There was a dog called Bruce who, at the age of 7 years 3 months 12 days
4 hours 17 minutes and a year, suddenly understood the meaning of the
entire universe, which, in his own words is "Woof woof bark bark barkety
woofy woof," which when translated from Dog into English means "We are
all made the big clay of time." One day, his owner, Barbara, made a clay
model of herself, which exploded and caused the fire alarm to go off the
entire block of flats. The fire service were called, and Bruce bit one
of the firemen on the leg. The bite went septic, then gangrene, and
eventually the leg had to be amputated, so he had to retire from the
fire service, so he started a business selling dog meat to London's
Chinese minority.

I said:
I think I need to be careful
because
if I get much higher
I just might take flight

She said:
I had this beautiful dream last night,
I think I tried to drink the sun...

There's just one sock in my bedroom.
I don't know where there other one is.
I need to find the other sock.
Who's taken this sock and not brought it back?
It's certainly not on my foot, so where is it?

Where is this sock?
It's not here.
I've only got the one sock.
Please someone bring back the other sock,
or, Sock, oh Lonely Sock,
if you know where you are hiding,
please come back, so I can wear you on my foot again.

T is for Tesco.
H is for Helicopter.
Put them both together,
and we can all go shopping in the sky.

B is for Banana.
X is for Xylophone.
Put them both together,
and you can make a musical pie.
(this only works as an absurd imaginary idea, not as an actual recipe to serve your family as a desert with their dinner)

E is for Egg.
D is for Dave.
Put them both together,
and it's a man eating his dinner.
(whilst an egg would work as a dinner, but rather than eat it by itself, have it with something else, you know such as a piece of lettuce or a jam sandwhich, you know, the usual kind of thing)

L is for Love.
F is for Free.
If you don't need to pay,
you're onto a winner.
(unles of course you are Michael Winner, in which case: calm down dear)

She looked at me, with a face that seemed to say:
If all the money
in all the countries
in all the world
was spent on turning the sky
a brighter shade of blue,
what colour knickers am I wearing?
but what she actually said was:
"Eagle eye bent sky rasperry handlebar moustache"

Well,
I must say,
there's really no easy way to answer that,
is there?

Spending money is fun.
It creates an illusion
that what you're doing isn't a complete waste of...
not time, but
the only moment you really ever have.

Saw Bill Bailey live in Bristol last night. It was everything I expected it to be and more. I laughed a lot and was not bored for even one second. Bill was on top form, and it was great to be sat out in the fresh air (the chairs were laid out on the lawn of Ashton Gate Football Stadium). It was fun when he remarked on the surprisingly beautiful weather (Something like "This is all very weird...sunshine in England in the summer..."), the moon in the sky, and also a seagul that randomly flew past. Bill got a standing ovation at the end of the set. Everybody loved him. It was a real homecoming gig for him, since he grew up in the area. What's always amazing about Bill though, is how he makes it all look so easy and effortless. He's just a naturally funny guy who also happens to be a virtuoso musician, and he combines the two seamlessly.

There were five of us who went to the gig together: Me, Dan, American Mark, American Mark's English Girlfriend, and American Mark's English Girlfriend's Friend (also English). At the end of the gig, Mark (who is from New York City and has a cheeky mischievous face) was trying to pursuade us to all pile into a Taxi ("Google says it's 4 miles all the way back to Dan's house..."). Dan said he didn't mind (typical Dan, hates the possibility of ever causing offense or upset to anyone, and so hence always refuses take responsibility for any decision making). Mark said to me, "Right, so make a decision," so I said, "Umm, okay, we'll walk and save money." Mark and the two women went to the Taxi while Dan and me started walking (along with thousands of other people) in the general direction of the city centre. It took us about 75 minutes to get back to Dan's house, but the time flew really quickly because we talked so much. I can talk for England if I'm on a subject I'm interested in and I'm talking to someone who doesn't interrupt much (and Dan doesn't like to interrupt much, because he seems to have a constant fear of causing any kind of offence ot anyone). If the conversation subject is something I'm not interested in, or the person likes to interrupt a lot, I can't talk for England, I talk for Japan instead, like an English person who doesn't know any Japanese and therefore doesn't say anything. I'm not sure this joke really works. Most of the time my jokes only make sense to me and nobody else, but this joke, I'm not even sure I understand it either. By the way, that last bit is what I would classify as "the kind of joke that only makes sense to me and nobody else". If it made sense to you, and you're female and under the age of about 35, we need to talk. It could be that we're meant to fall in love or something. I don't know. I don't really understand how these things work.

Anyway...

Drove back to Bristol today, to catch up on something I started. Let me explain...

I had the idea back in April to celebrate the entire Month of June as a Birthmonth, rather than settling for just one day as a Birthday. My idea was, that I would try to pack as many fun activities into the 4 weekends of June that I could. My plan was, half of the activities would be exciting activities with friends, and the other half would be more relaxed solitary activities such as art galleries, museums, etc.

The first weekend it was Mountain Biking with friends followed by a trip to Berkley Castle by myself. Last weekend it was Go Ape (organised tree climbing) with friends followed by visiting 4 different art galleries in Bristol. It turned out that one of the art galleries didn't have an exhibition on last weekend, but they did this weekend, so today I went back there to see it. I saw that one of the attendants (a young woman) seemed to look at me once or twice, so I went over to speak to her ("Did you make any of these pieces?..."). I wanted to speak to her again after I'd gone round that part of the gallery, but she has disappeared after that, so when I got home I found her website, and now I'm going to stalk her until I get arrested.

Anyway, it was all very interesting. Lots of alternative stuff. Lots of weird sound and video things, and various moving objects. Worth the walk across the city, I reckon. But then that's all part of it, the urban hiking. As a country boy who claims to be forever in love with the rural life (including, but not limited to, hiking, tree climbing, trespassing and scaring sheep), urban hiking is like a secret pleasure of mine.

Anyway, that's not the end of my day. I was back at my car by 3pm, and drove to Bath to visit the Victoria Art Gallery. The downstairs gallery of new stuff was close (it seems to be a bit of a lottery sometimes, this art gallery thing), but the upstairs gallery of old paintings was open, so I went up there. I spotted one painting which I was sure I'd seen somewhere else recently. I couldn't decide whether I'd seen it in a gallery in Bristol, or in a dream I had. I was so disturbed by this, I walked all the way back across the room and asked the member of staff if it was a copy. Half way through her comprehensive reply regarding which pieces had copies and which didn't (this particular one didn't, she said) I suddenly realised I had probably seen it on the website that morning before I came.

After that, I walked around Bath for a bit, around the River and stuff. It was fucking excellent weather! I don't normally like to swear when I'm not angry (and even then I prefer to stay away from the F-word, opting instead for safer words such as cunt), but the weather really was that good. Sat on a bench next to the river, and tried to become as conscious as possible of the experience of a perfect summer day in a beautiful city. This picture doesn't even come close...

Next weekend is Crazy Golf and Cycling...

Last night I went to a party at my friend Julia's new house in a rough area of Bristol, to celebrate her birthday and also moving into her new place. I don't normally go to parties, but Julia is great and I haven't seen her for an entire year, which is totally absurd. How did that happen??? We need to stop this kind of thing from happening. Anyway, at least now I know where she lives, so maybe I can start camping in her garden...

Anyway, I took my friend Dan along, because he lives nearby. Apart from Julia, I didn't know anyone else, so me and Dan ended up just talking amonst ourselves in a corner of the garden while everyone else sat round a big table. I lectured Dan at length about how I think of Days and Months in terms of different colours, and how one day I hope to be an internet millionaire with a lovely house on a hill overlooking Stroud, perhaps with nude female servants and a pet giraffe...

Towards the end of the evening, a woman came and sat next to us and started chatting to us. Dan didn't really say anything, so I chatted away to her. She told me about how singing in a band with Julia is really the only fun time she gets away from her kids. She also told me all about her painful foot. I said to her: "This is the most I've ever learned about a stranger's foot." I then proceeded to tell her all about how I injured my knees earlier in the year, so I guess we ended up even.

About 10:30 we walked back towards Dan's house along the main road. I was definately out of my comfort zone. Saturday night on the streets a major city, not my idea of a good place to be really. One guy asked us if we had a spare pound, and when we said "No, sorry," he said, "Argh, what the fuck's wrong with you, man! I hope you guys get beaten up and stabbed or something!" A bit rude...

Further up the road we passed a busy pub, with Police stood next to a young man holding his wounded head after probably being smashed with a bottle.

Is this really peoples idea of a good time?

And they all laugh at me for wanting to climb trees...

Labels: bristol, fanscinating true stories, life, my life, really interesting things

Idea for a Satirical Cartoon in the Style of Gary Larson's The Far Side

PICTURE:

A monkey underneath a giraffe, sucking milk from its udder.

Two scientists stand watching from a moderate distance.
One turns and says to the other:
"I'm sorry, George, I was wrong when I said we're the only animal on Earth that drinks the baby food of another species".

This it not a poem
It's just a stupid rhyme
If I got paid five pounds per word
I'd write them all the time

I wish I had more arms and legs
For dancing round the trees
I'd dance all day if someone paid me
For doing things like these

If I could earn five hundred pounds
For walking like a spastic
I'd walk like that all damn day long
Whilst wearing only plastic

Uncle Bertie Episode 35 - Dominus Gearstick

In this new episode of the Award Winning* online comedy series Trampoline Bouncing With Uncle Bertie, radio presenter Simon Bumtrousers interviews a man who claims to be a Transformer.

* the Big Brown Banana Award, presented to us at the Monkey Awards Ceremony in Monkeytown, Monkeyland, Planet Monkey, the Monkey Way Gallaxy, in some bizarre parallel universe.