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.

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.