Just checking that this site still exists.

For those of you in doubt as to what kind of Prime Minister Mr Brown would make:
"And we should acknowledge the debt the world owes to the United States for its leadership in this fight against international terrorism."
Yes, I am in their debt, and will willingly pay up next time the cunts want to go and murder some children.

Message from Ithaca

I was delighted to read a message in my guest book this morning from a lady in the USA called Penelope who added the following message after finding my family history pages.

I'm studying old Leicestershire Docs
(Not books but surgeons, Apothec.s)
Amongst those learned gentlemen
Is a Beasley, first name John
Born 1786 - and note
His place of birth is Kimcote!
His wife Mary and he
Produced (so far) but children three:
And Anne Sophia married, what's more,
One John Sleath Beasley in 1864.

Might this possibly cousinly engagement
Warrant a place in your family history enpagement?

I wish that some of my readers here were able to compose such pleasant and clever messages. Some of you have been visiting for some time and show no sign of improvement.

I replied:

My dear new friend Penny Lope
Your lovely message gives me hope
My marvellous Penelope
For you and for humanity
If only other folk
Would use such verse in my guest boke
I would smile beatifically
In memory of Penelope.

In my ancient family tree
I have found John Sleath Beasley
But did not know about young Anne,
I will add her when I can.
Two Beasleys marrying may seem odd
Perhaps our John (incestuous sod)
Could not find love outside the clan
And had to settle for dearest Anne.

I hope their kids, if they had any,
Had ten fingers and not too many
And were not silly in the head
As can be the case when kinfolk wed.

It's strange to find a doc relation
A quite unique and odd sensation
My forebears were not rich or famed
And their kinfolk should not be blamed
For poverty and lack of glory
None will tell their lowly story
Until into this family came
One who was truly born to fame
My chronicle will last for years
And bring joy to all those ears
Who hear of my ingenuity
Or not, as, perhaps, the case may be.

So thanks, Penelope, and if you find
More stories of this kind
About the Beasleys or a Sleath
Who cured the ill or pulled some teeth
Let me know I will be joyous
To learn of cousins, (girls or boyous).
And I will always hold you dear
For telling me of Anne Sophia.

Dr Queer, Medicine Woman

First, in answer to Dave, who enquires as to the state of my current incarnation, may I clarify that I am alive, to the best of my knowledge, and you can get on your bike and stop touting for business round here. I am in negotiation with several distinguished figures with regard to the business of the conducting of my funeral, and you are not among them, old son. At present, Alexei tells me that he is concentrating on his writing career, Tom Graveney fears that I might outlive him and Goldie Hawn has some qualms about the costume that I had designed for her. I will keep you in touch.

This afternoon I saw a DVD for sale that, due to a misplaced price sticker, was called "Little Ho on the Prairie". The infiltration of realism into the saccharine cak that constitutes mainstream television programming is well overdue. I am hoping for gratuitous sex and violence in every episode. How much better Coronation Street would have been had Ena Sharples tied up Elsie Tanner, whipped her with a chain and shot her through the head, as the main character in the latest episode of "The Shield" did to a chap who had upset him slightly. It would have given us a much better idea of urban Lancashire life.

Oh I say

This is a public information announcement, aimed to save you time and trouble. Over at the Sun, who I will not link to, there is a picture of a young lady, a tennis player I believe, exposing what can only be described as a nipple. There is nothing unusual in this, the only way that a lady can get a mention in said toilet paper is to appear topless. Joan of Arc would not have been seen as worthy of reporting unless she got them out for the lads.
In this picture, however, there is caption which says "click to enlarge". Should you choose this option, you will find that it is the whole picture, not the protuberance, that is enlarged.
I hope that this helps.

The definitive version

Promise me that you will watch the previous two postings before you watch this one.

A mosquito

It seems as if some of you were puzzled by the previous post. I am not sure who, some of you are very naughty and pretend not to recognise it. I am very pleased to know people who fail to keep up with what has been happening, but think, on this occasion, you should all see this at least 3 times in your life.

It's hard to find

Talking Cak. The definitive study.

There it is, hidden in the more overgrown parts of the Telegraph online, an article about whether men talk more than women.

Before you all dash over there, chatting as you go, I should point out that the article is by some called “Science Editor”. This of course, completely discredits any of the arguments that he is putting forward.

Some bright spark, this time from the University of Arizona, (my wonderful nephew is a student there*, how proud I am), has worked out that on average we all use 16,000 words per day. Women use slightly more than men.

Most of the words used, according to the study, are of the form “Will you stop trying to count the number of words I use, and listen to what I am saying, you odious little tit, I DO NOT WANT TO TALK TO YOU ANYMORE AND IF YOU TELEPHONE AGAIN I WILL COME OVER THERE AND RAM YOUR PHONE SO FAR UP YOUR ARSE THAT IT WILL DISLOCATE YOUR VOCAL CHORDS, YOU TOTAL TWAT” or “Right, that’s it, I’m on my way over with my scrotum slicer”.

More importantly Dr Mehl (for it is he), overlooks the issue of quality as opposed to quantity. Step forward the Brit version of time wasting tossers, Dr Robin Dunbar of Liverpool University.
“What we do seem to find is a difference in the way men and women use conversation: women’s conversations seem mainly to be about networking, whereas men’s tend to be more advertising.”
Networking, my arse. Anyone who uses that word forfeits the right to be taken notice of.

No, both men and women talk complete bollocks 98% of the time. This is done in order to try to ignore our plight. Lost and confused, spinning around a dying sun, no idea why we are here and completely unable to come to terms with the ephemeral nature of our existence. Still, mustn’t grumble.

*This may no longer be true. He was planning to move to the University of Northern Arizona next academic year. “Where’s that” I asked. “Northern Arizona”, came the reply. I really love him.

I don't know what's going off out there

Yes, yes, I know. And I don’t much care, quite frankly. If only one of you had asked nicely instead of nagging me then I might have written something a little more substantial than this. And the only reason I am writing this here is because I can’t find a suitable place to post it on the Sky Sports site.

Open message to the Sky Sports Cricket Production team.

I have relabelled the mute button on my remote control device “Croft”. Because every time, (and I really don’t want to call him a Welsh Windbag, even though it is very apposite and alliterative, because I don’t like racism) that the annoying little git opens his mouth I feel a reflex reaction causing me to press said button. I do not want to spend my evenings having my entertainment spoiled by some arsewit loudly haranguing me with facile and trite remarks. I would remind you that in his professional career he occasional managed to achieve mediocrity, and was one in a long line of totally talentless slow bowlers to have played for England who had neither style nor charm. In his new job he has only ever achieved the standard best described as “crap”. I think I would rather listen to Trevor Bailey.