Faith in the Essential Niceness of People - Restored!

Well hello to you too!

Yeah baby - I'm BACK!!!

Due to unforeseen and frankly bizarre blog relating oddness, I have been incommunicado for a couple of weeks. Not for want of trying I can assure you, but for some reason Google decided to re-write Canterbury Tales in arabic - more like Cairo Tales.

(interesting side note - while attempting to find amusing city names beginning with C, I found none in Iran, UAE or Saudi Arabia - who knew?)

Anyway, sidling past the sickly crone that is Google, I have plunged into the welcoming embrace of Bing, and all is well (for the moment).

Returning to my ongoing rant about the modern world, a moment of madness a couple of weeks ago. Street outside Casa Del Bear was filled with armed police and snarling alsations, all trying (as it turned out) to flush out a tramp with an air rifle from the murder house at the end of the road. In spite of being told to stay indoors by the fuzz, me and Mr Handy hung out of the window waiting for something to happen.

Bearing in mind, nothing interesting ever happens in our street, I was horrified to find the following dropping out of my mouth after about 10 minutes:-

"This is boring, can't we fast forward?"

I am horrified. It seems that modernity and all it's naughtiness has managed to get past my Vulcan logic block. I can see no other option than to spend the weekend in silent contemplation surrounded by the written word. I shall report next week.....

Hooray - Happy Belated Easter!!

It's the return of Zombie Jesus, but this time the humans are fighting back!


Speaking of Zombies, Mrs Thatcher has croaked thus robbing my friend Dave of his fantasy dinner party which seemed likely to consist of him screaming "WHY" at Mrs T over the entrees.

So, to make him feel all better (after his terrible appetite problems) - this one's for you Dave.

or...little man, why you no bring more fish?

Storm in a Face Bag

How dare you call me John Merrick.

I'm all for being nice to people (believe it or not). I'm all for being nice and kind and understanding to old people, animals, you name it, I think we should all just rub along together.

BUT when I read this in The Scotsman (of all places), a small part of me died. The world has gone stark staring bonkers, and while I fear I may be repeating myself by getting back on this particular mental merry-go-round, see for yourself.

A TELEVISED impersonation of the hideously disfigured Victorian John Merrick, by comedian Ross Noble, has been ruled to be “at the margins of acceptability” by the BBC Trust

Reasons why this is so annoying.

1. John Merrick is dead. Not just dead, but completely and utterly dead. So very dead. Deady dead dead dead.
2. The description of him as being "hideously disfigured" - well, that may just hurt his feelings...IF HE WAS ALIVE.
3. When he became dead was a very long time ago.
4. He had no children.....due to being, well, you know, THE ELEPHANT MAN
5. Ross Noble was acttually doing an impression of John Hurt doing an impression of a dead bloke. As far as I am aware, John Hurt was never told he was "at the margins of acceptability". In fact, he may even have got an Oscar for dribbling and wearing a bag on his head. That's talent for you.

And this damning inditement comes from the BBC Trust, the same arbiters of good taste who decided that Jimmy Savile was a lovely chap, just a bit gropey.

I give up.

The House on Poo Corner..

If only....

Having welcomed two new additions to the household (Betty and Joan the cats) and still caring for Lando the Hamster, I have come to the realisation that Casa Del Bear should be called Caca Del Bear.

The whole house smells of a heady combination of lovely furry animals, cat poop and hamster wee (which, let me tell you is like industrial waste - some actually started to eat through my workstop like alien blood. Which makes me sound like I live in a hovel, but it was only free of the cage for a couple of minutes - seriously, you could break into bank vaults with this stuff).

Long story short, Husband is on permament litter duty and I have developed a penchant for Febreze. How I long for the days when the only offensive whiff in the house was Camembert.

Thought for the Day

And if the romantic ladybug didn't just make you MELT

Then this vintage, skunk-suicide valentines card may just ring all your bells. Either the skunk is really depressed or believes itself to be Rasputin -what other excuse could there be for the drowing/ shooting overkill (ahem). I still think this is way cooler than cutesy wutesy ickle bunnies and puppies.