Thursday, June 30, 2016

Presenting a pointless political post by a persnickety prick

It's voting time almost in two days except for those who have already postal voted, and I'm happy to say that though the major parties have plenty of policies that are only superficially appealing to serious voters,  they have plenty of policies that are seriously appealing to superficial voters. Of which I am one. So, in that spirit of judging a book by its cover, let's hie to their websites now and award them points on a series of completely pointless points that we can point to.

First up, the Liberals: their polices include - um - well - um actually, they have


and what a planny plan it is, by which we will planfully plan our way back to freedom! And I could actually go on to look at the plan in some detail, but remember, we're looking to see policies that are seriously appealing to superficial voters, and I wouldn't want to take this too seriously. So I won't.

Next up, Labor. What sort of policies do they have?


Hooray! That's even more seriously appealing  in a superficial way than the Liberal Plan! Well, that was Shorten sweet.

And what about the Greens? Let's apply an equally fact-free analysis to their website. Do they have a plan? A policy? Well no, as it turns out: they have


WHOA that's way better than Positive Policies and I don't even know what it means! And anyway, too much alliteration is bad for the environment. And now we have reached the end (or perhaps the superfices) of my superficial post.

Saturday, June 25, 2016


Now pay attention class, I'm only going to say this once.

Pom - an English person.
Pompom - a fluffy ball.
Pomnipotence - infinite power possessed by an English person.
Pompomnipotence - infinite power gained through the wielding of pompoms.
Pompompomnipotence - infinite power gained through the wielding of English pompoms.
Pompompompomtiddlypompomnipotence - singing a meaningless ditty while gaining infinite power through the wielding of English pompoms.

That's all for today, class.

For your homework, I invite you all to submit a picture of a Pompominatrix. Thank you for your time.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Incredibly original poem about brewing

There was a young brewer from Ryde
Who ate some green barley and died
The barley fermented
Inside the lamented
And made Acetaldehyde.

Friday, June 17, 2016

A tale of modern romance

Strephon & Phyllis: a tale of modern romance 

Strephon flicked through his phone to the live-dating app
As he scrolled through the names and the nonsense and pap. 
He swore he'd find one for a funky night out 
(Though fat chicks and those over 30 were right out). 
Through selfies and poutings and duck face he scrolled - 
Too chubby - too skinny - too squinty - too old - 
He would Try Hard and Die Hard, (an iPhone Bruce Willis)
When just then he alit on the page of fair Phyllis. 
A radiant vision she seemed to his eyes, 
A glorious Goddess in mere mortal guise - 
Strephon knew in a flash he was on to a winner: 
Perhaps he could even invite her to dinner. 

Poor Strephon knew not of the magic of Cupid - 
How one blow with his bow could send normal men stupid. 
For Strephon, of course, the case was quite dire - 
His head was awhirl and his heart was afire... 
As Strephon held Phyllis in tremulous gaze, 
He scratched at his bum in a rapturous craze 
And thought of the ways he would Phyllis enamour: 
How could he convince this fair maid of his amour? 
Win her and bring her to the temple of Venus? 
"I know", Strephon thought. "I'll show her my penis. 
One pic of my dick which I'll slyly embiggen
So it outranks in grandeur the willy of Smiggin - 
Yes, this surely is the true way to her heart - 
An image of my most masculine part. 
A young, virile member - not a palsied old todger 
Like that that belongs to that old codger Roger. 
Yes, this is my plan and it's done in a tick - 
I'll flick some random chick a pic of my dick." 

And as for what next - Strephon was not concerned -
'Twas no matter, surely - not while his heart burned! 
And shortly, his wang was winging its way 
On wireless ether to her Message tray. 

Just what do you feel after such correspondence? 
Hopeful? Or anxious? Or full of despondence? 
Not Strephon: our hero was full of calm self-collection
After mailing his mail of his male part's .... affection. 
He was not depressed, for he knew she'd be true, 
The one in receipt of his cock billet doux
But Strephon could not help but shout with elation
When the phone in his pocket gave welcome vibration - 
He whips out his phone with a whimpering sigh! 
He presses the button to see her reply! 
"O Goddess!" he murmurs with votary air, 
"I see at long last you have answered my prayer!"
And he gazes in trance, with his whole body tingling 
For Phyllis has answered with a snap of a.... dingaling: 
Yes, someone's John Thomas: right there on his screen - 
A random guy's noodle: it's frankly obscene! 
And then - what the Dickens? A second dick pic - 
Strephon murmured aghast, "Gee, this chick is sick!"

As if not content with that paltry selection, 
It soon became clear Phyllis had a collection,
A torrent of sausages, hot dogs and saveloys, 
Kranskys, frankfurters, salamis and bitsofboys,
A series of revellers in full Saturnalia, 
A party of parts and of male genitalia. 
Strephon switched his phone off - but that wasn't enough - 
For he saw in his minds eye those groins in the buff, 
A priapic cavalcade, pixelised, gleaming, 
They marched through his mind in the midst of his dreaming - 
The todger of Roger in front of the rest: 
Now Strephon is moody and sad and depressed, 
And questions and worries his nervous mind cumber - 
Like "Shit that weird Phyllis chick's now got my number!" 
And worse yet - poor Strephon can't shake the suspicion
His photographed phallus has been made an addition 
To Phyllis's library of penile pics - 

MORAL: don't flick some random chick a pic of your dick.

Poem based on several recent stories.

Fig 1: In which fair Phyllis contemplates what to do with the latest addition to her gallery. 

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Cleaning is something which I do not like very much

Cleaning is something which I do not like very much, and therefore spend a lot of time avoiding doing. This has the effect of making the house dirtier, which I do not like, because it reminds me of cleaning, which I do not like, and reminds me of the fact that I will have to do some cleaning sometime, which I like even less. Eventually - by some bizarre slip of fate - I find myself actually cleaning, which, taken with thinking about cleaning and avoiding cleaning - is, of all those things, the thing that I like least of all and reminds me all over again why I have spent all this time in the comparatively pleasant activity of avoiding cleaning.

I found myself in this situation the other day; I don't know how I find myself in these situations, really, as I quite enjoy avoiding cleaning: it is a comparatively relaxing and stress-free activity, with the addition of a little extra mould here and there to keep the house bright and colourful. Anyway, I was in one of these situations (better known as the bathroom), and I was cleaning. The situation really was ludicrous: what place on earth does cleaning have in a bathroom? I ask you. In a last ditch attempt to avoid cleaning, I was - forgive me - grizzling in a bad tempered manner in the Baron's general direction.

"What's all this stuff doing in the bathroom?" I said. "It's ridiculous!"

"Clean it!" chirped the Baron chirpily.

I cleaned it, mostly by throwing it underneath the sink where I temporarily couldn't see it. There is a cupboard underneath the sink and as it was already crammed full of stuff, I can't rightly say that it held all the stuff that I threw into it, but I didn't mind, and neither did it.

I desultorily attempted to rub at some of the grime underneath the tap, but found to my frustration I couldn't because of all the things on the sink getting in the way of my hand while trying to rub the grime off under the tap in the process of my general effort to clean up the bathroom which I was doing because..... oh, never mind.

So naturally I went back to cleaning things off the sink. There were a lot of things on the sink, don't ask me why, it's a ridiculous question.

"There's so much soap in here!" I said. "What's soap doing in the bathroom?"

For some strange reason the Baron didn't answer this.

"This is silly! The soap's getting in the way! I'm getting rid of it!" I announced, eventually.

This was a wise decision. What place does soap have in the bathroom, really? None that I can think of, and anyway, after my decision here things went much smoother. I swooped all the cakes of soap off the bench and neatly deposited them in the garbage. Soap really is a nonsensical product at the best of times, but especially so when it is in the bathroom. Not only does it get in the way of grime, which gets in the way of the bathroom, which gets in the way of some other grime that was there before the bathroom, and which is undoubtedly much more attractive and interesting than the bathroom (though perhaps without hot and cold running water), but soap can only be used for one thing - cleaning. Even just writing about soap makes me shudder again as it raises the horrible prospect of cleaning all over again. Ugh!

So: where was I? Oh. Yes. Cleaning. In the bathroom. Having performed the irritating task for long enough (and got rid of all that unpleasant soap) I think I retired shortly after. Cleaning is, aside from anything else, a very strenuous activity. I highly recommend you don't do it.


It's possible the Baron later discovered the soap in the bin.

"Why is there soap in the bin?" the Baron asked.

For some strange reason, I didn't answer this.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Mindful of crap

Two words in to an article on random website Wanderlust and we're in "mindful" territory, and I'm scared. One word after that and the word is "sober", closely followed by "subculture", and I'm shedding tears of pure terror. I want to say to these kids: who hurt you? What did alcohol ever do to a harm you? Think you're ready for the whole thing? Let's give it a go -

A mindful 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh no there's that word again

sober subculture 


is emerging 

takes me back to the fun old days of temperance activists. Oh. Wait. No, I meant horrifying.

indicating that we’re seeking out deeper, more meaningful connections to others.

And just like "mindful", that "meaningful" gets me again. It's the sheer unmitigated gall of the thing - thing you drunkards are having a "meaningful" time? Why don't you try something "deeper"!

The funny thing is, the more I find out about drink - and the more I drink drink - the more meaningful it is. Who is this mindful subculture anyway, to decide that it's only them who are able to make deeper, more meaningful connections? And just like the temperance activists before them they unwittingly concede to drink a power and an influence far greater than it has over anyone else. No moderate drinking for these people, nothing so pleasant as a little tipsiness,  a modest insobriety, an affable drunkenness. Nope, it's all or nothing, more meaningfulness or vomiting in the gutters.


I actually had a longer essay I was thinking of putting in here at this point about all the ways in which beer and wine are beautiful, but nup. However, let me finish off by quoting that notable drunkard, Christ:

31And the Lord said, Whereunto then shall I liken the men of this generation? and to what are they like? 32They are like unto children sitting in the marketplace, and calling one to another, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned to you, and ye have not wept. 33For John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor drinking wine; and ye say, He hath a devil. 34The Son of man is come eating and drinking; and ye say, Behold a gluttonous man, and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners! 35But wisdom is justified of all her children.

Hang on... I don't think there's a single "mindful" in there!
Email: timhtrain - at -

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