Dick Licks A Sausage And Other Children’s Tales.

Now anyone who knows me, also knows that I’m a bit of a size Queen. This means that when I hold that special something in my hands, I like to feel the weight of it. In fact the bigger the better is a motto that I often live by, and if it’s hard as well, then I’m in seventh Heaven.
There is something just so beautiful about having something firm and solid within my grasp. The way it feels as I run my fingers along it’s length and finger it’s girth, is almost magical.
The power of a good book is a wondrous thing, for inside each printed paper of those bounded covers, lurks a treasure waiting to be discovered…unless we’re talking about the books listed below, in which case, like buried treasure, they deserve to remain buried…like my ex…

The first book in my literary collection, is all about family togetherness. Family time is an important time and as the saying goes, “the family who plays together, is more likely to think about killing the other family members whilst they’re fast asleep in bed.” To combat such conflict, the family should spend the entire day in one another’s company, preferably in close proximity and in one room. There they can partake in the joys of indoor rounders, which is a bit like baseball, practice their knife juggling skills, or improve on their golf swing. So make sure to have those bats, knives and tees ready and waiting whilst you’re enclosed with your kin for twenty-four hours in a cramped room and with nowhere to escape to. What could possibly go wrong? Failing that, there is always the internet and as we all know, surfing the World Wide Web can be a lit of a learning experience as well as fun for all.

Here is a lovely little book about Dick. Dick likes to lick meat and there is nothing that he enjoys more then the taste of a sausage. This gem of a tale has some glorious illustrations showing Dick hidden underneath a table just waiting to be fed some of that delicious meat.

The next two books…

Er…Mrs Mills, the post about what’s in my record collection went out on Monday. So if you could kindly exit the page, I would be most grateful. Thank you.

Sorry for the interruption folks. Now where was I? Ah yes, the next two books details the love between two boys and their pets. First up is this charming story about…

Oh..oh dear…um…let’s…er…skip onto the second book shall we? Peter and his pet sheep Prunella,  charts the relationship between Peter and…

I…I…er…erm…I think it’s probably best to leave that there…
Next up in my collection of classic tales is a…

For the love of Morgan Freeman! Mrs Mills, how many times must I tell you that I am not interested in any of your parties? You do know that I still have a restraining order with your name on it. don’t you? This all too much. The music post is already done so can you please kindly desist with all this nonsense!

Anyway, as I was saying, next up in my collection of classic tales is a book that introduces children to the wonderful world of cooking.

Teach Me To Cook Meth is a cornucopia of recipes which includes Home Brew Heroin, Shake n Bake Crystal Meth and Cocaine Crackling.

Mrs Mills, I don’t know what you’ve been imbibing or how you even manage to fund all these parties on your pension, but I am sick and tired of this harassment. Must I file a Public Offences Order against you…again?

Play is the theme for the last book in my collection. Play, I’m sure you’ll all agree, is a vital part of the childhood experience. I myself still love playing with balls of all sizes and colours and despite the one incident where I had a ball land squarely on my face, it still didn’t deter my love of ball games. This wonderful tome is all about the pleasurable joy that one gets from playing with a nice set of balls. Let us read a few of the pages.

See how polite they all are? It is always customary to ask whether one wants to play with your balls or not. Never force your balls upon anyone.

Heehee, it’s always fun to watch a dog licking balls. So cute.

Aww, look how pleased he looks at being told about his sizeable balls, and from the picture, he really does have quite big balls that anyone would be proud of.

Look at Louie offering his services to Sam. Only a good friend would let another handle his balls. How Marvellous.

And that’s all we have time for today folks. Join me once more where I shall be looking at…

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!

~Lily

Come And Look At My Box.

Folks, I must humbly apologise to you all. For not only have I been consumed with the challenge of murdering the English language throughout the month of April, but I have been remiss in my duty of not putting my box out there for public display. Now those of you who are no stranger to Incoherent Ramblings, know all too well that I like to open up my box and exhibit it at every opportunity.

As a youngster, my mother would dismay at the fact that I was always fingering my box. But what was the point of having such a thing if one could not derive pleasure from it? Now I am much older, I welcome anyone who wishes to do so, to take a peek inside my box and to finger (very carefully) it’s goods.
So, what do I have inside my music box for you all today then?

First in our pile of musical goodies, is Fingerless Fiddler Roy Thackerson.

Reworking such classics as the Beatles’ I Wanna Hold Your Hand (but my stumps won’t let me), T’pau’s  China In Your Hands (keeps slipping to the floor) and the children’s favourite Tommy Thumb Where Are You? I’m sure that you’ll all agree that this album is finger lickin’ good.

Here we have the love doctor himself, Dr D with his collection of ‘Luv Songs’ from the album Put Out The Fires Of Desires. No problem Dr D. Not only have I put out the flames of desire after looking at your picture, but I have also smothered it, bashed in it’s head with a blunt implement, re-set it on fire just so that I could smother it again, cussed it’s mother and then buried it in the back garden…oh no wait…that was my ex…

Moving on swiftly, the next album is a testimony to what happens if you don’t stay in school and study. Wendell Clarke had high ambitions of being a top Gynaecologist, but his partying ways and sex addiction, soon led to his downfall. Now instead of studying the flowery essence of the female garden, Wendell has a new identity and now studies an altogether more fragrant part of the body as charted in this autobiographical album.

Mr Del Ray, I don’t think any of us needs reminding of the sounds of a man alone…

Next up in my box of musical delights, comes the blessed tones of Orvel and Orvella as they implore the Lord to lay his healing hands upon them.

Also clamouring for the hands of our Saviour, the Simmons family boast about their godly encounter with the beautifully inspired album The Touch Of God.

And here’s little Greg Kendrick with his version of events.

Last and by no means least, this heartbreaking album from the Hanleys was composed as a plea to their missing daughter Ally Louia who sadly went missing some months previously. Soon after the release of this album, Ally Louia’s decomposed body was found inside Mrs Hanley’s bouffant, along with a circus midget, a Boeing 747, an assortment of woodland creatures and the lost city of Aztian.

And that sadly concludes our musical entertainment for this month. Join me next time for another gander at my open box. You’re all welcomed to have a good fiddle about with it in the meantime.

~Lily

“Oh The Things We Will do”, Said Demon One To Demon Two.

“Oh The Things We Will do”, Said Demon One To Demon Two.

(Inspired by Dr Seuss’ ‘Oh, The Places You’ll Go’)
*An update of a poem written by Spawn and I for his then 8 month old cousin*

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to great places!
You’re off and away.

You have brains in your head
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
But you are not on your own. Oh no, no you’re not.
For united we stand as we scheme and we plot.

We will overthrow governments
Rule over all.
Enslave our enemies, have them in our thrall.
Oh they may try to stop us, the ruling masses.
But we’ll soon smite them down with our gaseous asses

Oh the things we will do
Yes I mean me and you.
There is nothing, no nothing that we cannot do.
First we’ll kill off our mothers or bind them at least,
For mothers are one of life’s terrible beasts.

They will try to thwart us, stop us in our stead
Topple our plans and send us off to bed.
They have all kinds of tricks and knowledge and power
Like making us sit on the step for an hour.

Oh the things we could do
If it weren’t for those haters.
Those evil abominable things we call maters
Oh how we hate them from our heads to our toes.
The world would be paradise without all those hoes.

So listen my bro
Let’s kill all those mofo(s)
With our armies of cats with their laser beam eyes.
Like the villain from Bond we will laugh at their cries
And drink some pink milk as we watch them all die.

Oh the things we will do
Oh the places we’ll go
With our brains in our heads and our feet in our shoes.
Yes me and you child we have so much to do
God god, mum where are you? He’s just done a poo!!

~Lily, with contributions from Spawn

Lily The Domestic Goddess. Who Doesn’t Love Maggot Cheese?

Whilst reading through some online recipes, I came across Paul Bocuse’s Poularde de Bresse truffee en vessie, which is essentially chicken with truffles, stuffed in a bladder. Now what or whose bladder is being stuffed I have no idea, or even what got Monsieur Bocuse’s so pissed off that he felt the need to insert a muscular organ with poultry and a type of fungi. What I do know is that cooking just got a whole lot more complicated. For some recipes, not only can the ingredients solely be sourced from countries such as Kazakhstan or Krungthepmahanakornamornratanakosinmahintarayutthayamahadilokph
opnopparatrajathaniburiromudomrajaniwesmahasatharnamornphimarnavatarnsathitsakkattiyavisanukamprasit,Thailand, but once you get your bountiful booty safely back home, you then need to take six weeks off work in order to prepare your starter.

It appears that nowadays, the average television viewer has become saturated by the deluge of cookery programmes currently being screened both here and in the US. Furthermore, a plethora of culinary chefs, including the likes of Heston Blumenthal, Gordon Ramsey and of course Bocuse himself, have made everyday cooking a thing of the past. With dishes that often contain such obscure items like Whale Phlegm, alongside programmes entitled “Hell, I ain’t eating it unless it has a face,” they have shown that you can make a veritable feast out of virtually anything…especially if you have either a cast iron stomach, a strong desire for death, or enjoy the taste of your own vomit.
So along with a few pictures of some culinary delights from around the world, I thought I’d invent a dish of my own. Bon Appetit.

Step One
For this particular recipe, you will need the breath of an extinct bird, preferable one from the lost city of Atlantis. Failing that, any extinct bird will do just as well.

They may look innocent enough, but these Chinese Offerings are called ‘Tong Zi Dan. (Virgin boy eggs) They’re not actually made of virgin boys, that would be absurd. No, they’re just boiled in the urine of school boys. Hungry yet?.

Step Two
First bake the breath of the extinct bird by performing the Macarena at regular intervals whilst standing in front of the oven. This will take approximately an hour and half, plus a further 3 years on a gas mark no higher than the sun.

Tuna eyeballs from Japan. Sorry, but I’m not eating anything that looks at me with that much contempt.

Step Three
To ensure that your bird breath is thoroughly cooked through, you must be sure to perform the Macarena whilst also doing the Hokey Pokey after about a year. This allows for that fine, crisp finish and golden glaze.

The Wichita Grub from Australia. Hmm, reminds me of an ex for some reason…

Step Four
Next, Serve on a bed of mashed potatoes. The potatoes must be the original spuds first brought to England by Sir Walter Raleigh and given as a present to Queen Elizabeth the first. In order to make sure that the potatoes are mashed to the right consistency, you must get them to recite the alphabet in the Lost Language Of The Cranes, whilst doing back-flips.

This rather tasty looking dish from Italy, is called ‘Casu Marzu’ otherwise known as maggot cheese. Apparently the little critters can survive the gut and burrow into the intestines. Well it’s been a long time since I’ve had anything burrowing inside me, so I might just give it a go.

Step Five
Once the potatoes have finished reciting the alphabet, kiss them better whilst asking for forgiveness and smoke both the bird breath of extinction and the mash on a pile of wood-chip gathered from the wreckage of the Titanic.
Once the wood-chips are thoroughly ashamed of themselves, join both the bird breath of extinction and potatoes in holy matrimony and plate up.

Another dish from Japan. This one is called Shirako, which is just another way to say cod’s sperm sack. Apparently it’s very good for the skin…well that’s what my last boyfriend told me…

Step Six
Finally, serve with a lovely glass of Pinot Grigio which has been previously chilled, then passed through the bladder of a Yak, in order to bring out it’s full bodied flavour and enjoy.

Further recipes can be found in ‘Lily’s Big Book Of Further Recipes, That Come In The Form Of A Big Book And Which Contains Further Recipes.’ And the delightful ‘Two sprigs of lettuce and some Jus sauce does make a meal. An anorexic guide to culinary cooking,’ written by former model, Amma Bull Lemic.

~Lily
Recipe plagiarised from myself in a post I wrote back in 2013

An Unscheduled Post via Urgent Parent Appeal.

Parent Appeal!

Are you tired? Stressed? Frustrated? Overworked?
About to beat your child over the head with their own left foot?
Are you fed up that your stealer of joy is slowly siphoning the life from you like a midget petrol thief?
Then why not call the NAPCA. (national association for the prevention of cruelty to adults).
We have a dedicated team of experts waiting to take your call.
Or why don’t you become a sponsor?
For just 50p a week, you can stop a desperate mother from being driven to the brink of becoming a crack hoe.
50p will provide much needed chocolate and comfort food to needy parents everywhere.
So go on, join today and make this world a much better place.

Call us now on 123-456-help
Or visit our website: http://www.ishouldhaverippedoutmywomb.co.uk/

*calls from a BT landline will cost more than the 50p that you will be donating and a whole shit more if you call from any other networks,  10 times more if you call from a mobile (cell). Subject to terms and conditions, terms being not to sue us if a huge phone bills ends up in your mailbox, conditions, insanity to obviously call us in the first place. And by the way, don’t you know that it’s unhealthy to be this close to the computer screen? I mean how bored must you be to even take the time out to look this closely at the small print? Don’t blame me if you have a migraine from all that squinting, most people just ignore it anyway.

~Lily

A-Z Reflection post.

At the end of every A-Z Challenge, there comes the reflection post. This is about reflecting reflectively upon the reflections of our experiences with the challenge…reflectively. And as we reflect back on those reflections, we also reflect upon the reflections that have occurred whilst reflecting upon those of which we have reflected.

Now in the best interest that this poem rhymes, (and I use the word ‘poem’ very VERY loosely) I have opted to use the American vernacular of Z (zee) rather than the British version (zed) to detail my A-Z experience.

Oh this task I have to say,

was like being held in Guantanamo bay.

I was held at gun point and couldn’t flee,

the challenge that was the A to Z.

OK that first verse was a lie,

there really is no alibi.

I was being nosey in wanting to see,

what others would write for the A to Z.

I thought aloud, “I can do this,

this really is a piece of piss.

How bloody hard could this thing be?

This challenge called the A to Z.”

Through letters A and B I went.

Could go no further, I was spent.

Reached only to the letter C,

then lamented the evil of A to Z.

I wrote some stuff about my Spawn,
and reflected on the crack of Dawn.

By now it was quite plain to see,

that I was pants at the A to Z.

The daily postings took their toll

I even discovered I had a boil.

It’s in a place no one can see,

because of this sodding A to Z.

Time management? A thing of the past,

as I tried to get my lazy arse,

to sit in front of the laptop screen,

to do this fecking A to Z.

The one thing that I liked the most,

was the funny comments upon my post.

Some queried my state of sanity,

in doing this challenge of A to Z.

The readers they were oh so funny,
and much more funnier than me.
So I vowed that after the A-Z,
that they would all in the most painful and gruesome way for showing me up on my own blog..*ahem*

I came across some brilliant blogs.

One even featured a talking dog.

Grew slightly green with jealousy,

at the writers of this A to Z.

This challenge begins next year again

But for now I cry a loud AMEN,

to seeing the back of the A to Z.

Will I do it again? Ah we shall see.

Actually, this was the most fun I had this year and the blogs and posts that I came across, where outstanding. Thank you to everyone who read, visited, followed and commented on my posts. It wouldn’t have been the same without any of you.
Special mention to Mr Rob Zillion Torbor, Ms Dominatrix Leonard Benrubi, Mistress Twisty Tales Cooper, Mr Dick Doesn’t Need A Crazy Name Because He Already Has One Dastardly and Ms Cunningly Creative Claudette for their support during my mini meltdown.

~Lily

Z is for Zippy & Bungle. The A-Z Of Cockney Rhyming Slang.

 

An explanation explaining what the hell a Zippy and Bungle is…

Don’t  worry folks, you are not experiencing a bad acid trip, nor has anyone spiked your morning beverage with Rohypnol causing you to experience horrific hallucinations of the puppetry kind. Which reminds me, I better add that to my shopping list along with chloroform, rope, duct tape, and a sense of shame. (the things one does in order to get a date)
Now the trio that you see before you, belong to a children’s show called ‘Rainbow’ which ran from 1972-1992. The bear in the middle is Bungle, whilst the ‘what the bloody hell is that thing,’ on the right, is Zippy. The pink Hippo on the far left? Well that’s George but no one likes to talk about him since the ‘incident,’ although he is thought to be the first ever transgendered puppet. (Brits everywhere will know exactly what I mean) And the names of the creators of such a visionary programme? Mary Juana, Barbi Turates, Am Phetamines and Quay Ludes.
And now and for the last time, the final letter of the A-Z never ever doing this again challenge.

 

Cockney rhyming Slang-Zippy and Bungle

Translation-Jungle

Example-

Dad looking at a ‘Where’s Wally book with his son-“Ere my little current bun, (son) it’s Wally lost in the Zippy and Bungle. Can you clock (see) where Wally is?”

Son-“If you ask me one more bloody time where that bleedin’ septic tank (Yank) Wally is, I’m gonna cut you.”

Dad-*gulp*

Wally lost in the Zippy and Bungle.

~Lily

 

Y is for Yank. The A-Z Of Cockney Rhyming Slang.

Tis nearly time folks. The challenge is almost at an end. I was going to whip my bra off in a celebration of freedom and liberation, but Spawn keeps trying to harpoon my Lady Lumps. No matter how many times I’ve told him otherwise, he  is convinced that they are escaped Manatees  from the Sea Life Aquarium.

Anyway, on to today’s letter which is the indomitable…

Cockney rhyming slang-Septic Tank

Translation-Yank (colloquial term for an American)

Example-“I’ve never met a more moral, spiritual and godly family then those Septic Tanks the Kardashians.”

Yeah, the picture is completely unrelated to the example.But we’re almost at an end…plus, I…don’t…care…

~Lily

X is for…er…um…nope, got nothing for X. Not The A-Z Of Cockney Rhyming Slang.

Pearly Kings and Queens-Members of the committee for the Cultural Originators (of) Cockney Kaflooey.

Well this is embarrassing. It appears that the linguistic patter of the East End Cockney, did not extend to the letter X. You would have thought that folk adept in the art of taking a simple word and then stretching it beyond all necessity, would have had the oral skills to navigate the most evil…seriously X, what is the sodding point of you? difficult letter of the alphabet. But oh no, when it came to the mangling of the English Language, it seems that the committee for the ‘Cultural Originators (of) Cockney Kaflooey’, (or to give it it’s abbreviated title C.O.C…er…best not to mention it’s abbreviated title) were out to lunch that day. So instead, here’s an X poem which has absolutely nothing to do with Cockney Rhyming Slang. You’re welcome.

Xena Xenosa

WARNING: This is a warning to warn you that I am warning you to be aware that this is a warning. Poem may contains scenes of an adult nature. Also, never stick your finger into the blades of an oscillating fan as decapitation stings quite a bit. End of warning.

Xena Xenosa a girl at school.
had eyes a big as swimming pools.
Feet like boats and teeth like planks,
Xena X was a bit of a skank.

The thing about Xena you see,
was she spent her time upon her knees.
From pubs to clubs, men’s bathroom stalls,
that Xena X had had them all.

Indeed it was a well known fact,
she spent most of her time upon her back,
as boys lined up at the bicycle shed,
Xena Xenosa would give good advice…what?

As whorish as that girl could be,
she was quite wise, a sage was she,
who offered up talk of relationships,
though most of it was a pile of shit.

I learned from her some interesting stuff,
like boys hate girls with a hairy muff.
That you can’t get pregnant standing up.
And don’t watch that film, ‘2 girls one cup’.

I also learned tampons you see,
can make you lose your virginity.
And sperm can’t swim there way through knickers,
as I was told by Nigel Vickers.

You can’t get pregnant the first time
and apparently fish tastes nice with lime.
But Xena Xenosa with her vast knowledge,
got pregnant after leaving college.

I recently heard upon the vine,
that she’s got 10 kids from babe to nine.
And she married that arsehole Nigel Vickers,
who now knows sperm can swim through knickers.

~Lily

*Did I say I was a poet?
Seriously folks, I can smell your judgement from here.

 

W is for Wilson Pickett. The A-Z Of Cockney Rhyming Slang.

Cockney rhyming slang-Wilson Pickett (Soul legend)

Translation-Ticket

Example-“I’ve got two Wilson Picketts for the gig Friday.”

 

 

 

 

~Lily