Archive for October, 2008

Out ta get me …

Posted in food, Humour, life, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on October 24, 2008 by norvenmunky

That’s probably what the poor girl in Planet Sandwich thinks, the look on her face on Friday as Nm MkII again tore the @rse out her world, with the biggest Cheshire Cattest grin that would have had Lewis Carroll reaching for the valium. Not that MKII meant to do it of course, sort of a ‘stuff happens’ moment.

Picture the scene again, we’re running late, NM only just grasping on to the metaphorical ledge, and valiantly resisting a short sharp guided tour through the garden of the english language, as he attempts to ‘child herd’ small humans with no fecking idea of the complexities of the gregorian calender. Or a clock. ‘Planet Sandwich’ was going to have to get turned over again in the quest for that most elusive of quarry, lost time.

Now the door handle to Planet Sandwich is a bit loose, or to be more accurate, it’s ‘cattled’. Nm MKII, the Gingham clad maveric failed to grasp this fact, or indeed the handle, with the result that the door smashed wide open, all it really needed was Reagan and Carter yelling ‘Shut it yewslaaags’, ‘You!, Gechercloveson,yaw nicked!’

Well you could of heard a pin drop, I say you could of, but it would have been masked by the cacophany as assorted parish magazines, menus and local tradesmens cards headed south. Satisfied with a suitably dramatic ‘arrival’ MKII strode purposely centre stage and made eye contact gunfighter style with the ‘Fillingslinger’ behind the counter. There was a glint of recognition from the Fillingslinger, whom this time was dressed for battle, bright blue plastic hat, apron and similar coloured elbow length gloves, presumably for ‘deep filling’. Not sure why they need elbow length gloves, perhaps some ingredients were going to be particularly ‘fresh’. So Nm MkI made her choice efficiently as usual, and then it was MkII’s turn again to step up to the plate.

The malevolent glare from across the counter indicated that the Fillingslinger had evolved to be as bright as she needed to be, and going for the pre-emptive and surly ‘I know what you want’ service, picked an egg and crushed it on the work surface, ready to use. At this exact moment the Guvner of the shop appeared, as if by magic, to see nothing going on, his employee, arms folded and looking pretty pleased with herself, an egg, best described as smeared across her work surface, clearly by herself, and a small child asking for ham and cheese.

Well in terms of malevolent glares, Mr Benn pulled an ’11’ straight out of the bag, directing it at the Fillingslinger who wilted quickly and white flagged ‘its not fair’, reverting to a catatonic trance like state, dreaming of the day when she’ll win X-factor, and will no longer be mentally challenged by the vagaries of a six year olds sandwich filling.
She’ll get her 15 seconds of fame as she murders U2’s ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for’, cruelly chosen by a frustrated member of the production team, who couldn’t get an egg mayo sandwich, down to an unexplained shortage of eggs…

That Smell v.2.0

Posted in cats, dogs, Humour, life, pets, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on October 13, 2008 by norvenmunky

Inflatable dog poo sculpture wreaks havoc

A Puppy ( a fecking big one I grant you), Yesterday

A Puppy, ( a fecking big one I grant you), Yesterday

Earlier this year a modern art exhibit wreaked havoc after blowing away from a museum in the Swiss city of Berne.The exhibit in question, titled “Complex Sh*t”, was an inflatable dog turd the size of a house.

The exhibit, a sculpture by American artist Paul McCarthy, was blown loose from its moorings at the Paul Klee centre. An inopportune gust of wind then carried it 200 yards. A sort of ‘following through’ moment then… The giant inflatable stool brought down an electricity line and smashed a greenhouse window before eventually coming to rest in the grounds of a children’s home, after becoming en-snared in a full washing line…

Representatives of the museum later revealed that McCarthy’s work of art had a safety system that would automatically deflate the inflatable turd in the event of a storm but admitted the device had failed to activate. No doubt Bergies colleagues had a similar excuse stored in case they were ever reunited with ‘les enfants du piscine’

Well today some people we know got a new puppee, ah, bless, etc. Well they’ll have all the entertainment of ‘house training’ it.
Always struck me as an odd term that did, ‘house training’, shades of BBC2 and Babs Woodhouse shouting ‘Bungalow’, at some poor demented mutt. Or her yelling ‘1930’s Semi’ and being pleasantly surprised to see a lard arsed golden retriever, wiping its ring piece across the carpet whilst paddling toward her with the lippy out.

It reminds me of a training story and jolly jape played on a new kitty owner, by a known ‘perp’.
New kitty was the owners pride and joy, and I’ve heard tell it was a cute little thing. Well the training started in earnest, and soon Tiddles was using the last scrap of paper, and moving onto the litter tray. Occaisonally there was the crunch of gravel underfoot in the kitchen, lets face it though, it could have been worse, and softer.

Well being a house frequented by assorted piss taking bastards, a cunning plan was hatched. Tiddles ate well and had a very healthy appetite, but to the increasing concern of the owner, had irregular bowel habits. Sometimes as much as two or three days would pass before there was a ‘result’ in the tray. Books were consulted, and other owners, no interweb then, and the concensus was that something was amiss and a vetinary appointment should be booked. (For the cat). Well off went Tiddles to the vets and no doubt had a happy thirty minutes or so playing ‘glove puppets’ with the staff, and returned home, probably in a filthy mood. Lots of cuddles, treats and sympathy for the poor mite. Well four days passed before another movement, and as predicted on the Friday afternoon the responsible owner rang for a vet appointment for the Saturday, which was duly booked. Now Tiddles in fact was a good kitty, very regular, but shift times in the household had allowed the early shift to on occaision remove Tiddles efforts and spirit them away, to be replaced with new kitty litter prior to the owner rising from their slumber. Hence the irregular movement pattern.

Now Friday night being a night out for all on the lash, went ahead as usual. Late night revelers on turning in, said ‘night-night’ to Tiddles and wandered off to bed. The morning shift went out the door as usual for the ‘oh ffs its early’ start. However on departing, Tiddles handiwork was removed, as usual, and after 15 pints or so the previous evening, replaced with a morning glory specimen that Berg’s Dartmouth naval gazers would have been proud of. All it really needed was a walnut on top to finish it off.

Well the house was awoken by some very (still monumentally pissed), loud swearing and cries of disbelief from Tiddles owner an hour or so later, when the young feline was drunkenly being associated with a ‘richard’ at least the size of a good M&S Yuletide log.
Then the smell hit home, and then, it hit the fan. Big time.

Have you met Miss Jones?

Posted in cats, dogs, environment, Humour, life, pets, recycling, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on October 11, 2008 by norvenmunky

Apparently the RSPCA has complained about North Nottinghamshire County Councils ‘Cruel’ recycling policy. Dog bins have been appearing next to normal litter bins and the council make regular trips to clear the bins of unwanted dogs.

When asked about the recycling, Miss Jones, a spokesperson, (perish the thought we find out she’s female), for NCC said we just collect them, ‘We don’t actually recycle them ourselves, thats outsourced to an approved outside contractor’. Regarding the size of the problem Miss Jones replied, ‘The number of unwanted dogs is on the increase and especially on the run up to christmas we expect the problem to get worse, unfortunately people discard their current dogs, in anticipation of receiving a newer version as a gift, its a product of our throw away society. We’ve provided these easy to use recycling points where people can dispose of their old dogs responsibly. They are compacted and recycled with household compost waist and then bagged. We sell the compost with all the profits going to The Cats Protection League.’

When asked if it were humane, the source said its a ‘Kennel to Grave’ approach to BS7750 environmental management standard. When further pressed on the matter she admitted somewhat bad temperedly that lethal injections were not provided, as it duplicated a process already covered by compacting and shredding, and they weren’t made of money due to cost cuts.

Icelands Bubble About To Burst

Icelands Bubble About To Burst

The councils costs problem has recently been exacerbated by Icelands Kerry Katona being reported missing with a large chunk of NCC’s cash, allegedly to buy more dogs.