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.

Go Boil your Cabbage

What planet do these Television morons inhabit? I am really hacked off with switching on the box and frantically channel hopping, just to avoid one of those sodding TV Cookery programmes.




Not only are there more of the bloody things, but they have got worse. Confronted by some silly bint called ‘Jilly’ who runs around like a hysterical chicken, I knew my blood pressure was shooting off the scale. ‘Silly Jilly’ did I hear you say, bloody right.

Silly Jilly seems to think that it's necessary to scuttle from pot to pot, screeching as she goes, things like ‘Oh well done!’ and ‘I say, isn’t that fabulous!”
(These remarks are for the benefit of two 'Celebrity' assistants, who smile inanely every time the camera swivels in their direction)

Let me just add, she has a voice like a corncrake, and you get the picture. For Christ’s sake, it’s not rocket science to put foodstuffs in a pot, and friggin’ cook ‘em. Is it?




Of course, we had to be socked with one of the ‘Celebrity’s’ giving us his earnest opinion on how ‘Life-changing’ all this had been, and ‘I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, I have learnt such a lot’. All delivered in one of those extra low voices, that indicate profound emotional bullshit.

If Mr Celebrity has learnt how to be a complete prat, then I’m very happy for him.

Today was no better.
Thinking I might check the news, I got blasted with yet another TV Cook slot. Bloody hell, three guys sitting in a studio discussing the ‘motivation’ of their ‘cooks’ who were trying to prove who should win the competition.

It seems that ‘Roland’ was a hot contender, as he had….wait for it kiddies, as our Roland had ‘Grown so much in his personal development’.
Perhaps we should engage in meaningful interaction with the boiled cabbage, or something.

I vote for the carving knife, myself.





Only one judge even mentioned the food, and wanted the best cook, to win. Isn’t that surprising? Of course she didn’t win, far too normal, was our Helen.
She said sadly ‘I thought my food, looked like food.’
Quite so.

All the judges were men. Bunch of farts.
Yep.

Jim the Viking

On the way back from Bally Scotland, I wandered into ‘Asgard Crafts’ and had the good fortune to meet ‘Jim the Viking’. Well, his name is Jim, and he sells Viking things. Obvious, in’it? And here he is.



He proved to be knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the warriors and their lifestyle. Great stuff. We had an entertaining chat with the Viking, before the Pirate started to ‘harumphh’ about having to drive a few hundred miles back home. (If you think, I meet some interesting people, you are so right.)

A ‘young’ business, the shop is full of some lovely things…..



And the shields are really spectacular….



Very impressed by his commitment to making the products for real, and even more impressed by the way Jim researched the production of Viking combs.
He makes them out of bone, like this one, found in York…



Time to go, miles to cover so it was goodbye to the Viking- but not before buying a pendant. Of a Valkyrie. A shield maiden, you know.
Quite so.



Asgard Crafts
The Smithy Heritage Centre
Strathcarron
Wester Ross
IV54 8YS

www.asgardcrafts.co.uk

Don't Wear Your Shorts

I came back from bonny Scotland all right- but not alone. I swear that some of those blasted midges came over the border with me.
Snuck their evil little selves onto my person, and enjoyed a good chew. Evil buggers.
Forget about admiring the scenery, just run for the bar.



No wonder, all the locals go around, muffled head to toe. I soon found out why I never saw anyone outside the pub. The midges, always on the lookout for some juicy flesh, descended in a swarm on any idiot who took a moment to admire the sunset.



Do what the locals do. Hug the bar, and look out the window.

Of course, my researches have uncovered the origin of the Highland fling – the midges. Lets face it, the poor wee Scots had to do something.



For some reason, the pesky critters took a liking to the Pirate. Yum, yum, cordon bleu time. Sure thing, they eat anyone, but what a Scotty midge likes best, is ‘Pirate’.




The rotten sods even bit him up the nose – well, I can think of worse places.
A warning to all you blokes, ‘Don’t wear your shorts.’
Sun shining…? Heed my warning.
I’m sure you get the picture.

A final kindly word from your Aunt Fred. Don’t despair, I found the answer for you. This is ‘The first line of defence.’



I kid you not.
This contraption is available from ‘Any good retailer’.
Yep.

Bally Scotland....

I 've run away - off to bally Scotland, sorry, I mean 'bonny' Scotland.
And if I come back to the merest whisper of a 'hawhaw' or a derisive cackle, there will be trouble.
Yep.