Sunday, 8 July 2012

Soup Slop. Soupid.

Soup.

It's one letter away from 'slop', which just about says it all.

The average can of soup costs 89p-that's 89p for what is basically flavoured water. It is the food of the most foolish of wanton wastrels.

Dave, enjoying some delicious chicken soup.

Personally, I don't eat soup even if it's homemade, as it's ridiculous and serves no purpose, but I have often been tempted to make some from dead crows and grass cuttings and sell it to the people who carry wicker baskets and wear red trousers at my local 'Tosser's Market'
I would make the whole business even more farcical by serving it to them in a cabbage leaf-they'd lap it up.

So called 'New Covent Garden' soup currently retails for around £2 for 600g. That is so wrong I feel dirty just typing it.
Not only is it eye-wateringly expensive, every other flavour seems to revolve around the evil triplets of the vegetable world-butternut squash, sweet potato and pumpkins.

I used to work with someone who'd come in brandishing a carton of the pricey muck every morning. She'd place it in the fridge until lunchtime, whereupon the she used to heat it up in the microwave and eat it, like the mardy-faced bellend she was.
'Fair enough', you may think, but the person in question used to continually moan about how she never had any money and had to borrow money until pay-day yada, yada, yada...
I used to think 'yes, that's because you keep spending it all on 'Designer Soup', you gorp'. I told her this many times, but she took no notice.
Some people never learn.

Soup-what the manufacturers don't want you to see.

As well as canned and Tetra packed, soup comes in other guises - powdered, granulated, frozen, freeze dried and 'soup dough', which is a fairly new product.
It has the texture of bubble gum and you knead it with water until it has reached the desired consistency.
It's another one of those products that is designed to make you feel like you are cooking something, when in fact you are just kneading ready made soup dough.
Stupid really, but it seems to be what the consumer wants these days.

To summarise, and in the interests of getting it into a wider arena, I thought that I would compile a list of common commercial soups, and their principle ingredients...

Tomato soup-blood and battery acid.
Mushroom soup-snot and tag nuts.
Broccoli soup-snot and moss.
Chicken soup-phlegm and cotton buds.
Vegetable soup-vomit, moss and tag nuts.
Oxtail soup-diarrhoea and Marmite.
Pumpkin, butternut squash or sweet potato soup-nosebleeds, bog roll and baby sick.
Leek and potato soup-snot and cat skin.
Minestrone soup-bloody diarrhoea with parasitic worms in it.
Pea and ham soup-snot with scabs in.
Vichyssoise-cold snot with added polyps.
Miso soup-infected urine, dead goldfish and ear wax.
Celery soup-phlegm and pus.
Asparagus soup-snot infused with farts.
Any soup with cheese in-snot with double phlegm and bird plaps.

Bon appetite.







Sunday, 1 July 2012

Safe and sound for under a pound (not including gin).

Whilst confined to barracks over the last couple of weeks, gozzing up allsorts off my chest, my thoughts have turned to home security.

Sadly, it's a necessary precaution for many of us nowadays, as there are literally millions of packs of wrong 'uns roaming the country, out on the rob.
But it's a pricey business which often leaves the security conscious consumer feeling worse off than if they'd actually been done over by a rat-faced scrote.

Classic rat-faced scrote.


But there are cheaper ways to protect yourself and your property.

My first tip is the 'gold standard' of home and personal security-devilishly simple and virtually foolproof.

It has been proven time and time again that the incidence of burglaries, personal attacks and vandalism dramatically decreases if the resident never leaves the house or answers the door.
There it is-all the information you need.

However, if you are a foolhardy gad-about and insist on leaving the house, make your trip worthwhile by bringing back a bag of roadkill hedgehogs.
Keep your eyes peeled and when you find one, pop it in a strong carrier bag. I find a 'Bag for Life' best, which is rather perverse considering it's full of carcasses.
It's best to get straight home with them as they can be very pungent-the smell is reminiscent of rotting seal, but if you're on the way to work just stick the bag in the works fridge.

On getting home, slit the hedgehog down the belly and open it out, like a spatchcocked chicken*. You now have a deadly weapon and excellent scrote repellent.
Position the hedgehog, spines uppermost, in any high risk areas in your Home Defence Map.
Maybe you have a weak perimeter, in which case lay your hedgehog on the top of gates or exterior walls, or perhaps glue one inside your letterbox to protect against thieves reaching in and stealing your phone table.

If you throw caution to the wind and regularly leave the safety of the house, or insist on answering the door, I suggest that you fashion a hedgehog into a helmet for added personal protection.
A Hodgehat ™© will deter all but the most determined muggers, although you may need two hedgehogs depending on how big your head is and whether you want the additional security of ear-flaps.

Dave relaxing while safe and secure in a 'double Hodgehat'.


Now, CCTV.
Obviously a great piece of home security kit, but a bit of a faff, prone to technical glitches and very expensive.

A much more reliable and economical alternative is to get a pensioner to sit in your window all day. They do it anyway and they love a change of environment. The only costs that you are likely to incur will be from supplying biscuits, tissues and mints, as well as the odd issue of The People's Friend, but you can get these free from your GP's waiting room.

Dave, in The Panic Room. Eat your heart out Clifton.


Finally, the piece de resistence.
The Panic Room.
A massively expensive piece of kit normally reserved for very high profile celebrities like Jimmy Cricket or Bernie Clifton.

But we can't all afford to have total peace of mind for ourselves and our loved ones, can we?

Oh yes we can.

I have made my own 'Panic Room' by kitting out the shed with survival basics such as crumpets, tinned potatoes, gin and fishcakes, plus three week's supply of vests and pants (one of each). I finished it off with a stout bolt lock and chain that can only be opened from the inside.
If you don't have a shed, use the bathroom or any room that has an entrance.
I also keep a can of WD40 and some matches to hand just in case the mofo's breach the defences.

There we are - safe and sound for under a pound (not including gin).

Keep 'em peeled and sleep tight.

* Obviously, don't waste the entrails-boil up to make a nutritious broth.




Tuesday, 19 June 2012

18 'Must Have' Money-Saving Tips.

In response to an overwhelming trickle of requests, today's offering consists of a comprehensive collection of my latest money-saving tips.

  • Bin bags stuffed with rubbish make great 'emergency beanbags', should unwanted guests arrive.

Dave, chillaxin'.

  • To deter unwanted guests in the first place, smear your knocker or bell with something unsavoury  like phlegm or arse gravy.
  • If you don't have bay leaves use any leaves.
  • Save uncooked chicken skin. It's a brilliant standby in the event that you need an emergency skin graft. Remove feather stubs.

Totally misunderstanding as usual, Dave has opted for clothes peg earrings.

  • Pretend that you have more sausages for your tea by cutting them in half lengthwise and laying them flat side down on your plate. Do the same with peas.
  • Chicken bones make great bookmarks. This is a brilliant gift idea for Christmas, which is just around the corner.
  • Glue used plasters, blood/pus-stained side outermost, to egg boxes in order to make your own 'Damien Hirst'. Another great Christmas gift idea.
  • The jelly from the pear-shaped tins of ham makes a luxurious 'body butter'. Pork pie jelly is an acceptable, but inferior, substitute.
  • If you come across a used condom save it for storing carrots. Ideal for school lunchboxes.
  • If your spectacles are no longer effective, increase their strength by applying a layer of cling film. 
  • Visit your local petrol station and empty the dribbles from the filling hoses into a bin liner. You will soon have a full tank's worth.
  • Clothes pegs make attractive and useful brooches or, for the gents, tie pins.
  • Christmas is almost upon us so start collecting snail shells now. Fill with earwax in order to make a cheap and unique gift - 'Molluscandles'™ ©. Milk your ears daily for optimum wax production.  
  • If your spoon no longer works don't waste money getting it professionally repaired. Take it to pieces, oil and clean. On reassembling you should find it works perfectly.

Dave disassembling and cleaning his faulty spoon. 

  • The cardboard tube from inside a toilet roll makes a useful 'stool checker'. If you produce a stool with a girth too large to fit through the tube, consider doing a 'turn' at the circus to earn extra money.
  • If you have a sliver of soap, don't throw it away. Wedge it into your favourite orifice. As it warms you will emit a unique fragrance, like a human 'Plug-In'.
  • If you yearn for trouser pockets but have none, use safety pins or clothes pegs to attach carrier bags to your slacks. Stylish and chic.

    Dave modelling his newly-pocketed slacks. 

    • For economical 'bendy rollers', wind your hair around cheap hot dog sausages before going to bed.


    If followed for a week the average wastrel will save at least £50 as a result of these tips. However, the resulting savings MUST NOT BE SQUANDERED ON TELEPHONES, HOLIDAYS, PUGS, SPRAY TANS, CARS, PRINGLES, SCRATCHCARDS, MEALS OUT, UNDERWEAR OR VIDEOS.


    Thank you.




    Thursday, 14 June 2012

    Fragranced fluids, Voodoo Chiles and Bruce Forsyth's anal secretions.

    Fragrance, perfume, aftershave, parfum, scent, l'essence. Whatever you want to call it, it's a waste of money.
    It usually smells unpleasant and is always hugely overpriced. Most of the cost is down to the packaging, with the actual liquid costing around 5p a gallon to manufacture.
    Fancy packaging may please a small child but as a money conscious gimlet-eyed adult, it leaves me cold.

    Dave, whisking up a batch of his Jamie Oliver tribute stink - 'Pukka-Tongue'. 

    And what happened to a subtle 'dab' behind the ears or gentle squirt down the arse crack?
    Nowadays men and women alike seem to drench themselves in the stuff, leaving a nausea inducing cloud of toxic stench in their wake. It may be an acceptable face of anti-social behaviour but anti-social it remains.
    Tag 'em.

    Bizarrely, people spend a fortune on the fragranced fluids peddled by such luminaries as Carol Vorderman, Callum Best, Tulisa, Westlife, Jade Goody, Adrian Chiles or Colleen Rooney.

    I wonder what's going on in someone's head when they hand over real money in return for a bottle of 'Voodoo Chiles' which, incidentally, has top notes of freshly peeled hard boiled eggs with undertones of Beefy Monster Munch and a subtle hint of Rover 75.
    Unimaginatively, the bottle is shaped like a football.
    There is also a matching 'Soap on a Rope', again in the shape of a football.
    I think he's trying to develop a 'brand image'...

    For the females we have Colleen Rooney's 'Butterflies' which has a 'subtle note of Tonka Bean'.
    I kid you not.
    Tonka bean? I doubt she'd know what a runner bean is. They must think we're stupid.
    Really, really stupid.

    Dave, the face of David Platt's new 'fume - 'Street Stink' by Rat Boy.

    And for the He-Shes we have Peter Andre's offering which is a 'shared fragrance' called 'Insania', after his Top Ten hit.
    If you see me buying it, call my usual ward sister and get the syringe ready...

    People who don't have enough money for milk and bog roll will still fork out on a bottle of Donald Trump's latest discharge.
    Why?
    Do they think they will smell like him if they do? Do they want to?
    Well they won't.
    His 'signature scent' is his bespoke wig glue which is made by boiling up golf balls with the anal secretions from his personal troupe of performing baboons, of which Bruce Forsyth is the pack leader and still his best milker.
    No, they will smell like fags and luncheon meat as usual, but with a 'top note' of sickly nostril-burning stink. And they will have squandered this week's 'Scratchy Money', to boot.

    To conclude. It's a con. They want your money.
    Don't let them have it.

    Saturday, 9 June 2012

    Cards, HUH, what are they good for? Absolutely nothing....

    I find the whole idea of the 'greetings' card a very strange concept. More pressingly, they are a waste of money and a massive drain on this country's resources.

    Upon receipt of a card most people put them up in the house for a few days, where they repeatedly fall over and make the place look untidy. Some folk invite trouble by putting them in the window, where they indicate to burglars that your house is full of expensive gifts, Cava and 'party food'.
    Wherever you place them, the majority are thrown away within the week.

    Dave, showing off his big birthday card and wearing his special birthday hat.


    That's right, they throw your £2 card away, in the bin, dead. Just like you do when you get a card, so let's put an end to this pointless cycle of expensive nonsense right now.

    If you've bought a present, fair enough, but don't buy a card as well.
    Add the card money onto the gift budget, or buy a 'card substitute'- something useful like a packet of crisps, some cheese or a battery, or simply press a couple of quid into their hand while looking meaningfully into their eyes.

    And don't kid yourself that a card is a 'keepsake' or 'momento'.
    Do you treasure your cards and reread them years later, misty-eyed and dribbling while sipping sherry and stroking the cushions?
    I hope not...
    The only types who indulge in that type of behaviour are shrine-building stalkers who wear badges and kiss their Shakin' Stevens cuttings every night before bed.
    Best avoided.

    Dave, recovering from an expensive attack of the Prometheus Shitz.


    I'm not against people expressing their sentiments in writing, but don't go spending two quid on the paper.

    Write your inconsequential ramblings on some scrap paper (junk mail, receipts and Argos outlets are good sources), or for a romantic 'floaty' quality use half a piece of bog roll, unused if you want to impress.
    Scribble on an old piece of foil for a 'Space Age' feel, or spiral your message round a cardboard bog roll tube for a quirky, 'I've lost my marbles and am currently under lockdown' effect.

    And of course, you could always send your message via the Internet. Use someone else's computer to keep electricity costs to a minimum.  

    Saturday, 2 June 2012

    Squirrel Vajazzles, eating spiders and caterpillar insoles.

    'It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes'. Well, actually I'd rather you didn't to be honest.
    Most naked humans look like a lard sculpture crafted by traumatised chimps.

    Which brings me onto the subject for today.

    Insects.

    Totally missing the point, Dave has opted for a 'Squirrel Vajazzle'.

    There are a hell of a lot of insects around at the moment. Flying, crawling and 'skeetering', whatever that means, about the place.
    Look around you.
    Their corpses are lying in their millions on your window sills and floors. Their bodies are floating in the bog, they're all tangled up in your hair and if you tip out your socks you'll find out why your shoes felt tight.

    But this is another untapped resource that could save us all a few quid.

    Insects are widely eaten across the world, but that seems to be mainly in hot places where the insects grow to nightmarish proportions, one carcass easily feeding a family of four with plenty of leftovers for sandwiches.
    We're not so lucky here in the UK, where the people grow to nightmarish proportions, but the insects remain manageable.

    But we can still make the best of what we have.

    1. Sweep up all the insect corpses and put in a screw-top jar. Use as 'sprinkles', thereby adding protein and 'crunch' to your food. Insects require no refrigeration, which is good because our fridge is playing silly buggers.

    2. If you find a large insect like a butterfly or nice shiny beetle, put it in your hair, pin it to your shirt, or save it as a present for a special friend.

    3. If you're a bit common, you can use insects as 'Vajazzles' but you run the risk of others assuming that you have some sort of  pubic infestation.

    4. Woodlice taste just like King Prawns. They have the same meaty texture and turn pink on cooking.  Go on, whack 'em on the barbecue.

    Dave, delighted with his barbecued woodlouse.

    5. One for the Motorists. As soon as you get that tell-tale blob of orange goo on the windscreen (Airkill), do an emergency stop, get out and scoop it into a bucket.  This stuff is identical to Swarfega, but a fraction of the cost. It also makes an excellent marmalade substitute and is a safe, organic treatment for genital thrushes.

    Incidentally, don't eat at Service Stations as they are overpriced purveyors of toss. By all means stop, but feast on the juicy free range Airkill trapped in the radiator grilles.

    Dave, eyeing up some Airkill.

    6. Caterpillars don't taste nice but make excellent insoles.

    7. Dead bees make perfect ear plugs.

    8. Daddy Long Leg's wings make great contact lenses, having exactly the same optical refractive index as the human eye.

    9. Stick dead ladybirds on your face, go into work and claim to feel unwell. You will immediately be sent home sick, no questions asked. Remember to keep for reuse next week.

    10. Spiders are your friends. Raid their webs if you fancy some fresh meat. Eat the spider while you're at it.


    Down the hatch!




    Tuesday, 29 May 2012

    Money grabbing Gob Doctors and mouthwash hogwash.

    Ahhh, dentists.
    The scholarly 'Tooth Doctors', greedily sucking cash from the dry, withered tit-wallets of the gormless grateful.

    Dave has the teeth of an 'oss.

    I speak from experience as I spent 18 months working as a rather brawny dental nurse in the late Eighties.
    I saw many sharp practices, one being Mr X who liked to show off by flossing his patient's teeth and unearthing great lumps of ripe putrescence which he wiped on their sleeves as a punishment.

    Fair enough, but he kept the same length of 'demo floss' for weeks on end. I'd never seen brown floss before that gig. He used to rinse it under the tap and leave it on the radiator to dry.
    It stank like a scrofulous tapeworm that had been squatting up a dead horse's shitter.

    Well, they're in the news again, charged with fleecing the public of their hard earned coconuts.
    What a surprise.
    Are you dutifully paying into your Denplan scheme and going for 6 monthly check-ups because that's what the dentist said you should do?
    WELL THEY WOULD DO, WOULDN'T THEY?

    Stop it.

    Right, this brings me onto today's subject.

    Mouthwash. What does it do?

    I'll tell you what it does. It makes a huge dent in your bank balance and makes your mouth all minty for about 30 seconds. Forget all this 'Fresh breath guaranteed for 12 hours' or 'Kills all bacteria dead for 6 weeks' rubbish.
    It's utter gunt.
    Five minutes after using it your breath is back to it's default setting-'decaying crabs on a hot day'.

    Ever the public servant, I have been researching common household alternatives that still do the job, but at a fraction of the cost of commercial gum swill.

    Dave didn't tie his mouth up properly, but luckily chips are at hand.

    1. Sour milk. Yes, it's true, plain old sour milk makes your breath smell milky, like a tiny kitten. It also makes your mouth feel furry, like a tiny kitten, and adds a creamy white glow to your teeth, like a foal.  Swill and gargle, chew any remaining lumps and swallow.
    Incidentally, sour milk contains 97% of the Earth's Strontium reserves, thereby providing round-the-clock protection against Phossy Jaw.

    2. Tomato Ketchup. Yep, plain old Tommy K. You've seen how it brings up your loose change haven't you?
    Well it'll do the same thing for your teeth.
    Put 10 tablespoons of ketchup into your gob before going to sleep.
    Tie some string round your mouth to minimise leakage.
    When you wake, what's left of your teeth will be all bright and shiny.
    Obviously, keep the sauce for chips.


    3. Butter. Melt 250g of salted butter, pour into your mouth and have a good swill. This will leave you with toast breath and very glossy teeth.
    I recommended securing your tongue with a clothes peg to stop it slithering down your throat and being partially digested.
    Don't smoke for at least an hour.
    You can swallow the butter or save it for visitors. Your call.

    Yet another use for Postie's Rubbers. Technique requires work. 

    4. Vinegar. A good two hour session of sloshing your yap with neat malt vinegar will dissolve every speck of the tartar, enamel and dentine that is lurking in the bat infested folds of your filthy mush.
    DON'T SWALLOW IT or your arse will drop off.

    Obviously, keep the vinegar for chips.

    There. Who needs the Gob Doctors?




    Saturday, 26 May 2012

    Shoeconomics: Full Foot Intercourse and The Half-Stepper.

    Shoes. Extravagant luxury or basic necessity?
    Whichever way you look at it they're an expensive piece of kit.

    Dave, having descended from Botswanan Camels is very 'heavy' on his feet. Add to the mix his 'sweating issues' and it's all too apparent why he gets through his 'creps in superquick time.
    They literally rot on his feet.
    In one memorable week we were actually spending more on shoes than on swedes.
    The alarm bells were ringing and it wasn't a tinnitus flare up.
    We had a Shituation on our hands.

    Dave, demonstrating the Half-Stepper.

    Luckily, inspiration came my way.

    I was in the library looking for books when I noticed a besuited chap trot up the stairs, like a big, snazzy gorp.
    He was wearing ridiculously long, curly, shoes which looked to be custom made by the Broadmoor Leathercraft Group, as part of their 'Sutcliffe. Peter Sutcliffe.' collection.
    Hand tooled and pricey.

    As I watched him ascend to 'Romantic Fiction' I noticed that he was only putting the 'toe' part of his shoe on the step. The 'heel' part was left hanging in the abyss.
    He was obviously trying to save shoe leather but unfortunately he decided to flick his hair while executing his mid air balletics, and came a cropper mid-toss on a loose Jersey Mid.
    Broken jaw, according to the Air Ambulance driver.

    Anyway, it wasn't all bad as his floorshow had inspired me.

    There is no sense in putting your whole foot down all the time.
    Full Foot Intercourse is an extravagant frippery that should be saved for special occasions, like spending your Clubcard coupons or changing the sheets.

    And the 'Half-Stepper' isn't the only shoeconomy option.

    Walk only on tip toes. If challenged, say that you're under the doctor.

    Or walk on your heels. This works well in crowded places as it makes others think that there's something wrong with the floor. Soon others will be copying your fabulous gait.

    Then there's the old favourite, 'hopping', which was a very popular pastime during the war years, amusing young and old alike for hours on end.
    Alternate your hopping leg for even wear.

    Training, in his custom made 'Hopping Harness'.

    Or walk backwards. This has been scientifically proven to extend shoe life due to aerodynamics and the Gulf Stream, but it only works in the Northern Hemisphere.

    And then finally, there is the advanced 'Inny and 'Outy' method.

    Dave, brushing up his 'Outies'.

    Here, you choose to walk either on the inner rim of your footwear, or the outer rim. You can even do one of each at the same time, but this does tend to make you look like you've been stricken with some kind of traumatic brain 'event'.

    It's definitely not one for the Beginner, but we all need a goal in life, don't we?





    Tuesday, 22 May 2012

    Trapped in the plughole? Shove it down the cakehole.

    Okay. So you've tipped away the washing-up water and there's some food trapped in the plughole. What do you do?
    Years ago, when we all had more money than sense, I would have either fished it out and put it in the bin, or sent it on it's way by pushing it through the holes.
    Indeed, in the Nineties when I was a wealthy hedge manager, I remember employing a student to come round on a daily basis merely to flush out the plugholes and polish the aubergines.

    Me and Henry Winkler. 'Whatchoo talking about Willis?'

    Nowadays, it's not so straightforward.

    Look at it. That is good, honest food down there. It's been bought and paid for. It's run the gauntlet of the 'baggage area', it's been transported home, it's been unpacked, cooked, served up, not eaten, and shampooed.

    They way I see it, there's a reason that it hasn't gone down the drain.

    It's a Sign from The Universe.

    And the Sign says, 'Eat it, you Slag'.

    If you're tall, you need do no more than nonchalantly lean into the sink, put your lips around the plughole and suck deeply, being sure to use your tongue in the manner of an anteater, to extract every last morsel.
    Leggy sorts are in a very fortunate position as they can do this manoeuvre whenever the opportunity presents itself.
    Dave has done the anteater while pretending to use the toilet in a Little Chef as well as during a rather fraught flight to Malta.
    He almost got caught at the Little Chef, but got away with it by claiming that there was a little kiddy trapped in the 'U' bend and he was shouting encouragement to it.

    Being rather short, I can't execute an anteater without injury, so I tend sit on the draining board and have a prod around with a winkle fork.

    Dave, listening to kiddies.

    Uncannily, the plughole somehow predicts your personal dietary preferences and in addition to much hair, usually contains foodstuffs that you eat on a regular basis.

    I have conducted a global scientific survey and can confirm that the most commonly found plughole foods are pasta quills, slices of mushroom, tomato skin, sweetcorn, cooked egg white and carrot.  As you can see this covers all the main food groups except booze, thereby ensuring an almost perfectly balanced diet.

    Occasionally you will find a surprise in your hole. Yesterday I found a chicken.
    I haven't been able to run to a chicken for a couple of years, so it must have been a gift left by a wealthy benefactor.
    I fished it out and boiled it up with a foraged pig mushroom and a potato I found in the road. It was delicious.

    Suck it and see.

    Don't waste the plug hole hair either. I carefully wind it around a pencil stub and use it as dental floss or as sewing thread for socks. Dave uses it for home fracking.

    Poking around hopefully.

    Warning.
    Don't try this anywhere but the kitchen, as other domestic plugholes are likely to contain mainly pubic hair, which is rubbish at flossing, and Ajax, which will dissolve your tongue in 10 seconds flat.
    Happy hunting!

    Friday, 18 May 2012

    Eggshells, Mooncups, bollockcups and dog's ears.

    Eggshells. What a waste. I've tried eating the shell along with the egg, but I've developed a low hobgoblin count and the quack reckons it's the shells wot done it.
    I know they can be put on the compost heap or ground up to make egg coffee, but there must be other uses for this precious resource.
    I have spent many weeks researching this dilemma and can confirm that there are.
    Here are just a handful:

    Dave attempting to Arsel an emu egg with total disregard for Health and Safety.

    1. This is one for us gents. Take the half shell of an egg and make the edge smooth by expertly piping some silicone sealant on it.
    Now the world is your oyster.
    The shell can be placed over the Glansend after draining the lizard, thereby providing a discreet barrier and putting an end to those dribble stains that scream 'I SMELL OF PISS' to casual onlookers.  At the same time it will collect the urine for later examination.

    The Bellegg Solution

    Or slip the halves under your clockweights after you've put your pants on. This will provide much needed  support, which is especially welcome during the fraught and sweaty 'Yambag' phase of the Plum cycle.

    Dave, in the throes of his Yambag monthlies.

    This doesn't work with baggy boxer shorts, so get some proper pants.
    For the less well endowed, most supermarkets sell unshelled quails eggs. If they are still too large, use the 'cup' bit off an acorn and join the circus.

    2. Now one for the ladies. Find a chap and ask him nicely to expertly pipe some silicone sealant around the jagged edge of an eggshell. You may have to give sex.
    Once dry, this can be popped into the Flinge Majorca area and used as a Moonpig. Make sure you wash it first to avoid contracting Fowl Pox or Egg Drop Syndrome.

    If a hen's egg is too small I suggest that you use a duck, goose or emu egg. If that's still too small, join the circus with Acorn Man.
    If you are a man you can still join in, but in trials, the muscles surrounding the ringpiece made the shell explode, causing shrapnel injuries. The Arsel muscle group is the strongest muscle group in the whole of the human body and even fractured nextdoor's gas barbecue, rendering it useless.
    It's your call mate, but I'd wear some safety goggles at the very least.

    3. If you have a dog, pop a shell over it's ears to prevent sunburn. Egg shells naturally have an SPF of 50+.

    Grace demonstrating Eggtectors.

    5. If you work with a load of wankers (statistics show that the average workplace wanker ratio is a staggering 67%), dot several shells around your desk and use them to store admin-related items such as rulers, pens and scissors. No one will come near you, leaving you in peace to browse porn and Tweet nonsense, to your hearts content.
    I guarantee that nowhere in the Employee Tossbook does it say that this is unacceptable behaviour.
    Result.

    Tuesday, 15 May 2012

    Mite riddled greasy fish muck, bacon and magpie chickens.

    Smoked salmon.
    It's quite expensive but as I'm not a fan of eating mite-riddled greasy fish muck, I'm not too bothered.

    The Edge prefers this economical alternative to smoked salmon. 
    But as ever, I am constantly thinking of others, and I have come up with a ripsnorting 'budget' alternative that will have all slimy fish-muck lovers yelping with delight.


    Shop bought smoked salmon. 
    Bacon.

    You can buy 500g of the enigmatically named, 'Cooking Bacon' for 74p at Tesco. However before you make your purchase, be sure to weigh the pack using the scales in the vegetable aisle.

    Even better, take your own scales, set up camp in 'Cooked Meats' and weigh the lot.
    Make a note of the weights, and when curious shoppers ask you to show them a big one, oblige, making sure the punter pays up first. To avoid detection, pretend to be a member of staff by not making eye contact and openly scratching your hogpockets.

    Dave, packing some meat.
    Anyway, be sure to weigh it.
    I got one last week that was a whopping 800g, and as sure as night follows day, you can bet that some unfortunate soul got a runty pack weighing a few ounces and containing mainly tails and toenails. Hopefully it was a so-called 'online shopper'. Serves them right, probably constantly whining about being 'money rich and time poor'. Now they're 'bacon poor' too. Good.
    Meat packers need to pay more attention, as do shoppers.

    Once you've got your bacon home, sort out the smoked bacon from the unsmoked.
    Smoked bacon is easily recognisable, as it is brown and smells of fags and pigs.

    Cut the rind off the smoked bacon and 'drape' it artistically on a plate. Sprinkle with grass for colour.
    Drizzle with something acidic like Lilt, vinegar or mint sauce, and enjoy.
    If you want a more 'fishy' taste to your smoked Bacmon™, leave in the airing cupboard overnight. If you don't have an airing cupboard slip it in your bedsocks* before retiring.

    We only need the smoked bacon for this recipe, but don't waste the unsmoked stuff. Magpies love it, so use it to lure them into the house. Once cornered give them a sharp rap over the mulligans.
    A roast magpie is virtually indistinguishable from a roast chicken, and if you're quick enough, you'll save the bacon too, which is where this well known phrase comes from.

    Bon Appetit.

    * Or any other garment, as desired.
      

    Sunday, 13 May 2012

    Burning stubble, leaf nails and old people dribbling on your back.

    Spa treatments.
    What a waste of money.
    There is no need, so stop it. No one had them in the 70's. Back then going to the Spar meant shopping for margarine, sterilised milk and some Squirmles, not a big ponce-fest.
    And stop saying 'pamper' too.
    Here is a list of my money saving alternatives to, so called, 'Spa Treatments':

    If you have a hairy face, make a feature of it and try and earn some money with a live webcam feed.

    Dave tackling a particularly stubborn nose hair.
    If you are bothered about hairy genitals, pits or legs, remove with a strimmer, burn off the stubble and offer yourself up for geese grazing.

    If you are pasty then you are washing too much. Stop flannel-bothering and you'll soon have a grimy glow. Or gorge on carrots-they'll turn you that attractive spray-tan orange within hours.

    If you want false nails, bear in mind that they look rubbish, attract mites and worms, and there is no such thing as 'Nail Art'. Even Tracey Emin agrees with this and she doesn't know much about it. If you insist though, stick suitably shaped leaves on your fingers. It's no more daft than what you're doing already.

    Finally ready-hairs burnt off, tanned and nails applied.
    If you want a Hot Stones 'therapy', firstly, what are you thinking? If you insist, collect some stones, which are readily available free of charge. Pour a kettle full of boiling water over them (save water for tea) and find someone to place them on your back. If you ask at your local old people's home they usually have someone who will do it as part of their exercise regime, although they may dribble over you a bit.

    'Cupping'. Just stop it, but if you must, suck yourself with the vacuum cleaner 'flange' attachment while having a fag.

    Finally, Hopi Ear Candles- WTF?

    I think you'll agree, a professional result at a fraction of the cost.  






    Monday, 7 May 2012

    Trouser comedy, dangerous belts and Nick Clegg.

    Teenagers.
    They get a bad rap but that's because they are responsible for most of society's ills, including obesity, drugs, babies, junk food, killing sprees, TB, debt, Fearne Cotton, unemployment, street dance, the DD recession, Hollyoaks, sudden heart failure, Cameron, Embarrassing Bodies, the Olympics and all things ur-ban.
    Recently, however, I have noticed that young men are trying to get in our good books again by being 'sports' and wearing comedy trousers when they're not even being sponsored. 
    Just being daft for daft's sake.

    Dave and his 'Low Batties', being the Shiz. 
    Yes, young men's trousers have really blossomed of late.

    Once there was only the classic 'pull your bloody trousers up, your arse is hanging out' low slung jean to laugh at. Now there are at least two other New Slacks on the Block, both of whom are comedy gems.

    But first, back to the low slung option.

    It's been around for a long time now, but it's gotten a whole lot more extreme. Nowadays the waistband of the jean is purposely placed at the wrong end of the arse, that is, under the buttocks rather than around the top of them. The belt is then done up a couple of inches above the knees.
    'Riding low' or 'sagging' apparently stems from the US prison system where belts are not allowed as inmates may try and hang themselves.
    Fair enough.
    But, young Jayden, you are not in the Supermax facility of Florida State Penitentiary, you are shopping in the Haverfordwest branch of Wilkinsons for Lynx and hair gel with your Gran, so pull your 'Batties' up and speak properly.

    Now for the n00bz.

    Firstly, there is the really-tight-right-down-to-the-ankle comedy trouser, which looks ridiculous whether the wearer is fat, thin, 'ripped', flabby, hairy, bald, mental, or gay. I will call it the 'Clencher' and it's a great comedy look, especially when teamed with a belly top and long, pointy shoes, or espadrilles.

    Dave in some well grimey Clenchers.
    The other is the slim legged Chino with a low slung gusset, giving a discreet nod towards His Holiness, MC Hammer. I will refer to these trousers as 'Nappies'.
    For some reason 'Nappies' always seem to be an ugly, tobacco brown colour. If you click on the link you will see just how funny these trousers are. They perfectly sum up my thoughts on fashion and so called 'fashion designers'. They are having a laugh at our expense. Don't give them your money.

    One good thing about these three pieces of fine trouser comedy is that I have yet to see a man over 30 sporting them. A few years ago older men could get away with the 'Sagger' look, but now it's become so extreme that it even makes builders blush.

    Having said that, I was in Morrisons the other day and I saw an elderly man in the foyer nonchalantly shaking a shit out of his trouser leg. He had 'Saggers' on but I think that was a coincidence.
    He also had a carrier bag full of grapefruits.
    At least it demonstrates that I do not go round all day looking at young men's trousers. I look at old men's trousers too. Especially when there's some newborn otters falling out of them.

    Look no belt! The Clencher/Sagger hybrid-the Clegger.
    I will finish off with my own contribution to the comedy trouser fest, which is a Clencher/Sagger hybrid that I have named the 'Clegger' in honour of our own Deputy PM.
    They still achieve the Sagger look but without the need of a belt, due to the fierce grip of the Clencher.
    I don't think Cleggie's too safe around belts just now, so they'll be just the thing for the weekend, and despite being the wrong side of 30, I think he can carry them off.
    Shabba.


    Thursday, 3 May 2012

    Patrick Moore, not spending money on clothes and making your own 'sex pests'.

    Spurred on by a picture Patrick Moore sporting some vertically generous trousers, I have been thinking about how to save money on clothes.

    Dave, doing a 'Moore', while heavy with eggs.

    I don't 'get' clothes at all. I hate shopping for them, and have only about 6 garments that I wear regularly, adding or removing layers according to the temperature.
    I hate all things 'fashion' and believe it to be a big con. I have no time for 'fashion houses' such as Versace and Lagerfield, who furiously peddle their impractical and overpriced wares to the insecure and gullible. I have no desire to pay £300 for a T shirt.

    But, don't get me wrong, clothes are required and I cannot think of anything worse than living with a 'naturist'.
    No, Mr & Mrs Naturist, the human body is not beautiful, especially when it has spent half a century doing nothing but eating bacon in front of This Morning and doing word searches.

    Yes, clothes are most definitely required, but for functional reasons only, such as providing scrotum support, thereby avoiding tripping accidents, or for the concealment of puppies, shoplifted goods or weapons.
    And in these straightened times, I fully support Sir Patrick in his thrifty decision to extend the role of a pair of trousers to cover that of a vest...or a bib or something, in a kind of clothing BOGOF.

    I shall name his vest/trouser combo a 'Vester', and we needn't stop there, as there are several other possibilities:

    1. Long socks pulled right up and pinned together at the crotch-'Packs'-a pants and socks hybrid.
    2. A large woolly hat, pulled right down to the shoulders, a 'Scat', half scarf, half hat.
    3. A large pair of pants pulled over the chest, a pant/vest mix-a 'Pest' or a 'Sex Pest' if you insist on wearing 'alluring' undergarments i.e. 'Come round mine, I've got me Sex Pests on'.

    For his Vesters, Mr Moore has splashed out on a special 13 foot long zip, which NASA made for him in a sterile cave in the Arizona desert. He's able to do this as he has paid off his mortgage and owns Jupiter.

    Not all of us are in his enviable position though, so I suggest that you stick to the 'budget' option which is an elasticated or drawstring waist, as modelled by Dave. Either that or get catheterised. The NHS runs special 'Half Price Catheterisation' days on the last Tuesday of each month. Contact your local vet for details.
    Frank the whippet, sporting a stainy 'Pest'.


    Sunday, 29 April 2012

    Tea, heroin and corned beef, with advocaat and chimpy pants.

    We all love a cup of tea, don't we?
    Actually, I'm not keen on hot drinks and consume exclusively gin, wine, cider, lager, brandy or at a pinch, advocaat. Other people seem to like it, though. Each to their own.

    Dave, surrounded by drug paraphernalia, holding a can of Spam. 
    But tea, like corned beef, is getting to be a very expensive commodity.
    Soon, only posh sorts like Cameron and his chums will be able to afford to drink what was once the heroin of the working classes.

    Seventy years ago 'salt of the earth' types used to toil through 18 hour shifts in Munitions factories, getting their hands blown off willy-nilly, with nothing more to sustain them than a jam jar of weak Bruce Lee.
    These days tea is a drink for the elite classes and no doubt Cameron is planning a Teabag tax as we speak.
    However, even those of us who didn't make The Sunday Times Shit List can have the luxury of our own tax loophole and here's mine. Make your own teabags.

    Although they don't want you to find it, most supermarkets still sell 'loose tea', which retails at between £3.75 per kg and £13.50 per kg. This stuff is the thoroughbred 'shit' and you only need a small amount to get chronic.
    By comparison, commercial teabags contain only a tiny pinch of real tea. The bulk is made up with dried monkey droppings mixed with bark and the strength can vary considerably, depending on your dealer.
    Personally, I think that it's a lot safer to make your own teabags because you know exactly what's in them, thereby avoiding the risk of going all Joplin and joining the 27 Club, which is like S Club 7, just with less dancing.

    So, we have the tea, that just leaves is the bag.

    The stains will add a subtle yet floral note of chimp farts.
    I have tried various prototypes and bags made of toilet roll look best if you have company. Obviously save the toilet roll for doing what Izal intended.
    If you are drinking tea in private, the best option is a sock, or for pure indulgence, some old pants. Make sure that they are well matured if you're a sucker for the monkey dropping tang.

    And finally, a word on corned beef.
    When I was a kid, this was a weekly treat. Mam used to open a tin, stuff it with an egg and roast it with potatoes and cheap lager. She told us it was a chicken.
    Nowadays, corned beef is getting so expensive that even gentry like Cameron will have to reserve it for special occasions, perhaps cutting it into Oxo cube sized pieces and doling it out as 'treats' for Cabinet members who act with integrity and honesty.

    Probably best keep it in the freezer Dave...




    Monday, 23 April 2012

    Lardy pig butter, fried crack sandwiches, dining on Ossifrages and Queen Mick.

    Butter, as the youngsters would say, is well 'gangsta' and I am in fulsome agreement. I don't know why people use margarine instead, although no one uses the word 'margarine' anymore, it's called 'spread' nowadays, but it's still margarine.
    And it's a bag of dicks.

    Dave being all 'Gangsta' with butter.  
    Margarine conjures up an image of life 1976, sat on a cold, vinyl sofa, in a hovel smelling of fags and sherry, playing 'Ker Plunk' on your own with nothing to eat except watered-down baked beans, stuffing mix made with cold water, sliced white bread and margarine.
    And that association is not just mine, it is universal throughout The Mammalhood.

    Butter prices have really shot up lately, but even here in The House of Froog we still insist on butter. In fact Dave comes over all testoric at the very thought of what he chooses to call 'slimy upduck'.

    Although a lot of margarine on the market today is a good deal cheaper than butter, some has the audacity to be the same price, if not, slightly more expensive. I think that people choose margarine over butter because they are very busy and margarine is always easy to spread, like Gentlewarts, hence it's new name.

    More foods should be named after the way we 'apply' them.
    Milk would be called 'pour', sugar would be 'sprinkle', eggs would be 'crack', causing widespread confusion among drug dealers and poultry breeders, and grapefruit would be 'brace yourself'....

    Grapefruit is a very unpleasant fruit.
    I can only think that people eat it because they are a certified ding-a-ling and really need a carer to accompany them while they do their grocery shopping.
    Or because they think that it's good for them and will make them do a burny dirtybirth, after which they can have a celebration, having rid their body of the noxious substance. It's just an excuse for a party really.

    But back to butter.
    Butter has a dark side, an evil twin who follows in it's wake, causing mayhem and misery.
    It's name is unsalted butter.
    Pale and tasteless and definitely not funny, like Chris Evans in a block.
    It lies in the chiller section, masquerading as proper butter and willing you to pick it up in error. There's only an 'un' between buttered toast and a full blown domestic apocalypse.

    I know people use it in puddings but I have no idea why, as most puddings benefit from a bit of salt in the mix and if you can detect the salt from butter in your pudding you're probably royalty and should be eating gold, Ossifrages and diamonds, not a wodge of Suet Surprise.

    Princess Dave, an Ossifrage, and assorted condiments.
    Hardcore pervs actually put unsalted butter on their bread and this is where the money saving advice comes in.
    Use lard-it looks the same and tastes the same and it's a good deal cheaper.
    Lurpak unsalted, which is viewed as the dogs bollocks among the USB devotees, comes from Denmark.
    Where do all the pigs in the world live?
    Denmark.
    It's butter alright, butter made from pig milk. Pig Butter.
    Save money and use lard instead. You won't know the difference.
    They make pig cheese too. It's called 'mild cheddar' and there is absolutely no point to it.

    Finally, if you are celebrating St Georges Day with Union Jack type paraphernalia and associated patriotic tat, fold it up nicely and save it for Her Maj's celebrations which mark 1000 years of wearing pastel shades, later this year.
    Although if you forget, I notice that The 99p Store are already stockpiling a range of shopping bags to mark the occasion. Bargain at 99p, although I think they may have got their old ladies mixed up as the picture on the side looks like Mick Jagger






    Thursday, 19 April 2012

    Travelling-why it's a really bad idea, plus boiling peas in the kettle.

    Travel.
    I'm not a fan.
    It's expensive, tiring and makes you feel 'grubby'. Plus, it takes ages and, be it by coach, train or plane you always end up densely packed with my bete noir-other people.
    I'm also led to believe that it's not very 'green', as it uses a lot of petrol and pisses off whales.

    I don't understand why people 'do' travelling any more. There are so many pictures on the Internet and in books that it strikes me as quaintly old fashioned to actually go there.
    It's a bit like choosing to make your own puff pastry or knitting a sock, which no one except Kirsty Allsopp  would contemplate. And she'd only contemplate it if her efforts were being filmed for her TV show, don't try and tell me otherwise.


    Dave looking at Times Square.

    Dave, watching a Mets game at Shea Stadium. 
    My biggest regret in life is not settling for just looking at pictures of Malta.
    Oh no, I insisted on travelling three quarters of the way round the globe and actually setting foot in the treacherous, stinking hell-hole.
    Big mistake.

    Which leads me to my next observation. Travel is HIGHLY DANGEROUS.

    In the news this week there was the case of the Air Canada pilot who woke up from a nap, saw the planet Venus, thought it was a bus and almost drove his plane into the Atlantic Ocean.
    Hell's Teeth, what a fright that must have been!
    On the other hand, we've all been there....
    A few days ago I was napping on the sofa in my Slanket and dreamt that someone had knocked on the door. Getting up to answer it in a state of 'significant sleep inertia', (that's what the pilot had), I trod on the whippet's tail and made him yelp.
    It can happen to the best of us.

    Dave, dressed as a local tribesperson, on a bus in Cameroon. With some monkeys.
    Holiday makers return from their travels exhausted, in debt and ill.
    Without exception, they will have been kidnapped and tortured by the locals. They are usually riddled with parasites and have lost a few toes in a shark attack, especially if they stayed at Butlins.
    At least 75% of their belongings will have gone missing and, when asked if they had a nice time, they report the need for 'a holiday to get over it'.
    I hate people who say that. As well as those who type 'LOL' and use the term of endearment, 'hun'.
    Pure class.

    Anyway, when it comes to travelling, save yourself a lot of heartache and just say an emphatic 'No'.

    Apart from not travelling, today's money saving tip is to cook your peas in the kettle.
    Obviously synchronise the hot peas with the need for a cup of tea or coffee, otherwise it's just extremely wasteful. 

    Monday, 16 April 2012

    Emergency teabagging, soap in your gusset, drought foods and goblinaires.

    So half of the UK is officially a drought area and we must all be careful with water. Regular readers will know that this has been my policy for some time, mainly because we have a water meter, but now I can pretend that it's for the greater good of mankind. Well, East Anglia.

    Due to the emergency situation I thought that I would pass on my extreme water saving tips. Please that these tips are reserved for times of National Emergency only, like when Thomasz Shafernaker did a bird during the weather.

    Warning: Graphic content. Dave teabagging.
    1. Don't flush the toilet until the smell threatens to burn off your nostril hairs. Or until the fumes coming out of the bog cause mild burns to your Jacksy. Or there's a risk of combustion. Or there's no room left.

    2. THERE IS NEVER ANY NEED TO TAKE A BATH. Just don't do it. If you are so filthy that a shower won't do, what on earth were you thinking? A bath is a waste of a nice lie down. It's wet and unnatural. It's also very slow and makes you itch. And you have to move all the coal.

    4. Buy dehydrated food and don't add water. You'll still have a large choice of foodstuffs-Pot Noodles, Vesta meals, absolutely anything by Ainsley Harriott who has produced a very drought-friendly range (must've seen this coming), soup mix, cake mix, 'instant' mashed potato, dried pulses, stuffing mix, flour, soya mince, dried pasta, Super Noodles and Savoury Rice. The list is endless.

    5. Put a teabag in your mouth for about 10 minutes. Your body will produce it's own tea, thereby negating the need for pots, cups, water, etc. Add sugar and milk (dried, of course) to taste. Same for coffee, Cup a Soup or Horlicks.

    6. Stop washing your clothes. If you have a stain, rub the entire garment in the source of the stain in order to make the stain invisible. If you have made your clothes smell so much that they are no longer wearable, put them in the freezer for a few hours. You will then be able to wear them for short bursts, before they thaw and the smell resurrects itself. Keep a few outfits in there, so that you can rotate quickly. And don't go far from the freezer.

    Dave, preparing for an interview. 
    7. For special occasions, like interviews or weddings, spit on a bar of soap and rub it in your armpits. Then secrete the bar of soap in your gusset. As it warms, it will slowly 'aromatize' your bagpipes, like a human Plug-In, but more eco-friendly.

    8. Save any excess spit in bin liners. Once you have several bags, you will be able to sell it to Southerners. They will pay premium prices and you may well end up a goblinaire.

    Right, I'm off to fill up a few bin sacks before This Morning comes on.