crucial to saving the future of humanity - put on "to do" list for tomorrow].

Us Scots like the Star Trek crew.

What the Scotty statue in
Linlithgow doesn't
look like.

In fact, we built a statue to one of the crew members, in Linlithgo. (It's true, but I couldn't find a picture of it)

Can you guess which one, readers?

And we especially like Captain Jean Luke Picard, because he's a fellow Scot. What? You didn't know that? Well, I'm glad to ~~do as much as I can to spread this ruomour~~ have enlightened you.

Once the Star Trek crew have sorted out the Klingons, and sent them home with their tails between their legs (do Klingons have tails? can't recall), Captain JL Picard (known to me as captain McSexy) realising that Trumpton is his favourite place in the entire Universe, not least because he's become infatuated with a certain lady blogger, whose mixture of humour, wit and imagination he finds irresistible, will decide to settle down for good.

And we'll live happily until he's called away to do the next Star Trek film.

(By this time I'll have decided that he's aged quite a bit since I last saw him on telly, and I'll have realised that he doesn't share my infantile sense of humour - he only gets Shakespeare jokes.)
Suits me. It'll give me a chance to get back to my blogging.

After all, I know how much you, my ~~institutionalised~~ captivated readers, would miss me.

Wouldn't you.

Wouldn't you?

There must still be one of you reading.......?

Hello.....?

I knew I shouldn't have given a link to that TrekMovie site. You've all gone over there to laugh at them, haven't you?

Dammit!

His surname may be Stewart, but he
canna wear ra kilt!

Feelgood Friday #5

2010-08-13T04:11:00.000+02:00

Hello to the many thousands of you who stop anything productive you happen to be doing, to come and read my blog instead. Here we are at Friday, once again. "So soon?" I hear the five of you cry in astonishment, "I thought we were still on Wednesday???". Yup, me too.

Oh, just me then? Okay.

I managed to master the dreaded Meta Tags this week (been on my "to do" list since, ohhhh, pretty much soon as I started my blog). So that's an achievement. Just thought I'd share. I'll shut up and go away now, leave you to enjoy the cartoon, since this is my "visual only" day and all................

Before I go, though, "Welcome" to any new followers - thank you for committing yourselves (you really weren't paying attention when you hit that "follow" key, were you? - that'll teach you!), also to any new readers. Especially anyone who may happen to be looking in from the Dominican Republic (I promise I will reply to your message - been a tad busy learning HTML the last few days). This post is dedicated to you. x

NOW GO AWAY AND LOOK AT QUASI'S

RANDOM DOCTOR WHO PICS

(THEY'RE HILARIOUS)

HAVE A FUN WEEKEND!

60 Days...and Counting!

2010-08-11T04:35:00.000+02:00

Hello readers! Today, I'm very proud to announce that it is "Life In a Scots Sitting Room's" 60-day birthday! TWO MONTHS OLD! There were those of you who thought we'd never make it this far (- I know, 'cos I was one of them). Some who thought that I'd run out of quality rubbish to write about (she can't have that much to say, surely she'll shut-up soon?), and others who innocently thought that, if they just ignored me, I'd go away (how can anyone be so wrong?).

But, here we are at the two month mark, and I've still got more ideas than ever for posts relating to absolutely nothing of importance! Occasionally, something factual or educational, interesting even, might sneakily creep in (like me accidentally discovering that the guy who invented the Diesel engine was called Rudolf), but that's usually in the "comments"section, rather than the actual post itself (especially Alistair's thesis of "A History of How Dutch has Influenced the American Language" - see under my post Big Cheese Update).

BUT, WAIT A MINUTE! - LOOK at the Top Ten exciting things that have happened with my blog
- IN ONLY 60 SHORT DAYS:

[SFX intro music...... jazzy "what's hot in the world of entertainment" music]

[CUE PRESENTER:]

MAX HEADROOM (remember him?)

"LIFE IN A SCOTS SITTING ROOM" - 60 DAY ROUND-UP!
(AKA - LINKS TO ~~OLD~~ CLASSIC POSTS THAT LOTS OF YOU HAVEN'T READ YET! DO IT! - DO IT NOW! You know you want to, really!) (with non-related pictures, 'cos just a list looked pretty boring on it's own)

1/. I GOT AN AWARD FOR MY BLOG! okay, so I still don't know if it's real, or just a marketing gimmick - BUT WHO CARES? - IT'S AN AWARD, DAMMIT!!!
And, if that wasn't enough excitement, on the same day "Life In a Scots Sitting Room" GOT MENTIONED ON RADIO 2 - ONLY THE MOST LISTENED TO RADIO STATION IN THE UK!!!

2/. I GOT ORDAINED AS A DUDEIST PRIEST! Sweet! Abide!

3/. I STARTED A BLOG FEUD WITH A CHEESY YANK (that was "Yank" people,- I don't resort to crude schoolboy humour here. (That's a blatant lie)) who spells "humour" as "humor".

4/. CHEESY YANK DREW A CARTOON ABOUT ME!!! (it's quite insulting, but I've never been "cartooned" before, and considering he's never seen what I look like, frighteningly accurate) (and it's funny, though I hate to admit it)

5/. I GOT A MENTION IN "SOTTISH ROUND-UP" - a political blog review site!!! (go figure - someone (Andrew Reeves) must have been at the hip flask that day!)

6/. I DISCLOSED TO THE WORLD MY EXPERIENCE WITH MI5!!! (true story, by the way.)

(read the blue sign behind, too!)

7/. I INTRODUCED THE WORLD TO WHERE I LIVE (Trumpton, Trumptonshire, Scottish Borders, UK (please don't send cheques for large sums/parcels to this address before 10am))

8/. I EXPOSED THE FACT THAT ALIENS (or possibly teenage guys, whatever...) are using Ice Cream Vans for dubious purposes...IN TRUMPTON!!!

(I'll have whatever they're drinking)

9/. MY NEW ~~INNOCENT BYSTANDERS~~ FRIENDS Cheeseman, Kelly and Klahanie ALL put "Life In a Scots Sitting Room" ON THEIR BLOG ROLLS! (Aw, I'm touched, you guys! (- but don't worry, I'm not gonna press charges))

10/. I FIGURED OUT HOW TO PUT A DONATE BUTTON ON MY BLOG. Did you see it? I'm starting an experiment to see how many times it needs to be clicked before the paint wears off....... THAT'S A HINT GUYS! (no link here - you're meant to be looking for the donate button (under my profile pic, right hand side) and getting out your credit cards.)

*********************************************

Not making it to the Top Ten list, but also worth a mention, I think, is my attempt at a "Top Gear" style post. And the three posts I wrote to get rid of some built-up puns (which can turn nasty if left untreated). See them here, here, and here.

And so to...........

Coming Soon.....(well, soon-ish, anyway) (or, My Big "To Do Next" list!)

I still haven't worked out how to do the accent-y things on French words, even though I've been given very good and precise instructions from Stewart (my technical manager). But I can't seem to get the time [read as: don't really care that much]. I would like to get to grips with German umlauts, as I have hopes of finding a German blogger to argue with at some point in the future, and one needs to be well-equipped to deal with a humorous German (they tend to take humour, especially sarcasm, very seriously in my experience.). I put a link to the Fawlty Towers "Don't mention the War" scene in my post Not Jim, Rudolf, but don't think that it really counts as a pre-emptive strike.

I have figured out that there are things called Meta Tags. I even understand what they're for, and have a rough idea of how they work. I have even found some good sites that give detailed instructions as to how to do these Meta Tags, and have tried my best to follow them. But, either I am totally inept at HTML, or my laptop needs to read some advice too, because I cannot for the life of me get it to work on my blog. Apparently they're pretty crucial, so I should probably do something (more than sitting shaking my head at the screen) about it.

I'm hoping to find it easier to add a Blog Roll on my site, so that I can put up a list of the best blogs I've come across on my travels, so that you good, trusting people can be exposed to more funny/irrelevant stuff (and also some good quality serious blogs), but written by other bloggers, so that you can see it's not just me who writes random, bizarre stuff that wastes not just our time, but you're time as well, when we could all be getting on with real work, or worthy causes, or planning revolts, or whatever it is you people do when you're not reading this blog..... (why would you even want to do anything else - it's all here people!)

I'm also gradually finding my way round the numerous opportunities open to me for sticking adverts up on my site in a hope that you'll buy stuff. I then get a commission on the thousands you spend buying books, music, or whatever, as recommended by me (oh, the power!). That's the theory. The fact is that I keep getting distracted by the stuff I could buy (once I eventually start earning some money fro this blog!). Or review, or recommend, and end up thinking "I'm sure I have that book somewhere. Let me see if I can find it."........ Two hours later, I'll remember that I was actually meant to be researching how to add it into my site. Must try harder on this one and, when I get it sussed, I will be demanding you buy stuff, so that I can earn some pennies (well, you've all managed to ignore the "Donate" button so far, and a girl's gotta live). But I love reading, and already have lots of great books to recommend to you (my lovely, lovely readers who, I'm sure, haven't been deliberately ignoring the "Donate" button, but just hadn't realised I'd added it - correct?).

****************************************

So, that's my "Life In a Scots Sitting Room" 60 day round-up done. I hope that those of you who are regular readers managed to surface from the fuzzy depths of your medication long enough to read it, and enjoy the stroll down memory lane, and those of you who are new readers aren't too traumatised by the trip (mind you, I can hear at least one of you screaming for mercy even as I type).

I'm also hoping that you'll all come back for more (you just won't learn, will you?). Look out for my upcoming posts Not All Quentins are Queer, The Klingons Are Coming, and one where I'll be giving a step-by-step guide in how to get a job as an undercover agent with the CIA (it'll probably have a snappy title, like "How To Get A Job With the CIA As An Undercover Agent", or something similar).

Finally, I have to apologise firstly to the person who Google searched "anthroposophy", found my site in the list, and clicked, only to be led, completely unprepared, to my Not Jim, Rudolf post. We can only send our best wishes for a speedy recovery.

My second apology is to the person who found a link, to the same post, through the "Christmas" listing in an online magazine. They've even put my picture of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in their link to my site. Those of you who have followed to the link I put chose for Rudolf will understand the gravity of the situation, and how distressing it must have been to someone happily getting into the Christmas spirit (waaay tooooo early). Personally, I thought the irony of this was hilarious, and laughed out loud. A lot. It made my day, in fact! So, apologies, but, thanks for the laugh as well!

To the person who asked if I do requests - no, I will not stop.

And I promise not to do another round-up for...oh...uhm.... at least a while.

GOODBYE!

The Edinburgh Festival Fringe, An Alternative View

2010-08-09T05:26:00.000+02:00

This weekend saw the launch of the 64th Edinburgh International Festival. It's the largest festival of the arts in the world...the entire world. Ever.

It's the festival that has launched a thousand comedians, who have gone on to.... hold on just a minute - that's not the Edinburgh Festival, that's the Fringe Festival, isn't it? Or was that the Film Festival, or the Book Festival........Comedy Festival???

The Edinburgh Fringe, the Festival Fringe, the Fringe Festival.... it all becomes a blur very quickly.

Actually, it's one of my pet hates - the fact that, though the profile of "the Festival" has become much higher in the last decade or so, but the majority of people who are not residents of Edinburgh are unaware that it is, in fact, two distinctly separate Festivals.

So I'm going to treat you all to:

"The Edinburgh Festival

My (Massively Oversimplified) Version of it's History".

A typical Edinburgh skyline during the Festival!

The Edinburgh Festival began in 1947. Everybody seems to agree on that. It was conceived as a way to promote visitors to Edinburgh, and was very snobby and posh, compiled of the "high", or classical arts (ballet, orchestra, opera, stuff like that), and was aimed at the upper classes who had the dosh to pay for expensive tickets. Fair enough.

Edinburgh International Festival - link to official site

But then some smaller theatre groups wanted in. They wanted to perform for ordinary people (What?), and sell tickets at a price that was affordable to ordinary people (What, What?), so that ordinary people could also experience the arts (What? Why?), maybe even perform the arts (WHAT?). The Festival people didn't like the idea of the great unwashed being involved in The Arts, it was an enclave exclusive to the Upper Class.

The renegade Fringe organisers (Socialists, by the sound of it!), at first tried to reason with the Festival, tried to make them see sense and include art that everybody could enjoy. But the snobs were having none of it. So, in true Scottish style, the Fringers said "Okay, stuff yer Festival - we'll start our own!". And they did.

Fringe Trailer (this year's Official promo video)

They started The Fringe as an alternative festival to the Festival. A place where all the shows that weren't highbrow enough for The Festival were welcome. A festival that was affordable to all. And the ruffians all pilled in with glee!

It depends on who you ask as to what version of the above events you'll hear. I've seen a lot of websites saying that the Fringe began a year after the Festival. That didn't sound quite right to me, it doesn't tally with either the folklore or the feeling of what I've grown up knowing the Festival and Fringe to be. Having been born and raised in Edinburgh, and having had some very personal experience of the Festival and the Fringe at the coalface, I believe I have enough first-hand experience to know of what I speak (or should it be "write"? whatever...), anyway, I'm not quite old enough to have been around to witness the origins of the Festival and Fringe. So I consulted my mum (also born and raised in Edinburgh) who is, and she said that this site offers the most accurate information of how the fringe came about.

My generation might not have been around for the start of the Fringe, but we sure enjoyed it when the Fringe got bigger, and bigger, and was eventually almost threatening to swallow the Festival whole! My memories are that the two festivals, having opposing views on the whole idea of what art is about and who it should be available to, were openly hostile to each other. It was great fun watching the two battling it out, especially when I was a teenager.

The Udderbelly - link to official site

As a child, I never dreamed of going to a performance at the Festival - it was far too expensive and far too dull. (Although my amazing Gran took me to The Edinburgh Military Tattoo, which was a fantastic, if cold, spectacle!). Walking through the centre of town on my way home from school, you could tell whether the visitors were there for the Festival or for the Fringe simply by the way they were dressed. It was the Fringe for us all the way. Fun shows - FREE shows! It was brilliant! I fondly remember going to the Wireworks Playground (an free, open air venue at the top of the Royal Mile) to see a band called "Pookiesnackenburger" who were mad, and fabulous! A few years later, I saw the original members, plus some new, exciting talent (!), during their debut performance as "Stomp!" at the Assembly Rooms. They were amazing (and if you don't know who I'm talking about, you're either dead, or living a very backwater life!)!

Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo - link to official site

In the past decade or so, the two festivals have been behaving a lot better with each other, as an inevitable result of finding mutual benefit in cooperation, rather than opposition, in the race to catch the all mighty dollar. The result is that it's a bit less exciting for insiders and residents alike, who enjoyed the antics of the two organisations as each year they battled it to outdo each other and garner more publicity/cash.

But it's still a lot of fun, as long as you don't actually live in Edinburgh or, if you do, as long as you don't need to get anywhere in a hurry, at any time during what amounts to the occupation of Edinburgh at Festival time (three long weeks!).

If you haven't been to Edinburgh during the Festival, you can have no comprehension of the sheer scale of it, or how that affects the resident population. The whole of the centre of Edinburgh comes to a virtual standstill as it becomes a giant street party for three weeks or so.

My most extreme experience of this was when I lived in a flat at the top of the Royal Mile (the very heart of the town), just beside Edinburgh Castle (where the Military Tattoo is held during the Festival), and was working as a technician in the King's Theatre for evening performances of a Festival show (don't even remember what show it was - all a blur!), and then going along to do a 10.30pm - 7am shift on the bar at The Gilded Balloon (the first ever Fringe venue dedicated to comedy) - in it's first year of operation.

The Royal Mile on a sunny day, NOT during the festival.

The same spot DURING the Festival!

I used to open the front door at the foot of the stairs to my flat, and immediately have to "s'cuse" my way through the several thousand people waiting to get in to see the Tattoo. Then ten minute walk to the King's Theatre became 40 minutes, as I again fought my way through the hoards of tourists milling about whilst they decided what to do next. After my work at the King's was over, I'd have to make it to the Gilded Balloon (picking up a chippie or baked potato for my tea en route) in 10 minutes, an easy task under normal circumstances, but, after having to wait an extra 15 minutes in the extra long queue for my food, negotiating my way (using elbows) through even more members of the dear public (a.k.a. idiots who have no concept of even the existence of other people, let alone the fact that they might be needing to get past YOUR FAT BEHIND BLOCKING THE MIDDLE OF THE PAVEMENT)............. can you guess what happens next, readers?....that's right, I EXPLODE! B-NAG!

Walking through the streets, buying something in a shop, getting a bus, all simple, quick actions ordinarily, which become major operations requiring vast amounts of time, planning, and patience, during the Festival.

Head in a Bucket Man - a regular at the Festival

This is why Edinburgh folk complain about it, not because they don't like, or enjoy it, as such, but because ordinary life for the inhabitants of the town becomes virtually impossible.

I'm always extra happy and smug to be living in Trumpton when it's Festival time.

I'm still hugely enthusiastic about "the Festival" and it's many advantages. Although I live in the Scottish Borders, I'll always be from Edinburgh, and am tremendously proud of the city.

I am also very proud of "the Festival", and for it's reputation for excellence on the worldwide stage, for introducing and showcasing new talent in every sphere of the classical arts and the alternative/accessible (what's the opposite of the classical arts?-) /non-classical arts!

I love the fact that it's growed and growed to encompass a Comedy Festival, Film Festival, Book Festival, Jazz & Blues Festival, the Free Fringe,......I could go on and on (what do you mean "You already have"?). Here's a site that lists them all.

I also love the fact that it showcases Edinburgh, a beautiful city nicknamed "The Athens of the North" as a compliment to it's numerous examples of stunning classical architecture.

I also love what it does for the Scottish economy, particularly when the news this year is that, rather from suffering from the effects of the financial recession, this year's Festival is more popular than ever for the performer and tourist pound alike.

Mostly I love the Festival because it's pretty much the biggest, and longest, party in the world! Ever! (all volumes!)

But I've been very happily avoiding Edinburgh during the Festival for several years now.

Last night I discovered that my mate, Karen (who is originally from Birmingham), has never been to the Edinburgh Festival. Tomorrow is her day off. She doesn't know Edinburgh that well. *sigh*. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow?..............!

Annywaaay, I'll leave you with my poem wot I wrote about the Festival.

Festival Time Again

Come to Edinburgh

Battle through groups

Of Mediterranean tans

And perfect teeth

Who dominate the pavements

With the confidence of ownership

Come to Edinburgh

See the first ever

Festival of Scaffolding

Which can be viewed

Cleverly displayed around

The cities primary monuments

Come to Edinburgh

Take your pick

Of deep and meaningless shows

Or works of genius

And try working out

Which is which

Come to Edinburgh

Experience sleeping on

The floorboards of

Beautifully architectured buildings

The surrealistic emotions

Of a tinned sardine

What a great

For

The Highlands!

Feelgood Friday #4

2010-08-06T02:07:00.000+02:00

Greetings readers! Welcome to Friday!

This week I've been thoroughly entertained by a fellow blogger Kelly's post Lightening Strikes Big Butter Jesus. Oh how I laughed!

I recommend that, after reading this, leaving a comment about how pithy and controversial my chosen cartoon is, signing-up as a follower (if you haven't done so already), you high tail it over to Kelly's site Psycho Carnival to get you set-up for the weekend.

This cartoon is in his honour! (even though I've just this minute discovered that he's only GOING ON A CRUISE TO THE BAHAMAS, DAMMIT! - THAT'S NOT FUNNY!)

HAVE A FUN WEEKEND!

Not Jim, Rudolf!

2010-08-04T17:01:00.000+02:00

Hello readers! Today I am presenting you with a homage of a tribute!

This post is in homage to Cheezewhizz's post Really Jim? , in which the Cheeseman pays tribute to all those (male and female alike, presumably) who have been christened Jim (or who were christened James, but who get called "Jim" - whatever, don't care, bored now).

I've decided to title this homage "Really, Rudolf?"

So, without further ado, here is my list of Rudolf's, known and unknown, liked or not liked and, in one instance, tried in international court for War Crimes (can you guess which one?).

Really, Rudolf?

Rudolf Nureyev

Arguably the best male dancer of all time.
Defected from the Soviet Union, despite KGB efforts to stop him.

Click here for bonus link (go on - you'll enjoy it!).

Rudolf Steiner

Philosopher, founder of the Steiner/Waldorf education system,
and pioneer of Anthroposophy (which is a very difficult word to say) .

Click here for bonus link.

Rudolf Hess

Adolf Hitler's BFF.

(Apprehended in Scotland, by the way.)

Click here for bonus link.

Rudolf Diesel

Inventor of the Diesel Engine, which he originally designed to

run on Bio fuel. Like Henry Ford (who designed his

Ford cars to be made from hemp, and run on hemp fuel),

Diesel was one of the foremost proponents of what we would now

call "the Green Movement" in the early 20th century.

How ironic, huh?

(watch an good vid about it here).

Click here for bonus link.

Rudolph Valentino

God of the Silver Screen.
The very first ever Sex Symbol produced by the movie industry

Click here for bonus link.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Santa's No9 reindeer.
(wot? - too early or too tenuous?)

Click here for surprise link (WARNING it's a bit cruel!).

And so folks, that brings my homage to a tribute to a close!

I hope you enjoyed it, and will look out for the next in this series "Not all Quentins are Queer".

And remember folks - Imitation is the most sincere form of Flattery!

Material Girl

2010-08-03T16:36:00.000+02:00

Not all that long ago, someone told me that they were "not a materialistic person". This statement set-off a discussion in my head (I'm a Gemini, and we often have discussions, and arguments with ourselves, in our heads. And yes, I'm fully aware that there are prescription medicines that would prevent this happening!!!).

I know that I'm not a materialistic person, as a rule. Not in a "materialistic things matter" way.

I was brought up at home and at school to value people far, far more highly than things. I went to a "progressive" school, where the pupils shunned the whole notion of fashion and followers of fashion. The trend at my school was, ironically, to go against the trend. You weren't "in" if you didn't express yourself as an individual (yes, I am fully aware that this is an oxymoron type thing!). The students who accomplished this feat best became the vanguards of their class year. We usually saw "fashions" that had begun in our school hit the streets about two years after they had reached their peak within our school peer group.

I wasn't one of "the vanguard".

I was, on the whole, crap with fashions, (that was before I realised that I didn't actually care about Fashion anyway!).

But materialism isn't just about keeping up with the Jones's, or spending lots of cash on designer labels, expensive cars and big houses. It's about coveting "things". And, though I hate to admit it (that's a lie - I don't mind at all really!), there are one or two things I've come across in my life that I would love to have in my possession, or rather, in my keeping, as I believe you can't actually "own" something, only have it around for as long as your around. Then it goes on to someone/somewhere else.

At the moment, there are two things on my "List of Things I Covet".

The most recent addition is a life size Lego castle, inspired by an advert where I thought I saw one, but it turned out not to be. But I liked the idea so much, I clung to it.

I saw the advert when I was with my mate, Karen, while we were watching her TV.

On seeing the advert (and what I thought was a life size Lego castle that turned out not be that, but something else), I blurted out "Wow! A castle made of giant Lego! Cool! I'd love one of those!".

When Karen looked at me in astonishment (she does that quite a lot, actually), and asked "What the hell would you do with a life size Lego castle?", I made the mistake of blurting out - "Why, I'd keep my giant red sequined stiletto shoe in it, of course!" (I mean, Duh!).

She gave me another look, one which hinted at her thoughts of 'phoning for someone, anyone (preferably someone with access to tranquilisers), immediately.

I realised that, once again, I'd stupidly landed myself in a situation where an explanation was required (unless I wanted to go back to that nice, comfy room, wearing the nice, tight jacket with the long sleeves that buckle around the back).

So, I explained.

I few years ago, during the time I was the Technician at the Trumpton Theatre and Arts Centre, we were the host venue for a touring show by the Catherine Wheels Theatre Company. The show was called "Cinderella's Sisters" (brilliantly funny show, by the way). It was not unusual to have a touring show come round, we were a theatre after all, so this generally happened at least three or four times a week (not including music gigs). And these shows generally had scenery with them. And, now and again, whatever scenery was brought was of a fantastical, rather than realistic nature.

This was not at all an unusual state of affairs in the world of theatre. I had worked on hundreds of shows that had clever or unusual stage sets and scenery. Some of it was amazing in concept, some of the set pieces did clever things, or were set up as "tricks" for special effects. Some of them were just fabulous to look at. I had admired a great many of these pieces, either for their style, design, or function. I then worked with them, finished the show, and did the get out, knowing that I'd never see these pieces again. It never bothered me. Why should it?

But, for the finale, this show had a GIANT RED SEQUINED LADIES STILETTO SHOE, in which Cinderella sat whilst singing her finale song at the end of the show, when good has triumphed over evil, the baddies had been found out and had dutifully got what they deserved, the goodies got their just rewards, and they are just about to go on to all living happily ever after, blah blah blah etc.

This is what the object of my desire looks like (sort of).

I still can't figure out why, but from the very moment I helped unload this giant red sequined stiletto from the truck in which it had been transported with the rest of the set, I fell in love with it.

My one is slightly bigger than this one in real life (my one hasn't got an engine, though)
(read the story behind this picture here.)

That was five years ago, and I still dream about it.

Maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of it that appealed to me. Or how useless an item it would become if removed from it's natural setting on the stage, and brought into the harsh light of the real world.

Maybe it was because it symbolised something that encapsulates the glamour and fantasy of the theatre.

Maybe, when I watched the show, and saw Cinderella sitting in the shoe, singing her sweet finale song now that she knew a lifetime of happiness lay before her since she had met her Prince Charming, maybe a little magic dust got in my eye because, as the sequins on the red shoe sparkled under the stage lights, I swear somehow my scar-tissued, cynical heart melted just enough to let me believe that fairy tales could come true, if you were a good person who was willing to work at it.

Maybe, just maybe, it could happen to me.

On the other hand, maybe I just have a bizarre and utterly inappropriate sense of decor!

If it was a piece of art, no-one would bat an eyelid at a giant, red sequined stiletto shoe sitting in the middle of the room.

As long as it was a BIG room (my house is smaller than a chocolate box - no, really).

BRING ON THE LIFE SIZE LEGO CASTLE!

And this, my dear readers, is where I believe we came in!

(See, it actually does all make sense if you stick with it!)

The End!

The Phantom Ice Cream Van

2010-08-02T17:15:00.000+02:00

There's a mystery afoot in Trumpton. To be fair, there usually is some kind of mystery going on in Trumpton, but it's generally resolved within a day or two. This mystery has been going on for several years now. It's very, how to describe it............ mysterious!

It first began when I lived in my last flat. It was a lovely flat, with a very helpful kitchen, unlike the kitchen I have now (see Tablet Trials post).

Now readers, there are several hills around the town of Trumpton, and my old flat was on the incline of one of them. To the front, I had a lovely view from my living room window of the spectacular hills to the South of Trumpton. At the rear of the flat, I had spectacular views of the hills to the North of Trumpton, from my spare bedroom and kitchen windows. This is important, readers, as it was when I was in my spare bedroom (looking to the North as described) that I first heard an eeeeerie sound, carried gently on the early evening breeze, and floating in through my window.

Hear brilliant pipes and drums here.

At first, the sound was coming and going with the direction of the wind (no comments please, Kizzmyartz!), but gradually it was becoming clearer. It was, it was, it was..........

The unmistakable skirl of the bagpipes!

Okay, so I live in Scotland, so maybe this wasn't quite as unusual as it may be in other locations. But it's not often you actually hear a piper practising. Well, having been born and raised in Edinburgh, where it's a city, rather than a town, and bagpipe practising would generally be done in school music rooms, or community halls, it was more that I wasn't used to hearing a piper practice. In the Scottish Borders, where Silver Bands and Pipe Bands are far more active and popular, it's therefor more common to hear someone practising in their bedroom with the window open.

I later tracked-down where, and who, the piping came from. But this was a couple of years later.

Mystery solved, you say. In fact, what exactly was the mystery, you say. Aha! I say THAT was NOT The Mystery of which I speak here!

The Mystery of which I write is actually.............The Mystery of The Phantom Ice Cream Van!!!

DA da DAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!...... (you lot gasp at this point, btw)!

Through the same window, I also heard, on more than one occasion, the joyous sound which every person of my age grown-up in Britain associates with summer time.......the sweet tinkle of the Ice Cream Van music heralding the approach of delights beyond wonder for a child in summer (that was when we used to have summers).

Single cones, double cones, 99's, sliders, black men, oysters, tubs.

Ice lollies, sweets, lemonade, cream soda (specifically used for ice-cream floats), Irn Bru (Scotland's National Drink), fags for (generally male) adults. And chocolate.

Click here for music link!

I thought I had discovered an ice cream van route in Trumpton! WooHoo!

But I hadn't.

And still haven't.

And I've now heard the tinkling bloody ice cream van music ALL OVER THE TOWN!

But I've never actually caught-up with where the van is parked.

Or even seen the van. Parked or otherwise.

It's like it's taunting me.

I once heard the music come on BEHIND ME - JUST AFTER IT HAD TURNED THE CORNER AND WAS OUT OF VIEW.

I have met other people who have heard the Ice Cream Van lots of times......but who have NEVER SEEN IT! They only realised this fact when I asked them if they had witnessed the existence of said Ice Cream van with their own eyes? The answer was inevitably "No". A puzzled frown would then cross the persons face, as they, too, realised how VERY ODD this was. Especially as we live in Trumpton - which, I think I've mentioned, is a VERY SMALL TOWN.

I once met a couple who said they'd seen it, and actually knew what route it took. But I don't believe they were reliable witnesses, as the route they described would have taken it past my mum's house and, in nearly eight years of living in that house, and eight years of me visiting NEITHER MY MUM NOR I HAVE EVER SEEN THE ICE CREAM VAN PASS BY HER HOUSE!

Considering this situation carefully over many frustrating years has led me to believe that there are only four possible reasons for me, and countless others, having heard the van, but never having seen it.

My conclusions are as follows:

1/. The Phantom Ice Cream Van is exactly that - A PHANTOM! We've all heard of ghosts a.k.a. phantoms, right? You'll probably also have heard of phantom cars, that only appear on a certain stretch of road, or phantom trains, phantom ships, phantom aeroplanes. Think about it, and you'll remember having heard phantom versions of most of these vehicles. So why not a phantom ice cream van? Driven by a Mr Whippy who was very dedicated, perhaps. Or who never got to serve up that last, perfect '99 to the kid who had been dreaming of it for hours in the midday sun, waiting for the music to herald an end to his torture, arriving with the answer to his prayers? Why not?

2/. That Extra-terrestrials are not going to arrive - THEY'RE ALREADY HERE! Scouting out our security systems, putting in surveillance wherever they fancy, and doing it UNDERCOVER in the guise of an ICE CRAM VAN! Makes a lot of sense to me. Lots of space in the back for equipment/tentacles etc., useful. Discrete appearance - adults generally only notice ice cream vans when they have a child at their side who is SCREAMING FOR AN ICE CREAM! And just look at how many people in Trumpton have heard this van, but never seen it, and didn't even notice that they had never seen it! It's the perfect cover to gather loads of info. And who's to say that they aren't doing some kind of "alien running", smuggling other aliens here to settle in the beautiful and numerous hills round about Trumpton (they would have previously hollowed-out these hills and kitted them with big tanks, or laid giant eggs, or whatever was required for them to survive in Earth's atmosphere, obviously).

What would they look like???

See what I did there?

3/. That it's not extra-terrestrials, but survivors from the Lost City of Atlantis, who have commandeered this ice cream van (and possibly thousands of others across Britain, Europe, Earth) in order to organise they're baddie power trip comeback! How else can you explain the lyrics to KLF (feat. Tammy Wynette) track Justified and Ancient , which include not only an ice cream van in the graphics, but the line.... "and they drive an ice cream van"..... in the second verse? (Read the lyrics here, and an short video explanation of them here.) Don't try to tell me there's nothing going on here!

They're all bound for Mu Mu land, apparently.

4/. My fourth suggested answer is that the ice Cream Van DOESN'T EVEN EXIST - AND NEVER HAS! That it's just a couple of teenage guys in one of their mum's cars, tootling around Trumpton with a ghetto blaster playing ice cream van music out of the car windows specifically to taunt young children and, albeit inadvertently, me! In truth, I think that this is the most likely scenario. But if it is - it's bloody genius! Way to go, guys! What an imaginative, original and downright inspired way to annoy young kids. Excellent!

And if it isn't scenario number four, then it should be, 'cos it would be such a shame to waste an idea that shines with as much brilliance, yet simplicity as this one.

So, if you're a young person who can drive, or if you have friends who can drive, and who is bored this summer, download yourself some ice cream van music, pick up your preferred method of amplification, and GET OUT THERE! Annoy some younger kids WHILE YOU CAN STILL GET AWAY WITH IT - before you are submitted to being a fully-fledged adult, and have less of an excuse to do really stupid, but fun, things! This advice is coming to you from an individual who has been counted as a responsible adult for an embarrassing number of years (against protest, let me assure you, but they never listen). And I tell you, when you don't hold a driving license, the older you get, the harder it is to find other, so called, adults who think that this would be an excellent way to spend an evening, rather than thinking it a waste of time and energy when "you should know better at your age" (apparently). Booo. There goes MY free summer entertainment.

GO ON! GET OUT THERE! DO IT!*

And if only one young person goes and does this, by themselves, or with company, then I will count myself as happy to have made a small, yet possibly significant, difference to someones life this summer!

It melted !

*The author of this blogs absolves herself of ANY RESPONSIBILITY resulting from any court cases or legal actions arising from any person, or persons, unknown, following this advice (so, if you do it, you CAN'T USE ME AS YOUR DEFENCE, okay? You're on your own!).

If you don't drive, don't have any friends, and/or are bored, here are some other ice cream van links for you:

Creepiest ice cream van ever!

Lamest ice cream van!

Ice cream van dance!

Someone who was a bit too keen for an ice cream......

The Ice Cream van Orchestra!

And, last but not least, the Top Gear take on the beloved British ice cream van!

Top Gear

2010-07-30T19:17:00.000+02:00

My blog production team and I had a brainstorming meeting today. When I say a brainstorming meeting, I mean video conference interlink, of course, as I was in my penthouse suite (as per usual), my contributing editor, Kizzmyartz, is permanently located in the Nether Regions (phnar! as LL would say!), and my technical consultant, Stewart, is off having fun in a villa in France which was once owned by The Rolling Stones (I'm so jealous - *sob*!). So we hyper-linked. Inter-netted.

Kizzmyartz ( the artist formerly known as Alistair - see his many insightful and wide-ranging editorials in the comments section beneath, well, most of my posts actually), came up with the idea that I should bring some variety into my blog posts. Taking his advice (he is a vocational trainer of international repute, after all (alarming, but true)), I wondered what other topics I could blog about. Stewart, as technical consultant, suggested I could try something more, well, technical.

Something technical, eh? Interesting. Then I got it! I would look to one of my all time favourite TV shows for inspiration.

It's the coolest.....
It's the funniest......
It's the craziest.....

Top Gear.

The Top Gear team are meant to be reviewing all things car, and car related.

But they are all British and, therefor, mad. In fact, look in the dictionary under "mad" and this is what you will find. Or this. Or this.

Sometimes they actually review cars. Or get famous people to test drive them.

But mostly they just try to think of new ways to insult people. Especially the Germans (you can begin to see why TG appeals to me).

Being a professionally qualified theatre stage technician/pyrotechnic (you better believe it baby!), I have always envied the Top Gear technical crew. The laughs they must have! Their risk assessments must read like an insurance brokers worst nightmare!

But I don't actually know anything about cars. Absolutely nothing.

To a lesser blogger, this might have been a problem. Not to me!

"Okay", I said to my team "Let's DO IT!"

SFX: Jeremy Clarkson voice over "And they did!"

The set-up was that Stewart, Kizzmyartz and I would each choose a vehicle, of any description, without knowing what challenges we would have to use them for, and meet up at a pre-arranged starting point.

We were to meet at an auto repair shop in Phoenix, Arizona, in America (it's on expenses, after all!).

[*screen goes to black*]

SFX: "Paris, Texas" fade-up as screen brightens

The day dawned bright, and we see a long-shot of the dusty forecourt of a Phoenix auto repair shop.

Taking on the mantle of the Hamster, I had been relatively sensible, and had decided to wait until I got there, and then buy a car.... That way, I'd be more likely to find something that the locals would buy and, therefor, most likely to be able to withstand whatever the task was! A-ha - it was a cunning plan you see (or so I thought)!

Sneakily, I had already googled Phoeniz auto repairs and read what the blurb said. It talked about dry, dusty air and hot temperatures that can adversely affect your vehicle and its drivability (drivability? is that a word now?), and how insufficient cooling can make the engine overheat, or cut out, and how it is imperative to have optimum cooling system functionality in desert areas. I was slightly nervous on reading this information, I must admit. Just a tad. Having an engine seize in the desert seemed to be something best avoided. But I had my cunning plan, so all was going to be well.

So, I arrived at the garage to choose my vehicle.

The Garage

I was a little disappointed with the lack of choice of cars, but they told me they had a British ford escort in stock. "Great!" I thought "A good old, trusty British car - that'll do me, thank you very much!".

Until I saw it:

My Ford Escort

It would probably need a little work before we set off, - a few bits and pieces, just to tart it up, furry dice maybe? Possibly even buy a water pump, so that the engine wouldn't seize-up in the dry, dry Texan desert?

As he was taking time out from his holiday in a luxury villa in France, Stewart decided to keep to the French theme, and arrived in something originally intended for French peasants:

Stewart's Peasant Vehicle

He had also chosen to wear matching outfit:

I was pondering upon just how many ways this was wrong, when Kizzmyartz arrived, in what he described as his new, ride-on ground engaging vehicle (for the weekend warrior), which he had, coincidentally, purchased ~~after reading about it in my blog~~ only a few days earlier. It looked like this:

Kizzmyartz's "Ground Engaging Vehicle"

I told him that he'd been ripped-off, THAT was NEVER a ride-on lawn mower! Hahahaha!

This was obviously news to him, judging by the shocked and hurt expression on his face.

But he seemed to be quite attached to it, and had also got a matching outfit (online, from the same guy who sold him the Korean tank , why wasn't I surprised!).

Without making any sudden movements, I began quietly moving away from Kizzmyartz.

But it was too late.

Already upset at discovering that his vehicle wasn't a ride-on lawn mower, he was getting increasingly agitated at Stewart and I who were, by this time, convulsed with laughter, doubled over, tears streaming down our faces.

We should have taken more notice.

We should probably have stopped laughing. Probably.

But we didn't, and didn't....

We didn't even notice when Kizzmyartz removed his bearskin headgear and got into his tank.

And started the engine.....

Before slowly moving forward, and CRUSHING MY BELOVED FORD ESCORT AND STEWART'S CITREON DYAN IN THE PROCESS!

WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!................

By the time he had finished, there was nothing to suggest that our cars had ever been anything other than bits of very flat, random orange and green scrap metal. And when I say flat, I mean flat. Flatter than a flat thing which has lived all it's life in Flatville.

Meanwhile, Kizzmyartz, still in his tank, had carried on, crush-happy and presumably intent on wrecking destruction for at least a wee while longer. Destroying our cars appeared to have had a therapeutic effect on him, as we could just make out the sound him humming to himself over the strains of the tank engine.

Unfortunately for any vehicles in his path, the tune he was blithely humming was (SFX) Ride of the Valkyries.

Ho Hum.....

Stewart and I returned to our motel bedrooms, not quite sure what to do next.

Laying-low was probably a good idea, at least until the National Guard had caught-up with Kizzmyartz.

Reflecting upon the events of the last few hours, we realised that we had completely failed in our mission to pay homage to Top Gear, as we hadn't completed the course of challenges given us by our backroom production team.

In fact, we hadn't even started the first task!

Feeling thoroughly chastened at the prospect of returning home to explain ourselves to the production team who were no doubt eagerly anticipating footage of wild hilarity and exciting car races, we decided that this was another good reason to stay put and hide. At least for the time being.

With nothing else to do, we turned on the TV, and couldn't believe our eyes at what had just come on:

THIS!

Oh, the irony (and neither of us could remember if Kizzmyartz had a gun turret on his tank).

So, I thoroughly failed in my attempt to write a technical post.

I did learn a little bit about cars, though (eg. they crush quite easily, especially the Dyan).

But it has given me an idea for a post.....

Set in Monaco.......

Formula 1 racing venue......

My all time favourite Formula 1 racing circuit.....

Hmmmmm.........?

Feelgood Friday #3

2010-07-30T03:53:00.000+02:00

Is anyone else wondering where last week went? Actually, where did the whole of July go? Just as I was getting into it!

I'd like to take this opportunity (where I'm not writing anything, 'cos it's a visual joke only day), to welcome new readers and followers (it's also a perfect chance to annoy Cheese Puff by rubbing it in, hehe!), especially those joining us from Face book, and those of you from Yahoo! who are bored - you know who you are!

Hey Dudes, have a good weekend! Abide!

P.S. "Bored" readers - I know this is a short post, so I recommend you visit Quasi's Mojo for loads of funny pics, and Divaprincez for Hollywood gossip (she actually lives there and takes lots of the pics herself - I've decided I'm famous by association 'cos she follows me!)

P.P.S. Hi Nextbest, thanks for best answer vote, hope you stay with us!

Big Cheese Update...

2010-07-29T04:03:00.000+02:00

Long-term readers (eg. more than two weeks!) will recall my post Mr Cheese, where I outlined how a blog feud began between Cheeseman and I. Cheeseman draws humor cartoons (an example of his visual wit here (click on cartoon to read what it says, btw)) - I write funny. Cheesman is Anamerican. I'm a Scot/Brit (at least, for the purposes of a feud with a Yank, even though it looks like I'm a rail company).

The last I reported to you, my loyal fan base, he was running away to hide from my ~~mom~~ mum.

But Cheeseman is back!

Well, when I say back, I actually mean that I wandered over to his blog, just to be ~~nosey~~ friendly and, dammit, he will persist in being funny. Even his partner (can't find where to do the French accent things for "fiancee" yet), Christine, is funny - and can do funny cartoons.

He's even funny about Jim. Dammit.

As Vic & Bob would have it "He wouldn't let it LIE."

Then, when I saw his most recent post, about a certain Lord Likely's blog, I had to immediately ignore the fact that Cheeseman was, in fact, minding his own business and not insulting me! How verrrry dare he? - I KNEW I HAD TO TAKE THIS PERFECTLY INNOCENT POST AS A MAJOR INSULT OF NATIONAL IMPORTANCE - AND RETALIATE!!!

~~Jealous that Cheeseman had discovered this blog before I had~~ I did what any decent, upstanding citizen of her Majesty's Great Empire would do - I marched straight over to Lord Likely's very Victorian, very funny site*, and claimed Lord Likely as my uncle (see the comment I made in disguise as Lady Brassington Gonad, entered (phnar,phnar!) under Lord Likely's Literary Love Pump). A-Ha! Take that, you scoundrel!

I also alerted Lord Likely to the fact that he was fraternising with....gasp!...a Colonial! It's just NOT DONE, don'tchyewknow?

Depending on how the situation develops, and what (if any) reactions I receive from either Cheeseman or Lord Likely, I may have a guest blog written by Lady Brassington Gonad appearing soon, or I may ~~begin~~ find myself in an entirely new blog feud with an English ~~Sassenach~~ Victorian aristocratic playboy whose sexual proclivities (ooooo! spell checker's gonna be busy by the end of this!) are Internationally renowned and reported in all the right nooks and crannies (phnar,phnar!)!

*NB: WARNING - LL's site contains material of a sexually explicit nature, but also some very long words, so some readers may become excited, confused, or both at once, and may have to resort to dictionaries, or reading material of an entirely different kind, when perusing him!

Watch this space! (Ark, ark!)

"It's humour Jim, but not as we know it!"

PS.Hi April, thanks for the best answer vote and for joining us - abide!

Oooo-ehr Mr Mayor!

2010-07-28T04:09:00.000+02:00

Dear readers, do you remember a previous post, Freaky Trees, where I lamented the fact that here was a news story where not one of the reports had seized the perfect chance to make puns all the way through their story? Well, here's another one (this might well become a regular feature!). This time it's about a mayor who managed to let his trousers fall down during a visit to a local library (it's true).

I was almost moved to tears by the utter lack of puns in any of the (three) reports I read.

The Telegraph, the Daily Mail and thisisleceistershirestressrs all missed this golden opportunity to have a laugh at this ~~idiot's~~ poor man's ~~stupidity~~ unfortunate oversight.

In the interests of nothing in particular, here's my version of the story:

Mr Mayor Brought To Book

An unfortunate incident in a public library has left the Mayor of Leicester with red cheeks, after his trousers fell down in full view of the youngsters who had specially gathered for his official visit.

The Mayor, clearly embarrassed, was left without a leg to stand on, while his audience tried not to crease themselves laughing. Mr Mayor who, up until this point had thought he had the audience in his pocket, decided to crack on with his speech. Unfortunately for him, the audience of children were in stitches. Telling them to "Belt up" didn't have any effect, so he tried telling them a story which, he had hoped, would keep them in suspenders long enough for him to regain control of the situation.

Seams like this didn't work either though.

By this time, a brace of Trumpton reporters had heard about the incident, and were asking Mr Mayor to enlarge. Mr Mayor wisely declined to comment, deciding instead to keep it zipped. No flies on him then! He hemmed and hawed for a moment and then, realising he was in a tight fix, he legged it. Through a rear exit. No one tried to tackle him, preferring instead to partake in the light snack of meat and two veg prepared specially for the event.

Local resident, Bod, commented "I don't know Y he forgot his belt, but it was clear to everyone that he got his knickers in a twist. But he did the wise thing and kept buttoned up."

When asked what advice he would give the embarrassed Mr Mayor, Bod replied "He shouldn't let this b***s up [unfortunate incident] get him down. He just needs to keep his pecker up and maybe drown his sorrows with a drink or two. That should jockey him up a bit.

Bottoms up!"

Ok guys, your turn - what puns did I miss?

Answer in the comments box provided please!

Heidelberg Electric Belt

P.S.Thanks for the best answer vote, Flamingo, enjoy!

My Ride-On Fantasy!

2010-07-27T05:47:00.000+02:00

My imaginary boyfriend and I were today bemoaning the state of our incredibly overgrown lawn. After much imaginary discussion (in my head), we decided that the thing to do would be to employ an imaginary Groundskeeper, who could research possible solutions for us.

It didn't take long before Im.B/f and Im.G/m were off searching the Internet for lawn mowers. Why wasn't I surprised? Boys and their toys - hhrrumph!

Little did I realise the repercussions that this imaginary situation would bring.........

I had decided that this post would be in my "Lady of the Manor" author's voice. It was going to be great! - so laden with irony! (but I may step back into it, so I won't spoil the end...)

But then I went to surf for lawnmowers (my research is nothing if not thorough), and everything went pear shaped.

I Googled "lawn mowers", and then got a bit carried away.

I found it - the Ariens lawn mower page, and immediately my attention was caught by THIS model.... and quickly I realised I HAD TO HAVE ONE!!!

The style, the grace.... not only that, but the sheer poetry of the description! This was a ride-on lawn mower. And this was no ordinary ride-on mower... This was an "Ariens 25hp, 54 in. cutting deck tractor" and was "for the ultimate weekend warrior." The ultimate weekend warrior! MeMeMeMeMe! I WANT one! I NEED one! They had me by the end of the sentence (ouch! nasty!), but there was more....."This ground engaging unit is ideal for large lots and four-season use, and is powered by a professional-grade Kohler Courage V-Twin engine." Superb! Not only that, but it has "a tight 16" turning circle" Phwor - I'm sweating just thinking about it! As Tim Allen (Tool Time, Home Improvement, for those of you who are either too young, too halfhearted a fan, or who have had a complete humor bypass) would say "I. WANT. MORE. POWER! WOGH WOGH!". If Carlsberg was a ground engaging unit, this is the ground engaging unit it would be.

Tim Allen

AND it had "Free blades ..... for life"!. Mind you, at a cool $1,784, free blades has a negligible excitement factor, I mean, really.

Anyway, limiting myself to (virtually) loading only one of these beauties in my shopping trolley (well, it's not like I'd have to put it back, is it?), I returned to the listings page, where the "most popular listings" box caught my attention. Reading down the list, I saw "Bullfrog protector". Bullfrog protector - huh? What was that? An eco-friendly garden fence for wildlife lovers who wanted to save their little cold-skinned friends, possibly? Nope, it was a slightly misleading search term someone had used. It was actually Bullfrog Sunblock. Ahh! Sunblock for bullfrogs. That made so much more sense! "Surfer Formula". Who knew that bullfrogs could surf? (It's true, you know, that you learn something new every day.) Sunblock would actually be pretty handy for when Im.B/f was cutting the North lawn (just for his own fun, mind you, we've got other imaginary servants who would do the actual mowing, sorry, ground engaging with the cutting deck tractor). I put a bottle of it into my trolley, and went to investigate a....

A bullfrog (dunno his/her name)

One shoulder dress.

Which, in my mind, should have been a dress for women unlucky enough only to have one shoulder (genetic mishap? car accident? freak accident while riding shotgun on the new Ariens ground engaging machine?). It wasn't. But it did lead me to the paparazzi dress, which, before you ask, wasn't made of photographers, or even paper (although very reasonably priced). Boooo! Another disappointment. At this point, Im.B/f tried to interrupt my online investigations to ask me if I wanted a cocktail. I told him not to joke around. Of course I wanted a cocktail (the sun was well over the yardarm, why was he even asking?), Martini is my only reason for getting up every afternoon! He dithered around until I noticed he was ogling the model in the skintight (95%cotton, 5%spandex) lurid-yet-somehow-attractive-yellow paparazzi dress. He left rather quickly after that. I shoved a metro style one shoulder jumpsuit (in sexy black) in to my trolley. It was perfect outfit for me to wear for our garden party, which I had just decided would be an excellent way to celebrate our new-look lawn!

But my attention had been interrupted, and I began to wonder, as I often do, where the hell was I? How had I got to this site? I hadn't even been paying attention to what country this site belonged to, I had been so carried away by the sheer variety of... of... stuff! Random, completely unrelated ......stuff! I don't normally like window shopping, but I was sitting down (by now with an imaginary double martini in my hand), so no actual physical exercise was called for. The penny dropped, this site was a bit like eBay, but without the.... deflatedness which somehow marks out a UK site, this was altogether more bright and... optimistic. Was it an Aussie site - bullfrogs, surfers and sunblock? Finding the route to the homepage, it dawned on me that this was an aspirational lifestyle shopping and comparison discovery site. With Powershopping! In other words, this wasn't just any aspirational shopping site, this was the aspirational shopping site. And I had discovered it.....the Mother load of shopping site. If Carlsberg was an online shopping site, this is the site it would be (SFX: a heavenly chorus sing "Allelujah, allelujah" etc.).

Looking at my newly acquired imaginary Ladies Rolex, I realised my glass was, once more, empty. Turning around in my seat, I realised that Im.B/f and Im.G/m weren't empty. They were full. Of Martini's. They wee also lying horizontal and unconscious on the floor of the library. On the Persian rug (it just so ties the room together, to paraphrase The Dude).

I sacked the imaginary Groundsman on the spot. Got the imaginary B/f off to bed (what? - I'm not gonna sack him - he's too good to let go!), and went to brush my teeth, wondering what exactly the jail term is for signing-up for a credit card online, then immediately charging several thousand pounds worth of ride-on mower (sorry, birthday present for the ultimate weekend warrior) to it?

I had got a tad carried away with the whole "Lady of the Manor" scenario.

And with shopping on the ultimate mother site of aspirational shopping discovery and comparison.

And is was possibly not my best idea to announce on Face book that Im.B/f and I were having a Garden Party. Especially not with a time, date and open invite attached.

Particularly not when you see what my actual North lawn looks like........

Oh well, gotta go. Looks like I'm going to have a bit of a busy day tomorrow.

(I knew I shouldn't have sacked the imaginary butler last week.)

Toodle Pip!

The North Lawn (!!!)

P.S. Hi Mark T., thanks for "best answer" vote - hope you keep reading!

I Got An Award!

2010-07-26T00:55:00.000+02:00

Dunno about you lot, but I had another bizarre weekend! Well, maybe "bizarre" is quite a strong term in the World view of things bizarre, but for someone living in the fictitious town of Trumpton, it was pretty full-on, and included GETTING AN AWARD, BEING MENTIONED ON NATIONAL RADIO, and HAVING MI5 ADDING ME AS A FRIEND!

It all began relatively quietly.

Friday evening, after posting Feelgood Friday, I decided it was time to up my site traffic hits from "some" to into "double figures", so I did some very shallow research on blog directories, and submitted my blog URL to a few of them (you will see the little voting box things of some of them way down somewhere near the bottom of the page. Some didn't make it, 'cos the whole process is a bit boring/confusing - too bad, their loss), ignoring in the process one of my favourite Groucho Marx quotes "I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members".

Groucho (with mum) as a child

Then I checked my email In box and discovered that my activities on Yahoo!Answers had resulted in my getting a Violation notice for incorrect usage of the question/answer forum (that was in response to a question I had answered in the "Entertainment > Jokes and Riddles" section (those guys have NO sense of humour), and yet another one of my answers being "reported" (had posted that one in the very serious "Gaming" section, so I didn't really expect them to take it as a joke). The guy in the "Cars + Automobiles" section (who was asking for reviews of a Citroen blahblahnumbersanstuff that he was thinking of buying) hadn't reported me though ("Hi!" if he's reading), so that was a plus. I suppose it balanced out the karma of DreamCat voting mine the best answer to her "It's raining, I'm bored" question on Friday (hope you're still reading, DreamCat!).

Having had my wrists slapped by Yahoo!Answers, and actually feeling somehow pleased with myself for my carefree rebelliousness, I continued on my random surfing crusade, only to be stopped in my tracks on the BoingBoing website by the Battle of the Cheetos game. I don't know if Cheetos are actually on sale in the UK, certainly they aren't available in Trumpton (but then, not much is), but they look like the US equivalent of the UK's Cheesy Wotsits crisps. Anyway, it was a full-on war game, with some kind of puffed wheat snack food wearing full body armour. I'm a Scot, and us Scots love fighting, especially battles, so I had to join in. That was my justification for spending the next 20 minutes choosing my flag design and colours. The fact that I'm a Scot was also my justification of why it took me less than 60 seconds to loose. I have no justification at all for the fact that I lost BECAUSE I SHOT MY OWN CHEETO FOOT SOLDIERS! I could only look on in despair as my brave Cheeto soldiers were blasted into clouds of orange-tinged wheaty-puff oblivion by the missile I had launched only seconds earlier. Call them Cheetos or call them Cheesy Wotists, those little guys may have been puffs, but they were brave puffs, nonetheless. (SFX ~~"Reveille"~~ "Taps").

Yanking myself back to work (but with a heavy heart), I went over to Exposeyourblog and did my blogsurfing duty, visiting other bloggers pages. Among the blogs that came up during my surf, was a particularly notable one "Nascont Benedictine" by a benedictine monk. As the surf portal doesn't let you see the URL address, and as Mr Monk [N.B. no disrespect intended by that link, only a questionable sense of humour] doesn't have a followers button, I couldn't find the site again. I couldn't even leave a comment, as they all seemed to be in Latin (I was gonna say "Hi! I'm a Dudeist priest - like your prayers!"). Cool site to end my evening on, though, which was exactly what I did.

Saturday, I was giving my eyes a rest (hoping they would return to being round, and loose the square shape that they're beginning to assume). So I went out and had a wild night on the town* (*that's a complete lie - I went down to my mum's, had dinner, and watched "The Boat That Rocks" with her - good film). But, on returning home, I couldn't resist turning on my overworked laptop to see if I had any emails, or if any more followers had joined my site, or if my blog happened to have caught the attention of anyone which then resulted in them giving me an award..... or anything.

I had! They did! It did! It had! (This is me trying to condense the story from "long winded" to merely "lengthy")

WOOP WOOP WOOP!

My new follower is a real person, who I actually know in real life, who thinks my blog is funny (mind you, she is on the verge of being certifiable). Hello Itchin Stitchin! Welcome to Madness - your home planet!

The Award is from an employee of blog directory AddYourBlog (I haven't -yet!) who obviously has far to much time on her hands, but who equally obviously has a superb taste in humour blogs! I don't know how she (Alessandra - I'm presuming that's the female version of the name???) found my site, 'cos I didn't submit my blog to AddYourBlog (mebbe she was thinking of buying a Citroen blahblahnumbersanstuff and saw my witty, yet irrelevant reply on Yahoo!Answers???).

Apparently my blog was hand selected to receive the Award:

...... to honor your hard
work and dedication in providing a quality web log.
Requirements:

1)Quality Web Content.

2)Great Design .

3)Web Log Everyone Will Love To Read .

My first reaction was to be deeply suspicious that this was some clever marketing ploy to encourage me to join their directory (a bit rich on my part considering I had spent several hours the previous day trying to do exactly that with other directories!). My second reaction was "Who cares, even if it is a clever marketing ploy? I've won an Award - and it's shiny, almost!" My third reaction was "How can I discover the technology to cleverly market my blog by running round giving (almost) shiny awards to big, popular blog sites? (still working on that one).

My final reaction was to wait until today (Monday) to follow the link which would allow me to collect my Award badge, turn off my tired computer, and go to bed, with a smile on my face!

But it didn't end there.........

The time was 3.30am (Brit time), and the Richard Allinson Show was on BBC Radio 2. I'm usually just getting off to bed at the time, so I am a regular listener. I had just turned the radio on, when Richard announced that submissions for inclusion into the 3.46 club were being accepted by text and email. The 3.46 club is where you text/email in with an explanation of why you are up at that time in the morning. If your reason is interesting enough, Richard gives a shout-out to you on his show. I had often heard this feature, but never thought to call in......

Until now.....

I only had 15 minutes to submit my reason for being up at such an hour.......

I texted that I was up 'cos I had been working on my blog, and that I was dancing around my room 'cos it had just won an Award. I cheekily included my blog name, just in case.

Then I decided that it would probably be a good idea to go back downstairs and add the Award badge to my blog, on the off chance that a researcher for Richard's show would look up my blog to check it out (I can dream, can't I?), or that a bored listener would surf by to see it. By this time it was 3.33. I had no time to loose.

I managed to coerce my computer into booting-up in far less time than it usually takes (I say computer, it's actually a little laptop, with no memory - a fact that it consistently reminds me of, which is probably a good thing, otherwise it might start suffering from some kind of laptop trauma as a result of my surfing habits, and I'd have to get it special treatment). It gets very tired, especially when it's had a busy night, but I coaxed it by telling it that this was an amazing opportunity that could make me, and vicariously it ("her" actually, she's a Goddess even though she doesn't have a name) famous. Amazingly enough, she co-operated (DON'T try to tell me that inanimate objects have no feelings - they DO, and often they're feelings are VENGEFUL).

My laptop and I managed to get the Award sewn-onto my blog page at 3.46am ....... finishing at the exact same moment Richard Allinson chose to give me a shout out THAT INCLUDED MY BLOG NAME!!!!!!

ON BRITAIN'S MOST LISTENED TO RADIO STATION!!!!!!!

DOUBLE WOOP WOOP WOOP-DE-WOOP!!!!!!!!

Now I was dancing around the room again!

Too much excitement!

I went back to bed, happy in the knowledge that, not only had my blog won an Award, but it had succeeded in gaining National recognition, finally, after [checks watch] almost five weeks of hard graft.

Thank you Richard Allinson. This post is dedicated to you. You are my Hero!

My Hero!

P.S. To those of you who are paying attention rather than drifting off to sleep, I know I haven't mentioned how it came about that MI5 have added me as their friend. But it's true. I'm just exhausted after re-living the events of the last two days, so have to rest now. With a nice cup of tea. I will, however, explain all about it in another post. I promise (no, it doesn't matter how much you all protest, dear readers, you will get an explanation at some future date, whether you want it or not!).

Feelgood Friday #2

2010-07-23T04:10:00.000+02:00

In last weeks Feelgood Friday post, I promised that these posts would be purely visual. I lied (so sue me)!

I did mean it at the time of writing, but today I got some news that I just have to share.

In an effort to promote my blog in an imaginative (shameless) way, I have recently been surfing Yahoo!Answers and answering open questions, sometimes cleverly, sometimes blatantly, but always including my blog URL.

I've just found out that one of my efforts has been voted THE BEST ANSWER!

Ironic or what?!

Thanks DreamCat, this post is dedicated to you!

ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND!

Mr Cheese

2010-07-21T04:55:00.000+02:00

So there I was, minding my own business, just having signed-in to my blogging dashboard, when I saw that I had two new comments to moderate. Ooo..... exciting! What comments had been left?

I quickly opened the "view comments" link, and saw that there were two comments left by someone whose name I didn't recognise (wow - a stranger, even more exciting!), with a blog called I Like Cheese. Those of you familiar with blogging will tell you that a person's blog title does not necessarily give you any indication of what they're like, or what they're blog is about, so the blog title gave me no clue. None whatsoever. Not a hint. I decided to read his comments before checking out his blog.

His first comment "Dude, that's like awesome, and stuff." was left, appropriately, under my post
OMG! I've Just become an Ordained Priest!, and told me that either he had a sense of humour, or that I'd nabbed myself a "Californian" type. Fair enough.

His second comment, left under my post Feelgood Friday!, was a bit more obscure. "Not bad. Funny, even.". I immediately perked-up. What was this? Was this some new kind of uber-critical blogger mafia type that I hadn't realised existed before? (note to self: really must get round to finding-out how to do those umlaut and accent squiggly-type things sometime within the next, oh, fifty years or so.) Or, gasp of shock, could it actually be someone using dry humour?

Surely not! I'd heard tales of the existence of such sorts during my many, many minutes travelling throughout Cyberspace, but those were only rumours (sorry, rumors), whispered by huddled little groups hiding in shadowy corners. Could there really be a blogger out there actually using wit??? Oh, for the joy of a fellow blogger who might share my appreciation of comic talent of the type that is all too rare in the Great Sphere that is Blogger. Talent such as The Goons, (originally a radio show),widely recognised in the UK as the original creators of modern British surreal comedy, who inspired many of the Monty Python team, and whose influence can clearly be seen in many of Python's best known sketches (and some of the lesser known ones too!).

Okay, so I don't even pretend (even to myself, and I have a good imagination) that my blog posts are even pale shadows of such inspired and inspiring, pure genius comedy art. Neither are they anything like the comedy brilliance of another hero of mine, Eddie Izzard who, not content with making superior quality jokes about the French (anyone born in the UK is capable, from birth, of making ordinary jokes about the French, after all), learned French, travelled to France, and made jokes about the French - in French, to the French - and they laughed! What a guy (and he has an excellent eye for accessorizing an outfit - too much talent in one man!). (My current favourite (it changes on a daily basis), is his piece about Darth Vador in the Death Star canteen.).

No, my humour is far more akin to the infantile yet joyful, laughing at stereotype foreigners that is "It's A Knockout", or, to be more precise, the European version, "Jeux Sans Frontieres", specifically the "Penguin" game! (Stuart Hall, the British commentator, admitted to actually wetting his pants during this game - he was laughing so much!) When I showed this clip to my nephew, who was 21 at the time, so too young to have enjoyed this UK national favourite during the era it was aired (as was I *cough*), he fell off his seat laughing!

And if you want to experience some really bizarre, home-grown in Scotland humour, check out Ivor Cutler, doing this.

Anyway, back to the plot.....

I had to find out if my suspicions were true, or if my hopes of this Holy Grail of blogging were to be dashed to the ground, shattered into a thousand broken pieces like a million shards of disco mirror ball.. (I could go on, but I'm sure you get the general drift - I'd be a bit upset).

I rushed over to his site to investigate further, and read his (at that point) most recent post, which declared through the medium of comic strip, that the reader was to leave a comment, or he would personally come and pee on their cat. This message was conveyed in a funny way. I liked it. I laughed. I read his previous posts. They were also funny. I laughed some more. He is funny. Very funny. Then I left a comment under the "cat" cartoon, a comment which I intended to be funny, but which was also a cunning plan to find out if Mr Cheese (hereafter to be referred to simply as "Smelly" on these pages) actually realised I had meant it as a joke. My comment was simply "I don't have a cat." The lack of an exclamation mark meant that, if I was a stand-up comedian, I would have been saying it in a dead-pan voice.

I also joined his blog as a follower because I saw that he only had two followers while I, at that time, had four. We had, coincidentally, started our blogs at about the same time, and I felt that it evened things out about if he had three followers to my four (still meant I had more than him after all, not that I'm competitive, or anything).

I went to my bed, wondering what, if anything, would be his reaction.

The next day, after checking my email and doing some boring stuff, I took a wander over to his blog to see if he had left a comment in reply to mine (I had already checked my blog, nothing to report, no new comments, or new followers, hmmmm.......)

And saw his latest post about him becoming a Dudeist Priest.... !!! [SFX: Dah Dah DUMMMMMM!!!].

Wha....! What was he up to???

He had left a link to my blog, but had he stolen my idea to write about it...or just borrowed it??? With conflicting emotions (he had nabbed my idea - BAD Cheese, but that was ok, I don't mind sharing, plus he had openly stated where he had discovered Dudeism (spreading the Word of The Dude = GOOD) plus he had left a link to my site - GOOD Cheese.... I couldn't think, my brain was on overload, I had to get a cup of tea FAST.

After a calming brew, my mind settled. What to do? Should I declare his wanton ... uhm.... wanton what exactly? After spending several seconds considering my options, I narrowed it down to a list of two: 1/. explain the situation to my blog followers and request, nay demand that you, as my loyal followers, go over en masse (that's real French, btw) and join his site but (here comes the twist) as hostile followers, just to sit there, watching, in as intimidating a way as you could muster. Hostile following, I thought, - this could start a whole new trend in Blogland. Who knows where it could lead, my plan to take over the known Universe could still be on! And..... at this point I got distracted by something shiny and forgot all about my new Master Plan....... (and option 2/.).

......forgot all about it... till lat last night, when he left another comment on the post I had most recently published. If you want to read what he said, just look for the one laden with sarcasm.

I knew something was afoot, and when I got to his site, sure enough, there it was.

THIS!

I laughed. I laughed ..... A LOT! Then I laughed some more. Then my laugh turned slightly sinister, as it suddenly became clear to me exactly how I should handle this situation.

Then I went to bed. Smiling a slightly sinister smile.

And today, - well today I set my plan in motion.

Before I tell you what I did, I'd like to take a moment to dedicate this clip to Smelly Cheese. It may be some time before he gets to laugh again, once he realises the gravity of his situation.

What did I do?

I did what any self-respecting ScotBrit would do under the same circumstances.

I told my mum on him.

Then I showed her his cartoon.

She didn't laugh.

I wouldn't like to be in his shoes.

Maybe you should all keep an eye on his site I Like Cheese, - regularly. Just to check that he's still, y'know, posting in, as it were.

I'll stay here, in my black leather high-backed swivel chair, stroking my fluffy white cat.

Mwaha, Mwahaha, MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..............................

Freaky Trees

2010-07-20T18:15:00.000+02:00

During a brief interlude at the weekend when I had actually managed to prise myself away from my computer, I read an article in The Sunday Post (Scotland's newspaper of choice, apparently), about Ghostly Trees.
Unfortunately, The Sunday Post is yet to enter the 21st century, so I cannot give you a link to the story as I originally read it, but here's the story as reported by the

Now, I can understand the general story, and the details of the story, but what I can't understand is why no puns? Here we find yet another example of good, accurate reporting being completely undermined by the lack of puns in a story that was crying out for them! Although the moths are a potential threat to the trees they cover, no-one has actually been hurt, no fatalities have ensued, so including puns in the story would not even have been distasteful.

In fact, I wonder how anyone could have written such a story without even accidentally including a pun or two. It was a story about trees. Anyone can join in with puns on a story about trees. It's almost against the law not to do puns about trees. Trees are possibly the most punnable subject on the planet.

This is my version of the story. Please note, I resisted the urge to include caterpillar puns as well (okay, there's a one in the last paragraph, but it was crying out to be made!):

If Yew Go Down to the Woods Today

Residents of Trumpton Town were recently shocked to discover a nasty surprise awaiting them in the local cemetery. Trees had been covered in a web-like substance, giving them the effect of "ghost" trees.

Local resident Bod explained "A group of us went down to the wood, intending to spruce the place up a bit. When we saw the cobwebs, we just thought it was local youths being knotty for a joke, or some poor sap, doing it for no resin at all. But it was so extensive, that we all agreed it was a police matter, so we reported it."

Local Police Chief Plod said "When the complaint was initially logged, we didn't take it seriously. We thought it was some nut creating a beech of the peace. But then we saw it for ourselves and realised it was too much of a (monkey) puzzle for us. It was scary - like something from a pulp fiction story. Who wood do such a thing? It obviously wasn't a local person who had done this - any local knows that they woodland up in prison for defacing trees. We were baffled, out on a limb with this case. It had us completely stumped." He continued "We wanted to call in Inspector Moss, 'cos he's good. Turns out he's retired though, so we called in Special Branch, thinking that we could trust them to get to the root of this problem. SB have a big caseload, but we were confident that they'd get a rowand to our case fairly quickly."

Special Branch Inspector Woodentop picked up the story "It was clear to us from the outset that the local police had done their best, but were barking up the wrong tree. Having an objective overview, we at SB were able to see the wood for the trees. We always stick to the facts and, after extensive pruning of the deadwood, we had whittled the list of possible causes down considerably. It was at this point that we twigged - this wasn't a "Twilight fan" pining for Gothic atmosphere, or even an attention-seeking fruit. This work was not even done by humans. This was a chrysalis crises."

A call to the Wildlife trust confirmed that moths were to blame for the webs. The trees themselves were arbouring the culprits.

Local resident Bod said "It's a relief to have it explained. Now we know it's not a mystery - it's a moth's t-ree." When asked what he felt about the danger of damage to the trees, Bod concluded "Well, you know what they say - Live fast, die young, and leaf a good looking copse!".

Come on then - what puns have I missed? Let's have them in the comments section.

BBC, the Daily Mail and the Cumberland News. The summary of the story is that moths have been rife in certain areas of Scotland and England, weaving webs over entire trees, the overall effect making the trees look white. So far so good.

A Weekend of Cyber Surfing

2010-07-19T04:04:00.000+02:00

Greetings Readers!
How did you spend your weekend? Did you have fun? Go to places you've never been before? Meet new and interesting people? Get drunk?

I did all of the above, and more.... well, I virtually did - I didn't actually get drunk because the whole experience was traumatic enough without alcohol being involved!

I spent the entire weekend doing "research" on blogging, whilst making my first foray into the world of marketing my blog in an attempt to increase the "traffic" to my site, thus making it theoretically more attractive to would-be advertisers, resulting in my getting one step closer to my dream of supporting myself by writing random rubbish, instead of just inflicting it on my friends (who are few, but very tolerant - so far!

It was scary, very scary.

But I learned many useful lessons, including:

1/.The blogging community can be split into three distinct groups - those writing blogs on how to blog (90%), those writing "tips on sewing" blogs" (90%), political blogs (3%), sickly sweet "here's our happy family" blogs (5%), everyone else (4%), British bloggers (0.01%, if that), Scottish bloggers writing about Scottish scenery/where to visit,Scottish history or shortbread (0.001%, which is 0.001% too many, but only 'cos they're all so predictably boring! Nothing wrong with the subject matter, but lighten up, and stop using tartan backgrounds everywhere!), Scottish humour blogs = 1 person (in Glasgow - where they're all comedians anyway, but this one could at least write (oooh, controversial!)). I did find a Scottish political blog roundup site, but I only realised this after I had submitted my blog for inclusion (ooops!).

2/.That my expertise in the field of percentage maths is imaginary, at best (do I care?).

3/.That there is an site called Linkbait Generator, which is a free service for bloggers who are looking for inspiration for titles for their blogposts, using keywords which should generate lots of hits in search engines. You enter a word or two into the Linkbait generator and it, in turn, spews forth a random title (which includes your selected words) for you, so that you can skip away to your picnic, interview with social services, wifeswap party (or whatever), safe in the knowledge that your next post is virtually in the bag. It's hilarious!

I'm now ready to write so many, many posts on so many, many new and interesting subjects (I can hear you all clapping with sheer glee at the prospect)!

Subjects such as:

"8 ways Dudeism can help you survive a plane crash" (original word = Dudeism)

"7 cynical ways politicians have exploited goodies and baddies" (o.w. = goodies and baddies)

"7 reasons why Buzz Lightyear gets better with alcohol" (Buzz Lightyear)

"5 BS facts about my mum that everyone thinks are true" (my mum)

"10 of the biggest screw ups of all time" ( *left searchbox blank to see what would happen*)

The frightening thing is that you can see the sense of the article that would follow each title. Each title has some kind of deep and meaningful, like, thing, like, deep meaning, or truth, or something. Whatever. read them over again and you'll see what I mean (especially the last one, it's like spooky that I'd left the search term blank. It almost like the LG machine talking to the World, man - warning us!).

As a dudeist priest, I have now decided to adopt Linkbait Generator as my official oracle.

I spent faaar tooooo long on this site, having lots of fun and wanting to read the posts that the LG title machine had come up with (the one's that probably actually exist somewhere, written by previous visitors to this site) - well, wouldn't you want to read them? While it was definately quality time spent, it wasn't getting the marketing done. So I finally dragged myself away from it.

Then I got my blog approved by blogger networking site Blogcatalog (still trying to get used to the ~~wrong~~ American way of spelling it), but only after joining in a newbie blogger group discussion and completely embarassing myself. Too embarassed to tell you. Oh, ok then, since you insist. It went like this:

I joined a group within Blogcatalog for newbie bloggers. I asked how to hyperlink one's blog address to one's comment. That was my first comment/question. I waited for an answer. And waited. After two days, which was a pretty long time for this very active group, I posted a second comment/question, this time asking if everyone had gone on their holidays or was it just too stupid a question for anyone to bother answering (I was restraining myself from being too sarcastic)? I then added, in my third comment, that I'd bet that it would be something really stupid, like that I'd type the address in with the comment (at this point I typed address in with comment), and it'd come up automatically hyperlinked (it did), and that I'd end up feeling stupid (I did).

After this I added a final comment, apologising for my stupidity.

This conversation that I had solely with myself is now lodged out there in the virtual world, for all the cool people to see. And the sewing bloggers. Everyone. As a testimony to my stupidity. Go me.

So then I tried having some comment conversations with other bloggers. This has resulted in me now adopting the phrase " *WARNING - CONTAINS SOME BRITISH WIT AND SLIGHT SARCASM* " when submitting a description of my blog to would be publishers. I think that gives you, dear readers, some clue as to those conversations.

That stereotypes are there for a reason. The reason being - THEY'RE GENERALLY TRUE!

And that, before blogging, I felt marginalised as a Scot. Now I feel like I'm part of an endangered species! It's made me bond more with the concept of being British, rather than purely Scottish. There are so few of us out there using British-style sarcasm and putting each other down with a few well-aimed ironic barbs. My face would light up every time I read a blog which mentioned "fish n chips" or "as reported in "The Sun", whether humourous blog or not. And, where the pre-blogger me used to embrace the idea of being Europian, not now my friends. They're all mad.

But I have certainly developed a new understanding of how us Scots have landed ourselves with aspects of our stereotype-selves, as I realised that blogs I enjoyed made me want to make friends with the blogger authors, but expose me to reading various other blogs (which shall remain nameless), and immediately an absolute brainful of beautifully provocative or fluidly insulting comments would spring into my mind and jump around trying to be picked for me to leave as comments on whichever poor, unsuspecting bloggers site I happened to be visiting. It was very hard to resist. Not because I'm a vindictive person, but because some insults/jokes, once conceived, are simply too good NOT to use. It was painful at times. The problem was that these same jibes sprang to mind when I wanted to make friends, this time in an "I recognise a fellow wit - excellent - let the sarcasm flow!" kind of way. I'm beginning to see how Scots may have developed a reputation for being slightly agressive - even when we're being friendly (which is actually most of the time!).

But there were also upsides.

For example, I discovered that I like Canadians who insist on spelling things correctly, namely "neighbour" not "neighbor", and "humour" not "humor", etc.

I discovered a site devoted exclusively to bizarre images of animals (used one or two in this post, you may have noticed).

And I also discovered some excellent sites, and some excellently wierd sites (e.g. this one), and some other sites which I might introduce to you in later posts.......

But that, in marketing parliance, is a teaser...............

Bye bye now, and don't forget to look out for my next post:

"10 moustaches the government are trying to keep secret"

Until then, I'll leave you with this lovely, happy family photo. Or is it?

LOOK CLOSER!

Feelgood Friday!

2010-07-16T04:10:00.000+02:00

In order to cater for my thousands of readers generally, and specifically the two of you who think my posts are toooooo long (you know who you are, you'll be getting a visit anytime soon from some of "my people"), I've decided to start a "Feelgood Friday" post, which will be a solely visual communication (e.g. a cartoon!).

Here's the first offering!

HAVE A FUN WEEKEND!