STAINS;WHY DO WOMEN WANT TO ERADICATE THEM AND MEN WISH TO CULTIVATE THEM......

(Control yourself, Cathy!) One of my inciteful ,finger on the pulse blurbings, rantings and general blatherings, recently finished with my mentioning that i had to go and put my rubber gloves, flowery pinny and various househusbanding acrutiaments(jeez! i'll have to bring the dictionary in here, one day!)....And do my cleaning before the return of the Lovely Lynne from her day at doing what banking people do to help the down-trodden masses. This image of me in a flowery pinny and a pair of marigolds excited a lovely young lady,CATHY SIMPSON, of whom i have mentioned. and who's details are on my link thingey on this here very blog wot you are trolling through (but off to the right hand side of the page.). Over the last week i have filled her waking hours and maybe even her sleeping hours(it could happen) with these images and thoughts. Then a major step in our pinny based communications took place when my collection of pinny stains entered the dialogue. This is where the male ,female differences came to the fore. She made typical girly suggestions about getting the pinny washed. To which, aghast and appalled i replied that stains aren't just dirty marks....Stains are moments in time, every stain has a history. Like any geologist will tell you rock strata are from definite time periods in the history of our planet and the knowledge of the world is within these strata. Likewise the layers of my various stains tell of my time as a cartooning blog-blathering houseslave. The organic mix on the pinny's material has given the spark of life to a whole new ecosystem, judging by the scratching i do when i'm wearing it. I am the creator, am i a god?.... Or is the universe just a stain on a flowery pinny, part of another universe ,a stain on another flowery pinny? Going on and on forever, an infinity of flowery pinny's?????....(There!Who said i can't think deep thoughts!)

Cathy suggested that the Proffessional Cartoonist Organisation would cough up for a new pinny and the existing one could be displayed for the benefit of the world. I'm not sure my ethics, morals and beliefs would allow me to do this, but if there's money involved???



The only other problem is that the pinny is in a specially constructed biologically sterile bunker 500 ft below ground. Anybody who's ever seen the ANDROMEDA STRAIN will understand. Then Cathy started on about me not wearing trousers, typical woman! Here i am creating life and all she wants to talk about is sex!

NEVER TELL A BOY SCOUT TO GET KNOTTED, 'COS LIKE A DOG LICKING HIS COBBLERS, HE WILL 'COS HE CAN !

Once upon a time when i were 'nobbut a lad,' i was a cub scout, i never got as far as being a full blown scout. As our cub pack was very possibly the lousiest cub pack on the planet. Lord Baden Powell, gawd bless 'im, wouldn't've been too impressed shall we say. If he'd seen us ,he would have slunk away to a quiet place ,picked the correct knot and hung himself. There was a badge ,which, apparently was the basic badge. The 'Bronze Arrow'. This badge was the first, taking only weeks to attain, before you moved onto more heady things, like the Silver and Gold arrows. It took us 4 years to get our Bronze Arrows. This great achievment wasn't attained through a deep understanding of knots or tent poles. No, it was because ,we survived 4 years of being a cub in our 'pack' . We would turn up on a Wednesday evening all woggled-up and ready to go. Basically all we did was beat the shit out of each other in endless games of 'British Bulldog'. I can't quite remember the rules(?)...But it was something about ,if you were 'it', everyone else charged at you and you had to stop them , so someone else'd be 'it'. I think the game was so named, after so many games the battered veterans of 'our cub pack' had faces like the British Bulldog doggie has been blessed with.

My darling daughter ,has now become a Scout and seems to be building up a fine collection of badges. A damn site more than her daddy ever did, it must be said. But,on the minus side, kids don't know how to play games like 'British Bulldog',anymore. Another part of our fine British heritage fades into the P.C haze of modern life and methods. I was stunned and shocked to be told that the kids are being taught SEX EDUCATION!!!!..... Cubs, Scouts and Beavers(not naughty) Do not have sex n' stuff. You can get badges for everything to do with knots, tents and tent poles, but now its not only tent poles that're studied. So, the kids sit in a muddy field and learn about what their mum n' dad used to do. So when they one day find themselves trying to get their 'leg over' with their beloved missus, she can and will tell him,' to put a knot in it' ,and he can.In fact he can choose from a whole arsenal of knots he's qualified to use for any occasion, including this. Mind you, nobody in my old cub group'd be able to do anything to incorporate knots to dampen their ardour. The Bronze Arrow, never covered this, in my day. A good game of British Bulldog n' a cold bath were 'good enuff fer me!'