Trouble With My Equipment

It seems my equipment has been proving a let down for some people.

Even when I deploy it for the enjoyment of the masses, it is, I am told, rather feeble and unreliable.

Especially in public, or so they say at me.

I look after it well, keep it clean, and safely tucked away when not in use, and I've carefully marked it up with what end goes in what, so I don't know what's going wrong.

I've even manipulated it down on all-fours and almost behind the scenes.



You know what I think? I'll never satisfy some people.

Not even if I had a professional knob-twiddler helping out.

Laydee Power

I have finally fallen for the demands of the rampant hordes of laydees in their desire to achieve enfranchisement through dashing out under horses and chaining themselves across stuff that I want to get into.

It's been a long hard struggle for me, as a man, to get myself in to their way of thinking about this and I hereby do say I want no more of it. I give in.

Please accept this photographic evidence of my full backing of you lot, now leave me alone.

Chef D'Ambience 2

Poncy French establishment. Does a lunch.

The Genius Amanuensis sends me this suggestion - from his Tour Du France avec Talllulah - as a look for the new ambience project of what is all my idea.

He doesn't get it. I'm looking for splendour and squalor in equal measure, and quite dark.

A bit like Beattie is the best way I can describe it.

Chef D'Ambience 1

Having been part of a successful "Coody-Ta" against the Genius Amanuensis in re-taking control of the All-New Club Derrig, I am now head of a massive research project about making it a better place to be in at.

My initial up first thoughts are based on what was a genuinely good time had by myself and a Tin-Tin look-e-likee a while back - of which you are all reminded up of below.

At the present time I am looking for volunteers to do the actual work before I present it as mine own at the next Club Derrig 'Listen To Me, I'm Derrig, I'm Talking' meeting.

Take one step forward all you lucky lot.

Filth - No, Really

Well, I warned you.

Joy

Whores. Junkies. Perverts. Malingerers.

All-in-all, the average night chez moi.

Hell-o-oh 2.0

So, finally the Genius Amanuensis returns from his leave of absinthe.

Whatever next?

Big Mouth Strikes Again

No.1 in a series of me in pictures impersonationalising a statue of some sort indeed.

Next in the series: me doing Michelangelo's David The Naked Chap.

Sandwiched

Here's me - the beefy goodness in a Busy sarnie!

Word up

Isn’t the language of English an marvellous thing?

It has traversed the globe by word-of-mouth and by book and is clearly, as it was destined to be (ever since the great brain of Shakespeare applied biro to parchment through the medium of his hands to pen us up the brilliant Ben Jonson’s ‘Volpone’) the top dog linguistically-wise speaking of it.

But isn’t it also the very adaptabilityness of the language, you do ask me, that has preserved its almost evolutionary kind of approach to getting through and all about everywhere so successfully?

Indeed it is I reply, knowingly.

It feels like you are leading us up to something here, I hear you reply back at me to me.

How very perspectacular of you, I reply back to you from me.

Bloody get on with it, you shout.

Well, give me a chance, and I will, I harrumph you.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes neologisms. The very butt-and-breader that is what re-transfusates the language we all love.

So it was greatly delightful superbus to come across a new collective noun of which what I had unbefore known not unto of, viz. a “fluster” of Bank Holidays.

Not a ‘flurry’, not a ‘flood’, not a ‘flamboyance’, not a ‘flow’, but a ‘fluster’.

What an ingenious usage, agglomerating being sozzled with leisure time. Trust that Twin of Evil 1 to brew those one both together.

Truly, the spirit of the Great Bardy lives on!