Mostly Bollogs, I'm afraid

But occasionally, a glimmer of truth.
If you find one, please let me know.

Monday, 18 July 2016


Here is my little blogette concerning angling or fishing.

I like sea fishing, where you catch a fish and then you pan fry it (I don't know why they say "pan-fry", I suppose it makes it obvious that it's fried in a pan, as opposed to, say, an old sock or dustbin lid).

Anyway, there are blokes who get off on the traditional struggle of taking the 4x4 down to the river, ripping up the meadows with their all-weather tyres and 4 litre diesel engines, so they can pit their immense wits against those ferocious denizens of the deep which lurk threateningly below,

Skilfully, they tie a bit of line onto a hook, add a lump of lead to sink it, and a float so it doesn't sink, then impale a worm onto the hook and, using a massive carbon fibre pole, launch this lot across the river so far that you wonder why they didn't start on the other side.

They then use mental force to entice the evil fish onto the hook so that they can proudly show their fellow warmongering humans that their fight, nay battle, against the fearsome foe was won, then rip the heck out of the despicable adversary's mouth, causing irreparable damage, and chuck it back in.

Sometimes the fish, or the reeds, win. When this happens, the hapless angler loses his tackle. Undaunted, the mighty angler simply reaches into his tacklebox and replaces this expensive pile of detritus with another.

Here are my friends. They are ducks (more specifically a duck and a drake). They are called Lucky and Mucky Duck. Lucky is the one with the orangy beak and is actually a duck. Mucky is a drake (lighter beak, when he is grown he will have a green head). They are mallards.

Here is a picture of the anglers detritus. Lucky had this lot shoved in her beak and I got it out, not at all aided by Mucky who thought I was attacking Lucky. I won't show the injuries Lucky suffered, nor those suffered by me whilst trying to remove it all.

I don't care what hobbies people have. Most of mine involve drinking and I try not to piss on the duck's heads afterwards. If anglers would please think about the crap they leave behind and what damage it might do, and perhaps make an effort to clear up a bit, or try something less adventurous, maybe, Lucky wouldn't have had to go through that. And nor would I.

Please share if you feel like it.

Thanks a bunch

Pengs x

Thursday, 7 July 2016


I was sitting at work earlier. I could do no work because I'm off for a week, and they're backing my stuff up so I can't touch it.

In came some chaps to ask me about some bits we're doing.

We discussed said bits. Anyway, one chap said something about some footballer, I wasn't really taking a lot of notice. Some jolly foreigner chap. Apparently he paid a "witch doctor" for some time, it was like insurance. Then he stopped paying, and broke his leg playing footie. It was an omen.

Then the bloke said "imagine that, you pay and get nothing and then stop paying and anything that happens to you is because you stopped paying the witch doctor. How stupid are people?"

I said "imagine if you paid like hundreds of pounds a week just in case something went wrong? And nothing did? And if you stopped paying all of a sudden something would go wrong?"

"Yes," he said, "Stupid, isn't it?"

"Yes, I replied. I was talking about the NHS."

Goes quiet, doesn't it?

Thursday, 30 June 2016


I have no idea if this is true, but it would be great if it was. As told to me by a girl at work, about her friend.

The friend had finished Uni and gone travelling for a year, near the end of which her mum came over to meet her in New York to visit. They went shopping. The mum couldn't take any more shopping so she left the girl to it and went back to her hotel. It was evening, and she felt a little intimidated, coming from the English countryside, and being in New York, a very alien territory for her.

She went into the hotel with her shopping and pressed the call button for the lift. The doors opened, and the porter, helpful man that he was, and hoping for a tip, put her shopping into the lift, into which she now felt obliged to enter, accompanied by three large and fierce looking New York hoods; black, of course, as they are the gangsta type ones, a fact well-known by all English Countryside ladies, from the films. The lift doors closed. The lift did not move.

The middle one of the gentlemen leaned over to her and whispered "hit the floor." She threw herself to the floor, saying "please take what you want."

The gentleman said "I meant hit the button for the floor you want."

Apparently, the embarrassment was audible.

A few days later she went to pay the bill and leave. The concierge told her it was paid for, and there was a note.

"Lady, you have made me laugh more than I have laughed recently. Please accept this stay on me."

Will Smith.

The other two guys were his bodyguards.

Please let that be true.

Thursday, 9 June 2016

I think this will do

I despair. I have tried many time to compose a reply to this.

I fear that I am bereft of the right words to describe the abysmal attitude which TalkTalk, at all levels, have foisted upon me.

I cannot sensibly reply to a sentence which contains more than one misused reflexive pronoun, nor indeed a reference to an engineer as an individual. Woe is me.

The "exchange to the master socket" paradigm leaves me, as spake the Bard of Avon, "rampoozling in my own juices, for I am wan," because this very fact was revealed to me on Friday last. It is thus far not only eight and forty hours, but thrice so.

I am reluctant to be available to welcome an "engineer", for I am one. I have forty years experience of being in that poorly employ, in the fields of oil, gas and the nuclear industry, and am possibly, as a designer of electronics, software and firmware in such trade, more qualified than any that you could send.

It is most pleasing to note, however, that if it is "deemed" that my service performing to the acceptable level, as made clear by the two iPhones, Kindle Fire and two Personal Computers thereto attached will give evidence, that you will charge me £65.00. It is reassuring to know that shareholder value is at the forefront of the agenda, and this is surely going to bring in more customers.

May I say, at this point, that if you even THINK about charging for the premature termination of your laughable contract, that you are going to make Mr Cameron and that whole pig thing seem quite sensible.

It is such a shame. You were so helpful last time.

I refrain from mentioning the result of paying peanuts, and any reference to species including, but not exclusive to, primates.

Yours with love


Wednesday, 8 June 2016


The last email I sent to the CEO of TalkTalk, Dido Harding, who has been helpful in the past.

I will let you know what she replies.

Thursday, 17 March 2016


See, there's this budget. It taxes sugar. Nobody cares. It gives small businesses yawn yawn. And personal yawn yawn.

In fact, yawn, yawn.

But the economy is something or the other, yawn.

On the back of this, the DEBT (money we owe to folk) is going up. Not a bit up, fucking trillions of
quid. Record amounts. Jesus H Christ amounts of money.

It doesn't matter, because we have MONEY (tax) coming in. So we can pay that DEBT off. The difference between MONEY (tax) and DEBT is DEFICIT. Porcelain-Gob is paying down the DEFICIT. Not the DEBT.

All clear? Thought so.

Now here is a thing. This scares the shit out of me. The DEBT is actually CASH which WE BORROW from FOREIGN people/ Such as our ALLIES, the SAUDIS (murderers) etc.

Because we have a GOOD CREDIT RATING, we can borrow it at FUCK ALL.

YAY, go us.

If, tomorrow, things change, then we have to pay it back, and borrow it again, At NOT VERY CHEAP.

If this happens, you, me, Porcelain-Face and everyone else is in what is called, in modern parlance, DEEP SHIT.

Monday, 22 February 2016


This is some stuff about the EU.

In 1945 some chaps decided that Hitler had been a bit of a git and that war was a BAD thing.

They decided to have a club where there would be no more war.

This was a GOOD idea. War is bollocks.

So the chaps decided to get together in perfect harmony and all be one thing, that way they wouldn't have anything to fight about.

Lots of talking was done and nobody got killed.

In 1975, 30 years later, Britain was invited to join their club. There was no way on earth that this would happen because it was too soon, and many British folk remembered the last war, which was pretty horrible. So they called it a Trade Agreement, where British people could buy stuff from France, such as cheese, which is, quite frankly, all that the French really make.

Some British people like cheese and thought that Brie was superior to Cheddar so they voted themselves in.

A bit later, the club changed its name from the EEC to the EU, got a flag, three presidents, demanded loads of money, took the Queen off of everything and we were stuffed.

They based themselves in Brussels and Strasbourg. They pay themselves bagloads of cash.

They do nothing for it.

I have an anti-alligator device here, it is actually a broken alarm clock. There are no alligators here, therefore it works. And that is why we have no more wars, because they have a thing which means there are no more wars. It works on the same principle. YOU know, and I know, that the reason there are no alligators here is that I have a door, through which alligators can't get. I know, and you SHOULD know, that the reason we have no more wars is because if someone starts one then all hell will let loose and we will all die. Nukily.

So. I do not think the EU does anything of any use. All they do is strut. And trough. Britain pays them about £50M a day to mainly build roads in Spain which nobody wants, least of all the Spanish.

I don't think we'll ever get out, because too many people whose ridiculous lifestyle depends on us being in. And, trust this penguin, if we get out, there will be a disorderly queue of others who will want to do the same.

Among the people who desperately want to stay in are these.

If you're happy about that, then vote REMAIN on the 23rd of June.

You wanker.