I'm Forever Blowing...

With the aid of eco friendly washing up liquid and scissor handles, I been blowing more bubbles and trying to get arty.

Here's a picture of a string of bubbles, as plain as the day they were took, and then again, after a little insoluble editing:

And the best bubble, of all, landed on the floor:

 

I guess that in many ways, this is what I'm all about. Living on the edge; blowing freely with me scribing, and ironing out the wrinkles when I can. 

Big Baby Bathing

If Mister Valance can go posting pictures of himself in the tub, then so can I. Although, I only tend to sing, fully clothed, in church!

(All that pop, pop, popping, I did by meself, ta very much!)

And seeing as I'm on a tub time team, theme even; here's one of my favourite poems:

Baby’s Epitaph – by Anon

A muvver was barfin’ ‘er baby one night,

The youngest of ten, and a tiny young mite,

The muvver was poor and the baby was thin,

Only a skeleton covered in skin,

The muvver turned round for the soap off the rack,

She was but a moment, but when she turned back,

The baby was gorn, and in anguish she cried,

“Oh where is my baby?”

- The angels replied:

“Your baby ‘as fell down the plug ‘ole,

Your baby ‘as gone down the plug,

The poor little mite was so skinny and thin

‘E oughter been barfed in a jug,

Your baby is perfectly ‘appy,

‘E won’t need a barf anymore,

Your baby ‘as fell down the plug-‘ole,

Not lost, but gone before.”

The "C" Word

No, I’m not going to say it; because if it’s a word I wouldn’t use, then it’s not one I’m going to write.   

When I get riled, I can swear with the best of ‘em, but there is one word I really do not like, and I mean… REALLY do not like, under any circumstances. Those that have seen my temper soar, and heard me curse, are incredulous when they see me openly cringe and object to the “C” word being used.

You see, even considering my occasionally disreputable non-humble opinions, I do not understand why this gender specific noun is used in anger or abuse. Remarkably, a feminist once told me not to get so high and mighty over this choice of expression, which is why I occasionally ponder my personal outrage over this issue.

When disagreements arise, we may be inclined to question another’s parentage due to a poor error in judgement, on either side. The libellous context isn’t always taken seriously, these days, when matrimony doesn’t have the same confirmation of respectability it once had amongst procreating adults. Although, even that, is no excuse to use such an insult at random, either.

When we tell people to go forth and multiply, we hope they go elsewhere to do it. Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’ve used that word, myself, in the presence of grown-ups, when angry, but I’d like to think it wasn’t used as a lame excuse for poor vocabulary.

However, back to the “C” word. After countless hours of thoughtful pondering, as to whether I may be a closet prim and proper prude, I have now realised why this word irritates me so.

When anyone calls another person one of the many pet names adapted for the male member, where some, not all, men’s brains are allegedly thought to stir from time to time, the terms can often be considered in other contexts. Dick, for example, can be a shortening of a more formal elongated name, and when you get the needle, a prick isn’t very nice.  Although, a man may see this perspective very differently and wish to debate my conclusions!

As for the “C” word… well, I only know one meaning for this harsh sounding vulgarism, which is with the female genitalia. Trying not to be too crude, or personal, but how can a bad person, situation or experience be associated with the channel to human creation where innocent new life emerges to take its first breath?

Summit for Mister Valance

On passing by Mister Valance's porch, I stumbled on him making his singing debut.

Oh mercy, and praise the lord, for soapy suds clouding me view. He'd even taken all his clothes off for the performance.

But when I looked closely...
 

... summit...
 

... was...

... definitely...

... missing!

There's more than enough "ladies" hanging around the place to help him scrub his back, but what's a boy to play with, when splashing in the tub?

I is a pondering...

Periscopes up or down, who knows!

Still pondering...

Nothing untoward above the rippling tide line.

Pondering more...

For all I know, he could even have his boots on, hidden beneath the murky depths, in case he needs to make a quick exit.

Pondering over.
 

Me finks the cowboy could do with one of these:

Mrs Brown's Advice!

Mrs Brown answered my question on this link: Mrs Brown's Boys

It's not the first time I've been told I belong in a zoo!

Sex is better than the Internet

I notched up this slug line from pick and mixing the subjects being debated on “Argumental”, part of David Walliams’ 24 hour panel show marathon in aid of Red Nose Day, a UK charity extravaganza. Apart from the highly embarrassing stint featuring a set of weird twins, on some appalling show called “Celebrity Juice”, its been pretty entertaining viewing.  

The proceedings have been transmitted, almost live, on the Internet for over 14 hours, now, complete with on air gaffs, scenery changes and production edits. Twitter has made it an amazing interactive experience, with an admission that there was a 10 minute delay in programme feeds to the Internet when viewers were asked to Tweet “Bumblesquat”. A Twitterism and in-joke, if you like, for those that were there, I’m afraid!

When I first experimented with Twitter, I didn’t understand what it was all about. Found it pretty boring, to be honest, but now I see its merits. Putting aside the geeks who can’t go to the loo without telling the whole wide world, social networking media is a great platform for debating current issues. Red Nose Day has been catapulted into a global trending topic of conversation with donation pledges coming in from across the world.

If you wander past me blog before 12.00hrs on Sunday 6^th March, check this out:

Red Nose Day 24 Hour Panel People

So, back to me slug line: Sex is better than the Internet. In my humble opinion, the Internet is but a tool and sex a physical expression of emotions. To save getting meself into any trouble, me finks I’d best opt in favour of the argument: I’d rather be outside!