Mr Cycle Path And The Puncture

Mr Cycle Path Man was having a bit of a bad day. It had all started out all right with a nice little walk in the warm air, his curved arms swinging with every step he took.

Soon though he noticed his legs were feeling a bit wobbly, maybe it was too many sherbets the night before. Either way the swinging of the curvy arms stopped so he could take a closer look.

Startled he looked down, his legs had a mind of their own, not only were they now wobbly but they were pointing in the wrong direction! Worryingly he had also swollen up in the crotch region.

So he decided to carry on only this time on tiptoe. Gingerly moving his arms as he tried to balance he carried on walking.

Only to feel absolutely deflated as he realised that his bike had two punctures making for a very difficult ride.

Even the addition of a yellow flower didn't cheer him up at all. Still, he had another bike he could use.

Oh my, that one's broke too.

These fun figures form part of a cycle route near our home, I only wished I photographed more because the first one I came across was practically running with glee. I was even more gleeful when I realised they kept switching lanes much to the confusion of the cyclist and walker, one minute you're on the right as a cyclist the next you switch to the left into oncoming people, wonderful!

Very artistic, maybe a template would be a good idea although I do have a cunning plan to pop out with a tin of white paint and spruce them up a bit with clothes and speech bubbles. They vary in size too, the biggest we found was a strapping four footer and the smallest a mere two foot although none of them looked like they ate much, maybe they are introducing lanes for sizes as well as people and bikes, all we need now is a dog and cat lane, I for one can't wait to see what they will look like.

Whilst we are talking street furniture and stuff, anybody got an idea what this is? I have seen a couple of them attached to lampposts scattered around, as well as the brand new black cameras that are appearing on every route in and around our area which I assume is the mass number plate scanning system for road charging. This one eludes me though, it looks like a sensor of some kind, but what for?

Answers on a postcard to ISPYWITHMYLITTLEEYESOMETHINGBEGINNINGWITHWTF, PO Box 7263542376, Hull.

 

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

Electric Boogaloo

I can never get on with storms, they don't excite me they frighten me, although I do have a wish to become a storm chaser in America at some point which goes against everything really. Looking at the forecast fills me with dread, two days of thunder storms like being in a perpetual horror movie, that said wasn't there a link between a thunderstorm and Damien from the Omen series being born?

Anyway probably the most freakiest weather I have witnessed was on a perfectly normal day with little cloud cover although the weather seemed heavy just like today. Both myself and Jayne were chatting away in the garden when out of the blue came an enormous crackling sound overhead, just like a static discharge. The noise was so loud we both dropped to the floor as if we had been shot. It was tremendous, almost ear shatteringly loud, certainly strong enough to feel the shock waves on your body. As I hit the floor I looked up expecting to witness the end of the earth but instead I saw flashes amongst the clouds and lots and lots of balls of lightning drifting away.

Now don't get me wrong, I didn't think they were UFO's, fairies, spirits or the multitude of other objects they have been called, these were a reaction from the silicone in the soil combining with oxygen after being struck by lightning. It was amazing to witness but eerily scary too. You can learn about them here on Youtube http://youtu.be/DbA7ukxXYYo

They drifted away and faded, there was no more thunder and no rain either, it was also the second time it had happened, the first was in 1989 on a relatively calm but humid night. Only this time we were indoors and the crackling bang was so loud we thought the roof of our house had been hit. Rushing outside there was nothing, just a cloud covering. We spent the next hour in the attic, up ladders, anything really to try and find a logical explanation but we could find no damage anywhere. It remained a mystery until the second event only then did we realise that both sounds including the crackling were exactly the same.

Not sure if its lucky or unlucky, if its unlucky the third strike will probably rearrange my body parts somewhat. And that is why I'm a little wary of thunder storms, oh, and clowns and daddy long legs and dogs in stockings and the list goes on and on...

Ooo, look a sparkly ball is drifting towards me!

Bzzzzzzzppppffttt!

 

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

Stories Of The Unexpected

Cue the mysterious dancing girl and weird music it's that time again to enter the unknown with Stories Of The Unexpected, the more unexpected than tales of the unexpected which you never expected that they could get more unexpected.

THE BOX

Thirty long years he had been saving, thirty years of hard times, thirty years of living the life of a pauper, lonely and miserable but he had to have it. The little box in the pawn brokers window didn't look particularly attractive, indeed, it's mahogany exterior decorated with several silver flowers adorning the side looked quite ordinary. The lid was a combination of copper and bronze, carefully etched with the same decorative flowers held in place by two small hinges. The box was locked, a sign next to the box simply said 'key missing, contents unknown' but the cost of owning this small insignificant box was out of proportion.

He knew the box. Putting his hand in his pocket he pulled out a small gold key which glinted in the morning sun, multi faceted it's bow was also shaped just like the flowers decoration allowing a delicate touch when turning it in the lock. How he had imagined this day, finally being able to call it his own, finally turning the key on the box that would change his life forever.

As he approached the pawn brokers door he paused, savouring the moment, remembering the hardships he had endured, friends he had lost, enemies he had gained and now his pursuit was almost over. He turned the handle and pushed open the door.

A gigantic wave hit him full in the face followed by a pirate ship with full rigging as the entire Pacific Ocean poured through the door. He was found dead next to a small dolphin with half an urchin up his nose.

LAST BUS

Dashing down the street he saw the bus pull away, the last bus of the night had gone. 'Damn!' said David as he looked at his watch, it had left early leaving him a three mile walk in darkness. The batteries in his phone dwindled and expired as he started to dial making a miserable night more miserable indeed.

Still, the walk would do him good he thought to himself. It had been a difficult night, the argument had gone badly and they had both parted with hasty words and emotional wounds that would take time to heal. Concentrating putting one foot in front of the other he trudged away endlessly replaying the argument in his head. He never noticed the bus stationary in the road ahead until he was almost upon it. It stood quietly it's lights a beacon in the darkness it's engine stilled, its seats empty.

'Wha?' said David, suddenly stirred into life. He slowed down as he approached the back of the bus, it was empty that was obvious but there was something else about it, a peculiar smell that reminded him of something. Something he had smelt before, now what was it, there, that's it, a perfume. He remembered smelling it earlier that evening, that smell, it was her perfume.

He climbed aboard, the smell was getting stronger. Where was it coming from? Where was everybody? It smelt stronger upstairs, with each step it became more powerful, almost overpowering as he reached the top and froze. Seated at the front of the bus was a figure, from the back he could see it had long flowing golden ringlets of hair. Ringlets of hair just like Judith! Judith, who he had left crying into those ringlets less than an hour ago. 'Judith?' he said as he slowly approached the figure. 'Judith is that you?' The smell by now was intoxicating, he reached out and touched the figures shoulder who immediately spun round as a elephant in fancy dress crashed through the roof of the bus flattening David.

BUCKET LIST

The field had been ploughed a thousand times that he could do it like clockwork, it was only as he turned around the plough that he noticed his last run had unearthed an object that reflected light back into his cab. It was not unusual, things had been found in the field before, a few coins, pottery, stuff like that so as he climbed down it was more of an inconvenience than a chance to make a discovery.

There in one of the furrows was a bucket, not just any bucket, this bucket looked brand new. 'Strange' he thought, 'Didn't see that when I drove down, looks new too.' He bent over to pick the bucket up. He couldn't no matter how hard he tugged or pulled. The bucket was seemingly fixed to the floor or extraordinarily heavy. 'Well if that ain't the darnedest thing ever!'. Nothing would budge it, nothing except my tractor he thought. He looped the chain over the bucket handle and attached it to the tractor. Back in the cab he started the engine and began to steadily pull away, as the chain became more taught out of the bushes stepped a moustached duck with a stick of dynamite and blew up the farmer and his tractor.

Thank you for watching Stories Of The Unexpected, remember the unexpected always happens unexpectedly usually when it's unexpected. Don't have nightmares!

 

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

Body Of A Biscuit Barrel

Forget expensive weights and gym equipment now you can perform the miracles of Kettlercise in your own home using household equipment.

You will need : A blanket, two electric kettles full of water, a packet of hobnobs.

Exercise number one - The Tea Toner

Take the blanket and wrap it around your middle like a sarong, this will help to increas circulation for this routine. Holding a kettle in each hand raise your right hand so it's horizontal and your left foot forward. Switch this position to left hand horizontal and right foot forward and then back again. This is the basic move for the tea toner, all you need now is the tea toner song.

Fancy a brew,brew,brew?

Tea for two,two,two?

How about you, you,you?

Don't let it stew,stew,stew.

Perform the tea toner move every time to hit the repetition at the end of each line, in between lines squat down and leap up like a tiger shouting 'I'm a little teapot!' Don't forget to pump those arms! Beginners are allowed to only half fill their kettles. Experts may use boiling water. Perform this whilst making tea for family and friends, they are sure to be impressed.

Exercise number two - Crouching Spoon, Hidden Teabag

Starting upright hold one full kettle firmly, as you shout out each line twirl the kettle around your head like a baton twirling exercise. Every second line starting with 'in the mug' crouch down and flick out your legs like Russian dancers would, do not use your arms to steady yourself, instead carry on twirling the kettle around your head like a lasso. Repeat for both arms.

Where's the sugar?

In the mug

Where's the milk,

In a jug

Where's the teabag?

Over there looking smug

Mug, jug, smug, jug,mug (repeat five times as fast as possible whilst thrusting your hips and holding your kettle with both hands behind your back)

This is great for working the abdominal area whilst the rampant thrusting allows you to clench those buttocks into a bodybuilding pose called the nipper, basically you will be able to retrieve dropped items using only your butt cheeks.

Final exercise - The Power Dunker

Unwrap your hobnobs and lay them out in a straight line, each must be one foot away from the other until you have a twenty foot line of hobnobs. Make a brew and place this five foot away from the last hobnob. Starting at the furthest hobnob from the steaming cup of tea tie both kettles to your ankles using shoelaces. This is a stamina test, you must pick up each hobnob without using your hands, take it to the tea, dunk it then eat it. Each hobnob must be dunked for three seconds, to help here's a handy ditty for you to recite.

Dunk, one, two, three (repeat for each hobnob)

This exercise will build up your leg muscles and strengthen your back until you have a stomach called by experts 'the biscuit barrel'

There you have it, a handy exercise routine you can do at home to give you a real biscuit body full of sugary delights and tea-tosterone.

Happy dunking!

 

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

Flasher

In between Bonfire nights my usual pyrotechnic fix was fed by the curious Indoor Fireworks box set you could buy. They were a heady collection of sparks, fire, colour and disappointment all rolled into one. Primarily a box of indoor fireworks consisted of three types of firework, a sparkler, a coloured match or an erupting firework that erupted something looking like bird droppings. They were each named in a wonderful way to conjure up magical effects, Secret Surprise (light the match head and it burns green), Naval Signal (light the match head and it burns red), Erupting Lava (light a foil coil and it erupts bird poo). Prairie Fire and Fairy Fern both were basically sparklers if I remember correctly only different colours.

Wow I hear you say, but really what was fun was the fact that you were dicing with danger and as a kid that's what it was all about. However it did lead on to other antics. From the same shop, a theatrical and joke shop, you could purchase something called flash powder. Primarily used to create on stage flashes its a powder normally ignited using an electrical system, similar to the old fashion flash bang photography. Pretty soon I found a new use for it, enhancing the indoor fireworks.

I found that if you mixed it in with some of the indoor fireworks you could create something rather more dramatic. Trailing a powder trail across a piece of card and onto the secret surprise made an exciting flash fire trail that ended up in a small bonfire coloured green. Combining the Erupting Lava with flash powder and the Fairy Fern really did give you a small lava laden spark spewing volcano. Wow, this was great.

However, pushing the boundaries I moved on. I made small tubes of card sealed at one end, into this I placed flash powder and added blue touch paper which could also be brought freely by a eleven year old. Viola, an instant fountain of sparks, and boy were they powerful. After a bit more experimentation I found constricting the exit point turned it effectively into a banger, adding multiple banger and sparkler sections gave you a very lively show indeed.

I went further and bigger. Pretty soon I could manufacture small jets that burned easily then ferociously, I used them to propel toy dragsters made from Lego as their rubber wheels were freely moved by such force. Eventually I made my tour de force, a veritable showstopper, the Doppler, named after the sound effect and the ringing of your ears followed by nosebleeds you tend to get after letting one off.

It was made in a toilet roll tube, it took a good half a pot of flash powder but also included five rolls of caps, the old type that you used to thread through cap guns and two circles of plastic caps, really loud cap gun ammunition that came with the more upmarket toy guns. Imagine all this packed together in layers, half way down was iron filings to give a sparkly shower effect and it was topped off with six matches and a short touch paper.

There was five of us stood around it as I lit it, needless to say it changed our lives forever. The resulting flash singed our budding facial hair, like a small nuclear device the blast compressed the air waves knocking us off our feet whilst a ten foot high flame shot up and showered us with golden iron filings burning so many little holes in our clothes that we spent months convincing our parents that it was down to moths. The bang, if I can call it a bang as it comprised of hundreds of small explosions almost inverted our eardrums and resulted in a deafness that lasted until my teens. The five of us wandered aimlessly around trying to get our bearings whilst the 'Doppler' spewed out its last surprise.

At the bottom I had thoughtfully included ten cigarette bangers, which you may remember almost took my grandads head off months before and five snow storm tablets, again something I had already tried on my ever suffering grandad.

So just as we were coming to terms with the blast it reached the finalie, a boom fest that resulted in the air being filled with little cotton wool style snowflakes as it spewed out fiery triangles that banged and popped in the air around us whilst we choked in the new snowy conditions.

It was the last time I experimented with flash powder, instead I found something less dangerous, a chemistry set.

And that is a different story indeed as I tried to make the best stink bomb ever...

 

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

Arty Farty Cooking Party

If anybody has any great ways to barbecue tuna please let me know, I'm at my wits end trying to find a mildly exciting way to cook it. I have looked through cookbook after cookbook but everything I find basically tells you how to make something to go with it and leaves the cooking of the tuna down to 'rub in oil, season and cook to taste' surely there is something else you can do.

Anyway, cookbooks get on my nerves, gone are the days of plain old instructions, in are fancy pictures accompanied by even fancier text. Here's an example, "Place everything in a bowl and season", that is what it should say, instead we are treated to "Carefully scrape everything off the board into a NICE serving bowl...Season and balance the flavours CONFIDENTLY". Nice and confidentially is what you do in a job interview, what if I haven't got a nice bowl, anyway just what constitutes a nice bowl in the first place. I have one without a chip will that do? How do you season confidently? Do you purposely strut up to the bowl and pretend there's a camera in the room? "Salt!" You announce, "Pepper!" you shout as you pull Percy Pepper out from under the table. "Look everybody, I know how to season!" You announce to the world then look around to see who is watching your confidence before flicking your head pony style and strutting off to the sink.

Then there's the flowery words to get past in most of the recipies; drizzle, oozy, crushed, stodgy, dripping, all used to describe food preparation when really they are more likely to be found in clinics specialising in rude bits. No, cookery books are more lifestyle books, normally an unobtainable lifestyle that even the chefs don't reach. I have just read a massive article about making your own custard and how the vanilla pods should be selected only to reach the end and be told that Birds custard is just as good, I mean, come on make your mind up!

So whilst I'm waiting for all your gorgeous barbecue tuna recipies to pour in here's a special one of mine.

Cheese, Cucumber and Brown Sauce Sandwiches

INGREDIENTS

White bread, HP sauce, cheese, cucumber, butter

Spread butter on bread, cut cheese to fit bread and add slices of cucumber. Squeeze on HP sauce, cut and eat.

Not very exciting is it? Lets sex it up a little.

Farmhouse Vintage Cheddar With Cucumber And Spicy Sauce

INGREDIENTS

Artisan bread, Finest farmhouse vintage cheddar, organic cucumber, your choice of spicy sauce, freshly churned pat of butter.

Carefully slice your artisan bread into two equal slices using a sharp knife to your required thickness, I prefer about a centimetre thick but you make like it a little thicker. Using a butter knife spread the pat of butter so it reaches all four corners of the slices, don't be skimpy! Use a cheese grater carefully to create little curls of your vintage cheddar, this will help stimulate your senses with the heady aroma of quality cheese. Sprinkle these over one of the buttered slices, again to your own personal thickness and gently pat down. A little salt sprinkled over at this stage will enhance your food.

Cut your cucumber into thin slices and carefully place them over the top of your cheese. Take your spicy sauce, I prefer HP but other brands are available and just as nice, drizzle it slowly over the cucumber. Savour this moment, the heady aromas will smell sublime.

Place the remaining slice butter side down on top of your assembled food, press lightly and cut into four triangular slices to taste. Place these on a nice plate with confidence, pour yourself a glass of Pimms and retire to your study to enjoy in the peace and quiet of your own estate.

My new cookbook "Arty Farty Food" is full of flowery words, available at most retailers from Monday. Recipies include "Hot Crispy Surprise" (chip buttie) and the magnificent "Fabulous Frozen Queen Of Puddings" (Jelly and ice cream) only £19.99

I'm also releasing a set of pan and cookware to go with it and possibly opening up a tea room, seventeen restaurants, an organic shop, starting a Arty Farty At Home party and taking over a seaside town before bringing out several hundred more books to help you diet, eat lots, keep fit and enjoy baking all in a vintage manner.

Ahem. I feel better now.

 

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

Dicktionhairy Fore U

I could get used to these long hot days, for once I have taken a break from creating anything and decided to while away a few days doing nothing. Do you know how hard I find it?

It all started when I sat down in the garden, I panicked. Doing nothing is just not what I do, I have to be doing something but what little could I get away with to call it nothing? Nothing really, so I sat and watched the world go by, bees buzzed from flower to flower, birds poked their beaks in the grass looking for breakfast, I steadily went mad, you know, the usual stuff. I'm just not very good at doing nothing, I feel guilty when I just sit around, any longer than twenty minutes and I'm climbing the walls which brings me swimmingly around to today's blog entry.

Ten New Words To Use In Everyday Conversations

Fartanarian - To be an annoying old person. "Oi! You've just flattened my dog with your mobility scooter you Fartanarian!

Grumply - A miserable person who is also challenged in the face department. "I went out with him once, he was way grumply."

Frumpletit - Clumsy individuals who make a hash of tasks. "He's a right frumpletit, fell down stairs once but couldn't scream as every time he opened his mouth a step shut it."

Bingobag - Used when a persons head is way smaller than their larger body. Looks like a bingo ball being ejected from a badly stuffed bag.

Titosteroner - A person, normally male with man boobs that nearly touch their belly button or can be pushed together for motor boating. Can also be applied to body builders with nips like bullets.

Trombonzo - A person with an irritating voice that slides up and down the wince scale as you listen. "He's got a voice like a donkey on helium, the trombonzo gets on my tits"

Frunknlucker - From the back it looks good, from the front it looks like it was made in a lab. From animal parts.

Crumblecrinklet - A person over forty who dresses and acts younger during a mid life crisis. Also describes an embarassing move popular with dancing dads.

Shifferwhiffer - Persons prone to turning toilet cubicles into health hazards or spending copiously large amounts of time at work dedicated to using the toilet. "He once held the Shifferwhiffer record after forty minutes with only the back of a crisp packet for reading material"

Fartwhacket - Two people engaged in wennis, the wind version of tennis. One person serves and it must be 'batted' back by a trumpet within a three second time period. This is repeated back and forth until one fails in the task or more seriously hits stage two the Clutterbucket. In which case you need new trousers.

I hope you will find all these useful and use them in everyday conversations. Another quality information service from the makers of Chimp Scissors, the only way to shape your primates.

 

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

I Have A Tiddler

(Pretend you are Pam Ayres when you read this it may help)

I only have a small one, a tiddler to you and me

To please the folk I give it a poke but a tiddlers hardly glee

Although its short its as straight as it ought, but it's no pleasure to see

In bad light it might feel alright and even fit the bill, but really I'm just getting old and my tiddlers over the hill.

 

You can see my dilemma with my short straight fella, made worse when given a chance

By a friend to enter his shed and look at his Fred, a name not given from a glance

For he had one as large as twelve inch, that bowed in the middle like a bow on a fiddle

Long thin and straight it went well past the eight, on my ruler I had bought from Lidl

 

Mine is bigger and could well be a topper, said my other friend who suddenly whipped out a whopper

We laid them all out and indeed his was a clout, it was a gobsmacking long straight show stopper

It knocked us for six and we all took a breath, astonished we were and nearly scared half to death

For on the wooden bench was a foot and a bit, straight and long it was part King Kong

A cucumber of massive proportions lay there, not the dirty end of this verse you thought let's be fair.

So if you have a small little tiddler, take heed, you can always write verse

Have a go at something like this, you really can't do any worse

We leave our poem on a lighter note, tiddlers of all sizes will always get my vote

From big ones to small they are all so different, cucumbers are like that, size is indifferent

To the taste and the flavour, from big to the small, once it's in your mouth size matters not at all.

(My ditty to the three cucumbers in my fridge)

 

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

Heat

A couple of years ago I blogged about a new electric blanket that had controls which looked like a revamped iPod, it was purely cosmetic, the touch dial was just a disguise for a switch that moved the temperature up and down so this week when our old boiler of seventeen years was replaced I was intrigued to find a similar control device on the new boiler.

My, things have moved on. Replacing a boiler is always a pain, even more so today because the product guarantee that used to be ten years is down to a paltry five in most cases and finding a good replacement boiler is so hard also there is a massive amount of new regulation to consider when fitting. So this week we have had a week of disruption with no heating or hot water but now we have a brand spanning new boiler to play with. And play with it I did.

It's not a fancy expensive one but it contains a lot of new additions that amaze me. For a start it uses a weather compensator attached to the outside of the house to regulate the heating. It has digital controls for water temperature, room temperature, heating curves, holiday modes, outside temperature monitoring and predictive heating all accessed using the funky control panel. Chortle.

I like things like this, being able to tweak every aspect appeals. I'm even more amazed at the amount of work that went in to replacing it, some of the craftmanship on the pipe work is outstanding and the steady hum is quite comforting knowing the warming heart of the house is healthy. So a bit of a nerdy entry really, sorry and all that, just wish it had access to iTunes and Netflix. Imagine settling down infront of a boiler to watch your favourite films. I once knew, and this is true by the way, somebody that moved out of their parents house into their own and used to spend time getting amazed by watching the program cycle on their washing machine. That is entirely true, their favourite was the 30 degree fast wash, don't ask me why it just got them all excited and stuff.

Whilst we are on this subject I had another friend, I say friend it's only by the oddity that I knew them but every day for lunch they used to bring for lunch a small glass bottle of Irn Brew, a mango and Dairylee cheese triangles which he used to eat noisily by making a small hole in the corner and squirting it wriggly like into his mouth. The mango was always sliced into eight pieces and eaten in order from one end to another. As you can see knowing people like this it's no wonder I'm amazed by the control system of a new boiler.

Now, where's my little roundels of Edam, I must peel them anticlockwise whilst raising the temperature of the shower unit, oh, and I must have seven grapes ready, one for each degree I alter the ambient room temperature, it doesn't get better than this!

 

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

King Porky Of Pieopolis

Hi, I'm Rod Stewart and I officially don't endorse today's blog entry.

What if the world was made of chewing gum? Everything you touch was sticky and could be bent and shaped into whatever you wanted. Pieces could be broken off and chewed then spat out to become part of the world again. Yes, my mind is unravelling again. It's these kind of weird thoughts that makes me wonder if I am indeed a little mentally disturbed. It's just not normal is it?

Anyway, in the vain hope that this will clear my mind of its mental tumbleweeds I thought I would share with you the story of the King Of Pieopolis.

Once upon a time there was a prince who lived in a big castle in the land of Makeituptia. The king was a greedy vile one, he ruled his subjects with a iron fist and always demanded more of them than they could give. 'More taxes!' he would say, 'More gifts!' he would demand, 'More food!' he would declare as his poverty strapped subjects starved. He loved it, they hated it, everybody despised the greedy vile King.

'What shall we do? What can we do?' chorused his subjects but one person remained mysteriously quiet. He was the village baker, he knew what they could do and he told them, quietly and secretively. They all grinned, returned to their homes to fetch one grain of wheat and gave it to the baker. Soon the baker had enough grains to grind to make the flour and to make his secret.

The king awoke from his royal slumber to the alluring smell of cooking. 'I'm hungry, feed me!' was his first words as he rose from his bed to his frightened servants. 'What is that smell, it's smells like nothing I have smelt before!' bellowed the king.

'It's coming from the village bakers Sire.' they replied.

'Then it is mine, I demand that you find out what it is and bring it to me now, I shall have it for breakfast.'.

'But...Sire, it's the villages food!' they nervously replied.

'If you don't bring me what they are cooking i'll have you all boiled in a big pot and served with roast potatoes, fetch me that food NOW!' and with that they all scurried away to do the kings bidding.

Shortly afterwards they returned and presented the king who was still sat in bed with what they had found. It was a small perfectly formed pie, no bigger than your hand. With it was a letter from the baker, it simply said 'Only eat what you need or your need will only be eat'.

'Stuff and nonsense!' and the king, for he was the king dismissed the letter, sniffed the pie then without hesitation popped it in his mouth and it was gone in an instant, he was indeed a greedy vile king. 'Delicious!' he intoned.

'What?' Said the king as he sat looking at the servants staring back at him.

'Your nose Sire, it's changed'

Surely enough as the king reached up to his face he felt an unfamiliar object, a snout, not a nose had appeared. His jaw started to open and shut automagically, unable to speak he could only chew and chew he did. First went the silver tray, straight into his mouth, secondly the bed, all scoffed in an instant. Nothing was inedible for the automatic chomping snout laden king. Bed stands, doors, carpets, windows they all disappeared into the kings ever expanding waistline as he munched his way out of the bedroom and further into the castle oinking uncontrollably.

With a look of terror in his eyes the king reached his throne room and chomp, the throne was gone, swallowed whole, for the king was now growing at an ever expanding rate. In went the kings jewels, his fortune in gold, halfway through eating the banqueting table his crowned head reached the ceiling and his sides touched all four walls. His appetite knew no bounds. Off came the roof of the castle, the turrets cantered down his throat, brick after brick the castle was consumed as the servants fled fearing for their lives. Finally the last brick was gone and the king was left sitting on a circular patch of grass surrounded by a moat.

The villages had gathered around the moat, the baker stood at the front, smiling.

The king was still hungry, still greedy, still vile. 'Feed me!' he boomed in a booming voice that boomed across the land.

'No!' Shouted back the villages, 'No more!' They all added.

Just then the king noticed something he hadn't eaten. Ten small piggies barely within reach. Bending over to bursting point he managed to get one in his mouth, then another followed by eight more until both feet were in his mouth. As he chomped and chomped he slowly shrank until he had completely eaten himself. All that was left was his crown which the baker now retrieved.

The land of Makeituptia and the people herein never forgot their greedy vile king and to make sure they never had a greedy vile king again the baker made a special pie, the Porky Pie using the crown shape to give it a distinctive crown like top. And the baker, what was his secret? Well, thats another story...

See, I told you I was in a weird mood today, you're lucky you didn't get my story of Box 127 and The Rampant Jekylled Whatabanker but that I'm afraid will have to wait a little longer as its part of the mentally disturbed Bloodlines. Right, lets get on with painting the destruction of St Paul's Cathedral filled with Wotsits and Quavers. Just a normal day at the office.

Wibble.

 

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

It's Tragic Magic!

Many months ago I blogged about a puzzle that has kept me occupied for years. The Magic Circus is three pieces of card filled with circus performers, the idea is that you count the performers then switch the top two cards and count them again only to find someone has disappeared or reappeared. Try for yourself, above is the first layout and below the second.

Strange isn't it? I have been wanting to put this in a painting for so long and last night I made a break through.

I already knew who disappeared, it's the lady with the dark hair who appears or disappears, count the above then the one below to see it in action.

What I didn't understand was how to create one of these in painting form until last night when I was flicking through a book from 1966 called the Daily Mail Book Of How. 'How' was a popular children's program filled with how things work, experiments fun puzzles and quirky facts. I loved it.

I found this article in the book, an exercise to make extra lines appear or disappear due to minute changes. The penny dropped, I have already painted an Escher inspired puzzle piece with interchangeable construction way back in 2007 with the nine canvas Love Will Always Find You but this is something else. If I can get it right we should have a set of Impossimal paintings that change according to how you hang them. How cool would that be?

The list of revelations from the book carried on. I had already learned David Blaines levitation trick which is basically the Balducci method but then came across another one. Ever seen a trick where the magician burns something then takes the ash and rubs it on their arm only for a word to appear? Well, simply write the message on your arm in soap beforehand and ash will miraculously stick to it. This book is priceless!

So today I will be levitation painting in soap, each limited edition will come with ash where you have to rub it on the piece to see what you have purchased. Even better if you rearrange the prints in a certain order a nude picture of me appears or disappears.

Maybe that's not such a great idea after all.

 

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

Two Mexicans Riding A Bike

TAKE ONE

Gerald had finally found a job in a the post office in the quiet village of Carryonton. It's his first day and we find him behind the desk waiting for his first customer.

Ting-a-ling went the bell above the door as in walked the vicar. 'Morning Gerald, what a nice morning although this hot weather is making my clothes rub against my thrupney bits. I have an important package to fire through someone's slot can you handle a large one?'

'Ah, vicar, nice to see you, I can see your wahey fever has started early. Of course I can help, let me see your package.'

'There it is Gerald, it's a fine package isn't it, Have you seen a larger one than this?'

'Can't say I have vicar, it could certainly do some damage if it gets shoved through the wrong hole.'

'Well Gerald, you'd better make sure my package slides carefully into the correct hole, especially if I'm paying for it.'

Ting-a-ling went the bell and they are joined by Mrs Holliby.

'Morning Vicar, morning Gerald, what a fine day it is. The suns shining and I have just seen a pair of great tits, I love birds.'

'I agree Mrs Holliby, nothing like seeing a pair of great tits in the morning to get you going for the day, isn't that right Gerald'

'Certainly is, nothing beats a pair of great tits. What can we do for you Mrs Holliby?'

STOP

Sorry, this is degenerating into double entendre sillyness, it's a blog not a Carry On film. It needs a complete rewrite, think village, think murder, think Miss Marples and try again.

TAKE TWO

We join Gerald, Post Master in the mysterious village of Carryonton, we find him in the post office discussing the latest revelations with Mrs Holliby and the parish Vicar.

'Well I don't know Vicar, they found him last night in a room locked from the inside. He was dead, murdered, the only thing they found was a smashed window. Somebody must have broken in.'

'Broken out Gerald, Mrs Weston said the glass from the window was on the outside so it must have been broken from the inside, how curious.' Said Mrs Holliby, 'What do you think vicar?'

'I thought it was funnier when we all talked about tits.'

STOP, STOP, STOP!

Vicar, you're out, lets run that scene again with just Gerald and Mrs Holliby. Forget the murder lets try a Western.

TAKE THREE

'Well Mrs Holliby, the pony express leaves in three minutes, yawl better be on it before Black Bart rides into town'

'Oh, Gerald, you are a brave sheriff. Let me see your 10 inch pistol.'

'Here it is Mrs Holliby, it's impressive isn't it. Here, let me lift your saddlebags for you.'

'Oh my Gerald, you're SO powerful, you can handle my saddlebags anytime.'

STOP, FOR GOODNESS SAKE STOP IT NOW!

Mrs Holliby, you're out. Just you Gerald, this is your last chance! Think village post office, first day.

TAKE FOUR

Gerald had finally found a job in a the post office in the quiet village of Carryonton. It's his first day and we find him behind the desk waiting for his first customer.

'Tits!'

AAAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!

 

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

Memorability

A brand new metal bucket and spade, suppose they make them all out of plastic today but when I was growing up we had good old sharp implements to move sand. One lack of concentration and Oops, off goes a toe, that's why adults of my age (ancient) walk a little wobbly it's got nothing to do with alcohol whatsoever.

Anyway, first day at Great Yarmouth, I remember it as if it was yesterday. Bucket at the ready and using the best sand from the edge of the sea I built a castle, it had a keep, moat and four turrets. I stood back with pride to admire it and to watch a dog nonchalantly walk up and destroy the drawbridge with a torrent of wee. See, memories are made of this, if I had just built the sand castle and nothing happened I wouldn't necessary have remembered it.

It's the fault of the sunny weather, it's got me remembering all sorts of things from over the years. In Blackpool at the boating lake in Stanley Park we watched an old lady trying to retrieve her false teeth that had come out attached to a sandwich which was amusing enough but had then she plopped in the water after tipping the balance a little too far trying to retrieve them. She surfaced covered in mud but clutching her teeth, the only bit of white left. She used the boating lakes tap to clean herself off and rinse the teeth before popping them back in.

We went to Prague and ate a lot of sausages and looked at fancy clocks. During our visit we had a private guide and car to take us around all the historic sights which was great. Our guide though bore a striking resemblance to Rosa Klebb from the bond movies so I developed a nervous twitch every time she shuffled her feet after having flashbacks to the steel point that shoots out of them in the film. She showed us such a lot hidden from the tourist trail on a four hour tour that took us through the streets in the car and on foot, she even added a few of her own personal stories from WWII which were quite moving.

As the car turned down one of the narrow streets obviously not used to traffic the tourists slowly parted but at the end of the street out stepped two armed guards. It didn't look good, they both stood blocking the street brandishing their machine guns and pointing in our direction. Frantic babbling came from our guide and the driver which of course we didn't understand a word of but by their tone it didn't sound good. Tap,tap,tap. A third guard was tapping on my window with his gun, he'd approached from the back to make sure we couldn't reverse. Luckily I had bought a change of pants so that was my least concern, I looked at Jayne then back at the barrel of the gun. OMG!

To cut a long story short I didn't get shot and I didn't need any new pants. What followed was an heated argument with plenty of fingers hovering over triggers as our guide explained our reasons for cruising past an Embassy on high alert in an unofficial car. Nothing like a bit of danger to clear your head, needless to say we all sighed with relief as we turned the corner, they never did realise our guide worked for SMERSH.

Back in England, this time Blakeney, Norfolk and a chance to see the high Spring tides engulf the streets. A spectacle itself as Blakeney suddenly ends and the sea starts. We have stayed in Blakeney for many years but this was the first time we had seen what was to be one of the highest tides they had seen for many a year. I made a little paper boat and set it to sea from the high street, not something you could do everyday but it made me remember it even more.

In Filey I was accosted by a rampant horse on the beach and in Whitby, North Yorkshire found a blue lobster and saw the only surviving hand of glory in the world, which if you don't know is a pickled hand of a criminal that had been cut off whilst they were still on the gallows. The idea is you use it like a candle and light the fingers of a house you are about to burgle, if any of the fingers refuse to light then the occupants of the house are awake. As long as the fingers remain burning then the householders will sleep.

See, it's often the strangest or simple things you remember so I tend to try to do things differently to create a memory, mundanity makes things forgetful. The paper boat in Blakeney is typical, simple but memorable. So today create a memory, do something off the wall to remember it by. It doesn't have to be anything dramatic or life changing just something out of character or fun. The more you do it the more fun it gets and pretty much you will start to build up a mental image of warm memories.

Anyway, as part of the task above a few days ago I noticed that a sculpture I had made out of card, Quavers and Wotsits had started to look a little shabby as the colour and I assume fat leeched out of the snacks so I started an experiment to see which leeched the most over three days.

As you can see its starting to look a little grim, it's even worse when you remove the snacks.

A massive stain from one whilst the other has left barely anything. Pointless I'd admit but it's furthered my knowledge of corn based snacks although the jury's still out on if that's a good thing or not. Why do it all though? Well, its all down to keeping things interesting and memorable. It may seem childish and irrelevant but without these little diversions things can get a tad boring. This blog acts as a catalyst for my creativity, filling the blog with stuff, some of it irrelevant, requires a lot of thought and this in turn kickstarts my creativity processes for the day and stirs my memories. Go on, do something different today!

 

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

Strange Objects In The Sky

Due to the unusual events surrounding this weekend the government has issued a set of guidelines in readiness.

Be prepared, we will experience a unique event this weekend when a mysterious object will appear in the sky two days in a row accompanied by a searing blast of heat. The last time we issued this warning was in 1976 when several residents spontaneously burst into flames after mistakenly using lard instead of sun tan lotion.

Cover your skin. Skin burns easily so we suggest you get out all your winter gear and wear it immediately. The sun can be as dangerous as the trecherous 1mm of snow that brings this country to its knees every year.

If you don't have access to suitable clothing then seek shade. Sit in the little cupboard underneath the stairs until this inclement weather passes and we return to misery apathy soaked drizzle.

Under no circumstances stare directly into the sun, it is a terrible read and full of gossip.

Wear clothing appropriate to your body shape rather than body shape wishes, we don't want to see everything no matter how misshapen it it. Besides any sticky out bits will be closer to the sun and will probably burn to a crisp.

There are individuals that worship the sun, they can be found steadily toasting on Britains many beaches, some of which are now free of sewerage. They are mad, stay away from them at all costs unless you want to look like a mahogany sideboard with bingo wings.

Whilst were at it boot polish makes a great alternative to sun tan cream, use brown or black for best results. Wire wool and bleach will remove it after use.

Avoid fun. It's all well and good running outside frolicking but too much fun is bad for you. It leads to giddiness and a general feeling of well being and we can't be having that. Take heed, too much fun is good for none. We at the government have been towing this line for years and its never done us any harm.

Paddling pools should be no more that the size of a shoe box to avoid drowning incidents. Should your paddling pool exceed these dimensions you will need to employ a lifeguard and take out public liability insurance.

After two days of this so called sunny weather we will issue a drought warning and add another item to the extremely long list of things we don't want you to do.

The drinking of alcohol will be tolerated as long as the guidelines for safe drinking are followed. This includes one double whiskey for the under fives whilst adults are only allowed one pint of shandy per twelve hours.

Barbeques are the preferred method of cooking during this emergency. All meats must be cooked through and we recommend you cook them in your kitchen then again on your barbeque until they resemble charcoal. Cut them open to check they are fully cooked and place them face down again on the barbeque to make sure. Finally pop them in the microwave for five minutes to kill any bacteria left.

Don't forget your daily calorie allowance when barbecuing. Make sure you reach it by bulking up on extra fatty items like sausages and eat lots of bread.

Children are especially vulnerable and should be locked away in their rooms until further notice.

Ice creams must not be left unattended. Any ice creams found will be clamped and will receive an on the spot fine of no less than £100.

We are pleased to announce that the seasides will be open this weekend, Skegness, Blackpool and many others are waiting to greet you with open arms. Drive there in droves, we will put extra traffic on the roads to help with congestion. Please make sure you keep your windows shut in your car whilst stuck in traffic for maximum discomfort.

This has been a public information service on behalf of the national bureau of ministerial buffoonery.

N.B. Summer will now take place between the 5th and the 10th July whereupon after the final date we will bring back the rain, wind, fog and snow typical of this time of year.

Enjoy your summer. We will be shortly issuing our guidelines to the supermarkets regarding Christmas. This years starting date for stocking Christmas items has been moved to the 1st August to stimulate the economy.

 

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

Cash In!

It's that time again when mediocre films attempt to entertain us during our soggy summers with promised thrills and spills. Why waste money when you can cash in using this handy app I have found. Make squillions just like I did, buy a home in LA, have twenty six cars and a garage the size of Huddersfield, make dreams come true!

Thrillspill's Summer Blockbuster Script'O'Matic, your automatic award winning hit making script app. Make £££'s from the comfort of your home, become a movie mogul overnight. Win screen writing Oscars using our innovative multiple choice questionnaire software, simply select one from each selection to create the perfect blockbuster.

BEGIN

The scene opens on a (Hot, Cold, Wet, Foggy, Snowy, Beach) day in (London, Crewe, Mansfield, Bahamas, Tesco's Car Park, The Public Toilets).

Actor A - (Jim, Simon, Arthur the Penguin, A Small Dog Called Colin, Muriel Stuffitup) is (Sitting, Standing, Eating A Banana Obscenely, Thrusting, Reading, Smiling, Wondering What The Hole In The Wall Is) when Actor B - (Alice, Gertrude, A Large Cow Called Max Moo, A Fish Finger) enters the scene.

'Oh No!' Actor B exclaims, (The Dogs Exploded, I Ate Yellow Snow And It Doesn't Taste Like Lemonade , I'm Drunk Again, I Can't Stop Trumping, You Will Never Believe It!, It Will Never Fit).

Actor A stops what they are doing and replies ('Are You Sure?, Does It Hurt?, What Do You Mean It's Too Big?, Will It Fit Sideways?, If It Was A Snake You'd Be Impressed, Calm Down Dear, It's Only A Script'

Actor A slowly raises their hand to their brow. 'I have something to tell you' Actor B. 'I'm (The Offspring Of The Hoff, Basil Brush Is Not Real, Yoda I Am, Leaving You For A Chimpanzee, Secret Squirrel And I Demand To See Your Nuts )'

Suddenly (Tom And Jerry Burst Throught The Door Followed By A Bulldog, An Out Of Control Satellite Crash Lands Blowing Out The Doorway, Gunfire Blows Out The Doorframe, Justin Bieber Announces He Is To Stop Singing And The Door Explodes With Relief, There Is A Knock On The Door)

Actor A and Actor B look at the door and decide to (Have A Custard Pie Fight Then Storm A Plane Containing Snakes Using Sharpened Combs As Weapons, Fight The Alien Menace Using A Floppy Disc On Independance Day, Struggle Against The End Of The World By Tying A Firecracker To The Meteor Hurling Our Way, Allow Raptors To Develop In Jurassic Park So They Can Make Plenty Of Sequels Where They Can Open Doors, Slap Each Other On The Back Then Shave Their Heads Whilst Climbing Into Cars To Drive Away Furiously, Rehash A Superhero To Cash In, Make Yet Another Sequel)

Finally the scene ends when (The World Is Saved, The Alien Menace Is Defeated, A Shark Is Blown To Bits, Aliens Are Contacted, The Death Star Is Destroyed Again, Enough Things Have Been Blown Up Or Smashed To Bits, The Bomb Is Diffused And The Bus Stops, Zombies Eat Them, The Benny Hill Theme Tune Plays And They All Chase Each Other)

Choose Your Budget -

£26 and a used bus ticket

£1999 and a mobile phone camera

£20,000 and the use of a borrowed camcorder

£200,000,000 and a team of 1000's

Final check list -

Check script, get actors, film it, flog it, sit back and rake in all the moolah.

Well done, you are a movie legend, now go out and get wasted until you buy a pet monkey and drive a car into a swimming pool.

 

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

Box Of Time

Yesterday I found a box labelled random. I don't remember creating it or why it ended up at the back of a drawer in the studio but when I opened it I found just that, random photos. So today I thought I would share a few personal 'randoms' with you and the random memories that go along with them.

This was taken thirty years ago, within weeks of finally asking Jayne if she wanted to be my girlfriend. I had a obsession about white trainers looking at the photo. What you can't see clearly is my long hair, remind me if they ever invent time travel and I get to go back to this date to take along a stylist, oh, and a decent pair of shoes.

The back garden of our first house, not much but it was home and all ours. We later ripped out the lawn added in a water feature and created a rock garden using boulders reclaimed from a dismantled bridge. They were delivered by two men and a wheelbarrow, as they dropped the final stone from the lorry it demolished the barrow and it took six of us to shift it from the road, they really were big.

Occasionally my workplace at the time sent me away for training, this is the view from my hotel room in Brescia, northern Italy sometime during the early 90's when I was dispatched to learn about some new computer systems. I ate horse and something called dead mens fingers before finding out that the delightfully romantic scene of cascading flowers from the balconies with ladies calling out was in fact a funky house. It was also the first time I had gotten off a train to be confronted by magazine stalls selling 'HorseyXXX' rather than the latest copy of Bunty.

We had the misfortune to take one holiday in Great Yarmouth, not that the place was unfortunate just that we decided to stay at the same hotel that contained Jim Davidson and Michael Barrymore. I was never the same again.

Blackpool on the other hand in the eighties was different, we checked there were no television celebrities lurking around and decided to stay away from the main sea front area in a hotel at the far North end, don't be fooled by the picture, that was taken from the pleasure beach which is a contradictory title all on its own. We knew something was funny when some of the meals we were served contained what looked like small feathered birds and we got several phone calls in the middle of the night in a foreign unidentifiable accent. It was only on the last day as the lift to our room stopped we found out, a large oil tycoon type sheik stepped in followed by an armed guard. Hang on, were in Blackpool, he's got a gun! Eeek! The top floor of the hotel had been taken over by a delegation from the Far East, personally if I had oodles of money and could go anywhere in the world I think I would have preferred Mablethorpe but at least I got to try the feathered bird speciality they had specifically placed on the menu even though they looked like miniature Orville's and I had to leave the beak.

For some strange reason they stuffed an unsittable table near the window in our room so getting to use this required a bit of furniture rearranging and I really don't know why I took this photo. Must have been impressed with the fruit bowl or something but it would probably get voted as the most uninspiring Instagram photo ever.

In 1987 we were off to the Microfair, Victoria, London and was mildly accosted as we left the tube at Piccadilly after being mistaken for a drug dealer, must have been the long hair. We did manage to meet Jeff Minter though but we were disappointed that he didn't bring along a llama.

The reason that we were there was because of this, a computer store that my family owned. Hundreds of games, plenty of computer systems and all started from a small market stall on Mansfield market where we powered a ZX-Spectrum from a car battery. Going to the micro fairs went with the territory. It was also at the height of computing for the masses, one Christmas we managed to sell over a hundred Commodore 64 packs alone then spent Christmas Day going from house to house providing a backup service to anybody that had trouble setting it up. More importantly I got to play all the latest games on all the systems for free, a dream job.

Not sure where this is, I have a feeling it's Slayer and its taken from the balcony at Rock City in Nottingham. The light from the chaps balding head made photographs difficult. If it is Slayer then I have a picture somewhere of the result of a stage dive which caused a domino effect as row after row fell over into a heap. It's not from the Ozzy Osbourne show that I can be certain of, Ozzy cancelled at the last minute and there was a riot that destroyed the stage. Our bus driver drove off in panic and we had to make our way back in a Taxi that could only legally carry four. There was five of us so one had to lay flat across the legs of the others in the rear to avoid detection, cost an arm and a leg too.

Finally one of my favourite pictures, Blakeney in Norfolk. Nice, quiet and on a sunny day incredibly beautiful.

What a strange collection to have in one box, there's plenty more to go through so excuse me whilst I pop on my rose tinted spectacles and lose myself for a while and wonder just why at the very bottom is a photo of a dog having a poop.

 

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

Last Off The Bus

Always be the last off the bus, remember that, it has served me well.

Many years ago when I left school and started work I used to walk a lot. I walked to work, I walked to town during dinner breaks and walked home at night. These cars were a familiar sight on the roads, their history is an incredibly rich one and was a solution the government decided on to give mobility back to all the injured servicemen from World War II. They were meant for one and the inside resembled the handlebars of a motorbike stuffed in a telephone box, they cornered in a wide arc to stop rolling but could get up to some incredible speeds.

How do I know this? Well, I was unfortunate enough to be working with an individual that was not disabled but then again didn't have a driving licence only a motor bike licence hence he had one as a runabout. It never dawned on him as he pulled up along side me one Autumn morning that offering a lift was a little rash.

Still, with the stupidity of youth I climbed in. I say climbed in, it was more like playing sardines. I opened the door and look in disdain, five inches were left on the single seat, how on earth was I going to fit.

'Come on, I'll budge up.' and he did giving me the luxury of six inches to fit my amble bottom in. It was a squeeze, you know when you see stupid attempts at how many people you can fit in a telephone box well it was that, from outside it must have looked like a car full of badly dressed flesh for I was wearing cords and he had a brown suit on. Come to think of it there was a couple of other chaps in the office with weird cars, one of them attended big parties on family estates at the weekend but drove to work in a Russian car with two gears, cinema seats for extra comfort and used the handbrake as the main brake, I kid you not. He did upgrade it later to a Lada which had the luxury of indicators but stuck with the habit of signalling with his hands.

Anyway, if you were walking down that road around '84 you would have seen two blokes crammed in a small three wheeled metal box squashed up against the doors, faces inches from the windscreen, sorry if we startled you. Trundling away we approach our first problem, how to turn corners. It was too cramped for him to reach over properly without being sued to steer so he came up with the unique solution of us having our own side of the steering handlebars. Basically if we wanted to go left I pulled and breathed in if we wanted right he pulled and did the same a sort of driving rowing excercise. As you can see health, safety, Highway Code and any other law you would like to throw at it went out of the window.

It got more daring as we went faster, hit anything potholey and we bounced into the roof to compress our spines, took a corner rakishly and alley oop, two wheels bond style. Braking was fun, I just love pressing my face at 30mph against angled glass whilst the single front wheel ground into the carriage way leaving a waving squiggle of rubber behind us. So with that we swerved and wound our way down straight roads and bounced off the kerbs on curved ones. Parking was a pain, we had to get out and lift it when he wanted to reverse. I arrived to work five minutes faster but developed a fine streak of grey hair. The same day I went out with another guy in the office who drove at high speed everywhere and braked Sweeny style, I had all on stopping him shouting 'Shut it, you slag!' At every opportunity. Yes, he had a potty mouth too. Anyway he Sweenied to a halt a little too quickly and a car thudded in to the back of ours turning my neck into a rubber band. This was days before whiplash injuries so I just wore stiff polo necks for the next six months. Climbing out of the car Mr Potty Mouth had a field day, I just curled up in the footwell and wept.

It's shortly after this that I decided to get my own transport and bought myself a push bike. I was knocked off weeks later when a disqalified motorist didn't see me but decided I needed to perform a forward somersault over his bonnet. He drove off leaving me and my bent bike in a bleeding muddled mess, I had a bang to the head but I'm alright sausages and trifle.

Looking back it was quite an lively few months in '84, a vintage year for transport related failures. I eventually gave in and started to get the bus, I must be one of the only people to witness a horror hurl. Riding upstairs was always exciting but sit at the back on the top deck sometime near Christmas when you have had rather a lot to drink and you get bounced about an awful lot, gradually you feel like a shaken pop bottle and something's got to give. Fortunately for me I was not that person, I was sat a few seats ahead but was well aware of the grunts and groans emitting from behind.

My stop came up and I rose, so did the bouncy groaner from the back seat, my spider sense tingled and I paused just long enough for him to stumble by. I didn't fancy him falling on me as he climbed down the narrow stairs. There were quite a number of people getting off so the queue was building from below and about three people were on the stairs when he reached the top and let it all go.

It sounded like somebody had dropped a soggy blamange. Lets just say that I never want to pick my way down that staircase ever again, it was like the ill persons version of the Tunnel Of Love. Dark, slippy with a smell that curled your toes. How they got it out of their hair, clothes and carrier bags I'll never know. Hope they had plenty of sand on board because as I strode away I heard a chorus of synchronised sympathy hurling. Merry Christmas indeed.

And that is why I will always be the last off the bus.

 

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