A Peep Into the Future

           In the context of environmental degradation you commonly hear it said that -

                                               "There is no Planet B"

                     The Doom Merchants are wrong!  Of course there's a Planet B.

              Earthlings . . . Planet B is the wreckage of Planet A

Snack Time

I've been AWOL for a while folks, but back now and rarin' to go.  Here's a response to the picture prompt at The Sunday Muse #69, where you will find serious responses.

The Witch was tasty. Made a nice starter.  The Wardrobe Mistress hid herself in the Wardrobe. It was hard work getting her out. Fact is, I had to eat the Wardrobe first. It was pretty indigestible, but left me with a nice collection of toothpicks.  Wardrobe Mistress was appetising as the main course with some brown sauce.  But now I'm feeling a bit full, so needing a lie down. Probably sleep till teatime then scoff all the stuff they'd left on the table when I interrupted their lunch.

Euro 2016! A Festival of Football!

In celebration of the Beautiful Game, I offer my readers, friends and fans these pictorial comments without further comment . . .

 .     FOOTBALL!

REAL FOOTBALL!

FANTASY FOOTBALL!

EXTREME FOOTBALL!

The group matches are completed.  All four representatives of the British Isles have made it through to the knock-out rounds.  Now the fighting really starts . . .

Later.   Referees ignore potentially lethal fouls, but it seems that simple bad manners can earn players an early bath.  Read about it here.   Toot, Toot!

What's Today

BBC Radio News has just now reminded me that today is officially Star Wars Day!!
How so?  Check your calendar, or even the date at the top of this posts, and . . .

"May the Fourth Be With You"

No joke.  A google search will confirm.  

.

Europe! In or Out or What?

How will you vote in the upcoming United Kingdom European Union Referendum (June 23rd, 2016) to decide whether Britain remains in the European Union?   Not to bore you with a discussion of the issues, which 95% of the eligible voters - self included - don't fully understand, but to ask a simple question . . .   

Can I claim copyright of an alternative title for the Referendum?  I think it should be known as "The Belly Button Referendum."  "Why so?" I hear you cry. "What have belly buttons got to do with it?" Well, your voting paper will ask you to declare whether you are an "Innie" or an "Outie" - and you may find that some navel gazing will help you decide where to put your "X".  Or then again, you may not.  Just saying . . .

.

Snail Mail

Prompted by Tess and the Mag, she reads the white notice on the pillar box and falls into deep thought.

"Second Class Post.  Affix a second  class stamp (one of the wee blue ones) and pop the letter into the slot."

"First Class Post.  Our express service!  Put 5 one pound coins or 3 two pound coins in the slot, then take the letter straight round to the address shown on the envelope."

"At Royal Mail we aim to please.  Eventually."

Mag 292

Tess prompts us with this still from a recent CCTV recording in an airport, location unspecified.

"Let's come to an agreement, officer.   I'm prepared to declare this white rabbit, but not the suitcases  of crystal meth hidden under my skirt."

.

Apologies to Mr.Auden . . .

Tess prompts us with a dramatic picture of a steam locomotive hauling a train across (I think) the beautiful curving viaduct in Glenfinnan at the head of Glen Shiel in Lochaber, Scotland.

This week Frances Garrood has posted a splendid parody of one of English Lits. most overquoted poems.  I'll have a go at another.

I am the Snail Mail crossing the border

letters with stamps on are plain out of order.

Now it's tweets for the rich, and tweets for the poor

And FYI, Luv U for the redhead next door.

I've got parcels from A'zon, some of them Prime

but I'm not right bothered if I'm not on time.

Past ruined farmsteads and flooded remains

and vast heaps of farm-stuff that smell like the drains,

puffing and wheezing and gasping and choking

I'll be glad when I'm pensioned and I can stop smoking.

Mr. Auden stayed with the train all the way to Glasgow accompanied by Benjamin Britten.  I hopped off a Carlisle to listen to their collaboration.

"Are We There Yet?"

I hear on the Beeb that a short-list of 50 Males/50 Females has been selected for a one-way trip to Mars. One of the men apparently can remember pi to 90 digits, so they'll be able to calculate the circumference, surface area and volume of the Red Planet very accurately. The News item didn't say whether remembering pi to 90 digits was one of the selection criteria, but if it was, remembering 90 of the billions of digits to which pi is now known doesn't sound all that impressive a feat. 

Nor did the News item say if the 100 worthy folk included any medics or police. Both of these professions will be required because (statistically), of the 100, at least 4 will be criminal psychopaths who have (easily) bamboozled the learned psychiatrists and clairvoyants involved in the selection process.   I think the proposed expedition is the first stage in George W. Bush's scheme to "Colonise the galaxy"  after George W.Bush and his ilk have made Earth uninhabitable. Also, presumably all the successful candidates are under the age of 3 because they will be very, very old before they blast off from Florida in their converted Routemaster Bus . . . 

Chemical toilets will follow at a later date. Tesco have applied for planning permission.

Mag 257, 8th. February 2015

Tess inspires our writing with this uplifting picture by Edith Vonnegut for today's Mag.

Action Figures by Edith Vonnegut

I once knew a lady from Bude (*)

  who hoovered her stairs while undressed.

She looked really kinky

when she tripped on the "Slinky"

and her pussy declared "Now, that's shameless!"

(*)    Bude. A small town in Pornwall, U.K.(**) 

(**)  Oops!  Sorry!  CORNwall, I mean. 

.