Yes my sugarlumps, once again 'tis Wednesday, or as it's known in this 'ere corner of teh intermanet, Double Entendre Day!

For new readers (and old readers that have had their memories erased by strange men in black) this means that today is the day when you can slip a huge one to your boss/spouse/member of parliament/chinchilla without fear of reprimand or repercussion. In fact, the more you can get in without upsetting members of Her Majesty's Police force or scaring the horses the better, so without any further preamble, here's your photo for today's Caption Competition!

There's a Mojo going for every entry, and a Mega Rainbow Lollipop available to the commenteer who's lucky enough to get me to a 69!

So.

Nothing left for me to say except,

Get'cha ya-ya's out, and get stuck into my box, akay?

Heraldry.

Several years ago I ended up running pubs by mistake. For some reason I volunteered to help out some people I'd only just met to help get the pub they'd just taken over up and running, and ended up helping to run the place instead. If I'd changed my mind and gone to Legoland instead, my life could have been very different indeed, but there you go.
Anyways, while I was working there I decided to go on a few courses to bulk out my CV, and also began to read the newsletter from the British Institute of Innkeeping on a regular basis.
One day though, my brain went off on a tangent after I noticed the BII's coat of arms, and having a passing interest in heraldry (and also an Observer's Book on the subject) I decided to work out what it meant.

I reckoned that the barley obviously stood for brewing, and a quick sniff at my Observer's guide informed me that the bar sinister, or leaning to the left, indicated illegitimacy.

Being even more curious, I decided to email the editor of the BII newsletter to see what he reckoned on the topic.

I wrote -

Dear Sir,

My partner is a member of your fine institution and receives your newsletter every month. It was while I was perusing a copy that I noticed the BII coat of arms and decided to investigate its meaning.

I take it that the barley stands for brewing, and discovered that the bar sinister indicates illegitimacy.

Does this insinuate that members of the BII are therefore a load of drunken bastards?

I await your reply with interest.

Yours sincerely,

Misty.

It didn't take long for me to get a reply. It read -

Dear Misty,

I read your email with great interest and after forwarding it to other senior members of the institute, we decided to ask an expert in heraldry's own opinion.

It turns out that, yes, you are correct in your findings!

It appears that many years ago, our coat of arms was based on an old Bass brewery logo, and whoever designed it had a rather twisted sense of humour.

But despite the 'bar sinister', I can assure you that most members of the BII are indeed fine, and mostly upstanding persons.

And thank you for bringing this to our attention; it's the best laugh we've had in a very long time.

Yours sincerely,

The BII.

I don't' think they went public with the news, but I like to know that I've been of help.

So there I was, happily taking some pix of some razor wire, when this pair of plastic coppers walk up to me.
"Wot you doing?" asks the slightly more 'in charge' copper.
"I'm taking some photos of the razor wire" I reply.
"Oh yeah? Why's that then?" asks the same copper.
"Because I really like the way the light is reflecting off the sharpness of the razor wire and contrasts with the bricks, and the azure blue sky as a background sets the whole thing off very well indeed" I reply.
"Oh yeah?" He replies.
"Yes" I reply.
"Fing is though, is that right next to this 'ere razor wire, bricks and sky and so, are a load of buildings, and 'ow do we know that you're not casing the joint 'n' taking photers so that you can come back and break in later, eh?" he asks me."
"You've got me there, yes. I could well be casing some very derelict looking buildings and taking photos to remind me that there's a fire escape that makes it easy for me to get to a window that I could break so that I could get in, but someone would have to be incredibly stupid to have to take photos to remind them of that fact, wouldn't they? Don't you think that if I was 'casing the joint', I'd be so stupid as to take photos heralding my intentions to all and sundry including yourselves? Not to mention the fact that there's a CCTV camera right at the end of the alley we're in that's recording us right now?"
"Errr, right., yeah. Maybe not. But you still haven't explained why you're taking photos of that there bit of razor wire!" came the rejoinder.
"If you may recall, I did tell you that it was because I felt it would make for a good photograph" I replied calmly.
"Oh yeah? So, like, you go around everywhere wiv a camera, just in case you find sumfink you like the look of so that you can take photos, is that it?"
"Yes"
"Yeah, right, 'n' 'ow can you prove that then, eh?"
"I don't suppose you read last Friday's Ealing Gazette did you?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Do you remember the Photo of the Week with the rubber ducky balanced on a member of Her Majesty's Guards, do you?"
"Oooh, yeah! I do! That was a good pic that was!"
"This is the rubber duck, and this is the camera that took the photograph"
"Bloody 'ell! That photo's briliant that is! An' you took it?"
"Yes"
"Right then. Congratulations! 'ave a lovely day then miss!"

If anybody asks about a break-in in West Ealing, you ain't seen me, right?

Also, as it's Monday, your Choose-O choices for tomorrow's entertainment are -

• Home Economics
• Heraldry
• Bonnie

Choose wisely mes petits choux, and don't forget to regale me with all your tales from the weekend while you're down there, akay?

Greetings once again my lovelies, and I hope you're all looking forward to the weekend!

If however you're stuck in an office and bored with clock watching, why not have a go at today's 'game' I've thought of, being, 'List as many famous people as you can think of whose names sound fishy', eg:

Michael Fish
Stephen Fry
Halibut Berry
Angelfish Lansbury
Johnny Dab
John Lemon sole

And so on and so forth.

I'm sure you can do far better than me, so over to you and have a wonderful weekend, whatever you get up to!

ttfn,

Last night a gremlin hid my remote control and while I was trying to find it, I remembered a joke I pulled on my mother a fair few moons ago.

She'd just purchased a new television for her bedroom and to our joy, amazement and delight, it came with a very new and fabulous extra, being a remote control!
Now, anybody under the age of about thirty will probably not remember the days of olde, when a person had to get up from the bed or sofa in order to change channels or lower the volume, but those who can recall such times will also have memories of when remote controls entered our lives.
And what joyous memories too, as no longer did one have to haul one's arse off the comfy sofa and then walk all of six or seven paces to the telly and then have to press buttons in the hope that one of the three* channels might have something worth watching on them.
And remote controls put an end to all that nonsense, hurrah!

So anyway. One evening my mum and I were in her bedroom watching something, and as the something wasn't very interesting, my mother decided to use the remote to see what else was on. I'd just decided to get a drink from downstairs, and was walking past the television just at the same time as my mum aimed the remote at it and pressed a button.
I couldn't resist.
I screamed, clutched at my stomach, and fell to the floor groaning.
My mother also screamed, and threw the remote into a far corner of the room before dashing over to see if I was alright.
Of course, I was alright as I was only messing about, and once my mother's heart rate returned to normal she (very luckily for me) saw the funny side of it.
No wonder my parents decided to not have any more children once I turned up really. They could have been even worse than me.

*Yes, just three.

Way-hey! I haz intermanet connection, w00t!

So while I'm still online, here's your photo for today's Caption Competition -
Mmmm... Chebal!

Get to it with the comments; there's a Slippery Nipple going for every entry, and a Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall available should I get me a Soixante-neuf!

With any luck I'll be able to stay online long enough to read your comments as my connection is still like the moose's head in Fawlty Towers*, so give it all you've got my darlinks, and have fun! If anybody wants me I'll be taking a cold shower as I can't stop thinking about me and Sébastien Chabal doing +++++CARRIER LOST+++++

*It's up...

It's down again...

Pterry

I first met Terry Pratchett back in the late 80s at a book signing in Ealing. That was very shortly before he really hit the big time, and there were about 30 of us in the queue awaiting an audience with the Creator of The Disc.
Terry was brilliant with the fans; every one was greeted with a smile and he chatted to every person, taking interest in what they had to say.
A few years later there were far more fans waiting in line, and a book signing could take up to five hours, with people queuing round the corner to get to meet him and say hello.
Many other authors upon getting famous, are – although smiley and polite to their fans – will only take as short a time as possible with their fans, and with a well practised flourish of an autograph and a much rehearsed ‘Hello, so pleased you came and purchased my latest book!’ will get through their signings in the allotted time, say between 1pm and 2.30pm, but not Terry, oh no.
Even when the signings were running nearly three hours overtime, he would still make sure that he took the time to chat to his fans and sign whatever they’d brought along and placed before him, bless ‘im.
Back in the late 80s, I had no idea that one day I’d be at book signings with Terry but then, after a flurry of letters and presenting of Figgins and Sticky Toffee Rats on Sticks, there I was after the release of Nanny Ogg’s Cook Book, and it was my turn to stand there for hours on end while people plonked books in front of me to sign as well.
Obviously, I was only mostly asked to sign copies of the Cook Book, but I did get my share of fans asking me to sign weird and wonderful things such as neck braces, super-soakers and underwear, which was interesting.
One day I was asked to attend a book signing in St. Albans in the guise of my ‘Terry Pratchett Approved Alter-Ego’, Angua*.
This meant that not only did I get asked to sign the Cook Books as myself, but I also got asked to sign things as Angua, and by the end of the signing I was beginning to get confused as to what my name was, but anyway.
Terry was in fine form. The fans had been queuing for hours and the line stretched twice around the book store floor, down the stairs to ground level and out the door.
Terry as usual chatted away to fans old and new and had been signing things for about half an hour when he noticed a woman waiting patiently whilst holding a large bag of books, and also had a small baby in her arms.
Being the darling gentleman he is, Terry called her over telling the others that it was only polite to ensure she didn’t have to wait any longer than necessary with a teeny-tot, and the woman hurried over smiling and thanking him profusely.
When she go the to table, she put the bag of books on the floor, and placed the baby carefully on the table in front of Terry, who looked at the little one for a moment before asking…

“So where do you want me to sign it?”
The fans roared with laughter, as did I, and I was still giggling on the way home.
Terry Pratchett. In my opinion one of the nicest and funniest famous people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

*Despite doing a book with the great man himself, being told that I am Angua in the flesh and straight out of the Discworld itself is one of the greatest accolades of my life!

If there's anyone still out there, hello!

After all the recent trouble with my intermanet connection, I think it's mostly sorted now, and as long as it's not raining, blowing more than a force two on the Beaufort Scale, or there's a 'Y' in the day, I can mostly get online again.
Rah!
So before I get cutoff again, your Choose-O choices for tomorrow's entertainment are -

• Terry
• Pterry
• Mr. P.

And something for you to ponder before I go. Yesterday I saw an advert for Channel 4's Audio Description services, which if you haven't seen, click here for viewy goodness.

What I am now pondering, is what would the audio description be like for Pr0no films?

Over to you, and don't forget to fill me in on all the latest gossip while you're down there, akay?

Journal Entry, Monday, 14th September, 09.

09:57hrs. Woke up. Well, as awoke as can be before coffee. Tried to go back to spleep but the house was quiet. Too quiet.

10:02hrs. Stumble bleary eyed to bathroom whereupon switching on light finds that light does not work.

10:03hrs. Realize why. Electricity has run out. Again. And this time it's not just a case of nipping down stairs and popping the key in the meter as the emergency credit has also been used.

10:04hrs. Decide to try popping key in meter just in case, but to no avail. All emergency credit has been used up. Cannot use phone as it needs to be plugged in to 'leccy to work, and have no credit on mobile to call anybody that might be able to help.

10:06hrs. Raid purse, pockets, bottom of handbag, back of sofa for any money. Find grand total of £1.27p, which isn't enough to even get a coffee from up the road.

10:07hrs. Oooh, coffee! Need coffee. Scampers into front room and luckily scrapes together enough firewood and coal for a decent fire, and also finds last two firelighters, yay!

10:49hrs. Finally get to drink coffee, hurrah!

10:57hrs. Fill two large thermos flasks with boiling water. Fire won't last forever unless decide to find axe and woodpile.

11:15hrs. Attacks woodpile and gathers enough assorted firewood to last for possibly rest of day.

12:02: Hungry. Inspects contents of fridge, only to find some rather dodgy looking leftover pasta, two raw sausages, and something that could have once been a tomato but is now furry, lurking at back of fridge. Remembers that have no idea how long electricity was off for during night, gives sausages a decent send off in the garden with the hope that the foxes will enjoy them.

12:17: Still hungry. Further exploration of pantry reveals small tin of baked beans with pork sausages, yay! Digs out small frying pan and scampers back to front room to heat and eat beans.

12:32: Makes another coffee. Stokes fire.

12:48: Bored. Bored. And then some more bored. Decide to grab camera and go walkies but camera battery depleted and thanks to having no electricity, can not charge it up again. Gah!

13:07hrs. Settle down with inane comic to read feature about how a woman gave birth to a 12lb baby. Reminds self never to read said comic again. Ever.

13:44hrs. Ooh! Time to watch Doctors!

13:45hrs. Curse and stamp paws in front of silent, inert television.

13:46hrs. Realizes that fire is nearly out, restores fire once again.

13:57: Finds the Harry Potter book that never got round to finish reading. Also finds chocolate bar at the same time. Happy, happy! Stokes fire once again and settles down on sofa.

14:33hrs. Restless. Decide to go walkies without camera. Maybe find someone can borrow tenner from until next week.

14:42 - 17:53hrs. Wanders around West Ealing window shopping. No friends to be seen anywhere. Spends 99p on cream cake.

18:16hrs. Back home again. Electricity has failed to magically come back and fire has gone out.
Also discover that freezer is no longer freezing things and has begun to make puddles of water all over the kitchen floor. Woofeckinghoo.

18:22hrs Hang wet towels used to mop up puddles in kitchen on washing line and gets axe and logs to make some kindling so that can get fire started again.

18:59hrs: Just call me 'Firestarter'! Rah!

19:30hrs Getting dark so goes to dig out candles. Also, getting v.hungry!

19:41hrs. Find packet of instant noodles, prawn variety, so add some of my still v.hot water from thermos and wait for three minutes, stirring occasionally. The noodles that is, not me.

19:44 - 19:57hrs. Dinner by candlelight.

20:12hrs. Bored again. Pick up where left off with Harry Potter book.

22:05hrs. Oooh, incoming call on mobile, yay! 'Tis the ex-partner-in-crime! And he wants to know if I'd like to meet up for a drink even though it's late! Does happy dance before placing fireguard in front of last of the fire and grabbing the electricity key, scampers off up the road to meet him.

22:07hrs Back to house again. Swaps slippers for shoes. Back out again.

23:48hrs. Mmmm, light! Mmm, television! Mmmm, drinkies good, but needs spleep agains... *hic*
G'nightsh...

00:32hrs *zzzzzzzzzzzzz*

Hallelujah!

After spending Monday without electricity and since yesterday without intermanet connection, I am now back online again, yay!

So while the connection holds, here's a quicky for your Double Entendre Day, Caption Competition -

Make the most of it as this connection could go again at any seco

It's happened again. My brain has turned to peanut butter and I can't think if anything amazingly witty and erudite with which to entertain you.

Instead, I would like your help once again.

Recently I've been planning the worst possible dinner party. Reason why is that I can't stop watching the hilarious 'Come Dine With Me', and I'm trying to think up the most disgusting three course meal imaginable, just do that I could watch the other contestants trying to be polite while they eat it.
So far I've got -

Jam and stilton soup.
Mushrooms, grilled with marshmallows and garlic.
Oysters in chocolate sauce,
Strawberries in black bean sauce.
Curried vegetables with custard.
Roast Pork with toffee and sherbet stuffing.

Chocolate eclairs filled with cream cheese.
Blackberry and onion crumble.
Prawn and strawberry roulade.
Salmon ice cream.
Salt sorbet.

Over to you then!

Oh, and if anyone's interested, I sent in a photo to my local paper in the hope that they might choose it for their 'Picture of the Week', and lo and behold, they did, look-


And one last thing, this -

I'm planning on getting a breeding pair, asap!


Have a fabulous weekend everybody,

ttfn,

X

Most of the time I have a camera with me.

Sadly, the other day I didn't as after the Great British Duck Race the battery was on charge as I'd completely depleted it taking metric shed loads of clickage, and I missed a fabulous photo opportunity.

I'd popped along to one of my local pubs as the Ex-partner-in-crime had asked me if I wanted a drink, and feeling socialble at the time I agreed.

I'd nipped out to a shop to get one of those comics that pretend to be magazines, and on my way back I saw a bloke walking towards me.
He was laden with Lidls bags, must have been in his mid-twenties, had very unkempt hair with skin to match, was wearing jeans that a tramp would be ashamed to wear, his expression was one of belligerence and hatred towards the world in general and his whole demeanour was that of 'sod off and leave me alone or I'll belt you one'.
Nothing wrong with that whatsoever, and you're probably wondering why I desperately wanted my camera with me.
The reason was his t-shirt.
It was also filthy, and stained with what looked like samples from a bad curry house, but the pièce de résistance was the slogan on the front which read -

"Fuck off. I have enough friends already"

Pure class, in my opinion.

Oh, my little sugar lumps, once again 'tis Double Entendre Day here in this wee corner of the intermanet, and of course, as regular readers know that means it's time for another Caption Competition, huzzah!

For irregular readers, the aim of the game is that shortly I will show you a photo. Mostly these photos are ones that I've found by trawling search engines using words such as Bizarre, Tasteless, Strange or Hideous, and then post my finds so that readers can get their brains in gear in order to come up with as many 'captions' as possible with the main objective of getting up to 69 captions filling my box.
As Wednesdays here are also known as 'Double Entendre Day', it is common practise to make said comments as 'risqué' as possible, maybe even delivering a hat-trick of entendres if at all possible.

I'm sure we're all on the same page now, so all that is left for me to do is to post this week's piccy, which I did not have to snaffle from the intermanet, as I took it with my own fair paws at last Sunday's Great British Duck Race, and is this -

So, yes.

That's it really.

Now it's over to you, so please to get stuck in and stuff my box to capacity with as much smut as you possibly can.
Your reward?
A Fluffy Duck for every entry, and a Rubber Duck available should I get me a 69, and this week I really mean it about the latter!
Seriously, there's a rubber duck that ran the Great British Duck Race available for the person that leaves the 69th witty comment this week!
All that lucky person needs to do is get me that 69, then send me an address where I can send the ducky to.

So what are you waiting for...?

Get.

Stuck.

In!

Tales of the Unexpected, Part the First.

Many years ago I had some pet rabbits. I started off with two that the pet shop owner had told my parents sere both boys, but within a couple of weeks I discovered a half-dozen new, and very small rabbits in the hutch.
The people at the pet shop were very apologetic and kindly took the excess of bunnies off our hands when they were old enough, and swapped the 'boy bunny' that had given birth for one that was definitely male.
Or so we thought.
Long story short, I ended up with many rabbits, sometimes up to fifteen at a time, and also got known for looking after other people's rabbits and Guinea pigs whilst they went on holiday.
The area at the side of the house was turned into a rabbit's playground, with hutches along the end wall and a run which was fenced off at one end with a gate for getting in and stopping rabbits escaping, and this they enjoyed, but it meant they couldn't get to the lawn.
One day, my mother made a portable cage that we could set on the lawn so that the rabbits could get their greens and to my dad's delight, keep the lawn down.
It was a pyramid shape which meant it was easily portable, but very difficult to knock over which meant that the bunnies couldn't get out unless they tunneled. We also left a shelter for them, as well as water bottles and a bowl of rabbit food should they get bored with grass, and the bunnies loved it in there.
Knowing they were safe from harm in their run, one Saturday we left the bunnies to enjoy themselves on the lawn while we went to the shops just around the corner.
We couldn't have been away for even thirty minutes, but when we got back we found the most unusual sight.
We were greeted at the gates by one of the bunnies, and thinking the worst I dashed round to check on the others.
To our amazement, all four of the rabbits were calmly nibbling the grass, but none of them were inside the 'run'.
But in the run was a cat that was looking absolutely petrified.
The rabbits continued to hop about the run looking totally innocent, and each time one neared the run, the cat tried to hide under the shelter.
We herded the bunnies back into their hutches before the releasing the cat, which took off to next door's garden like a bat out of hell as soon as we lifted the run.
I still have no idea what happened that day.
As a famous vet once said, 'If only they could talk'.

Hooray and hurrah! I'm back online again, yay!

I still don't know why my intermanet broke, but broke it did, and just when I had a lot of things I had to get sorted too. Pseuds law, eh?
But anyway, it's working again now and I can only assume that it was because there was a day in the month or the wind was blowing from somewhere, and the Good News is that I can now post about what I did yesterday, which was to travel to Molely Lock at Hampton Court to report on this year's Great British Duck Race for The Londonist.
So, here's wot I wroted, which is very similar to what's just been published over here! <- clicky.

Yesterday found me at Molsey Lock at Hampton Court armed with cameras set to shiny in order to capture the third Great British Duck Race in photographic goodness.
Created by Mike Scott in 2006, the Great British Duck Race has been raising monies for charities by asking people to sponsor small rubber ducks that are let loose on the river Thames and race full pelt (or as fast as the tide will carry them) towards the finish line where the champion ducks are gathered and their numbers recorded so that some lucky sponsors win fabulous prizes!
The crowds were out in force to cheer on the brave little ducks and luckily the weather was good for humans instead of ducks this year and I didn’t get soaked to the skin like last time.
This year, the race was started by DJ Norman Jay MBE, fresh from Notting Hill Carnival, who also kept the fans happy by playing his rare groove sounds whilst awaiting the release of the ducks.
The lead charity this year was the NSPCC, but over the years the Great British Duck Race has also raised money for Cancer Research UK, Cats Protection, MacMillan Cancer Support, Diabetes UK, BEN, Shelter, FSID, BBC Children in Need, and Dogs Trust to name but a few, and as the GBDR has gained all necessary approvals from the Environment Agencies and local authorities it is now a registered organization in it’s own right, it looks set to carry on the good work for many years to come.
Another target of The Great British Duck Race, is to have races in Edinburgh, Belfast and Cardiff, and by 2012 when the Olympics are held in London, to race a record 1,000,000 ducks, beating this year’s 175,000!
I wish them luck, and hopefully I’ll be there to cheer the ducks on again and again, and maybe see you there too!

So, that was the highlight of my weekend, and I enjoyed every minute, especially the minutes when I got given champagne, woohoo!
As I said, I took loads of clickage which you can see by clicking on this 'ere link, or the photo below.

No Choose-O this week as I have a very, very busy day tomorrow, but fret ye not, I do have something planned for you delectation and delight.
But there's no getting out of telling me all about your weekends, so hie thee to my comments box straight away and get cracking.
Akay?

ttfn,

X

Misty's killed the internet TO DEATH again, and assures me she shall return just as soon as she has re-animated its still-twitching corpse.

So, while we're flogging the undead theme to ...err... DEATH - song titles with vampires, zombies, ghouls and werewolves.

I repeat: Song titles with vampires, zombies, ghouls and werewolves.

Your pal, Duck (Scary)

Hello again my cherubim, and awfully sorry about yesterday's lack of anything but I spent most of the Bonk Holiday in bed.

Before anyone thinks it was fun in any way, it was not as I was sneezy, dopey, spleepy, coughy, and shivery, but enough of naming dwarfs, it's now Double Entendre Day which means it's time for you to start making me feel better by giving my box a fabulous stuffing which hopefully get me another delicious 69!

I found this week's photo for the Caption Competition while perusing the charming Mr Free Market's blog and as I asked him nicely, he said I could use it here today.

So, here you go -

A fork with which to gouge out one's mind's eye for every comment, and a bottle of Brain Bleach available should anyone get me a 69.

As usual, it's now over to you, so without further ado,

Get

In

There!