Thursday 30 August 2007

Some don't like it quite so hot...

Shitting Apocalypse Oven! I thought I'd be having fish and chips for tea. Instead it appears to be charcoal and a rather flat barbecue briquette.

I'd better get the Geiger counter out for this one...


Tuesday 28 August 2007

Some like it hot

"Fine!" I yelled at IDV whilst slamming the front door and flouncing storming off to Car. I was going to London to visit one of my best friends (yes, I do have some) for her birthday. Witchface didn't want to come because Knight and Blacksmith were coming 'round, and all that talk of probulators in the last post had conjured up all sorts of ideas...
What I didn't mention was another engagement I'd arranged for Sunday: A clandestine meeting of Super Awesomeness (and that's the first of a few clues I'll be letting slip as to the identity of my 'date')!

Sunday duly arrived, and I made my way to Ealing Broadway Starbucks where we were to meet. I was a bit early and had got a double tall latte and a position by the door.
A few minutes after I'd settled down, my 'date' arrived. Introductions were heralded by a faux-surprised look, a cheeky point and a sexy, sexy grin. I couldn't have melted faster had a bucket of water been thrown over me!
I rose from my chair like a giraffe with ricketts, managing to almost kick over a display of coffee beans or somesuch. Nervousness and anticipation had turned me into a graceless clod (although, in hindsight, I could've used the clumsiness to 'accidently' fall on him, Herr Lipp style). Still, he didn't recoil in horror and run screaming from the shop, so my spackertastic oafishness can't have been that bad.

Anyway, once his coffee had been purchased, we moved outside because it was - in spite of it being a bank holiday weekend - a beautifully sunny day. There we discussed, amongst other things, TV, films, work, cars, moving house, Bloggers, Sexy Sexy Ponies (not in a beastiality-way) and The Shat.
I got tongue-tied more than once - imagine a gumby with a mouth full of gobstoppers and you'll get the idea - due in no small part to his utter 'Rawr'-ness. The pictures you may have seen of my 'date' do not do him justice, as good as they are. He cut quite a dash in his printed white T-shirt (which was filled most impressively with broad shoulders and a well-defined chest), jeans (which were filled most impressively with - Ooh, I'd better stop there as I'm writing this at work. I don't want to come over all unneccessary in front of everyone) and his infamous white trainers. In the flesh, he is almost O-inducingly sexy - Thank heavens I'd kept at my pelvic floor exercises!
Having said that, not once did I make any lascivious comment or pervy innuendo.

I did, however, manage to obtain a sample of his saliva (by swabbing the rim of his coffee mug while he was in the loo) and one of his hairs (by feigning brushing a wasp away), so should Singletondom turn into Bitter Spinsterhood, I can brew a potent spell to change his sexuality to one more compatible with mine!

Mwah hah hah hah ha!

Blast! He's probably reading this. Why is it that all Villains see the need to disclose their diabolical and dastardly schemes with all and sundry. It must be part of our genetic code...


P.S. I know I said I probably wouldn't post anything until the end of the week, but this was too good a story to keep to myself. Plus, I'm at lunch but can't leave the building because I left my swipecard at home, so this was too good an opportunity to waste.

P.P.S. Yes I know there are no pictures. I was so awestruck that I forgot to take any. With my disposable camera. Which he ridiculed...

Friday 24 August 2007

Off again

Well, after years of constant use, my box has given up the ghost. A Virgin man is coming to give it a good probing on Tuesday evening. I do hope he's thorough and doesn't leave a mess...

The upshot is that I'll be pretty much incommunicado until late next week - unless I manage to find anytime during work, of course (chance'd be a fine thing). I mean, after a rigourous going over by the probulator on Tuesday I'm sure I'll not be in the mood to post anything. Wednesday evening is out of the question too as it's The Mother's birthday, so that only leaves Thursday -

And you can bet that he'll be too lazy to post then.
Quiet, you!

Thursday 23 August 2007

A slight return

Where have I been? What have I been doing?

Oh, the tales I could tell. Suffice it to say that I convened with the most powerful and ancient coven in existance. The triumverate of witches that we formed would normally rip the very fabric of reality apart, causing tears that even the most proficient quantum seamstress couldn't darn together.

However, what actually happened was little more than over excited, frequently tangential, meta-gossip. Reputations were ruined, skeletons were involuntarily conjured from closets (one of which had put on a lot of weight - Not so skeletal now, are you, you fat, insufferably smug cow?) and children were pushed into boating lakes with gay abandon! Good times.

And, despite rumours to the contrary, I was not engaged in 'manhoovering' with the entire male staff of the London Underground rail system. Ewww. The very idea! Have you seen what the majority of those tunnel dwelling trogolodytes look like?

Of course some of my disappearance can be attributed to SID's PSS, which I must say is rather startlingly accurate! However, I have now decided on a pose for when those ghastly green gash grazers grace my gazelle-like gams (phew). I'm just waiting for a bit of sun, as it's an outdoor pose.

I was going to post some pictures, but my home internet connection thingy appears to be up the spout, so I'm doing this from work where I can't access photos etc.


Thursday 16 August 2007

Die a little more

Excuse me, would you?

I'm just going to die a little bit.

Nearly there...

Just a little Underground business to take care of. Back soon.

Sunday 12 August 2007


My brain hurts. And I don't think it's because of alcohol poisoning.

I think the Subconsci are fighting. Again...

* sigh *

I'll post something of some description at sometime soon.


Thursday 9 August 2007

A Tale of One Settee

As you may remember, I left you with some ingredients that you had to blend into a tale of truth and, quite possibly, titilation, that accurately portrayed my first... Scar.

The ingredients were as follows:

1 mint imperial
1 wooden settee/sofa arm
1 doorbell
1 negligent mother

And the winner by default (as he was the only one who left a recipe), is SID! You were right, MJ, he is good. Here is his offering:

As a child,your negligent mother gave you a mint imperial to suck on while she answered the doorbell.

When she returned she found you blue as you were choking on it,so she threw you over the wooden arm and smacked you,thus dislodging said mint imperial.

The trauma remains.

The actual story goes like this:

The Mother was overseeing my play in the living room, like some cruel governess. Whilst doing so, she was sucking on her favourite sweet of the time: Mint Imperials.
Just then, the doorbell rang. The Mother jumped to her feet and left the room, neglecting her two year old son. Having observed The Mother popping the intriguing spherical white things in her mouth, I copied her, wolfing down the hard, minty things, until... One of them lodged in my throat!
A couple of minutes later, The Mother returned to find me blue in the face, lying prone against the settee, my face covered in blood. It seems I'd choked, passed out and clonked my head on the wooden arm of the settee as I fell.
I was held upside down by my feet and pounded on my back until the imperial became dislodged and flew out of my mouth, thus reviving me. Of course, I screamed blue murder once I came around.
To this day, I have a prominent scar just below my left eyebrow. I'm lucky to still have my eye!

As you can see, SID was very close with his entry.

What's my prize? he asked.

Now that I don't know, yet. I haven't found anything suitable - A packet of Mint Imperials, maybe? Email me your address SID and I'll surprise you with something!

Saturday 4 August 2007


The Freakin' Green** Elf Shorts bask in the sun,
across the garden from...

...a vista in which gruelling hard labour is soon to become apparent.

The Father of the Host starts up the blender concrete mixer...

...and leaves his
to feed the cantankerous clattering clank
(Hmmm... Looking a bit gaunt, there - Must remember to eat this week).

The Host grabs the dozing 'Shorts (Eww - without putting rubber gloves on first)...

...and drops them into the 'mixer.

They struggle to escape, but the Host pushes them back with a shovel.

The tainted concrete is used to create the base for a patio...

...where The 'Shorts will be entombed for eternity. Buried alive . . . Buried alive...
* Skillz pointed out to me that the word 'patio' is pronounced 'pat-ee-oh', which just seems vulgar, so I've spelled it phonetically.
** OK, so they're grey...

P.S. I'll announce the winner of the Recipe For Disaster challenge in a couple of days - unless no one else leaves a recipe, it'll be SID.

Wednesday 1 August 2007

Recipe for disaster!

This is the story of my (the Host) first . . . Ah. Perhaps I'll just list the ingredients and you, dear readers, can mix them together as you see fit, to create a wonderful concoction to delight and amuse both yourselves and us.
Whosoever whisks up a finished product that turns out to be nearest the truth, shall win a prize. I may also award a small prize for the most creative/amusing - don't make me say sordid - entry, too (I haven't decided what the prizes are going to be yet, but don't get your hopes up for a yacht or anything!)
And so...


1 mint imperial
1 wooden settee/sofa arm
1 doorbell
1 negligent mother

First, pre-heat the timeframe to 1976. Some of the fabrics may burn your retinas, so be sure to wear goggles or some other form of eye protection. Ensure your stirring apparatus is well greased, then you may begin!