Thursday, June 29, 2006

 

Moved up North

I've moved up to the North East of England at least for the summer. The reason for this is because as opposed to the South of England, we have an abundance of water up here. Down south, a serious drought is sweeping the land. People are only allowed to drink water between midnight and 3:30 in the morning. The environs are slowly transforming into a strange post-apocalyptic nightmare as man turns on his brother for the smallest drops of the precious elixir of life. Old women with swollen ankles are being kidnapped and tapped dry. A new strain of lizard people are evolving from the firey landscape while others are burying themselves deep below the desert, immersing themselves in a subterranean stasis in an attempt to hibernate through the infernal horror.

Up North, we have water coming out of our ears. Soooo much water we don't know what to do with it. There's not a day goes by without a new water feature being erected for the sole purpose of haemorrhaging away the excess. The latest is a 600 metre high rendering of a water molecule made entirely of ice.
Entire towns are being built entirely out of water, completely serviced by aqaubots who work the traffics lights and run the library and that. In contrast to the south, strange new breeds of creatures are emerging from the watery oasis. Not five minutes ago, a mersparrow hopped and paddled its way through the garden, singing and gurgling like a heavenly cherub. We live in a beautiful paradise.

On another note, I am going to Berlin today to join in the festivities surrounding the greatest marbles competition in the world. Sven Gordon Bennett, who must surely be acclaimed a the most swedish England manager of all time, has astutley guided his team to the quarter finals and I will be there to cheer them on, albeit 320 miles away as England are actually playing in Gelsenkirchen. The main game in Berlin is Germany vs Argentina. I am currently boning up on my irish accent and will be calling myself Bradlaw O' Skimp. Just in case the, "Hope we're all cool about that war thing" line doesn't cut it.

Here is a poem what is about that.

Me and my mates are going to the football,
We'll drink in the bars and eat in the food-halls,
Our arms we will wrap round the German and Argie,
Our smiles will be wide, our hangovers largie.
And when we are done, with new friends well met,
We'll shout from the airport,
"
Auf Wiedersehen, Pet!"

Monday, June 12, 2006

 

So I've go this mate called Tamalyn Jade

She works on an enormous ice-breaking ship on the the other side of Australia. In recognition of the fact that a small section of the nearby poupulation have squirreled their way into a pan-continental marbles competition (of which I will speak more later), she decided to reconstruct the initial stages of this assault by unleasing a single kangaroo against a lethal but very polite horde of 101 dalmation ninjas. At the end of the contest only three kangaroos and one ninja were left standing. Before he disappeared into the night, the last ninja whispered this...

Tamalyn, Tamalyn,
Always pack your flannel in,
Jade, Jade,
You’ll always have it made.

At least that's what she told me, and you should bear in mind that this person is fully capable of driving the entire length and breadth of Melbourne with her eyes closed. Without a car. Using only the power of her voice and eye-lashes.

I know what your thinking, "Hmmmmmmm".
I know. I'm thinking it too.

 

Sorry I haven't posted for a while. Been putting my feet up...





Tuesday, June 06, 2006

 

The broken charity band I sold on Ebay

This crazy laptop guy. He copy me so much in this link ---> Laptop Guy

Hello. My name is Kevin ChickenFeet and I live in Bath. I am 19 but pretend to be a lot older and like to pretend I am a big eBusinessman when I'm not actually that clever. Do you like the picture of me I took with my webcam?

Recently I sold a charity band to a buyer on Ebay, proudly displaying the legend, "Make Wrist Bands History". although the buyer paid £375 within a few days, I waited 723 seconds before bothering to send it to the buyer. It turned out to a perfectly good band except for one thing - IT DIDN'T WORK. Let me explain.


The proclamation on the band asserts that it will make said charity bands history i.e. non-existant. It is a given assumption that the charity band itself should have been rendered non-existant on the basis of its own assertion. If this happens, then the band no longer exists and therefore, the assertion no longer exists, thereby creating an impossible paradox from which there is no escape. If the charity band subsequently winks back into existance, then the assertion returns and the band disappears again. Because of this inexorable cycle, we see the continuing proliferation of all other charity bands.


I claimed to have moved to Dubai and hoped he would forget about it but he didn't. He performed a DNA extraction from skin particles found on the band. He then processed his findings using Uncle Finbarr's Picto-Make machine. An ingenious device that extrapolates from the smallest sample of DNA, the last 300 pictures that the subject almost certainly took.










There was a lot of porn, like this...













And this...










What have we here...







Let this be a lesson to all, summed up I feel in this timely poem...

If you mess with paradoxical charity bands,
You're gonna have a heap o' trouble on your hands,
From someone with an unhealthy attraction,
To
Deoxyribonuclei Acid Extraction.

Message to Kevin....
If you give the money to charity, I will publish an apology as well as that black and white picture of you looking really handsome on a camel. Or something. The choice is yours.


Monday, June 05, 2006

 

Madrid

So I went to Madrid for a stag-do last week, the stag being Emperor Martin of Belfast. He is so influential that he had a replica of Big Ben built outside his city centre penthouse. The fiesta was fantastica. Of course I can't relay any other details otherwise men will come in the night and give me chinese burns. Anyway, in the Plaza Mayor there is a statue of King Phil the fourth on a horse. A discussion started up regarding the significance of the various stances of monumental horses.

It is generally accepted that people who are cast riding a horse have fought valiantly in battle. Next time you see a horsey statue, check out its feet.

If all four feet are on the ground, it means the rider died peacefully of natural causes.
If one foot is raised, it means the rider was wounded in battle and died later.
If two feet are raised, it means that the rider died heroically in battle.
If all four feet are raised, it means the rider is actually still alive and is living in a hot-air balloon from which the statue is suspended. They normally spend most of their time fishing for pigeons.


Right-so, here is a poem about Madrid.

I went to Madrid,
To buy me a Lada,
Muchas Gracias,
De Nada.

Hasta Luego, muchachos and nunchuckas X

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