Monkeys Fist

Guaranteed the lad had his tongue sticking out as he was drawing it.

Since it’s been Christmas for the last two months, time to roll out a festive classic… David Bowie bumps in to Bing Crosby in heaven, and suggests they sing Little Drummer Boy for the angels and shit. Bing says ” I’d love to David, but I’m having trouble with my inflatable arsehole I had fitted just before I died” Bowie says ” No worries Bing I’ve got just the thing!” BC - “ A rubber bum pump?” DB - “ A rubber bum pump!” Both- “ A rubber bum pump”. Thank you and get fucked.

Main course, or main course and dessert?

Agreed. In my Dad’s particular case, he was gone, as a cognitive , aware person, just his body was fighting like fuck to stay alive. At that stage, there should be the option to end it kindly and quickly. When you’re looking at degenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s or Lewy Bodies Disease, where the mental capacity of the declines over time, then I can see that a more stringent set of checks and guidelines would be needed to avoid cases of abuse- you’ve just got to look at the family of that Capt.Tom to see how venal people can be with dead and dying relative’s money. None of which should stop the option being there for people who’ve just had enough pain, loss of dignity etc.

Jill Scott reminds me of Napoleon Dynamite.

She could be reading out an omelette recipe in Serbo-Croat, I’d still “watch”.

Alex Scott ticks all my boxes.

This is how it begins. I will not stand by while sossige apartheid rears its ugly head. I’m Cumberland and proud.

Keep things even?

I nominate you. He who rhymed it, crimed it.

Actual, paper tickets only too- digital cards don’t work because THE BOGTROTTER PUT A VIRUS in the pcs.

Great bacon kiosk though.

HRND VPR!

Monday night is Only Connect night chez Fist. Mrs. F. thinks I watch it because I’m an erudite, witty chap with a flair for lateral thinking. She’s right, but there’s two reasons I enjoy it. …

Spot The Conehead. If you win you get a 6 gallon voucher for the Lamb Bhuna kiosk in the Tony Blair stand.

It’s the one with all the seats… fockin noob! Get the metro to Saint Jamie’s, walk past the Raspberry pub, then listen for Adam P and The Spaniel , can’t go wrong.

Centurion walks in to a bar and says… “ Five beers please!”

If we’re going to have utter match thread confusion, we need to post a bit more in here, then alternate between here and Zathras’ reboot. Step up gents, step up. 5-0 Derek Wright.

Of course, it’s 5 minutes and 43 seconds until Judge Wapner … Wapner, five forty three.

Much like our erstwhile football team, we here at TT Towers are having a personnel crisis. Andrew is now essentially nocturnal, he only comes out with his fellow hobbits to talk about second-breakfast and potatoes. Tom has been churning out some very niche grumble movies in Holland, involving Grannies, Guinea Pigs, and Granola. He’s been pretending to be on tour with “his band”, but WE’VE ALL SEEN THE VIDEOS TOM! ( well… I have). Meenzer, as evidenced by his response above, has fully embraced nihilism, chaos, and curtain twitching since moving to the ‘burbs. If you can drag him away from the Residents Group on Facebook where he’s conducting a campaign against THAT BITCH from no. 42 and her incontinent Pomeranian, you’re doing well. Rayvin now lives in a cave in the Outer Hebrides, burning wicker figurines of Starmer and apologising to passing sheep. If it wasn’t for my technological genius and wizardry keeping this place in its feet, we’d be Parsnipping every other post. 5-0. Double hatrick from Cabaye and Tiote.

“ The Northern Research Group?” “ So, The North… anyone been?” ” No, too grim” ” Sherry?” ” Raaather!”

Shirley Anne Field. Not shy, in her day. Oh aye, RIP.