Get those wonky flappers fixed
Find your perfect sandwich
Language skills for motorists
Now you too can learn to fly like a squirrel
See the monks in their natural habitat
September's Stuff and Nonsense is out, featuring the best comedy, satire, cartoonery and comment from 52 different sites.
As a local businessman and owner of a convenience store supplying goods to a small town and the surrounding area, I wish to express my absolute support for the current government's drive to stifle the local economy. Slashing benefits to the point where people are forced to rely on charity or resort to subsistence crime has played a major part in the success of enterprises like mine. Now that nobody can actually afford to buy anything, my turnover of stock has sharply decreased and significantly reduced my paperwork.
What's more, cutting the amount of money available to local authorities has had a similarly positive effect, leading to the deterioration of unnecessary services like street lighting, litter collection and the upkeep of roads. And, of course, the council is no longer able to subsidise rural transport links.
In short, even if somebody has money to spend, and they're not put off by the fact that the town is now a near-derelict eyesore, they probably wouldn't be able to get here anyway. And I'm absolutely overjoyed, because with fewer customers to dirty up the place it means that my premises have never been cleaner.
As a local businessman and employer of nearly eight persons, I wish to express my absolute support for the current government's drive to get more people back into work. I regularly receive applications for employment from people who are fit, able, hard-working and enthusiastic. Clearly this is not acceptable.
What my business really needs are individuals who are obviously too ill to work and would pose a serious risk to their own health and possible a hazard to others if they were forced into roles which were beyond their capability.
Failing that, we need people who are workshy, slovenly, untrustworthy and incompetent. It is only right and proper that these people should be obliged to apply for the many many positions that are waiting to be filled and, like most employers, I am more than happy to favour them over more suitable applicants. Or, at least I would be if we actually had any vacancies at the moment.
Once again we welcome award-winning blogger, bestselling self-published author and antique jelly mould smuggler Maisy Donnington with some more of her award-winning, self-published lifestyle tips.
Maisy Donnington here and this time I'm going to talk to you about stress. If you're suffering from stress, my advice to you is not to get worked up about it. Whenever you feel yourself getting anxious, simply stop worrying and everything will be all right. Easy!
Of course, many people lack the ability to suppress their innate emotional instability and psychological dread with the overwhelming force of their unshakeable iron will. Mrs Bradshaw at the chemist's, for example. Whenever she gets into a tizz I find that a few sharp slaps across the face does a world of good. Even if Mrs Bradshaw herself doesn't feel the benefit, I at least find it a wonderful way of releasing tension.
In fact, random acts of viciousness, abuse and general mischief are really a most effective way of discharging pent-up energy and I believe that it's absolutely essential to let off a little steam now and then. Most of you are not award-winning bloggers, like what I am, so you won't appreciate how gruelling it is to be tied to your keyboard for anything up to two hours a week, churning out articles on bringing up kids, wacky pets or those oh-so-important lifestyle lists. Keeping my many followers mildly entertained with a never-ending succession of witty brain-spurts is a task of almost Dickensian hardship. So, if you've been staring at that screen all morning, it's so important to recharge your batteries by taking ten minutes every now and then to be unnecessarily cruel and/or irritating.
One of the things I like to do is throw things at my neighbour's cat. I've got a really good view from my window and I can easily see it messing in my rose bed. I keep an assortment of suitable items on my desk so that I can pick up something and throw it whenever the mood takes me - old boots, plant pots, unwanted ornaments and a ceremonial assegai that a relative brought back from Africa. You should see the look on the filthy moggy's face when that thing comes hurtling through the air and thuds into the ground right where its backside has been just moments before. Priceless.
Inevitably, there is a limit to how much fun you can get out of persecuting domestic animals, so it's important to keep your routine varied. For example, I have recently taken up making obscene phone calls, a pursuit which I find tremendously satisfying. There is, I must add, nothing frivolous or witty about these calls. I realise that there is a vogue for so-called 'prank' calls in which the recipient is made to appear foolish or absurd. I find such activities to be quite childish, which is why I limit my communications to pure abuse and threats of extreme violence.
It really is most cathartic and I would heartily recommend you give it a try. I find that if I spend maybe one or two hours in the morning making disgusting and unpleasant calls to random strangers, what follows is usually a really productive afternoon. I say 'random strangers', but in truth most of these calls end up being to my neighbour.
He, of course, has lately become extremely stressed, and inevitably this has more than a little to do with my ongoing hate campaign. It's a shame of course, and I really feel for the man, but whenever I start feeling anxious about it I simply nip out and slash the tyres on his car and the feeling goes away. After all, there's no point in losing sleep over it, is there?
Bloody kids! Some little tyke down our street has just been given a pogo stick for his birthday, and I'm sorry but I just don't hold with them. Oh I appreciate the engineering and the ingenuity that went into the design and development of the pogo stick, but I personally think that the whole pogo thing was a bit of a scientific blind alley.
Back in the twenties when Charles Pogo first invented his famous stick, we were told that it was going to be the latest thing in travel. The day of the motor car was over. The train was a thing of the past. Even the jet aircraft was going to have trouble keeping up, for the only hope of an efficient, economically viable integrated transport system lay in the pogo stick. People would commute into work on pogo sticks; they would travel the length and breadth of the country on vast, three-laned pogo highways; there would even be pogo services across the Atlantic - London to New York in a single bound. At one point London Transport was considering getting rid of all the trains in the Underground and replacing the tracks with smooth, pogo-friendly paving, until it was pointed out that there was a very serious danger of the pogoers smashing their brains in on the tunnel roofs.
Of course, it never happened. The trouble with pogo sticks is that you can't really carry a lot of luggage on one. Neither can you install a CD player, air conditioning or reclining seats. Plus, for the many people who suffer from travel sickness, cars are quite bad enough as it is - leaping about the place on a dirty great spring is going to do them no good at all.
They also don't do a great deal of good for my carrots. Let me explain. I am currently in the process of developing luminous carrots that can be seen in the dark, and I was growing my first experimental batch in a patch of ground down at the bottom of my garden. And they were doing quite well until the other day, when that little sod from down the street lost control of his birthday present, came bounding over the garden fence, mashed my prize carrots to a pulp then flew off and sailed right through the greenhouse.
Well, it's not on, is it? It's not right that people should be allowed to go careering about, smashing up people's vegetables with wild abandon. Something has to be done. Unfortunately the pogo stick is here to stay - there's nothing I can do about that - but there are a couple of modifications I can make to render the damn things safer for all concerned. Firstly, I have noticed that pogo sticks don't have brakes. This is a serious problem. Obviously it's very difficult to stop them once they get going, so I have suggested that all pogo sticks are fitted with an anchor, which can be hurled out behind the rider and bring the stick to a sudden stop.
However, an anchor is only really any good if it is able to hook onto something fairly hefty, such as a railing, a car or a large dog. If it should fail, the only option available to the pogoer is to abandon the vehicle. This is where my second modification comes in: the pogo stick ejector seat. When activated, this will launch the rider clear of the stick. A parachute will then deploy and the rider can float gently back down to earth, hopefully well away from my greenhouse.
See the full list
Adventures in marketing
Rise of the machines
Keyreading for beginners
Courtesy of the ladies of Melton Mowbray
Quality beards for busy professionals
"Going round the world by elastic..."
"Comedy is something that occurs at a sub-atomic level..."
"The latest pyrotechnic technology..."
Congratulations to Helen Dampney-Collier, who won a well deserved gold medal last week at this year's International Drowning Championships in New Zealand. She has become the first professional British drowner to win the event since 1974, romping to victory with a personal best of 10.4 seconds. Her funeral will take place this Tuesday.
"...madcap antics ..."
"A gentleman never fouls himself upwind of a waitress..."
"What do you do when you find that your parrot's got jet lag..."
"...landing a man on the moon, shaving it, and returning him safely to Earth......"more...
with Donald FactMaxilingual for Motorists
Swearing in foreignThe Aromatron
Relief from AnosmiaTraffic Watch
Latest news from the county's roadsMore...
Stuffed with new material and old favourites, Recalled to Life is 280 pages of plumptiousness and very probably exactly what you need to prop up that wonky old table in the kitchen.
Find out more here.
of the Bleeding Obvious
All material Copyright © Paul Farnsworth 2000-2015, and may not be reproduced without the express permission of the author. All characters, companies and organisations are fictitious, and any similarity to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.