Freshly Spilled Thoughts

Picture Quality: 1 out of 10

Cute Factor: Off the Charts…

Someone once said to me, “Do you know why I eat cheese?”

“No. Why?”

“Because cheese gives you a hug.”

Ooh… no humans required for such a feat, which is the gift that keeps on giving.

“What are you doing with those coins?”

“I’m buying 7 hugs worth of cheese, thank you very much.” 

I wasn’t a big cheese eater at the time, but you know something… they were right. It does something funny in the brain that is probably the equivalent of feeling like a big cuddly bear has come along and wrapped their arms around you…

…so it’s easy to see how popular this whole cheese thing is. Sometimes I put in on top of an omelette and it definitely hits different.

What about in the absence of cheese or someone that can’t eat it?

Well, I happen to know someone like that who I always give a free hug to whenever I see her. She says I’m only one of two people who ever give her a hug. To be honest, I think the highlight of seeing me is the hug bit, which is something I never anticipated.

I mean, it’s not something I’d write down in a CV or anything.

I know someone else who can’t hug anyone, not even her own sister. She has a hang up about that kind of intimacy. She has kids as well and my brain has already done the maths on that, so I won’t go there.

They both just put their arms in the air and wave at each other. It’s a pre-agreed thing and it works for them.

My brain actually plays a version of this greeting out in my head and it seems absurd. You’d think it would be easier to just give someone a hug than put your arms in the air like a cheerleader from a distance.

I guess it’s the same problem people have that don’t like shaking hands or something.

One solution would be to wave their hands at each other and also bring some cheese along. Then they could wave and chomp on some cheese which is the nearest thing to a hug they’re both going to get in that scenario (lol).

Just my quick thoughts on hugging and cheese there on a Saturday afternoon, which has now made me feed decidedly hungry.

Talking about cheese was a bad idea, but if you’re buying me some I like mature cheddar thanks.

Ooh, it’s Friday. That came around quick didn’t it.

Take a look at this photo…

One of these 4 people is me. If you can guess which one of the 4 it is you may win a prize [1]

[1] The value of aforementioned prize will not exceed that of an organic toffee apple. Subject to terms and conditions [*].

I may also be in this photo. To confirm or deny such a thing would detract from the competition terms outlined above [2]

Passe un bon week-end.

[2] I hear the food at this establishment was delicious. Unfortunately no online ratings system existed back then, so it was just word of mouth.

[*] For full terms and conditions of this competition you will need to prove you can do a cartwheel. If this is not possible, a handstand may suffice.

In between working my knackers off, I am 3 episodes into Small Prophets and I’m only watching it because Justin Lee Collins assured me it was good.

He didn’t directly message me to tell me this, he sort of… tweeted it.

And that’s good enough for me…

It’s a sitcom written by Mackenzie Crook, who you may remember as Gareth in “The Office”

You know, the one who had his stapler put into jelly (great prank).

He was also in The Detectorists.

In this show he plays a hardware store manager.. or should I say “micro-manager who is so stressed out he keeps asking people if they have been on their lunch break yet”.

The main character is a bloke who is past the point of giving a shit about most things, least of all whether someone wants to purchase something from the hardware store he works in. Neither does he care about his neighbour who keeps asking him if he can find time to cut his overgrown hedges back that are blocking out the sunlight.

He does, however, care about his partner who disappeared 7 years ago, with no explanation as to her whereabouts.

He cares about that a lot.

Michael Palin plays his dad, who has a big journal all about growing your own homunculi. These things resemble miniature humans that grow in bell jars and speak the truth about anything you could possibly wish to know.

Useful then.

Against his better judgement, he tries his hand at growing them in his shed at the end of the garden, in a bid to hopefully get answers to the question he cannot answer by himself.

An interesting, if somewhat ridiculous premise. He owns a Capri instead of an electric vehicle, so I was already going to give this thing a chance.

In the same way I put time aside for Saxondale.

Besides, who doesn’t love a bloke doing a bit of shed alchemy to pass the time.

I’m 3 episodes in. 3 to go.

Homunculi. Lovely word isn’t it. I think every home should have one.

A memory popped up on my phone earlier.

This is the only known photo to exist of me in Moseley Bog…

… not that I’m there very often anyway.

Dean R. Tolkien

When the pimp’s in the crib, ma
(Drop it like it’s hot, drop it like it’s hot, drop it like it’s hot)

When I was walking through the park yesterday, there were 2 police officers on duty.

Unusual, my dear Watson. A policeman on duty out on foot these days is like spotting Banksy having a pint with his mates.

Anyhoo… just as I was thinking it was a waste of resources, a man wearing a balaclava flew through the park at full pelt towards them (and me) on a high powered electric bike

The police reacted at the speed of a sedated rhino and the guy on the bike got away. Or so I thought.

It seems I had stumbled into some kind of sting operation, so I headed out onto the high street, only to see someone else being arrested. There was  a big dent in the side of an SUV, so either a demented buffalo had been in the area or someone on a bike had gone into it. Place your bets.

I asked a local shopkeeper what was going on and he went on about some machete attack and how the place was filled with undercover police. I don’t think he really had any inside knowledge, he was just making it sound like Donald Trump was due to visit and 50 special services operatives were in the area 🙂

It all seemed to calm down, so I went into a shop, then when I came out there was a guy running down the road trying to get away from two police officers. He had a man bag over his shoulder which seemed to be slowing him down.

A bloke outside a pub stood in the way to stop him, which was brave and foolish in equal measure, but fair play to him anyway. He got knocked to the floor by this guy trying to evade capture and the chase continued.

The police sort of did a fast jog and the perpetrator quickly ran out of steam before falling to the floor, like he’d just lost on Supermarket Sweep.

No sign of Dale Winton.

I can’t believe how unfit people are these days. You know in films where someone tries to get away from police by jumping over fences, only to eventually get caught because law enforcement usually win in films?

Yeah, it was nothing like that.

This was more like the bottom class in PE at school. You know, the ones that aren’t allowed to play football or rugby, so they’re allowed to play table tennis and badminton instead.

These people think they are gangsters just because they’ve watched Gangs of London on Netflix. lol.

I like this pub and it was quiet when I went in. After ordering food, the kitchen staff came out and said to me, “Sorry we don’t have any eggs left“.

How can you run out of eggs. Surely that’s nearly impossible…

I’d accept running out of steak, fish and lobster… but I’ve never heard of a restaurant running out of anything as basic as eggs before.

It’s only one step away from running out of tap water.

I actually said to the woman, “How do you even run out of eggs? How can that be a thing?”

And she replied, “I don’t know, my shift only started 10 minutes ago“.

Brilliant. They substituted it with pineapple, which is alright but it’s still not an egg, no matter how hard it tries…

This week I went on the bus for the first time in years, to the Queen Elizabeth hospital.

Because of Kersal Massive I can’t say anything about day-savers without thinking about their viral YouTube video.

Nonetheless, I had to buy a day-saver and it was hard not to think of  the ukulele acoustic version of this impromptu rap as the ticket duly printed.

What a mish mash of characters you get on buses these days…

From stoners to salt of the earth types, you’ll find them all aboard the wheels on the bus as they go round and around.

Last time I got on one, a bloke unleashed the Lords Prayer upon me.

I don’t mind people being quietly religious, but I don’t want a picnic hamper worth of it 🙂

For some reason this reminds me of the time I went to town and this guy thrust a book into my hands about ‘Vegetables Having Feelings Too’.

The title of this book did momentarily intrigue me and it’s one you never forget.

It also raises more questions than answers. Are certain vegetables more emotional than others? I’ll never know.

This man with a buddhist vibe going on, angrily confiscated the book back off me when no money was forthcoming, which made me burst out laughing at how absurd it was.

It’s hardly a punishment is it? Taking back a book about vegetables that have feelings.

I never forgot it though and as a result I do try not to upset spring onions in particular (let’s be honest, whyever would you).

However, it has to be said that it does get hard when you have to chop one up for the greater good so that it can go into a stir fry.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

One ‘not so great’ thing about the internet is you get to hear about every Tom, Dick and Harry that rips off the mortal coil.

Sometimes, I’d honestly rather not know.

The media machine preys upon it and you even get news articles on people that once got to number 97 in the charts, 30 years ago.

Or rappers that once got more than 200 views on TikTok

Not even Z Listers.

However, I was sorry to hear about James Van Der Beek, who played Dawson in Dawson’s Creek.

I wasn’t a fan of the show, I can’t say I ever really watched it, but I remember it being on whenever I went to my mates house because his wife literally swooned over Dawson.

So did most of her friends.

“He has hair… and teeth… and he lives in Dawson’s Creek. A place of mystery, where teeth are kept white with Tippex and hair is never out of place”.

I didn’t know much about him until yesterday.

Sounds like he was a decent family man… and back in the Dawson days I can see how he caused fainting whenever the show came on.

48… what can you say other than life isn’t always fair?

In fact it’s an absolute bastard sometimes, so you have to remain thankful for every day we get to spin around on this big blue ball.

Temporary afflictions… you know, like:

Stubbing your toe on a chair.

Dropping a block of cheese on your foot.

Biting your tongue unexpectedly

Walking into a door you believed was open until proven wrong

Toothache

Jehovah’s Witnesses at the door.

Most of these things have happened to all of us at one time or another.

The one I dread the most?

Headaches. By a country mile.

My left leg could be hanging off and I wouldn’t touch a painkiller.

Give me a headache though, and it’s a different story.

When it comes to paracetamols I’m a cheap date.

It’s the only time I look for salvation in a bottle 🙂

Because I take them so infrequently, all I need is one.

Just think, until the mid 1800’s, people did all manner of bizarre things to treat a headache.

In South America, they placed an electric eel on their heads.

How does that work? “Sandy, fetch me the electric eel. I’ve got a headache and shit just got real”

I love how intense the solutions were to a relatively mild problem.

“Give King Kong a call, I’ve twisted my ankle”

How did it work in the 18th century?

“Not tonight, I’ve got a headache”

“Don’t worry. I’ve just bought an electric eel, we’ll soon have you feeling back to normal. Do you want it on your head or would you like to chew some willow bark to see if that works first?”

“FFS. I wish you’d stop reading ‘The Headache Cure Almanac’.”

If you think electric eels were a bad idea for headache resolution, they also had vibration therapy which involved striking the patient over the head with a mallet whilst they were wearing a metal helmet.

They used to think this would vibrate the pain away. God love ’em.

About as much use as being prescribed Viagra whilst stuck in a lift on your own, I’d say.

Finally, we had trepanation which involved drilling a hole in the skull to release evil spirits.

WTAF.

I’m so glad we have a more eloquent and civilised solution now and it’s available in a convenient blister pack for less than a pound.

Valentine’s Day is almost upon us.

It’s a time of…

Hot dates
Lit Candles
Quality Time
Dining for Two
Embracing Romance
Bargain Hunters shopping for dinner deals in M&S (it’s a thing)

I think that’s the good part of it. It’s nice.

The gifts side of it can be a bit cornier, especially if it’s the usual suspects.

No chocolate or cute teddy bears, thanks.

Surely we are all stuffed with Milk Tray since Xmas anyway, so we don’t need any more of that sort of thing 🙂

Besides, would you give someone you love chocolates these days? Most of them are shite (I’m just saying it how it is).

In fact, I’d give chocolates to people I don’t like, they’re that bad.

“Here, have a horrible chocolate. It’s not my fault, manufacturing standards have really slipped as companies pursue profit over quality”

“Thanks”

“It’s a coffee one. Remember revel roulette? I loved that game” 🙂

Side Note: Anyone remember when chocolates were a thing of wonder? My grandparents would go into deep shock at the confectionary downturn. The other day I walked past a Lindt bar in disgust.

Cards and gifts can be nice. I’m not anti either.

I just don’t like anything that’s forced, made up or invented for commerce (lol)

People should do things because they want to. Because they mean it.

I happen to think that’s a personal thing between two people that society doesn’t get a say in on a calendar…

…other than birthdays and anniversaries (so those aside).

Not if they are motivated by consequences like, “Oh shit, I’d better get a card or I’ll get it in the neck later“.

I mean, if Haddaway gave someone a gift on Valentine’s Day I’d totally believe it was with the right intentions, put it that way  😉

You don’t sing a song about love without thinking about it quite a lot first do you?

I’ll find any old excuse to mention that Haddaway track (lol).

So yes, it’s a lovely thing when it means something… like all these things do.

I’d like to finish this post with a little poem…

Roses are red
Violets are purple
If You Ever Leave Me
I’m Keeping Your Turtle

Thank you so much (takes a bow)

Quite like this Grange Hill version of Stranger Things.

It even includes Gonch, my favourite character of all time on that show…

Gonch: The Man. The Myth. The Legend…

I was talking to this bloke the other day, who offered to give two women a lift home after last orders at the bar.

They were both drunk.

The first woman was Irish and she lived several miles away. He dropped her home first.

The second one lived nearer to the pub, so I’m not sure why he didn’t drop her off first, but … and this bit’s a classic…

… she totally forgot where she lived. She had not got a scooby.

She said to him, “I usually just get on the number 14 bus” (maybe she was just enjoying the ride)

Of course, he didn’t know the 14 bus route… she didn’t even know the name of the road, she was that many sheets to the wind.

Meanwhile, he’s running low on fuel, so he began to lose his patience and advised her that if he was a taxi driver he’d have already kicked her out of the car by now.

After threatening to drop her off down some random road and informing the police there’s a missing person in the vicinity who doesn’t know her arse from her elbow, it seemed to sober her up and she suddenly magically remembered where she lived.

What a fiasco.

In some ways I admire people that are kind, who give lifts to strangers, but personally speaking I’d rather eat gravel than have some stranger I didn’t know from Adam in close proximity to me whilst they were under the influence.

There’s a bloke called Martin in the area who jogs on the spot and asks you for money.

Apparently he’s harmless and I haven’t quite figured out why he jogs on the spot whilst in the middle of panhandling, but I can’t be doing with people jogging next to me for 50p… or any other denomination, come to think of it.

I did give him 50p once though and this fuelled him up for the rest of whatever he was doing. He went jogging off at walking pace. His legs moved quickly, but he moved the same pace as someone would when they are walking.

Curious. You don’t get that way just eating Cornish Pasties do you.

To think, all these people were probably normal at one time. Now they don’t know where they live and jog on the spot until someone gives them a coin they can exchange for low value goods widely available throughout the British empire.

How pants is the weather lately?

Oh sweet joy, another day of rain. I hope it rains again tomorrow just to add to all the excitement of never-ending water landing on my face.

I went out in this the other night with an umbrella and turned into Mary Poppins.

Landed in the Lickey Hills and had to walk all the way back.

It’s a hard knock life.

It seemed so simple. 8 milkshakes later…

I’ve been dipping back into Stephen Kings ‘Everything’s Eventual’ and Marshall Smiths ‘More Tomorrow’ lately. I’ve always felt King is actually at his best in short stories rather than 1,000-page epics.

Does anyone else think the short stories have more ‘punch,’ or am I missing out by not reading the fully blown novels you can also use as door stops?

I have a superpower…

Shoulders that people bounce off when they walk into them.

I first discovered this when I was 17, walking through the streets of Birmingham on a busy shopping day.

I could see someone of male persuasion coming towards me who wasn’t going to move, thinking he was going to take me out with his inflated testosterone levels. I decided this was my time in life to be stubborn, so I tensed my right shoulder and sure enough this person walked straight into it. He bounced off me in a brilliant way.

I was very pleased.

Now if I saw someone coming, I would just move out of the way, but at 17 it was worth the risk.

A few weeks ago in the locker room, another guy did the same thing. I am sure he did it deliberately and he nearly went straight into the wall.

I had my headphones on at the time so I pretended I didn’t even notice him bouncing off me like a pinball.

He was the human equivalent of a bug on a windshield.

After all, it was his fault if he wanted to walk into me, wasn’t it?

I’m not going to apologise for someone walking into me… no way.

“Sorry you foolishly walked into me and as a consequence for your folly, almost splatted your face into the adjacent wall”

Later, I noticed him staring at me a bit (why do blokes do that) but psychologically he was already defeated.

The internal narrative must have gone a bit like this:

“His shoulders took me out in one fell swoop. He must be anointed by Zeus or something. All hail the king”

Or that could just be me filling in the gaps 😉

Anyone who thinks female bodybuilders can’t also look hot, obviously have never seen a picture of Rachel McLish or Cory Everson…