the isle of kevin

(see 'the prime muppet' post ...)

so far the isle of kevin is banning:

farting in public
stupid politicians
hypocrites
fireworks any night except bonfire night
talking on mobiles in public
gross snogging and cuddling in public
drivers who pick their noses in traffic queues
patios
...

hmmmm, what else?

well, people who sniff a lot annoy me ... they just go on and on, don't they?
and you're just waiting for them to perform the simple act of  blowing their hooters into a tissue, but they just go on sniffing like drains.
well take note snotbag - your days are numbered.

oh - and people who turn pages on a newspaper really loudly on trains - they're banned, for sure.

not forgetting marmite.
and opticians with bad breath.

and eating junk food in public (especially with your gob open).

any more offers please?

 we were a bit short of obstacles at the isle of kevin showjumping event this morning, so i asked for volunteers.
kev the kopper was more than happy to oblige.
though he did ask several times whether any of the contestants were stallions on heat.
we told the truth about that, but conveniently forgot to tell him that one of the horses had a habit of pulling up at the hurdles and eating them ...
he's now comfortable in hospital.
i plan to visit him later and invite him to join the girls choir.

(click to see the pic full size, if necessary.)

 

must be tough for all of you who live on the island of britain.
you have our sincere sympathy.

we are laughing our socks off here on the blissful isle of kevin at the news that your Prime Muppet
Gordon the Brown is thinking of banning patio heaters because of the damage they do to global warming.

cynics might say that it's just another way to drive smokers away from pub beer gardens.
because, no doubt, smoking can also be proved to contribute to global warming, can't it?

anyway, fear not - the isle of kevin has a far more relaxed approach.

the only things i have banned here (so far) are:

stupid politicians
hypocrites
farting in public
talking on a mobile phone in public

i will soon be going out to public consultation to find out what else should be banned here.
you, my colonial blog friends, are welcome to contribute your views which will of course be taken
into account, as long as i agree with you.

 you won't find this central locking device anywhere else.
and don't try and copy it, because i have patented it.
i'm not stupid, ok?
and just to prove it works, i've already sold a few to the island driving school for motorists with learning difficulties.
so there.
the insert shows the attention to detail that has gone into this product - even to the extent of making the padlock rusty so a thief is even less likely to try to get in.
and don't worry about losing your key - we provide a free crowbar so you can break in through the boot.
all blog.co.uk customers benefit from a buy one, get one free offer - it's always useful to have a spare in case it gets nicked, isn't it?
double click the pic to see it full size.

 

kev the builder did a great job installing a new interior door at my palace yesterday.

 

i am proud to reveal the new isle of kevin alcohol online service.
simply log on to beerontap.com, pay your subscription, and help yourself!
don't forget you need to buy the exclusive 'desktap' first - but they're free if you pay for a lifetime
subscription!
yes free!  just one more reason why the isle of kevin is the most desirable country on planet earth, if not the universe.
i've tested the service thoroughly and i shertainly stink its abso bloody lootly marllevus ...

 

i was proud to perform the official opening of my island's latest attraction - a once in a lifetime
slide for the lovely little children to enjoy during their summer holiday.
don't want the darlings to be bored, do we?
i have also instructed the proprietors of kev's krazyland to allow people in wheelchairs to have the chance
to enjoy the experience - in the interests of equality of opportunity.

(i do realise i'm going to be in big trouble for that comment.)

anyway, it's perfectly safe - there are plenty of sharks in the sea to cushion the impact.

 

 farmer kev was held by the constables until he confessed to driving without due bungee cord and attention.
see 'crushed by the bales' below.
however, he was undeterred by this and quickly found an alternative means of delivering a large supply of
apples to that computer retailer that produces computers - and apples.
and here he is ...
note his impressive attempts to disguise the registration number.
(double click the pic if you need to see it full size)

 

and the next in the series is ... this little beauty.
mister moorhen, i think.
someone might tell me it doesn't count as a bird, but who cares?
it's gorgeous, and it's got feathers, and it was posing for the camera!

 
this photo was taken moments before kev the ratcatcher's moped with stabilisers was buried under
four hundred and twenty two hay bales.
police have now recovered the black box recorder from kev the farmer's lorry cab.
the last words on the recorder were spoken by kev's wife loretta.
"i wouldn't take this bend too fast now, kev."

police are keen to interview kev, who seems to have disappeared.
they are investigating a report from a puzzled cider drinker
outside the flying fishcake, who reported seeing a hay bale running up the lane.
"i thought i was odd," he said. "you don't see many bales with wellies on these days."

kev the ratcatcher survived, despite being crushed by the bales.
he is now only two centimetres thick but doctors think his brain may be undamaged.

 

all this talk about the dangers of obesity is banned in the royal palace.

doris and rose still fight over how many mars bars make a decent fritter.
i thought flossie had more sense, until her nephew came to stay last night.
she's obviously having an influence on him already.

this was the sight that greeted me this morning as i shuffled into the royal kitchens to grab my bagels.

 

you wanna steal this car, you gotta get past me first, ok?

welcome to my new community safety initiative.
no more police on the beat.
everyone who buys a car on the isle of kevin gets a free guard dog.
called kevin.
the dog - not the car.
the cars are all called rover.
i think that covers everything.
any questions?

 

 i heard the roar of the crowds outside my palace gates as the news got out.
my new limmo was being delivered today.
but i'm never using kev's kar shop again.
look what they turned up with.  luckily for me, a few world leaders were out in the exercise yard and they helped with the unloading.
but imagine my embarrassment.
i told them straight - i'm not having it.
ordered them to take it back straight away.
well, i mean - i ordered a black one!

 double click to see the pic full size

this was taken in a river estuary.
i think they are brent geese.
all i know is they made a great honking noise as they roared in to land.
touchdown was spectacular but i wanted to try and catch the flight formation as they raced in to join their pals!
there were hundreds of them bobbing about in the river away to the left.

you need to double click on the picture to see all three birds.

 kev the plumber - motto: half the job in twice the time - arrives to fit the new jacuzzi at my royal palace.

 (double click the pic to see it full size.)

an extract from an early chapter of the excellent Nicholas Nickleby, in which dickens is describing an area of london.
for my money, this is better than any modern day journalism!

 Its boarding houses are musical, and the notes of pianos and harps float in the evening time round the head of the mournful statue, the guardian genius of a little wilderness of shrubs, in the centre of the square.
On a summer's night, windows are thrown open, and groups of swarthy moustached men are seen by the passer-by. lounging at the casements, and smoking fearfully.
Sounds of gruff voices practising vocal music invade the evening's silence; and the fumes of choice tobacco scent the air.  There, snuff and cigars, and German pipes and flutes, and violins and violincellos, divide the supremacy between them. It is the region of song and smoke. Street bands are on their mettle in Golden Square; and itinerant glee-singers quaver involuntarily as they raise their voices within its boundaries.

 
"It is the region of song and smoke" ... must be one of his shortest sentences ever.
brilliant!

a poem (just about)

i've always been one for the birds.
they give me such a thrill
and when i see one gliding by
it makes me want to fly
- one day, i think i will

anyway, i now bring you the first in a mini-series of pictures wot i have taken of birds.
this was sparked off last night, when i was driving home in the dark and the headlights picked out a beautiful barn owl
sailing in a circle just beside the road.

i love to see them, but i also love the sound birds make - like they're sending me a message ... beautiful!
they're precious creatures.

anyway, here is number one ... the gorgeous oystercatcher

scunthorpe hilton's arrival and subsequent domination of our luxury spa facilities - three buckets of water (one hot, one cold, one to stand in) in a steamy corner of the cow shed, has been too much for doris.

she is upstairs consoling herself with a tin of celebrations.
i'm downstairs celebrating with a tin of consolations.

today was the last straw ...

scunthorpe was fighting for survival after falling into doris's knicker drawer, and i braved the boudoir to help pull
her out.  scunthorpe had her foot caught in a basque the size of a dustbin bag, the three inch thick lycra eventually gave up,
scunthorpe sprang out like a bagel from a toaster and both of us ended up in the wardrobe.

there wasn't much room in there, but i found a couple of handholds.
this was when doris walked in, threw open the door, and yanked me out.
i told her i didn't know she cared, but she was inflamed, pulled scunthorpe up by her roots, swung her round her head a few times and hurled her out of the window.
fortunately one of the spa buckets broke her fall.
unfortunately, she will now have to have a galvanised pail surgically removed from her buttocks, and flying her sequinned hang glider back to hollywood is out of the question.

i'm hoping doris will have calmed down after eating all the mini mars chocolates.
but last time i looked through her keyhole she was stuffing things in her samsonite.
so who knows?

will scunthorpe stay?
will flossie and rose walk out in protest?

will i ever get a minute's peace?

he lights a roll-up while wife wrestles with trolleys welded together by rust.
at last, the trolley is released and he pretends not to notice her attemps to push the squeaking heap of metal in a direction it clearly doesn't want to go.
after a loud debate while blocking the entrance, he decides pies would be a good idea, makes it clear they are top of the shopping list, and promises to catch her up later.

immediately gets sidetracked by the newspaper stand and looks at the pictures in the Sun.
sees wife pushing to the front of the scrum for this week's special offer on chicken fat nuggets in crispy stale breadcrumbs and sidesteps to the beer section.
grabs two boxes of lager - 64 cans in each.
spins them round on the tip of his finger and whistles as he strolls through green grocery admiring the melons.

eventually finds wife, and drops lager boxes in trolley, on top of the pies.
she screams at him: "you've squashed me nuggets"
he screams at her: "not many husbands go shopping with the missus, and now i bloody know why."

walks out via the tobacco counter, shaking his head and hitching up his jogging pants.

name this well known celebrity ...

is it...

1. boris johnson on his day off
2. margaret thatcher when she was a pin up girl for a sewing catalogue
3. julia roberts dressed as a man dressed as a woman
4. glenn close after three weeks on colonic irrigation
5. dustin hoffman after a trip to the hairdresser
6. doris
7. flossie
8. rose
9. me

it's a toughie, so i wish you the best of luck.
i'm now off to watch 'charlie's got wind' or whatever it's called.
there's a special screening at the black pudding agogo tonight followed by a muffin the mule competition.
poor mule.

this isn't just a Man... this is M&S lunch hour Man...

M&S man gets distracted by the socks display.
he'll actually forget his hunger, just so he can make a detour to look at thermal vests and sensible tank tops.

he'll stroke his chin thoughtfully and consider which particular stripey jumper would make him look the most stupid.

then, finally, he will venture into the food hall for the cheapest cheese and tomato sandwich,
and the special offer yoghurt flapjack you wouldn't insult a senile parrot with.

he'll have his nose a bit in the air, and he'll sniff when he sees how much that little lot has cost.
but somehow, he'll find the right change in his leather purse.

then he'll carefully put the carrier bag into his briefcase and stroll out looking so important that you'd think he's got a meeting with richard branson about which other building society they can rescue at the taxpayers expense.

i might try morrisons tomorrow and give you a full report on Morrison Man.

lots of you have been complaining about the weather lately, so
i just thought i'd remind you that it could be a lot worse.

this was the view out of my rocket window as i nipped past jupiter on my way
to the andromeda chip shop.

it's like that all the time.  just storms, storms, and more storms ...
still, that's january for you.
i hear it's lovely in the spring.

neil diamond (who changed his name from neil down) rejected this first effort -

sweet caroline
your bonbons never tasted so good

aretha franklin asked me to work on this and it became Dock of the Bay -

kick your old man into the bay
he's a lazy git - what can i say
chuck the malingerer in
then go and get smashed on gin

and nat king cole wasn't too chuffed about this early version of Fly Me to the Moon -

fly me to hartlepool
let me drink pints in every bar
give us a bag of crisps love
and pull me another jar

and, one of doris's favourites Hey Macarana started life as ....

gay macaroni

the big night out (* see previous post) was predictable enough.

nickerless got his nose stuck down her marvellousness's cleavage and it took three donkeys and a winch and pulley
to hoist him out.

darling alistair made a speech, during which we wheeled him off into the guinness cellars, still talking. for all i know, he's still down there with a bemused drayman.

flossie wore pink, rose wore blue.
i swore blind i'd go on my own next time.
their colours clashed horribly with my lime green romper suit.
it just made me look stupid.

to their credit though, they behaved reasonably well.
flossie grabbed smell gibson by the foyer and offered him her king cup.
rose gave scunthorpe hilton a squeeze.
unfortunately, scunthorpe was wearing so much moisturiser that she squirted upwards and hit her head on
the overhead crane, where she dangled for much of the evening.
we did a fair trade in opera glasses after that, for some reason i can't fathom.

and now - all is quiet, but for the farmyard noises coming from the girls' room.
and i don't mean snoring.

i'm using the time to write a few thank you letters.
the catering staff did a remarkable job with the cucumber and baked bean vol au vents.
no-one ate them, of course - except flossie and doris, who arrived early and scoffed the lot.

now do you understand the farmyard noises?

oh, i nearly forgot - the film!
it was the world premiere of 'how green was my jock strap".
the girls gave it a standing ovulation.
i think it was the sight of smell gibson taking an early bath that did it.
he played the love scene with brittany asparagus-spears very well, including the bit where she walked out at the height of the action, leaving him lying in bed doing wigwam impressions.

but i'm tired.

got to go - scunthorpe is tapping on my door...wonder what she wants.
and how she got down.
have to ask her for a demonstration.

doris is sulking because kev the dog ate her last pickled onion.
it made his breath smell better but it put doris in a foul mood.
it would have gone perfectly with the tripe and trotters buttie she was frying in engine oil.
anyway, she's in such a strop, i'm going out with flossie and rose tonight, leaving her to massage her ego, or whatever she does when she's on her own.

we're going to the world premiere of a movie filmed entirely on my island.
it's called "How Green Was My Jock Strap" and stars  Smell Gibson as  the incontinent rugby player who refuses to change his underwear because he thinks it might bring him bad luck.

it should be a very posh do.

scunthorpe hilton is flying over in her sequinned hang glider - i'm looking forward to renewing her acquaintance...fond memories.

her munificence the queen says she packing prince philip off to strip bingo tonight, and she's promised not to sing the national anthem backwards while drinking a sherry of schooner.

gordon the brown says he'll be there if darling alistair will let him. gordon excuses this pathetic behaviour by explaining that he ran the country when he was treasurer, so why change a winning formula.

nickerless sarcastic-dozy claims he's overdosed on viagra and is so stiff he could win a three legged race on his own, but he'll try to get up. i told him no-one would mind if he just sent his wife instead but he maintains she's not quite as good looking as he is.
i joked that if he does turn up he'd better keep moving or he'll end up the bric a brac sale as a garden gnome. complete with fishing rod.

who else was on the list?
oh yes -

camel parkyer balls has just had her 53rd face lift and she is very pleased that they finally managed to find her original chin.  unfortunately, they've plumped up her lips so much that smooth talking charles says its like kissing two hot water bottles.

time for the off, then.
the girls have just descended the ceremonial stairs.
oh - i spoke too soon.
they're wearing identical leather mini skirts (though mini is not the word - there's enough leather for a DFS sale).
so they've both screamed and run back up to their rooms to change.
if they both come down in those ridiculous fluorescent hot pants, i'm going on my own.

i'll let you know how it goes.
if we ever get there.

don't worry about what people think - they don't do it very often.

artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

acquire immunity to halitosis - travel by bus

don't get your knickers in a twist - buy them on a roll

the grass is always greener on the other side of the glass house

my nuggets will be on view again soon.

extracts from my collection of early drafts of songs, that i had to rewrite, without getting any of the credit...

i left my heart in bognor regis

moon river ...
you jumped in
the water jumped out
you lump of lard

yesterday
the bailiff called round and i ran away
he chased me half way to haringey
i kicked him in the alleyway

waterloo
why are the trains all running late

twiglets
i've had a few
but then again
they give me bellyache
i ate
a bag or two
let off a fart
and cleared the gangway...

etc etc leading up to a rousing chorus of
'they're cheaper at safeway'

frank sinatra and the rest of them were very grateful to me, i can tell you.

A Jewish grandma and her grandson are at the beach. He's playing in the

water, and she is standing on the shore not wanting to get her feet wet.

All of a sudden, a huge wave crashes directly onto the spot where the boy is wading,

and he is swept away.

Grandma screams and cries: Lord, my GOD, how

could you? Haven't I been a wonderful grandmother? Haven't I been a

wonderful mother? Haven't I kept a kosher home? Haven't I given to charity?

Haven't I lit candles every Friday night? Haven't I tried my very best to

live a  life that you would be proud of?

A voice booms from the sky, "All right, I give in, already!"

A moment later another huge wave crashes on the beach.

As the water recedes, the boy is standing there smiling and splashing around

as if nothing had happened.

The voice booms again.  "I have returned your grandson. Are you satisfied?"

Jewish grandma responds sharply:  "He had a hat."