National Trust - an institution, a charity, a sense of smug bastardness

Well, here I am in middle age with a dusty guitar, a family, and a bunny. What to do, what to do?

I know, I'll join the national trust. Yea, good idea, look at all these places I can see for free with my yearly subscription. Check out all the beautiful places with their wildlife, country scenes, castles, gardens, places to relax, and free parking.

Look at all the gifts I get when I join, a complete catalogue of all the places I can go to, a poster, a car sticker that means I can park for free, an umbrella, a sense of belonging, and, wait, yes, a huge sense of smug.

Check out the losers that have to pay to park, pay to get in, pay to get out, pay to enter the on-site shop, cough up cash for talking to an attendant.

Look how they are sneered at for not taking advantage of a years subscription for only £36.38, see the sights of the tour guides taking them into the toilet and flushing their pauper heads down the 18th century teak toilet (as used by King Henry VIII'th during his 'we've discovered curry' years).

Be amazed at how interactive the torture chamber really can be if they say no to giftaid.

Be in awe of the accuracy in the recreation of the witch-hunt years for people presenting expired cards.

Get educated in the history of some of Britain's finest houses built by the fine upstanding slave owners of old, and the extended use of the National Trust brolly that comes with the introduction pack. Immerse yourself in the flup flup flup sound made by rapidly opening and closing the umbrella in the face of an oik in the cafe queue who's tried to buy a scone and a coffee:

"Scone and a coffee please"

"£18.36 please"

"What?"

"pfffff, scone and a coffee, that will be £18.36. Now"

"Is there something special about it, does the scone have cocaine in it or something?"

"No, raisins"

"Jesus, well, I have had a nice day, and it is for charity, £18.36 it is then."

"Sorry, price is now £20"

"What!!!! why?"

"You've been speaking to me for 20 seconds."

"Taking the piss lady!!! Oi mate have you heard what she just said?"

FLUP FLUP FLUP "ARGHwhatthefuck?"


I was trained well.

UFO Lands on Parliament - The 9/11 Conspiracy Proved!!

Did you know that A UFO landed on the houses of Parliament last week in the early hours?

NO?

That's because you are all stupid people and you are all being sheep, sheeple, one huge herd of cattle. I know that's different from sheep but they both eat grass, which is what all of YOU are doing, eating grass, yes, that's what you are a grass eating sheep or cow.

Last week, about one hour after I ate some shrooms and washed them down with quality mad dog 20/20 I went for a walk in London. How surprised was I when approaching the Houses of Parliament to see a UFO in the shape of OSAMA BIN LADEN eating a JEW landing on the roof. I saw it like throw out a green light before flying off into the sky. All it left behind was a freshly made Caesar salad. THE next day I saw this :

Now that's proof that 9/11 was an inside job.

Nobody in UK has heard about what I saw because the newspapers are all controlled by JEWS that are controlling everyone and everything and that means you are sheep, or a cow, or something else that eats grass and like doesn't watch the news and won't go on the internet and look at all these websites I know.

When are you going to wake up and smell the coffee like I have. I have literally watched literally hours and hours and hours of badly spelt, unqualified, meaningless conjecture put together by teenagers with no academic grounding in anything but like they are clever and can use windows movie maker and cool fonts and add awesome Nazi rock songs. Man these guys are super impressive, they are not sheep, they are more like duck billed platypuses coz they are free and not conformist like sheep are, or cows, which is what you are. I know I'm right coz I know so many websites it can't be wrong. I've not wasted the finest days of my life in dark rooms with a tinfoil hat to stop the rays getting to my brane for nothing. Far from it, all this stuff is like super important, like you know, when they turn Saturn or Jupiter into a new sun, THEN you will all know but I will be ok coz I know it's going to happen and I'm a duck billed platypus I am.

And if you don't believe me then answer me this question if you can tear yourselves away from the grass and mooing and stuff:

Why a Caesar salad?

SEE! don't be a sheep, be a platypus.

of poodles and mailboxes and bungees

Follow on from this post

I would like to state, for the inquisitive of mind and bored of life, several things need to be considered before trying to reduce unsolicited mailshot with poodles, bungees, and mailboxes.

First, it's an absolute truth that large poodles cannot fit through letter boxes, no matter how far back you stretch the bungee.

Secondly, poodles can be angry little bastards.

Third, there is no doggy chew in the world that will entice a previously launched poodle to get back into the damn slingshot.


And so it is fair to state that trying to give a postie the shock of a lifetime is not simply a function of canine velocity. Well, it is, but it's a one off unless you has an adequate supply of ignorant poodles and it's a new postman every day who hasn't been informed by depot that "The occupier" at number 4 will mash an irritated barking bogbrush against the door glass when you approach with the latest important information on double glazing.

Although that particular offer was rather useful after the damage from the first attempt, oh the irony of it all.

I think a rethink is in order, possibly some other form of animal could be launched in a decisive effort to reduce the amount of trees that are dying in the name of breakdown recovery for only 20 pence per day.

Perhaps a snake.

I belong to the world now !

You know, sometimes things have to be done simply because they have to be done. Rather like cleaning dog mess off your shoes or writing 'not known at this address' on a mailshot stamped with a “hand delivered by the Royal Mail” strap line before putting it back into a mail box for them to deal with. Admittedly the latter action is accompanied by a sense of mischievous smugness, whereas trying to do the same to the former may be messy, illegal, and would have yielded better results by sitting on the wall digging the mess from the cracks in ones shoes before flicking it at a postie trying to get things “To the occupier”.

So a blog would appear to be the thing to be done, so I shall do. Why? I, and others ask. Well, the only answer I can think of is that, rather like flicking dog poo at posties who are trying to tell “The occupier” of the superb insurance savings available, it seems like the right thing to do at the time.

I'm not sure what I'm going to write about, but I'm certain something will come to.................mind, although I am resigned to the fact that it's probably not going to be my mind.

I will take suggestions though. May I suggest that someone suggests “Poodles, dealing with them”, I probably have a few words on how to deal with natures living loo brush. Ooh, and politics, I like politics, it's so........what's the word......shite.

Ahh I should mention, there's likely to be swearing here, I'm a realist not an apologist.

So on with the show, thanks for dropping by, I'm off for a coffee and to experiment with a large bungee, a poodle, and a letterbox.