Owl Hollows Eve`.

A rather important date in the calender of us 'spiritual' types, today. It's a bit like our Christmas!
Though I will admit that I find some of the rituals rather perplexing.
Quite why we have to hollow out an owl (or a pumpkin for the squeamish), I won't even pretend to understand.
Still, tradition is tradition so I'll be off to the woods today with my cosh and a spoon, and hope that I don't run into the RSPB again. They're a surly bunch that seem to have a bit of an adversity to witchcraft.
I've also never quite got my head around why we have to do this at the end of October. Surely, if one is going to run around naked, bashing owls on the head, the middle of Summer would be more appropriate!

Ours is not to reason why, I suppose.

Things That Go Bump In The Night.

You would think, wouldn't you, that with my ability to communicate with the dead 'n' all, I wouldn't get scared about the odd creepy noise or two, in the middle of the night.
Well I do live in King Street, and I, like most people, have the hardest time trying to communicate with the undead that skulk around these parts!
So you can imagine, perhaps, the mixture of fear and anger that I experienced upon peeping over my duvet and seeing one of these skulking forms going through my bedroom drawers.
Unluckily for my intruder, I have lightning fast reactions and was out of bed, clubbing him over the head with the large ceramic ashtray on my bedside cabinet, before I even had chance to realise that I have neither a bedside cabinet nor a large ceramic ashtray!

OOPS!

Once I'd managed to stem the bleeding and stop the poor fella from crying and shaking, I thought it prudent to just apologise and go home.

I really ought to cut down on my drinking, but have arranged to meet some friends in the Artillery Arms this afternoon.
Maybe something to look at tomorrow?

Miss Steak.

I wonder if Churchills have considered running a Miss Steak competition to augment their already popular steak night.
I could be in the running for that title, as it's already a popular nick-name for me, bestowed upon me by my parents at a very early age.
As I recall, I was often introduced to people as 'our little Miss Steak'.

And if I could be the first one to congratulate myself, in the event that said competition is held, by saying "Bloody well done, Medium!"

Plane Jane Takes Flight.

I see our vigilante reporter of all things bad for Thanet has gone off in a huff, yet again! Blaming it, also yet again, on miscreants posting their opinions (how dare they!) on his blog.
Well honestly, some people just don't know when they've got it good!!!
So, go right ahead and bury your head under the Tower of London. Had you continued your tirade against TDC, they probably would have done that for you, sooner or later, anyhow!
In the meantime, let's play couple of little tribute songs, in an attempt to fill the hole that he's left in the Thanet blogosphere and hope for his speedy return, once he's finished taking it out on his bedsit tenants in our Nation's great capital.




...and there's nothing gay about these fellas, either!



Seeing our Jimmy there, reminds me of a previous video that's been posted. It's so good, I thought it worth another airing!




Missing you already, sweetie!

Cold Off The Press.

Being a bit of a cider fan (you can't beat a Magners with half a bucket of ice in it), I thought I'd better haul ass to the cider festival at Churchills, at the weekend.
My word, that stuff they were serving does for your legs!!!
When it was all over, it took me about ten minutes to get up the stairs to the bar, where they had a band playing. I don't remember too much about what they were playing but found myself unable to stop dancing to it, every time I tried to move around the place.

I'm starting to gain an idea of why it's so heavily rumoured that incest is rife in the Westcountry. It's going to be a bit difficult to go out and extend your gene pool if you can't walk more than three or four steps without going arse over tit, isn't it!

What Goes Up....

Not that I'm normally one for paying too much credence to pub conversations, I did hear something quite disturbing last night.
Apparently, and contrary to what I've always believed, it is actually possible to catch Down's Syndrome, under certain circumstances, from the age of about thirty, onwards!
Being one of those people who's lives are ruled by 'certain circumstances', I was worried enough to research the matter as soon as I got home.
The fact that I couldn't find any reference to this, anywhere on YouTube, just smacks of a big cover-up and has deepend my concerns exponentially.

In fact, all I could find was this video and, to be quite honest, apart from being no help at all, I also found it a quite offensive!





Is there a doctor in the house who can clear this up?

Pin The Tail On The Donkey.

Yummy!
This donkey and trimmings gig at Churchill's is fast becoming a weekly sojourn for me.
How do they do it for the price?
I mean come on! Steak, chips and trimmings for £3. I can't buy the ingredients for that monét! And it's always tasty and well presented, to boot.
Though I did have a spot of bother with mine going off on a ten minute tour of the pub, before it got to me. Not the sort of thing you'd expect on their manager's (Tazmanian Pete's) night off!!!
Still, I'm not one to scoff at cheap scoff in the old Van Gogh, so hats off to all involved in this 'scam' to get bums on seats, and, er, see you next Tuesday!

An Open Letter To TDC.

On the strength of everything that they've done for us, over the years, I've decided to send TDC an open letter, reflecting my own (and possibly quite a few others) feelings about their level of care regarding our community.



Ideal present, if they think it's about time they put a lid on their current practices!

I may also have to send one to EDF, inviting them to go back home. But, of course, theirs would have to be a French letter with 'come' in it!