Saturday, November 26, 2005


My word, is it Saturday again?

At New York's Kennedy airport today, an individual later discovered to be a public school teacher, was arrested trying to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a setsquare, a slide rule, and a calculator.

At a morning press conference, Attorney general John Ashcroft said he believes the man is a member of the notorious Al-gebra movement. He is being charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction.

"Al-gebra is a fearsome cult," Ashcroft said. "They desire average solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in a search of absolute value. They use secret code names like 'x' and 'y' and refer to themselves as 'unknowns,' but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to say, 'There are 3 sides to every triangle,'" Ashcroft declared.

When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, "If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, He would have given us more fingers and toes. I am gratified that our government has given us a sine that it is intent on protracting us from these math-dogs who are willing to disintegrate us with calculus disregard.

"Murky statisticians love to inflict plane on every sphere of influence," the President said, adding: "Under the circumferences, we must differentiate their root, make our point, and draw the line." President Bush warned, "These weapons of math instruction have the potential to decimal everything in their math on a scalene never before seen unless we become exponents of a Higher Power and begin to factor-in random facts of vertex."

Attorney General Ashcroft said, "As our Great Leader would say, 'Read myellipse!'


Friday, November 25, 2005


In a previous post called "Size Matters" I remarked on a new type of spam in my in-box.

Penis enlargement patches, in three different strengths, guaranteed (oh yeah) to increase the size of your willy by up to 7 cm (in yer dreams). They came with an exercise manual (guffaw) and I mused on mini dumbbells and a plumb line with weight attached (ouch). I wondered where you put the patches .

Listen carefully, I think I've found the band of merry men who use these.

Jin Sheng is the Grand Master of this group of merry men who call their club Iron Crotch (I do not jest). It consists of approximately 60,000 members (Freudian slip) worldwide who practice the art of Qigong.

What is Qigong I hear you ask? It is the art of lifting hundreds of pounds with your genitals to increase energy and sexual performance. Really, I kid you not. For once I'm glad to be female.

Jin Sheng attached himself to a truck (yes, by his genitals) and pulled it across a car park.

If he keeps this up for much longer he'll be able to sling it over his shoulder and go to his next fancy dress party as a petrol pump, and win the prize.

Sorry guys, I'm going to make your eyes water now. Mine are watering already, but not for the same reason.

The Tri-Valley Herald reports that he first tied a strip of blue fabric around his penis and testicles and tugged to make sure it was on tight.

An assistant then kicked him hard between the legs before he lashed himself to the vehicle.

No sense no feeling then.

Incidentally you stick the patches anywhere on your body. Mr. Sheng probably sticks his on the hairiest most tender bit of his body (I'll leave you to work that one out) just so he can enjoy the pain when he rips it off.

I suppose it keeps them out of mischief.


Thursday, November 24, 2005


If I have another "countdown to Christmas" pop up ad on this computer again, I'm going to throw it out the bloody window!

It's snowing by the way. Alot.


Tuesday, November 22, 2005


I'm having far too much fun slagging off the Pope, and generally ranting (in a humorous way I hope) on this blog.

So, for those of you who are interested in my transition from land to sea, it will be chronicled in a separate blog which is linked on this page.

I will not be discussing the joys of beams, engines, draughts etc, because it's boring and the whole point is the change. I may throw in the odd technical term or two to show off though.

There is so much angst, joy, laughter, puzzlement, trepidation, frustration (I've run out of descriptions now) tied up in all this, I would like you to suffer with me. I suppose, eventually I will have to rename this blog "Life in the Shipping Lane".
If you are going to have a mid-life crisis, you might as well make it a good one. Eh Kim?

Is that OK?



Well Gary, I wonder if those moments of pleasure were worth it?

It's good to know that there is a country on this planet that deals wth this type of thing seriously.

He served 4 months through the British justice system.

Vietnam's prisons are notorious for their squalor. Attention to sanitation, hygiene and food is in line with the treatment meted out to the country's "dregs".

Prisoners' food allowance is just 12kg of rice or rice substitute a month each. This is often reduced to 9kg for minor infringements of prison rules or for showing disrespect. Prisoners are expected to repent their crimes frequently and in writing. Beatings with bamboo canes are common, as is the use of stocks and electric shock treatment.

Prisoners are also expected to do hard labour and even when they have finished their sentence they may not be released. Under Resolution 49 of the Standing Committee of the 2nd Congress in Hanoi, they can be kept indefinitely and no prisoner is released unless the local commune of authority is willing to let them back into society.

Glitter, who has yet to be charged, was seen on Sunday by British Embassy officials, who are assisting him in getting a lawyer.

Gary, I hope you get all the above, in spades.


Monday, November 21, 2005


MONDAY 21/11/2005 13:19:09
Glitter 'may face death by firing squad'Disgraced Seventies rock star Gary Glitter could face death by firing squad after he was accused of having sex with a girl aged just 12, police said today.


Saturday, November 19, 2005


I'm sure you remember, if you're a bit old like me, that strange person that used to dress up in silver platform knee high boots with matching jumpsuit, who went by the name of Garry Glitter?

I remember him as this seedy looking middle aged bloke who was always red faced, (indicating an alcohol problem?), dripping with sweat, (high blood pressure?), and in dire need of a decent hairdresser and a talented make-up artist, while he was strutting his stuff, and quite frankly not making a very good job of it. You must admit he did have the aura of a pervert and that's exactly what he turned out to be, the nasty little man.

He was arrested on child pornography charges, and let's face it with something like that if you are collecting images of it, you are sure as hell acting it out. He was also in a profession (and I use the term loosely, in his case) where he was ideally placed to bring his sick fantasy into reality.

Before I get to the point, which always takes me a while, I'm glad to say that after googling away here I could not come up with a photo, but I would have liked one of him to post in his finery, in his sweat laden frenzy on stage, just to show what a complete and utter twat he looked. Why glad? Because that sends him into oblivion, which is the best place for him, and anyone who uses his position in life, to the detriment of others should be made to feel totally unimportant, but not too much.

The police in Vietnam are looking for him, where , not to put too finer point on it, he is at it again.

Many years ago while back packing in the third world, I was confronted at breakfast, by a German man appearing with his, definitely not more than 10 years old, "boyfriend", whom he stroked and whispered endearments to. I never managed to finish my breakfast that morning and neither did he after I'd finished telling him what I thought of him and forcibly making him wear his fried eggs. If I could have gotten away with it he would have been wearing his balls for earrings for good measure.

So Mr. Glitter, has made his way to a poor country in a part of the world which is notorious down at the lower level of his part of the food chain as being an easy mark, if you have the money, to take advantage of the poverty and need, where desperation will outweigh fear and morality. Another example is a famous science fiction writer living in a far away place, whose "boy" lies under his desk like a dog waiting to please.

When people like this are convicted, they should be stripped of their financial assets, in order to stop them leaving the country and inflicting their perversion on even more vulnerable children. They should spend longer in prison, and be kept in solitary, preferably until they are too old and decrepit to have the strength to perform any sort of sexual act, or given the appropriate medication. A frontal lobotomy would do it, and would be a damn sight cheaper.

On second thoughts I mentioned oblivion previously, so put him in a silver glitter space suit, along with Jonathan King. Book the space shuttle, (make the Vatican pay for it, as part of their penance) and blast them into outer space and once up there shove them out the airlock.

They always wanted to be stars didn't they? I wonder if Gary was ever a priest?



Sunday, November 13, 2005

EVERY CLOUD.....................

..................... has a silver lining, and I have just found mine.

After months of being out of work, watching hard earned savings dwindling to nothing, just to keep our heads above water, we have come to the point where being property rich and cash poor, the house has gone on the market this week. The wolves are at the door, howling for money we just don't have. I have cried many tears of frustration, desperation and complete and utter sadness at finding myself in this awful position, but at the same time, because of, at times, a debilitating clinical depression, unable to make a positive move. Like a rabbit frozen by fear in the headlights of life. - not the me I used to be.

Problems with aged parents, whom I love to distraction, divided loyalties, guilt by the truckload, and trying to balance the whole lot and trying to appear "normal" outside of my immediate environment.

Well, that's the self-indulgent bit over with. Did I hear a sigh of relief out there? I'd better get to this silver lining before you all die of boredom.

Have you ever had something in the back of your mind, that niggles and wriggles for years on end. It is a thought of "I'd love to do that" and really you think you never will, because it's a huge life change and "other" people do things like that, and you carry on with the drudge of every day life, going to work, paying the mortgage etc. etc. and view "those who dare" with a sigh of envy.

The silver lining has appeared in the form of a 68 feet larch on oak fishing vessel converted to live aboard, complete with a rayburn cooker in the galley and full size bath in one of the bathrooms.

Him Indoors and I have been feverishly reseaching all things maritime, from moorings to courses on navigation.

Instead of paying rent on a house and putting money in the pocket of someone else, this boat will be bought for cash and will be our home. A total life change that has it's pitfalls (I'm not going into this with rose tinted glasses), but it will never be the life again of a hamster in a wheel with the government waiting in the wings to take as much of away from you as it can.

I am going to enjoy my life, earn money from the experience and have a freedom that is known to few people. All it takes is the guts and the determination to make a leap, and I have not felt so brave and determined for a long long time.

I feel another blogsite coming on.

Kats :0)

Saturday, November 12, 2005


Glasgow made an audacious bid to host the 2012 Summer Olympics.

In an attempt to influence the members of the International Olympic Committee on their choice of venue for the games in the year 2012, the organisers of the Glasgow bid have already drawn up an itinerary and schedule of events. A copy has been leaked and is reproduced below:

Opening Ceremony
The Olympic Flame will be ignited by a petrol bomb, thrown by a native of the city (preferably from the Easterhouse area), wearing the traditional costume of shell-suit, baseball cap and balaclava mask. It will burn for the duration of the Games in a large chip van situated on the roof of the stadium.

The Events
In previous Olympic Games, Scotland's competitors have not been particularly successful. In order to redress the balance, some of the events have been altered slightly to the advantage of the local Glaswegian athletes.

100 Metres Sprint: Competitors will have to hold a video recorder and microwave oven, one in each arm. On the sound of the starting pistol a police dog will be released from a cage 10 yards behind the athletes.

110 Metres Hurdles: As above but with added obstacles (ie. car bonnets, hedges, gardens, fences, walls, etc).

Hammer: Competitors in this event may choose the type of hammer they wish (claw, sledge etc). The winner will be the one who can cause the most grievous bodily harm to members of the public within the time allowed.

Fencing: Entrants will be asked to dispose of as much stolen silver and jewellery as possible in 5 minutes.

Shooting: A strong challenge is expected from the local team in this event. The first target will be the moving police van. In the second round competitors will aim at a post office clerk, bank teller or Securicor style wages deliveryman.

Boxing: Entry to the boxing will be restricted to husband and wife teams and will take place on a Friday night. The husband will be given 15 pints of Tennants whilst the wife will be told not to make him any tea when he gets home. The bout will then commence.

Cycling Time Trials: Competitors will be asked to break into the university bike shed and take an expensive mountain bike owned by some mummy's boy from England on his first trip away from home. All against the clock.

Cycling Pursuit: As above but the bike will be owned by a visiting member of the Australian rugby team, who will witness the theft.

Modern Pentathlon: Amended to include mugging, breaking and entering, flashing, joyriding and arson.

The Marathon: A safe route has yet to be decided, but the competitors will be issued with sharp sticks and bags with which to pick up litter on their way round the course.

Swimming: Competitors will be thrown off the bridge on the Clyde. The first three survivors back will decide the medals.

Men's 50km Walk: Unfortunately, this will have to be cancelled as the police cannot guarantee the safety of anyone walking the streets of Glasgow.

The Closing Ceremony Entertainment will include formation rave dancing by members of the Glasgow "Health in the Community" anti-drug campaigners, synchronised rock throwing and music by the Govan Loyalist Boys Band.

The Olympic Flame will be extinguished by someone dropping an old washing machine onto it from the top floor of the block of flats next to the stadium. The stadium will then be boarded up before the local athletes can break into it and remove all the copper piping and the central heating boiler.

Henceforth Saturday is joke day on this blog, enjoy your week-end.


Thursday, November 10, 2005


Well, knock me down with a feather, I'm going to stick up for the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Those who know me are well aware of my adverse reaction to religion, my atheism and general antagonism towards "faith" and it's many guises, and no, I don't celebrate Christmas. Bah bloody humbug!

Maybe I should qualify. If someone is bound by their religion, more power to them, but leave me out of it, and don't hurt anyone as a result of it. Simple enough. Live and let live and each to his own. The same goes for race as well.

The Archbishop of Canterbury is pissed off, and rightly so. He speaks about the "nonsense" of banning Christian symbols at Christmas so as not to cause offence to other religions in our society. A nonsense is exactly what it is.

In recent years Christmas trees and lights have been banned from Job Centres and Charity shops so as not to give offence. Lambeth Borough Council, this year renamed its lights "winter lights" and "celebrity lights"but backed down after wide criticism . I should bloody well think so too.

Dr Williams said: I don't worry that our heritage is being sacrificed. I do worry at the ill-instructed way in which some people assume that the language of one religious tradition is automatically offensive to another.

We've had a Jihad on Burger King over swirly icecream symbols on lids for containers, a Fatwa on a certain author because he dared to write something he believed, and now the Christians in this country are being intimidated into "toning down" their presence at an important time in their religious calendar. Where is the common sense, justice and tolerance in that?

What does a fir tree and a few coloured lights have to do with Christianity anyway? Father Christmas has got bugger all to do with Jesus either!

Get a life and get on with it, quietly please.


Monday, November 07, 2005


From Private Eye.

Kats :0)

Sunday, November 06, 2005


An Italian mother, Eurosia Fabris, who died in 1932, and who raised 11 children, 9 of them her own is one step away from sainthood.

This is a move by the Pope to encourage the raising of large families. Are they so far out of touch in the Pratican that poverty and aids don't matter, just the swelling of the flock at any cost?

While saintly patience could come in handy for motherhood, Fabris was singled out by Vatican Radio as being a ``dazzling model of holiness lived out in daily family life.''
``She knew how to transform her very large family into a school of holiness,'' Vatican Radio said on the eve of the ceremony.

I bet Mrs. Fabris praised the Lord while she lay sweating and heaving out the ninth one, wishing she'd kept her legs closed, while the other ten needed their washing done and dinner cooked and demanded attention. Not to mention her husband waiting for his next unprotected bit of attention.



Randell Mills of Harvard University claims to have built a prototype power source of near limitless power, that costs virtually nothing, uses tiny amounts of water as it's fuel, and produces next to no waste.

He claims millions of dollars in investment, and is just months away from unveiling his creation.

It's existence has been verified by independent scientists, but there is a slight problem. Apparently it goes against the theory of quantum mechanics and has several scientists up in arms protesting that what he claims to have achieved is impossible.

Why - because they didn't think of it first?

The scientific community needs to get rid of it's petty jealousies and very large ego and develop a more open minded culture towards new and innovative science.

I for one hope Mr. Randell is kosher. Who cares if the rules of quantum mechanics are being questioned, and some egg-head who is so far up his own backside with self-importance is proved wrong.

This has a huge potential for the good of the planet, and that is all that matters in the long run.



"The accident happened because I had one eye on the lorry in front, one eye on the pedestrian and the other on the car behind."

"I started to slow down but the traffic was more stationary than I thought."

"I pulled into a lay-by with smoke coming from under the hood. I realised the car was on fire so took my dog and smothered it with a blanket

."Q: Could either driver have done anything to avoid the accident? A: Travelled by bus?

The claimant had collided with a cow. The questions and answers on the claim form were - Q: What warning was given by you? A: Horn. Q: What warning was given by the other party? A: Moo.

"I started to turn and it was at this point I noticed a camel and an elephant tethered at the verge. This distraction caused me to lose concentration and hit a bollard."

"On approach to the traffic lights the car in front suddenly broke.""I was going at about 70 or 80 mph when my girlfriend on the pillion reached over and grabbed my testicles so I lost control."

"I didn't think the speed limit applied after midnight"

"I knew the dog was possessive about the car but I would not have asked her to drive it if I had thought there was any risk.

"Q: Do you engage in motorcycling, hunting or any other pastimes of a hazardous nature? A: "I Watch the Lottery Show and listen to Terry Wogan."

"First car stopped suddenly, second car hit first car and a haggis ran into the rear of second car."

"Windscreen broken. Cause unknown. Probably Voodoo."

"The car in front hit the pedestrian but he got up so I hit him again"

"I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment."

"The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intention."

"I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way"

"A truck backed through my windshield into my wife's face"

"A pedestrian hit me and went under my car"

"In an attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole."

"I had been shopping for plants all day and was on my way home. As I reached an intersection a hedge sprang up obscuring my vision and I did not see the other car."

"I was on my way to the doctor with rear end trouble when my universal joint gave way causing me to have an accident."

"An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my car and vanished."

"I was thrown from the car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows."

"Coming home I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don't have."

"I thought my window was down, but I found it was up when I put my head through it."

"The guy was all over the road. I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him."

"I had been driving for forty years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident."

"As I approached an intersection a sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before."

"To avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front I struck a pedestrian."

"My car was legally parked as it backed into another vehicle."

"I told the police that I was not injured, but on removing my hat found that I had a fractured skull."

"I was sure the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the road when I struck him."

"The pedestrian had no idea which way to run as I ran over him."

"I saw a slow moving, sad faced old gentleman as he bounced off the roof of my car."

"The indirect cause of the accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth."

"The telephone pole was approaching. I was attempting to swerve out of the way when I struck the front end."

"The gentleman behind me struck me on the backside. He then went to rest in a bush with just his rear end showing. "

"I had been learning to drive with power steering. I turned the wheel to what I thought was enough and found myself in a different direction going the opposite way."

"I was backing my car out of the driveway in the usual manner, when it was struck by the other car in the same place it had been struck several times before."

"When I saw I could not avoid a collision I stepped on the gas and crashed into the other car."

"The accident happened when the right front door of a car came round the corner without giving a signal."

"No one was to blame for the accident but it would never have happened if the other driver had been alert."

"I was unable to stop in time and my car crashed into the other vehicle. The driver and passengers then left immediately for a vacation with injuries."

"The pedestrian ran for the pavement, but I got him."

"I saw her look at me twice. She appeared to be making slow progress when we met on impact."

"The accident occurred when I was attempting to bring my car out of a skid by steering it into the other vehicle."

"My car got hit by a submarine." (The Navy informed the wife of a submariner that the craft was due in port. She drove to the base to meet her husband and parked at the end of the slip where the sub was to berth. An inexperienced ensign was conning the sub and it rammed the end of the slip, breaking a section away, causing her car to fall into the water. The Navy paid the compensation claim.


Friday, November 04, 2005


Eight years ago I had a phone call from "him indoors", whilst I was away visiting family.

A friend of ours who rescues birds of prey and has dealings with the RSPCA had contacted "him" and asked if we could give a dog a home which happened to be a young St. Bernard.

So the result of the phone call was Bruno pictured above, in his favourite environment and the colder, the better as far as he is concerned.

His nickname, given by Him Indoors, is the "Dozy Bastard"

He had been kept in a very small back yard by the family who had apparently paid £800 for him, but could no longer afford to feed him. He was too weak to get into the back of the car and had to be lifted in - a hoist would have done a quicker and easier job of it.

So, I returned home to find an animal the size of a small shetland pony in my kitchen.

When dogs are upset or nervous they drool. St. Bernards drool anyway, so the sticky strings of saliva took on a life of their own, and seemed to multiply, and lengthen at will. When it all got too much for him there would be a shake of his massive head accompanied by the sound of jowls flapping like a flock of birds taking flight, and up the walls the saliva would go, and God help you if you happened to be within spitting distance. Bruno's saliva has the consistency of wall paper paste and dries like concrete. I am now doomed to a life, I thought, of chipping someone else's spit off the walls.

So began his road to recovery, which consisted of cod liver oil, vitamin powder and forced frog marching up hill and down dale, plus lashings of love and affection. He had never seen grass, running water, or trees and for a while, was totally bemused by these alien things, and sometimes still is.

One day a requiem sung by monks came on the radio, his ears perked up and away he went, howling and singing in a mournful fashion. St.Bernards were bred by monks for mountain rescue. This is the only type of music that has any effect on him -weird.

He was inspected by the Vet and we were advised that the kindest thing to do was keep him outside. I sighed with relief and put my wall chisel away. Bruno took up residence in the garden shed. We fenced off the back garden, and he has about a quarter of an acre to himself. If it snows or there is a hard frost he sleeps out in it by choice. Birds go in to roost with him in the winter and share his food. He lies head on paws gazing at chaffinches perched on the edge of his food bowl. He now shares his shed with a hedgehog which steals his food in the evening, literally from under his nose while he lies less than a foot away and watches it.

One night, in the forest he walked, nose to ground, as they do, and smacked forehead first into a tree with a loud clunk. He just stayed there, head pressed against the bark and waited for rescue.

He is terrified of thunder and gets over the fence and runs away. We live in the middle of nowhere with very few neighbours and he never goes far and is well known for his cowardice and odd behavior. Last time we had a phone call to say that he had been staring at a satellite dish on the ground for 10 minutes. The lady that phoned was hysterical with laughter.

One day he waded into a Loch and sank to his knees in mud. When called he just stood there and cried like a baby, because he didn't understand that he wasn't stuck. It took a great deal of arm waving and shouted encouragement to get him to walk out again.

If a branch is in the road he will stop, and refuse point blank to walk round it. His head will go down, all the skin on his face moves forward and produces a wrinkled frown of frustration and perplexity.

He's nearly 10 now which is a great age for his breed, 8 years is about the average. His back legs are weak ( a result of his early malnutrition) and he just plods along these days, and we don't think he will see the new year.

He fainted in the middle of the single track road that runs past the house. He is so huge and heavy (yes, he grew some more) all Him Indoors could do was stand guard and hope that he wouldn't be forced to direct traffic around him till he regained consciousness.

We are hoping that if he dies, he will keel over in the forest, so that we can just dig a hole and roll him into it.
I will miss him though, the big, dozy bastard.


Tuesday, November 01, 2005


This is the new 68pence Christmas stamp launched by the Post Office.

The first picture is Ganesh.

The stamp is a Hindu Artists version of the Madonna and Child.

The markings on the foreheads of the two adults in the painting represent a married Hindu woman and a Vaishnava Hindu.

I think it's a beautiful representation, but no, the Hindu Forum of Britain say it is disrespectful and insensitive to their needs.

I repeat, it was done by a Hindu Artist and hangs in a gallery in Mumbai. Perhaps the Hindu Forum should be approachiing the Artist instead.

But no, people have to jump up and down about the slightest thing and claim offence and disrespect as a way to be heard, like fractious children trying to get attention. It is just so boring and tedious.

We live in a multi-cultural society and this stamp is a good representation of a section of that society whilst celebrating the Christmas season.

At least the Post Office is standing it's ground and refusing to withdraw it.

Forum Spokesman Ramesh Kallidai said "It is only when images are used in a disrespectful and inappropriate way resulting in offence and hurt that we become concerned".

"This list is endless and Hindu images have been used on toilet seats, tissue paper. bikinis, shoes and other goods".

Blimey, who would want Ganesh superimposed onto the toilet seat?



That's right, Bums. The modern world seems to have a fixation about bums and their connecting anatomy - bowels.

Once upon a time your bum, well, was just your bum. You used it for the purpose for which it was intended, kept it clean and forgot about it. Except of course the worry about the size of it. But I'm not discussing the aesthetics of my bum or yours.

Now it's targeted by the marketing gurus as fair game for getting you to part with your money. How low will they go (ha ha).

Toilet paper has become an art form. It's longer, thicker, softer - bears in the woods use it, Labrador puppies represent it, though I fail to see what a Labrador puppy has got to do with my bum or anyone Else's for that matter. Who in their right mind would train their Labrador puppy to unravel the toilet roll and wrap it round the furniture. Not the person who does the cleaning up, I can tell you.

Some is even reputed to contain a balm for your bum. If you are in the habit of having rather hot curries every night and suffering accordingly on a regular basis, I can perhaps see the need. Whats wrong with the shower though, and some proper ointment?

It comes in a variety of colours and designs - why, and what is the point, when it's chucked down the toilet after use.

Children now have their own toilet paper and expect a cartoon character to appear and applaud their genius when they manage to wipe their bum.

Then we come to the attached apparatus known as bowels, and in particular the obsession with the bacteria in our bowels. We have been convinced it needs topping up, unless we want to suffer dire consequences.

If we do drink the drink containing the bugs or eat the yogurt which contains some other strangely named little beasties, we'll have the uncontrollable urge to leap about, jump up in the air at every available opportunity and generally make fools of ourselves in public, and yes, pay for the experience.

People actually part with money to have a pipe shoved up their bum and have their innards washed out. I am amazed - why - because once many years ago I had to have a soap and water enema in hospital - same principle, and it is humiliating, painful, and no it certainly did not make me feel better, and someone who pays for that needs to seek help about their obsessive masochistic tendencies.

I hate the person who discovered that colonic irrigation was a way to make money, I wish I had thought of it, but while attached to that rubber pipe it would never have occurred to me in my wildest dreams.

Then we are hounded by William Shatner challenging us to feel better after eating a cereal good for our bowels. Some people just can't retire gracefully after trying to act, and not succeeding, and even bigger fools pay them.

Oh, I just can't be assed with all this crap.