You Know You’re Arse is Too Big When…

…You unplug the bath and the water doesn’t go down behind you.

A while ago I was in the bath with my two little lads when the plug got knocked out. I didn’t realize until the boys said ‘Where’s all the water gone Daddy?’

My giant arse had stopped all the water running out at my side. I couldn’t belive it, but there it was before my very eyes. Just my arse, not even a sponge or anything to help it.

We all had a laugh about daddies big bum and I was chased around for the next hour, mocked, hit on the arse and my pants pulled down several times before things eventually calmed down and we could get them off to bed, no doubt dreaming of comically proportioned arses.

Well I’m pleased to report I’ve lost a bit of weight since then so the bath blocky thing doesn’t happen anymore. Ok, I’ve lost a bit of weight and we’ve got a new bath as well.

Alright jesus, we’ve got a new bath that’s miles wider and I may well have put on a few pounds. Who’s counting? You’d have to have a ginormous arse to block this one but I’m sure that day will come, and soon. And then the bullying will start again.

This is a good post isn’t it? ‘Hey everyone I’ve got a fucking massive arse’ -Fucking hell. If you want intellectual stimulus buy the Guardian, you ain’t going to find it here.

Block of Lard -Banned from Vimeo

I’ve been banned from the popular  video site Vimeo.  More specifically my  ‘Visit Saudi Arabia animation’ has been banned from it.

“Your video ‘Visit Saudi Arabia animation’ has been removed for violating the Upload Rules of Vimeo.com: Vimeo does not allow videos that harass, incite hatred or depict excessive violence.”  

Ha Ha. I feel like a political activist or summit. I’m unrepentant. Cunts shouldn’t be in charge of anything – especially not countries!

 Here it is on YouTube instead if you haven’t seen it, It’s dead funny:

Peanut Butter Nutter

I first realized I had a peanut butter problem when I nearly crashed the car trying to scrape an enormous blob of it off the room of my mouth. I’d got a big spoon full and stored it  in me cheek hamster style, thinking it would last me all the way to work. It didn’t and it caused a mild panic when it escaped and stuck me jaw together at the bugdens mini roundabout.

More tell-tale signs were there. I was in Kwik fit getting me brakes done and I traipsed all the way down to Sainsburys in the snow to buy two pots. I got a spoon from the cafe them went back to Kwik fit and locked mesen int’ bog house and scoffed a load.  When I glimpsed my peanut butter smeared face in the mirror, with my tongue hanging out and look of sheer ecstasy on my stupid face, I thought ‘Has it come to this?’ Well it had. The face of and addict!

I’ve got into it cos I’m on a strict diet to try to sort out me bad guts- I may have mentioned it. Anyway peanut butter is one of the few nice things I’m allowed so I’ve gone absolutely mad on it. I buy 2 pots and they are gone in two days. I’m hiding the empties and everything!

I always thought it was a for nippers but I tell you what it’s fucking lovely. This is the only make I’ve found that I’m allowed cos it’s got no additives in. It says ‘Fun to eat’ on the side and I tell you what it’s fucking true. As long as you’re not driving that is. I eat it straight out the pot no-fucking-about spreading it on toast or owte- that’s for puffs.

I had a hamster that used to fucking love nuttella. I dunno that seemed sort of relevent here. Night night x x X

Alpha, Foxtrot What The Fuck?

Am I alone in not understanding these flippin phonetic alphabet /call signs things that everyone seems to be saying these days?

 I don’t think my brain  works quickly enough but it seems to me it’s an extra stage you don’t need, You have to think ‘What letter does that begin with’ where as if you say the letter then your brain doesn’t need to do anything it’s just the letter. I know letters.

Fair enough if you’re on a fizzy police radio in the 1970’s, but phone lines are pretty clear these days aren’t they?

I was in Birmingham and for some reason I had to phone this number and tell ‘em my licence plate just to park in the fuckin car park. The bloke starts saying all these Alpha, Wigwam, Foxplop shit back to me so I said, ‘I’m not a copper I don’t understand those call signs. Just say the letters’ He laughed like I was joking but I was DEADLY SERIOUS.

I just want to add that I’m not educationally sub-normal or anything.

Warm Toilet Seat

Whenever you need a plop, does your Mrs appear from nowhere, busting for a wee and demanding to be on first? Mine does, even if she was seemingly out of the house beforehand. I’ve started calling her the ‘Piss spectre’ she doesn’t seen to like it very much. I can’t think why.

Cartland

It’s 10 years to the day since the sad death of Barbara Cartland. I remember it well. Overcome with grief I retired to my study and produced this drawing – in a fit of pure emotion.  I think it’s fitting tribute to a literary great.  My emotional attachment to this piece is so great that it’s only now, 10 years on that I can actually show it to anyone.

So here it is, entitled simply ‘Cartland’

Mechanically Recovered TV

More often than not these days, when I put the telly on and think I’m watching a certain show, it turns out it’s not that show, it’s a show about that show. It’s lots of people saying how good the show is, or a 100 greatest moments about the show. What the fuck is going on?

These shows are the TV equivalent of mechanically recovered meat. The carcas of a TV show is sprayed by a high-powered hose pipe operated by Richard Bacon. All the fragments of gristle, fat and cartilage that come out are then reformed into a ‘new’ show for you to watch, with hilarious narration by ‘that man’ Richard Bacon.

If you don’t stop watching this shite, they’ll keep feeding us this shite and eventually there won’t be any new TV shows to watch. And then you’ll cry won’t you?