Final Questions before Norfolk

This is my fond farewell for a week.  It is half past nine at night.  We finished packing the car half an hour ago.  It was easier to pack for a month in Canada than it was to pack for a week in Norfolk.  How depressing is that?  Still, tis done and I can go and have a guilt free cup of tea before bedtime.  Question time is short and as surreal as ever.

 

There has been a resurgence of interest in the death of Celine Dion.  All reports suggest that she is still upright and not a flesh eating zombie diva.  Sorry to disappoint.  No, I still don’t know what alien fizz pods are, although someone has suggested that they may be a toy.  Try the Toys R Us website.  If anyone is going to have an alien fizz pod it’s either them or Nasa.  No, I’ve never seen Ray Mears naked, nor do I want to, and no I don’t know how to make a swan out of a napkin.  I do know how to make Ray Mears out of a napkin but that was several weeks of blogging previously and you will have to look for yourselves.  Glad to have been of service.  Now on to the better questions of the crop.

 

Naughty things to do during the summer holidays.

 

• Pretend it’s Christmas just to unnerve people.
• Send the children to school every day and leave them chained to the railings while you go back to bed.
• Steal a double decker bus and go to Europe with Hank Marvin and Una Stubbs.  Make sure someone takes a video camera.  It would make an excellent film.
• Tell everyone that you’re going to Norfolk but hide under the bed and refuse to come out until they promise you don’t have to.

 

Do people pooh when they’re dead?

 

All the time.  There’s a special part of heaven called ‘cheezus’ dung heap.’  It’s what keeps Eden so green and lush.

 

Can a baby eat a marker pen?

 

That depends. If it’s already eaten the board rubber and the interactive white board it might be quite full.  I expect it will be picky about colour too.  My children are.  I never let them eat the blue ones.  It’s not natural.

 

Ray Mears Desert Island Discs.

 

Ray Mears is not allowed to go on a desert island.  It’s too easy for him.  They reverse it in his case and it’s called: Ray Mears Urban Safari.  He has to navigate his way up Tottenham Court Road only using brown tourist signs.  He has to choose his six favourite shops and which five star restaurant he’d eat in.  He has to promise to use a knife and fork and wear proper shoes.  Under no circumstances is he allowed to take a Swiss Army knife or any home made string.

 

What does Katy do with her pooh?

 

She has it bronzed and mounted on a stick.  She then puts it on top of the television for everyone to see.  When the top of the television is full, she laminates the rest, sticks googly eyes on it and gives it to people as home made Christmas presents.  It’s the thought that counts apparently.

 

Can a cat get stuck up a chimney?

 

Only if Santa is busy and needs a stand in.  Cats just pretend to get stuck up chimneys because they’re really, really keen on firemen and will manufacture any excuse in which to meet one.  It’s also why they pretend to get stuck up trees.  It is also why it is vital never to leave a cat with a half full petrol can and a box of matches.  It gives them ideas.

 

Things that are not fair.

 

I know I’ve answered this question before, but I can never resist it:

• Norfolk
• Folk singing in close harmony
• People who call their children Jacinta
• Parents
• The fact that Daniel Craig doesn’t shop in Glenfield Co-op
• That ridiculous rule in Ludo where someone can knock you off and make you start all over again, just when you were so close to home.
• Melons

 

Whatever happened to Linda Barker?

 

She can regularly be seen driving a vintage Triumph Dolomite up and down Swindon High Street at fifteen miles per hour down the middle of the white line.  She likes to lean out of the window wearing a tartan beret and matching ear muffs, shouting obscenities at passers by.  Her husband puts kippers in the engine to try and dissuade her but it doesn’t work. She enjoys the smell of kippers frying in engine oil, and won’t tell him in case he stops.  She also plays the harp, cheats at back gammon and collects fridge magnets made out of hardened dough.  Her favourite one says: ‘Fuck off to Skegness and Die…’ her mother gave it to her as a diamond anniversary present.  She likes listening to Enya doing covers of Black Sabbath’s infamous ‘War Pigs’, live in concert and has an unreturned crush on the relentlessly poppy eyed chanteuse, Sarah Brightman.  She never wears pants and has a tattoo of Dr. McCoy from Star Trek on her left knee cap.  Her favourite food is hake.  Her best friend is Keith Chegwin, but only when he is naked.  She hates Thursdays, Wildebeest and crown green bowling.  She hums in her sleep and dreams of giant cannibal mice.

 

 

Why do kids hate brown bread?

 

Children hate anything that is brown because brown is healthy.  Anything brown is healthy and therefore evil.  Brown is to children as kryptonite is to Superman.  Children love blue things, because blue is unnatural and wrong.  You only to have to look at the Smurfs to know this.  If bread were blue, they’d be eating it until it came out of their ears.  Especially if it were raspberry flavoured.  Raspberry flavoured things are invariably blue, except raspberries.  Raspberries look red, but are in fact brown, because they are good for you.  Other things which are naturally brown and healthy are:

 

• Chocolate brownies
• Cornish pasties
• David Dickinson
• Ray Mear’s home made string
• Brownies
• London buses

 

How to stop my child smearing pooh.

 

• Have them laminated.  This stops them doing almost anything and also makes them convenient to wipe down with a damp cloth in a cleaning frenzy.
• Tie oven mitts to their hands.
• Buy a large cork and insert it in their bottom, thus stopping the problem at source.
• Encourage them to smear as much pooh as they want.  This usually stops them dead in their tracks.

 

How to make a chocolate cornflake hedge.

 

Take a tiny, baby cornflake.  Dig a hole in your garden about three inches deep.  Insert a square of Dairy Milk.  Prick holes in it with a pin to allow for adequate drainage.  Place the cornflake carefully on top.  Add a pipette’s worth of milk, an ounce of best potting compost.  Some Golden Virginia tobacco and press down lightly with the back of a spoon.  Water it morning and evening for six years, and when you wake up the next day you will have a four mile long, three mile high chocolate cornflake hedge, behind which is the magical land of Ooog, where giant flame throwing deer and winged hedgehogs roam the land, mewing at toads.

 

Could milk make my cat constipated?

 

Only if it swallows the whole bottle in one go.  With the bottle still attached I mean.

 

Argos nun.

 

Ah! The special branch of the religious fraternity known as the angelic sisterhood of the laminated catalogue of joy.  They are dedicated to doing good works, giving extra discount on ironing boards with pictures of men in their skimpies on and making those tiny but shit plastic ballpoint pens.  It is a test of faith.  They know that everyone steals pens and they like to warn you of the errors of your ways by making theirs particularly useless and rather prone to exploding in the top pocket of your shirt when you least expect it.  Vengeance is mine saith the Lord, and the Argos nun.