Writing Gibberish on a Quiet Sunday Afternoon

I am going to conduct an experiment today as part of an ongoing experiment in writing and observation (when I say ongoing I am lying) so I plan to type gibberish. Not gibberish as in. . . . ajdfn;  ;a;n  njdjahuerqwpuqw  hfha jadhajdhjd. . . . . or even Bling bling pop pop splat. . . but gibberish as in . . . . . . free frogs injected with orange holding mugs singing, mugs don’t normally sing or eat cake. . . . . . . .  In fact I am not sure how easy this process will be, but it’s a quiet afternoon so let’s give it a go……

Men tilting on the side of a slope always lean forward, hats fixed firmly to their heads. Dafadils never blow about in the depths of the ocean when whale’s tap dance in a state of hypnotic trance holding ice cream made in a furnace.  Wood screws would be useful to fix such things but not today where there is rain in the bath and people are walking on a sheet of paper. Those people of course are watching the men tilting on the side of the slope, men that always lean forward, hats fixed firmly to their heads.

Why is it legs move forward at different rates, and eating hard boiled eggs will not help as I have noticed many times while in the dark. A deep dark that is the result of no light which is in turn the result of clouds passing the freezer in the hallway which stands alone next to nothing . Standing alone next to nothing always helps when there are things about that folk don’t want to stand next to.  I don’t stand next to the people who of course are watching the men tilting on the side of a slope leaning forward as they always do, hats fixed firmly to their heads.

Well I have had enough of this experiment now because quite frankly it is not easy to write like that. It reminds me of the days when people who thrust a microphone in your face and tell you to say something as they hit record on their tape recorder.  I was never sure whether it was the microphone that was intimidating or the tape machine, but although people often have photos of family and friends it is rare to have old recordings of them speaking.

NO that last bit was not part of this experiment it was actually me typing proper stuff even if it was not entirely clear that it was proper stuff. The same as this, this is not gibberish but sensible text. . . OK sort of sensible. . . . OK YES it is not but it is as good at this blog gets.

I think more folk should type gibberish the world would be a better place for it.

How come it is the end of May already HOW did that happen . . . . . At this rate I will be a year older in no time . . . .Phew.

The incredible health benefits of the Bacon Butty (the New Superfood)

It appears that the humble Bacon Butty is extremely good for you, not something I was expecting to learn as folk tend to say that they are bad. In general over the years what I have discovered is that almost any food that tastes really good, folk always say is bad for you. This can not be right, just look at nature, in nature birds, bears, rabbits, hedgehogs, snakes, in fact almost every other creature on the planet eats what it likes and does extremely well. This is how nature works life is programmed to eat the food we need by making it taste desirable, there is a simple and understandable logic to this if any critter is to thrive in the environment it lives in.

And this brings me back to the simple and humble but rather delicious Bacon Butty, you see I tend to eat a couple of these a week. I would eat more but I am not allowed so I make the most of the ones I have.  Now here in Britain there was some chap on the television who said that eating processed meat was not good for you and that eating a Bacon Butty meant you lived an hour less.

The thing is last week I had two Bacon Butty’s and at the end of the week someone said that as a result my life had reduced by two hours.  But I thought to myself . . . . Hang on I have been alive for the entire week and instead of my life reducing by a week it is only two hours shorter than it was at the start. That means if I eat two Bacon Butty’s every week it will take twelve weeks to reduce my life by 24 hours so a year is equal to 12 X 365 (weeks) or roughly 84 years. And as I have planned to be about for another forty years at least it means that I will in fact reach the staggering age of 3430 years old. Well that is amazing and it just proves that Bacon is jolly good for you and we should all eat more of it.  

Of course if any pigs are reading this I would just like to say it is not my fault, it is not good to evolve into a creature that makes such nice sandwiches and that extends our lives by more than three thousand years

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I SPY with my Little Eye

As tonight I have a frazzled Brain I have decided to play I SPY with an Invisible Makey-Up Person who for the rest of this diary entry will be Known as IMP

Me . . . . .   I Spy with my little eye something beginning with R

IMP . . . . A ravenous rampant Zombie

Me . . . . . No

IMP . . . . .A revolting rotten Zombie

Me . . . . . NO it is not a Zombie

IMP  . . . . Not even a rare midget Zombie

Me . . . . . . NO

IMP . . . . . .A Pirate

Me . . . . . . What?

IMP . . . . . . Pirates go Rrrrrrrrr HAR HAR HAR RRRRRRR a lot

Me . . . . . .  NO

IMP . . . . . . A Rhino

Me . . . . . . No

IMP . . . . . . A Rattlesnake

Me . . . . . . No

IMP . . . . . OK I give up I can’t see anything

Me . . . . .  LOOK it is over there it is furry, has long eyes (sorry ears) and pointy teeth and it hopping about it that field

IMP . . . . A Zombie

Me  . . . . . Look what are those small furry things

IMP . . . . .Gloves?

Me . .. . . . . . NO NO NO its RABBITS, a whole load of ******* ***** RABBITS

IMP . . . . .  O yes, so it is

You see never play I SPY with Invisible Makey-Up People they are rubbish at it.

Ooooo mum just said IDIOT . . . . I think she means IMP?

Snowden, GCHQ, NSA or Mt Snowdon and the Four Eyed Devil Beast meets IKEA

Although I have been busy I do not appear to have anything tangible to hold up and say AH YES look I created this huge thing today with pointy teeth and undulating legs that can scurry about in small spaces, which is well cool for a huge thing. Only it is not a cool thing because it does not exist. So far today I have not be able to return to the Animal-Scope (mark one) to do stuff, I have added mark one because I plan to build the more complex mark two Animal-Scope very soon.

As it happens it is also Sunday today and coldish and wet and traditionally in Britain that means either sitting about doing not a lot pointing at seagulls and wood pigeons in the trees and saying things like OOOOOO LOOK A PIGEON, or spending the day in IKEA, but that is far to far away to go to from here just because it is wet. In the old days of course folk would head off to church but it is not as popular a pass time as it used to be and the local church regularly has a congregation of two, the vicar and the organist. It appears that someone said that the rumours of the strange Four Eyed Devil Beast were in fact just rumours and it was not going to eat everyone who spent their days frolicking in IKEA. You can see the advantage of Micro Gods they are far more comprehensive; having just the one God means that once people think the Four Eyed Devil Beast is not going to get them they lose interest in singing in a large cold building to save themselves.

  

Talking of Four Eyed Devil Beasts and being saved I notice that Mr Snowden man who let slip that we are all being listened too by NSA in the USA, and GCHQ in the UK (hello Charles and Quinton) has had to sneak off to Russia now after King Kong (sorry Hong Kong, his sister) got all confused by a large pile of paper sent by the American Government. Well if you sent a large pile of paper to China then the word Origami comes to mind and so you really need to make it clear or the whole international legal process becomes a Plague of Frogs, several Biplanes, a swan eating a leopard and the Chinese speciality with reams of legal documents, a Giant Panda hiding in a Bamboo Thicket on a Mountain (an origami favourite). Ironically it was only after making the Giant Panda hiding in a Bamboo Thicket on a Mountain, that an official noticed the word Snowden on the mountain and realized their error because of course the rather famous Welsh mountain is spelt Snowdon, But by then Mr Snowden was in a plane (not a Biplane) and heading to Russia where President Putin is lets face it not going to help the government of the USA much after he was made to feel rather uncomfortable at the G8 summit, so I think we can safely say that Mr S will be off again soon in his bid to outrun the  Four Eyed Devil Beast.

Oooooooo yes one small thing it is OK to use the internet on Sunday because they don’t work in NSA or GCHQ on Sunday’s, they tend to be in IKEA, except Charles and Quinton who are getting paid double time and like reading my Sunday diary entries (well done chaps). 

The loss of Wit, and tales of unimportance

As the slightly eccentric child of cyberspace, writing a theme based diary everyday has its ups and downs, not helped by the Ghost Writer being tired and messing about in the sun shouting Ya Sucks Bo at me.  I try to keep things witty and amusing and vaguely factual but I may be running out of wit, and I am still not  half way through my diary yet as the plan was to reach one million words and here I am floundering at a mere 400 thousand, this is terrible.

On top of this I have responsibilities as head boy at our rather trendy Academy, I say trendy but for new followers the school is actually the old concrete block grey school from the good old days when it was a comprehensive school but it has a new fancy aluminium facade., and the headmaster bought a new suit to replace his trusty early 1962 Harris tweed which is guaranteed for at least 60 years of hard use. 

And I have had issues to resolve today as Esmeralda, and for new readers Esmeralda is part bionic these days when the school mascot, the school goat ate bits of her when she fell. It’s all a long story much like my diary. . . . . . Ok yes Esmeralda and the goat have fallen out again, it appears she has decided that it is easier to catapult the goat into the large DIY store as it causes less agro, apparently the manager has had words with her parents. The goat on the other hand is having a sit down protest as it wants to be catapulted into the out of town supermarket where it can find a large array of fresh vegetables and fruit including things that are out of season. Talking of which, why is it that out of season Strawberries look good but taste rubbish, I have no plans to linger on this point it is merely observation.

I did solve the Esmeralda, goat issue by suggesting that on days with a P in the goat can be catapulted into the supermarket and on non P days it’s the hardware store. Luckily the goat is rubbish at spelling so it will take him time to work out something is wrong.

Now I do realise new followers to my diary may be thinking Goats ?????? Esmeralda ?????????  Seagulls ?????????  . . . . . . But they are all well documented so I would advice waiting until that nice Steven Spielberg makes the first movie of the series and then all will be revealed. Meanwhile I need to go and hunt wits to replace my lost wit. I am a chap of No wit or as mum insist on describing it an IDIOT.

Have you ever wondered why sand is attracted to sandwiches, I wonder if the gravitational pull of a sandwich is greater than that of the Earth on sand particles of a certain size.