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No Skeptical Testicles

28 Jul

I’m quite a mild mannered kitty.  I don’t have to run into that many people so confrontation is a rare occurrence for me…If a situation does present itself (remembering the time when Elmer J. Fudd came to visit… DAEMON!)  I generally run away…Mykie is the same…we are a pair of confrontational cowards…

I class myself as a member of the skeptical movement.  Recently there has been talk about being polite and respectful to others.  Well that’s not a problem for me as I’m so ridiculously confrontation averse.

Ever since we moved to our current residence we have had sporadic visits from Mary from Watchtower (one of the consequences of living down the road from Kingdom Hall Of Jehovah’s Witnesses).  At first she was an amusing distraction from “decorating phase 1”, I describe myself as an atheist so thought it would be interesting to invite her in and have a discussion…BIG MISTAKE.

Her general natter was about interpreting the Bible and how we are really close to the second coming of Jesus…did I ask anything I wanted to “so, you mention that severe weather events are occurring and countries are warring upon each other, but hasn’t this happened before?  What evidence is there that it means this point in time?” or something witty “Jesus is coming soon?  Next Thursday? Shall I leave a space for him at the wedding?  Will he be bringing a plus one?”  No…What actually happened is that I nodded and uttered non-committal garbage “that’s interesting…is that true?…blah blah”.  She is a really nice lady and she was really excited to get an invite in from a “young person”…I couldn’t bring myself to bring a dark cloud over her day…even if she was the one actively approaching people to push her beliefs.

The next time Mary called I was on my way to work so when she asked to come in I told her I hadn’t the time and hadn’t really gave things much thought…some how she managed to bring up the subject of my ethnicity and said next time she’d bring her Cantonese speaking friend…I really didn’t want another visit but pussy-arsed me replied “oh, that would be nice”…I was hoping I’d not be in every time she tried to call.

Unlucky for me I was caught by Mary again with her friend Miriam…My father is Chinese so I look slightly oriental but that’s the limit to my Eastern connections…unless Miriam wanted to take my food order, hear me count to 10 or be wished “Happy New Year” we weren’t going to have much to discuss in Cantonese.  I didn’t want to have a bible debate as I was in Bridezilla mode; I told them I was busy getting final wedding plans sorted.  I thought I had seen the last of them when they asked what my new bride was called and I replied “Simon”…but no…straight after honeymoon they came knocking…I got rid of them by hiding in the basement…told you…no skepti-balls here!

I’ve recently seen Mary walking the streets on my way to work and am dreading another call…I would like to have a real discussion with her and it would probably do me a world of good to practice disagreeing with someone and questioning their evidence…

Where do I start?  How can I be my usual polite, non-confrontational self but still state my points with conviction?


“Burka Ban”-the death knell of Disneyland Paris?

22 Jul

So the lower French parliament have approved a ban on Islamic veils.

There have been phrases thrown about such as “Citizenship has to be lived with an uncovered face. There can therefore be absolutely no solution other than a ban in all public places.”and “No one can wear a garment in public which is aimed at hiding their face.”. If the law is changed…how long until Disneyland Paris is considered nothing more than a nest of criminals?

Pluto: FINED!

Mickey & Minnie: CRIMINALS!

I have got this right haven’t I?  Aren’t the “students with summer jobs” inside the giant comedy heads intentionally covering their faces?

But does it stop there?

What about Halloween?

That kid on the right is definitely in trouble and I think witchy-girl second from the left is pushing her luck with that nose.

Oh, have I got it wrong?  Is it a religious/oppression/enforced beliefs thing?  Terribly sorry…Ignore the reductio ad absurdum.

Ice Cream Saviours!

20 Jul

I’m only allowed to eat my special Persian food as it is good for me…ok I get the odd treat of nori or duck liver and champagne pâté.  I don’t mind, I don’t really have a sweet tooth.  The boys do though! Mykie’s big thing is ice cream…it’s the only food that inspires sounds otherwise reserved for carnal indulgences.

This weekend we found ambrosia!  Thank you Waitrose!

Delightful!  They were substantial in size and tasted acceptably chocolatey and…less than 2% fat and typically 82 calories per stick!

These weren’t as good…they were smaller, had more calories and tasted a bit like cork…they were nice on a plate with some raspberries from the garden…on the whole…a bit shit…but each sandwich typically contains 101 calories and 2.8g of fat.

So it was Ice Cream Bonanza this weekend!  Simon had a slight problem as he thought the new finds were full of shit and chemical badness…

Then, like lightning, a memory, childhood summers, delicious dairy goodness, dildos…


Only 30 kcals per dildo…and still as delicious as ever…like sucking on nostalgia!

So no longer will ice cream be limited to the occasional treat in this house…frozen, milky phalluses for all!!!!

Nº1 CDA: More is Less Hypothesis: Trial 1

17 Jul

Last night saw the first trial for More is Less 2010.

Plan for the weekend…let’s recap:

  • Drink then drink some more
  • Test level of intoxication next morning via comedy “nose touching/line walking” scenario
  • Rate level of hangover (from 1 to “oh god! why?!?!”)
  • Examine belongings for signs of debauch behaviour

It is a fair assessment that there was “drinking to excess” happening last night.  To the point of hangover-no-return…or was it?

A brief overview of proceedings is in order to make sure everything is well documented and above board (it is a rigorous and well planned experiment after all!).

Started the evening with a nice bottle of Villa Maria Sauvignon Blanc with dinner.  Civilised, delightful…then it went down hill.

Arrived at Mr Moxleys lovely new apartment where we waved a sad goodbye to the last bottle of original recipe Sailor Jerry (Farewell my friend!  You have inspired many a bad idea and will be deeply missed!).  I also think there was some Vodka involved…things got a bit hazy.  On an unrelated note I made up with Danny (look at me growing and everything).

After a brief trip to GLAM finding it deserted, it was off to BOLLOX where I’d never been before; I was a Bollox virgin…but my hymen was soon torn asunder.

I was introduced to the “Jager Bomb” by Mr Whits which we indulged in probably more than we should have.  They seemed to bestow Mr Whits with the strength of ten men as he kept picking Ms Kimmers and I up together with a roar…leading to squeals as our wombs were squeezed to buggery.

He also kept knocking the cue ball around the room whilst playing pool (I don’t know when, how or why pool happened…it was a self-righteous shoe-icide)

Jager Bombs also inspired the accessory of the century…FRANK SIDEBOTTOM HEAD!!!!

I’ve never spent so long or had such a fun time with my head up something.

A good time was had by all…mucho alcohol was consumed…let the experimenting begin!

Intoxication Test:  Well I could touch my finger to my nose and walk in a straight line (or what I imagined may be a straight line as I couldn’t fine one…that’s scientific rigour for you), but I was still totally off my little titty bags until after midday.

Simons testimony: “You could touch your nose but you kept telling me and showing me with gob volume turned up to 11…and you were clomping around like a fool…you were still wankered love.”


Yes! Fuck yes! No hangover for me!  Had a nice bowl of miso with prawns and enoki mushrooms (the best post drinking snack ever) and am just starting to feel sober (it’s 3.12 pm).

Mark one up for the More is Less Hypothesis!

Of course we need to repeat the experiment to build up a good data set…to the drinks mobile!!!


Somehow everything appears fine!!!  There was no cameo appearance of vomit on the taxi ride home…even the new Superstar aren’t all scuffed and dirty!  My Visa is a little bent from being in my pocket but that is reasonable wear and tear.  Unfortunately the Frank Sidebottom head didn’t last the night…some douche decided it would be fun to smash them up…what a wank faced super cunt…RIP Frank.

So…trial 1 has raised more questions!  It does appear to be possible to drink all night long, escape hangover and avoid ruining belongings!  How?  Was it the Jager Bombs?  Was it related to my broken Bollox hymen?  The experiment continues…

Nº1 Cat Detective Agency: Alcohol and Hangovers-the more is less hypothesis.

15 Jul

When Mykie goes out to play and has a drink or twelve one of two things happen:

  • He drinks stupid amounts then drinks water
  • He drinks stupid amounts then drinks more

The day after one of two things occurs:

  • Hangover death righting off the whole of the next day
  • Pass out, have a superb nights sleep and wake up fully refreshed and tidy the house

Nº1 Cat Detective Agency is going to test the possibility that maybe the lack of hangover is due to still being drunk the next day.  Hangover then doesn’t rear it’s ugly head as Mykie’s up, hydrating and moving so easing himself back to sobriety. We will call this the “more is less hypothesis”.

Nº1 Cat Detective Agency is also interested reducing the probability of damage to belongings.  Some nights all is fine; Taxi ride is pleasant etc….other nights Mykie’s a tad queasy and discretely vomits (whist in a taxi) in a Vivienne Westwood leather man-bag or maybe a coat pocket (He is the epitome of elegance and class).  We will label this the “you dirty fucking tramp” inquest.

Ideally it would be good to find a way of drinking, avoiding a hangover and avoiding the destruction of the precious things…We are not factoring liver damage into the equation as it is soon going to work out cheaper to buy a liver on the black market than to replace the accessories that are destroyed.

So this weekend is Trial 1:

  • Drink then drink some more
  • Test level of intoxication next morning via comedy “nose touching/line walking” scenario
  • Rate level of hangover (from 1 to “oh god! why?!?!”)
  • Examine belongings for signs of debauch behaviour

We are hypothesising that Mykie will either escape hangover but blow chunks in the Gucci, or, have accessories intact but the mother of all hangovers.

Cheers to a well thought out experiment (?)

Homo Alone: Irrational fears!

12 Jul

So Simon is away with work leaving Mykie in charge of my safety, next door Molly’s safety and his own safety…Things have gone well so far, I’ve been brushed and played hunt the straw…Mykie has just gone to bed with a big stick from the garden, three pairs of shoes and the garden shears.  I’m off to get some shut eye in my basket, I’ll leave Mykie to rationalise his douche-baggery…

Bedroom door is locked, bedside table is up against bedroom door…I’m back…I needed to use the bathroom…

So all of a sudden, with Simon away for the evening, I’m terrified someone is going to break in.  I never get scared with Simon home but now every noise is my potential murderer climbing the drain pipe.  It’s not that I expect Simon to save me from the bad men (though he would as he is wonderful), but when I’m alone I turn back into my five year old self who really isn’t the bravest kid in the world.  Ghosts, the dark, giant night monsters, Nazi soldiers (yes, five year old Mykie had a horrible fear that Nazis’ would come in the night) I was scared of everything.  I had escape routes and hiding holes planned.  I had even practised climbing out of my window onto the porch and then clambering down the window to the garden…but I’m a grown man now.

I now know ghosts and night monsters aren’t real.  I admit that the chances of being brutally murdered by Nazis is quite low.  If it wasn’t for those nasty men in balaclavas (not baklava) who broke in and took things from us then I may be getting a bit of sleep tonight…but sometimes the bad men really do come for you!

I know it’s really silly to be sat in bed with three pairs of shoes, garden shears and a great big stick…usually I have someone around to reflect off and see just how ridiculous I can be…but it appears that this is me, I will always insist on internal door locks and live like Nicole Kidman in “The Others” ( but I’m not planning to smother any kids with pillows just yet).  So here I sit, stick in hand (not that stick…imagine if the bad men caught me masturbating?  I’d be both terrified and embarrassed before being brutally murdered.) waiting for morning…fun.

I told you, he’s a silly douche.

Worse gift ever? The cringing mix of gratitude and horror.

5 Jul

Everyone loves presents, exquisitely wrapped surprises that scream to be ripped open to reveal the perfectly thoughtful delights nestled inside…or not.

Every now and then there is an absolute nightmare contained in that package that promised so much…your face contorts in a pseudo-smile that does it’s best to conceal the grimace that says plainly “what the fuck were you thinking?”

The worse gift I’ve received is a white velvet, sterling silver and swarovski crystal collar that Mykie thought would be adorable on me.  It gets tangled in my fur so fortunately I escape the other cats calling me a big pussy.

Mykie and Simon have been given some absolute atrocities too…

I was talking to the wonderful Mr Nicksy on twitter a few days ago and was reminded of the most horrendous wedding present we were given…

It is so comedy terrible; it is literal LOL.  Thank goodness I was unconscious on the stairs following The Big Cheese Crash 2009.  Simon had the joy of opening this wonder alone in front of the givers whose sanity and taste level are obviously questionable at best.

The picture really doesn’t do it justice…As you can see, it is supposedly two gayers with strange rubbery faces that have tied the knot.  What you might not be able to see is that under the dashing 1980s jackets they are shirtless…and wearing jeans.  Yes, the sculptor obviously thinks that the gays get married semi-naked and in denim.  One of the men is missing a finger…is this an accident in transit; or, does the sculptor believe that unrelenting anal finger-blasting causes queers to loose digits?

The strangest thing about the whole debacle is who bought us this pewter nightmare…It was from an elderly couple who don’t drive and are as familiar with the internet as I am with a vagina…where in hell did they get it from????

We felt so awful and I feel a pang of guilt still for deriding what was a thoughtful and relevant(?) gift…but that is the agony of the gift from hell……but all said and done, we didn’t feel bad enough to keep it…

I think the boys win, my collar is actually quite adorable…I had to stare at the statue of homo holocaust for nearly a week until the bin men arrived to put it out of its misery…it was fucking awful.