Monday, 28 July 2014

Oh, for Crying Out Loud...Shed of the Year, my hairy rear end!

Sorry but I really must register an objection.  I know I'm English but, I'm not that bloody English: no-one's that bloody English!

So, what is all this 'Shed of the Year' nonsense on the telly?  'Shed of the Year'?  No, no, no - the comparative value (that sounds about brainily right) of  sheds is not a subject for a whole set of programmes on the public teevers.

Sheds!  Anyhow, I was flicking through the channels and it said: 'And up next, it's Shed of the Year.'  So I'm like - what?  No, no, surely I misheard.  But nope, it really was a programme about the sheds inc. their aesthetic value, for heaven's sake.

So, I turned it over and just thought some 'harumphhh' type thoughts over the old gin and tonic.  That night I only ruddy well ended up dreaming about bloody sheds: getting locked in a shed, the disgraceful old Josef Fritzel-esque number that my brother in law built etc etc.

Next morning, I tried to stop myself...but I'm only human, so I googled it and voila:

2013 Shed of the Year.

And then it occurred to me: I'd just had a very nasty brush with irony.

Now, of course, I'm totally into Shed of the Year...

Will let you know which dreadful old pile wins, sigh...

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

The State of Britain's Feet...

Have noticed that every other advert on teevers is for foot-related products.  Foul images of hard skin shavings abound!

Every 25 minutes I am confronted by some hideous old plates; what the blinking flip has happened to peoples' feet?  What has gone wrong?  My feet are the same as uzh, except for an extreme hardening of the big toenail:

However, everyone else's feet have become hyper-skanky-old-hard-skin-erised (dunno what it's really called...probably what I just said) a la (sorry to do this to you):

I mean, what do you have to do to get feet like that?  These aren't ordinary old feet; these are disgusting old B-Roads of Britain feet; Ice Cold in Alex feet; 'Ghandi's got better feet than those' feet.  In fact, I don't believe it.  If your disgraceful old Corn and Bunion Sets have got so bad that you have to shave the skin off...well...perhaps you should be in a home for shameless old slatterns.

Oh, and if it's not 'Singing Detective' feet, it's feet with Fungal Nail Infection or Athletes' Feet.  What is Britain doing - never taking its socks orf for a bit of an airing?  Some of the feet I've been forced to look at recently should be put to good use: growing mushrooms for Africa.  I heard that one from Father Piotr.  I'm not sure if I believe him but it is a tad dry out there, I suppose...for mushrooms.

Sorry for the diatribe but it really is a bit much.  So, on a lighter note: was watching X-Men 2 with Man Friday (cannot be arsed to watch anything nuevo at the mo' - it's far too hot to bother with new plots - so am either watching re-runs of tv shows or films I've seen at least twice before.  Therefore, if I nod orf for a few minutes I don't have to keep asking: 'Who's he then?' or 'What's she got in that bucket?'- type things).

So, watching X Men 2.  Wolverine comes into a kitchen and gets a small bottle of fizzy pop from a cupboard.  He opens it and then hands it over to a young man who is sitting at the kitchen table.  The young man smiles and blows lightly across the top of the bottle.  The bottle becomes immediately cold and Wolverine says thank-you.

At this point Man Friday says to me: 'That's Ice-Man, you know.'  And I got all shirty (it is a bit hot) and I replied: 'Oh, I thought it was Blows on Bottle Boy.'

Then Man Friday laughed at me and said: 'Feeling sarcastic are we, Can't Open Child-Proof Bottles Woman?' - which made me laugh.  We then made much merry with devising useless super powers and naming their exponents.

See, that's the trouble with all this hot weather malarkey: it can make arses of the best of us - which, of course, as Esther says: 'Explains all the cantankerousness in those foreign countries.'

Oh, did I tell you - poor Henry (the Ottoman dog) died.  Can't remember if I said or not.  Oh, and George is still clinging on by the skin of his dentures.

Must buzz orf for now.