Biscuits v Cookies

So, it's the school holidays and the kids are bored.
I came up with the brilliant idea of cooking some biscuits. Show me a kid that doesn't like getting their hands (and face) all covered in gunge. They do not exist. At least not in this house. The little one jumped at the chance.
A quick trip up to the shops for ingredients and we are away .
In the space of around ten minutes, we have most of the mixture into the bowl, although some has found its way behind her ear and up her nose and some found it's way into Barney. Why do kids feel the urge to insert everything they play with into certain orifices?
Oven's already up to temperature. That's what forward planning does for you *smug*. We've managed to get twelve biscuits out of the recipe, although they are of differing sizes and shapes.
After five minutes, the aroma of gently cooking chocolate chip cookies wafts around the house.
Mm mm mm!!!
Ten minutes later and Ta Raaaaaaaaa.....

Of course the argument in this house is whether they are biscuits or cookies.

P.S. And they even tasted good as well.

Joke of the century

Heard a great joke today.
THIS
made me laugh my arse off.

Who are they trying to kid?

Laughed?
I haven't laughed as much since my Grandma fell down the stairs.










My thanks to cabarfeidh whom I shamelessly nicked this off.
Being an ex serviceman myself, I am sure he'll understand that I appreciate this sort of humour.

We will remember them

To return to the real world, may I just remind you dear reader that August 15th will soon be upon us.
Date not significant to you?
Read and remember them. Even in these troubled times we must never forget those that have gone before.

GREAT TRUTHS THAT LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE LEARNED:

1) No matter how hard you try, you can't baptise cats.
2) When your Mum is mad at your Dad, don't let her brush your hair.
3) If your sister hits you, don't hit her back. They always catch the second person.
4) Never ask your 3-year old brother to hold a tomato.
5) You can't trust dogs to watch your food.
6) Don't sneeze when someone is cutting your hair.
7) Never hold a Dust-Buster and a cat at the same time.
8) You can't hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
9) Don't wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts.
10) The best place to be when you're sad is Granddad's lap.

Just a little lighthearted humour which will hopefully make someone chuckle in these bad times

Blair washes his hands of them

The impertinence of it.
That stalwart band of unappreciated souls who scrub and clean the House of Commons so it's gleaming like a new pin, have the audacity to go out on strike in protest of their poor wages.
Don't they realise that just to walk in the hallowed halls of power and perhaps catching a glimpse of some of the honorable members, should be reward enough for their toil.
Mind you. £5 per hour and twelve days leave. I wouldn't turn over in bed, let alone get out of it for that pittance.
But come on you cleaners, there are people much worse off than you.
Look at that poor Rio Ferdinand. Remember him? He used to be a great footballer whilst cutting his teeth at West Ham. Now he is just another whingeing prima donna who cannot possibly be expected to survive on £100.000 a week. How he needs that extra twenty grand.
So think on gallant cleaners. That poor boy is suffering so much.

Clarkson reigns supreme

Love him or loathe him, you've got to admit that the great curly haired one has a knack of putting his finger right on the button.

This is a cracking piece of journalism and certainly made me chuckle.

My thanks to The Sunday Times Online from whom I politely knicked it from.

Trigonometry?

Whilst up the pub last night quaffing a few pints of John Smiths, the subject of trigonometry reared its ugly head.
Now I was a whiz at 'trig', but you know what? It was absolutely no use whatsoever in my forthcoming life. Sines, cosines and tangents used up too much of my memory, which could have been redirected on to more important aspects of my life at the tender age of 15. Like girls for instance.
Algebra. There goes another one. It must have been obvious even to the most discerning of teachers, that I was not going to be the next Einstein. So X + Y = Z? Que!
To cap the lot, the ultimate waste of space was C.S.E.'s. I passed seven in total. Pretty impressive huh? Total waste of time. My first job was delivering sausages and pies for T.S.Walls and sons. No requirement for CSE's there then. After that, I joined the Royal Navy and the forces totally re-educate you anyway, so once more, a waste of time.
Basically I am saying that apart from teaching me how to count and speak, the rest of my education was irrelevant.
It seems that todays kids only need to know how to switch on a PC. Whereas we had to do everything in our heads. Could you see that happening today? I think not.

The wrong man

I was shocked to hear that the man killed by police was in fact totally innocent.
Although it may not seem so, we are at war.
In the heat of the moment when emotions are on a knife edge, mistakes are made.
My heart goes out to all the friends and relatives of Jean Charles de Menezes. A totally innocent man in the wrong place at the wrong time. We must not blame our security forces for this blunder. It is the terrorists and them alone who are responsible for his death. We must in no way lessen our fight against these barbarians.

May your God be with you Jean Charles de Menezes.

Let us hope your death was not in vain.

Ashes to ashes

"McGrath Sparks England Freefall

Nice to know that some normality prevails in this twisted world we occupy.

Brave lads

Isn't it comforting to know that, just like us, Tony Blair, Chief Commisioner of the Met. et al are keeping a brave face and stiff upper lip whilst this pathetic attempt to terrorise us goes on.

"We must get on the tube. We must use the buses and show these murderers that the people of London will not be bowed"

And after that stirring little speech, they all trot off in their bullet/bomb proof limousines.

So that only applies to us oiks then?

More PC madness

Down in sunny Brighton an exhibition of sand sculptures depicting ancient Egypt has been set up on the beach.
Thousands of tons of the stuff has been imported and shaped by artists of several nationalities.
And what is wrong with that, I hear you ask?
They didn't apply for planning permission.
Because they are above a certain height, they are subject to local planning laws.
For fucks sake Brighton & Hove council or whoever, get your fingers out of your arses and rip up this ludicrous byelaw.
As they are only going to be here for the summer, attracting tourists and yes, money to the area, wouldn't it be prudent to swallow humble pie and just congratulate a job well done for the benefit of everyone.

Strewth.....

Nobody fails in this school kids...

The latest piece of PC bollocks.
An education spokesman today proposed that the word 'fail' must not be used in today's schools. If a little angel does in fact FAIL an exam, it must be referred to as a 'deferred success'.
What a complete load of utter bollocks.
They are afraid that if a little angel thinks he/she is a failure, they will end up being emotionally scarred for life.
One other example of this countries attempts to completely wrap our kids in three ply cotton wool.
Aren't the poor little mites going to be allowed to experience any emotion short of being blissfully happy - permanently?
As all us of well trodden old farts know through the experience of life, it 'aint like that.
I believe that children should experience failure, losing, hurt etc. It's the only way to prepare them for this shitty world we all live in.

Common Sense

After reading this on Gray Monk, I though it churlish of me not to share it with all you sensible people out there.

Common Sense Has Died

To Whom It May Concern,

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Mr. Common Sense.

Mr. Sense had been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm and that life isn't always fair.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place: reports of a six-year boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, these only worsened his condition.

Mr. Sense declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Finally, Common Sense lost his will to live as the Ten Commandants became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap and was awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son Reason. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on; if not, join the majority and do nothing.

Amen to that.

P.S. My thanks to Miss Whiplash.......

Where are all the kids?

It's a gloriously sunny day today, so I thought I would take Barney for a walk around the block. During the walk we visited two parks. Not huge parks you understand, but big enough to get a few impromptu footie games going.
They were completely empty. Not a budding David Beckham in sight. I remember when I was a kid on a day like today I would run around (we had no phone at the time) all my mates houses to drag them up to the local rec for a kick about. We had to stop at Snotty Kevins house (he always had a river of green snot running out of his hooter), whom nobody liked. The reason he suddenly became popular was 'cos he had a World Cup '66 football. Our mate for the day. Grabbing the obligatory bottle of orange squash, we would spend all day endlessley kicking a pigs bladder about. The score faded into obscurity and usually ventured into double figures for both sides.
It wasn't unusual for us to be still playing out there in semi darkness.
Where are all today's kids?
Stuck in front of the tv/games console/computer. They could even be blogging - like me...
Oh well, there goes the next lot of NHS statistics in 30 years time.

Seems OK to me

A mini hero of mine, Boris Johnson, penned this article in The Spectator.

"If we were Israelis, we would by now be doing a standard thing to that white semi-detached pebbledash house at 51 Colwyn Road, Beeston. Having given due warning, we would dispatch an American-built ground-assault helicopter and blow the place to bits. Then we would send in bulldozers to scrape over the remains, and we would do the same to all the other houses in the area thought to have been the temporary or permanent addresses of the suicide bombers and their families." more...

A somewhat different approach than ourselves don't you say?
But worth some thought.....

Too little, too late

I had difficulty concentrating on reading this article in todays Telegraph.

Someone kept banging the stable door.....

It's a boy!

It seems I am a step - grandad (what a mouthful).
Mother and son doing fine.

Talking bollocks

My thanks to neveratossBlog for this little gem from the lovely Rachel Stevens.
The last bit makes the eyes water a tad.

Le Mans revived

Does anybody remember that classic endurance motor race held in France?
The Le Mans 24 Hueres was unique in its starting technique.
On one side of the track pointing towards the start line would be all the cars.
On t'other side would stand all the drivers.
At the dropping of the flag, all the drivers would run to their cars, start them up and begin the race.

We have a similar phenomenon here at work every Friday afternoon.. It starts around ten to one where groups of anxious workers tend to gather in little clusters, nervously glancing at the clock whilst attempting to maintain eye contact with the person who is trying to communicate with them.
It's five to one and coats and other outer garments are being lovingly fondled and eased off the backs of chairs. Little beads of perspiration appear on some upper lips and are furtively licked.
Oh my god, it's one o'clock and their off. Rushing to the door five abreast desperately attempting to be THE ONE to reach their car first.
Someone's down and promptly stepped over.
"Sorry mate, can't stop"
It is imperative that he get to his motor first.
It's ten minutes past one. They are all sitting in their cars sweating their bollocks off (obviously not the ladies, everyone knows that ladies perspire) in the huge queue caused by everybody rushing out at the same time.
By the time the queue has died down (around a quarter past) I casually stroll out to my trusty motor and drive home.
No stress.
For the sake of a few minutes, they arrive home agitated moaning about the rush to get out of work and I arrive home sublimely chilled.
And smug.

Hear, hear Boris

Once again, I am not ashamed to use other more learned folks rhetoric about issues important to myself.

So take it away Boris Johnson.

Beware violent handbags

After seeing this today, it reminded me of the time I was mugged by an extremely angry wallet.

So beware stroppy leather goods.

It seems my reputation goes before me.......

Whew....

I don't know about where you are, but it's hotter than an aborigine's armpit here in the Garden of England.
Only the British can moan about the weather like we do. It's either too bloody hot or
cold enough to freeze the balls of a brass monkey. Still, I'd rather have some weather to whinge about than it being hot/cold all day, every day.
When serving on the Grey Funnel Line in my yoof, I spent some time out in the tropics and after a couple of weeks of relentless heat, it became boring.
I used to dream about waking up to the sound of English rain, pissing down for all its worth.

After much nagging from she who must be obeyed, I finally got around to getting my hair cut today. I like my hair cut short. Not just short back and sides short, but short.
For those of you unfamiliar with short technology, I usually have a number 3 (occasionally 2) attachment on the clippers. I can just about get away with that with 'er indoors - no shorter.
The missus is away for another fortnight.
I have just had a number 1.
I am practically bald and it's great.
No doubt when she reads this, I will be in the dog house with Barney, but by the time she gets home it will have grown sufficient for my life to be saved.
Aren't I a brave little soldier.

Ahhh. That's better

It's like putting on your favourite moth-eaten old wooly. That lovely familiar cosy safe feeling.
Yes, I have returned to the mother ship i.e.Blogger.
20six was okay, but it was like being relegated to the Championship.
I now feel like my beloved West Ham on being promoted to the Premiership. 'Cos only the best is good enough.
That's enough vomit inducing sycophancy. Yes, I have even brought some long words with me. Don't know what half of them mean, but I know that you are all easily impressed.
Now I have just got to think of something mildly amusing/interesting to say.
Hmmmmm......

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