Quandary corner

"Blondie(s)" - Hanging on the telephone

Following my successful and repeated pulling-off, I am very sorely in need of some relief - not to mention soothing unguents - down Stevenage way, if you get my drift.

So imagine my surprise when they send along two "blonde-my-eye" laydeez to take up the slack.

Obviously, unlike myself, they were far from peak condition and prone to frequent breaks from the mind-melting pressure of dealing with our paying customers. As can be seen above.

But, to get to my quandary, what am I to call this loyal and dedicated team of distaff delectables?

And I've already ruled out 'call girls', Beattie.

Your suggestions please to the Hell-o-oh Hotline on 0845 335 0845.

Peripatetic phone banker!

Hell-o-oh!

I have been pulled-off yet a-blooming-gain and enjoying it right up to eleven! It's a triple-tastic blow-out super pulling-off that has seen me roving the country as far as the delightful monstrosity that is Stevenage.

If this goes on I could end up being pulled-off virtually every minute.

It's not easy being such a banker.

Devious, truculent, and unreliable? Moi?

I, in all of the sincerity I wish I could muster ever, do hereunder wish you better luck this time up, courtwise, with the enemy.

Statuesqueue

Caught, and flagrantely so

I can't really tell you all that much about the delightful and ethnically-scrumptious little platter of goodness I was tucking into last night, but my Godfathers could she drink!

Starstruck or moonlightering?

Spot the namesake competition....

If you've got yourself a bit of fame but it's not you and so forth, rush the details to the usual address by which I'll be happy to embarrass whoever.

Russian spy exposed

It seems it's not only weirdy-beardy DemoLib MPs who are caught up in a web of international intrigue.

For I, Derrig, have also now uncovered one in the midst of our very own midst at the All-New Club Derrig TM.

I have had my suspicions already got up by the misbehaviour and strange apparel of this espionager-cum-mysteriant.

I have now had the wool thoroughly and roughly removed from on my eyes by the actions of this wicked impersonator, going round pretending to be one of us ordinary loyal subjects of ER indoors.

Yes, I can reveal all now.

For Twin of Evil A has been unmasked as none other than............

.............Ivana Haffamanova!

Tugger-in-chief

That's me. Tugging away like a good'un.

There's nothing I like much better than jolly good tug, especially when I'm at the end of my rope. The oxygen-deprivation mask-thingy is an added bonus.

It's a good stress-buster, and in these troubled times of troubled financial troubles, can also be turned to being a nice little earner of mutually assured de-stressment.

If you think you can beat my tugging antics, send in your snap to the usual address and I'll consider going mano-a-mano with you for Top Tugger.

On tenterhooks

Well it's all quite literally out in the open now.

Yes, at last the truth will become known to all about just why I’ve been wandering about all cock of the walk.

And it’s the explanation for my absence away from these shores elsewhere out of the country for a few days.

It’s only a matter of time before the results come through.

But I’m feeling confident.

After all, the photographic evidence is quite conclusive.

Up The Arse!

Lovely, lads.

As ever I have been watching the mighty big "Arse" and their progress through the Cup of Europe's Sporting League of Championshits.

I have so far been delighted with their marvellous playing and kicking the ball around a bit, and all the kissing. Very invigorating if you're getting all chilly-willy on the terraces, as I often am, especially in the great British weather we are having, aren't we?

I have therefore, against my better judgement, forked out the princely sum of five pounds sterling to Power Paddy on a betting prediction of what I think in my own mind will be the outcome of tonight's clash of the tight'uns.

I'm betting that it'll be 0-0 at half time, with no goals scored at all by that point, i.e. nil-nil. I've combined that bet with my guess sucked up out of the blue that the end result will stand at....oooooh.... 1-0 to the big "Arse".

And I'm also rolling all that up in a double-carpet (wagering slang-talk) and going out on my limb that Ramsey will score the only goal...possibly in the stoppage time for time stopped added on at the end after normal time.

Naturally, if my contract for a huge amount of winnings off that little flutter comes up trumping, I will be treating all my good friends to a right slop-up nosh gratis on the morrow.

Yes, gratis free.

My kind of gals

You know me, a man of the world and out of it. That's what it says on my business card any road up.

And you'll know that I'm not one to stand on my dignity. For one thing it would be quite painful.

And you'll also be aware that I have no trucking with 'class', or 'class' as I believe they pronounce it up the Northern bits.

But I have to say that when it comes to schools, I'm a sucker for a bit of posh.

Hence my admiration of the marvellous estalishment pictured above and its alumnica.

Better than that LSU mob of harridans, is my view.

Busy, busy, busy

"Who? Us? What haven't we done now?"

It's not easy handing out leaflets, I can tell you.

And especially so when seated at a table in a comfy hotel adjacent to a bar.

About yesterday...

Some bright spark sent me this for a reason that is - to your adored me - totally unfathomable.

Maybe it's a joke?

Second helpings

Said Simple Simon to the pie man, "let me taste your wares".

Twice.

Dial me up, baby

Here's me, giving it my all in my pin-money job for 'Chaps 4 U', a discreet service for discerning phone owners.

His Empire Expandeth Everywhichway

He knows what them laydeez likes

I was delighted totally not at all much indeed to find in Chesterium an emporium with a franchise of Commodorium Jon 'Squirl-Killer' Richard's 'Bits-And-Bobs-For-Them-Burly-Type-Laydeez-Me-Hearties'.

I believe his cup it does runneth right over and all down the side of the sofa.

If The Wind Turns....

What has brought that pensive and weary look to my visage, I hear you all crying out of concern for yours truliest.

It is, of course, that I have been taken away from my interim role of overlording it as campaigning-against-that-which-we-cannot-tolerate supremo.

I have been rushed to the ancient town of Chesterium for the annual general meeting of the Sir Colin Derrig Appreciation Society (Elders Division).

It's not something that I would normally complain about, but it means I have been pulled off twice in quick succession.

Hence the fizzog.

Driving Me Mad, Fourthly

I'm beginning to feel like General Noriega hiding out in Panamamama.

Good to have the original version at last, though.

Driving Me Mad, Thrice

Where do these songs in my head come from?

Burl-Esque

Scrubby

Apparently, according to 'feministas' and 'sistas', this is grossly offensive to women types.

No - me neither.

Is there any man out there who can explain this in a way that I can actually hear?

Beattie's Finest Hour, Dammit

And more,

Much more than this,

I did it my way

It comes to a pretty old pass when you hold the annual top-brains quiz of the century effort and the so-called 'Champeen Knower Always Winner' Beattie can't even get back from his gadding about in the Americas to defend what little reputation he hasn't already squandered in disreputable establishments with flock wallpaper, red velvet curtains, and hot and cold running flibbertigibbets.

So it came as some relief that he was apparently able - through the medium of 'BillBerry' - to convey the necessary answers to a team of puppets he had orchestrated to keep his flag flying at the tip of his pole.

How that bunch of ne'er-do-wells (with the aid of Beattie's simple instructions and the underhanded guidance of the Genius Amanuensis transmitted via the medium of pillow-chat-cheatery) got away with it, I for one or the other do not know and do not care to know what.

So, he wins again.

I can therefore only commiserate with the Lady Jojojojojojojo, her Spiv, Joe 'J"JD"D' Dolan, and the bearded Hughmunculus on the matter of their feeble-mindedness.

Colin's Call Centre

Barrel of monkeys, if you ask me.

I, Derrig, have been taken up the cudgels in support of our great campaign for defending ourselves from whatever they might choose to chuck up us, them buggers.

I have been leading vast teams of phone banking volunteers who have an enormous range of skills* to get our message across to people about why we will not put up with what it is.

Here's a sample of the kind of 1-2-1 engagement they have been engaging in with other ones.

Phoner: I'm calling on behalf of Sir Colin Derrig.

Phonee: That bastard!?! Who gave him my number?

and

Phoner: Sir Colin Derrig has personally asked me to call you.

Phonee: That bastard!?! Who gave him my number?

And so forth.

One is continually surprised by the very warm reception that the Derrig name of mine elicits from those who hear of it down their earpiece.

It's a remarkable system with some correspondingly remarkable statistics:

54 hours

3 volunteers

4 calls (two successful)

1 legal case (pending)

1 deposit (5%) taken on a pair of uPVC double-glazed windows

Ree-sult!


*non-verbal

That 'Speech' In Full

Listen, up you yankee buffoons

Sadly, or you may think counterwise, the live feed of Beattie's address to the Bostonian branch of the SEI-EI-O went down immediately before he got to speak. It is therefore with the greatest of regret that I am able to reproduce here what he did say to them assembled there for him to speak at, which I have faithfully transcribed from the FBI files.

(Coughs.) My fellow Americans, 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 sitting listening to me at this momentous time.

I came in a big metal bird from across the sea to stay in 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.

Χρωματιστά σε βοσκοτόπια των χορού ευκαιρία αφήνει μάγια της πρόκλησης,
Διασκεδάζει, αλλά πραγματικά στην σκέψη, έφυγε από όλη την θάλασσα.
Αυγή της σκέψης μεταφέρονται μέσω στιγμές των ημερών γης
Αποκαλύπτοντας διαδρόμους του χρόνου προκαλεί τις μνήμες, αποσπασματικά, αλλά με
Σκοπός,

Διεισδύσεις λαχτάρα να προσφέρει συνδέσεις με τα αιχμηρά του εκπαιδευτή τον εαυτό του
και προσφορά αγάπης, όπως κάναμε με τον αέρα, μια εικόνα της απόστασης.
Αυγή της εξουσίας μας διασκεδάζουν redescending τόσο γρήγορα όσο κατάχρηση
Έκφραση, καθώς μόνο για να διδάξουν την αγάπη για να αποκαλύψουν το πάθος κυνηγούν
Αργά σε γωνίες, και χορέψαμε από τον ωκεανό.

Αυγή της αγάπης μέσα μας έστειλε τα χρώματα της αφύπνισης μεταξύ των πολλών
Δεν θα την ακολουθήσει, μόνο κομμάτια από μια διαφορετική ηλικία, καθώς καλύπτουν τις συνδέσεις

Ατελείωτες χάδια μας για την ελευθερία του ζωή αιώνια.

Διεισδύσεις λαχτάρα να προσφέρει συνδέσεις με τα αιχμηρά του εκπαιδευτή τον εαυτό του
και προσφορά αγάπης, όπως κάναμε με τον αέρα, μια εικόνα της απόστασης.
Αυγή της εξουσίας μας διασκεδάζουν redescending τόσο γρήγορα όσο κατάχρηση
Έκφραση, καθώς μόνο για να διδάξουν την αγάπη για να αποκαλύψουν το πάθος κυνηγούν
Αργά σε γωνίες, και χορέψαμε από τον ωκεανό.

Αυγή της αγάπης μέσα μας έστειλε τα χρώματα της αφύπνισης μεταξύ των πολλών
Δεν θα την ακολουθήσει, μόνο κομμάτια από μια διαφορετική ηλικία, καθώς καλύπτουν τις συνδέσεις

Διεισδύσεις λαχτάρα να προσφέρει συνδέσεις με τα αιχμηρά του εκπαιδευτή τον εαυτό του
και προσφορά αγάπης, όπως κάναμε με τον αέρα, μια εικόνα της απόστασης.
Αυγή της εξουσίας μας διασκεδάζουν redescending τόσο γρήγορα όσο κατάχρηση
Έκφραση, καθώς μόνο για να διδάξουν την αγάπη για να αποκαλύψουν το πάθος κυνηγούν
Αργά σε γωνίες, και χορέψαμε από τον ωκεανό.

Αυγή της αγάπης μέσα μας έστειλε τα χρώματα της αφύπνισης μεταξύ των πολλών
Δεν θα την ακολουθήσει, μόνο κομμάτια από μια διαφορετική ηλικία, καθώς καλύπτουν τις συνδέσεις

Now, where's my expenses?