J is for Japanese Crayfish Jousters

Once upon a time back in darkest history when Knights were Knights and villagers would scream and run about in fear of large dragons that breathed fire at all sorts of stuff, and wizards would cast spells turning large grown men into frogs or would turn slugs into small rodents or cats into violin strings. It was quite common for small children when asked what they would like to do when they grew up, to all shout I want to be a Japanese Crayfish Jouster. Their fearsome reputation and the adulation of the massed crowds who would shower them in small bits of Halibut and gold coins made them the heroic figures of the day. Yes the Japanese Crayfish Jousters were known across the known world of the time and the spectacle of huge crayfish charging at one another across the arena was something to behold as both beast and man were covered in gold and jewels and showed no fear.

Of course such things never last and as time pasted and the fables and legends of the past faded into the lost corners of history when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, small children would then shout I want to be a train driver oR an Astronaut the dreams of the Japanese Crayfish Jousters lost for ever.

But even those, the simple dreams of small children have changed in just a few years, as the dark shadows of the corporate world and obsession with media penetrated the very soul of mankind. Because if you say to a group of small children now, what do you want to be when you grow up, they will all shout I want be the winner of a talent show on television, play for Man Utd . . . . . ..   and have big boobs.  But one day in the future a very nice man called say maybe Steven Spielberg will think Japanese Crayfish Jousters what a great idea for a block buster film and then once again everyone will want to be Japanese Crayfish Jousters like the old days.   . . . We can but hope. 

I is for Interesting Instructions of an Irregular type.

It appears that when someone leaves you a little note to remind you to do a particular task it is not a good idea to amuse yourself by modifying the instruction in case you forget that you modified it when you read it the following day. Let’s face it the very reason the note was left in the first place was because I tend to forget things.

So after waking up and waving my hair about in the shower and staggering about saying who am I, what day is it, where is my brain . . . . AH the Zombies have nicked my brain . . . . Eating some breakfast and then groaning loads in order to prove I am a Zombie. I noticed a note left for me to tell me what my task is today. So having read the task I decide I should do them in the order they have been written down. 

Instruction One: - Strim Cows

 WHAT? . . . . . . I don’t know what that is about but if I am left a note then I have always found it is best just to do what I are told, there was a time I would get distracted and go off and do other things and so the important jobs would get left.  But no longer I am a lean mean efficient fighting machine (sort of).  I am not sure if any of you have ever tried to strim a cow with a strimmer it is far from easy, in fact it is extremely hard. First off you need to get the flock (sorry herd) penned into the corner of a field and then fire up the strimmer and then charge at them in a random way to confuse them. If you are lucky you might get to strim the side of the odd cow as it stampedes past you, I will tell you right now cows do not like strimmers one bit.  Cows can shift I have always thought of cows as slow happy docile beasts with a happy go lucky attitude to life, oblivious of the fact they will be turned into dinner for the masses at some point.  Yes OK they did start making tunnels a long time ago, but that was the past, those cows have long since been char grilled and covered in sauce.

Cows it turns out (to get back to the point) can move rather quickly and it also appears that if annoyed enough say by a young enthusiastic chap with a strimmer can be a little aggressive. Well when I say little I really mean big; cows are big, very big.

So after a short time of chasing cows with a strimmer I found myself pursued by angered cows intent on revenge. This quickly led to a decision to abandon Instruction One and concentrate on Instruction two.

Instruction Two :- Pick Parsley

Well this was a piece of cake and done in a flash. It was only afterwards when I was asked Have you Strimmed the Cow Parsley at the top of the drive that I remembered I had slightly modified the note left for me . . . . . . . . Strim Cow Parsley . . . . . . . . . . AH DAMN

The good news, I now have, but the bad news is I don’t think the cows like me anymore. I have told them I don’t eat cows, but that has only lead to rumours and now the farmer does not like me either.      

H is for Harpies

The improved Mk2 Harpy picture (Yes OK it looks like a Mermaid) 

I have spent the day working on a door although it has a bit of an issue at present as the hole that the door fits into has a curved side. That is very annoying indeed and has added slightly more work to the task involved.  Now some of you are probably wondering what is Rob Z Tobor doing with a door in the first place, after all he is the eccentric child of cyberspace and should be doing strange things in that cyber-school of his, not making a door to keep the harpies out. 

Well that is true but I need to work on diversity in order to keep the very nice Steven Spielberg interested in the block buster film script. To achieve this I am covering every single plot possible to man . . . . . . . .as long as it involves friendly but slightly scary things, yes OK the odd thing eats folk but that is life, you create a Zombie tell him where the canteen is and what does he do, eat all the cooks, they are rubbish at instructions (that’s Zombies not cooks, they discovered Austria, that’s cooks not Zombies).

So I have drawn a friendly harpy today just to avoid any filming issues when Mr Spielberg shouts cut. We don’t want folk losing arms again do we? Harpies get a bad name historically when in fact they like nothing better than a bit of a fly round the church tower chasing seagulls and eating the odd vicar while hurling grave stones at the congregation, laughing hysterically and making rude gestures with their feet.  Ok harpies are a bit naughty and Pooing on Nelsons Column is I agree a little un-lady like, but as they say themselves the pigeons do it all the time. I don’t think I will be the one to tell them that Harpy Poo is a bit smellier and larger than Pigeon Poo, OK they have a bit of a temper too and are grumpy and keep bees in jam jars full of plastic flowers to confuse the bees.  Harpies don’t eat honey, unless it is a cute ginger kitten. But they are not all bad. . . . OK they are . . . which is why I am making a door.         

G is for Ghouls, Ghosts and Gardeners

A useful tip that folk may not know about is be selective with who you use as a Gardener because Ghosts, Ghouls and Gargoyles can be a little obstinate and will tend to go off and do their own thing. And saying to them NO NO I was thinking of maybe a cherub balancing on the back of a dauphin, sorry I mean dolphin; OOOOo no a dauphin would be good, in the fish pond, not the four horsemen of the apocalypse. . . . . . . And yes the blood red dye in the water is very effective but will clash with the goldfish a bit . . . . Hang on are those piranha fish. . . .  Will only make them stare at you like you are a fool and know nothing and that the new sulphur bed with its noxious gasses and sharp pointy things is now so much better that the old flower bed with its Gladioli and Garibaldi Biscuits . . . . . sorry I mean bluebells.

That’s the last time we use UNDIG Gardeners Ltd with their catchy slogan . . . . The UnDig Have Risen from the Grave, no job to small……….  

And if you are wondering what happened to my diary and I might be in a couple of year’s time when I look back to see what I was doing . . . . AH Sorry about that, particularly if you are me.