Hot pocket.

I gave myself a hot pocket earlier. How so? Well, I had a battery in with some coins. The connection was made and the money heated up. Idiot.

Imagine....

Imagine Bruce Forsyth's skull on a turntable. Wig on...grinning...revolving. You're a sicko!

Bin and gone...

I wonder why that man who, it must be said, smells like a bin chose to sit next to me? I smell nice and he smells of bin juice and banana skins.

What's the time, Buzz?

I reckon that Lunar jetlag must have been a real bastard. It always seemed to be night time so when do you give in and go to bed?

Rocked around....

1 2 3 O'Clock, 4 O'Clock, rock. 5 6 7 O'Clock, 8 O'Clock, dinner. 9 10 11 O'Clock, 12 O'Clock, bed.


That's my day sorted.

Pudding?

Jam Roly Poly was named after it's creator, Roland Poland.

Coffee time........

Instant coffee...the drink that lasts for 0.00% of a second and occupies no cup. The perfect accompaniment to a delightful plate of impossible fancies. Brought to you by "Tangential Snax PLC" : Irritating the peckish since 1812.

Lunch broke...

Whilst I was sitting and eating my lunch, I noticed an enormous grey spider crawling on my arm... Being a brave man, I did the 'getoffame' shuffle and sent it skywards. I settled back to lunch and felt something fall onto me. It was a huge, neon green caterpillar. It's just not been my day.

Dad dulux...

There was a man on the bus this morning who was having a staccato conversation with his father. A transcript follows:

 "Hello. Dad. Hello. Dad. Don't forget your wet paint sign."

Quite a wide parting.

Despite his large head and whopping great hand, the Elephant man had very nice hair.

Burger off...

Many burger vans these days seem to be decorated with pictures of smiling burgers with arms and legs. Imagine if those poor creatures existed. Sizzling flesh held together with doughy skin and bits of onion poking out. Painful.

Spell with a shell...

It's fairly galling to think that something as stupid as a tortoise can live for 120 years and yet I'll probably scrape up to 78, if I'm lucky. Next time I see a tortoise, I'm going to yell into it's face.

Eggs, eggs...I like eggs.

Yes...I like eggs. Fried, boiled, in mayo, omelette, baked...poached...on a pizza...or toast. Duck egg. Hen's egg. Goose egg. Any egg except human eggs. They are tricky to fry.

Musical musing...

Currently listening to Old Dog by Progeria Terrier. It's a real belter.

Choc-a-dooby!

Revolting chocolate ideas: The eye cream. Bite through the Choc and indulge in the centre made from a failed singer's eyeball...

Kit Kat Spunky...traditional chocolate wafer with a breezy layer of jizz interwoven with the crispy biscuit

Whole nut: a jogger's testicle in creamy Cadbury's chocolate.

Ma's Bar: turd shaped treat fashioned to look like the leavings of Britain's favourite mum, Judy Finnigan.

Spread the word...

Give me the keys to the muckspreader,
I wanna take it for a spin.
How can you be right,
When you're covered in shite?
Even though I am wrong,
I still win.

Hot wind at three...

When the Jolly Green Giant farts, does his field fill with undesirable popcorn?

Rhubarb, rhubarb.

Rhubarb: looks disgusting, tastes alright. Look for rhubarb under a pile of shite.

Hot snow.

Most annoying thing that ever happened to me? I left my house on a hot sunny day to find someone has left a supermarket trolley with some skis in it outside my front door. Bastards.

Tell 'em about it...

In 1927, they found a preserved "honey monster" in a glacier on the Swiss-Italian border. It's stomach contents revealed that it's last meal was soaked in milk but consisted of several hundred bees. The sad and tragic story of a creature tormented by the lack of a fulfilling breakfast option

Pardon?

I'm putting a massive, international "pardon me" out there for all the minging farts that I did in July which spoiled the month. Pardon me.

Sticking point.

Why is it that Superglue nearly always fails to fix stuff and yet tears off a yard of skin if you get it on you?

On behalf of my fellow travellers...

Request to certain people on buses: If you smell like shit and you are fully aware of it, would you please WALK in future? Thanks.

Last of the Summer Wine.

After many series of this fine show, it has been revealed that the contents of Compo's trousers was in fact, Compo's knob and balls. Oh, and his bum.

An unfair advantage.

Man. Shire horse. A battle ensues. The twisted sinew of powerful man against the strength of the horse. But in Kerplunk, you need fingers.

Rockin'...

I'd like go and see a silent rock band. All onstage but no power switched on. Same rock faces and poses but not much noise. Not that unplugged nonsense though... Just not switched on. Yeah

Oxford.

Mix whisky with oxo for an alcoholic beef drink that you won't forget.

Fanny.

I'm very bored with this...so, here's something I did once. I put a sock on the blade of a ceiling fan and switched it on. Immediately, it started rocking off it's support and it looked like it was going to tear the ceiling down. Bloody hell!

Wurzel?

So,I was in the town centre in Brighton a while ago. I was shopping and waiting my turn in the queue when this cider-punk asked whether he could jump the queue to pay for his gallon of scrumpy. OK, fair enough....I didn't need his stink so off he went. A scummy little woman who....er, obviously knew him, came up to him as if to chat. Nope. WHAM! She bopped him hard in the teeth with the most amazing punch that I've seen for a long time. He turned to me with scarlet teeth and said, "But I didn't do nuffing..." There's more to Brighton than it's miles of beaches, you know!

Oi, where's my future?

In the 1970s, British Rail patented a workable flying saucer, why haven't we got a 14:20 to the Moon yet?

Jumbo...

How many times would you have to punch an elephant before it passed out? Would you like to find out?

Weight watchers....

DIETERS. Buy only Russian Alphabetti Spaghetti as there are only 22 letters in the Cyrillic alphabet. Just watch the pounds fall off.

Brave little airman.

There's a dead fly on my windowsill. It died on it's feet and it's still standing. It was no coward!

Follow your dreams....

"Oh, why not follow your dream? Do what you want!" The reason being that dreams are on the "other side." You can't capture them nor even understand them until it's too late. You have to get others to understand them too before you can "fly away..." So, as much as I'd love to follow my dreams, unless the next cloud rains pixie dust on me, I'm just going to have to stay stuck in rotten reality.

Ernie.

It was the early 80s and I feel able to mention it now. It was a celebrity packed occasion and a little man came over towards me. I remember the cigar smoke. It was Ernie Wise. Oh, my... He turned towards me and........and....he said, "Good evening." Things were different back then but it's lived with me all these years. Good evening... Very pleasant.

Dreaming is free...

So, last night's dream was one of nuclear attacks taking place in the South of England. Or at least, that's what the government in my dream wanted everybody to believe. It was made to be so realistic that the very fabric of society came apart and people were looting, killing and fighting for food and cigarettes. (I don't know why the smokes were so important.) Anyway, the hoax was revealed and the population got angry so the government launched a real attack on it's own people. I heard the rockets going over and then.........everything broke as if they were made of glass. Very realistic and enjoyable. Great production values, I'd give this dream 8 out of ten. ********

I had a dream about Rod Hull once... "I'd committed a heinous crime, the nature of which is unclear to me outside of the dream. I was found to be guilty and I was sentenced to be Rod Hull. The previous Rod Hull had served his time and was free to comb his hair. I was taken to a cell, wherein they ruffled my hair up, gave me a khaki jacket with a false arm and made me wear the Emu. I was to be Rod Hull for five years."

I am a bell-end.

In my online quest to be the most amusing twat in the Brighton area, I was typing a witty thing about receiving a "GRILLING" after having read an article entitled, "The day television caught fire." I sniffed the air.... Ahhh, sweet smells of barbeque, it must be Summer. Hang on, BARBEQUE? I'd accidentally turned on the grill and it was happily melting a shopping bag and toasting a six pack of toilet rolls that I'd rested on the cooker surface. Shit, fuck.....knackers! No harm done except for the permanently branded "M" of Morrison's on the cooker top.