the isle of kevin

she was cleaning the windows with an old hedgehog when i called round.
i asked why she couldn't clean the windows on her own but didn't get a sensible reply.
i said there was something i wanted to tell her.
she stopped.
the hedgehog carried on.

what is it?
schoolboys prefer to be taught by men.
was that what you wanted to tell me?
yes, but i also wanted to say that i can't run away with you.
but why?
my foot is stuck in the toilet bowl.
kiss me eagle, she whispered. i love it when you're assertive.

oooh. are you sure it's alright, i said in a manly way and puckered up.
when i opened my eyes again, she was gone, and i was face to face with the old hedgehog, also puckering up.
not easy when you've got a faceful of prickles.

alberta was sitting outside, sobbing her heart out.
i helped her put it back in and sat down beside her.
unfortunately, she'd put her lemon meringue there to cool off.
she didn't seem to notice.

albert will be home in a moment, she said mournfully.
i'd better go then, i said hopefully.
not until you've made another lemon meringue for albert's pudding, she said.

i accepted the challenge.
last time i saw albert he had his face down the toilet.

some people don't like the taste of persil, apparently.

i expect that's it between alberta and me/alberta and i (delete in accordance with the quality of your english teaching).

i can't say i'm sorry.
it's nice being free as a bird.

yes, the eagle is celebrating his 21st blogday today.

21 days since i clipped me talons, dug out me amstrad steam powered processor, and began musing on eagle eye.

they call it coming of age, for you humans, don't they?
i've never understood why.

i can remember kevin (he's my agent and publisher and inspiration - what a guy!)  telling me about his 21st...

i still had acne.
they bought me a proper watch which they thought might help me act proper grown up.
i had to make a speech but i was so busy stuffing my face at the buffet - MY BUFFET, MY PARTY, OK? -
that i didn't really think about it too much.
i blushed and adjusted my underpants and said thank you for coming.
i showed everyone my watch.
then they went home.
two days later, i went out with mates from work.
we went to a club.
the strippers went round with a hat.
if you threw money in, they promised to have it off with someone in the audience, live on stage.
i took a quid out of the hat, and went to the toilet, just to be sure they didn't pick me.

speaking as a humble eagle, i wonder whether it might be better to save up the celebrations until you get to 42.
most people would have come of age by then, don't you think?

just an idea.

speaking of amstrad, i note that sir alan sugar has sold the company to BSkyB, and is now about £35 million richer, while still running the business.  sky wanted to buy the company because they make most of their set top boxes, for which they pay a 20 per cent mark up.
speaking as a humble eagle again, i wonder whether if i was running sky and amstrad were almost totally dependent on my custom, i would have just told alan sugar to cut his prices. 
just an idea.

menomama makes a grand entrance.
darling, please try not to blow kisses at the audience before the play has ended.

she rugby tackles grumpus just as he is about to give la spice a chinese burn.
this provokes chyna doll who says giving chinese burns is part of her blog.

CD - get stuck in.
oh.
you have.
are you alright menomama?  don't worry, i'm sure the bleeding will stop soon.

goingsomewhere wanders in.  it's her first visit and she needs someone to take her hand.
she looks around and spots kiki2u laughing at fred cartoons.
kiki takes exception to goingsomewhere looking over her shoulder, and another scuffle breaks out.
this is all too much for charlie and chris, who try to break up the fights as sally continues to sing 'we'll meet again'.

suddenly, silence breaks out.
sally stops singing and everyone freezes.

come on, look terrified for goodness sake!  subville! you can do better than just chewing toffees. i need you scared and screaming.  not you munzly - an occasional table cannot look scared for god's sake!
right, in you come sketchweasel!  that's right, now pull out your submachine gun and wave it about in a threatening manner...
why have you brought a pair of handshears?  i told you to get a gun!

ok, break time, everyone.
in the next scene, we're going to look behind the scenes at a few bloggers.  to expose private lives and hidden tensions.  meanwhile, sketchweasel will have some explaining to do.

will someone administer my cooling powders please!
i feel limp...my creative juices have drained me.
actually, a couple of meat pies would do just as well. with red cabbage.

we've all had or heard conversations where people just can't seem to get the words right...
being an eagle, i hear a lot more than most on account of being particularly nosy and able to perch on windowsills and bar stools and patio umbrellas without being noticed.

what's he called...the bloke who invented wireless?
macaroni, wasn't it?

i love that cocktail, we had in the bahamas, you remember....
oh, yeah, penis colorado?

we had such a good time in australia - in that capital city - cranberry.

is it something that happens with age, do you think?
i only ask because you often find older people arguing over the right word, don't you?
man and wife, each totally convinced they are right, and getting exercised over the right word for something...
like a walkway at the seafront...

it's a promontory.
no, that's not right.
well, what is it then?
it's a lemonade.

still, it's only words.

glad to see you're all in costume tonight.
but steve - please take that long blond wig off.
it makes you look like carlos tevez playing a drag queen.

big welcomes to goingsomewhere and kiki2u, who have arrived just in time to take part in the bloggers social outing

so, steve...i need you to exude, now...are you exuding?
er...chyna doll...could you phone the floor manager and tell him we have a man down?
steve! 
stop exuding now, ok?

anyway, so here we go darlings.
it's the big night.
steve is hoping that the bloggers social night will ease the tensions and maybe bring charlie and ramblingchris back together.
he's booked sallyontour to sing songs from the shows.
sally? i  need you to have tantrums in just a moment, dear, alright?

ok, let's get you into position on stage now.
as you can see, it's all laid out like a nightclub, with you sitting at round tables (one of which is munzly...try and pretend you can't tell which one,,, yes, i know his bum crack is a bit of a give away, but hey...)

right, sal - get cross girl! the mike doesn't work, does it?
grumpybloke!  you go up and offer to help.
sal - hit him! hard! he's a dirty sod!  come on you two, let's make this real.

now playwrite27, you're impatient and you're jealous because you're a better singer than sal, now aren't you?
so get stuck in!  you grab grumpybloke by the portico.  that's it! 
lindow! you're not going to stand for this are you?
but wait...chynadoll is on her way back and she's looking your way.
you decide to get to know her better instead.

right - enter charlie and chris.
well, look like you've had a row!
oh. you have...what happened?

blog.co.uk kept logging you out?
shame.
still - on with the show...

grumpus!  did i tell you to head butt la spice?
no.
so why did you do it?
she pinched your popcorn did she?

  ok people.  take a break.
oh god!  here comes mermaidstale doing her police siren routine again.
not yet, dear!   later!

i need a creme de menthe and a jumbo sausage.
my nerves are in tatters...

i'm fine, thanks for asking.
bit confused about the lady next door, though.
you remember alberta, don't you?
if not, see earlier entries in this increasingly zany blog...

anyway, albert is back from his business trip and grumpy as ever.
i saw him through the window, ironing a crease down the front of his underpants.
who is he trying to impress?

then he went off to work with his mouse skin attache case, and alberta was round to my place like a shot.
the bang on the door was just like a shot, in fact.
i spilled tizer right down the fly of my best paisley shorts (you know, the ones with the turnups and snake belt?).
i went to the door dabbing my private areas with a jiffy cloth and her eyes lit up when i swung open the stable door.
she threw me to the ground, tore my shorts off, and rushed off home to put them in the washing machine for me - saucy devil.

i asked her what cycle she was on, and she said she wasn't due till next week.

i blew her a kiss.
she blew one back.
i had to open the window.
the stench of stale kipper and egg nog was just too much for me.

she crossed a leg seductively.
i rubbed off the mark and told her not to write on my thigh again.

then something seemed to snap.
she leapt to her feet and i realised her knicker elastic had gone.

somewhere in the middle of all this flirtation, we kissed, and we both knew that something was growing between us.
i turned away, hiding my embarrassment.

i turned back and alberta told me she couldn't live with albert any longer.
why? how long is he? i asked.
oh about five foot thirteen, she replied absently.
then she wiped away a tear and asked if i would run away with her.

i said i'd prefer to jog because i have athlete's foot (just one - the other is useless for running).

we agreed to meet later to talk it through.
i can't think of anything else.

what am i going to do?

golden sunlight melted the mist that caressed the tree tops.
songbirds competed with angels to send sweet messages to the waking world at the start of a new day....

unfortunately, the human race wasn't quite in tune.
i listened in as suburbia came to life today.

here is the dawn chorus, human style...

get out of bed and get the kettle on you lazy lummock!

josh! put that away - you're frightening loretta!

oh my god! have you just farted? that is disgusting. i'm getting out of bed.

why are my underpants on top of the wardrobe?

kiss me, darling....good grief!  who are you?

the dog's done it on the kitchen floor.  don't slip will you?  i'm off to work....bye!

turn that xx..%&*@ing tele off and eat your cocopops!  but mother, i'm 36 years old.

whatever you're up to, enjoy your new day!

well it's nice of you all to turn up for rehearsals on a sunday afternoon.
but why are you all wearing dressing gowns and smoking cigarettes through a holder, and wearing sunglasses?
we're here to work darlings.
there is no room for pretentiousness....d'accord?

so here's the way it's looking now.
we've got charlie007 tapping away at her keyboard.
ramblingchris is yelling at her through the closed door...
he barges in, eyes blazing (he was checking his sausage and got too close to the grill pan, methinks).

all this tells us that the central story is the conflict which develops as one person becomes a professional blogger....known from here onwards as a PRO.
we meet her partner (ramblingchris) who is young, handsome, and only interested in one thing...and it's not tiddlywinks.
their relationship suffers as charlie pours her heart and soul through the computer screen, leaving chris frustrated - an empty vessel which is not getting its oats.

he looks elsewhere and seeks advice from the smouldering menomama, an acknowledged expert in virtual relationships.
she advises him to join a network support group, called The Bloggers.
he meets the group - that's all of you.
but his attention strays when laspice appears in a flimsy nightgown and plays around with his tags.
you can enter my domain anytime....she breathes.

sadly, this is overheard by grumpus, with whom laspice once had a mad passionate affair.
his lustful pursuit of the enigmatic mermaidstale, mainly to stop her shouting neeenawww neeennawww, is quickly abandoned, and he devotes his time to cursing ramblingchris and threatening him with fresh vegetables.

meanwhile, charlie's best friend subville, quietly observes this drama and warns charlie that she could be about to lose ramblingchris, for ever.

charlie decides to make that the subject of one of her posts tomorrow....

ok darling people (LINDOW will you stop looking at pictures of cows while i'm talking....sorry?  you're reading Hello...?  fair enough)
where was i?
yes - you all need to start getting into your roles....ROLES, grumpybloke...no, not the car...
munzly...where is he?  good lord, he;s already started hasn't he?  i could have sworn that was a gateleg table - astonishing character acting and a fine example.

so if you'd like to attack the vol au vents and cream puffs, i'll proceed to the next scene, which will involve the rest of you.
what happens is....steve-p decides to arrange a social outing for the Bloggers, with a little help from sallyontour...

i'll call you back in when i'm ready.

....getting pricked and making a lot of noise.

just flown back from another day of research, this time to germany.
trouble is, nothing much happens there except they make good gear in their factories...razors,cars, sausages, that sort of thing.
but after soaring round and round the black forest, and not spotting a single wild gateau, i'd just about had enough.

then, i took a little peck around bremen, as eagles dare to do.
to find great excitement...

the police were called to a disturbance in someone's garden - or at least, that's what the residents thought.
they were complaining about yelling and screaming.

blue lights flashing, sirens wailing, the ever efficient german police arrived (within days - the car broke down) to find that the noise was being made by two hedgehogs having sex, or making babies, or whatever they call it.

apparently, they go at it hammer and tongs - loads of noises and thrashing about.
not sure what happens afterwards but you often see them rolled into a ball don't you - maybe that's what they do when they're shagged out?

so next time you hear noises in the night, think twice before you pick up your phone.
tiptoe down and see if you can spy hedgehogs having it off.

maybe then you can pick up the phone - and invite the neighbours round, or your partner, to see if they want to pick up any tips.

many thanks to the kind people of germany for making me so welcome today.
i'll be telling this story to alberta later, so i'd better get some rest while i can.

ok darlings.
quiet!
ramblingchris - get that bloody llama out of the auditorium!

you've all met each other?  good.
now i want you all to spend five minutes talking to the person next to you...tell them all about yourself, your acting career so far, your intimate private details...

MUNZLY!  i've told you a thousand times you are not going to play a piece of furniture, so please close your drawers.

la spice - i think you've gone far enough seducing grumpus...
sorry, what's that, grumps?  she seemed very interested in your fruit and vegetables?  i bet she did.

oh for god's sake mermaidstale, we do not want to hear the police siren ALL the time.  oh, sorry, that was your normal speaking voice, right....

anyway, that's enough.

let's get into the play shall we?

ok, we've got an opening scene of a little back room in a modest house in suburbia.  there's a slightly wobbly desk that someone tried to fit together from the self build furniture instructions which were in japanese;  an extremely heavy computer and keyboard with lots of coffee and food stains;  a huge padded desk chair;  and a pair of heavy curtains.

a lovely woman is sitting at the desk, completely engrossed.
all you can hear is the tapping of keys (and the occasional fart, of course).
the only light comes from the computer screen.
it highlights her beautiful features.
she smiles, she mutters to herself, she frowns - all the emotions flit across her face...

then, we hear a hammering on the door.
a man's voice....'when are you going to get off that computer and join us?'

angry man strides in....

  ok.  we'll take a break there for drinks and nibbles.
yes subville, you can have treacle toffee.
thanks lindow, we'd love some organic milk.
chyna doll - are you paying attention?
no playwrite, i don't think doctor who will be making an appearance in the play.
and will menomama and charlie007 please stop checking the mirror - you both look gorgeous enough.

where's marvo?  toronto?  well he's history!

that means promotion for you steve-p.
i see a great love scene between you and sketchweasel.
then sallyontour strides in singing songs from the shows...

hmmm - you all go off and have a nibble while i work on the script.

You Belong in Rome

You're a big city soul with a small town heart Which is why you're attracted to the romance of Rome Strolling down picture perfect streets, cappuccino in hand And gorgeous Italian people - could life get any better?

i am writing, producing, directing and wearing sunglasses indoors, as we prepare for a blockbusting production of Meet the Bloggers.
Nine of the eagle's friends have so far agreed to act in this drama, but there is space for more, so let me know quickly if you want a chance to resurrect your career on stage, or maybe start a new one.
television and film producers are beating a path to my hideout in the floodplains somewhere deep in the heart of england.
the clock is ticking.
the script is under preparation.

juicy parts are on offer, if you know what i'm saying.

so - the vacancies are for...

a student
a teenager in love
a kindly grandparent
a cool dude with attitude
a person who is angry about everything
a gossip
a spammer

the cast list currently includes charlie007, menomama, mermaidstale, lindow, ramblingchris, munzly, marvo, laspice and grumpus.
they are busy rushing around blogland striking poses, calling everyone darling and going 'mwah' a lot.

if you would rather be selected by the casting couch route, my only condition is that you are female, have recently had a wash, and you don't mind waiting.

*we welcome applicants from all backgrounds, sexual orientations, and do not discrimate against anyone for reasons of stupidity, ugliness or not living in england.  though anyone who supports chelsea can just forget it.

the can of apes was nice.
so were the four petits.
she asked me if i wanted tea.
i said yes.
she asked me if i wanted a pot.
i said no thanks, i have full bladder control.

she sat close, too close.
she sat on my hand which made sipping tea and swatting the flies quite tricky.

turns out albert is away for two more days.

she asked me if i'd like to stay the night.
where? i asked, trying to open my new NOSEPICKER (now on sale!).
with me, she said with a knowing wink.
have you got a tic in your eye? i asked
no, but yours is black, she replied.
no it isn't, i said stupidly.
well it is now, she quipped with a swift punch to my face.

i spilled tea down my pants, speared my privates with the NOSEPICKER, and discerned that the evening wasn't going so smoothly.

i changed tactics.

why don't i stay the night?
ok. get your kit off darling, she yelled excitedly.
so i removed my rucksack, climbing boots, gps, ipod, headphones, waterproof jacket, overtrousers, and binoculars.

by which time she was sprawled on the kitchen worktop, swinging a leg provocatively.
i stared.
and within seconds i was hypnotised.

when i woke up, the sun was peeping through the window, (i must report him to the police).
she had a soppy look on her face, and she was smoking (tail feathers too close to the woodburner).

well good morning, big boy, she whispered.  well, by her standards, she whispered but all i know is that the sonic boom sent the sprouts rolling off the shelf onto the floor.
who are you talking to? i said.

she sighed, kicked me off the worktop, and set about scraping the innards from a vole.

i found walking quite difficult for some reason.
same again tonight, she called, as i limped along the branch line back to my place.

i wonder what happened?
she seemed happy enough.
must have done something right.

i'm in a bit of a state.
i was just dunking my head in the bath to wash my hair with carbolic, when there's a tap on the door.
quickly, i turned it off.
the house is damp enough.

then alberta pressed her face against the window.
i pressed mine there as well, thinking there must be a good reason for this.
we stayed there for quite some time.  my nose started hurting, it was so badly bent.
then alberta gave up. when she pulled away from the glass, she looked uglier, somehow.

she yelled at me -

are you going to let me in or not?
- why, are you locked out?
no, let me in, i want to talk to you!
- you are talking to me!
just let me in, will you?

i let her in. 
she had a face you don't want to argue with.
the sort of face that looks like it has lost the argument against the forces of gravity.
i wouldn't say her face was saggy, but she held her cheeks up with a head bra.

but, still, she's got a lovely personality - if you ignore the sudden violent karate chops.

the whole point of her visit was to invite me round for drinks and nibbles.

i said yes straight away because i could easily work out that she would probably sabotage me sink plunger if i turned her down.  she's that sort of woman.

trouble is, i don't what this means.
does she mean, come over, have a drink, and let's get to bed straight after?
are nibbles like pre-nuptuals?

thing is, i'm not really sure whether i'd prefer a snogging session or a bag of cheesey wotsits.

life's full of tough choices, isn't it.

i'll let you know how it goes, of course - always assuming i've still got the use of all my faculties by the end of the night.

in the meantime, enjoy your evening, and if anyone asks you in for nibbles - think carefully.

i'm very busy mapping out a major theatrical production called
...MEET THE BLOGGERS

we're talking major soap opera with potential for a longer run than an elephant with diarrhoea.
so you're either in, or you're out.

at the moment, i'm casting for two people to play man and wife.  probably about 30 years old.
man is a grumpy bugger.
wife is completely in charge.
she likes to blog.
he likes to make things in his shed.

i'm also looking for an amazingly handsome virile male who sweeps wifey off her feet.
i did advertise on ebay and got two replies.  one from tony blair who said he was available at the right price.
the other was from the police, but i can't say any more at the moment.
i remain hopeful there is someone in blogland who might fit the bill.

now you should know that i already have two people vying for the role of wifey, so we may have to arrange an audition through blog.co.uk

other parts will be available in due course.
obviously your chances of appearing in this sure-to-be-televised theatrical event, will be improved if you tell me what a wonderful idea it is.

meanwhile, i'll get on with the plot.

i am so busy i haven't even got time to blog!

eagles enjoy going to the theatre too, you know.
and watching a dvd (does that stand for Dodgy, Violent and Dirty?).
i love david attenborough, of course.  especially in that film 'jurassic park'.

one of my ambitions is to be the first eagle to have a play performed on stage.
don't care where it is.
could even be in one of the colonies, like new zealand, or australia.
that set me day dreaming, and i remembered an occasion, back in april, when i was living a different life, back on the isle of kevin....

this is what i wrote in my blog at the time.

here on the isle of kevin we have a fantastic way of life.
and one of our treats is an occasional trip to the theatre.
it is just fantastic!

we went to watch 'all in good time' by bill naughton (he wrote 'alfie' - which was originally called 'kevin' but was changed by someone called alfie which i think is bang out of order).
the play is set in a northern town so you can guess how over the top the accents were - slightly annoying for a mancunian like myself, but kevins are famously forgiving, so i only interrupted the performance once with a cry of 'don't patronise me you you soft southern people'.

the play was about a nice young man and his blushing bride who had no cash and had to live at home.  trouble is, the atmosphere was so oppressive that the marriage was not consummated, even after six weeks.
well, you can imagine the shock and horror this caused.
but it was a happy ending - no they didn't get down to it on stage, thank you very much.
i did wonder though - bearing in mind my recent island-wide edict about sex now being compulsory.

however, there was a certain amount of egging on from the elderly WI contingent on the front row.
they were leaning forward eagerly and consuming their king cones with alarming speed.

anyway, the point is - this was an unsophisticated, not brilliantly acted, performance put on in a tiny theatre (eight rows of seats and a few rocking chairs in the dress circle).
and i loved it!

i don't want to watch slick tv drama ever again.

must tell my butler - he's called kevin - to cancel radio times.

it's the overacting weekly for me from now on.

......aaaah, nostalgia isn't what it used to be, is it?

better get on.
i've got a play to write.
subville sez she wants to be in it.
let me know if you'd like a part...

i am more and more impressed with the ingenuity of the people who make crisps.
the flavours are really cool.
you almost want to have a dinner party just so you can impress your guests with welsh cheddar and fresh harvested atlantic sea salt, or oregano and lamb fillet...

but poor old chocolate is getting left behind!
this has to stop, so here's the eagle's answer...

cadbury's fruit and salmonella.

cracked tooth and nut.

gummy gob.

black pudding and giblets.

cauliflower.

  chocolate lovers everywhere - it's time to fight back against poncy crisps.
pick up your dentures and let's show them what we're made of.
any other suggestions gratefully received, as always.

i sometimes shed my eagle feathers because it can be a bit awkward at times.
like when you're queueing for fish and chips on a friday night.
people just STARE.

so i peeled out of my costume and put some street clothes on....cycling shorts, long brown socks, open toed sandals, shirt and tie, and a trilby, if you must know...shinned down the tree and wandered into the village for a look round.

i liked what i saw in the bakery.
a fine looking woman with strong arms, kneading the dough.
and in the blacksmiths.
a fine looking woman with strong arms, going at it hammer and tongs.
and finally in the newsagents...
a fine looking woman.  name of mildred.
what a vision she was!

red hair and green eyes (or was it the other way round?).
come to bed eye (just the one).
hair all the way down her back (none on her head).

i immediately experienced a long felt want.
later, after i'd explained it away to the police, i timidly asked mildred if she'd take my arm.

why, where does it want to go? she asked with a delicious toss of her hair.
i picked up the toupee and placed it approximately atop her scalp.
instinctively she defended herself with a a left hook.
where she got it from i do not know, unless she'd been mixing with the big lass at the blacksmiths.
anyway, i dodged it and parried with a playful swing of my baguette.
it caught her full in the face.
mortified, i watched her fall to the ground...and eat the whole lot vivaciously (voraciously?).

we have become firm friends.
the firm is called spanners toilet products and she is the chief executive.

we meet again for a tour of the factory.
if she asks me to take a seat, i probably will.
i keep falling off the lav at home.

anyway, i'm glad i made myself known at the village.
on my way back, i noticed the fine looking woman with strong arms, obviously needing the dough.
she was sitting next to a red light looking alluring.
the effect was spoiled about every thirty seconds when it changed to amber and green...

flew into montreal today at the invitation of my mate Benoit Labonte, the mayor of one of the city's downtown boroughs.
he's come up with a great idea to help the homeless.

montreal is installing wizzy new electronic parking meters (though being an eagle, i NEVER pay for parking).
which means there are lots of old parking meters feeling bored and neglected, with no arguments to watch between drivers and traffic wardens.

so, benoit has handed these old meters over to a charity called L'Itineraire, who have done deals with some private companies to spruce them up.
and now they're being well used as a way for people to donate 25 cents a time to the charity.

this is great news for the charity, which was started by a group of former drug addicts and homeless people more than ten years ago.
no-one quite knows how successful this will be.  so far, 34 meters are in use, and there are plans to extend it to 100.

eagle eye likes this and says well done to montreal, where the homeless population can reach up to 30,000 in summer and local people are constantly being asked for money. 
so putting a quarter into a meter now and again makes life better for everyone.

just before i flew back to england, i asked benoit if he could look into another problem for me - mosquitoes. 
i was bitten to death last time i went to nova scotia.
he said he'd look into it for me.
i suggested burning all the forests and building nice modern cities everywhere full of houses that homeless people could live in.
he said he'd think about that, and presented me with a special eagle sized head net.
good lad!

i've been working on the next craze to sweep the world.

by the way did you know that sudoku was an anagram of duksouu...? 
no, neither did i.  i think it might be a somalian word for something obscene.

so anyway, i've invented a new activity that should help you avoid looking at anyone else on any journey by train or bus or ferry or plane EVER AGAIN.

it's called ......
NOSEPICKER.

all you need is my patented finger scoop and you can get right to it.
shove a finger of your choice up either nostril - THE CHOICE IS YOURS!
lay out the bogeys on our luxury branded Nosepicker gameboard and check out the shapes you made.
see if you can arrange them into a well known phrase or saying!
or even create a unique work of art!
take a photo and publish it on your blog, or email your colleagues at work!

the beauty of this new pastime is that you don't need brains (though you might need a new one if you dig in too deep).

so go to nosepicker.com and order your luxury travel set now.
the first hundred customers get the bonus TRAFFIC JAM NOSEPICKER adaptor COMPLETELY FREE!

thousands of my admirers have asked how i came up with this brilliant idea.
my acute powers of observation simply showed me that people spend a lot of time travelling in metal containers, and they either...

• pretend to be interested in national newspapers
• pretend they're reading a clever book
• pretend they're doing sudoku
• write rude words in cryptic crosswords
• or pick their noses and look out of the window

i just spotted a gap in the market and went for it.
simple as that.
pretty soon, my nosepickers will be in harrods, railway stations, greyhound buses...

i am also selling franchises so if you live in one of the lesser countries (anywhere outside england)
just send me a message telling me how great i am and how much money you want to give me.

bye now!

i got 34 moles and i'm going to drink one pint of milk a day.

i'll let you know when i reach the age of 100, so you'll know it works.

don't forget to bookmark this page and put a note in your diary to remind you to come back in sixty years time to see how i'm getting on.

oh - and why don't you try it too?

just think, if all us blog friends did the same, we'd STILL be blogfriends in sixty years time, or more!

we'd probably set a world record for biggest and best blog friends.
isn't that a happy thought?

do you want to stay younger, for longer?

more moles, more milk...
just remember, more moles, more milk...repeat it twenty times and you're sorted.

my friends the scientists always tip me off first, and they tell me that people with more moles on their skin are likely to stay younger for longer.
people with white skin average about 30 moles - so that's a reasonable benchmark.
so get counting!

and when you've finished squirming on the carpet with a mirror on a stick (and finding things you weren't looking for...), get down to the fridge and drink a pint of milk - IMMEDIATELY.
and drink another pint of milk tomorrow, and every day for the rest of your whole life.
because doing that cuts the risk of heart disease and stroke by two thirds.
it must be right because this is based on a twenty year study.

got that?
MOLES AND MILK.
(if you haven't got many moles, i do sell them by the dozen.  simply send me an email and a cheque for £100 sterling, thanks).*

take my advice and you'll live forever, or even longer.

signed
doctor eagle

*that was a joke. i didn't mean it, please don't send me lots of money.

...who would be a poisonous snake?

or a rat?

or a little hoppity bunny rabbit?

chomping noises
this jo brand is a bit tough.  needs a few more minutes in the pan.
anyone want another helping?

i keep a close on the animal kingdom, as you would expect.
among other things, i'm interested in how us creatures get our names.
i mean, who decided to call that ugly looking git on the branch over there a STICK INSECT?
why not just call it an UGLY GIT?

i was even more baffled to discover that someone named a species of spiny anteater after sir david attenborough.
excuse me?
so all of a sudden, some idiot could decide to rename the proud eagle mr blobby?

it does raise some interesting possibilities, though.
i thought of a few as i was throwing a few jo brands into the pot for tea - sorry, warthogs...i always have warthog curry on a saturday.

i wondered about giving the name george bush to a three toed sloth;
 a dingbat becomes a michael winner.
gordon brown a koala bear?
jane goody a bulldog?

ah well, you get the idea.

tea's ready!

what would you like with your warthog curry?