Big Girl Birthday

Gobby was delighted when, on finally reaching the big 4 - 0 the Regulars were there to celebrate with her exactly in the style she had hoped for down the Local.


























As the evening wore on reinforcements arrived; slightly the worse for wear themselves but nevertheless very welcome.

















Gobby was reassured to know that Billy Idle would always be there to protect her in life unless utterly terrified by birthday cakes.



























Although she was not wholly convinced that Marlene's best wishes on delivering said cake were entirely sincere.


















As Gobby proceeded to cut the cake Ol' Blue Eyes exclaimed with horror,

"You're letting her have a knife?!"

To which Billy countered,

"They don't call her the Barton slasher for nothing,"

Adding ,

"And not just when she p*sses herself!"




This was followed by calls of,


"Speech!"

However when Gobby reminded them,

"But when am I not making a speech?"

The Regulars consulted amongst themselves and reconsidered deciding,

Ok, then, try a silence!



And as the cake was divided and devoured Ol' Blue Eyes proclaimed,

"Don't even pretend you can't swallow that!"






















And Gobby devised an invention worth of the Dragons' Den for keeping your tits perky past 40.




























As with any new invention, however, there would always be drawbacks as Gobby discovered declaring,

"I need to go to the toilet but I'm not sure I'll get my balloons in there."


To which Jordan lamented,

"I have that trouble every night!"

And weighing up Gobby's invention added,

"I think I would need bigger balloons."

More to the point Gobby pointed out,

"I think we would need a bigger pub!"


Finally, as the evening drew to a close, just when one would have failed to believe the merriment could be surpassed, Billy and Marlene decidedly took theis to the next level with their Karate Kid tribute to round off the perfect celebration.

Surprise!

Billy Idle's eyes lit up when, on enquiring as to what would be gracing his table that evening, he received a reply greatly to his liking.

This euphoria was short-lived, however when Gobby iterated her response to be 'surprise' and not, as lamentably misheard,




'Some pies.'

Hawkshead

On a sunny Friday afternoon an intrepid group of Regulars set off on a road trip to beer and fun.
En route the Regulars were in need of some liquid refreshment, Gobby and Billy Idle in particular after their near death journey experience with Roger the Rocket.

 

 

 

 

 

 


The Regulars were delighted with their accommodation once they had evicted the sheep.

 

 

 

 

And the girls were particularly impressed by the sturdiness of the furniture:

Gobby was appalled by the spelling and grammar mistakes on show although Tubthumper clearly wasn't too phased and one of the Regulars reminded her the purpose of their visit was to drink themselves into oblivion and confiscated her red pen.

After a splendid outside tea the Regulars engaged in the genteel art of lawn darts, although the term lawn needed to be loosely applied on such terrain resulting in a victory and rare action shot of Billy Idle.

 

 

 

 

The Regulars later engaged in some highbrow educated parlour game entertainment, always advisable when, by this time, pickled in home brew but at least they managed to clear up the initial horrified confusion establishing that when Billy had suggested they had a go at 'Gobble' he had actually been thinking of 'Boggle'.

Tubthumper was somewhat hesitant in settling down for the night as Billy had been reported to say,

"I can't wait to see Tubthumper's face when I get into bed with him." But this was soon smoothed over with the explanation that this had, all along, referred to Rupert the Bear.

Collapsing into bed, despite warnings on the severity of Billy's snoring (compare the moose) it would seem the Regulars had still underestimated this but were undeniaby impressed at his ability to start before his head had even touched the pillow.


The Regulars were wholly unexpectant of and traumatised by Tufty's exuberant morning persona somewhat horribly reminiscent of Tigger on acid.

Not least on hearing her storm through the barn into the kitchen announcing,

"I've aroused Billy!"

Gobby simply couldn't recall the last time that happened.

And as Gobby and Billy mused later in the day,

"You wouldn't think she was like a coiled up spring."

"No, more like a rolled-up carpet."

As the Regulars partook in a brief morning attempt to sober up and rehydrate with some non-alcoholic refreshment,

Gobby began to reach critical mass and the consensus was that a brief exercise venture might be in order.

Roger the Rocket declared,

"We'll do Ambleside."

To which Billy felt the need to comment,

"That sounds like a phrase you used in your youth."

Retiring to the barn for an afternoon nap it was clear that, in their absence, a heinous crime had been committed.

Later, whilst gearing up for the Beer Festival and highlight of the weekend waiting some way up a desolate Lakeland fell in complete cloud cover, soaked to the skin, in utterly dreary conditions waiting for their chariot to the designated destination of fun the anticipation was literally quite unbearable.

Spudgirl cheerily pointed out to Billy Idle,

“Good job we got you up in plenty of time”.

Who replied, “Yep. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.”

The Regulars soon settled in comfortably at the festival with Tubthumper and Spudgirl using the sinister powers of Howard and Hilda to secure suitable seating.

As the Regulars systematically worked their way through the brews on offer Tubthumper was traumatised by the fact that the long-established brewery had had the audacity to steal his Bennett's Brewery design.

Meanwhile those not so committed to worshipping at the altar of beer were pleased with the choice on offer.

Whilst some raved about the quality of the Guns 'n' Roses tribute act others were not too convinced by the likeness.

And Spudgirl was only too worried about about what would happen if she fell off her picnic table stage, not necessarily for Tufty's safety but more as she had nowhere to escape.

As the night wore on a kind passer-by did see fit to ask:

"Have you set your alarm?"

As Hellrunner's beer processing special powers began to wear Spudgirl and Tufty proved that, in such circumstances, necessity truly is the mother of invention.

 

 

 

 

 

And Spudgirl and Gobby could not understand why Billy Idle felt they were unlikely to pull and it might be time for home.

 

 

 


After another snore and flatulence fuelled night the Regulars readied themselves for the way home they marvelled at the ingenuity of Roger the Rocket and his waste not want not approach as, in keeping with the beer tradition he prepared himself a pint of sausages for the journey.

En route Gobby & Billy Idle began to regret somewhat being so demanding in complaining about the 'bullet from a gun' like nature of the outward journey on experiencing the ensuing detours on their way home.

 


All in all, after another successful trip the Regulars returned safe and sound, if rather tired, hungover and smelly back to the Shire.

Gardeners' Question Time

The Regulars could do nothing but marvel at all of Tattoo's home grown produce lovingly nurtured down the zone during the growing season.

At an edition of 'Gardeners' Question Time' down the Local he threw himself open to the Regulars' suggestions of what he could grow next year to extend his agricultural expertise.

Suffice it to say that Ol' Blue Eyes' suggestion of,

"You could try growing cotton!"

Was not particularly well-received.

Vuvuzela

The Regulars felt that England's early exit from the World Cup was in some ways a blessing after witnessing Hamish playing his vuvuzela in support.



























Meanwhile, theDark Lord summed up his feelings on the whole gloomy experience:

They Think It’s All Over – It Is Now!

The Dark Lord would like to point out that he would always support his country when in battle or competition with any of the other nations on our flat planet.

This includes the recent England Germany World Cup game.

Now, The Dark Lord is not a knowledgeable person when it comes to the game of football.

Even less so the Dark Lady, so my attempts to explain the technicalities of the game were, well, not too accurate.

I described the aim of game was to kick the round thing into the square thing but this proved to be wrong.

When our boys succeeded in doing this, it was not counted.

Some foreign chappie selling ice ream on the side-lines told the ref that it hadn’t gone in, and he believed him!

Apparently the technology to check these things was too expensive.

I intend to send them my old Betamax recorder to prevent this happening again.

The end result was a sorry disappointment but it must have been hard for our players to concentrate with that overpowering drone from the crowd blowing their vulgavulvas.

Still, there’s always the Eurovision Song Contest. . . .

The Dark Lord

(The only Goth in the village)

Eng-er-land

Gobby was delighted when GEO Jen and the Space Cadet came to join them to cheer on Eng-er-land at Billy Idle's world cup barbecue for their first 'dead cert' match against the USA.


She was even more delighted on realising that, without them, the rest of the guests would have inevitably starved to death leading her to wonder quite what she could do in order to get Billy Idle to follow instructions if all her efforts had still been insufficient this time:



She was, however, considerably less delighted with the gifts they had borne as it had been some time since Billy had had his many previous alter egos, (who could forget Studyboy, and Supershag) but thanks to their generosity he had transformed into:







England Clown.





The Regulars were, nonetheless, very impressed with Billy's attempts to give his World Cup barbecue a real authentic flavour of the host nation,

2 vuvuzelas and a token African:









And it was lamentable that the England squad themselves were incapable of emulating such effort in their performance.

Much fun was had both watching the game:


































and later down the Local where Rick Francis expressed his admiration for GEO Jen and the Space Cadet's lifelong love and devotion when on hearing they were approaching their 20 year anniversary, he was heard to declare,

"I've had 3 wives in that time!"

but on learning they had been married for a mere 13 of these he did reduce his estimate to:

"That's only 2 wives then."



After a fabulous beer-fuelled evening, somewhat predictably, little remained of England Clown the morning after:

Perfect Storm

The Dark Lord returns with a tale that goes a long way to explain his recent absence:

Perfect Storm

Having recently returned from a Grand Tour of Lancashire, The Dark Lord would like to reflect on the delights of sampling real ale and consider the dangers of mixing conflicting brands.

After rigorously exploring the flavour and brain-damaging potential of Jennings finest, I have yet to decide if the outright winner is the earthy full taste of Jennings Cumberland or the more malty but stronger Snecklifter.

As a diversion, I later sampled some of the areas Manchester brewed Joseph Holt Ale. Please see attached picture.

The name on the bottle: Thunder Holt should perhaps have given me an idea as to how this 5.0 strength ale would affect the human body.

Only available in bottle form, I had a stash ready for testing after leaving the pub.

In retrospect, not a good idea; a Jennings session followed by an unknown ale which, under the name says STORM IN A BOTTLE. . . . .

Well, as they say, the truth is out there.

About thirty minutes later while in a seated position and absently trying to determine the wattage of the toilet cubicles light-bulb, I pondered on the power of this Manchurian beer.

It is a smooth tasting drink which serves well from the bottle, but be warned.

This is not a drink for idle tonsil-washing.

Please let me try to explain.

If the Panama Canal became heavily silted and large ships could no longer pass through, the authorities could either spend huge sums of money on a commercial dredging operation, or simply pour a few bottles of this substance into the waters and wait about half an hour.

It has the power to shift anything!

Our government must ensure that terrorist organisations are not allowed to gain control of this substance.

Just a few cases dropped outside strategic military installations could be devastating.

The next day would dawn with our armed forces disabled and in a recumbent position.

The country would truly be caught with its pants down.

Not to mention the damage caused to aging Victorian sewerage systems. They simply were not built to take that kind of pressure.

Manhole lids the length and breadth of our country would be blown into the air like party poppers.

While experienced Lancashire drinkers may be able to enjoy a controlled amount of this drink, it must be treated with caution by the rest of us.

Under no circumstances mix this drink with any other.

Heed my warning, or face dark consequences. . . .

The Dark Lord

(The only Goth in the village)