Hell&related Stuff

I was watching some Glastonbury stuff and couldn't help noticing how, now that Rossi's got rid of that stupid ponytail, he looks like Mc'enroe.

Found on the NHS job site:

Job Reference: 746-CC693
Job Title: Administrator
Area of Work: Saucepans
Employer: Southampton City PCT
Department: Community CAMHS
Location: Southampton
Salary: £13,233 - £16,333
Job Typeermanent Staff Group:Administrative & Clerical Pay Scheme:Agenda for change Pay Band:2 Working pattern:30 hours

Administrator for Saucepans?????????

Have I gone through the wormhole, am I having a groundhog day, is there anybody out there, will I wake up soon?

Dennypoos..........had previously thought himself to be a bit odd at times, now thinks he is comparatively normal.

So, there I am watching the surly scot demolish some no-hoper guy when my attention is drawn to one of the ballboys. This one is a young girl, who for her age is well developed in the upper torso region,(if you get my drift).

The commentator spoke thus,"...well, they're pumped up and ready for action...". It transpires that he was refering to the guys who put the covers on the court when rain threatens.

Do you know, I never even saw them lurking in the background.

Dennypoos.............would like to come clean and say that this isn't the girl concerned, but just illustrates my point. This fine example of a ball-boy was photographed at the Madrid open, where they decided to use models to move the players balls around the court.

One of my better pictures of this year

Dennypoos...................needs his bed now.

A little smile raiser that I've nicked from nultygoestopartick:

Two men waiting at the pearly gates strike up a conversation. "How'd you die?" the first man asks the second. "I froze to death," says the second. "That's awful, how does it feel to freeze to death?" says the first. "It's very uncomfortable at first, you get the shakes, and you get pains in all your fingers and toes. But eventually, it's a very calm way to go. You get numb and you kind of drift off, as if you're sleeping. How did you die?" says the second. "I had a heart attack", says the first guy. "You see, I knew my wife was cheating on me, so one day I showed up at home unexpectedly. I ran up to the bedroom, and found her alone, knitting. I ran down to the basement, but no one was hiding there. I ran up to the second floor, but no one was hiding there either. I ran as fast as I could to the attic, and just as I got there, I had a massive heart attack and died." The second man shakes his head. "that's so ironic" he says. "What do you mean?" asks the first man "If you had only stopped to look in the freezer, we'd both still be alive.

Dennypoos..................A laugh, a song, and loads more to follow.

...free zone.

And as such I post a non feeding frenzy photograph:

No more hen-houses for you matey. Left, right and left again if you want to cross the road safely.

...

I for one am delighted, because down here in the Solent area, we've not had any rain for a couple of weeks. That, coupled with serious sunshine and drying winds have meant that my lawn resembles a Beiruit footy pitch. (I use the term 'lawn' loosely).

I shall sit in front of the idiot's box, as my old man would call it, and watch the acts perform, in the vain hope that I may spot one with a smidgeon of originality. I wonder which presenter will be the first to say, "...well it wouldn't be Glastonbury without the mud"?

Not for me the mud, the abysmal overpriced food and the pleasantly scented toilet facilities. I will rough it in my own way. That being reclining on my sofa, decent coffee to hand, choccy muffin within reach and the remote close by. I will not need a 'festival wardrobe', Hunter wellies or fringed shirt. I may watch stark bollock naked, though a tendancy to spill coffee may preclude this.

I may watch the grass grow, as now it's pissing down it surely will.

I shall say little on this obvious subject for mirth and humour in the face of death, excepting that he was not a musical messiah, (Mozart). He did not change the face of modern music, (Beatles), nor did he change a generation, (Dylan).

He was a troubled soul and I will mourn his death in the same way that I would the death of a Tramp. No-more and No-less.

The cynical Dennypoos will say that this should sell a few newspapers. This'll have the vultures sharpening their claws. This'll have his record company drooling with re-issues and memorial/tribute albums cascading out of their doors. Dennypoos will be buying non of them now that Michael Jackson's dead...in the same way as he bought non of them while he was alive.

Dennypoos............has now started to refer to himself in the third person. Being sectioned is but a short way off.

...I've been given a carrier bag full of Broad beans. Still in their pods. I know of one recipe: broad beans with bacon, but that's as far as it goes.

Anyone any other ideas?

So, there I am doing a little early morning reading when a word crops up that I need to know the meaning of. That word is 'belvedere'. I only know of this in the context of guest houses in Scarborough and the like. I fire up the router and tablet and find that a belvedere is a canopy/pergola type structure at the top of a building offering fine views of the scenery etc. Whilst I'm on the computer I take the opportunity to check my emails from various sites, check the met office for the weather forecast, look in on my flickr site to see if my 'guess where in southampton' photograph has been correctly located, go to my online banking site to see if those bastards conning money out of me hanve ceased and desisted. Do all the usual stuff in fact. I log off, close the computer and regain my seat, book in hand.

Bugger and bugger again!

I'll give you the whole section from the book so you'll see why I'm up to my armpits in buggers:

wrote the French author..."a lofty belvedere both bare and sublime, more lunar, more windswept than the paramos of the Andes"

'paramos of the Andes', paramos? Bloody paramos! What is or are the paramos? Grrrr.

I fire up the router........etc.

Dennypoos.........should consider reading to the end of a paragraph before trying to make some sense of it.

Two ducks flying over Northern Ireland:

One duck says, "Quack"

The other duck says, " I'm flying as Quack as I can"

Dennypoos............is it the way I tell 'em?

As found in Romsey Abbey, Hampshire.

Spotted this one on a car showroom's forecourt.

I'm thinking someone was upset.

Eastman Kodak have today announced that is to cease manufacture of Kodachrome forthwith. For those who are only used to digital, Kodachrome was THE transparancy film for 35mm cameras. Many photo editors would insist on Kr25 if using 35mm at all.

Dennypoos ...............mourns the end of an era.

That knob Brandreth might say,"Who would live in a house like this?"

click on image to see the whole thing.

Yesterday, being the halfway point in the year, I thought it time to eat last Christmas's pudding. It was crap. Not that the elapsed time made it so. It was just crap. Stodgy, heavy, with no distinct flavours. Next year...err that's this year, I shall make my own. Afer all I do my own Chrissy cake and the pud uses virtually the same ingredients.

I will of course, keep you foodies advised, post pics, recepies etc.

Dennypoos..............gives you a half year stupidity report.

Bad outcome for someone.

Romsey Abbey, Hampshire.

Photographed on yesterday's excursion. Were they right, cos the sky is saying no?

click on image to enlarge.

Dennypoos..............now looks for a bit of seaweed and a pine cone... Met office, Pah!

...I took 'The Saracen' to the seaside:

click on image to enlarge.

Dennypoos....................well knacked this afternoon has relaxed on the sofa watching Ascot on the Tele.

Visiting Romsey, as I did this morning was like taking a trip back in time to the fifties.

I haven't seen a window cleaner for ages, let alone one who plies his trade with an old hand cart.

Looks like it could be somewhere around the Med, but its Romsey Abbey, Hants, as captured by yours truely on yet another early morning cycle jaunt. More to follow later.

click on image to enlarge, a tad.

One hundred and nine pictures taken this morning which I will edit down to ten and post a link as and when.

...thats me that is, though not my gaff.

Dennypoos..................up and at 'em early doors.

With myself for being such a dickhead. This is a sorry tale of woe and stupidity if ever there was one.

It would appear that some time in April I looked in on one of these credit score sites on line and went for their free 10 day trial.

What I hadn't noticed was that by agreeing to their terms and conditions I had also agreed to let them and their sister companies debit my acc with 14.95 every 10 days until hell freezes over. I only found out this by dint of going over my card limit. Fool that I was, I'd missed these £14.95 amounts for the past three months.

I contacted the fraud dept of my card who gave me the merchants number, (which is why I have this info) and the nice girl, Lucy, didn't seem at all suprised, not at bloody all. I suspect this is not at all uncommon and is possibly how this company derives most of its income. Bastards!

There are three things to be gleaned from this:

1) Avoid this company and be aware of what you are agreeing to by ticking the 'tick box to agree to our terms and conditions'.

2) Do read and check all bank and credit card statements.

3) Remember nothing, but nothing is free. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Dennypoos..........going, Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr for the rest of the day.

...churchyard lurking with my early morning cycling regime. A couple of the results can be seen below:

Plus loads of others to see by following this link:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dennypoos/sets/72157619652413147/

The strawberry plants are now in season and this is my second helping. The first helping was a little premature but I'm afraid greed, or should that be lust, got the better of me:

Served warm straight off the plant and with a dollop of half fat creme fraiche...mmmm, bloody orgasmic.

Dennypoos...................believes there are some things that are better than sex. Well at least you don't have to talk to the empty bowl afterwards, do you?

Yep, up to my old tricks again. Lurking, early morn, in a churchyard surrounded by the Uni's halls of residence. Ooo-err missus.
Click on images to enlarge.

Lets face it, this isn't just a big monument. It trancends large. This is KING size.

Plenty of dead folk here.

In a show of stupidity, I looked at my watch to see if the sundial was correct, (yes I know), and guess what... I thought it was telling porkiesl, until that is, I realised we were still on BST not Greenwich mean time. Dur.

It's as well that I'm not a person to ue bad language, oaths and swear-words, because if I were tha air would be an incandescant blue.

Two bloody days. No, 53hrs to be precise is the amount of time BT have taken to fix a fault on my land-line. I'm in Southampton not The Shetlands, nor the back of beyond.

Then broadband connection is lost. Two phone calls, that I paid for, totalling 42 minutes and the fault still wasn't resolved.

Whilst awaiting a call-back from Virgin media, (I still am), I removed Virgin wireless manager from my computer and then re-installed. You're ahead of me here so please allow me to go:

HEY PRESTO!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep, back into the Ether I am.

Dennypoos.............does a new career in IT customer service beckon?

To continue my fixation, here's a couple of others:

Over the shoulder number.

Robo-Dummy.

Waiting for the bus.

... Billy Conolly at home:

click on image to enlarge.

Well he might have mellowed a tad since he married old wass'er face from 'not the nine o'clock news'

A one handed clock on St Nicolas church, North Stoneham, Hampshire. I don't know of any other 'one hand' clocks at all. Apparantly there isn't the mechanism for a second hand.

click on image to enlarge.

Dennypoos.................re-visiting the slow worm's churchyard.

PROLOGUE.

The two figures, unheading of the downpour, continued their animated discussion as they walked towards The Platform. Their long shadows reflecting from the wet cobbles. Their tread careful so as to avoid the plentiful puddles. Their raised voices echoing from the town walls.
They had no reason to suppose that they were being overheard or observed, but yet they were.
A slight hooded figure watched from a recess in the wall of God's House Tower as the discussion became animated to the point of virulence. The hooded figure smiled at this and shook the rain from the cape's dripping hood, thus obtaining a better view of the two sodden figures, as unalike as ever a pair of men could be.
The taller of the two figures, lean and spare like a newly released prisoner, was now jabbing his bony finger into the shoulder of the shorter rounder fellow, whom surely had partook of the table a few times too often. He in his turn was prodding his cohort in the lower chest. His short pudgy arms being unable to reach any higher. No distinct words could be heard above the hissing of the rain as it bounced of the cobbles but disharmony was evident.
The hooded figure had seen enough and rummaging under the heavy, sodden cloak found a steel tipped bodkin which was at once notched into the drawstring of the stout longbow that had previously remained unseen.
The light was poor and the aim was made much worse by the rain which now resembled stair rods more than anything else, but the archer took careful aim. At a distance of only fifty yards a hit was certain and the twang, as the arrow was released, was heard by no-one, leastways not by the target or his erstwhile companion.
The tall figure gave a yelp and fell to the ground as the arrow found its target. Writhing in the mud and filth that was a feature of outside of the town walls and yelling that he was dying, evinced no great effect on his porcine companion other than an amount of jigging about as though he was unsure as to what to do, but, as sure as he was covered in his friend's blood that arced from a severed artery, his sole certainty, having witness such wounds on the field of battle was that death was upon his friend and so to avoid any embarassing questions by the watch, he beat a hasty retreat the way he had come, forgetting, in his haste the storm lantern he was so proud of having the foresight to bring only minutes earlier.
The shot was not a good shot as good shots go. The archer had been aiming for the tall fellow's heart and missed by a country mile, but it was most assuredly not a good shot for the victim whose femoral artery had been severed by the yard long arrow which, after doing its deadly deed had exited the leg, skittered off the cobbles and had ended up somewhere in the town ditch.
Unable to retrieve the steel tipped arrow in the darkness, as had been the plan, the archer unstrung the bow so that it looked no more than a stout aid to walking and requiring no aids to walking, youth being what it was, skipped homeward with the newly aquired storm lantern to a warm hearth and the certainty of a cup of mulled wine.
A thin reedy voice could just be heard in the distance, “..tis two o'clock of the morning and all's well”
It was two o'clock of the morning of all fools day, April the first in the year seventeen hundred and ninety-two, and all was well.

Dennypoos............so many strings to his own bow.

Last evening was spent not in self abuse or an alcoholic haze but at the induction course for volunteers at our local hospital trust.

Much as it may sully, or impinge, upon my cred as a cynical uncaring bastard, it was something that I felt I had to do. Well not had to do. Wanted to do would be more accurate. Goodness knows what'll happen when the CRB checks come back, still I'm a free man until then. I hadn't realised that CRB checks have been farmed out to a private company who's major shareholder gave shedloads of dosh to the labour party. Hmm? No cahange there then.

Dennypoos..................he giveth so that others may benefit. ( whaddya mean loads of women?)

So there I am, mooching about in a churchyard, as is my wont, when a movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It's a grass snake or slow worm, that I've disturbed whilst it was basking in the sun.
I can only apologize for the quality of the photograph, but they're swift buggers and keeping it in the viewfinder whilst tripping over gravestones etc was an achievement in itself.

Dennypoos's ........................day was made.

No, I regret not that kind of ride.
Just a note to let you lazy bastards know that in my ongoing 'moob' reduction programme the time is right for an early morning cycle ride and around Southamptons environs.
Really need to do it this early as it's going to be another scorcher and beetroot shoulders are a no-no for me.

Toodle-ooo.

Dennypoos..................one cool dude in cycling shorts.