Calling Dr Smy

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

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!!

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

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.

Roy

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

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.

Pringles!!

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

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!

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!

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

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!!!

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!

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!!!

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

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!

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

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!!

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

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

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!

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...