I thought it said 'Prom' Queen

Having moaned about the dating agency I’m with recently. I really thought they’d redeemed themselves when they sent me the photo above of a girl named Belle. You have to admit she looks stunningly beautiful. More than that though, she looks peaceful, deep, serene, spiritual and wholesome. She was also listed as an actress so, although out of my depth in the looks department, at least we’d have plenty to talk about. It all seemed too good to be true…and it was. Now I’m no prude, and far be it from me to judge how anyone should want to earn a living, but when I read more of the blurb that the agency sent me and I found out that the picture was actually a still from Belle Chedder’s latest movie “The Invisible Men”, well I baulked and regretfully added Belle to the ‘Not on your Nelly’ pile.

Two MacPints of lager please

I’m not convinced that the new dating agency I’ve joined is up to the task of finding me a suitable partner. I mean it’s not as if I’m asking for the world, my wish list only had three things on it. 1. Well Read. 2. Good fun. 3. Likes eating out. I know Ron here ticks all the boxes but the truth is we’re both Ladies men. We did have a good laugh though.

I’ve been royally stitched up by Vodafone. I’ve been unhappy with my current tariff for a while now (one free text a month!) When I called up to cancel my contract the girl at the other end sweet talked me into staying with them by offering me the new Nokia C23 for free, apparently the phone was high end design and Nokia’s most retro phone to date. I mean there’s retro and there’s retro but when this bugger turned up on Monday I wasn’t best pleased. I formulated a solid plan to ditch it down the local curry house and claim on the insurance but Ranjeev and the boys found it in the bog and thought they were doing me a favour by bringing it back. Honestly, it hasn’t even got any games on it and you should see the size of the charger!

Taking the pith

With the New Year upon us it’s time for my annual detox and get fit campaign. This year, as well as taking a month off the fags, the condensed milk and the Pernod, I went out and spent an entire royalties payment from Harbour Lights (I played a Frenchman in Speedos looking for a Bureau de Change) on a juicer/smoothie maker with a built in pomegranate pip pulper. I’ve been using this bugger for exactly 3 weeks now and I have never been more detoxed, in fact if I were to belch in your direction it would probably add about a fortnight to your life. However, there are 3 drawbacks with this new fangled machine that I need to warn you about before you go spending your hard-earned Giros on one for yourself; 1 - there are simply not enough greengrocers in any one county in England to provide you with enough fruit for the recipes given (the picture above is of me driving home from Aldi on Saturday (from where I have since been banned) with enough ingredients for one Lemon Entry and two Banana Chowders). 2- You cannot make any plans in the mornings because breakfast can take upwards of three and a half hours. That’s an hour and a half peeling, prepping, juicing and drinking plus two hours for ...….......3 – The shits. My bog pan has been a reservoir of rusty water since New Years Day and no amount of health benefits could possibly make up for the stench. Watch out for my Superjuicer 3000 on e-bay come February the first, and bidders beware….

Cat on a hot tan poof

Mystery has long surrounded the events that led Montecore the tiger (pictured centre) to have a swipe at handler Roy Horn (pictured right. Your right) According to Roy’s onstage partner Siegfried Farnon (pictured left of centre and right of Roy) Roy had slipped on some tanning lotion and hit the deck like a sack of shit. Thinking that a concussed Roy was a cub in danger Montecore attempted to drag Roy from the stage and bring him round by bashing his bonce in. Reports state that on the way to the hospital a blathering Roy mustered up enough juice to whisper: “Don’t kill the cat.” A magnanimous gesture that earned Roy nish praise from animal lovers worldwide. In actual fact the true events that took place (according to my agent Bernie Shimshelwitz) were very different. What Horn actually screamed on the way to hospital was “Don’t kill the cat…Stab it right up…Just get it dead.” Not surprisingly the real reason Montecore the tiger took a pop at Roy Horn was because he thought he was a proper dick. End of.

Baa stards

Happy New Year etc. Sorry to have abandoned my post for a while, but British bleedin' Telecom have been playing silly beggars with my broadband connection. What with so many folk hitting the blog every day I asked BT for more bandwidth. Some nerd in their IT department bamboozled me with his techno speak but I did hear him say I could count on the equivalent of a load of extra RAM on the line before I could say Heath Robinson. Imagine my lack of surprise when I looked out of the window...