Sunday, 30 September 2007

Pooing by round numbers.

Digg this

Well, my guests have gone.

This morning I have had a vague look at plumbing in the tumble drier (that is, looked at where the screws are to take the back off and decided to leave it until later, Manley style), rung the bells for the 10am service, which went fairly well, developed two strange sores on my hand, one of which is oozing like an infected splinter, collected a canoe and installed it in the front garden and weighed myself at precisely 102lbs.

[EDIT: 102lbs? That'll be the day (about 19 weeks after I've been interred I should imagine). Obviously I actually weigh 192lbs.]

I am having a poo

191lbs. Full figure poos all 'round, eh?

Right, I'm going to take all the children to visit the Dagnalls and see what they are up to. I got the van from my father and moved all the vegan's large items for them yesterday, instead of today (it was easy, they have very little in the way of faff and, having a broken foot, I had little to do) so I have the whole day free today to do with as I will.

I wonder if Simone will ever get off the telephone?

Saturday, 29 September 2007


Digg this

Our friends are visiting and I somehow feel strange weighing myself when I should be downstairs conversing.

I weigh 194.7lbs, but the minute it takes to record this seems wasted, since I see thm so infrequently.

I am having a poo

193.2lbs and off downstairs. I note that the Godmother-to-be has scrawled graffiti on my poo-weights blackboard to the effect that the Godmother Waz Ere.


196.3lbs and somewhat later on, I am having another poo.

I am having a poo

194.9lbs, eh? Not much to say, beyond that I am having a lovely day and I'm going to get back to it - you lot do not deserve my attention.


Friday, 28 September 2007

Another 4lber!

Digg this

There comes a time in every man's life when he realises that there is more to be done than just to exist.

There is more to this journey than just riding the current and sometimes one needs to fight the flow and break out in their own way.

It is not enough to be a sheep, I have to be my own man.

With this in mind, I weigh myself at 196.2lbs.

I am having a poo

Post poo I am 194.7lbs. that's a pound and a half lighter, but no less resolved to make a difference and fight the norm to find a new way, a new light.

I think I need another poo. A cup of tea has made me 197.2lbs of resolved Manley.

I am having a poo

193.2lbs! That's another 4lber! I am proud, but I know that pride is often the forewarning of complacency, so, after a snack, I'm going to try and really make some changes around here.

Compared to the 17.1lb baby born on Wednesday in Russia, a 4lb poo is nothing. I have made no difference to the world yet today, beyond an additional drop in the planets effluent reserves and the everlasting gratitude of some South coast algae.

I weigh 193.6lbs.

I am having a poo

192.6lbs and therefore a pound lighter and having clocked up six and a half pounds so far today, I suddenly become apathetic.

Sod the life changing experience, I'm going to have a cup of tea.

Thursday, 27 September 2007

Bigger, but not better.

Digg this

Well, A splendid morning and I weigh 191.6lbs.

This is not a bad weight and I have high hopes for a below ideal weight this day.

I am having a poo

Well, 190.9lbs is not far off. I'm off to work early to get something achieved, since I am getting somewhat behind at the moment and I really need to do some normal old fashioned programming by, well, this time last week.


A second poo! I weigh . . . 198.4lbs!

How did that happen? I had a mince pie at lunch time, (thanks to Christmas being in the shops already) but 198.4lbs?

This had better be a massive poo, or I shall want to know the reason why.

I am having a poo

I weigh 194.8lbs. To be fair, a 3.6lb poo is a good size, but still.

I need to lose some weight.


I was going to leave that there, but a colleague has just had a moan because I have not done enough work and 'it simply isn't on' and I 'should do some bloody work, other than just measuring your poos' and "rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb", so sod it, I'm writing more out of pure spite.

That and a strong urge to kill, as I have been trained to do since I could first hold an air-gun, my first of which only had a cork on a string.

I dream of blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth. I desire dead, burned bodies. I need to kill women, children, houses and villages. I mean kill. Kill. KILL.

As may have been previously stated, if you do not know who Arlo Guthrie is then you really need to find out.

[UPDATE: As I was writing this a small stuffed sheep appeared on my desk with a post-it note speech bubble which reads "You haven't written enough audits and it simply isn't on rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb rhub...", which has pleased me.]

Simone Manley

Digg this

Simone Manley is a wonderful mother, a fantastic artist and a great friend, whom I love very, very much.

It has however come to my attention that a UK Google Search for ["Simone Manley"] returns no results at all.

Following my previous successes, I feel that I should take action to restore the natural order of things and make sure that Simone Manley can be found.

So, hopefully, when someone searches Google for "Simone Manley", they'll find her and know that at least one middle aged man thinks the world of her.

I love you Jim!

Wednesday, 26 September 2007

Broken foot.

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I've an appointment to go to the doctor this morning.

The pain has singularly failed to subside, so, despite the fact that the ever lovely Doctor Laura Simms is away, I shall be dragging my sory arse up to the Mount Pleasant Health Centre.

I do like to arrive cleansed, so I am going to make sure I am properly empty before I set off. I weigh 193.1lbs.

I am having a poo

A pound lighter at 192.1lbs, I set off to work early, to try and get ahead of the email battle. I seem unable to get the core work done at the moment, for an overwhelming level of extra work, mixed with being a right miserable bastard of late. I'm not very happy at all really, perhaps I'll chat to the quack about that too, even if he is not the ever lovely Doctor Laura Simms. We'll see how it goes.


Well, the ever lovely Laura Simms it was not, but the equally lovely Doctor Emma Mackenzie Edwards was every bit as good, even if she did have someone taking notes on her performance (or, indeed, perhaps because of it?).

I chose not to broach the subject of my own mental health, in favour of the out and out sore leg approach. Prognosis seems to be that I have jarred the bone within my thigh, causing ruptures in the muscle and tearing ligaments, which explains the excruciating pain. On the foot front, it looks like bruising to the heel and a broken bone in the arch.

I have been referred to the hospital, but since the broken bone in the arch needs 6 weeks of rest and the potential crack in the heel will need much the same treatment, I am going to take her words as professional advice and, instead of the hospital, I came back to work.

If I have to rest my foot for one break for 6 weeks, I don't see much need to learn whether there is another which will need the same treatment. Either way, I weigh 192.6lbs and am in need of a poo.

I am having a poo

190.8lbs, eh? Not too shoddy. Now, if only Northern Rock shares could catch a decent hike?

Being a narcissist and no fan of the fade-out, here's a picture of me, thanks to Mr KingSuperSpecial:

Tuesday, 25 September 2007


Digg this

First of all, I now have video footage of my zipwire incident:

I would like to stress that David Harvey certainly weakened the tree with his previous runs. It's not as though a branch broke either, the whole top of the tree snapped out.

I am loathe to suggest that hacking works, but Exeter did come second in the UK wide monopoly board voting, despite the small size of the city.

We simply must be a splendid place to be.

Sadly, today has seen a representative of the HSE visit us, which suggests that I shall soon lose my Swiss ball as a chair.

He came at a bad time, as we were having a minor soft toy war. Maybe I should get one of these clearly unsuitable for work chairs?

AttributionNoncommercial Some rights reserved. Nishwater

In other news, I feel like I might need a poo, but I am too busy, so I'll have another cup of tea and see what I feel like after that.


A cup of tea and some cake and cereal later, I weigh 194.8lbs.

I am having a poo

I weigh 193.2lbs.

I think I have to 'phone the doctor as I am in a not inconsiderable amount of pain from Sunday morning still.

Monday, 24 September 2007

Leecher abuse

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This is not a poo related blog post,

but I was most amused to find that, presumably through lack of foresight, Andrew Robathan MP (Conservative) is using a picture of a coin which bears an image containing an ejaculating phallus and a reference to the
puerile website B3ta, on his Blog

How long it remains is yet to be seen.

In case it has been removed by the time you peruse, here is a screengrab:

UPDATE: It's been pulled and the whoel blog is now comments by invite only, following an article in El Reg.

Here is the original image:

And, for posterity, here are the comments from his blog, to date:

Lord Manley said...

It is sad to see that the pound holds so little value for some.
3:08 PM
Anonymous said...

With subscription rates going up like that, I'm expecting 'stiff' competition ahead
3:27 PM
Anonymous said...

Its hard to argue with that. it isn't exactly a meaty rise after all.
3:34 PM
Anonymous said...

Forget the credit crunch, i think there will be a huge splurge on the pound, leading to rising interest.
People will be forced to steal bandwidth just to survive.
3:37 PM
Anonymous said...

The idea that changing subscription rates increases membership is, in my mind, a logical phallusy
3:45 PM
Anonymous said...

Well I think its good that we have Prince Phillip on the pound and not just the Queen. Its a step forward for equality, and I'm all for it.

3:47 PM
Anonymous said...

I think its important that the CDC is well represented. It generates a lot of fluidity on the financial markets
3:52 PM
Anonymous said...

It certainly is a cocksure move to inflate subscriptions like that. What with Northern Rock Hard times ahead for all.
3:54 PM
Anonymous said...

Mr Woodchopper, I think you are in error. Pound coin have long featured national symbols (leeks, thistles etc). I have it on good authority that this one features the new national symbol for England.
3:55 PM
Anonymous said...

Even if the subscription rates are still low, the state the pound is in I can foresee them spurting up rapidly in the near future.
4:07 PM
Anonymous said...

I think this little episode amply demonstrates the integrity of the conservative party. Maybe next time they will splash out on their own image.
4:15 PM
Anonymous said...

Oh come come. This is just an exposed cock and bull story.

I'm glad they've got the balls to do it at all.
5:06 PM
Anonymous said...

5:06 PM
Gilgamesh said...

further evidence of the "trickle-down economy" at work
5:08 PM
Anonymous said...

The economy is in trouble - you can see it coming.
5:37 PM
Anonymous said...

a left-leaning member.
5:39 PM
Anonymous said...

A fine upstanding member of the community; I, for one would be happy to splash out on a couple of under 22yr olds.
5:53 PM
Anonymous said...

Great to see some of that true Tory spunk at last! Well done.
6:20 PM
Anonymous said...

Great to see some of that true Tory spunk coming back into politics. Well done.
6:22 PM
Anonymous said...

dolce et decorum est pro patria veni.
6:34 PM
Anonymous said...

Although subscription rises can be unpalatable, I really think we need to swallow this one.
6:47 PM
Anonymous said...

I agree, we should suck it up for the greater good of the Party.
6:49 PM
Anonymous said...

I hope this means we'll see Boris' Johnson standing proud at the next election.
7:04 PM
Anonymous said...

The executive council have shown they are capable of holding their own.
7:04 PM
Anonymous said...

Yes, you should put more muscle into the problem. This is a good start.
7:07 PM
Anonymous said...

I ope this is pricking at someone's concience.
7:10 PM
Anonymous said...

This article should be pulled off immediately.
7:24 PM
Anonymous said...

What the economy needs right now is a rigid Member of Parliament, who's not afraid to stand up and dive in head first.
7:43 PM
Anonymous said...

What a wet article! Stop trying to ram it down our throats!
7:46 PM
Gilgamesh said...

We should learn from the Japanese, they certainly know how to hold an election
8:02 PM
Anonymous said...

I for one support this. I'm fed up of all these 'willy/won't he?' politicians.
8:19 PM
Anonymous said...

I for one would hate to see it shoot up without at least some kind of notice. Having said that, I'm sure your loyal members will rise to the occasion.
8:23 PM
Anonymous said...

To all the commenters above:

Leave the Conservative Party ALONE!!!
8:27 PM
Anonymous said...

I think this needs a wider audience.

This is Youtube material!
8:30 PM
Joe. said...

Hard times certainly are ahead, but I'm glad the tories finally have a thick, meaty policy that should please the under 22s
8:35 PM
Anonymous said...

Don't be a dick. £3 isn't so much a pint and a packet of crisps price, as a meat and two veg price!
8:45 PM
Anonymous said...

As a proud member who is over 22, any large rise would be an extreme pain in the rear. But, like any good conservative, I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it.
8:46 PM
Anonymous said...

"In addition, when these changes go through there will no longer be the hard choice of joining your local association or the national party...."

Hard choices are what made us the Party we are today; I feel that the harder things get, the better for all concerned.

A short refractory period should allow us time to gather all our strength for the final push.
8:46 PM
Anonymous said...

There's no point having a limp financial policy and a flaccid attitude to foreign economies. It's time to inject some steel into Britain. Pressing hard into the rear end of the stock market, spraying a massive wad in the face of Europe - that'll show our spunk.
8:50 PM
Anonymous said...

I hope this gives Gordon Brown a rude awakening.
8:51 PM
shang said...

don't trust the tories. they'll spunk our money away...
8:56 PM
Anonymous said...

I fail to see how such a small rise in subscriptions can make a vas deferens to the running of Conservative Future.
9:01 PM
Anonymous said...

This stirring article should be reproduced in the broadsheets - one doesn't get a much bigger organ than the Telegraph, for example.
9:18 PM
Anonymous said...

I hope the pound rises in the face of stiff competition
9:22 PM
Anonymous said...

Why I likes it. I'm going to write a letter saying how much I enjoyed it.
9:25 PM
Anonymous said...

9:29 PM
Anonymous said...


I'm a Conservative supporter, but I'm not a supporter of leeching other people's images.
9:31 PM
Anonymous said...

I nicked it out of your shed.
9:42 PM
masakatsu said...

Good traditional conservative thinking. Of course, any rise would be hard for the modern under 22 conservative to swallow. Better to take the traditional approach and ease the inflation slowly through the back door.
10:21 PM
Anonymous said...

Seems the Tories are trying to give over 22's a right good beasting when they should really be focusing on lowering the time periods for hospital discharges! This will only leave a salty taste in the mouth of their supporters!
10:37 PM
Anonymous said...

I can see why they are shooting for the increase but if they didn't spray the money quite so freely then it might not be necessary.
10:37 PM
Anonymous said...

Good news to here, I had previously worried that the under 22s would get shafted..
10:39 PM
ivor biggon said...

I'm tempted and i bet you are good at running a party, but i find it hard to believe all that can be forced out of just £3, I'm glad to here the rate won't change for for under 22s as i like the price i get them at now, good old fashioned analual prices that's what i want like when i were a Tory bummer boy at Eaton
10:45 PM
Anonymous said...

If I were a conservative I would be proud of those rates. I would ejaculate at every opportunity how proud I was.

I'm not so I won't
10:56 PM
Anonymous said...

Sir, were the party to stop splurging on thier money this increase would not be necessary.
10:57 PM
Anonymous said...

Is it surprising to find yet yet another politician pissing all over the rest of us !!
11:07 PM
The Imaginary Reviewer said...

Wait, isn't Dick Spring a Labour politician?
11:57 PM
Anonymous said...

As an upright Conservative member I find this large increase hard to swallow and suspect I may have been shafted.
12:54 AM
Anonymous said...

Ha ha. Its funny because you are like an old man who probably can't set his video recorder but you are trying to get down wit' the kidz by having a blog, 'cept 4 da fact dat u prob didn't no u 'ad a blog, it is prob ritten buy sum PR dude.

Harold Winston (Lab)
1:31 AM
Anonymous said...

It is good to see the conservatives standing up and showing the young people of today what they are made of. We've all taken a terrible shafting these past years, and if the tories putting it up will get them back up where they belong, then i just can't get enough of it.
1:43 AM
Anonymous said...

here we are, at the belle end of the new millennium, and the tories still have their junk showing! How long must we put up this flaccid, limp dick of a party???
1:47 AM
Anonymous said...

another whitewash leaves a nasty taste in the mouth once again! now we must splash out again to keep the Tories creaming the public once more.
1:53 AM
Anonymous said...

Spunking hell where did you get your cock coinage.
3:45 AM
Psychedelic Warlord said...

I'd vote for those in sterling.
6:29 AM
Anonymous said...

I've got boluxs as a verification code, class!
8:34 AM
Anonymous said...

Good to see Conservative values standing proud.
9:11 AM

No video as yet, I am afraid.

Digg this

Well, yesterday was fun.

We had a breakfast which was a thanksgiving meal that couldn't be beat [NOTE: If you don't know who Arlo Guthrie is then you should bloody well find out.] and then decided that, before making an attempt on the moor (many people had yet to drag themselves out of their pits - some never would) we'd set up a zip wire on the lawn.

This went well.

The next step was to set up a zip wire across the Exe.

This went well for a time. I canoed across and we passed throw lines back and forth and set up pulleys until we had a pretty good line. We were using dynamic rope, so there was a limit to how tight we could keep things, but in the end it was plenty good enough.

The Birthday boy came across and got his feet wet, and then a second time high and dry, so I canoed back across and had a go. It did not go well. It's not that the branch the rope was tied to snapped, nothing like that.

The trunk snapped.

I weigh 194.6lbs and am limping fairly badly, unable as I am to put any weight at all onto the heel of my right foot.

I am having a poo

I weigh 191.8lbs. This will account for the beshortened Horse Chestnut at the mill.

I'd like to say that, if you are in the area, the Poachers Inn in Ide does some exquisite puddings.

I'm off for some pain killers, so I'll leave you with this Bratz parody which amused me:


It seems that, perhaps as a result of having ALL my shares, as well as my mortgage, with Northern Rock, I need another poo. I weigh 195.2lbs.

I am having a poo

I weigh 193.4lbs.

I'm going to the Cathedral to see an exhibition of wood carvings now. Cheerio. I leave you with this video of trying to shred a toy bull, which ends with nothing more than a broken shredder:

Since it is a failure, the only part of this whjich works is Rowan's glee.


Sunday, 23 September 2007

An Adventure!

Digg this

Today, to mark the occasion of David Harvey's birthday, we, as a group of men, are going for an adventure on the moor. We are going to take ropes, climbing shoes and swimming kit and just have fun for the day.

At the moment, I feel like lying in bed. I weigh 192.3lbs.

I am having a poo

I weigh 191.2lbs. I shall change the baby and then I've just got time to ring for the 10 o'clock service before I meet the boys at the Mill for the off. As a matter of interest, the metal structure on top of the mill in the second image is a climbing wall.

Damn, I need another poo first. I weigh 191.6lbs.

I am having another poo

190.4lbs. That was a rush job, I have to go out now. Cheerio, have a good weekend.

Saturday, 22 September 2007

Wedding bells and birthday candles

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I am in some measure of strife from Jim, for failing to get out of bed early enough for her liking. I refuse to dwell upon the likely result of making similar reciprocal complaints and, almost certainly, being overbearing and denying her of utterly unrequited beauty sleep.

That was a compliment, you see. She'll almost certainly read this and I'll be in trouble again.

I Love you, Jim!

There are a great many jobs which need doing in the Team Manley clubhouse at the moment, from laying the floor and plastering the walls, to pointing, building the bedroom wall and tiling the bathroom.

The way I attack this is, rather than set any levels of priority to this work, I simply do whatever I feel like doing next. There is a deep nagging area of my brain which reminds me that I will end up with just the bad jobs to do and that the bathroom is unlikely to ever get tiled at this rate, but I satisfy myself with the knowledge that it cannot be as nagging as my darling wife, and there's always the chance that I might die before I have to get round to the grouting.

Today I creosote the back gate.

Since 30 June 2003, creosote has been withdrawn from sale to householders. Stored creosote must not be used by householders and should have been disposed of safely and responsibly by 31 June 2004. Thus I actually used Cuprinol rollable shed and fence treatment. It's important to be accurate, I feel.

Most of the work here involves fighting off small children who seem to be attracted to wet paint and stain like moths to a candle. Certainly it was with no small feeling of relief that I head for church for a wedding.

I like ringing for weddings. I remember my own and the feeling, as I left the church to the sound of the eager St Bartholomew's Corsham ringers, that it was done and dusted. As an added bonus, at ST Thomas the bride and groom, when they turn to leave the church, can see us about to pull off [NOTE: Accidental innuendo retained for SSG's amusement] and always* look so happy with the prospect of our impending efforts.

We arrived to the sound of small shouting children in the nave, which is greeted with a friendly 'Little bastards', in the happy, accepting manner which only a broad Devon accent can convey. Amusingly, two of the children turn out to belong to the happy couple, so not only was this appropriate, but factually correct.

A good ring later and I think that it might just be time for poo. I weigh 193.1lbs.

I am having a poo

190.4lbs of pure Manley drags himself off to another children's birthday party.

Statistically, ignoring the trends amongst humans to breed more often at certain times of the year, with 3 children across three school years and around 30 children per year, I can see that every single weekend of the next 16 years could easily be taken up in this manner.

Children's parties are abhorrent to me. I love children [NOTE: This is not for SSG's benefit], but they are not a good tribe animal. One or two can be a delight. More than 3 and you may as well hang one right off the mark.

This party does, however, feature cream cheese and grape sandwiches and a simply enormous bouncy castle. Joy is me!

Back home and we watch the ever dire High School Musical before bed, but I can't get to sleep before being reminded that I am still in trouble for getting up late this morning.

It's a hard life.

Here's A picture by the ever lovely Verity:

*Almost always.

Friday, 21 September 2007

When I wake up, I know I'm gonna poo,

Digg this

I'm gonna poo and I shall blog the weight of it.

Now I realise that there is only one rhyme which is justifiable in the context of this scatological blog, so I shall stop right there with my Proclaimers impression and get on with it.

A pub lunch is always a nice thing, but I seem unable to shake an underwhelming feeling of morosity at the moment. Beer certainly helps though.

Let's hope it helps with our weight loss programme here too. I weigh 194.3lbs.

I am having a poo

Still up at the 193.8lb point. I seem to have a marked reduction in poo weights recently, although I cannot imagine why. I am still eating unhealthily and yet nothing.

Still, all this ties in rather nicely with my initial theory since, with the reduction in faecal mass, there is a corresponding halt in weight loss. As yet I have seen no evidence to suggest that the best gym in the world is a porcelain one.

Thursday, 20 September 2007

Mass margins.

Digg this

I really do not want to be awake.

Given that my daughters can all manage to sleep through every night, why in the name of all that is holy can I not?

Anyway, I weigh a bleary eyed 190.4lbs.

I am having a (massive) poo

That was simply enormous. I seriously could have used that to bury a small hatchback. It was like a bloody cement mixer unloading. Blimey! I weight . . . 190.3lbs.

What's that all about?

I feel cheated of my rightful weight loss. If ever there was a poo that would assure me of being below my ideal weight, that there was it.


I am at work now. It's Thursday, which is a busy working day for me, but I am tired and apathetic - I really seem to lack enthusiasm for anything at all at the moment. Perhaps it's my time of the month?

I weigh 193.6lbs.

I am having a poo

And that was tiny. It was as if I held a rabbit over the pan and shook it gently for 20 seconds. Despite this, I weigh 193lbs.

A 12th of the size and 6 times the weight? I am perplexed by all of this. I think I'll go and buy some shares in Northern Rock.

Thanks(?) to Rupert for this:

Wednesday, 19 September 2007


Digg this


It be that time of the seasons again and My Lordship is dressed to the nines, with pieces of eight dangling in my hair, a rapier at my waist and a glint in my eye, so the the wenches had better watch their step.

What could possibly be more reminiscent of a buccaneer than poo, eh? I weigh 193.4lbs.

Aye, aye, Skipper!

I be having a poo, yarr!

192.2lbs eh? That's a little over a pound of Manley which is on it's way to Davey Jones' Locker, and no mistake. I leave you with a vast ye:


And my Matt Cutts impression:

Tuesday, 18 September 2007

Digg this

The cricket started well.

The cricket ended badly.

I don't know what else to say, I am deflated and I was in a pretty miserable mood anyway. I did a poo this morning and have got to get the weights for it off the blackboard in the bathroom at Chez Manley, but I'm about to do another one [Update: I went from 191.4lbs to 190.3lbs, upon further investigation.]. I weigh 195.6lbs.

I am having a poo

193.4lbs. Not too bad, but not too good either. More weight loss is required.

In other news, those of you who know Christ will be pleased to learn that he and Lyndsey have moved in together, he's got a rather nice technical writing job at Capita and he sends his best to you all.

Those who don't know him won't care much, I'd imagine.

Monday, 17 September 2007

Garlic Butter Spray?

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After a morning with Mr Dagnal and his family, a day's scraping mussels and barnacles from Lena's keel and an afternoon's mending Land Rovers, I settled down to a pleasant evening's barbecuing.

Stuffed pepperdews were most welcome, as were some really rather smashing bangers. Best of all though was an abundance of Yellow Hammer from the Master Brewer himself.

A lie in this morning and all is well, and I weigh 190.5lbs. Once the thousands of offspring have vacated the throne, I am able to attend to business.

I am having a poo

And now I weigh 189.8lbs. I would have said that this was a prophet poo, but at this time I don't know the expression and only learn it at around 0930hrs, whilst chatting to Jason at work.

A true prophesy it is though, as this is foretelling of a greater poo to come, truly the JtB of poos. I weigh 193.8lbs.

I am having a poo

I weigh 192.6lbs. Not massive, but enormous none the less and, quite unsettling, smelling exactly like the garlic butter spray from Pizza Hut (If you don't know of this, go to Pizza Hut and ask if you can buy a can of their 'garlic butter spray'. We bought a can for £2 and it was plenty to make the whole of the KMS Hosting department cry.

Sprayed into a 'phone mouthpiece it made a designer nearly sick (but then he is a designer, and not a very good one at that, so sod him) and sprayed onto Mad Dan Rice's Spectacles (right on the bridge of the nose) it was a wondrous success.

Go there now. Buy some.)

In other news I have yet another picture of me to display. It's all a little pleasing, if I am honest!

This time it is from OneOfSome and is remarkably accurate.

Sunday, 16 September 2007

In the words of Lou Reed. . .

Digg this

After a nice lie-in with Jim, we went to a children's birthday party. Generally I consider these to be the functional pariahs of the social calender. I have been known to consider breaking my own ankle, merely to avoid spending more than a few minutes with a collection of sugar fuelled innocents, hell bent on a heady mixture of exuberant joy and whining tearful grief, often achieved by the same individuals at the same time.

Well, this was a very different class of social gathering, in fact, I am mildly saddened to say, it was my own offspring who most closely resembled the denizens of jubilant fury that one generally associates with such gatherings, although not very. Even as the worst offenders they were veritable seraphim when held up beside the standard reveller at such events. In short, I actually rather enjoyed myself.

Unfortunately, due to a two o'clock appointment, Mike had to deliver my timber (air dried, so with a larger moisture content than kiln dried, but still suitable for my floor) at one, so My Lordship had to leave early. As a testament to either the excellence my own qualities as an irritant, my four girls stayed behind and were dropped off by the host later on.

Once the flooring is piled in my kitchen to season, we have a spot of luncheon and head on up to the Fore Street festival. To begin with we spent far too long watching The Pyrates with the kids [EDIT: according to the comments left, this is wrong! See Comments to learn the truth about the Mutineers!] and eventually wandered on, only to discover that the Pyrates were by far the best band playing, so we went down to Book cycle [My Lordship's note: damn! I forgot to collect my bike from the workshop!] and then homewards.

A quick spot of dinner and we took Dan's Mum out for a quick row down the canal.

All in all a perfect day.

Today has started equally as well, with some fabulous news. I weigh in at 190.4lbs, so I feel confident that I will be below my target weight within minutes.

I am having a poo

It is somewhat disconcerting to hear the sound of a 6 year old playing the electric keyboard at this time in the morning, but I weigh 189.3lbs, so all is well.

Today I am going down to Greenway to scrape barnacles off Peter Mitchell's folk boat with Tom and Big Jim (not my wife!) so I'd better get dressed and head off.

Sorry it was long and tedious, but it was a smashing day. My condolences to the McRae family also - I was unusually saddened by the news last night.

Saturday, 15 September 2007

Added weights

Digg this

Whilst I was moving the furniture around in the kitchen in order to allow space for the 20 cubic meters of timber which is arriving today, I got a sudden urge to lose some weight and rushed to my becisterned gymnasium apparatus to attend to the call.

Not much time to spare and fully dressed I weighed in at an alarming 197.1lbs.

I went for a poo

Post poo I still weigh weigh 195.5lbs, which is not much better really. After this morning's earlier visit I had high hopes for maintaining a below par score for the weekend, but this is foiled almost immediately.

I've not even got my steel toecaps on.

But Wait! What's this? In my possession is, presumably from moving the scales, a 2lb weight! the weight of my poo is not effected, but I shall record these weights as 195.1lbs and 193.5lbs. Still not what I would have hoped for, but certainly less distressing than was previously the case.

If anyone out there cares, this poo reflected the heat of last night's chilli rather clearly *winces*.


Digg this

Well, in a drive to lose more weight I have been eating a lot of meat lately, with an aim to producing larger weight loss parcels, as it were. The aim here is, after all, to eat as much as I can in order to produce the hugest poo I can and, thus, to lose weight through the exact science of scatology. In pursuit of this, last night was chilli night.

As well as the usual five members of Team Manley, we had guests for dinner, in the form of the ever lovely Ana Viegas and her neatly coiffured young man, Mr Alan Hayes.

Now, as I am sure that you know, the only thing better than Guiness for making heavy poos is a good bottle or three of red wine. In the interests of this I felt it was important to consume a goodly amount of chilli, as many pepperdew chillis (as well as the chillis I grew myself, the name of which I do not know) as I could justify and to wash it down with a heady mixture of Merlot and Rioja.

Now, in the cool light of morning, I realise that, when Eleanor, the harpist from across the avenue, popped in, I should have gleaned information from her on the subject of alcohol and poo mass. Eleanor is a very accomplished musician - it's not many who get to follow their dream on into adulthood, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that, to my mind at least, her greatest achievement has to be bagging herself the Master Brewer at O'Hanlon's who, amongst others, produce the ever delicious Yellow Hammer (although, perusing their site for the first time just then, I note that the seem to have taken on a number of the old Eldridge Pope labels, which might be worth a try at some future hour!). If there's a man who would know about the faecal effect of beers and wines it'd be Alex, what with him being a chemical engineer who deals solely with producing lovely, lovely booze.

Anyway, we had a quietly pleasant evening of the sort which is marked by the abject failure to get even the beginnings of a semblance of any of the work for Haldon Forest, which is what we had convened to attend to, started.

At around late o'clock, Millie, the Office Teen came around with her new (fresh) car for us to go for a jolly and listen to her shot wheel bearings for her. I don't think that two hairy drunk men laughing at each other gave her the greatest feeling of security, but it really is just that the bearings are shot. "They are really load at 80" says Millie.
"Drive home at 60" reply the men, and they retire back into the house for more of the aforementioned lovely, lovely booze.

So, does this approach work, I hear you ask. Actually, I mostly hear you asking 'how long is this post?' but I'll answer my own question instead of yours, since I know how to determine the answer. I slink away into my porcelain laboratory, weighing 189.7lbs.

I am having a poo

187.9lbs. Well, if that's not an argument for greasy food then I don't know what is.

I'm off to a children's birthday party this morning and I'm having some timber delivered at some time today by Mike Gardner, to turn into a floor in my kitchen, so I'd better stop rambling.

Cheerio! and eat up your chilli.

Friday, 14 September 2007


Digg this

Three things:

1) I have had another weight loss experience, taking me from 194.2lbs, down to 191.8lbs.

2) Look! It's me again! Thanks to -D-:

3) The wonderful and talented DogHorse is one of the best things on tinterweb, but this is poo related, so . . . Check it out

And so you shall!

Digg this

Well, only on Wednesday I was complaining that I am too heavy, so I went home and ate beef both last night and tghe night before. Lots and lots of meat.

The upshot of my carnivorous behaviour was initially that I went for the whole of Thursday without having any weight loss whatsoever, but I now feel a certain urge to lose some weight, so I hope we get a good result.

I know you do too. I weigh 190.2lbs, which is a good start anyway.

I am having a poo

Haha! IN YOUR FACE! 188.6lbs. Not the largest result a visit to Ivor has produced. Let us not pretend that My Lordship is not still smug (and still stinging a little) from last month's 7.2lber.

In other news, I was being harranged asked about my hobbies by a relatively endangered species with regard to my hobbies.

My analytics tell me that Gorilla Bananas is a relatively new reader and, indeed, it is seldom that I actually respond to readers at all, being a narcissist, but I feel that I can use this opportunity to describe both the excellent time had at yesterday's Campanology Thursday and to show you a short video of myself, falling off a bicycle.

Thursday, 13 September 2007


Digg this

Well, following on from the fantastic painting which the very talented Mr Ed Carter made of me recently, I am able to show off the rather splendid zombie produced by HAPPYTOAST

I have to say that I am somewhat flattered by it all.

Unfortunately I have not managed to excrete as yet today, but I did have the morning off work to go to the woods and play on my bike. I went up to Haldon Forest at about 0715hrs this morning, bike in boot, ready for some fun.

Unfortunately, as I set off, I found that I was ghost shifting (that is, the bike was changing gear by itself) and saw that my rear-mech looked bent. I straightened it, but soon found a repeat of the ghost shifting re-occurring with alarming regularity.

I guess that I had probably been riding for getting on for 40 seconds when I found the crack in my hangar (the bit between the rear-mech and the swing-arm) and realised that I was riding no more, unless I wanted a mech in my spokes.

As I had a meeting with a nice young chap called Nigel, from BTCV at 0830hrs, I spent the first part of the morning sitting on a damp bench in a deserted car park.

In hindsight I could have gone for a walk, but I just couldn't be arsed.

Ah well, that's another day's holiday wasted, eh. Still, the zombie's shit hot, no?

Wednesday, 12 September 2007


Digg this

Following on from my previous post regarding human yoghurt, I thought that I would report back on how trials have been going to date.

Basically, it didn't work.

I obtained a small glass of milk and I added the culture, but I have come back to find a glass of foul separated milk.

I find this strangely upsetting.

That said, I think that I can probably manage a poo, in the midst of my disappointment.

There have been murmurs of dissent amongst my readership of late surrounding the detailing of actual poos. I had, for myself, formed the opinion that these poos were, to some extent, somewhat monotonous and tiresome.

It seems I was very wrong and that the majority of you (or at least the vocal minority) actually have an interest in the size of my daily donation to the sewage farm.

In light of this, I am going to weigh myself, on the scales beside the ever lovely Ellie Precious, who produces just that kind of press release for us.


Sadly Eleanor was away, but I do weigh in at a frankly obese 193.6lbs.

I am having a poo

190.2lbs. Dammit, I have been overweight for a goodly long time now - I think I need to put some effort into getting below the 190lb mark again, which, given the rules, no doubt means Indian cuisine. Damn, but I suffer for my art.

Tuesday, 11 September 2007

You've all wanted to do it, now it's happened.

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I have just been assaulted in the street by a stranger!

I was just merrily cycling back from the bike shop, returning their spoke key (a big, spammy thank you to my Local independent bike shop) and I cut through Princesshay, which used to be a road but is now somewhat pedestrianised looking, although I know not the legalities of it.

Either way, I left the pedestrianised (?) bit and ventured out onto the road and a man stepped in front of me and took a stance as if to stop me in my tracks. I swerved to avoid him, but as I went past, he punched me, nearly knocking me from the bike. I stopped, by which point he was upon me, shouting in my face and he looped the handle of his laptop bag around my leg as I unclipped, so I couldn't get away.

The chap is about 55, but a young 55, with mirror glasses on and too many newspapers under his arm. Certainly he was a lot smaller than I was, but he was looking for a fight and, indeed, several times asked the question 'So you want a fight then?'. I did not, although I certainly had age, size and probably technique on my side. He is leaning over my bike shouting at me now. "You want to argue about this, you got a problem?" I intimated that yes, I did indeed have a problem, that being the fact that a stranger had just punched me in passing. "You're cycling on the pavement!" Well, this was clearly not true, I was standing still in the middle of the road, but this was not a moment for pedantry. I stopped a couple of the builders working on the road and asked them what they were building. It transpired that what they were building was, in fact, a road. Further protestations by my attacker did not lead to a change of heart on their part, "No mate, it's a road, right up to those bollards" they insisted, indicating the bollards in question with a vague mono-directional gesture. Clearly my assailant had studied his debating technique on the banks of the Cam. Certainly he was ready with an answer, "So you want to fight do you?".

I am a fairly arsey chap myself at times and could well imagine myself standing in the way of a cyclist on the pavement (although I'd never go as far as to hit him or her, rather just allow them to hit me, I can see where he was coming from) and he clearly had been under the misapprehension that the road upon which my tyres rested was a pavement, although I cannot for an instant imagine why.

'Where do you live?' he asks. I feel that this is the sort of information I keep to myself when confronted by idiots of this magnitude, and I described my reticence in sharing this sort of personal detail with him. 'Where do you work then?' he continued. Since we were outside my office buildings I felt comfortable pointing to the wall behind him and merely uttering 'There'.

"Then you know this is pedestrian". The unutterable stupidity of this line of questioning was boring me by now and I finally became less calm in my approach.
'Look', says I, 'I was riding on the road and you hit me. There's no middle ground here, we've ascertained that it is a road and you hit me. That's it.'

"So you want to fight?" I should really have seen it coming.
"No, sod it, let's just call a copper and sort this out" I said and promptly found that my telephone was on my desk.
"Yes, let's do that" says he, so I ask if I can borrow his telephone to do so. He changes his mind and, when I ask around, nobody seems willing to allow me to use their telephone to call a policeman, not even the fat security guard from the new shops they are building.

Mirror-shades seems to sense now that I mean this and asks, chuckling derisively as he does so, what exactly I think that a policeman will do. I answer to the effect that they will process my charge of assault and he begins legging it. Away from a man my size with a bike. After a little bit of this he stops and realises that he cannot get away and asks me, unexpectedly, if I'd like a coffee at the shop on the corner (It's not Starbucks, but it's similar. [EDIT: Having asked around the office, it transpires that it is a Costa - look at the header image on that site - surely they could have optimised that better and got an image without the surly woman or the fire extinguisher?]. I am a little taken aback and say that , whilst I don't drink coffee, I'll certainly let him buy me a tea (thinking that this would frankly do, by way of recompense, since I didn't really want to care, I was merely not backing down at this point and I wanted to be sure that he went away feeling that it was wrong to punch cyclists, rather than with a great story for his mates) and that we could discuss things like men.

"You're not a man, you're a mouse, why should I buy you tea, why shouldn't you buy me a coffee?" he asks. I am ready with a reply which went along the lines of not having any idea what he was going on about, that he had hit me and if he wanted to discuss things then that was fine, but otherwise I was fairly intent on approaching the squad car outside the Vodaphone shop and getting back to work. Again I was taken aback as he agreed.

Our anti-hero is beginning to sound like a bit of a moron here, but I should stress that this man is well dressed, smart and appears to, whilst I cannot believe he actually reads them, carrying some serious broadsheets with him. I have not picked a fight with a tramp here. I say this because, once he realises that I am not about to go in before him and let him do a runner again he seems genuinely upset that his ruse didn't work and returns to the 'I haven't got time for this' scarpering routine.

I point out how close the policeman is now and, after some shepherding with my bike (including a comical moment when he runs into it and says 'now you've assaulted me!') resort to saying that if he doesn't come along I'll make a citizen's arrest. "go on then!" says he.

"As a member of her Majesty's armed forces, I arrest you."

It felt kind of funny without a rifle, but by God did it have an effect. Turns out that our man is an ex-servicemen and feels that this makes it okay to hit me again. We argue for about 5 minutes now, including his "It didn't hurt, when I hurt people they stay on the ground". I must say I was rather pleased with my
"Well, I can assure you that I can hurt you a great deal without you even falling over."

Eventually he starts vaguely pleading for a way out of this, but is unwilling to back down as well. Eventually he puts forward the plan that he will apologise, which I accept.

He then adds the caveat that I have to reciprocally apologise for cycling on the pavement.

I explain my position, to whit: I am happy to admit that I was cycling on what he perceives to be the pavement prior to his assault on my person (at this point he interjects to point out that there is no bruise and it didn't hurt anyway, to which I reply that whether is hurt or not was for me to say and that he could rest assured that, when it came to talking to the plod about it, I would be certain to mention the pain) and, indeed, I'd go as far as to say that I wouldn't ride on there until I had ascertained whether it was legal or not so to do, his vigilante assault on me for a perceived crime he had witnessed was not socially acceptable.

We had much discussion on the matter, but essentially I was in a better position as I had the copper in my hand and, thanks presumably to the time it takes to renew a Vodafone contract, even if one gets preferential treatment as an agent of the law, he appeared not to be going anywhere. One of the treats of this stage of the conversation was 'If you hit a pedestrian on a bike you could really hurt them'. Sadly
'When you punch a cyclist on a fast moving bike you could really hurt them' was a retort he was unable to counter.

Eventually I got a full apology, an assurance that he would not do such a thing again and a hand shake, after which he whipped away into the alley behind Waggamammas (who don't get a link as they are crap - Tye Pye Dong is far superior, but their website is awful. As he was leaving I swung my leg onto the bike, realised that I had just agreed not to cycle through the square and got back off, laughing loudly, presumably fuelled with the joy of victory. At this the chap poked his head back 'round the corner and said 'force of habit, see!' and legged it.

I am appalled to say that I quite liked the fool, but I was buggered if I was going to be punched riding my bike down the road.

Clearly this excitement doesn't mean that I can ignore the other news, which is that i weigh 193.6lbs.

I am having a poo

I weigh 190.2lbs. Damn, maybe if I had fought I'd have worked of that last fifth of a lb, eh?

Ah well, off to equanimityRus I go.

Since it's the eleventh of September, here's a joke:

Digg this

knock knock
Who's there?
I done up.
I done up who?


As an aside:

Monday, 10 September 2007

Working it out without a pencil.

Digg this

An interesting notion was brought to my attention last night, after the 6 year olds had gone back to their respective homes and the dust had settled on chez Manley.

Some excretions take considerably more effort than others. Sometimes one can merely open one's arse and let it fall out but, more often than not, for My Lordship, there is at least an element of effort involved.

This is all very well and good, I hear you cry, but why should you care, gentle reader, or indeed be subjected to such a horrifying mental image? Well, I shall expand upon this for you now.

25 minutes of resistance training burns about 200 calories. I am wondering whether a good quarter hour weight loss session might not be benefiting me in more ways than one and whether, contrary to my previous thoughts, a high fibre diet might not be contrary to my aims, removing the resistance as it does.

A good work out on the job might mean the burning of around 100 calories, so I could be losing weight all 'round. I' shall experiment.

I weigh 194.4lbs (with an Alpen bar Fruit & Nut with Chocolate in my mouth) and I'm off to do some serious training.

I am having a poo

Dissappointingly there was not much effort required there. 5 minutes of mild clenching reps cannot reasonably be described as a work out. None the less, I weigh 192.2lbs now, but I am also a little bit trimmer for the effort.

Sunday, 9 September 2007

Sheese being impossible . . .

Digg this

I have decided to try alternatives.

My father is a milking machine engineer by trade and runs a company which specialises in Dairy installations and slurry management.

In general it's the latter of these noble professions which is most readily associated with this blog, dealing as we do, with large quantities of faeces, but today I am going to stray into the dark world of dairy production.

I have known for a long time that the production of sheese (that is to say, cheese made from human milk) is not viable since breast milk can not curdle, because the protein content is much lower than, for example, goat's milk. A quick squiz around the interwebs shows me that others have tried and failed to produce sheese and, indeed, to try and make glue from breast milk.

I put my mind to the problem of what to do with excess milk and believe that I have the answer.

Breast milk yoghurt, or Yourghurt, as I shall now name it.

I have the breast milk and the natural yoghurt ready (I am going to use a small amount of cow's milk yoghurt as a 'starter' for the yoghurt enzymes), now all I need is to get to work!

I shall report back in two day's time.

Incidentally, my weight went from 192.9lbs down to 191.1lbs and then again from 191.2lbs to 190.5lbs today, thanks to a really relaxing brace of poos.

Given that I am hosting a party for 6 year olds (that is a group of children aged six, rather than six babies) this afternoon in my front room (complete with a magician called Colin, who is very good) I would imagine that 'relaxing' is a term which will have no further relevance before bedtime.

Saturday, 8 September 2007

Mild geekery and the thrill of Chinese food.

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I have broken and / or failed to make work 3 USB Wi-Fi dongles and a mini-PCI card so far this week and I have had enough, so last night I climbed my father's old ladders to the roof to sort this out.

The ladder has a couple of quirks. At some point someone has closed it fiercely enough that the lower hooks from the top section have cut almost through two of the rungs, which results in an alarming swaying motion when in the middle third of the ladder.

This I can easily cope with.

The second problem is that, whilst the hooks are robust and strong, the runners at the top of the bottom section, where the ladder slides through, are no longer, strictly speaking, serviceable. They are, in fact, in the words of Winston Churchill* when discussing the Irish Problem, 'sodding well knackered'.

This gives me the fear. I check them thoroughly but they have simply let go before and the result is somewhat alarming.

Anyway, I removed all the television and satellite cables from the front of my house and have run a cat5 down the outside wall behind the drainpipe from my bedroom to the router, downstairs.

What this means to me is far faster connection in bed, but no posting from the lavatory. That doesn't mean, of course, that I can't type things up here! I also had a nice bit of Chinese with Matthewparker, his good lady and the ever Jaggeriffic Dagnall. I must mention that the sweetcorn and hummus jacket potatoes which Jim prepared were also splendid. I must mention this because she is beside me as I type and has told me to.

I weigh somewhere in the region of 193.3lbs

I am having a poo

Well, the 3.2lbs of poo which has brought me down to 190.1lbs isn't quite enough to hit my ideal weight, but maybe Jim will stop calling me fat for a day?

No, I don't suppose so either.


*Clearly untrue.

Friday, 7 September 2007


Digg this

I have my poo weights written on a business card (Carolyn Watt, I hope you know I found it useful) on my desk at work.

Dammit! I shall have to fill this in retroactively.

Matthewparker collected his new bike today with the GPS heart-rate cadence monitors and all that jazz which I bought for his 30th on it and says it is the right one even - I hope that if it is wrong then he sends it back and gets what he wants.

Either way, that's what I was doing yesterday - Happy birthday for next week Matthewparker!


UPDATE: 192.8lbs before

I had a poo

191.4lbs afterwards!

Thursday, 6 September 2007

Thursday? I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

Digg this

I am having a very bad day.

Very, very bad.

There is no need to go into the reasons why, but just be aware that My Lordship is not a happy bunny.

This morning I weighed 195.5lbs, then, post poo, I weighed 195.2lbs, but I feel certain that there is more to come.

Wednesday, 5 September 2007

Half time oranges.

Digg this

I have nothing to say today - I weigh 192.4lbs, but I feel rough.

I am having a poo

I weigh 192lbs - everything I have been doing today must remain secret as I don't want those who read this to know.

Be happy with my poo and a moai, gentle reader.

Tuesday, 4 September 2007

Bloody painful.

Digg this

The tumble drier has been playing up for a few weeks.

It will not kick in - the motor struggles but one has to start the drum spinning to get it to turn. This wouldn't be an insurmountable problem if it didn't stop periodically to change direction, which means that it is utterly useless.

I took it apart this evening and ascertained that the belt isn't slipping and, indeed, it appears that the motor is screwed - it will not even turn the fan without a kick start.

In order to do this I had to remove everything, even down to hinges, sensors and clasps, in order to get the damned cover off, I gave myself an almighty bastard shock - not the worst I have had, but one which has left me a bit shaky even now (about 2 hours later) - burned the skin off my fingers on the heater unit and, when I finally admitted defeat, lost my temper and hoisted it above my head and flung it into the van, put my back out.

Bearing this in mind, you will understand that I do not feel overly communicative, so suffice to say that I used to weigh 191lbs, but now I weigh 189.5lbs instead.

Monday, 3 September 2007

Why is it not a boat?

Digg this

This morning my holiday (or rather house building week) is over and I am once more rejoining the gravy train. If only it was my train and I was not just here to stoke the fires.

A few small bits of information to tide you over.

1) I have a letter telling me that the ASA have, at adjudication, overturned my complaint about the advert on the lorry, which is not of any interest to me, but given the vitriol of the commenter I felt it would be unfair not to include it.

2) I weigh 192.8lbs

3) The crash at Haldon from a week ago is now available on video:

4) ==============
I am having a poo

5) I sometimes play a game galled Big Two Garden (which follows pretty much the standard rules of Big Two) on my telephone whilst I poo. An average game will win about 10 points, if I win, yet I am now on 45248.

6) I weigh 191.4lbs.

7) I have a nice toy pony and a fluffy sheep on my desk which have appeared in my absence.

That is all.

Sunday, 2 September 2007

But, but, but . . . ?

Digg this

Sunday comes and Sunday goes and I have yet to poop.

Today I journeyed back and forth with all the waste furniture and wood from my kitchen, maybe half a ton of it, to my Father's workshops, 25 miles North of here. It was largely without incident, except for the RTA.

I was crouching beside my fuel tank (it is very low on the Iveco) filling up with diesel, when the van moved forward suddenly. Behind me was a silver car with a cracked number plate and a scared driver.

She got out and filled her car with fuel, then went into the shop. I finished filling my tank and followed to see what she would do. Inside the shop she was getting cash from one of those machines which charges one for the privilege, so I went about paying for my fuel and getting the chap behind the counter to show me where the tax disc holders were, my life being the hectic roller coaster that it is.

Whilst we were perusing the various colours of holder and the amenable assistant was enjoying his break from the register and extolling the virtues of each hue, the lady who had tail ended me paid and went to leave. I, of course, stopped her in her tracks and enquired, not unreasonably, I feel, at what stage of proceedings she intended to broach the subject of driving her car into the back of my van. "At what stage of proceedings were you intending to broach the subject of driving your car into the back of my van?" I asked.

To say I was gob-smacked by her reply is to underestimate the amount of smacking of the gob which occurred several-fold. "My car was damaged much more than yours" says she, and makes for the door.

Now, I am not the most socially adept man and I am aware that I sometimes see attrition where none exists, so I took my lead from the young cashier. His look of a mixed horrified and amused amazement was enough to convince me that my position was strong. I countered her retort. "I'm sorry, you drove your car into the back of my car. At what stage were you going to mention it?" I felt that was rather witty myself and I had made appropriate hand movements, palms facing each other, hands shoulder width apart, to demonstrate the two vehicles and their unexpected coming together.

Clearly she felt that she still held the stronger hand here and was quick to point out that there was no damage to my van. "Your van wasn't damaged" says she. As it happens, I was under the impression that she had bent my tow-bar, although it later came to light that my father had done this earlier on and I had merely not noticed. None the less, unknowing of this I pressed on, as any man would.

"You drove your car into my van", I repeated, finally thinking to add "with my 6 year old daughter in the front." I felt this was a solid argument and one which would see me through this trial cleanly. I was not prepared for her reply.

"It's an old van" says she. Now clearly, questioning the quality of a gentleman's vehicle is not cricket. Pretty bloody far from it, I should say, and she apparently saw in my eyes the gleam of anger. I didn't give a damn about the tow-bar, but as the conversation continued I was beginning to care more and more. She quickly added a quiet "and my car was damaged more", apparently her mantra for the incident.

"Am I to take it that you felt it was not worthy of mention then, this 'driving of your car into my van'?" asks My Lordship, realising as I do so that this is an earnest question, I cannot quite believe that she feels this way. When she replied with a mumble to the effect of 'why should I?' I was instantly ready with a reply which ran as follows: "Well, for one thing it would be polite and, more importantly, it is a legal requirement'. I put a slight lilt into my tone as I spoke these last two words, but I was beyond amazed by this juncture. I was still not prepared for what was to come. I followed my previous sally with "I'm not overly worried by the damage, but I might have been, and did you not think it might be polite to at least apologise?"

"I didn't know I'd hit you until it went bump."

No word of a lie. "I didn't know I'd hit you until it went bump." Amazing. The poor checkout boy could no longer control himself and began a convoluted dance, involving much clutching of the chest and the alternating of howls of derisive laughter with apologies for his own outburst. I must say that I felt a strong inclination to join him, but instead merely highlighted the fact that "You hadn't hit me until it went 'bump'. Going 'bump' was you hitting me."

Clearly this was a woman of high principles and she was not about to spend time in Lapford garage being ridiculed by the kind of yob who parks his van where she wishes to drive, and she stormed out to her awaiting husband who studiously ignored my questioning "Do you not think she should apologise for driving her car into the back of my van then?" and sped off.

My 6 year old summed it up quite well when she asked 'She drove that car into this van?'.


P.S. It only came to me later, but I fancy that when she was saying 'I didn't know I had hit you' she intended to stop there but, realising that this was simply absurd given the impact, she tried to add a caveat. At the time this was not at all apparent and may well not be the case, but one must have one's little theories.

Schrodinger scat

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Last night I had an unusual poo. It's obvious to me that my blog is becoming a little stayed - there is only so much one can write about turds before one hits the law of diminishing returns like a rounders ball hitting the back of a fat kid's head, and it's no use pretending it won't happen or saying that it's their own fault for looking at the pie van instead of concentrating on the game, because the ball's got blood on it and nobody wants to bowl.

I was sitting around, doing some of my wife's work for her and thinking about very little except that I really should not be awake at 3 in the morning. I shut down the laptop and wandered, bleary eyed, to the bathroom for a wee before sleep.

Midway through my urination, which was done seated for reasons of imbibement and tiredness, I let out a small pocket of flatulence, as one is prone to do in these circumstances. To my horror I realised that this might prove to be more fruitful than a mere whizzpop and I had to shuffle forwards to reach the scales, pull them over to me, press them and wait 30 seconds for them to carry out their self calibration routine and then shuffle forwards onto the scales themselves, all the time clenching like a fool.

The sad end to this was that I weighed 194.9lbs, but was still unsure as to whether this was going to end in a solid result or if it was merely hot air. I let out the most rip-roaring panshaker imaginable (and I'm pretty good at imagining the sound of bum-gas) and was still left unaware.

Until the moment that I wiped, and thus observed the situation, I was unaware as to whether or not the pan was filled. During the period whilst I was stting, considering the situation, the pan actually existed in a state of poo-filled and poo-free simultaneously.

How cool is that?

I weigh 194.1lbs

Saturday, 1 September 2007

Dead Sea Scrolls

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I just found this post in my drafts - I have no idea why it was never finished, but . . .

I weigh 196lbs precisely

I am having a poo

Now I weigh 193.2lbs

And Then!

I weigh 195.6lbs

I am having a poo

And now I weigh 193.9lbs.

Sorry it is such a short post, but I just found it and am posting it at the correct cronological period, although I am actually writing it on Monday week.