50 not out

Yes, Joe Dolan of footballing fame, has reached his half-way point.

Fair play to him, the little laydeez-man.

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.

Leading Laydee

Jools has been getting led-up, at a school for leader-uppers.

After days of being voluntarily injected with knowledge, skills, and upfront leadership-type-attitude, she has been practising leading anyone daft enough to follow into her magical, but regrettably imaginary, land of unicorns, doors with faces, and extravagant skylights.

Here we see her beckoning on her current favourite non-existent unicorn 'Muffin', who she claims was miraculously transformed from a plain old mule into the aforesaid mythical horned horse by application of a tin of emulsion and a rolled-up newspaper tied to its forehead.

It is such stuff as dreams and sectioning are made on up of.

End to end....

Tallulah, the old dear, sent me a postal carte de France which has just popped through my box.

Sprained neck/Sontaran warlord pciture to follow...

Stalkerazzi

Here's the Genius Amanuensis following me around in his usual disguise, and clearly with nothing better to do.

One of many, of course, all trying to catch a decent likeliness of yours truly up front.

Hard at it

On Saturday I was assisted by a whole bunch of 'volunteers' in performing the tricky task of keeping a plinth at Trafalgar Square on the floor by use of bottoms. Fortunately, they seemed just about up to it.

The code of the bar

Beattie, the barperson's barperson bar none, achieves the answer to life, the universe and everything today.

Born under a blood-red moon to a pack of wolves and raised by gangsters steeped in the way of the knife and garotte, it's good to see he rebelled against such a lively boyhood and settled down into a life of moderation in all things, including moderateness.

But don't go getting him riled up, he is fearsomely talented with the sino-inflammatory-twisty-wrist-torture and also with sudden, surprising, and sly cracks on the head with his weather-beaten knuckles.

As an old Spanish shop-keeper will tell you.

Tallulah pulls

Tallulah went to Devizes and pulled an invisible man....she said.

Not happy.

Not happy at all.

About last night

I suppose I should feel flattered to be amongst those selected by Tallulah to come and listen to her witter on about it being her birthday month.

It was, to be fair, an OK evening, marred only by Beattie's usual testosteronically supercharged demonstrations of his prowess with a waitress.

Anyway, it probably has to be said that the highlight of the night of tap-arse was the revelatory confessions that were elicited from each and every one of the party as to who and/or whom they would do that might come as a surprise to those at the table.

It is therefore with no little apprehension that I record those revelations - henceforth known as the El Parador Jaw-Droppers - for posterity over the next few weeks in this very blog.

Birthday Boy

South of Africa's most famous sonny, right pensive

Today, being the end of the month, it is the 60th birthday of one 'Braisers'.

Many of us know this ageing legend for his starring role as Zulu Dawn in the film of the same name, or what is also eponymous in the journo trade.

However, what is often forgotten is the fortune-amassing years in the 1940's and 1950's when he started playing the role of Biltong Boy, an Afrikaans version of Jungle Boy, which he was to make his own over the next 45 years. He was widely admired for strutting through the veldt clad only in a loincloth, or 'chafer' in the local lingo, wielding an outsize sjambok on the flora.

He was of course accompanied by Bliksem, his trusty springbok - played by Erik van Der Merwe (front) and Dusty Parts (rear) - who never tired of playing a Lassie-type role, calling on Biltong Boy to follow him into all sorts of mildly perilous scrapes.

Braisers carried off this role in what was virtually a national institution well into the late 1980's, when he made a vast amount of money from endorsements and advertising as Biltong Boy, including White & White whisky, and White pudding.

However, he finally fell victim to the march of time in 1990 as the world became ever-more internationalised, and it was proving difficult to sell the series abroad. More and more of the commercial operations withdrew their sponsorship of the show.

And so it was on 11th February 1990 that, as the great statesman Nelson was released from prison, Braisers wiped away a tear and swore never to black up again, thus ending his screen life as Biltong Boy forever.

Braisers, we salute you, and wish you another 70 glorious years.

Season's Greetings - Sir Colin

Don't forget to join me tomorrow for some festive-type egg/elfhead shenaniganery stuff. 'Round about midnight approximately. In the meantime, a message of love to all my both readers:

Season's Greetings - Beattie

Season's Greetings - Tallulah

Season's Greetings - The Genius Amanuensis

Season's Greetings - Twin of Evil 1

Season's Greetings - Jools

Saeson's Greetings - Lady Jo of Wheeeeeeeelan

Season's Greetings - Sam 'The Spiv' Stroingrain

Season's Greetings - Cap'n Jahnnnnnn

Season's Greetings - Twin of Evil A