Good morning, campers. I've got a cold and my head feels like someone has been using it to test the aim of the steam-hammer they got for Christmas. What a great present that would be. Anyway, back on topic, I'm all sniffly, so I've spent most of the day in bed feeling sorry for myself, which has given me a lot of time to peruse the internet for my - and your - bi-daily injection of news-based ludicrousness, and for that reason the first story comes from the distant shores of New York, New York. Now I know this is a British blog and we're not supposed to give a toss about America, but I'll blame it on the delerium that only a slight cold can bring. That, and the fact something is wrong with Gmail this morning that means it notifies me whenever I have new mail, so something is obviously running somewhere, but it steadfastly refuses to actually let me read my email, so it's less Gmail Notifications and more Gmail Mocking and Taunting While Holding Your Precious FaceBook Notifications Hostage. Who's written on my wall? What have they written? Do they have large breasts? I just don't know! The tension is unbearable. Anyway, on with the story.
Apparently, the NYPD has taken time out of it's busy schedule of clubbing ethnic minorities and signing licencing documents for new series' of Law and Order to road-test 'green' motorcycles. We'll sidestep the use of the word 'green' in this article except to mention that the motorbikes themselves aren't green in colour, they are electric. Perhaps that was too many extra letters for whichever limp-wristed teenage vegan tosspot decided this was important enough to be news for anyone interested in anything other than the frankly ludicrous. But anyway. There is just something about the idea of a copper on an electric scooter chasing after a gang of hoodies at his top speed of about six miles an hour that I find deeply hilarious. His embarrassed shouts of "STOP!" and "IT'S GOOD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT!" being drowned out by the torrent of scorn and mockery raining down upon him from the general populace. If this manages to spread over here - and it will, you can bet the greenies will jump all over anything like this, regardless of how fucking imbecilic it is - I for one am looking forward to identifying the bodies of my loved ones, safe in the knowledge that the coppers who gave chase to the fleeing rap-blaring teenagers did his best to chase them while ensuring at no point did he ever put a sapling in danger. Wankers.
Next up, somewhere in Essex, Christmas has been ruined by two cases of monumental stupidity, resulting in the death of a 7-year-old girl on a quadbike. Now, I can't possibly express my disgust for drunk drivers enough, and the woman responsible for the death of this little girl will inevitably deserve a far harsher sentence, probably involving baseball bats and half-bricks, than the inevitable £100-fine slap on the wrist she will actually receive for destroying a young life via the medium of a motor car when by any other would net you a 25-year sentence. But that's for another story. While what she did may be irrefutably dumb and impossible to understand, there is another source of stupidity that is being carefully skirted around by the eager-not-to-cause-offence British media. What sort of fucking idiot lets a 7-year-old ride a fucking quad bike? There should be some case of neglect to be made here, for the parents that thought it would be a good idea to allow their 7-year-old daughter to ride a full-size quadbike around country roads filled with the inevitable inebriated idiots that fill the streets at Christmas time.
Speaking of inevitably inebriated idiots, it looks like Paris Hilton, who's contributions to society surely merit the Nobel Prize she is sure to receive this year for services to humanity, is having her allowance cut off. Grandaddy Barron Hilton, 80, is donating 97% of his fortune, which is what has been funding granddaughter Paris and her humanitarian mission to have sordid hotel sex with everything on the planet capable of sexual climax, to charity. It should bring warmth to my heart that a billionaire is making such a gesture of selfless philanthropy, and it does, but not nearly to the same degree as the knowledge that Paris, though still very rich, will have to share just a few million dollars with the rest of her family, and makes her, while rich, no longer the society bitch that she has thus far insisted on being. Alright so my wish that she ends up on the street rambling incoherently to disbelieving bystanders about how it was all going so well for her until it all went wrong while swigging from a bottle of Tesco Value Gin on a park bench in Barking hasn't quite come true, but you can't have everything, can you? Merry Christmas, Paris? Thought not.
Anyway, last but not least, we have one surprisingly ugly creature turning into another surprisingly ugly creature. They're called Axlotls - which would net you about four million points at Scrabble, by my reckoning - and every now and then they turn into Salamanders. Which is really, really boring, and I'm posting this here on the off chance that some sort of passing geneticist will be able to genetically engineer one that turns into a woolly mammoth, because that would be far more interesting. My birthday's in August, guys, so you've got plenty of time. Steve Eddy, from Exmoor Zoo, which presumably consists of three sickly cormerants and an overweight hamster, describes the changes that an Axlotl goes through in order to become a Salamander:
Apparently, the NYPD has taken time out of it's busy schedule of clubbing ethnic minorities and signing licencing documents for new series' of Law and Order to road-test 'green' motorcycles. We'll sidestep the use of the word 'green' in this article except to mention that the motorbikes themselves aren't green in colour, they are electric. Perhaps that was too many extra letters for whichever limp-wristed teenage vegan tosspot decided this was important enough to be news for anyone interested in anything other than the frankly ludicrous. But anyway. There is just something about the idea of a copper on an electric scooter chasing after a gang of hoodies at his top speed of about six miles an hour that I find deeply hilarious. His embarrassed shouts of "STOP!" and "IT'S GOOD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT!" being drowned out by the torrent of scorn and mockery raining down upon him from the general populace. If this manages to spread over here - and it will, you can bet the greenies will jump all over anything like this, regardless of how fucking imbecilic it is - I for one am looking forward to identifying the bodies of my loved ones, safe in the knowledge that the coppers who gave chase to the fleeing rap-blaring teenagers did his best to chase them while ensuring at no point did he ever put a sapling in danger. Wankers.
Next up, somewhere in Essex, Christmas has been ruined by two cases of monumental stupidity, resulting in the death of a 7-year-old girl on a quadbike. Now, I can't possibly express my disgust for drunk drivers enough, and the woman responsible for the death of this little girl will inevitably deserve a far harsher sentence, probably involving baseball bats and half-bricks, than the inevitable £100-fine slap on the wrist she will actually receive for destroying a young life via the medium of a motor car when by any other would net you a 25-year sentence. But that's for another story. While what she did may be irrefutably dumb and impossible to understand, there is another source of stupidity that is being carefully skirted around by the eager-not-to-cause-offence British media. What sort of fucking idiot lets a 7-year-old ride a fucking quad bike? There should be some case of neglect to be made here, for the parents that thought it would be a good idea to allow their 7-year-old daughter to ride a full-size quadbike around country roads filled with the inevitable inebriated idiots that fill the streets at Christmas time.
Speaking of inevitably inebriated idiots, it looks like Paris Hilton, who's contributions to society surely merit the Nobel Prize she is sure to receive this year for services to humanity, is having her allowance cut off. Grandaddy Barron Hilton, 80, is donating 97% of his fortune, which is what has been funding granddaughter Paris and her humanitarian mission to have sordid hotel sex with everything on the planet capable of sexual climax, to charity. It should bring warmth to my heart that a billionaire is making such a gesture of selfless philanthropy, and it does, but not nearly to the same degree as the knowledge that Paris, though still very rich, will have to share just a few million dollars with the rest of her family, and makes her, while rich, no longer the society bitch that she has thus far insisted on being. Alright so my wish that she ends up on the street rambling incoherently to disbelieving bystanders about how it was all going so well for her until it all went wrong while swigging from a bottle of Tesco Value Gin on a park bench in Barking hasn't quite come true, but you can't have everything, can you? Merry Christmas, Paris? Thought not.
Anyway, last but not least, we have one surprisingly ugly creature turning into another surprisingly ugly creature. They're called Axlotls - which would net you about four million points at Scrabble, by my reckoning - and every now and then they turn into Salamanders. Which is really, really boring, and I'm posting this here on the off chance that some sort of passing geneticist will be able to genetically engineer one that turns into a woolly mammoth, because that would be far more interesting. My birthday's in August, guys, so you've got plenty of time. Steve Eddy, from Exmoor Zoo, which presumably consists of three sickly cormerants and an overweight hamster, describes the changes that an Axlotl goes through in order to become a Salamander:
"Its gills shrink and skin grows over the gill space, it then has to grow lungs to breathe with and it also grows eyelids and its tail changes. Just imagine how stressful that would be."
Piss off. I grew eyelids once. It wasn't a particularly stressful experience. Don't know what these Axlotls are on about, the great bunch of aquatic nancies. Grow up and seal your gill-flaps like a man. I will admit, though, that were my tail to start changing, I for one would be pretty stressed out. The fun part, however, is where he describes this apparently momentous event as "the first he had heard of in Devon in his 40-year experience". Now I'm going to go out on a limb here and list a few other things that haven't occurred in Devon in 40 years: sunrise, sexual relations between human beings not related by blood, and occupations other than mud farming. But they've got an Axlotl that's turning into a Salamander, so they must have something going for them, or maybe the poor thing has just realised that it lives in Devon, and by becoming a Salamander it can halve it's life expectancy and thus spend as little time in the bloody place as is lizardly possible. And don't write in to tell me they aren't lizards, if indeed they aren't and are some sort of amphibian or something. I don't give a toss.
The question we all want to ask is: do they taste nice with chips?
That's all for now. Goodnight.
The question we all want to ask is: do they taste nice with chips?
That's all for now. Goodnight.
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