Come on, adoring readers! I know you are working hard on your submissions for my brilliant competition, and that means you must be tired.
Because you are tired, I must stimulate you, and I will do this with a cat singing about cake. It is not the first time I have put this video on my web-blog, but no matter: it stands the test of time.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Thursday, December 03, 2009
I surprise you with a kitty!!!
Whilst you, my adoring readers, are working on your competition entries, I am going to encourage you AND stimulate your creative energies by posting various excellent 'video clips' over the next day or so, i.e. until the competition entry time runs out.
First of all, here is a Surprised Kitty. I do not care if you have seen it one hundred times already. I know you will like seeing it again. Tonight, for example, I have watched it over 231 times.
Keep it up!
First of all, here is a Surprised Kitty. I do not care if you have seen it one hundred times already. I know you will like seeing it again. Tonight, for example, I have watched it over 231 times.
Keep it up!
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
I do a competition
Yes it is true. To get us all in the Christmas spirit, as it were, I am offering one lucky reader the chance to win a signed photograph of me AND a box of appropriately festive biscuits (that I will make myself) as a prize for the best short essay (in no more than 150 characters) on the following subject: "Why I Think Non-workingmonkey Is Great*"
I would suggest that you 'insert your oeuvre' in the comments box but if you wish to submit your submission privately, you may do so by emailing me at the address you will find on your right.
The competition closes this Friday 4th December, and the winner will be announced on Sunday 6th December. The prize(s) will be despatched on Monday 7th December which, according to the mighty Canada Post, means you will have it by Christmas.
What greater bliss is there? None!
* You may insert another (positive) superlative here if you wish.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
I introduce you to a special place
Regular readers will be quite aware by now that I am very much 'on top of' new media, social media etc etc, and am able to 'Tweet' and 'Re-Tweet' etc with the best of them. So far I have a lot of followers on Twitter: not as many as bloody Jonny B or lovely Anna but still quite a lot, i.e. c. 12 at the last count (which is exactly 9 more people than visit my blog every day).
Also, I have a Facebook Group thing that someone opened up for me - it is quite good and has exactly 41 members, which would be too many people to have to dinner at the same time if you lived in quite a small house, but not enough for a barn-dance to be described as "quite an evening".
But I digress. If you have a Facebook profile (and everyone does these days, even Monkeyfather and Monkeymother, although they only have 1 friend each and that is each other, my brother and I having chosen to exclude them from sight of us chugging beer, mooning, smoking 'joints' etc in our Facebook photosnaps) and you are a right-minded person, might I suggest that you go here and sign up to the mighty "Pictures of Sting looking like a twat" group, recommended by the delicious Allanah in yesterday's post? I think you will like it!
Pip pip!
NWM
Also, I have a Facebook Group thing that someone opened up for me - it is quite good and has exactly 41 members, which would be too many people to have to dinner at the same time if you lived in quite a small house, but not enough for a barn-dance to be described as "quite an evening".
But I digress. If you have a Facebook profile (and everyone does these days, even Monkeyfather and Monkeymother, although they only have 1 friend each and that is each other, my brother and I having chosen to exclude them from sight of us chugging beer, mooning, smoking 'joints' etc in our Facebook photosnaps) and you are a right-minded person, might I suggest that you go here and sign up to the mighty "Pictures of Sting looking like a twat" group, recommended by the delicious Allanah in yesterday's post? I think you will like it!
Pip pip!
NWM
Sunday, November 29, 2009
I think about other things that are rubbish
Regular readers will by now be fully aware of the fact that I think homeopathy is rubbish. But what else do I think is rubbish? I will tell you!
Sting
As we all know, Sting is a gigantic spaz and Trudie is as well. I challenge you not to watch this video and shout WANKERS!!! at your computer, even if you do not swear ever and are a monk and/or a nun who has taken a vow of silence. (Of particular note: the bit where Captain Twat himself starts singing towards the end. I cannot comment on the fish.)
The only circumstances in which Sting is acceptable is when he is being covered by the legendary Jonny B, who is the best banjo player in England. Note: when I say 'covered' I do not mean it in the veterinary sense.
Windchimes
Unless you live in the middle of a field out of earshot of the rest of us, you should not be allowed to have windchimes. You may think the sound of windchimes jingling in the evening breeze is restful, but it disturbs my concentration - which could be potentially fatal in some circumstances, e.g. filling small clay pipe, steaming fez, etc.
Note: there is nothing worse than a hippy-type who bangs on about how much they love for e.g. the environment, nature, other people etc. They are the ones with dogs on strings, windchimes, curried lentil hotpot, cigarettes made out of twigs and smelly hair that disturb everyone else. Also, when you ask them for e.g. to stop smoking their cigarettes made out of twigs and doing clown-dancing and juggling in gigantic hats to an accompaniment of the lute and recorder on your front lawn, and when you ask them to stop recyling their babies' nappies in your recycling bin and/or living in your trees etc, and when you tell them that homeopathy doesn't work and crystals do not have energy, they say that 'not everything can be explained' and that you are a fascist!!!
Asking if we are "trying for a baby now we are married"
Are you the sort of person who strokes pregnant women's 'bumps' without asking? This is a truly ghastly question to ask (unless you are someone's friend). I have been asked it three times by relative strangers (e.g. hairdresser, person on shoot, person introduced to last weekend) in the last few weeks. So far, the best reply I have come up with is: "who can tell"?
Another rubbish thing is that many ghastly expressions - the ones that make your toes curl in horror - are invariably attached to babies, which is not fair on either the babies or their mothers. For e.g.:
1. "trying for a baby"
2. sudden loss of the article, e.g., "how is Baby?"
3. random and over-familiar use of the word "mum", e.g. "and how is Mum feeling today?"; "us mums like to get together!"; "Mums love Dettox!", "proud Mum to Horatio, 1 and Ebenezer, 5" etc. (I ask you: what is wrong with the word 'mother'?)
4. "little ones", "little xxx" (fill in name of baby)
5. "kiddies"
etc etc
NB: I like babies/children very much, and some of my favourite people are mothers, so if you are one of those humourless 'Mommy bloggers' looking for a fight, you will not get one here, no sirree!
Touching base
Acceptable in a sporting context; not acceptable, in any circumstances, in the workplace. I have said it before and I will say it again and again until it stops.
Ill-mannered dogs
Yesterday morning at 3.30am, I took great pleasure in leaning off my balcony and shout to my very stupid and very selfish downstairs neighbours, who were in their garden SHOUTING with their friends: "Excuse me. EXCUSE ME. Would you mind SHUTTING THE FUCK up?".
They shut up, and then at 7am they let their badly behaved, ill-trained dogs out into the garden, who then woke us up again with their relentless yapping as they do every morning at 7am. I dressed quickly, I went downstairs, I banged on their door, and I said many, many things, none of which I regret; indeed, this morning, they waited until 9.30 to let the dogs out. Result!
(I do not blame the dogs. The behaviour of dogs, like children, is entirely the result of their training. Monkeymother and Monkeyfather, for example, kept my brother and me in a box in the garden, letting us out only to perform highlights from the later works of Gilbert O'Sullivan for any visiting guests. Rewarded with Garibaldi biscuits and punished with Alan Parsons, we grew up to be - as anyone who knows us personally can attest - two perfectly-behaved, hugely accomplished, attractive adults, with more than our fair share of social and circus skills).
No doubt there is more to come.
Pip pip!
NWM
Sting
As we all know, Sting is a gigantic spaz and Trudie is as well. I challenge you not to watch this video and shout WANKERS!!! at your computer, even if you do not swear ever and are a monk and/or a nun who has taken a vow of silence. (Of particular note: the bit where Captain Twat himself starts singing towards the end. I cannot comment on the fish.)The only circumstances in which Sting is acceptable is when he is being covered by the legendary Jonny B, who is the best banjo player in England. Note: when I say 'covered' I do not mean it in the veterinary sense.
Windchimes
Unless you live in the middle of a field out of earshot of the rest of us, you should not be allowed to have windchimes. You may think the sound of windchimes jingling in the evening breeze is restful, but it disturbs my concentration - which could be potentially fatal in some circumstances, e.g. filling small clay pipe, steaming fez, etc.
Note: there is nothing worse than a hippy-type who bangs on about how much they love for e.g. the environment, nature, other people etc. They are the ones with dogs on strings, windchimes, curried lentil hotpot, cigarettes made out of twigs and smelly hair that disturb everyone else. Also, when you ask them for e.g. to stop smoking their cigarettes made out of twigs and doing clown-dancing and juggling in gigantic hats to an accompaniment of the lute and recorder on your front lawn, and when you ask them to stop recyling their babies' nappies in your recycling bin and/or living in your trees etc, and when you tell them that homeopathy doesn't work and crystals do not have energy, they say that 'not everything can be explained' and that you are a fascist!!!
Asking if we are "trying for a baby now we are married"
Are you the sort of person who strokes pregnant women's 'bumps' without asking? This is a truly ghastly question to ask (unless you are someone's friend). I have been asked it three times by relative strangers (e.g. hairdresser, person on shoot, person introduced to last weekend) in the last few weeks. So far, the best reply I have come up with is: "who can tell"?
Another rubbish thing is that many ghastly expressions - the ones that make your toes curl in horror - are invariably attached to babies, which is not fair on either the babies or their mothers. For e.g.:
1. "trying for a baby"
2. sudden loss of the article, e.g., "how is Baby?"
3. random and over-familiar use of the word "mum", e.g. "and how is Mum feeling today?"; "us mums like to get together!"; "Mums love Dettox!", "proud Mum to Horatio, 1 and Ebenezer, 5" etc. (I ask you: what is wrong with the word 'mother'?)
4. "little ones", "little xxx" (fill in name of baby)
5. "kiddies"
etc etc
NB: I like babies/children very much, and some of my favourite people are mothers, so if you are one of those humourless 'Mommy bloggers' looking for a fight, you will not get one here, no sirree!
Touching base
Acceptable in a sporting context; not acceptable, in any circumstances, in the workplace. I have said it before and I will say it again and again until it stops.
Ill-mannered dogs
Yesterday morning at 3.30am, I took great pleasure in leaning off my balcony and shout to my very stupid and very selfish downstairs neighbours, who were in their garden SHOUTING with their friends: "Excuse me. EXCUSE ME. Would you mind SHUTTING THE FUCK up?".
They shut up, and then at 7am they let their badly behaved, ill-trained dogs out into the garden, who then woke us up again with their relentless yapping as they do every morning at 7am. I dressed quickly, I went downstairs, I banged on their door, and I said many, many things, none of which I regret; indeed, this morning, they waited until 9.30 to let the dogs out. Result!
(I do not blame the dogs. The behaviour of dogs, like children, is entirely the result of their training. Monkeymother and Monkeyfather, for example, kept my brother and me in a box in the garden, letting us out only to perform highlights from the later works of Gilbert O'Sullivan for any visiting guests. Rewarded with Garibaldi biscuits and punished with Alan Parsons, we grew up to be - as anyone who knows us personally can attest - two perfectly-behaved, hugely accomplished, attractive adults, with more than our fair share of social and circus skills).
No doubt there is more to come.
Pip pip!
NWM
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