Something hilarious with chips - like a clown fish

My last post left something to be desired in that I kinda wimped out of revealing much more of the 'plot' of Dog In The Mist. This was partly due to me wanting to build some suspense. You know how a tv show is best watched in separate episodes rather than just marathon-ing through (like I did with Season 4 of Walking Dead last weekend. That was still great as it's such a boss program). Another reason for not delving deeper into the adventures of the missing man - I have forgotten his name - is because I was so emotionally invested in dissing Youtubers and Lad Bible.
While the threat of a rant about Youtube comments, politicians and the detailed stupidity of racism are all tempting, I must carry on with the story...

Actually, I'm in charge here, and like I said they are mighty tempting to rant about...
Yeah but you also said you MUST carry on with the story!
Agreed but we both saw the viewing figures on the last couple of posts. Face it they're dropping lower than -
Oh please! Do furnish us with a stupid simile involving a whore's drawers we do so love hearing it on repeat!
Well how about you come up with something amusing for once! You always leave the funny's up to me!
I was hired for my looks!
Great job, still single are we?
I prefer the term independent.
At least we've got each other.

Anyway. Back to the story.

Big Daddy fired up his computer. It was an older model so he had to put a extra lump of coal in the furnace and crank the handle a few times before it stuttered to life.
"Right, Pissingham, the main problem I have with Youtubers is the following..."

Well here's an acceptable compromise.
Agreed. Now everybody's happy.

"...they seem to just be a bunch of people who, by definition, have nothing better to do than leave their stupid opinions on a video someone has put up on Youtube. Less than nobody who matters cares what these 'people' have to say. The only redeeming feature is that I will be able to look on basically any video on Youtube and find one of these lowlives.

OK that was all written the other day. My rage against people who leave youtube comments will never go away, but it has ebbed for now.

So back to the story (for real this time) (Seriously I'm not leaving until the next chapter is complete!)

OK for first time readers (yeah right!) here's the plot so far, in some helpful bullet points:
Two detectives get hired.
They find some drugs.
They go to Craig Charles.
You with me so far? Then let's get on with it!

"Mr Charles, we've found these drugs that were produced by your drugs...shop" said Big Daddy.
"Well you've got me there. I admit that since Robot Wars fell through due to it being officially too cool for tv, I've taken to selling drugs from the toilets of this Wetherspoons".
"Well I don't approve of that, these drugs could be very dangerous if they got in someone's eye. I must ask you to go down to the police station and ask them to arrest you".
"You mean this is the end of my involvement in the story? I was expecting more of an entertaining scene!"
BD frowned. "You and the readers both! However we need to be getting on with the story. Oh also can you help us along with the plot please?"
"I dont know...will me or the House Robots appear again in this storyline?"
"Absolutely not, but there is hope for Ye Olde Tale of Sire Killalot to be a possible spin-off?"
"It's a deal. Go to the zoo, Big Daddy and Pissingham! Your destiny awaits!
"What a weird change of tone, Craig Charles. But thank you!"

They drove away from Wetherspoons and when Pissingham turned the music on in the Fiat 500 it was like entering another world. They felt like rocking out to some banging tunes by the likes of the Proclaimers

A note from the author - Hi fans. I just like to add in bits like this because I feel like it adds a sense of realism to the story. The plot was heavily influenced by the songs "King of the Road" and "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by the Proclaimers, and also the ballad "Shiver My Timbers" from the Muppets Treasure Island Theme Tune. If you pay particular attention you might notice that Pissingham's character references Proclaimers songs fairly often. Just a bit of fun for me whilst writing, hope you enjoy! ;)

As they drove to the rough 'Carni' side of town to where the ghoulish cronies at the circus could be found, BD thought it was time for the author to explore their characters more so asked Pissingham a personal question.
"How is your thousand mile trek training coming along, partner?" (Although he said it like 'pardner' like cowboys do. I'll have no homo-errotic fan-fiction about these two people. Not that there's anything wrong with homo-erroticism, far from it! I just wouldn't want to break Shaniqua's heart (she's BD's wife, if you read the cracking adventures of Peter Geist and the [find name of blog-post later and insert here] ) also the hearts of his two children [can't remember their names. Dont bother looking up - no time!]....
Anyway yes I woujldn't want to break their hearts by making the two protagonists embark on some Brokeback-esque adventure. )

"Anyway thank you for asking about my thousand mile trek adventure" said Pissingham what felt like half an hour of explanations later. "I can't do it all yet, but with a rest in the middle I'm just fine.
"So you might say..."
"Yes BD, I would indeed walk 500 miles. Then I would go on to walk 500 more"

I like to end on a hilarious joke. I hope you all saw the subtle Proclaimers reference there.

Next time on Big Daddy and Pissingham....I dont even know what thats supposed to be!

Dog in the Mist Part 3:

I'm always searching for a new angle in these blogs, so this part of the story of Dog in the Mist should, if you want to experience it correctly, not be read as a story but performed as a fine theatre production. Do get your friends and family involved.

LetThyWordsBeFurious© is proud to present...

A TimeOnHisHands production...

In association with ShouldBeDoingWork studios...

Dog in the Mist: Part 3

Cast:

Big Daddy - A serious fellow. Dislikes his family. Enjoys a spot of japery.
Pissingham - Big Daddy's partner and greatest admirer. No real character traits.
Lord Charles - Big land owner and owner of Bevensford Manor. Also used to present Robot Wars.
Ref-Bot - Lord Charles' long-serving and long-suffering, wise-cracking butler.
Matilda - Popular children's novel by Rold Dahl. Also the most beautiful young lady in the area.
Sir Killalot - A ferocious and brave knight trying to win Matilda's affections.

Scene one: Outside Bevensford Manor

Enter Big Daddy and Pissingham, on the back of a horse.

Big Daddy: Woah there, Fiat500! Settle down, girl!

Pissingham: She must smell trouble nearby.

Big Daddy: Actually I think she's just still a little upset from the incident at the petrol station.

Interlude

I felt I had to halt the production of Dog in the Mist where BD and Pissingham uncover Ref-Bot's beaten metallic corpse and get caught up in a world in intrigue and misdirection where it turns out it was Lord Charles all along after he had a hallucinogenic-induced flashback to an episode of Red Dwarf where he thought Ref-Bot was the reincarnation of the Polymorph. Hilarity/Peril ensued.

But we'll get back to that later.

I have two complaints I'd like to expand upon.

1) The Lad Bible. (And other Facebook-related shit)
Where to begin? Lad-culture has been around for a long long time of course, but lately it seems to have just become synonymous with behaving like a prize jeb-end. It's joined the really irritating parade of what have been described as 'click-bait' on facebook (which I've noticed takes up more than half of my updates these days). Have you noticed this?
"This guy's Mum will probably disown him after this"
"26 People who instantly regretted being arrested in ironic t-shirts"
"Do you know all the lyrics to Bohemium Rhapsody?"
It goes on and on! All they are are ways to throw more and more advertisements in your face, none of which anyone even pays attention to!
But yes back to Lad Bible it just grinds my gears that people would find this amusing in a non-ironic way. Any intelligent person would view it as "look how insecure and immature we can be". Most of them start with something like "You'll never guess what this Lad did!" whereas I can answer that without actually clicking the link by knowing it was probably 'gettin off with a load o' birds' or 'having a giant car' or 'getting a fucking stupid tattoo' or otherwise behaving like someone from a shit Inbetweeners Tribute Act.

2) Loud and Jaded. (and youtubers in general)

 This is something I've only just come across. It's a Youtube channel and the presenter(s) have clearly read the Youtuber's handbook on how to present a Youtube Channel.
Rule 1: Always have your face on screen and try to fit as many facial expressions in as humanly possible! If either of your eyebrows are still for over half a second you're a disgrace to the Youtuber community!
Rule 2: You must always speak with an annoying question intonation! Like everything you're saying is a question? Even when it's a statement? (You're excused if you are actually asking a question).
Rule 3: Have a really punchable face. I'm looking at you Ray William Johnson! They all try to exude a certain personality that has to be at the same time cool/funny/earnest or whatever else and I just don't buy into it. They all try to outshine one another and I dont think it ever comes across as very genuine. Fair enough they're putting on a show, but I think they just try too hard. I'm sure they're fab in RL.

Look at me I was made by a 13 year old!



Part 2 of Dog in the Mist: in which Big Daddy and Pissingham uncover a vital clue!

You may notice something a bit strange about this post. It suffers from having some planning put into it. So far our heroes Big Daddy and Pissingham have been sought out by the mysterious Mrs Schmoleshhhky to search for her missing Private Eye husband. The next part of the journey.....

The next morning Pissingham picked up Big Daddy in his pink convertible Fiat 500 and they set off out of town into the surrounding countryside. It was early morning and a wintry chill still clung to the hedges either side of the lane. 

"How did you find this lead on Schmoleshhhky's car, BD?" asked Pissingham as the roadside vegetation whizzed past.

"When you've been in the business as long as I have, you learn how to pick up every ounce of information wherever it can be found", replied BD cryptically.

He thought back to his questioning of Ironika the night before...

"Where's your husband's car?"

"Probably at the local dogging sight" sighed Mrs Schmoleshhhhky

"Interesting..." murmured Big Daddy.

"Why would a happily married man visit a dogging site?" queried Pissingham.

"Either he was a automobile suspension enthusiast, or perhaps he wasn't quite so happily married as we thought" replied BD.

They arrived at Creaky Springs nature reserve car par/dogging site and paid the valet to park the car. There was only one other car there and they wasted no time in heading over to it. It was a dark blue Ford Mondeo and it looked like it had been there all night. And a couple of other nights. Basically however long Ironika had said her husband had been missing.

"How do we get in?" asked Pissingham as they peered in through the steamed up windows. 

"His wife gave me these" BD replied, holding up a set of car keys with a shiny monogrammed key fob attached to a chrome key-ring. Arranging the keys and the fob between the knuckles of his right hand, he smashed in the driver's side window and unlocked the door.

They spent five minutes combing over every inch of the interior before they resigned to the fact that the car's upholstery had knots that would just never come out. So they set about looking for clues. 

Pissingham found a old service revolver under the passenger seat, along with a few spent shell cases. 

"But what does that tell us?" pressed BD.

"That he was expecting trouble? And he clearly found it. I think he was dragged from the car, otherwise why leave this beh-".

"It tells us he was a messy guy. Irresponsible too. He's supposed to have kids, right?"

Pissingham frowned. "The writer hasn't actually made that clear".

"Well leaving this lying under the passenger seat, where small children are usually kept whilst driving, was terrible parenting. Thank goodness the weapon wasn't loaded, or it's small moving parts could have been very dangerous if swallowed by small children".

The only other suspicious thing in the car was that Mr Schmoleshhhky's key was still in the ignition.

"So he's also an idiot? Not only does he leave his key in the ignition, but he also locks it in the car as he wanders off. Plus you can tell he was dragging his heels as he walked off, it looks exactly as if he was dragged off!" declared Big Daddy in exasperation.

As BD trudged off through the rough vegetation after the elusive trail, Pissingham popped the boot (with his 9mm). Then he pressed the release button and opened it, lifting it with a wheezing sound that was concerning coming from a man of his age.What he saw within almost blew him away. Luckily the boot-mounted onboard electric fan system was only set to the lowest setting. Goodness know what could have happened if it was on level three. The car could have taken off. A close call indeed.

"What have you found, partner?" asked BD, zipping himself up and walking back over to the Ford.

Pissingham carefully cut the red wire leading to the back of the electric fan. Normally he would have been sweating while deactivating such a potentially deadly device, but the fan was actually keeping him quite chilled.

Now the immediate threat had been dealt with, he turned his attention to the three large see-through bags of cocaine sitting slap bang in the middle of the boot space.

"Looks like three bags of coke" he said.

BD stepped up beside him.

"So he's also selfish? He has all this cocaine and he takes it out here to this dogging site rather than sharing it with his friends and family back home?"

"Look, BD! On the back of the packet, here...it says 'If not completely satisfied by this product, please contact our freephone customer complaints line, or bring the product to Mr Charles at the local branch of Wetherspoons, in the 3rd cubicle in the gents toilets".

"Good work, Pissingham!" ejaculated BD, After cleaning himself up, he continued "Have the valet bring the car around, looks like we know our next move!"

 

The Bogeyman, The Werewolf and The Wardrobe.

A forward by the author:
Hi readers! I'm sure by now you're all used to my writing style and how it can be somewhat erratic/errotic. I like to write whatever comes to mind, as it comes! But that's not to say I don't also like to occasionally delve into the deep and dark parts of my thought when something of real substance appears on my plate in the restaurant that is my imagination. 
My posts have wildly varying levels of popularity which in some ways just goes to show the huge variety of tastes which you all have. Some of you enjoy the lols, whereas I'm sure a lot of you read LTWBF for the heart-wrenching true stories about my bowel movements.
For whatever reason you choose to read, I thank you for your continuing patronage of my creative work and would like to dedicate this to you all! 

Out of all my posts, my favorites are the continuing saga of Big Daddy and Pissingham. I am forever being bombarded with fan mail asking me to create another chapter in their tale. So here it is....

Dog In the Mist
A Big Daddy and Pissingham Tale.

Praise for the author-
"So chilling, I had to go put on a cardigan and make myself a warm bevvy"
"His writing is indescribable"
"I can't tell if it's meant to be shit, and he's just a genius?"

 Click-click! Click-click! Click-click!
Big Daddy beamed as the paparazzi snapped picture after picture of him and his partner-in-crime (solving) Pissingham as they solved their 100th mystery. They were arrayed before the gaggle of reporters who all were anxious to hear how he and Pissingham had solved their latest caper. There had been a string of complaints about unidentified meats being served in the burgers at local fast food joint Mack Donald's and the ingenious duo had solved it in record time.
After linking the mystery meat with the unusual disappearances of members of staff from rival food dispensary Dodgey Dave's Filthy and Greasy Kebab Shack of Shit they came to an unwelcome, yet concrete conclusion.
Mack Donald, the owner of Mack Donald's, was using an unlicensed time-machine to go back to the distant past and capture prehistoric giant amphibians, bring them back to his restaurant and cook them to his secret recipe! He was feeding his rival's employees to the mighty, yet beautiful beats while he marinaded them in disused bath-tubs! The detective duo's break came when Mack accidentally brought back a crocodile and it went into the burgers and a visiting Australian recognised the distinctive salty taste (from all their crocodile tears).
Sadly, Bruce the Australian had been shortly thereafter hospitalised when he tried to fight Mack with nought but his boomerang, and as he dodged a swing from Mack's custom-built fleshlight (codenamed Big Mack) his cork-decorated hat got caught in an overhead ceiling-fan and he was unceremoniously catapulted through a window. But that's a story for another time.
As Big Daddy and Pissingham stood at a special podium and accepted an award from none other than Big Chief Hairyback (flown in at great expense from a past blog) the photographers lined up like a firing squad and Big Daddy thought "Life doesn't get any better than this!" (He also said it, hence the speechmarks).

 Click-click! Click-click! Click-click!
Big Daddy leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and endured his son's castanet recital.
When did life get so shit? Why was his son so untalented? About the same time as his wife became a complete bitch, he thought.
"You're thinking out loud again, dear" Shaniqua, his wife, said from her seat next to him.
"Sorry son!" apologised B.D. "Of course you're very talented, I was referring to your brother!"
"He's sitting on the other side of you, darling" pointed out Shaniqua.
Before this awkward situation was made any worse, the door to the hall was burst open. A dark figure was silhouetted against the roaring storm outside, dripping with what BD assumed was post-sex sweat - but could on reflection have been rain-water.
A smell wafted over from the figure. A smell BD knew only too well.
Semen.
Also a new case to solve.

After showering, the new client shook BD's hand.
"My name is Ironika Schlomeshhhsky" said the woman as she pinned her dark blonde hair into place, on her head. "I need your help Mr Daddy".
"Please, madam, Mr Daddy was my father", replied our hero, "you can all me Sir".
It transpired that Miss Schlomeshhhsky was in dire need of help. Her beloved husband, Bill Schlomeshhhsky, had vanished whilst working, three days previously. Although he had a decent phone contract with plenty of free minutes, she hadn't heard from him since.
"I need details, Ironika" said BD from his armchair by the fireplace. "What did your husband do"
"Well, sir. He was a private investigator, like yourself"
Big Daddy raised an eyebrow and intertwined his fingers, in an effort to create some tension and/or drama.
"So you're hiring me to locate him? You know what they say about 'an eye for an eye'?"
She frowned. "Actually that turn of phrase refers to an eye, as in eyeball. The 'I' we're referring to is the letter I, standing for investigator. So what you said may have sounded clever but it didn't really have any relevance".
"Correct, madam. The whole world would be blind" replied BD as he stared into the flames.

The adventure continues next time...

The sort of Giant Amphibian served at Mack Donalds

It's all the bitches are talking about...Blog 29...and my muscles

I performed a live reading of my last post to an excited all-female audience the other day, and as I proudly re-read my work to her, it became apparent I made quite a few spelling and grammatical errors. I was thinking privately: what was I drinking?! I'll not make that mistake again!

This time I know exactly what I'm drinking.

I was very proud of the unfolding epic drama I began last time, but I'm not one to rest on my laurels (as my bed is much more comfortable). Looking back over all the posts I've written, the one thing I've noticed is that none of the little stories I write have satisfying endings! It's as if I just give up, as if I'm unable to finish what I begin, leaving my audience feeling dissatisfied and and unwanted...

No wonder I'm single :(

It's time to throw this record to the four winds and so without further ado I present to you Part 2 of...

PC Peter Geist and the Mysterious Carrying On of the story...

As you no doubt remember, PC Geist was just visiting the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland on a whim that his evil nemesis, Governor Tortilla, would use it to create a black hole even larger than one of the gaping holes in the plot so far. In the meantime Chief Hairyback and Officer Chuckles were fighting their way through October Hurricanes to Ghana, where Chuckles was hoping to be reuinted with his birth-parents, a couple of Giraffes. Before they could meet however, they were whisked away on an all-expenses paid trip to the Hubbel Telescope and after looking through it they glimpsed a vision that chilled their blood! They looked across the galaxy and on a distance planet many millions of lightyears away they were able to get a glimpse through the bathroom window of Mrs Regina Weatherly as she was taking a shower!
Meanwhile, Big Daddy and Pissingham, three years in the past, had just left the Sequinned Rim nightclub (or might have been a bar) and were trying to advance the plot with a much-loved flashback!

So where was I... So Big Daddy and Pissingham were on their way out of the Sequinned Rim and I vaguely recall they were looking for someone's brother. I really don't remember, but what I do remember is what's happened after this flashback so let's do less explaining and more plot-continuation!

They left the bar, with the words of whoever they'd been talking to still ringing in their ears (but it may well have been the phat beats being played in the establishment). The original plan had been to check out a number of other bars looking for whoever the fuck they were meant to be looking for, but Pissingham was feeling pretty unwell after the whole series of events that we all remember just happened, so Big Daddy took him back to their hotel and put him to bed, before running a bath for himself.
Shit!
They were out of Muscle Relax Bubble Bath. This day was going from bad to worse. Big Daddy cursed to himself that Smartphones hadn't been invented yet, and left the room and ran down to the lobby to ask a local where the nearest shop that sold Bubble Bath was.
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know", said the crazed New Yorker (not sure why he was crazed), "just please put some clothes on first!"
"I don't have time to get dressed", explained Big Daddy, "surely at this time of night the Bubble Bath emporiums are all closed!"
"What are you talking about? It's 3:00 in the afternoon!" said the confused local man, scratching his bonnet.
"Well where I come from it's 11:00pm!" replied our hero.
"Where's that?!" gasped Jasper. He's been given a name now because he's becoming the pivotal conversationalist in this chapter of the story. He might even accompany Big Daddy on his way to the shops! Fuck it, it's happening and you can live with it! But how to fit him in? Hmm -

"Say old man, want to come with me to the Bubble Bath shop?"  asked Big Daddy
"Sounds delightful!"

That was easy.

Big Daddy and Jasper decided to take a taxi downtown to the Bubble Bath capitol of the world....erm....Tubs'r'us. Predictably it was also a food outlet for plus-size women. Getting out of the taxi, Big Daddy regretted instantly coming out in nothing but a towel, as a gust of wind sent it fluttering away into a nearby tree. He turned to Jasper and apologised for his flatulence.

Ten excitement-filled minutes later they found their way to the bubble bath section. Unfortunately it was right between the ice cream section and the gossip magazines, so they had to force their way through several middle aged obese women to reach their target of the muscle relaxing bubble bath. Several outraged grunts and broken bones later, the pair got ejected from the establishment by the gruff, bearded, tattoed proprieter: Maude.

It was this recolection that was perambulating through Big Daddy's mind as, many years later, Peter Geist and Officer Panto knocked at his back door (oo-err Mrs!). He thought it was a flashback he might return to later, depending on how he was feeling at the time and whether he could think of an actual point to make it worth while.
Anyway the reason the police were knocking at his back door was because his front door had broken so he had to take it out of the frame and replace it with the back door which was in perfect working order. The fault front door was now lying on it's side in the back garden, which was now of course the front garden. Luckily not many people could see the front garden now as it was round the back of the house.

Big Daddy opened the door (back door, for reference) and Peter Geist and PC Panto could see he had been crying. All the signs were there: tears coming out of the eyes. That was it. He'd been a policeman long enough for that to be all he needed.
"Is this a good time?" asked Geist, "because if you're feeling emotionally fragile I'd rather come back when I don't have to deal with your anxieties".

To cheer up Big Daddy, Officer Panto struck up a rousing (and slightly A-rousing) verse or two of "If I were not in pantomine". After the song and dancing was over, Big Daddy sat the two officers down and a deeply tedious story about New York, but as it sounded like it contains a few important plot points, they were forced to listen. Officer Panto had to leave for a costume change and while he was out, Big Daddy leant across the table to Geist and whispered low in his ear "your flies are undone".
Giest nodded knowingly, and adjusted himself accordingly.

After leaving Big Daddy's handsome abode, Geist turned to Panto, glancing back once at the house. Panto was young and yet to secure even the most minor of roles on Broadway or in the West End, but he could tell something was bothering the ghostly detective. "What is it, sir?"
Geist looked him in the eyes for one second, then looked away, almost embarassed, as if the moment had never happened. "Never mind lad. I've just got a....feeling."

He floated away towards the busstop and Panto gazed after him, then whispered to himself (and the audience) "He's so....complex!"

That evening Geist was continuing to play the brooding detective character so he went to a bar full of lowlifes that he enjoyed to frequent. The barman eyed him suspiciously, while stereotypically drying a pint glass with a dirty rag as Geist entered. "We don't usually get many spirits coming in here!" he declaired in his deep manly voice as Geist floated onto a stool.
"Then get me a pint lager", replied the police officer sulkily. (Note. That was an effing clever joke there, so appreciate it!).
"Will water do? I have hot and cold running water. Only the best for my clientelle!"

Suddenly the bar door banged open with a bang!

"Did someone say they'd seen my son?!" bellowed Big Chief Hairback as he pushed his way through the mess he'd made of the door, as well as the couple of students who had been seated nearby sipping alcopops like a couple of nancy-boys.
"Chief! What are you doing here?" ejaculated Geist, spraying his lager all over the less-than-appreciative barman, who, thanks to being mentioned more than once, has been named Eoghan (pronounced Owen).
"I was pretending to look for my son, but since I'm here, time for a drink!"
"Right! So you do know where your son is then?"
"Absolutely!" roared Hairyback. "He's out looking for his mother and my wife" (name forgotten) 
"Why? Is she missing?"
"Absolutely!"

The plot thickens.

Get Ready with Big Daddy (Dedicated to Zoe Sugg) and Halloween Police and the Tale of Big Daddy

This edition I've decided to go for something different. Rather than tell 100% true stories from my life, and as a result of recently being introduced to the work of Miss Zoe Sugg on Youtube, I've performed my own Beauty-themed extravaganza for you all to enjoy! We hired a handsome model to pose for the shots so I was able to retain my anonymity. Prepare yourselves!

STEP ONE
First things first when I wake up, it's all about getting rid of that morning breath. If you've been necking back shots alone attending a private party then you're gonna wake up with some bare-bad breath and I find the best way to combat this is brushing them pearly whites. I favour Colgate. Also remember that if you brush your teeth you your dentist will give you stickers, which the ladies love!

No lady can resist a winning smile, and by flossing you can achieve this if you keep at it, but if you're about to go out and you need your hollywood smile in an instant, I also find Tip-ex works well! Plus then people can get high off kissing you, which means everyone's a winner!

Only a buffoon would leave the house without first applying some deodorant! Enormous sweat-patches go down as well as Jimmy Saville in a Paediatrics Wing, so lads make sure you apply that anti-perspirant!


I've decided to put "Getting Ready with Big Daddy" on hold whilst I take a look back at the roots of this blog. The rest of this post will be an omage to that exciting era in blogging, where no-one, not even myself, knew what was coming next!

I present: PC Peter Geist and the Case of the Mysterious Baggage Claim at Heathrow Airport.

One dark stormy night in the little town of Cricklebury, Police Constable Peter Geist (hilarious pun on poltergeist) was floating around the graveyard when a call came in over the radio.
"Hello? Can I do a shout-out for my wife Shaniqua, who's pregnant with our first child Ironica?" said the voice on the other end. "Also, can you play anything by Coldplay?"
"I've told you before, Big Daddy, please use this frequency for emergencies only - but I will do your shout-out! Where is your lovely wife this evening?"
"That's why I was calling Po-Po FM", replied Big Daddy, "I don't know where my wife is! She's been missing for the last week. Officer Panto came round this morning but all he did was shout "She's behind you!" and it wasn't all that helpful. I looked, but she just wasn't behind me! Then the Officer was chased away by a large pantomine horse and I never heard back from him!"

PC Geist's interest was instantly aroused. Big Daddy's wife Shaniqua was famous throughout the vallies of Wales and had once battled the great sorcerer Tom Jones on the hill of Trwnydyddlemukyilon for the much-coveted position of one of the judges on The Voice.

"I'll look into it, Mr Daddy", said the PC and told his assistant, Pissingham, to take over DJ-ing Po-Po FM (live from the Cricklebury Graveyard)  as he took the next bus to the police station. Ever since Big Daddy had incredibly solved the mystery of whatever he was doing in the first couple of stories I wrote about him (cannot remember or be bothered to check) and settled down to live the good life with the beautiful Shaniqua, Pissingham had begun living his dream as a character in a further blog of mine.

The next bus to arrive at Geist's stop was the notorious Dead Man's Hand, a creepy pirate ship captained by none other than the infamous alcoholic pirate - Captain Morgan! His was a crew of inebriates for which AA meetings were a faraway dream! They kept half the neighbourhood up with roaring laughter and off-tune karaoke parties that would have made Pierce Brosnan wince! When they weren't pissed as a fart, they openly challenged passers-by to freestyle disco dance-offs. Few of those challenged survived the experience without contracting serious dance fever.

"One single to the Police Station please, Captain!" declared the Constable.
"Certainly, officer!" replied the vicious rogue. "No officer Chuckles this evening?"
"No, sadly he was driving his ridiculously small car after a fleeing perp the other day, and when he pulled the fella over and the entire police force got out the car, the entire vehicle fell apart in a hilarious fashion. Luckily Chuckles was able to throw a bucket of glitter over the chief and and that difused the situation".
Captain Morgan raised one crooked eyebrow. "What about the other motorist? The one you were chasing?"
"Officer Panto gave chase offstage and we lost sight of both of them".

One pirate-ship ride later and PC Peter Geist (poltergeist remember! He is a ghost) arrived at Cricklebury police station and walked up the path to the front door. He cursed as he stepped in a puddle, ruining his shoes. He reached out to the door handle but his ghostly hand were straight through it! He sometimes forgot he was a ghost because as a character he'd only just been thought up, ain't continuity a bitch!
Luckily some well-established characters were just coming out of the police station, it was Ben G. Phresh and his life partner Mark Chubb!

*Canned Applause!*

"Well hello there fellas!" said Geist "last time the readers saw you two was many blogs ago in the swanky New York nightclub The Sequinned Rim. What have you been up to since?"
"G'day officer", replied Ben (of 'G. Phresh' fame), "Well quite frankly I could tell you what transpired in Quebec, and how I got my nickname 'meat-chimney', but the writer hasn't gotten around to thinking of why any of the above happened!"
"Well it's always a pleasure to see well-loved characters make a cameo in more recent blogs! Hope to see you two soon!"

Since Ben G. Phresh and Mark Chubb had opened the door, PC Geist could then float into the lobby. Going right through the lobby without stopping to talk to anyone (as there were too many distracting tangents to be caught up in), Geist floated along the corridor to the chief's office. Big Chief Hairyback had been Police chief for as long as his pet goldfish could remember.
"Ah, PC Geist!", bellowed Hairyback. If you need a mental image of what this guy looks like, this Brian Blessed but with a policeman's hat on. "Come in and meet my wife Morag Bigknockers and our son, Hotncold Running Water".

You get the idea.

What felt like hours later, but had in fact been a fortnight, our ghostly hero left the station on the hunt for Shaniqua. Having emerged from his dressing room after the intermission, Officer Panto was by his side. Geist would have preferred to have his old friend Officer Chuckles with him on this case, but apparently he had just had an accident after climbing all the way to the top of a rickety stepladder when he'd fallen into a hastily erected paddling pool.
"So we're searching for the beautiful Welsh prostitute, Shaniqua?" he all-but shouted to the audience.
"That's right, Panto", I replied.
Geist and Panto looked around, confused. That's because I, the writer, had suddenly spoken...


....carry on Geist!


"THAT'S right, Panto!" declared Geist. He wasn't in the best of moods.  Big Chief had kept him at the station until the wind had whispered the correct course of action to him (and with a woman as gassy as Morag Bigknockers around it was quite difficult what the wind was trying to tell us, except that she needed to consider a less meaty diet!). He also wasn't all that fond of Panto. Sure, the kid was a good enough policeman, but every so often he would stop to throw sweets into the audience or start singing "If I were not in Pantomime". Geist was starting to think his mind was too occupied with remembering his lines and not doing his...erm....LINE?!

Geist and Panto decided to get the number 128 bus to the Burley Estate, where Big Daddy and Shaniqua lived. As they were waiting at the bus stop, an evil-smelling old crone appeared from the shadows, cackling insanely and holding out a rosey red apple. Geist wouldn't have seen her approach were it not for the audience of children booing and hissing, as well as shouting out "She's behind you!". Panto whirled around, his face the picture of shock and surprise!
"Mother!?" he gasped.
"Yes dear", soothed Mother Panto, "You left this apple behind when you left the house this morning. You know what they say: an apple a day keeps the doctor away!"
"But Mother, that's only because he's traumatised from when his wife was run over by a greengrocer's lorry!"

If Geist had thought Captain Morgan's foul ship of sorrows was a hell on earth, he hadn't prepared himself for the grim reality of public transport. As he drifted into a seat, a mad old woman who'd chained herself to the railing in a Suffragette-esque protest to Robin Thicke's music career, shouted "ONE TWO EIGHT, BURLEY ESTATE!". Clearly this was some kind of macabre pilgrimage they had embarked upon. A gang of urban youths at the back were making battle with an epic-beard-man. The bus bent in the middle like some daemonic acordeon and I was pretty sure the driver was being assisted by some form of Wookie. Panto and I knew we were in for the ride of a lifetime, so we both disguised ourselves as escapees from an insane asylum, and blended into the crowd.

As the bus neared our destination, the Daddy Household, I nodded once to Panto and we executed our well-thought-out escape plan. I simply stepped through the window of the bus (after shattering it with the safety hammer). Panto didn't have my ghostly powers, but luckily he did have at his disposal a fully-trained stunt crew and a stage support rig so he was safely able to jump out of the open door of the moving bus, lifted by wires...and land on the other side of a nearby block of flats.

We arrived at the front door of Big Daddy's abode. Something reeked of evil, but to be honest Geist was pretty sure it was one of Morag Bigknocker's lingering woofters. Big Daddy himself opened the door and from the look on his face, I could tell that this case was only just beginning...



Next time on Getting Ready with Big Daddy....



You'll have to wait and see!

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My recent thoughts:

My children's names are going to Ironica, so I can say everything she says is ironic; and Bruce Willis.

I want to make a television show called Keeping up with Big Daddy. Kind of in the spirit of Keeping up with the Kardashians but also a mashup of Catch Me If You Can. The only bit I've worked out is how the Police will eventually catch me (for illegally high levels of handsomeness). They'll have to hire Gillian McKeith as a kind of evil sniffer dog. My diet of pizza and energy drinks unfortunately will be easy to track for a manure-expert like her! 

Why can't people just bloody drive properly? I mean it's not diffcult to stay in the lines and indicate where appropriate, whilst at the same time drive at a sensible speed! AND by sensible I do NOT mean <40mph on a country road! When will the driving-law-makers make it acceptable for someone stuck behind a slow person to beep and flash them until they speed up or pull over?! 

So as it's October, people this year have been brainwashed by the media or some hippies into giving something up...and I'm always one to jump on a bandwagon! I've decided to give up pizzas for the month. It'll be tough but my bowels will, I'm sure, be glad of the rest! I've rather buggered myself as I'm going out to an Italian restaurant that does excellant calzones tomorrow night! Truly I am being tested!

After being put down my whole life (by people who, I now realise were just jealous) I've decided to start my own singing career! I was singing to 'Up There' from the South Park Movie (a very moving song) in the car on the way home yesterday and my 'friend from the neighbourhood' secretly recorded it and played it back to me today and I thought at first it was the actual song! I'm not just blowing my own trumpet (especially not at this hour!) as she also said it was excellant singing. I've been told in the past my kareoke skills are off the rail. I was belting out some Wrecking Ball in the shower and think I may do a cover of it.

Speaking of people, the last two days driving into work, we passed the local primary school and my 'friend from the neighbourhood' was literally gobsmacked by the ugliness of one of the mums. She was literally like 'oh my god look at that dog!' and other things to that effect. We need to roll on by with 'Who Let the Dogs Out' blaring next time. 

Also been introduced to the term 'fail whale' this week. If you want to use this yourself, just wait until someone fails, and go 'ooh did you see that fail whale swim by?' Reminds me of the great time I was in New York and was introduced not only to some lovely ladies from Chicago but they brought with them the exotic phrase 'awkward turtle' which me and my 'friends from the neighbourhood' brought back to England. Official. It's basically a way for you to tell someone silently that a moment is awkward, and multiply the awkwardness by ten because everyone else knows what it means.

That's enough to be getting on with!

Gillian McKeith

Candles, Zombies, and the triumphant return of Big Daddy and Pissingham!

My evenings have gotten darker. Money worries, 99 problems if you don't count the one with the bitch, a rap career that has yet to take off. Everyday problems. But mainly my evenings will be darker is because my amazing triple-powered candle has flickered its last and died a respectable death :(

I should point out for the record that there ain't no problems with my delightful ladyfriend, if anyone who knows her is reading this!

I hit upon an excellant idea, though I admit it's probably been done! What I thought of was you get 26 identical red boxes....

Then I had another idea where I went on my facebook page (I choose to remain anonymous for this, I don't want any fanboy mail) and since I'm in the time-line camp, there were 8 random friends displayed near the top. Okay so this'll be more fun if you play along with me! If you don't have facebook chances are you also don't own a computer so how are you even reading this? Also if you don't have 8 friends on facebook then just choose 8 things you've 'liked' e.g. Resident Evil, Levi's, or NHS Blood Donations! It should still work but will require more imagination!

Okay so imagine you and your 8 friends are a group of survivors in a zombie apocalypse! Now choose one of you to kill off quickly! Come on don't be shy, chances are high that 1 in 8 of your facebook friends you don't really care for!

The rest is really up to you! In my imagination was a whirlwind adventure of swashbuckling, hilarity, and bargain-hunting! In that order!

I may return to this trail of thought in the future! But in the meantime I'd love to hear where your own adventure leads you! Try to avoid shopping centres they are too cleché! Don't use real names either, I've decided I'd rather give people new names based loosely on what they're like!

Oh also I'd greatly enjoy putting my music library on shuffle and having the plot of my story influenced by whatever comes on! I must say I do love the idea of disco-dancing zombies with massive 'fro's!

Some readers may remember I wrote about the adventures of Big Daddy in New York City, a few issues ago. Sadly it didn't involve any zombies, but hey I am nothing if not changeable so I will leave that door open! Which when there're zombies around is always asking for trouble! I also noticed I've picked up one reader in Malaysia! Along with Britain, the USA and Germany, this post is truly becoming intercontinental! My favorite thing about Malaysia in particular is that it consists of thirteen states and three federal territories and has a total landmass of 329,847 square kilometres (127,350 sq mi) separated by the South China Sea into two similarly sized regions, Peninsular Malaysia and Malaysian Borneo.

"Sir that's truly fascinating, but I don't remember actually asking anything Malaysia, or geography at all!" exclaimed Pissingham, my faithful butler and dogsbody.

That's because I haven't even begun the tales of  Bid Daddy and Pissingham yet, be patient!

And now we return to the adventures of Big Daddy and his faithful sidekick Pissingham! As you probably recall they'd been in the Sequinned Rim (well Bid Daddy had, Pissingham I only thought to add after I'd finished that issue, but for continuity's sake he was there, just in the toilet having a pretty heavy episode in there!) To be brutally honest I wrote it a while ago, so I can't really remember what the general plot was, but we'll say that they've just staggered into their humble abode between 45th Street and 814st Avenue.


As soon as the front door closed, I realised something was wrong. I was still outside!
"Pissingham you fiend! Let me in!"
I banged on the door for hours, but the off-licence was well and truly closed!
Hours later I managed to get back into my abode. I found Pissingham in the kitchen and took out the slip of paper that I'd been been given by Mark Chubb but had neglected to mention until then. I wasn't at all anxious to advance the plot! Pissingham wouldn't play ball, however, and dutiful as ever, asked "what's that?"

"Well, Pissingham", i replied, "Mark Chubb has a job for us. In exactly ten days he and Benji Phresh want to seal their relationship with a civil partnership in town. That's all well and good but Mr Chubb's wish was to have his brother, Mick Salmon, be best man. The thing is, Mr Salmon went missing as of yesterday afternoon?"
"So he hired us to find his missing brother before he even went missing?!" Pissingham was aghast.
"Quite so, old friend! You must admit the man is organised!"
"I'LL ADMIT NOTHING!"

Hours passed. As morning appeared and we both, for the most part, sobered up, I deployed my Mac #copyright and opened up an email that I sensed was from Mark. At last! A lead!
I put it on the dog and we went for a walk. It was a bit surprising as until then I hadn't owned a dog. Suddenly it stood up on its hind legs and handed me a note. It told me its name was Luke Dawkings and he was undercover trying to root out a leak in the local police canine unit. I tried to ask why he was allowing me to lead him round Central Park carrying a generously-filled bag of his leavings, but I didn't want to attract the weird looks from people watching a man having an in-depth conversation with his own dog.
At that moment Dawkings (or Patch as I'd come to call him), spotted a familiar man dressed as a feline and gave chase with a bark. I let him go after the other man, but I had to admit that Pissingham did look damn good in a catsuit!

Hours passed. I took Dawkings back to the flat. Chasing Pissingham round the park had worn him out so I left him in the hall licking his own testicles and read the note he had given me earlier. It made for interesting reading. Patch claimed that Mr Salmon had been seen with his youngest sister Miss Starfish, and their fat Auntie Whale, heading to the Sequinned Rim the night before, but had been put off by the name so had gone to the rival bar across the road called the Shiney Vagazzle, where it was lady's night!
Mind mind raced!

What could Salmon want in the Shiney Vagazzle? Where did Miss Starfish and Fat Auntie Whale fit into the equation? How much would it cost to have Mr Dawkings spayed? Was that Pissingham having a pole installed in the front room?
These were all questions I'd have to find answers to if I was going to track down Mr Salmon in time for Chubb'n'Phresh's civil partnership! It was time to live my dream of buying a frock and visiting the Shiney Vagazzle for some undercover work!



It's a candle, but also looks dark and gritty enough to be a METAPHOR!!! #metaphorsftw

You know what Yvonne Fair? It didn't HAVE to be you!

"...Since we're on the topic, CAN ghosts breathe underwater?"
I looked at the phone in my hand, before remembering I wasn't on the phone, the person was in the room with me. Still, if they kept acting as crazy as they had been this last hour, the device I was holding might have to be used to beat them unconcious whilst I phoned the police and had this nutjob locked up.
"I don't know if they can breathe underwater, Mom", I sighed. Since I was staying in New York I felt it was only common courtesy to use the American spelling of the word, and I could tell all the natives I spoke to appreciated it."Now please leave."
As she got up to find a hotel to stay in, (my guest room was being used by the cat), I sank back into my armchair and closed my eyes with satisfaction as the joyous tones of Gina G came on over the grammarphone.

That was an excerpt from an idea I had called "Big Grandaddy", which is a spin-off of Bid Daddy and Pissingham. Let me know what you think!

I was musing the other day about the game Dead Rising 2 and the idea of Zombrex. So you have to, as Chuck (who btw gets bitten loads if you're as good as it as I am, and yet never turns into a zombie or anything? what's that about?! at least on The Walking Dead game if you get bitten that's it, game over!) anyway as Chuck you have to find Zombrex which is dotted about the map and not kept in an emergency crate in the emergency shelter where you're staying with your infected daughter! So you have to get the Zombrex and give it to her between 7am and 8am every day or she'll turn into a zombie! She's like 5 and spends the whole game on her PERSONAL GAMEGEAR with headphones on! how much of a connection with her can he have?! plus it says it's very expensive, why doesn't she have a job to pay towards some of it herself?! I reckon our hero Chuck is being taken for a massive ride! Just imagine if he wants to ever have a lie-in in his life he can't because she might kill him whilst he sleeps in until 8:01!

One of the better ideas I've heard recently is the idea to combine Scraphead Challenge with Xfactor (sort of) and get a band of wouldbe musicians (i know, i know, nothing to do with Xfactor) and they have to build musical instruments out of rubbish in a scrapyard and then perform a popular hit from a decade of the judge's choice! it would be amazing! Also Sexfactor would be good, where contestants battle to become the most successful pimps in seedy European cities! And TRexfactor! well i dont think i even need to explain that one!

"I feel crummy!"

It all takes me back to that time I got ahold of a batch of super-heavy-duty permanent pens and we were on the train (so you can tell this was before I started driving!) and i handed one of my mate, for anonymity's sake I'm going to give him the name Ben G. Phresh, and said RIGHT WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T DRAW ON ANYTHING COS IT WILL NEVER COME OFF. I should have guessed that Phresh being Phresh (as he so often is) he went and drew a big penis right on the wall! Crazy times!

I'm sure you were wondering what actually it was that did take me back to that time! Well I was in a bar in New York, however I was under 21 so couldn't actually drink at the time, I'd made up for it by drinking heavily with my breakfast at the airport before I flew over there. I put on some Billy Joel on the Jukebox and some dood @ the bar turned to his buddy and said "Billy Joel in New York? ALRIGHT!" and there was much joy!

As soon as the song finished, Ben G. Phresh and his life partner Mark Chubb entered with Mark's entourage in tow. I tipped back my authentic cowboy hat with the authentic pink edging and sequinned rim (which is also the name of the bar I was in, as it happens!). Phresh was just out of the big house, that's where I'd met him the previous decade after I'd rolled three doubles in a row! I had a bad feeling about this. I was meant to be in the Big Apple on vacation, and here were two guys who practically screamed that they had work for one Mr B. Daddy. The bartender asked that they keep it down. It smelt bad, but that served me right for sitting right outside the Men's Room.

Back to that story at a later date. #cliffhanger

Anyway, what's inspired this rather Western-themed entry is an acquaintance of mine who's staying over here to study from Chicago. (Note: those of you with access to Youtube, please search "My Kind of Town" by Frank Sinatra and listen to it in the background whilst reading this bit). So she come's over here to study in London and we were talking and she uses the phrase "I feel crummy partner!" and i just gaped! No-one in my life had ever used such an expression, it revolutionised my entire existance! It was quite something! #multiculturalism4thewin

Back to the Sequinned Rim for more ballbusting action!

I stubbed out my cigarillo on the floor, damaging my croc in the process.
"So, Mr Daddy, said Chubb" said Ben G Phresh, "you can see we got a problem here!"
I stubbed out the melted remains of my funky outdoor footwear, mentally adding them to my fast-approaching first draft of a Christmas list.
"I dunno Benji", I said. I knew that mispronouncing his name always drove him into a frenzy, but that's just the kind of sick bastard I was that particular evening. For some reason he didn't seem to notice...maybe next time... "It smells of some deep shit!"
"Then why are we still sitting right outside the John?!" complained the old crone Cruella, leader of Chubb's extensive all-woman gang.
I left the Sequinned Rim, carefully avoiding falling through any of the gaping holes in the plot, and thought about my next move...


I hope you enjoyed The All New Adventures of Big Daddy, I may write more about his exploits next time!

<<This is an artist (with a camera)'s impression of what the Sequinned Rim might look like in real life!