The Pope's Knickers

Lace makers move into G-strings
Renowned lace makers in the Polish village of Koniakow have found a new way of boosting sales - sexy underwear.
Artisans who used to create gowns and altar cloths for customers such as the late Pope now craft G-strings and other lingerie for sale all over the world.
BBC News

Apparently some people in this region were outraged, and feel that the Pope and underwear shouldn’t ..er.. ‘co-habit’
Surely the Pope has to wear knickers – oh all right, pants, then.
Underpants, if you are going to be pedantic about it.





I mean, can’t wear G-strings can he, not even lacy ones – I am trying to wrench my mind away from that particular vision

Hard though….it’s like trying to imagine your headmistress in a red satin corset, innit?

Don’t believe me? Go here

The Pope’s Lace Pants

See? Told you so.
Yep

Where the Monkey Keeps His Nuts

About time, Channel 4's programme, Big Brother, the pride and joy of media morons has landed in a heap of shit, I am so pleased. It’s such a crap idea for a television programme in the first place, it deserves to get canned, shredded and buried, without a funeral.



It should go where the monkey keeps his nuts.

My mental health is threatened daily by news items about this heap of crap, and promotional clips on television add to the horror. I know it is doing me harm.



Reality television it is not. Come to think of it, television programmers and reality seldom meet. The programmers of BB sure don’t, and they are wise to refrain from too much discussion. Their brain cells (the few they have) would go into meltdown



I would love to think that the current furore signals the end of BB, but that’s overdosing on the hope thing. Remember kiddies, as you go to bed, where the monsters lie in wait, there is NO such thing as bad publicity.

Repeat after me, “There is NO such thing….”

I guess that condemns us all to further gut-wrenching nausea and chronic advanced boredom



That’s how it is.

Yep.

Let's start counting...

According to the BBC News Page, this country is awash with scores of absconding prisoners. I just mention this, in case you Yanks are thinking of having a little holiday over here.

Apparently, our director of the Prison Service had admitted that ‘he does not know exactly how many inmates are on the run from open jails in England’

Oh well, a few hundred criminals on the run, no need to worry eh? If you bump into one of the fraternity, just direct him to the nearest fuzz shop.

‘Phil Wheatley said there was no central system in place to count people who had been recaptured after escaping, but such a database would now be developed’



Ahh this counting business, now that is a tricky one. Lemme see now, how shall we begin …”1, 2, 3..?”

But Mr Moses (now, now, no need to guffaw here, that’s his name) chairman of the Prison Officers Association, is a bright lad.

He said “We know on a daily basis how many people we are locking up, so surely we should know on a daily basis how many people abscond. This is not rocket science."

There you are then, so start counting Mr Wheatley, not so difficult is it?




Maybe the old methods are the best.
Yep.


Want to see some pics? Click here! Fred's Place at Smugmug

Cackles and Whispers

For the last blog of 2006, I have turned it over to some of the comments, various bods have left here - must say some of these visitors seemed intent on overwriting the author (that's me).
The post on Socks, for example, atttracted some very odd folks......I'm excluding MadDog from that description btw. (He's a Scientist)

Featuring (in no particular order) Da Quink, zaphod, lil sis, Gandalf, Mad Dog, Bill the Bagpipe (Sunshine Sam) The Kraut.

Jeeze, is this legal? Doubt it.


Shine Shaun said...
My, what a fine rant you have here, Red Fred. It illustrates wonderfully how the inept female brain does not cope with the ruthless efficiency and economy of effort of the male psyche.To develop such clarity of purpose and effectiveness of acquisition should be the goal of every gal.No more *does the puce or the claret look better on me? Which makes my bum look smaller?*NEITHER! you'll still be a fat-arsed goddess...And don't get me started on women choosing cloaks and hats, 'n dresses, 'n jeans, 'n tights 'n SHOES! Oh my Gawd, how the list goes on...Shopping? Pshaw. The last refuge of indecicive, confused women, I say.Guess I'll sit outside looking glum wiv all the other downtrodden men.Or maybe a quick visit to B&Q? *face brightens* Hmmmmm...Haw, haw... *scuttles towards parking lot* cackle...

At 3:45 PM, Red_Fred said...
There is no such entity as an ‘inept’ female brain, *coldly* and I suggest Sunshine Sam, that you absolutely RUN for the car park, if you want to go on living.I think you would look very nice in a puce dress - *decisive smile *It will do wonders for your complexion.

At 4:38 PM, Da Quink said...
So, you've been shopping? All this time I've been searching for where you put da Sniv and you've been buying socks?! You'd best get that Sniv bum back here, missy!

At 4:53 PM, Red_Fred said...
Bloody Hell... the queen of the Bat Boobs appears; (you need to pump the left one up, btw)I don't go buying socks,*aggrieved*..I do 'serious' shopping, I do!

At 8:57 AM, zaphod said...
Hmmmm..I have to admit that I have never ever not once bought socks. In my entire life I have never done such a thing.My wife does that sort of thing for me.Buy socks ? *cackle* thats womans work.

At 9:15 AM, Shoe Shine Shaun said...
Wot? Wimmin to buy socks? Surely you jest, zaphod old son.You'd have holes in yer socks and scuff marks on yer soles before the'd even decided what color would go wiv yer oil-streaked white T-shirt.Best to do it yerself *soulfully*Heh, heh...

At 10:28 AM, Red_Fred said...
Obviously zaphod's Missus doesn't trust him to buy socks (she's proabably right)As for you Sunshine, you will be getting abrasions that you never dreamed of. *rubs hands*Match those black socks of yours, nicely....Oh yes, I did buy some shoes yesterday; and they wern't black...haw haw hawIt's my blog and I can 'haw' if I want to....

At 11:52 AM, zaphod said...
I finds that wimmen userly buys me socks fer birthday an crimbo prezzies. I get so many I never thought of buying me own.*Ponders deeply*

At 3:10 PM, Red_Fred said...
This is awful - what is it with all this 'soulful' bit....and 'ponders deeply'Is this 'Bonding' or something sad like that?Any way, Blokes don't think deeply...or soulfuly, or at all.They just buy socks.

At 10:03 AM, Gandalf Siduri said...
What is wrong with buying socks??:???!!!!! @@@@@!!!Ask Dumbledore! Wizard wanderers need LOTS of socks (because they wander so much,they USE them!) Sheeeesh!

At 12:34 PM, zaphod said...
Any way, Blokes don't think deeply...or soulfuly, or at all.Oh how can you say such a thing...we think all the time..football.playstations..porn..

At 2:17 PM, Red_Fred said...
Get some boots Gandalf!Think? Blokes don't think, they 'Gravitate'

At 3:54 PM, Mad Dog said...
After reading this post I'm more perplexed than usual. I buy two packs of half dozen black socks once a year. I buy a new pair of Rockport deck shoes once a year. also. This seems an efficient and logical process especially now that I can conduct it online. Does anyone want to "shop" more than this? I throw out (or use as polishing cloths) nasty old socks and if the Rockports have any life in them at all I donate them to Goodwill/Thrift. I don't see the problem other than I'm a bloke...!

At 11:25 PM, zaphod said...
Oh well said Mad dog...myself I prefer trainers though...white ones

At 1:41 AM, shoe Shine Shaun said...
Right on, bruvvas.It is obviously a manly trait to purchase socks 'n shoes of sober and upstanding hue, in an economical, efficient manner.After all, why waste perfectly good drinking/fishing/golfing/car mending time shopping? Pshaw! The ladies are only too pleased to have us out of the shops and at home when the fridge or washing machine breaks. N'est ce pa? Haw, haw... *cackle*

And as for the subject of TV cooks....with every contributer going 'HAW HAW' and 'CACKLE' like there was no tomorrow.... I never knew that Zaphod was such a wizz-kid with elephant steaks. Amazin', it really is.

Kitchener's Kid said...
Whilst I appreciate Red Freds frustration, I think she misses the point of these programmes. They are specifically aimed at us ex grammar school boys who never got the chance to attend a *domestic science* class. As a consequence we are inept *or total incompetents* at the culinary arts. These programmes give us a chance to find out what we've missed, and try to make up the deficit. Take me, for instance. As a result of tv cookery programmes, I've discovered that I am a culinary disaster area. So it has encouraged me to live off burnt porridge, get an elf in to cook at weekends *not good, but better than starving* and I eat out a lot... I wish salmonella and e-coli and dysentery to the lot of the sanctimonious buggers *cackles and stirs cauldron - the cement mixer is out of action*Haw, haw...

At 2:09 PM, Red_Fred said...
I expect you are very very grateful, to this kindly elf .....or put it this way. You had better be very very grateful.Ok Kid? Jolly Good.

At 5:47 PM, zaphod said...
How did you manage to go from celeb cooking to house elfs ( or are they elves) all in one post and two comments.Myself, I am a big fan of Ray Mears bushcraft and I can skin and cook an elephant in ten minutes and provide tv dinners for twemty.And haw haw and a cackle jus fer luck Fred me ole mate.

At 7:21 AM, Delicia said...
We wimin don't unnerstand dis, Freddie dahlint. You see, slave in da kitchen all mornin' and put food on da table in time fer lunch when all dem laddies come scurryin in to devour every bit of it wiv a joyful display of irritatin' table manners, then scurry out as fast, leavin' da empty dirty plates fer ya to occupy another wee hour with, that is unqualified and unpaid and derefore wimins work. Prance in front of a tv camera ruinin' foodstuffs while talkin' rot, then throw the result in da bin an' go home to da angel elf who got real dinner ready in the meantime pays exceedinly well an' therefore is qualified men's work. See now?

At 11:01 AM, zaphod said...
Delicia has gone insane at last. of course us men are the best cooks. *cackles*

At 4:19 PM, Red_Fred said...
Well Master Zaphod, it's like this -our Mr Kid obviously has a very nice and kind elf, who cooks delicious meals for him, without said elf being famous, or on TV.Ten minutes for elephant steaks is 'interesting', but...can you whip up a Moouse pie in 30 nano seconds...I think not.And lose the cackle, mate...Lose it.*polishes knuckle-dusters*

At 4:28 PM, Red_Fred said...
I can see Delicia has a firm grasp of the realities, here. I hope she throws the pots at these bounders, (cads & toe-rags) if they so impose on her good nature..um...well, whatever it is, then.As for you, Zap, since your cooking benefits so greatly from the use of a micro-wave oven, I suggest you scuttle back to your TV dinner a la Sainsbury's....*glare* And not a Cackle from anyone. NO cackle, NO haw-haw.

At 10:32 PM, Kitchener's Kid said...
Er, Zaphod, mate. Can I order up a couple of takeaway moose-on-a-stick for next Friday? So's I can show my kitchen elf how things SHOULD be done. Oh, yes. Maybe an Ostrich Omelette as well *cackle cackle!* sorry *CACKLE,CACKLE* - I forgot Ostriches were bigger birds *and I do like a big bird... Haw, haw* OUCH!!! Who did that?

At 9:42 AM, Red_Fred said...
Me(smile)I did that. Now try breathing(smile)

At 5:55 PM, little sister said...
I'm with you, red fred. We don't need this proliferation of television shows telling us how to cook, though I remember the Galloping Gourmet was fun to watch when I was a kid. Mr. Wonderful insists I'm a great cook, though I'm pretty sure he goes on like that so I'll get dinner out of the way so we can get on to better things...like bed linen ;)no elves or elfs though.

M, Delicia said...
Well I can't guarantee nothing. Depends on how long you intend to be away, I mean a haw-haw-less time longer than say three days max, but max! will pose a problem, yesh it will...

I got back from holidays in Scotland to find this lot, with every correspondant having a great time ignoring my directives...and the Kraut having the last word as usual.

At 6:25 PM, Bagpipe Bill said...
Oh Gawd!Cover yer sporrans, lock up yer haggis an' kindle yer kirtle - a stroppy Elf is on the way to burrow under Hadrian's wall...Wonder how Scotland the Brave will cope wiv that.Still, Oxford will enjoy the week's respite from Rouge Rantings - Haw, haw... Bleeeugh!

At 10:16 AM, Delicia said...
There, it wasn't me who Haw Hawed first, at least not in this blatant manner! I say we can now do as we please here, snigger as derisively as we like, haw haw as loud as we like...

At 10:28 AM, Red_Fred said...
Yes, I'm back..By the time I'm done wiv yer Bagpipes, you won't have any wind left....thnk about it *smile*As fer you Missy,*sniff* - I daresay you wuz led astray by Bellowing Bill. *glare* Don't be.

At 6:17 PM, zaphod said...
haw haw and snigger.....oh I feel better for that

At 2:25 PM, Red_Fred said...
I am going to stamp this out, once and for all.*STAMPS FOOT*

At 10:27 AM, Delicia said...
She's cute when she angry, idn't she, HAW, HAW and likewise ho ho ho!

At 3:18 PM, Bagpipe Bill said...
You're wrong Delicia. She's a real pain when she's angry. Just wait until she finds her knickers and tops have been sharing a washing line with genuine scottish kelp. Then the bladderwrack will really hit the fan... Haw, haw...

At 12:34 AM, Red_Fred said...
Let me point out to you, oh Bloated Bill, that I have photographic evidence of your dabblings in bladderwrack...*coldly* So don't mess with Me.As fer you, Missy....last warning *shakes head*

At 12:54 PM, Delicia said...
Last warnin' is it? Wotcha gonna do, refuse ta eat yer cereals? Make horrible faces? Throw yerself to the floor kickin an' yellin'? Wot? Apprehension is killin' me, HAW HAW!HAW HAW HAW.Now we'll see wot will happen.I guess I will stand near the exit, just in case. I ain't afraid, oh no, I ain't. Jus' careful...Snivs can be dangerous when teased, likely to bite yer ankle they are.

Well, no one takes any notice of what I tell 'em. Thanks to you all, and best wishes for 2007.

All Sorted...

I come back from Rostock to find disrespectful remarks on the blog; well, some bods never learn, no they bloody don’t.

Take Christmas seriously, do the East Germans, so between the mulled wine and the sausage consumption, I began to have serious doubts about my future prospects.

Me and the Kraut revisited the gluvine bar in the Christmas Market, to be met by a chorus of welcome “Oh hallo, hallo, you are back!”
(I translate freely)
Yes, they did remember us, very well indeed, and suggested that no doubt, we would all be seeing each other again, next Jule.
Probably so.



The only thing that saved me and the Kraut from turning into Christmas puddings, was her dog’s unrelenting demands for walkies.

Susi, a hound of great charm and iron determination, expects everyone to do their duty. Walks to be taken promptly, twice a day, and of reasonable length.
I think Susi nicked me gloves, but she (and the Kraut ) deny it.

Nice to see everyone getting ready for the festival, hope Santa’s little helpers don’t forget me.

I’ve sent my letter off to Santa….



All sorted for Christmas then.

Jolly Good.

When I Come Back...

Right

I'm orff to see the Kraut (she of the mad sheep's hat)

In Rostock



And when I come back.....

I don't want to see any tasteless remarks, guffaws, cackles, or anything else.

I expect to find this blog, shiny-clean, and sweetly-polite, just like I left it.

Got that?
Good.

You have been warned.
Yep.

Wave Your Hat....

This is the Hat that started it all .....



I thought it was time to prove that my HAT is not so crazy – in fact when you folks have perused this Gallery of Hats, I am absolutely sure the general conclusion will be….

That I know a lot of weird people – you are so right, I do.

Barnacle Bill



and


Dr Death himself...




Then we have The Kraut in this delicious confection…




and myself as Miss Happy-in-the-Beer-Tent..





Even MadDog has his Tombstone moments…




Or you might prefer a Pirate ...





Can’t understand why the Kraut laughs at me hats, look at this…




I’m not known as the Great Poisoner for nothing….




Last but not least, here is the Kraut having a Dr Zhivago moment…and very nice too





and if you meet this down in the woods…run like Hell


Yep.

My thanks to all those who (willingly or unwillingly!) provided the photographs: copyright remains with the owners of these pictures.

Unspeakable Things with Bags

'Bag ladies sought after theft ‘
BBC News 16.11.06
"We believe the two females may be able to assist with inquiries into the theft of a wallet from a bag’ Police.

You have to watch these bag ladies – bloody dangerous they are.

Read my last post, and you might understand. There must be a whole army of these lunatics, who wander round shops (and railway stations) doing unspeakable things with Bags.




The women were caught on CCTV with the bag
Sunderland Railway Station

Forget the ‘little old lady’ bit – they should be rounded up in the cause of public safety. Don’t listen to their pitiful cries, throw ‘em in the jailhouse, and leave ‘em to rot. Say I.

And don’t be fooled by the nice old lady bit, watch your back. It’s dangerous out there.
White hair? That’s just to throw you off the scent. Underneath them granny locks, lurks an evil master brain plotting criminal things.

With bags.

You have been warned.

Yep.

Give me a nice big axe

Some of us stand in a queue, no problem; buy the stuff, no problem. Bloody well never happens to me.

Every time I join the queue for the cash desk, all the lunatics in the world come out. (for you Yanks, that’s ‘the line’)

God’s sake, it’s my lunch hour, and all I want to do is buy some friggin’ coat hangers.

The sort of useful/essential thing, a bloke goes out to buy, and I’d like to find the guy who dares to query me.

If that’s you, bog off.



What do I get? First off, a dotty old lady who has a thing about carrier bags.

I’ll give her ‘Bags’ if she ever joins my queue again. There she was, deciding what size bag she wanted for her dish rack. Not a big bag you understand, nope, she wanted a smaller bag.

Yes, you’ve guessed it, the bloody dish rack was bigger than the friggin’ bag.

The cashier gets loony lady to take a bag that fits the blasted thing. But, amigos, that’s not the finish. It is not. The loony wants the bag made smaller……

Give me an axe, please God, give me a nice big axe.

With much use of tape, the cashier does something to the bag; I know what I’d do, and it won't be the bag that gets it.

My coat hangers? They are large, they are made of wood – and as for you, you dotty old lady...
I’m gonna wrap ‘em round your neck, if you ever stand in my line again.
Yep.

Scary Stuff

Gosh.
I’ve actually heard someone say ‘Work it out for yourself. I’m not telling you what to do’.
About time too, I’m really pissed off with various State agencies telling us all how to breath.
In and out?

Nope, it’s a scary world out there kiddies, and Nanny State wants all us boys and girls, to be very very careful.



Bunch of wankers.

We are raising our kids to be afraid. The next generation of adults will be the ‘Fearful’ generation. Don’t go out, don’t take risks, don’t live. And on no account, eat anything that hasn’t been sterilised to death.



Who said ‘Work it out for yourself.’? Some bloke advertising breakfast cereal. Pity it wasn’t one of our political masters.

Living is a risky business. Daresay the EU, or the Department of Social Services will put a stop to that.



Yep.

Socks, bloody socks

Blokes live in delusion- they do. Blokes say things like
’I’m going shopping’
Excuse me? What is this ‘Shopping’?

I’ll tell you. It consists of buying socks, just bloody socks.
This is how it works.

Walk in to the store. Turn left, go to sock counter, obtain black/brown socks, which are IDENTICAL to all the other socks that are nestling in the cupboard back home.




For you Yanks, I’m talking about your bedroom closet. Got that? Good.

Then they look at you and say they’ve been shopping – for God’s sake, you could get that much of a thrill going to Tescos (Yank-speak= Grocery Store, Wal-Mart, whatever)




Try saying words like “And what about looking around the store?” and you are an alien. What for? Why look, when I, (The Bloke) know what I want.

Yeah, yeah, we know – Black Socks

Oh sorry – I forgot. Sometimes blokes branch out… and guess what?



They buy ‘Black Shoes’ just like the shoes that they..yes, you have it, just like the ones they bought last year.

Walk in to the store. Turn left……

Yep.