Eating Out

After Friday's debacle with the grilled fish I decided to research eating out. This Taiwanese restaurant in Kaohsiung caught my attention.

Further information and pictures from Writer's Block.

Bogsville needs an entrepreneur like the appropriately named Eric Wang who was apparently inspired to open his toilet themed restaurant by a Japanese comic featuring a robot doll that eats excrement in ice cream cones.

Bogsville's Hole in the Ground bar could become the WC Restaurant (Wang Connection - Bogsville Branch). It would be the idea place for local assholes and buttheads to hang out and talk crap.

As if that wasn't enough

Responsible parents raising their eyebrows in horror had better research the contents of the products they habitually feed their little teethers and sleep refusers. Woodward's and other brands of gripe water used to contain 3.67 - 4.69% alcohol.

Wireless Network And Grilled Fish

I spent the best part of yesterday setting up a wireless network so that she with ants in her pants can access the web whenever she wants. She discovered that her laptop tuned in automatically to some poor sucker's network whenever she switched on. Not only was she content to pinch his bandwidth, she also complained bitterly when he switched off and the connection died on her.

Connecting the wireless router was easy . Making it secure proved more difficult. I ended up with the router being so secure that I couldn't access it at all. It is now working perfectly. She has a choice of two networks while everybody else in the area only has the choice of one. Hardly fair but that's life.

Now that Mrs B. has unlimited, paid for, access here, she has disappeared to visit her brother for a few days. I remain, as always, blind, deaf and arthritic dog sitting.

Volvo decided to choose today to refuse to start. It's my fault for not driving it anywhere. The battery was flatter than a pint of beer in the Hole in the Ground bar but thanks to Raul, the battery is now charged.

As Friday is traditionally fish day round here, I decided to grill because I'm assured it's healthier cooked that way. The bad news is I didn't hear the pinger thing.

The good news is that the fish didn't set off the monitored fire alarm and bring appliances rushing to put out the blaze. The fish didn't taste too good.

In Bogsville's Fair City...

This link sort of sums it all up for me. Share it with me if you have RealPlayer.

Advert in last night's Bogsville Bugle.

Golf Bag, half size, suit child or pensioner. Telephone Bogsville 43686. Get stuffed asshole or better still get some piddling little pensioner to stuff the golf bag up your oversized jacksie.

And on that inspiring note I think I'll pack my bags and exit left pursued by a bear. I'd like to thank those of you who visited and to wish you every success and happiness in the future.

I would have liked to have gone out with a bang but I guess I'll have to let the pelvic power lifter do it for me. In the words of Duke Ellington, "We love you all madly".

Keeping You Fresh And Smelling Sweet

"School runs, playtime, homework, bedtime... the demands of family life are constant, and can take their toll on your temperament - and your body temperature. Do you find life as a mother or father can leave you less than sweet-natured - and perhaps smelling less than fragrant, too? When your days feel relentless and you're losing your cool, turn to Amplex Anti-Perspirant Roll-on Deodorants to keep you fresh and smelling sweet."

Yet another roll-up, roll-on, instant cosmetic cure-all, cover-up.

In the mid 1970s there was a toilet roll shortage, people started buying up every available roll, just in case. There was a news item where the reporter went round asking people how they would cope without toilet paper. The high and mighty, the rich, society's most favored, all stepped forward to offer their pearls of wisdom, suggesting everything from newspaper to dock leaves and handfuls of grass.

Eventually the reporter found a member of the underclasses, out of work, poor, hungry and obviously without the wherewithal to stockpile essentials like toilet rolls.

"How will you manage without toilet paper?" the plum in the mouth reporter asked.
"Same as I always do," came the reply,"I'll use soap and water."

Levi's 501s

If all this sewing of pants is getting you down have a look at this product for those who have less than perfect bladder etc. control.

Back to Levi's

What do you do when your favorite Levis 501s wear out? Not just wear out but become fashionably ripped and holey in all the wrong places? You go and buy a replacement pair. Right? Wrong. You unstitch two pairs and then try to sew them together by putting a new front on the original back.

So far I have successfully managed to machine sew the back of the right leg to the back of the left leg, thus producing a very large tube.

After hours of unpicking, tacking and resewing I've finally got two legs that I've got to join to the waistband. I really don't know why I started this. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I have to finish it to prove that I can do it. Whether I will ever be able to wear the damn things is another matter entirely.

Today I am mostly feeling stitched up.

What happened to Summer?

Here in Bogsville we are enjoying temperatures of 16°C and lower than that at night. It's freezing. Global warming, sheeesh!

Finished

In answer to those of you who are asking, "Why doesn't he just go and buy a new pair?" I will but I won't pay Bogsville prices. When Bogsville shops charge $80+ a pair rather than the $40+ elsewhere prices, I'd rather stick a front and back together so that I've got one pair I can wear rather than two pairs that I can't. I'm probably the only person in the whole World who still darns socks.

Desi Chalks It Up

Fifty two young boggers were crammed into room 3 in Bogsville Infant School when old Mrs Jones, who knew just about everything, said,"Open the door. That's a pun children."

I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. I didn't care anyway. I was too busy watching Desi poke a piece of white chalk up his left nostril and a piece of yellow chalk up his right nostril. It looked really good and was far more interesting than listening to old Mrs Jones and her puns.

The trouble was that the chalks soaked up Desi's nasal lubricating liquids. You could see the chalks but you couldn't get them out. Mrs Jones tried very hard but she failed miserably. That lady knew all about puns but there was a huge gap in her knowledge when it came to the vital subject of nasal chalk extraction. Desi had to go to see the nurse. I don't think the nurse understood puns but she was very pretty and she certainly knew how to fix chalk nose.

When the nurse finally brought chalkless Desi back to the class, Mrs Jones said "We'll all have to chalk that up to experience children." I still didn't have a clue what she was talking about. I didn't care anyway. I was too busy thinking about the pretty nurse. I bet we could have learnt lots of important things from that nurse.

Fruit of the Loom Advert

After yesterday's problems with underwear, I decided to research replacement boxers. Fruit of the Loom astounded me with this soulful musical jingle. You can even download your own version of the "smash hit"! Hope you like it.

Self Diagnosis

I have been walking round in considerable discomfort this morning worrying about all the terrible things that can go wrong with the lower regions of the male anatomy.

No need to feel concerned folks. I have self-diagnosed and fixed the problem.

How I managed to put my underpants on back to front without noticing is a total mystery to me.

Bogsville Signs

Luckily the flies in Bogsville can all read.



Spelling causes a problem for Bogsvillians except on Choosedays, Frydays and Sondays.

Reassuring

I'm not sure why anyone should feel safer now as they travel around the UK. On the one hand there are terrorist cells plotting to blow you up and on the other hand there are highly trained law enforcement officers who are prepared to dish out summary execution if they suspect that you pose a threat to them or the people around you.

The eye witness reports that followed the shooting of an innocent 27 year old Brazilian on the Underground last Friday were horrendous. Two men pin him down while a third fires five shots from point blank range into his head.

Today UK residents are told that they should put themselves in the position of the police officers before they judge them. Yes they can do that but they can also put themselves in the position of the innocent victim.

You are an electrician. On Friday morning you leave home and travel by bus to Stockwell Tube Station. A group of up to 20 armed men in jeans stop you outside the station. They are armed but not in uniform. You decide to run and seek safety in the station. The end result is well documented. Eventually the police issue a statement establishing your innocence and regretting the tragedy.

Presumably the police were acting on intelligence information. Intelligence in the UK seems to be based on the principle of "I think something might be true, therefore it is". I think that guy looks suspiciously like he might be a suicide bomber because he is wearing a baggy fleece in the middle of a UK Summer and might have bombs strapped to his body so I will shoot him five times in the head, just in case.

The biggest and swiftest moving investigation ever carried out by police in Britain. One innocent and terrified 27 year old Brazilian male, shot five times in the head in front of horrified passengers on a London tube train, by the most highly trained and experienced members of SO19. Reassuring?

If the guy was thought to be a potential suicide bomber and a serious threat to the police and to people around him, why was he allowed to leave the building and then, unchallenged, to board a London bus to travel to Stockwell station?

If I had been a passenger on that bus, I would not feel reassured at all.

Short Buskers And Long John Baldry

Life for busking musicians can be difficult in London especially during lynch a busker week. One bum note and the strummer is likely to be suspended from the nearest lamppost. I hear that it's very good for old buskers with dodgy backs and short buskers who always wanted to be taller.

Long John Baldry

Long John Baldry has died in Vancouver aged 64. I have one nonmusical memory of the guy. Years ago at a dance somewhere in the frozen north, I was staggering round the edge of the dance floor. A guy sitting at a table at the edge of the floor started to laugh. I thought he was laughing at me so I stopped and asked him what the Hell he thought was so funny.

The guy started to get up from his chair and he just went up and up and kept on going right up to 6 foot 7 inches. I was terrified. I couldn't believe the height of that guy. He hadn't noticed me, hadn't heard what I said, hadn't been laughing at me and certainly wouldn't have remembered me, but I certainly remembered him.

At the time he was on a Steam Packet tour with Julie Driscoll and Brian Auger. I still listen to a fine version of the Tim Rose song Morning Dew that he recorded on a 1996 album A Thrill's a Thrill: The Canadian Years.

Boy Naturists

I would just like to point out to the 4 visitors who came here looking for Boy Naturists, that we do not do Boy Naturists here in Bogsville. The nearest you'll get to it is the Bogsville Buck Nekkid Appeal. Sorry about that.

Reincarnation Love And Romance

Latest on London Tube Shooting. The police now describe the shooting as "a tragedy which was regretted by the Metropolitan Police". The victim had no connection with the attempted bombing incident.

I once interviewed a guy who resembled an amoeba. He assured me that he would never do anything wrong because he didn't want to be reincarnated as a fly or a worm.

For some reason or other, this failed to impress me especially as he couldn't tell me what I would have to do to make sure I was reincarnated as a seabird.

I didn't actually want to be reincarnated as a gull because I don't like flying but I would like to be reincarnated as a track on a Charlie Parker CD or as a tenor saxophone. The trouble is I don't know what I've got to do to make that happen. If only I'd given the amoeba the job.

Love and Romance

I popped in to the Love & Romance Home Page to see what was on offer. There I discovered a list of Lurv Expressions - "noun with adjective". I went straight to the letter S to see if they had sexy bitch but they didn't have it at all. Disappointed I scrolled down the T offerings and found Towering Pride, Treasured Possessions and Trembling Anxiety, all words that no would be lurver should be without. Under D I discovered Delirious Ecstasies, Despicable Vices and Delectable Speculation. C provided me with Corrupting Tendencies and Caustic Remarks.

Using my all new lurv vocabulary, I have put together a billet doux.

Dearest (supply name to suit)

I still don't know why last night's close encounter with your treasured possessions left my towering pride in a state of trembling anxiety. I am truly sorry if the planned delirious ecstasies were, on this occasion, merely delectable speculation.
Your caustic remarks on the subject of my despicable vices and corrupting tendencies were entirely justified.
See you later.
Lurv Milt

P.S. I'll bring a bottle to replace the one I had surgically removed in Accident and Emergency this morning.

You all need this lurv list.

Just seen a headline - Leaves, Roots and Shoots. Sounds like a cue for something.

Praying Mantis

Latest news: Man shot dead by police on Tube

There was a large, green insect standing in the dead grass. It didn't move. I knew it was a praying mantis because I'd read about them in books, but I'd never seen one in the flesh so to speak.

It just stood there with one front leg lifted and tried to look like grass. It failed miserably.

I went off to find something to put it in so that I could show it to the family. All I could find was a small, red, plastic bucket. I took it back to the base of the tree and the mantis climbed in. I put a book over the top just in case it tried to climb back out.

We got the camera, the book was removed and the damn thing bit me.

I was pointing a finger at its head when the thing launched itself and probably pinched the end of my finger between its front legs. Felt like it bit me. I think that's what they do when whatever they eat comes close enough to them. They stand totally immobile and then launch and grab. Just goes to prove, don't disturb a mantis when it is praying.

The most endearing quality of the female mantis is that she sometimes eats the male after mating. Now how cool is that?

Mantis picture.

Single Engine Monoplane Advert

A single engined monoplane just buzzed its way high over head. It was dragging a long banner advert behind it. I ran in to get my camera. By the time I got back out the damn thing had almost disappeared. I could still hear the engine buzzing like a swarm of angry bees.

The banner read EMOCLEW YADNUS WOHSRIA.

You would think that if they were going to pay all that money for an advert, they would have made sure the banner was attached the right way round.

Name dropping

I have recently received emails from the following people. Dervla Egan, Collin Pagan, Clifton Collier, Augustus Whittaker, Oscar Ledbetter, Ebony Booth and Virgin Trains.

Who in their right mind would name someone Virgin Trains?

Just as crazy is the new Olympic sport of pelvic power lifting.

eBay Fraud Spam Mail

How many people rush in to hand over their Debit/Check card details to con artists? My guess is plenty.

Dear valued eBay® member,

It has come to our attion that 95% of all fraudulent auctions are caused by members using stolen credit cards to purchase or sell non existant items. Thus we require our members to add a Debit/Check card to their billing records as part of our continuing commitment to protect your account and to reduce the instance of fraud on our website.

Bin it. If it comes to your "attion" that is.

Milt decides to buy a house plant

Are those leaves what I think they are? Think I'll get one of those potted plants for the greenhouse. I'm sure I could find a use for the leaves. I could crush them up and put them in the soup and in the bread or I could just shred them up and try smoking them. I bet they would be good for Dog's stiff legs too.

The guy was just walking down the street with the plant over his shoulder, chatting away on his mobile phone, not a care in the world. Oh yes I'll have to get one of those plants.

Ya Wife Slept With An Alien?

Shannon posted some alternative greeting card messages. One of them was, "How could two people as beautiful as you have such an ugly baby?"

This struck something or other in my memory bank so bear with me or bare with me if it makes it more interesting for you, while I delve into my annals.

Just after "She with ants in her pants," had given birth to our first little baby Bogs, I was taken to a room to stand in line to gaze at all the little boggers that had arrived that day. I suppose it was a bonding exercise. I bonded with a woman next to me. It was all I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours kind of stuff. The woman looked at the little thing in front of me and said,"Oh what a shame!" I had to agree. The little thing was - different.

"OMG! Milt ya wife slept with an alien?"

I had thought that the weird looking baby belonged to the woman next to me and that the pretty looking baby was the true Bogs model. Turned out to be the other way round.

The baby's head was a very strange shape. Looked like a garden gnome wearing one of those pointy hats, only the baby wasn't wearing a pointy hat. The nurse said to make sure he always slept with the pointy bit down. Said it would squash back to a more normal shape, what with bones in babies' heads being soft and all that.

We did our best but it isn't easy to stand a baby on its head for sleeping sessions. He looks reasonably normal nowadays but there were periods in his early life when he chose to wear a hat.

Sorry J.

So there you are. Not only does he write garbage but he hasn't got a clue about design. I think it's about time one of you clever graphics people out there took Milt's template in hand and redesigned him. Before you go, just check the comment box out. It's a marvel of modern design.

Sex In The Supermarket

What do you get at your supermarket? Shoppers at the Asda store in Grimsby UK got an added bonus when the store's speaker system started relaying a steamy sex session instead of the more usual nauseating muzak.

A woman's voice was heard groaning "Oh Yes," and that was quickly followed by a much louder "Oh, God!"

Meanwhile, shoppers tried to concentrate on selecting their bananas, carrots, melons, cucumbers, marrows, nuts and potatoes.

Asda bosses denied that the sex session took place on the premises as no microphones were found hidden in store cupboards. They pointed the finger at a nearby BT phone mast, "We've had interference from outside the store before. It's a bit of a mystery, but we're determined to get to the bottom of it."

See you all at ten by the Häagen-Dazs display.

How old is Milt?

In response to a young lady's request for further information. Milt is currently eight years older than his Ma and eleven years younger than his Pa. He is just Milt. He's as young or as old, as tall or as short, as skinny or as fat, as hairy or as bald, as powerful or as weak, as rich or as poor as you want him to be. Hope that helps.

Today he is mostly feeling puzzled.

Gymnastics

Has anyone tried this ship and dock routine yet? Or the equally as impressive Pelvic Power Lift?

Things are really looking up in Bogsville. Milt has just reached number 3 in a Yahoo search for "the perfect weapon" testicles.

Blonde Hair and Tyrolean Slopes

As it's too hot to sleep I decided to muster up some snow and ice.

I spent a week in Austria with my own fully qualified ski instructor. I had no way of knowing that he was a ski instructor of any kind until he told me. He had a very attractive wife but she wasn't saying anything about his instructor skills, skiing or otherwise.

On the first morning I mastered reverse skiing and falling over, how to get up with assistance and how to manage it on my own if I was desperate. In the afternoon we moved on to getting back up a gentle slope and snow plough something or others. I perfected getting up without assistance. You can't beat having your own personal instructor.

That evening I sensed that training was about to go into second gear. My personal fully qualified instructor and his young wife seemed keen to plan a visit to a more demanding slope so that they could actually do some skiing. I was invited along.

When we got off the ski lift the following day I found myself at the top of a slope that I couldn't even have walked up. It reminded me of pictures I'd seen of Everest's South Col.

"Follow me. We'll traverse and then turn, traverse then turn," he said and set off across the slope. Eventually, and not without major misgivings,I set off in pursuit. I was still traversing at high speed long after he'd turned and was heading in the opposite direction. The skis had no brakes, I didn't know how to turn and I was in a foreign country. I decided that the only way to stop was to sit down. At some point the left ski travelled at right angles under the right ski. There was a loud crack from my left ankle and I mastered collapsing in a screaming heap. At least I was no longer traversing.

Two hours later I was in the plaster room of the local hospital where a blonde angel was examining an x-ray of my ankle and I was examining her plaster of paris dusted cleavage.

"No bones broken, just ligament damage," she announced and smiled. "Damage to ze ligaments can be more painful zan a clean break." I tried to look her in the eye but found it difficult.

I was smitten, helplessly adrift on a plaster of paris dusted sea of desire. I would have done anything, even hopped all the way back up that damn slope for her.

She rolled a tubigrip support over my foot and ankle and told me to immerse ze foot in hot and zen cold water every two hours, to take painkillers and to see my own doctor when I got back to Bogsville. As I left the hospital I spotted her climbing into a gleaming Maserati with one of the doctors. I stood and waved as the car disappeared from sight.

As Larkin said, "Nothing, like something, happens anywhere."

At least I always get a warning when it's about to rain. A stabbing pain in ze left ankle and a vision of blonde hair and breathtaking, Tyrolean, plaster of Paris dusted slopes.

Bogsville's Buck Nekkids are back

Bogsville's Buck Nekkids are at it again. Just about everywhere it seems. New York, Barcelona, Belgium, London, and Brazil have all caught the Buck Nekkid bug.

Kikka Tush and her pals in the Bogsville Buck Nekkids have gorn global.

Not for those of a nervous disposition

Just felt I had to pass this gymnastics clip on. Don't try it at home as they say. You'll probably have to select your own player preference from the drop down box.

Milt's Listy Thing

Gabbi tagged? me to do one of these pesky personals. I tried to rise to the challenge.

10 years ago: Used to wander down the road to the Hole in the Ground bar here in Bogsville. Some things never change. Except that in those days it was a good place to go after work. It was clean and bright and there were people to chew the fat with and the girls behind the bar were something else to behold.

5 years ago: I was still wandering down the road to the Hole in the Ground bar in Bogsville but the place had changed management a few times and was beginning its slow decline into total filth and squalor. By then it was just a place to go to. I'd acquired a dog, from a rescue centre, and had been followed just about everywhere by him for two years. When he first came to stay I took him for his shots. The vet said, "Best not give him any shots until you've had him a week or so. He may well not live longer than that." The dog died last Summer so he lasted about seven years longer than the know-it-all vet predicted. He was a very nervous dog and ate like a cat rather than a dog. He'd eat for a while and then walk off. He'd come back to the food later and have a bit more. Dogs don't generally eat like that, he was unusual. We got hold of another rescue dog to try to teach him how to eat. He caught on, slowly. Bogsville became Dogsville.

1 year ago: The Hole in the Ground became the place to avoid. It was dirty and the carpets stank of stale pee, not because the patrons peed themselves at the bar, as far as I'm aware, but because there had been a serious blockage in, and backflow from, the main pipe to the sewers. I haven't been inside the place since Christmas. Dog1 died. Dog2 got sick and had half a lung removed. He didn't appreciate it but he seemed to enjoy the morphine trips.

Yesterday: I was trying to get a bench into my template so visitors would have somewhere to sit and rest a while. A couple of blog people seemed to have gone away on a long vacation somewhere. Ants in her pants came back from a week at some university or other. I recognized her. I'm not sure that dog2 did but then he's deaf and can't see much of anything at all.

5 snacks I enjoy: I got some Lindt chocolate somethings for Christmas. They were round and there was orange print on the wrappers. They were enjoyable. Dog enjoys biscuits. I don't care for his biscuits much, they are a bit on the hard side so I try to avoid eating them.

5 songs I know the words to: I don't know all the words to any songs but I sing along or toot to just about anything. Have a feeling that toot could be open to misinterpretation there. Feel free. I probably know the words of these better than most. I can remember trying to sing harmony lines for
Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry
Memphis Tennessee - Chuck Berry
Peggy Sue Got Married - Buddy Holly
Baby Let's Play House - Elvis
Sea of Heartaches - Don Gibson

5 things I would do with $100 million: I'd definitely buy another box of those Lindt round things with orange writing on the wrappers. Probably get Graham Elderson a station wagon to drive all his drums around so he didn't have to use London Buses. Buy a ticket that would take me round all the interesting people I've exchanged words with but never met, Gabbi, Arc, STN, Lisa's knees, Mercedes Rosa Consuela Juanita Marisa Conchita Alicia Isabela Jones, Gran and Cheryl and everyone else in the sidebar. I might get one of those new fangled digital hearing aids so that I could hear the phone ringing. Right that's the first day's interest spent, now what on earth would I do with the rest?

5 locations I would like to run away to: I don't think running away is something that Milt does but I guess I've already covered places I'd like to visit. Alternatively any patch of shade would do under a palm tree on a deserted beach somewhere in the Caribbean, with a book, a saxophone and some mp3 tracks. Miles Davis, Charlie Parker and Stan Tracey for a start and I'd better have the ones I know the words to just in case I felt like singing or tooting. Broadband access would be much appreciated, so would air conditioning.

5 bad habits I have: Falling in love with the grocer's wife, the grocer's sister, my Chinese dentist, the occasional barmaid and most recently the back of a right ear that I spotted three rows ahead of me on the lower deck of a bus.

5 things I like doing: Sitting in the sun, listening to live music, reading, writing stories and tooting.

5 things I would never wear: Spandex (whatever that is but I'm with Gabbi on that one because it sounds vaguely architectural and restrictive), the guy next door's underpants, a Hershey Bar wrapper, a Big Mac or a suitcase with a telescopic handle and wheels.

5 TV shows I like: The weather forecast, because I have a thing about weather ladies, the Simpsons, IBM adverts, Volkswagen adverts and reruns of Leon.

5 biggest joys of the moment: Waking up in the morning, sunshine and blue skies, being able to walk down to the Tulip and Tiara knowing that the place is clean and won't stink of stale pee and thinking about bare knees.

5 favorite toys: My I put it together myself and it still works computer, my HBpencil that I am keeping a very close watch on since I read Cheryl's piece on muscle control, my Selmer saxophone, my digital camera and my lawnmower.

Anyone still here? Oh well, I'm not surprised.

I Can't See It Myself

I have been told that my eyes have a rare luminous quality after a night in the bar but I can't see it myself.

Bad news

I've been asked to fill in one of those listy things. I really don't like them. The main problem I have with them is that they ask about things that don't seem important to me. If I want to try to find out where a person is coming from, I read what they write over a period of time.

Most people who drop into a site only skim read the first post, drop a comment so that they have a marker for search engines to spot and then never return. I don't do it that way. I read all the chapters. Sometimes I get uneasy because people go quiet and don't write another chapter so I try to give them a nudge. I just need to know they are ok. "Get lost will you" would be fine, just so I knew they were ok.

So there you are, I just let you crawl around inside my head a bit more. I will do the question thingy but I may be gone some time.

In the meantime (great Georgie Fame track title) I leave you with a piece I found somewhere.

there's a voice keeps on calling me

down the road
that's where i'll always be.
every stop i make, i make a new friend.
cant stay for long, just turn around and i'm gone again.

Penstonville is a really good read. Go and try it out.

Figleaf Sculpture Junkie

Ma was a sculpture junkie. She'd travel anywhere to find a museum with a birthday suit statue. She'd snap away with her Kodak, eight on a roll, camera and then deliver the film to the local Bogsville pharmacy to get it developed and printed. There was none of that point and shoot and play it back through the computer monitor or TV in those days. We are talking serious 127 black and white roll film here.

She never once got the full eight prints back. If she was lucky she'd get a couple of prints and the eight negatives.
"Sorry Mrs B. but we're only allowed to print two off this roll. Nothing personal. Company policy on nudity you know."

In the end Pa bought a photographic enlarger and set up a darkroom so that we could print out her snaps of statues and their cement figleaves. It was too late for Ma by then, she'd given up in disgust and gone back to reading. At least no one could censor her imagination.

She was an enlightened woman living in an age that still wasn't ready for her. Well either that or she had a thing about nude statues and figleaves.

Giving up

Mickey at Widows Walk is giving up smoking. Correction, she has not had a cigarette for three days. As she rightly points out the biggest problem is what to do with your hands and more significantly, what to do with your mouth when there isn't a damn cigarette to stick in it.

I haven't had a cigarette for about four minutes now and already I've had a thumb nail banging against my teeth, half a dozen slurps at my coffee and eyed up a pencil to estimate its oral potential. I worked out years ago that the only patch that would help me would be one stuck firmly over my kisser so that I couldn't get a cigarette in there.

I guess smokers tend to be orally centred people.

Best of luck Mickey. You could always try sticking a saxophone in there, involves fingers and mouth simultaneously, but I have to point out that there are plenty of sax players who can play sax and keep a cigarette going at the same time. You don't want to know this but one of the best ways to test a sax for air leaks is to block up the bell end with a duster, light up a cigarette and blow smoke through the sax with all the pads closed. If there's an air leak you can see a very small and delicate swirl of blue smoke rising from the offending pad. Oh bliss!

Still got time to kill?

Try this Mystical Ball page and then explain to Dumbo here how it does that.

Hi Arc

It's early morning here in Bogsville and I've been visiting the Tulip & Tiara, a sippin' of the amber ale, checking the old zipper from time to time and discussing this and discussing that with Merl. Must admit it was mostly discussing that. What with all the sun and the heat and all the bare flesh a jiggling and a joggling it was difficult to find any other topic worth pursuing.

Raul missed out on it all again as he is currently down and out, metaphorically blue-screened, in Bogsville. The poor guy's got a bug or a virus in his system. I guess that's what happens when you spend too much time with computers. What would sort Raul out would be ... No it's time to get off the subject of jiggling and joggling and all that flesh and long legs and arms and loose clothing and thongs and things.

Fig leaf news

I was going to post one of my amazingly interesting stories, one about fig leaves and nudity but the first two paragraphs have left me all of a terrible tremble. Maybe tomorrow.

Can someone who knows about links visit Mickey at Widow's Walk and give her some advice about how to put links on her page? She uses Blogger's Harbor template, otherwise I'd send her a bit of cut and paste.

Just like to say hello to Zooey at 5th and Spring. Hello Zooey. How's that old guy in the lift who shouts, "You better get your ass in here!"

Need a break

Wonder how much a week in Toad Suck, Arkansas would cost me.

Macy's 6 Boch Torino Goblets

Don't often feel homicidal but Macy's wedding services were kind enough to send me a mail. Seems that 6 Villeroy & Boch Torino Goblets are currently winging their way via UPS to 1792 Shoreline Hwy, Muir Beach, California, courtesy of Milt. I don't think so.

If I haven't had an invite, I ain't paying a cent. If you want a bit of fun, go and play with yourselves. If you are desperate for help, approach me head on. Just don't waste my time. Have a large glass of bleach mixed with whatever appeals, will you. Send me the bill for the bleach and I'll settle it with pleasure.

As far as I can see 1792 Shoreline does not exist. It's all Fun, Fun, Fun, as the Beach Boys used to tell us from over there in CA.

Any more of this crap and I'll have to hire STN to sort things out for me. Or maybe I could get hold of the two livewires who visited Jay on Wednesday night.

Google Ads

For those of you who are missing the rectal bleeding adverts here is the bleeding link again. What a pill that is! It cures just about everything but damp patches on the walls.

Seen the new iPod Flea? It's priceless but you'll have to watch a Saab advert first. Give it a whirl. If the video doesn't play try pressing the replay button, third one along.

Dead link in Bogsville

Thanks to mindless morons there's a dead link on my template.

Arc pulled the blogging plug because of mindless, self-righteous, prissy, self-opinionated, know-nothing but claim to be expert on parenting, comment dropping vermin. I'm leaving the link exactly where it is. It will remind me of the pleasure I got every time I read the line "That's what Arc says anyway".

Feel free to comment. I am Bogsville's self elected vermin exterminator. Come to think of it, I have more respect for vermin than I do for mindless, self-righteous, prissy, self-opinionated, know-nothing but claim to be expert on parenting, comment droppers.

That's what Milt thinks anyway!

Sydney's Champion Shuffler Exposed

Ed McBain

I've just been informed that Ed McBain died at the weekend. What a blow! I've been reading his 87th Precinct books and everything else he wrote under whatever pseudonym, since Pa discovered him in the late 1950s. Thanks for everything Ed, Evan et al., I'll miss you. There's a link to his site in the sidebar.

Reshuffling Sydney

Following on from yesterday's sad news about missing the San Francisco "five knuckle shuffle" day, here's an interesting piece about the lengths one Australian guy was prepared to go to in his quest for sexual fulfillment. The headline read

Keen masturbator spiked own drink with rohypnol.

Coming from the continent where it's well known that tossing is universally frowned on, it has to be a joke. Sydney bars can't be full of wankers can they?

Use an ashtray?

The Google Ads have gone. I ripped them out last night. My one moment of fame came when the ads displayed William S Burroughs for a week next to something or other I wrote. At least there's more street cred in Burroughs than rectal bleeding.

Plus Ca Change

plus c’est la même chose.

It's Slough of Despond time again as Milt realizes he missed the "S.F. Masturbate-a-thon" for the second year running.

I'd feel a lot better if I could just get rid of those depressing Google Ads. Excuse me while I throw in Simone de Beauvoir, John Updike, J.P.Donleavy and Saul Bellow to see if it confuses them. I have taken drastic action and removed the ads. Now I await another email from them, "Dear Milt, We notice that you are no longer displaying...etc, etc."

And thank you for all the comments folks, I am overwhelmed. As you can see I'm feeling perkier by the minute.

PS

Hi to Arc if you are out there. I'm missing your floetry.

London 2012

Bogsville Bar Alert.

Talk about embarrassing. You walk into the bar and someone puts a beer in front of you. You thank them and start to drink it and gradually ease your way into the conversation.

After about half an hour your attention is drawn to the fact that the zip in your trousers is undone.

This has now happened to me twice. The last time I was alerted to the gaping zipper, I'd been putting my all into eyeing up a table full of increasingly giggly girls.

When I glanced down to check, I wasn't sure whether it was the pills that were working or my string vest that was unravelling. What concerns me most is that it's always one of the guys who points out that my zipper is undone, never one of the ladies. Milt zipper gape is either totally unattractive to women or my drinking buddies have an unhealthy interest in my pants.

This is getting beyond a joke

Macy's wedding gifts

I just got a mail purporting to be from Macy's. It tells me that the 6 Villeroy & Boch Torino Goblets are ordered and that I will receive updates regarding the status of my order when it is shipped or if there is a change in the shipment date. Can't wait to see what it is that I didn't order from a store that I've only visited once.

Nice Tweeters And Wow What A Woofer

I had a very nasty shock the other day. I was surfing around looking for reading material when I came upon the following description. "Mind-numbing, lackluster, monotonous, humdrum and dreary." My heart sank. I'd been rumbled, my number was up. When I checked the link it wasn't mine at all. I can't remember which page it referred to, the guy who posted the words had just about got it right.

I've been trying to work out why I always end up on pages written by ladies but I can't. I guess I find ladies infinitely more interesting than men. Men just seem to want to tell me what gadgets I should be buying and about their technical expertise in something or other.

I listened in on a couple of guys the other night. They hadn't met for ten years. They shook hands and the first thing the one guy said to the other was, "What wheels you got?" Unbelievable!

Hi ladies what wheels ya got? Smooth approach or what? Mind you, I suppose "Nice tweeters and wow what a woofer!" might have possibilities.

Google Ads Go Anal

They've really got it in for Bogsville over at Google. Yesterday I was sporting the following ad on my page.

From knitting to Bowel Problem Information and My Cleansing Experience. I'll be rich in no time.

So there I was sitting on the can in the bathroom knitting one, purling one, knitting two together, thinking about all that bowel problem information and trying to work out what cleansing experience was being dealt with in the second advert. Milt's mind just boggled at that one.

It all seemed to fit in nicely with the mini blog I'd just posted on Arc's page.
"In the good old days, caring, award winning mothers dosed their kids up on laxative at the first sign of unusual behavior. I spent too much time in the bathroom to get stuck into cups and cookies. Mind you the Kool Aid would have been nice."
I'm afraid you'll have to go to Arc's Page to understand the cups, cookies and Kool Aid. Hey Arc, that's a Lulu of a dander up response on today's page! Like it.

Bogsville Goes Green

Mrs B's gone green. No, not a hair job that went wrong. Recycling green. She's bought a shredder with vicious whirring cutting blades and someone's delivered four giant composter bins and a huge green thing on wheels for carting rubbish around.

I'm keeping very quiet at the moment. I have an awful suspicion that if I say the wrong thing I might get a closer look at those vicious, whirring, cutting blades and bits might just end up in the four giant composter bins.

I'm not sure where the huge green thing on wheels for carting rubbish about comes into it.

Nerve Engine

I know this is barefaced promotion but I just pushed my earplugs in again and cranked up the volume on Rationale and Distance by Nerve Engine. Still almost like family.

The beans are coming on. Mix up the viagra in the watering can and just water in well.

Thought I'd send a flower to you all while I was in the garden avoiding those vicious, whirring, cutting blades.

Levi's Powerful Pungent Epistles

Levi is a dapper little guy. He wears a black suit, black shoes, a black raincoat and a fine, black derby hat. You can find him, most days, standing on the corner of Market Square here in Bogsville, his texts in one hand and the index finger of the other lining-out his words for sinful passers by.

"God is love!" as soon as anyone gets within earshot. "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish! Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shalt be delivered!" He's a powerful preacher is Levi and he's memorized plenty of powerful passages. He gets quite a crowd round him when he's in full voice.

He writes powerful, pungent epistles too. He likes to write in pencil, can't spell too well and crosses out a lot but his epistles surely are powerful pungent. He was kind enough to post one to a sinful guy who used to work with me.

How old Levi got that excrement to stay in the envelope until the guy opened it is still a mystery to me, but Levi managed it just fine.

The Lord moves in mysterious ways here in Bogsville.

London Readers

Hope you are all ok.

Nerve Engine

Just pushed my earplugs in and cranked up the volume on Rationale and Distance by Nerve Engine. Almost like family.

Google Ads

These Google Ads are going to have to go. If they keep posting Mary Jane Socks and knitting ads at the side of my pieces I'm going to be the laughing stock of Bogsville.

Long Shorts Or Short Longs?

Knitting socks requires the use of multiple knitting needles all on the go at the same time. You need great skill to knit socks. Ma used to knit socks and she also knitted jumpers. She knitted a special one with no sleeves just for school wear.

She also made school jackets and shorts out of flannel or something. They were ok when the weather was dry but they stank when it rained.

The shorts used to come up a bit on the long side so there was plenty of room to "grow into". As a result, the backs of my knees had a red, sandpapered look to them and stung like mad, especially when it rained and the trouser legs got wet.

Some of the boys noticed my specially made trousers and used to call out,"Hey Milt - Those long shorts or short longs?"

When I told Pa, he explained that the time to worry was when people didn't notice at all. Then he went out and bought some boxing gloves and hung his army kit-bag, stuffed full of heavy old curtains and blankets in the shed and showed me how to knock Hell out of it.

Not long after that, on account of me being a snappy dresser, the girls noticed me too. I liked that.

A group of them came round me one morning in the school yard. They were asking all about my jumper and I was spouting on about how it had been specially made for "growing into".

One of the girls found a thread down there at the bottom and gave it a tug and after a while I was spinning round and round and the jumper was getting shorter and shorter and we were all laughing and having a really good time.

By the time I got into class I was wearing what looked like a wooly bra.

The girl who did most of the pulling was Lorna. I think she must have liked me. She was a very pretty girl except she had a runny nose.

When I got home, I went in the shed and punched the bag. I probably owe most of my bag punching skills to Lorna.

P.S.

I hope whoever dropped in looking for "chimp's penis" enjoyed the visit.

Go On You Deserve It Again And Again.

Go on, force yourself, take yet another look at this happy little clip. The guy is awesome.

"Caesar Swung Both Ways"- Discuss.

Here's a picture from some Italian trip or other. It shows that those among you who are not of a podgy arsi design are at risk of falling backwards through half open Italian train doors.

"Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights;
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous."
Somewhere in Julius Caesar by W.S.

It is a little known fact that Shakespeare spent considerable time traveling on Italian trains before he wrote Julius Caesar. He phoned last night to ask me to point out that "men" here has the traditional meaning of human beings of either sex. Julius obviously swung both ways.

Not many people know that.

If Life Seems Dull

If your life sometimes seems as dull and lifeless as an old nail clipping, you should consider starting up a dog walking business in New York. The idea came to me when I spotted a New York dog walking tale. The dogs seemed to take it all in their stride, but then dogs do, or should that be doo-doo?

Latest News

First the bad news.
One - The stainless steel garden fork I bought recently turned out to have a loose handle.
Two - I felt I ought to go and pay the vet's bill for Dog's overnight stay in the local emergency pet hospital.
Three - I just reversed the damn car into a seriously solid lamp post.

Now the good news.
The fork was exchanged for one without a loose handle.
The local vet has no record of any outstanding bill for Dog's treatment.
The car that should have a lamp post shaped dent running from top to bottom of its rear end doesn't have a mark on it.

Things seem to be looking up - temporarily.

At Least I Don't Smoke Crack

Wonderful things these mobile phones with cameras. Thanks for the picture London.

Another Night Another Bar

The taxi arrived at 9.00pm. Instead of wandering off down the road to the bar, Milt was taxied off to a bar on the other side of Bogsville. A bar that doesn't stink of urine, one that serves real beer not just pasteurized lager.

It's the dog end of a weekend so it isn't heaving with flesh.

True there are some female butts in there. But malheueusement, Milt's left leg is generating loud alarm signals. Actually it's his left hip that is causing the problem and he isn't very good at blanking out excruciating pain.

It's the sort of pain that screams out for an amputation. Anything would be better than the nag, nag, nagging hot and cold shooting pain in the left buttock. All you need is a high bar stool to get your foot up on so that you can stretch the joint out but there is no high bar stool.

It's like chronic toothache but in your ass - well your hip actually but that's near as dammit your ass.

Eventually it wears off slightly but it's ruined your night out and you have still got to stretch out in bed and the stretching out turns out to be worse than standing or sitting and the bloody spam keeps rolling in offering viagra etc. A grease nipple or WD40 would be more appropriate!

I'm convinced that giving a spammer a good kicking would solve most of the problems.

Henceforth in Bogsville, it is decreed that this week, the first week in July, shall be known as Kick a Spammer in the Crotch Week.

This post may have come as a surprise to the Bogsville Bar-Room Brawlers Group. Most things come as a surprise to the Bogsville Bar-Room Brawlers Group.

Nothing Changes

"Take care of him God send him victory - as to all ministers & their business I have a Contempt for them. He wou'd do all the business of the nation whilst the others are snoring."

Quotation is from a letter written by Emma Hamilton to Nelson's secretary, on 14 September 1805, the day after Nelson left her to rejoin HMS Victory before the Battle of Trafalgar. Nothing, it seems, ever changes.

The lady had been the C18th's version of a high class pole or table dancer and was accused at the time of being brainless.

I'm not so sure about that. She had enough brain to pull guys with money and enough brain to be able to see that her husband was doing the dirty jobs while the ministers were sitting safe at home. Nothing changes.

Were You There?

I heard about a house party for 500 people where the catering budget was set at £1000 UK per head. Excuse my maths but isn't that £500,000 just for food!

That is apparently typical of what the severely unimpoverished allow for the catering at their functions.

I have to admit that when I heard that, it made me want to vomit. I sincerely hope that the 500 guests actually did.

A Past Page

I thought there were some nice quotes here. Sorry if any of them belong to you.

New Constable Needed

Read this in the Bogsville Gazette the other day.

"For Sale - OLD CONSTABLE pictures, framed in Regent Street, London, need new ones, £10."

If anyone out there has a source for new Constable pictures please let me know. As far as I'm aware John Constable died in 1837 and is not likely to have painted any new pictures for some considerable time.

For those of you out there in black and white, my background is now linen. Twee, springs to mind. I was going to go for black but didn't. Correction - if you're in black and white, you aren't missing anything because I got fed up with twee linen after exactly two minutes and fifty three seconds.

Skin Sag

"As skin becomes less elastic it gets drier and the fat padding starts to disappear. This causes sagging and wrinkles will appear."

Anyone got any spare fat padding? I'm starting to sag and wrinkle.

Just read and enjoyed the posts on Lactose Incompetent. I was going to leave a comment but I'm not prepared to sign up so wasn't allowed to post.

If you spot this link to your page, I just wanted to say, "Keep running those weird ideas up the flag pole."

Glasses

Would someone please invent reading glasses that you can phone up when they are lost.

Frying Tonight

Just got back from pointing M.B. off on her travels again. Up North to meet some Canadian school friend from Toronto this time. I swear that woman has ants in her pants.

Now where's the deep fat fryer?

Voluntary Euthanasia

As soon as I reached the ripe, wrinkled age of fifty, I received a letter through the post. It was from the Voluntary Euthanasia Society. They never wrote again.

They must have thought I'd died.

At some point I think they passed the information on to the pension paying people because they stopped paying. I phoned and asked what had happened to the payments. The girl explained that the post kept being returned as undeliverable so they assumed I'd died or gone away.

I pointed out that there was a difference. She agreed and was kind enough to raise me from the dead. Metaphorically speaking that is.

Cheapest Lady

I just passed a sign that read - Cheapest Lady's Tee In Town.

I'm going back later on to have another look. I don't care about the Tee. Just want to find out who the cheapest lady in town is.