Up At The Crack Of Dawn.

Possibly not scotching the lesbian rumours with that header, I have, in fact, been up since sunrise, gathering all my bits together for a weekend of music, booze and, er, farm yard fun.
And after rereading my little missive from a slightly inebriated Lucy, last night, I think a weekend away, chilling, might be long overdue!

So, love and kisses to some of you, piss right off to others and I'll see you next Tuesday, if you'll pardon the expression.

Muff Diva.

I think I've been called a lesbian, now, by just about everyone except those that have 'actually' been my sexual partners! Well, except one, but I think he was just angling to bring his wife along.
What does that say about me?
No prizes for working out what it says about sexually repressed types!

So, for the record, once again, I am not a lesbian!
But I know, in my heart, if I was, I'd love it as much as cock!

One Small Step For Man, One Giant Leap For Womankind!

The moment that half the population of the planet has been waiting for with baited breath, has finally arrived, according to boffins at Newcastle university, when they unveiled their latest creation, In-Vitro Derived sperm. That'll be sperm created without all the usual cock and balls that we've had to put up with since the dawn of man!
Scientists are speculating that, by the end of the year, women will be able to 'knock up' their own sperm in the kitchen, using everyday kitchen utensils.

I suppose we'll have to hang on to a few men, for a while, until we've managed to dispense with some of the grubbier duties that are required to maintain the population, but I suspect that phasing out the male of the species will eradicate most of those, by itself!

Throng And Dance.

Not to mention a wonderful selection of beer and food, plus all the thrills and spills of the pink-knuckle rides (well they weren't quite white-knuckle rides, were they) on the inner harbour wall.
This year's Ramsgate Rocks, as far as I can remember, was an absolute blast!
I even managed to hobble back for seconds on Sunday, on my aching and dance blistered feet, which is a first for me, as I usually spend Sunday on the toilet, cuddling a bottle of paracetamol.

Wouldn't it be great if they could manage to organise these gigs on a more regular basis, during the Summer months!

Not to worry, though. There's plenty going on over the next few weekends, albeit with a little travelling involved.
This weekend sees Merton Farm, Canterbury, hosting the Lounge On The Farm music festival, and then the following weekend brings us the Kent Beer Festival, at the same venue!
I may as well leave my tent up, in between the two events, and just concentrate on any other erections that, er, come my way!
The weekend after that sees the onslaught of the Whitstable Oyster Festival, which I shall probably attend on my hands and knees!

On the bright side, you probably won't hear much from me for the rest of the month (unless you happen to be at any of these events), so do make the most of it!

Campaign for Understanding Nuclear Technology.

For you night-owls, I'll spell it out in the morning, if I have time.

In the meantime (Greenwich?) an ostrich's lifespan isn't dependent on how long it spends with it's head in the sand!

I'll try to clarify when I've got the Artillery Arms's beer out of my system!

Update: Nope, sorry, after reading that little note that I left for myself in the morning, I still feel far too ill to make further comment. That and the worrying fact that I haven't quite worked out what I was on about, yet!
If I survive this hangover, I'll attempt to clarify or just make something up.

Sand Paper.

As I had the day off yesterday, and nothing planned, I figured I'd remove that effigy of Osama Bin Laden from my inner thighs, squeeze into my Wicked Weasel 'kini and wiggle off down to the beach to soak up some rays.
Did they hold a paper chase for the very near sighted there, recently?
I seemed to spend the whole day plucking bits of Adscene from various parts of my body.
Particularly distressing was copping a full spread of Sandy Ezekiel right across the tits!

Though, employing a modicum of deductive reasoning, it does go some way to explaining why the bloody thing never makes it to my letter box.

Rock Around The Clock Tower.

Though when I say clock tower, I actually mean the old maritime museum clock, but that just didn't have the same chime to it!
Live music, beer, funfair and French cheese! Combinations like that are not to be sniffed at, in my book.
And what with both the organising AND advertising being given back over to the Ramsgate town partnership this year, after the dreadful bollocks that TDC insisted on making of it last year, there may even be the crowds that we've enjoyed in previous years.
I also hear, through the grapevine, that some pretty exotic weather has been booked to compliment the whole affair.
Sadly, Michael Jackson's agent has informed the organisers, at the last minute, that he won't be available to open the event, but one quick thinking bod suggested grabbing an oik from outside McDonalds and announcing him as Bubbles. Confidence is fairly high that they might get away with that!

And I found this while trawling the muddy backwaters of blogger, as a small example of what to expect...



See you on Saturday!