Nemesis 3

Judith Smartarse - Millionairess without audience cougher.

If I've mentioned this before do forgive me, but I am in the running to take on the Smartarses in a popular BBC2 teleprog.

Judith, who won squillions in the famous 'Make Chris Tarrant A Millionaire' quiz show is not a top-notch smartarse. She's one of the ones always up in the little box at the back at the end of the show.

I think she is possibly the Smartarse I could hammer most easily.

Quiz-wise, that is.

Awful mis-spelling disaster

I have been approached by a young laydee who was somewhat surprised to find I had made a rather appalling mistake in the post earlier today.

Whilst I normally have no time for the opinions and attitudes of those who query my accuracy, I have to say that on this occasion she pulled me up short and I have to say it's not an experience I'd like to repeat.

However, can I apologise now for the dreadful spelling error I committed in the previous post, which has caused such uproar. It should of course be spelled décolletage.

I've always had a problem with those fecking accents.

Film Review 10: Bram Stroker's Dracula

Synopsis: A bloke goes a-travelling to help out an old Counter with some legal problems. Pear-shaped it doth goeth gothically.

OUCH! NIGHT! NECK! TRIO OF LOVELIES! BITE! VAGUELY EROTIC STUFF A-HAPPNIN' TO HIM! BLOOD! WHAT CHOO TALKING BOUT RENFIELD!?!

Top vamp-chap comes to Yorkshire where he is assailed by flat-cappery, whippetry, and a bevy of available necks-by-night. Goes on a bit of a spree biting the necks of young ladies in various states of decolletage including a Lucy Harker.

Eventually caught out by a Prof Van Rental who gives him a steak, leaving him expired. What a way to go.

Col's commentary: A poor addition to the vampiricalism-on-film canon, saved only by the masterful performance of Gary Coleman as that titular Cunt Dracula. 2.71 stars out of a possible 26 - 'twenty-six' - 26 for the film, and 73 - 'seventy-three' - 73 for Gary's performance. Straight to video in Wales.

Relative clarity

Ma: So is that my lovely little Brendan, then? It's your ma here.

Brother Brendan: Yes, ma. It's me.

Ma: So it's you then, is it?

Brendan: It is.

Ma: Where are you then?

Brendan: I'm at home, ma.

Ma: Well that's very nice for you.

Brendan: And are you keeping yourself well, ma?

Ma: I am. And your father. We've been making lunch for hours.

Brendan: Spare me the details, ma.

Ma: Now I see your idiot brother's been on the telly again, may the saints preserve him.

Brendan: No he hasn't.

Ma: Oh, yes he was, he was on the other night. He told me so.

Brendan: No, ma, it was an audition. he wasn't actually on.

Ma: Yes, it was that programme....oh, what is it's name?...Oh, yes, "Dickheads".

Brendan: No, he wasn't on and it's not "Dickheads", ma, it's "Smartarses".

Ma: But I've been telling everyone in the village that he's a Dickhead now.

Brendan: Well, fair play to you ma. Fair play.

Nemesis 2

Daphnia off of that "Smartarses"

(Look, it's not me who's obsessed with my being a possible contender for "Smartarse of the Century". People keep asking and it is my bounden duty to keep them bulletinned-up.)

Ha! See that little-old-lady charming face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Don't be fooled - beneath that lovely Granny visage she is hiding the mind and viscidity of the quiz-world's equivalent of a Pot Pol.

I'll be putting Dicky 'Mythological' Evans on her case.

They'll be playing it on YourTube for years!

Robotwatch 7

A “TERMINATOR” world where robots are superior to man is just 40 years away, an expert claimed yesterday.

Entrepreneur Ben Wray predicted robot soldiers will form the core of many armies within the next 15 years.

And technological advances mean it will be only another 25 years before they can outwit us in intelligence and ability.

Defence chiefs are already looking at ways of protecting people from the nightmare of robots “gone bad”.

Ben forecast research programmes could start in a year.

That is from no less an eminent peer-reviewed paper than The Sun.

I tell you it's all getting a bit worrisome. Next there'll be fembots and everything.

Nemesis 1

B.J. - A man of many shirts

Did I mention that I'm being considered as a contestant for 'Smartarses'?

It's a televisionical quiz game in which the world's finest minds pit their brains against a bunch of weirdos like the famously self-opinionated drama king B.J.

I see him as my greatest rival for camera-time on this momentous media moment, but feel I could take him with one arm up my jumper.

Bring it on!

Coyote Ugly* Threesome

L-R: Jane 'Biker' Pendry, Sian 'Hooker' Davies and Sophie 'Daily Sport' Madden

It was, I have to say, a coup by that old Chief Barsteward Beattie to entrap a toothsome threesome of young fizgigs into serving at Club Derrig on Friday night. I don't know if he even advertised.

It certainly made a change from his glum physiog mooning out across french-polished bar top.

After a brief warm-up behind the shutters in the guiding hands of your correspondent, they were ready to roll.

And we got some welcome relief from the 'music' inflicted on us by the likes of Richards, Bertuchi, and the Midget-Snapper conglomerate, with a well-chosen selection of their mums' and dads' record collections, (admittedly along with one sadly ill-chosen track by those US charlatans the emo-punker-surfcore-thrash-bottom sorts Wink 182.)

I'm only sorry I had to make my excuses and leave early(ish) before they had auctioned me off.

*Their term, not mine.

Avec Braisers 6

Arrr, cap'n, avast and belay it be that scurvy bilge rat Braisers, again.

Strutting his stuff in his flimsy garments - shall I keelhaul him, cap'n, and then we can get on with tipping down the rest of that keg of grog! Arrgh-hah-arrrgh!

Aye, land lubbers - 'tis International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

(I've had more email about this picture than virtually any other in the history of Hell-o-oh. About 8% complimentary. In an attempt to placate my correspondents I have reprinted it, suitably bowdlerised.)

Avec Braisers 5

Braisers ecrit:

Report number 5, SAH! It's always a delight to feel the feel of haut couture lycra aginst ones fleshly parts in what is clearly a very liberated country. I say it's about time we shed our inhibitions and joined the continentalians and indulged in their saucy displays on our own home-soiled beaches! Vive la one-piece cozzie! I have gone French, and no mistake! Adieu, mon chapeau! Report ends.

I say, salute, Monsieur Braisers!

But there we must leave him, wrapt in the pleasures of the damned, a lotus eater dreaming in bliss as the cares of the world pass him by.

Avec Braisers 4

Braisers ecrit

Report No.4, SAH! Here I am drawing on my spiritual reserves before a-plonger moi (as the Francos have it) in the depths. I'm not quite sure what liquid it is but it's not water - I can see right through it. Apparently it's quite a common habit of the locals to strip off and paddle about au bout de souffle en trunks. I can see the advantages as one can both cool down and put back the ablutions for another month. And my hat seems to have fallen off.

Avec Braisers 3

Braisers ecrit:

Report number three, SAH!

How the culture here varies from my own!

I have decided to venture onto the beach which I believe is safe to do as there is a green flag above the station of the enmuscled lifeguard whose life-saving trunks appear to have shrunk in the wash to the point of being quite "clenchy". I am sure it must be fashionable to have one's lower vitals gripped in quite such a manner but I am sure it won't catch on in Darlington, home of the famous tigers!

I am sunk deep in Proust who was a Frenchman of very ill-repute for writing interminably long sentences with masses of sub-clauses that just seemed to drift on and on, rather like the Longines Symphonette, or as if the sentence was powered by a perpetual motion machine that actually worked, without end and apparently without the need to say anything of any merit - which is a pretty disastrous way to go on if you ask me and clearly you did otherwise you wouldn't have asked for my reports in such an eager way - and without merit which makes me wonder how it is that he ends up having page after page of the most boring drivel put into a book that is virtually an experiment in monotony, unlike, for example, Gorgs Prc who did a full book of writing without using a vital glyph that falls twixt 'd' and 'f', a fantastic act and without parity.

The language is still utterly densely impenetrable.

Fortunately I am in possession of my Red-Snapper-cancelling headphones and can read virtually undisturbed by her photographickery - not that she'd want any of me, so to speak.

Must take hat off.

Report ends.

Avec Braisers 2

Braisers ecrit:

Report No.2, SAH!

At the whim'n'behest of a trusty local I have been whisked up on a boat and sent to sea, or La Mare as the French-o-philes might put it.

On asking I learn that I am aboard an 'escargoat' - one of a fleet of plucky little vessels on which snooty, hard-loving Frenchmen risk their lives to bring home the bounty that is the snail. Which goes lovely with garlick, like most French cuisine, smothering as it does the taste of virtually anything. I believe the garlick to have been developed as a gastronomic retort to the British equivalent, brown sauce.

I am groaning with wonder at being thrust right up the middle of Franco-culture into this hot spot of rubbery delicacies. Yum.

Et, le famous Rugby Union is very trés populaire round these parts, what with the Catalonian fondness for a bit of roughing up and giving a good kicking between the posts. Everywhere I go I am greeted with "Bonjour, Monsieur Tony Le Tigre" - a reference to my affinity with the Darlington Tigers, no doubt.

Or occasionally it's, "Bonjour Mr.Crocodile Dundee." Must take hat off. Report ends.

Team CD audition victory

Team CD on their way to glorious victory: (Back row L-R) Mr. Benjamin 'Bottler' Thomas,

Yours Truly, Mad Dicky Evans. (Front row L-R) Gavin ' Rugby star? Moi?'Edwards,

The Genius Amanuensis Williams; and Tim 'Lyonnaise' Bertuchi.

I am overwhelmed to bring you news that I have single-handedly saved Team CD from the indignity of Dicky "Science Officer" Evans making a fool of us all in the audition for 'Smartarses'.
I suppose to be fair, Dicky's questions were far harder than he may have expected and he wasn't listening.

Confronted with an opposition of two surly unemployed youths with terrible haircuts or some kind of alopecia, the team - under my guidance - still went on to snatch a stunning victory from the jaws of a no-score-draw.

In his usual louche manner Mr.B.T. (or 'Beattie' as he has chosen as a stage name) managed to dredge up at least one wrong answer and still defeat his hopeless opponent. Par for the course.

The Genius Amanuensis did a cool, efficient job, slamming his opponent to the carpet in a neat no-nonsense way before being reminded it was an audition for 'Smartarses'. He then charmed his way effortlessly through his questions leaving the would-be-indie-band-member 'Dan' torn and broken in a mental way.

La Bertuchi (specialist subject: hiking), polished off a food and drink round with a string of guesses that could see him making an appearance on the next series of MasterCooker as a guest judge.

I have to play special tribute to my choice of replacement for the Spiv (who was seduced by the Lady Jojojo into spending a 'long' weekend in a house in Hastings with pampas grass in front of it) one Gavin 'Newsreader? Moi?' Edwards - and his unerring ability to identify the bazooka as the national musical instrument of mass delusion of that plucky little nation Japan.

For myself, I believe I acquitted myself well with many jolly quips and comic interjections, along with a little subtle physical comedy, which had them rolling in the aisles - a larger-than-life performance which saved us from slipping into the rejection pile and no error. The camera could barely contain my enormity.

I look forward to taking on that BJ and Daphnia mano-a-mano.

UPDATE: Beattie is miffed. He was asked in the auditions to name the famous politican author of the the book "While England Slept". He proffered a rather uncertain reply of Winston Churchill, and was told he was WRONG!!! The spavined youth pretending to be the real 'Smartarses' quizmeister Dermot Murderman said the answer was J.F. Kennedy.

However, Beattie writes now:

"According to the official Winston Churchill website he did have a book published in 1938 called ‘While England Slept’, the JFK book was called ‘Why England Slept’ published in 1940 in reference to the earlier Winston Churchill title. I’ve a good mind to write to Eggheads."

Avec Braisers 1

This week I will be reporting on Monsieur Braisers tour de French, using his words as mumbled to me through his own teeth (when the HP payments end) via "Text-a-word-or-two" the new application on the latest generation model Brais-o-phone. By this means we can learn much about our comrades across the water and aid the old entente cordiality.

Braisers ecrit:

Reporting for duty, SAH! I can report that the Brais-o-phone appears to be in good working order, even in the shadow of the mighty Pyreknees. I believe this to be a good indicator that the French have established rudimentary telecommunication skills. Hot. Must take off hat. Report ends.

Celebration practise

As the potential winner of 'Smartarses' I have decided to practise my celebration techniques.

I have decided to adopt a method in which it is possible to ostentatiously display the wealth at my fingertips through the excessive spillage of the old vino.

Ha! I'm ready for that audition right now!

I just hope they are ready for me and Team CD on Monday afternoon. We will be wearing one-piece lilac velvet catsuits and black top hats. I felt it would make us more memorable and they'd be sure to sign us up without further ado.

Newsflash!!!! Update!!!!

With my technical head on I can now report that the source of the lack of news today is a BT issue on the Mayfair exchange. BT are investigating and have engineers at the affected exchange.

I provide this merely as a service to my less techincally-gifted readers, and those on other servers who may be similarly affected but failed to contact their IT support for advice.

I hope that normal drinking will be resumed as soon as possible.

Newsflash!!!!!

All suspiciously quiet.

Clever Clogs

I am delighted, but not at all surprised, that I have been approached to put together an elite team for the wacky BBTV show quiz "Smartarses".

I can, of course, answer on pretty much any subject you care to engage upon me with. The downside is that I am unable to be considered a team on my own.

Having cast around Club Derrig for likely team members I identified the Lady Jojojo, Jools Hallam, Tallulah and the Twins of Evil (on a job share basis) as those with the most potential.

Armed with this information I gathered them together in a state of heightened anticipationing and awarded them team membership.

Unfortunately, not only did they all start getting a tad iffy when the Lady Jojojo revealed that her legions of past boyfriends would be alarmed to see her present state of decrepitude, and that TV adds around half a stone to one's appearance, but I also discovered that between them they were a coven of blithering fools.

The putative Team CD had taken a right royalist knock and no mistake!

I looked at the dregs of humanity slumped drooling against the bar - men at their lowest ebb, and only the vainest hope of charitable support - and chose Bertuchi, Evans, Oestreicher, and Mr"." Thomas, with the Genius Amanuensis along for the ride.

Between us we could fill a bucket with what we don't know.

Keep 'em peeled for our possible televisual appearance.

A-sailing

I only put this picture up in the full knowledge that someone - you know who you are - will want to ensure the balance is maintained by sending in a picture of Braisers in his waistcoat and swimming cozzie lounging like an oiled-and- pampered cad on a French beach.

Caption Competition 4 / Look-ee-likee?

Captions in the comments, readers.

Caption Competition 3

You know the drill - captions proposals in the comments section.

Caption Competition 2

As usual, caption suggestions in the comments please.

Caption Competition 1

Submit your entries via the 'comments' section at the bottom of this post.

Cet a été un très bon an

A 'carte postale' arrives from the Braisby-Kendalls, vactionering en Francois.

Bonjour Monsieur Hake!

C'est tout rond d'art ici. L'art, l'art, l'art, l'art d'art. Ils disent c'est la lumière. Les unités les à l'absinthe, vous savez. Beaucoup de bateaux. Et plus d'art. Presque huit jours au Templiers maintenant et la boisson court hors. Mais assez d'art. Cet a été un très bon an.

Le nain Sous et le Lutjanidé Rouge

Never let it be said they don't know how to put the wind up the locals. Wheresoever they be.

Well I never!

Will there never be an end to those fleeing the country to avoid their obligations like I did until I coughed up the necessary and the ruckus was thus brushed firmly but discreetly twixt the underlay and the upper floor-covering?