Smy's Mysterious Fishtank

Bats

2008-03-31T22:14:00.000-07:00

Ever since Professor Einrich Squeaktail's discovery in 1804 that the moon was made of cheese, it has been every mouse's desire to get there as soon as possible. This is a fact.

Many rodent flight attempts have been made over the years starting in 1815 when three mices decided to inflate themselves with helium and float to the moon. Unfortunately the results were disappointing as, just like humans, the meecels simply inhaled the gas and did Bee Gees impressions for the next forty minutes before falling about giggling.

The next flight test took place in 1839 when two excitable mousies from China attached themselves to fireworks and waited for New Year. It wasn't until the celebrations were underway that they realised they had stuck themselves to a Catherine Wheel and a Sparkler and NOT a nice big rocket. The subsequent coroner's inquest could not identify which bits belonged to each mousel.

After a dramatic pause and a big rethink, the next attempt took place in 1916 when Wilber and Orville Smartwhiskers made makeshift propellers from elastic bands and lollipop sticks, strapped them to their noses and threw themselves off the cliffs at Kittenhawk, USA. The calculations were slightly squiffy, however, and the two meece brothers ended up being screwed 3 feet into the ground.

With the advent of genetic research, mousie creatures have recently been more successful and have managed to graft leathery wings to their backs and call themselves 'bats'. These creatures (who only come out at night when the moon is easier to smell), have been spotted all over the world and their attempts at lunar conquest appear more steadfast than ever before.

Because of this, it has become every pussycat's responsibility to also achieve flight in order to continue chasing the rodents (as it is their duty to do). Thus in 1861 the Cat-a-pult was designed which allowed moggy cats to be thrust through the air in order to catch their smaller mammal adversaries. The results were disappointing.

Calling Dr Smy

2008-03-12T10:39:00.000-07:00

Here in the UK the human non-fish types often seem to complain how long it takes to see a doctor.
This strikes me as particularly odd as there appears to be no shortage of them on TV.

Every third programme seems to be about some smooth boy-faced medical chap or a stern business-like lady doctor who often 'cares too much' and so shuts her emotions away...except in a longing close-up at the end where she sheds a single tear as the credits start.

Quincy M.D. is morbidly interesting as. despite doing only 3 minutes of actual 'doctoring' per episode, he appears to attract as many hot women each week as The Fonz despite having a head that resembles a turnip and a nose that would not look out of place in the local Toucan Sanctuary. He does have big feet though, so maybe that explains it.*

Doctor Gregory House is my favourite, however. His style is to wrongly diagnose each patient 7 times per show and then, at precisely 37 minutes into the episode, he has a breakthrough and realises that the reason little Barry's eyeballs keep expanding to the size of watermelons is because in 1996, he attended a Teenage Mutant Ninja Otter festival and was exposed to mutated otter pelt while holding a can of cherry Tizer in his left-hand.

The patients always seem to go through agony while Dr House and his perfect skinned, magazine-cover-sexy associates put them through pointless tests for the first 36 minutes and begs the question -why not just leave them in a quite room with a nice book about penguins for a bit while House makes us all a nice cup of tea and tells us a nice long joke for perhaps 36 and a half minutes?

*women are attracted to large feet as this means that they get to wear the large shoes when the man goes out of the room while doing a deep-voiced impression of their man and trotting about saying stuff like 'where's my paper?' and 'fetch me more beer'. This is a known fact.

Smylexx-Eve

2008-03-10T02:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's that time of year again. The date that you've had circled on your calendar for the last 363 days is almost upon us; my birthday- tomorrow.

Although it's quite apparent that you've already bought my present and wrapped it, being extra careful not to crush the gold-leaf wrapping paper or to chip any of the encrusted 24 carat diamonds on the gift-tag, I thought I'd help those who were still struggling with the gift-choosing by providing you with a few handy tips:

1 x Puncture Repair Kit with a beach ball attachment would be most appreciated. Sadly, whenever i get a new beach ball, i tend to crush it or pop it in an excited moment usually when one of my scientist friends says something like 'Is it me, or is it getting 'otter in here?' or 'You know Colin, there really 'otter be a Fire Exit sign over that emergency door'.

1 x Lightly roasted salmon with dauphinoise potatoes. Obviously i wont eat the potatoes but i will look at them with delight as i gently nibble my salmon while extending my flipper in an over-posh way.

1 x Bedtime Stories book with waterproof paper. Some of the smaller fish tell me that they get a little scared at night. Unfortunately the thing they most fear is being eaten by me but perhaps a soothing story about bears might cheer them up a bit.

1 x otter sanctuary with 18 otters and a lifetime otter replacement guarantee so that if one of them slips off the little see-saw I'm making or squishes against a rock after bouncing too high off the little trampoline i made last week, I'd be sent a new one in the post.

I also expect a fish-cake with a candle in it. Hurry or you'll miss the shops!!

+4 Atk with 10% chance of creeping-you-out!

2008-03-05T09:55:00.000-08:00

In hot Nerd News today it was announced that Gary (level 79 Paladin) Gygax has died.

This came as a shock to me and some of the smaller fish i was intimidating this morning as we always assumed that G. G. was immortal like that bloke from Highlander, Elizabeth Taylor and Colonel Sanders.

Mr Gygax was obviously a genius. Not only did his name end in the letter 'x' (which is a sure sign of superiority....or, at the very least, uber-smugness), but he also managed to sell us a rule book for a game that we then had to go and imagine by ourselves.

In my opinion, it's not really a game unless there is a board, some little plastic pieces (perhaps in the shape of otters or something) a pair of lovely dice and some cards with 'go directly to the little cupboard under the stairs and eat sherbet' printed on them.

Many nerdy-types will today be looking even more forlorn and unhappy than usual and will not be able to blame their demeanor solely on their intake of The Cure cd's, the lack of sunlight they absorb or the absence of hot nerd-on-nerd action.

So for one day only, don't poke your geek; love them. Hug your nerdiest friend and stroke their twenty-seven sided dice and their little lead gn*me figures. Ruffle their (slightly greasy) hair and even refuse to laugh when they drool uncontrollably at an old episode of Land of the Giants.

Happy dungeoning!

Let's get ready to er, erm... you know.

2008-02-29T04:02:00.000-08:00

Three days ago we had an earthquake at the Leeds facility for Smart-Arsed Fish. It made me drop my milkshake and my porcelain otter collection rattled on the shelf which made them look as if possessed by evil, vengeful otter poltergeists.

Having done a quick inventory check, it became apparent that the little colourful fish, the nasty case of crabs and the twelve salmon were all unhurt... except for the three salmon i ate during the inventory checking...to keep my strength up, you understand.

What could have caused the earthquake though? I'm a simple fishy and don't understand these things. I've put it down to a few possibilities which are as follows:

Vanessa Feltz had fallen out of her water bed and managed to level half of Kent.

Two hundred angry squirrels had decided that 'enough was enough' and had planted explosives in the muesli factories.

An angry god had decided to smite us for making jokes about Jeremy Beadle's little deformed hand.

Two elephants were continuing their illicit affair and were having casual sex on top of a Ford Fiesta in a local car park...'cos elephants are dead classy like that.

Monsters from the planet Jellytot 5 had attempted to land their spaceship nearby but had forgotten to bother to check how big the planet was. In a huge error of judgement, they realised that the entire Earth was small enough for them to pop in their mouths and suck on like a fizzy gumdrop. They quickly scarpered off and turned their stereos down in order to be more discreet.

The planet's tummy rumbled while deciding whether or not to eat a small Danish girl for being too sparkly. After twenty minutes, the planet made the decision to open a bag of pickled onion Monster Munch instead.

Oink!

2008-02-23T10:04:00.000-08:00

Many of the youth's pop-beat combos split up and then reform. Groups like The Spice Girls and Take That and even Pink Floyd have ended their extended retirements usually at the exact same time that a huge fat wad of cash is deposited in their bank accounts by a greedy, no talent music publicist.

One duet who wont be coming back, however, are Pinky and Perky. Yes, we all remember their beautiful high-pitched squeaky piggy voices singing our favourite tunes like a miniature angel who's genitals have been caught in a series of kitchen appliances but what happened to them after the music ended?

Their career was beautifully realised in the lyrics of Don McClean's American Swine and there has been many biopics and books but for those who are musically inexperienced, let me remind you of their downfall.

Pinky was, of course, famously arrested in 1979 for goading wolves into 'blowing his house down' - a sexual act so sinister that i simply cannot find the words to describe it. Needless to say, it involved a wolf, some 'huffing and puffing' and a piggy that squealed 'whee whee wheee' all the way home.

After his subsequent release, Pinky devoted himself to working with the starving children of Africa which went well for over three months until one of the children ate him.

Perky was the quiet one. He would often go to market and enjoy roast beef from time to time. It was rumoured that he invented the hula-hoop but this is unsubstantiated. After the music dried up and the fans moved on to other top animal pop acts such as Keith Harris and Orvile and Crazy Frog, Perky became restless and embittered and, on June 19th 1984* he took his own life by roasting himself in an oven at gas mark 4 for about 2 hours to ensure that his pork fat was extra crispy.

He was later served with apple sauce and roasted potatoes and eaten by the last 3 members of the Pinky and Perky fan club.

It's what they would've wanted.

*happy birthday Garfield

The Big V!!

2008-02-14T08:41:00.001-08:00

10 things that you might not wish to say when picking up your valentine date:

What, you're wearing THAT?

Maybe i should go alone...

Have you gained weight recently?

Come on dragon face, let's roll.

I've got my granny and three of her bingo-friends in the car. You don't mind if they join us, right?

I think you should get a blood test....

Have you always had that mole???

Let's get this over with.

What? The yellow spot thing? Well the puss has stopped seeping now so i think we're good for another hour before it flames up again.

I hope you brought cash cos i'm hungry...

Roy

2008-02-11T22:24:00.000-08:00

It might surprise you to learn that my favourite film isn't The Sound of Music or even Tarka the Otter (though that IS a close second), but in fact Jaws.

Sharks are a bit stupid and so any film that spends two hours planning and then killing one is obviously going to thrill me more than a day trip to a WeaselWorld theme park.

As we all know, sharks spend their time intimidating smaller fish (which should only be done by dolphins), looking a bit scary in wildlife films and also drawing male genitals with an Etch-A-Sketch...though that last fact isn't widely reported.

In the film Jaws, three men set off on an adventure to kill the evil willy-sketching, fish-bothering meany and along the way have a few arguments about the best way to do it while guzzling beer.

Mr Hooper is a furry, soft-handed scientist type. The only thing he manages to kill is the atmosphere in Chief Brody's dining room. He enjoys showing other men his instruments and scrunching plastic cups.

Shark killing ability: 2/5 - He doesn't kill a shark but he does manage to shove an air tank in a shark's mouth making it look like Clint Eastwood in those western movies.

Quint is a psychopathic loose-toothed nutjob who probably owns only own pair of undies. He knows over 28 ways to tie knots and over 2,904 dirty jokes about nuns. Has a tattoo which he claims he got in the military but everyone suspects that it was probably a picture of Betty Boop holding a squirrel.

Shark killing ability 1/5 -Manages to fire a few shots at a shark but eventually gets eaten by one that should probably enter next years 110 meter hurdles dash.

Brody is a chief of police who hates the water more than kittens in a sack. Knows hardly anything about sharks (not even that Etch-A-Sketch thing) and spends most of the film throwing rotting fish into the sea while daydreaming about old Pink Panther episodes.

Shark killing ability 5/5 Doesn't just kill the shark but actually blows it into 23,518 little fishy bits using just a rifle and a kick-ass line of dialogue. This makes Brody the poster-boy for every dolphin and a role model to us all, right?

Hail to the chief, baby!!

Slicey Slicey

2008-01-27T16:27:00.000-08:00

When you human types aren't killing each other over who's got the best god or who likes oil the most, you also like killing each other over love. I adore otters but have never once wanted to kill anyone preventing me from using my season pass to the local otter sanctuary. Not that anyone would dare.

Anyway, this murderous streak is witnessed in all its lovely detail in the latest Tim Burton movie 'Sweeney Todd' which also carries the subtitle 'the demon barber of Fleet Street' in case we were confusing him with another Sweeney Todd, perhaps.

Personally i think there were many better titles that could've been used instead and i've compiled a list of a few alternatives:

For Your Pies Only

Mr Knife Guy

Live & Let Pie

Conan the Barber

The Wrath of Balm

Foam Hair to Eternity

I Love Stubble

Pies Like Us

In God We Crust

Eat The Parents

Half Baked

Cutthroat Island

Beard Science

I think you get the drift. I'll stop now because i can sense you lost interest after that Wrath of Balm one.

Smy Hard!

2008-01-21T13:05:00.000-08:00

Just how many action movies have there been? I'd say at least 41. You bipeds really seem to enjoy watching other bipeds blow stuff up, don't you?

In the case of the ones Ive seen during my monthly barnacle-removal-treatment, there appears to be a set of rules that run through each of them which MUST be adhered to without fail.

First, our hero character must be 'burnt out'. He must smoke like a kipper, have a particularly vindictive ex-wife who has not only taken all his money forcing him to live in his car or a trailer or a scuzzy apartment but she's also taken custody of his kids...and probably *gasp* taken custody of his custard too. Our hero must rarely change his clothes and will probably need a shave (but will never grow a beard) throughout the entire film.

Our villain MUST be European- probably British or German and have a nasally voice or a lisp. A facial scar is also a bonus. He will show a complete lack of empathy for his fellow criminals in his gang and will probably kick a small puppy or spit at a photograph of Fozzie Bear in order to establish just how nasty he is. Loves Jazz and Classical Music, hates long walks on the beach and is most likely a Gemini.

Our hero will wish to work alone. In fact he'll insist on it to his boss. He'll also show a slight bitterness to modern liberal viewpoints before being shown his new partner who will be a lesbian/paraplegic/es panic/Jewish/hippy/left-handed.

The Hero's boss will be black (if the 80's) or fat and white (if the 90's) and will be just three outbursts away from a heart-attack. The Boss will usually have his office door knocked in (this is NOT a sexual euphemism, you flippin' perves!) by the hero at least twice who will harass the boss into either getting him off the case/demanding a warrant to search the villains lair/requiring 'more time' than the given deadline/getting the D.A. 'off his ass'

Despite all previous meetings with the villain, our hero will not arrest or, more likely, kill the bad guy until 102 minutes into the film regardless of how many crimes he's personally seen him commit. The villain must have had his gang shoot at the hero, blow something up, had a speedboat chase before grabbing a hostage at the end while laughing cruelly and saying something like 'eet seems that once again you are a fly in my ointment, you feeeelthy flat-foot!' or 'Thith time you will not thuctheed in dethtroying my dreamth, mithter politheman!' before attempting to make his last getaway.

Since all of the above is 100% accurate, why doesn't the hero simply get his partner to do all the required stuff then simply turn up at the 101st minute to make the arrest? He could visit the local Otter Sanctuary or make a paper maché womble or something equally productive.

Pringles!!

2008-01-21T07:40:00.000-08:00

Once you pop, you can't stop. Well, that's what it says on the advert but if that's true, why do i always feel upset after I've put a tear in my beach ball after a particularly aggressive bouncing session?

The most fabulous thing about Pringles is that they arrive in a tubular package. If, like me, your diet consists mainly of small terrified fish and the occasional bit of chewy seaweed, you'll probably discard the crispy contents of the packaging almost immediately. This will leave you with a fabulous multi-purpose tubey thing!

'But Smylexx, you delicious and fragrant fishy love machine, whatever shall i do with it?' you may be asking.. well, here are my top suggestions:

1. Pop out the bottom of the tube and peer through it. See? It's an incredible telescope but, unlike normal, boring telescopes, this one doesn't magnify anything and potential causes eye-strain! Amazing!!

2. Put a series of linked tubes together to create an escape tunnel for Prisoner of War Otters who are still trapped in ferocious Nazi Weasel controlled camps in Berlin.

3. Sellotape 6 of them together and place a haddock inside one of the tubes. You now have your very own unique version of Russian Roulette. Take turns to spin the tubes and, if you're very lucky, find the haddock and eat it in one big gulp!

4. put a fluffy cover on the tube and thread some elastic through one end and turn it into a dolphin beak warmer for those frosty mornings on the oceans.

5. Use the tube as a jelly mould. When you have around 8 or 9 tubular jelly shapes, you can fashion them into a jelly Caterpillar...or a jelly tower....or a jelly sausage-link... or a jelly eel or maybe limb transplants for jelly babies with missing arms and shins. Or something.

The Smylex-X-Files

2008-01-21T00:48:00.000-08:00

Woo-woowoo-woowoo-woooooo (doobededoobitydoobededoobity-bloop-bloop-bloop-bloop).

Yes, there are many dark and moody bits in my pool. Most of them are in the deep end or situated around the mysterious pebble and cause no end of spooky nervousness as you swim past them.

Some of the smaller fish report of a dark and gloomy castle in the middle of the pool. Tales are told of little salmon venturing inside and never returning! Possibly eaten by werewolves, abducted by space-otters or whisked off into another dimension. I prefer to call the castle 'home' though and my tummy can probably account for most of the 'disappearances'.

I do envy those sexy detectives on the videobox thing though - the ones that run through warehouses with a flashlight, occasionally stopping to flash the beam of light over a jar containing a pickled alien weasel baby hybrid or something. I expect there's nothing more exhilarating than being anally probed by Christopher Walken and some little grey creatures that resemble smurfs with no noses.

Unfortunately my scientist captors seems very dull in comparison and the most dangerous thing they seem to do is dare to eat the eggy sandwiches that Nigel's mum makes for him each Thursday.

I've asked for a pen-torch and a selection of clear plastic evidence bags but so far no one has taken me seriously... Just don't come running to me when your socks have been abducted by Yetis from the Glomph Dimension!

Smylexx Anniversary Holiday Special!

2008-01-19T01:58:00.000-08:00

Goodness! has it really been an entire year of blogging? It most certainly has!

Over the past 12 months we've all sat down on Uncle Smylexx's slightly moist knee and discussed many topics including the fabulousness that is cheese, why robots in the future will be entirely gay, the secrets that lay within a kangaroos' pouch and how to test drive a badger.

Over the last year i even started my own religion, introduced new fish to the mysterious pebble (then eaten them) and learned over 2,681 new facts about otters (only 9,571,002 to go).

The next 12 months will, i'm sure, be just as startling and splendiferous and to celebrate this, i stayed up late last night polishing my Dolphin-o-Type 2000 (no, that's not a sexual euphemism, you perves).

One of the salmon who's name was probably Hugh (well, at least, that was the noise he made as i ate him) baked me a fish-cake to celebrate this important anniversary too.

Happy splashing, Kiddies!!

Duck Off!

2008-01-08T03:49:00.000-08:00

You know how it is, you've just returned home after a hard day of swimming, leaping through hoops and generally looking super-smug and you're just about to start preparations for your fabulously unmissable dinner party when there's a knock on the door. You open it to find a flock of hungry ducks waiting to come in...but...but... no one invited the ducks!!

Of course you now have a predicament -how to rid yourself of hungry fowl without being rude and resorting to shooting them. We've all been there, haven't we? But with just 37 seconds of intense research, i have come up with a list of ways which will keep your party mallard-free:

1. Advise the ducks that your girlfriend/boyfriend/life-partner/other 'alf is a giant Bengal tiger who is expected home shortly after finishing a shift at the local abattoir. The ducks will probably shuffle uncomfortably for a bit before making an excuse to leave.

2. Welcome the ducks in but casually remind them that you're serving spaghetti. As we all know, ducks don't suck* and therefore find eating pasta to be a real chore. They'll probably stop for a polite aperitif before looking at their watches and leaving for 'another engagement'.

3. Dribble excitedly as you gaze at the ducks and take a long time explaining how the oven works. Invite one of the ducks to step into the oven while occasionally squeezing the others as you wipe drool from your chin. Keep glancing at the ducks and then at a box of Paxo Stuffing then back to the ducks again. The younger ducks will become flustered and within minutes will 'remember that they've left the iron on' and hurry off.

4. Look happy to see the ducks but advise them that, after dinner, all guests will be expected to engage in a whistling contest. As we all know, ducks can't blow and therefore will decline to stay. Ducks hate to lose competitions.

5. Greet the ducks but tell them that tonight's dinner is 'formal attire' only. Ducks own up to 41 pairs of jeans and t-shirts but never buy suits as the jackets tend to shrink and chafe when flapping about on ponds. The ducks may be dejected but will leave politely without fuss.

If all else fails and the ducks still refuse to bugger off, simply fake a brain-implosion and fall over. Allow some drool to spill out as you spasm wildly about a bit on the floor. Some ducks are quite wary of this and so it can take up to 40 minutes of groaning and flinching before they're all thoroughly convinced and eventually go.

*I may put that on a t-shirt.

Yogurt

2008-01-05T03:51:00.000-08:00

There i was, swimming casually around in the shallow end of my pool looking beautiful while flicking passing salmon with my tail fin when i overheard one of my pool-cleaners (probably named Colin) discussing his lunch.

Apparently he had a cheese sandwich a small apple and a pot of 'yogurt'.

Having never heard of this mysterious item, i quickly researched it on the Dolphin-O-Type 2000 and it would appear to consist of cultured milk. But how does a person bring culture to milk i wondered. I'm guessing it would consist of the following methods:

Take the milk to a foreign movie. Something pretentious with subtitles all shot in black and white with lots of moody brunettes looking solemn while their perfect-skinned boyfriend discusses the complexities of what it means to be a man in an ever changing world. (Those German films that you watch alone don't count by the way)

Pop to a gallery and introduce the milk to a few paintings. Try and find the paintings surrounded by nerdy student types who are scratching their chins and saying 'hmmm....i think i understand what the artist was trying to say when he used that particular hue of pink'. The paintings found on proud parent's fridges don't count.

Take the milk on holiday to Rome. The two of you can look at the ruins, the architecture and the work of Michelangelo who apparently was an artist as well as being one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Spend an evening at the opera. For beginners, it's probably best to go for something light and fluffy and avoid the big hitters like Wagner as his operas tend to last for about 27 years by which point your dairy-based product may have curdled by the first intermission.

Does yogurt come in otter and chutney flavour?

Happy New Year!!!

2008-01-03T05:18:00.000-08:00

Well, it's 2008 and that means that we're now only a few years away from wearing shiny metallic suits and living in tall spires that overlook cities enclosed in glass domes with holes in the top to allow passing space rockets easy access to our Mars colonies.

By now you human types have probably eaten too much, already failed miserably to uphold your New Years Resolution and found yourself smoking a cigar while indulging in dangerous sexual acts with a tropical mammal while wearing ladies underwear.

It's also that time of year when we take that rubbish present that gran gave you back to the shops and bought something you really wanted such as a beach ball (mine popped on Boxing Day after a particularly fierce bit of rubbing and squeezing), a selection of fresh fish or perhaps an annual pass to your local Otter Sanctuary.

Most importantly, however, it is also the time to reflect on your world and think of the people that you care about most...such as Colin the Pool cleaner or that beardy man that fills up my food bucket with tasty trout each Thursday.

Happy New Year fish and non-fish peeps!

Seasonal Replies!

2007-12-25T00:32:00.000-08:00

Dear 'True Love'

Thanks so much for the recent spate of gits you have bestowed upon me. I'm guessing that the court restraining order didn't put you off then? May i take this opportunity to discuss with you the choice of gifts you have sent to me:

A partridge would have been fine. I cook and could have probably roasted it or stuffed it with something nice and had it for lunch but i really could've done without the pear tree. I live in a flat on the 18th floor and it's currently standing in my kitchen. What were you thinking?

2 x Turtle Doves - Not edible nor do they even look all that exciting. Do you still have the receipt? I'd prefer a chinchilla.

3 x Hens (French) - i don't even speak French and my tenancy agreement stipulates i cant keep fowl.Especially foreign fowl.

4 Calling Birds - Great thinking. They call up their friends about 75 times a day using premium rate chat-lines and i now have a phone bill of over 12 grand. Cheers!

5 Gold Rings. I'm keeping these regardless.

6 geese that appear to lay almost 24 hours a day. If they're not laying they're sh*tting everywhere. You didn't really think this through, did you?

Swans.... seven bleedin' swans that like to swim. I'll point it out again, i live on the Chesney Hawke's Council Estate in a high rise building. Where the hell did you expect them to swim exactly? Currently they are stuffed into my bathroom and the noise is unbearable.

8 Maids-a Milking. I'm not sure i even know where to start. I don't own a cow and so the maids began to 'milk' each other. They also attempted to 'milk' me but since i bought some pepper-spray they appear to have backed off.

9 Dancing ladies? My landlord seems to be under the impression that I've opened a lapdancing bar that caters for men who like girls and avian perversions. I've got three weeks until i'm evicted.

10 leaping lords! Do you have any idea how much noise they create? When they aren't leaping, they're eating the contents of my fridge. The people living on the 17th floor complained that the leaping was knocking their ornaments off their bookcases. The damages bills just keep piling up.

If it wasn't already chaos in here, you also decided i needed 11 pipers who..well...'pipe'. This would be fine if it was just once a day but unfortunately they seem to have more wind-power than 295 grannies stuck in a baked-bean factory.

And you really outdid yourself with the 12 drummers. My eviction was brought forward to next Tuesday. If you'd like me to send you a diagram of exactly where i think you should shove your pear tree, just let me know...

He's Behind Youuuuuu!!!

2007-12-18T11:07:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time down in Dingley Dell there lived a boy named Jack. Jack was a bit of a numbnuts and was often found eating paint chips, trying to lick his own elbow and attempting to catch his own shadow in a net on sunny afternoons.

One day Jack's mother (who was on government benefits due to her hip and also for having a slightly stupid son), asked Jack to take the cow (who incidentally was probably smarter than Jack and definitely better than him at clog-dancing) to market.

The Cow was happy to be sold off as she knew that as soon as Jack realised that there was more than one use for the 'magic sausage' in his trousers, she'd probably be violated in an uncomfortable place.

A strange and mysterious man approached Jack at the market and offered Jack some 'Magic Beans' in payment for the cow. Jack, being as he was a complete and utter womble, decided that this offer was too good to pass and immediately handed over the cow and skipped home with the exciting news of the sale to his long suffering mother.

'Oh Jack, you really would be out of your depth in a car-park puddle, wouldn't you?' His mother exclaimed and tossed the beans out of the window before heading off to Threshers to pick up her booze and fags order.

Jack was far too stupid to let this get him down and he spent the rest of the evening attempting to count his toes but at around midnight, he heard quite a rumbling and a grumbling from outside. He poked his rather silly head out of the window and to his surprise, he saw a giant beanstalk!

Being as Jack wouldn't know a health-and-safety pamphlet from the February Otter Festival, he immediately decided to climb the huge growth to see where it went. Atop the beanstalk was a cloud and upon the cloud was a beautiful castle which was the size of a small moon.

Jack scampered inside the castle whereupon he found himself surrounded by beautiful treasures - a golden harp, a stunning collection of coins and jewels, the director's cut of Star Wars where Han and Greedo organise a frat party and force Princess Leia to do unspeakable things to an ewok.

Jack was already filling his pockets with gemstones when he heard a thundering voice from overhead "Fee-Fi-Fo-Fumm! I smell the blood of someone really dumb!'
Jack began to drool uncontrollably for the 72nd time that day and tried to compose himself by repeatedly squeezing his nipples as hard as he could. He leaped behind a nice big golden ashtray and waited for the Giant to pass.

After what seemed to be an eternity to Jack's tiny brain (it was in fact 31 seconds), he slipped from his hidey-place and once again began to stuff his pockets and coat with exciting things. A stunning harp was quickly snaffled followed by a large hen who appeared to lay golden eggs (though Jack hadn't noticed this and simply wanted the chicken because he liked its beaky little face). Both the harp and the hen began to cry out 'Help....Hellllp us! We're being stolen by a mendicant!"

Jack dived for the beanstalk and reached the top just as the Giant had finished lacing up his Reeboks. The giant shook his fist at Jack who slid down the beanstalk and, as he reached the bottom, began to chop it down using a spoon and a small rock.

Jack showed his mother the spoils of his adventure and she seemed most pleased -until the day she saw Jack on Crimewatch and her joy turned to tears as they were both arrested for possession of stolen goods by the Badger Fairytale Police. The Giant recovered his things and gave his chicken a nice big hug and they lived happily ever after.

Smy's Christmas Poem

2007-12-16T01:36:00.000-08:00

T'was the night before Christmas and all through Smy's pool
Not a creature was stirring in case they became food

Smy hung up his stocking and grinned happily
Hoping for beach balls or an otter dvd

The little fish snuggled up in their sea-beds
and hoped naughty Smy would eat mince pies instead

But later that night as the moon rose his head
A loud splashing noise woke Smy from his bed

Using his flippers to rub sleep from his eyes
Came a sight that totally took him by surprise

Santa and reindeer all making a fuss
had crash-landed their sleigh (which would soon shortly rust)

T'was Prancer's fault -oh he is such a rebel
He'd become fascinated by Smy's mysterious pebble

And now Santa sat on the pool-edge, what a hoot
to see him pour water from out of his boot

Smylexx pondered the scene and then offered help
'A talking fishy!' said Rudolph who then started to yelp

An hour passed slowly as Smylexx explained
and ordered a nurse-fish to tend to the bits that were sprained

One hour became two but soon all was well
Smy fixed up the sleigh, including the bell

With a hearty hug and a whole lot of kisses
Santa jumped on his ride and thanked all the fishes

The morning came fast and Smylexx felt pleased
'Was it a dream? Should i stop eating cheese?'

But pinned to his stocking with special elf glue
a note -'Merry Fishmass dear Smylexx...from You Know Who!'

Rudolph!

2007-12-07T05:58:00.001-08:00

10 Things Rudolph probably doesn't want for Christmas:

1. Hay -this is provided free by Mr and Mrs Clause and also forms part of their contractual obligation to Rudolph and the other reindeer (see section 5.403.2 for further information).

2. Carrots -Also provided by The Clause's and also given out by over 20 billion children on Christmas Eve. I'm quite sure Rudolph doesn't ever want to even look at another carrot until at least March. For this reason, i always leave him a carefully wrapped turnip near my Christmas List each year.

3. Hoof Varnish /Antler Glitter- Rudolph is not homosexual despite once being found in a compromising position with Blitzen who claims he was just administrating the Heimlich Manoeuvre when Rudolph swallowed a carrot a bit too quickly.

4. Nose polish -Rudolph needs no more attention being drawn towards his proboscis than he has already thankyouverymuch.

5. Bells -It's a known fact that despite having bells on the sleigh and bells around his harness and bells on his flippin antlers, Rudolph despises the noise of bells and secretly listens to Simon and Garfunkel on his i-pod for the duration of the journey.

6. A subscription to Otter Monthly Magazine - he borrows mine but complains that they are usually a bit too soggy to read and so seems to have lost interest.

7. Diet books - a rigorous 11 month fitness regime is administrated by the elves for each of Santa's Reindeer. This include star jumps, squats and stretches which ensure that no one pulls a muscle while carting 480 million Nintendo Wii consoles to fat kids in Florida on a sleigh pulled by a festively plump man with a beard who smells of gin.

8. Antler grooming kits - Rudolph's antlers are cared for by Mauricé of Lapland.

9. Novelty socks - Even Rudolph's gran stopped buying these for him after a few years. you should too. He does not wear socks -especially socks with pictures of snowmen, characters from The Simpsons or Betty Boop on them.

10. A torch - Really, think about it...he can do without one.

Workshop Elf Contractual Obligations

2007-12-04T10:15:00.000-08:00

This contract states that you will be entered into full-time employment of the Clause Society Industries (CSI). By signing the below contract, you will be obliged to perform the tasks and duties of your work-role and will be subject to adhere to the strict dress-code policy and behavioural requirements as mentioned in section 2.5.64c

As well as the terms of conditions of service which are outlaid in your Welcome to CSI pack, please also ensure that the following guidelines are adhered to at all times:

1. Always look cheerful -you're elves and should never look grumpy or you could be mistaken for goblins. As we all know, Mr Clause does NOT like goblins since 'the incident'.

2. If working on the naughty and nice lists, please ensure to check them twice. This is not a request but a prerequisite. Twice. Not once. Not three times. Twice. Rhymes with 'mice'.

3. If Mr Clause has been drinking and Mrs Clause is not around, please remember never to make direct eye-contact with Mr Clause as this will lead to an awful thing happening to you in one of the storage cupboards. Details and diagrams of the 'awful thing' can be found on page 61 of the handout given to you during orientation entitled 'Why Sitting On His Lap Isn't a Good Idea'.

4. When feeding the reindeer, please never be tempted to use Rudolph's nose as a make-up mirror. He doesn't like it and he bites. Hard.

5. Although the dress code should always be observed, we are glad to announce that three items of 'flair' can be added to your uniform. These can include bows, patches and earmuffs but please refrain from wearing anymore than the assigned 37 bells on your uniform for health and safety reasons. Over two thirds of the workforce were off sick in 1997 with symptoms of Tinnitus.

6. As elves, it is expected for you to laugh, giggle, chuckle and squeal for at least 17 of your working hours per day. Please ensure that laugh-breaks are taken at the appointed times only to ensure a constant stream of festive cheer is upheld throughout the day. These will be assigned to you by your giggle co-ordinator on your first day of business.

7. Mobile phones are not permitted in the Radio-Control Robot section of the workshop. For further details on why these devices are banned, please see Lefty, Stumpy or Limpy who are usually found hobbling around the coffee machine and admiring each others scars.

Signed ______________________

Date ________________________

See? Still no otters!

December!!

2007-12-01T05:25:00.000-08:00

Got your attention, eh? Thought so...

December is upon us like a pervy uncle in a game of hide and seek when your parents are out. Where did the year go? Perhaps it went shopping for shoes or maybe it's gone to make jam in a convent in southern Spain.

All i know is that December means one thing and one thing only...no, not World Aids Day, i'm talking about Christmas! I'm so excited that I've been doing laps of my pool and i refuse to stop until Christmas morning when i get to open all my presents.

Anyway, apart from the aforementioned, there are apparently some 'other' fascinating facts about the month which i feel contractually obliged to tell you about.

Hannukah, which starts in December, is the Jewish 'Festival of Lights'. This means that fatties can't join in and only Ryvita can be eaten can be eaten until all the little candles are lit on those funky 8 candle holding Jewish thingymajobs.

Independence Day is celebrated in Finland (the place where dolphins obtain their fins) and Joulokuu is the word for December there which translates into 'month of Christmas' and can also mean 'Time to buy Smy presents' depending on how you say it.

In Xhosa (don't tell me you've never heard of it), December is called ngeyomNga which means 'month of the mimosa thorn tree'. I wonder if the mimosa thorn trees appreciate this.

*see? I can go an entire post without mentioning otters...oh, wait.... damn!

3-D

2007-11-27T10:31:00.000-08:00

Well hello my little gummy-bears. Has it really been 8 days since i posted? It appears so!

Where have i been?

What have i been doing?

Who have i been 'doing'?

If anyone knows the answers to these questions, please let me know and i promise to take notes.

In more pressing matters, a movie named Beowulf was recently released in multiplexatoriums around the UK. Despite being full of semi-clad men and monsters, the entire film appears to be too stunning to be able to avert your gaze from...annnnnd it's in 3-D!!

Every film would benefit from being in 3-D and below I've listed just a few examples of how this would enhance the cinematic experience of even the dreariest movies:

The Care Bears Movie would come to life in whole new ways as their rainbows burst from their chests in full 3-D as the audience ducks for cover and just imagine the little dance numbers! Tiny furry folks all waltzing and shuffling around your brain! It would be more awesome that the time i was left unattended in the otter sanctuary for a whole 23 minutes.

Free Willy would simply make you squeal with excitement like an over-tickled basket of kittens as Willy leaps towards you, the salty spray appearing to cover the audience before willy goes deep..but not before spurting liquid from his spurty-hole!

Hardcore Porn - see above.

It's time we took a stance and DEMANDED that Hollywood makes every film this way! If they refuse, we should stamp our feet/flippers/hooves and threaten to hold our breath until we die!

Fantasy Novels

2007-11-19T02:15:00.000-08:00

Of course, the only thing i ever read is OtterPedia and the back of Findus Fish Finger packets but i have it on good authority that there are books about subjects that don't include marine mammals and fish-based snacks.

According to a friend of mine, many people like to read about dwarfs and elves (but not gnomes, obviously) and these creatures usually get themselves into a spot of bother with a big dragon or a selection of trolls with dietary issues who they have to fight for a bit in order to claim the treasure which generally has a name like 'the mighty crown of Sockzillia' or 'the sacred charm-bracelet of the high-elder-queen Snifflepops'.

Unfortunately, the writing style of most fantasy authors seem to fall into two distinct categories-

Tolkien Stylee: The inability to ever get to the point. A typical sentence in a Tolkien book goes something along the lines of 'And Lo, The Hobbits began their journey and as they walked they passed a tree which made them all sigh a bit as the tree had at least twenty seven branches and on each branch, their were quite possibly over two zillion leaves which might have been really nice to eat if you were a Caterpillar or something but probably less nice if you were a wolf called colin or something and the tree was also a bit crooked-not in the way that it might sell you a dodgy Rolex, but in the way that it leaned a bit to one side...maybe at 12 degrees...possibly 13...Frodo couldn't be sure without measuring it and he had forgotten his compass and his notepad..the blue one, we mentioned it earlier..on page 184 i think..you can check....I'll wait..'

Alternatively we get Dave Eddings Stylee which is exactly the opposite of the above and amazes me that most of his books appear thicker than a post-it note. A typical passage from his work would be 'Geoff the Warrior Elf saw a demon. The demon saw Geoff. Geoff took out his sword and hit the demon with it 'til the demon died. Geoff was pleased. The demon was not pleased. Geoff went home for trifle.'

There must be some middle-ground somewhere. I'd write one myself but, well, if i did that then who would eat all these salmon?

Action Man!

2007-11-19T01:54:00.000-08:00

In the 1970's -when disco ruled and Bird's Trifle was the epitome of style and sophistication, little boys played with Action Man.

No that isn't a euphemism for masturbatory pursuits, I'm talking about The Greatest Hero Of Them All (tm).

During his heyday, Action Man came in a variety of exciting flavours and despite looking decidedly camp, he was hard as nails-no really!! The range of products included the SAS Elite Soldier who came complete with pistols, grenades, piano wire and a pack-lunch.

There was also Basic Squaddie Action Man who came with a nice green sweater, a plastic beret and a guilty expression on his face from playing the Biscuit Game with his fellow bunk mates until 3 a.m.

These days, however, we are much more p.c. and therefore Action Man has had to change with the times. With this in mind, I have decided to construct some new editions to boost the flagging sales of every one's favourite neo-nazi.

We start with Iraqi Veteran Action Man who comes complete with three anti-war protesters who pelt him with soft fruit while he tries to defend himself with a copy of Michael Moore's latest book.

Touchy-Feely Action Man is a big hit with the ladies. His uniform is always neatly pressed and a touch of a button makes him burst into tears as if he's just watched a nature program with baby otters in it. By pulling his pull-string, he says one of the following phrases-

'Ooh, How much did you pay for those curtains?'

'Have you lost weight? You look Fabulous!'

'Can you direct me to the nearest animal shelter please?'

'Can't we just talk this over? Fighting is soooo aggressive!'

Guaranteed Christmas joy for any young soldier-wannabe. I'm already looking into the patent...

critics

2007-11-08T09:16:00.000-08:00

Everyone's a critic, aren't they?

Just this morning i was leaping majestically through my hoop when a small angel fish named Norris swam past and said 'Ooh, that splash was a bit big, wasn't it? Probably 'cos you're putting on weight..in fact, i'd go as far as to say that you're looking a bit fa...'

The end of this sentence wasn't audible as by this point, i'd realised that i hadn't eaten in the last 23 minutes and so i ate him. But the point is that the birth of the artist must also have coincided with the birth of the critic.

I would imagine that even in caveman times, the first prehistoric artist (let's call him Uggy), probably finished a fabulous painting of a jurassic otter only to hear some critical 'ug ug uggity ug' noises from his less arty friends as they informed him that 'there should be more gore around its fangs' or 'the knees look more hairy and less fuzzy than they should' or 'Tsk! Uggy has painted the Sabre-Toothed Otter in brown and not purple with blue stripes...what a fool!'

One day, all critics will be made to line up in a huge queue and forced to draw a nice picture of a happy, dancing badger. Those that can do it properly (and remember to include a nice pair of dancing clogs) will be allowed ice cream. Those that can't will be forced to watch The Star Wars Holiday Special over and over again until their ears melt off.

Whizzzyyypop-pop-pop!

2007-11-05T13:53:00.000-08:00

Yes kids, it's Bonfire Night. This is the night that people across the UK 'celebrate' the failed attempts to blow up the Houses of Parliament by setting off fireworks and then jumping about a bit.

I'm pretty sure this must be a British thing. I'm not sure of any other country that celebrates the failure to do something with quite so much enthusiasm. Since all the British folks are obviously a bit funny-in-the-head, perhaps we could add a few more new Failure-Holidays to the calendar too!

I'm all for Eddie The Eagle day where we all celebrate the fact that we're rubbish at winter sports by attaching planks to our feet/flippers and leap off the top of a steep hill ...or speed bump if you're not brave enough.

How about Frank Bruno Day in which we all lay down on the floor of a boxing ring and stare up at the ceiling -much like Frank did in most of his fights?

We could have a Gemini Festival in which we celebrate getting zero points at the Eurovision Song Contest by sticking cheese in our ears and then screeching in a hideous way at visiting tourists.

There are so many reasons why Britain is just a teeny bit rubbishy so why don't we start a petition to get our favourite crappy events on the calendar?

and while were at it, can we have a National Otter Appreciation Day too?

Novembrrrr!

2007-11-01T08:16:00.000-07:00

'Where did October go?' You ask but before you can get an answer, you hear the screeching sound of tyres and whip your head around to see that October has borrowed your car keys and zoomed off into the distance throwing its head back and laughing and playing the Best of Huey Lewis as loud as possible on your stereo.

But wait, what's this? A parcel? For you? You tear at the paper and open the box to reveal November. Its big shiny eyes look up at you longingly as you read the attached note which tells you to look after the infant month for the next 30 days and reminds you not to feed it cookies after midnight.

Yes kids, November is here. This is the month in which Santa pays for an advert in Elf Weekly for extra help in the toyshop and it's also the month in which we see a whole lot of fireworks, explosions and bangs...but enough about my love life.

There are some fabulous dates to note in November including the Day of the Dead festivals in Mexico which involve dressing up as a spooky thingy and eating pretzels or something and also Veterans Day which should never be confused with Veterinarian's Day which is only celebrated by folk who spend half their lives with their hands inside cats bottoms while mopping up tortoise sick with a little cloth.

In history, Columbus discovered Puerto Rico in November. It was down the back of a sofa along with a kazoo, an old television remote and 27p in loose change. He subsequently misplaced Puerto Rico three days later but found it again in some grass clippings taken from his hover-mower.

In Australia it is customary for menfolk to sport a moustache for the entire month. I'd love to be able to grow a moustache. I'd look so dignified and intelligent but sadly i don't think it's possible for dolphins to have facial hair.....unlike otters who have lots. Ahem.

A Creepy Tail.

2007-10-31T10:40:00.001-07:00

Ahh the crackle of the fireplace, the smell of pipe smoke mixed with leather bound volumes of Otter Bi-Monthly Magazine. Welcome to Smy's study.
It's time to curl up at Uncle Smy's feet..erm...tailfin and prepare to have your pimples well and truly goosed as we begin a frightening tale of dread and fear!!

On a dark and gloomy Halloween night in the deepest, darkest section of the pool, a happy little dolphin named Smylexx was splashing around, making friends with a small salmon named Giles and dreaming about hoops. As he swam along his eyes became transfixed on a pebble...a mysterious pebble which seemed too compelling to ignore.

Smy gingerly nudged the pebble with his beak (yes dolphins flippin' have beaks, ok?) and before he could say 'otter-cornography' he was transformed by sinister powers into a hideous beast; aSmypire, a Dolphinstien, a were-dolphin!!

Instantly he felt the dark energy inside him..it felt a bit like the time he'd eaten three pot noodles in a row while watching a Jennifer Lopez movie. He felt unclean and nauseous but also a little bit pervy and tingly around his dorsal fin area.

The other fish dived for cover, cowering in the seaweed and, since they couldn't close their fishy little eyeballs, they wrapped their heads in duct tape as the evil Smypire swished through the water. Of course, this was pretty much the reaction they always have to Smy since he tends to eat at least one fish out of every group he sees -two if they're salmon.

Soon though, it became apparent that things were now much worse for the other pool users as the sneaky dark dolphin had begun to build a shrine to Marilyn Manson and had started to install speakers in each corner so he could listen to the most evil music in the world - Mmm Bop by Hanson.

One night, as Smy the were-dolphin was slinking around his castle, the other fish grouped together and formulated a plan to put an end to his naughtiness. One of the smarter seahorses had the perfect idea-a secret weapon but just as he was about to show the others the door to the castle burst open and the terrified group were confronted by the Smypire!!!

Smy had invested in some rubber fangs and was finding it hard to speak but he whipped his makeshift cloak around for added effect and began to hiss " Tho..you have come to dethroy me? Me? Thymlexthh the motht thexthy and deliciouthly yummy dolphin in the whole world? How very DARE you!?"

The fish tried not to giggle and slowly backed away but Smylexx lunged towards them, whisking his cape about a bit more and adjusting his fangs. The plucky seahorse dived towards the evil dolphin and threw his weapon at him - an Abba CD attached to a picture of that dude who played Anakin Smywalker in the crappy Star Wars films that no one likes.

The weapon plunged into smy's heart and, in a blinding flash of light, he recovered...immediately he transformed back to his usual self and quickly ate one of the bewildered salmon. "But how?" He lisped, "How did you turn me back?"

"That's easy." Said the seahorse, "My weapon transformed you into a Bjorn Again Christensen!!"

You may have just groaned... this is normal.

York

2007-10-27T06:54:00.000-07:00

While my pool was being de-scaled, my scientist friends bundled me into a makeshift tank and trundled me further north to the Government Research Facility for Smart-Arsed Fish (York Division). I stayed there for a couple of days while the cleaners removed the ooze that had collected on the coral. Clear instructions were left behind so that they would not touch the mysterious pebble, my case of crabs and my secret(ish) room in my fake plastic castle.

While in the area, i decided to take a look at my new surroundings and can now offer you, dear bloggies, my guide to this fantastic city.

First up is Cliff's Tower which was named after Cliff Richard in AD 71, the year of Cliff's birth. Inside the tower is a museum in honour of Cliff where you can purchase Cliff calendars, Cliff mugs and Cliff anti-haemorrhoid cream from the gift shop.

The Jorvik Viking Centre is also a must see! Painstakingly reproduced down to the last detail, this accurately portrays life in York as seen from the Viking point of view by whizzing you around a little track on a mechanical raft while looking at puppets and cityscapes that smell vaguely of turnips and poo. Should you wish to endulge in the full Viking experience, for an extra £3.50 you can be raped and pillaged by the staff. The helmets are guaranteed to make you horny!

York Railway Museum is as exciting as it sounds and is a fabulous way of making yourself feel better about yourself as you walk around it spotting trainspotters and marking your sightings in a little book with tick-boxes to check if the nerd in question has a wooly hat, mittens with string on them, a flask of weak lemon drink, a Star Trek badge on his/her jacket and their name sewn into their socks.

York Minster is gothtastic! If you like emos, enjoy cutting yourself or simply adore the music of Slipknot then this place should give you hours of solemn, sniffly pleasure as you slope around looking at exquisite monuments of death and slightly disturbing statues of long-gone priests.

As well as the above, there are also about 286 zillion pubs and a McDonalds which is open til late. When are we going?

Mushroom, Mushroom...

2007-10-23T11:02:00.000-07:00

Badgers aren't exactly having a great time at the moment.

A few of the stripey woodland folk turned up dead over in Norway recently after deciding to drink the local water.

This is highly unusual as usually the Norwegian badgers prefer to drink only cherryade or, if celebrating, a vodka-redbull with an umbrella and fruit in it...but only after 9pm...and only if they aren't the designated driver that particular evening.

Now in Britain the government is deciding on whether or not to cull them.

At first i thought this was a spelling mistake. Surely they meant for the Britain-folks to cuddle them over and over again until the badgers start to squeak a bit and lick your eyeballs in fear.

But no; apparently the government thinks that the little furry fun machines are linked to spreading diseases in cattle which might be contaminating the food chain.

Once again, this is most untrue! Badgers don't go anywhere near cattle until July-the month that the otters hold a woodland rodeo for all the critters to join in, ride bulls, eat pork chops and corn cobs and then sit around telling stories around a campfire -generally about monkeys or marshmallows.

Perhaps we should raise awareness about the plight of the badger. Would anyone like to organise a parade?

Handbags

2007-10-22T22:41:00.000-07:00

There are some mysteries even more mysterious than a mysterious fishtank, some questions have puzzled mankind for millenia.

Why is Jade Goody still famous?

How do The Krankies have sex?

Why does Donald Duck wear a towel after a shower?

These are all super-puzzling but, perhaps more perplexing than all of those questions is 'what is inside a ladies handbag?'

I sent an undercover seahorse to investigate and the results were as follows:

One elastic band type thing -possibly to tie hair back with but could quite easily be used to strangle a weasel or as a makeshift bungie cord for assassin otters.

Just over £3.27 in loose change - the exact amount required to buy a nice piece of cod and a can of mushy peas.

A photograph of Neil Diamond -compulsory.

A packet of Polo Mints - which COULD be eaten or used as lifesaving rings for drowning butterflies.

A small device which we couldn't categorize -looked like a small pretend mouse in a tiny telescope. We're guessing it came from a Kinder Egg.

With the above knowledge in our heads, I'm pretty sure we can all sleep much more soundly tonight. I'm going to have an early night just to check.

Hug Your Boss Today!

2007-10-16T10:57:00.001-07:00

According to the fountain of all knowledge, Wikipedia, where facts are completely and utterly true and can in no way be altered by just anyone at anytime, today is Boss's Day in the United States.

Although many people consider this to be nothing more than a convenient way of selling additional greeting cards, many people celebrate this by giving their employer a gift to celebrate just how lovely, fluffy and perfect their boss is.

As a dolphin, i don't actually have an employer but i do have many scientist acquaintances who seem to think that because they cut their food up before they eat it and can operate a mobile phone without spilling water on it, they are somehow superior to me.

With this in mind, I've asked my fishy friends and a few small water based mammals to come up with some lovely gift ideas to offer to 'the perfect employer'. We came up with the following:

A pebble wrapped in seaweed with a cheeky smile drawn on it with a crayon - the perfect companion for any boss as everyone knows that bosses don't have any real friends.

A lump of poo with some twigs sticking out of it (ideal paperweight once the poo has 'set')

A selection of fish heads attached to a coat hanger - a great makeshift 'dreamcatcher' for dolphins on a budget.

Or, if you're feeling particular devoted, perhaps you could give your boss a case of crabs. I have a spare case here if anyone needs one.

Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeese!

2007-10-16T01:08:00.001-07:00

Personally, I like nothing better than smearing a small squishy shrimp on my crackers at the end of a hard day of leaping majestically, looking beautiful and being smug. For you bipeds, however, it would appear that you prefer the accompaniment of cheese on your Jacobs.

Cheese is so popular in some countries that they have entire festivals to celebrate it. Some Europeans like to roll it down a hill and many people like to spend their Sundays feeding it to little animals such as mouses (meece? Moose?), squirrels but never otters as we all know that they prefer crumpets with a little bit of jam on them.

Many of the most popular rock and pop entertainers sing about the stuff too. My favourite fromage related tracks are as follows:

Neil Diamond - Forever in Blue Cheese

Elvis Presley - Jailhouse Roquefort

Bon Jovi - Wanted: Cheddar Alive

The Beatles - Cheese Got a Ticket to Ride

Shania Twain -Edam, I Feel Like a Woman

Don McClean -Bye Bye, Miss American Sliced

Travolta/Neutron-Bomb - Gouda One That I Want

Robbie Williams - Brie's the One

There must be quite literally three or maybe four others I forgot to mention but all this talk about food is making me hungry and I've just spied a little salmon that owes me money so erm... back later!!

Radiohead make me happy, ok?

2007-10-10T13:34:00.000-07:00

Dolphins like Radiohead.

That statement may come as some surprise to you but when you think about it, it makes perfect flippin' sense. Thom Yorke's wailing noise reminds us of the exact sound that whales make when their big fat bodies try and squeeze into jeans that are three sizes too small and that makes us chuckle and squeak and throw our beach balls up in the air.

Radiohead's new album is currently only available by downloading it directly through the intertubeywebthingy using, what we dolphins like to call, 'magical fairy powers'. Uniquely, the album does not have an official price but instead offers you the otter-tunity to choose how much you wish to pay.

Now, obviously, i don't have pockets or even a little plastic purse with a butterfly on it to keep pennies in and if i did, i would probably spend it all on internet corn and tuna paste so i was unable to actually offer anything to Thom. If there'd been an option of paying by fish or maybe performing a little back flip as payment, i would have gladly agreed!

I've been playing the album underwater and i personally feels that adds something to it. I'd highly recommend everyone takes their CD player and a host of other electrical items into the bathtub next time they go for a splish-splash as i can guarantee that it will make bath time much more interesting for your rubber ducks.

So anyway, the album is called In Rainbows which regrettably has absolutely nothing to do with George, Zippy and Bungle and fits right in alongside Kid A and Amnesiac with its floaty cerebral musings mixed with dreamy strings and trippy beats. Buy three copies today and maybe put a long overdue smile on miserable old Thom's spooky face.

Sploshhhh!

Politically Correctomundo!

2007-10-08T13:46:00.001-07:00

Everything is so PC nowadays, isn't it? I mean, only yesterday i was allowed to ask for 'that nice jam with the golly on the front' but now I'm told that even shaking my flipper in the direction of the words ' thieving pikey scumbag' is asking for trouble and will result in me only getting half my fish rations for a week.

Many of the beloved TV shows of yesterday wouldn't stand a chance and would need to be considerably re-vamped before getting approval from stripey-shirt and braces wearing studio executives who, as i type are probably licking white powder off the brim of a hat worn by a dancing midget while getting their nipples squeezed by a leather wearing Thai girl with an otter tattoo on her ankle.

With this is mind, I've decided to re-write one of my favourite shows for a new generation. Ladies and Gentlemen and Seahorses, may i proudly present... The GAY-Team!

Led by HandyBalls, the Gay-Team stride into town wherever there is trouble and help redecorate the place, pop in a few discos and teach the local men how to dance properly.

Handyballs would be the planner. He'd always be one step ahead of the Anti-Gay Police and two steps ahead in the queue for free baby oil.

His team would also consist of B.A. (This would probably be revealed to stand for something like Banana Allergy, Bottoms Ahoy or Bouncy Anal...but not until the 32nd episode). B.A. would be in charge of the heavy lifting, the wearing of lots of bling and the growling at young inexperienced gay men. He'd also hate flying until offered a 'milkshake' from a teammate.

The most likely candidate to offer the aforementioned 'milkshake' would be Murdick. He'd be the crazy one who likes nothing more than wearing a dress and talking in a silly voice....a bit like Sarah Michelle Gellar but with a less stupid looking nose, obviously.

The final member of the team would be Facial, a smooth operator who likes fast cars and faster men. Probably played by someone dead cool and sexy....maybe Dale Winton.

You're already setting the 'record' button on your digital recorder, aren't you?

Halo 3

2007-10-04T04:04:00.000-07:00

There's nothing dolphins like more than fitting in with others. We are very social creatures who enjoy a game of Twister or a dinner party even at short notice.

In order to fit in with every-other-website-on-the-interweb (tm), I've decided to review Halo 3.

Before i begin, i must point out that i only played Halo 1 and 2 casually and was not impressed enough to do a cartwheel or anything immediately afterwards. Thus, when Halo 3 was available to purchase, my first reaction was not to froth at the mouth or do a little dance of purest joy. In fact, I've been more excited at the prospect of meeting Stormtrooper 329 in a shopping centre, but anyway..

Initially after i carefully loaded up the game (while trying desperately not to splash water over the console), i liked the look of the menus. All shiny and blue like an alien robot otter or something. Unfortunately, the feeling passed and i soon realised that the game was incredibly average at best.

The guns are, for the most part, useless. Many of them are just variations on the same gun with a different coloured light beam or a little bulb on top to signify that this is undoubtably of alien design. The majority of weapons don't allow you to look down the sight and so they all blend into one another as you concentrate solely on the little crosshair in the middle of the screen.

The same can be said of the enemies, a mixture of 'scary' brutish aliens and smaller 'comedy' aliens come at you growling or making little quips respectively which means the whole tone of the game is unbalanced. Imagine playing a more serious shooter like Rainbow 6 or Call of Duty; a legion of troops spill out of hiding, many of them rush you with machine guns shouting something threatening in a foreign tongue but then, suddenly, four of them stop to tell you a joke about badgers* or starts to make fun of your trousers while poking you with a spork. Confused? You should be!

The vehicles are nicely designed but each one is mapped to the joypad in the exact same way which means they have less character than vehicles in other shooters.

Some levels offer truly stunning set-pieces. A huge crab-like machine attacks you at the end of one level and its metallic sheen and animation was beautiful. I stood in awe for a few seconds before grabbing one of the least irritating guns and rushing into battle.

but that's about all i can say. The gamescores on other websites all suggest this game is the greatest thing since Pac Man threw on some makeup and wore a bow on his head and became 'Ms Pac-Man'.

Overall it's a vacuous experience. I feel nothing for my character- who happens to be a Master-Chef or something and his plight is so generic that i find myself not caring if he wins or if he is torn apart by vicious zombie weasels.

Personally i think this is some sort of crazy mass-hysteria and in a few months time when a real FPS comes out, we'll all look back on this moment and laugh and buy each other a beer while we discuss how best to destroy our copies of Halo 3.

You know I'm right. Deep down, you know.

*Whats black and white and makes a lot of noise?

A badger with a drum-kit...i thank you.

The Elves and the Shoemaker

2007-10-02T11:14:00.000-07:00

Another fabulous fact about October is that it is National Children's Book Week in the UK. To celebrate this, i have decided to write a totally original story which bears no resemblance to any other story you may have read already...

Once upon a time there was a shoemaker.

Cobblers! you might say, and you'd be quite correct too.

So poor was the shoemaker that he only had enough leather to make one pair of shoes. While sniffling loudly and leaving long streaky snot cobwebs all over his sleeve, he carefully cut out the leather so that the next morning he'd be all set to make the shoes.

The next morning he woke early and was astonished to find that the shoes were already made. Rather lovely they were too with a fantastic leather otter embossed near the heel. The shoemaker woke his wife (for he was married -which was a total surprise to everyone in the village as they all suspected him to be a raving homosexual) and showed her the shoes.

"Ooh lookit! Lookit! Lovely perfect wickle shoooooooes!" He squealed in his most manly way.
His wife clapped her hands and looked very pleased but her smile was only skin-deep - she secretly suspected the same thing as the rest of the villagers and was dead grateful for the magic vibrating banana she had obtained in a card game with some lesbian witches.

The shoes were sold within minutes of opening the shop - in fact, it was a boutique...or 'boot-ique' as the shoemaker referred to it which was amusing the first time he said it but not quite as funny on the 402nd time.

With the money, the shoemaker bought enough leather for two pairs of shoes and once again, before bedtime (9pm sharp-just after Sex and the City finished), he laid out the cut outs of the shoes and slipped off into dreamyland where he enjoyed a fabulous dream about dancing badgers.

In the morning the shoes were ready once more and they were as pretty as the last pair. Within minutes of the shop opening they sold and the shoemaker ran around the store squealing and skipping and playing his favourite Abba tracks before buying enough leather for four more pairs of shoes.

When nightfall came, the shoemaker turned to his wife and said 'why don't we slip downstairs and see who's making our lovely shoes?'
Since his wife wasn't doing anything else in the bed that night...or any night since the wedding (much to her disappointment), she quickly agreed and they both sneaked downstairs.

In the light cast by the streetlight outside the shop, they spied tiny little elves all busying around sewing and knitting and cutting and stitching and using their tiny hands to make the gorgeous shoes. It took the shoemaker's wife every ounce of strength to stop her husband making an excited squeaking noise by squeezing his ears between her fingers and they both crept from the room silently.

The next morning, after the shoes had sold once more, the shoemaker bought a little extra leather. He had decided to make little outfits for his little magical workers. This was a dream come true since his wife had forbade him from buying a poodle last year and then spending all their spare cash on little clothes for it.

The evening came and the shoemaker and his childless wife laid out the clothes then hid behind the counter. Since this was only thing being 'laid' that evening, the wife had decided to pop the banana on 'charge' while they waited.

The elves turned up around midnight and the couple watched as they studied the clothes for a second before jumping with joy and popping the little outfits on quickly. Once the clothes were on, they danced and skipped and sang Abba tracks as they scampered out of the shop and were never seen again.

Though they never returned, the shoemaker was satisfied that he had rewarded them fairly He was also so inspired by their work that his own shoes began to sell again and his money worries were no more.

His wife died a few years later in an unfortunate electrical/fruit based accident that took place late one night and the shoemaker was distressed for almost a week. His spirits seemed to lift, however, when he took in a young strapping boy named Bob as an apprentice to 'help him' in the shop.

October!

2007-10-01T13:36:00.000-07:00

OK Star Trekkers, set your faces to 'stun' cos, by some crazy miracle it appears to be October!

September is just a distant memory in our brains and we can probably erase it from the contacts list in our mobile phones for another 11 months.

October, as we all know, comes from the latin Octo-Bear, a mythical 8 limbed teddy that can hug four children at once while singing a happy song about treacle on toast.

The astrological sign of Scorpio comes into the spotlight during this month. If you are a Scorpio then, as you read this, you are probably sending a letter to the mayor of San Fransisco made up of little letters cut out from magazines or holding up a school bus full of terrified children as you force them to sing 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat'.

There are many fantabulous events that happen during the month including Columbus Day which is not to be confused with Columbo Day in which we all have to squint, wear a nasty looking raincoat and irritate shifty looking butlers in nice houses with irrelevant questions.

On the 21st, it is Apple Day. No, really, it really flippin' is! On this day we are all allowed to legally throw an apple at any politician we want to while squealing 'Pip! Pip! Pip!' in a high pitched voice.

Halloween makes an appearance at the end of the month but let's discuss this later, maybe when we're alone and wearing something less comfortable.

UFOs

2007-09-27T08:17:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time it seemed that the only people seeing UFOs were hillbilly types from backwater parts of America and Kippax and hobos who would immediately look at the bottle they had been drinking from for a second before throwing it over their shoulder while mumbling 'never again....bleughhh....' or something.

Flying Saucers can be seen just about everywhere these days and they are not constrained to Hell's Kitchen either! On an average week of televisual delights, one can see half a dozen repeats of X-Files, Taken and a bazillion other sci-fi shows featuring spooky visitors from outer space.

I have nothing against this. In fact, i feel it's very important that we ARE prepared for the arrival of beings from other worlds. However, the important questions must be answered in advance to avoid one of those awkward silences that happens when someone makes a joke about a Polish penguin just at the moment that Krzystof Pinguski comes through the door (we've all made that mistake, right?).

Anyhoo, below are a selection of questions i believe will be imperative to get the answers to before little green men set foot on our lovely planet:

1. Bourbon or Custard Creams?
Can you imagine if they don't like either or if they have a nut allergy or something? We'd have to serve them Jaffa Cakes or those little pink wafery ones that no one really likes (apart from freaks...you know who you are).

2. Coffee or Tea?
To serve the wrong one might mean certain death to the Prime Minister or President who's serving it. What if their alien DNA evolved from coffee beans? Is it polite to offer someone a drink made out of their dead relatives? Do they like sugar? Cream? Nutmeg sprinkles? The list is endless...

3. Should you offer them a Golden Otter now...or later?
When IS the best time to present someone with the greatest thing on the planet?

4. Shake hands/Flippers/Tentacles?
What if they greet one another by shoving a small selection of fresh fruit into each other's cavities? We all know how much they enjoy 'probing' humans... should we simply be naked from the waist down and walk backwards towards them while clutching a tube of Vaseline?

5. Tongues or No Tongues?
Is it polite to go for the full-frenchie on the first meeting? Perhaps it's rude NOT to. Either way, it's probably best to have some Mintoes handy just in case.

6. Kylie or Jason?
Background music for that monumetal moment is very important but does one play the soothing, slightly chipmunk-y sounding pop-beats of Miss Minogue-the wonder midget or the painful, screechy, no-talent mumblings of every one's 18th favourite Australian named Jason? Decisions, decisions...

Haribo

2007-09-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

"Kids and grown-ups love it so."

Well, that's what it says on the packets anyway. In reality, unless they invent an entirely fish-flavoured chew, i wont confirm to 'loving it'.

Haribo sells about twenty gazillion bags of chewy thingies every day apparently and they come in a cornucopia of assortments such as:

Starmix - A mixture of stars, i would assume.

Mao mix - A mixture of sweety things which are popular with the 1960s New York streetgang, the Mao Maos.

Fantasy Mix - A mixture of fantasies in a bag. This would hopefully include my personal fantasy of being supreme king of the Otter Planet and another one which involves a lot of latex,some ice-cream and a small selection of primates. I wont go into detail.

Liquorice - Only freaks like liquorice.

Jelly Babies - The tiny defenceless babies of jelly families are snatched away in the middle of the night by evil Haribo Gnomes and are suffocated in plastic bags before being smothered in sugar.

Gold Bears - Very disappointing. The bears aren't REAL bears at all, they're made of chewy jelly stuff and not even a trace of gold or porridge in the entire bag. Rubbish.

The other exciting fact about Haribo is that they're based in Pontefract which is just a small swim from where i live. I can confirm that Pontefract is a bit smelly and full of chavs that would probably pull my flippers if i let them near my pool.

Spam Mail

2007-09-08T10:41:00.001-07:00

When I'm not swimming around chasing a small salmon named Gerald, i like to spend my mornings by flippering away at the keyboard of my Dolphin-O-Type 2000 computer. Unfortunately there is one thing that can really ruin the excitement of fondling my inbox and that's JUNK MAIL!

Who are these people that spend their days writing this stuff and sending it to me? Why do they feel I'd be interested in Viagra, Hot Cheerleaders indulging in an act that will probably make them go blind, a brand spanking new credit card or an invitation to claim a fortune that belonged to a Nigerian king who (with just my bank details and passwords) will be happy to pass it along forthwith?

Don't they realise that i get my Viagra free from my scientists friends?

Don't they understand that i can intimidate Gerald and three of his salmon friends to perform any act i want by just glaring at him?

Cant they see how pointless it is to offer me a credit card? How would i sign the back? I cant hold a pen for flips sake and the ink would run!

As for the Nigerian king, see above. No bank would offer me an account as the only proof of identity i have is a little tag on my flipper that reads 'specimen 1138/b - pet daily and do not feed it chili sauce'.

All spam-mailers should be scraped with the mysterious pebble then made to jump in a giant bag full of bleach. Twice.

Ghosts!

2007-09-08T10:13:00.000-07:00

Ever found yourself alone at night when suddenly you feel all creeped out and your skin begins to crawl? Well this could be because you have a ghost or it could simply mean that you're watching any film with Adam Sandler in it.

Ghosts are apparently the undead spirits of people and pets (and otters) who have not found peace in the afterlife. The main characteristics of ghosts are as follows:

A slightly transparent appearance a bit like those emo kids have that hang out near the supermarket.

A fondness for rattling chains and saying 'whooooOOOOOoooooooh!' which sorta reminds me of an ex....but let's not go there.

The ability to walk through walls. I would imagine this would be a fantastic ability to have - especially if you're a bit pervy and happen to be haunting a ladies lingerie shop. It would also grant you free access to any Sea Life Centre to go and enjoy the otters whenever you please.

If you own a haunted house and don't wish to accommodate your see-through tenant anymore, you can hire a professional ghost hunter to come in and get rid of them for you. According to cheap digital channel television programmes, this MUST be done in the dark while holding an night-vision camera that makes people's eyeballs look all reflective - a bit like a startled kitten's might look like if you'd found him in the corner of your very dark handbag.

I thought my pool was haunted once but it turned out to be a bad case of wind. I've since stopped eating beans.Long story..let's pretend i didn't mention it, OK?

Game Show Hosts

2007-09-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

At least one romantic relationship of mine has ended with my 'special friend' mentioning that i exude the characteristics of a game show host.

Although i took this to mean that i am suave, sophisticated and quick-witted, there's always a slight nagging feeling in the back of my brain which makes me wonder 'did they mean that i was irritating, cheesy and own some particularly bad ties?'.

Of course, we all know that couldn't possibly be true but it made me wonder what other exciting characteristics game show hosts have. I would imagine the main points to include on the c.v. would be:

The ability to 'smarm' - whether the member of the public (eww) is a fat, ginger girl from Glasgow or a stunning Norwegian foxette, you must maintain eye contact while simpering, flirting and generally oozing all over her while you read out her 'interesting statistics' from a little card.

Look earnest - Ohhhh Nigel from Hull just missed out on the trip to Hawaii by naming only 6 of the 7 dwarfs within the allotted time but now is not the time to smirk or laugh until milk comes out of your nose. No no, sir! You must look like you've just seen Bambi's mother brutally murdered and offer a consolatory hug.

Be sexually excited by old ladies - there's something about game show and grannies. They never miss the opportunity to make rather crude double-entendres or pinch their wrinkly bottoms at any given moment throughout the show.

Be multi-talented - The best game show hosts can't JUST schmooze! Many of them have a huge array of skills. Brucie can tap dance, Monkhouse can remember over a zillion jokes and Winton can be gay on cue! Amazing!!

Make people laugh - for the most part, they'll be laughing at you and not with you but that's fine. Just keep on mugging to the camera as you tell Colin from Dorset all about the features of the Moulinex Multi Speed Blender and try to conceal your own bitter tears of self-loathing.

To be orange - Although not compulsory, let's face it, all the best hosts are a lovely shade of tangerine. Brucie, Monkhouse, Winton... you know, 'the greats'.

See? I can write an entire post without mentioning otters...oh, wait... damn!

September

2007-09-01T05:55:00.000-07:00

There we all were getting comfortable with August, joking and laughing and offering it coffee and buns when there was a knock on the door and in walked September!
"Goodness, look at the time!" Said August and left out the back door with a promise of calling and writing and sending us a thank you card for the coffee.

Since it IS September and there's very little we can do about it, we may as well have a few factoids to try and get ourselves familiar with this naughty little month.

In Germany, September marks the beginning of Oktoberfest. Makes perfect sense, right? I thought so too but before we start tutting and making insinuations about Germany's lack of timing, let's remember that the country is practically fuelled on beer and therefore it's amazing the German public can even stand or see let alone know what month it happens to be.

Similarly, in China, September is the month in which August-Moon Festival is celebrated. The traditional food to be served at this festival is 'Mooncake' which is flown in especially from the moon and is made by The Clangers - the little sock-like creatures that inhabit the moon and make little whistling noises... they look a bit like otters if you squint your eyes and turn your head to one side.

In the Netherlands prinsjesdag occurs which, from what i can gather, is when the queen arrives in a coach made from pumpkins, turns into a talking cartoon mouse then reads out her plans for the coming year (probably with the aid of some marker pens*, a flip-chart and an overhead projector).

Libra is the star-sign of the month and anyone born under this astrological sign is meant to have scales or something. Fish have scales, you know...and tasty underbellies and stoopid swishy left-to-right moving tails and fat eyeballs. In fact, don't get me started about fish or we'll be here for weeks.

*supplied by kangaroos

Blobfish

2007-08-30T00:16:00.000-07:00

In today's world it's all rush, rush, rush isn't it? Sometimes even the prettiest dolphins such as myself never get time to really look our best before being put in front of a crowd of nerdy scientists and ordered to leap though a hoop, ring a bell or balance a beach ball perfectly on our delightful beaks.

However, spare a thought for the blobfish. No amount of Maybelene is EVER gonna help him get a date.

Since he is often mistaken for a stale blancmange, the blobfish always try their best to avoid being found in kitchens and the supermarket dessert section. Never mistake the blobfish with the Dumbo Octopus though. They're entirely different and can be found in the next Mathmos Lava Lamp catalogue.

Both of them taste vaguely of lemon sorbet.

Bioshock

2007-08-25T01:44:00.000-07:00

After my human captors have stopped poking me or asking me to point to the card with the picture of the fishy on and gone home for the day, I like to play the occasional videogame.

Although most game controllers don't fit well in my flippers, i struggle on and often get scores of 3 or 4 points..sometimes more! I happen to be very good at Track'N'Field though as i get Geoffrey the goldfish to hit the 'Jump' button for me at exactly the right time.

While playing Bioshock late into the evening, it occurred to me that those slinky marketing types have missed a fantastic otter-tunity and so i decided to drop them an email...

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Take 2 people.

I love the idea that more and more game developers are taking the extra time to offer the game buying public deliciously exciting 'Collectors Editions'.

Bioshock, as I'm sure you're aware, comes in a variety of flavours including a metal tin with a Big-Daddy statuette inside.

Although i was initially upset to find that it wasn't 70's wrestler Shirley Crabtree (aka Big Daddy), i soon pulled myself together and stopped crying.

Would it be possible to offer the public something that would be more useful than a statuette of a fat bloke in a diving suit? Something much more important?

While playing Bioshock yesterday, it occurred to me that i had to stop playing every 28 seconds to ensure i hadn't wet myself in fear therefore i would like to suggest the following exclusive pack idea:

Bioshock in a large waterproof tin including the following items -

-One adult sized nappy

-One spare set of brown trousers (elasticated waist to ensure one size fits all)

-A Teddy Bear with a friendly smile(probably named Colin or Nigel)

-A blanket (to hide under) with a nice picture of Paddington Bear on the front.

-Periscope - to search for monsters with while safely under the blanket.

-A Care Bear/My Little Pony DVD for settling the nerves afterwards.

I'm pretty sure this would be a huge success and i for one would probably order 2 copies.

Regards

Smylexx the Dolphin

-------------------------------------------------------------------

**BIG SHINY UPDATE**

On the 9th day of our lord's September, Take Two Interactive sent me a quick reponse!

It reads as follows:

Response (Gary Webber)	09/09/2007 12.26 PM
Hi Smy. Thanks for the suggestions, I'll pass this on to the relevant people. Incidently, thanks for providing some much needed humour.

------------------------------

Does this mean that they aren't taking my requests seriously?

Windmills

2007-08-23T08:15:00.000-07:00

According to the slightly camp song, Money Makes the World Go 'Round. This statement is, of course, complete rubbish and also piffle!

From just a few minutes of flippering away on my Dolphin-O-Type 2000, i can confirm that the reason for the Earth's spinnyness is all down to windmills.

'Oh but Smy, you naughty (but ever so sexual) fish-like beasty, windmills are simply dotted around to make grain and suchlike'.

No, no, no! My research was in-depth and faultless. I must have typed for almost 72 seconds before i was satisfied with the results! Windmills are lined-up precisely for maximum wind-propulsion power, linked to a series of undergound pulleys and levers and operated by registered Earth Spinny Supervisors.

Hundreds of years ago, when the Earth was just a little baby planet inhabited only by prehistoric otters and slimy lizardy things, the windmills were simpler in design and operated by tyrannosaurus-rex who had specially evolved feeble hands and silly little arms to hold the gear-sticks with.

The prehistoric otters had better things to do, obviously.

Over the years, the windmills have become more sophisticated and super-sleek and funky and are now, more often than not, powered by nuclear-weasels. Small mammals trained by scientists to push the buttons at the right moment in exchange for a small fish.

I envy those weasels.

Pot Noodles

2007-08-22T02:43:00.000-07:00

Since 1979, the mighty Pot Noodle has been a requisite in every student's dorm. This fascinating snack's appeal has not wavered over the years despite tasting like mouldy textbooks and a lack of fish flavoured varieties.

The Chicken and Mushroom version appears to be the most popular but since it launched, many alternatives were less successful.

The Otter and Crab stick flavour launched briefly in 1983 (after the great otter uprising of 1982) but were pulled from shelves a mere three months later for 'containing fur which might constitute a choking hazard'.

The Essex Special was also removed from supermarkets as the hoopy earrings and 'extra added bling' coupled with the Burberry packaging was deemed tasteless in every other part of the UK.

The Pot Noodle continued its success around the world with specialty varieties introduced to match the tastes of the local population. In Austria, the Pot Strudel was a big success and, in Korea, the Pot Poodle was received warmly and was also the first snack that would 'roll over', 'beg' and 'sit' on demand.

The company did have a brief shock in 1992 when it was discovered that one of its varieties contained actual beneficial properties and was a valuable source of protein and nutrients. The offending snacks were recalled immediately, the nice bits were removed and a lump of pure Kryptonite was added to the recipe to ensure they tasted awful once more.

Despite being totally inedible, the Pot Noodle is not without uses. The container can be used as a makeshift party hat, a small house for a family of grasshoppers and as a receptacle to keep Gran's teeth in at night.

Three cheers for La Noodle De La Pot!

The Church of Smyontology

2007-08-17T11:17:00.000-07:00

Let us spray...

Oh Smylexx, who art in water
Smylexx be thy name
Smy will be fun
In puddles and in fish tanks
Give him this day his daily fish
lead us not into temptation
to eateth John West tuna
for brine is his kingdom for ever and ever

amen.

Let's face it, I'd be an ACE god. I'd issue all my followers (di-smy-ples) with a fantastic alternative to the Bible - a 'Smyble' which would not only be dead interesting, contain thousands of otter related factoids and be completely water-resistant, but it would also have bits to colour in and a crossword at the back (5 across: four letters, tastes nice, rhymes with 'dish').

And unlike similar religions or c*lts, i wouldn't threaten you if you tried to leave. I'd simply follow you around for about three months, poking you with a spoon every two minutes while asking you why you left until you realised your mistake.

I'm pretty sure that I'd look fantastic in a robe with some nice tassels on the front and the lucky chosen few in my congregation each week would get to ring my bell and gaze upon The Mysterious Pebble for up to thirty seconds.

My commandments would be dead fab too!

Thou shalt not eat the fishy that Smy wants

Thou shalt not touch the fishy that Smy wants

Thou shall always offer Smy a fish finger before having one yourself

Now, does anyone know anything about how to achieve deity status? I think it has something to do with being a carpenter or something. Does that mean that Harrison Ford is a god too?

Kangaroos

2007-08-15T12:03:00.000-07:00

Oh you silly things! Kangaroos are NOT just big fat mouses (meece? mooces? mousii?), they are, in fact, a completely different species altogether!

This may come as a shock to you, as it did to me, but it's completely and utterly-butterly true!

The main differences between a kangaroo and a mouse is that you can never catch one in a mouse trap, they dislike cheese (they prefer pickled onions and marmalade) and they have a pouchy pockety thing on their tum-tums.

Scientists and philosophers have, for centuries, wondered what is kept inside the pouches of the kangaroo. Now, for the first time in history, i can reveal that the contents are as follows:

1 x plastic hairclip - you never know when you're going to need to look stylish at a moments notice and so a glittery plastic hairclip is essential when meeting new marsupials at the water cooler.
1 x Darth Vader lunchbox - keeping an apple, a bourbon cream (with the regulation 10 holes-not those cheap ones), and a marmalade sandwich cool when hopping around the Outback would be impossible without a blue plastic lunchbox with a picture of every one's favourite Sith Lord on the front.

2 x marker pens (blue and red) - only weirdos use green ones.

1 x pad of Post-It notes - to ensure other giant mouse-like beasts remember to attend your meeting about littering, quarterly sales figures or hopping-comparison charts.

1 x packet of McCoys Ready Salted Crisps - ridged for her pleasure.

1 x purse/wallet - for storing loose change, not so loose change, incredibly unloose change, two stamps and a small, undisclosed amount of blue fluff.

With the above knowledge embedded in our brains, we can all feel a small step closer to our antipodean, springy chums and, just maybe, learn a little about ourselves too.... erm.... err.... or something...

Kinder Surprise!

2007-08-12T02:14:00.001-07:00

Contrary to popular belief, dolphins do NOT lay eggs (nor do we mate via osmosis or design tiny otter sanctuaries in our spare time). It's a myth!

But the one egg we do find fascinating is the Kinder Surprise egg. Not because the egg itself is exciting but simply because it's possibly the least surprising thing on the planet and demands a name change at once.

When you open a Kinder egg, there's a high probability of finding a small capsule inside which contains one of the following:

- a small plastic car which needs to be assembled with tweezers or the tiny hands of a 3 year old girl. Inevitably, the car will always have one wheel which sticks and refuses to turn therefore making the car useless.

-a small plastic crocodile/hippo/animal of the month which will be amusing for 12 seconds and, according to Kinder, will be 'a collector's item'. Frankly, the kind of people that collect plastic hippos are probably not the type of person you want to have at your dinner party, right?

- a 'working' compass (plastic). Unfortunately the sticker will have been badly placed in the Kinder factory and so the needle always points to the word 'East' (held up by a hippo/crocodile/animal of the month).

In order for Kinder to actually be 'Surprising', i would like them to consider putting the following alternative things inside their eggy-wegs.

-a diamond encrusted Fabergé egg with a RRP of around £450,000.

-a cure for all known diseases written on parchment with a picture of a hippo/crocodile/animal of the month at the bottom.

-a portal to a different universe. One where otters are plentiful and will lap dance for a penny preferably.

-another Kinder Surprise...a solid one with extra creamy chocolate containing over 12,000 calories per bite.

-an apology written by the managing director for all those rubbish plastic toys he's inflicted upon the world over the last 25 years.

Go on Kinder, Surprise me!

Klikkity Skreee Klikkity klik!

2007-08-08T08:57:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm sure since you're visiting the blog of a rather sexual dolphin, that you're interested in all things cetacean-related, right?

On the BBC website today it was announced that the Yangtze River Dolphin is now semi o-fish-ally extinct.

This is terrible news as at least three Yangtze River Dolphins owe me money from a bet we placed as to whether Graham Norton was gay or not back in 2003.

The Latin name for the Yangtze Dolphywoos is Lipotes Vexillifer which sounds like something Harry Otter would say before stroking his wand. The literal translation means 'Squeaky, Lovable Fishy Beastys'.

The Yangtze dolphins should never be confused with the Yahtzee Dolphins who spend all their time throwing dice around in a pitiful attempt to score a winning hand...err... winning flipper while wearing jumpers, being incredibly middle-class and squeaking 'Yahtzeeeeeh!!!' at the top of their klikky voices every so often.

Those dolphins suck.

Let's all spare a thought for the Yangtze Dolphins today before we tuck into our Tuna and Mayo Baguette.

World of Flippin' Warcraft-The Movie!

2007-08-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

Since we're on the subject of movies (we were, we really were), it's been announced that spectacular online video game,World of Warcraft, is to be turned into a major film franchise!

This will follow the other successful and highly acclaimed video-game to movie franchises such as:-

Resident Evil - a film full of shambling zombie creatures also known as 'the cast' who manage to terrify you totally with their unbelievably scary acting abilities.

Doom - The Rock (real name Nigel Farquar Pennyworth) as a commando who must go to hell and back to rescue his friends. Unfortunately, the audience also has to go to hell and back for 94 minutes, many of whom even paid for the experience...and yes, we CAN smell what you're cooking, Rockypoos.

Dead Or Alive - a film which has lots of semi clad ladies with very jiggly breasts. Sadly overlooked at the Oscars last year but i cant rate this film highly enough (read the previous sentence again if you need to know why).

Anyway, Warcraft... If you've ever played this game, you'll already know what to expect from the plot. If the film makers are going for accuracy, then it really should go something like this...

The credits will take 6 hours to get through as, during this time, they will be installing all the latest patches.

For the first hour, our hero will spend time killing squirrels and piglets and kobolds ('you take no candle') in order to Level Up enough so he can fight bigger monsters and start his quest. Ding!!

A group of dwarfs will walk past the hero spouting 32 different Chuck Norris jokes.

Our penniless hero will stand still for 20 minutes then will suddenly and mysteriously have 2000 gold pieces in his wallet, a sly look on his face and a slightly dented credit card.

Our hero will see an elf in distress and will rush to help. After defeating the rabid otter cub, the elf will insult the hero and complain that he 'stole his kill' for the next 27 minutes until the hero ignores him.

On the way to the evil sorcerer's castle, our hero will find himself fighting against three bears (sans porridge). After just beating them and while gasping for breath, a level 1 newbie troll will stab our hero in the foot then say 'zug zug zug' which literally translates as 'gankity gank gank gank'.

A female elf will offer to dance naked for the hero while standing on a table. Our hero will clap and then tell a joke about goblins.

The evil sorcerer unleashes his pet at our hero. Narrowly avoiding death, the hero kills the pet and loots the body to find a magical sword. Three dwarfs will complain that it was actually their sword and that the hero should give it to them anyway cos he can't equip it and anyway, they need the money more than he does and that if he doesn't give them the sword, theyre going to tell a member of Blizzard Staff about him and get his accounts closed and and and.....yada yada yada...'

Our hero will feel a gnome brush lightly past his leg during a long ship voyage and will instantly vomit 38 times in a row and then scrub his entire body with bleach until he no longer feels 'unclean'.

Our hero will finally reach the Sorcerer's tower, making his way stealthily to the highest room, he faces the sorcerer at last! He reaches for his magical weapon and....'Blizzard are currently removing this server for downtime repairs. Thank you for your patience and the £14.99 a month. We appreciate it. No really, we do. Cheers!'

The End!

We're there opening night, right?

Corrie

2007-08-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

While tinkering away on my waterproof internet connection, i noticed that Hollywood are planning on making a 60's Star Trek movie with an all new shiny cast and sexy special effects!

Apparently the requirement of Scotty is for an actor that can do a 'flawless Scottish accent'... wouldn't this break continuity? I mean, he never had one before, right?

Anyway, since the Movie Business seems preoccupied in making 60's and 70's big-screen events, it's only a matter of time before long running UK soap opera Coronation Street gets the Hollywood treatment.

The pitch, in my opinion, would be something like this....

Voice Over -'In a land that time forgot, a man must stand alone if he is to break out of....The Street!'

Top business man Mike Baldwin (Al Pacino) has moved into the street. His power and natural animal magnetism has ensured that Diedre (Julia Roberts) has been swept away in a tornado of passion. Ken Barlow (Robert Redford), Diedre's husband must fight to win his true love's heart back and put an end to Mike's underhand business tactics.

Meanwhile Jack Duckworth (Kevin Spacey) and his glamourous wife Vera (Jessica Alba) have taken ownership of the local bar. The residents of the street spearheaded by Fred Elliot (Steven Seagal), Norris Cole (Danny DeVito) and Betty Turpin (J-Lo) attempt to stop Jack and Vera from installing a jukebox and disrupting the peace.

Trouble ensues when mysterious stranger, Derek Wilton (Gary Coleman) enters the bar and reveals the secret of 'Betty's Hotpot'.

Directed by David Fincher.

Robots

2007-08-01T09:17:00.000-07:00

If we've learned anything from watching sci-fi movies over the years, it's that in the future, we will all have robots and that these robots will, with no uncertainty, be gay.

Take a long hard think about any robots you have seen in films and you will notice that in every single case, the little metal helper will be camper than a row of pink tents.

Not that I'm homo-robo-phobic you understand, I'm simply stating the fact that if two of these robots were left together in a room with a bottle of WD40, the chances are that they'd end up indulging in some hot metal-on-metal action then redecorate the room with throw-pillows and pretty matching curtains.

Personally, I'd love a gay robot. I imagine they'd do a fantastic job of lubing my blow-hole from time to time..... wait, I'll rephrase that... erm.... err.... OK, let's just move on.

C3-PO is undoubtedly never going to be seen drinking directly from a beer-bottle anytime soon and would probably insist on putting a coaster down before ordering a fruity cocktail in any establishment that would serve him.

If the Daleks and K-9 had arms, you could bet your stamp collection that they'd probably have a lovely pink prada handbag swinging from them as they minced into battle.

HAL from 2001 and KITT from Knight Rider were only ever a few seconds away from mentioning that their human male friends' shoes didn't really match their pants and they both reportedly used to complain often about feeling bloated or blaming Hollywood for not making more Wizard of Oz sequels.

The Smash Potato robots.... well, do i even need to try to convince you about them?

The only exception to the rule is Metal Mickey, a forgotten early 80s metal love-machine that had a thing for older women and fizzy bon-bons.

If anyone can inform me of a totally heterosexual robot, please let me know. These are the kind of things that keep me up at night!

August

2007-08-01T09:01:00.000-07:00

Wow! It's flippin' August! That means that there's only four months for you to decide what to buy me for Christmas! I'm sure that, as you read this, you're already compiling a huge list of things I'd like and crossing off the things which you know I'd throw back at you and then hiss at you for thirty-seven minutes while splashing you with dirty pool water.

But anyway, it's August and that means FACTS!

Apparently August used to be the 6th month of the year until January and February came along and spoiled everything. March was the first month and that makes perfect sense since i was born in March and all time should really be measured in relation to how close/far we are to my birthday.

The astrological signs for August begin with Leo (named after Leonardo the teenage ninja turtle and occasional sculptor/painter/interior decorator) and Virgo (named after crappy ex-snooker player, John Virgo).

In Finland (the place where i bought my fins), the month is called elokuu which apparently means Month of Reaping. Not to be confused with a month of raping which is not advisable in any way as this often leads to severe chaffing and a court appearance.

It's also Women's Small Business Month so if you're a woman (check now, we'll wait........... ...... ........... OK, you're ready?) and you have a business (check now, we'll wait.........dum de dum.....) and that business happens to be erm...small (check now using a tape measure and a notepad..we'll wait........), then you should really be reading this while blowing out the candle atop a small bun.

This should not be confused with Small Women's Business Month which is celebrated solely by Jeanette Krankie and Smurfette (who happens to run a massage therapy treatment centre near Oslo).

Big Brother is a big pile of poo...discuss.

2007-07-30T13:42:00.001-07:00

Whenever i come up for air or to simply show off my leaping-through-hoops ability or to press the 'feed Smy fish' button repeatedly until my human captors arrive with a nice salmon for me, i have to listen to the inane chatter from the scientists and pool cleaners and Cetacean Interior Decorator Specialists as they discuss the horror that is Big Brother.*

"Did you know Chantelle has left the house?"

"I couldn't believe it when Nick took the last apple this morning!"

"The cliche homosexual stereotype one was having a screaming, shrieking, hissy-fit this morning and it was really intense! I thought i might spill my cocoa!"

These and many other sentences are bandied about between my human, flipperless observers.

The entire concept for this 'programme' seems completely rubbish to me and so i have come up with an alternative....

Big Daddy would be a programme in which the only-slightly-dead zombiefied corpse of 'professional' wrestler, Shirley Crabtree (aka Big Daddy, aka The Blonde Adonis, aka Mr Universe) is left in the house with 12 contestants.

The usual array of 'zany'** members of the public would have to try and attempt to stay alive as long as possible as (don't call me) Shirley would attempt to use his trademark Belly Buster moves on them and then devour their brains with a straw and a spork.

Anyone surviving longer than 12 minutes would be awarded the opportunity to allow another dead UK wrestler to come to their aid and fight Shirley off for a bit.

Davina and the crowds would chant 'Easy!! Easy!!' until eventually Big Daddy is left alone in the house surrounded by twitching corpses and a blunted spork.

Who wouldn't watch THAT?

*longest sentence ever.

** See also 'irritating' and 'ridiculous' and 'wastes of space'.

Wombles!

2007-07-26T04:56:00.000-07:00

For anyone taking a trip to London for the first time, a must-see tourist spot is Wimbledon Common.

Personally, i try to avoid anything common but on this occasion, even i am intrigued for this is the stomping ground of The Wombles.

In the 1970s, The Wombles were well known for tidying up the surrounding area, making 'good use of the things that they found' and being generally rather nice but once the cameras stopped rolling and the BBC documentary team went home for the final time (somewhere around 1975), these lovable furry creatures sort of fell off the radar.

'Whatever happened to them Smy, you deliciously lickable creature?' I hear you ask. Well, using the power of the interweb, i have discovered the truth. Read on:

Great Uncle Bulgaria: Personally, i never really saw what was so 'great' about him. I'd say he was 'above average' at best. But after the final curtain fell on him, he fell into alcoholism, often found near bottle-banks, licking the insides of empty wine bottles and draining the last remnants of cider into a paper cup and shaking his fist angrily at squirrels.

Tobemory: In the series, his skills as an inventor and handyman were unsurpassed but once the limelight was stolen from him, he found it difficult to get a patent for his inventions which included the Breville Badger Toaster - 'ideal for stripey late night snacks' and his Otter-Away-Spray which was, quite simply, a ridiculous thing to invent.

Bungo: Known for being rather bossy, it turned out that he was struggling with an inner desire to be a lady. After a slightly dodgy bit of surgery from Tobemory and his 'Winky-Goodbye-Slice-O-Matic' gadget, Bungo is now known as Bungolina and lives in Wales.

Tomsk: In the show, it appeared that Tomsk was simply super-fit. Very energetic and full of beans. Turned out that he was simply injecting Cocaine directly into his eyeballs each morning. Tomsk was found selling 'furry-hand-specials' and 'snuffle-jobs' to sailors to pay for his habit in the 1990s and subsequently went on to appear in hardcore videos which can still be found on eBay if you look hard enough.

Madame Cholet: Seen making intriguing meals for the others during the 70s show but her love of unique dishes went one step too far and she was arrested in 1991 for attempted cannibalism. Mme. Cholet is the author of three best selling cookbooks and has shares in the KFC (Knightsbridge Fried Cockroach) Chain.

Orinoco: Often touted as being 'the rather dim one' in the group, Orinoco was declared 'mentally challenged' in 1987 but this did not stop him from winning three chess matches against Bobby Fischer in 1979 or inventing the Pop Tart. Currently Orinoco is serving time in the London Prison for Rodents for exposing himself to three Japanese schoolgirls. He is up for appeal in 2013.

Floods!!

2007-07-24T11:06:00.000-07:00

As anyone not stuck in a cave, a plastic tupperware box, or a glass specimen jar on a giant's shelf knows, it's been raining a lot in the UK recently.

I really don't see what the fuss is all about. Surely all this water makes it easier for you all to swim to the shops using your fins and gills and splashy flippe.....oh, wait, i forgot.

Yes, i can see it might be a bit troublesome for those people without webbed toes (the residents of Kippax* are OK then). But Let's not complain too much, right? We should be making the most of this valuable opportunity!

OK, so your slippers might not dry for the next three weeks but think about it, you could have your very own family of ducks in your living room. Think of the excitement as you try to turn the TV channel only to find that Colin the Mallard has eaten the remote control and is quacking with happiness as he forces you to endure another hour of The Ricki Lake Show (ducks love anything with 'lakes' in).

Make little inflatable lifevests and a raft for the cat and push it around the dining room until it gets a bit stroppy.

Pretend your kitchen is the galley of a sinking pirate ship. Make the family dress up and force them to say 'Garrrhhhh!' and 'that it be' instead of 'yes it is'. Drink rum and eat dry crackers and make a hook out of tinfoil and a baguette.

Fish! Cast a line out from the bedroom window and see what you can catch from what used to be your garden.

Lure a family of otters into your home using the aforementioned line with a sausage on the end. Otters love sausage.

*a rather inbred village in the North of England. Think 'The Wicker Man' but without electricity or rational thoughts.

Dracula!

2007-07-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

So after a hard night of sucking and flapping about, it's back to the castle...but enough about me, let's talk about Dracula.

Surely he doesn't just drink blood then slink back to the coffin, right? I mean, it's never a good idea to sleep on a full stomach. All those calories swimming about will go straight to the wings so what is there for an evil abomination of the after-life to do during those early hours before sunrise?

Here are just a few suggestions to consider for everyones favourite man-of-a-certain-age:

Laundry - Sure, you may only have one suit, the one you were buried in, but it's bound to get a bit 'foisty' after the first hundred years. Plus moths aren't picky. Time to pop that cape in the Hotpoint with as much Bounce Conditioner as you can lay your sharp little fingers on.

Send Emails - You might be a party animal at night but not everyone works on the same shift-pattern as you. Time to let Frankenstein know about that Science Museum exhibition or send the Wolfman handy hair-grooming tips that you found on Wikipedia. Alternatively, you can forward those Viagra junk mails to the Mummy. He hasn't 'had it' in years.

Make a nice quiche - they can keep for up to three days in a tupperware container and you never know when those lovely buxom wenches from the tavern down the road might pop 'round for an after-hours snack.

Start a photo album for otter pictures - Everyone has one and they're just great. Mine is laminated for obvious reasons.

Watch anything with Christopher Walken in it - you know, for tips on how to be REALLY scary.

Decorate - it's not like you have any neighbours is it? So fire up the drill, let loose with the Phillips Screwdriver and let's get busy with some nice throw pillows and matching curtains. Beige is very non-threatening and pastilles are all the rage in Tuscany.

Watch those late night phone-in quiz programmes -Hey, you ARE the undead and probably totally devoid of emotion. You'll find you have so much in common with most of the hosts of the shows! Quick start speed-dialing that premium rate number right now!

Calculate the amount of hard cash you could earn from the tooth fairy - they don't have to be just YOUR teeth under the pillow, right?

Tanning Butter!

2007-07-11T12:03:00.000-07:00

We're all going on a....summer holiday.

Well, that's what Sir Cliff said and, let's face it, he'd know (he's related to God, doncha' know?).

Each year, quite literally zillions of people flock to the beach to bake in the sun and turn a shade of brown that resembles toasted bagels. At least that's the plan. As a dolphin, i have watched with interest from the comfort of the ocean (wearing factor 15 waterproof Ambré Solaire) as Britain's attempt to catch as much of the sun's attention as possible by wearing nothing more than dental floss and spreading themselves liberally over a Union Flag beach towel.

Unfortunately, the British public fail to realise that most of them simply aren't designed for warm climates. After a few torturous days, most of them have turned the colour of lobster thermadore, are complaining of blisters and severe dribblyness from their nether regions and can only manage to eat Jacobs Cream Crackers for the rest of the holiday.

Most of the British people i know are scientists and therefore 'geeks'. They assure me that their natural colour is a light shade of blue and the closest most of them get to daylight is to answer the door for Mr Postman as he delivers yet another video game or a new shiny nerdy object.

Personally i quite like being grey. It's a neutral colour- easy to match with and its also quite slimming.

Bumble Bees

2007-07-11T11:50:00.000-07:00

Jumper wearing bullies of the insect world or simply misunderstood fluffy little miniature bear-cubs with gossamer wings and happy honey purses?

According to scientists, bumble-bees should not be able to fly. It confounds them. The body weight to wing fluttery speed lift off potential something-or-other is all out of whack.

However, i CAN confirm that these darlings of the flowerbed neighborhood are,in fact, powered not by their beautifully constructed wingloids but by tiny motor boat engines concealed neatly beneath their fluffy yellow and black stripey sweaters.

Because insects get up really early in the morning (in order to get all their tasks done before Jeremy Kyle starts at 9.25), no 'human beans' are around to see them frantically tugging their rip-cords to get the motors started each morning. The distinctive 'idle' put-put-put noise is a dead giveaway which is why you rarely see them ever stopping for a rest or taking a stroll.

After Jeremy Kyle has finished, all the bees get naked and have a huge bee orgy in the honey they've collected while their jumpers spin around and around in the hive washing-machine (on a low temperature, obviously).

Wasps, on the other hand, are just gits.

July!

2007-07-03T11:10:00.000-07:00

Goodness! You know what? It IS July! That's right!! Turn to the cover of your Take A Break Weekly magazine and look next to that over-inflated price and you'll see it confirmed! Ace, isn't it?

As always, my little flipperless chums, I will try to enliven your world with factoids about the month which are so fascinating, your head may actually become detached from your neck. So, with neck-glue at the ready, let's delve....

July was named after Julius Cesar. For those that don't watch the history channel, Julius Cesar (or JayCee if you know him as well as i do) is the name of the man that fitted my pool filter last Wednesday. Nice chap. Tends to shout a bit. Smells like teen spirit.

Luckily for July (and for us) they didn't use Julius' middle name or we might be stuck with calendars with 'Nigel' written on them for a whole 31 days a year.

In Finalnd the month is called heinäkuu, meaning "month of grass". I had a month of grass once. Cant really remember much about it but i did get through 164 packets of Cheezy Wotsits and 77 Curly-Wurlys and i found myself uncontrollably giggling for up to 17 hours a day.

Canadians have 'Canada Day' on the first of the month. This replaced the slightly less successful 'Bulgarian Day' which only 12 Canadians bothered to celebrate by setting fire to a Bulgarian in a ceremonial way.

Pretty sure Americans also celebrate something on the 4th of the month but i can't remember what it is. Is it 'Microsoft Day'? Maybe it's 'Summer Blockbuster Day' or perhaps it's Ronald McDonald's birthday or something.

Moving Home

2007-06-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

Obviously as a dolphin stationed at the Government Facility for Smart Arsed Fish, i don't ever have to worry about moving home. The only time I've left the pool in the last year or so was a short trip to the vets where i had a case of flipper-rot examined.

Turned out, it wasn't flipper-rot, it was just a mushed up Creme Egg stuck to me...but anyway, that's a whole other story.

For those people contemplating moving, i don't think you can underestimate how important it is to make sure that the house is completely free of ghosts and goblins before making the purchase.

Always ask yourself the following questions when entering the new property:

Did it suddenly drop 24 degrees in here?

Why did i feel a sense of dread when i opened the cupboard in the cellar?

How come there's rope hanging over that roof-beam?

Should it REALLY be seeping red oozing gloop through the wall in the dining room?

Is hearing the words "Whooooooooooooo...die mortal! DIE or Join Ussssss!!" when entering the completely empty bedroom a GOOD thing?

Also it's also worth asking the previous occupants if they often perform black magic, satanic rituals, tupperware parties, that sort of thing. May also be wise to question if the house was built on top of ancient Indian burial grounds, next to a cemetery for dead kittens, on intersecting lay-lines, next to Ozzy Osbourne.

If buying a farm, it's probably worth asking if a crop ever failed and if the farmers ever made a pact with a demon in order to bring a plentiful harvest which included burning a virgin, strangling a duck, being generally unpleasant to a family of otters... the usual stuff.

By using these simple tips, you should be free of ever waking up next to headless half-goat thing, sharing breakfast with a sobbing jilted corpse in a wedding dress or finding that your slippers have been eaten by a demonic monkey-frog-weasel thing.

Happy House Hunting!

Mr Men

2007-06-16T09:04:00.000-07:00

Some of the best stories for children somehow seem out of date in the ever-changing world of today. Roger Hargreaves' Mr Men books are a prime example. If they were written today they'd have to be updated. To help Roger out, I've started off with a few ideas...

Mr Tickle: Once again Mr Tickles amazingly long arms have landed him in trouble. This time, a slight altercation near the ladies changing rooms in a department store have ensured him a restraining order from Little Miss Chatterbox after she blabbed to the police about where she found his hands.

Mr Bump: Accident prone or simply a workshy layabout claiming disability grants from the government? Only Mr Nosey knows for sure as a keen government agent ready to prove that Mr Bump can lift his litter bins unaided.

Mr Greedy: Obesity is no joke, kids. In this touching tale, we discover exactly why Mr Greedy can't stop eating and also why he spends his waking hours watching repeats of Jeremy Kyle Shows and cries into his pillow every evening.

Mr Impossible: Solves every problem in the Middle East using just a Curly Wurly and a packet of Chewits.

Mr Sneeze: Every day is fun fun fun for Mr Sneeze. Hilarity ensues as he sneezes at inappropriate moments throughout the day. However, his joy turns to tears when he discovers that his sneezing is a symptom of AIDS. The bad AIDS too! (He also doesn't appear to have any arms. You're a sick, sick man Mr Hargreaves).

Whale Songs

2007-06-07T10:53:00.000-07:00

Let's get one thing absolutely straight.. Whales can NOT sing!

Oh, it might sound all enigmatic and mysterious to YOU, but to other sea-life the sound resembles the noise icelandic nutjob, Bjork, would make if she got out of bed, trod barefoot onto a three-pin plug and fell over catching her eyeball on the edge of a bookcase as she tumbled to the floor.

Whales only ever sing country and western songs and, more often than not, they forget the words so most of the songs go a bit like 'Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolee-ee-eene...i'm begging of you please dont eat mahhh spam' or 'Iiiii-eeee-iiiiiiii willlll alllllways glug juiiiiice".

It's sickening.

You never hear of dolphin songs sounding cool, do you? It's really not fair. I have a lovely singing voice. All the little fish admire it. Of course, the little fish are also slightly intimidated by me so maybe they're just being agreeable so i don't eat them.

No, it's always flippin' whales. Whenever new-age hippy parents want to give birth to their baby named Topaz, Chlamydia (lydia for short) or Leafy-Woodmouse down at the local swimming baths, it's always moody, mysterious whale songs they choose to listen to in order to drown out the noise of the Hippy Mother screaming "Gassss!! Gimme Gasssss!".

Even in films, whales get to be cool. In Star Trek IV: The Quest For More Money, it's whales they go back in time for. Of course, the fat, hairless, blubbery beast has to leave the Starship Enterprise pretty quickly before someone mistakes it for Captain Kirk...but that's another story.

Thankfully Whales are yet to appear on Pop-Idol and X-Factor...unless we count Rick Waller...which we don't, right?

Harry Otter and the Cradle of Filth

2007-06-07T02:44:00.001-07:00

In my spare time between leaping majestically through hoops, eating fish, splashing less important fish and completing the Times Crossword, I like to write books. Many of my books share a common theme but this is just a coincidence. I am NOT obsessed with otters.

Anyway, here is an extract from my latest book:

Page 208

Harry looked tired. His tiny ottery hands had been rubbing his wand most of the evening and he was all sore and in need of sleep. Harry adjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose and began to concentrate on the task at hand.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Before Harry had a chance to open it, Ron Weasel burst into the room swiftly followed by Her-Heiny, a young hairless beaver who lived in the girls dorm-room. Both of them gasped as they caught Harry rubbing his wand frantically.

'Goodness!' Said Ron Weasel.

'Wow! You're wand looks much bigger than the last time i saw it.' Said Her-Heiny.

'Thanks', Said Harry 'I was thinking of you while i rubbed it. I'm pretty sure i was close to experiencing true magic just before you came in'.

Ron Weasel muttered something about his wand being even bigger but no one paid any attention.

Harry pushed his glasses back up once more and secretly wished that his ears were in a better place on his head.
'Anyway,' Said Harry 'I must be left alone to concentrate or i'll never be able to finish off. I'm pretty sure i'd have already experienced magic if only i could find my Sorting Hat.Has anyone seen it?'

Ron Weasel had sold Harry's Sorting Hat on e-bay two weeks ago and had spent the money on sherbert. He kept quiet but remembered the last words of the Sorting Hat before he muffled it with bubble-wrap "IP3 4SO ? Off to Ipswich i must Go? MMmmmmffffff!!"

Sea Cows!

2007-06-02T07:43:00.000-07:00

Find me and follow me through reserviors, laboratories and files
You must follow me, leave this fish-a-delic factory
You will find me in the manatee
The dark of the manatee
It's better in the manatee
The dark of the manatee is Smys
Yes it's Smys

June!!

2007-06-02T07:22:00.000-07:00

Is it really June? So soon? Apparently it is and as a dolphin with his flipper on the pulse, I have made it my mission to bring you many June related factoids as is dolphinly possible.

Amazingly, no other month starts on the same day as June. Go on, check, you'll see. I'll wait....

....

....

Back? See? Told you, didn't i? Amazing isn't it?

According to Weird Al Yankovic, Weasel Stomping Day takes place in June. Despite some people saying that this is a made-up event, i refuse to accept that and have already purchased a golden weasel stomper in preparation.

June is named after the actress June Whitfield. Her constellation is beside TerryScottius Major, below the Great Otter and to the right of Flora the Margarine.

June's astrological sign is Gemini, the twins. I saw a video with twins in once. It was ACE!

Garfield, the lazy, lasagna loving, slightly 80's cat celebrates his birthday on June 19th as does totally bonkers, but highly electable MP Boris Johnson, one-trick-pony actress, Mavis from Coronation Street and Ben Andrews, a gay porn star. Happy Birthday Ben. Some Anusol Gel and a bottle of mouthwash are on their way...

The Sims - The Movie

2007-05-25T12:18:00.000-07:00

There i was, casually flippering my Dolphin-O-Type 2000 for the latest news about fish-fingers when it was brought to my attention that Hollywood are making a big budget film of the popular PC game, The Sims!

For those that have never played it, and therefore probably live in a cave and smell of stale cabbages, The Sims is a game in which you play at families. Its a dolls house on your computer which allows you to 'create' your own story while ensuring your sim-peeps eat, drink, sleep and watch TV from time to time in order to stay sane and healthy.

All the makings of a blockbuster then, right?

So, just in case Hollywood change their mind(s), here are a few other game- movie ideas which would be potentially even MORE exciting than watching The Sims movie:

1. Ms. Pac Man * - The Movie: In which Jessica Alba plays the title role of a young yellow spherical girl who is new at her preppy high school. During this tragic tale, she finds herself getting addicted to 'power pills', binge eats and hallucinates about dead spirits chasing her. Directed by Mike Leigh.

2. Mario Kart- The Chronicles of Wario: Think 2 Fast 2 Furious, now replace Vin Diesel with a small turtle and change the setting from underground racing to brightly coloured islands where crabs throw fish at you as you drive by. See? See? Directed by Michael Bay.

3. Leisure Suit Larry- The Musical: Tom 'definitely-not-gay' Cruise plays the much misunderstood Larry, every one's second favourite comedy sex-pest after Quagmire in Family Guy. A rollercoaster of fun ensues as Larry has lots of casual relationships with mostly willing females. Paul Verhoeven directs.

4. Tekken Tag Tournament -Episode IV A New Hope: Sean Connery IS Heihachi Mishima. Ok, that's actually the only reason i included this one. Directed by Alan Bennet.

5. Monkey Island Trilogy: This would be ACE! It would have a young blond pirate wannabe in it, a love interest who would be from noble blood, a ghostly evil pirate villain who would look like he's decomposing, comedy swaggering pirates, lots of grog and sword fights, a voodoo priestess who lives in a swamp and surrounds herself with jars full of icky stuff like you'd find in teenage girls' bedrooms, stirring music, a curse of some sort and a comedy dog with keys in its mouth.

Oh, and it would be a trilogy.

I think this would be the perfect project for someone like....oooh, Johnny Depp? Gore Verbinski could direct it perhaps...Hollywood, are you listening? This would be ace!! Make it now!

Failing that, i'm still waiting for Etch-A-Sketch or a My Little Pony film. David Fincher could direct that.

*Not to be confused with Ms Premenstrual Pac Man in which the ghosts chase her for a bit until she snaps and kills them all with a spoon.

Aaaaargh!!

2007-05-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

Word up kids!

You know, I'm not one for complaining. Ask the little trouts that moved in a few weeks ago. They decided to have an all night rave with the glowy-jellyfish, damaged my beach ball and disturbed the mysterious pebble and i didn't say a word.

I couldn't, my mouth was full of trout.

Anyway, something today made me all irritable and throw a slightly psychotic hissy-fit. At least three of my human captors were splashed with dirty pool water and i refused to leap magnificently through my hoop more than 27 times today.

While surfing the interweb it came to my attention that the play-that-became-a-film, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is being transported once again to the stage.

Now, so far, two people have played the part of R.P. Mac Murphy; Michael Douglas and Jack Nicholson. Both of these actors are magnificent, intense and could, if given the opportunity (otter-tunity) could probably play just about anything! They have such intensity and inner-strength and erm...stuff.

So it made my flippers tingle with upsetness when it was brought to my attention the name of the actor chosen to play this part in the West End.

Would it be Daniel Craig? Proving himself to be a deep and brooding actor in his latest Bond film, it would be an obvious choice... but no!

Perhaps it would be Gary Oldman, an actor versatile enough to bring both a manic edge and depth to his character? No, no.

The obvious choice, it would appear, is.....

Shane Ritchie!!!!!

I'd say it again but it makes me blow big upset bubbles from my blowhole. Sh**e Rich-tea!! I can't believe my flippers! I mean, is it just me or isn't he....crap?

F-f-f-f-frozen f-f-f-f-foooooood!

2007-05-15T11:29:00.000-07:00

Frozen food is great, right? I mean, it's like normal food but you can suck it and dunk it in your coffee and stuff.

In my continuous search for the answers to the really important questions, I've got in touch with two of the largest frozen food producers to get the real lowdown on how they operate.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Captain Birds Eye.

I love your frozen foods, especially anything fish related however can you confirm just how efficient a crew of children aged between 7-15 really are at sea? Do their tiny hands get friction burns on the rigging easily or do they make up for it by being able to scoop the eyes out of really small sardines?

I was thinking of organising an ocean trip and would appreciate any tips on whether i should take a bunch of primary school age kids or more seasoned sailors with me.

I await your quick response....

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Dear Green Giant.

I adore your delicious products, you really DO have green fingers but i have two quick questions;

1. Sprout. You remember him, right? Used to ask you interesting questions about peas in your adverts, had a slightly annoying voice, probably avoided at Christmas.. haven't seen him around much recently. Can you confirm if you've eaten him?

2. Since you're so jolly, could you tell me the secret to happiness? Did someone tell you a really good joke? If so, share. Or perhaps that leafy-thing you wear is sort of tickly around your swimsuit area? The public have a right to know!

How long do you think it will be before they reply? I cant sleep until i get some answers!!

Star Wars Holiday Special!

2007-05-14T13:21:00.000-07:00

As everyone is aware, on the 25th of this month Star Wars will be 30 years old. For those dolphins who haven't seen it, the plot appears to be as follows:

A gay robot and a midget get an email from some classy chick with nice buns.

A heavy breather who likes wearing black leather Wants to get hold of the classy chicks email or her MySpace passwords or something.

The gay robot and the midget flee to a sandy planet where they get picked up by some scruffy midgets in a tractor.

Meanwhile, a dirty old man finds a young boy unconscious in the desert, fondles him in front of the midget and the gay robot then takes him back to his cave where he uses "force" and waves his "sword" at the young boy.

The old man takes the young underage boy to a bar (probably with the intention of getting him drunk), where he waves his sword at another man before talking to some bloke named Hand-Solo and his friend, a giant space-otter.

They all fly off together to meet up with the classy chick with the nice buns but get sucked aboard a giant round thing that has holes in it. Let's call it the Space-Crumpet.

The old man waves his sword at the heavy breathing, leather wearing man but the leather man's sword is bigger than the old mans' so the old man disappears but NOT before slipping into the young boys head.

The young boy and Hand Solo and the space otter almost get squished and the young boy gets a giant testicle wrapped around him or something. The classy chick grabs Hand-Solo's pole and this stops the walls from moving and makes the Space Otter dance a bit.

They all escape with the nice-buns chick then come back later with some mates to destroy the Space Crumpet.

Their friends are rubbish and all shoot their milky white missiles too early and they splash harmlessly all over the Space Crumpet's entrance but the young boy remembers how the old man liked to use force and shoots his payload right into the Space Crumpet's forbidden hole which makes it explode.

The Space Otter and the others all get medals and the midget looks dead happy.

Now, it doesn't sound very good, does it? I'm pretty sure my version is 100% accurate...if only there were a few websites on the subject so i could check...

How will YOU be celebrating the triumph of the midget film?

Bird-Flu

2007-05-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

Well, here in the UK we were all of a flutter recently when we realised an epidemic of "bird-flu" was heading our way! As far as i can tell, it had something to do with really poorly penguins and the filthy way that Bernard Matthews choked his chickens.

I once had a really bad case of flipper-rot which I'm pretty sure i got at around the same time i discovered i had a nasty case of crabs.* I soon managed to sort it out by rubbing myself against the mysterious pebble for an hour each morning.

However, as well as bird-flu, there are many diseases just as nasty. Here are just a few that you should all be aware of:

Moosey-Measles - The symptoms of this particularly nasty Canadian bug involve the sufferer to trot around their living-rooms making little snorty noises. Two large growths appear on the temple of the head which can be used as a rather nice coat-stand or a handy mobile for tiny tots.

Kitty-Coughs - nowhere near as nasty as bird-flu but much more embarrassing. The symptoms include coughing up small bundles of neatly wound wool, licking your swimsuit area in public places and being generally quite moody to everyone except those people that have food or who look like they might stroke your ears.

Parrotisis - After contracting this particularly nasty airborne bug, you'll feel compelled to repeat everything, tell everyone how pretty you are...often, and swing for hours while banging on a little silver bell. A desire to chomp on a cuttlefish will also arise but please try and resist. The fish are MINE! Can be cured with Paracetamol.

Otter-Mumps - No, i am NOT obsessed with otters. This is "public safety information". No, really..it IS! Anyway, otter-mumps will make you want to sing, dance, hold-hands and play the tambourine for hours on end. Cos that's what otters do, right?

Hamstermonia - Almost certainly deadly, this disease can be caught from dirty toilet seats and fastening your shoelaces too quickly. After contracting it, you'll have no choice but to shove as much food into your cheeks as possible, will only be able to drink from a large over sized water bottle and you'll spend hours running around and around on a giant wheel which you've constructed out of empty cereal boxes. On the plus-side, people WILL want to stroke you and will say "awww" a lot until they find you all stiff and crunchy behind a radiator a few weeks later.

*let's not mention the crabs again, eh?

Super Superness

2007-05-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

In the latest Spider-Ham movie, Peter Porker takes out not one, not two but THREE count 'em THREE super-duper-villains!

He's like a villain exterminator and quite possibly almost a match for Jack Bauer but at this rate he'll be out of people to "K-Pow!!" and "Sock!!" and "Kerrunch!" by a week on Thursday. So to that end, i have come up with some new super-baddies for Marvel Comics to use to ensure that Spidey 4 doesn't involve the audience having to endure 2 hours and 20 minutes of Petey playing online solitaire, searching for internet-corn or learning to play "Chopsticks" on a Casio Keyboard...

Weather-Man: By day, Ian McAskill is the BBC's top heart-throb weather-reporter. Every woman swoons at his merest mention of "humidity" or "moisture" but by night he turns into Weather-Man, a psychotic cloak swirling super-nutter who's main power is causing light drizzles, predicting typhoons and throwing little plastic clouds with magnets on them at your ears.

Donkey-Boy: Jack Mule has a secret which he keeps in his trousers. Yep, you guessed it- in his right pocket he keeps a miniature donkey which he sends through people's letter-boxes to steal their car keys! Hee-Haw, Hee-Haw, Hee's Hawwllways doing it!! Ahem..

The "cream" Goblin: Much more fashion conscious than the "green" one, the Cream Goblin is also available in teal, taupe and puce.

Ping-Pong-Girl: She doesn't even need a bat! This super-nasty villainess cannot be argued with, cannot be bargained with, cannot be silenced. That's simply because she's female. Oh, and she's also deadly with a ping-pong ball... but only when she's horizontal.

The Human Porch: Selma Patio was a regular girl until she was hit with a highly toxic house brick. Now, whenever it starts to "look a bit like rain", she turns into a small extension to your existing property which allows you to store your shoes and umbrellas inside her. Not really sure how this would be a decent villain...to be honest, i really didn't think this one through at all...

Blancmange Boy: Not to be trifled with! He has hundreds and thousands of ways to destroy super-heroes. The mention of his name turns mortal men to jelly. Can anyone stop him and put him in custardy? Ahahahaha...sorry.

Movies, Movies, Movies.

2007-05-03T00:32:00.000-07:00

Some people have claimed that i have an otter fixation. This is totally untrue and those people have now been "silenced". It's simply "an interest", that's all. Besides, everyone knows that otters are only the third sexiest creature on the planet....after penguins and dolphins with primates coming in 4th (except Orang-Utans because of their obvious ginger-ness).

While perusing the local cinema websites today, it appeared that most films on offer looked absolutely rubbish. If i ever go to Hollywood, here would be my suggestions for new films (which in no way will prove that i have a slight otter obsession).

Some Like it Otter - The black and white classic gets a retelling as Marylin Monroe becomes the object of attention by a cross-dressing otter with hilarious results.

The Otters - Nicole Kidman is taunted by her otter children in a big gloomy house. Her depression worsens when her otter husband returns from an otter war and then leaves as mysteriously as he arrives. But are her family real or, in fact, dead and stuffed and inside little glass cases?

Transformers: Decepticons Vs Otter-Bots - Psychotic robots from a dying planet invade Earth. Only one thing stands between them and our total annihilation - The Otter-Bots; furry river-dwelling mammals who, at a flick of a switch, can "transform" into small domestic appliances such as a Breville Sandwich Toaster, a Teas maid or electric toothbrush.

A Clockwork Otter - Stanley Kubrick's controversial film finally gets a release in the UK! The film deals with conditioning, attitudes to violence and morality as well as lots and lots and lots of fuzzy little animals dancing, holding hands and chasing fish.

It Ain't 'Alf Otter, Mum - Big screen version of the 70's TV show set in India. Windsor Davies stars as a red-faced, moustache-twirling sergeant who likes shouting a lot and making the smaller, browner otters upset. Rated "R" for Racism.

Tarka the Otter Reloaded 2K7 - Remake of the classic family film with Arnold Schwarzenegger as Tarka, a one-otter-army who must take revenge on the gang of merciless weasels that destroyed his burrow, stole his fish and pulled his tail. Alan Rickman stars as Head-Weasel with Gary Coleman playing Tarka's new partner who gets on Tarka's nerves most of the afternoon.

May!

2007-05-01T10:47:00.000-07:00

Since it would appear that most of the months of the year are named after gods, i decided to pop the words "may" and "gods" into the Dolphin-O-Type-2000's searchy box.

The results did not disappoint and it soon became apparent that May is also named after a god too...and his first name is Brian!

Now, i was taken aback by this fact until i had it confirmed by another quick search which concluded that "Brian" is also the name of the son of God. It all makes sense now.

So, what else have i discovered about this God of Rock? Well, here were the top factoids which should probably be written down and kept in a safe place or tattooed on your head for easy access. There might be a quiz later.

Brian May apparently was not born, but composed in the back room of Richer Sounds' Hi-Fi Emporium (Jerusalem Branch) in 371 BC.

Over 32 types of woodland creature can be found in his hair and Brian has to lay traps to stop Bill Oddie from moving a documentary crew in while he sleeps.

Brian can play every note from A to G and also K and Q which can only be heard by penguins.

Brian asks every Speaker manufacturer to remove the "11" setting. Brian can only play up to "4" without making everyone on Earth's eyeballs explode with pleasure.

People think that Brian wears clogs on stage because he's eccentric but the real deal is that Brian has to "earth" himself as much as possible. If he wore normal shoes, his fingers would generate enough electricity to destroy the first three rows of the audience.

When calendars were being put together, the fifth month was going to be called "Brian" but it soon became apparent that people might get confused and think it was named after Brian Blessed.

Brian refuses to play Guitar Hero on the PlayStation as he generally melts the controller after one chord, causes power blackouts in the same postcode area and makes all your other video games cry with envy and throw themselves into mouse-traps.

It is NOT true that Freddy Mercury named the planet Mercury. That would be simply ridiculous.

The Gingerbread Man

2007-04-27T10:06:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, i like to treat the smallest minnows to a bedtime story. As they all settled quietly against their spongey pillows and pulled the covers over their sea-beds, i began...

Once upon a time there was a baker and his wife. They lived in a far-away kingdom, over the rainbow, through the magical forest, down in dingely dell - turn left after the roundabout with the McDonalds on it.

The baker loved his wife very much and together they shared a little flat above their bakery. It was one of those converted barn type places that you see in Ikea magazines. You know the kind of thing, lots of wood panelling and tables in the shape of giant leaves and stuff.. bit poncey really but let's not get sidetracked...

The one thing they wanted more than anything (except for a golden otter, obviously), was a child but, try as they might, the baker's wife could not give birth. They'd tried everything from Viagra to rubbing themselves in strawberry custard while singing Chesney Hawks song(s) and trying desperately to not think about Chesney's mole. Nothing worked. One night, Mrs Baker (for that was her name and also an amazing coincidence) even tried wearing a latex penguin outfit for her husband but all that resulted in was a slight rash and an aversion to raw fish for the following three months.

On a pleasant afternoon in June, Mr Baker (for that was his name and also an amazing coincidence), rushed into the bakery looking very excited! His wife gasped as he threw open the door and almost dropped the cake in the shape of a giant weasel she'd been making for the National Weasel Association.

"My Wife! My Wife! I have the answer to our dreams!...No, not the dream where we're both turned into doughnuts and licked by hungry plumbers, the other dream" Said the Baker. "As i was walking through the magical forest, an elf gave me this special flour! The elf was snorting the special flour through a straw but he told me it was 'good shizzle' and sold me some for 20 gold pieces!"

Mrs Baker did not seem impressed, in fact it was quite clear that she was considering divorce for the 18th time that month. "And this helps us......how?" She enquired with a sarcasm rating of 9.6 on the Sarcometer.

"Well", said Mr Baker who had decided not to notice the sarcasm, "With this flour we can bake ourselves a child! Look, let me show you!"

Within minutes, Mr Baker was throwing ingredients into a big bowl; seven eggs, some margarine, a sprinkle of salt...yada yada yada... Anyway, you get the idea. PLUS he added the magical flour. He Stirred the mixture until it was all gloopy like the texture of a smurf's water bed and then put it in the oven.

An hour passed and the baker and his wife (who by now had already consulted a divorce lawyer and her best friend, Edith, who had told her she could move in immediately), opened the oven door.

The mixture had set into gingerbread. Taking a cutter, the baker cut out the shape of a gingerbread-boy. He piped some lips, some eyes, and some buttons onto the boy with some lovely pink icing and waited.

There was a flash of blinding light and a sort of "thrrrrping" noise and the little gingerbread boy came to life! He bounced up and started doing a little dance - one of those embarrassing dances where you point your thumbs in the air and shuffle - a bit like how dads dance at weddings. "Tee-Hee-Hee!" said the little gingerbread-boy.

The Baker and his wife were stunned but before they had a chance to speak, the little gingerbread-boy had bounced off the table.

"Run, Run as fast as you can! You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!" He squealed in a really irritating voice.

Unfortunately for the gingerbread-boy, his legs were soft and only 2 inches long and his top running speed was about the same as your average hedgehog so, he was easily caught.

The baker and wife looked at one another then snapped off his gingerbread arms and legs and dunked them in their coffee.

The moral of the story is that no one likes a ginger - especially when they're smug.

Meeses

2007-04-24T01:13:00.000-07:00

While in my usual spot at the edge of the pool, casually flippering my Dolphin-o-Type 2000 computer, a little cod came over to me and mentioned that i should try using a mouse instead of using the keyboard.

The cod seemed very sure of himself and so, using my incredible high-pitched sonar skills, i attracted a group of rodents to the edge of my pool.

I ordered them to type for me but they were flippin' useless! Between them they managed to type "gjwr r r roityuyh..eiwcheesejjjsjsi, dmduhhhhh".

The cod popped over again and said "No, no, no! A mouse is something you roll in your hand on a mouse-mat instead of using cursors and tabs and stuff."

Again, the cod seemed VERY confident so i picked up one of the mouses (meese? moose? what IS the plural?) and rolled him about in my flipper.

As i attempted to "double-click", there was a little squeaking noise followed by a slight crunchy-crunchy noise and i realised that my "rolling and clicking" seemed to have made the mouse go all soft and squishy and it had left "mouse-juice" all over my keyboard.

I'm sticking to using the buttons from now on. Meeces are rubbish! Perhaps badgers would be better...

Mozilla Vs Godzilla

2007-04-22T03:44:00.000-07:00

A little while ago we road-tested hedgehogs and badgers in order to ensure all my dolphin-friendly blogger folks were aware of which to get. This month, to further enrich your lives, we bring you another exciting test!!

Godzilla Vs Mozilla

Godzilla:

Ability to scare people in Tokyo - 10/10: A great start to our test. The scaly lizard can easily frighten even the most senior members of the Yakuza without even breaking a sweat.

Ability to find internet corn - 2/10: Although Godzilla probably could find just about anything eventually, it's usually just an accident and generally involves her levelling an entire city first.

Strength - 8/10: She can take out small armies (and probably quite a few legsies too. ahem. sorry). She can destroy giant mechanical moths but she has been beaten once or twice, at least until the sequel.

Technical Support - 2/10: pretty limited unless we're counting the crappy Hanna Barbera cartoon (which we're not because it sucked and had some beardy blokey captain in it who looked like a child-killer AND the worlds most irritating animated creation, Godzuki who makes me want to pop my own eyeballs out with spoons when i think about him).

Weaknesses - 4/10: Pretty much every radiation-powered beasty has taken a shot at Godzilla and she has been killed many times by various psychotic creatures over petty arguments about the merits of salted or sweet popcorn and why mothra leaves the toilet seat up all the time.

Mozilla:

Ability to scare people in Tokyo - 1/10: Poor effort. Only a handful of children are scared by Mozilla and that's usually when they stumble on to this blog by accident.

Ability to find internet corn - 10/10: Top marks for the Moz! Typing "corn" into its little googley-woogly tool-bar results in high quality corn-on-corn action in seconds!

Strength - 128Bit/10: Ahahahaahahah.. erm... sorry (again).

Technical Support - 8/10: The busy Mozzites work around the clock* to ensure that there little browser works splendiferously well.

Weaknesses - 5/10: Happy hackers from around the world, when not slamming their doors after an argument with their parents or arranging their Marylin Manson CDs in order of gloominess, spend their time searching out and exploiting poor little Moz weaknesses and, occasionally they succeed. If i could make a fist shape with my flipper, i'd shake it at them.

Overall Winner: Mozilla!

Although Mozilla cant help if you if your city is under attack from an oversized jellyfish tentacle named Graham or stop an annoying neighbour playing music after 1am by smashing his house into tiny pieces with a lizardy toe, it CAN help with your homework, find copious amounts of hot barely-legal corn action and also tell you if it's going to rain later.

I don't think Godzilla could even hold a mouse with her tiny little hands.

*Monday to Friday 9.00 while 17.00 except on Bank Holidays, Jewish festivals or National Stroke-An- Otter Day.

The "g" word.

2007-04-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

OK, anyone that knows me will know that one of my greatest phobias is being placed in a small wardrobe full to the brim with gnomes. I'm sure it's the top of your list of awful things too and if it isn't, then you're obviously some kind of sick, dyslexic pervert that has stumbled onto this website by typing in keywords like "Internet Corn".

Even writing the word makes me a bit queasy so for the rest of this post, i shall refer to them as "gn*mes" or something.

There are many varieties of them but the most common type is the Garden Gn*me. Why do people let them in their gardens? If only they realised just how flippin' awful they obviously are!

Here are the top reasons to NOT allow them near YOUR petunias:

- They have tiny fangs. Note how many of them keep their evil, smiley mouths closed. They like nothing more than sinking their teeth into baby badgers and scampering voles.

- "Oh they look so cute with their little pointy hats". They wear hats to hide their demonic little pointy horns and Nazi tattoos.

- Gn*mes are 100% responsible for hiding gherkins in McDonalds hamburgers.

- Those aren't fishing rods, they're blow dart-guns which the gn*mes use to tranquilise your pets then they dance around them in some satanic ritual and poke the dozing pet with spoons and a small selection of cocktail umbrellas.

- Gn*mes started the Vietnam war. Fact.

- You don't see many female gn*mes, do you? This is because once the female lays the male gn*mes eggs, she serves no more purpose and the other gn*mes eat her.... then they dance around her in some satanic ritual and poke the remains with sporks and the feet of dead baby otters.

- There are no such things as "hangovers". This mysterious ailment occurs when they see you return home late at night, notice that you're slightly incapacitated and take the opportunity to sneak into your house. While you sleep, they beat you repeatedly around the head with metal monopoly tokens and take it in turns to put their feet in your mouth....followed by the usual dancing around you and the poking you with tiny scissors bit.

-David Bowie's Laughing Gn*me. What? You need me to explain? Listen to it.

Crabby Crabby Crabby!

2007-04-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, while chasing a small pink salmon around the deep-end of my pool, i came accross a small treasure chest. Having spent 23 minutes poking it with my beak, i finally managed to open it and found, to my surprise, a family of crabs.

The oldest crab, Daddy Crab, was called Simon and he introduced me to his lovely wife Margaret and his two children Tarquin and Pandora. They waved a friendly claw at me and asked me if i liked playing games.

Since my beachball was currently being repaired (i had a psychotic hissy-fit a few days ago when i was offered a frozen cod fillet and popped my beachball as a way of displaying my displeasure to my human captors), I decided to play with the little crabs.

The game was simple. I had to copy everything the little crabs did. They'd move to the left and I'd move to the left, they'd wink and so would i. Everything was going swimmingly until they all started scratching their shells. With my little flippers, i was unable to copy the crabs and so, in order to win, i simply ate the kids and dropped a big pebble on the treasure chest.

Have you ever had a case of crabs that made you scratch? Were they as irritating as the ones i had to put up with? How did you get rid of them?

Friday the 13th

2007-04-13T03:01:00.000-07:00

OoooOOOOOooooh!! It's Friday the 13th and, apparently, that means that everyone is supposed to have bad-luck!

I believe the medical-term for this event is Trickydickydecahedronboswelloxianutrilliumasaurusagram. Make a note of that somewhere. Perhaps in a little faded diary with a picture of ladybirds on the front or something.

Anyway, since it IS foretold that bad things may happen to me, I've decided not to take any risks. I've "borrowed" a Horseshoe-Crab who was hiding under the mysterious pebble, asked the little minnows to hide pennies all over (and to make sure they're all "heads-up") so that i may find them, rubbed myself with Clover and I've also being touching anything that's made from wood.

I also own a rabbits foot but i cant help but think that this particular foot probably wasn't THAT lucky for the donating rabbit.

Think i may stay inside my plastic castle today and occasionally peer out if i hear the sound of a bucket full of fish being placed on the poolside.

Magicians

2007-04-11T11:30:00.000-07:00

Harry Potter is ACE, isn't he? Yes he is. Yes he IS! but, let's face it, most other wand wranglers are a bit, well, rubbishy.

Most of them tend to do the same old shtick. Oh, you know the score, they'll find the EXACT playing card out of a shuffled pack, make a little rubber ball disappear and reappear under a metal cup and, on occasion, will saw a "lovely assistant" in half while she's encased in a magic box.

Paul Daniels used to suggest that we, the audience would like his tricks "not a lot" and, to be fair, he was correct and therefore was not subject to Trades Description penalties. But SOME of these white-rabbit fondling sickos actually feel that they're impressing us!

David Copperfield once made the Statue of Liberty disappear and also walked through the Great Wall of China while looking dead cool in his shoulder-padded jacket, bouffon hair, shades and leathery skin. Personally I'd like to see him make the Pyramids disappear up his bottom (with some cool dry-ice and scantily clad ladies posing to make it look more "arty").

And don't get me started on David Blaine. No, really, if i start I'll never stop then I'll feel all angry and take it out on the haddocks later.

The only exceptions are Penn & Teller who do all the same tricks as everyone else but at least add the vital elements of violence and breasts into the mix. I love you guys.

Anyway, erm... does anyone know where I put my beachball?

Smy or Pie?

2007-04-11T09:04:00.000-07:00

It's a confusing world isn't it? I mean, somethings simply make no sense at all!

Why does fluff appear in your belly-button?

Where do bogeys come from?

Why is Justin Lee Collins famous?

We will never know the answers to those questions but for those of you who occasionally get all confuzzled between wether something is a pie or if it's me, i've compiled a handy guide:

Does the thing you're looking at have a layer of crust?

Does the thing you're looking at have a little hole at the top to let out steamy substances?

Is the thing you're looking at full of lovely chunks of goodness?

Would the thing you're looking at look delicious next to some chips?

Does the thing you're looking at have potential to create its own gravy?

Would you like to stuff the thing you're looking at in your mouth?

If left on a windowsill, would this thing be stolen by a cheeky scamp?

If you answered YES then you're looking at a PIE!

Does the thing you're looking at have a layer of crust?

Does the thing you're looking at have a little hole at the top to let out steamy substances?

Is the thing you're looking at full of lovely chunks of goodness?

Would the thing you're looking at look delicious next to some chips?

Does the thing you're looking at have potential to create its own gravy?

Would you like to stuff the thing you're looking at in your mouth?

If left on a windowsill, would this thing be stolen by a cheeky scamp?

If you answered YES then you're looking at SMY!

I'm glad we got this cleared up. I really am.

If the thing you're looking at is divisable by 3.14, then it's probably Pi. Ahem.

Easter Bunnies!

2007-04-05T03:12:00.000-07:00

It's incredibly important to realise that the Easter Bunny is not quite as nice as he first appears.

Four years ago, I lent him a tenner which he said he was going to use to cure terminal diseases but moments later, i saw him entering Ladbroke's Betting Shop looking decidedly shifty.

I never got the money back either.

Here are ten other incredibly delicious things you did not know about this wretched creature:

1. He's immortal. Now, think about this. Only Gods and Demons and Elizabeth Taylor are immortal. He's not a God and I have never seen him entertaining Michael Jackson so.....

2. The eggs he places often contain nuts. He knows full well that many people have nut allergies and giggles with glee from behind the bushes if he sees someone having a seizure.

3. He is a shape-shifter. Initially he came to Earth in the shape of a Giant-Slor, then a Marshmallow Man and then as an Easter Crocodile before settling on the "bunny" look.

4. He doesn't lay the eggs himself. He has a battery farm in which chocolate chickens are kept in the worst possible conditions and threatened with a three-bar fire if they stop laying.

5. He's allergic to crumpets.

6. The Easter gig wasn't his first choice. He used to play bass for the Rolling Stones in the 6th and 7th centuries. He feels they've "sold out" in the last 400 years though and now prefers S-Club 7.

7. After leaving the trails of eggs, he sometimes leaves a surprise dog-turd in your sock drawer just for kicks.

8. No one has ever caught the bunny while he lays his egg trails. This is because he has a cloak of invisibility which he obtained in a card game with some elves.

9. He bites. Lots.

10. There is no Mrs Easter Bunny. She was killed in a horrific motoring accident while picking up some additional eggs for her husband from the local supermarket. He doesn't like to talk about it.

April

2007-04-02T13:48:00.000-07:00

Goodness! It's April already? Is it? Wait, it flippin IS!!

Now, as we all know, April is associated with spring and also showers.

Having done an in-depth search of the darkest corners of the internet using the key-word "showers", I have found some very exciting facts which I feel MUST be shared immediately!

There are many types of shower. The most exciting ones are as follows:

April Showers - a series of rainy days throughout the 4th month of the year.

Wedding Showers - a complicated ritual to signify the matrimony of two people which requires the use of a loofah and some confetti.

Golden Showers - Something to do with Germany. I couldn't find more info on this but I'm assuming Bill Gates probably has at least 4 golden showers in his house. I'd love to see them.

Baby Showers - Old Testament punishment. Came right between the plague of locusts and the rain of frogs thingy. Very messy and keeps you awake at night.

Shower Gel - a substance produced by Kevin Spacey's character in the opening scene of American Beauty.

Meteor Showers - The only kind of shower hard enough to get Jack Bauer completely clean. Also known as The Jack Bauer Power Shower Hour.

Squeeee-klikkity-klikkity!

2007-03-28T09:06:00.000-07:00

Wheeee!!

Well hello there delicious human types. Has it really been 9 days since i flippered my keyboard? It would appear so.

The reason for this slight delay in all things fish related is that i have recently purchased a Blu-Ray machine. For the last 4 weeks, I've been waiting eagerly for its arrival and it finally turned up here, at the Government Research Facility for Smart-Arsed Fish, in a nice brown parcel.

Unfortunately, much to my disappointment, this "blu-ray" thingy is not quite what i expected. Instead of it being some sort of marine-based flatfish making machine, it would appear to be some sort of gadget that plays little flimsy disc things.

Totally rubbish!

This morning, my human captors decided to test me. They do this quite often, usually while holding a selection of clipboards and pens and making little "hmmmm" noises from time to time.

This mornings test involved them holding up a series of cards and then pointing at me to decide what type of card it was. Was it a few squiggly lines? A triangle? A square? A little star?

Who cares? I answered each one with the word "fish" which, after twenty eight minutes, seemed to irritate them and they left me alone.

Until they return, let me take this opportunity to show you THIS!!!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Year_of_the_Dolphin

see it? See it?

Told you i was special.

Another Suspicious Bedtime Story...

2007-03-19T14:40:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away somewhere on the B-Road between Dingly-Dell and the Enchanted Forest there lived a troll.

Since the changes in Government Legislation, the troll was allowed to operate a government operated Troll-Bridge and had been doing so quite successfully since last October.

On a particularly warm and sunny day, the troll was sitting, comfortably watching television in his cosy little home below the bridge. Crumpets were toasting lightly on the grill and two soft boiled eggs were almost ready to be plucked from the bubbling saucepan when the troll heard a loud clippety-clopping on his roof.

Grabbing his luminous jacket and clipboard, the troll (who's name was Graham, which, incidentally was also the name of his father who used to work at Tescos until an unfortunate incident with a pricing gun and an over-excited otter family...but let's not get off-topic), made his way up to the bridge.

The source of the clippety-clippety-clip-clop-clippitying was a small goat. Graham immediately struck his government approved pose and snarled his government approved snarl. His intention was clear.

"Oh please let me pass!" said the little goat.

"under sub-section 5.2, paragraph 2, I am instructed to ask you to pay the toll of 5 gold pieces. Should you not wish to pay or cannot pay, I am, under sub-section 4.9 paragraph 11, allowed to eat you." Said Graham.

"Wait" said the little goat, "I'm only a very small goat and probably not even a worthy mouthful for someone as big and strong as you. If you let me pass, my Mummy will be here soon. She's all plump and delicious. You could eat her instead..."

Graham considered this and, despite this not being in the government handbook, he decided there was some truth in the goat's story and let him pass.

Back below the bridge, the troll sniffed some daffodils he'd collected that mornng and then began his weekly chore of carefully separating the tins and plastic and paper in preparation for his trip to the Environmentally Friendly Recycling Centre when there was a Trotty-trot-trotting noise from above.

Once again, Graham whisked himself upstairs and was faced by a larger and slightly prettier goat than before. "Ahem!" He said.

Mummy Goat (for it was she), knew all about the troll and cut him off before he had a chance to say all that rulebook stuff and saved the writer of this story from getting repetitive strain injury.

"Dear Troll, I understand your plight but I've been on this bran diet for weeks now and, well, my insides are all wrong. I'm pretty sure that I'd taste quite awful at the moment BUT my husband passes this way in a short while. He'd be a worthy meal for you".

The Troll, once again, carefully considered this proposition and decided to let Mummy Goat pass.

Under the bridge once more, Graham the Troll took the opportunity to see to the baby sparrows he had rescued recently after their mother had vanished. He had gently microwaved some small juicy worms and fed each one in turn with a plastic spork. The baby sparrows chirped with joy as their tiny tummies were filled with tasty wormy goodness.

Graham was just licking an NSPCC charity donation envelope as he heard a loud clompity-clomping from upstairs...

Scrambling back to the bridge, the troll was faced with the biggest goat he had ever seen. He fumbled to grab his clipboard and was just about to read the stuff about sub-sections and paragraphs, which I still cant be bothered to re-write, when the goat charged at him.

Ramming the Troll hard in the stomach, Graham fell over the side of the bridge and made a sort of high pitched squeaking noise (which was similar to the one the troll's father had heard eminating from the aforementioned excited otter family right before he'd been sacked from Tescos...but let's not get off-topic), leaving the bridge unattended and free for the big goat to pass.

Have YOU ever had an injury at work? Ever needed to make a claim for an accident that wasn't your fault but worried about the legal costs?

Our experts are ready 24 hours a day for your call. So don't delay, contact us! The number is toll-free but we hope it isn't Troll-Free!!*

This story was brought to you in association with the Trolls Will Always Try Society - demanding fair representation for misunderstood slimy creatures everywhere.

*sorry.

Chess Club

2007-03-17T08:34:00.000-07:00

1. The first rule of Chess Club is, you do not talk about Chess Club.

2. The second rule of Chess Club is, you DO NOT talk about Chess Club.

3. If someone yells "Checkmate", the match is over.

4. Two guys to a match.

5. One match at a time.

6. No "en-passe" moves allowed.

7. Matches will go on as long as they have to.

8. If this is your first time at Chess Club, you HAVE to play chess!

Would you like Smys with that?

2007-03-15T06:55:00.000-07:00

When it comes to Fast-Food, I only really count those little darting minnows and the occasional speedy salmon* but I'm well aware that outside my pool there is a whole cornucopia of choice that awaits you in the form of pre-cooked, plastic packaged meals.

The whole idea of these places makes me squeak with unpleasant upsetness and so in order to make the visit to such establishments more pleasurable, I have come up with a helpful set of tips:

1. Ask for a Mc Meal without the fries and drink.

2. Use the staff-members name repeatedly throughout the transaction to the point of weirdy-stalky behaviour

3. Point at the hamburgers. When the staff member says "you want the burger?", burst into tears and ask them never to use that word again.

4. Ask if you can get the double-cheeseburger without double cheese.

5. Bring your own frozen burger from home and ask them if they'd mind popping it on the grill for a bit. Then complain that it's taking too long.

6. Spend ages deciding what you want, casually asking poncy questions such as "would you recommend a red or white wine with that?" and "do you have foix grois?" or "Is Raymondé working today?"

7. After being presented with your McNuggets, take a tape measure from your pocket and analyse each one, holding them up to the light, bending them slightly for "tension" and repeating "hmmmmmmmmm....."

8. At the drive-through, when ordering your meal (more than likely speaking into the mouth of a giant plastic clown in a dignified touch which can not be understated), tell the order-taker that "you haven't booked in advance" and ask for a table for two.

9. When given the option of Pepsi, 7Up or Fanta, ask if they serve "Dr Pepper" and stamp your feet if they dont. Shouting "Fascist!" at this point is always a nice touch too.

10. Take a clipboard and wear something smart. This gives the impression that you're a McDonalds Quality Checker and will ensure that you get served double-quick! Make notes after every sentence and pay extra attention while the staff member enters your order on those cash-register thingys that look like they're from Star Trek.

Enjoy your meal!

*this is not an admission that I ate Brian in February.

Phwoarrr!

2007-03-14T12:47:00.000-07:00

Look!! Look!! It's some of that "internet corn" you've heard so much about!!

Go on, download it!! You know you want to!

It's My Birthday and I'll Smy if I Want To!

2007-03-10T02:51:00.000-08:00

Well actually, it's my birthday tomorrow but I'll probably be farrr too unwell to type properly so, in case you were wondering what to get me, here's a list of things i don't need:

Beachballs - Not only do i have an endless supply of these handed to me by my lovely human captors, but i also find that they're almost impossible to wrap.

Hoops - see above.

Fake plastic castle - i have one. i call it home and it's lovely. currently situated in the deep end just past the thick seaweed and the mysterious pebble.

Roller skates - i cant skate.

Tins of John West Tuna - they remind me of my half-cousin Duplexx and an unfortunate incident that happened off the coast of Molvania. Makes me whimper just thinking about it...

A subscription to Porpoise-Life Magazine - i have one already. Fabulous article in this month's edition on page 398 about dorsal fins.

Turtle Wax - i can wax all the turtles i want. There's three of them somewhere in the shallow end of the pool.

A Bedtime Story

2007-03-04T16:22:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there were three bears.

Mummy Bear, Daddy Bear and Baby Bear.

On a particularly breezy Autumn morning, the bears decided to make porridge for breakfast. They'd run out of Coco-Pops and refused point blank to eat anything called a Pop-Tart for fear that were might be munching on Britney Spears (the bears were vegetarians, you see).

Anyway, the bears made a fresh batch of porridge and decided to take a stroll in the forest while it cooled. Why the bears simply didn't cook the porridge to the required temperature to begin with instead of all this faffing-around is any one's guess.

Daddy Bear took this opportunity to collect his copy of Bare-Bears magazine from his local "speciality" shop.

While the bears were out doing whatever it is bears do in the woods, a small blonde haired girl, possibly Norwegian, came scampering up to the bears front door. She knocked on the door and waited. No sounds came from within except the delightful melodies of Mr Neil Diamond playing gently from the radio. As the girl was a little bit chavvy and already had three ASBOs against her, she decided to simply walk in to the house.

She noticed the living room was set out with three chairs and decided to test them out. The first chair, Daddy Bear's chair was hard. This was because Daddy Bear has posture problems and had to buy a special chair to ease his chronic back pains. .This had once cost him a job and also led to an amusing incident at a local swimming pool... but that's an entirely different story.

The blonde girl tried out Mummy Bear's chair next. It was soft and squishy. A bit like the melons they don't want you to see at the Supermarket or the texture of a fresh turd that you discover accidentally while barefoot around the house days after purchasing a puppy.

The third chair belonged to baby bear and apparently was "just right".

Having had a good old nosey through Daddy Bears vinyl collection, the blonde tart decided to investigate the sweet smell coming from the dining room. There she saw three bowls of porridge and, once again, decided she MUST try them all.

The first one belonged to Daddy bear and was incredibly salty. Daddy Bear liked salty things and he would even add salt to jelly. Mummy Bear suspected Daddy Bear of having a medical condition but didn't like to mention it as Daddy Bear was a bit violent especially when he had a sore head.

The second bowl was Mummy Bears but this one was, as the Americans say, "Todally Gross Mahhhn" or something. Anyway, it was full of sugar and tasted like the underside of a school desk.

The third bowl, Baby Bear's bowl was, according to the blonde girl, just right.

After her porridge, it was time for a nap. She whisked herself upstairs to the bedroom and was not even slightly concerned that the bears had all their beds in one room. The first bed was Daddy Bears (can we see a pattern forming here?) Once again, due to the back pain thing, the bed was dead hard...like a fossilized Mike Tyson. THAT hard!

Mummy bears was too soft. It was like sleeping in a giant marshmallow which from all accounts from friends, colleagues and the members of my local chess club, is nowhere near as much fun as it sounds.

Baby Bears was just right..yada yada yada...

The bears arrived home. It was 9.25 and just time to switch on to the Jeremy Kyle show but the bears noticed something which made them completely forget about their daily intake of underclass-teevee. The chairs had been moved and porridge had been consumed!! Mummy Bear had OCD and would've probably noticed if a mouse had farted in her pristine kitchen. She was distraught.

Daddy Bear rushed around the house and eventually came across the sleeping blonde chavette. She squealed and jumped out of the window.

Daddy Bear called for the Badger Police who, after a few weeks of general snuffling, found the blonde girl and gave her 18 months for Breaking and Entering, Criminal Damage and the Eating of Another Bear's Porridge.

The bears were free to return to a life of normalcy but who can truly forget the events of a break-in? Mummy Bear felt violated and asked for the locks to be changed every three months. Daddy Bear felt like a failure; he had not done his duty as a father and protected his "castle". He turned to alcohol and soft drugs.

Baby bear had bed-wetting issues until the age of 23 and a reoccurring dream involving otters plagued him on a weekly basis...but this was unrelated.

The End.

March!!

2007-03-01T03:55:00.000-08:00

White Rabbit! White Rabbit! White Rabbit!

Oh, I feel so much better for getting that out of my system.

Yes, it's March, my favourite month of the year. March is quite possibly more sexy than finding 27 baby ferrets in your sock-drawer.

As everyone knows, March is also quite special cos it's also my Birthday month. I shall expect presents, cards and requests to touch my dorsal fin in abundance. As well as preparing yourself for my birthday, here are some other fascinating facts about the month of March:

March is named after the Roman god of chocolate bars.

In ancient times, we used to go straight from February into April and skip March entirely. This was because March had locked itself in its bedroom and was listening to The Cure tracks and refused to come out because "no one understands it".

March was last years semi-finalist in Sexy Months Magazine poll. It narrowly lost out to Leo but only because Leo threatened to pull March's ears off.

March rhymes with more stuff than April...like erm...Larch... and err.. ..omm.... no, that's it.

In Shakespeare's Julius Ceaser (a story about a little fluffy dog who enjoyed canned dog food and conquering Gaul), he mentions "the ides of March". As we all know, Ides are small lobster-like creatures that lay eggs in our brains when we sleep.

March is banned in Denmark to make room for the annual Bagel festival "Bagelscmokeundapancakefeshht" This consists of daily consumption of bread-based products and talking endlessly about Hans Christian Andersen.

Did i mention it's my Birthday soon?

Fudge!

2007-02-27T04:39:00.000-08:00

Since Cadbury refuse to answer my previous email, I decided to try a different approach.

Below is a copy of my recent suggestions to them:

Dear Chocolate People.

While shopping in my local supermarket I witnessed a scene in which a small boy was squealing loudly and causing his poor mother to be rather red-faced and upset.

Obviously I held back my own tears upon seeing this display of un-British behaviour but during the child's outburst, the mother offered to placate the child with a Cadbury's Fudge confection.
The toddler momentarily stopped his high-pitched wailing but shortly after began anew...with more vigour.

I bring this to your attention as it would appear that in today's 21st century lifestyle of Sony Playmate Stations and Ipogs that your advertising slogan "Just enough to give your kids a treat" may be a little out of date.

In light of this, I have come up with a few alternatives which may be more accurate:

"Fudge - Better than being attacked by weasels"

"Fudge - Perhaps not quite enough, but almost enough to give your kids a treat...maybe"

"Fudge - It's also covered in chocolate"

Or, if attempting to corner the homosexual market, perhaps -

"Cadbury - proudly fudge-packing since the 1900s"

I'd be grateful for your comments and, should you choose to use any of the above, i would only expect a 15% commission.

I expect an answer shortly....

Update!!

Thanks for your email Smy.

Many new advertising ideas and concepts are sent to us by our consumers andeach one is reviewed carefully by Marketing Managers.

Your slogans are thought to possess some of the qualities we would demand of ourAdvertising, but we regret that we will not be able to use your slogans on this occasion. Thank you for taking the time and trouble to assemble your ideas and emailing us for consideration.

Regards

Sarah Welch
Customer Relations

Jelly...

2007-02-19T13:12:00.000-08:00

So, what I REALLY want to know is what's the deal with jelly moulds?

When I was just a little dolphin, my mummy would make strawberry jelly in a mould shaped like a rabbit. What WAS that about? Was this some sort of conditioning to make me think that all rabbits tasted of fruity wobbly gloop?

A little research has resulted in the fact that that there are hundreds of different types of mould available. You can get them to look like Buddha, a favourite pet or a teddy bear but none of them will EVER be as cool as the rabbit one.

If i was a rabbit, I'd eat myself.

Smylexx and the Chocolate Factory

2007-02-16T03:47:00.000-08:00

In an effort to bring the most important news directly to your eyeballs, I have been in contact with famous UK chocolate experts "Cadbury" in order to get to the real scoop on their famous Creme Eggs.

Below is a copy of the original email which i expect a response to any second now...

-----

Hello chocolate people,

With Spring fast approaching and the Creme Egg becoming more popular than ever, i have a few questions about this incredible product:

1. Could you confirm if the hens required to lay the eggs are Battery or Free-Range?

2. What are the chances of Mr Cadbury's Parrot being infected with Avian Flu?

3. Has Cadbury ever considered alternative "creme" products for strict vegans - a Creme Turnip, perhaps?

4. How many Creme Eggs would you require to make the perfect omelet?

5. Are the eggs layed with the foil wrap on, cos that would hurt, or is it added later, perhaps by a big machine with gears and levers and steam and rubber gloves on the end of shiny silver rods?

Thank you for your time,

Smylexx the Dolphin.

P.S. - The last time I queried something (about 4 years ago), my response came from someone named "Charlie". Can you confirm if all workers in the chocolate factory are called Charlie or was this, in fact;

a coincidence

a result of sneaky recruitment regulations

some sort of freaky cloning experiment in which DNA from the original Charlie is taken then used to create an army of workers

-------

I will update this post the very moment the lovely Oompa Lumpahs get back to me!

Valentines Day!!

2007-02-13T11:35:00.000-08:00

It's Valentines Day and as I happen to be a dolphin, I expect to get lots and lots of cards and free stuff. Everyone loves dolphins. Well, everyone except John West and his flippin' tuna nets.

I'd prefer to get e-cards or maybe a nice fruit basket to actual cards though. I can't hold them very well and the ink runs when they get wet.

Some other animals, of course, don't get cards and nice chocolatey thingys. No one EVER remembers to offer hugs to Great White Sharks or Praying Mantis. So if you see a slimy creature, why not offer to go to dinner together? Perhaps a walk along the beach with a slug might not be so bad...