4th July . . . . A friendly Message from Britain

OK I am not good at drawing flags 

Today is the 4^th of July a day that is celebrated in the USA as Independence Day, a day when I am told America leaps about, lets off fireworks and folk stand about being patriotic. Here in Britain folk carry on as normal unless it is Sunday in which case they all go to IKEA.

Us British have always wondered why our American friends decided they were not happy being a colony of Britain, after all the ordinary man in the street such as myself is a fairly nice sort of chap and in general find Americas a nice bunch who almost speak half decent English. In fact it would be true to say that more English understand Americans than a Glaswegian just a few miles up the road in Scotland.  The American accent being sort of a cross between Middle England and Middle Australian, probably because they live in the land between these two great countries. American is more a group of small countries known as States so is sort of a bit like Europe really only they fight less and don’t insult their adjoining states like we do in Europe.  

Of course the good folk of the USA do have one or two odd anomalies that we notice from time to time when they come to visit the old homeland. They do seem to spell some words a bit oddly, however I do that all the time so I understand how that can happen. And they do seem to like the Queen and all the Royals, a bit odd when they were so keen to get rid of them in the first place. Ironically there are many folk in Britain who would love to get rid of the Royals and would happily sell a few to the USA.  I have also heard them imply that their Zombies and Monsters are better than our Zombies and Monsters, well that is just plain silly everyone knows European Monsters are superior to all by a long way.  And we all know that a nice cup of tea and crab paste sandwiches in an old Lyons Café can not be compared with MacDonald’s, it is a foolish thing to even attempt. When was the last time you saw the corner of your Big Mac curling up in the sun and getting crusty while a gang of little old ladies pondered the iced buns.

Anyway I hope you lot over in the USA have enjoyed your day, and if you ever feel you would like to rejoin us we are happy to share a nice tea party (not that one but the one where you drink tea in the garden) with you………… . . . .

Ooooooo It rained today and I cut a hedge and ate food.

The Problems of Writing a Modern Diary

So here we are again another day in the life of the diary of Rob Z Tobor which has been ticking along now since 15^th August 2010 (the diary not me). I know it’s a long long long time and if you have been reading it for all that time you will probably say it seems much much longer, as you plough through page after page after page of stuff.

Of course diaries are not what they were back in the old days when Samuel Pepys could write about things such as Plague, pestilence, the burning down of London, royals being beheaded. Chaps discovering places such as America or the fabled North West Passage around the Isle of White or small islands full of unknown tribes to wipe-out and steal all their stuff such as the Isle of White.

These days we are left with Mr Jones running about naked attempting to communicate with Aliens in the Woods, Zombies being attacked by little old ladies for sitting on the wrong seat on the bus, Androids and Vampires playing football as they hunt for The Holy Grail. A goat getting catapulted into the local supermarket on a regular basis, a faulty Weather Machine and a grumpy Ghost Writer. Quite frankly it is no wonder the very nice Steven Spielberg has no interest in making the film of the book of the blog diary of Rob Z Tobor.

So I feel I need to find things more suitable to write about that will make Mr Spielberg sit up and take notice, something where he will say . . . . . Hang ON I haven’t done a film about that before. . . . .

So what did I do today . . . I cut grass . . . . DAMN that’s not a good start is it, although some of it was quite long grass?  

Mr Jones is a bit disappointed today as it turns out the Lizard Men of Titan are in fact Lizards and their spacecraft an old copper hot water tank, (still an easy mistake to make).

The Art of recycling old rubbish . . . . . . . and a useful tip about Gravity

It is quite late and after a hard day doing science dropping large cannon balls and feathers off large towers to prove that gravity is far more painful if it hits an unsuspecting passer by when it is influencing a cannon ball in a state of freefall, rather than a whole load of feathers. Unless they are glued to a cannon ball or a cat.  I have decided that I will re post an old post from the past and also an old drawing. I know I am lazy but I do post stuff more than most so feel as it will soon be Christmas I am entirely justified.

So here it is . . . . an OLD POST

Once upon a time there was a large jolly rotund chap with a big white beard and red fur lined jacket who carried a large sack about known to all as Father Christmas (that’s the rotund chap not his sack). He was a generous chap who would rummage about in his sack and give passing small children presents and the like shouting Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas. He was very popular much like Elvis and like Elvis it was not long before everywhere he went folk you run up to him screaming asking for autographs and asking him to sing the ever popular Be-Bop-A-Lula I don’t like Gravy, a sentiment all folk with large white beards will whole heartedly agree with no doubt. 

As he became more and more famous and popular it got harder and harder for him to go anywhere without folk turning up demanding stuff out of his sack or making him sing that song again or trying to book him for parties or saying he was the father of their love child. When it was plain to all that super gluing beards onto small children was never going to convince anyone.

So as time passed Father Christmas became more reclusive and hid away up north in the snow only venturing out in the middle of winter a time that became known as Christmas time because he was never seen any other time of year. He still went Ho Ho Ho a lot but now sneaked into houses at night as it was the only way he could avoid being asked to sing that song.  Of course by hiding away there was an opportunity for those Elvis impersonators who were not doing to well (put bluntly they were rubbish at Elvis), having fallen on hard times they became dishevelled and unshaven ending up with long white beards allowing them to become Father Christmas impersonators; it was cheaper too all you need is a big red coat and a sack, not a white sequined suit like Elvis and there was no need to be able to play the trombone either.

Over the years the real Father Christmas has got even more reclusive but the Father Christmas Impersonators or Santa impersonators as they are known now for legal reasons are all over the place. And it is easy to see why they all had to give up being Elvis impersonators, the closest I have ever seen one looking a bit like Elvis was when he was bitten by a large Hound Dog one Christmas Eve and screamed Im all Shook up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .HAH HA HAH HAH HA HAH HA HAH HA HAH HAH HHAH HAH AH hah a hha ha ha ha ha ha.

2014 Brazil World Cup ( Football latest) . . . New Plot Exposed

Who would have believed it, just a couple of weeks ago the world was looking forward to a friendly competition among nations where everyone was equal and it was down to the skill and tactics of the various teams to do their best in a game of two halves. Then we had the shock that certain teams were playing Androids to enhance their chances of winning. This news was closely followed by the news that those countries without the technical know how to build fancy Androids were playing members of the Undead such as Vampires and other creatures of fiction. But despite all the headlines the public gritted their teeth and continued to support their favourite team, football is a bit like that folk follow teams despite almost everything.

Then it was discovered that behind the scenes the Androids of the Knights Templar are convinced that the World Cup is in fact The Holy Grail and are plotting to steal it and return it to its rightful place (A secret cavern deep underground I suspect). Adding to the ever growing complexity of the story it turns out an evil genius is controlling many of the Androids on the pitch, replacing the entire team of the Netherlands in order to get hold of the World Cup before the Androids of the Knights Templar, yes the Netherlands are programmed to win. (I hope you are still with this, the plot is going to get even more complex) This evil genius (me) will then use the World Cup (The Holy Grail) to rule the world.

However all has not gone to plan, my own plans got accidently leaked early and some of the Androids are not playing as well as expected, but it appears that there is yet another force attempting to influence the outcome of the 2014 Brazil World Cup.  It has been revealed in the last twenty four hours or so that Cameroon are using Voodoo to manipulate games. The famous Ma-Ginti Tribe of the Cameroon are using their powerful High Priests, the fabled Goat Men of the Ma Ginti to put spells on players, teams and even Evil Genius’s to ruin things in what is said to be a huge gambling scam.

This World Cup is getting more complex than a Raymond Chandler thriller, how is an Evil Genius meant to deal with both the Androids of the Knights Templar and Goat men performing Voodoo and singing their terrible songs.

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