Poisson d’avril

Stuck for a really evil practical joke to play tomorrow on April Fool’s Day? Well, may I suggest that if you happen to be a keen pisciculturist with a tank full of those bloodthirsty piranha fish (admittedly only a small percentage of our readership, but important to us nonetheless) that you test out what I reckon should be a great wheeze.

Simply wait till your fishes’ breakfast time, and then tip in a packet of vegetarian Quorn nuggets. Then stand back and chortle as they realise–there’s no meat in it!

Retrieving the Quorn may be a hazardous (and possibly not really worthwhile) process. I’d use a long-handled ladle to scoop them out rather than risk dipping my hand in, but it’s up to you of course. It’s at this point that I disclaim all responsibility and remind you that parts of this blog are for entertainment purposes only.

Er…was that splashing I just heard?

Shana back at dentist’s: Tooth Fairy in a panic

Shana had a couple more teeth out this week. At this rate she’ll have none left! If you hanker after the grisly details of Shana’s toothsome tribulations, just search for ‘teeth’ in the box at the top of the page. Read the posts, do the math, take away the number you first thought of, and you may well arrive at the same conclusion as I: Shana must (there’s no other explanation for it) have started out with about a hundred teeth; either that, or some of those trips to the dentist were just to cadge a free read of last month’s OK magazine. Who knows?

Owing to Shana’s persistence re matters dental, the Tooth Fairy had to go into administration. At one point, the outlook was so bleak that the Fairy had to borrow a fiver off the good folks at Rangers footie club, which in turn led to the disastrous cashflow shortfalls at the Ibrox. There was talk of ToothFairy Ltd having to be nationalised, like the Royal Bank of Scotland. If that had happened, maybe the Tooth Fairy would, like the bank, now be on the brink of being sold off to the Arabs. In the event, it never did happen; maybe after all, the Tooth Fairy is more like the rest of Britain’s High Street banks: ‘too big to fail’.

Shana is now planning to have a haircut. Wouldn’t it be good if there were a Hair Fairy who paid out every time the barber lopped off some of your tresses? With financial incentives like that, though, we’d both look like Skinhead O’Connor. The money wouldn’t have lasted five minutes either: thick woolly hats for the pair of us, naturally, and, of course, a bouffant wig for special occasions. Well, you have to keep up with the fashions, don’t you?

Carpentry: Carpexit

I’m useless at woodwork. Can’t even bang a nail in straight.

So I’ve decided: from now on, I’m not even going to try doing any joinery. I have finally given up carpentry for good. In fact you could say I’ve…

thrown in the dowel!

(OK, permission to groan is now granted.)

Hair

‘This new hair colourant is fantastic!’ enthused Shana. ‘On the box it says “Covers all grey” and that’s exactly what it does.’

Not that Shana has much grey, of course. But what she had, the new miracle colourant had indeed covered. But my brain cells (note to self: change that there plural to singular at the editing stage) were already whirring.

‘Covers all grey, does it?’ I said. ‘In that case, would it work just as well if you washed your hair in Earl Grey? We have half a box left in the kitchen.’

The silence was deafening (and other clichés).

‘Even if it didn’t work,’ I said, perking up somewhat with my second inadvisable brainwave of the day, ‘at least you’d smell lovely of bergamot.’

A dog barked in the distance and a chill ran down my spine; either Shana was having none of it, or I had momentarily fallen into a parallel universe and dredged up a snippet from AC/DC’s Night Prowler. It happens.

‘Well, it’s better than PG Tips Extra Strong,’ I quipped.

Next week: I open a beauty salon and start a second part-time job writing a local newspaper column on hair-care and fashion tips. Could be the start of a whole new career path for me.

Sacrebleu–it’s les Borgs!

“There’s only one thing worse than being assimilated by the Borg,” I said, entering from the kitchen with a cup of tea strong enough to annihilate, never mind assimilate, virtually any race in the known Universe. I plonked it down next to the computer and handed Shana her low-calorie treacle sandwich.

“Oh yes. And what might that be?” Shana said, mistyping something undoubtedly important, but unable to turn down the chance to discover the details of my new insight into the Star Trek mythos.

“What’s worse than being assimilated by the Borg,” I resumed, “is being assimilated by the French Borg,” at which poing I launched into an impromptu impression of how I thought a French Borg might sound. “Hahahaha,” I began, menacingly, and continued with a forceful and ever rising inflection, “Résistance–c’est futile!”

That was the clincher: the triumphant ‘fu-teel’ at the end. That and my thumbnail sketch of the French Borg: a namby-pamby, somewhat effete version of the original Borg, possibly calling themselves les bouffants. They still use those big cumbersome spaceships that look like nothing so much as a Smeg fridge on acid; but the French Borg ships have lots of unnecessary lace trim and lots of pink fripperies, including probably the odd rococo-style ormolu clock festooned with decorative gilding and worth about five hundred quid on any edition of Flog It within the last ten years.

Chances of being assimilated by the French Borg? Très unlikely, mes amis. But trying not to double up in laughter at their appearance? Well, that would indeed be futile, n’est ce pas?

How to solve the Greek debt problem (or How not to make a drachma out of a crisis)

Far be it from me to take the P.I.55 out of a sovereign nation but, well let’s be honest: it’s all gone a bit Pete Tong for Greece lately, hasn’t it? But don’t panic, Mister Mainwaring Papathanassiou, because I have a few simple solutions in mind.

  1. Get some builders round and do up some of those decrepit old buildings on the Acropolis. Once the Parthenon has been restored (and has had another ten storeys added on) it can be opened as a holiday hotel. Instant money-spinner!
  2. Alternatively, leave those derelict eyesores exactly as they are and get on the blower to the Disney Corporation instead. What you have there is a theme park with real stone and marble structures and not just papier mache mock-ups. Tourists love theme parks and more importantly they love spending loads of wonga!
  3. If you prefer a more legalistic approach, then why not get European and international patent, copyright and trademark laws working for you. Think about it: this year is Olympic year. But who invented the idea of the Games? And what about the marathon, which is (need I remind you) named after the scene of a glorious Greek battle against the Persians. If host nations, competitors and all those filthy-rich sponsors were forced to pay Greece a fee every time the marathon–or any other Olympic event–is even so much as mentioned, let alone actually staged, you would soon be falling over yourself trying to count the resulting revenue. Intellectual property rights are where it’s at, man; get with the programme.

Of course, you could just roll over and blithely accept what the rest of the Eurozone countries politely call a bailout. Mind you, thinking of the colossal size of those old Greek triremes, I reckon the bailing-out process might take quite a while.

More ouzo, anyone?