Sunday, 28 December 2014

The real meaning of Christmas

Christmas is finally over, to everyone's great relief and surprise. The celebration which began in mid October has finally petered out on the 27th of December. The consolation is hauntingly palpable. Could it be that in all this insane consumerism we are tragically losing the true meaning of Christmas? Mayhap in all the jingle, tinsel and cheap aftershave we are missing the quintessence and true message of this ancient festival? Are our livers and waistlines so swollen that we can no longer see the garish socks, worn with gaiety and wanton abandon? Socks so festooned with comic images of Santa that it befuddles our dazed senses and prevents sound judgement. I suspect, as a society, we have lost our way and no longer see 'Christmas'. It has become festooned with cheap flashing lights and gaudy rose tinted images of sleighs and cheap aftershave. We no longer connect with the true spirit of Christmas. Everything is viewed through beer frothed goggles. Could it be that we need to recapture/recapitulate and reinvent the Christmas of yesteryear? Are we so jaded and lost, as a society, that we can no longer restore the sublime Christmases of our youth? However, I am hopeful and imbued with cheap liquor and aftershave. I see a future which is wondrous, meaningful and replete with all manner of things which connect and re-establish the heart warming, blood curdling, bone numbing Christmases we all, once knew. This is not the fevered dream or fancy of a madman, but the musings of a man with a certificate which endorses his heart felt sanity.  This writ is wrote by a MD and psychiatrist of note and notoriety. His musings are deserved of serious deliberation  and contemplation. If you are in the frame of mind to dispute, then be availed of just cause. I digress.

Of course, it is not inconceivable that I'm espousing complete and utter fanny batter and bollocks, as usual. Arse.Arse. Arse. Arse......



Friday, 26 December 2014

Tis Christmastide in the hamlet of Tipton

The real meaning of Christmas

Council houses throughout the borough are bejewelled in cheap flashing lights that would make even a gypo retch in an epileptic frenzy. At the local Poundland, 6 foot high plastic Santa’s adorn the dog shit bestrewn aisles. The local pawn/porn shops are agape with stolen gifts and televisions with screens wider than Tipton High Street. The Yuletide cheer continues unabated as merry folk wander in and out of each other's houses stealing each other's stolen property.

Street urchins abound/confound on every street corner, fighting and vomiting uncontrollably, relinquishing stomach contents awash with kebabs and cheap liquor. The sound of family discord echoes from every hovel and stray dogs urinate on the legs of itinerant passers-by whilst baying at the moon in harmonious unison and frank despair......... HOWL.

Roast leg of venison will make a nice change from turkey Arse

Thursday, 25 December 2014

Merry Christmas, perhaps........

In the spirit of ‘political correctness’ I thought it best to issue a carefully qualified Christmas greeting.
From me (“the wisher”) to you (“hereinafter called the wishee”)

Please accept without obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, politically correct, low stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral, celebration of the summer/winter solstice holiday, practiced with the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all….. and a financially successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted year 2015 but with due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures or sects, and having regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform or dietary preference of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting you are bound by these terms that:

- This greeting is subject to further clarification or withdrawal. 
- This greeting is freely transferrable provided that no alteration shall be made to the original greeting and that the proprietary rights of the wisher are acknowledged. 
- This greeting implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes. 
- This greeting may not be enforceable in certain jurisdictions and/or the restrictions herein may not be binding upon certain wishes in certain jurisdictions and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. 
- This greeting is warranted to perform as reasonably can be expected within the usual application of good tidings, for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting whichever comes first. 
- The wisher warrants this greeting only for the limited replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher. 
- Any reference in this greeting to “the Lord”, “Father Christmas”, “Our Saviour”, or any other festive figures, whether actual or fictitious, dead or alive, shall not imply any endorsement by or from them in respect of this greeting, and all proprietary rights in any referred third party names and images are hereby acknowledged.

Ho, fucking Ho……….


Guess what Flaxen wants for Christmas this year?

Bugger, I bet I get aftershave.... Again. Arse, arse, arse.

Wednesday, 24 December 2014

King Flaxen's Annual Yuletide Address: Anus Horribilis

Before treatment 
992AD is not a year on which I shall look back with unpolluted pleasure. As many of my loyal subjects have known, for a sometime I have been beset by a profusion of a protrusion from my nether posterior. This affliction has smited my countenance mightily and has contributed to my fickle and arbitrary bouts of extreme violence or beneficence, according to the waning and waxing of my lobster pots.

My physic recommended I apply leeches internally. I followed his advice and applied 50 leeches liberally to the lesion with the help of a soup ladle and goose grease. After an hour I was supposed to expel all the leeches, together with the soup ladle, and place their engorged bodies into the midden pit from whence they originally hailed. Imagine my horror when I only managed to retrieve 10 leeches. The ladle was nowhere to be found even after extensive searching. Five ferrets and twelve dwarves lost their lives as a consequence. Not all bodies were reclaimed. Subsequently, and unsurprisingly, your beloved King remains in a sustained state of permanent bliss.....

Merry Yuletide to all my Thegns, Carls and Bondsmen. May 993AD be a year of fruitful bounty. May your loins swell with righteous tumescence and all offspring resemble their sire, especially as paternity assignment, through DNA testing, must await a 1,000 years. Be good to your kin and women who share your bed. As for the rest, deal as you see fit and exercise your will and whim to pillage, burn and slay according to your want.

Friday, 19 December 2014

Jeremy Kyle's 12 days of Christmas......

Big Jezza in repose

12 cans of lager,
11 DNA tests,
10 dads to choose from,
9 teeth between them,
8 misspelled tatoos,
7 big fat arses (ARSE),
6 gypos farting,
4 orange tans,
3 ugly bastards,
2 timing cunts,
And a wanker who parades them on TV.......

Mr Orange Mugumbo

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Flaxen Saxon's Sexual Healing: Part II

I received so many complaints after last week's post entitled, 'Flaxen Saxon's Sexual Healing', that I have decided to implement a regular series of posts on the same theme. Read on and weep.....

Mr Mugumbo winking

Dear Mr Saxon,
You seem a worldly-wise old cove and I would like your help on a matter very close to my heart, or loins, depending how you look at it. Having attained the tender age of 30 I feel there is something missing from my otherwise hectic life. This is very hard for me to put into words, so here goes: I’m bereft of female company, have never engaged in amorous congress and never had my Martian probe land in Venus. Can you help me in my quest to cream my first tart?
Mr Loney Mugumbo (of course it his him- it always is)

Dear Mr Mugumbo,
Talking about beating about the bush, or not, as in your case. Mr Mugumbo, all I can suggest is that you procure the services of a local lady of the night. Prostitutes never say no, never laugh at the size of your cock and never pass comment on the size of your cock.

Here are Flaxen Saxon’s top tips to help you in your quest to top your tip. Prostitutes come in two flavours: cheap and expensive. The cheap ones hang around street corners in dodgy neighbourhoods. They are often past their best and take drugs. The tariff is usually calculated by the number of missing teeth multiplied by the number of misspelt Indian ink tattoos; the higher the number the lower the cost. Once in the lair of the prossie be wary of ‘cock oysters’. These mucilaginous artefacts appear at random on the pavement and are usually preceded by a loud gagging and harsh hacking cough. The origin of these glutinous opaque gems is one of life’s mysteries. Some say they are Angel tears, some say they are the result of prostitutes clearing their throats after a particularly heavy night. Gentle readers, I will leave you to be the judge. However, if they be Angel tears then God had better be treating his celestial companions for conjunctivitis. Not all crap that fortuitously turns up on the pavement is manna from heaven. Although you may be in an urban wilderness, please don’t be tempted to sample.

The expensive ones are found in ‘escort agencies’. I suspect they may be out of your financial league unless of course you happen to be a high court judge or prominent politician.

I remember in my youth there was a particularly tall old whore who used to ply her trade at the back of Rackhams in Birmingham’s town centre. She must have been 6’ 10’’ and towered over the sad pathetic remnants of humanity who came to her for relief. To facilitate the transaction most men had to stand on a wooden box. Just as they were about to come she would kick it away, thus saving on condoms.

Ten'Gilda' Hilda
Otherwise, may I suggest you purchase a ‘latex lady’? Love dolls come in two flavours: cheap and expensive. The cheap variety you have to blow up and have a nasty habit of deflating when you insert a prick. The expensive ones are articulated, soft and vivacious. They are so life-like that they actually laugh at the size of your cock. If you can afford one of these, you really don’t need a real women.

Hello Sailor

Gentle readers please feel free to regale me with your problems and lamentable deformities, imagined or real, and I will endeavour to profer wisdom born of fortitude and aplomb.

Saturday, 13 December 2014

Tipton welcomes thoughtful gypos......

Gypos are nice folk, really
The Tipton tourist board extends the hand of welcome to all right thinking gypos out there. Come and make camp in one of our areas of outstanding beauty. Invite your friends and perch your garishly adorned mobile homes on our green and verdant grass verges. Feel free to lovingly deposit your rubbish and faeces as you please. Don’t forget to steal from the  locals  and  from any law abiding citizens who inadvertently cross your path . Don’t worry about paying tax of any kind. Intimidate and threaten and cause drunken mayhem in the local pubs. Education is overrated and  not being able to read or write is no impediment in our modern society. Let your flea bitten undernourished dogs roam and squat, at will, in children’s play areas.

Or if you prefer: Fuck off to the benighted shit hole you hail from.   ARSE.

Mr Gypo O'Mugumbo, coming to you, soon
                                      Saxon hates fucking gypos

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Flaxen Saxon’s sexual healing

Dr Ipod Mugumbo preped for surgery
I have a gift. I have been blessed with the ability to dispense sage wisdom with aplomb. I decided, many years ago, that this wonderful bestowment should be shared with the world. Tis my passion, nay, my reason for drawing breath and therefore I disburse my counsel to all who seek true enlightenment and, through no fault of their own, have floundered (belly up) on the tumultuous and winding path that is life……   Be still and know.

Dear Flaxen Saxon,
I have recently married and am desperate to conceive. My husband and I saw our doctor recently in the hope he could help. However, Dr Ipod Mugumbo (it is he, and none other), did not inspire confidence as he danced about in his native headdress and waved a shrunken head on a stick, over my barren, infecund, body. Can you proffer guidance and insightful penetration into my dark, dank and fetid nether regions?   

Flaxen dispensing……
May I ask a delicate question? Is your husband fully endowed with the power of penal turgidity? Tis a common problem with the modern man (Mr Floppy). Obviously if he is depositing seed outside the cavern of fruitfulness, due to mechanical/pneumatic issues, then your inability to bear fruit is understandable. That being the case, I suggest you avail yourself of Dr Mugumbo’s stick and ram it gently down your husband’s flaccid member. Feel free to pound the stick all the way to the hilt, with a mallet. Don’t forget to rotate. Thusly prepared your husband should be able to perform his duties without losing rigor. To ensure conception the mouth of the shrunken head should be left agape. It is recommended that your husband visits the emergency department after each attempt in order to remove splinters.

Dr Teapot's diagnostic instrument
After consummation, I suggest you stand on your head, open your legs, flex your pelvic floor muscles and blow bubbles. This will in no way enhance the possibility of fertilisation but at least will inject a moment of comic relief into a difficult and fraught performance.  


Tuesday, 9 December 2014

Tipton enters the space race

Rocket of doom

The launch of the Tipton space probe is imminent according to the Tipton West Astronautical Team (TWAT). After 6 weeks of break neck research, the space probe aptly and succinctly named: ‘The Pride of Tipton incorporating Netherton West and North Dudley’ will be launched as soon as the officials can locate a box of matches. This momentous occasion is the culmination of intense and highly secret work performed in the public bar of the local hostelry, the ‘Felching Ferret’. The landlord recalls the scene of frenetic actively performed by the dedicated research team and the resident inebriate, Mr Rubicund Visage-Mugumbo: “Mostly  they  sat brooding at the bar consuming copious amounts of Tipton best ale. Mr Visage-Mugumbo regaled all comers with tales of extreme inebriation. On occasion he would brew up and ignite a huge botty burp thus demonstrating the basic principles of interplanetary space travel to anyone who ventured into the blast radius; many a stalwart customer left the establishment bereft of eyebrows."

Shagger in training
 This most prestigious and wondrous space programme was entirely funded by a government research grant of 4 billion dollars. The launch will be presided over by Tipton’s incumbent mayor, Mr Enoch Vowel from his 4 billion dollar Chateau located in the South of France.  Tipton’s first astronaut will be none other than ‘Shagger the intrepid ferret.’ Shagger has undergone intense training at the 'Tipton  Centre for Ferretnauts.’  Most of  Shagger’s training comprised chewing his way through industrial strength polystyrene and consuming small kibble. Go Shagger!

The work was carried out in conjunction with Mr Patel, of ‘Mr Patel’s cheap Chinese firework emporium.’

 An artists impression of  Shagger on the martian surface
Ferret on mars


Sunday, 7 December 2014

Napalm, ago, go

Put some ointment on that
Napalm is an incendiary weapon composed of a mixture of petrol and a gelling agent. Often soap or one of its derivatives is used. There is no exact formula for napalm and there are many recipes. Napalm was first formulated in 1942 due to a joint collaboration between Harvard university and the US government.

Petrol is a relatively cheap and effective weapon. It packs a lot of energy in a small package. When you combine it with a thickening agent you have the perfect weapon. When dispersed, napalm sticks to surfaces and denies attempts to be extinguished. As an anti-personal weapon it excels when compared to high explosive whether they be delivered by bomb or shell. The problem with high explosive as a weapon against man, is that it is wasteful in terms of energy usage. Thus much of the energy is expended and consequently wasted into the air or into the ground. Also the energy delivered at point of impact is extreme and overkill. A 75mm shell exploding immediately next to a man will undoubtedly kill him. In fact his body will be rent asunder. From a purely militaristic stand point this represents waste. The perfect weapon should deliver its energy in a more diffuse way. Only enough energy should be expended to kill. Ideally the weapon should not kill, but maim. Its is better to beget a cripple. In this way you remove the man as an effective combatant and render him as a burden to enemy society.

You may ask why I have an unhealthy/healthy preoccupation with napalm? My father was a British infantryman during the Korean conflict. On a hill, far away, in 1950, the Americans drenched the wrong hill with napalm. They call it collateral damage or friendly fire- tis a matter of perspective, I suppose. Some of my father's mates got stuck to trees. My father suffered severe burns to his hands and arms and spent the next 6 months in a Japanese hospital being reconstructed. That was the end of my dad's military career. I digress.   

There has much been said about the atomic bomb during the second World War. Is the plutonium bomb the most sublime of weapons? Probably. On the 9th March 1945 American bombers dropped napalm bombs on Tokyo. Six hundred and ninety thousand pounds of ordinance was delivered within the hour. The fire storm that followed killed 100,000 of Tokyo's inhabitants. Tokyo's  paper and wooden houses burnt well, as did their people. 60,000 people died at Hiroshima and 40,000 at Nagasaki. So the respective weapons are equal on that score. Why use nuclear weapons, which are 'radioactively dirty' when you could use napalm which is environmentally friendly- the greenies should take note. The kill for buck is cheaper and prudent governments are well advised to invest in soap.      

Friday, 5 December 2014

Influences on Darwin and his theory

Alfred Wallace: a great man with a great beard

Darwin’s seminal ideas and insight did not appear as if in an intellectual vacuum. Darwin’s biological studies, and particularly his observations whilst a naturalist aboard HMS Beagle, had a major influence on his formulation of ‘evolutionary theory’. But this is not the whole story. Darwin was clearly influenced by the intellectual milieu of his time. Many of the intellectual strands important and having bearing upon the theory had been worked out by others. Darwin’s own direct observations together with ideas already established culminated in a coherent explanation of how species change with time. The synthesis, in one mind, was ultimately due to Darwin’s genius. That being the case it will be worthwhile  to examine the ideas available to Darwin in the mid 1800s  which helped to shape his most wondrous of theories. This is by necessity an abridged treatment, a complete consideration is beyond the scope and remit of a modest blog article. Therefore I have limited the discussion to just a few of the most important men and their ideas. Bugger nuts. 

Lamarck (1744-1829)
The kinship between animal species is obvious. But did individual immutable species exist from the start or did they emerge from pre-existing forms and change by some mechanism, unknown. If this was the case it was no longer acceptable to say, ‘God did it’. A causal naturalistic mechanism was demanded. Lamarck was the first serious minded scientist to actually propose a mechanism. In 1809 he published his work on acquired characteristics. According to Lamarck’s theory, overuse of a body part would enable the animal to become better adapted to its environment and this characteristic would be passed on to the offspring. The classic example generally quoted is the case of the giraffe. It was proposed that the primitive giraffe stretched its neck to reach higher leaves, this would lead to offspring with longer necks which would eventually evolve into the very longed necked giraffe of today. There is no explanation about giraffe blotches. Why giraffes have blotched bodies on the savannah is bothersome to me. I digress.  Lamarck’s ideas were ignored during his life time and were rejected not on scientific merit but on religious grounds; makes me sad and want to burn stuff.  Darwin, in his autobiography, acknowledges that Lamarck influenced his own theories.

Malthus (1766-1834)
Thomas Malthus had a profound influence on Darwin and his ideas. Although not a scientist, but an economist, Malthus appreciated that populations are limited by resource supply. Unchecked, populations would grow exponentially, but this never happens. Ultimately populations of any species are regulated by food supply.

Erasmus Darwin (1731-1802)
Charles' grandfather Erasmus, was certainly interested in evolutionary ideas and wrote a book on how adaptations result in speciation. For the most part he narrated his notions in verse. Undoubtedly this was a ploy to keep him falling foul of the religious authorities of his day. It is easy to forget the power of religion during the early and middle parts of the 19th century and it is down to great men, like the Darwins, that we attribute the triumph of reason and science over stolid religious dogma.

Charles Lyell (1797-1875)
Lyell was a prominent 19th geologist and through his observations on fossils he began to suspect that small adaptations accrued over time.

Alfred Wallace (1823 -1913)
It would be unfair not to mention Alfred Wallace in the context of evolutionary theory. Although he did not exert any direct influence on Darwin, he did propose his own theory of evolutionary theory independently, and at the same time. In fact when Darwin heard of Wallace's ideas it spurred him on to publish his own theory. To Darwin's credit, he published a joint paper with Wallace entitled: "On the tendency of species to form varieties; and species by natural means of selection (1858)." Unfortunately for Wallace, either by chance or design, he never received the just credit and due for his important contribution. Ain't dat the sad truth.

Clearly, the situation with regard to factors, personalities and available contemporary knowledge contributing to Darwin's theoretical principles is highly complex and cannot be exhaustively considered in this brief sketch, but it will have to do. I have not ventured into any consideration of the influence of Darwin's experiences whilst collecting data and biological samples from abroad.       

The scene is now set for the next stage in the saga, that is evolutionary theory; the exposition of the greatest show on earth......

Wednesday, 3 December 2014

I give you: Kim Jong un, the god. All hail!

C'mon it's not as if there is no precedent for this sort of thing

North Korea, through its official news promulgation mouthpiece, 'Korean Unified News Transmission (KUNT)' has officially announced the divinity of the present glorious leader, Kim Jong un.    

Kim Jong un is now a god, it is official, and you better take heed especially if you live in North Korea. Of course the signs have been around since his illustrious birth and particularly noted by those who are paid for this sort of thing. And prudent courtiers are well advised to kowtow the party line especially since the much vaunted shortage of doggy food.

His birth was full of portents and wonders never seen outside the propaganda machine of a totalitarian closed society.

Kim Jong un was born in a luxurious Dacha on the sacred mountain just outside the capital city of Pingpong, next to a stable full of partially digested dissidents and well fed dogs. A radiant red star was seen shooting in the east, although the foolish, never to be seen again, did aver that it was a missile test gone awry. Shortly afterwards three wise generals arrived bearing arms/gifts. General Kim Poo dun proffered the infant prodigy Plutonium 239, Kim Dog well dun bequeathed the two vials necessary for VX production (check your chemistry), while the third general, Luca Brasi, brought pasta and wished that his first child, be a masculine child. I digress.

As he grew, he was always taller, faster, more aesthetically pleasing, athletic, better fed and fatter than his peers.

On the road to Pingpong one day he was enshrouded in a bright light and a loud booming sound was heard, as if from afar. Many who were not there at the time, saw this is as a mark of his divinity, while others, who were there at the time, surmised that he had been hit by a piece of errant missile; they were never seen again......

After attending Kun Jong un university, Kim Jong un so excelled in studious intimidation that he was awarded a PhD in all the major disciplines after just one year of insouciant study. During his lunch breaks, of which there were many, he would compose several books on topics so profound and arcane that only he and his pet gerbil, Kim Poo own eat, could understand.

After leaving the hallowed halls of academia he entered the military. His star was in the ascendant and needed no further help from badly constructed missiles (made in China) and he progressed from Cadet to five star general in the matter of six months and five purges (at least two after breakfast).

Of course there are the dissenters, but never in North Korea. Some folk say that he is nothing more than a nasty, tyrannical, short arsed little slope with a Napoleon complex. A man drenched in opulence whilst his people live in constant fear of starvation and the 'knock at the door'. A man who uses crude political gambits to extort resources out of the gullible West. A man who should shoot his barber and start eating more salads. They also say that he owes his position of power solely due to his grandfather's machinations and dynastic ambitions. Suitably endowed, his father ruthlessly, and without compunction, crushed his opponents and led his country into military brinkmanship and economic ruin.  But then again, they do say that nepotism tends to run in families.........         

Ouch, that must hurt. But I'm sure the people he surrounds himself are equally porcine


                                                            No fucking comment

Sunday, 30 November 2014

Wave particle duality and ferrets

If quantum theory doesn't bedazzle your intellect and have you scratching your bonce in frank bewilderment then you have failed to understand its fundamental tenets. But therein lies the problem. Reality at the quantum level is so bizarre and fantastically weird that it defies coherent contemplation. Very smart physicists gape in wonder at their experimental results. It is as if the human brain is not wired to fully appreciate the workings of nature at the infinitesimal level. The world of the subatomic eludes logical appreciation and appears forever counter to our model of reality. This may explain why sub-atomic particle physicists, more than any other group of scientists, are prone to mysticism.

Take light for example. Light is the visible form of electromagnetic radiation. Up until the turn of the last century, light seemed well behaved and could be described as a wave. However, disturbing experiments began to suggest that light under certain circumstances behaved as a 'quanta package', a particle called a photon. But how can this be? Light is either a particle or a wave, how can it be both? In fact it seems that all sub-atomic particles can be described this way. Depending on how the experiment is designed light can be observed as a wave or a particle. But even more strange, it appears that light behaves as a particle or a wave depending on whether it is being 'observed' or not. It is as if the particle/wave knows it is being watched. For those who would like to know more about nature's absurdity I've embedded a short video which explains this phenomenon simply and elegantly.

Life at the macroscopic level is never so strange, or is it? After all we are composed of a near infinite number of particles which if they prefer, transform to waves. How does all this impact on the real macro world we inhabit? This happens to be a highly controversial subject, and not just confined to the world of science. The implications of quantum physics delves deep into our core reality. Counterintuitive it may be, but the quantum world can be readily demonstrated and underpins all existence. The philosophical implications are profound and even impinge on ancient philosophical conundrums traditionally relegated to the realm of pure speculative thought. Thus, the notion of whether we are able to exercise 'free will' or whether we are deterministic automata has engaged minds for over two millennia. If anything quantum physics has added an extra layer of complexity to an already intellectually dense and troubling debate. It seem that quantum theory can be used to support either standpoint and every subtlety in between. It would be interesting to return to this fascinating topic at a later juncture. I feel a series coming on.........                 

 Big Albert gets the last word:

 "It seems as though we must use sometimes the one theory and sometimes the other, while at times we may use either. We are faced with a new kind of difficulty. We have two contradictory pictures of reality; separately neither of them fully explains the phenomena of light, but together they do."   

No one likes a smart arse (big fat arse)

Thursday, 27 November 2014

Turned out nice again

                                                             George, stop being a twat......

George Formby was born in abject poverty in North Tipton circa 1904, next to the ill famed ‘Ferret Factory of fun’, a bawdy house of ill repute. His formative years were spent cleaning windows and when not gainfully employed he would often be found leaning on a lamp post. His big break came in 1932 when he invented the ‘George Formby grilling banjo.’ His great insight was to tilt a hot banjo at a jaunty angle of 45 degrees. In this way the molten lard rolled clean orf the food and wended its way to the adjacent midden pit. Inventions thereafter came thick and fast. Who can forget the ukulele that doubled as a cheese slicer?

Still a twat
In 1940 ‘Fulsome Toothed George’ married a shrew of a woman called Agnes, although from some angles Agnes resembled a ferret and this association was somewhat reinforced by her penchant for gnawing through electric cables. Under her baleful gaze George ascended to new dizzy heights of culinary genius and invented an electric guitar which doubled as a deep fat fryer. But in 1948 Agnes was electrocuted during an ill advised mastication session involving a 240 volt transformer. This was an all too common occurrence in the Formby household, however on this occasion the transformer happened to be plugged into the electric supply. 
Agnes before the accident

George was never quite the same and began frequenting the local hostelries thereabouts. It was during an ill fated night of inebriation that George had an epiphany. He awoke, stark bollock naked, on a park bench, at 4am in the morning, with a Chinaman sucking his toes. The Chinaman with the toe fetish turned out to be none other than Mr Wu (it could be no other) and they decided there and then to go into the laundry business together...........Arse bucket. 
                                                                         To be continued............ 

Sunday, 23 November 2014

Vagina Dentata

An image from my private collection
A vagina replete with teeth is a folk myth common to many cultures. It is meant as a cautionary tale and a warning for those who practise unprotected sex with wanton and reckless abandon. But how are we to protect ourselves from misplaced dentition? Condoms are notoriously thin to provoke the ultimate sexual experience. Chain mail condoms have never caught on and chafe something awful.

Like most myths there is a germ of truth lurking within. There exists a rare tumour called a teratoma. Teratomas contain highly differentiated tissue and are capable of forming fully formed dentition, and even hair. It is not inconceivable that a woman could be afflicted with a vaginal teratoma. This lamentable malignancy, if not excised, could result in the development of teeth.

On two occasions,  I have dissected teratomas as part of my professional duties, and can vouch personally that teratomas contain teeth. They are perfect in every regard and resemble a child's first dentition. The teeth make an exotic addition to my rare artefact collection and reside on my mantelpiece as if in repose.


                                                                Watch and weep

Saturday, 22 November 2014

Darwin and Evolutionary Thought: Preamble, part I

I have given a great deal of thought of how to start my much anticipated series on the 'The Theory of Evolution' (a trilogy in twelve parts) and after considerable contemplation  have decided to go back to the origins (no pun intended), and to the man who initiated modern biological thought, Charles Darwin (1809-1882).

From our perspective of a 160 years of established evolutionary theory it is easy to forget the profound affect Darwin's book of 1859, 'The Origin of the Species' had on staid, Victorian society. Intellectually it took time to percolate but theologically, the reaction from the first, was fierce and overwhelmingly negative. Once the seminal message of the book insinuated thoroughly, the reaction from the intellectual establishment was mixed. In science we talk of paradigm shifts. Rarely in science are we confronted with such a fundamental lurch in our knowledge base that we have to catch our intellectual breath and resume our scientific journey anew. Although probably not recognised as such at the time, Darwin's core insight was one of those occasions. Scientists are often, although they shouldn't be, resistant to change and especially to new concepts which challenge long held and cherished beliefs. Scientists are human after all, and are trained according to the standing truths of their time. If there is one feature that comes with age, of which we should be ashamed, is the stolid uncritical acceptance of what we have been previously taught (Flaxen lowers his head/arse in shame). Our core knowledge is like a comfy chair. It fits all our nooks and crannies but intellectually it is bad posture. There is a conceptual atrophy that comes with age and science is often advanced by one funeral at a time.
Thoughtful biologists, of the time, were struck by Darwin's fundamental insight into the natural world and how deceptively simple his notion appeared. Indeed, many clever men wondered why they hadn't thought of it themselves and gaped open mouthed at the man with the theology degree, who did.

Darwin's ideas did not materialise out of an intellectual vacuum. The Victorian era was a time of great intellectual, scientific and technical achievement and before passing on to a discussion of evolutionary theory itself it is instructive to examine the intellectual milieu of the time which influenced and shaped Darwin's ideas. This will be the basis of my next post on evolutionary theory, unless I become distracted......     

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Itchy and Scratchy

I preferred their earlier stuff

Is there nothing more exquisitely divine than scratching an itch? Especially if the time from initiation to abrasive consummation is delayed for what seems an eternity……. Delayed gratification is always the purest and most delectable of sensory fulfilment.

For you and me this most esoteric of pursuits is just a hedonistic distraction on a slow Sunday afternoon. However, there are folk out there who study the itch/scratch phenomenon for a living. The scratch reflex makes sound evolutionary and adaptive behavioural sense. Foreign objects alighting on our skin such as insects and potential parasites elicit the characteristic itch and are subsequently whisked orf with a deft rake of the finger nails, or paw if you happen to be a ferret.

The skin represents our largest organ and the average person sports about 20 square feet. However, if you are endowed with a big fat arse (ARSE), the coverage may be substantially higher. Like most things in life, the itch-scratch reflex is complex. Whilst it is true the nerve conduction pathway to the cerebral cortex is the same for the transmission of an itch or pain, the underlying chemicals which mediate each response is different. In fact it was originally proposed that the distinction between the itch and pain sensation was just a matter of degree. Hence minor stimuli would evoke an itch, whilst more profound sensations produced pain. Although conducted through the same nerve conduit, pain and itching clearly elicit divergent reactions in the human organism. When in pain we withdraw the affected limb, or region, away from the stimuli in order to protect the endangered part of the body, with an itch, a reflex commands us to scratch. For the most part we react automatically/autonomically to the itch reflex and act as if in an unconscious delirium. I wax lyrical and digress. 

Like beauty, the itch reflex is only skin deep. Muscle and brain tissue never itch and consequently never need to be scratched.

Some folk are possessed of a caste iron will and are not to be beseeched by a powerful and dictatorial itch. There is pleasure in abundance to the adamant soul who can resist and saviour this most vehement of provocations. And there are those, equally possessed (by what, you ask?), who allow the itch to build to a crescendo of white heat sensation before satiating with the inevitable chafe. Tis no wonder then that the itch-scratch cycle tracks to the region of the brain associated with pleasure and addiction. There is also a powerful psychological element to itching. Whilst reading this nonsense I bet you have felt the urge to scratch at least once? If I'm any judge (which I'm not), most will be scraping their bodily areas with unashamed and unrestrained abandon. I counsel prudence in your pruritus, otherwise madness will insinuate itself to the very core of your being and loved ones will seek refuge in the arms of one less afflicted and probably less scaly.......    

Shagger having a scratch

Sunday, 16 November 2014

Flaxen spouting bollocks, once again......

Another fucking Venn diagram

What is knowledge and more importantly how do we know whether something is true as opposed to total bollocks? For those who are interested there is a an accepted method which helps us to distinguish between these often bewildering concepts. It has a fancy name, epistemology. Essentially, it defines the methodology involved in deciding whether something should enter the accepted pantheon of 'true' knowledge or whether it should be rejected and discarded into the deep recesses of detritus which litter our imaginative landscape.

Over eons, very clever men (for it is they) have forged the concept which underpins our core knowledge basis. Often this sounds like sound common sense. But we only perceive this as such due to the brave intellectual pioneers who carved out the fundamentals. I'm talking a mere four centuries ago when the intellectual world existed on the cusp of reason and religious dogma. Luckily for the Western world, reason prevailed. Although the church did not go down without a fight. True to form, the church, transcendent at the time, tried to influence the debate through intimidation. If the intrepid could not be beaten down with the old refrain of 'hell fire' they risked being physically broken on the wheel, ouch. Predictable, I know. For those who could, and have power, violence to 'change minds' is an easy option.  But the march of reason was unstoppable. Once sensible men found confidence in their principles, religious dogma went on the run. Today, fundamentalist religious belief is resplendent in the ignorant third world and the ignorant bible belt of America. I digress.

And so, coming back to my original question, what constitutes the wherewithal for obtaining knowledge? Again the solution is relatively simple and gives scant evidence to the hard earned intellectual cost suffered by the likes of Galileo.  There are only two paths to knowledge; induction and deduction. Deduction proffers true, absolute knowledge, and is represented by the facts garnered by mathematics and logic. Once established, these truths hold for an intellectual eternity. Induction is knowledge obtained from the senses. It is the basis of the scientific method and is the 'mainstream' method by which most folk obtain their knowledge base- unless they are logicians or mathematicians. The observable world gives us evidence. It is not true knowledge like mathematics, but after calculus it is the only method available for obtaining verity about the world. To be fair, induction gives us probabilities about whether something is true, but never absolutes.

There are some who would argue the contrary, and state with zeal that there are alternative methods to obtain knowledge. To those who proselytise thusly, I leave the onus of proof upon their unrepentant and irrational bonces. If they believe that faith offers a pathway to true knowledge, then they should offer sound judgement and reasoning (which they never do), otherwise they are just pissing in the wind and contributing bugger all to this most important of debates......   

A pongid contenplating the cosmic awe (arse)
                                                                                                    Arse bucket on a stick