Where Does Poo Come From?

Now I know that a lot of people are going to have a stab at this poo query and, perhaps, say Birchington.
But you'd be wrong!
A friend of mine was asked this question the other day by her five year old daughter. She took great pains to describe the workings of the human digestive system in detail and was met with a rather disgusted "YUCK! So mummy, where does Tigger come from?"

100 Today!

Lorks A Lordy, just noticed that this'll be my hundredth post since I started spouting inane drivel via this media!!!

We ought to have a party!

That's it then, I'm definitely going to vote for our own parish council and massive council tax hikes be hanged.

There Were Errors!

This whole blog setup has been a right load of wank, just lately! Errors popping up left, right and center, the whole thing slowing down to a crawl for hours on end etc.
Now this!!!
Undeletable multiple posts.
Think I may ask for my money back. They seem to be in such a state of confusion at the moment, that I just may get it.

Kickin' In The Ghoulies.

Hats off to Bandrea at Churchills for picking yet another winner in the entertainment stakes.
That Delay Room, last night, were top-notch. An unusual style mixed with some firm old favourites that did it for me. Not sure that I'd be throwing my knickers at them, as was my urge at the Sharpees gig last week (I'm not a bottomless pit in the knicker department, you know), but damned fine all the same!
Chatted to their singer, Smurf (never did manage to work that one out), who has quite the voice and puts on a bit of a show, and was rewarded with a CD of theirs for my home perusal. How sweet! Also had a word with their drummer, Weird Mark (didn't have too much trouble puting my finger on that one), and haven't got a flipping clue what he was on about, at all. Sounded good though, whatever it was!

All a bit of a far cry from the 'closed shop karaoke' that we've been treated to in the past.

And the whole cake was nicely iced with a Hallowe'en fancy dress contest, though I strongly suspect that the poor sod who won was actually in civvies and making the most of the one day every year that they didn't look out of place!

Belgian Bar Beirut To Become New Turner Centre.

Had occasion to pop into the Belgian Bar Beirut last night (dammit, I promised myself that I wouldn't get that drunk again!) and was a little surprised to find an entourage from Gallery Iota hosting an exhibition for the hard-of-walking.
What a good idea! If the mountain won't come to Mohamed, and all that.
Unfortunately, as I only ever fall in there at the end of a long evening, I couldn't honestly say that I appreciated what they had to offer so perhaps i'll make a point of perusing it today over coffee and croissants.
Must remember to go to the toilet before I head in there, this time!!!

Labouring The Tory Point.

Saints preserve us, the great ECR mystery seems to be getting flogged to death over on 'Thanets' alternative, Biggles opinion only, newspaper'!
I, among others, have been accused of missing the point. A convenient, but transparent, way of not answering the bloody question. Nothing new there, then!
The best of it is, I don't think that there actually is a point other than some middle classed know-it-all getting a bit narky because somebody else is playing with 'his' toys, though I'm not quite sure where he gets off in thinking that they're his toys.
Well I don't want to play over there any more. Had quite enough of that at nursery school, when some spoilt kid would have a screaming tantrum every time you tried to play with Pooh that they thought was exclusively theirs.
Who cares who ECR is? More to the (sorry, another) point, why do they care? Identity isn't what blogging is about, is it? I'd say it was about observation, like-minded interest, humour and opinion and that there is, perhaps, nothing wrong with introducing a little fiction to get your point across. Hypothetical situations, if you like. It's a well established method, I believe.
And banging on and labouring the same old tired opinion as if that will make it true (lad, just out of shorts, juevenile, childish, relatively junior etc) is a bit infantile in itself.

Anyone fancy a game of Pooh sticks (so long as they're not going to cry if they don't win!)?

Fat Cat Hat.

Arriving home from the pub last night, which I found myself under great pressure to thoroughly review as Ramsgate's newly self-appointed pub/entertainment Guru(ess), I discovered a big, fat tom-cat skulking around in my kitchen.
Now I'm sure most people realise what a trial the bloody things can be to remove, once ensconsed. All that running around the walls in a mad, frenzied, skin puncturing panic. At one point, it managed to bounce off of the top of my head, much to the distress of my scalp!
But I got it out in the end.

The following morning brought shame and the firm resolve to do my pub reviewing with a little less vigour as Crouching Tiddles is now no longer my firm and faithfull companion but instead, has taken to biting and hissing when I approach him.

I'm sure, after a few tins of tuna and bowls of full-cream milk, that he'll come round!

It's Good To Feel Loved.

As I have a few days off work this week, I thought I'd go through some of my junk in the loft. One box that I found contained a load of old love letters, photos and cards.I thought I'd share one of my old Valentine cards with you because, although it isn't exactly what you'd call romantic, it is pretty funny and the chap went to all the trouble of making it himself. If I remember correctly, that relationship didn't last much past February 15th.

The Dummy Is Out (Again).

The sound of air-raid claxons appear to be whining over on ECRs' blog yet again.
If this keeps up, I've a feeling we all may have to head on over to the community air-raid shelter.
We're a bit lucky in that respect on the Eastcliff as the Anderson shelter that they whacked onto the side of the San Clu (sorry, Come For Tin) has a bar in it, complete with ale pumps and easy access to a menu full of tinned food.
Should be very handy indeed if the situation goes nuclear!

Pumping The Burley Barstaff At Churchills.

This social scene reviewing malarky isn't anywhere near as simple as I thought it would be!
Thinking it'd be a good idea to cement a relationship with someone who has their finger on the pulse of Ramsgates' social life-blood, I asked Andrea at Churchills which bands they had playing this coming weekend.
"I strongly recommend that you pump the stocky chap behind the bar, over there!" She opined.
"Or, you could always look on the bloody chalk-board." She added, after a moments reflection.

Not quite the start I was hoping for but hey, this is a learning curve for me!

Anyhow, it seems that they have a local band called Delay Room putting on a show for our delictation on Saturday night. It further seems that said band put a new slant on rock (ideal for skiers and the like) and their drummer is completely loopy!

I think I'll be the judge of that!

Sharpees World Tour Of Ramsgate Continues.

Sauntered weavingly up to Churchills yesterday afternoon for a couple of pints which was cut short by the announcement that the Sharpees were due to play in The Horse and Groom (The Doom and Gloom to those that know the place).
All the encouragement that I needed to pop my groupie hat on and whizz down there at warp 9.7, the thought that I was on my way to a Shepherd Neame pub not entering my head for a moment but my first pint of (somewhat inaccurately named) Master Brew corrected that error almost immediately.
No matter cuz those guys are smokin' with a capital 'kin!
I think I would've been happy drinking horse piss and who knows, perhaps, in essence, I was.
Still, not having been to the Doom and Gloom for some time, I was quite pleasently surprised at how tidy the place is these days.
Some guy at the end of the bar kept staring at me in a bit of an odd way and I couldn't make out whether he wanted a fight or a shag, maybe both? Must've been one of the old regulars, I'd suppose.
Toyed with the idea of a quickie in Bernie Bubbles Whine Bar across the road, The Isle of Thanet Gazzettes' favourite Ramsgate venue, but thankfully it was shut. Phew! After a few hours of almost sublime blues, I'm not sure I was really in the mood for his badly crafted false laugh and almost ceasless torrent of bullshit!

Dire Sharpees.

Went along to Churchills last night to soak up some beer and live music and both were astonishingly good (as they often are)!
Those Sharpees are excellent. Quite obviously influenced by Dire Straits but, in my opinion, are a good deal better. Forget that tubby Denny from EK1, I'm now rather taken by The Sharpees vertically challenged lead singer/guitarist who is absolutely mustard.
Were I the type, I think I may well have swooned. And given the opportunity, I would most definitely have spooned!
Anyhow, enough about my loinal preferences, time to go review The Montefiore Arms as part of my new and self-appointed position of Ramsgate Pub Guru(ess).
It'll be a strain, constantly keeping a watchfull eye over events in local watering holes, but somebody has to do it, I think!

Just Another Ornery Night On The Town.

Winging my way through town last night, I had occasion to pass through 'king Street. Now really, what gives there?
Yet another pleasant evening slightly spoilt by the, if you'll pardon my French, branleurs that drift up and down its' length with nothing better to do than make a nuisance of themselves. I've taken to carrying a brolly and wearing wellies as protection against the green rain that puddles there.
The place gets more like Marredgate every day!

On the bright side, yet another lovely evening was spent in the Eccentricity Arms (Arty), mixing it with actors, musicians, poets, welders, bores and more than its' fair share of artists (canvas, piss and otherwise).

Think I may just toodle off up there again tonight, er, perhaps via the seafront this time!

Oh, and if anyone is interested in the type of character you may find there, a little insight can be gained here.

Proxy Ciao!

Sounds like something my mother would prepare as a meal for my siblings and myself as children.
However, it's actually a request from Ram Skate Raider for me to say goodbye on his behalf as he's moving on to smaller and worse things.
Much as I'm loathe to admit it but the chap really used to get on my nerves at times, which I think is what he wanted (though Lord knows why?).
I wish him a fond farewell!

As if it isn't quiet enough around here of late, already.

What Do You Want, Jam On It?

Now here's a little ditty that I rather enjoyed, as would, perhaps, anyone who has had the misfortune to travel around London on their wonderful underground system.
Maybe an idea to send the kids to another room while you listen to it.

Hard On.

These computer thingies are wonderful, aren't they?
Until they go wrong, that is!
My old P60 has been a bit of a bugger this week, not wanting to boot up and all that. I now have a big hole in my hair from all the headscratching I've been doing.
Still, I got there in the end and it turns out that I'd completely filled my hard drive up.
So, after a bit of fiddling about in DOS (how quaint) I've finally managed to free up a bit of space and tally ho, away we go.
I really should look into upgrading my old 500mb drive in the near future.

Quite A Pealing.

If anyone has not already done so, I would suggest that they pop up to Gallery IOTA for a squizz at their latest exhibition. After attending the opening night, I went along over the weekend to see what the pictures looked like without little clumps of wine ponces standing in front of them and was very impressed!
Among my favourites was a marvelous picture called Timelines which also turned out to be the most expensive item on sale there. And, though I found it irritating to start with as the wine ponce's kids would not leave it alone, One Ton Bell struck a bit of a chord too. The thing has a bigger dong than John Holmes!
Well worth a look.

Clink, Clang, Splodge, Donk.

Off up to the IOTA Gallery tonight for the opening of their latest exhibition and I must say that it sounds quite promising!
It'll be featuring a couple of local artists, one of whom has a mechanical, nay engineering, bent and has previously come up with some quite astonishing and entertaining art, the other being a painter with a penchant for death, who has an uncanny knack for bringing that out in his work.

Really, rather looking forward to it!

How Many Elephants Can You Fit In A Mini?

I was amazed to see a woman in the pub last night who must have weighed at least 25 stone, wearing a mini-skirt, boob tube and ridiculously high heels.
Thinking she must have an extraordinary sense of humour, I thought I'd go and chat with her but 5 minutes into the conversation, I got the distinct impression that she'd escaped from the funny farm and was out on the pull. It further transpired that she wasn't out looking for a man!
It took me almost an hour and a half to finally get away!
What is it with people that keep mistaking me for a bean flicker?
I'm seriously starting to think that I may have to stop wearing dungarees and cropping my hair!

Money And Style Returns To Ramsgate.

I must say that it's nice to see Eastcliff Richard safely ensconsed upon our fair Isle, once more.
I certainly had the hardest time trying to write anything here without his inspirational presence.
I would like to scotch any rumours, before they even start, that the reason for my absence had anything at all to do with me spending the last month travelling across Europe with our illustrious local millionaire, taking in the sights and performing wild, drunken, sexual acts upon eachother (often quite depraved)!
I would also like to add that I have absolutely no idea, whatsoever, if said millionaire is hung like a horse and can keep it going all night.
Hope that clears things up before they get spilled!

October Vest.

Is this Winter?
I find myself still wearing my summer outfits and have to ask that question.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you!
Did anyone go along to the burning of the rubbish man at Margate, yesterday? I went along myself but only because, upon enquiring of one of my 'friends', I was told that they were going to burn Jimmy Godden.
Thought it was too good to be true.
Still, it was entertaining enough with large flaming lumps of rubbish cascading down onto the panic stricken and shrieking throng that attended.
Ought to make good telly, I should think!