Christmas message to the nations of the world

Ooops - Bongo Herbert!

Apologies to all concerned.

Friday night: an apeology

Can I say about Friday night how very sorry I am that you have none of you have yet apologised to me for your behaviour. What a disgraceful shower, and carrying on like that in Club Derrig!

Disco tonight and my dance card is ready!

Well, you've got to let a laydee dream, haven't you?

Crackling

So today I could've been a right Christmas cracker, all done up in a dapper little outfit, hanging about on a bridge with a few more of the lesser sorts from Team Derrig.

And where am I? Stuck up the back end of some filthy canal doing a quiz that I would've done much better.

I tell you now, there is no justice in this life.

Meaty goodness

Now imagine the equivalent for people who (imagine it if you can - deep breath) DON'T LIKE MEAT!!!!

There can be little more revolting than sticking something to your skin that resembles mashpo. Unless it be real mashpo. Or peas. Now peas - that'd be like having a gangrenous patch of buboes upon your hide.

So, stick with beef, you know it makes sense.

Bellybuster magnifico

Gourmet paradisico

After yesterday's ginormo-gutstuffer courtesy of Club Derrig's culinary corner, I have today partook of the annual festive chums lunch up Acorn House and done it all again.

I can barely move, only managing to waffle (waddle/shuffle) in a stiff-legged stylee and bloated to all feck. It feels like I could burst forth at any moment, spilling out like a huge sausage from a very thin skin, all pinkish and totally ghastly to the vegetarianistas.

"What a life!" as the Lebanesians do say about it, again.

Just lovin' them marvellous bongos!

Lookee-bongo-likee-bongo!

Feisty bongos!

Frenzy-Up-A-Bongo!

Bongo solo!

Bongos on a plate!

Master of bongos!

Restaurant review - Blow-out enormo (Bongos: Intermission)

Never in the field of human consumption was so much piled upon one plate for one person i.e. me, up at the gastronomic corner of Club Derrig.

Now that's what I call a feast, and no mash to boot! Spuds-a-plenty, gravy, meaty stuff, and yorkie puds.

Eat your own heart out. I nearly did.

Bing-o Brand-o bongo!

Hep-cat Daddie-o bongo!

Georgio bongo!

Bongo drongoes!

Bongo congo!

Clowning glory

I've been inspecting progress at the new heaquarters for moi truly.

Naturally health and safetiness is a big number one in such situations and so I donned the regulation overcoat and big yellow high-vis waistcoat.

However, as big chief uber-bod on the pro-ject I am provided with a special hat denoting my status.

I think I might keep it for those evenings entertaining the laydeez chez Derrig Towers.

Bongos!

Mano a mano

Any resemblance to the participants is entirely likely.

Today I have the once again privilege of being one-to-oned by her Boss-Ship-Of-All-She-Surveys-So-Watch-It-Me-Laddo TM.

Of course, I will let her think she has won. As per usual.

Of course I loves yer

I have been respected in my instruction that Club Derrig show the marvellously entertaining musical 'Sikes!' tonight in order that we may "singalonga" together at the words of it. I will - as is my habitual behaviour in darkened rooms - be beating my own knobkerry in time to any rhythmic oom-pah-pahs that arise, and heaven help anyone who stands in my way, sirrah!

My genius for this kind of idea is recognised throughout the environs here, and it was not stolen from Tallulah via the Genius Amanuensis at all, although he is known to be gifted with second-hand inspirationalism.

So, three cheers for me again, and on with the Tony-award-winning-common-law-wife-beating-set-pieces-accompanied-with-jaunty-music-but-that's-OK-it-was-all-years-ago.