Wednesday, 27 April 2016

I'm Back....Now where did I put my medication?

Steady Shagger

There is no ferret collective.
No taking my ferret, butchering my ferret and giving the meat away. Ferret meat tastes great if you get it young enough.
No milking my ferret, shooting the ferret and pouring the milk on the ground. Ferret milk tastes like shit, by the way.
NO, Just me and my ferret. I've got two dogs as well.
If you want a ferret, that's great. I love ferrets too.
But it's not my job to provide you with a ferret. Go buy your own fucking ferret and you better not be a calling it Shagger, cos that's my ferret.

Now let me say a few words about my Staffordshire Bull Terrier, Knacker..........

Can't argue with that.

Wednesday, 13 April 2016

Nil Point

That's what you call a 10 pint woman
It was announced today by the 'Eurovision Song Committee' that this year's song contest will be hosted by none other than the delightful metropolitan township of Dudley nestling comfortably in the capacious and desirable bosom of the West Midlands. The competing nations are recruiting their best musical talent and several countries have already announced their entries and performing artistes.

The Tipton entry will be performed by the cheery, chirpy cockney sparrow, George Formby, assisted and accompanied by his pet ferret 'Shagger' on bassoon. Arthur Askey will chime in with a rendering rendition on the harmonious 'George Formby Grilling ukulele'

Britain's entry will feature the bouffant coiffured, chanteuse of yesteryear, Dame Cliff Richard. Cliff will be self-accompanied on his electronic Zimmer frame. He will perform a heart wrenching warble of his self-acclaimed song: 'Vacation period, parasitic plant and ethanol enhanced beverage of colour'.

Norway is expected to showcase their national song: 'Ping pong, tiddly poo, Cuthbert, Dribble and Grubb, arse. Whilst Germany in keeping with their 'Welcoming Kultur' and new found fondness for bearded women have decided that this year's entry should ably and duly reflect this. In accordance with this unbidden circumstance, the hapless trio, 'The Amazing Exploding Brothers' will perform for, our cultural edification, a song from their latest album, 'Subtle and Reflective Moods', their lilting and captivating harmony: 'Sharia we go to the beheading of the filthy infidel this Thursday Evening after Coronation Street?'. The song's melody reaches a crescendo of cacophony before predictably exploding in a flash of impending doom. The song is universally acclaimed as a masterpiece of the decapitation genre. As expected, the chuckle brothers will perform last, and predictably, are destined to bring the house down.

During the interval, Cliff's caterwauling will be interrupted and the audience will be subjected to an extravaganza never performed on daytime tele. For their delectation, a troop of partially trained and distemper free whippets will prance the light fandango, fantastic whilst ensconced in pink tutus. Now you truly know why no one pays for their television license these days. There will be an extensive hiatus prior to the chorus for the changing of Cliff's colostomy bag. Bugger nuts.

                  Guess who forgot to pack his medication?

Saturday, 9 April 2016


We are staying here, O calamity. 

The pert and perfectly formed one is buggering off to Bali for a well-earned rest. We arrived in Brisbane Australia this morning. As I write, I'm sitting in the sun, drinking beer, in my Scouse friend's house on the 'Gold Coast'. Life is good. Tomorrow morn we fly to Bali.

I suspect blogging will be intermittent and subject to caprice and whim in a good and steady measure. Mayhap I will have more important things to attend to. Who really knows? Certainly not your gracious host.  

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

How was it for me?

I reckon she is faking it. Yes, definitely faking it

Why do women have orgasms? The obvious answer is: because they can. But not my wife or previous girlfriends, apparently they were/are defective in some way? Anyway, I've regressed. Seriously, it is an interesting conundrum from a biological and evolutionary perspective. The reason men have orgasms is readily explainable from an evolutionary and biological standpoint. It provides motivation to engage in an energy expensive venture. The ability to propagate the next generation is the ultimate fodder of natural selection and therefore subject to powerful evolutionary pressure. Females, as the passive vessel (feminists can fuck off), should have no such adaptive pressure- or should they? Females just need to be receptive now and again and advertise their willingness for sexual congress. Men, in general, are always receptive unless we have a headache and no painkillers are available, or unavailable.

The explanation could be down to the common 'blueprint theory'. At the early embryonic level, we are all the same. Regardless of sex, all early foetuses possess the same primordial and undifferentiated sex bits (snigger). A genetic trigger is necessary to lead the unisex ducts down a male pathway; the default setting is always, female genitalia. As mentioned earlier, the male orgasm is a powerful reward for procreation. Could it be that the female orgasm is a simple by-product? In the same way, that male nipples are non-adaptive but are present in males because we share a standard mammalian template with females? As an aside: Tis an interesting theory, but nothing is simple in biology or anything else for that matter. Although this explanation appears plausible, superficially, at least, it is unlikely to be the whole story, if at all. Any man worth his salt will have noticed a slight discrepancy between the time taken for a man and woman to achieve climax. Men are generally ‘quicker’ off the starting block. Again this makes good evolutionary sense. Imagine a time, long, long, ago, when our ancestors lived on the vast open savannah. Sex by its very nature is a highly focussed activity and whilst engaged, primitive man/hominids would be uniquely vulnerable to wolves or sabre-toothed ferrets (surely some mistake?). Selection for fast copulation makes sound evolutionary sense. But why the male/female discrepancy when it comes to orgasm? Of course, the orgasm in females is divorced from the fertilisation process. That said, it has been argued that the rhythmic contractions accompanying orgasm help to scoop the sperm into the cervix thus facilitating conception. However, I don’t recall any hard evidence supporting this proposal. The fact that women take longer to, and often fail to climax, during sex suggests that the female orgasm is non-adaptive; makes my head hurt and my loins ache (wanna burns stuff as well).

Often the respective theories are conflicting. Males built for quick sex because of natural selection; women built for a slow build up. Contradictions in logic are irreconcilable; something has to give.

Some advocate that it is an advantage for a male to be a sensitive lover and take heed of his partner's needs. A selection of anthropologists (not natural) consider that mutual orgasm helps to bond the male and female for the long haul. In evolutionary terms, this is important because the human infant requires many years of nurturing before it can become independent. In a tough uncaring world, two parents are definitely better than one. But this hypothesis does not abide well with the adaptive value of 'quicky sex'. I'm reflecting on a time in our prehistory when evolutionary pressures were rampant and adaptively important. In our wondrous modern society, natural selection has been well and truly pushed into the background and nowadays a leisurely afternoon of 'Tantric Sex' can be fun. One parent families thrive because society, as a functioning economical unit, supports the indolent, feckless, fecund. What would happen if we pushed them out onto the raw streets and watched natural selection operate in all its feral and insouciant glory/gory? Now, that would make a great reality TV show; I'd watch it.

There is another explanation: we simply don’t know. Us, O so clever scientists are not omniscient, although I've met a few who think they are. Primary research in this fascinating area has been woefully neglected. You would think the government should be supplying ample funding under the auspices of the: ‘Terminally unattractive cropped hair dungaree wearing disabled lesbian mother, fund’. There is nothing wrong in formulating hypotheses, but if the hypothesis aspires to become a theory it requires evidence. Few of the explanations concerning the female orgasm have supporting data. It looks as if we are  engaged in story telling, after all. Nothing wrong with that, as long as we recognise it as such.

Perhaps as researchers, men should try harder?

Saturday, 2 April 2016

Tis Goodnight from him

Big Ron in repose

Sorry to my international viewers: This post will only make nonsense to Brit folks of a certain age. And for this, I do not apologise. Ain't dat the sad truth?

Breaking news: It has just been announced that the notorious British comedian, 'Ronnie aka big Ron', has died due to complications after slipping on a banana skin. Ronnie together with his twin brother, aka as 'Ronnie', terrorised the East End of Tipton during the 1960's. They built up an empire of comedy based on pithy, hilarious routines, perfect timing and extreme violence (maybe not). Mr Ipod Mugumbo, an associate, had this to say about, 'The Twins' during their hey day in the 1920s: ''The boys ruled the East End of Tipton with an iron fist. The Tipton Repertoire Theatre was 'their patch' and anyone entering the theatre had to pay a toll. Half a crown for mid-week performances and 20 bob for Saturday morning matinees. Ushers ruled the aisles with a white chiffon glove and those who spoke loudly during performances received a deft clip behind the ear with a torch sporting long life, lead batteries''.

But it was not all song and dance. A rival comedic gang based in Dudley posed a non-serious threat. Twas none other than: 'Mike and Bernie Winters'. The Dudley duo, Mike and Hymie, (surely some mistake) were universally loathed, mainly because they were shit comedians. It all came to a head when members of the Tipton gang entered the hallowed turf of the Winter brothers. During a rather unfunny and strained dialogue on stage, one of the 'Twin's crew', Mad Jack, the Cat, McVitie's Biscuits, heckled rather loudly. To be fair, the brothers were about as funny as Jimmy Saville staying overnight at an orphanage, but the gauntlet had been dropped. The Tipton and Dudley comic club scene would never be the same again.

On a fine summer morn, the younger of the two Winter brothers ambled over the Dudley/Tipton border whilst ostensibly taking his Chihuahua for a walk. He meandered into forbidden territory and was mercilessly mocked for having a big nose and a crap dog. The battle lines had been drawn- what would happen next?

Tension came to a peak when 'Comic Relief' dictated that the respective duos come together to record the humanitarian song: 'We are going to give lots of money to shit hole countries and most of it will get siphoned off by the corrupt ruler (he might be called Colonel Mugumbo, can't say) '. Not a catchy title admittedly, but the sentiment was there. And let's face it, that is all that matters at the end of the day.

The situation quickly degenerated when Bernie Mathews (who?), denigrated the 'Twin's' performance as a bit of a 'Turkey'- but he would say that, wouldn't he? The riposte was stunning and rapid. The elder of the twins reached for his holstered repartee and shot the twat, square in the toupee. The rest is comedic history; go read.

The world would never be the same again. Rest in pieces Mr R and don't take any mind of my rambling prose/rose.

Friday, 1 April 2016

Thought of the day

Pooh has been hanging with the wrong crowd, of late. It is suspected that he has been partaking of exotic and smokable honey- real good shit. Poor piglet is being lured to the local abattoir where he will be enslaved and forced to work 14 hours a day making designer goods for decadent Westerners or flensing the corpses of his fellow porcines. I leave my good readers to be the judge. NB: these activities are not mutually exclusive.

As for the sentiment, it can't be faulted. Perhaps a mention of mounds of your fallen enemy's skulls could add lustre. Arse.