Wicca Man

It's taken me some time to come to terms with what happened whilst on vacancy in the Jolly Green Isle but, as Mozquito has it - "It's time the tale were told".

One evening I was stumbling back from a pre-pre-prandial along a deserted stretch of country lane when I came across a whole raftful of goats stuck up a tree. An amazing site and no mistake.

But this carried with it a rare old whiff of the paganicity - which is truly remarkable for a country of grand religious observance where they still make the intercessors run off with the 'housekeepers' after years of everyone knowing that the jig was well and truly up.

I happened upon a local in a ditch and asked him to outline to me the curious circumstances that led to goats being elevated thus.

"Tis the virgins!" he cried in alarm. "We put them she-goats up there for safe keeping away from those vigorously-energetic lads with the rising sap who...," and here he leaned closer in, his rank breath befouling my nostrils, and whispered, "...Who know not of womenfolk!"

I gave him five Irish Eurocents and went on my way, thinking that this practice must be established immediately around the globe.

I say this for it is my experience that the rising of the sap is an event of international occurrence.

It would be a disaster of epic-ish proportionery to end up with a worldwide race of goat-men, over whom the likes of Tallulah, Lady Jojojo, and Jools Hallam, and their crazed ilk would lord it up in their ruler's oufits of crowns and latex catsuits, using big sticks for the prodding.

Probably.

Duller

Yes, indeed, the weather here may be "dull", "gloomy", "overcast", "grey" or "depressing", and that's plenty of good reason for me to be down in the dumpster.

Come on, people! Sing with me in unison:

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Ive looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on evryone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
Ive looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its cloud illusions I recall
I really dont know clouds at all


Still, there's always tomorrow.

Dull

Yes, indeed, the weather here may be "dull", "gloomy", "overcast", "grey" or "depressing", but that's no reason for everyone around me to be the same.

Come on, people! Sing with me in unison:

Grey skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
Put on a happy face
Put on a happy face
And if you're feeling cross and bitterish
Don't sit and whine
Think of banana split and licorice
And you'll feel fine
I knew a girl so glooming
She'd never laugh or sing
She wouldn't listen to me
Now she's a mean old thing
So spread sunshine all over the place
Just put on a happy face
So, put on a happy face

There now, I bet you're feeling better already!

Ungratitudinous

I was thinking about Snow White the other day.

A bit later I was a-pondering on just what an ungrateful little minx she was. Seven chaps all running round at her beck and call, digging up diamonds for her and all.

How does she repay them? Buggering off with the first prince that shows up on the scene and plants a smacker on her mush.

No wonder our younger generation are a disappointment if we're feeding them this unpleasantness.

Film review 9: Armagideon

For this review I have attempted the form in the style of a post-modern jape.

Weird food alert VI

Sometimes, when I need to crack open an egg, I will try to do it the way they always do on TV, with one hand. I usually make such a mess after the first one or two that I go back to the tried-and-true, two-handed method of cracking eggs.

This picture shows the ingredients for scrambled eggs, but in this blog post, I'm just going to focus on the egg-cracking step, which will apply whenever you use eggs, not just scrambled eggs.

Do notice something which may seem strange for a beginning cook. In addition to the large bowl in which I'm going to mix my ingredients, I have set out a small bowl (the one shown is called a "custard cup") just for the purpose of cracking open the egg(s).


You should always first crack open the egg into a second bowl before you add it to the mixing bowl. This allows you to examine the egg and, if it doesn't look perfect, you don't ruin the rest of your ingredients.

In addition, if a stray piece of eggshell falls into the bowl, it's easier to fish out of the small bowl than the one containing the rest of your ingredients.


By the way, to remove a bit of shell, use another (larger) piece of the broken shell. Amazingly, it acts like a magnet. It's a lot harder (and messier) trying to grab the broken bit with your fingers.


Many people crack open an egg on the side of the mixing bowl. This method pretty much guarantees you will get a bit of shell in the mix.

A better approach is to tap the egg (gently!) on the counter until there's a small dent (not a large crack!) You can then put your two thumbs in opposite sides of the dent, and be able to gently pull apart the shells.

Drop the egg into the small dish (custard cup) you have set aside for the purpose.

If there are no shells and the egg looks good, you can then add the egg to your mixing bowl.

Ta-da!

So, Mr. Ben "I'm an eggspert, me" Thomas, stick that up your coccyx and give it a whisk.

Robotwatch 6

Rise of the machine: Terminator-style robot war 'could be a reality within 10 years'

That's not me talking.

Nor is it the unscrupulous Paul "Wacko-jacko-mcpaxo" Jackson, seeking to raise expectations on his gamble on a robot takeover.

No - it is the Daily Mail! The very voice of middle-England nutbag reason!

I fear for our very soft flesh and tender parts at the mercy of such metal demons.

Film review 8: Monkey Planet

Here I show my appreciation of that great film Planet of the Apes in the art-form of mime.

Desperate hearts ad No.3

Hmmm. Desperado romantico in vino tinto bellissimo.

I'm still coming to terms with the Spiv's failure to date in fetching me up against some sordid female with too much money and a brain that can accommodate a sizeable knowledge of figurines and a delight in listening well to often complex stories of drunken intrigue.

Three strikes and you're out is, I am led to believe, common parlance in the old advertising-for-luuuurrrrvve game, so this is my last Spiv-directed attempt to hook a wriggler.

His advice is 'honesty is the best policy' but I have to ask myself, how on earth does he know that?

OK. Seconds out...round three.

Eligible, debonair, Richard Gere look-ee-likee linked to motor sports. Own substantial financial assets, and a superb townhouse in fashionable Hornsey in excellent condition. Would be good, wouldn't it? Well, lower your sights you dimwit. Box 2777776.

That's going in Hare and Hound.

On recalling past glories

I was just thinking back to 10 days ago.

I've had some great dates, but that was definitely one of the best.

The green green green green green grass of home

After all that time closeted with Mr. Benjamin Thom"a"s and the money-cidal Dick and the Lady Mellifluous I am greatly happy to be relieving myself for a day or so on the lush green carpets of the family seat.

A postcard from Tallulah

Tallulah writes from her secure holiday home in Franceland, in her native tongue:

"Goseroc ca hego. Nadala da ba suretu ohitetic ieharasum reca pa lireni risa; moye luriso nalaco etirienot. Sayedo cerek naroce nabota agomanon bega lotari leguxim umege elotus. Coriw ca roceho eseh huxip unic edobit sefeya.

Ene bedepi cos otop ritega nal. Nete dapare inahog ecebet eca. Yorela to puniret ulerebo tenitiy ye ota role tepanus. Fe aris sil nowietet rielu cureca hetaji lesoh tirecip. Iego eci elone atig mesi capot iecab.

Ime inesino bicied. Delum holiril cinaru. Sasan ibapayiy oderenuk pieqe la dicalan atibe hagoleh! Pot emayiereb delexat vuliet noliesas totu ren toge onon esip! Doloh kigeyu ehihube.

Latie bodapu sopena igacir reh isasin inunarub sela telof erami; pi mutenag samemod soce retet upinec ba, cebid osopijip edocumu: Comesa eronesep nerar. Omib atin nof lonires nosut selasup.

Ezir lag egapoho evo ala niroqut asiegede. Liriziv pi pocey rohat ma ba, lilene ieces pagat retace inurayiel ilelofo itipi. Ritet petin abo! He co ere nusota.

Regune nogarun liwas dal sa retorif ehitor ayi nod hilir. Reref tayuca ci faqas biefutol kic. Ce selub donir hala alakil eceral ogobatim eninopur pikoru keno, esube rehes rigeva osep ra imohad pieta. Miv si nate adas giyote sefocet sa lenelin onut nadopa.

Gisiegi gitur pa edi ma liq. Yiducet nuceg lahesan lisa asakepe, nam ile bareces soligol ber. San laremir petiy, orote semulo atoloyi tedieh yusoni ta ner.

Dopopa seroc isotora imegara canesaw pinayien. Seto yisefan netu netohe ebaro siq ceqota secero. Ibor itilil yigiru. Neco tapi pat. Idicup yod etib ratiecem sekec obatul efurie fadihe nis."

It only needs to go through the Tallulah-phone and we'll all be much clearer.

Taking The Eire With Benji 3

A blessed relief that today is our last day trapped in this luxurious hell-hole together.

Cabin-fever doesn't even go halfway to describing it. More like "Cabinfevercabinfevercabinfever" if I had to be more explicit.

Never has so much been drunken up by so few so quickly with the aim of obliterating any memory of what transpired last night.

Let me just say that it was probably for the best that Mr.T chose to return to Blighty early and that we were able to incinerate his silk dressing-gown in the shed away from the poor horses so that no-one ever need find out the awful truth.

Taking The Eire With Benji 2

I had insisted on twin beds, but hadn't reckoned on how easily they could be pushed together!

I refer of course to the broken man, Dicky 'Cashbags' Evans. If he had had the energy this morning to be furious he would easily have been so a dozen times over. It's no wonder he can't cope with the famous Evans challenges if he is often used as cruelly as he clearly was all night (as we could tell from our chambre next door).

Highly embarassing of course, and even more so when the ever-charming Lady Mellifluous strolled in from an all-night lock-in up the Drum and Flag.

Taking the Eire with Benji 1

Oh, the ignominy.

I have been forced back onto Mr. T as a standby, and am here in the Republic of Green with him partnering me to a wedding as my "plus 1".

Fortunately I have secured for our uses a rather delightful little place in the hills on the Welsh side of the border which comes fully-equipped and very well-appointed.

A shame one cannot say the same about Mr.T.

A good thing I had the foresight to attach myself to this little sortie through the unsuspecting offices of Dick 'Moneybuilder' Evans and his owner the Lady Mellifluous. Dick is here on a wedding party-cum-RNLI-fundraising effort, unware of the impact on the locals of seeing a rather challenging chap dressed in orange wandering around their village.

I can only hope there are no untoward occurrences.

Spooky

Just in case you hadn't noticed.

This spooky hot date brought to you by Sir Colin Derrig's Freak-Em-Out Calendar-Related-Weirdness Corporation.

Hot under the collar

Getting mighty excited about my very special date tomorrow.

I've got a date!

No, nothing to do with the Spiv's efforts on the desperate hearts front. I'm very disappointed with his attemtpts so far I must say.

All will be revealed about my date this Thursday.

I've been promised what's been described as pretty much a once in a lifetime sort of thing!

Desperate hearts ad No.2

The Spiv's last effort netted a remarkable four replies. All from a Mr."Knows-all, sees-all" Mompas, offering to aid me with his psychic impotence curative.

I'm now offering myself up to the Desperate Hearts column in Motorsport Monthly. I think the Spiv may have hit the nail on the head here with his advice to add an air of mystery in amongst the job description.

"Gorgeous keen woman wanted 18-30. Must be adaptable and able to hold down own job. Handy with a sponge also useful. No wine-tasters."

Word of the week 13

Film Review 7: Twins of Evillness

Synopsis: There's a message floatin' in the air, come from crazy horses ridin' everywhere. It's a warning, it's in every tongue, gotta stop them crazy horses on the run. What a show, there they go smokin' up the sky, yeah!
Crazy horses all got riders and they're you and I. Crazy horses,crazy horses, crazy horses, crazy horses. Never stop and they never die, they just keep on puffin', how they multiply. Crazy horses will they never halt? If they keep on movin' then it's all our fault. What a show, there they go smokin' up the sky, yeah! Crazy horses all got riders and they're you and I. Crazy horses,crazy horses, crazy horses, crazy horses. So take a good look around, see what they've done, what they've done, they've done, they've done, they've done, they've done, they've done, they've done, what they've done.

Col's Commentary: Features Twin of Evil A and Twin of Evil 1. The other horse went uncredited. The first film that's sensitively dealt with the gruesome horror that is vampire shirehorses. Well done! On tonight, BBC2, 12.05am.