Is that a tiny light in the vast endless darkness . . . . . . or is it Me

 Is it time to return . . . . . . . .MMMmmmmmm

The Politics of Hard Working Families, Raymond Baxter and the Romans

I was listening to the wireless this morning and the Prime Minister was on at some point talking about something and he mentioned that little phrase that really annoys me . . . . HARD WORKING FAMILIES . . . . . It is a term that all politicians regardless of party seem to use and it does annoy me, as I have just said, so that’s twice now so it must be true.  During the election all the politicians were very keen that all these hard working people and families should vote for them. They clearly did not want the lazy folk who sit about having a good time all day to vote for them O NO they were of no importance and are clearly the demons of society that should be hunted down and made to do things . . . . Like eat ice cream. . . .

WHY you might ask is it annoying. . . Well consider what it implies, do we really want a government that is out to ensure that we all work hard our entire lives, the age at which folk finally get their state pension will be 69 in a few years time. So folk will get to work hard until they drop dead, OOOOoooooo yes we all want that don’t we.

Many years ago there was a TV show called Tomorrows World hosted by Raymond Baxter on it they showed all sorts of fancy new devices and told of the future when folk would work twenty hours a week and retire when they were maybe forty.  A world where robots would do all the menial work and us humans would live a life of decadence and pleasure like the Romans use too. Only they had slaves who did all the work. Well strangely we are entering such a world where the super rich and the political elite have a life of decadence and pleasure and the slaves are now the ordinary folk . . . . Ordinary HARD WORKING FAMILY’S. . . .

So you can see it is not good; politicians should be working hard in order that families can have a life that does not involve them having to spent it working hard in order to survive and many now having to work until they are nearly seventy before they get to retire if they are lucky enough to life that long.

I really should not listen to the wireless in the morning, the other day it was Einstein waking me up with all this talk of a Mathematically Structured Universe and today it was David Cameron annoying me by insisting he will help everyone to work hard. . . . .  At least one spot of good news the Solar panels on our roof generated 28 kilowatts today, that means it was sunny and I got to sit in it (the sunshine) for a while being very lazy, pretending I was a Roman.

N is for Nonsense, Newts and the Northwest Passage (a history lesson about Great British explorers)

A tale of a Great British explorer, and What makes us Brits Great.

Many Moons ago . . . . . .

Captain Nigel Nash had long planned to sail his ship the Nautilus to Nepal in his search for the fabled Northwest Passage to Norway. Then luckily for him one of the New Nouveau riche, a Naturalist called Sir Napier Winky Knapsack. . . (The inventor of the Knapsack) heard of his plans.  Sir Napier Winky Knapsack said he was prepared to finance the intrepid journey, but he wanted to search for the famous and incredibly rare Nepalese Nocturnal Nodding Newt (no not like nodding dogs in your car).

The journey was long and fraught with numerous nasty obstacles along the way of which we will not talk now, or we will be here till the cows came home (a silly saying, as they come home every day)…. 

As they sailed into Nepal much to the surprise of almost everyone not the least of which is my geography teacher? They cheered and set about organising the long trek into the mountains to hunt for the incredibly rare Nepalese Nocturnal Nodding Newts which are blind and live in caves. This proved difficult as there was talk of a tribe of cannibals called the Nip Nip tribe. However the good news was the the Nip Nip tribe hated the unnatural and in their opinion Chemical laden Nasty Junk Food of Western man, so all that was needed was a bottle of Cola  and a Big Mac in a polystyrene carton about your person and they would see you as contaminated meat, and not fit for human consumption.

With the help of the much friendlier Nap Nap tribe they set off up into the mountains. It was an uneventful trip full of snow,  Yeti’s, crevasses, rock slides and angry mountain goats, a few deaths and the amputation of several fingers and toes.  But they reached their destination unscathed (well a bit unscathed). . . . . . As they surveyed the scene they were surrounded by the famous Nip Nip tribe, but Captain Nigel Nash and his men waved Big Macs and bottles of cola, taking big swigs and burping loudly. The Nip Nip looked appalled and were about to leave when the Naturalist Sir Napier Winky Knapsack asked a Nap Nap translator to give the Nip Nip the following message. . . . . . .

I am a Naturalist called Sir Napier Winky Knapsack I am looking for the very rare Blind Nepalese Nocturnal Nodding Newt that lives in the caves. I wish to return to Britain with many Breeding pairs to save the species for mankind. Can you help me meet some

However the Nap Nap sort of got the translation wrong and what the cannibals of the Nip Nip tribe thought Sir Napier Winky Knapsack said was the following

I am Sir Napier Winky Knapsack, Completely organic; I have lived in the caves of Britain eating Pears and Bread and the occasional newt. I have spent all my life on a natural diet. I would like to come with you so you can eat some of me.

Of course the Nip Nip tribe were very pleased and cheered and led Sir Napier Winky Knapsack up into the high mountains and he was never seen again.  Captain Nigel Nash waited a few days but the crew ran out of coke and burgers and so returned to their ship to continue the hunt for the fabled Northwest Passage to Norway, which they never found although they did discover NotFound Land.

On their return to Britain many folk asked Captain Nigel Nash about the Naturalist Sir Napier Winky Knapsack, which after a time started to annoy him and so he took to telling folk. . . . . . . . . Well a nod is as good as a winky to a blind Newt

Fifteen ferrets a chainsaw and a zombie and a shopping centre..

We are all starting to go down with a cold at home so there is much groaning that means we sound like zombies which is cool, we are walking a bit like zombies too which is sort of OK but I am not feeling well enough to make the most of my present natural zombie state which is not so good.

At school . . . . . . I still have to go and do stuff until the cold becomes full in your face Man Flu then I will be allowed to lie and groan from the confines of my bed, as us men need to do when Man Flu is at its worst. But for now as I said I am off doing stuff, but in a zombie sort of way.

The Humanities teacher took us all to Shrewsbury today to do a survey on the shopping habits of the average shopper when under the stress of the impending shopping Armageddon know to all in the Western world as Christmas.

I was teamed up with Freddie and Esmeralda for the survey mainly because me and Freddie can control Esmeralda a bit and stop her trying to drill holes in the heads of shoppers refusing to do our survey. However I have a cold and was being confused for a zombie, Esmeralda was waving her new interchangeable clip on chainsaw attachment at shoppers and Freddie had brought fifteen ferrets with him that were a bit frisky and were leaping about all over the place.

So it turned out that shoppers were trying to avoid us, to get round this we tried to get them cornered by deactivating the lifts in the shopping centre and using Freddie’s ferrets as sheep dogs (only rounding up unsuspecting shoppers). If only Freddie’s ferrets had been a little less enthusiastic, but I think the smell of that Marks and Spencer’s Christmas cake was the point that they sort of got carried away. Then Esmeralda with her chainsaw attachment at full throttle trying to sharpen her pencil resulting in her cutting a jar of raspberry jam in half which sprayed bright red jam all over the walls, started the riot. It appears the public thought that the raspberry jam was blood and that the ferrets were then eating the blood, and that there was a zombie staggering about covered in blood (raspberry jam) that was in turn being eaten by man eating ferrets (they were just licking the jam off me). Esmeralda was determined that someone was going to answer questions so was chasing the crowd through the centre but the jam had jammed (jam had jammed HAHH HAHAHHAHh hahah hahha hah hhah hah ha) her new interchangeable clip on chainsaw attachment at full throttle so it was very noisy and I was unable to chase her to get her to stop screaming exterminate exterminate exterminate at shoppers.

Unknown to Esmeralda, myself, Freddie or his ferrets, just round the corner at the exit of the shopping centre was the rest of the school group and the humanities teacher who were having much more luck with the survey. Well right up to the point when at least two thousand demented shoppers bust though the automatic doors slipping on the floor by the sign saying beware slippery floor. It was at that point that they got a little trampled on and lost the grip of their survey results which then drifted in the wind towards the river.

The Humanities teacher told the headmaster that the shoppers were out of control and that Christmas shopping is no place for sane rational people and she plans to do all her shopping online and has sent a letter to parents advising them to do the same. Me, Esmeralda and Freddie are keeping quiet particularly as the raspberry jam ruined all the CCTV coverage. So as long as the story does not appear on the internet we are home and dry . . . . . . . . . AH ……. DAMN. Mum has just said IDIOT

.

My classic film re-enactment of ..... The Alamo assisted by Pheasants and Men in 4X4's

Saturday and I was home alone as a result of playing Scissors, paper, stone, (yes I hear what you say DON’T DO IT). The Loser had to stay at home and paint edges, that is edges of walls and mmmm I lost. It is the great decision of DIY do you paint all the middle of the wall first and get left with all the fiddly bits to drive you mad. Or you can do the fiddly bits first and relax and fill the space in between. Or spend a week taping up every edge so the whole thing is easy.

We tend to go for the second option and would recommend that as the most effective use of the brain as it is the least frustrating.  We also use the Mexican Wave technique working along a wall at a time putting all the pictures etc, back on the wall as the paint dries.

So I started painting edges (home alone) when there was all these loud bangs which turned out to be the local shoot, shooting. This gave me and the local Pheasants a brilliant opportunity for one of my classic film re-enactments The Alamo although I insisted that I played John Wayne, I don’t think the pheasants knew who John Wayne was so didn’t care. Anyway we were totally surrounded by the tally ho Mexicans (who were not waving) and despite the valiant attempts of many it was a massacre. Pheasants seem to lack any sort of discipline and run about like headless chickens (or headless Pheasants as it happens) which ruined moral. I even did the famous Coronal Travis speech but I think the pheasants got him and Coronal Sanders mixed up because it did not have the same effect as in the movie, in fact quite the opposite.

In the end it was looking bad just me and two pheasants fending off the Mexican guns in their 4X4s and wearing their Plus Fours (sounds like a maths lesson now) when we were saved by the Lemmings of Petrograd from the Woods who leapt to our assistance. OK it may have also been time for Lunch at the Manor for the shooting party; truth is we will never know or care.

The last two pheasants weighed up the situation and then panicked and fled back to the wood leaving me to continue painting edges and the Lemmings of Petrograd quoting their favourite quote That’s one small step for man and one giant leap for Lemmings as they leapt off the roof and back to the woods to fight the fight of freedom.

Why do the walls in Bungalows have so many edges?????  

From FB ......... my friend Miss Fionaski the Famous Russian Spy

Fiona Knight                I nearly got hit in the face by a pheasant today, and I don't know Rob, why do the walls in bungalows have so many edges??

Well the pheasant was going for re-enforcements and our hallway has ten doors PHEW. it gets worse the other corridor has five doors

Fiona Knight                oh dear, perhaps next time work in an orderly fashion dealing with each section and its fiddly bits. My mom painted her whole house with a 2 inch brush. I can't paint, I am not allowed to. When I was 5 years old I thought Rolf Harris was the most interesting man on the planet and I decided I wanted to be like Rolf and paint a huge picture on the white wall in the white garage, luckily my dad, also a painter always had a pot of black paint and a brush left on the side and so I painted like Rolf, that was until my brother walked in and asked "why did you do that loogy?" I ran off to Russia and started a new life without Rolf.

Rolf is a very interesting man I remember he once had a suit made inside out because as he said the inside looked more interesting than the outside, so he thought that in that case it made sense for the inside to be on the outside and I quite agree....

Miss Goldilocks and the Three Bears, the Vampires the Big Bad Werewolf, The Living Dead and the Fairy Tale

We had a supply teacher in English today, the regular Teacher had vanished. Anyway she said she was called Miss Loxley Green because when she was young she was a hoodie. Esmeralda thought she was well cool, she had never had a hoodie as a teacher before. She said we had to write a fairy story about vampires and werewolves. We did all this last year with fairy tales, so I said; but Miss Green stared at me, so I wrote the following.

Once upon a time there were three bears (see its things in threes again) who went for a walk because their porridge was too hot to eat. Anyway while they were out a Miss Goldilocks turned up and thought porridge YUM so ate the baby bears porridge, but thought I am still hungry, so ate both mummy bear’s and daddy bears porridge. She then went upstairs and jumped up and down on baby bears bed which broke, and mummy bears and finally daddy bears, which was well cool like being on a huge trampoline.

Because she was laughing hysterically she did not hear the three bears arrive home who said look its Miss Goldilocks. But at that very moment the big bad werewolf leapt out of the wardrobe and ate Miss Goldilocks.  The bears were very displeased and shouted at the big bad werewolf who said that Miss Goldilocks was in fact a vampire clone and there was loads of cloned vampire Goldilocks’ all over the place and he was there to save the bears from being turning into The Living Dead by eating them (the Miss Goldilocks’). Blaming all the bad press he gets on three pigs (yes there were three of them) who tried to build houses on the greenbelt by getting round the planning laws using straw. Big bad werewolf put in a formal complaint to the council and then the pigs tried to ruin his reputation. Anyway the point is the three bears said the big bad werewolf was big and bad and told him to go.

The following morning mummy bear overheated the porridge again daddy bear moaned, but mummy bear said if he spent less time in the loo reading all the Grimm stories in the papers then the porridge would not need to be microwaved to heat it up again. Baby bear said they should go to the woods because he had heard from his friend that bears do things in the woods, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . so they did.

When they got home they found three cloned Miss Goldilocks laughing hysterically and leaping up and down on their beds. Big bad Werewolf was right they were cloned vampires So they shouted HELP US BIG BAD WEREWOLF, but a voice from outside the window said Ooooo yes you want me to help now after phoning all your friends last night and saying I was big and bad I don’t think I will now. So the vampire Miss Goldilocks bit all the bears who turned into The Living Dead, after which the big bad werewolf ate the Miss Goldilocks’, after all he has a job to do. And the three bears wandered in the woods forever doing what bears do in the woods forever ……… The End

I had just finished reading my story to the class when Miss Loxley Green leapt at me and tried to bite my neck, but Esmeralda was a bit upset as she wanted to be a vampire and stabbed at her with the new poker I had made in metalwork Miss Green laughed hysterically and said only a silver bullet could destroy her. As it happens when Esmeralda stabbed her with the poker Miss Green turned to dust, apparently I used the wrong bar of metal to make the poker and had accidentally used the metalwork teacher’s stash of silver bullion. He had it hidden away to supplement his pension.

One final footnote to the story it would appear the real English teacher is roaming the woods as one of The Living Dead.     

The Radical Abstract Thinkers. Uncle Frank's Wild Years and the man Stephen Fry again

Today I was removing fairy lights from Moroccan Lanterns, now you might be thinking that’s an odd thing to do but if you stick an ordinary light bulb in a Moroccan Lantern, quite frankly it is the kiss of death. So always use fairy lights (the LED ones as they last so much longer), and your lantern will look well cool and very magical. 

Right that is tonight’s interior design tip over HA HAH AH AH HAH haahh hah hah hahahhaha hahahahha ha, mum has just said IDIOT but quite agrees with the point about using fairy lights.

After a relatively calm day weather wise, it is now dark, the wind is blowing with wild gusts rattling through the trees stripping the leafs. So, I think we can say without contradiction, that it will look considerably more of a wintery disposition in the morning light (I was pretending to be Stephen Fry then).  

It is just as well that we managed to get Uncle Frank out of the woods yesterday and on his aeroplane to Spain; or he would have rolled himself up in the dead leaves and we would never find him. Well not until the spring, when he would emerge demanding tea with hot toast and butter.  By the way the plane to Spain was not the plain in Spain that the rain mainly falls on; no that is a plain, you know one of those things dad has in his workshop for plaining wood (thus the name plain). I think it is some sort of reminder from god to do with Noah’s Ark. You know sort of without a good trusty sharp plain Noah would have never finished that ark in time and the Dinosaurs would all now be extinct ….. ….. ….. ……AH.  

A new movement in the arts was formed today by a small group of Bloggers whose ideas and thought are mocked by the massed folk of mainstream society; leaving them to skulk in the dark recesses of cyberspace. Luckily I rather like skulking in dark places so I have joined them. I don’t think the rest of this group know they are part of it yet it may be a bit of a surprise when they find out. The group is called The Radical Abstract Thinkers or R.A.Ts for short so named because we are never short of a tale; unless we have been pursued by a farmer’s wife with a carving knife.  HA hHAh HAH hahhAHh hahahhAHA Hhaah hahHAAHH hahah hAH …

We have stolen the old saying We are loonies we are proud. Because there is a view by some that what we write is MAD.  How, just how could they????? 

It is not the size of the dog in the fight, it is the size of the fight in the dog. And a cat in a box

The Prime Minister (British) said today it is not the size of the dog in the fight it is the size of the fight in the dog well the dog disagrees with that he said when Mr Johnson’s dog (A Pekingese) had a fight with the large flesh eating dinosaur, the dinosaur ate it. Mum agreed and said IDIOT and I don’t think she was talking about the dog or the dinosaur or even Mr Johnson either this time.

Still as mum says it could be worse and the economy could be in the hands of politicians …………..AH  

  

Well I for one didn’t even know there was any flesh eating dinosaurs about. Only dads Steam Powered Tyrannosaurs Rex that he built for Halloween last year; or was it the year before that. Anyway that is not important right now. What is interesting is that there appears to be a real one that ate someone’s dog. The dog says there is only dads Steam Powered Tyrannosaurs Rex which he built for Halloween last year and during the test trials it sort of…………..………….AH.

The Rooks and Crows were very active in the early evening and with good reason as the weather has gone dead horrible and Yuk and wet, I think this may well be the proper start of winter now, it is also very very very dark …. COOL. 

It also appears that it was mum and dads wedding anniversary today they have been married for something like 127 years now according to dad. Not sure that is actually right as mum has hit him round the head with the Armadillo toaster and said IDIOT. Anyway it is a long time because dad recons he was youngish sort of maybe, and did brave things, and smiled at people, and was nice to them when they got married. SO it must be ages ago then, He says he did remember their anniversary but his plans to build a new flat pack IKEA house as a surprise was scuppered by two things.

The first was they did not supply the Allen key in the flat pack kit and dads old (imperial measure) tools were the wrong size, so dad was muttering about fangled metric stuff being silly. The second problem was a missing wall, that is quite a large problem in a kit house particularly when it is a supporting wall, although the man on the phone said they would send one in the post first class (the missing wall is called Krumblewal, dad is not happy with the name but that’s IKEA for you.

A third problem was that dad in the end thought the design was not very nice and looked like a box; in fact it looked just like the box the parts came in so he threw the wrong one away and Harry the Cat and Sooty the Cat are now squatting in the box and refusing to come out.  Cats can be very territorial once they set up home in a box.  

A BAG FOR LIFE MADE OUT OF PAPER, Captain Jack Sparrow and Elvis

I called in to see Napoleon Beelzebub today after school in his shop he was going AAAAuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh a lot. Apparently from the start of October he has to charge for carrier bags and give all the profits to charity. He is OK with this as he says people get the wrong idea about him all together, it is not his fault if they sell their souls to the devil and he has to punish them with eternal damnation.

He says he lets them know exactly what they are signing and gives them a cup of tea and a biscuit and explains eternal damnation is not very nice, for a few years of greed, corruption and glory.

Anyway plastic bags……… Mr Beelzebub said he is obliged to charge for single use carrier bags a minimum of 5p and all profits then have to go to charity but he said his bags cost more than 5p so he phoned up the Welsh Assembly Government to find out about this. The very nice lady said if you don’t make any profits after cost then you do not have to donate to charity. Then he asked about his posh bags what they now trendily called Bags for Life; and they said a Bag for Life must be made of thick Plastic, but Napoleons are made of paper and the nice lady said YOU CAN’T HAVE A BAG FOR LIFE MADE OUT OF PAPER THEY ARE SINGLE USE BAGS. Mr Beelzebub was not happy he said I HAS POSH PAPER BAGS MADE FOR MULTIPLE USE AND THEY COST EITHER 25P OR 50P EACH AND SO WHAT AM I MEANT TO DO MEANT TO DO. But she said Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a lot Mr Beelzebub said I THOUGHT THE WHOLE IDEA WAS TO STOP THE USE OF PLASTIC BAGS NOT ENCOURAGE IT but the nice lady said Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a lot. Then the lady said that a Bag for Life has to be charged for or it is not a Bag for life. But as Mr Beelzebub said to her that HE IS OBLIGED TO CHARGE FOR SINGLE USE BAGS BECAUSE THEY ARE SINGLE USE, BUT HE IS ALSO OBLIGED TO CHARGE FOR A BAG FOR LIFE OR IT IS NOT A BAG FOR LIFE and the nice lady said Aaaaaaaaaa a lot but she did say he must give any profits to charity and Mr Beelzebub said again MY BAGS COST MORE THAN I AM GOING TO CHARGE PEOPLE and she said Aaaaaaaaaa a lot.

Mr Beelzebub in the end said was she interested in wealth and fame instead of a life in carrier bags  and that a life away from them would do her good and all she needed to do was sign a small piece of paper. But she said that it was a single use piece of paper and therefore she could not sign it without a small charge. It was that point where Mr Beelzebub started going AAAAuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh a lot.

When I got home mum said she had been to the NEC to a trade show for Mr Beelzebub and had seen a man from World War One wandering about; Captain Jack Sparrow and Elvis Plus a whole load of huge strange Elephants. And that it was rubbish, although she did see one very cool thing which she recons would be WELL COOL in our new garden although she forgot to tell me what it was NOT FAIR

Ooooo by the way off drumming tonight so that’s Well Cool also

Harry Potter and the Deathly Holdall .......... Part One

I finally sat and watched part one of Harry Potter and the Deadly Holdall and I really don’t want to sound all bitter and twisted because Harry Potter has made loads of money from books and films and I am merely a manuscript from the mind of a mad bloke. But well it was rubbish, what has happened to him, Lighten up Harry for Gods sake. I am almost put off the thought of watching the last one.

Lets face it in terms of plot it is a bit thin …… Man finds necklace, man gets grumpy, man breaks necklace, man has a bit of agro along the way. Baddy acts like baddy through out film while walk on extras are zapped. All in total gloom. As mum says the evil darkness of money, greed and power etc exists in the real world not just fiction and cyberspace and poor old Harry has forgotten that. So his tale has been stretched out to squeeze every last penny out of him. Heavy Harry the Cat and Sooty the Cat have run off now just in case.  Talking of cases what happened to the Deathly Holdall……… Mum just said IDIOT

Fiona Knight                Harry Potter? I would rather watch paint dry, which I did yesterday and not much happens when you do, but a lot happens in The Last Airbender, which is a much better film, as for the Deathly Holdall, it's all packed and includes 10 wooden pegs, which I cannot elaborate upon right now, but will let you know about after my voyage to the lunar landscape....Adios Senor Rob, hasta pronto.

Big Bills Greasy Fur Ball Cafe, plagiarism and the budgerigar’s big cage.

It has been another full day which has resulted in yet another late diary entry in the diary have you noticed I very often use a word twice when there is no need to use it twice. But this is a distraction from the day. After a busy morning removing loads of rubbish from dads car so he can refill it with different rubbish I spent a while up a ladder trying to cut the top of a big hedge.

It is a very big hedge as it happens about twelve feet high and six feet wide but we have a really clever machine that will cut a hedge that big which dad claimed he invented but I am not sure, as it says made in China on it. And I don’t think any of dads inventions are likely to end up in mass production. Not sure why they call it mass production after all I have never heard of anything being made in large volumes in a church during the morning service except milky instant coffee. YUK

After lunch and other stuff Auntie Karen and Mr Ian the Musical Hat Maker and Famous rock Legend from the late sixties and early seventies came to see us.  Auntie Karen stayed and told us interesting tales of life in Wales and various encounters with the obstacles of life, while Mr Ian went off to tune a piano that was making strange discordant noises near the cricket pitch. I have to admit I am not a fan of cricket so this is why it is seldom ever mentioned. But out of tune piano’s and cricket pitches are an unstable and volatile mix, which is why Mr Ian had to resolve the issue by tuning the piano.

Auntie Karen has a posh new eco car which is very shiny red, she had to buy a new one because Mr Ian accidently dropped the budgerigar’s big cage on the roof of the old car when it was in the garage and it crushed the car. The budgie was not in the cage at the time it had sadly died a few years ago so it was a deceased budgie, bereft of life it had gone off to meet its maker, it was sadly no more… Dead. Mum has just said IDIOT and accused me of plagiarism NOT FAIR after all it was a blue budgie and was from Norway. I think Auntie Karen said it was eaten by a huge Black goldfish but maybe that was something else.

Anyway Auntie Karen and Ian the Musical Hat Maker, famous rock star and all round nice bloke went home and we all went to Big Bills Greasy Fur Ball Café and ate Fish and Mulberry pie with cream (not at the same time by the way, well OK the dog did) then it got dark and then we came home and then I wrote my diary (OK writing my diary). The end (Well not the end just the end of the diary entry only it is not, this is). Mum just said IDIOT again so that messed that end up too so now this is the end PHEW

stealth, guile and cunning, concrete overshoes and a can of Iron Bru

The corporate sponsors have made a complaint that we have gone back to being a classic tale of suburban life sort of Adrian Mole but without the Coca-Cola, and that they would prefer a good swashbuckling tale than an everyday story of me a dog and a grumpy Ghost writer.

Lou Reed

Of course my diary is a diary and I have told the sponsors that because it’s a diary I write what happens to me, but they insist I should lie a bit because that’s what they do. Well that’s a bit of a shock I would have never thought that a large multinational business would lie even a bit when it is advertising its product. Mum said IDIOT when I said that, and the dog. Dad recons we should do rude gestures at them because the dog has stopped drinking Coca Cola, none of us drink it now and dad is only using it now to polish Rusty the Robot Dog.  The dog thinks we should change allegiance to Iron Bru instead or Aberdeen Morning Rolls, me and the dog would like that we can not understand why we can’t get them south of Peterhead, or 400 miles north of us. NOT FAIR.

The Italians who were interested in buying mum and dad’s quirky house have turned up again, but this time they are very keen to offer us concrete overshoes as a gift to help the transaction progress. Dad and the dog said they would attack then with the flame thrower but mum thinks its not a good move. Ironically a good move is what we would like to do. Mum and dad say it is a lovely quirky strange house and garden but they fancy somewhere where they can chill, and people don’t arrive through the walls with a large axe and sea chests full of gold.

I will get to meet the Italians tomorrow and psychoanalyse then using stealth, guile and cunning. Mum said IDIOT again. The Italians apparently have only recently got to the UK and were delayed as they had business to attend to (the dog has added to that nudge nudge wink wink say no more).

I spent most of the day moving large paintings about by Mr Dave Whiley who is a very clever man and one of our favourite artists in readiness for tomorrow evenings preview so am well tired now.

The Blogs gone very quiet again what’s happening there then?         

Chris the builder and the Pit of Doom

Chris the builder has been building an invisible hatch to the cellar today, when I say its invisible I don’t mean it is actually invisible I mean it is impossible to spot it in the floor so that dad and Pirate Pete can hide all the things so that no one will know they are there. Well almost no one a few people with internet access who read my blog or look at facebook or twitter or the block buster book and movie might know.

Apparently we had people looking at the house the other day who thought they might buy it but their little girl was frightened by the Pit of Doom at the bottom of the garden. Dad did try to reassure them that almost no children have been lost in the Pit of Doom and there has only ever been the one child who was not recovered. Well he occasionally turns up near the entrance to the Pit of Doom when mum takes him food but he shouts and says YUK I don’t eat vegetables YUK get me ice cream ….. ……  now. He was never that popular but I can sympathise with what he says about vegetables YUK. I did go and peer in the Pit of Doom once but he said go Away it’s my pit. Still the point of this story is just to say having the Pit of Doom at the bottom of the garden is not good when selling a house. The dog likes it but that is not really much help is it.

My Super dooper office den made with the big copper cylinder is also at the bottom of the garden so I asked the Joules Verne Pocket Oracle and Prophecy Machine about the Pit of Doom and all it said was AH yes that young child is in there I really wish someone you rescue him because I can hear him complaining about vegetable soup and mud in his X box thing.  Well after that it got side tracked and was muttering about the storm in the Autumn again.  I was planning to ask it about the Kiss of Death too but it then said Time for Bed Boing. Then Mum said O god that’s all we need the Magic Roundabout.

Sorry if you are one of our international readers I don’t think The Magic Roundabout crossed the channel, but the dog just said it would sink and has fallen about laughing again.

Trees. Toner. And the giant toad that ate the Queen ......... Time for tea

Miss Fiona left the ghost writer some happy tea bags in Napoleon Beelzebub’s Very Strange Victorian Curiosity Shop today, when I say happy tea bags the tea bags were not happy they were tea bags with a happy tea in (still sounds wrong).  Anyway the ghost writer said being happy would only make him grumpy and he is much happier being grumpy instead. The dog said this is a classic case of the Fletcher transitional Paradox…. WHAT?

It was decided by all that the best thing to do was to sit down and have a nice cup of tea and discuss if we should all try the happy tea which we did, not trying it but discussing it over a cup of tea. In the end it was decided that we should have a cup of happy tea but by then we had drunk so much ordinary tea that we thought we had better try it later.

The ghost writer himself then got in a real grump because his printer ran out of toner half way through the bit about the huge toad in Hyde Park trying to eat the Queen during the royal wedding and the masses of loyal subjects shouting and throwing egg whisks at it while Prince whatshisname and the other one drove round and round the palace to distract it. Anyway the printer ran out of ink just then and the ghost writer said he wanted to send a copy of the story to that very nice Steven Spielberg man to read, and if it ended there the whole story would make no sense again. So he had to drive a round trip of 50 miles plus to get some but at least he is not grumpy now and can leave the story again.

Me and the dog spent part of the day in the wood chasing trees? It was the dog’s idea, not mine because I never thought trees could move so catching a tree seemed to me rather easy. But apparently you are only allowed to catch the ones that are moving and the ones not moving are there to hide the moving ones. It got very complex indeed and I never found one but the dog did he showed me the tree but I said it was not moving only the dog said once you catch a moving tree it will stop moving and pretend to be a non moving tree. Apparently it might stay still for years so the dog said it was not worth waiting to see it move and anyway by then I was well exhausted from all the running about chasing trees. When I told mum what we had been doing she threw the Armadillo toaster at the dog and said IDIOT but I don’t know why.

Easter a time to watch Far From The Madding Crowd or sing Tiptoe through the fish pond

Well it’s Easter a time of Chocolate eggs and bunnies although not chocolate dogs or wood mice. Of course as mum points out it is a religious festival and as soon as the dark powers of commercial exploitation see the opportunity off they go doing their thing. Dad has just told me off for doing politics and religion.

Dad said never do politics and religion because it will ruin my block buster movie. Mum said what about All The Presidents Men but dad said they are hardly likely to go and watch a movie about the diary of a social networking eccentric, Mum said IDIOT. Flipper said what about the movie Far From the Madding Crowd. Flipper is right so no more politics, Easter Eggs YUMMY.

Because it is hot again today the dog has gone back into the goldfish pond only he has taken his snorkelling equipment and a harpoon gun and is looking for a huge legendary octopus. The goldfish keep telling him he should go and look in the lake in the park where the pirate ships are anchored  and talk to Captain Nessman in the Spyglass Inn but the dog says it’s more fun in the goldfish pond. Mum is convinced he is just winding up the goldfish. The dog has threatened to harpoon one of dads steam powered mechanical squirrels because it keeps singing Tiptoe through The Tulips just like Tiny Tim use too and although the dog said it was fine one or twice so far today he has song it forty five times. It doesn’t help that it keeps sticking its tongue out at us, I’m sure the real squirrels would have been less trouble particularly as the steam powered squirrels are still pinching all the food from the bird table anyway. Dad blames this on genetic programming because they are mechanic squirrels and don’t eat so it’s totally illogical. Mum said as someone once said if it looks like a squirrel quacks like a squirrel and floats like a squirrel then its a squirrel? I didn’t know squirrels quacked. Mum has said IDIOT again that’s not fair it was mum who said it.