The Smylex-X-Files

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!

Corrie

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.

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

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!

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.

Star Wars Holiday Special!

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?