I Can Hear Your Heartbeat

Well its been a while since NM broke cover, fortuitously since the slug incident, things have been quiet. Ever so sportingly arranging to be out of the drum when Mr Hoovers finest was fired up in anger again probably helped. I’m led to believe ‘dried’ slug is a bit wiffy too. Mrs NM commented ‘the Hoovers making a really odd smell’, ‘Is it?’ NM replied, taking an inordinate amount of interest in assorted paint color swaiths the boss had brought in. One wonders sometimes if you can ‘over egg’ the pudding.

Anyhow in the intervening period ‘The Berg’, reminded by the GCM’s hoofing and footlight performances, has related the story of his mixing with the luvvies 43rd Light Artillery Dance, and Mime Field Regiment. Picture the scene as proud parents in ball-less strapgowns, Dj’s, cummerbunds, (Berg, jeans T-shirt), etc assemble to view their offsprings finest endeavours, in the field of unarmed, hand to hand, dance and mime. ‘The Berg’ continues …

Berg is godfather to the twin daughters of his good friend Dr S; a man with more letters after his name than in it. ( I’ve counted). Now eight years old, the gruesome twosome attend dancing lessons run by an ex leading light in tripping the light. When comfirming the date of his most recent visit to the Dr S household, Berg was informed he was to attend the forthcoming prize-giving. Along he went, expecting a few kids and parents and a quick finish. He was thus surpised to arrive amid some 400 parents and kiddies ranging from 5 to 15 yrs old. Recorded music was playing and the children were dancing the routines they had learned. Photography was allowed so your scribe was locked in combat with low light and high ISO. After a while everyone sat down around the dancefloor and out came the guest, professional dancers. They proceeded to give several demonstrations of how it should be done properly. Between numbers, the male partner spoke a few words to the audience. He asked who was everyone’s favourite dancer on Strictly Come Dancing. Looking back, Berg has to admit that given the dance-enthusiast audience, John Sargent probably wasn’t the most apposite name to loudly call out.

However, the highlight was still to come. For the next number the female partner wore a rather fetching dress with skirt split all the way to her waist. During the dance she was held by her partner horizontally at his shoulder height as he spun round. Sir Isaac Newton be blessed, gravity had its way and the skirt fell to the side. This revealed, how shall we put it, a ‘Wardrobe Malfunction’ !! However this was to make Janet Jackson’s threppenies wafting around the Superbowl look a bit tame.

This was much more of a Super Bowel type thing, for the geographers among you we are talking the amazonian basin. For the Zooologists a Dromadarian Pedicure Exhibition. There was nervous laughter from the mums. There was a hushed, some say almost reverential, ripple of applause. In the silence that followed you could indeed hear peoples hearts beating, mixed with the faint aroma of a distant canning factory.

The dads and ‘The Berg’ sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed the view.

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Have you met Miss Jones?

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

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.

Looking for Goddo

It appears from the web stats that lots and lots of people have been looking for Mr George Michael esq. I can not so exclusively reveal he’s been in the Kharzi. Not as some may erroneously think up to his back wheels inside a prominent ‘Third world’ leader, but in fact, in the bog.

Business as usual

Indeed the latest frenzy of forum sleb’s makes me wonder if we’ll see a revised form of TV game show ‘Forum fishing’. In this crack, new,  game show, the two nominated hobby ‘slebs’ go to an exhibition with the suckiest, most enthusiastic, of the forum feeders, contestants. The cam follows them around the show where the ‘slebs’ can show their knowledge and social skills as they parade, unhindered by backpack wearing stoats, through the ailles between the layouts, trade and demo’s. They’re stalked, accompanied by the three players, who have to hang on every word as they will form the later questions. The contestants get time to eat with their muses, heroes,  feasting on the delights of exhibition catering, before the ‘show’ begins. The contestants of course are kept a respectable distance away, so as not to indulge in any unhinged, faux-seductive moves, on their victims, of the type tried in nightclubs by pissed stoats in a misguided attempt to secure some floor sweepings before the ugly lights come on.

At the appointed hour the forum will open with an on-line vid cam interview, free of charge of course, coz the nets free innit? Dan Winterland, our ever genial host will provide the link between our ‘slebs’ and players, knowing full well the indolent quarry of the audience will be at home covered in Aphrodite’s evostick, having been surfing advertisements for limited edition ‘releases’ on the shit pump.

Our ‘game’ contestants then, each issued with an elbow length Marigold and half tin of Swarfega, are sat next to a box, not unlike a confessional cubicle, with the ‘sleb’ one side,  prepared to be the wheelbarrow, rather than the earthy chap pushing it from behind, and on the other, in arm’s reach, the players. Each get their chance to identify the ‘sleb’, by searching  for familiar exhibition fare, whilst gurning and muttering under their breath. Detailed, timed questions, relayed expertly by Dan on the ‘slebs’ specialist subject are asked, meanwhilst the players attempt to expertly shovel the steaming dung, (with their free hand), into a bucket.

Prizes will include, amongst other goodies, replacement watches.