Cadburys changed their chocolate Roses. Did you know that?
"They've changed chocolate Roses!" the Baron announced to me yesterday.
"What?" I cried.
"They've gotten rid of the twist wrappers!" she went on.
"What? They're great!"
"I know!"
"They're what make them fancy!"
"Yes!" declaimed the Baron, before going on. "And they've discontinued some flavours, and are introducing two new flavours: vanilla nougat, and raspberry white chocolate."
"How could they?" I shouted. By this point, we had almost declared a new Inquisition against this heresy. We were both very shocked.
As a matter of fact, that evening, we saw a box of the new Roses in the supermarket. We both wrinkled our noses: "ew!" We were so disgusted that we bought the box there and then, to examine our disgust at leisure at home.
"Oh no!" cried the Baron when we opened the box. "They've even changed the shape of this one!"
"It was a nice shape!" I cried passionately.
"It was like a little Shih Tzu!"
"It's disgraceful", I harrumphed, popping a chocolate into my mouth.
"Shocking!" muttered the Baron, popping two in hers.
"Mmmmmf ghfjhfhgjfkjfd fgggfjgj!" I said, my mouth full of the offending chocolates.
The Baron didn't say anything at this point: she was too busy swimming down a river of chocolate out our front door.
At this point, I tried the new Vanilla Nougat one. It wasn't very nice. It was covered in chocolate, which I will always have time for. But the middle was meh.
As we finished off the packet the following evening, I reflected on time and change and the decay of all good things as I munched through the second last chocolate.
"Something something something time and change and the decay of something something something" I said. "And also, munch."
"Agreed," agreed the Baron. We both felt very justified in our disgust.
I mean, it was a pleasant disgust, because it involved eating a lot of chocolate. But still. Something in the universe had changed, and not for the better.
Incidentally, if you bring a box of Roses round to our place, don't eat the two caramel ones. They are definitely the worst. Leave them to me, and I will safely dispose of them while you are out of the room.
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
Friday, September 14, 2018
A preposition deposition
Well wouldn't you know, I was absolutely beside myself. Which was awkward, because it was a rather cliched position to put myself in. So I decided to be inside myself instead. After being inside myself for a while it was getting rather tight and I needed fresh air, so I decided to be before myself instead. It was great! Because that meant I was getting ahead of myself, though I also had to run to keep up with myself, which put me between myself and myself and it was getting rather like I was being inside myself again. So I put myself down, which meant I sat upon myself. Just as I felt like I was getting on top of myself, who should I walk into but myself? Just standing around on a street corner, being with himself (who was me). And because I ran into myself I was all of a sudden inside myself again, and it seemed like I was back to square one! Fortunately, I caught myself in time, which experience took me right out of myself, and I was overjoyed, I was excited, let me tell you, I was absolutely beside myself!
Monday, September 10, 2018
Thoughts of a lap for hire
How come the cat never lets me sit on her lap?
How many fur balls do cats make in their life? Is it related to how many words a man must utter in his life? Or how many roads a man must walk down?
Where is a cats lap anyway?
How to attract a cat: sit still and look like a lap. Make pleasant, lap-shaped sounds.
Wear a coat that is the opposite colour to the cat's fur. A black cat won't sit on a black coat. What's the point? Nobody will notice the fur.
If it is a spotty cat, best to wear a spotty coat, so all the different fur colours will have a chance to shine.
Laps are very mysterious, when you think about it. They disappear when you stand up, and nobody knows where they go. And cats sit in them, not on them (by contrast, a cat can't sit in your leg, or in your chest, or in your face): can you think of any other body part quite like this?
Own two shoes: one for your left foot, one for your right foot, and one for the cat to drop the mouse into. Okay, that's three shoes. Own three shoes.
The past is like cat biscuits: dry and reliable. The future is the wet food: tempting, delicious, and a little bit moist. And sometimes, it squeaks.
Cat talk is very economical, consisting of just one four-letter word. Who needs grammar when you've got meow?
Cats: bathe themselves in their own spit.
Chooks: have dust baths.
Humans: just bathe in water. Seems quite tame in comparison.
How many fur balls do cats make in their life? Is it related to how many words a man must utter in his life? Or how many roads a man must walk down?
Where is a cats lap anyway?
How to attract a cat: sit still and look like a lap. Make pleasant, lap-shaped sounds.
Wear a coat that is the opposite colour to the cat's fur. A black cat won't sit on a black coat. What's the point? Nobody will notice the fur.
If it is a spotty cat, best to wear a spotty coat, so all the different fur colours will have a chance to shine.
Laps are very mysterious, when you think about it. They disappear when you stand up, and nobody knows where they go. And cats sit in them, not on them (by contrast, a cat can't sit in your leg, or in your chest, or in your face): can you think of any other body part quite like this?
Own two shoes: one for your left foot, one for your right foot, and one for the cat to drop the mouse into. Okay, that's three shoes. Own three shoes.
The past is like cat biscuits: dry and reliable. The future is the wet food: tempting, delicious, and a little bit moist. And sometimes, it squeaks.
Cat talk is very economical, consisting of just one four-letter word. Who needs grammar when you've got meow?
Cats: bathe themselves in their own spit.
Chooks: have dust baths.
Humans: just bathe in water. Seems quite tame in comparison.
Wednesday, September 05, 2018
The cars that ate Epping
One morning, and I don't know when, the good citizens of Epping, Victoria, woke up with some confusion to find their quiet country town had been turned into a carpark.
That's not even a story. That actually happened. The Baron and I just went for a walk in this erstwhile country town and saw it for ourselves. It was a surprise: there's been a ridiculous amount of development in Epping, recently - fences going up, big machines tossing and turning earth over, this being paved and that being nailed and these guys in fluoro worksuits moving around looking very important and very pleased with themselves for being important. And tonight we looked with some surprise at the net result of all this activity: a few sullen big name shops, and a huge carpark, from one end of the suburb to the other. Here and there a paddock rudely remained, fenced off, looking as outlandish as a Martian landscape in amongst all the concrete and neatly painted carparking spaces.
What with all this development, I'm still not sure what all the people are going to come to Epping for. One 7/11 is much like another (and Epping has two of those), and one Aldi is much like another (and Epping has two of those, too), and one Dan Murphys is much like the other (and Epping now has two of those as well). And who the hell would want to visit those places anyway? But it's an absolutely fantastic place to park your car while you are not visiting these places. Couldn't be better.
That's not even a story. That actually happened. The Baron and I just went for a walk in this erstwhile country town and saw it for ourselves. It was a surprise: there's been a ridiculous amount of development in Epping, recently - fences going up, big machines tossing and turning earth over, this being paved and that being nailed and these guys in fluoro worksuits moving around looking very important and very pleased with themselves for being important. And tonight we looked with some surprise at the net result of all this activity: a few sullen big name shops, and a huge carpark, from one end of the suburb to the other. Here and there a paddock rudely remained, fenced off, looking as outlandish as a Martian landscape in amongst all the concrete and neatly painted carparking spaces.
What with all this development, I'm still not sure what all the people are going to come to Epping for. One 7/11 is much like another (and Epping has two of those), and one Aldi is much like another (and Epping has two of those, too), and one Dan Murphys is much like the other (and Epping now has two of those as well). And who the hell would want to visit those places anyway? But it's an absolutely fantastic place to park your car while you are not visiting these places. Couldn't be better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
- John Bangsund's Threepenny Planet
- Broken Biro
- Poetry 24
- Superlative scribbles
- Kirstyn McD!
- Rorrim a tsomla almost a mirror
- More Sterne
- Sterne
- Cam the man from the Dan.
- Too hot to Raaaaaaandallllllll!
- Erin's Excellently Everlasting Effervescements!
- Slammy Infamy
- Hail Paco!
- Baron Blandwagon, purveyor of cyberbunnies, hawker of Roger Corman, and Misruler of the Multiverse
- The Bolta. Aiyeeeeee!!!!!
- Bad Apple Audrey
- The cartoon church
- Sir Martinkus
- A Zemblanian abroad and at home
- A hodge podge of hotzeplotz
- THE SLAMMA!
- Jottlesby's nottings, or should that be Nottlesby's jottings?
- The Snarking of the Hunt
- Jazzy Hands
- David of Metal City
- David the Barista
- The Blogger on the Cast Iron Balcony
- Be an Opinion Dominion Minion!
- Mel...
- ... and Fel
- His brilliant career - from whale sushi to crumbed prawn
- Jo Blogs
- Yet another Tim
- Croucherisms...
- Was two peas, now three peas
- Desciopolous!
- ... Still Life - now with extra rotating cats!
- Erin...
- An Amazingly Awesome Australian Ampersand!
- Blink and you'll miss 'er
- Red in the land of the tigers!
- Wire of Vibe
- Chase him, ladies, he's in the cavalry!
- The Non-palindromical Editrix in Germanium
- Old Sterne
- Gempiricalisations
- TonyT
- The briefs...
- ... and the brieflets
- The Purple Blog
- Blairville, lair of all that is wicked and perfidious
- The enticingly acronymical CSH
- EXTREEEEEEEME WYNTER!
- Mark of California
- Jellyfish
- Silent Speaking
- Lexicon the Mexican