With a fond tear in my duct..................I give you Terry Hall

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=wTlMTCjW1Sg

I cried all the way to/from the chip shop.....I know that was Jilted John just listen to the words

But the chip shop isn't closed...
And the pies are very nice...

I go out on Friday night
And I come home on Saturday morning (in the back of a police van)

I'm really not surprised the virtual blogging pub opens its virtual saloon type doors most Fridays. An "e"pint and an "e" please Mike!

I have just glanced down at the TV pull-out. Yes, pull-out and that's what I'm doing to my hair right now. Pulling it out in dire desperation. I think the mot juste here is SHITE that crouches under the canopy of Friday night entertainment.

Well for a start there's Judge John Weeds - that posturing, boring old twat that used to be in the professionals. As championed by Mr Zeds, the kitemark of Southpark!

Big Brother Bilge - no need to elaborate on that any further and;

My personal favourite - Midsomer Murders. So bad I have to type it again: Midsomer Murders.

How long does that effluent drag on for? I've got up, flossed my teeth, picked my toe nails, flossed the budgie's beak, polished each individual chrome, spindly, bar of the bastard, budgie's cage and then still seen this limp down a back alley and not appear at the other end. The other end being any sort of conclusion that anybody is remotely interested in. Lady Penelope shagging Parker is less wooden than Mr Midsomer's or whatever the fuck his name. You see it's so boring I don't even know the actor's name....

Pass me those Haribo licorice bootlaces - I'm away to hang meself.

Providing I am not turned to a crisp (smokin' bacon flavour) I can savour the views from my poolside villa in Crete. Only 41 degrees C last time I checked. Better pack a cardie

Luxuriate in the knowledge that I can enjoy a swim in the crescent shaped sea providing I have not been burnt beyond belief rather like a bullet-shaped, Aunt Bessie's roastin' spud. You know what I mean, when your oven timer tells lies.

41 degrees C and climbin'
Better throw in a pair of Ugg boots for alfresco dinin'

Still I might as well force myself to go. The villa is air conditioned and the bathroom has a jacuzzi spa bath. Not quite big enough for a football team but big enough for a drinks trolley and a packet of KP salted peanuts/and or cretan olives

And each bedroom was thoughtfully arranged to open onto the pool. Not quite sure about bedroom 2. Could it be moved a tad to the left, the last rays of the setting sun fall just short of the barbecue area?

Thanks love.

I have been itching to use that header and now I can.

Driving along the M25 over the bank holiday weekend or rather juddering would be a much better word for it, I judderingly managed to overtake a horse box.

Nothing remotely exceptional about that really. Except for a pair of frilly net curtains!

A horse box sporting frilly net curtains?

I realise that caravan owners love to dress their caravan windows in the latest nylon twitchers but a horse box? Better still they did not cover the entire small square window but stopped half way down the window. Like some sort of attempt at jaunty insousciance.

Point?

What the?

Fuck?

Springs to mind but maybe the owner had a certain Hyacinth Bucket mentality

Oh yes and the edges had a scalloped hem.........

Maybe the driver was a Versace aficionado

Caught out and about in Seffie Park today........

Carlsberg don't make footballers but if they did.........

Probably they broke the mould when they made this 'un

If Steven Seagal could be considered the Hobnob of the biscuit world, could David Cameron be considered a Bath Oliver?

Gordon Brown a Nairn's original wholemeal oatcake?

Paul O'Grady a pink wafer?

Prince an iced gem?

John Prescott a fig roll?

Ricky Gervais a jammie dodger?

Charles Kennedy a malted milk?

Hazel Blears a ginger nut?

Naomi Campbell a chocolate finger and Dawn French a wagon wheel courtesy of Prydwen

Julian Clary a raspberry tart courtesy of Bradders

Ronnie Corbett a mini cheddar

Jeremy Paxman a dark chocolate digestive

Jaffa cake?

Cream cracker?

Choc chip cookie?

AND THE BISCUIT I LOATHE THE MOST IS: CUSTARD CREAM until I can think of anyone else Michael Barrymore can be considered a custard cream!!!!!

Shock shock, horror horror, shock shock, horror!

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=r5Cz8_VSwU8

I completely understand that the highways of Great Britain are not just for motor vehicles. Indeed not (mores-the-pity). They are for anything that can get from A to B faster than the speed of snail/mail. In fact a slug can cover 36ft of back garden quicker than a postman can slip a "sorry we missed you" slip through your letter box. And there's no mistake. Horses, tractors, bicycles and 4 x 4s (shame) all have the legal right to dawdle with provocation on our highways and byways.

But Lord we beseech thee not this: Exhibit A

And the remarkable similarity below: Exhibit B

I encountered Exhbit A the other day humming down a country lane. I use the word humming as it had as much belt as a refrigerator light bulb in a mini bar. Maximum speed limit on aforementioned road was 40 miles an hour. 40 MPH!

Not 40 miles per day!

Mastercard: The Movie

Just a couple of fun pictures to get you through your day

I need cheering up - the weather for August is crap so with this in mind I received the following email from a mate:

"SLEEPING ARRANGEMENT"

A man and a woman who had never met before, but were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the sleeping carriage on a continental train.

Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, him in the upper bunk and her in the lower one.

At midnight the man leaned over the side and gently woke the woman saying: "Ma'am I'm sorry to disturb you but would you be willing to reach into the cupboard and get me a second blanket? I'm really cold."

"I have a better idea. Just for tonight, let's just pretend we are married." She replied.

Hardly believing his luck the man replied: "Wow!" That's an excellent idea!"

"Good" she said. "Get your own FUCKING blanket!"

After a stunned moment of silence he farted!

"I know it's only rock and roll................

but I like it................

I used to wake each morning get my breakfast in bed.

Upon us all a little rain must fall

I saw you smiling at me.

I am a traveller of both time and place........................"

I had to copy and paste this response to my "Pseudo charity" post a while back. It would appear that we are all stupid morons.

Oh and A&P Collections or Whatever don't stick your junk mail through my door again.

"whatever [Visitor]

2007-08-06 @ 17:26
Read the flyer you stupid morons. A&P Collection IS NOT a charity and it doesn't state that! They just collect unwanted items and sell 'em to third world countries like Ukraine, Belarus etc. Everybody are happy - A&P makes some money and poor people in other countries get a chance to buy some afordable clothing.

So eggbod, wash your eyes next time before reading the flyer. It is not a charity and it doesn't say so. Nor do other companies' leaflets do."

And here is my response to being called a "stupid moron"

Reply to comment | Show subcomments | Edit
eggbod [Member]
http://wordworld.blog.co.uk
2007-08-07 @ 08:30

You! - whatever your name is.

You wash your eyes out and your money grubbing palms.

It is entirely your opinion that "everybody is happy" with these operations. And if you bothered to read this correctly you would understand that I never said you are charity.

God forbid that you are!

Today Matthew, Mark, Luke and....John, Paul, George and Ringo I'm gonna be sitting in my back garden far away from the hairy-arsed builders in the front garden.

Mind your head on the scaffolding there lovey!

Useless information of the day: Did you know that builders are prohibited from banging their tools before 9am in Westminster?

But outside of Westminster in the plebian suburbs they may tool-bang from 8am. We obviously need less sleep than our illustrious politicians.