Well done!

Can I take this opportunity to pay tribute to possibly the finest ever winner of Britain's Got Trouble?

Not only is Susie Boil a surprising voice in a woebegotten package, she is also a much-needed breath of fresh air in what passes for entertainment these days.

I look forward to her performancing in front of our Majesty the Queen of England and Thereabouts, and wish her well with all her merry quips and jigging.

Maladjusted malingerer

I decree today that life

Is simply taking and not giving

England is mine - it owes me a living

But ask me why, and I'll spit in your eye

Oh, ask me why, and I'll spit in your eye

But we cannot cling to the old dreams anymore

No, we cannot cling to those dreams

Does the body rule the mind

Or does the mind rule the body ?

I don´t know....

Under the iron bridge we kissed

And although I ended up with sore lips

It just wasn't like the old days anymore

No, it wasn't like those days

Am I still ill ?

Oh ... Am I still ill ? Oh ...

Does the body rule the mind

Or does the mind rule the body ?

I don´t know...

Ask me why, and I'll die

Oh, ask me why, and I'll die

And if you must, go to work - tomorrow

Well, if I were you I really wouldn't bother

For there are brighter sides to life

And I should know, because I've seen them

But not very often ...

Under the iron bridge we kissed

And although I ended up with sore lips

It just wasn't like the old days anymore

No, it wasn't like those days

Am I still ill ? Oh ...

Oh, am I still ill ? Oh ...

Apparently, yes you are still ill, Mr.Moz, and I'd like my money back.

One helluva night!

Another great night out with the Club Derrig barstewards.

I, too, was thoroughly wrecked.

Well I never!

Very, very impressive and no mistake.

Manly pub chat

"I always find that it takes a good friction rub to get it vertical, and then I rub the oil on. It can take up to ten minutes," sez me.

"I only wish mine was long enough. I'd certainly give it a go," sez he.

The long road home

I reckon it must have taken The Boss (Mighty-Fine-And-All-Round-Wonderful-Manager-That-She-Is)TM one helluva ride to make it back from Manchester this quick.

Still, as you can see, straight back to the office to check the building is still standing before finally heading home.

Now, that's what I call commitment.

And all this after being such a dragon.

Farmer Jon's British Wildlife Column for Kids 1

A guest posting today as we start British Wildlife Week, from Farmer Jon 'Buccaneer' Richards, that ol' Alabammy snake-oil salesman.

Hello, chillen! Hello!

Today we starts with Squirrels, or 'squirls' as we calls 'em on the farrrrm.



This 'un up above see, he's the reddun. A native squirl of these Isles and easily spotted cause as how you don't see manny of um these days. They's all been and gawn. I recalls as a lickle chillen seein them all at a-scamperin and a skippin through the trees and a gobblin theys nuts. Arrrr - grand old days. It used to be all fields raaand ere and ere about.

Now, kiddies, I know what your all a-thinking-of, cause old Uncle Jon can see right in your brain with his magic eye! The good eye, a-course.

Yous all be a-ponderin on why they is few of um nowabouts.

Here's the villain of the piece: that greyun.


Look close, now. See he's a darn sight bigger than the old reddun. And he's a squirl of another colour, that be grey and no mistake. 'E as driven ol reddun out. Aye, he been and done that orl right.

Now, what you do, you young 'uns, you get out there and ketch im, right? You ketch him good.

Then you kills him. Bash like. Bash or drahnin. Drahnin is a bit more fun like, but slower. I go for the bashin. It is your choice of killin, see?

Once bashed or drahned and dead, then you cooks it and eats it in a pie.

That's that gray 'un.

Now the reddun is different. He is as they grand folk say up Lunnon, 'protracted', so you can't go round no ways a-killin' these furry littl'uns like they greys. Oh, no.

You has got to ketch em and bring em in the shed. Where you can kill em pervided no-ones a-looking at cher. That's protacted, they are. They's tasty too.

Come the mornin' I'll tells you on the stoat. They's not protracted and is very good eating.

After you's done their brains in.

Nighty-night, you lickle 'uns. Don't let they bed-buggers bite!

And if they do, you can kill 'em an all.

Nighty-night!

Foiled again

Having made a close survey of all the available information on the weboblog, I am now able to reveal my own plan to avoid pig cold.

I do this neither to inflame nor dash cold water on the crazed panic currently gripping the entire planet.

The media has a responsibility to keep people informed and ACCURATELY INFORMED, Braisers, d'you hear?

It is in this spirit that I share with all those millions of fearful souls the one sure fire way of keeping those wicked germs away from your respiracles.

And, of course, you can make this at home.

International Workers Day

This is the motivational poster The Boss (GawdBless-'Er She's Mighty Fine And No Mistake If She Doesn't Mind Me Saying Or I Could Be Even More Obsequious If She Only Would Give The Word*) has placed on my wall to mark this special day.


I'm only glad she knows I'm here.


*Official title.