Where's Fuckkit?

No one seems to have heard from Fuckkit for a while. Where is she?

Here are my theories.

1. She’s fallen in love with somewhere.

2. She’s fallen in love with someone.

3. She’s fallen in love with a group of people.

4. She’s fallen in a hole.

5. She’s fallen in a hole and been eaten by ants.

6. She’s been eaten by wild dingoes.

7. She’s been eaten by a gang of marauding lesbian bikers.

8. She’s joined a gang of marauding lesbian bikers.

9. She’s joined a monastery.

10. She’s joined the mafia.

11. She’s discovered joined up writing and no longer uses a key board.

12. She’s had one too many.

13. She’s had one too many left ear piercing and is going around in circles.

14. IDV has cast a spell on her.

All other suggestions and theories welcome.

Captain Mainwaring - Hero.

Frankly, ‘the furnace’ gives me the ‘willies’. It’s huge, hot, hostile and labyrinthine. The floor is carpeted with sharp steel scale flakes, the walls covered in protruding fasteners that ‘catch’ equipment and clothing. If locked in, you could scream, bang and shout as much as you liked, no one would ever hear you.

Captain Mainwaring knows that many thousands of pounds of lost production could be saved if someone heroic were to crawl in the furnace and do a gas burning job now, instead of waiting for it to cool down.

He’s a man who looks after his ‘boyos’ and knows it would be unreasonable to ask one of us.

At these temperatures, one can only kneel on the floor or lean against a wall for a few seconds before the heat becomes too painful. Even the souls of ones boots are eventually penetrated causing the wearer to dance.

He hands me his radio and mobile phone. I hand him my cigarette lighter and the gas torch.

Soon he’s crawled underneath a roll and out of sight, as I feed in the flexible gas hoses.

The torch pops and I see the yellow flicker of reflected light against the wall.

I hear the cutting torch change to a roar, then 'focus' to sharp hiss.

The Captain curses, “Fucking cunting thing!”

“Are you OK?” I shout.

I’m straining to catch his response above the back ground noise.

“Yes…….One of the bastard control knob has just fallen off the burning torch.”

I genuinely empathise with his frustration whilst simultaneously stifling a snigger.

Lippy's Given Me an Idea!

This post continues on from the previous one in which a Russian man grows a penis on his arm.

Lippy commented,

"What is it with bloggers and genetailia - frobes has horrid fannies and you've got random dick growing.....I don't think you can grow your self a spare just in case the original fails at some future date!"

Lippy's given me an idea......

Surgical Genital Insurance.

Man Grows Penis on Arm

Photo: ananova.com, image of a similar operation held several years ago

---

Russian Man Grows Penis on Arm

Created: 22.03.2005 12:01 MSK (GMT +3), Updated: 17:13 MSK

Russian doctors have conducted an 11-hour operation to replace a patient’s deformed penis with one grown on his forearm, the Moskovskiy Komsomolets daily reports.

The 30-year-old Russian man, whose name was changed in the article to protect his privacy, had a defect from birth — his penis was crooked, two-and-a-half-inches long and lacked a scrotum, the newspaper writes.

The doctors had the penis removed and attached to the man’s arm. Using his body tissue it grew to six-and-a-half inches and was sewn back on to his groin. Silicone tubes were inserted into the organ to ensure an erection was possible. Doctors also created a scrotum from the patient’s own skin and placed silicone testicles in it.

A Moscow surgeon said the man will be able to have sex in a few months. He added: “Women will never suspect it is artificial.”

Just think of the possibilities.

Fancy Dress

It's a shame that the Catholic church allowed it's self to be known as a haven for gay paedophilia. Covering up is only a short term solution and should never be a long term policy. What worries me, is that since the last round of revelations, no one has been outed and sacked. This suggests to me, it's back to business as usual.

Neighbours Key

My neighbour calls me on my house phone.

Neighbour- “You’ve left your mobile phone in my house. You’ve got a key so you can let yourself in to get it.”

Tickersoid- “Er..actually….I think I recycled your key.”

Neighbour- “What do you mean recycled?”

Tickersoid- “Well you know how my key hook is above my recycle bin….”

Neighbour- “You’re crap!”

Tickersoid- “Yeah, I know.”

Where's Tickers?

Amongst other things, I've been here. 50ft below my patio, in my cramped, dark, damp workshop.

Making one of these.........

With the help of some of these and some new bearings.....

....Into one of these.
I now feel very butch.
Gonna catch a few beers and watch the game.

Cookies Shaped Like Arses.

Ja Ja

I’m helping Little Miss with her homework.

Tickersoid, “Question 6, Was Schule hat Deutschland?”

Little Miss, “Das Schulsystem in Deutschland ist beruht auf Kenntnis. Deutschland hat vier Schulen: das Gymnasium (für die sehr intelligenten), die Hauptschule (für durchschnittliche Schüler), die Realschule (für unterdurchschnittliche Schüler) und die Gesamtschule (die selten sind).

Tickersoid, “I think you should read your answers in a really gay German accent, like that paedo’ from Royston Vasey”

Little Miss, “You mean Her Lip from ‘The League of Gentlemen’?”

Tickersoid, “Ja, that’s him.”

Little Miss, “Why?”

Tickersoid, “Because it would add a comedic element, to what would otherwise be, a mundane exercise.”

Little Miss, “Shut up dad.”

We continue for a few more questions then she does the accent.

Tickersoid, “There, you see what you can achieve when you apply yourself.”

Golden Rule.

I have a golden rule. Never use the Internet if you're drunk. I ought to have a breathalyser fitted to my PC so that if pissed, I wont find in the morning, I'm the highest bidder on a 10 ft high model of Everest made out of ear wax.
Unfortunately, I'm always too pissed to obey the rule.
So here is the latest gossip.
Tonight whilst supping some in 'Gay Corner' I noticed Joe. She was with a guy I didn't recognise. It certainly wasn't with her regular guy Dia. I wondered if he was, perhaps a brother or colleague or something equally innocuous. I notice him toy with her long blond hair. She takes his hand away.
Come to think of it, for some time I've noticed Dia around, with out her.
So maybe she's found herself a new man.

Or just maybe...........the guy is her husband.

Data Protection

Customer Support, "Virgin Mobile, how may I help you?"

Tickersoid, "You've sent me a letter advising that my account is overdue by £112.48 because you've been unable to collect on my direct debit."

Customer Support, "Do you have an account number?"

Tickersoid, "Apparently so, It's 5------8."

Customer Support, "...and your secret password?"

Tickersoid, "Ah now, this is the thing, my mobile phone is with 'Orange', my TV is with 'Sky' and my internet connection is with 'NTL'. As far as I'm aware, I don't have, not have I ever had, any contract with you. I have no idea what this is about, that's why I'm ringing."

Customer Support, "I'm sorry sir, but without the password, I'm unable to discuss this with you."