Happy birthday Beast!

Almost forgot - Sorry Beast. You can thank Ms Scarlet for the reminder.

Bee swarm

 There I was, sitting at my desk reading through old blog posts, when a buzzing noise, not unlike a small aeroplane flying overhead, briefly distracted me. Initially, I paid it no heed since we live rather close to Northrepps Aerodrome and resumed my wonderment at all the instances in which MJ and Beast not only agree with one another, but also laugh at each other's comments.

 However, the buzzing persisted, even growing more strident and sounding a lot closer, so I looked away from the screen and out of the open window.

 Eeeeeek!

 The house was surrounded by swarming bees! I immediately thought of that hokey old film with Michael Caine in it, then that we were suffering from some sort of biblical plague signalling the apocalypse. My hand to my mouth, I checked my infernal calendar, only slightly relieved to discover that the apocalypse wasn't scheduled until 25th J-

Shhhhh!

Oh, yes, the mortals are not supposed to have prior knowledge. Sorry!

 Where was I?
 Oh, yes: abject panic!
 Immediately, I  set about closing all the windows and got the binoculars out to see if I could find Oprah Winfrey lurking in the neighbourhood directing her army of killer bees.

 By this time, the bees had tightened their swarm and were hovering over the trampoline in the garden of the house opposite (commoners), and Oprah was nowhere in sight. As I stared, somewhat enrapt, the swarm slowly moved to a nearby pine tree (obviously feeling the trampoline was a class or two beneath their social status) where they settled.

 So, now what do I do?

 

Weight loss the Infomaniac way!

 Another resounding success from the Infomaniac House of Beauty and its affiliates!

 After having her teeth seen to at Dr De Vice's Dental Clinic, she was advised to cut down on the sugary foods to keep them in tip-top condition. Enrolling in the Infomaniac House of Beauty's diet program, she lost so much weight she couldn't believe her eyes, so they were promptly (and inexpensively) removed.
 Now all she needed was a trip to the Hair Hall of Fame for a kicky new 'do!

De-nymphing the dishwasher

  I took afternoon tea yesterday with Brigadier General, the Baron von Vinculum and my distant cousin Svaathor Da Vijs. We met at Lily’s Tearoom at Hadfields Garden Centre in North Walsham for one of their delicious (and very reasonably priced) cream teas. The Ladies of Lily's were very accommodating and didn't bat an eyelid when I arrived with a posh steampunkesque old man and a massive centaur rather than Inexcuseable and her husband as is usual. The cook even offered Svaathor a sugarlump on her outstretched hand while we waited for some patrons to vacate the sofas in the corner (as Svaathor couldn’t fit his hulking carthorse-type frame at any of the little tables).

 When the waitress brought our tea and scones over, she set everything out on our table and offered another sugarlump to Svaathor. He nibbled it off her palm but almost immediately afterwards grabbed her small hand in both of his shovel-sized ones and gasped in shock (rather unnecessarily in my opinion).
 "My lady!" he exclaimed to the now rather apprehensive waitress. "Look at the state of your hands! The skin is red-raw and dry. It doesn't match the delicate, fair skin of your lovely face." He always was a bit of a charmer. "What ever have you been doing?"
 "Well", she blushed and pushed an errant strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, almost-but-not-quite fluttering her eyelashes, "we've been having a bit of a problem with our dishwasher so I've been washing up by hand."
 "By hand? A lady such as you shouldn't have to stoop to such a menial task. Don't you have a kitchen boy for when such things occur?"
 "Unfortunately not. This is only a small operation, you see, so most days it's only me and the cook."
 Svaathor harrumphed. "So, what's wrong with your dishwasher?"
 The waitress looked slightly uncomfortable, as if she didn't want to say, but after clearing her throat and looking the three of us over she answered. "Well, I suppose I can tell you without fear of being ridiculed: There's a young lady in it. Without any clothes on!"
 I rolled my eyes as the baron muttered something about the youth of today and poured himself some tea. Svaathor just sat back with a knowing look on his weathered but handsome face.
 "My lady" he said, rising from the sofa, "perhaps I can help? Lead me to this occupied dishwasher of yours" and the two of them disappeared around the corner and into the tearoom's kitchen.

 The baron slurped noisily at his tea and I buttered, jammed and creamed my scone to within an inch of its life as we studiously ignored the grunting and thrashing sounds coming from the back. A particularly unexpected and shrill "Ooh!" surprised the baron so much that his monocle fell out, but he put it back without a word. The following face-slapped-by-a-wet-fish sound was expected at this point, so we continued with our cream tea in a civilised manner, commenting on the weather as was right and proper.

 When Svaathor returned to join us, wiping the fish scales from his face with a napkin, the baron rummaged around in his bag eventually producing a brightly labelled bottle that he held out in front of us in his rather shaky grasp.
 "Perhaps next time" he said with a touch of exasperation, "you could just use this*."

*Also suitable for washing machines, showers & pool filters

  

Not the Royal Wedding Anniversary

 On my way back from Indescribable's (I was there for Babyzilla's birthday on Sunday), Inexcuseable sent me a text saying that we were nearly out of milk. I also remembered that the dishwasher still needed de-nymphing and so I popped to the supermarket near Sandringham to get the milk and de-nymphing solution.

Inexcuseable's husband getting accosted by nymphos as he fishes
an errant teaspoon out of the dishwasher's filter.

 Remind me never to stop there again.

 When I entered the store, there was a contingent of old ladies blocking the fruit & veg aisle, so I nipped down the hairnets & dogfood aisle reasoning that it'd be clear as the old ladies were already engaged. And I was right. Almost.
 A balding old man with unfortunately large ears stood in the centre of the aisle seemingly weighing up two cans of pet food. As I neared him, I could see that he was actually trying to decide between flavours of Mrs. Majesty queen food. In one hand was Ossifrage & Hummingbird flavour, and in the other, the new (I could tell it was new by the bright yellow "New!" star on it) Otter & Flamingo flavour.
 After shoving past him, I made my way to the toiletries aisle as I had a feeling I was nearly out of shaving gel. Unfortunately, they only had womens shaving foam, so I bought a small can, turning the label so I couldn't see Helen McDermott's suspender elastic staring back at me from the basket.

Helen McDermott in her early career as a model/strumpet

 Later, I got held up behind the old coot from the hairnets & dogfood aisle as he led his cocktail sausages from the checkout to the exit.

Fresh Battenberg Brand sausage meat

 To make matters worse, on the way out the carpark was annoyingly thronged with peasants milling around aimlessly.

Where in blazes did one park the blasted carriage?

 Oh, and I forgot the milk!

Easter egg

 We are never getting eggs from the "farm" up the road again!

 Inexcuseable came back from her walk earlier with a box of half-a-dozen eggs. There's a house up the road where one can buy fresh eggs that come from the multitudes of chickens that scratch around up there. I think she's trying to be more "country".
 Anyway, she plopped them on the side and promptly went outside to get the washing in. I, meanwhile, had just finished de-nymphing the dishwasher (a story for another time) when I heard a rustling from the eggbox. Edging cautiously up to it, I reached out and flipped the lid open. Five of the six pale brown mottled eggs were sitting in their little pulped-paper nests not moving at all. The sixth was jumping around like a child on a tartrazine high. It was all very Ghostbusters!
 As I debated what to do, the egg cracked open sending tiny pieces of eggshell flying across the kitchen and revealed a coiled up something inside. I leaned in closer, squinting, wishing I had my reading glasses to hand. 
 Suddenly, the thing sprung out, launching itself at my face! It was a basilisk!
 I leapt back and flailed at the writhing creature with a teatowel (the only thing immediately to hand), attempting to keep it at bay and it's deathly gaze off me. By pure chance I accidently dropped the cloth, which landed over the monstrous little serpent. Quickly scooping it up, I elbowed the waste-disposal unit switch on and shook out the teatowel over the sink. I smiled in grim satisfaction as the basilisk fell into the grinding metal teeth and was smushed to smithereens!

 While I leaned back against the fridge catching my breath, Inexcuseable walked back in with her washing, completely oblivious as to my narrow escape. She looked over at the noisily churning sink then switched her sights on me before sweeping out of the room. Over her shoulder she said:
 "Next time, remember to run the water when you use the waste disposal unit."

Something under the bed is drooling

 Ug. So tired. 

 I didn't sleep very well last night having been woken from dreams of things I can no longer remember by several large thumps and bangs, followed by the bed shaking. I thought it was another earthquake.

 I was wrong. It was much more serious.

 There was a monster under the bed.

It's eyes... Like gimlets!
(Artist's impression. The actual monster may vary)

 The bloody thing was eating breakfast! So, not only did I have to deal with the chomping of massive jaws and crunching of bones, but also the rivers of drool seeping into my carpet.

 As I staggered out of bed leaving the monster to its meal, I tried not to think about the devastation that was sure to await me downstairs. I mean: can you imagine the carnage caused by a sizeable monster dragging a kid through a cat-flap, and the state of our pots & pans cupboard as it rummaged for one big enough to fry a rather overweight child? 

 Le sigh.



And, yes, now that I'm up, I'll get on with those final articles from wwwWOW! 

w-w-w-WOW! Final Edition

 Yes, this is the start of (not very many) things to come. As you may have noticed, I haven't been around much lately-

Lately!? Good gods, you've barely posted anything of note for months!

 Oh, shut up you. I've been busy, as well you know!

Busy? Ha!

 Well, the Host has.
 Hey! Don't blame this on me!

Why not? It's your stupid body and brain we inhabit, so you're just as much to blame.

 QUIET!

* silence *

 That's better. Now, as I was saying: We haven't been around much lately for reasons that are too convoluted-

He means "boring".

 Ahem! Too convoluted to go into right now, and the likelyhood is that things will remain convoluted for the foreseeable future. So, we have decided to bring this blog to a close while we regroup and figure out what to do next. 
 However, this will not be the final post: We have decided to subject you to reward you loyal readers with a few excerpts from the final edition of the wwwWOW! magazine (above) over the next few weeks.
 We will also endeavour to visit your blogs, however sporadically, whenever we get the chance.

 So, without further ado, we will leave you to your New Year resolutions/Christmas recoveries, while we choose some suitable excerpts for the last few posts.

 Happy New Year to you all, from all of us! 

Why do pears...

 ...suddenly appear turn to over-ripened mush when one is least expecting it?

 I was just downstairs wandering from room to room with the phone clamped to my ear chatting to being chatted at by Indescribable. She was going on about how she took Babyzilla to the shops yesterday afternoon and bought some praline & cream icecream and cranberry & orange cookies. She ate the icecream last night (but didn't really like it) and scoffed the cookies this morning for breakfast. 
 As she gabbled on, I looked around for sustenance as I had yet to break my own fast (having spent most of the morning in the bath). The only thing I could see of slight deliciousness were three conference pears on the kitchen windowsill that were given to us by The Father from his pear tree. They'd been there for the past two weeks in the hope that the meagre Autumn sun would ripen them.
 I gently squeezed each pear, choosing the last one as it had a little "give". While my sister was prattling on, I bit into it and nearly broke my teeth! How can it still have the consistency of granite? How? It should have turned to mush by now!

 Eddie Izzard has the same problem it seems:



 There's a longer, more comprehensive video here (the pear bit starts from 4:30).
 

Graceless clod

Not me, sadly.

 Now, I was playing table tennis with The Father yesterday (don't ask), when he told me that I should loosen up a bit more. Be more fluid. Make my movements and shots more graceful as I "look like a piece of wood"!
 How very dare he! I am grace personified. Grace, elegance and poise are three words one could use to describe me. In fact, one could call me grace incarnate!

* ahem * Really?

 Shush, you! Just let him get on with his digging... 

 Hey! Anyway, I-  Oh.  Who left these here?

:

Unluckily, there was someone right where I hadn't intended to land.

"Ow!" she said as I clonked her on the elbow with Broom as I swerved at the last minute.

"Oof!" I said after hitting the trellis in the courtyard.

~

As I strode down a corridor to find Tim and Princess, they found me.

"Oof!" I said as the stretcher they were pushing bashed into my leg.

"Run!" Princess cried, bashing me again with the stretcher.

~

Oof!

* CRASH *

Drat. Sorry I've been a bit neglectful this past week or so - I've been trapped in the airing cupboard. Not in the Narnia-esque land back there (with its opening behind the hot water tank), as I had it closed off not long after I'd moved in after finding small hoof-prints and faun shit all over my best tablecloth and runner.

~

Oof!

* collapses into Sparky Malarkey and utters, with rubbish German accent *

Oh, Timothy, Timothy. Mine very own Timothy. You saved my life.

I shall never forgive you...

~

"Oof! Bugger. Who'd've thought there'd be a Cusp Interface on Cybertron?"

~

"Oof!" I fell back onto my desk, winded. "Ahh... Physical contact!" I drew myself together, transmogrifying into a fearsome dragon. "T-Bird!" I roared. "Timothy has escaped!"

~

"Oof! I think I just landed on someone" I said as I extricated myself from folds of pink taffeta.

"Not just someone" the figure said. "You've clobbered a fairy godmother! Either that or Barbara Cartland."

~

 

Oof! I'm back.

I dropped a penny the other day, turned and stooped to pick it up and accidently spun into a different universe. The one with the brown jelly babies!

:

    
 Well, I think we can clearly see who has been doing all the graceless clodding around here, eh Witchface?

 I don't know about that? It was all done in your body!

So. While those two bicker, lets watch the stunning Aljaž Skorjanec (and that Abbey Clancy, I suppose) glide handsomely beautifully around the stage.

Bookxotica

  So, here's another update of books-read-so-far-this-year. Well, I say books - there's a couple of graphic novels and two or three short stories, too. Still, I read them, so they count!
 And like last time, you don't have to take any notice of this - It's to aid my failing memory for the end of the year.
 

• The Things, by Peter Watts

• Revelation and Dust (Star Trek: The Fall), by David R. George III
• Trillions, by Nicholas Fisk

 

 

• Moon over Luna, by David R. George III
• Saga (volume one), by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples
• Ex Machina (Star Trek), by Christopher L. Bennett 

 

 

• Psychic Warrior, by David Morehouse
• Smoke and Mirrors, by Neil Gaiman
• The Buried Age (Star Trek: The Lost Era), by Christopher L. Bennett

  

 

 
• Pawns of War (Star Trek: Romulans), by John Byrne
• Echoes and Refractions: The Chimes at Midnight (Star Trek: Myriad Universes), by Geoff Trowbridge
• Echoes and Refractions: A Gutted World (Star Trek: Myriad Universes), by Keith R. A. DeCandido 

 I must say, Blogger's supposedly easy picture positioning tool thingy is getting right on my nerves. It's rubbish! It doesn't postition anything easily or quickly, and I end up having to fight the HTML demons to do it the old fashioned way.

 

Babyzilla: The Time Vampire

While Uncle IDV is distracted by the camera, 
Babyzilla quickly wolfs down one of the cats.

 Oof! Sorry I haven't been around much. It seems that any free moment I've had has been intercepted by my sister Indescribable and her monstrous progeny, Babyzilla. If I haven't had to go and decorate her hall, I've had to 'zilla-sit when she comes to visit and then promptly buggers off with Inexcuseable! Honestly, that creature guzzles time like Miley Cyrus at an "it's-all-about-me" buffet. 

 Actually, I'm not being entirely fair. It hasn't all been about Babyzilla. There has been a spate of manual labour at The Parents', too. I thought all that was over, but they've recently had their garage converted into a bedroom and muggins here was tasked with decorating it! 

 Oh, and I've painted and wallpapered Inexcuseable's bedroom, too!

 Well, that's all over now (except for a modicum of upcoming garden maintenance at The Mother's request), so I plan to get back to blogging forthwith. In fact, I was just thinking about Hallowe'en: I'd better start looking at "holiday" brochures for our annual trip over the Cusp. After all, we don't want another ham-fisted adventure like this one. 

 Do you?