Intelligence Agencies, spying, the Mk3 Mechanical Spy Bird and Steven Spielberg.

The British and American Intelligence Agencies have said I am allowed one more go at designing a decent mechanical spy bird or they will stop following my online diary and that will result in most of my readers vanishing (as most of them are them). But they also say that if I do a jolly good job, OK it was the British Intelligence Agency used the word jolly, Americans don’t really say Jolly a lot, if ever, they tend to say kick Ass or use slightly cruder terms such as SHIT or YO never GOOD SHOW CHAPS like us chaps in Britain, as it happens such things are seldom said in Britain much these days really, it is the changing times.

Anyway all this is by the by and of no consequence to man nor beast or spies.  What the chaps in the murky world of intelligence gathering have said, is that if I make a really good job of the Mark Three Mechanical Spy Bird they will secrete a small device under the pillow of the very nice Mr Steven Spielberg, so at night it will repeatedly repeat the subliminal message into his ear . . . . . . . . . . That Rob Z Tobor is a rather clever chap who has a cracking (if long) diary which would make a great film. Go on you know you want to; make the movie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Well who could not be persuaded by such an offer?

So here we have the all New Mk3 Mechanical Spy Bird, as someone once famously said in a very similar position, well when I say similar it was sort of similar-ish……………. One small flap for man one giant leap for spying…….. OK he did not say exactly that but he meant to,  I think?

How come they have never let any women go to the moon it seems a bit unfair, maybe they are just not stupid enough to volunteer

Of Mice and Men, Albatross and Puffins and Mr Putin

The other day I drew a picture of a mechanical Albatross in the style of Mr Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci that could circumnavigate the entire world. At the time I suggested that it could be used by GCHQ here in Britain and NSA or the CIA in the USA to spy on folk. However these organisations have said that although the plan has merit the likes of President Putin is going to be rather suspicious if an Albatross is peering at him through the windows of the Kremlin as he talks to his generals. It appears Albatross do not sit on building in the middle of large cities watching the men and women of world power, so they said to me . . . . . .Rob you need to redesign that bird and maybe make it blend in a bit more with the environment it would be used in as a spy bird . . . . . . So I have thought long and hard about this and thought to myself, what would the great man Mr Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci do. In a flash the answer was clear the perfect choice of bird, a bird no one would give a second glance at in Moscow or Pyongyang where they could almost sit on the shoulders of men as they discuss many secret things (that’s the men not the birds) . . . . . . . . . . . Yes you have guessed it the humble Puffin.

Anyway I sent my design off to GCHQ and NSA and before you could say  . . . . . the seagulls are holding the umbella in the park today . . . (a bit of spy talk) they have sent me a response saying . . . . . . .. . . ROB Z TOBOR you are an IDIOT. . .

Well there is no pleasing some folk, I understand how Mr Da Vinci felt now when he showed his drawing of his helicopter to the king.  

The Fabled Minor Stream of Inconsequence and a quite look back at the past

It continues to rain here rather a lot and the ground is well and truly saturated, the fabled minor stream of inconsequence that runs behind our house and off into the wood must be at least a good 12 to 18 inches deep and almost three feet wide. This means that it still only counts as a minor stream of inconsequence which bearing in mind all the rain and flooding in Britain is rather good when you live in a bungalow.

I really should write loads more but am going to do a sneaky and tell you what I wrote way back on Friday, 28 October 2011 . . . (why I hear you type, well I’m lazy and its wet and dark and the middle of winter).

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . .. . . . . . .. .

The new house is right at the far end of the wood, right at the end of a thin ribbon of wood that follows the fabled Minor Stream of Inconsequence, the source of which is right next to our new house. So me and the dog thought it was time to take a little trip to explore. There were two reasons for this. The first was that it has been a very quiet day; the second reason is I really can’t believe you wish to hear about boxes again.

The third reason is it has been rather nice and sunny today an excellent time to explore woods (I sound like Monty Python now). So three reasons why I was in the woods, although the forth one would be that the sequel to the blockbuster movie of the book; (book one) based on this, book two, so far is full of boxes, and that is not a good plot. So four reasons why no one expects the Spanish Inquisition….. Mum has said you know what again, sorry mum however I have thought of a fifth reason……. No only kidding.

 In the woods the trees are all loosing there leaves and many animals are hibernating such as Hedgehogs, Bears, Beavers, The Lemmings of Petrograd, The Dark Creature of the Undergrowth and Uncle Frank. Uncle Frank always gets hibernating and flying south for the winter mixed up, which is an easy thing to do according to mum and dad, but I think they are being nice. But it is cheaper for Uncle Frank to hibernate in the wood than spend all winter partying in Ibiza

We had a long wander through the woods, the dog destroying yet another catapult made by the Dodo’s. He says it will be the last of the year as they have turned their attention to building a Jacuzzi (otherwise known as a hot tub) to keep them cosy over the winter months.  This is the result of them getting to read a Woman’s Own magazine left in the wood by a camper. Yes you see the consequences of leaving your rubbish in the countryside. The repercussions of these acts are not always easy to predict, so please ensure you always clear all your rubbish and dispose of it correctly. Thank you.

Dam it distracted again; we made it to the fabled Minor Stream of Inconsequence and as was discussed last time (Yes you do need to pay attention) we found evidence of the Madman of the Woods, we even thought we heard the distant call of the wild; HAR HAR HARDY HA HAR a sound with a familiar ring to it. The dog even found prints of a strange animal in the muddy banks of the fabled Minor Stream of Inconsequence a strange creature with six legs …………. …………. Mmmmmmmmmm.

Anyway it got dark and we had to return home as we were all visiting a particularly famous old lady of Monty who is ninety nine today; and it is not the done thing not to visit. So we did. I did say she was not to run about in the night singing in the street and climbing lamp posts. Mum said IDIOT which I thought was a bit harsh after all she is 99 ……….. AH apparently she was referring to me. 

I have a friend, called Mr Jones.

Who is famous for his, scary groans.

And likes to wear, a pointy hat.

While dancing with, the vampire bat.

And in the middle of the night.

He will knock on doors, to give you a fright.

But at Halloween, he is in the wood

To shout TRICK OR TREAT at …………  Robin Hood.

HA HAH HAHAHH hahah hah hahhah hahhahhah hahahah hha ha ha hah hah hahah.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .

OK back to 2014 yes a lot of time has passed; the dog is still with the Pope I think, teaching him stuff about the Romans and Greeks and the little old lady died having reached 101. And I gave up spelling DAMN like DAM because folk thought I was silly and they did not see the ironic dark humour of a large wall holding back all that water. Since spelling DAMN correctly all that water is now all outside and I think that says everything. . . . . 

AH I may have to use an old picture tonight also . . . . . .DAM . . . . . HAH AH HAH AH HAH AH HA HAH HA HAHHAH haha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha.  

Gosh I have written a lot of rubbish in the last few years……

Weather Machines and Alien Jelly Creatures

Have I mentioned that dad started work on a new weather machine, I don’t think I have? It had its first trial run today or at least part of it did. He says he is fed up with the weather and if we must have rotten weather then he wants to be the one to create it. That is quite understandable really, we all like to be in control of our own destiny if we can and so the more we can control ourselves the better.  Although in the case of weather machines I think history leads us to conclude that we may be in control of the weather machine, but the controls are slightly faulty. Thus what we expect and what we get do not always tally, such as today when it was raining one minute and sunny the next followed by rain and sun.

So yet again we have a small insight into the great workings of the universe, we make our plans we carry them out and something entirely different happens and before you know it you are not a brain surgeon in the great Metropolis but a hairdresser in Luton or a roller-skate salesman in Edinburgh.  This is what happens to everyone and deep down in our inner soul is a small voice telling us that everyone (ok most folks) are doing stuff we would do better and why cant we have what they have.  This is what happened with TV, for years folk would watch all these so called celebrities and think well they are rubbish I could do that; and so was born the TV talent show closely followed by the celebrity talent show as celebrities became paranoid that folk were doing stuff they could do.

I was rather distracted there as I was planning to say that Mrs E and Mr S came to see us and delivered a lentil dhal and a Pheasant curry for our tea  . . . . . . WELL COOL (OK nice and spicy) although you will be pleased to learn the pheasant in the curry was not Gandhi or tame pheasant, it would be rather non politically correct to eat Gandhi or our tame pheasant.

Ooooooooo yes I have added a photo to my diary tonight of something seriously weird that has appeared to have oozed out from the patio, it appeared to be a clear jelly like substance with some sort of life in the middle?  . . . . . . . . . Do we finally have proof of alien life; it has been there a couple of days now and is showing no sign of vanishing off back to its home planet . . . . . . . Very odd.

Ooooooo yes again, it was Mr Charlie’s Birthday as well . . . . . .

Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci and the Albatross drawing

A long long time ago there was a rather clever chap called Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, and when I say clever he was seriously clever with the added bonus of various other skills too; who drew a helicopter. Now when I say a helicopter it was quite frankly a rubbish helicopter but the fact was he sort of knew that somehow and someday folk would finally crack the idea of flight and be able to make a machine that actually achieved what he had in his mind. At the time folk just nodded and smiled and agreed, but thought the idea was crackpot, but he had friends in high places and did some great drawing and painting so no one said it was a mad idea. Anyway besides all this he was a bit of a one for undoing bodies on the quiet, and no one is going to argue with someone who dismantles the bodies of ordinary folk going about their daily business.

 

Anyway I thought if I was to draw a flying machine in the style of Mr Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci then maybe in about five hundred years time folk will say, that Rob Z Tobor was not as mad as everyone thought he was (although he was rubbish at typing and spelling). OK I know what you are thinking . . . . . Yes the flying machine has sort of been invented and well and truly used for all sorts of stuff, very true but no one has made a mechanical flying Albatross yet that can circumnavigate the world and arrive back home as fresh as a daisy (to use yet another silly saying). OK Yes I can now hear you asking why, well for one thing it is the ultimate spy machine, who would suspect an Albatross sat on the window sill of a high powered meeting, sort of listening and recording everything while it nibbles a bit of fish. And like the laser which when invented had no practical use but has thousands now, the manmade Albatross will become as common a sight in the homes of the masses as the real Albatross is today . . . . . . . . . . AH DAMN.

OK so the point is I have drawn the mechanical Albatross to ensure that at some point in the future folk will look at it and say . . . . . . Well he was NOT mad. . . . .  

  

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Aliens and Buses

As the old saying goes you don't see an Alien for weeks and then a whole fleet of them turn up at once

The return of Mrs Ghost Writer . . . . . and the aliens

It turned out Mrs Ghost Writer was moved to another ward last night that was a bit odd, it appeared even the nurses that pushed her bed down to the ward said good luck as they left. It turned out that no one actually spoke to her when she arrived and in the little bay she was in there was a chap, an agency nurse? who just sat in the ward all night, he it turned out was the sort of minder of a 95 year old patient in the corner. The thing was she hated men and would swear at him very loudly and threaten to report him if he did not get her things and the like. But I think the fact he just sat in the middle of the bay all night in a chair eating packets of crisps sort of made it hard for the others to sleep, plus why would a 95 year little old lady need a minder.

Then in the morning Mrs Ghost Writer was told that Mr Ghost Writer had been contacted about picking her up, but he had not, so when he arrived at visiting time in the middle of the afternoon it turned out they had both been sitting about waiting for about three hours, when they could have gone home. Mrs Ghost Writer mentioned this to one of the staff who implied that it was not uncommon for the ward sister to tell folk she had contacted family members to pick patients up when she had not…..

Then later Mr Jones was complaining that while I was distracted by all this going on he had been talking with aliens that had landed behind us in the woods, but because I had not actually seen the alien spacecraft the police did not believe him.  As you know Mr Jones does believe that aliens need to see humans in the nude in order to understand what we are about. But by standing on our roof in the nude waving at the sky in full view of the road can attract the attention of the local police among others, so without a witness he got fined (again).

Mrs Ghost Writer, a Mad Little Old Lady and Vampires

We went off to see Mrs. Ghost Writer again today; it really is amazing how visiting hospitals eats up time.  Anyway I said yesterday that it was hoped she would be heading home today but this was not the case as her temp was a bit on the high side, and because of the previous list of operations she has had the doctors are being cautious, which is good but not when you wish to get home.

On the bright side the mad little old lady next to Mrs Ghost Writer has been moved to another hospital to recover, I think she may have thought that if she groaned and shouted a lot she may get to stay on the ward. And her final shouts of my head is falling off and look my arm has turned into a small horse while attempting to impersonate a seagull thinking it was a sure sign of Bird flu, fell on deaf ears as she was wheeled away.  I was a little taken back by her final words as she vanished round the corner out of sight which were . . . . . . I know where you live and have got your telephone number now . . . . . Mrs Ghost Writer said AH  . . .DAMN, yes I was forced into a difficult position and she tricked me into telling her your number . . . . . . . . AH DAMN indeed. Luckily for reasons only known to her she thinks I’m a truck driver who works in the local old folks home, I was curious about this but declined from asking, as I felt I would probably get confused with the answer.

Now I have said that my life in cyberspace is all rather linked to the Ghost Writer and Mrs Ghost Writer and one of the very curious things about it at present is I am making my own meals. Yes I know that is very very curious indeed, but if does show one thing and this is for every action there is a reaction (yes a common saying), However the point is in life the reaction is not always the one you anticipate and things can easily go in directions you don’t plan, like cooking your own dinner. . . . I really wish more world leaders would take note of this, but they are foolish and never do and with them the consequences can be a right old mess with a Huge M.

Finally after drawing the doctors yesterday, I noticed that some of the nurses might be vampires, well this is only a small observation as a result of today’s drawing but I may wear some garlic tomorrow just in case. It would certainly explain why you can’t get a good steak in a hospital. . . . . .HAH HAH HA HAH HAH AH HAH HAH AH Hah h h hahah ah ha haha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah

Mrs Ghost Writer and a Huddle of Doctors

We went off to the hospital this afternoon to see Mrs Ghost Writer and we set off early really early because at present parking at the hospital in the afternoon is next to almost impossible at certain times of day. They also have some sort of new parking system in place that folk don’t understand including us as the car park we were in appears not to have the new system in place leading to a mass of folk walking about like Zombies looking for the holy grail. Anyway Mrs Ghost Writer is a bit battered from her op due to the added complexities of previous operations but is recovering and looking forward to escaping, hopefully tomorrow.

 It was all a bit mad visiting today as several of the patients were trying to charge up ipads, kindles and various phones, but for reasons I really don’t know about they appear to managed to get all their chargers mixed up so half of them were complaining that their device was not working. Add to this the added factor that Mrs Ghost Writer is in a corner with a very strange mad little old lady next to her who shouts out in pain a lot, but it appears only when there are visitors or a passing doctor about. And who has mastered the ability to only get half way to the toilet before something really horrible happens, something so horrible I will not mention it here . . . . . No it is truly horrible.

Anyway as you may guess Mrs Ghost Writer is keen to get out as fast as possible which should happen tomorrow all being well, but just in case she is trying to talk some of the patients into digging a tunnel like in the old days when folk would be locked up in the Iron Lung as punishment if they were naughty.  In order to help persuade the patients to assist I drew a picture of a Huddle of Doctors lurking round the corner with sharp pointy things; no one likes to see a Huddle of Doctors at the best of times so when they are all holding sharp pointy stuff . . . . . .  Well if anything will encourage folk to dig tunnels then that should do it……..

The Ghost Writer and the Chaos of Life in a Real Universe

Many of you might have been thinking . . . . . HANG ON where has that Rob Z Tobor chap vanished off too, it is not like him . . . . .  And true enough it is not like me to vanish from the dark voids of cyberspace without warning, however as with all things in the universe, all things are linked in some way. In my case things are rather closely linked the fortunes of the Ghost Writer, when I say fortunes I refer more to the events of his life rather than a fortune as in money terms as he is a penniless shambolic waster.  Anyway the point is, if all is a bit chaotic for the Ghost Writer then all is chaotic inside the strange alternate universe of Rob Z Tobor, it is the way things are.

You see Mrs Ghost Writer the wife of the Ghost Writer (a deduction I suspect you can work out yourself) was whisked off to hospital on Friday morning after a couple of days of rather extreme pain with  acute Appendicitis. They then operated on her on Saturday, I think the plan was to do the op on Friday but due to a little flurry of emergencies the operating schedule sort of got scrambled.  To add to the complexity of this was the fact that the Ghost Writer has had major car problems which got more complicated when  the Ghost Writers car made a huge bang only a couple of miles from the garage as he was driving it home having been repaired. Luckily this was not as bad in the end as it appeared and the main result is a very noisy indicator, however the original fault occurred on the Saturday while he planned to visit Mrs Ghost Writer so he used our car instead.  Unfortunately it had a major power steering fault at the hospital and the Ghost Writer had a bit of a fight to get the car and himself and Mr F home.  Not helped by power steering fluid dripping onto the front tyres making the car a bit scary to keep in a straight line.

Luckily Mr F had already planned to arrive up on Friday so as he arrived to see Mr and Mrs Ghost Writer on Friday morning they were able to say . . . . . See you later Mr F we are off to the hospital . . . .  As I have already mentioned the Ghost Writer is a penniless shambolic waster and to that we can also add scatty forgetful and disorganised, so Mr F being about I’m sure was rather helpful.

So why have I managed to return tonight, well you see Mrs Ghost Writer is recovering and all being well will be home tomorrow, Mrs Ghost Writer has had a lot of operations over the last thirty years so there were slight complexities to the op, but all looks good at present. So the Ghost Writer is a bit more chilled. Mr F has now headed home as he has many things to do himself. And at least one car appears to be sort of working almost allowing the Ghost Writer to get about.

In turn it now means I have a small window in the chaos of daily life to sit and write my diary, It has all been a little more complex (that’s Life), than we would all want it and that means free time has been minimal. Diaries strangely never get written when loads and loads of stuff is happening due to a lack of time, ironically the very time you need to write a diary to keep track of stuff.

Mind you I don’t think anyone has really noticed I was gone . . . . . the nice Mr Steven Spielberg will not be impressed by that, I will have to reduce my fee again . . . . . DAMN

The Chemistry Set, the Cat and the Drum

I feel I need to discuss Chemistry in a little more detail after yesterdays drawing . . . . WHY I hear you type. . . . . Well if for no other reason than it is always a good start point for a drawing and as I will be heading off to put my feet up and scribble something on a sheet of paper to go with this diary entry, this is a good start point, I do not do cute, in fact I could not draw cute if it came up to me and sank its fangs into my leg and tried to bite my ears off while screaming like a mad banshee chasing a seagull . . . . . .

Anyway back to chemistry and the old favourite the chemistry set. It has been popular for a long long time and first can to public notice when Alchemy was at its peak with every Tom Dick and Harry trying to make stuff into gold. However that is a tricky process and folk soon got bored as their efforts were rewarded with piles of stuff that was not gold and then getting told of by family complaining of piles of stuff everywhere.

The first really successful chemistry set was the one marketed by Professor Frankenstein who coined the catch phrase  . . . .  A Chemistry Set if for Life not just for Christmas . . .  A saying that seriously annoyed the local villagers who were fed up with the professor making life all the time in his laboratory or as the villagers would call it . . . . . . . .  Monsters.  Then the introduction of Chemistry for Mummies brought about a whole bunch of new fans to the joys of Chemistry and saw a large increase in the sales of bandage.

Sadly modern health and safety issues have resulted in  rather limited options these days and rather than a large selection of acids,  body parts and a useful selection of electro-mechanical items to kick start your new little (or large) pal into life, your limit is to turn the goldfish blue or at best make the cat glow in the dark.

 Guess you must be wondering what I have been up too the last couple of days well to tell the truth not a great deal . . . . . . . . But the cats glow in the dark now so Well Cool….. and I appear to have turned a gold watch to rust. . . . . . AH DAMN….I wonder if the Ghost Writer will notice.

Oooooooo in other news my Drumming partner and I have come up with a brilliant but simple drum accessory that will make us a fortune, we just need to refine it a bit and give it a cool drum accessory name that folk will think I need one of them NOW….. 

A simple word of advice

Never buy cheap Chemistry Sets

A Greek Tale of Gandhi and the Men with Guns

It is Monday today and although I started to write a diary entry for yesterday it did not make it to cyberspace, well things like this happen to the best of us. Today started as a lovely sunny day but by about three in the afternoon it was like yesterday so it makes some sense to blend the two days together . . . .  Anyway to save me a little work I will sneak in what I wrote yesterday in a sort of seamless join of text so that it will be impossible too tell where one day starts and one day ends.

Its Sunday again Phew . . . . . They seem to turn up rather quickly these days, and in a traditional, going back to the point Sunday was first called Sunday it was damp, grey, cold and generally not all that great outside.  It has now gone dark too, so all in all as classic a Sunday as one could ever get in Britain in the winter.  However all is not as gloomy as it could be because Gandhi was out on the drive eating most of the day, and because the local shoot have been out shooting at Gandhi and his mates in the last few days we thought he must have been a goner, but NO.

Ok yes I have used an old drawing tonight but I am rather limited for time

I guess two things may cross your mind here, the first being I thought Gandhi was dead, has dad been doing his Frankincense (sorry that was yesterday),I mean Frankenstein experiment again. Well no he has not, not after the rumours that he had created a Zombie Mrs Thatcher I don’t think he could cope with all the stone throwing again by the Godzilla Appreciation Society who as we know are a bit left wing.

The second thing that may come into your mind if you were unaware that Gandhi had died being  . . . . WHAT? who the hell is going to shoot at Gandhi (OK us Brits did a bit once), but you see Gandhi is in fact our friendly pet Pheasant and round these parts of the rural community folk make loads of money by letting city folk shout (sorry shoot or both) all the pheasants. They are stupid birds and because they are farm reared birds sort of see humans as friendly folk that give them food, rather than a nasty bunch with guns intend on using them as target practice.  Ironically they thought much the same in India when the Brits turned up there first.

OK back to Monday, I have seen Gandhi again today he appears to have two young female admirers, I just hope this does not distract him from his bid to avoid the men with guns who were still shooting everything today, It is turning into a classic tale of the Greek Gods, our young hero using his wit and guile to avoid the giant monsters with guns who have sent two young females to lure our unsuspecting hero onto the rocks, or as they would say within range of the guns.  

OK that’s it I must go now I just hope you can untangle the two days which have been cunningly entwined in a complicated story of subterfuge (I don’t think that is like Fudge, much?) and international scandal . . . .

Oooooo I will be drumming later . . . . . (that’s Monday Evening)

One further thing if there is anyone out there thinking. . .  WHO IS GANHDI, well  he is the chap who made My Hat . . . . . . .HA HAH HAH HA HAH ha hah ah ah ha hah ah ah ha h ha ha ha hah ah ah ah ah ha hah ahah ah hahahahah ha ha hahah hah aha ha ha ha ha…..

The Forth Wise Man and other things

I had a thought earlier today about writing a tale based on the baby Jesus and the four kings or wise men or the like, but then I went off to do things for a charity shop which I appear to have volunteered to help in. I am not sure how that happened, apparently I have filled the forms in and the like but I don’t remember doing that, and with it being voluntary I don’t get paid or dinner or tea breaks and am chained to a huge pile of stuff that I have to sort out before I am allowed home.  It is run by Mrs E the former Miss Issy who is now my new boss while I am there and I am not allowed to play with stuff or make Zombies out of old clothes and electrical equipment or use the till or talk to customers or loads of other stuff.

Anyway as you might imagine working in a charity shop helping the poor and needy and the like is not an easy subject to sneak the baby Jesus into along with the four wise men or kings or shipyards (sorry Sheppard’s) or the like into so I am forced to head off on a slight tangent  . . . . . . . yes I know I really should stick to the point and keep my diary clear and concise, but I think I am allowed the occasional meander such as today.

And for reasons I cant remember all this started with bones and as we all know one of the gifts that the baby Jesus was given was a small dinosaur carved out of a bone given by the forth Wise man after the other three had given Gold Frankincense and Myrrh.  Of course it was not received as well as the Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh on the grounds it was worthless and no one knew what a dinosaur was anyway. It was then the forth wise man explained that Dinosaurs were the product of natural selection and that a very clever man called Charles Darwin was going to write a book about it. And did the baby Jesus know that the world was round and that the Earth goes round the sun and time and space are bent and not to go near black holes in space because they are well strange. . . . .  This confused the other three wise men who thought hang on surely the world is flat and so they thought, we will ask the baby Jesus he will know as he is the son of God and if anyone knows stuff like this it is God. So they looked at the baby Jesus for a sign, but by then he had chewed the head off the dinosaur which was as good enough for them; so they said the forth wise man was mad and decided it was best not to say a thing, after all the only way man was ever going to make it into space to prove things one way or the other was through constant war, deforestation and the excessive misuse of the worlds limited resources. . . . And that was not going to happen now as the baby Jesus had turned up to sort all this stuff out….

So it was that the forth wise man wandered out into the forests and made effigies of Micro Gods and all sorts of strange things out of bones and did magic conjuring up the spirits of the past, and so it was, that the man ( the wise man) discovered the world of the Micro God . . . 

Forty Aliens and a Funeral . . . . .

I know what you are all thinking, you are thinking OK then what happened to all those Toad People from the Planet Todimimiun 3, and it is a fair point, but little do you know just what a close call it was. Firstly the huge Aurora Borealis as predicted on Stargazing Live by Professor Brian Cox and his sidekick  Dara O Briain did not happen, so the main battle fleet fled. Then as we fought the few (about forty) fool hardy Toad People who attempted to invade in the early hours of the morning in the school canteen, with pointy sticks and Freddie’s Ferrets, Esmeralda threw a huge cauldron of tapioca pudding over their leader. Well it appears I am not the only one who thinks tapioca pudding looks like frogs spawn. And it was all too much for the alien Toad People who ran off screaming that we (that’s us humans) were a deranged barbaric life form that shows no respect to decent hard working amphibians bent on colonising the universe in order to improve the lot of slimy critters that live under rocks…..

They have threatened to attempt to invade again soon . . . . . Maybe not today . . . . . Maybe not tomorrow; but about the same time next year, so keep a look out for Stargazing Live on the BBC it is a dead certainty that the events are connected. . . . . I know their cunning plan.

  The other good news in all this is tapioca pudding is off the menu for a few weeks now . .

Early this morning the Ghost Writer ran off with our car again as his is still not working, although he has been told that all the parts have been ordered. He had an emergency call from his place of work where a rather strange IT problem had occurred. They said if they did not know any better they would be convinced that the main supervisors PC was full of toad slime and bits of frog; although as they said such a thing was madness. So the Ghost Writer told them a tale of IP conflicts and default gateways, which always makes folk sort of glaze over and think of things like seagulls and garden gnomes.

Then this afternoon we all went off to a funeral of someone who was one hundred and one. That is quite old and you can’t be sad if someone of one hundred and one dies quietly at home. There were loads of folk at the church and the fact I never sing at funerals and weddings was not noticed, so no one will ever know . . . . . . . . . . . AH DAMN.

While there I also learnt of another local person who died and it now means that in that particular town almost all the strange and slightly eccentric folk that lived there from way back have died.  I am sure that the average number of eccentrics per 1000 head of population is decreasing, you really don’t get real eccentrics these days, they tend to be folk with money pretending to be eccentric; real eccentrics have a habit of keeping their heads down and just get on with being eccentric and modern society is not eccentric friendly (or amphibian friendly)……….

Stargazing Live, Professor Brian Cox, Dara O Briain and the classic film The Day of the Triffids..

Today has been one of those rare days that we seldom see at present it has been sunny and not windy although there is still plenty of water about in fields and on the roads and other places where water would normally not be on mass. I have armed everyone I can with pointy sticks to protect us from the possible invasion by the Toad People from the Planet Todimimiun 3. It may well be that tonight will be stage one of their attack using the cunning tactics of the intelligent intergalactic reptile mind, you see they plan to use distraction to start with followed by an idea they have picked up from the classic old 1962 film . . . . .  The Day of the Jackal  . . . hang on that’s not right I mean the classic old 1962 film. . . . . The Day of the Triffids.   You see tonight is the third and last night of Stargazing Live where Professor Brian Cox and his sidekick  Dara O Briain  who we know are in cahoots with the Toad People from the Planet Todimimiun 3 because of the Brian connection to  Aliens; (if you are confused you really need to read yesterdays diary entry) even Briain is almost Brian so enough said me thinks………

You see on stargazing live there was much talk of the aurora borealis being rather spectacular tonight and possibly visible from the UK about midnight.  If you all remember it was the lights that made everyone blind in . . . The Day of the Triffids after which they were eaten by the Triffids.

All this is far too much of a coincidence and it should be remembered that Toads and Aliens much prefer to attack their prey at night. So my advice is if you see the aurora borealis (due as I said sometime around midnight) then you are likely to be attacked and eaten by the Toad People of Todimimiun 3, but they are all called Brian so confuse them first by shouting something like look out Brian. SIR Patrick Moore is behind you then stab at them with your pointy stick or hit them with your telescope if all else fails.  And remember to wear dark sunglasses if you do see the aurora borealis, or the Toad People will get you for sure.

Oooooo yes talking of the foreshore I have a feeling that Toads like the Triffids do not like salt water so make sure if the alien invasion gets underway to watch the film The Day of the Triffids, the 1962 one not one of the rubbish remakes that will only confuse you; and keep a pointy stick handy. . . . .

OK chaps it is every man for himself so Tally Ho and the best of luck, if all goes to plan we will be eating toad pie for the rest of the year. . . . . . . . . YUM . . . . . no hang on YUCK . . . 

Rain, Stargazing Live, Professor Brian Cox and the Toad People of Todimimiun 3

It has been wet blustery and grey again today and as the ground is now completely saturated it is gently snaking off down hill in pursuit of the sea. This has now gone on for a while, in fact it is a period of time that one could almost call unnatural which means that something unnatural must be happening and therefore there is one very simple explanation. So I feel I need to tell you all what is happening, you see Britain is being prepared for invasion by the Toad People from the Planet Todimimiun 3 who have their spacecraft hidden behind the moon even as I type…..   O yes that explains that rather strange large moon last night, they are just making sure that none of us Brits notice.

And it is no good thinking its OK the rest of the world will come to our rescue because, for one reason and another us Brits are not entirely the most popular nation in the world. Well lets face it some of the folk in positions of power have in the past not been entirely nice to other nations to put it mildly, what with delusions of empire and being better than everyone else.  So it is very likely that the rest of the world may see the sacrifice of Britain as a small price to pay in order to avoid all out war with the alien Toad people from  Todimimiun 3, well folk don’t like touching a small cute toad, yet alone a ten foot tall toad called Brian….

AH yes this brings us to an interesting point told to me by Mr Jones the Alien hunter, it appears all the Toad People are called Brian a name picked to lull us Brits into a false sense of security. No one is going to believe that something called Brian is going to harm them even if it is ten feet tall and has just swallowed their cat.  And this brings us to yet another point, you see on the television tonight is the start of the BBC stargazing live programme where they will go out of their way to insist that there is no such thing as the Toad People from the Planet Todimimiun 3.  And who is the person who will dismiss this theory as ludicrous madness, but none other than Professor BRIAN Cox . . . . . . . Yes note the name I think this says it all, the Professor is in cahoots with the Toad People or worse than that . . . . .  is one of the toad people.

Just look at the drawing of these Aliens which Mr Jones was able to do while out in the woods, that chirpy smile the enthusiastic sparkly eyes, the trendy shoes and the antennae, who does this remind us of . . . . . . Well none other than the Professor  . . .  Professor Brian Cox . . . . . . . . . . I rest my case and suggest we all take to the hills.

You may laugh and say I’m mad, but you just wait till you see a large toad in your bath you wont laugh then………………..  

How to use an Umbrella on a Sunday

It has been and still is, not a nice day, I refer to the weather, in fact it is worse now that it was earlier with the wind picking up and the rain increasing somewhat. Luckily it should not get windy enough to cause us any problems and despite the fact the front lawn is under an inch of water we are not going to flood due to the position of the house. But being Sunday means it is quiet and with the weather the way it is, it’s very quiet indeed, not even a Zombie is going to stagger about groaning in this. Interestingly one thing I have never seen before is a Zombie with an umbrella, I’m sure they must know about them and they are technically not hard to use.

Actually I take that point about the use of umbrellas back, because one thing I have noticed on the various news clips of the terrible weather Britain is having is that in many of then folk are battling against the wind and rain with umbrellas.  As you might expect I can hear you type, but in most of these cases the umbrellas are being flipped inside-out and the folk holding them looking stressed and wet. You see there are one or two important points to using umbrellas and these days they are even more important due to the ever increasing use of the small collapsible umbrella; a device which I think we can say is rubbish.  O yes the collapsible   brolly might be convenient to have when it is not raining but they certainly are not when it is raining unless you don’t know how to use an umbrella then at least they will flip inside- out and back again all day long.

So using a brolly correctly first you need to keep the front edge down and pointing into the wind, lift it up to far and the wind gets underneath and will do its best to pull it out of your hand or turn it inside out. You also need to keep the thing close to your head not three feet above it unless it’s a sun brolly or as posh folk call them parasols, try that in Britain and you will be a goner unless you are called Mary Poppins. Best not to tell folk you are Mary Poppins lets face it nobody liked her and she set Britain back 100 years in the minds of the rest of world.   The final point with an umbrella is they become unmanageable once the wind gets to a certain speed and it is like trying to hold a wild man eating mutant seagull over your head and lets face it if it was a wild man eating mutant seagull you would not hang onto its legs and hope it will keep you dry. So once the wind speed gets to the point you can no longer maintain dignity with a umbrella it is better just to fold it up and get out the rain as fast as possible rather than appear on the BBC news looking silly and holding a wild man eating mutant seagull.

Oooooooo yes I have done a bit of arty stuff today so all has not been lost,  although I have probably lost something somewhere today as I tend too most days. One advantage of having glue all over my hands is that I tend not to lose stuff as it tends to be attached to my fingers……

Winter Storms, flooding and Wild Winds in Britain . . . . and a Curry

Britain is being a bit battered at present, not in a I’ll have a Britain and chips please to takeaway, but by wind rain and tide surges (No I don’t know who Tide Surges is either), anyway before I get seriously distracted I thought I would check the BBC news. On the BBC news I noticed something that confused me a bit, it was a headline saying  . . . UK flooding: Flood defences 'will be protected' . . . . .  Now I know I am not always the quickest at picking up an important point in any given situation, but surely the whole point of a flood defence is to defend stuff from floods. If a flood defence needs to be protected then it must be a rubbish flood defence and I also noticed the words front-line services again call me a bit silly but surely the front line or as we like to call it the beach or river bank is a great place for a flood defence it makes no sense putting it behind the shops or on the hill unless it is a rubbish flood defence and needs protecting from the flood.

I do have to say all this rain and wind has been going full blast for some time now and it appears it is all the fault of the USA, I know and us being all sort of chirpy and friends. But the North of the USA is too cold and the South of the USA is differentially to warm causing storms to be created over the Atlantic (the Jet Steams doing) and making us folk in the UK wet.  It’s at times like this I think dad really should not have sold his old Weather Machine to some bloke he called Uncle Sam (I have never heard of him before).

I did manage to do a good deed today though as the chap next door had part of his fence blow down a couple of weeks ago and it has been getting worse. He is a bit like me and stubborn and likes to fix stuff himself. But he is eighty and also somewhat poorly at present so I leapt to the rescue. OK I was not able to fix it but I have put all the lose bits safe and secured what is still standing.  Which is good as the weather predictions for the next few days sound a bit bad, so I hope my work does not blow away  . . . . . . Maybe my temporary wind  defences  need  some sort of protection from the wind I will ask the BBC.

Oooooooo we had an Indian takeaway tonight which was well yum in order to take our mind off the wind. . . . .  I have a feeling that may not be the right thing to write . . . . 

Delicious and full of Natural Goodness the all New NOCAR BAR . . . Driving Men Mad

The Ghost Writer ventured off to his place of work today, but was using our car (again) as he has Nocar . . . . When I say Nocar I am not referring to the chewy sweet substance made with the fermented legs of the nine banded armadillo and seaweed from the shores of the Ivory Coast blended with the crushed bodies of the sugar monkey. Yes I know I know they are very cute, but delicious and give Nocar its distinctive sweet flavour. 

I am referring to Nocar which is the state of exact opposite of a car.  The advantage to owning the Nocar is that it is incredibly cheap to run although admittedly it is a bit slow, but in eco terms it is difficult to find any vehicle that can equal it. Of course the great disadvantage for the Ghost Writer is the reason he is using the Nocar is because his car is sort of dead, like the Norwegian Blue and is pining for the Fjords  (sorry I mean Fiat spare part) and like the Norwegian Blue will arrive back with a big Bill  . . . . . . HAH HAHAH HAH HAH HAH AH HA HAH HAha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Anyway the Ghost Writer was in his grey office with one other person who it turned out was not expecting to see anyone else, so it is just possible that he spent the day working away when in fact he was probably still on his Christmas Holiday. But he did say that he was able to get on and do stuff and back up the entire system, and did not have to be nice to anyone as they were not there, as he often says an empty office is a happy office.

It was also a slightly better day today something that the Ghost Writer says tends to happen when he is trapped in a grey office all day. However the forecast is not good for the weekend and it looks like its going to be good pirate weather again, HAR HAR HAR me old sea dogs…..

 Ooooo yes I have been told I am an IDIOT apparently Nocar the chewy sweet substance made with the fermented legs of the nine banded armadillo and seaweed from the shores of the Ivory coast blended with the crushed bodies of the sugar monkey is not called NOCAR. . . . It is called  NOUGAT, and apparently not everyone makes it the same way as we do, I have been told to say nothing as it may ruin sales . . . . . . . AH DAMN. 

Life, the Universe and Harry Potter

Today as we all know is the start of a fresh year or the day after yesterday, and depending on how you view these events makes one look rather grander than the other. It has also been a rather wet and grey day with wild winds blowing turning it into a horrible day, so I have done a tiny bit of DIY, I say tiny because even inside it can be difficult to get all fired up and keen when it is wet, windy, cold and grey outside. I even did something really really terrible this afternoon I watched the first Harry Potter film again, you know back in the day when young Harry was a likeable young wizard with his innocent startled rabbit face, eyes blinking into the great abyss of the future and it made me realise that Harry Potter (we have never seen eye to eye by the way) and what happened to him is a classic reflection on life the universe and everything.

You see there he was young likeable chirpy and sort of happy go lucky-ish at first, but as he grows up so he appears to have the world and its problems burdening him down and he starts to lose his chirpy quirky ways and turns dead grumpy, life gets darker and darker and those funny little bits of magic lose there humorous sparkle. Then as the years go on he sneaks an extra film in to make a bit more money with his part one and part two merchandising scam.  Then vanishes off into the distance and obscurity to do whatever Harry is doing . . . . . . Well . . . I can tell you right now we will have none of that with me; I remain chirpy  . . . . OK grumpy-ish and have no plans to sneak in extra films just for the hell of it. And I can assure everyone that I will always be an innocent (OK not rabbit looking) startled faced chap with eyes blinking into the great abyss of the future even when I am old and grumpy like the Ghost Writer . . . . And there will always be a place in my diary for a goat to be catapulted into the out of town supermarket or a Zombie or two to tap dance on the piano at Uncle Fred’s Funeral, or Mr Jones to chase the ice cream van up the high street naked because it is playing the theme song to Close Encounters of the Third Kind. . . . You will never see Harry Potter doing stuff like that  . . . . O NO and he dos not have a Steam Powered Duck or a Pointy Stick.