Pizza Rage

What is it about pizza that has people behaving like the insane or something?

I guess we’ve all remember the story about the Aussie convicts who gave up on the hostage, just for pizza??



I came across this:-

Pizza rage lands US woman in jail

Instead of a pizza delivery, Mrs Densmore got a different caller
An 86-year-old US woman arrested for incessantly calling emergency services to complain about a pizza parlour has spent two nights behind bars.
Dorothy Densmore of Charlotte, North Carolina, called the emergency 911 service 20 times in 38 minutes.

This pizza fiend who is all of 5ft, not only demanded that the cops arrested the pizza proprietors, but scratched, kicked and bit the hand of the officer who came to arrest her!

But they did release her from jail pending medical reports.

I’ve been eating the stuff on and off for years – so far, haven’t bitten anyone, at least if I did, in me sleep or something, no one’s complained.
Nope.

Beautiful Boris

Now the dust has settled over the recent election here in Britain, I can see that it was marked by a simply appalling fog of mediocrity, by a mind-numbing procession of politicians who became a blur of ‘sound bites.’

Twitface Howard had his slot, Blair had his slot, with the odd rumble from Two Jags Prescott, but apart from the degrees of insincerity, there was nothing to choose between them.

The only bright spot was ‘Beautiful Boris’ who enlivened BBC Question Time, and if I remember rightly, got sacked yet again for some misdemeanour, in the middle of the election.
No doubt about it, Boris is one on his own.


He simply doesn’t care, he is so politically incorrect that only a madman would include him in an election campaign.

Which is just what Michael Howard did.

I was fairly chuffed to find a website dedicated to Boris and it had some wacky stuff.

When asked about the new 24 hour drinking legislation.
“I’m very attracted to it. I may be diverting from Tory party policy here, but I don’t care."

and

Boris once stated that he had as much chance of being Prime Minister as of being decapitated by a frisbee or of finding Elvis

The only serious facts were these:

Boris Johnson is a Euro-sceptic, British right-wing journalist, Conservative Member of Parliament
and editor of the magazine The Spectator.
Full Name:
Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson

Now that’s a name to live up to.

Lets hear it for Boris! Oh yes, he’s written a book called ‘Seventy-Two Virgins’.

He must have enjoyed writing that

Anyone who wants to Boris watch can go here:
http://www.wibbler.com/boriswatch/quotes.php

Designer Dandelions

I didn’t know it, but round where I live, we have designer habitats, here in the land of dog poo. Judging by one of them gardens featured on the telly, us lot are at the height of fashion.

A couple of they designer chappies were waxing lyrical about these gardens in a posh competition, and it did look familiar.

Carefully arranged toilets in a mass of ‘designer weeds’ and assorted rubbish apparently are the new wave idea for gardens. Think they called it ‘urban environment.’

Lots of gardens like that round here. Better even – we got gardens with old cars, and bikes. Some have a few rusty car batteries to add flavour. The really good ones grow lots of dandelions to offset the arrangements of broken chairs and hacked up bits of kitchen.

Those designer chappies should come round here if they need inspiration and mind where you step. The pet life round here has an issue with incontinence, just reminding you like.
Yep.

Stir My Chemistry

Oh Damn, Bother, Blast... I let go of my brain and sat in front of the TV watching Kirstie Allsopp in that property programme

Not the other one, with the other pert property presenter, the one that Mad Dog mentioned and sez he got all them hits.....

Wasted a whole hour watching some obscenely rich designer who wanted two homes... with 'chemistry' you know. And 'features' that 'spoke' to him.

I'll tell the local Council Housing Department that - a designer home with features that stirs my chemistry, is wot I want.

Should go down a blast in Dog Poo land, so it should - watch this space.

Oily Twerps

Good, the election is done with, Uncle Tony is back in Downing Street, well that's just dandy eh?
No Tory government to give us nightmares, so why can't we all sit back and relax? Well folks they are looking for a nice new shiny leader to win all us non-Tory lovers back on their side. Shudder.

But there is one Tory who has taken off his rose-tinted glasses, it is David Willetts MP,Shadow Secretary of State for Work & Pensions.

Never heard of the guy.

But with startling precision for a Tory, Mr Willets writes in the Sunday Times

The Conservative Party does not appear to understand the Britain which it, above all, has brought into being. We have gone from one of the architects of modern Britain - forward looking, individualistic, meritocratic - to being seen as a party that inhabits a different country from most of our fellow citizens.


Got it sunshine, got it! As each new candidate is waved in front of the cameras, all I can do is weep and scream "No, no, not another oily twerp, pleaase!"

Let's hope God and Mr Willets will save us from Oily Twerps. Yep.

We Got Pavements

Round where I live we know how to make the most of our pavements.

Yep, we got back yards, and better still we got pavements. We use ‘em big-time.

Walking down our road, over the last week or so I could have picked up a sports top fleece (black) or a kitchen mop (slightly bent) but usable.
I didn’t much care for the fake Christmas tree, or the tennis racquets, but must admit there were two racquets, very handy that.

Was a bit tempted by the bike, in good condition, one ‘lost’ owner.

When folks round here are bored out of their skulls by the garden, then there IS the pavement.

That’s why I found three lads having a Sunday morning snooze on the pavement, plus a few cans of doubtful origin –a bit of sun, stretch out, legs in the road, lovely stuff.

I walked past them very quietly,and did not even think of kicking a few cans as I passed. Honest.

The Sainsbury’s trolley is still hanging around – by some mysterious means it travels up and down the road, but never strays far from home. It was back down on the 3rd corner in the hedge yesterday.

Jolly good, keep things orderly-like.
Yep

We want a Body, Yes Siree!

Like so much on this planet, it started off as a bit of a news snippet, I refer to the runaway bride in Georgia, USA.
Of course its Hollywood time, young bride (blonde of course) goes missing on eave of big wedding. It may surprise any of my readers (ok they may be a tad invisible) that I smelt a rat.
Yep, when I read the description of this wedding, with 14 bridesmaids and 14 groomsmen, and a tally of 600 guests, I thought "Hey! This spells Trouble with a capital T!"

For God's sake, it's a leg trembler, getting hitched, who was trying so hard to make it a new form of torture? Huh?

The bride's Mummy, I bet you my last dole cheque.

So the bride turns up in New Mexico after scores of folk in her hometown go looking for a body.
Was everyone happy? Like hell they were.
Dig these headlines.


FURY AT BRIDE WHO LIED
Relief turned to rage in an Atlanta suburb yesterday after residents learned vanished bride-to-be Jennifer Wilbanks fabricated her abduction, which caused days of worry among her friends, family and small-town neighbors.


More anger than joy in missing bride's Georgia hometown

County District Attorney Danny Porter vowed to look into whether Wilbanks, 32, violated the law by reporting a crime that didn't exist.

A local resident is quoted as saying that the bride was the most selfish person on the planet.

Jesus, they would rather have found a BODY? Just so it was worth their while to have so much trouble?

Worse was to come, as the Hispanics Group got ratty with the poor girl for inventing an abductor of Hispanic origin. Their spokes person thundered
"We cannot and will not stand for any racial stereotyping of Hispanics as criminals and thugs,"
No siree, we can't have that.

I think the groom's dad should have the last word.

"I think the wedding plans got a bit out of hand."

Some advice for these lovebirds. Run away and get married, try the Outer Hebrides, only the sheep to worry about. Yep.