Everyone Has 15 (Hundredths Of A) Minutes Of Fame.

Wow!
The big time at last!
Spotting myself in this footage from Kent TV, while I was supping my way towards having to buy a new inner tent, not once, but twice, I was starting to think that the camera man may have been stalking me!
Pity he didn't actually confront me with his tool, as the following video could've turned out (on?) much differently!

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Thinking Outside The Box.

If I've heard that once, I've heard it a thousand times, of late!
What the Hell is it supposed to mean, this latest catchphrase of the pub savant?
I did suggest to one fella, who managed to splut it out three times in the space of a minute, that it could express a moment of self-doubt about one's sexual orientation, and took great delight in suggesting, when he didn't get what I was saying, that he should actually try 'thinking outside the box', instead of just banging on about it!

Or is it....

A point that Pandora missed?
A regret on one's death bed?
Dodging Daleks?
Houdini suffering stage fright?
A polite way of saying 'shit for brains' or 'you're thinking out of your arse'?

I think we should be told!

Farm Aceuticals.

Being the consummate adventurer that I am, I'll rarely turn down the opportunity to try something new. But, even though I'm a big chocolate fan (Must be messy on a hot day! ed.), I did have some doubts about trying the mushroom chocolate that was on sale, on one of the hippy stalls, at the Lounge On The Farm music festival, a couple of weeks ago.

Well really! Mushroom chocolate? What a ridiculous idea!

Or so I thought!

After being assured that the mushrooms were particularly good, which was why I was expected to shell out a fiver for a bar of the stuff, and my hankering for chocolate was peaking at around that point, I decided to take the plunge and hand over the cash.
It was nice chocolate, for sure, but hardly worth a fiver and the mushrooms didn't come through at all!

Again, so I thought.

Some kind of warning that the mushrooms were, in fact, of the genus psilocybin, would have been polite!

So, an hour or so later, I found myself in fits of giggles among a riot of colours and shapes, all culminating with me pulling the most gorgeous guy that I'd ever laid eyes on and spending the next few hours making my inner tent really, rather smelly, by the time that I finally fell asleep at around dawn!

Waking up just in time for a lunch that there was 'no way on Earth' I was even going to contemplate eating, my fuzzy head tried to deal, unsuccessfully, with the situation that presented itself to me.
The guy laying next to me was neither particularly good looking (hey, it happens!), nor, strictly speaking, a guy! Though she did have quite a hairy top lip, I hardly think that excuses my blunder.

Dear God, am I the ONLY one that thinks I'm not a lesbian?

On the bright side, I did get a free bar of chocolate from mushroom man, when I complained, which came with the very sensible instruction of just eating a square or two at a time, and the kind, but unwanted offer of accommodation in his camper van, next time I pulled.

Sheesh! I was quite looking forward, at that point, to the following weekend and the relative sanity of getting completely bolloxed for three days, at a beer festival!

Moron that, later.

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.