Farty's Fortunes

Wednesday, 28 February 2007


Sorry, that naff header background was really getting on my tits. Mind, if I'd known it would be so hard to change it to something half decent...meh. Done now.

Why are you wasting your time reading this anyway? Oh, well, you're here now.

blah blah, James Cameron has found the coffin of Jesus, blah blah, Easter cancelled, blah blah, Christian Right up in arms, maybe they'll crucify Cameron. Here's the link.

Roll on Friday.

Sunday, 25 February 2007

Merkan-English Dictionary #1

In an effort to foster a better relationship with one of our former colonies, herewith allow me to present an occasional series explaining the Proper vs. Merkan meaning of some common words.

UK: Slut
Dirty Slapper
Ulrika-ka-ka Jonnssonn

US: Tramp
Dirrty Ho
Paris Hilton

UK: Tramp
Sorry Compo
Compo off Last of the Summer Wine

US: Bum
Fed-ex off Britney Spears

UK: Bum
Kylie's Bum
Miss Kylie Minogue

US: Fanny
J-Lo's Ass

UK: Fanny
Hugh Grant, the Twat
Hugh Grant off Bridget Jones

US: Pussy
What Chew Lookin At, Punk?
A Pussy Yesterday

Saturday, 24 February 2007

Shaved Twat

So on Friday, colleague C turned up as bald as a coot.
"What's up, C? I didn't know you were a big Britney Spears fan."
"I'm not."
"Coming out in sympathy for the lovely Gail Porter then?"
"Do tell."
And this, it transpired, is How the Twat got his Baldy...

Picture, if you will, a trendy unisex hair salon. It's C's favourite, as all of the dolly-birds are fit. He takes a seat, gets comfy and his usual stylist picks up a #1 razor to start tidying the back of his neck. C says something noncommittal to make conversation while he's checking out the talent.

A deathly silence descends on the salon. Tumbleweeds blow across the room, pick up some hair clippings as they pass and leave as mysteriously as they arrived. "I beg your pardon?" asks stylist in a voice that could freeze the very atmosphere. On Venus.

C notices it's suddenly got a bit chilly, but the fluffy pink clouds on Planet Colin shield him from the brunt of the icy blast - for the moment. "I said you're fairly putting on the beef."


"Oh, I'm so sorry! The razor seems to have slipped and shaved a strip right over the top of your head! Looks like I'll just have to do the rest of your head to match now."

And he was even dumb enough to share this tale with us.

The twat.

Friday, 23 February 2007

Me and my Big Mouth

Just came here from Little Red Boat, where Anna mentions that reading a book can affect the way you write or speak...

I've been reading Non-Working Monkey.

At 3am last Saturday morning I got a phone call from work, asking me to join a conference call...so...
"What's up?"
"We stopped a system to do some maintenance and now it won't start."
"What does the manual say?"
"'Use the restart command.'"
"So use the restart command."
"That's what we wanted to do, but {pointy-haired manager} insisted on opening up a conference call."
"What a twat!"
"Um, what was that clunk?"
"That would be {pointy-haired manager} dropping the phone."
"Oh...anyway, have you done it yet?"
"Did it work?"
"Can I go back to sleep now?"
"Nighty-night then."
"Nighty-night, Farty."

Thursday, 22 February 2007

SETI Finally Finds Something

So what did they find? How to get free publicity - by sending out a headline-grabbing non-story as a press release.


People have died for less. Grr! I swear there's no intelligent life down here.

Wednesday, 21 February 2007

Treasure Trove

This is a true story. Long ago and far away in a distant galaxy (ok, maybe not that distant), a trading ship was carrying its precious cargo of Chinese pottery and carnelian beads and that from the Orient to the ports of Europe. Whilst attempting to negotiate the Wild Coast of South Africa, it was caught up in a terrible storm and dashed against the cruel, jagged rocks. Only a few hardy souls - and their slaves - managed to escape and make their way to shore. After many exciting adventures involving treacherous natives, wild animals and the odd tropical disease, an even fewer number survived the journey overland to East London.

But that's not important right now. When we visited our family out that way a couple of years back, my son-in-law took us for a wee drive down 100 kilometers of dirt track to a secluded beach, then we clambered across the rocks, forded a river mouth at low tide and came at last to a group of women - some were natives dressed in bright colours, some tourists in khaki - picking their way amongst the flotsam and jetsam strewn along the shoreline. It transpired that after 400 years, the tides had finally released some of the sunken treasure from its watery resting place.

Even as I watched, one of the locals let out a whoop of delight and held aloft a biscuit-sized sliver of white with blue markings on it, before thrusting it into a fold in her headgear. With a little persuasion, she plucked it out and proffered for my inspection a beautifully-painted shard of Chinese pottery. "I'm having me some of that," I thought to myself and immediately started scanning the sand and gravel shushing around my bare feet, hunting for goodies while son-in-law went off with a screwdriver to secure some slightly-more-available oysters.

The sun beat down on our heads, a gentle wind blew across us and all the time the waves crashed, crashed, crashed onto the shore, dredging up forgotten hoards of, well, not very much to be honest. A German frau found a couple more bits of pottery, two or three women found some translucent beads, still clearly pre-drilled for threading onto necklaces, but with the tiny holes now clogged with sand. And Muggins? After three hours I had sore feet from the sharp stones, my shorts were soaked through and I had bugger-all to show for my troubles. I was still having a whale of a time but it was growing late and I had to get back before the river became impassable.

Now a dilemma. Should I brazenly continue with the public-consumption version I trotted out when I got back to the family, or should I come clean and tell the truth? Ah, what the heck. You're only figments of my imagination anyway...

One of the German frauleins took pity on me and just as a wave drained away, dropped one of her beads right in front of me. "Look!" she yelled, "There's one now! Grab it before it gets washed away again!"

Quick as a flash, I reached down and snatched it up. "Are you sure about this?"

"No problem, I'm here all week and I've got half-a-dozen already."

"You're very kind. Thank you."

And with that, I stuck the bead in my mouth for safe-keeping, picked up my shoes and with a wave of gratitude to my erstwhile companions, made my way back across the river and returned to civilisation.

When I told my son-in-law the official version, he congratulated me. "My sister's been coming back to that beach every summer for the past seventeen years. She says when she gets enough beads, she'll drill them out and make them into a necklace."

"What a lovely idea. How many has she collected?"


Tuesday, 20 February 2007

My Happy Place #1

Friends Reunited

I bumped into her at lunchtime. Knee-length brown leather boots, brown leggings, wide leather belt over a white cheesecloth t-shirt. Shoulder-length blonde hair, expensive cut. Ray-bans. And the first girl I was ever able to tell "I love you" without feeling all embarrassed and coy about it.

She was up in Embra for the day before heading back to Sarf Lahndahn. We chatted briefly, exchanging pleasantries and generally catching up on old times, then she rejoined her group and disappeared for another couple of years. But for the rest of the day I was walking on air.

Monday, 19 February 2007

Hit Gossip

Daughter C came traipsing in on Saturday and asked who was on The Friday Night Project? Why, Gossip, I replied. Who? Only the sexiest woman on earth, said I, playing it back for her*. Man, that lady must be the world champion cake eater! Hot or what? And then on Sunday, my new fave popular beat combo rocketed 7 places up the Hit Parade to the giddy heights of...number 31! You go, girl!

I was going to post something about Britney Spears and her "don't look at me, I'm shy" act, but everyone else will be doing that anyway, so I shan't bother.

* omg, I'm hipper than my daughter.

Paris Hilton Full Frontal

Well, I've had this PC for a full month and still not been inclined to download any filthy interweb porn, what kind of sicko am I? But this made me laugh.

Saturday, 17 February 2007

When Harry Met Ali

So the youngest son of The Princess of Hearts is off to the Middle East to give Johnny Foreigner a taste of British Steel.* For a fleeting moment I had a vision of him being killed** by "friendly fire" from Uncle Sam's Best, followed by State Funeral, National Mourning, Dubya and his lapdog Blair being given the elbow by their respective governments, troops out of Iraq, peace on earth. But only for a moment - even one life lost in this futile war is one too many. Just stop. Now.

* Or is it Corus now?

** Not that I've got anything against the Monarchy. It's one of the few things*** we've got that our former colony can't ever have, unless they give up this foolishness, renounce their "independence" and come back to the loving arms of the Mother Country. Ah, go on, you know you want to. We'd still take you back.

*** That and class.**** We may be poor but we're posh.

****And a sense of irony.

Friday, 16 February 2007

Diaz Bush Romp Claims

Brilliant headline on Sky News website, pity the story's so lame.

Thursday, 15 February 2007

Snow Joke

Not that it ever snows in Embra, but couldn't resist exhuming this oldie in response to Hot Coffee Girl's gripe about the weather in Cleveland (Ohio).


DEC 20TH Its starting to snow. The first of the season and the first we've seen for years. The wife and I took out our hot toddies and sat on the porch watching the fluffy soft flakes drift gently down, clinging to the trees and covering the ground. It is so beautiful and peaceful.

DEC 24TH We awoke to a lovely blanket of crystal white, glistening snow, covering as far as the eye could see. What a fantastic sight, every tree and bush covered with a beautiful white mantle. I shovelled snow for the first time ever and loved it. I did both our driveway and the pavement. Later that day a snow-plough came along and accidentally covered up our driveway with compacted snow from the street. The driver smiled and waved. I waved back and shovelled it away again. The children next door built a snowman with coal for eyes and a carrot for a nose, and had a snowball fight, a couple just missed me and hit the car, so I threw a couple back and joined in their fun.

DEC 26th It snowed an additional 5 inches last night and the temperature dropped to around minus 8 degrees. Several branches on our trees and bushes snapped due to the weight of the snow. I shovelled our driveway again. Shortly afterwards the snow plough came by and did his trick again. Much of the snow is now a brownish-gray.

JAN 1st Warmed up enough during the day to create some slush, which soon became ice when the temerature dropped again. Bought snow tyres for both our cars. Fell on my arse in the driveway. Went to a physio but nothing was broken.

JAN 5th Still cold. Sold the wife's car and bought a 4x4 to get her to work. She slid into a wall and did considerable damage to the right wing. Had another 8 inches of white shite last night. Both vehicles are covered in salt and iced up slush. That bastard snow-plough came by twice today. Where's that bloody shovel.

JAN 9th More Fucking snow. Not a tree or bush on our property that hasn't been damaged. Power was off most of the night. Tried to keep from freezing to death with candles and a paraffin heater, which tipped over and nearly torched the house. I managed to put the flames out, but suffered 2nd degree burns on my hands. Lost all my eyebrows and eyelashes. Car hit a Fucking deer on the way to casualty and was written off.

JAN 13th Fucking bastard white shite just keeps on coming down. Have to put on every article of clothing just to go to the post box. The little shits next door ambushed me with snowballs on the way back. I'll shove that carrot so far up the little prick's arse it'll take a good surgeon hours to find it. If I ever catch the arsehole that drives the snow-plough I'll chew open his chest and rip out his heart with my teeth. I think the bastard hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shovelling and then he accelerates down the street like Michael Fucking Schumacher and buries the Fucking driveway again.

JAN 17th 16 more sodding inches of Fucking snow and Fucking ice and Fucking sleet and god know what other white shite fell last night. I am in court in 3 months time for assualting the snow-plough driver with an ice pick. Can't move my fucking toes. Haven't seen the sun for 5 weeks. Minus 20 and more f-ing snow is forecast.


Wednesday, 14 February 2007

Blonde Joke #1

Two blondes are in the middle of the Sahara Desert. The first blonde says, "Let's play Hide & Seek!" and promptly buries her head in the sand. The second blonde takes three days to find her.

Aye thang yew.

Tuesday, 13 February 2007

Damned If You Don't

Let me get this straight.

Hannah says it's: 'A chance for women to pretend they don’t care about the meaningless, commercial stupidity but then throw the le Creuset at their man when he takes her suggestion he buy her “nothing” literally'.

Chaucer's Bitch says: 'When I told him "I hate [Valentine's Day], I don't celebrate it or mark it in any way (except to complain a bit more than usual), so please don't buy me anything or do anything special," he had the good sense to take me at my word'.

Don't believe me? See for yourself (over on the right...down a bit...there. that's them).

So basically I'm up shit creek either way. Thanks, ladies.

I might as well get her that card that says: "Don't Panic, You're Safe! Bernard Matthews is only killing young birds with firm breasts."

Monday, 12 February 2007

Kilimanjaro Challenge

My mate Stephen and his mate Damion recently decided it would be a spiffing idea to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. For charidee. Next month. As you do.

When they sobered up, it still seemed like a good idea, so they started watching Ray Mears, er, I mean putting in some serious training. Walking five miles to work daily, swimming 24 lengths at lunchtime and that.

The lengths people will go to to get out of coming to our Silver Anniversary party ;-)

Can't wait to see the video diary...

Hot Gossip

Heard Gossip's "Standing in the Way of Control" on the charts yesterday. Apparently lead singer Beth Ditto wrote it in protest against the US government's stance on gay marriage. Who would have thought it? A lesbian who doesn't like Bush.

Saturday, 10 February 2007

Patron Of The Farts

Miss Tickle is trying to put on a Play, but needs to raise four thousand two hundred pounds in the next two weeks to do so. She has had the rather clever idea of selling words in the play at One British Pound each to finance the venture. I have already bought sparkling, but there are plenty more to choose from.

This is a very worthy cause. Please click here to see how it works.

No Fuel Like An Old Fuel

So there we are in Morrisons with the trolley overloaded as usual, and Mrs Farty says, "Do you think we can manage this lot on the bus?" Meh. She decides we can do retired upstairs neighbour (neighbor if you're Merkan) a favour (favor) . Rather than spend a tenner (twenty bucks) on a taxi, we'll call John to pick us up and pay him a fiver (ten-spot), which will more than cover his petrol (gas) money. Never mind that he's watching the Six Nations Rugby (like Football, but without the padding. Or the cheerleaders. Or the misleading name).

So we stand for half an hour in the freezing cold rather than hop into a waiting taxi, while John manoeuvres his way through the Embra traffic to the Gyle. Then, having loaded us up with the shopping in the boot (trunk...ok, this is getting tiresome now), he stops for fuel. The first pump's broken, so he hops forward a space, fills up and goes to pay. Climbs back in and announces that he's just filled up his diesel engine with unleaded. Nevertheless, instead of stopping there and then and draining the tank to prevent any damage, he drives us home. Now that's taking chivalry too far.

He reckons it'll cost about a thoosand poonds to fix the car. "And the one thing Andy said when he sold it to me was, 'Whatever you do, don't fill it with petrol'."


What about that Lisa Nowak bird, eh? Decides to put on a trenchcoat and wig, then drive nine hundred miles to pepper-spray, kidnap and attempt to murrrderrr the other woman who had her claws in "her" man. Allegedly.

Doesn't say much about the state of NASA these days. Hello? Didn't they train her on how to remotely operate a robot arm? And if they did, wtf did she feel the need to drive all the way from Houston to Orlando in person to do the dirty deed? At least she remembered some of her astronaut training and wore a nappy on the trip to save having to stop for a wee.

I certainly wouldn't feel comfortable in a spaceship with a homicidal maniac as a travelling companion. "Open the pod bay doors, Lisa..."