LOST CAT

LOST CAT

My pal Fanton runs the Lord Likely website and did this here Lost Cat poster

I thought it's not doing much good sitting around on the internet, so now the good people of Reading are now seeking high and low for poor, starving Thundercock.

[Click to embiggen]

Within days, some self-appointed guardian of the community noticeboard flagrantly STEALS my Lost Cat poster. Needless to say, this upsets me somewhat, and I am forced to appeal for its return:

And here it is in the wild:

Needless to say, nothing is sacred in this town, and I am prepared for the next, inevitable event in this dreadful saga, which I have christened Operation MindFork

And, to make sure all the bases are covered and to take everything down a whole, new avenue of wrongness:

I AM NOT MAD

THE HORROR

THE HORROR

"What," asked TV's Graham Linehan, thinking aloud on Twitter, "What haven't they done in horror movies yet? Surely they've done it all."

One thing led to another, and it turned out that nobody's made a film about a serial killer in an office block that laminates his victims TO DEATH using a giant office laminating machine.

That is, until now.

[Clicky to embiggen]

Now I've done the poster, that make it all official, right?

Motivational poster du jour

Motivational poster du jour

Weekend Video: Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

Weekend Video

Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots




I know that some of you hate the Flips with a passion, to which I say this: Tough shit.

On returning to the single life, again

On returning to the single life, again

Yeah, I'm a single man. Happy-go-lucky. Carefree. Free to do what I want to do. Have a good time. Have a party.

So I did just that.

I joined the library.

All the books I can eat. Free reservations. Slightly out of date CDs and DVDs.

And librarians. Lots and lots of hot, smoking librarians of that certain age.

So many hot, smoking librarians of that certain age that I am resolved: The next woman I am going to run off with and marry will be an actual card-carrying, dewey decimal-loving, date-stamp-wielding sensibly-dressed librarian.

Or an archivist.

Or a researcher.

Or, to be honest, any woman at all.

I'm open-mined like that, and all I need now is an open-minded librarian, researcher or archivist willing to put up with a git.

Now, if somebody would be kind enough to set up a librarian dating website, we can get this party started.

Hot librarians, everybody!

If any hot librarians are reading this, here's a librarian joke that I certainly DID NOT* steal from Jimmy Carr.

A bloke walks into a library, saunters up to the desk and says "Cod and chips, please" in a loud voice.

The hot librarian gives him the skunk-eye and replies: "You do realise this is a library, sir?"

"Oh, sorry," says the inebriate and whispers, "Cod and Chips, please"

*Lie

On returning to the single life

On returning to the single life

You know that thing when you buy a car, and you see loads of the same make everywhere you go?

It is - I find - exactly the same when you split from a long-term partner.

There are Yummy Mummies EVERYWHERE. And for the first Time, I am allowed to notice them.

Previously:

"Hey wow..."

"Stop staring at her."

"I'm not staring at her. Besides - how do you know? I'm wearing sunglasses."

"Trust me, I know."

Now:

"Hey wow..."

[silence]

Then: "Stop staring at me, you pervert."

Cannot win.

The ever-forward march of electronic communications

The ever-forward march of electronic communications

A cup of tea.

But, this being a bachelor pad, the milk carton contains nothing but yoghurt, and there is but one option:

My first visit to the new corner shop.

Down the road, past the gun shop, and into the fine establishment on the corner of Washington Road.

And my first thought on walking through the door is not about milk, but rather:

"My God. Just look at that. People are still buying printed pornography."

And then you realise that you spend far, far too much time on the internet.

And other surpise: People still buy printed newspapers. Live and learn.

Know Your Gods Part Two

Know Your Gods Part Two

I feel yesterday's lesson was not enough, and you need more gods. Kneel - KNEEL - before this bunch of pretenders.

No.5: KA - Sofa-headed god of extremely small chariots

No.6: WADJET - Completely-made-up god of crap that gets thrown together after the high-priest's all-night piss-up

No.7: SHU - Extremly nervous god of people who have an allergy to insects and small bitey animals

No.8: SETH - God of Yorkshire

THE LESSON ENDS.

Know Your Gods Part One

Know Your Gods Part One

As an equal-opportunities BLASPHEMER, I find it my duty to explain the intricacies of world religions to you, the noble reader. That being the case, I present a short tutorial on the pantheon of Egyptian gods.

Pay attention, there will be questions.


No.1: HEH - One-legged god of jokes that are less funny the more you hear them

No.2: BES - Hideously ugly, kinky-afroed god of extraneous band members

No.3: APIS - Very small god of finding yourself caught short on the way home from the pub

No.4: NUN - Cross-dressing god of hot clergy

Meanwhile, in 1066...

Meanwhile, in 1066...

Weekend Video: Louis Gordon - Space Age Love Song

Weekend Video

Louis Gordon - Space Age Love Song



I'm pretty damn certain I've posted this one before, BUT I DO NOT CARE.

And here's the Flock of Seagulls original.

In other news: Thanks to lovely people who sent me items from my Amazon Wish List this week. You know who you are, and you are marvellous.

The LibDem-Conservative Coalition: One Year On

The LibDem-Conservative Coalition: One Year On

We've had this LibDem-Conservative coalition government for just over a year, and it is fair to say that they've got a bit of an image problem.

The Conservatives come across as a bunch of millionaire ex-Eton types bullying the poor, disabled, the poor disabled and the Liberal Democrats.

The Liberal Democrats, on the other hand, come across as a bunch of utter dickwads who rightly deserve their human shield status.

However, it is pointless slamming our political betters if you do not offer solutions which could rehabilitate them in the eyes of the electorate. This being the case, I offer the following sure-fire vote-winners:

- Pull the Royal Air Force out of their NATO Humanitarian mission to protect the Rebel Alliance in Libya, and have them bomb the Halifax Radio Station adverts back to the stone age, it being the only language these curs understand

- Throw cutter-in-chief Eric Pickles to the wolves. Actual, starving wolves. Just for TEH LULZ. Live on peak-time ITV, presented by Ant and Dec. Failing that - because we frown on violent death in the main - just lure him to a cupboard under the stairs with a trail of tasty, tasty pork pies and lock him there until the crack of doomsday, it being the only language these curs understand

- The promise of free cake, with a national referendum to choose between chocolate or fruit cake (Actual Whitehall expenditure on free cake = £0.00, the cake being a lie)

- Introduce a law banning the practice of clicking 'like' on your own Facebook status, typing "Alistair Coleman likes this", then clicking 'like' on "Alistair Coleman likes this", for this is the road to insanity, chaos, and international conflict

- Monkey butlers, jet packs, Thatcher's head-on-a-stick, monorail. MONORAIL!

I'd vote for that*

*I'd probably not vote for that

The Quest for Bread

The Quest for Bread

As part of my life decision to be a great big ponce, I took delivery of a bread machine with the sole, misguided intention to make my own bread. With an armful of hideously out-of-date ingredients kindly donated by the former wife, what, I ask, could possibly go wrong?

Fucking everything, as it turns out.

"Ah-ha! Just as I thought..."

Picture this, my very first attempt, aborted before the cooking cycle really got going. Yes, it's hideous, didn't rise a bit, and has now been set free to live out its days on the government benches in the House of Lords.

"Perhaps," said my flatmate, "You shouldn't have used that yeast."

He is CORRECT, for the Use By date of that yeast was July. July of 2007.

So we tried again, with yeast that was only slightly out-of-date, and with the weevils painstakingly removed from the flour.

The picture doesn't really do it justice. It's Terry Pratchett Dwarf Bread, the densest material in the known universe. Using professional cutting equipment, we finally gained access, to find that it was - in fact - a really big crumpet. A really big crumpet that tastes OK if you use all the marmite in the world.

Suddenly everybody is a bread expert: "Too much water", "Old ingredients", "Get yourself some measuring spoons", "The Feng Shui's wrong", "Don't use rat poison"

But, after buying some spiffy new measuring spoons, I know the real reason: "You're a bloke trying to cook".

OK, then. New yeast, new flour, decent tools. Third time's the charm... Worship me, for I AM A BREAD-MAKING GOD!

I am now open to requests. But not plaited bread, for that is the first step down the road to poncery.

You know, after I've mastered this bread-making business, I may well branch out into other products. I'm a huge fan of baps, as it happens.

*cough* Amazon Wish List *cough*

Limerick corner

Limerick corner

There was a magician from Bath
Who once sawed a lady in half
But not side-to-side
He opened her wide
One day we'll all look back and laugh.

No, really, we'll all look back and laugh.

The chilling fact that connects the world's most evil serial killers

The chilling fact that connects the world's most evil serial killers

- Peter Sutcliffe

- Charles Manson

- Unabomber Ted Kaczynski

- Osama bin Laden

- Washington sniper John Allen Muhammad

- Dr Harold Shipman

- Jehovah

- Captain Birdseye

What's the connection?

Spotter's badge if you've noticed they are some of the world's worst mass murderers (or best, depending on your perspective)

But what's the other connection?

FACIAL HAIR

These curs were so busy killing their victims utterly TO DEATH that they didn't have time to shave.

There is one simple, knee-jerk solution: SAY NO TO BEARDS

Notable exceptions:

- Jesus

- Abraham Lincoln (but NOT evil zombie Honest Abe)

- Rolf Harris, and his twin brother Rofl Harris

On discovering the OTHER bit about donkeys in the Bible

On discovering the OTHER bit about donkeys in the Bible

You might know by now that I'm a deity-curious atheist. I'm not so hardcore that I despise everything about religion, but dip my toe in every now and then to see what I'm missing, and have a damn good laugh about it later.

Let's face it, any religion that's trying to cope with a bit of an image problem could really do without inviting Robert Mugabe to the Vatican for the Beatification of former Pope John Paul II, but that's exactly what they did.

And, as you know, I like a good laugh at leaflets written by some of the more fringe, utterly fruitcake groups that are attracted to organised religion.

Call it 'Know Your Enemy'.

So, imagine this conversation:

Him: "You do realise there's a verse in the Bible about donkey cocks?"

Me: "There's a what whatty what what?"

Him: "Donkey. Cocks."

These men of the cloth. They're all the same.

But there is. And I quote:

Ezekiel 23:19-21
(19) Yet she became more and more promiscuous as she recalled the days of her youth, when she was a prostitute in Egypt. (20) There she lusted after her lovers, whose genitals were like those of donkeys and whose emission was like that of horses. (21) So you longed for the lewdness of your youth, when in Egypt your bosom was caressed and your young breasts fondled.

They never showed us THAT one in Sunday School.

Good grief, if the so-called Good Book has that kind of scud, what else is there?

"And the LORD sayeth: Thou two girls take up this one cup that it runneth over with thyne own filth and thou shalt...(continues for several pages)... and the LORD was much disgusted and he SMOTE them with his iron rod"

No wonder the Pope's always got that look on his face, if this is his bedtime reading.

And don't even get me started on Isaiah 36:12.

Book Review: The Unreliable Life of Harry the Valet

Book Review: The Unreliable Life of Harry the Valet - The Great Victorian Jewel Thief by Duncan Hamilton

Every now and then I get an email from a publisher or PR company asking if I would like to review on of their books. I take stock of my moral compass as a noted blogger and reply thussly: "Yeah, send me your free stuff", for my moral compass has been set to "free snizzle" for some years.

And so, those nice people at Random House (who might be interested to know that I have no less than two compelling manuscripts nearing completion), asked me if I might like to look at Hamilton's new book on Harry the Valet, and it was as if an occult hand placed said tome directly into my hands.

Now, true-crime books are ten a penny, and having read a few stinkers in my time, I approached this title with some trepidation. But then, this isn't any old true-crime book.

The story of a one man crime wave who lived the high life on the back of some of the most audacious jewel thefts in the latter part of the 19th Century, Harry the Valet became something of a criminal celebrity of the age, particularly after his robbery of thousands of pounds worth of jewels from the unpopular Dowager Duchess of Sutherland.

Undone by his love for the stage actress who he was trying to impress, his trial was the sensation of the time, with the printed press publishing breathless accounts of his exploits, fictional or otherwise.

But the greatest mystery, almost lovingly uncovered by Hamilton, is the true identity of The Valet whose very existence was one long string of aliases and untruths from a man who, today, would be pigeon-holed as a compulsive spender, gambler and drinker funded by an extraordinary life of crime in a battle of wits against witless Victorian detectives.

Writing with the benefit of census records and electronic newspaper archives, Hamilton has been able to unravel the life of The Valet from the fiction in which he revelled, from the seeming invincibility of his younger years to the long, sad years behind bars after police detecting methods finally got the better of the light-fingered thief.

Hamilton manages to make a narrative from both The Valet's own account (which he embellishes from the safety of old age) and those in extensive public and newspaper records to create a highly readable and enjoyable book. Also, it provides excellent hints and tips to the aspiring Victorian jewel thief in these days of poor employment opportunities.

Harry the Valet was a star of his time, long forgotten in the years after his death. Hamilton resurrects his memory and puts him in his rightful place in the history of British criminal history. And frankly, it's a damn sight better than the true-crime penny dreadfuls that still haunt the shelves of our bookshops to this day.

Weekend Video: Eddie Izzard - Death Star Canteen

Weekend Video

Eddie Izzard - Death Star Canteen


It distresses me somewhat that there are still people in the world who have not seen the Death Star Canteen video.

Watch it now, or I shall kill you with a tray!

The author also recommends: El Guincho - Bombay (Warning: Not Safe For Work)

Death to Ten Items or Less

Ten items or less!

TEN ITEMS OR LESS!

Don't you supermarket imbeciles know it's 'Ten items or fewer'?

From now on, I shall only ever be shopping in Waitrose*. I love you Waitrose. I really, really love you.

* Unless better value and/or prices can be found in the Iceland supermarket round the corner

Martin Luther King quotes

Martin Luther King quotes

Martin Luther King, Jr: Thoroughly excellent chap.

One for the most important lives of the 20th Century.

Gave hope to millions.

Inspired the current US president to greater things.

Dreamed of freedom, but was murdered before he could see it happen.

Possibly the most misquoted man in history.

And let's face it - if you're known for perhaps the greatest speech in the history of humanity, it is perhaps a bit of a letdown that nobody ever mentions the final line, lost as it was in the roar of the crowd.

Yes, MLK had a dream, but nobody ever remembers "Then I woke up and my pillow was gone".

A few other King quotes that seem to be missing from the historical record:

"We so excited. Tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterwards"

"Calm down dear, it's only a commercial"

"I find your lack of faith... disturbing"

"Is this the real life? Or, is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality"

"Never believe a word you read on the internet"

Wise words, indeed

On James Bond product placement

On James Bond product placement

The news that producers have coined in £30m in product placement deals for the new James Bond film does not surprise me at all.

Bond movies are product placement incarnate, from ill-adivsed deals with BMW, wrist watches, computers, even the clothes on 007's back.

What is surprising - if reports are to be believed - are the deals being lined up allowing Chinese companies to display their wares alongside MI6's top fictional agent.

Unless, of course, it's all a great double-bluff:

Q: "Now, pay attention 007. In these tough times, even our intelligence agencies have got to make ends meet, so we're kitting you out with some of this new stuff. Can't say I'm entirely pleased, mind you"

Bond: "You mean I've got to hand back the Aston?"

Q: Worse than that, Bond. We've just bought in a job lot of these attractive, reasonably-priced James Bond action figures from our new pals at the Guangzhou No.1 Plastics and Engineering Concern in China. Just give them to your foe and we can guarantee that he'll no longer be a problem."

Bond: "You mean it'll explode the minute he tries to use it?"

Q: "Don't be stupid, 007. He'll be poisoned quite to death by the lead in the paint"

The new Bond film: "Our Good Friends in China, Especially Those at the Guangzhou No.1 Plastics and Engineering Concern" is released into cinemas on 9 November 2012.

On Facebook statuses, and having your brain sucked out of your nostrils

On Facebook statuses, and having your brain sucked out of your nostrils

Quite a few of you are on Facebook. Some of you are even my friends.

Every now and then, you get one of those round robin status updates asking you to spread awareness of some worthy cause. Happy to help, but, what, I ask of the unworthy causes? Aren't they just as important?

What about those poor people who've had their brains sucked out of their nostrils by the unspeakable, dread terror of Chthulhu, high priest of the old, dark one?

That's why I've come up with this Facebook status update to deal with this all-too-common problem of which no-one dare speak. Let's see how far it goes.

If you know someone who has had their brains sucked out of their nostrils by Cthulhu, please post this as your status. It is my wish for 2011 that people will understand that having your brains sucked out by Cthulhu is not something to be ashamed of. I know that 97% of you won't post this as your status, but my friends will be the 3% who do in honour of someone who has had their brains sucked out by Cthulhu

I don't see any problem with this whatsoever. LET'S MAKE THIS WORLD A BETTER PLACE TOGETHER!

Rule 34, again

Rule 34, again

Oh, those Normans.

All about Rule 34

Weekend Video

Weekend Video

Adam and the Antz - Antmusic


That's Antz with a "z". Any other spelling is a BLASPHEMY

Brucie Bonus: Client cover the Antz' Zerox Machine (Warning: Contains strobe lighting, all-girl band in leather dresses)

On Dining Like Kings

On Dining Like Kings

I'll be the first to admit that I've not been a lucky man in my life. After all, I bet winners like Charlie Sheen have never had to crap in their shed.

But, my luck turned last week when I won a packet of six Bernard Matthews Turkey Drummers in a competition.

And, by "winning", I mean "shining a torch through the scratchcard they give you at the till in Iceland to find the winning combination, what possible karmic retribution could a man expect from what might be construed as cheating in order to win a pound's worth of processed Turkey products?"

Not much of a victory against The Man, but that night, we DINED LIKE KINGS.

Then we had INDIGESTION LIKE KINGS.

And due to the lack of facilities, we were BANISHED TO THE SHED LIKE KINGS.

It's tough work being a King. I don't think I'll bother applying for the job next time there's a vacancy.

Ode to Osama bin Laden

Ode to Osama bin Laden, who would now be pushing up daisies were he not buried at sea

I've written a poem about not poor, very dead Osama bin Laden. I have called it: "Ode to Osama bin Laden, who would now be pushing up daisies were he not buried at sea"

Osama! Osama!
You messed with Obama
And now you've ended up shot.
You sat in my way
That match at Highbur-ay
And that's why I hate you a lot.

Not to mention
All those murders you did.

Git.

On the worst kept secret in the world, ever

On the worst kept secret in the world, ever

I've written about virtually every aspect of my private life over the last nine years or so, so why stop now?

The truth of the matter is that the former Fragrant Mrs Duck are no longer an item. After twenty years of marriage, where I might not have been the ideal partner, the whole shooting match is off.

No need to send commiserations or anything like that - for I shall hunt you down like a dog if you dare - as this end has been perfectly obvious for some time now.

Nothing much else to say except:

A) form an orderly queue, please

B) A short story on how I won my ex-wife in a raffle:


A short story on how I won my ex-wife in a raffle

Easter 1987. I had been talked by workmates (the kind that blackmail you with "Come on it's for CHARITY") into taking part in a treasure hunt followed by a barbecue, all for charidee.

Grudgingly, I went along, and drove people around the Berkshire countryside, following clues, and trrying desperately to come in last.

We came in last.

And then: The Charidee Raffle.

"And the first prize - two West End theatre tickets - goes to... the young Mr Scary Duck!"

Woo Hoo.

I was single and a complete Billy No-Mates. But that was no problem for my boss.

"Hey! Scary - you can take V!"

V was the young lady in our office at the Ministry of Cow Counting who had stolen my desk by the window while I had been away for a week. We had a particularly healthy hate-hate relationship. She'd do.

I asked her to the theatre.

She said "Yes"

We got married.

Twenty-something years on, we are getting divorced.

And that is how I won my ex-wife in a raffle.

THE END, Happy Ever After

WINNIE THE POOH

WINNIE THE POOH

Congratulations to Disney Studios for their successful 're-boot' of their money-spinning Winnie-the-Pooh franchise with a new animated movie. We're not so sure, after seeing the scripy, that letting Tim Burton do the 're-imagining' was entirely the right thing to do.

TIM BURTON'S WINNIE THE POOH

SCENE: Hundred Acre Wood, day. POOH, PIGLET, TIGGER and CHRISTOPHER ROBIN enter left, marching and singing

ALL: We're going for a picnic!
Tiddly pom!
Tiddly pom!
Just little old you!
Tiddly pom!
And little old me!
Tiddly pee!

ALL EXIT RIGHT

CAPTION: SEVERAL HOURS LATER

SCENE: Hundred Acre Wood, sunset. POOH, TIGGER AND CHRISTOPER ROBIN are in a gloomy clearing, the trees behind them make menacing shapes

CHRISTOPER ROBIN: Are you sure this picnic was such a good idea?

TIGGER: Tiddly pom! [BURP]

CHRISTOPER ROBIN: And another thing - where's Piglet?

WINNIE THE POOH: He's gone to find help

[POOH wipes his mouth with the back of a bloodied paw]

WINNIE THE POOH: Yes. Help. Tiddly-help

[FADE TO BLACK, CHRISTOPER ROBIN screams, screams become strangled chokes, then silence]

SCENE: Elsewhere in the Hundred Acre Wood. ROO is playing with a ball. Owl is sitting on the lower branch of a tree.

ROO: Come on, Owl! Play ball with me!

OWL: You do realise that while you are a small baby mammal, I myself am a bird of prey, commonly known in this post-Spielberg age as a "raptor". Now, if you don't mind, it's well past my dinner-time…

OWL swoops down from his branch

[FADE TO BLACK, there is a short, final crunch of beak against all-too-fragile bone]

SCENE: Elsewhere in the Hundred Acre Wood. Eeyore stands by the edge of his stream

EEYORE: Hey kids! It's your happy-go-lucky pal Eeyore! And guess what? Somebody's sent me a present. Let's see what it is!

EEYORE opens a small, square package. Yes, I know he hasn't got opposable thumbs - the animation wallahs can sort something out

EEYORE: YES! YES! FUCK YES! It's a CD by someone called Leonard Cohen! Let's give it a spin, eh chums?

[FADE TO BLACK. Leonard Cohen music starts. Gunshot]

Low-quality joke

Low-quality joke

I went to the OCD charity shop during my lunch break today, but it was closed for stocktaking.

When I come to think of it, it's always closed for stocktaking.

B'dum - and indeed - tish!

---

Osama Bin Shot

It's Good News Day: So, how about the time I met the late Osama Bin Laden?

Calm down dear...

Calm down dear...

"What," I ask myself, "What should I post on these pages to mark the day that my hit counter ticks round to two million?"

"Yeah, that'll do."