Hara-Kiri-Oke

For those who recall my previous success bellowing in a hellish sweaty furnace, I would draw your attention to this marvellously executed version of "Scooby Doo's-Day".

Yes, it's another top day for me of getting older

Sorry about the kid bleating in the background.

Another old photo

WARNING: READ AND VIEW WITH CAUTION

I'm a chilled kind of guy.

That is, if you know me well and don't come between me and my grub or booze or F1, or war stories, or films with explosions, or monkeys, or models of Gerry Anderson spaceships, or my unique (up my road) collection of monster and superhero dollies, etc. etc.

And I'm not one for revenge.

No, I'm a sort of 'let korma wreak it's wrath' chap.

As it did after last night's dalliance in the Viceroy of India.

But from time to time it's important to get your retaliatory guns out and blast away for all its worth leaving a trail of devastation and scorched earth right up to the ears.

So in that spirit, I have been looking back through my anals and stumbled over what is probably the greatest photo ever taken of one of my many nemesisisis.

For those of a delicate constitution I suggest you scroll no further, especially if you've had lunch as it could mean fish-pie from here to the ceiling.

For the rest of you, I say sit back and prepare yourselves for the worst.

You'll never be the same again.

"Ms" Singleton: A Warning

Following up on 'that picture' what appeared at the arse-end of my seasonal message (and for which I myself even was unprepared and stitched-up on the cutting room floor) I have a few remarks to make at her.

Firstly, it ill-behoofs you - "Ms" Singleton - to be bandying about gorgeous pix of yours truly as it only serves to provoke inflammation amongst the distaff lot of my regular readers. Bit of a blow-back up there, I think.

Secondly, you are not the only one with a set of incriminating snaps taken at the height of passion and which never exepected to see the light of day in our own lifetimes but may well have turned up in some learned tome on the cultural and sexual mores of the 1980s.

Thirdly, I have a highly-popular and well-respected cybernetic outlet for my revenge which clearly you don't as a search of the WHOLE OF THE WIDE INTERWORLD WEB reveals only that you have once been on MyFace.

Time for you to hand over the negs, I think, and be done or I'll be publishing more like this:

Even Better Than The Real Thing

I used to be a right old "The Smiths" fanny until I stumbled over this tribute act which makes that Mozzarissey and Marr combo look like a bunch of dinosaurs out of the ark, musically and lyric-wise.

Some Happy New Year It's Turned Out To Be

Appropriate album cover.

I have only sufficiently recovered in the past few days to report on my New Year festivities up North that were progressing reasonably well until I was savaged in my own hand by some cat-thing that my hosts were keeping a secret from me until it launched its vicious attack.

That cat-bastard known as 'Fang'.

Now, I'm well known as a lover of cooked animals so what the heck was a-going on with that terrifying ball of fluff and needles I can't say.

Still, my hand has - finally and after much self-medicating with the Godsend that is Bailey's - finally returned to normalcy.

That's the only time I'll ever venture out on a New Year's Eve without chain-mail.

Alternative Queen's Seasonal Message - Complaints Bureau

I have been on the receiving end of two numerous complaints about the fact that my seasonal message contained no hippo (as was promised by Still 3 of the promotional advertising).

I urge you to watch the film again now and check closely for yourself, as you may have missed it first time round for all the laughter you were up to.