Facephore

With the latest announcement that Facebook is going to charge users to up to £10 to contact people not on their friend list they are giving users an additional option at no extra charge. They are introducing Facephore, the popular flag based signalling method bought right up to date for today's fast paced world. Here's a brief run down of the most popular Facephore statuses being launched soon...

 Hi, I'm single and possibly weird, I'm not giving anything away in my photo although I may be mentally unstable.

 Married, together we fly the flag of togetherness until we argue and then we try to stick the dam flag up each  others backside.

Its complicated. Its that complicated that I don't even know where to start apart from the fact that seven Peruvian pygmy goats and that fellow from across the road had nothing to do with it.

 I'm at work, sucks doesn't it.

 I have kids and its awful. Why did they not tell me that they do random stuff, shout, squeal, run around, be petulant and make a mess?

 It's my birthday folks, I'm going to celebrate I'm getting closer to incontinence.

 I'm drunk, too drunk to even wave this dam flag. 

 I need a poo but I can't go.

Yay! I did a poo and it was grand!

 I have a new hat.

 I own a cat, although owning a cat is like saying I own a small Caribbean island. Its all in your head and cats only rub up against you to get rid of their static build up. If they didn't do that their hair would stand on end and they would be prone to starting electrical fires.

 I own a doggy, it takes me for a walk.

 Look, an elephant! I wonder what it's name is?

 I like tarts. Strawberry jam ones especially although I do prefer lime ones said nobody ever.

Finally one that can be used in many occasions to show disbelief, displeasure, shock, horror or even good old apathy.

Enjoy!

Three Wise Donkeys

Its Monday morning so its time for Donkey Wise Donkey Advise, our regular column dedicated to your problems with our Wise Donkey solutions. Todays blog has been sponsored by www.donkeydodonkeydontdonkeywisedonkeylies.com a subsidiarity of www.sheepgobaapigsgooinkandpandassitaroundalotandlooksad.com

Dear Three Wise Donkeys,
I am a working mother of two and I have recently run up a large credit card bill without my husbands knowledge. To cover the payments I went to a loan shark who charged me 1000% interest on the ten pounds I borrowed. I now owe the loan shark £19,923 and the credit card company £83,993 what shall I do wise donkeys?

A.Concerned For My Kneecaps, Dudley

Well you have got yourself in a little bother haven't you dear, we need to get those debts in order as soon as possible. I recommend buying a large saddle, a blanket and a nose bag. Take all these down to Skegness beach and harness yourself up. Offer rides up and down the beach just like we do in times of trouble and pretty soon you will be making money hand over fist. You can also charge to have a photo taken with you for extra income. Wear a small bell so you attract attention as you canter up and down the sands. You will be debt free in no time. Next!

Dear Three Wise Donkeys,
I have a terrible habit of always finishing off other peoples food, it has had such an impact on my life I now weigh just over one metric ton and fear it may hinder my job prospects of becoming a prima ballerina. What should I do?

Eddie Large Cake, Piecrust, Northants.

Don't worry Eddie, we have the perfect solution. Our new fitness regime Donkeyrobics, a cardio vascular exercise that will banish those pounds instantly. Simply buy a saddle, a blanket and nose bag and pop down to the beach. Offer rides up and down a mile stretch of beach and watch those pounds drop away. At night simply retire to a small field and gallop around a little before settling down on a pile of hay. I guarantee you will feel fitter and get closer to you dream of being a prima ballerina in no time at all. Next!

Dear Three Wise Donkeys,
I have a penchant for wanting to dress up in my wife's clothes when she is out, is this normal and what should I do?

Billy Frilly Knickers, Kinky, Essex

It's perfectly normal to have feelings like this, our recommendation is to be open about it with your wife. Get her to share your passion and encourage you to dress up in her underwear, then apply a little lippy, nail varnish and make up. To help your transition into society simply buy a saddle, blanket and nose bag and get down to the beach. People will love to ride you up and down the sands for a fee especially as you have gone to the trouble of dressing up a little. You wife can act as your handler so you can both enjoy cross dressing beach riding as if its perfectly normal, which as we know it is!

Dear Three Wise Donkeys,
You are crap, all you ever talk about is running up and down the sand.

Miss I.M.Honest

Well get you! Don't knock it until you have tried it dearie. Frolicking up and down the sands with some random stranger straddling you sounds right up your street you little strumpet. From what I have heard you even do it for free, tart!

Dear Three Wise Donkeys,
Your weekly column has been suspended until further notice. You are not funny or entertaining in any way and you also break all donkey rules by being able to use a keyboard.

A.Ass, Association Of Donkey Poking Of Britain.

Hee-Haw,Hee-Haw,Hee-Haw,Hee-Haw,Hee-Haw!!!!

We All Can Be Heroes

You may be wondering why I have opened today's blog with 'We Can Be Heroes' by Caroline Shotton, well its because this incredibly popular and talented artist has decided to take part in a 10k Race For Life, on the 30th June, a very worthy cause indeed and this painting ideally suited the support Caroline and many others will be giving on the day.

Caroline is looking to raise over a thousand pounds so please, if you can, pop on over to http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/carolineshotton0 and lets see if Caroline can smash her target!

Act Now!

Oh no! A brown envelope with important documents enclosed, is it from the Inland Revenue? The DVLA? Or are they putting my poll tax up to £900 per month so they can afford a bit of tarmac to fill the twenty six million holes I seem to find on every car journey?

It's full of bamboozling words and concerns, it's starts with a worrying 'Doesn't time fly?', a quick scan revealed phrases like 'A small price to pay' and 'We save you hassle'. 'Minor hiccup or major mishap' leaps out at you followed by 'you can stop worrying'

See what I mean? I'm really worried now, calamity! mishaps! accident! What do I have to lose?

Well actually quite a lot, for the letter is nothing more than a scare mongering attempt to get you to take out extended warranty on an electrical product. Basically it's telling me my world will end if my iPad stopped working and for a nominal annual fee of £95 I can have piece of mind.

Hang on, let me get that right, for £95 A third of the cost of a new one you guarantee to sort it out if I break it?

Well, no not really, we won't touch it with a barge pole if it shows signs of wear (!?!), cosmetic damage, misuse (oh, I'm sorry, I thought my iPad was one of them new fangled hover boards we were promised all those years ago, I didn't realise you couldn't stand on it), inoperability caused by other people, damage due to weather conditions, repairs that aren't approved and theft or any other loss other than repair or replacement (!?!)

Anything else you need to tell me in your agreement?

Ahh, we'll there is one other thing...

What's that?

It's only a small thing...

Ok, tell me then.

We will not be responsible for any failure to carry out our obligations under this contract and...

Yes...

And furthermore you must do all you reasonably can to keep our costs of providing our service as low as possible and allow us into your home or office at all reasonable times.

Ahh.

You are joking of course? No? So basically you want me to buy into a stupid extended warranty for a third of the price of a new item, for that I get a replacement should I have a mishap as long as it fits your terms of mishap and I should not really put you out if I need your services and finally I need to mail you my house keys so you can come and go as you please as long as its at a reasonable time. Oh, and I nearly forgot you are also going to pass my details on to other service providers unless I take the time to write a letter outlining my disapproval of you doing so and send it to your head office.

No go ahead I'm feeling rather rakish today, here's my £95 good fellow go and have a ball, meanwhile I will be ever so careful with my iPad as I do not wish to put you out in any way whatsoever. If I did have a mishap, perish the thought, I will pay your bus fare and buy you dinner to save on your costs, if you have to come a long way I have a spare room you could use completely free. Sign me up for the extra mailings too, my last penis enlarger broke so I could do with a torrent of unsolicited mail into my inbox and to clutter up my hallway. Of course I completely understand if you tell me to flick off, after all it's in your agreement.

As you may have gathered it went in the bin.

Maybe a little bit of TV, after all what could possibly be annoying about a cooking program like Mastercheffy?

Well, remember the bit where they get to work in a 'real' kitchen with 'real' customers so Joe Public straight off the street gets to put them under pressure?

Only it doesn't happen like that, a quick glimpse of the menu using the nifty freeze frame button last night revealed a special sitting that had to be booked at the restaurant where a 'BBC Cookery Series' was going to be filmed. Disappointing really, everyone knew they were being filmed and numbers were known beforehand, still at least it didn't come with extended warranty.

Or in the case of my Internet provider no Facebook. This has been like this for a year now, I type in Facebook and I get 'Oh, I'm sorry you thicky that Facebooky thing you asked me to find doesn't exist in my world go and buy yourself an extended warranty and I may fix it'.

Ahh, that's better at least one thing made me chuckle this morning when a nifty take away menu fluttered to to floor.

I'll have me some of that, freshly cooked Kong. Which reminds me of an age old joke...

'Lordy, look at the size of those potatoes, what are they?'

'King Edwards.'

'Blimey, they look more like King Kongs!'

Fellow artist David Stanier is auctioning a piece on eBay for charity at the moment, if you get time have a look, it's all for a good cause :)

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/321099038578

 

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

Free Gift!

Yes, every reader of today's blog gets this free Satnav - Pub Version absolutely free! To get your Free Satnav simply cut out the instructions below and carry them in your pocket. To find you way home from any pub simply follow the Satnav instructions provided.

-CUT HERE-----------------------------------------------

Waiting for a signal...

Two satellites found...

Would you like to use HOME as your destination?

Yes / No

Yes

Carefully stand up using any available furniture, people or animals to steady your self, if the Satnav instructions appear blurred get a fellow patron to follow you shouting out the instructions.

Look for a tall rectangular object, it's called a door, you may have been familiar with it many hours ago when you entered. Proceed straight on through the door.

Pick yourself up and apologise to the dog you tripped over, shout 'I'm alright!' and leap to your feet. Locate the door and have another go.

You are outside, the sudden rush of fresh air comes like a blow to the head. If you feel dizzy sit down on the step otherwise proceed left or right. I'm not fussy, either way you are going to change directions so many times before you get home that it doesn't matter.

Walk for two hundred yards straight ahead.

Can't do it can you? What a cheap drunk you are, that last vodka shot really shouldn't have been mixed into that Baileys.

Stand still and ponder your location, remember to sway steadily in the wind. Point left then point right, finally place your finger on your chin and say 'That way' and step forward, swing lavishly to the right and as you become unbalanced fall over the garden wall.

As you get up remember to empty the debris out of your pockets along with some loose change and your house keys.

You should now be back on the pavement and pointing in a homeward direction. Proceed for one hundred yards in a bandy legged zig zag fashion.

Hug a lamppost.

Befriend a cat.

Shout 'Hiya' and smile inanely at random passers by.

Start to walk using big strides, gradually make the strides smaller and smaller until you start a small run. Now tilt forward a little and veer to one side.

Pick yourself up from the gutter and put the broken wing mirror back on the car. Touch the bump on your head gingerly and pocket your newly removed front tooth.

Drop to your knees and whisper to yourself 'Oh god!'

Crawl for fifty feet resisting the temptation to produce a technicolor yawn.

Too late, don't worry it looks like some trendy kneecaps and the smell will come out after six washes.

Using anything nearby pull yourself upright.

Suddenly remember you have a phone and get it out of your pocket.

Not got it have you? It's back in the garden you fell in to and you don't remember where that was do you?

Look to your right, can you see it?

No, it's not home, it's a discarded shopping trolley. Way hey! You have transport, your chariot awaits.

Clamber on the back and like a scooter use one leg to propel yourself along on your transport of delights.

Fall forward into the basket at the most inappropriate moment and find yourself free gliding out into open traffic.

Phew, that was close. Do a sigh of relief as you hit the kerb at 58mph and squeal as the trolley catapults you trebuchet style into a skip.

Let the world wash over you, sleep beckons. Make yourself comfy using anything in the skip you can find.

Sleep.

Morning!

Waiting for a signal...

Two satellites found...

Finding location...

You are at Basingstoke tip, you have no money, no phone, two funny smelling kneecaps, a large bump to your head and you are missing one tooth.

Would you like to use HOME as a destination?

Yes/No

Yes

Destination set to PUB.

-CUT HERE------------------------------------------------

 

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

Imagine

Bagpuss awoke and yawned, he didn't realise how long he had been asleep but it had been a long, long time. The others didn't seem to mind, professor Yaffle the carved disginguished bookend in the shape of a woodpecker was also prone to taking the odd nap. Madeleine the rag doll patted him, 'old furry catpuss, you have been asleep, come and see what Emily has bought you'.

Bagpuss looked over at the empty jar Emily had left. It was covered in dust and had a small peeling label on the front. The mice from the mouse organ had already rolled it across the floor convinced it was a fabulous glass house made for a very important snail. Paddington who had been listening from the corner of the room disagreed and gave the mice a hard stare. It's a jar for marmalade said Paddington as he removed a large marmalade sandwich from underneath his hat. A whistle from behind the mouse organ disagreed and Tiny Clanger stepped out. No matter how hard he whistled he just couldn't get the rest to understand until Parsley the lion who had been listening intently sat up and started to speak only to be interrupted by Dill who raced across the floor chasing his tail.

The 'ching' of the door drew everyone's attention and they all looked up to see good old Mr Benn step in followed by Pugh, Pugh, Barney, McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub the Trumpton Firemen. Even they were puzzled by Emily's object and it was only when Hartley the outspoken hare and Zippy started to argue that they all realised what it was.

But before they could finish the door opened and in stepped a grim looking man.

'I'm here to inform you all that on this day April 3rd 1987 this shop 'Childhood' and all its contents has been declared unworthy and is to be closed with immediate effect. All characters are to be disbanded and all found objects to be destroyed along with imagination, innocence and manners.'

Emily's shop, 'Childhood' closed its doors and lay dormant for several months until a development firm moved in and ripped out the Victorian frontage and replaced it with a large glass window. It's new owners, four armed turtles opened the doors of its new refurbished shop 'Brats' and business was never better. It was louder, brasher and you could see children racing around screaming and kicking all day long. During a special Power Rangers event children became so excited they were sick and it took a lot of cleaning by the Pokemon's to put the shop back in order the next day but they all agreed that such mayhem was great fun indeed.

All went fine until one day in the year 2000 a familiar grim looking man stepped in to 'Brats'.

'I'm here to inform you all that on this day April 3rd 2005 this shop 'Brats' and all its contents has been declared unworthy and is to be closed with immediate effect. All characters are to be disbanded and all your attitude is to be retained for future generations.'

Overnight 'Brats' was gutted and remodelled into a shop not unlike every other shop in the high street. It was called 'All Growed Up' and contained everything a young adult from the age of three could ever want. Gone were the toys and tools of imagination, gone were the calming stories and soft comfort of being shielded from the world. In was gritty realism, mobile phones with access to an uncensored adult world, a overpowering message that fame was in your grasp and the only thing that mattered was you. Manners was swept under the carpet along with respect for others, tolerance and humility. Shelves were stacked high with arrogance, violence, sex and disrespect for others and the shop thrived. The shop was so successful it became a chain of stores and can be found in every corner of every town in every country to this very day.

Emily's 'Childhood' shop still exists, it's deep in us all if you look hard enough but it's voice is still, unable to call and be heard against the clamour of daily life. But for those that know, it never leaves and you can open the door and step in, just close your eyes and your there.

 

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

Cold, Loo's and Cheese

I have just read a few of last weeks blog entries back to myself only to realise the large amount of personal misery catalogued in a semi amusing fashion, although at the time it was far from grin worthy. This Easter I decided to do nothing, I say nothing but by that I mean take a break from painting and do something different.

Friday was spent painting. I tried, I really did but you know when something niggles at you, we'll that's what my latest Lost Impossimal painting was doing. So Friday ended up a day like the others, painting. A full nine hours until my eyes looked like pee holes in the snow and my hand started shaking as the drink wore off. That last comment was not true, I drank merrily all day until Jayne had to drag me out of the studio because I had passed out. Thats not true either, I was still perfectly capable of drinking.

Saturday and the alarm rang out at 5am. 5am?! Yes, 5am, Jayne had a Foreverbunny to get to at Elvaston Castle. So at that ungodly hour we dragged ourselves out of bed and got ready. All I can say is that it was like Crufts, I have never seen before or since an abundance of dog walkers in one place. At one point there was twelve Japanese Akitas, all with individual owners all gathered together, all very frisky. This was followed by a troup of beagles, all very surreal. Best of all was a French Bulldog with one blue eye and one brown, very quirky, very cute.

The day advanced, the cold bit as we were in a marquee and the -2 degrees took its toll. The visitors came and went and my bladder started to bulge. I had been holding off a little because the public facilities were not stunning, they consisted surprisingly of a selection of portaloos, not my favourite form of ablusions nor am I very good at choosing a good one. After humming and ahh-ing I selected one I though may have not had much abuse.

The last one I used of these had a joystick contraption at the side that you tugged and pushed to flush, this however was devoid of any buttons, sticks, handles or anything at all I could recognise as toilety apart from of course the bowl. How did it work, I was intrigued, there didn't even seem to be a hole where a hole should be. Most peculiar. I felt the cabin rock and nearly fell as the cubicle next to me was entered by what I can only describe as something heavier than me. Not very sturdy I though to myself wondering what to do next.

'Where's the bloody handle?' muttered next door, 'how can I have a shut in here?' They added (use your imagination). 'Mavis!', 'Mavis! Look at this!'

Oh no, I though, not again, why oh why can I never ever do these type of things in piece without having to be witness to some surreal street theatre.

Mavis had obviously made their way over and now they both stood peering into the cabin.

'I'm not having a shut on that Mavis, there's no hole!'

'There must be a hole, maybe you got a disabled one or something'

Words fail me but they carried on.

'Try that one, see if that's got a hole'

My cabin nearly got pulled over as my hole seeking friend decided to ignore the red bar on the handle and proceeded to tug at my cabin. You have no idea some of the words that went through my mind as yet again trapped in a toilet holding on to the sides as it rocked to the tune of 'Mavis, this ones bloody stuck, give us a hand'

It's a good job I shouted before Mavis got her hands on it, but why oh why do these people never say sorry, instead they just moved on to the next cabin, the last thing I heard was 'This has got no hole either, what's going on I'm busting for a shut!'

Anyway, apart from that the day passed without incident. I worked out the toilet actually worked and this is the disgusting bit, when it had a certain weight shall we say. At which point it tipped away from you then snapped back into place. Not very efficient and rather startling as it made a nice plastic slapping sound on its return flipping up a little bit of residue on the way back. Nice.

It was a hard cold day but fun at the same time, at least it didn't snow. Then it snowed. No, really, it started to snow around twelve. Great. We returned home around 5:30pm, exhausted but happy to be warm.

Sunday, 6am which was still 5am because of the clock change and our second day at Elvaston Castle. This time nice and sunny all day, a little warmer and no snow. A nice way to spend Easter Sunday chatting to various Foreverbunny collectors along the way. I avoided the toilets, had a Kangaroo burger and wondered just why people at events like this always seem to want to buy a bag of cheese.

And so on to Monday, for the first time in oodles of years I did something I can't remember ever doing since the age of eighteen. I stayed in bed and did nothing only to roll out around 11:30am, how shocking. So Easter Monday was spent mooching around the house doing nothing in particular and for once I loved it. No painting, no designing or creating, no website building and no thinking. Bliss.

That's it for today, a simple blog, my mind is still chilled out from the weekend and I hope you all had a great Easter too. It all goes downhill tomorrow when I return to the studio and continue painting 'Bloodline', the return of the Lost Impossimals later this year.

 

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

Hot Diggety Dog

I hope you are all enjoying your Easter break, the blog is going to take one too but it shall return on Monday with more tales of woe, stories of battling Minotaurs, fire breathing triple headed dogs guarding untold treasures and standing semi naked in the foyer of the local fitness club.

In fact I won't leave that little gem until Monday I'll tell you now whilst its still clear in my mind as it only occurred yesterday.

At school we were taught how to swim by wearing our pyjamas and rescuing a brick from the bottom of a swimming pool, I never did move on much from that so three times a week I go to the fitness club for a bit of a splish splash in the vain hope that my swimming will improve. Thinking about it the chances that I would be willing to rescue a brick in the first place and secondly be in my pyjamas at the same time are so remote I'd bet that my arse cheeks would appear singing on Britains Got Talent first, I wonder why they chose such a thing?

Anyway, I digress. There I was splashing about and managing to nab one of the 'swimmers' lanes as if I knew what an was doing when a loud noise started. More of a wail actually, it took a moment to sink in.

Fire! Fire!

Fire

Fire :(

Bugger.

Sopping wet I emerged from the pool and made my way dutifully to the changing rooms. I fumbled with my key to get the locker open when in burst one of the staff.

'Out now!'

'Wha?'

'Out now, no time for that!'

'But it's cold out there with snow on the ground and in case you didn't notice I'm not wearing clothes, I'm barefoot and wet!'

'You won't be cold if you burn to death, out!!', it's hard to argue with such impeccable logic and with that they ushered me out along with a few other stragglers desperately trying to get to a towel. So imagine my surprise yet again to find myself in another crap situation, namely shivering in a group of fully clothed people watching my nipples go hard and everything else shrinking.

'You look cold, your nipples have gone hard.' some joker quipped. 'They look like bullets mate' added comedian number two.

'Thanks Sherlock, next time you are on Mastermind choose a subject you know, like the bloody obvious. Of course I'm cold, I'm naked or as naked as I want to be in the foyer of a fitness centre surrounded by strangers and I'm starting to leave a puddle so if you don't mind stop pointing out my nipples.' I immediately placed one of my arms over both nipples, partly as a defence mechanism and secondly to get some heat to them. I looked like some chavy version of the Venus de Milo painting, I swept my soggy hair to one side to complete the look because I'm worth it.

After what seemed like twenty seven years we were allowed to go back to the pool, I was aware walking back that my swimming attire was clinging a little and as I was being followed by six hundred other fully clothed members I became more and more self conscious as I walked. It wasn't far to go but by the time I had reached the door I had stopped striding and was more shuffling, also if I bumped into anyone coming the opposite way my nipples would probably take their eyes out.

I eased back in the pool and splish splashed away...

Why am I telling you this?

It's because of this...

A leaflet that dropped through the door yesterday that took my breath away, hot dog pizza. Really? I thought I had seen most things from the local take aways but this was a god amongst them. Lets dispense with that stuffed crust rubbish and bin the garlic bread, what people really want more of now they don't trust beef is oodles of meat stuffed in a crusty roll attached around a pizza the size of a wagon wheel. It takes me a good forty minutes of swimming to remove the calories and fat I incurr from looking at a chocolate, if I ate this bad boy I'd practically have to live in the water to remove it.

Wow, that's a serious meal and its not alone. I have just seen pictures of a similar pizza only this time the hot dog is around the rim uncut like some pink flappy inner tube. I have no doubt it tastes delicious on some level but part of me is saying we really don't help ourselves do we.

You will be pleased to know my nipples returned to their normal level after standing in front of the oven for a bit.

See you Monday, have a great weekend!

 

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

Thrifty Repairs Volume IIXV

In this weeks issue we deal with problem televisions and how to solve the most common faults found in all makes of televisions.

Fault : Black Screen

Solution : This is a most complex problem that baffles TV engineers world wide but we at Thrifty Repairs have a quick solution for you. Turn it on. This powers up the televisions internal combustion engine and starts the hamster on the wheel, a picture will appear immediately. Many TV engineers would have dismantled the Sprocket Shuttlecock by now and broken the Dingle bird processing unit along the way.

Fault : Wavy Lines

Solution : Try changing channels, if the wavy lines go away only to return when you go back to the same channel then you are watching a program about the sea. Nothing to worry about, eventually the wavy lines will go away to be replaced by fish or something maritime such as a coracle or small crabs playing poker.

Fault : You Feel Depressed Watching TV

Solution : Avoid channels that have the word NEWS in them for they only tell bad news about bad things and bad people, your TV is not broken, the world is. Take up a hobby, hobbies can be found cavorting around in the countryside and resemble small coloured ponies. Hobbies include stamp collecting, giraffe spotting and polar bear mud wrestling although you don't tend to find them all together in one field as giraffes and polar bears hate stamps.

Fault : Everything

Solution : If you see this image on your TV then everything is broken. Immediately stand up and put your foot through the screen, this program renders your TV useless and has been known to cause Christmas number ones that really sound like number two's. Sufferers are often found forming queues around the country where they perform on stage to ridicule as part of their healing process. Major sufferers are then paraded on stage for eight weeks under the guidance of several top recovering sufferers.

Fault : Everything but its upside down.

Solution : As above but you are either watching in Australia where they have to nail everything to the roof because its all upside down or you are watching the Australian version elsewhere. To check have a look outside, if the birds are flying below your feet then indeed you are in Australia.

Fault : Bagpuss looks disapproving.

Solution : Bagpuss lives in your television at all times watching you, watching EVERYTHING you do in front of the television. As soon as he sees something really disgusting he comes to the front and sits and shakes his head in shame. All televisions come with Bagpuss installed, Madeline the Ragdoll and the Mice on the Mice Organ are optional extras. Bagpuss is watching you.

Fault : Boobies!

Solution : You people really have a one track mind don't you, look closely, you are really watching a documentary on the apple eating habits of the humble earthworm and you are sitting too close.

See, it's only worm eyes, it's no wonder Bagpuss is disgusted most of the time. Some of the filth he sees on your television is horrendous, it's nearly as bad as your browsing history.

That concludes this issue, I hope it has saved you £££ 's in repair bills. You are now fully qualified to become a television engineer. Tomorrow Nuclear Power stations and how to save £££'s by building one in your potting shed at a fraction of the price using uranium scraped off old glow in the dark watches. A neat addition to the oil refinery we built last week out of coke bottles and bicycle pumps.

Remember our motto, Be thrifty as you approach fifty because fifty is nifty when your thrifty!

 

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

I Found My Comb

Today's blog starts of slowly, gets worse in the middle and falls apart completely in a sobbing wreck at the end with another toilet tale, if you like rambling then this is a blog that rambles and rambles, read at your own peril...

Take a look at the above ingredients, look a little strange does it? Garlic, sunflower oil, salt and Champagne?! Wow, that's a bit rich for a tub of garlic in a chilli oil, what next caviar in brown sauce, gold dust in custard powder? One omission that has been good to see is the loss of E numbers and a change to at least telling us a little more about what they stuff in apart from horse meat that is. For those of you that never lived through the era of the E number it was basically a code that appeared in the list of ingredients that disguised the actual name because essentially they didn't want you to read things like Monosodium Glutamate as a flavour enhancer (E621) or Potassium Chloride (E508) as a gelling agent.

In 1983 I bought a book that listed all the E numbers and their side effects, it was all part of my curiosity and fascination with links, lists and random bits of information, although that's quite possibly due to the fact I am in some way mentally unstable and prone to writing blogs as a way of coping with it all.

Anyway, there was some dodgy stuff being put in our food so imagine my surprise when I switch on popular foodie program's like The Great British Menu and Masterchef only to find that when you expect the meals to be made from scratch with care and attention from the best ingredients possible I now see chefs turning up with tubs labelled Guar Gum and the like. E numbers it seems has returned, only this time we are going to pay more to eat them in the quest for prawn flavoured sand and edible stones.

Chemistry has entered the professional kitchen in a big way only this time that tasty fancy dish tempting you on the menu may contain more E's than a 80's raver off his trolley. Oh hum, there's nothing that will alter it but I think it's just a shame that's all.

Which brings me around to my most miserable food experience ever. Snails. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't the taste if essentially you like eating a chewy elastic band tasting of grass but more the effect it has on my digestive system.

I enjoyed the meal and sat back in the chair and looked around the room. Nice. I stifled a burp, took a sip of wine and thought contented thoughts. It was only as I rose that I felt my stomach lurch and emit a gurgle that didn't know if it wanted to exit from the top or the bottom of my body. Uh oh, something's amiss my mind said to itself. You know the feeling, you don't feel quite right but you can't put your finger on it.

On the way back in the taxi I knew it was more than a little indigestion, the rocking of the car only served to stir up trouble, whatever had disagreed with my body was having a fight with my lower intestine which was acting like a bouncer and not allowing anybody to leave the building. I could feel the fight as my lower half made such noises that even the taxi driver was concerned enough to stop endlessly chatting and ask 'You alright mate?' As I gripped on to the handle above the door.

'I'd step on it if I were you, I don't know how long I can hold out!'

I don't remember much from there my next memory is bursting into the bathroom with my trousers around my ankles and stumbling onto the toilet almost bent double in pain, sweat pouring from my brow and an expression that I have failed to recreate since but has been described as Arthur Mullard sucking a lemon.

Remember that meteor crater in Arizona that's 600ft across and could have caused the extinction of the dinosaurs or the Daisy Cutter bomb from the Vietnam war that cleared vast tracts of jungle? Well, lets just say mine was faster, harder, stronger and almost broke the bowl on its exit. It's the first time I have heard the clunk of porcelain and the last time it has been followed by what can only be described as tipping a bag of ornamental pebbles into a bucket of custard. It whooshed if it could be described as a whoosh and caused a vacuum that almost turned me inside out through my own backside.

I sat reeling unsteadily gripping on to the towel rail that was almost ripped off the wall, the toilet paper was scorched, my trousers ripped and my shirt in tatters. I had lost a shoe and the neighbours were banging on the wall for me to keep the noise down. Apparently I had made such a guttural noise that a passing Wookie had stopped because they thought I had shouted their name.

It wasn't over, I still had the aftershocks to go. I managed to wedge my leg in the bathroom cabinet to avoid slipping off as it all changed to a combination of rampant gusts of air interrupted occasionally with a hailstorm followed by a the slow hissing of escaping gas. I was like a vacuum cleaner stuck on blow, only the bag was now empty. The pain! the noise! the smell! I managed to achieve a state of zen, I saw the end of the universe, I knew the meaning of life, I could talk to cats, I could relax... meditate... even levitate...

Well actually I didn't levitate, I fell off the toilet pulling the cabinet door off in the process and collapsed into a limp heap, I had lost my other shoe in the fracas but found a comb I had lost weeks earlier from my new lower position.

Anyway, that's why I don't eat snails any more.

Told you it was a ramble, here's one last thing to amuse. Last night I was looking through all the free apps that had become available and was rather tickled to find this...

I don't know what's better the picture, name or classification, I for one will download it immediately. Egg, cocks, ball, I wonder if there's an E number for it?

 

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

Winorobics, It's The New Zumba!

Feel tired, rundown and lacking in energy every morning unable to face the day? Well change your life for the better with our unique power program, Winorobics. No special equipment needed and in only ten minutes before breakfast every day it will change your life.

First a it of a warm up, fill your wine glass and take a good slug, that should get your metabolism racing and relax your muscles ready for the next stage.

Arm curls, fill your glass and with each arm curl take a sip of wine until no wine is left. We recommend 350ml glasses as you will get around twenty curls before you have done, a healthy amount to start with.

Next we change to 'The Juggler', two glasses one filled with white the other red. Alternate arm curls and sip from each glass in turn. Mixing grapes in this way increases your heart rate which in turn burns away that fat. Probably.

'Pay and display', fill both glasses with the wine of your choice. Outstretch both arms as shown, then bend both in together and sip from both glasses simultaneously. Repeat until finished, this will increase your chest strength and tone your arms. That's it for the warm up routine now we get down to the serious stuff, for this you will require some extra exercise equipment, a full bottle of wine.

Get down on all fours, keeping your elbows on the floor hold a glass in one hand and an opened bottle of wine in the other. Using a crawling motion fill your glass in one move and sip the wine in the next. If you are doing it right you should crawl about twenty metres before finishing the bottle.

Right, on your back for the 'Glugger Thruster'. Raise your knees as shown above place a opened bottle of wine in one hand and raise to your mouth to take a sip as you thrust your hip into the air in a pumping motion. This will strengthen your pelvic muscles whilst the wine will relax you.

Finally one of the most satisfying and intense routines combining two of our exercises, the 'Juggling Glugger'. Open a bottle of wine and pour yourself two glasses. Grip the opened bottle between your teeth and throw back your head, whilst in this pose lift both your arms simultaneously and tilt the full glasses into either side of your mouth. You should get an instant hit with this one, a triple whammy that will have you reeling from its health giving benefits.

Congratulations, you have completed your first Winorobics exercise, pour yourself a stiff drink and go back to bed. You have had enough exercise and wine to knock you out until tomorrow when you can get up again, forget what you did the day before and start your Winorobics workout!

Winorobics, part of the Winocise program, companion to our popular Drink Yourself Fit Campaign, Official Sponsor of the Olympics*

*By Olympics we actually mean we sponsored Olympics, a racehorse at the 3:30 in Newmarket. Also the word sponsor should really be called a bet. It lost but you can be a winner with Winorobics!

 

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

Col Dick Stiffler's Easter Message

Colonel Dick Stiffler here with some facts about Easter that you may not know. Be prepared. Be Vigilant. Listen to Stiffler.

Easter was invented in 1945 to help sell the egg surplus after the war. The surplus came about when all the chickens finished making tanks and planes in workshops and returned to their coops, with nothing else to do they laid eggs causing a major problem. The ministry of food came up with the idea of Easter after inventing Christmas in 1929 to sell more turkeys.

The biggest egg ever found was the egg of a Brontabaconeggandchipsasaurus. It was discovered in the Sahara desert in the 60's. Bigger than six double decker buses it was spotted from space when Neil Armstrong stepped off Apollo fifty three and on to the surface of the moon. His famous words 'One small egg for man, one giant egg for mankind' helped scientists pinpoint it's location. The egg was famously rolled from the Sahara to Cape Canaveral for Neil's return. It took six weeks to cook and needed two million bread soldiers to dip and fed NASA's staff for six years. The shell was hollowed out and trimmed only to become the Millenium Dome in London.

Easter was originally called Wester but plans in place for Northster, a day celebrating black pudding put a stop to that.

In 23BC cavemen celebrated Easter by hitting each other on the head with stone clubs, the caveman that produced the biggest 'egg' shape won a coveted chocolate dinosaur with a bow around its neck. It wasn't called Easter then it was called 'Ugg' which roughly translated is Easter.

The Egyptions celebrated Easter eating Toblerones, the craze got so big that Tutankhamen's tomb was created in the Toblerone shape and was originally covered in chocolate until a particularly hot day melted it and Cairo was swept away on a sea of sweet smelling cocoa. The chocolate river carved such a path on the landscape that when it reached the sea all the water flooded back in to make the Nile.

On Easter Monday all chickens lay chocolate eggs.

On Easter Friday ladies should wear Easter bonnets, traditionally two slices of toast held together using elastic bands to create a charming set of ear warmers. It comes from the word Bonet which is Greek for toast held together using elastic.

Men should call all ladies 'chicks' at Easter, it's charming and I'm sure they will appreciate it.

Ladies, if anyone calls you a 'chick' during Easter hit them very hard.

'Chick' is short for 'Chickipullmonaryaspergingcluckclucktweettweet' a condition that causes sufferers to walk around flapping their arms and 'cheeping' at everything. Sufferers also have trouble climbing stairs and can be found taking small leaps only to fall on their backs flapping around.

That's about it for Easter, I'm spent.

Enjoy your Easter, I'm off to sort out my bayonet and to go to my backyard trench and 'dig in'. Don't let any of those buggers tell you otherwise, Easter is war. Batten your doors, block those windows, those egg firing chickens have teamed up with chocolate bunnies and this Friday they launch all out war.

'Eeek!, who are you? Why do I have to put this white coat on backwards?'

'A room with cushions for walls you say? Sounds just the ticket!'

Tally Ho for now folks, some delightful men are giving me a ride in a white van, apparently it's going to be like a hotel or something.

Remember, Be prepared. Be Vigilant. Listen to Stiffler!

 

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

You Had To Bring It Up

Let me get this right, I'm a grown man, reasonably fit, a grown man, mid forties and a grown man so why oh why can I not get into the bloody milk bottle?

Look at it mocking me, it took me a full two minutes to get to this stage and its barely shifted. The cap is that tightly sealed with no spare to get any kind of leverage on it, why do they do it? I get the same with jars and other bottles but what stumped me last night was a bag of crisps. Yes crisps, I know, you're probably laughing at my puniness right now but really crisp packets are getting tougher.

When I was younger crisp packets used to come in clear cellophane, you could see the crisps which made it difficult to hide all that air in them that we are now used to and they were simple to open. Cue today's crisps and not only can you no longer see in them but they are 'sealed for freshness' in slightly metallic bags that resemble little cushions. Upon opening them you are treated with a waft of crispy air and a big sense of disappointment when you realise that it's contents have been made from exactly half a potato. It's getting in them that's the problem though, the new metallic bags are so tough I stood last night in the kitchen laughing at myself tugging away, it wouldn't budge. When it eventually gave up the struggle the bag ripped at such an angle half of its contents (two crisps) stayed in the bag the rest ended up on my slippers. And yes, laugh again, I do wear slippers.

Which brings me rather untidily around to today's blog, the rather odious theme that follows me around the country on my travels. Namely right place, wrong time.

Imagine a lovely fishing village, a sea food restaurant, one course down and about to tuck into your main course when in walks a family...

'Looks bloody posh, I only want a pint.'

As soon as I heard that my heart sank. I glanced around the place, there were plenty of empty seats away from me and Jayne but I knew from experience that we were going to be neighbours.

Two women, a man and a boy aged around ten I would guess sat feet away at the next table and perused the menu.

'They don't do chips, I'm not stayin 'ere' said man.

'Give over, they must do chips we are at the seaside, give it 'ere' said woman one.

'Oi, waiter, got any chips?' chirped up woman two.

'Bleuuuughhh!!!!' said boy as he lavishly launched a torrent of vomit across the linen table cloth.

I had just placed a morsel of the finest fish covered in a delicious sauce in my mouth and as my head was tilted in his direction I was witness to the whole process. Then the smell hit.

The smell!

Oh my god, oh my god!

I didn't know wheather to laugh, cry or create my own vomit slick. I didn't want to spit food out for fear of wretching, I didn't want to swallow for fear of wretching either so I remained in limbo trying to come to terms with it all and not breathe or sniff at the same time. I turned to Jayne, she was froze with the fork inches from her mouth, I knew from her look that she too didn't know what to do next either.

'Come on, were off, get I'm outside, it's all that candy floss you fed him' said man.

So by the time the waiter had shuffled over and overcome his stunnedness they had gone. When it did sink in and he thought 'hey, I should have a word with them' he ran out of the door only to find they had vanished into the night.

A night to remember certainly, nearly as entertaining as watching a patrons trousers catch fire one evening after entering a pub and deciding his nether regions needed warming on the open fire, or the time a young lady slipped over only to reveal a lack of underwear.

Did we finish our meal? Not really, our hearts weren't really in it as they removed the vomit splattered cutlery and carefully folded up the table cloth, the sharp twang of bile still played with our nostrils for the rest of the evening.

Another case closes in the Smith file, sometimes its like living in a permanent sketch show.

I should really write a book...

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

Snow Balled

Snow, you would never have guessed it would you, they have told us to expect up to 40cm but then again I have been promised that before and disappointed, you lot really do have dirty minds don't you? Anyhow as I'm sat watching the extremely large flakes whisk around in flurries I'm reminded of a time many years ago from my school days when I sat looking out of the window during break time.

I say looking, I was actually pressed up against the window mouth open agog at what I saw. A group of pupils rolling very large balls of snow into position at the base of a very large tallywhacker. It was enormous, well over seven feet high, the balls alone looked around three feet each and it was taking four to roll them because they were so heavy. Impressive. Not so impressive for the teacher who looked out of the window and foolishly decided to put an end to their snow erection. Out he went in his patent brown shoes, completely unsuitable for snow if you ask me, and the pupils scattered leaving teacher with no culprits to apprehend but a very large phallic object to deal with.

What did he do? Well he did the best thing he could, he launched into it with his shoes, kicking it and generally trying to destabilise it. The balls took some demolishing but the rest, after one kick too far, came tumbling down only to knock him over.

What did you do today at school? Well, we had English, Physics and I watched my maths teacher kick the hell out of a seven foot cock and balls before he got crushed by a snow penis. Really, you couldn't write it could you. Anyway, why am I telling you of this, ah, I remember. I hated snow at school.

As soon as a little snow fell you knew that as you moved between lessons and you had to venture outside to move between buildings some jolly fellow was either going to throw a snowball at you or stuff snow down the back of your neck. I dreaded it every year, this particular year was no exception, the snow had fallen heavily and I had already received my fair share of snow attacks. So gingerly I started to go to my next lesson seeing ahead that fellow pupils were being treated to a snowball barrage as they approached. One pupil in particular was absolutely loving it, pelting everybody into submission and beyond, even when they were curled up on the floor he carried on, not nice.

There are moments in your life that are pure beauty, moments that are so exquisite you recollect them later with a fondness, this is one such moment.

I approached cautiously using my bag as a shield, it didn't help much, snowballs ricocheted off my bag, trousers and the top of my head until one hit me squarely on the cheek. I don't know what happened but something inside me snapped, time seemed to slow down as all the anger started to focus my brain on defending myself. My bag became a shield and just like in the Matrix clarity abounded and effortlessly I started to deflect every snowball, not only that I started to approach the snow bully to which he turned and run to a safe distance. This angered me more so I dropped the bag and reached down to make the biggest snowball I could, I was going to hit him and hit him hard with a snowball packed with all the injustice he had served on my fellow pupils.

I rose back up holding my super snowball and took aim, I started to walk toward him too. Sensing something was amiss he dropped to his knees to gather enough snow to out snowball me. I took aim an threw it.

Actually I didn't, I slipped instead as I threw, the snowball instead of hitting my opponent sailed aimlessly high into the air as I fell backwards. From my horizontal position I lifted my head to see the bully laughing, still on his knees. A big hearty laugh that you know as a child will stay with you for the rest of your life.

Then it hit.

The snowball by some lucky fluke had managed to return to earth at a shattering speed to hit my assailant square in the booty box as he knelt on the ground. His laugh froze, his hands went to his crotch and he keeled over. Cue rapturous applause, standing ovations etc. Justice had been served.

I'd like to say that all was fine after that but due to my fortunate or unfortunate take down of said pupil I was reported for throwing snowballs, my bully however got off scott free apart from his bruised ego and nether regions, such is life.

Like I said, I hated snow at school but if you are a teacher and you are planning on kicking down any seven foot cock and balls today please for heavens sake wear sensible footwear.

 

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