Twopenny Blue
Genuine Forgery, Unfranked (Fine)
THIS PAGE CONTAINS WORDS AND VERBAL IMAGERY THAT MAY BE CONSIDERED IMPOLITE.****
** All too obviously just a reference to the Penny Black.
*** To ensure an integer quotient the remainder is usually discarded. This is the story they tried to bury. We leave no stone unturned as we dig up the full plot.
**** If that worries you, finish your cocoa and go to bed.
***** For evidence of this, see the next page.
Comment on the newsgroup uk.local.yorkshire
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Treatise on the greater preponderance of white turds among smaller breeds of dogs
Many people believe that the white dog turd results from the consumption of bones and that as smaller dogs generally eat less of other foods than do larger dogs, the gnawed bone is more likely to pass through unmixed with other excreta. This is no more than an old wives' tale. The real reason that small dogs extrude a greater proportion of coprolitic stools is simply that their noses are generally nearer the ground.
Look at almost any ground and you will see sherds of broken pottery, dating from pre-historic times to the modern porcelain chippery resulting from clumsy use of wrenches by inept Yorkshiremen too stingy to call a plumber to their overflowing loo. All this pottery is ground up in the ground (well, that's what 'ground' is, isn't it?) and in the summer months exists as a fine white dust which lifts a few inches into the air as a dog's paws pad down upon it. The noses of larger dogs are generally held higher than this almost invisible cloud of fine white dust (except of, course, when an interesting bitch has recently passed the same way) but those of smaller dogs are carried within this cloud for the entire period of 'walkies' and so these little terriers, beijingese and the like, are constantly inhaling porcelain dust. Obviously the dust initially settles amongst the mucus membranes of the nasal passages and in the cilia of the lungs. However, when one of these diminutive dogs chances upon a human being other than its owner, it coughs (owners fondly refer to the sound as a 'bark' but no objective auditor could ever equate the cough of a corgi to the woof of a wolfhound), bringing up phlegm chock-full of chalky dust - which it then swallows. As all dog lovers will have noticed, large dogs generally have trim, muscular undersides whereas small dogs always have well rounded abdomens. Not for nothing is this anatomical feature known as the 'pot-belly': the belly of the smaller dog is genetically adapted to storing the dust of ground pottery until it forms a mass the size of the average alsation stool, whereupon the dog is impelled by race memories to seek the nearest children's playgound and void the discussed object. Some authorities on the white dog turd argue that the phenomenon of larger dogs passing such objects is the result solely of them having eaten those originally formed within the intestinal tract of their smaller cousins, the objects themselves passing through completely unmodified.
Extensive studies have so far failed to support claims that the shaggy dog is more prolific in white turd formation.
Seeking a contact on the newsgroup uk.local.yorkshire
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Penny Back
I usually walk up and down hills spiral-wise. The reason for this is that my left leg is just over an inch (29mm to be precise) shorter than my right leg. Walking spirally up the hill, with the top of the hill to my left, ensures that my body remains vertical at all times. One day, however, I felt a sneeze coming on and, as I snatched the handkerchief from my pocket in one of those futile attempts at sneeze suppression, I dragged a penny out with it. Horror of horrors! The penny began to roll back down the hill! Desperately, I turned, intending to chase after it (for what true Yorkshireman would ever let even the most meagre of coins escape from him?) before realising the dire consequences of my hasty action. Yes, I suddenly found myself standing not vertically upon the hill rising to my left but actually horizontally with an almost sheer drop on my left. This position, I found to be entirely untenable - the more so since, my left leg is not only shorter than my right leg but also weaker than its counterpart to the same degree. Within seconds, my unbalanced body succumbed to the combined forces of gravity and greed, and I tumbled leftwards and downwards, breaking bones left, right and centre - well, slightly off centre.
The incident was saved from being a tragedy by the fortuitous chance that just as I tumbled into the road one level down from where I'd left it moments before, my errant penny came rolling around the hill and settled itself beside me. Oh, Happy Day!
Lines on the newsgroup uk.local.yorkshire
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Foot and Mouth, Spring 2001
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Do try this at home
Intrigued by all the recent alarm over the amount of microwave radiation emitted by mobile phones which purportedly increases brain activity, I determined to put this mental enhancement to the test. Quick calculations showed that the total amount of microwave radiation to which the brain might be subjected from moderate use of the mobile phone over the course of a year was roughly equivalent to four minutes in a microwave oven at a 'Defrost' setting. So, erring on the safe side, I set the microwave oven to deliver three minutes of defrosting and placed my head on the glass platter. At this point, I realised that I had a problem. Quite obviously, I had simply forgotten that the microwave oven does not operate with the door open. More obviously, since that simple fact had absented itself from my deliberations, I really was in urgent need of a quick defrost.
I got on my bike. Actually, it's an exercise bike which I keep in the kitchen so that I can snatch a couple of minutes aerobic distension twice in every hour as I wait for the kettle to boil for my coffee. I do think far more clearly while absent-mindedly pedalling vigorously and, within minutes, the answer to my problem appeared as a vision before my eyes in the form of a fruit.
Ascertaining that a large melon would fit inside the microwave oven, I drew a face upon it and balanced it very carefully on my shoulder. I then closed my eyes and proceeded to take it from my shoulder, place it in the microwave oven, close the door, switch on, wait three minutes, open the door, remove the melon and replace it on my shoulder. Finally, with my eyes still closed, I stitched the melon to my T-shirt (having prepared the needle and thread well in advance, of course). Opening my eyes, I found to my horror that I had stitched the melon on the wrong way round. This is of no real consequence with an ersatz fruit-head but I dare not chance such a thing happening with my real head.
At this point you may be impatient to cry, "But your head is attached to your body. You can't remove it without cutting it off and, if you do, then surely it will bleed copiously and be fully drained long before you can replace it!"
And here I smile. A trifle condescendingly, I admit, but then, I know something which perhaps you do not. Several years ago, during the early part of my lengthy apprenticeship as an artistic wood-carver, I underwent the obligatory initiation of thrusting a chisel through a knuckle of my left hand. (Incidentally, I do not think that I am breaking any oath to inform you that such is the reason why Freewoodcarvers the world over always shake each other by both hands, surreptitiously feeling all the knuckles.) Now, you would think that a severed knuckle would immediately bleed all over the apples and pears (to name but two of the most beautiful woods), wouldn't you? Not so! A quick sharp incision causes local shock resulting in immediate constriction of the blood vessels, so preventing any bleeding whatsoever for several minutes. This is known as the bleeding time. My calculations had shown that I had more than enough bleeding time.
No, the bleeding time is not a problem; the problem is essentially the facility with which I can remove my head, microwave it and, of utmost importance, stitch it back in the correct position with my hands operating without benefit of my eyes. And the solution to that problem is, of course, the bike.
There are essentially three types of bodily action. The first is the reflex action. This is entirely outside conscious control and so of no use for defrosting one's head. The second is conscious action, or mind over matter, where the brain controls the hands. Again, this is entirely useless for my purposes since my brain will be temporarily disengaged from the rest of my nervous system. However the third type, known as 'muscle memory' is perfect. This is a near reflex action which comes into play when the body performs motions which are repeated on a regular basis, such as the actions of riding a bike. Indeed, once you are a proficient cyclist, any conscious attempt to control balance and the movements of your legs will probably result in a tumble. Commuters make effective use of 'muscle-memory' as they snatch half an hour or so of much needed sleep while driving to and from work.
From theory to practice. Some one hundred melons and one delighted greengrocer later, I felt that I had perfected the motions requisite to a successful head defrost. Borrowing the Samurai sword from my Japanese neighbour, Napi san, I made one graceful sweep of the blade then rapidly placed my head in the microwave oven, closed the door and switched on. For the next three minutes, my head rested on the platter, slowly turning and giving me regular views of the kitchen wall clock and my headless body making the best of the time by getting in some exercise on the bike.
I'm sure I don't have to tell you what a tense time this was. A thousand and one fearful questions revolved in my brain. Well, they would have done if my brain hadn't itself been revolving; the questions just sat there asking: Had my body been given sufficient practise at returning to the microwave oven after completing the correct number of strokes on the bike? What if I'd left the bike's tension setting too high, thus making each stroke slower that that required? These and the thousand other fears to which the severed head is prone went more and more rapidly through my warming synapses. But I need not have worried for, just as the platter ceased its turning to the ringing of a bell, my body heaved its weary self from the bike, staggered across the kitchen and opened the door. Oh, I cannot describe what relief I felt as the stitches meshed the vessels and sinews of head to body.
Snipping the last thread, I hastened to the bathroom to examine myself in the full length mirror and... Horror of horrors! My head had expanded so considerably during its brief time in the microwave oven that a distinct ledge now appeared halfway down my neck, rather like the overhanging buildings in York's Shambles.
Ah, but my enhanced mental capacity spotted the solution to my problem within seconds. Perhaps I should have spent more than two or three minutes at a time exercising but I now saw how fortunate I was that I had not done so. There, in the full length bathroom mirror, I saw a figure sporting not only a shambled head but a magnificent 'spare tyre'. I had enough surplus around my middle to use as infilling on the narrow lower part of my neck.
The Quack-Fat mechanic crawled out from under the car and gave me a haggard stare.
"You looked tired," I said.
"I'm exhausted," he replied, "and before you ask, we're flat out of batteries."
These people are the salt of the earth and it wasn't long before he'd put me on the machine, stripped the spare tyre from my middle and replaced it around my neck.
"We're doing free balancing, this week," he said, "Shall I test your head?"
Still being dizzy and not a little wobbly from the three-minute microwave rotation, I agreed and five minutes later I was sporting the nattiest pair of ear studs you ever saw. I can now honestly claim to have the most well balanced mind it is possible to find.
Well, the experiment has been an undoubted success. My brain power has increased exponentially and there have been one or two other benefits. The increase in head size allows me to wear a variety of hats and caps which, to say the least, looked quite ridiculous on me when I had a small head; and I now have a much improved flow of blood to all parts of my head which is quite a boon in winter. Indeed, the defrosting of my head has been such a success that I am now thinking about repeating it on other parts of my anatomy.
Ascertaining that a large cucumber will fit inside the microwave....
If the fruit of Eden wasn't an apple, what was it? (Private email to a select few of the Priory of Sion mailing list subscribers)
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Curiosity about alt.usage.english
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Owed to a Night in Gaol
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Buttery Battery in alt.support.autism
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Vote of No Confidence (Priory of Sion mailing list)
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Ink Amera |
(C) David 2/9/2007 |
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