Alternative Queen's Seasonal Message

At last - it's what you've all been waiting for!

Alternative Queen's Seasonal Message - Still 3

Alternative Queen's Seasonal Message - Still 2

Alternative Queen's Seasonal Message - Still 1

Seasonal message: a special announcement

Festive Holly

Dear reader, as you will already know it is a custom going back to the dark ages of blogging that I do hereunto produce a well-regarded and highly-respected message for my adoring fan and you about the yuletide what is about to wash us all over.

It will come as no surprise therefore that this year I have listened to you lot and regretfully have to inform you that having giving careful thought to all your many requests and demands to do otherwise, I am pressing ahead as usual.

For what is a man? What has he got? If not himself, then he has naught.

But to encourage you to partake in the visual feast heading your way my-blog-wise on the great day of itself 25 December, Christmas (and give you a reason to escape the unwanted, nay, chilling embrace of your family and 'loved ones' for a brief moment of respite from all that creepy "jollity" gruesomeness and settle down in front of your PC - or for those with creative pretensions "Mack" - with a nice drop of the cockle-warming hard stuff [but not on a works computer, Beattie] before visiting me here at the blog) I will be publishing a few exclusive stills from my seasonal film over the next few hours.

So, do remember to tune in on Christmas Day for my alternative Queen's Speech.

Beattie mouths off, encore

Following his moment d'success wowing a yankee audience with his articulations it seems that Beattie has been freelancing it as a public speaker, regaling anyone who cares to stop and listen to his Fidel-length perorations.

Of course, he picked up all he needed to know from the master of oratory myself.

Here he is, up Kent, a-nattering and a-chattering in the local lingo about whatever comes to mind in a random tumble of subjects and modes of expression, yet still holding them spellbounded.

Fortunately for all, this particular talkathon was recorded for posterity by that fine organ The Kent Infector, so let us relive Beattie's grand words again.

(Coughs.) My fellow Kentuckians, It gives me great pleasure, and always has done.

So I want you to know how much of a privilege it is for you to be standing around listening to me at this momentous time.

I came in a big metal tube on wheels from across the river to view your big concrete teepees and drink your beer, which - frankly - is pish.

But you didn't beg me to come here as a last-minute replacement for the two other people who couldn't be arsed to come but you'd have preferred. I am told.

So let's get down to business and the what I am here about.

Χασμουρητό είναι ένα από τα πιο κάτω-εκτίμησα συμπεριφορές. Είναι μια στερεότυπη και συχνά επαναλαμβανόμενα πράξη κινητήρα, που χαρακτηρίζεται από ανοιχτό το στόμα συνοδεύεται από μια μεγάλη έμπνευση, μια σύντομη ακμή που ακολουθείται από μια σύντομη λήξη. Το σθένος της πράξης μπορεί να αυξήσει τη διέγερση.

Αν και κοινωνικά προσβλητικό για πολλούς, χασμουρητά φέρνουν συχνά την ευχαρίστηση να το χασμώμενος. Ενώ επηρεάζεται από διάφορους νευροδιαβιβαστές, χασμουρητό επηρεάζεται έντονα από την ντοπαμίνη.

Η ντοπαμίνη ενεργοποιεί την παραγωγή οξυτοκίνης στον paraventricular πυρήνα του υποθαλάμου, η οξυτοκίνη μπορεί να ενεργοποιήσει τότε χολινεργική νευροδιαβίβαση στον ιππόκαμπο και το δικτυωτό σχηματισμό του εγκεφαλικού στελέχους. Acethylcholine προκαλεί χασμουρητό μέσω του μουσκαρινικούς υποδοχείς της επενεργητές. Άλλοι νευροδιαβιβαστές μπορούν να διαμορφώσουν την εμφάνισή του, όπως η σεροτονίνη, νευροπεπτιδίων, υποκρετίνης και σεξουαλικών ορμονών.

Η μείωση των χασμουρητό στους ηλικιωμένους προτείνει μια σχετική μείωση της ντοπαμινεργικής δραστηριότητας. Χασμουρητό και τέντωμα έχουν σχέση φυλογενετικής παλιές ρίζες. Ηθολόγοι συμφωνούν ότι τα περισσότερα σπονδυλωτά χασμουρητό. Χασμουρητό είναι μορφολογικά παρόμοια στα πτηνά ερπετά,, τα θηλαστικά και τα ψάρια. Μπορούν να είναι προγονική απομεινάρια επιβιώνουν σε όλη εξέλιξη με μικρή διακύμανση.

Στο ανθρώπινο έμβρυο, χασμουρητό συμβαίνει ήδη από το 12 εβδομάδες μετά τη σύλληψη και παραμένει σχετικά αμετάβλητη καθ 'όλη τη ζωή. Σε όλη την διάρκεια ζωής, ύπνο, υποβάλλεται σε αρκετά σχετίζονται με την ηλικία αλλαγές. Διατριβές αλλαγές αφορούν τη διάρκεια του ύπνου και το ποσό των REM και NREM ύπνου.

Μπορούμε να περιγράψει, κατά τη διάρκεια του ύπνου REM, μία καμπυλόγραμμη πορεία με μια απότομη πλαγιά κατεβαίνει στο τελευταίο χρόνο της ζωής έμβρυο και το πρώτο έτος της ζωής, ένα επίπεδο οροπέδιο σε όλη την παιδική ηλικία και την ενήλικη ζωή, σιγά-σιγά τη μείωση μέχρι την ηλικία. Μια παράλληλη καμπύλη δείχνει την ομοιότητα της εξέλιξης της συχνότητας χασμουρητό και την ποσότητα του ύπνου REM.

Έτσι, από ontogeny, φυλογένεση και αυτή η προσέγγιση μοντελοποίησης αναδύεται μια βασική σύνδεση μεταξύ χασμουρητό και τον ύπνο REM. Χασμουρητό είναι τροποποιήσεις σε ορισμένες παθολογικές καταστάσεις που σχετίζονται με τη γήρανση.

Thank you, and please make donations in the hat being passed around.

Found dignity at the disco

(Apologies for the dreadfully poor quality of this. Neither has been to proper dancing lessons.)

Lost dignity at the disco

On the day after the disco my true love left for me:

Twelve laydeez handbags,
Eleven lighters (broken),
Ten Benson and Hedges,
Nine spare Christmas cards,
Eight mobile phones
Seven undrunken Advocaats,
Six stale mince pies
Five pairs of shoes
Four cheap old scarves
Three tasteless bracelets
Two old pairs of tights
And a skirt which can all be claimed from se-cur-i-teeeee.

Secret satan - another big let-down

I didn't think things could sink any lower than the rag-bag of gifts touted round in the All-New Club DerrigTM secretive Satan team-dismantling exercise that we endured last year.

How wrong I was, with only the Genius Amanuensis getting something he wanted this year, and the rest of us putting up with the bleak gleanings of yuletide market-stall knock-off bargains and mystery objets d'mart.

Perhaps the real low-lights though were the upper-lip-hair-enhancing kit won by Shazza:

And the gift to end all gifts, an unfinished sock, won by someone who used to work in Team Derrig, whose name escapes me, but whose foot is unmistakeable, having had it on my neck a fair few times:
Here's hoping that next year sees a massive upshifting quality-wise, and that a second sock at least is forthcoming.

Auf wiedersehen, darlink

Farewell, Brunhilde, one of the foxiest of all the Laydeez up the All-New Club DerrigTM. (I'm sorry I could only find a picture from the 1970's.)

Big job

Tonight I have a very special set of duties protecting one of the most influential and giant figures of our era.

It'll be a case of:

SYNCHRONISE WATCHES!

CHECK HEAD-SET RECEPTION AND SEND!

SUNGLASSES ON!

ALERT STATUS SET TO 'MASSIVELY SO'!

LOCATE AND SECURE ALL MEANS OF ACCESS AND EGRESS!

STAND BEHIND THE GREAT MAN LOOKING DAMNED SERIOUS!

I have to say I didn't realise quite how much care had to be taken with such personages, especially out in the public arena of the likes of the All-New Club DerrigTM.

But, the riskiness to one of 'The Big Names' of all-time has to be assessed and dealt with.

After all, what a blow it would be if Mr.Jackson's many fans and admirers were we no longer able to enjoy again his delivery of such inspiring words as:



Or even



Don't worry, Joe, I've 'got your back up' as they say in the service.

Full of yuletide joy

Yes, 'tis the season of stuff is upon us all.

Let's kick off the start of the beginning of the celebrations with the song I've requested at the Derrig Towers 'Chill-Out Xmas Disco'.

Preparez vos mouchoirs, it'll bring a tear to your eye.

Two birds, one stone

So you come up with a better headline, then.

Miracle hair restorer formula part 2

I recommend to you lot EmbonpointeTM the luscious locks liquid for lush laydeez and laydee lushez.

Two out of three women pictured expressed to me their deeply-hirsute satisfaction, while the third said she was looking forward to enjoying an impressive length over the Xmas period.

Miracle hair restorer formula

Simply apply one bottle of Havana Club rum internally.

Who will rid me of this turbulent priestess?

Madame Fiendish and her devil eyes

You know me, I expect.

I'm no stranger to hard work.

I've often stopped to admire it.

I've even shouted words of encouragement.

But just lately something mighty weird has been going on.

You, my loyal readership, will know that the BossLady-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed-For-Fear-Of-Wrathful-Retribution-And-Pins-Stuffed-Up-Dolls-Type-Performance-Enhancing-Voodoo-ChicaneryTM had moved on to higher things amidst much cheering in the environs de moi truly.

And yet....

And yet it seems since that splendid day of great joy and singing in the streets, I have been on the recieving end of her instructions and demands on a more or less hourly basis.

What eerie powers does she possess that she can jerk me around hither and thither without so much as a by-your-leave? Is it the strange wine-coloured waters she force-drinks me? Or perhaps it is the Dark Arts she picked up on her mysterious 'yogic retreat' at the exclusive Star-Jumps Al Fresco resort?

Someone even suggested I put a bounty on her head, but she'd only eat it.

I can only hope this torment ends soon.

Indeed, maybe it would be better all round if she just simply came back to a proper job and lorded it over us poor minions as she used to.

Big Chief I-Spy Competition

As we approach what is ambivalently known as 'festival season' I have decided to entertain all of you lot with a competition of my devising.

This competition will test to the limit your meagre powers of close observation.

It will rely on your ability to identify something not quite right.

You will need to be able to spot something that is a little 'out-of-place'.

So, as you can imagine, I am not expecting much in the way of winners.

But, onwards, to the competition itself, which revolves around the All-New Club DerrigTM and the concealment of certain items about the premises.

All you have to do is spot the item and email me at the usual address with details of your "spot.

Here's a particularly difficult one that'll give you an idea of what I'm on about. It's a tough one, but keep looking.

No? Didn't see it?

Here, have another go.

Still no?

Last chance.

Finally!

Well done to all those who correctly spotted the fire alarm button cunningly concealed behind the potted plant.

Xmas: don't go overboard, will you?

That takes the biscuit

The mighty Brentford in action

Brentford Football Club are a professional English football club based in Brentford in the London Borough of Hounslow. They are currently playing in Football League One.

They were founded in 1889 and play their home games at Griffin Park, their home stadium since 1904. The club has a long-standing rivalry with near neighbours, Fulham. Brentford's most successful spell came during the 1930s, when they achieved consecutive top six finishes in the First Division.

Got that? The FIRST DIVISION!

Now, I know that not every quizmaster can be as thorough in their research as myself, the leopard-cheetah imbroglio (of which the case against the South African Tourist Board remains outstanding) notwithstanding, (and which a temporary lack of funds prevents me pursuing with all the vigour I can get up in the morning).

It is only the fact of my single-handedly winning the quiz in question and being rewarded with a pallet of quality biscuits - which I will of course be dividing up amongst my gaggle of cheerleaders on the evening - that has prevented me from making any more fuss about it than this entry up my blog and a stiff letter of reprimand which is in the post as I speak.

I must say that I was most moved, though, by the sight of Beattie leaping to his feet several times across the course of the evening to remonstrate with the quizmaster in a most ferocious fashion about this schoolboy error, Commader Jaaaahhhhnnn having to physically restrain him for the safety of us all.

It was quite something to see him getting all lathered up in such a passionate demonstration of fealty unto me. Virually a poster-boy for a public school education where clothing was optional.

I remained aloof, dignified and keeping my counsel, pleased that there was no need to be a-barking myself.

I'd also like to thank the laydeez for turning up and playing such a positive role, fetching of beers and so on. I don't think I could have done it without you, and I do here for the record and the avoidance of doubting salute your carrying prowess.

A short word about yesterday...

My Day Of Action - Update

Now, that's what I call "action".

There were 12 of these little beauties when I got started. I'm saving the rest for tea.

I'm going all out

Have you got yourself an occupation?

Not wishing to 'diss'-up the types hanging around about the world in their Occupie shenanigannery, but it does seem all one has to do is plonk one's nether regions on a bit of pavement et viola you're part of it yourself!

Hence my staging of my own personal Moment Of Action in the run-up to tomorrow's 'Big Day'.

Of course, one would look an utter and singular fool trying to stage such a protest on one's own. Therefore I invited Tallulah to join me, and gawdblesser, she was only too glad of the chance to take the weight off her plates.

And a right pair we did make.

Tomorrow: I'm all up and proud for action.

On the box

Yes, it's me - on the telly again.

And this time it's not Smartarses!

Here I am waiting for my chance to address a press conference of top-notch journos about my forthcoming Derrig Day of Action, which is happening sometime this week.

I do hope you'll join me somewhere.

Synchronise watches!

Bookends

A First Class pair of sleeping beauteez, if I say so unto myself, snapped as they napped it up amongst the debris of their massive assortment of snacks.

I think they had quite exhausted themselves moaning on about missing out on the second complimentary cuppa.

So engrossed were in their napping-time, they didn't see me helping myself to generous handfuls of their snacks.

Another case of cloudy silver linings!

Recipe corner

Take a large pinch of Joan of The Ark (the finest female Pope of her own generation).

Add a clump of that'um King Dick 3.

Rub together in a big pudding bowl.

Rub, rub, rub.

Add a little spice - your choice but it has to be something a tad tart.

Leave under a damp towel for an hour in a warm place and....

Taa-Daaa!!!!!
Instant Twin of Evil A or, as it's known up North: Parkin Warlock.

TOMORROW: KNIT YOUR OWN TWIN OF EVIL 1.

Late night final

There's really only one thing I like more than polishing off an evening of a hearty three course meaty-meats meal (washed down in a tidal wave of cocktails, pints, and wines) with a little snackette of crisps, choco, and a jolly old dollop of the satirical kind of stuff.

But I'm not telling you lot.

My mind has never been so boggled

I don't do drugs: I simply couldn't cope with the reality-fantasy confusion scenario.

But if I did, they'd probably be the best drugs in the world.

Getting above themselves

Example 1: Amateur snapper

Example 2: Red snapper

Now, some people would be telling you about this showing two fine displays of laydeez rising up and doing their thing up a ladder.

I see a decent chap providing the expert four-square stability and support they need to pursue their little hobbies and reach such giddy heights.

You, the jury, must reach your own conclusions.

Interchangeable, but indispensible

Sharon & Jackie

Don't you ever get your laydeez mixed up?

To avoid such complications and the possibility of embarrassment at hotels and similar, I am resolved upon the remedy of combining names to cut by half the chances of such occurrences coming up.

These two will henceforthwards be known as 'Shacky': elegant, simple, and short.

As is the new name.

I wooden do that

You can probably see the look of disgust on my face.

Plates. It's plates of food. Not planks. Got that, Mr.Lah-Di-Dah Restaurateurerurrer?

So whenever I get wood now, I just say no.

Hat-rocious

Separated at birth, or what?

50 years of hurt

This is a public service warning about the drink of Havana Club.

There you are: all smooth and suave and double-O sevened-up like some secret sex maniac agent.

A matter of moments (and a half bottle of the Cuban calamity-maker) later and it's all fancy dress and acting the goat up....

But that lifestyle takes it's toll and all too soon you've gone all Dorian Gray and his picture up the attic....

And finally a well-preserved after-life as one of the denizens down below and the eternal punishment of karaoke hell...


But all in all, you just have to laugh....

Happy 50th, Commodore Jaaaaaahhhhnnnnnnn!

I'd like a party with an atmosphere

This weekend I was happy to bestow the privilege of my presence at what will soon become not just a matter of public gawping and amazement, but also a matter of "record" - if you'll pardon the punnery.

Yes, I travelled to South East London environs.

But no, that was not the "record" whenceunder I do speak.

Yes, I quaffed mightily of the equivalent of a veritable Nebuchadnezzar of high-quality but reasonably-priced drinking champagne.

But, again no - that is not the "record" of what is the subject hereof. And anyway that's just a typical rip-roarer of a weekend for me. Or a Thursday.

And I did consume unto me the finest meats, sweetymeats, pickles, and cheesery from a table so loaded with goodness it had groaned its last.

But thrice no for third time. Are you listening? That was NOT the "record" wherehere I speak of unto.

For no, I refer of course to the Commodore Jahhhhhhhhnnnnn's 50th birthday and squirl killing festival what doubled up as the world's biggest party in the most confined space since I got all boozed up with Beattie in a phone box.

Cramped, yes. But cosy, and all my kindling kept dry, to boot.

Reunion tour

I was dahn Sarf Lunnon an stumbled right into a photo-shoot for the reunion of Bow Wow Wow.


Haven't aged at all well, was my thinking.

Oh no, not again!

A right turn up for the books

Like buses, it never rains but it happens twice on the trot.

Apparently this sort of thing occurs more often than you think.

It's the same backwards!

I don't know about you, and even if I did, I wouldn't care all that much.

Having said that, though, are you too finding a spooky as I am: all this palindromic date stuff that's a-happening today for the first time in well over 4500 years?

Call me 'The Great Predicticator' if you will, but I'm sure something spectacular and surprising will happen sometime.

Breaking news: Anglo-Irish Accord

In what can only be the most coincidental of coincidences, I am taking time out to stand in the street applauding two massively great constitutional changes both here and, of course, there.

Fistly up I am referring naturally to the change over in the Auld country permitting men to become President for the first time in a few or fourteen years now. And in doing so I must say how concerned I am at the prospect of Jack Higgins having to leave off his writing duties. Will we ever see the likes of another 'The Eagle Has Landed' now that he has to spend all his time putting a candle in his window every night for us overseas disaporanoriums?

And to turn to constitutional matters here, at home, I was appalled some time back to see that Dean Paul chap resigning from his post and giving in to the wacky demands of the bunch of liberal namby-pamby god-botherers who believe they run the good old C of D. You don't get that with an iron-crossed...sorry - I mean, iron-fisted Pope running the show, I can tell you.

But enough of me getting all political "up yo asses" as the youngsters have it in their jargoning.

Tomorrow I turn to the ongoing and interminable financial crisis in my wallet.

Bless you, my son

Ha-lo-oh!

The results are in and I have been ennobled up, God-wise, as Saint Colin - patron of the inadequate and intemperate.

My mother will be proud of me, at last.

What more could she want than a son shinning it up the religious hierarchy?

Actually, I quite like that, I might use it again.

Take a note, Ms McK, will you?

Boff

"And then you shout 'I'm calling the Police'.

It's not everyday I get to demonstrate my buttoneering techniques for a luvverly young laydee, but on this occasion I was more than delighted to oblige, and truly well up for it.

Unfortunately it was not to come to anything more as she had an allergy to brain-melting tie-shirt combo colour-clashes.

I was therefore forced to make her excuses and she left.

Chubster magnifico

Everywhere I go, there I am.

Blonde ambition tour

I was pleased to be asked to help out on the Blonde Ambition tour, even if it was as button-boy.

Mind you, she did go on a bit.

Somewhat anonymous

No, not that easy at all

After years of intensive up-the-job training I am pleased to say that the Genius Amanuensis has finally graduated from Button Boy school, and was yesterday called upon to display his mettle in the face of an angry crowd.

I am obliged to report to you all that he passed with almost flying colours, having only once fallen prey to the bugbear of Button Boys throughout history - hairy-trigger - going off early just the once.

A shame though that his prowess was not marked by any of the dash, style, grace, and panache that marks one out as a master button-depresser, and he is, I fear, likely to remain nameless and forgettable in his newly-elevated role.

For instance, who could forget that magical moment when I was manning the knob and - just to break what was a tense and torrid atmosphere with a splash of humour - gave them all a brief blast of the Greek Finance Minister.

Possibly my proudest moment.