The Christmas Jumper, the News, and the World

I was watching the news on the BBC a bit earlier in order to be up to date with what is happening in the world. I am not entirely convinced that we actually get to know exactly what happens in the world because news is only news if the various media companies decide it is news worthy. This would explain why a bunch of Zombies protesting outside the local college today chanting WHAT DO WE WANT . . . . . . . MORE BRAINS . . . . . . . . . . WHEN DO WE WANT THEM  . . . . . . .NOW while the college principle tries to explain that the colleges slogan of  . . . . . We have some of the Best Brains in the Country does not refer to the student canteen; is in fact not a  news worthy story. Those Media companies can see no legs in it . . . This does not mean there are no legs in brains (AH YES there are no legs in brains), it refers to a story that might run for a bit and keep the punters interested. . . . You see the link legs and run.

Anyway what I was heading towards before you lot distracted me yet again with your thoughts on what I am typing was the fact that on the news there was a story saying that the Christmas Jumper; you know the things, Santa or a Reindeer on a sledge eating elf brains while a Zombie Snowman looks on in horror realizing his dinner has been stolen from under his very nose (a carrot carved to look like the Eiffel tower) with a small child setting fire to a Christmas tree in the background and a hardy fisherman repairing his nets that are being destroyed by a large Sea Serpent called Sven on the back in fluorescent  double knit wool in tweed colours.

Hang on where was I . . . . . . AH Yes  it appears the big Christmas present this year is the Christmas Jumper and it is plainly clear why that is. You see here in the decadent West everybody now has everything, leaving almost nothing for folk to get other folk for Christmas . . . . Well almost nothing, you see the one thing no one actually has is a terrible Christmas Jumper like granny would knit back in the old days, a time when there was still loads of stuff to buy folk for Christmas, before everyone had everything.

 For a short while we use to buy folk a goat in Africa or bees in India or adopt a frog in Brazil but the thing is we cant unwrap them on Christmas day, so the idea never really caught on, as I have already said we are the decadent west and we need our bling (or Christmas Jumper as it is known this year).

All I am worried about is what happens next year YICKS.

Oooo I sprayed a thing green today and wraped a Christmas present (not a jumper) and ate some cheese and in a very short time will be heading off to the Indian Restaurant . . . 

Mr M, Art and memento's, Memorabilia and the Taj Mahal

We were rather hoping that with the sad death of Mr M it may be possible to get a small memento from his estate, one of his small quirky little sculptures or one of his personal little drawings. However we have not heard from his son and the dark shadows, and have a feeling that much of the little personal things of no value have been destroyed or burnt. This often happens when people die suddenly folk see pounds signs and not the person, which is very sad. But being a resourceful chap I am now working on a master plan to create Mr M art based memorabilia using images from some of little home made cards and some of the things he made plus some old photos.

Ironically it may well be that lots of the items he had collected or made over the years; he made of lot of wooden furniture and small cupboards could end up in an auction in Montgomery where we used to live.

It was Mr S’s birthday today and so we have all been to the Indian restaurant in Montgomery for a meal, and jolly good it was too. Although Miss K did try and destroy the Taj Mahal (not the one made by Mr M out of special brew cans or the real one) 

Oooo and we have just heard back from the son of Mr M so we will see what occurs. 

You should really watch this it is rather cooooooool

Aliens, clouds, spies, curry and vineyards

 You can always tell that you might be standing next to spies when one man in a raincoat and designer sunglasses reading the Times newspaper says . . . . . The gazelles are not happy pushing the supermarket trolleys in the mud. And then another man in a raincoat with designer sunglasses reading the Times newspaper says  . . . . .  The bicycle has climbed the tree in the wood again, I will light the fire. . . .  I did add . . . The Seagulls are less active when the Queen sings. But I was told seagulls are very old school and no modern spy fresh from the headphones of GCHQ would even know what a seagull was these days, now we have the internet and stuff.

Anyway other than encounters with spies and a small grumpy alien who refused to abducted Mr Jones on the grounds that he was naked yet again and  that they had already adducted him three times this year; and really knew as much as they needed to know about him, not a lot has happened today. Oooooo yes I might have seen a pirate or it may have been a duck, sometimes if things move fast the mind will change the things to a more suitable object to fit in with the situation, like for example seeing a tap dancing crow holding a ice cream on the Eiffel tower . . . in a cloud above the house while digging a hole with a pickaxe.

Mr F is with us for the weekend and we went off to a vineyard to drink hot chocolate and discuss cheese. It was a very nice vineyard just the other side of Churchstoke and they we right in the middle of their main harvest, I don’t drink wine which explains the hot chocolate.  I also continued to dig my new hole with the pickaxe although it started to rain from an interesting looking cloud which stopped that in its tracks as they say . . . Yes a hole does not make tracks, so not an ideal saying really.  And we have been for a curry in Monty with Mr F which was good.

And really that is about it I think.

Ooooooo some folk are doing a jigsaw as I am typing this by the way and I am also drinking tea.

The rather quick Robot Post

One small step for man, One giant leap for Cardboard Robots........



AH yes . . . . . . . . I am off out tonight for a curry so all a bit of a rush . . . . . Sorry

I may return later.........

We have returned from our curry in Monty with Mr Charlie and Miss Jane, we all had our usual, we are rather predictable about our curries. I have been eating almost the same curry when I go out for a meal for nearly a million years, which is a long time, although back then they did do a rather good Pterodactyl starter which was very popular. In fact maybe a bit too popular, but it was a great party when we finally ate the last one . . .  How we laughed.

Tonight we discussed Spam not the internet annoyance that plagues the internet with instant make things bigger, make bits vanish or make loads of money doing nothing except blink at a frog once an hour on Sundays. No we talked about Spam the pork based tin of meat we all love or hate and how people either love or hate it. We then talked about family history and other stuff before finally arriving at a discussion about my diary and how it is now much longer and rather more interesting than War and Peace. However Mr Charlie and Miss Jane do not read my diary. So it has been decided I would make a friend request on FB to Mr Charlie after he drew the short straw, he drew it on his napkin like Picasso used to do when he went to restaurants. Sadly the waiter refused to accept the drawing as payment for the meal despite the fact we explained Picasso did it all the time (while he was alive, he no longer does this).

Mr Charlie is a bit of a mechanical whizz chap with many interesting and useful skills so I have explained that my diary is full of very useful information like there are no trees on the moon apparently. Dad and me are still working on a solution to this for our commercial moon flights. In the short term we are selling one way tickets since they are remarkably popular at present for trips to Mars.

Anyway I think in anticipation of Mr Charlie arriving in a blasé of glory I must say  . . . . . . Hello Mr Charlie;  Ooooooo I cant type by the way or spell so sometimes things make no sense.  

Uncle George and the beast of the Curry

I am having a quite type before we run off for a curry with Mr Charlie and Miss Jane in Monty, although by the time you read this I will have eaten the curry and returned home. If  by any chance you are reading the paperback edition purchased for a few small coins in a second hand book shop in a small back street, run by a strange old man who could be anyone including me or the Ghost Writer, then that particular curry has long been gone and forgotten about. Well I say that, but should some sort of curry critter emerge from the depths of the curry with claws and snappy teeth growling it is likely the curry will not be forgotten about quickly.

Uncle George

 However at this point in time I am uncertain which of these two options is likely to occur, although I have a suspicion as to which is more likely based on the law of averages and some knowledge of curry construction.

The Ghost Writer and I moved loads of stuff today from his old office which now looks like it has been burgled, I said it would be the ideal time to burgle the office as no one would notice, although it has nothing worth running off with left in it. But I did get a desk and a thing. Amazingly while I was away Uncle George turned up which was a serious shock to everyone because Uncle George has been dead for two years. It means though that we can’t ask him what he has been up too for the last two years because to put it bluntly Uncle George is a pile of ash. Everyone thought he was lost out in the outback down in Australia and although he had said he was planning to return to Britain at some point no one could have guessed that the poor old postman would have to pore him through the letterbox. It is a wonder he made it through customs and was not confiscated for being an illegal substance.

I have returned from the curry and sadly no critters leapt out of it, but it did taste really good. The waiter said he came from Birmingham; he seemed a chirpy chap but was unable to explain why my curry did not contain critters with pointy teeth and snappy claws. Apparently this is far from normal in the Indian restaurants of Birmingham, but he has said he will mention it too them when he is next there maybe I will start a trend………

Parties. Poo Men and Eurovision

Life is a strange thing full of ups and downs, last night there I was at a posh dimmer (sorry dinner) party of which I will write in a bit and then today I had a slight down. . . . . No not in the way you might think, you see I had popped out to do a little work on the Zombie Defence Ditch which as you know (most know) is connected to the septic tank, well no Zombie is going to climb over that lot. So I thought; OK DAD thought I should check the septic tank to ensure all was well, but I made the error of taking one step backwards and sort of fell downwards in the septic tank in a sort of YUCK way. So today I became a Poo Man, I now know why you seldom see Poo men because other folk have a habit to either running away or turning cold nose (hose) pipes on you shouting “AAAAAAUuuuuuuuuuugggggHHHHH go away it’s a monster . . .IT'S  Poo MAN” . It appears that the life of a Poo Man is not all it is cracked up to be (I can’t help but feel there is a terrible joke in that statement somewhere).

OK enough on that I will return to last night which was very good and we all had a lovely evening and it was great food, a really interesting curry that was an Indonesian favourite of the host from her days in the grand palaces of Indonesia. I did have a couple of problems one was the interesting Indonesian serving implements which involves a special technique in order not to appear to throw curry at the person sitting next to you. Luckily the person sat next to me was very good at using them but unluckily for them I was not. Then I was faced with two knifes and a spoon one side of the plate and a fork the other and a fork and a spoon at the top of the plate, a configuration of cutlery I have not seen before. But luck was on my side as the others had by now been distracted by the person next to me who was covered in curry.

What was also rather cool is the house was full of Indonesian furniture and we had to light a candle for a little God (a God of good fortune and money) whose name I can’t remember. It was a small painted god about two foot high but the host told us that is was painted in order that it could be shipped home OK without any agro as it was made of gold and shipping solid gold Gods about can cause a bit of bother with customs and the like. It still looked cool though even though it still had its paint job, done back in the streets on Indonesia.

Anyway as I said it was a great meal and we finally got home sometime around two in the morning. And I did not see Steven Spielberg; I think he might have been concerned his nice white jacket would end up covered in curry.

OOooooooooo finally it is the Eurovision Song Contest tonight so I am predicting the UK will do rubbish based on two facts; one the UK song will be terrible (I have not heard it yet so it must be), the UK has produced some really bad songs of late and then folk wonder why we come last. The second fact is the rest of Europe don’t like us so no one would vote for us even if we had a good song . . . . . Please note I can write this before it all starts because these facts are a dead certainty or my name is not Rumblestilskin.