Wednesday 2 July 2014

The Art of recycling old rubbish . . . . . . . and a useful tip about Gravity



It is quite late and after a hard day doing science dropping large cannon balls and feathers off large towers to prove that gravity is far more painful if it hits an unsuspecting passer by when it is influencing a cannon ball in a state of freefall, rather than a whole load of feathers. Unless they are glued to a cannon ball or a cat.  I have decided that I will re post an old post from the past and also an old drawing. I know I am lazy but I do post stuff more than most so feel as it will soon be Christmas I am entirely justified.

So here it is . . . . an OLD POST

Once upon a time there was a large jolly rotund chap with a big white beard and red fur lined jacket who carried a large sack about known to all as Father Christmas (that’s the rotund chap not his sack). He was a generous chap who would rummage about in his sack and give passing small children presents and the like shouting Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas. He was very popular much like Elvis and like Elvis it was not long before everywhere he went folk you run up to him screaming asking for autographs and asking him to sing the ever popular Be-Bop-A-Lula I don’t like Gravy, a sentiment all folk with large white beards will whole heartedly agree with no doubt. 

As he became more and more famous and popular it got harder and harder for him to go anywhere without folk turning up demanding stuff out of his sack or making him sing that song again or trying to book him for parties or saying he was the father of their love child. When it was plain to all that super gluing beards onto small children was never going to convince anyone.

So as time passed Father Christmas became more reclusive and hid away up north in the snow only venturing out in the middle of winter a time that became known as Christmas time because he was never seen any other time of year. He still went Ho Ho Ho a lot but now sneaked into houses at night as it was the only way he could avoid being asked to sing that song.  Of course by hiding away there was an opportunity for those Elvis impersonators who were not doing to well (put bluntly they were rubbish at Elvis), having fallen on hard times they became dishevelled and unshaven ending up with long white beards allowing them to become Father Christmas impersonators; it was cheaper too all you need is a big red coat and a sack, not a white sequined suit like Elvis and there was no need to be able to play the trombone either.


Over the years the real Father Christmas has got even more reclusive but the Father Christmas Impersonators or Santa impersonators as they are known now for legal reasons are all over the place. And it is easy to see why they all had to give up being Elvis impersonators, the closest I have ever seen one looking a bit like Elvis was when he was bitten by a large Hound Dog one Christmas Eve and screamed Im all Shook up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .HAH HA HAH HAH HA HAH HA HAH HA HAH HAH HHAH HAH AH hah a hha ha ha ha ha ha.

9 comments:

  1. You aint nothing but a Father Christmas, ho hoing all the time.

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    1. Ho Ho Ho....... Christmas 2014 it arrived here first.......

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  2. Sorry, I just woke up from having been knocked unconscious by a barrel's worth of feathers dropped from the top of a building. Why would someone...Wait a second, did you influence Father Christmas to drop feathers from way too high to knock pedestrians unconscious? Nefarious.

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    1. Was it not Nefarious (the Reindeer) whose head was found in Santa's stocking on Christmas day as a elf warning . . . . . No one messes with Feather Rustlers and gets away with it.

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  3. All these centuries people have wondered about gravity, and I solved "it" just now. Contained within gravity is a secret message, gravity = it gravy
    So just as there used to be a theory about ether in outer space, I now propose gravy instead. I can already feel the Nobel Prize headed my way, even if it means stealing Obama's or Al Gore's medal.

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    1. I have heard the old saying. . . . . Getting on the Gravy Train . . . . . . . many times, but at last it makes sense.

      I wonder what the escape velocity of Gravy is. . . . . .

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    2. Fe Fo Fortify fum I smell the gravy of an English mum.. . . . making gravy.

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