I think this is mostly because what was in the bottle is now in Mister Scott, and, hardened drinker and possessor of an iron liver, copper stomach and iridium kidneys, even he might fall foul of - SIRIAN BRANDY*!
| Superglue? Or sinful bottle love? Only you can tell! |
I think it was this terrifying stuff he used to render evil, awful and somewhat naieve aliens unconscious. Let's face it, if it can immobilise a shapeshifting alien superfiend, what chance has a human?
Although he was fine the next day without a trace of hangover.
The Metro - A Glorious Target Again!
Yes, I am back in work today, so you only get one post. Whether this is a good or bad thing is a matter of perspective -
Actually, no, it's a bad thing as it means lower traffic for BOOJUM!
Anyway, there I was perusing tomorrow's fish-and-chip wrapper when I caught sight of this perfectly appalling picture:
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| Dammit, Art, NO! John Peel vouched for her. So, reluctantly, she is hand's off. |
<short pause as the Tazer is brought out and used, to the sound of shrieking>
- this perfectly appalling picture -
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| A penguin. A PENGUIN! |
So far we've had cats, dogs, sloths, orang-utangs and now penguins.
When - when, I say, with a catch in my voice - will we ever see a weasel feature in an advert**?
Moving swiftly on, as I have been on the late shift and it's already nearly 8 p.m., I looked at "60 Seconds" and Matthew Wright. Never heard of him - yet what's this? He hosting the Progressive Music Awards. I like him already. What does he say about Prog?
"It's music for people who are interested in more than monotonous dance beats and anorexic type people who appear on Saturday night TV all year round. So if you don't like that, you might like prog. It's slightly more complicated music for slightly more complicated people."
I thoroughly like this chap! In fact I'm going to post bits of his interview on the blog, because I can, and it would annoy the Metro if they ever found out.
Which gives Conrad - a big fan of prog - an excuse to post a Pink Floyd album cover.
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| I used to think this was a weird glass engine. |
Premier League Football On Television
"WHAT?" I can hear you shriek. "Take away this alien shapeshifter that has taken over from Conrad this human being that has taken over from Conrad!"
Don't panic, I merely happened to be watching one of the screens at The Halfway House last night before the Pub Quiz started, noticing a few things about the match being played.
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| The Germans call it a "Fussball", and, so you know, they're absolutely right |
1) There are electronic display hoardings that run the entire circumference of the pitch. They alter their advertising display*** every few seconds. They are extremely distracting, except apparently to the club accountants, who find that the £££ generated helps keep eyes on the ball.
2) The ball was a girly bubblegum pink in colour.
Really, I know they try to broaden the demographic appeal, but how many teenaged girls are going to - and then the penny dropped when they stopped kicking the ball. It's a white ball with red patches on - doubtless an advertising marque that the accountants insisted on - and when in motion the optical illusion granted by speed turns it pink.
3) The team playing in a green strip vanished against the background of the pitch, which was the same shade of green. Surely this gives them an advantage? "There he goes, chasing the long ball, a lovely bit of footwork there - oh - something invisible's tripped him up."
4) In fact the colour scheme reminded me of something. I have no idea who the two teams playing were, but - one was in green, one was in red, the goalies were in purple and the referee was in orange.
What does this - HA! GOT IT!
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| The evidence! |
THE PREMIER LEAGUE IS SPONSORED BY STARBURST!
You know it makes sense.
Edna's Favourite Game
This is one I can play downstairs when dogsitting, or even reading at the kitchen table, but not really whilst working at my computer.
I class all the toys she has in this activity as playing "Tuggy Bone". As you can see I'm using my right hand, which prevents typing anything, so she gets short shrift when BOOJUM! is being created. Downstairs on the sofa she gets longer shrift but she will continue for up to twenty minutes, by which time this decrepit old man's arm is aching.
And there we have hit the word count for tonight after only 30 minutes. I sketched all this out in my notebook as I have yet to do the weekly shop at Morrisons, and they shut at 10, and I don't get the car till 8:45^.
*From Sirius, the solar system, not Syria, the country
** The "Tufty Club" doesn't count
*** Cruelly without weasels
^ O! the woes of a blogger. I've not had any tea yet, either.
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