That first picture could be Blobert Junior:-) (sorry RJ), what about all these half stories, the stolen Gold Toilet for example, I’m surprised no one approached me to ““organically “smelt””” it.
I ‘smelt’ a rat as I thought this was one of those arty Banksy type pranks by the artist to get more publicity. 
Ye gods Jem with a face that only a mother could love, that poor little Blobfish wouldn’t need battering down at the Chippy’s would it!. Jobs already done.
I love nature and all it offers but have now come to dread these new discoveries because no sooner do we ‘discover’ things we then we manage to kill them. These latest deep water finds have no fear of man…yet… and it should stay that way. Discover, log it then leave well alone and don’t broadcast it because as sure as eggs are eggs every Tom, Dick or Harry will want to see them come hell or high water 
The little fishy ditty reminds me of the Herring girls who followed the herring shoals and if you have ever gutted a fish you’ll know what a dirty job that was.
I do like a kipper now and again Solo, they’re tasty, tasty. very very tasty.:-)
I wouldn’t mind getting me hands on that gold jacks pot Spitty, 18ct. gold, one could make a right few rings with that, all old fashioned designs of course, none of your modern crap.
Hate is a very bad emotion, it eats it’s way from the inside out and shows itself on the person, some are “consumed by hate” and you can practically smell it off them.
I may dislike some folks but hate is beyond me I’m happy to say.
A friend of mine from way back was married to a nice looking local girl, I knew them both very well back then. Something happened between them, I never found out what it was, and love turned to hate, and I mean hate.
He went to Australia and she stayed here in her mother’s house, thankfully they had no children. I don’t know what happened to him after he left but she’s in her seventies now and has never got over the split, she’s a cranky bitter woman these days, she talks to nobody and nobody tries to talk to her anymore, they gave up trying to be friendly. I passed her on the street today, I smiled and said hello, all I got back was a grunt. But I still can’t help feeling sorry for the way she turned out.
She is so filled with hate that she cannot think straight
And her fists are gripped in a rage
Her knuckles are white, she’s a terrible sight
Like something you’d see in a cage
’Tis all so very scary
Hard to imagine she has the gentle name of Mary.
The wife was watching an old film she had recorded earlier called “Beyond Tomorrow”, a real tear jerker if ever there was one, and right up her alley, anyway I was playing dominoes on the laptop and taking the odd glance at it every now and then and although I wasn’t with it long enough to get the gist of it I saw three men on the screen who had died in a plane crash and went wherever, they were transparent as they walked around, then. as they were parting one says goodbye and another fella says “”It’s not goodbye, we’re all here forever” so the third fella says “Well good luck then”
My question is, what use is good luck to you when your dead?
Sorry folks, but that’s what daytime television does to a man.
I like the Third Mans Theme, makes a change for the Tree Fella.
Once went out with a Lady from quite a wealthy background, she was very raunchy, she thought nothing of misappropriating her assets.
Very clever Spitty.
I always liked this one from Tommy Cooper.
Three cross eyed fellas were standing before a cross eyed judge, The judge asks the first fella his name, the second fella says “John Smith”, the judge says “I didn’t ask you” and the third fella says “I didn’t say anything your honour”
Old smokers know all about the third man on a match.
I love song lyrics, in the main, they save you the trouble of having to put pen to paper, a couple of minutes listening can save hours of thinking:lol:
This line is a classic
I can’t help about the shape I’m in
I can’t sing, I ain’t pretty and my legs are thin
But don’t ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to.
Ahhhh it also gives as good a reason as any to play music that feeds the soul.
Peter Green at his best
Peter Green at his best.
Coupled with Spitty on the rampage.
Talking of rampages …Its hard to find good newsworthy news snippets of late what with all the coming and goings on but one little item caught me eye.
A lady took her deaf dog to a Truck stop (yep you guessed it wasn’t one of our local motorway watering holes like Watford Gap…but similer without the exotic petting animals). The deaf dog ran off and not being able to hear its owner shout “Come back here now”…as you do to a deaf dog it went into a camels enclosure and scared the hump of the poor dromdary named Casper who at the time was happy minding his own business…
Doggy owner then goes into the the enclosure to retrieve her deaf dog and poor Casper thinks nuff is eNuff and sits on her…slightly crushing her a bit…so she bit his testicals. Casper in shock needless to say got up sharpish…and scarpered :shock:
Glad to say Casper and his dangly bits are OK and the women will face leash law charges once she is less flat. :-D:-D
“I might not give the answer that you want me to”
Yes that can be a difficult situation to be in Spitty, especially when a family female asks “Does my bum look big in this” sometimes a lie is required, so always say no if you want peace and harmony to reign.;-)
Poor old Casper, but what a novel way to brick a Camel. (If Gumbud was here he’d explain that, he’s an expert Camel bricker, I believe one needs to be out there in the bush)
The kitchen sink was blocked this morning and my assistance was called for by the wife who gets a bit panicky over silly little things like that, anyway I fixed it and then disinfected it by pouring scalding diluted Dettol down the pipes, and all was tickity boo.
Every time I look at a bottle of disinfectant I think of the only time I was in hospital back in the 1960’s.
One of the nurses was very hygienically minded, aways washed her hands after attending a patient, she was very friendly and reassuring and liked to be called Auntie and we all called her Auntie Septic, she had a phobia about germs and who could blame her after seven years of marriage to a brutal dirt bird of a husband by the name of Zac Tieria before she got wise and ditched him (another nurse gave me all that unasked for information)
I’ll never forget that day after my operation when I was lying on me back moaning in pain, she came to my bedside and took my hand in hers, “There there Jem’ says she “The good Lord sends us pain to remind us of how he suffered on the cross and that paradise is waiting for us all on the other side”, she had such a lovely bedside manner, nothing like giving it to you straight, anyway I survived having my hernia operation, referred to by the old patient next to me as a “Hen peck”.
Loved the smell of the proper dettol and all the memories that go with it. Stung like hell though when it was slapped on a scrape but you knew it stopped your arm or leg from falling off cos your Mum told you so to stop you from screaming the place down.
Same with Iodine…great colour when painted on a scratch even though you hit the roof it made you look like a real wounded warrior.
Best was Lysol though…none of your hospital bugs survived with that stuff as they ran a mile the minute the cap came off. The smell alone was enough.
These were unponcified no nonsense products in sensible bottles that did the job. These wipey things just don’t seem to be man enough and I get the feeling that germs are laughing at the very idea.:-D:-D:-D
You made me laugh thinking about that Solo.
The more the stuff stung the better it was for healing the cuts, my granny used to say that the sting was the silent screams of the germs being massacred, somehow believing that eased the pain, you have to be tough on germs, pampering them with gentle lotions soaked into tissues only encourages them, and don’t forget the Jayes Fluid for the lino and the toilet, powerful stuff.
What was that horrible purple stuff they had back then? Bluestone or something like that. We used to rub it on a halfpenny and it turned into a silver shilling, or a penny into a half crown, it never fooled anyone just make you feel richer.
I think I still have a bottle of iodine somewhere out in the shed, great stuff and no sell by dates then, I think it lasts forever.
Germolene, make sure you have a tube, before you enter dystopia.
I think that blue stuff was Gentian Violet…truly serious stuff and marked you for life… or at least a week if you didn’t mind your skin being scrubbed red raw Jem;-)
If I remember rightly spitty Germolene was a bit expensive to buy whereas tried and true stuff etc was already in the cupboard under the sink. Funny how the old remedies marked a particular complaint you may or may not have had though. If our Mums thought we may be brewing something, we were dosed with just about everything going in a kill or cure attack cos you only went to a doctor if you were dead as he cost a shilling in those day. :shock:
Us kids were terrified at the thought of a ‘Doctor’ and especially the dreaded ‘Hosptal’ where you disapeared forever, so would put up with anything… not that we had much choice. If we refused to open our mouths for the Friday night dose of Syrup of Figs we got a slap and no coppers for the saturday flea pit show. Parents had their sneaky ways of keeping us in line and healthy as they knew how. Considering our ages now they didn’t do too bad a job did they;-)
The biggest bribe was NHS thick gloopy concentrated Orange juice. No other juice has come close to tasting as good as that juice was. Being given a Sunday glass of the stuff was the nearest thing to Utopia that we knew off and time does not dim that memory at all.
Mind you I have never forgiven my Mum for sending me to school with my face covered in Calamine splodges…oh the shame…but thats another story 
Out this morning, walking across a Village Green, I thought, half a century ago as a lad, at this time of year I would have been contemplating soaking my Conkers in vinegar.
Yes only the rich folks could afford the Germolene, the rest of us poor souls were just test pilots for the chemical companies.
My dad used to get these big cardboard tubs of malt from the dispensary for his illness, and boxes of cod liver oil capsules, us kids we regularly dosed with both, and then you had the dreaded senna pods they brewed then put into your tea, we might have been scruffy on the outside but by jaysus our insides were immaculately clean.;-)
We used to stick our conkers up the chimney to ‘season’ them Spitty, luckily I came from a family of contortionists and found doing so a doddle. Smug grin.
We had a Coal Fire, then Blow Air central heating, delivered by way of asbestos ducting, no wonder us kids were left Breathless, and needing thick linctus.