Kingfisher, a set on Flickr.
Thursday, 3 November 2011
Aint nature a funny thing. Well sometimes it is, sometimes it quite heart-wrenching, but I suppose it's survival of the fittest etc etc. I was watching that latest Attenborough thing and they were showing a Caterpillar that couldn't eat fast enough to transform into a Butterfly so everytime the cold spell came back it would crawl under a rock and basically die. Then, when the sun comes back four months later it comes back to life and starts eating. Fuck knows how much it has to eat cause they can do this for 12 years. Bet the butterfly don't last that long.
Something else they had on there was a bunch (school? shoal?) of Narwhals swimming
up a crack in the ice. Now, as you can see, Narwhals have very long Unicorn type things sticking out the front of them and they swim up the crack Red Indian style. This is thought to be the reason that Narwhals are the only animals, with the exception of Humans, to have pierced clits.
Apparently it is a bit of an accident, when the front one has to do an emergency stop and the others don't notice, and then they have to 'plug the hole' to stop the Swordfish/Unicorn/Whale combination from filling with water and drowning.
Narwhals are well known for being able to hold their breath for up to four months, so when one drowns it is a long, drawn out process.
The items that are used for the clitoris piercing can range from an oversized icicle (short-term, emergency measure) to a small seal or even a discarded hair gel container, left by a careless BBC cameraman.
The most broadly accepted theory for the role of the tusk is as a secondary sexual characteristic, similar to the mane of a lion or the tail feathers of a peacock. When I say ‘most broadly accepted’ I mean by some of the more famous academic types. This hypothesis was notably discussed and defended at length by Charles Darwin, in The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex but what wasn’t discussed was the act of sexual piercing, notably that of the clitoris. It is not known, however, if male Narwhals have ever had a ‘Prince Albert’.
I took a photo of a Kingfisher today, not the best, but it's a Kingfisher.
And I took it.............
Something else they had on there was a bunch (school? shoal?) of Narwhals swimming
Apparently it is a bit of an accident, when the front one has to do an emergency stop and the others don't notice, and then they have to 'plug the hole' to stop the Swordfish/Unicorn/Whale combination from filling with water and drowning.
Narwhals are well known for being able to hold their breath for up to four months, so when one drowns it is a long, drawn out process.
The items that are used for the clitoris piercing can range from an oversized icicle (short-term, emergency measure) to a small seal or even a discarded hair gel container, left by a careless BBC cameraman.
The most broadly accepted theory for the role of the tusk is as a secondary sexual characteristic, similar to the mane of a lion or the tail feathers of a peacock. When I say ‘most broadly accepted’ I mean by some of the more famous academic types. This hypothesis was notably discussed and defended at length by Charles Darwin, in The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex but what wasn’t discussed was the act of sexual piercing, notably that of the clitoris. It is not known, however, if male Narwhals have ever had a ‘Prince Albert’.
I took a photo of a Kingfisher today, not the best, but it's a Kingfisher.
And I took it.............
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Wednesday 2nd November 2011
Your wife's got beautiful skin, shame it's not round her body no more.
It just came away in my hands as I asked her up to dance
Castles are wonderful places. Wonderful places to visit and run around and photograph. They are even better when they have a tearoom or a cafe. But it has to be a modern one, the tea room, none of this original malarkey.
Castles were designed to protect. They were also a penis substitute, a bit like Ferraris and Lamborghinis are today.
The bigger your castle the bigger you thought your penis was. There were plenty of exceptions to this rule however as mostly the people that commissioned castle building were more likely to be rich than well endowed.
But castles were also designed to be dangerous places. You probably wouldn't be allowed to build one today, not with all our barmy Health & Safety rules and regulations. The drawbridge would have to have safety netting under it to stop anyone from falling in the moat and there would have to be steps up the outside for emergency access.
Just think of the problems with the oil heating room too. Some self-righteous official would have a heart attack just thinking about the risk assessments for a room that is designed to heat huge vats of oil in for the sole purpose of pouring it over other people.
I remember when I was a young lad I was nearly killed in a castle. There was a re-enactment going on and all these people were running around with swords and lances and bows & arrows and things. I choked on a segment of apple in the cafe and turned blue. I have never eaten anything remotely associated with apples of castles to this day.
Castles are invariably built on hills. There is a common misconception that this is to make
it harder to get to. This is total nonsense. The reason castles are built on hills is because of people like George Clarke and Sarah Beeny. They thought it would be a good idea to have a nice view and a bit of a lake and the only place to put a lake on top of a hill with a castle on it is either in the castle itself, in which case you run the risk of Trenchfoot, or around the perimeter of it, so they are responsible for moats as well.
Castles these days are, more often than not, in a state of dis-repair. This is not because no one has any money to do them up, oh no, it is because they have loads of money because the are not done up. Who wants to go and see a perfect, pristine castle? No one, except maybe a knight in shining armour and you don't get many of them for a pound these days either.
Tourists like crumbling castles and it is for this reason that so many of them are. Not to save money but to make money.
Sandal Castle in Wakefield has a hill but not much castle. The pikeys have pinched most of it. The hill on which the remains sit is the very one that was besieged by the grand old Duke of York. Honest, it is. I stayed on Duke of York Avenue, right below the castle. Number 190. Having been up to the top of the hill many times, I can assure you that when you are up you are up, and when you are down you're in Duke of York Avenue. (this paragraph copyright of Macduff)
In summary, most castles were built long ago and the majority are uninhabited.
It just came away in my hands as I asked her up to dance
Castles are wonderful places. Wonderful places to visit and run around and photograph. They are even better when they have a tearoom or a cafe. But it has to be a modern one, the tea room, none of this original malarkey.
The bigger your castle the bigger you thought your penis was. There were plenty of exceptions to this rule however as mostly the people that commissioned castle building were more likely to be rich than well endowed.
But castles were also designed to be dangerous places. You probably wouldn't be allowed to build one today, not with all our barmy Health & Safety rules and regulations. The drawbridge would have to have safety netting under it to stop anyone from falling in the moat and there would have to be steps up the outside for emergency access.
Just think of the problems with the oil heating room too. Some self-righteous official would have a heart attack just thinking about the risk assessments for a room that is designed to heat huge vats of oil in for the sole purpose of pouring it over other people.
I remember when I was a young lad I was nearly killed in a castle. There was a re-enactment going on and all these people were running around with swords and lances and bows & arrows and things. I choked on a segment of apple in the cafe and turned blue. I have never eaten anything remotely associated with apples of castles to this day.
Castles are invariably built on hills. There is a common misconception that this is to make
Castles these days are, more often than not, in a state of dis-repair. This is not because no one has any money to do them up, oh no, it is because they have loads of money because the are not done up. Who wants to go and see a perfect, pristine castle? No one, except maybe a knight in shining armour and you don't get many of them for a pound these days either.
Tourists like crumbling castles and it is for this reason that so many of them are. Not to save money but to make money.
Sandal Castle in Wakefield has a hill but not much castle. The pikeys have pinched most of it. The hill on which the remains sit is the very one that was besieged by the grand old Duke of York. Honest, it is. I stayed on Duke of York Avenue, right below the castle. Number 190. Having been up to the top of the hill many times, I can assure you that when you are up you are up, and when you are down you're in Duke of York Avenue. (this paragraph copyright of Macduff)
In summary, most castles were built long ago and the majority are uninhabited.
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Tuesday 1st November 2011
The Devil went down to Scunthorpe, looking for a soul to steal. In a bind an' way behind, he was willin' to make a deal.
Do you remember teaching a child to ride a bike. It could be your child, a relative, a relative's child or maybe just a random child (not that I condone that sort of behaviour).
Or maybe you have seen someone teaching a child how to ride a bike, maybe in real life, maybe on film. To be honest, it don't really fucking matter, you know what I'm on about, don't you?
Holding on to the bike as the child gets a bit of momentum, letting go and watching them wobble a bit, then wobble a bit more, handlebars going every-which-way before the child either falls off or lets the bike drop. Then trying to explain to the child that the pedals need to go ALL the way round and not just push down with the right foot (left, if a south paw) and then try and get it to the top again.
Well I was in London today, and you know how much I fucking well hate the bastard place, but I saw something that nearly made me laugh
out loud.
If I was drinking tea, I would have probably snorted some through my nose, it was that sort of thing.
You know those "Boris Bikes" you can hire in London? Well you may not, they are shitty looking bikes that are locked in racks everywhere you look and you can use them and then just abandon them wherever and whenever you have finished with them. They have these silly little flashing lights that are always on, like someone is expecting the smog from Victorian times to return and engulf the World.
Well anyhoo, I saw a Chinese couple next to a long rack of these things and the woman was sitting on one and the man was trying to teach her how to ride it. No Chinese Lanterns or owt, but they had obviously gone through a bit of the 'pushing along and letting go' stage as she was now attempting to ride it herself. He was doing 'pedalling' motions with his hands and she was wobbling, wobbling a bit more and then dropping the bike. I initially thought it was quite admirable for her to attempt to ride a bike at her age but then I thought, "Why the fuckety fuck would you do this in the middle of the busiest city in the country on a shitty bike the likes of which you will probably never ride again?"
She may get a bit of a wobbly ride going on the pavement but imagine her teetering along Embankment with all those tosser motorcycle couriers and twatty van delivery drivers. Not to mention pig stupid country bumkin drivers like meslef, who despise being in the stinking rotten place let alone driving in it.
She wouldn't last five seconds before she was stir-fry fodder.
I left home at 0400hrs, was in Stratford by 0710hrs, left there at 0900hrs and then took over two hours to drive the 45 miles to Reading. And it was pishing down.
Took another photo of the Moon tonight, couldn't resist.
Do you remember teaching a child to ride a bike. It could be your child, a relative, a relative's child or maybe just a random child (not that I condone that sort of behaviour).
Holding on to the bike as the child gets a bit of momentum, letting go and watching them wobble a bit, then wobble a bit more, handlebars going every-which-way before the child either falls off or lets the bike drop. Then trying to explain to the child that the pedals need to go ALL the way round and not just push down with the right foot (left, if a south paw) and then try and get it to the top again.
Well I was in London today, and you know how much I fucking well hate the bastard place, but I saw something that nearly made me laugh
If I was drinking tea, I would have probably snorted some through my nose, it was that sort of thing.
You know those "Boris Bikes" you can hire in London? Well you may not, they are shitty looking bikes that are locked in racks everywhere you look and you can use them and then just abandon them wherever and whenever you have finished with them. They have these silly little flashing lights that are always on, like someone is expecting the smog from Victorian times to return and engulf the World.
Well anyhoo, I saw a Chinese couple next to a long rack of these things and the woman was sitting on one and the man was trying to teach her how to ride it. No Chinese Lanterns or owt, but they had obviously gone through a bit of the 'pushing along and letting go' stage as she was now attempting to ride it herself. He was doing 'pedalling' motions with his hands and she was wobbling, wobbling a bit more and then dropping the bike. I initially thought it was quite admirable for her to attempt to ride a bike at her age but then I thought, "Why the fuckety fuck would you do this in the middle of the busiest city in the country on a shitty bike the likes of which you will probably never ride again?"
She may get a bit of a wobbly ride going on the pavement but imagine her teetering along Embankment with all those tosser motorcycle couriers and twatty van delivery drivers. Not to mention pig stupid country bumkin drivers like meslef, who despise being in the stinking rotten place let alone driving in it.
She wouldn't last five seconds before she was stir-fry fodder.
I left home at 0400hrs, was in Stratford by 0710hrs, left there at 0900hrs and then took over two hours to drive the 45 miles to Reading. And it was pishing down.
Took another photo of the Moon tonight, couldn't resist.
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