Blogging Hell

Just over a week to go until the launch of the latest Impossimal collection and I'm sat writing artists notes, a few stories and reviewing all the material needed for the releases. Its something you would have thought I would be bored of by now but it's still as fun, fresh and exciting as it was ten years ago and that to me is the most important bit.

You can always tell boredom, it shows in the type of work that you produce. It certainly does with mine so I have a boredom banisher and you are reading it, its the blog. Each day I sit down with a blank screen until something pops into my head. It may be an experience, something I have heard or even an idea after flicking through some of the collection of old reading material I keep to hand, either way I do not start work until I have written something, it gets my mind active you see.

So the blog is very important but in the age of social media so it seems is everything else. When I started the blog at the end of 2005 social media was in its relative infancy so I could lavish time on the blog, the only thing is I didn't. Instead you got boring arty farty entries about painting and lets be honest, there's only so much about that you want to read from an artist spouting off about their art but a strange thing happened as I started to join Facebook and Twitter, the blogs got more and more complex. I don't know why, it just happened but a typical day now consists of the blog, attending to Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest, Instagram and the World Of Impossimal Facebook page along with all the websites. You would have thought that all this extra activity would have made the blog a very small part of the day but no, it's blossomed and grown far beyond what I would have thought, it's become therapeutic.

So todays blog is about the blog to help me blog about something so I can start painting paintings and write writing for notable notes whilst Jayne creates all the golden hares we need to start with.

Got that? Good because things are going to move quickly and get mighty tricky over the next few weeks I wouldn't like you not to be up to speed with all this malarkey!

Only 8 days to go...

Don't Encourage Him

One day Timmy Tumble, for that was his name, was taking a stroll through the village of Little Hoe. The village was the hub of all matters important in Timmys life, he knew the grocer, the butcher, the washer woman and the old shoe maker, he knew the doctor, the teacher and the candlestick maker and more importantly they all knew Timmy too.

But things were afoot in the little village of Hoe for a set of new neighbours had moved in next door to Timmys clean and tidy house with its bright red door and brass knocker. Timmy being the nice gentle good fellow he was decided that new was not necessarily bad and knocked on their bright blue door with the silver knocker to introduce himself.

'Hello Sonny' said the rather smart bespeckled gentelman that answered the door. ''You here for the bitches?' He added.

Timmy was rather taken aback. 'My name is Timmy Sir, I'm afraid I'm not into hounds. I live next door.'

'Not bitches sonny, Beeeitches! You know, the ones with jumbly funbags. I've got a houseful, take your pick for only 6d'

'I'm sorry' said Timmy timidly, 'I don't understand.'

'Gee, get with it kid, it's 2014 not the bloody innocent life you leave where you closet yourself away everyday.'

'But I don't Sir, I live a normal life. I know the grocer, the butcher, the...'

'Get real kid, it's all about me out there. Sex and violence on demand, streaming filth on your screens, no holds barred language and drama not this bloody utopia you exist in.'

'But I like my world Sir, it's nice, it's comforting, it's gentle...'

'Look kid, we have more wars now, women's lib and the suffragettes hold no sway any more, relationships are seen as transient, casual violence of both sexes is common, life is viewed as a series of 'me' experiences and everyone is encouraged to criticise everyone else or try to live like a celebrity, what don't you get about it all? It's what everyone wants!'

'It's not what I want.'

'They said that in Camberwick Green, look at it now.'

'Why, what's happened in Camberwick Green? I haven't seen Camberwick since 1975.'

'They changed its name.'

'Well, that's not too bad is it?'

'They called it Mansfield.'

'Oh, even I have heard of that bad place.'

'Exactly. First they got rid of the windmill, Windy Miller ended up a hopeless drunk. Remember Police Constable McGarry number 452?'

'Yes I do, a nice fellow he was.'

'Look at him now in this photo. A right miserable bugger he is now. Moan, moan, moan that all he ever does, still he has a lot to contend with nowadays. It's not as bad as Mrs Honeyman.'

'She had a baby didn't she, her and Mr Honeyman loved that child.'

'Divorced. Six kids and you know what the worse thing is?'

'No?'

'They decided that it was ok to open up as many fast food places as physically possible in Mansfield and you know what she looks like now?'

'Err, no, I'm not going to like this am I Sir?'

'Like this...'

'Oh my' said Timmy genuinely shocked.

'I know, it's not her fault though, the place is riddled with bad choice opportunities. Pippin Fort was dismantled to build a new bus station and all the shops pulled down to make car parks. No use having car parks though if there's nowhere to shop. Even Dr Mopp has been replaced by a new centralised surgery, no one on one care here. Remember the clown that used to turn the handle on the village musical box? Well in the eighties they decided to sack him and close down all the musical box making factories in the area leading to mass unemployment, a massive drug problem grew along with social problems you wouldn't believe.'

'I can't believe that, but Camberwick, err, Mansfield used to be a nice place. Admittedly it was never as refined as some places but I have good memories of it and it had a nice heart.'

'Not any more sonny, do you want any of these bitches or what?'

'What will happen to me now Sir?'

'It's not for me to say is it sonny, you're old school, you're surplus to requirements, nobody does nice, naive or gentle today. Best let us just get on with it and stop interfering, you can't change the world.' And with that the blue door with silver knocker was slammed in Timmys face.

Timmy returned to his nice comfy house with its cheery red door and brass knocker. Looking around his house he carefully touched all the objects he had gathered over the years, objects that gave him great comfort and thought of the words the gentleman next door had said. He sat comfortably at his small table and pulled out a small pocket book. Very carefully Timmy got out his set of coloured pencils and laid them out neatly beside himself. Opening to the first page Timmy started to draw, he started to draw things that made him happy in the hope that they would make other people happy too.

And that was no bad thing.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Begin

Some of you may have seen the golden hares on our World Of Impossimals facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/impossimals) and wondered what on earth they have to do with the Impossimals, well they are celebrating two events. The first is the ten years since the Impossimals were first published and secondly that Jayne who has been with the Impossimals all this time now produces ceramic wildlife artwork that will be on display along side the Impossimals in the joint appearances later this year, truly a memorable ten year anniversary.

So combining everything in a special in a gold ceramic technology stuffed creation based on the first ever true Impossimal and inspiration 'Oscar' our house rabbit was a no brainer, its what the golden hares do that's impressive. Only 150 exist and these will be handed out at the trade only event in just over a week and a half time, other golden hares will be available but these will be hidden in galleries during our appearances for collectors to find and keep.

Each hare is uniquely numbered and named, the reason behind this will become more apparent from the 7th September. Each hare will have to be registered to its keeper, so once taken or found it can only have one valid owner.

We always like to bring you something a little different; the World Of Impossimals is a deceptive place which from it's simple outlook can seem very straightforward but all that's about to change. September 2014 is the opening of a larger more complex World Of Impossimals that will take you through the next 18 months on a journey like no other.

Are you ready?

Mystic Maude's Almanac

LEARN THE SECRETS OF COMB MAGIC

Perhaps no other magic is as old or as simple as comb magic yet it's uses are almost unknown today. Everyone is aware of combing an area for something but few are aware that combing is a magical gesture that when used correctly brings luck and good fortune to practiced combers.

THERE IS POSSIBLY NO OTHER LIKE IT!

It's a secret shared within a select few, special comb movements such as the 'comb over' and the 'brush vigorously' brings results time and time again.

'Within a week of learning to comb I had won the lottery and had the dilemma of wondering what to do with my new found wealth!' K.H (Notts) £10 lottery winner and combing practitioner.

COMBING CAN BE DONE ANYTIME, ANYWHERE WITH INSTANT RESULTS!

From losing weight to finding your perfect partner, learn how to back comb, quiff and even flick you way to a better life with Comb magic. Those who believe should brace themselves for a possible change! The Secrets Of Combing is available from us priced £14.95

YOUR HOROSCOPE

Aries - You will be visited by a donkey who will bring you good luck and a bucket and spade on Wednesday

Taurus - By the age of forty you will have grown horns and weigh approximately forty three stone.

Gemini - Disco will make a return this year and Gemini will again become a cool name to have.

Cancer - You will be eaten by a gigantic crab.

Leo - On Thursday you will be captured by a troup of lions and exhibited at the lions own travelling circus which is under investigation for its degrading human shows.

Virgo - It rhymes with lurgo and birgo but not bingo or lingo.

Libra - With a name that sounds like cheap wine you will end up a wino.

Sofa - Don't get too comfy with your life, buy a few brightly colour cushions to promote luck.

Scorpio - Snippy little person aren't you? On Friday you will over step the mark when your violent outburst and torrent of bad language gets you banned from answering calls at the Samaritans.

Sagittarius - You ying your yang whilst you yang your ying and end up exhausted.

Pram Face - The wheels of the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, the wheels of the bus go round and round about twenty times before stopping again it is so annoying. Make the journey more interesting by pressing the bell at every stop just in case anybody was running for the bus.

Capricorn - On Thursday you are offered a role in a blue movie, you accept and rename yourself Linda Lovelonger even though your real name is Tony.

Aquarius - You have a fear of water and will eventually drown in a freak accident with a can of Pepsi.

Volvo - The person of your dreams will sit next to you in the toilet cubicles, simply bang on the wall to get their attention and watch the magic happen.

DERRICK ACCORDIAN

Psychic to the stars (Basil brush, Po from the teletubbies) Romany type, has crystal balls, drinks spirits.

Could you use some help in these uncertain times? Want to know more about that mysterious path they call the future? I know I do, if you can help me phone (782718267) 917363 for further details (calls cost £8 per second and will last approximately 22 minutes whilst I put you on hold)

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Bejazzle My Fedazzle

Was it in my dreams? Was I in a hotel bedroom? Distant noises and voices, the jazz music followed by applause. Muttered sentences barely audible on the edge of my hearing, giggling, singing, a good time.

I opened my eyes, it was 12:03am pitch black and I was in my own bed, the noise had stopped. In the half sleepy world my eyes started to close again, as they shut the music got louder reminding me of something I couldn't fully remember. The police helicopter thundered unexpectedly overhead and I shot bolt upright, so did Jayne.

'Did you hear that?' I said to a bleary eyed Jayne.

'Of course I bloody did!'

'No, not that, the music, did you hear it too?'

'What music? You must have been dreaming, go back to sleep!'

I tried, but everytime my eyes closed the music and talking returned, it was like being transported to a distant party where everyone was drinking, chatting and having fun. Then it occurred to me, I could only hear it in one ear and it seemed to be coming from the corner of the room. Fearing a family of mice were having a house party I got out of bed and scuttled around the bedroom on all fours (not the first time I hear you say) it proved frustratingly difficult to pinpoint until I happened to pass part of the security system we had installed many years ago. It was coming from inside the small grey box beside the bed!

Let me explain, I am not indeed going mad it was in fact AM radio interference from a badly shielded electromagnetic field. I know this from experiments with small crystal set radios in my childhood and the fact that I had some speakers that did the same thing. Atmospherics also play a large part and for some reason everything had been just right for a weak signal to break through and play jazz to me in a small tinny voice at midnight.

I had heard it before but always thought it was something I could just hear on the edge of my hearing that was some distance away, the difference this time was that although it was in a tinny voice I could make out all of the words. Also I hate free jazz. Randomly tinkling an instrument to make it wander around the notes like a drunk trying to walk straight doesn't do it for me, unstructured tootling on a wind instrument reminds me too much of being taught on how to blow a raspberry into a trombone in school music classes on an instrument that had already been passed around the spit of a hundred children.

So I now have an unrelocatable piece of security equipment that decides to torment me at random times during the night by playing a bit of free jazz whenever it feels the need to have a bit of a session as I think they call it. It's always around twelve'o'clock and occurs on random days. Has somebody erected a new Jazz transmitter and is sending out subliminal jazz messages to household equipment? Maybe it is a conspiracy to get us all to chill the flick out, all I know is that I'm sick of waking up to Miles Davis free jazzing up 'All Blues' and Jaynes sick of me suddenly sitting bolt upright doing jazz hands. It's a good job they are not playing Al Jolson and 'Mamee!' or there would be no boot polish left either.

How do I find this Jazzmitter? Are there any Free Jazz jammers on the market or am I condemned to endless trumpet playing and saxophone solos followed by a smooth presenter talking in a low voice something intelligible and using words like 'cat' and 'coolio'?

So today I have set up a free jazz detector, it's basically a homemade radio that I can swiftly scan the AM signals whenever I hear the jazz kick in to find out what channel it is or where it is coming from, it's the only thing that can save my sanity. Do you also suffer from Jazzpression and the negative effects of jazz song titles which seem to be the least thought out of any music scene? Take for example classics like 'Goodbye Pork Pie Hat' by Charles Mingus and 'Salt Peanuts' by Dizzy Gillespie, they seem to have a food obsession along with the equally obscure 'Struttin' With Some BBQ' by Louis Armstrong.

I know far too much about jazz, most of it crammed in my head subliminally whilst I sleep apparently. The only cure so far has been a pair of pink earmuffs which for some reason I had in my wardrobe. Jayne laughs when I wear them but it's me that laughing really as she steadily gets programmed into liking jazz.

So today's blog is a warning, check all your electrical equipment, when you wake up in the middle of the night for some unexplained reason with your hands outstretched shaking your wrists beware! You are being Jazznotised and you need to break the programming as soon as possible!

Wear earmuffs.

Keep a drumkit in your bedroom and if you feel the effects of Jazznosis bang them a couple of times to get a rhythm back in your head.

Do not be tempted to buy any brass wind instrument and keep away from all keyboards.

Bejazzle is an attempt to make you like jazz by starting off with something vaguely pleasant before degenerating into a jazzcophony, don't be fooled.

Avoid associated words like Bebop, smooth and improvisation.

If all the instruments sound like they haven't been tuned then that is free jazz, leave the room immediately before you get jazzed upon.

Above all if you find yourself unexpectedly listening to free jazz immediately take the jazzattack position and curl up in a small ball weeping uncontrollably until the freestyle barrage has ceased.

Today's blog has been partly funded by Free Us From Free Jazz Ltd and Say No To Jazmitters. For further information please contact your nearest representative.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

What Time Is It?

Time, it's always moving never pausing, it's shorter when you sleep and longer when you work but what is time? Do we really know? Here's your free buffers guide to time.

Dinosaurs were invented in 1837 by the government to discourage time travelling, the thought of monsterous beasts roaming the earth remained a popular anti-timetravel ruse until the early nineties when Spielberg went back in time to film Jurassic Park.

Atomic clocks are accurate to within 0.00001 second every million years yet must be moved forward and backward by hand to account for British summertime starting and ending. They are also need to be hand wound a total of twenty two million turns every two years to remain accurate.

The first talking clock was a parrot. After repeating 'at the third stroke it will be...' for the millionth time it had a nervous break down destroying its perch and the telephone exchange in London where it was housed. It was later replaced by a monkey and ultimately a recording of the Queen who famously refused to say 'stroke' and replaced it with 'strike'

Back To The Future, the popular time travelling trio of films is actually based on the real story of Professor Gimble. The professor invented a time travelling toilet powered by flatulance and once catapulted himself so far back in time after consuming a jar of pickled onions that he witnessed the birth of mankind. He was found in a supermarket carpark in the early eighties with his clothes in tatters and his pants around his ankle next to a fiery line and a burnt out toilet. After trying to convince bystanders that he had used a habanero chilli to finally flatulate himself back from the future the professor disappeared into history and was never seen again until he was spotted in a photo taken by cavemen in 24 million BC. Hollywood took interest in the story and immediately made most of it up to avoid time conflict wrangles should the professor ever return to our time period and discover the connection.

You can tell the time by the sun. If you are reading it then it's time to get a life.

Sundials are dials that can be turned to dim the sun, they are used at night when all sundials are turned off and we get 'darkness'. Darkness is also the name of a high pitched rock band that managed to get the words end and bell into the same Christmas song but not necessarily in that order.

Two Minutes To Midnight the famous song penned by Iron Maiden is based upon the closing hours of their local pub. It was shouted out when they were about to serve the last orders whereupon the band would then purchase as much lager as they could comfortably drink in two days.

In Victorian times wristwatches were called Chronographicalidocious dateometers and consisted of a glass egg timer filled with sand attached to the back of the wrist that was rotated every three minutes.

You have probably wasted a few minutes of your time reading this and wonder why you bothered.

Never ask Chico and MC Hammer for the time at the same time. It will be carnage.

You will now have the words to 'Can't Touch This' in your head for a long time.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Snorting

What does a slug, a potential cannibal, a trailer full of horse manure and cigarettes have in common?

They all formed part of my walk this morning.

Sometimes I go for a bit of a stroll before starting in the studio, not far, just a few miles to clear my head but sometimes it worries me the things I experience and wondered if anyone else gets all this. No seriously, I see some weird stuff and wonder if it's normal or I have been singled out to be weird to.

The slug was a straight forward one. On the path some distance ahead I could see what looked like a small mouse stood sniffing the ground but as I approached my brain did that little twitch that tells you it's not what you think it is but neither can you tell what it is. It's only as you curiously approach with mouth half open that you realise that it is indeed a dead slug covered in a swarm of flies that now decide to leave all at once and fly at your face bouncing off indiscriminately and regarding my open mouth as a curious cave whilst I squeal at passers bye.

As you can see my walk didn't get off to a flying start. Jayne by now is used to all this of course and regards my apparent inability to not cope with situations like this as rather amusing.

A man approached a little further on and stopped. He looked normal-ish it was just curious that way he side stepped on to the verge to let us pass as the path was wide enough to drive a bus down. He watched us approach then as we passed he started to wring his hands and his face changed into a look that he was possibly contemplating eating us. No, really, he mashed his chops and licked his lips whilst eyeing us both steadily, he also turned as we passed and sniffed, he SNIFFED! Not a delicate sniff but a big lungfull sniff and his tongue extended further to nearly touch his nose. I know this because I turned to look, I had already been licked once by a stranger many years ago (don't ask, I may tell you that story another time) so was on my guard so to speak.

Urgh!

What is it with people? Why do people act oddly around me?

Ever been paced by a pile of poo? We were today as a van carrying the largest open trailer of horse manure I have ever seen decided to read house numbers by slowly crawling along the kerb making sure the trailer was under our noses for a few hundred feet. It stank, we stank, horse wee was making my eyes water. We even stopped walking and he stopped rolling. We got to the crossroads and he turned blocking us from crossing with his poo cart. Unbelievable or as Victor Meldrew would say 'I don't believe it!'

Anything else? Ah yes, being hit by a lit cigarette butt thrown from a car that was pulling in to a shop that had out of the front a bin with an ashtray on top to which the man strode towards after exiting his car and dropped a cigarette packet at its feet. Put it in the bin you lazy man and stop using the general public to stub out your death sticks.

Oh, and nearly witnessing the swift demise of an elderly driver that decided to park on a very busy road and remove his walking frame not from the safety of the pavement but from the side exposed to traffic causing cars and lorries to swerve as he slung his door open and started to extract his unwieldy object. An object that was placed against the other door next to the pavement that would have been simpler to reach and less carnage worthy. Madness!

Well, wish me luck. I'm off into town this afternoon so if you see me out and about don't forget to act really weirdly and have a good sniff.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Tasty

71% out of 300 women agree.

Let that sink in a little. Would this sway you into buying a skin care product now that so many women endorse it? No, I didn't think so and that dear intelligent blog reader is because you know what I know and that 71% (213) of 300 women works out at 0.0000143177% of the UK population of women between the ages of 15 and 65.

Small isn't it?

But then again so is everything.

Petrol often features in the news, currently its around the £1.30'ish per litre but did you know that the price is minuscule when compared to say something like printer ink. Many moons ago when ink jet printing was in its infancy I remember filling up a colour ink jet using separate cartridges, they were big cartridges too holding 250ml of ink and costing £4 each. A few years later and a new printer arrived in the office, it too had separate colour cartridges only this time they cost £10 each and £12 for black but ran out very quickly. It was soon discovered that they had only 40ml in each one. Last year I ditched my home colour ink jet because the cartridges were way too expensive at nearly £40 for a four colour set and each colour had only 4ml inside. I could of course bought cheap alternatives but from experience I'd end up with a lot of head cleaning as a consequence.

When you work it out Petrol comes out at 0.0013 per ml whilst printer ink comes in at a whopping £2.50 per ml and it gets worse, the reduction in the regular size has meant they can now offer a better 'value' XL ink cartridge for a slightly higher price. It still comes in the same cartridge they have just filled it up a bit more with coloured ink (water!) back to what it was before!

Statistics and perceptions are constantly challenged, one massive indicator that you are about to be mislead is a change in packaging. Companies don't change packaging lightly so no matter how much something says 'Still the same great taste!' or 'Better Than Ever!' from my experience its all a ruse to cover something up. We use a popular type of shower gel that comes in a range of colours, last year when we went to top them up we noticed the packaging had changed, some of the names had changed and the price had gone up. When we inquired we were told it was to take into account the new European laws regarding packaging. What a load of rubbish, when we got home we compared like for like and true enough not only had the packaging changed but also had the colour, smell, name and of course its ability to produce bubbles, a favourite brand had cheapened out a little.

Anyway why this blog today?

Well, it's all about cheese.

The packaging has changed on my favourite cheese, it still tells me that nothing has changed and its the same great flavour only it's gone up a little in price. I like cheese, cheese has been a staple of mine for as long as I can remember (spare the jokes about me being cheesy) cheese and pickle, cheese and cucumber with brown sauce sandwiches, specialty cheeses, artisan cheeses I have tried them all so don't lie to me about my current favourite cheese!

Normally when I cut it you get a small but firm crumble to it, now it sticks together like plastic, not only that but the pack is still the same size but I now get 350g instead of 400g for my money. It also tastes different and here's the test; melts differently, always a sign that some of the fat content has been jigged around with. So naturally I'm disappointed in a unpleasy cheesy kinda way and that gets me in a frame of mind to see facts and figures for what they really are. If I'm unhappy about something I start to see other things I am unhappy with such as hair adverts and ink cartridges.

So today I'm having a facts and figures free day to help or so I thought until I started to write todays blog. Aarrgh! At least I'm not going to inadvertently glance in a shopping trolley like yesterday and have an image burned on my retina, I went to bed and had a nightmare of a nurse beating me to death with an oiled cucumber. I woke up comparing toothpaste tubes.

I'm so not right.

Safety In Cucumbers

At some point in a shopping trip most men visit the safety seat, you know the ones, they are always next to the changing rooms. Groups of men huddle with their faces buried in their mobile phones as they wait for their better half to finish looking at garment number 726 before deciding that the first one in the first shop you went in was the right one. They are called safety seats down to two reasons, firstly your other half knows you are safely within earshot for approval and scrutiny and secondly they also know that being little boys that never grow up we are less likely to wander away into the crowds so for our safety they exist.

I sat there today, handbag in hand and pondered all this. I must point out that the handbag was not indeed mine as passers by may have thought but Jaynes who had left me entrusted with it (for safety on the safety seat) whilst she rummaged through a pile of clothes that she had taken into the changing rooms with her. Seated to one side was an elderly gentleman, he had no phone to distract him so sort of fell into a kind of stupor bordering on distress, I could tell this from his eyes that started to gradually close only to shoot open when he realised he was being shouted. Distressed he had missed something vitally important he would then over compensate with 'yes, love' and 'no, love' before returning to his stupor world as she whisked away to try on a trench coat or something. He was unfortunately a long way from his pipe and slippers moment.

I had other problems, I don't handle handbags easily. I mean I do hold them and I don't mind holding them it's just that I have never been trained on how to hold one and not look, how can I say this, frivolous. Anyway this one also clashed with my clothes making it stand out even more, pink is not very flattering when it's sat on your lap although it did make the underneath of my chin look ruddy, you know just like when you hold a buttercup underneath and it goes yellow. I say ruddy as that probably describes what I imagined I looked like with a pink bounce back but in reality I probably looked more like a underlit red faced drunk. The handbag was one thing but what concerned me most was this.

A bloody wall! I was sat on a seat (comfy) with my nose fourteen inches from a wall, I could barely get my knees in! The chair was also fixed in place so who thought it was a great idea? I looked like a bloody crooked flamboyant elf sat scrunched up sporting a pink bit of ladyware so I was even more amazed when an unknown young lady came out of the changing rooms and turned to me to ask 'Has Stephanie come out yet?'

Respectfully I put my handbag to one side and replied.

'Who the bloody hell is Stephanie?'

'Don't get your knickers in a twist grandpops!' and with that consummate wit she disappeared back into the changing room.

Grandpops!?! Have I really reached the 'look like a grandpops' age? I was sporting a pink handbag didn't that count for anything!

Jayne popped her head out.

'What do you think?' She asked using that steely voice that could change to ice cold revenge or all out war if I said the wrong thing about what she was wearing.

'Do I look like a grandad?' I said which was obviously the wrong thing I realised not nano seconds later as the temperature in the room dropped by twenty degrees. First rule of Shopping Club is always talk about the shopping items first.

Forty minutes later I was lumbering under the weight of bags very similar to a sherpa would up the side of Everest and over the road into M&S. The food aisle is always at the back in these places so it was no surprise to have to lumber a bit further until I was within a few feet of the entrance when from one side came a rather large woman with a trolley. Not sure if it was momentum or a dislike of lumbering men but she succeeded in careering into my legs. She stopped, I stopped and I was about to say something when I looked down.

Down into a pink bag.

Look down here.

No, further down.

Pretend you're me and look into the bag.

Now try and talk to the large lady that had run into you without conjuring up mental images for the bag contained several items that made speech impossible.

A naughty nurse outfit (XXL), some slippy cream and a back massager the size of an overgrown cucumber.

Oh, and a cock ring.

My flab was gasted, my innocence shattered, we were in M&S for god sake, I only wanted a bag of crisps!

I purposely went to find the changing rooms so I could have a sit down in safety. Jayne came over to me, 'How sweet, you have sat down to allow me to shop and I didn't think you wanted me to buy any more.'

'Did you see what was in that, that, that, ladies bag? Did you? Did you?' I was starting to gibber.

'Here, here' she said soothingly 'You stay here, I'll go and sneak a look.'

Minutes later I turned to a wide eyed Jayne sat next to me. 'She's going to kill someone isn't she?'

'Yes' I said 'I believe she is.'

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Variety

The garden seems to have taken a bit of a battering this Summer with the high winds, torrential downpours, thunder, lightning and the occasional hail storm but despite the weather the garden has now reached a turning point sliding into autumn as many of the plants start to bare fruit.

The two apple trees we have are situated in Bunnyopolis so every morning three happy rabbits come skittling out to look for windfalls. Once found they then have a bit of a competition to see who can eat the most so we have taken to removing the windfalls before hand and deviding them up equally before handing them back to our eager and hungry bunnies. It's either that or watch Iona scoff the lot!

There are two types of apple to help with the pollination and both are providing impressive fruit with incredible sweetness. In the garden though it's strange varieties of anything that we like to grow. We have normal stuff too like pencil beans and mini sweet corn but the oddest varieties are kept for the green house.

This year we have ten varieties of tomatoes starting with this wonderful one, the black tomato. A bite of this is a cross between a citrus fruit tang and a sweet after taste, certainly different and unique enough to give tomatoes a completely new taste. They don't go completely black though, just a very dark red / brown colour, still strange to see hanging like a bunch of grapes.

My favourite at the moment is the striped tomatoes with their lovely marbling pattern that changes to red and orange as they ripen. Again the taste is quite different from shop bought ones and we like nothing more than a few of these straight from the vine popped into a salad.

So a bit of a reflective morning before I start work, the change in the garden and the dwindling light at night reminds me that Autumn is close and although I like Autumn I can't help feeling that we haven't really had our Summer yet. September as usual is our busiest period at Impossimal HQ, it would just be nice to have a little bit more sun before it all kicks off again.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Couldn't Careline - Your Friendless Switchboard

Welcome to Blogging The Impossimal careline, your call is important to us please select from the following options. Press 1 if you can't read today's blog, press 2 if today's blog is not funny, press 3 to register your disgust, press 4 to hear some filthy talk, press 5 to hear these options again because you didn't listen the first time or hold to speak to an operator.

Your call is number 253, your waiting time is approximately one hour and twenty nine minutes. Please be aware all calls are recorded for amusement purposes or to prove a point should you become abusive, calls cost £1 a minute unless you pressed option 4 our premium naughty service which is billed separately at £3 per naughty word, moans cost an extra £1 for fake and £5 for genuine. Option 4 will be discreetly listed on your bill as XXX HOT ACTION to avoid embarrassment.

You have pressed 1, please hold...

I'm sorry, if you have pressed one you are indeed telling porkies as that option was only available to readers of today's blog and as you are reading this we deem you to be a reader and thus option 1 has been removed for your safety as you obviously can't tell the difference between reading and not reading. Possibly you also are not sure of the difference between light and dark or near and far. Please press 1 to return to the menu.

1

Didn't you read that last bit? I said option 1 has been removed. God you are so stupid, please hold whilst I get something to slap you with. We are returning you back to our main menu, don't press 1 again.

2

Really? Not funny? I tell you what matey you wouldn't know funny if you visited the Funhouse at 26 Fun Street in Funtown. You want funny? Well I'll give you funny.

How many unfunny people does it take to change a lightbulb?

One, just you.

Want another one?

Knock, knock

Who's there?

Ura

Ura who?

Ura arsehole.

Who's funny now eh? Hang on everybody I'm sending Mr Unfunny back to the switchboard and disabling option 2. Get ready to be underwhelmed with a caller who obviously has a case of the stupids today.

3

Thankyou for registering your disgust, it has been duly noted that we are indeed disgusted with you and it was so nice for you to admit it. For your convenience we have posted onto your Facebook and Twitter feeds and asked your friends and family to rate how disgusted they are with you. Returning you back to the switchboard.

5

Are you that stupid that you can't remember the options? Options 1 to 3 have been disabled for stupids, please wait for an operator. You are call 2735, the approximate waiting time is two months. We will be with you as soon as possible in the meantime press 4 to listen to music or wait to listen to a fog horn mixed with a whistle at high volume.

4

Welcome to 'Make Me Moan!' Our premium Hot Hot Line, we have put you through to Peter our voluptuous 44DD curvy model from Sweden with long golden hair and the smell of fresh laundry.

'Hey baby, my name is Peter, would you like to hear me moan?'

Press 7 for a small moan, 8 for an average moan and 9 for a full on moan.'

9

Full moan selected

'Hey baby, I'm absolutely sick of the news on television, it's full of misery delivered in a mind numbing sensational way that winds me up. Newspapers are just as bad. Why does nobody use indicators when driving any more? What's with all the 50 mph speed limits we now have? Why does at your convenience always lead to more inconvenience? Only today I phoned a switchboard only to be...'

'Click'

Bzzzzzt.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Bakey Bakey

Anybody watching the Great British Bake Off last night was treated to an insight into the story of the humble ice cream cone and the penny licks. Its a fascinating tale that I researched for the 2012 release of the Crystal Tipped Unicone, part of the foodie themed Lost Impossimals that continues today of which I have included the story below. The Cantering Caketacular Queen Of Bakes from the 2013 Bloodlines collection found here also delves into cooking history with a brief outline of Victorian cookbookery shenanigans along with the Pompidoo's French Fancy Filly a story naturally about French Fondants, click here to read.

I'm still researching this cookery period for the next set of Lost Impossimals - Revelations in 2015 and its thrown up some surprising connections between food, science and indeed famous authors.

The Crystal Tipped Unicone

In 1879, Charles, enjoying a little time at his London retreat and at the Victoria Empire Club one particularly hot day felt in need of refreshment. Outside of the club a street vendor was selling ‘penny licks’, basically ice cream served in special glass which you could lick the ice cream from. As Charles licked away he chatted to the vendor, a one Italo Marchiony, who was having a problem.

His serving glasses had the particular problem of sometimes breaking, at other times being stolen and all too often being a little too unsanitary for most people. Charles thought about it a while and agreed, indeed it needed a solution. Returning to the club he buried himself in the library positive he would find something that would help Italo.

In a dusty corner he found a battered book dating back to 1790, it detailed a journey through the Arctic Cordillera Mountains, one fraught with many a danger as the explorer searched for a creature called the Unicone. It detailed a trail that eventually led to a hidden mountain that was usually covered in snow and totally white but once every ten years that snow would melt for two weeks revealing that the mountain was in fact totally ice. The Unicones would then emerge from crystal carrying an assortment of coloured ice cream. It was this that intrigued Charles, what on earth did they carry them in? Maybe this was the solution for Italo.

A year later Charles found himself at the beginning of a path through the mountains, using the battered book as a guide Charles eventually found the fabled mountain, which actually looked all rather ordinary, and made camp, he was a few days early so he patiently waited. He was not disappointed.

At the beginning of the second day a fresh storm brewed up confining him to his tent for a few hours, as he emerged he was almost blinded by the light. The mountain in front of him had exploded in colour, acting like a giant prism the whole mountain shimmered and changed colour almost on a whim, thousands of coloured speckles only heightened the effect, on the highest peaks he could see many creatures dancing or even prancing around the edges, maybe these were the fabled Unicones?

Using his specially adapted telescope he zoomed in on the closest, it was the most charming beast he had ever witnessed, a cross between a French Fancy Filly and a Four Legged Frump, it had a purple tail, dinky flowers around it’s back legs and across it’s neck eight smooth looking curls complimenting it’s intricate spiraled horn and it’s piercing eyes.

 As he watched they all danced together in rings, occasionally placing their crystal tipped horn into a sweet looking pool. As they pulled out the horn a quick flick of the head dislodged a cone shaped object. This object was then picked up in their mouths and used to scoop up the multitudes of ice cream that dotted the mountain and gave it that speckled colour look which from a distance looked like the whole mountain had been sprinkled with hundreds and thousands.

Charles was awe struck, it was beautiful and he fell under its spell immediately unable to turn away for an instant. Charles remained watching the mountain for another eight hours until nightfall when the spell of the mountain relented and the Unicones returned to their caves for the night.

In 1881 Charles was back in London and set to earnestly painting the Crystal Tipped Unicone, telling Italo, the ice cream vendor that he had found his solution but would say no more. In June of the same year the painting was complete, Charles led Italo into his studio and pulled away the sheet covering the painting.

‘Bello!’ Italo exclaimed then promptly fainted; he had never seen anything so beautiful. When he came too Charles explained the method the Unicone employed to Italo who beamed ear to ear as the penny dropped.

It took many years of experimentation on the streets of London with some memorable disasters involving toffee and another using sugared bread until a breakthrough that allowed edible cups with flat bottoms and tapered sides to be produced. By this time though Italo had left London and moved to New York for greater opportunities. By 1896 Italo Marchiony had 40 push cart vendors selling ice cream in his edible containers; in 1903 he obtained a patent for a machine to manufacture the containers en mass.

Its from this point onwards the history of the ice cream cone and indeed Italo’s becomes blurred. In 1904 the Worlds Fair in St Louis, Missouri hosted more than 50 ice cream vendors and more than a dozen waffle stands, everyone claimed they had invented the now popular ice cream cone.

Fortunately with the discovery of the Crystal Tipped Unicone painting and Charles extensive notes we can finally declare Charles and Italo’s place in cone making history.

Countdown

We have just started to work on the Autumn/Winter Mission Impossimal magazine in anticipation of the new Impossimal releases next month. Its a jam packed issue with plenty of unseen Impossimals and articles not to mention the new limited editions and sculptures which will feature quite heavily in the issue. Its a labour of love put together in house; Jayne takes the photos, edits and proof reads whilst I handle the layouts and technical side of getting it from paper to screen, very much a shared task.

This is a chance to be featured in the next issue, we have already got a few collectors that we will be contacting but if you have a story to tell or would like to take part in an interview for the magazine or just have an idea for an article that you would like to see included let us know and we will see what we can do. We can be reached at impossimal@gmail.com and the deadline is the 22nd August, so don't delay!

After the monstrous thirty date Bloodline tour last year we have decided to trim it back a little this year and concentrate on just a small selection of appearances on the run up to Christmas with double date shows; that is shows that have not only Impossimals but also Jayne's fabulous ceramic and metal originals too.

Full details of all the latest appearances will appear online shortly with Meadowhall, Manchester, Bluewater, Derby, Solihull and a few others with already confirmed shows.

So with a little over three weeks until the official launch its full steam ahead at Impossimal HQ. We have plenty of fun lined up over the coming months and hopefully plenty to make you smile too!

00 Oh

By the age of five I was working undercover in the KGB as a double agent. It led to many an adventure, adventures I was quite capable of handling having trained in unarmed combat, weapon familiarity and advanced driving and bodyguard skills by the age of four.

On my sixth birthday my cover was blown when a three year old trainee agent forgot to remove his dummy during a secret rendezvous with the head of the secret police. Immediately they recognised the western branded Mothercare dummy rather than the jewel encrusted one made by luxury baby brand Suommo issued to all operatives to maintain a level of sophistication. In the ensuing gunfight I was forced to bundle the agent back into his armoured push chair and make good my escape.

It was not easy, they followed on all terrain Nipper Sports V3 push chairs in carnival red wielding twin Uzis and spraying bullets like a hosepipe. After taking two chairs out with baby bottles filled with wheel ripping spikes they switched to baby walkers with indestructible hard rubber castors. It made taking aim a little tricky for them but they were much faster than us and soon caught up. I disabled one walker after shooting out the metal locking pin on the from wheel, the walker came to a sudden stop and flipped twenty feet into the air and over the edge of a two hundred feet drop. It's occupants shouted 'Aieeeeeee!' as it descended and hit the floor exploding in a ball of fire. I took care of the remaining gun wielding baby walker with a sharp turn I knew he couldn't make on castors sending him careering into shop that sold kitchen knives. I think he got the point.

My cover blown I spent the next three weeks making my way back home to MI5 through the use of disguises. At one time I was a Bedouin Camel Trader, the next day a Travelling Salesman selling futons, it was hard but I made it back and was ready for my next assignment.

I was retrained for my next mission was to infiltrate a criminal organisation at the Moulin Rouge. For this mission I became a showgirl called Tally Ho, part of my routine was tassel twirling and kicking both my legs above my head at the same time. The hardest part was wearing the small thong and putting on the false eyelashes, pretty fiddly for a seven year old. It all ended horribly when my set of false breasts flew off during a vigorous pole dancing routine on stage and landed in the lap of the local criminal overlord, an eight year old with terrible temper tantrums who had terrorised the area for six long years. I wouldn't recommend running in heels, neither would I recommend tassels as they kept hitting me in the face as I escaped from the now empty top half of my tight fitting catsuit.

I returned to MI5 in a downbeat mood and debriefed 'K' on the whole sorry episode. Luckily I was issued with a new set of falsies, a wig and a new name Leggsy Akimbo. I had a second chance!

THIS HAS BEEN AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEW BOOK 'SHY SPY - PUSHCHAIR ESPIONAGE' BY PETER SMITH AKA TALLY HO AND LEGGSY AKIMBO. AVAILABLE FROM ALL GOOD BOOKSTORES FROM MONDAY PRICED £12.99.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Library Of Bored

In an age of limited attention spans I give you Five Second One Sentence Novels...

ROMANTIC, FIVE SECOND LOVES!

SCENT OF THE SEA

They met over the fish counter in Morrisons as she whispered seductively 'Fillet' to which he replied 'With pleasure' and they were married six weeks later before a fatal accident with a bacon slicer cut his young life short and devastated hers until she discovered a true love in the form of Doctor Smarmy a consultant in the Bacon Slicing Rehabilitation unit.

LOVERS IN THE COLD

Recovering from a bout of flu, Gemma spied the man of her dreams over her handkerchief whilst at the Chemist, a night of passion followed but Gordon contracted a fatal dose of flu and died a few days later whilst Gemma unable to ignore her guilt drinks herself into the arms of a friend who becomes her husband after a quirky twist of fate reveals him to be the man who she thought she had killed but he had been embarrassed about his night of passion and faked his own flu demise to find himself.

HORROR, FIVE SECOND FRIGHTS!

LURKER

The room was quiet until the whispering started, checking under the bed it continued, it was only when he turned around in his empty bed that he felt something next to him and the whispering changed to a scream as rotting fingers tore into his flesh.

THE CURSING

No matter how many times the light was switched on and off the childlike figure with no face and arms outstretched always stood in the corner when it was dark taunting him for past deeds.

SLAYLORS

He had been alone at the light house on the isolated Eagles Rock for three months before the storm of the century hit forcing him to retreat to the lowest floor when there was a knock on the cellar door below his feet.

SCI-FI, FIVE SECOND THRILLS!

TO HULL AND BACK

The cyborg demonstrated an intelligence not seen before as it replicated the powers of a superhero in the laboratory, unfortunately a glitch in its software went unnoticed and the resultant rampage levelled the city of Hull until the aliens landed and mankind discovered it had the perfect weapon already.

CRIME, FIVE SECOND CAPERS!

CRACKED

The safe unlocked just as planned and all three men stood transfixed, it was the first time this experienced game of safe crackers had seen anything like it, pure gold and palladium jewellery transfixed with the stone of Gemini, a diamond the size of a tennis ball, they all wanted it but only one would leave with it they all thought simultaneously as they drew their guns.

MYSTERY THRILLER, FIVE SECOND EDGE OF YOUR SEAT STUFF!

SHAMNESIA

She had no recollection of the dead body in the bathroom and the knife in her hand but the banging and shouting at the door drew her attention, she wanted to stay but knew she should run, with the only exit the window she dropped the six feet to the floor and climbed in the car, a glance in the mirror and she could see them starting to give chase, how was she going to prove her innocence or indeed was she innocent at all?

CHILDRENS, FIVE SECOND SWEETNESS!

THE PUZZLE-ME PRESENT

Peter opened the unexpected gift from his reclusive uncle only to find it was an empty box with the words 'ME-PUZZLE' attached to the gift tag, disappointed he placed his toy rabbit in the box only to be surprised when the box 'knocked' back, opening the lid very carefully he peered in and to his amazement saw his toy rabbit through a door at the bottom of the box so like every sensible child he climbed in to enjoy the fun.

EXPERIMENTAL NOVEL, FIVE SECOND CUTTING EDGE!

THE STRANGE SIGN

¥

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

I Phone

This little slip of paper I found trapped in the centre of a magazine from the early eighties, it's a relic from my first real job in an office. Basically nobody was trusted to remember things so we had these handy little pads to fill in everytime we took a phone call and these were then placed on a spike on the recipients table to be dealt with. They should have worked but it was regularly open to abuse, quite often you would find an unknown phone number to ring with some strange name. I once phoned Twycross Zoo and asked for a Mr G.Wraff much to the amusement of other office members.

Old style phone systems provided quite a rich source of humour for the prankster, I used to use a very small bit of paper to raise the receiver from the base so at a glance it was not being used. I could then dial another desk and carry on working, they would pick up the phone and I would slightly knock the phone to dislodge the paper and cut the call. Do this several times to different phones and pretty much the whole office didn't get much work done. Another favourite was to swap the receivers over on the bases when two phones were close together. When a call was received the wrong handset was used on the correct base unit, if they realised their mistake they put the receiver back cutting off the call and picked up the other one which was incorrect. Sometimes they would repeat this a few times before realising.

Coffee machines were also regulated with a special card that you received each month that gave you two drinks a day. Basically you went to the vending machine popped in your card and chose your drink, out came your card and out came your drink. The problem was that many of us in the office quickly realised that there was only enough drinks to last four weeks so in the last few days of a month you had to have made sure that you had reduced your intake to last the extra time.

Really it was a problem waiting for a solution, it took a bit of experimentation but I eventually found a way bypass the system. The card looked like a cardboard credit card complete with magnetic strip, on every drink purchase it pressed a small hole about 5mm from the bottom into the card, they were only small and they not very far apart but obviously formed part of the vending machine security.

I cut out three pieces of card of roughy the same thickness and sacrificed a brand new card by removing the magnetic strip and cutting it along its length into three. I placed these on the new cards making sure they were in the centre of where a real strip should be then filled in the gap either side using normal cassette tape. All the cards started with one small pinhole to help the machine count the rest so I placed the new card over the duplicates and carefully punched the first one. Two of the cards worked perfectly, the other unfortunately worked a few times until the magnetic strip came unstuck and decided to tell the machine to stop dispensing cups and continuously dispense coffee until dry, replacing the cups manually with used ones from the rubbish bin I managed to avert disaster and my clever card system came to a premature end.

Looking back I had quite a good time working in an office, we got plenty of work done too through all the pranking that went on, it all added to the atmosphere and was all done with good humour. Ahh, memories!

Anyway, I'm a little puzzled at the moment after downloading out of interest an app called Just Eat. I wanted to see just how many fast food places there was around us and just what they offered. The results were amazing, I can only assume that the places add their own menus and options as the sheer amount of mistakes is perfect blogging fodder. I came across Chickling & Chips, Stake And Kidney Pie and the amusingly titled Vegetarian Meat Pizza With Bacon. One place even specified that the salad contained two leaves of lettuce, a slice of onion and half a tomato and that the beef they use comes from genuine cows.

Here's another one that amused me slightly, it offered Pies but offered no selection of pies they sold anywhere on the menu. Instead it opened a comment box that simply said to type in the pie of your choice.

The Gnu and Moose pie I ordered was lovely, I'd also recommend the Armchair and Stool pie I ordered yesterday, it went perfectly well with my half of tomato salad.

Have a great Thursday :)

 

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Which Horse Are You?

Following on from the revelations that horses move their ears to detect predators recently on the BBC we would like to reveal that their hooves go clip clop and smell through their noses. In a bid to not be outdone we bring you an ear identification guide. Simply look in the mirror at your ears and match them up to the images below to find out which horse are you.

If your ears are pointy, you like wearing saddles, eating hay and understand the word giddy up then you are a Horse, either that or Sarah Jessica Parker.

If your ears are misaligned with a tendency to droop and you have a ruffled mane then your are PARTY HORSE, a heavy drinking, smoking, always up for a good blast you little raver. You never tire of your partying lifestyle and often trash your stable after a heavy night on the compressed grass pony nuts.

Touch your ears, if they feel like felt or a man made fibre and your are wearing a neckerchief then your are HOBBY HORSE and like nothing better than feeling a body on your back bouncing away. You have a tendency to drag your behind though leading people to believe you come from poor stock, deflect this comment by wearing a bell to distract attention and entertain your rider.

I'm sorry, if you look like this you are CHILDISH HORSE and unfortunately will never grow up. Your enjoyment in life comes from purile jokes and reliance on humour based around wee wee and trumps. I predict you will get nowhere in life and end up doing something vaguely arty and writing unfunny blog entries for attention.

A perfectly groomed mane, handsome looks means you are PEGASUS, the perfect horse with the added ability to fly and poop at the same time much to the astonishment of the people below as they get buried by a torrent of manure. Smug and self righteous you prance around on tip toes so much that other horses hate you and would love to mess up your perfectly groomed head. Watch your back Pegasus, look to other horses ears for signs of an impending attack.

Clueless and wondering why you are looking in the mirror because a blog told you so makes you BEMUSED HORSE. Quite often you are bemused by life in general but occasionally it really double sixes you with its rules and choices. Even paying a bill can be challenging weighing up between online, offline, banks, building societies, credit cards, cash, cheque or Post Offices which often causes mental blocks just as if your a character in the popular game The Sims and someone has just cancelled your action. Your favourite saying is 'I can't brain today I have the dumb' which pretty much sums up each and every day.

Wearing badly fitting clothes of assorted colour and sizes makes you CLOTHES HORSE. Your abysmal fashion sense is a constant source of amusement for friends and family which you try to pass off as having your own style. Your stiff limbs will be a problem later in life especially as you prefer standing still for long periods of time.

Now you know what horse you are you life will be richer and more fulfilled.

Probably.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Your Letters

AM I RIGHT OR AM I RIGHT?

Dear Impossimal,

My wife insists that the Hovis advert music was taken from Symphony No. 9, in E Minor "From the New World" (Op. 95) by Dvorak but I think it was written by Adam Ant especially for the advert after enjoying Hovis for many years. My marriage is on the rocks because of this, please tell me I'm right.

Yours Reg Varney

* You are indeed correct Reg, Adam Ant wrote the song in a fit of pique after rivals Sunblessed threatened to air an advert combining the Shake'n'Vac song with a nice crusty farmhouse loaf cycling up a hill. Adam Ant was so enraged believing that Hovis was the only bread that should be consumed he spent six nights in a locked cubicle toilet with a twenty six piece orchestra until they came up with the song you nostalgically remember today.

THE THINGS KIDS SAY

Dear Impossimal,

My two-year-old found a spider in the garden and lo and behold spoke their first words. They wanted to know what the speed of light was relative to the speed of sound. I told them I didn't know to which they replied 'I knew you were this stupid, this is why I didn't speak to you for the first two years after I was born.'

Yours T.P.Charmin

* Kids eh? Can't live with them, can't live without constant mewlings regarding time and space theorem.

TIE ME UP

Dear Impossimal,

I am learning to tie my shoelaces can you recommend any good books or classes to help?

Yours D.Cameron

* Of course, you can always try Ken Dodds Diddy Guide To Shoemastery, the bible for shoelace aficionados. In this three hundred page hardback Ken takes you through the simple up and down through the loop system right up to the triple hangmans noose reefer knot. With special sections on making shoe polish from chocolate it covers all your shoe needs. Only £17.99 from all good shoe shops.

OVERHEARD ON A BUS

"Two to town please."

"That's £1.20 love."

"Thankyou."

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

"I wish I could sing." J.Bieber (Singer) (Sort of) (Maybe) (Kinda)

PUZZLE OF THE DAY

What is the next number in this sequence?

A, C, E, G, ?

CROSSWORD NO.627

Acehole.

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If you would like a question answered in this column you can contact us direct at Dept Readers Letters Filed Under Bin, The Daily Sun Mirror Mail, Bow Bells, Paddington, Trafalgar Square, Landan.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Off My Trolley

'I know' said I, 'Let's strip the wooden floor and distress stain it to match the new rug and cushions.'

'Err, ok' said Jayne cautiously, after all it was 1pm on a Sunday and we had no large sanding tools, no stain, no idea how to distress it and it's a large 25 square metre area to boot.

Fifteen minutes later we were at a large DIY store perusing wood stains and sanding equipment. For a large industrial floor sander and a corner sander we was looking at around £50-60 to hire, for fifteen pounds more we could buy our own professional heavy duty belt sander that we could keep so in the trolley it went. Next purchase was new skirting boards that we would match to the distressed floor and for that we needed a trolley that was made for carrying lengths of wood.

A massive DIY megastore so you would have thought it would have been easy to find a trolley for wood, you know the type; big tubular metal things that will take large sheets and lengths with ease that career uncontrollably into children and displays. Normally they are near the entrance or in the alley that contains the wood but today for some reason they had all disappeared.

I stood at the front entrance bemused, all that was left was the standard shopping trolley and we already had one of those. I went back inside and down to the wood section, tromping up and down each aisle looking for a suitable trolly. I found two, both being used by members of staff and both rammed full with wood already thwarting any attempt for me to surreptitiously remove the items and trundle one away. I returned back to the entrance via the plumbing department and noticed another suitable trolley, this time holding two toilets and several hundred metres of plastic drainpipe.

Outside a suitable trolley had returned only it had been commandeered by the gardening section and was being trundled away full of fencing and gravel. I threw myself infront of them to block their way and politely asked where I could get one from. 'Over there' he said pointing vaguely in the general direction of Europe which I assume meant go find one yourself you irritating little arse, can't you see I'm pretending to be busy. Following his bored gesture I went over to the trolley points in the car park, still no suitable trolley. Wait! There's one, I can just see it from here, somebody is returning one to the entrance!

I ran, ran like the wind I did only to watch the trolley be intercepted by another fellow shopper before I could get there.

Bugger.

This was getting silly so I decided to ask a member of staff if the could find one for me. Well, you would have thought I had urinated on their lunch. 'You want me to get a trolley for you?' they said followed by an expression that I can only describe as "Are you being serious? Find it yourself fatty." Reluctantly they accepted the challenge and off they went which left me and Jayne loitering near the entrance. About five minutes later the doors swished open and in came our suitable trolley and the assistant, he handed the trolley to a lady and walked passed me.

'Err, wasn't that for me?' I said

'Yes, she's with you, I gave her the trolley.'

'But she's not with me, she's with me!' I replied pointing to Jayne who then frowned at being called a she.

'I asked her if she was with a man and she said yes.'

'You're joking right? Do you normally ask completely open questions to random strangers? How did you think that was me?'

'I also asked if he was fat and going bald.'

'?!?'

So if you are looking to waste fifteen minutes of your life and enjoy receiving insults then I would like to recommend DIY stores on a Sunday afternoon. I did eventually find a trolley on my own at exactly the same time as the assistant found it.

'Here I have found one for you'

'No you haven't, I have just found it at the same time!'

'You're lucky, we only have five of them'

'Lucky is when you win the lottery or two chocolate bars drop out of a vending machine instead of one, tracking down a trolley for fifteen minutes like some bloody golden ticket does not make me lucky' I was going to add 'young man' at the end but that would have only made me sound old fashioned and possibly grannyish.

So that was part of my Sunday, there was a way lot more to tell but for now I'll leave it for another day and rush off to finish the floor.

Have a great trolley laden Monday!

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals

Bunnymania

Bunnyopolis is looking its best at the moment with its apple trees and veg bed coming on a treat as you can see from the picture above. Out and around Bunnyopolis a few more bunny and hare related items have snuck into our home taking the grand total to somewhere close to a hundred scattered throughout our house.

Our collection of hares and rabbits is not a collection of rabbit and hare related tat though, every item has been bought or placed for a reason. We have pieces going back thirty years that we can still remember why we bought them and for what occasion. I suppose they act as little markers of memories and it's quite comforting to have them around.

This new addition is a stone rabbit that Jayne had when she was a child, it remained in her mothers garden under a load of undergrowth until a few months ago when she dug it back out and relocated it back in Bunnyopolis. I actually quite like it when they have seen some wear, it adds oodles of character.

Another bunny that has joined us recently is this great hollow metal rabbit which now stands in our hallway, the first to greet visitors and certainly not the last although in this picture he seems to be inspecting our radiators. Although it's a garden ornament we didn't want him to rust away so kept him indoors instead.

Finally something we have been after for a while, a large stuffed felt rabbit head, not everyone's cup of tea I'd admit but it looks great hung in the kitchen and it matches the large stuffed felt stag we have on the landing. Ooo, that sounds a bit odd 'felt stag', dunno why it seemed strange typing that. Isn't it weird how some words seem to lose their meaning the more you say them whilst others don't. Toast for example will forever be toast no matter how many times you repeat them after each other but try repeating ecology hundreds of times and you will end up saying collogy and it will no longer make sense.

Or is that just me?

I'm rambling off on a tangent aren't I? Sorry about that.

So not much of a blog for Friday I know, the studio beckons this morning for both of us and whilst the weathers a bit cooler it's the ideal time to get stuck in.

Have a great weekend :)

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals