Too Poor and Dumb to Rent a Trailer

                  If only there was a banjo somewhere to make this image, sublime

This picture begs for analysis, but where do you start? There seems to be a certain degree of agitation going on amongst the participants. I suspect gramps may be the prime mover in this situation. Of course sitting naked on the wood pile and protecting your modesty with a scalding pot is probably normal fare for this neck of the woods.

Grandma says: ‘Jethro, get your cock out the scalding pot. It dun taint the chicken heads.’

Ma on the right says: ‘Officer, take care with the scatter gun, an all. Jethro can take a shot to the head, but mind the scalding pot.’

Everyone certainly loves that scalding pot.

Why hasn't the silly old bugger taken his boots off? Methinks plantar splinters are the least of this man’s problems.

Not Another Fucking Toaster

                                            That’s what you get for pissing in the gene pool    

Today is the wedding of my exalted cousin Beadwof ‘Half Dane’. I say exalted only to the extent that it behoves me to be pleasant to the king of the adjacent land of Mercia. His domain is extensive, his army of Carls is large and he has exclusive rights to the cleaning of the midden pits hereabouts. When I say we are cousins, I mean we are third cousins, twice removed on the distaff side. Taking into account the degree of inbreeding in this part of the world this practically makes us full blood brothers. Beloved Beadwof gives mute testament to the value of extending your family gene pool; there is profit in raiding the next village for women. When you start to exhibit traits such as additional toes and nipples you know that outbreeding is a distinct advantage. Don’t be fooled by the appellation half Dane to his name either. His father married his half-sister, whose mother perchance was Danish. Beadwof ‘Three quarters Dane’ never really caught on.

Methinks the prospect for successful issue from this ill/in bred union is doomed judging from the closeness of the eyes of Beadwof’s bride, Hrosefrith. She needs a vigorous sire, no doubt. I’d voluntary myself but I don't 'do', fat ugly wenches.

Pareidolia. Me pareidolia?

                                                Mr Lighttoast Mr Mugumbo

Consider my chagrin and utter amazement to find a finely wrought image of my best friend, Mr Lighthouse Mugumbo starkly displayed in my early morning toast. Never have my comestibles been so violently and blatantly sullied.                                   

           Mr Marmite remove yourself from my breakfast Mugumbo!

In order to steady my flayed nerves I decided to thickly apply my favourite yeasty spread to my image befouled bread. As I unscrewed the Marmite jar I was immediately assailed with a second, cunningly deported image of Mr Lighthouse Mugumbo. His unmistakable visage seemed to jump out and violently mock me into an uncontrolled paroxysm of dread.

My total stupefaction was totally compounded when I went to take some solace in my morning cup of coffee.....

              Mr Latte Mugumbo

I reached for my latte to fitfully imbibe and hopefully annul my clouded senses. Imagine my consternation to find the ubiquitous form of Mr Lighthouse Mugumbo frothed into my early morning 'wake up' beverage. Enough I cried, and avowed never to break my fast again!

                                             

             C'mon Mr Mugumbo, time for your morning walk.

Woden

                                            "Today, I am mostly smiting the Tiptonites"

There is much in the bible which troubles thoughtful Christians. Most Christians are blissfully unaware as they have not read the book they base their religious beliefs upon. Also these pesky troublesome bits are never the basis for the Sunday sermon. They are conveniently ignored and brushed under the ecclesiastic carpet. As an atheist, I have read the bible and appreciate it for what it is. The Old Testament is a collection of diverse literature spanning a thousand years. It contains ‘history’ (but not as we know it), laws, exaltations, mythology and love poetry. It is written by men, often barbarous men, untainted by sophisticated philosophy. It throws light on the state of affairs at the time of writing. The men who wrote the bible where not unintelligent, but they wrote as they saw things through a lens of perceived piety. A pre-scientific world view dominated by miraculous events and an unswerving belief in their warrior storm deity. The bible is not the inspired word of god. It was written by fallible men tainted by their narrow perspective and petty prejudices.        

Japanese Sniper Found on the Roof of Dudley Aldis

Mr Teapot Mugumbo

Breaking news: A Japanese sniper has been found sequestered on the roof of Aldis in Dudley town centre. Apparently Sergeant (first class) Kendo Nagasaki was parachuted in 1944 on a clandestine mission to kill, the then incumbent Mayor of Dudley, the Right Honourable Enoch Fourtesticles. Unfortunately for Sergeant (first class) Tanto, he landed on the roof of Aldis and couldn't open the roof hatch. He has spent the last seventy years subsisting on pigeons and the occasional migrating sea bird. Although deprived of his primary mission, he thought it prudent to perform his military duty. Consequently he has spent his time sniping at the good burghers of Dudley. Luckily for Dudleyites, Sergeant (first class) Hiroshima is very short sighted.    

The only casualty appears to have been Mrs Soretwat’s cat, Mr Mittens. Mr Mittens developed a slight limp in August, 1974. When Mrs Soretwat examined Mr Mitten’s paw she found the remnants of a bullet. In her own words:  “I knew straightaway that the bullet was a type 99 fired from a Japanese Arisaka sniper’s rifle. I thought it prudent not to tell my husband, Bert, as he was suffering from a very nasty infection of the pineal gland, at that time. ”     

                                                          Mr Mittens before the accident

Sergeant (first class) Karate was only discovered when Aldi staff performed their centenary spring clean of the roof. Initially, Sergeant (first class) Bushido mistakenly took the cleaner, Mr Teapot Mugumbo, for Emperor Hirohito and delivered a ceremonial low bow. Slow thinking Mr Mugumbo mistook the opportunity and after 20 minutes of deliberating and picking fluff from his navel, twated Sergeant (first class)

Katana with a mop bucket.

Sergeant (first class) Sushi had this to say after been apprehended by the Dudley constabulary: “I am most humbled and in awe of the most wonderful innovations which have taken place during my confinement on the roof of Dudley Aldis. So much has changed. There are computers, internet, televisions and nuclear weapons. I can’t wait to return to my home in Toyama prefecture and live my remaining dotage in quiet solitude."

Sergeant (first class) Wasabi will be hanged later today, in Dudley Town Centre, for war crimes.   

The Dual Nature of the Lord is an Ecumenical Question

                                                              I expected Jesus to look a bit more Jewish

Not much point in telling Jesus to fuck off as he is omnipresent, although not always manifest. Of course, it depends whether on this occasion he is present in wholly human form; wholly divine or one person partaking of both natures. Confusing, innit? And you thought all this was decided at the ecumenical council of Chalcedon in 451AD?

On this occasion he decides to manifest at a most inopportune time. Now to my mind that smacks of cussedness, or at the very least a warped sense of humour. C'mon Jesus, give the poor squaddie a break and piss off. Your shining countenance and radiant white robes are a bit of a give away to snipers. Better still, wear battle fatigues, pick up a rifle and start helping out. I bet Jesus could lobeth a Mills bomb a lot further than most.      

Moses Loves You, Jesus Don't

                                Jesus contemplating whether he should eat Moses.

A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables when a voice in the dark said, 'Jesus knows you're here.' He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing more, he shook his head and continued.

Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard 'Jesus is watching you.' Startled, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot. 'Did you say that?' he hissed at the parrot.'Yes', the parrot confessed, then squawked, 'I'm just trying to warn you that he's watching you.' The burglar relaxed. 'Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?'

'Moses,' replied the bird. 'Moses?' the burglar laughed. 'What kind of people would name a bird Moses?'' The kind of people who would name a Rottweiler Jesus.'