Top Team......?

After spending a few days shacked up in the lap of luxury in the middle of the English countryside - dull, eh, readers? - a right bunch of reprobates are now self-declared 'losers'.

Look at them - smug, self-satisfied, and stuffed to the gills with the finest foods and wines available from Grantham's 'Victor Value' supermarket.

Why wasn't I asked?

Hold the front page!

Earth-shattering is the only oxymoron that can be applied in these circumstances.

6 tubes of Polop's for just one English pound sterling and forty English new pennies.

It doesn't get better than this.

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...

My Grand Opening

Well, party on down, dudes!


Yes, it was the biggest day of this week to date when I opened up my humble new ballroom in the upper deck of Derrig Towers.

Of course, only a select bunch actually got to come in - no riff-raff here! - apart from Jools who shows up at the opening of an envelope and managed to tap her way through my highly witty speech.

I was a bit miffed though to discover that Beattie had clearly been up all night painting some absurd rural trumpet l'oeil on the window, completely obscuring my (research purposes only)view of St.Trollope's School for Abandoned Young Laydeez.

Style Guide

Anthony St.Braisers, sporting the shady v-neck/third-arm look

I for one am more than over-delighted to bring you news that none other than Braisers himself has put I-Pen to I-Pad and laid down his many rules and tips for maintaining that most elusive of qualities, to wit: stylocity.

All too often we men of the masculine gender are accused of being uncaring about our attire, blithely donning raiment as though its main purpose is to conceal our various knobbly bits etc. etc.

Braisers comes down like the wolf on the old on this outmoded approach, declaring in his "meni'vesto" , "Men! Our fab gear is solely an extension of our egos! We are peacocks!"

It's a bold war cry from the diminutive popinjay (and yet so, so very typical of the man-cum-fop Braisers) that he not only comes on all strong-like, but virtually sloshes Cap'n Jaaaaaaahhhhhhnnnn across the chops and declares him an under-dressed ninny - and this to the man who has defined most of what passes for good taste in schmutter up these parts for the past six seasons.

Braisers' Style Guide is now available in his a la mode tiny parts from Vague, Weskit Weekly, and Ideal Gnome.

Braisers - the chap putting the 'Ernie' back in dernier cri, and the 'Fec' back in affectation.

A Personal Statement

Following a long-term campaign against me of enormous proportions I am forced to issue this personal statement of about me.

First off, and no shilly-shallying, I think the picture above says it all for me. A picture paints a thousand words, according to the song, and that saves me an awful lot of input.

Secondly up, on the sharing of rooms with Beattie. I am known far afield and wide away for my tightness and that's all there is to be said about that as a full and total explanation.

Thirdly now, I am comfortable in my own skin and with the smooth skin of other men in my company. It's perfectly natural and I've never been any different.

Fifthly*, there is nothing like a dame, and I cite in my defence Dame Edna Everage and Dame Danny LaRue.

Sixthly, there are plenty of women who could tell you all about my fancy-footwork and fiendish loving techniques, but as a discreet gentleman I'm not prepared to give away any identifying features except for those previously featured.

Now, stop your delving in my hinterland.

*Fourthly deleted as I was advised to exercise my Fifth Amendment rights in the America where my blog reaches unto.

Death of a Disco Dancer

And they say those sickly Mancs have no sense of rhythm!

This post in tribute to one of them poorly Northern lads who's picked up the Geranium Measles, (also known under it's medical terminology as Rubbelly).

La Snapper Rouge ecrit aussi...

C'est incroyable! Deux grandes bieres au-dessus les lignes, est un packet de fags to boot! Dieu aime les Français!

Braisers ecrit de France...

C'est vrai! Les Francais sont terribly genereux avec la vielle biere!