Green Lion

The readers among you with razor sharp memories may recall that many moons ago I worked in a nursery school for a while. Mostly the job was good fun, like when one of the little ones would proudly show me a piece of art they'd worked on, or watching them learn to read on their own and so, but the getting thrown up on and having to help change the little darlings after they'd had 'accidents in the toilet' were not so fabulous.
Also, there were the incidents such as the one with the Bumblespider that terrified me to my very soul until I figured out WTF it was, and although not as scary, this tale is very similar.

The nursery was held in a church hall which fortunately came with a car park big enough for the little ones to use as a playground, the only slight downside of which was that it didn't have a gate at the entrance to stop the tiny-tots escaping out into the road if we didn't keep an eye on them. No matter how often we told them that they were not to play beyond the 'end of the wall', it wouldn't stop some of the older, naughtier children from trying it on and daring to play beyond the cars next to the entrance where anything could have happened to them.
After some debate between myself and Miss Carrie, the other girl who worked there, we came up with the idea of cordoning off an area of the car park with tape, but kids being brats kids, the older, naughtier ones used it as a skipping rope or to tie up the smaller children, so after more deliberation, we simply got a really large red crayon, and drew a line that if crossed, would result in ten minutes in the 'naughty corner'.
To our amazement, the red line worked. Whether it was the threat of the naughty corner or not we weren't sure, but it worked and the kids knew that to cross it was verboten!
It was so effective in fact, that most of the children wouldn't even play near it, which for us was a bonus as we didn't have eyes in the back of our heads, contrary to what the little'uns thought.
And so playtimes became a lot more fun. We could organize games without worrying that someone was going to run into the road and get splatted by a car, which for a nursery teacher is a bonus.
Weeks passed in the spring sunshine and with the exception of the day a rather large dog decided to join in a game of tag, all was peaceful, all was calm.
Until one day when a little boy came running over to me and Miss Carrie in tears and saying that the Green Lion had captured his friend and he was scared that he wouldn't see him again.
We tried to calm him down so that we could try and find out what on earth he was on about, but all we could get out of him was that the Green Lion had stolen his friend as he'd been very bad, and he was scared that he'd never get him back.
We asked him to show us where the Green Lion was, but the tot was so distraught he wasn't making any sense at all. He wouldn't even point in the direction of this nasty, friend stealing Green Lion, such was his terror.
It was right at the end of playtime so we herded the rest of the kids into the hall and I took the boy into a quiet corner to try to find out what was happening.
We took a register to make sure all the children were present and correct and as none were AWOL we figured that at least the boy's friend wasn't one of them, which was good.
After another ten or so minutes, the poor boy was still in tears and we were no closer to finding out what was up, so I went outside to see if I could find any clues.
I looked all around the playground and was about to go back in when I spotted a very small teddy bear lying about five feet across the red line.
Suddenly all became clear and grabbing the bear I dashed back into the hall and asked the boy if it was his missing friend.
To our delight, the tears stopped immediately and the boy hugged the small bear as hard as he could.
Turned out that he hadn't yet learnt about colours and thought that red was green, had mis-heard the word 'line', and as we'd instilled such a strong warning about anything crossing the Red Line, he thought his bear was gone forever, poor little thing.
Kids eh? A most excellent source of entertainment, but I still don't want one of my own.

And so another wonderful weekend has passed, the highlight of which was when I went to a local supermarket during a particularly hot time of the day. I'd dressed for the weather and was wearing a pair of shorts, styled t-shirt that was almost as long as the shorts, and had my hair up. In brief, I was feeling all happy and summery, so summery in fact that I thought I was going to melt and if I'd been wearing make-up it would have slipped down to my ankles.
So. I was wombleing around the fruit and veg section when one of the store assistants looked right at me, smiled broadly and said "You look really hot!"
I pondered the comment for a second before replying, "In what respect...?"
I still don't know if he thought I was looking good or if I was doing a fair impression of a penguin in a sauna...
Anyhoo, moving on rapidly, as it's Monday once again it's time for this week's Choose-O Options, and this week they are -

• Socks
• Green Lion
• Reverse

Choose wisely ma li'l chickadees, and don't forget to tell me all about your fabulous weekend adventures while you're down there, akay?

And last but not least, here is a special 'Kitteh for Monday'!

Enjoy!

Following an autopsy, doctors have dismissed a number of possible causes of the death of Michael Jackson- skin cancer, lycanthropy, and hard partying- leaving the cause of death (rather ironically) as excessive dancing.

So it's official-

Don't blame it on the sunshine
Don't blame it on the moonlight
Don't blame it on the good times
Blame it on the boogie.



R.I.P Jacko.

Today, I am once again sort of nicking an idea from that there Scaryduck, as a) I've been pondering about the idea for a while, and b) my brain has turned to peanut butter again and I can't think of anything else to post.

It is this -

If you could be a Super Hero, what would you be called and what would your Super Power be?

I reckon I'd be 'Wolf Girl', with the ability to hunt down villains no matter how far they go or how well they hide, and rip the throats out of anyone that crossed me with a simple nip. Being able to smell what day of the week it was would also be a bonus, as would being able to bring down a cow if anyone fancied a really big barbecue!
And before anyone says anything, yes I know it's very Angua*


So, thinking caps and pants over tights on, and over to you!

And don't forget to have a fabulous weekend if possible!

ttfn,



*My greatest accolade evah, is that Terry says that I am Angua in the flesh, straight out of the pages of the books, and that wasn't just because I growled at him either!

Some days just don't go as well as you plan, as this for me, was one of those days.

But better late than never, I'm taking a leaf out of Scaryduck's Lazy Blogging and providing you some entertainment from a lesser knon band, The Shirehorses.

Please to enjoy.

Country Spouse.

Feel like Shite

Roll with it

Tony

You're Gormless

So...

Double Entendre Day once again...

You know you want to stuff my box... you want to give it to me good and keep stuffing away until I get to a delicious 69...

Don't cha...?

Yeah ya do, so I'm gonna give you something to get you hot...

So hot, you won't be able to resist banging away at my box until you're thoroughly spent, and you're just left in a damp, deliciously wasted puddle...

Sound good?

Yeah, it does to me too, so I'm gonna show ya the goods that'll getcha steaming hot and ready for action, akay?

Here ya go -

There's a packet of pork scratchings going for every entry, and a pint of lager available should anybody deliver me a good, hot, delicious 69...

Sound good?

You know you can't resist, so without further preamble...

Get.

In.

There.

NOW!

Cuts

I was fifteen when I first dabbled in the sinister world that is known as 'The Pub Trade', and despite many attempts to break away from the scene, over the years I have found myself dragged back in, sometime literally kicking and screaming.
Being an ex-licensee and the owner of an NLC certificate has meant that many a time I've been asked to help look after other people's pubs when they've been otherwise incapacitated or in need of a night off, and as I've never ripped anybody off or razed a pub to the ground, I've often been asked back by happy publicans that can relax, safe in the knowledge that they can leave their business in my capable paws.

So. A few years ago a friend of mine was running a pub in West Ealing and found herself desperately short of barstaff and a cleaner, and so I stepped in to help out with both jobs.
I'd get to the pub at 09:00 hours everyday, let myself in and clean the place from top to bottom while my friend got a well-deserved lie in after the busy nights before.
I'd been there almost a week when Sunday rolled around. I got in at the usual time although the pub wasn't due to open until 12pm, as there's always extra cleaning to be done following a Saturday night.
My friend came down to say good morning and got me a coffee while explaining what extra bits and bobs that needed doing, and also, to my delight, paid me for the week's work.
I'd just about finished all the cleaning when I heard a tap-tap-tap at the window by the back door, and looking out I saw a couple of men, both in suits and looking rather 'dodgy' to say the least.
The first thing that went through my head was 'bailiffs', but as far as I knew my friend's business was doing well, so I signed at the chaps outside to wait for a minute and called my friend to ask if she knew anything about them.
Turned out that they were her two new 'chefs' who had turned up to do the newly advertized 'Sunday Lunches' and so I let them in and showed them where the coffee machine was while we waited for the boss to come back down and show them where they were supposed to be.
While they were waiting I asked them how come they were wearing suits when they'd come to cook lunches, and it turned out that they'd originally planned to go out to a pub a couple of hours the night before, but the couple of hours had turned into an all-nighter at a club up in the West End, hence the incredibly crumpled suits, exhaustion and raging hangovers.
They'd not even had a chance to grab a coffee let alone get changed, bless 'em.
Anyway, cleaning over I settled down with a final coffee and put my paws up to chill for a while before the journey home.
My rest was interrupted by one of the chaps coming up to me asking if I'd ever done any catering, and was I in a hurry to go anywhere as they were running way past schedule and really needed a hand with preparing the vegetables and so.
I was swayed into saying yes by the offer of twenty quid, and so I rolled up my sleeves once more and went to join them in the kitchen.
I asked what needed doing first and was told that the carrots needed chopping. I asked them how they wanted me to prepare them and was met by two blank looks and the reply 'chopped'.
Trying to clarify, I asked how they wanted the carrots chopped, ie: fluted, julienne, sliced, diced, etc, and again, they stared at me as if I'd asked for a lightly grilled stoat on toast. It was at that moment I figured out that they were definitely not 'chefs', but had somehow managed to blag their way into convincing my friend that they were.
The 'junior so-called chef' showed me how he wanted them chopped and I set about the pile of carrots.
A very short while later, the 'so called head chef' remembered that he hadn't told me anything about safety in the kitchen, and warned me that the knives were very, very sharp and to be very, very careful while using them in case I cut myself.
I thanked him for the warning and got stuck back in with the chopping.
After a while, the chaos managed to settle into a more of a routine and all was looking good for the lunches getting served on time, when suddenly, the 'head chef' screamed.
Despite his warning me about the perils of knife usage, he obviously hadn't listened to himself as he'd managed to slice his hand from the base of his left thumb, across the palm and up to and including his little finger.
There was blood everywhere, but staying calm I found the first aid kit and patched him up. Fortunately it wasn't a deep cut and only needed a couple of butterfly strips and a bandage to stop him leaking, and a little while later we were back on track with the prep.
The 'junior chef' couldn't resist ribbing the other guy about his lack of knife skillz and despite some strong language and threats of a knife demonstration on the junior chef's private parts, he wouldn't stop laughing and teasing the chap about his misfortune.
Karma must have been paying attention as next I knew, the junior chef also let out a loud scream.
Yep, he'd also managed to cut himself with a knife; not quite as badly as the other bloke, but still it was rather a nasty laceration and once again I got out the first aid kit and staunched the blood with a couple of waterproof plasters.
When I'd finished I couldn't resist telling them that they really should have listened to themselves when they'd warned me about safety in the kitchen, and after a laugh we carried on with getting the food sorted.
We were nearly finished and the junior chef began to start on the washing up, and all was going well until once again, he screamed.
Now, the first thing you get told if you go on a Health and Safety course, is that you do not put sharp knives into a washing up bowl or sink that is full of bubbles, as it makes spotting said knife difficult, and you will more than likely get cut by it.
Obviously, this chap had never been on a Health and Safety course as he managed to find a knife by grabbing it by the sharp end and cutting himself on the other hand.
Sighing I went to get the first aid kit again, while the 'head chef' fell about in fits of giggles as he berated the 'junior chef' about his stupidity.
Karma must have decided to hang around for a while as next I knew, the 'head chef' had turned a delightful shade of white and his face was stricken with shock.
While he'd been laughing and not paying attention, he'd somehow managed to knock one of the largest knives off the counter and it had landed, pointy end through his shoe and impaled his foot to the floor.
The junior chef took one look at the scene, and everything must have been all too much for him as he fainted, taking down my carefully prepared carrots as he did so.
It was lucky that my friend chose that moment to come and see how the lunches were coming along as she had her mobile with her and was able to call for an ambulance.
Both so called 'chefs' were carted off to the nearest A&E while I finished off the food prep and stayed for the rest of the afternoon to serve up.
My friend said that the chaps were welcome to come back to work for her on the provision that they both took a Health and Safety course ASAP, and most importantly passed the exam.
Me? I still giggle when I think about it.
Is that wrong?

And back to earth once again after one of the busiest weekends I've had in a very long time!

Friday, my friend arrived, and I showed him around the sights of Hanwell and Ealing before getting a fairly early night in anticipation of the next day.
So, Saturday we first of all head off to Hanwell Carnival to check out the stalls for bargains and most importantly watch The Guv'nors whilst supping a couple of beers in the sunshine. The timing couldn't have been better as it didn't start to rain until just after the band finished and were packing their kit away.
Then we were met by the ex-partner-in-crime and strolled down to a lovely local pub by the name of The Fox, where we rested our paws in readiness for the walk home.
Once back chez moi, we grabbed a bite to eat and I packed up the last few bits and bobs that I thought might come in useful before we headed off towards the A303 and Stonehenge.
Six hours later, at 03:00 hours,we arrived. We were lucky, we only hit a three mile tailback. Earlier during the day the tailback was eight miles long.
So we left the car parked and set off along the route to the Henge which was lit by 'ambient lighting' and chock full of nutters and looney tunes who had been celebrating for what must have been a very long time.
After just over a mile, I noticed that the crowds were getting more crowded and peering up above them I saw the stones.
They were looming happily against the blue of the night sky and every few seconds the flash of a camera lit them up like a little lightning flash.
We wended our way through the throng until we found a space to settle down in and waited for the sun to come up.
The atmosphere was fab, but sadly the clouds didn't want to miss the sunrise either and so the main event itself was a bit of a washout, but still, I wouldn't have missed it and I definitely recommend any other people that have thought they might like to go along, to do so!
On the way back I was rather worried for a while as I found a collie dog tied to a fence by a jumper. Said dog was looking so very forlorn that I went over and asked if they were alright. The dog put on his best 'sad eyes' and raised a paw to my arm and held me as if to say 'Please don't leave me!'
Another couple had been keeping an eye on the dog and so I sadly left the dog, but then remembered the RSPCA vans that I'd seen on the way in, so I scampered over and told a chap about the dog.
To my relief he said 'Oh yes, that's Fred. Don't worry, we know all about him - did he do the 'paw on the arm and the sad eyes' routine on you?
Yep. I'd been conned by a dog into giving out cuddles, bless his little paws.
And then, after another mile long hike back to the car, we went back to my place where we both adjourned to respective bed and sofa to crash for a good while in true 'post festival stylee'.
I haven't spent so long awake since I got lost in Belgium, but this time it was far, far more fun!

And that was my weekend! Don't forget to tell me all about yours while you're in my comments box, and while you're down there, your Choose-O choices for tomorrow's entertainment are

• Socks
• Cuts

Happy Monday everybody! If anybody wants me, I'll be catching up on some spleep.

Additional, 19:15 hours If anybody wants to see the clickage I took at Stonehenge, they can do so by clicking the piccy below

or by following this link to the set.

Oh frabulous day, caloo, calay, I'm off to Stonehenge tomorrow to see the sunrise on the Summer Solstice, hurrah!
It's something I've wanted to do for ages and ages and ages, so when a friend asked me if I'd like to tag along, I replied "Hell Yeah!"
I've made a mental list of all the things I might need and narrowed it down to 'things that are practical to take' and I'm already bouncing around with antici...



...pation and excitement, woohoo!
Top of the list of 'things to take' is of course my camera, and I've charged up the batteries for the spare camera just in case, although knowing my luck the whole sky will be clouded over and I'll be getting rained on. Mind you, if that happens I can try sacrificing something to make the clouds go away before the sun rises...

So yes. That's my weekend sorted, but before I go I've decided to start another Round Robin Story as we haven't done one in a long time.
For those of you who don't know what to do, it's simples. I will begin the story here, and then your job is to go to the comments box below and carry the tale along, bit by bit.
You can write a short paragraph, a simple sentence, or even a single word, but please make sure it carries on from the previous comments, or else the story won't make much sense*, and so without further ado, if you're sitting comfortably, I shall begin.

'Once upon a time, Hammy the hamster was sitting on the riverbank watching the river flow by. The recent rains had swelled the waters and many of the Riverbank residents were afraid they might be flooded out if another storm hit them.
Hammy sighed and once again wished fervently that he had accepted Sid the Shrew's offer of a fortnight in Benidorm. Although he hated package holidays with the 18-30 mindsets, at least he would have been warm and dry.
A large drop of rain fell from the willow tree above and plopped right on poor Hammy's head making him even soggier than before.
"Arse" he muttered to no-one in particular, and was very surprized to hear a voice call out
"What did you just say?"
Startled, Hammy looked all around to see who had spoken, and was astonished to see...


ttfn, my lovlies, and may the Summer Solstice bring you peace and happiness for the coming year!

*After reading through previous attempts, I'm simply hoping for 'some' sense ;)

An Anecdote for Thursday.

Some years ago when I was helping to run some pubs, one fine day found me helping out in one of them while the managers had day off.
I had to be there as they needed a licensee on the premises, but a new barmaid had started working there a couple of days previously. She was serving the customers while I found a corner of the bar in which to catch up on the paperwork for all three pubs.
The barmaid hadn't had much experience working in pubs before, and every ten minutes or so she'd ask me where something was or for me to change a barrel.
It had been very quiet for about half an hour when a couple of women came in for drinks.
The first ordered a gin and tonic, and the second asked for a St. Clements.
The barmaid looked baffled and came over to me and asked what on earth a St. Clements was, so I told her it was a mix of orange juice and bitter lemon.
Still looking confused she went back to the bar and got the G&T sorted and found a small bottle of orange juice.
She then called over to me asking again what was in the St. Clements.
Once again I told her it was orange juice and bitter lemon.
Still looking incredibly confused, she asked "How much lemon?"
After the women and I finally managed to stop laughing I showed her the bottles of bitter lemon.
Honestly, I couldn't make it up.

Akay ma li'l sex-bombs, it's Wednesday here in this li'l o'l corner of the intermanet, which also means that it's Double Entendre Day!
Yep, it's that time of the week wherein it's perfectly acceptable to getchaselves all excited and grab any opportunity ya can to slip as many big'uns as you can to your boss/co-worker/lover/relative/member of parliament!
This week I really want you to give me all you can - I need my box stuffed until it overflows, and I'm simply gagging for another 69!

All of you should know what to do by now, but in case there are any new readers lurking that have not a clue as to WTF is going on, (and also any older readers that have the attention span of a fruit fly on crack cocaine) I am going to show you a picture.
Your job, is to study said picture, and to come up with as many scintillating, witty, erudite, and above all smutty captions as you possibly can.

In return for your endeavours, you will receive a Screaming Orgasm for every comment left down below, and should you be the person that gets me to succumb to another delicious 69, you will get a bonus of Sex on the Beach!
Can I say fairer than that?
I didn't think so, so without further preamble, your photo for today's Caption Competition is -

And if that doesn't getcha juices flowing, nothing will!

So.

Over to you then.

Let the stuffing of my box commence forthwith!

Back to Nature

Lots of moons ago I went to the then Yugoslavia. Apart from the company and the throngs of those truly awful British holiday makers* it was a really good holiday. The scenery was gorgeous; loads of sandy beaches lapped by crystal clear water surrounded by scented pine forests, all within walking distance of plenty of fabulous little bars and restaurants. Perfect, in my opinion, but sadly not perfect to the fucktard*** I went on holiday with, nor the opinion of the two couples that latched on to us as soon as we landed.
By the fourth day I was desperate to get away from conversations about how Yugoslavia was crap compared to England as no-one spoke English properly and the food was funny, and how they were going to redecorate their homes when they got back, and armed with a bag containing packed lunch, bottle of beer, lilo and a good book I set off exploring by myself for an afternoon.
A half hours walk took me to a really fabulous beach. Being so far away from the hotels there weren't that many people there and I found myself a spot to settle on, pitched my towel and headed into the sea with my lilo for a cooling swim.
The beach was part of a cove and as I paddled out I saw more of the surroundings. There were a fair few rocky outcrops around the cove which partially blocked parts of the beach which made parts of it even more secluded, and I decided to head out further so that I could find out what was behind one of the larger rocks.
As I drew nearer, I realized that most of the people in the sea around me were all women which surprized me until I also spotted what they were staring at.
About twenty yards or so from the outcrop where we were, was a very secluded part of the beach, and on that part of the beach was a naked man.
Actually, naked 'Adonis' would be a more apt description.
He was tall, with longish hair, golden tan and muscles on top of muscles.
In brief, he was the sort of man that made other men nervous and women thoughtful.
I decided that I'd paddled out far enough and settled down on the nearby rocks, and it seemed that the majority of the other women were also tired from swimming as they too decided to settle on the rocks, and before long there were about a dozen of us, all nonchalantly watching the naked stud-muffin as he began to do some Tai-Chi.
Of course, we all pretended we weren't watching, all we were doing was sunbathing and taking a break from all the swimming.
The man was truly mesmerizing.
So mesmerizing that none of us spotted the huge wave that was sneaking up behind us until it was far too late.
The naked man finally realized that he might have been being watched as all us women were swept towards him carried by the wave.
As we desperately tried to look cool and again, nonchalant but failing miserably as we spluttered and tried to remove seaweed and sand from parts of our anatomies that were not intended to have seaweed around them, to our dismay the God grabbed his towel, wrapped it around him and stormed off, never to return to the secluded spot again.
Well, he didn't return while I was there anyway.

*You know the sort; Union Flag shorts, tattoos, beer bellies and complaining about the lack of chips and tea**
**And that's just the women.
***I had my suspicions that the person was a fucktard before I went, the holiday simply confirmed them for me.

Greetings my little chickadees! And happy Mondays all round!

And just to get the week off to a fun start, I've found yet another quiz for you to get your teeth into, being -
What Dog Breed Are You?
It's good fun, but I'm not too sure about the results as apparently,

Any fule kno I'm a Border Collie!

Anyhoo, once you've discovered your inner Hound, please proceed to the Monday Choose-O, your options for this week are -

• Cuts
• Socks
• Back to Nature

Vote-Os in the comments box, and of course, don't forget to tell me all about your weekends while you're down there!

Woohoo, 'tis Friday again!

And first of all, I say...

Happy ::
Listen ::
Rain ::
Sticky ::
Once ::
Mixed ::
Flower ::
Key ::
Number::
Hair ::
Rocky ::
Maybe ::

And you say...?

And for something completely different, re: The Empty Plinth in Trafalgar Square. What would you put there and why?
I've already said what I'd put there in yesterday's comments.
I'd put Nick Griffin up there so that everyone could have a go at throwing eggs at him. Scaryduck has kindly offfered the six-inch nails to keep him there!

But if that wasn't possible, I'd like to see a life-size model of Rubberduckzilla!

Over to you then!

ttfn, have a fabulous weekend, and don't do anything I wouldn't try, akay?

I've recently read a book called 'A Hitler Youth' by Henry Metelmann.

The book describes Germany during the 1930s and how for the poverty stricken, life was bleak with no prospect of work, just cold and hunger in a world of crowded tenement blocks.
But then, to a twelve year old boy's eyes a wonderful man came along who gave him food, uniform, training, camaraderie, and a dream of a new, wonderful Fatherland which would rule the world and liberate other countries as it came to glory. Work would be abundant and with it the security of the knowledge that one could provide well for their families.
As long as people turned a blind eye to the violent beatings, public humiliation and threat of concentration camps that came to anybody who dared oppose the Nazi party, all was well and good with the world.
The book is honest, and Metelmann describes the conflict of how the Nazi brainwashing almost drove a wedge between himself and his loving, socialist father who abhorred war and all the Nazis, or 'Brown Pests' stood for.
Metelmann does not seek forgiveness for his actions. All he asks is that the lessons he and many others learnt during those appalling times are remembered and the actions never repeated.

I wish the book had been written while I was still at school as I would have given a copy to the headmaster.
One day in assembly where the entire school was present, the headmaster began to talk about the second world war. Not once did he mention the Nazi party, instead he informed everyone present that it had been the Germans who were responsible for the war and atrocities that it brought about.
I was livid.
I'm half German and had heard first hand about how anybody who dared oppose the Nazi regime was at best, sent to a concentration camp, or possibly they would be visited during the night be violently beaten, robbed and if the soldiers felt like it, shot dead in front of their family.
If a person failed to give a Nazi salute to a passing troupe, they would be beaten to a bloody pulp and left in the street alone, as any person who dared come to their help would suffer the same fate.
And this happened to German people.
Many German people.
Many German people who hated the Nazis, and never wanted any violence, let alone a war.
And many of these German people were killed because they refused to obey the Nazis.
After the assembly finished I went straight to the headmaster's office and told the secretary I wanted to talk to him as soon as he was free.
I was told to go back to class but I explained that this could not wait; I was far to angry to go to class at any rate, and I would just wait for him to come out, thankyouverymuch.
For two hours I waited, and with each passing minute I rehearsed what I was going to say.
Finally, the headmaster let me in and asked me what I wanted.
I told him that I wanted him to stop incensing racial hatred for a start!
I carried on telling him how I was saddened that a man such as he, in charge of so many pliable young minds, had made a big mistake by telling them that the Germans had been responsible. Surely he had been educated about such matters and realized that the major factor that brought about WWII was Adolph Hitler and his Nazi party with all it's 'Ideals'?
I told him I understood how living through the war had probably blinkered his thinking and made him believe all Germans were Bad People, but that was many years ago and also, very, very wrong.
I explained about how the Nazis had brainwashed people and used violence and terror against anyone who dared oppose them and that if he had an ounce of sense and decency in him in his capacity as a headmaster, then he should explain this to the school and not blame innocents. I'd lost relatives on both sides thanks to the Nazis.
For about thirty minutes I went on at him before I decided I'd said all I wanted to, then thanked him for his time before turning on my heel and sodding off to the girl's loo for a ciggie.
Not one of the teachers whose classes I'd missed said any thing about my absence from class, although I really thought I would have been in big trouble, but nothing was said about anything after that.
Until the next week's school assembly.
To my delight, the headmaster read out a speech he'd prepared informing the school that he had made a mistake that he wished to rectify.
He didn't mention me, but he told the whole school what I'd told him and that he had been wrong not to mention the Nazis and all their corruption which had terrorized many innocent Germans.

Henry Metelmann is now a Peace Activist.

Wednesday.

Regulars here know what that means. For those who don't, the idea is to study the photo below and come up with as many witty, erudite, and hopefully funny captions to accompany it.

Said photo was sent to me from Scaryduck and although he didn't admit it, I do believe it to be a still from a video recently received by the BBC with an attached note that read 'Chase me, you naughty soldier boys!'.

Here is the photo -

So please, get to it and start stuffing my box with gusto. There's a lollipop going for every entry and a packet of Space Dust available should a lucky person get me to a 69.

Over to you then.

On yer marks,

Set...

Go!

Faster

Many moons ago (as is the way many of my tales begin) I had to go to see my doctor.
I hadn't then passed my driving test and was therefore reliant on London Transport or friends to chauffeur me to meetings, appointments and so on and unfortunately that day, all my friends were busy and I found myself awaiting a bus to get me around.
I'd been shopping in Ealing and had to catch a bus to take me the two mile journey which was normally quiet, quick and in general extremely unexciting.
I waited about ten minutes for the bus to arrive and once myself and the other passengers had settled in, off we went.
We trundled along the Uxbridge Road towards West Ealing at a leisurely pace and had stopped at the traffic lights while waiting to turn right onto Drayton Road (see map below) when things got rather more exciting than required.

Now, this part of the part of the story is important as it sets the scene for the events about to take place, so plz to pay attention.

The part of Drayton Road that the bus had to enter is very narrow and was not designed with buses in mind. It's one of those roads that has narrow, single lanes, and if anybody happens to dare to park at the side of the road, the traffic builds up very quickly and nine times out of ten, road rage ensues within seconds.
Also, there are no spaces where a car can pull over, let alone a bus, and nipping into a side street is certainly something impossible for any vehicle over ten foot in length.
Along this narrow stretch of the road is also where one of the bus stops are, and as it's the nearest stop to West Ealing Station, said bus stop is normally well frequented by passengers wishing to get on and off the bus.
So.
There I was on the bus along with about thirty other passengers, all minding our own businesses and biding our time until it was time to get off and carry on with life once again.
Suddenly, our tranquility was shattered by a very large, noisy fire engine heading right towards the back of the bus and signalling that it also wanted to turn right, and unlike the bus, was in rather a hurry.
I was sitting very close to the bus driver and as the fire engine drew closer I noticed an expression of 'Oh, Fu*k!' settle on his features.
The bus driver had three options.
The first was to try and get out of the way of the fire engine by trying to turn back onto the Uxbridge Road, but as the other traffic was heavy, that would have taken far too long.
The second, was to enter Drayton Road and find somewhere to get out of the way or stop, but as I've explained (and the driver knew all too well) that was about as likely as winning the lottery twice in the same week.
The third option was to turn into Drayton Road and put his foot down and drive as safely as he could until the road was wide enough for the fire engine to overtake, and this was the option the driver took.
At the same time as the fire engine drew up behind the bus, the lights turned to green and the driver turned right with an expression of determination on his face. He knew that he had to a) look after his passengers and b) get out of the way ASAP, and I didn't envy him one iota.
The fire engine was coming up behind as fast as it could with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing; no-one could have failed to notice it and fortunately the traffic on the other side of the road did the best they could to get out of the way.
But the passengers on the bus must have either been on drugs or a planet all of their own as as we drew close to the bust stop, they rang the bell and got ready to get off.
Naturally, the driver did not stop. After all, what was more important; a few people missing their stop and having to walk a bit further and the people waiting having to wait another five minutes for another bus, or holding up a fire engine and possibly letting other people burn to death?
We went past the stop and began to pick up speed, and to my utter amazement, the passengers who had rung the bell began to ring the bell even more and also shout at the driver to stop the bus!
I caught the driver's eye and gave him a 'Hang on in there!' smile as about a dozen of the passengers began to walk up towards the front of the bus, all shouting at the driver and demanding that he stop the bus that instant!
There was still nowhere for the bus to stop and the driver could do nothing except drive as fast as he could while being harangued by pensioners and chased by a fire engine.
Faster and faster he went, and still there was nowhere safe to pull over, and another bus stop went by which upset the bradies to the point of waving their brollies in a most threatening manner at the poor driver, while all the time the lights of the fire engine flashed and the sirens wailed as loud as a banshee on crack.
At last the driver saw a space big enough to pull over in and yelled at the passengers to hold on tight or sit down if possible and he must have hit fifty MPH when he at last managed to slam the brakes on and let the fire engine past.
He managed to brake so gently that there was barely a shudder as the bus stopped and the poor chap slumped on the wheel, his face as white as an albino ghost.
I felt for him as I'd been in a similar situation before but not with the lives of thirty people to worry about at the same time.
But did any of the passengers say 'Well done' or 'Thank you!' for doing a brilliant bit of driving?
Of course not.
Instead they began to shout at him complaining that because of him, they now had to walk all the way back to where they were supposed to be and had missed the beginning of Countdown because of his 'stupid behaviour' and one bright spark managed to find a pen and paper on which to write down the drivers details and the names of all those passengers who wished to complain.
One thing I hadn't mentioned at the beginning of this story, is that the reason I was going to visit my GP was because my mother had just killed herself and I kept bursting into tears for hours on end as once I started to cry, I couldn't stop and I felt I needed some help.
Right there and then, all I felt was a huge bubble of pent-up emotion begin to well up inside me and as the stupid, petty-minded fucktards carried on complaining about missing their stop, the bubble burst.
I can't remember exactly what I said, but I do recall I said it calmly, but loudly and with a hint of menace.
In brief I told them that if the driver hadn't done what he had done, a family might have died - hadn't they seen the fire engine right behind the bus? Did they really think that the driver had missed their stops just to spite them? And to top it all, they should be thanking him for driving so very well that they, the passengers were all safely in one piece.
I them marched up to the officious twat with the list of names, snatched it out of his hands and tore it into confetti and threw it in the air.
Then I went to make sure the bus driver was alright and gave him a cigarette and packet of sweets that I'd found in my bag, told him 'Well done' and 'Thank you!' for driving so well and making sure we were all safe before marching off the bus and into the GP's surgery where I promptly burst into tears again.

To this day I still get edgy when I'm on a bus that starts speeding up and I never want to be stuck in front of a fire engine ever again either.
And I still can't figure out how people can be so stupid as to not notice a sodding great fire engine behind them, or how they can be so selfish as to worry about missing a stop when people could be dying.
Answers (if any) in the usual place, please.

And after a weekend of picking up fallen decorations and empty bottles and cans, the party is over and it's back to normality.

But that also means that it's time to announce the winner of the Haiku Competition, and after much deliberation and cogitation, I can now tell you that my fave haiku was written by...




*drumroll*





Mr.D. ! with this entry -
"Posts on this 'ere Blog:
Entertain the World Wide Web
And they make you Lol"

*applause*

So if Mr.D can email me an address where I can send something, then I can send something!

And continuing the normality theme, it's Choose-O time, and your options for tomorrow's entertainment are -

• Cuts
• Faster
• Socks

So, that's all for today except don't forget to tell me how you're all doing after the party weekeknd!
And if anybody wants me, I'll be in bed with an alka-selzter.

As is always the way, all good things must come to an end which sadly includes this party, but fear ye not, I have some fun things in store to ease you into the weekend, starting with this exchange of emails a friend of mine sent me. I laughed so much a little bit of wee escaped.

From: David
Date: Thursday 21 May 2009 10.16am
To: Helen
Subject: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
Thank you for your letter concerning pets in my apartment. I understand that having dogs in the apartment is a violation of the agreement due to the comfort and well being of my neighbours and I am currently soundproofing my apartment with egg cartons as I realise my dogs can cause quite a bit of noise. Especially during feeding time when I release live rabbits.
Regards, David.
From: Helen
Date: Thursday 21 May 2009 11.18am
To: David
Subject: Re: Pets in the building
Hello David
I have received your email and wish to remind you that the strata agreement states that no animals are allowed in the building regardless of if your apartment is soundproof. How many dogs do you have at the premises?
Helen
From: David
To: Helen
Subject: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
Currently I only have eight dogs but one is expecting puppies and I am very excited by this. I am hoping for a litter of at least ten as this is the number required to participate in dog sled racing. I have read every Jack London novel in preparation and have constructed my own sled from timber I borrowed from the construction site across the road during the night. I have devised a plan which I feel will ensure me taking first place in the next national dog sled championships. For the first year of the puppies life I intend to say the word mush then chase them violently around the apartment while yelling and hitting saucepan lids together. I have estimated that the soundproofing of my apartment should block out at least sixty percent of the noise and the dogs will learn to associate the word mush with great fear so when I yell it on race day, the panic and released adrenaline will spur them on to being winners. I am so confident of this being a foolproof plan that I intend to sell all my furniture the day before the race and bet the proceeds on coming first place.
Regards, David.
From: Helen
To: David
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
David,
I am unsure what to make of your email. Do you have pets in the apartment or not?
Helen
From: David
To: Helen
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
No. I have a goldfish but due to the air conditioner in my apartment being stuck on a constant two degrees celcius, the water in its bowl is iced over and he has not moved for a while so I do not think he is capable of disturbing the neighbours. The ducks in the bathroom are not mine. The noise which my neighbours possibly mistook for a dog in the apartment is just the looping tape I have of dogs barking which I play at high volume while I am at work to deter potential burglars from breaking in and stealing my tupperware. I need it to keep food fresh. Once I ate leftover chinese that had been kept in an unsealed container and I experienced complete awareness. The next night I tried eating it again but only experienced chest pains and diarrhoea.
Regards, David.
From: Helen
To: David
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Hello David
You cannot play sounds of dogs or any noise at a volume that disturbs others. I am sure you can appreciate that these rules are for the benefit of all residents of the building. Fish are fine. You cannot have ducks in the apartment though. If it was small birds that would be ok.
Helen
From: David
To: Helen
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
They are very small ducks.
Regards, David.
From: Helen
To: David
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
David,
under section 4 of the strata residency agreement it states that you cannot have pets. You agreed to these rules when you signed the forms. These rules are set out to benefit everyone in the building including yourself. Do you have a telephone number I can call you on to discuss?
Helen
From: David
To: Helen
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
The ducks will no doubt be flying south for the winter soon so it will not be an issue. It is probably for the best as they are not getting along very well with my seventeen cats anyway. .
Regards, David.
From: Helen
To: David
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
David,
I am just going to write on the forms that we have investigated and you do not have any pets.
Helen.

Moving on, something to getcha thinking caps on for being 'Songs For Perverts', eg:

Cock Around the Clock
Cum on Eileen
You'll Never Wank Alone
Blowing in the Wind
Great Balls of Fire
Hold on, I'm Coming
Sultans of Swinging
Good Vibrators
House of the Rising Bum
Bad to the Boner

And so on and so forth. Puerile I know, but all good clean fun, eh?

Next up is another quiz to find out 'The Animal in You', and for once I found the results pretty spot on. Apparently, I'm a Wild Cat!
So fess up, what's your inner animal then?

And finally, don't forget that last call for entries into the Haiku Competition is midnight tonight, so er... That's all for now folks!

Have a fabulous weekend, whatever you get up to!
ttfn,
*mwah*

Once again, apologies for tardiness and I wish I could blame it on the excesses of partying, but instead my 'puter had yet another of it's hissy fits.
Anyhoo, hopefully, after threatening the infernal machine with an axe and a reprogramming it would never forget, I'm back online and can see that the party mood is still going strong, yay!
And to add to the joy I got me a Blogiversary 69 to boot, mmmm, mmmm!

Anyway, a couple of things afore I sign off again.
First of all, please remember that tomorrow at midnight is the closing time for the Haiku competition so if any of you have any pearls of poems, please leave them in the comments box before then, and lastly, a little quiz to find out,

What Sort of Party Animal Are You?

According to the quiz -

The part about being fun and making everyone else have fun sounds almost tight, but I don't think I'm a man, at least I wasn't last time I looked.

So erm, yeah...

Back to the party then! Getcha sticky toffee rats while they're hot, and there're still plenty of drinkies available to wash them down with, akay?

PS. I almost forgot! There was a little something else I was celebrating the other day, being this - 365 Ducks!

I've no idea about you lot, but I'm well still the party mood and have definitely got the energy to keep on grooving until I get me a 69!

And today, there are two ways of getting me there.

Firstly, you can scroll back down to the Party Room* where last time I looked there were people in various Bad Taste costumes and states of undress, or, you can participate in this week's Double Entendre Day, Caption Competition!

If you decide to have a bash at the second option, then your DED Caption Competition Photo is -

If you join in, there's a Sticky Toffee Rat Onna Stick going for every entry, and a Slippery Nipple available should anyone get me to that delicious Soixante Neuf again!

Also, despite your choice of where you wish to spend more time today, please don't forget this week's Five Year Blogiversary Party, Haiku Competition!
All you have to do to enter, is to write a Haiku all about this 'ere blog, and the author of the one I like the best will receive a proper, tangible, and most importantly non-ticky prezzie, rah!

And on that note, I shall leave you to groove on down and shall go catch a couple of hours spleep if I'm lucky.

Carry On, Partying Groovers!



*The party is still going on, and with any luck will continue until the weekend, yay!

It's now, it's happening, it's Party Time, WOOHOO!
Yep, this blog is now five whole years old today, and I can't quite believe I've been blogging for all that time, and I'm astonished that you lot have stuck by me for all these years.
Over the last 1825 days, I've lost friends and loved ones, but thanks to this new technology and so, I've made many, wonderful new ones and all thanks to this 'ere blog that you all keep coming back to for some weird reason!

So yes, time to get the Party Grooves on methinks!

Most importantly, the announcement that some of you have been waiting patiently to hear, this party is strictly Fancy Dress, and after considering the suggestions from my comments, I have decided that the theme for this 'ere do will be 'Bad Taste'.
Right now I am in my Lizzie Borden costume complete with a lovely, shiny axe, but I have a few more outfits that I will be changing into over the duration.
So upon arrival, please tell everyone else what your costume is, and if you can supply photos, then even better!

Onto Party Games, and for a pleasant, refined start to the bash I can recommend this lovely Hello Kitty's Tea Party, but for those of you who'd prefer something a little more raucous, Family Feud will probably be more up your alley.
More of my fave games are Bunny Invasion II, Thunder Plunder, Flight of the Hamsters, and IMO, no party would be complete without a bit of gambling, so place your bets on that old classic, Atomic Badger Racing!

A party is nothing without a bit of music, so if anybody would care to set the mood, your choices (just a few of my fave songs) are -
Primal Scream - Rocks
PJ Harvey - This is Love
Pretenders - Brass in Pocket
L7 - Shitlist
Catatonia - Road Rage
The Creep - Freak
Ting Tings - That's Not My Name
The Pussycat Dolls - Don'tcha
Nickelback - Rock Star
Fun Lovin Criminals - Scooby Snacks
Fratellis - Chelsea Dagger
Body Rockers - I Like The Way You Move
And if anyone has any requests or suggestions, then leave a link in the usual place!

Before I get onto the competition, if anyone is feeling peckish then they can help themselves from the following and also tell everyone else what they've brought along to share.


If none of those dishes tempt you, then pop over to here and see if anything gets you salivating.
And of course, the ale, mead, wine and Baileys will be flowing to wash it all down with along with a selection of fizzy drinks and milkshakes, w00t!

Last little bit o' fun before we get to the Competition, regular readers here will have noticed that I rather like rubber ducks, and also enjoy nothing better than a nice session of Duck Balancing. So, if you find yourself with some ducks, then try to see how many you can balance on one single ducky (as demonstrated here) or if feeling artisitic then maybe photoshopping a favourite photo to include extra ducks (as demonstrated here) or simply get those old thinking caps on and come up with as many songs you can think up that - with a little bit of alteration - are Duck related, such as -
Quack Around The Clock
Jailhouse Quack
And the Beak Goes On
Etc, etc...

But now, the moment you've all been waiting for,
Competition Time!
What I want you to do is to make up a Haiku to celebrate five years of 'Momentary lapses of insanity...'
As simple as that.
The winner (whoever writes the haiku I like the best) will recieve an absolutely super prize and of course Kudos of the highest order.

So right. Nothing else left to say for now except,

PARTY ON, DUDES!

And Thank You all for making this blog what it is! No way would it be as much fun without you!

And so, in a few hours time, this blog will be five years old, rah!

And for those of you who haven't been here before (and those with the attention span of a gnat with amnesia) there is going to be a Virtual Party here as from Midnight tonight, yay!

So, please to think up what Fancy Dress costume you'll be wearing, and leave room for the Jelly and Ice cream etc, akay?

I haven't yet decided on a theme for the party, any suggestions will be most welcome; please leave them in the usual place if you have any.

Right then, I'll be in the virtual kitchen getting the party grub and gubbins ready but will be around if anyone has any ideas, so erm... Yes. Get your party grooves on then! The party will last all week if anyone has the stamina!