Childhood Games ~ British Bulldogs

I said this could become a series and it's looking like I may be correct.

After the fun I had dredging up my memories of hares and hounds, I've decided to take a good long look at the game of British bulldogs.

Now I don't know what games they play in other parts of the world, and for all I know kids may bash each other round the heads with metal bars and call that fun (thinking on it, don't chavs already do that and call it fun?). But in my experience British bulldogs is the most brutal game in the whole long history of childhood games. If you look at it a certain way it could possibly be as brutal as certain adult sports, like boxing, MMA, real wrestling and BDSM.

As an aside, I have no idea how the name British bulldogs originated and I'm just a bit to lazy to do some proper research on it.

Again this game requires a group of kids to play, the more the bloodier as it were. I suppose you could play it with imaginary friends, but you'd look like a crazed lunatic and might end up getting committed. Again there are two teams, though for this game they are a little bit more unequal, I'll attempt to explain that shortly.

There are different variations of bulldogs, so depending on where you live there'll be some slight differences in play. But the basic game is the same everywhere, run really bloody fast across an open area and try not to get flattened.

So to play the game. First you need a rather large, open playing area, preferably a large field, but anywhere will do as long as it's an empty space. Playing on concrete increases the chances of picking up a serious injury and thus having time off school, a popular choice. Next the teams are chosen, basically it's one kid versus all the rest who want to play. It takes a complex scientific formula to select the lone brat who will be the bulldog, requiring a knowledge of physics and orbital decay (the kid who suggested the game will spin around for a bit with his arm outstretched, when he stops whoever he is pointing at is the unlucky one). The two "teams" then set up in their own areas.

The playing area is divided into three parts - the main action area which is the largest part and where all the brutality occurs, and two safe or home areas at either end of the field. The action area is the bulldogs hunting ground and all the conquests will take place there. The opposing players start in one of the home ends and when it's time they attempt to flee past the bulldog to get to the other end - this is a round.

How us kids imagined a typical round to start!

To start the bulldog stands about midway between the two home ends, and after throwing a few choice insults, selects and opponent to try and get past him.

The bulldog taunting his prey!

For the challenged it's simple - get from one end to the other without being caught. For the bulldog it's a wee bit trickier; he has to either grab hold of his prey for long enough to say the phrase, "British bulldogs 1, 2, 3", or he has to smash the other kid to the ground then say the phrase. The second option usually tends to be the preferred one. If the bulldog catches his prey then they too become a bulldog, and finally the poor child has the chance of some company. Once the challenged child has either been caught or made it across the field safely, all the other kids can then rush out in a yelling, disorganised mob. This is the easiest time of the game to capture opponents; the bulldogs numbers will undoubtedly double at this point of the game.

The second round follows the first in style, except this time the kid who's called out has a larger number of bulldogs to avoid, making it that much harder to survive the round. And trust me, three of four kids piling on top of you isn't conductive to avoiding bruised knees and bloody noses!

The game carries on this way until the last kid standing is declared the winner. Surprisingly it's not often the fastest runner who wins, as the ever increasing hordes of children gang up en masse to bring the swift ones down. Strange how they seem to work in a pack...

As I stated in the hares and hounds post, kids have shitloads of energy and because of this another game is soon begun. The first caught from the last game starts as the bulldog.

A little fact to end this post with. Due to the extreme physical nature of British bulldogs, most schools across England have actually banned the game from being played during break times. Shall we all agree now that teachers are heartless bastards?

Childhood Games ~ Hares and Hounds

I was just sat here behind the computer, late last night, with a glass of wine, waiting for a friend to pop online,  when I got around to reminiscing about my long ago childhood. Well, it wasn't a recent thing this reminiscing, I've been reminiscing for years about all the ridiculous things I could do to get myself in trouble as a know-it-all kid. But last night’s reminiscing (I love that word for some reason) has been brought about by realising that I don’t quite have the energy levels as I did in my formative years (I tried sprinting after the dog earlier and thought I was going to friggin’ die).

So this got me thinking about some of the games I used to play as a kid (trust me, with the way my mind works that’s natural thought progression). So I'm going to bore you all with my favourite games, this could become a series so be well warned.

Most of these games, probably all, required a group of people to play them. So if you lived in your bedroom, played Commodore games and your only friend was Gordon who lived in your wardrobe, well then basically you were fucked and you don’t need to read any further (apologies to the friendless ones reading this, I’m not totally heartless).

Anyways, we’re going to start off by looking at a game known as hares and hounds (where I'm from that’s what we called it). It’s a simple game that requires a large and preferably urban area with lots of streets and side-streets to play in. To play the game you ideally need a minimum of eight people, preferably a lot bloody more, but anything less than eight and it isn't much fun, and is over far too quickly.

The rules - you and your friends split yourselves up into two teams, one known as hares, the other known as hounds. I know I'm stating the obvious there, but I can because I'm explaining this shit. Anyhow the hares are generally given a one minute head start, so they proceed to sprint off in all directions hoping to get as far away as they can before having a breather. Meanwhile the hounds stand around playing pocket pool and talking about how unfair life is that they have a curfew and how they won’t get into a strangers car if he’s offering sweeties. Finally, after much checking of cheap digital watches the minute is up.

A group of hounds preparing to hunt!

Now we’re into the exciting part of the game - the running around like idiots, the hares trying not to be caught, the hounds whooping and hollering and taunting their prey with childish insults. The biggest difference between the teams (other than hunter and hunted), is that the hares are all soloists, they’ll run about and hide and never have any help. The hounds on the other hand will often work as a team, luring their prey into cunningly disguised ambushes (chasing some kid right into another). When a hare is caught he isn't torn savagely limb from limb; that would cause the game to be classed as dangerous and possibly be outlawed. Hollywood would then probably make a movie of it, upgrading the kids to adults and casting Keanu Reeves into a heroic hare role. Instead the hare is transformed into a hound, via some sort of magic spell known only to children and cast with a touch of the hand. Once transformed, the new hound is accepted gratefully into the hive mind of the hounds, and joins their quest to capture his former friends.

A terrified hare fleeing the feral hounds!

Basically the game carries on in this vein until there’s only 1 hare left to hunt and he is then declared the winner. Of course they still have to hunt him down to tell him the good news and inform him that he’s won a Mars bar as a prize. Then after a few minutes rest the whole fucking thing begins again, with new teams. Kids have far too much energy.

There is a moral to this game and that is, don’t get bloody caught!

Here’s a word of advice - don’t ever play this game while on bikes; it can cause injuries up to and including broken limbs.

The A-Team provide life lessons

“If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can remember them, maybe you can hire the A-Team”

It all began back during the days of the Vietnam War (way before even I was born); some soldiers did something rather silly and got themselves arrested. You automatically think of Americans when a statement like that is made, don’t you? Apologies to any and all Americans who might read that and sue me for defamation of character and what not.

Lets begin again…

In 1972 a team of crap crack commandos were sent to prison for a crime they didn't commit. Hold on a moment, before continuing on I have to ask - how do we know they didn't do said crime? I mean all we ever really have is their word and they are men who know how to use bloody guns, if they say they’re innocent most sane and reasonable people will nod and say they believe them! But anyways, back on track. They were sent down for a crime they “didn’t” commit. For punishment they got thrown into a maximum security military prison and, being our heroes they managed to escape. Now see this gets me wondering again, either our four main guys are more badass than we realised (and got arrested just for shits and giggles), or their prison was about as secure as a Wendy house. I think I’m leaning in the direction of explanation number two here. So they escape and promptly hide out somewhere in Los Angeles, which isn't a bad choice really as apparently, a herd of dinosaurs could hide out in L.A. and never be discovered. Deciding that they need money (well they’re on the run from the law and all criminals on the lam need a steady supply of cash), they choose to go into the soldier of fortune business (a rapid growth industry back in the 70’s - 80’s), and advertise their services in the classified sections of every newspaper on the face of the Earth. Good decision making there boys, no military police officers are ever going to suspect who you are when they see your ad in between the landscape gardening and dog grooming adverts.

Before we go any further let’s introduce ourselves to the A-Team, soldiers of fortune and supposedly all around good eggs.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

Here we have the main man himself, Colonel John “Hannibal” Smith. Master of disguise, cigar chomper extraordinaire and lover of plans coming together. He favours wearing white jackets and black leather gloves and is known to grin like a lunatic on meds (see: Murdoch) when things go his way.

"I lie, I cheat, I steal and I just don't get any respect."

Next up in front of us is Lieutenant Templeton “The Faceman” Peck, or just Face to his buddies. Face is the man who can get anything at any time from anywhere, unless it’s something useful that you actually need then he’s about as useful as a chocolate fire-guard. Face likes to appear suave and is rarely seen without female company.

"I'm a bird! I'm a plane! I'm a choo-choo train!"

Grinning at us now (and I guess making us all nervous) is Captain H.M. “Howling Mad” Murdock. The man who can fly anything, and I mean anything! He has been known to take joy rides on a paper airplane around the confines of his padded cell. Murdock likes nothing more than annoying his friends and extolling the virtues of a glass of milk.

"I ain't gettin' on no plane Hannibal!"

And finally we come to Sergeant First Class Bosco “B.A.” Baracus. This man must be the strongest man in the world and surely the only sentient being who’s ever harboured suspicions about an innocent glass of milk. B.A. likes gold, lots and lots and lots of gold; he probably has more gold around his neck than Fort Knox has in its vaults.

So now we've met our heroes and we know how they got to be where they are (well, we know their version). So what is it they now do? What exactly is soldier of fortuning? Or soldiering of fortune? Well evidently it’s about helping the weak, oppressed and frankly naïve population of America in their struggles against crooks, thugs and other unsavoury types, all the while imparting morality and good old fashioned working class ethics on the unsuspecting viewing public. And who said ultra-violent, yet strangely bloodless, trashy action shows couldn't educate people?

I'm going to describe a basic episode here, it’s all made up from my imagination, but I'm sure you've all seen the various A-Team equivalents. At least I hope you've seen it, I'm going on the assumption here that everyone reading has had almost constant access to a TV and hasn't been living in a TV-less world were the only form of entertainment is counting pocket lint.

Anyhow…

Random redneck townsperson A is being threatened by random redneck thugs A,B and C. D is looking on menacingly chewing on a toothpick. The threats are probably some form of extortion; they usually are in your typical A-Team episode.

Random redneck townsperson A moans and whinges to random redneck townsperson B, and sometimes C if the producers could afford a lot of extras. Together our group of oppressed random rednecks scour the classifieds, looking for men with guns to drive in and save the day. Smart-ass comments and pithy one-liners are a must.

A meeting is arranged and random redneck(s) get in their rusty old car(s) and drive off to a fairground (sometimes it’s the beach). There they are met by a giant latex clown (I can’t remember seeing Hannibal in a giant latex clown outfit, but I'm pretty damn sure he had one).

The random rednecks pour out their woes to the giant latex clown and ask it if it knows where to find the A-Team. Just as an aside here, would you trust anyone who wore a few pounds of latex on a stupidly hot day? Me neither! Sidetracked again, sorry. After listening sympathetically the giant latex clown pops open a panel somewhere on its upper body and the face of Hannibal Smith appears, lights up a cigar, chomps a bit and informs them he and his boys will help out.

Cue the really cool intro music:

We have a few quick fire scenes here. First off is a few random redneck thugs getting all macho and tough with a group of random redneck townspeople, then we have the first real A-Team action scene of the day. Murdock, as viewers will remember, lives in a mental hospital (because he’s a loon obviously), and because our team can’t function very well as a threesome they have to come up with a cunning plan to break Murdock free for a few days. This usually involves Face posing as a doctor and B.A. posing as a taxi driver (he’s driving something, he can do the taxi driver pose).

With Murdock (un)safely back among the general population our team head off for the random redneck village, the four messed up horsemen of the apocalypse.

Within seconds of driving down random redneck town’s high street, Hannibal and the boys not only know who the big, aggravating boss is, they know everything he’s ever done wrong, even down to the aggressive way he used to play kiss-chase at the local primary school.

Hannibal, Face, Murdock and B.A. meet up with a few of the respectable elder random redneck townspeople, and they do the verbal equivalent of a group hug, Face makes eyes at some pretty girl (probably called Daisy or Mary Sue), then they head off to a bar. You have to understand, it has to be a bar. Nowhere else can show the confrontational ambience of small-town America other than an all American bar.

In the bar the head redneck thug is shooting some pool (usually winning, because thugs the world over are brown nosers and want to suck up). The comic relief bit happens here, when Hannibal and the head redneck thug trade enough witty one-liners to make a circuit comedian go green with envy. Suffice to say nothing gets resolved (these guys really are shit negotiators) and Hannibal is now free to devise one of his cunning plans (I don’t know about the rest of you, but I'm wondering if Hannibal can count Baldric among his ancestors?)

Before the gang leave the bar though, they must have the obligatory fist fight with the redneck thugs. The fight follows a fairly predictable routine. Hannibal, despite looking a few centuries older than most of the guys he‘s fighting, manages to beat his opponents down with a variety of brutal and flashy moves (and never losing his cigar). Murdock acts all crazy (well, he doesn't need to act) and barring throwing the odd jab around doesn't accomplish much. Face, being perceived as the weakest guy alive generally has a few big, hefty thugs surrounding him, and despite being a highly trained special operations soldier he still manages to get beaten on by a group of lads who can all probably claim that their sister is their mother … and they’re all brothers. B.A. meanwhile just stands there, letting each and every one of his assailants punch the foot thick armour-plating of gold chains that cover his chest (why they ignore his unprotected face is anyone’s guess), then when they’re all stood around holding their hands he throws them contemptuously about the room. He’s so talented he can even throw them in slow-mo.

The team leave the bar and climb into the van. Now the A-Team van is surely the coolest motor vehicle ever to appear on screen (even better than the cars shown in The Dukes of Hazzard and Starsky and Hutch). It’s an indestructible fighting machine, a mobile war office and the bearer of the world’s largest personal weapons armoury. The van is the fifth member of the A-Team.

So they've made their plans. Hannibal has chomped a few cigars down to brown mulch. Now they are ready to go to war.

Sometimes, if we’re especially lucky, we’ll get a scene involving some sort of flying machine. It makes sense really as Murdock is the best pilot in the world, now and forever. I'm pretty convinced, though, that the only reason these scenes were included was to educate young people on the importance of having a regular calcium intake. I mean we've already seen that B.A. is afraid of precisely nothing (well we have if we’re actually watching the show rather than reading my unaired episode), and now we’re expected to believe that B.A. is afraid of flying? I'm sorry but I can’t accept that. With any other mere mortal I could, but this is B.A. Baracus the toughest man alive. He ass fucks Chuck Norris twice before breakfast. Therefore I can only deduce that the powers that be saw he was the perfect role model and asked him to have this one (unrealistic) weakness in order to show the watching kids that drinking milk at any time was good for you. The sedatives were just a convenience.

We are treated now to various scenes of no real importance to the plot (usually scenes of Face making out with Daisy or Mary Sue).

But then we are treated to scenes of real genius. The scenes that every kid was glued to the TV for on a Saturday afternoon. The scenes of capture and subsequent escape.

You see what happens (in every bloody episode) is that something has gone wrong with the plan. The head redneck thug and his band of merry minions have somehow managed to capture Hannibal and the team. All the random redneck townspeople are depressed by this turn of events, understandably so given that the team of “professional” soldiers they've hired have been captured by a group of people who failed auditions for Deliverance.

But all is not lost. Our heroes (in true A-Team style) are imprisoned in a really large warehouse, fully stocked up with; wood, metal, power tools, spare tyres, gas canisters and some form of root vegetable, not to mention that the redneck thugs have failed to learn from history and have neglected to cut the power to the “warehouse prison”.

What follows is the biggest exercise in ingenuity you are ever likely to see, as the A-Team use all the materials they find and construct a worthy replication of a Challenger tank. This is why this show was more educational than anything else on TV at this point, it proved that if you used your brains and common sense, and if you just had access to a solitary plug point, you could turn a simple cabbage into a weapon of mass destruction. Learning with violent entertainment, if only schools would go that way now!

With the cabbage cannon (or whichever root vegetable they are using as ammunition), the A-Team are able to defeat the redneck army and their arsenal of automatic weapons. Miraculously enough nobody dies, or is even wounded. Either the people on this show are the worst marksmen in history, or the guns they have just shoot bubbles shaped like bullets. I’ll let you form your own opinions there.

Anyhow, Hannibal, Face, Murdock and B.A. have won. The oppressed redneck townspeople are free from their redneck thuggish oppressors, a victory for morality you may say.

I have to say though, other than Face having plenty of sex (fortunately not seen on camera), how do Hannibal and the team get paid for their efforts? Do they get paid cash so they can avoid taxes? Numbered Swiss bank accounts? Or do they have bank accounts in false names so they can access them without too much fiddling around?  I guess we’ll never know as the economics of being a soldier of fortune is never really explained.

There we go though, that’s how a particular episode of the A-Team generally goes. I'm sure you’ll all agree, once you've taken off the nostalgia glasses, that it’s just complete unbelievable trash TV. Best off left to the decade in which it emerged.

And we’re all probably right!

*****

What it all boils down to really is that this programme was pure fun. Sure, it wasn't Oscar or Emmy award winning brilliance, but it was light-hearted, and more often than not it had a decent moral message that kids could understand. And it was entertaining, and what more do we want from a TV show?

Thanks for reading, hope you all enjoyed.

A daytrip to Blackpool (when it was still the great wonder of the world)

Once upon a time, back in the hazy summers of youth, a daytrip to a seaside resort was considered one of the highlights of the school holidays. Wherever you went, be it Blackpool, Bournemouth, Brighton or Skegness you were virtually guaranteed a great day out.

I’m from the North-West so Blackpool was my family’s seaside destination and us kids looked forward to visiting every year. I’m not sure if the parents did but they weren’t important except as sources of transportation and money.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve come to see Blackpool as a tacky little town full of drunks and fools, but when I was a small lad it was fucking Wonderland. The Pleasure Beach, the piers, the Sandcastle, the tower and the zoo, it was the perfect place for any kid to really enjoy themselves.

As soon as the first really hot weekend of the summer holidays appeared the parents would bundle us into the car (after first making sure we’d had a good breakfast), and hit the road. It seemed to take forever to get there, but doesn’t it always when you’re eager to get somewhere? It actually takes less than an hour to get there, from where I live anyhow, but trust me to an eager young lad that’s a fucking lifetime. When the parents said we were near close to Blackpool my brother, sister and me would all get quite excited and squabble to see which of us could spot Blackpool Tower first. I was always the first, unfortunately I never got a prize for that.

Anyway we’d arrive early, park up somewhere fairly cheap and head off for the Pleasure Beach (if you’re taking kids to Blackpool that’s always the first destination). Even now I could quite easily spend all day at the Pleasure Beach, it’s only bettered by Alton Towers in my opinion. There’s something for all ages on the Pleasure Beach, famous old rollercoaster’s like The Big Dipper and The Grand National, dodgem cars, water rides and plenty of arcades for older, cool kids. There’s also a fair few pubs for the weary parent. I was never much for the rollercoaster’s as a young lad, I’ll admit they quite scared me, I was to be found most often in the arcades, playing the most recent games and wasting plenty of 2p’s on the coin pushing machines.

We’d never spend all day on the Pleasure Beach, after a while the parents would want to leave and walk the promenade and visit at least one of Blackpool’s three piers, where there was more arcade goodness. It was always a bit of fun to go running the length of those rickety old piers and see the worry on adult faces, whether that was worry that we may somehow (impossibly) go over the edge, or that we’d collapse the pier around them I never knew.

After a spot of dinner on the pier, usually a tray of chips and gravy on the south pier, we’d continue to be dragged up the promenade. As a punishment to the parents for making us leave the Pleasure Beach we’d make damn sure to try and drag them into every gift shop we could see, and as anyone who’s ever visited Blackpool will know there’s fucking loads of gift shops, seems like one in every three shops is a souvenir seller. And you know what? Every damn shop sells Blackpool Rock, in my opinion possibly the worst thing ever to be sold as confectionary. Even though I hated it (and still do), I always made sure to get some bought for me, it’s that punishment thing. Most of the items on sale were things only a kid could love; stickers, masks, little plastic models of Blackpool Tower and cheaply made teddy’s.

If we weren’t being particularly bratty on the day we’d sometimes walk all the way to Blackpool Tower from the Pleasure Beach, quite a trek for an adult never mind a school kid. The walk was always worth it though, if only to laugh at the little monkey zoo inside, which I think they’ve now removed, the bastards. If the lift was working you could go up to the top of the tower, were you had a spectacular view and possible danger of being blown over to Ireland.

We’d always end the day back at the Pleasure Beach, well there’d be uproar if we never, ready to waste more money on the 2p machines and rides and where I’d come in for a bit more mockery for my refusal to ride the rollercoaster’s. I never actually went on any rollercoaster until I’d left school and was working, nowadays I love them.

The trip home was usually quiet, with everyone being tired out from all the walking and money spending and possible fighting, but us kids were generally quite satisfied at having a good day. The parents were very glad that they’d tired us out and made sure we’d all be having an early night.

I miss those childhood Blackpool trips, it seemed like the greatest place in the world back then, now I rarely ever want to back there. It’s sad.

Aliens are among us!

My friends and followers (yes I do have friends, so ner), it has recently come to my somewhat paranoid attention that there may in fact be aliens living among us right now upon Planet Earth!!

Before you cast your eyes that way, no chavs are not aliens! They don't have the necessary intelligence required to wash behind their ears let alone pilot advanced starships!!

Actually it hasn't really been brought to my attention, I just have a theory and because it's my blog I'm making it fact! So deal with it MoFo's!!

So now I have my little bit of rambling out the way, I talk too much when I type, I'm going to put forth my cracked theory! You don't have to read it, but it would be the path of wisdom to!

First of all look at this face:

Does that look like the face of any natural Earth creature??

Ok it does look like a far more appealing face than that seen on your average council estate. But still, it's alien!!!

If you hadn't already guessed, that is the face of a giraffe. A familiar sight in zoo's and safari parks the world over. Not something you'd believe is a life form from another planet, a being that has been sent to infiltrate Earth and spy out its secrets!! 

Can you see that evil, alien look about them? Those long necks are not natural and don't make them look cute!

Now I may just be paranoid, but I'm fairly certain that an army of giraffe's is even now gearing up for a mass invasion from space! When they arrive and conquer us they will herd us all up, stretch our necks to a height they find aesthetically pleasing, stick us in a bloody small enclosed field and make us eat leaves right off the top of trees!!!

I don't know about you, but the thought of future neck stretching is terrifying, not to mention that it would make us all look extremely weird! Oh and leaves will never be as tasty as a Burger King double whopper!

So I'm preparing for the inevitable now! I'm wearing my tin foil hat every time I go near Chester zoo, the long necks won't get no secrets out of me ... not that I know any real secrets ya know! I will be among the first members of the anti-giraffe resistance!

Hmm it appears that I've not explained why I think giraffe's are aliens! Well they have long necks and they look odd!* That's all the reasoning I need!

*No offence intended to any giraffe's reading this.....

Let me be your fantasy!

Now I know we all love fantasy beasties (well I do and as I'm writing this blog my opinion is the only one that matters), dragons and gryphons and minotaurs, they're all fucking cool right? They stomp, chomp and burn the shit out of everything they see, what more can you ask? Fantasy beasties are badass!

But I'm not going to write about dragons, gryphons, minotaurs or even honest politicians (the most fantastical of all fantasy beasts), instead I'm concentrating on the equine beasts; the unicorn, the Pegasus and the centaur. With the exception of the unicorn they're all criminally overlooked, well unless Tesco and Findus are about, then they're very much looked at!

Don't trust big brands by the way, they're always looking to make mincemeat of all their opposition!

Ahem! Anyhow this post is just me trying to answer a very simple question.

Which is better:

The Unicorn; cute, glittery, farts rainbows and is probably a psychotic killing machine?

The Pegasus; handsome, dangerous, has wings and is far cheaper than British Airways?

The Centaur; a fucking freak?

I have done extensive research on this question, trust me I didn't even need to utilise LSD.....

Erm, right, so let's start.

The Unicorn.

The cute unicorn, beloved of females of all ages, but why? What is it about this bastard offspring of a horse and narwhal that makes it a favourite? I mean c'mon, the fucking thing has a dildo on its head, it should make its home in an Ann Summers shop! How the fuck can you take such a thing seriously?

In order to understand better I went to a knowledgeable friend for answers. Now Charley might like to drink a bottle of wine in one gulp, but she knows what she's on about! That could be the result of too many drunken hallucinations though, hmm.....

What I got was this; unicorns are magically magical, able to cure bad moods with a single touch, fart rainbows and shit cupcakes and they're lovers not fighters. I dunno about you but that last point doesn't ring true, I mean why have a big, sharp horn on the head if they're not gonna fucking stab things to death? It seems a total waste to have a natural weapon and not use it for gory purposes! And what's so special about farting rainbows? Sure they look nice, but do they actually do anything? Well apart from providing Bungle, George and Zippy a TV show to prance around on! Oh I remember, a farted rainbow can lure the unwary into walking into large holes in the ground, resulting in bruises and blushes. Yeah that's impressive, not!! The cupcakes could be useful though hmm...

Personally I think that unicorns are sneaky, nasty little bastards! They act all cute and innocent and pure just to get themselves a good reputation, but I bet as soon as your back is turned they'll shove that horn right up your arse and screw you properly! I guess there are some people in this world who might find that appealing, I however am not one of those!

The Pegasus.

Here we have the noble Pegasus, born from a god and a gorgon and has a better disposition than both. And it can fly!!

So what's so good about it? Other than the fact that it can fly? Well unlike unicorns there's only one Pegasus, he's unique. Take that you unoriginal, horned future burgers!

Did I mention Pegasus can fly? And he's cheaper than British Airways and when you're on him you don't have some fucking annoying passenger digging their elbows into every part of you they can!!

I don't know if you've gathered from my subtle hints above, but I like Pegasus, he's cool. He interacts with those psychopathic Greek gods and us puny little mortals and for patiently dealing with us all and not kicking the shit out of us what does he get for a reward? A field full of willing mares? Shit loads of gold and gems? A penthouse suite in the poshest hotel in every city in the world? Nope, he gets some friggin' stars named after him! Ain't that a pure let down?

It's a real shame that Pegasus will never win a popularity contest, certainly not while those damn unicorns are about, manipulating the general public to love them! But I'm a fan and a proud one!

The Centaur.

Ah the centaur, part horse, part man and all genetic freak.

Seriously, apart from looking odd and being supposedly mystical, do these guys even have a point? They don't have a good PR image like unicorns, they can't fly like Pegasus, you couldn't even race one in the Grand National as you'd likely be disqualified for trying to cheat! Even Tesco's might think long and hard before making cheap burgers out of them! They're like chocolate fireguards, completely useless.

Hmm, maybe I was a tad harsh calling them completely useless, they can hold a weapon so you could use them as cannon fodder if you ever fancied taking over the world and needed expendable soldiers. And I suppose you could give them menial jobs, if you can ever distract them from looking at the sky. Seems that's all the lazy bastards want to do all day! So they're only slightly useless.

Hope I've not upset any centaur groupies there ... (weirdo's)

I don't actually dislike centaurs, just feel a bit of pity for the freaky bastards!

So which is best? Fucked if I know, I like the Pegasus, I'm biased, I'm certainly not going to give a fair write up of the others! Study all three and make your own minds up ya lazy gets! 

I think, therefore I must drink...

Well it's been a long time since I've updated this. I wonder if blogs can feel neglected? Hmm...

Anyhow it's a Friday night (I'm the master of the obvious), so I'm keeping a bottle of wine company, I hate to see something so good look so lonely! I know, I am a good Samaritan!

Wine improves with age. The older I get, the better I like it.

So it's a Friday night, I've established that haven't I?? I'm drinking and being lazy ... so lazy in fact that I'm not even going to write a proper post out, just leave you with some funny stuff I've found online!

I will have themed posts again soon, now that my muse has returned from an extended holiday!

Funny alcohol warnings:

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra and panties.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is a major factor in dancing like a giraffe in heat.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at four in the morning.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you can logically converse with other members of the opposite sex without spitting.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol is the leading cause of inexplicable rug burns on the forehead, knees, and lower back.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing WITH you.

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may cause pregnancy.

WARNING: The crumsumpten of alcahol may maak you tink you can tipe real gude.

Genuine holiday complaints; or who let these dumb fucks have a passport!!

1. "I think it should be explained in the brochure that the local store does not sell proper biscuits like custard creams or ginger nuts."

2. "It's lazy of the local shopkeepers to close in the afternoons. I often needed to buy things during 'siesta' time - this should be banned."

3. "On my holiday to Goa in India, I was disgusted to find that almost every restaurant served curry. I don't like spicy food at all."

4. "We booked an excursion to a water park but no-one told us we had to bring our swimming costumes and towels."

5. A tourist at a top African Game Lodge over looking a water hole, who spotted a visibly aroused elephant, complained that the sight of this rampant beast ruined his honeymoon by making him feel "inadequate".

6. A woman threatened to call police after claiming that she'd been locked in by staff. When in fact, she had mistaken the "do not disturb" sign on the back of the door as a warning to remain in the room.

7. "The beach was too sandy."

8. "We found the sand was not like the sand in the brochure.Your brochure shows the sand as yellow but it was white."

9. A guest at a Novotel in Australia complained his soup was too thick and strong. He was inadvertently slurping the gravy at the time.

10. "Topless sunbathing on the beach should be banned. The holiday was ruined as my husband spent all day looking at other women."

11. "We bought 'Ray-Ban' sunglasses for five Euros from a street trader, only to find out they were fake."

12. "No-one told us there would be fish in the sea. The children were startled."

13. "It took us nine hours to fly home from Jamaica to England it only took the Americans three hours to get home."

14. "I compared the size of our one-bedroom apartment to our friends' three-bedroom apartment and ours was significantly smaller.."

15. "The brochure stated: 'No hairdressers at the accommodation’. We’re trainee hairdressers - will we be OK staying there?"

16. "There are too many Spanish people. The receptionist speaks Spanish. The food is Spanish. Too many foreigners now live abroad."

17. "We had to queue outside with no air conditioning."

18. "It is your duty as a tour operator to advise us of noisy or unruly guests before we travel."

19. "I was bitten by a mosquito, no-one said they could bite."

20. "My fiancé and I booked a twin-bedded room but we were placed in a double-bedded room. We now hold you responsible for the fact that I find myself pregnant. This would not have happened if you had put us in the room that we booked."

And last of all, proof that even Australians can be funny.....

Q: Does it ever get windy in Australia? I have never seen it rain on TV, so how do the plants grow? (UK)

A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.

Q: Will I be able to see kangaroos in the street? (USA)

A: Depends how much you've been drinking.

Q: I want to walk from Perth to Sydney - can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)

A: Sure, it's only three thousand miles, take lots of water...

Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in Australia? Can you send me a list of them in Brisbane, Cairns, Townsville and Hervey Bay? (UK)

A: What did your last slave die of?

Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Australia? (USA)

A: A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe. Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the Pacific which does not... oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Kings Cross. Come naked.

Q: Which direction is north in Australia? (USA)

A: Face south and then turn 90 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.

Q: Can I bring cutlery into Australia? (UK)

A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)

A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is...oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Kings Cross, straight after the hippo races. Come naked.

Q: Do you have perfume in Australia? (France)

A: No, WE don't stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in Australia? (USA)

A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.

Q: Can I wear high heels in Australia? (UK)

A: You are a British politician, right?

Q: Can you tell me the regions in Tasmania where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)

A: Yes, gay nightclubs.

Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia? (France)

A: Only at Christmas.

Q: Are there killer bees in Australia? (Germany)

A: Not yet, but for you, we'll import them.

Q: Are there supermarkets in Sydney and is milk available all year round? (Germany)

A: No, we are a peaceful civilisation of vegan hunter gatherers. Milk is illegal.

Q: Please send a list of all doctors in Australia who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)

A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca which is where YOU come from. All Australian snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.

Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Australia, but I forget its name. It's a kind of bear and lives in trees.(USA)

A: It's called a Drop Bear. They are so called because they drop out of gum trees and eat the brains of anyone walking underneath them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.

Q: I was in Australia in 1969 on R+R, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Kings Cross. Can you help? (USA)

A: Yes, and you will still have to pay her by the hour.

Q: Will I be able to speek English most places I go? (USA)

A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

And that is that! Come back soon when I attempt to compare which is the best between a centaur, a pegasus and a unicorn...