Great news army of five! With the rapidly static non-increasing-any-time-soon situation that I, your fabulous leader is facing, I thought I'd see if I couldn't rustle up some extra recruits by making you all an offer you can't refuse.
This week is: Introduce a Friend Week.
Yes, exciting news isn't it? For one week only I'm offering you, loyal follower, the chance to become an elite member of Sensei Buffoon! with your very own personalised tribute written by me.
That's right! For every new member you introduce to Sensei Buffoon! you'll get a personalised tribute (written by me) exclusively for and about you! Not only that, but I'll publish it on Sensei Buffoon! for all the world to see.
Imagine the look of awe, admiration, lust, hatred, envy and lust on the faces of your friends when they read all the fabulous lies I'm willing to write about you. Your popularity among everyone you know, and even among everyone you don't know, will escalate to unimaginable heights. People will sit at your feet and worship you. Little children will want to be just like you when they grow up. Your partner (be they your business partner or the other kind) will suddenly find you attractive again. Your life will change for the better and all because of the fabulous rubbish I'm willing to say about you.
So don't delay. Drag, coax or cajole a friend along to Sensei Buffoon! and sit back and reap the benefits of your very own personalised Sensei Buffoon! Tribute.
Sunday 27 June 2010
Saturday 26 June 2010
Chicken or Egg?
Good question: I'm going for chicken and I'll tell you why. I like chicken and I like egg. However I don't like all parts of an egg but I do like all parts of a chicken (except the egg part). I particularly like the KFC part of any chicken. I know KFC is not good for me and I know it's deep fried etc. but I come from a time when it was perfectly acceptable to spread beef fat onto white bread, season it liberally with salt and pepper and scoff the lot!
And look at me, I am the epitome of good health: aside from the arthritis, and the high blood pressure and my on-off relationship with apnoea.
So there it is. It's the chicken for me every time.
And look at me, I am the epitome of good health: aside from the arthritis, and the high blood pressure and my on-off relationship with apnoea.
So there it is. It's the chicken for me every time.
Monday 21 June 2010
An Introduction.
Hello
AN INTRODUCTION: PLUS, WONDERFUL NEWS FOR MOTORISTS.
Just recently I've been looking at the world with increasing confusion. Do you remember those picture books at school that had images of Neanderthal Man in them? He'd always be in profile so that his overhanging brow looked as if it might tip over his beady little cave man eyes at any moment. Well, that's how I look for most of the time. The expression on my face is a cross between unbridled stupidity and utter confusion. Very much like how I'd imagine my Neanderthal Man must have looked on the day he first clapped his beady eyes on the scantily clad Rachel Welch as she ran (suggestively) past the mouth of his cave closely followed by a rampant dinosaur.
I now spend a good deal of my time gawping at the ever-changing world with a mixture of awe, curiosity and fear. What is more, with every day that passes, I'm discovering that my confusion is slowly giving way to a much darker emotion - anger. So I thought: how can I vent this new-found anger? How best to cope with it? Should I bottle it up? Should I go to Speakers' Corner? Should I pay a psychoanalyst to bore into my brain and tell me why I'm so angry? But then I thought a bit more and realised that bottling things up causes heart attacks: Speakers' Corner is too far away and speaking to a psychoanalyst is far too expensive. Luckily a friend of mine happened to mention that she wrote a blog. That was it! A cheap and cheerful alternative. I might even get some replies with tips on anger management. What could be better?
So, with the idea of saving oodles of pennies I set about creating this, my very first blog. The title of my blog: 'SENSEI BUFFOON!' took me an age to choose, but I think it explains me rather well. I am a kind-of teacher but also a bit of a goon (or buffoon). But despite these two handicaps I have come to the conclusion that I really should be running this country (and eventually the entire world). I definitely know more about everything than anyone else. So, this little blog is where I begin my campaign to rule the world and put everybody straight. However SENSEI BUFFOON! won't only be about my desire for world dominance and correcting those of you that think (hilariously) that you know better than me. No. I'll also be taking a look at what's happening in my world and you'll be party to a selection of my most profound thoughts and ideas. I bet you can't wait! And, as an added extra, I'm hoping that you might find my blog amusing. However, let us not forget, for the most part the topics I shall be discussing on here will be of an extremely important nature. And I shall be offering some fascinating solutions to as yet unsolved problems. For all of you who chose to follow me, your journey is at an end. Just relax, your search is over. I am the answer.
Let's begin with that favourite and most interesting of topics: Road Safety.
Do any of you remember the rather chilling Ministry of Transport advert on TV aimed at getting motorists to slow down? The opening scene was of a young girl of about seven lying by the side of the road: her mangled frame wrapped around a rather lovely looking oak tree. It quickly transpired that the little girl had been knocked down and left for dead by some boy racer type motorist. I'm guessing he was a council house tenant on route to his local Social Security Office in order to pick up his giro - before paying a visit to a drug dealer's house for his weekly supply of weed.
Anyway, as the advert progresses we learn (via the power of the voice over) that, had 'Drugy McGiro-Boy' been paying attention instead of trying to drive, roll a spliff and skin up at all the same time, the little girl would have lived. If only our benefits-grabbing-drug-addled-council-house-renting motorist had stuck to the 30mph speed limit the poor broken little girl would still be making her way to wherever it was she was making her way to. Who would have thought it? Something as simple as adhering to the speed limit could actually save countless young lives. It's got to be a good thing, hasn't it?
Well, yes, but then I got thinking. The next time I see a child crossing the road, and I'm late for an appointment at my chiropodists, do I actually have to stop? Surely, if I just slow down to around twenty-five mph, the collision won't be a fatal one. Everyone wins. The child, having lived through a near death experience, will be the wiser for it and I will not be late for my much needed bunion-paring session.
AN INTRODUCTION: PLUS, WONDERFUL NEWS FOR MOTORISTS.
Just recently I've been looking at the world with increasing confusion. Do you remember those picture books at school that had images of Neanderthal Man in them? He'd always be in profile so that his overhanging brow looked as if it might tip over his beady little cave man eyes at any moment. Well, that's how I look for most of the time. The expression on my face is a cross between unbridled stupidity and utter confusion. Very much like how I'd imagine my Neanderthal Man must have looked on the day he first clapped his beady eyes on the scantily clad Rachel Welch as she ran (suggestively) past the mouth of his cave closely followed by a rampant dinosaur.
I now spend a good deal of my time gawping at the ever-changing world with a mixture of awe, curiosity and fear. What is more, with every day that passes, I'm discovering that my confusion is slowly giving way to a much darker emotion - anger. So I thought: how can I vent this new-found anger? How best to cope with it? Should I bottle it up? Should I go to Speakers' Corner? Should I pay a psychoanalyst to bore into my brain and tell me why I'm so angry? But then I thought a bit more and realised that bottling things up causes heart attacks: Speakers' Corner is too far away and speaking to a psychoanalyst is far too expensive. Luckily a friend of mine happened to mention that she wrote a blog. That was it! A cheap and cheerful alternative. I might even get some replies with tips on anger management. What could be better?
So, with the idea of saving oodles of pennies I set about creating this, my very first blog. The title of my blog: 'SENSEI BUFFOON!' took me an age to choose, but I think it explains me rather well. I am a kind-of teacher but also a bit of a goon (or buffoon). But despite these two handicaps I have come to the conclusion that I really should be running this country (and eventually the entire world). I definitely know more about everything than anyone else. So, this little blog is where I begin my campaign to rule the world and put everybody straight. However SENSEI BUFFOON! won't only be about my desire for world dominance and correcting those of you that think (hilariously) that you know better than me. No. I'll also be taking a look at what's happening in my world and you'll be party to a selection of my most profound thoughts and ideas. I bet you can't wait! And, as an added extra, I'm hoping that you might find my blog amusing. However, let us not forget, for the most part the topics I shall be discussing on here will be of an extremely important nature. And I shall be offering some fascinating solutions to as yet unsolved problems. For all of you who chose to follow me, your journey is at an end. Just relax, your search is over. I am the answer.
Let's begin with that favourite and most interesting of topics: Road Safety.
Do any of you remember the rather chilling Ministry of Transport advert on TV aimed at getting motorists to slow down? The opening scene was of a young girl of about seven lying by the side of the road: her mangled frame wrapped around a rather lovely looking oak tree. It quickly transpired that the little girl had been knocked down and left for dead by some boy racer type motorist. I'm guessing he was a council house tenant on route to his local Social Security Office in order to pick up his giro - before paying a visit to a drug dealer's house for his weekly supply of weed.
Anyway, as the advert progresses we learn (via the power of the voice over) that, had 'Drugy McGiro-Boy' been paying attention instead of trying to drive, roll a spliff and skin up at all the same time, the little girl would have lived. If only our benefits-grabbing-drug-addled-council-house-renting motorist had stuck to the 30mph speed limit the poor broken little girl would still be making her way to wherever it was she was making her way to. Who would have thought it? Something as simple as adhering to the speed limit could actually save countless young lives. It's got to be a good thing, hasn't it?
Well, yes, but then I got thinking. The next time I see a child crossing the road, and I'm late for an appointment at my chiropodists, do I actually have to stop? Surely, if I just slow down to around twenty-five mph, the collision won't be a fatal one. Everyone wins. The child, having lived through a near death experience, will be the wiser for it and I will not be late for my much needed bunion-paring session.
Cats: Are They As Smart As They'd Have Me Believe?
I've been musing. My musing took place in my back garden because I use the front garden for cleaning the car, talking to my neighbours Pat and Mike and for storing my rubbish. I sometimes use the front garden for other functions but for the life of me I can't think what. Does this mean I need to write a blog about my front garden? Yes. It probably does.
Now. To the question in hand - Cats: Are They As Smart As They'd Have Me Believe?
This is a fairly easy question to answer. However, I intend to make a right meal of it. I believe cats aren't smart at all. Let's look at some of the facts.
Just about all of the evidence in favour of cats being smart is attributable to the Little Old Lady (LOL) Theory. This is a theory in which a LOL attributes their cat's failure to obey the simplest of commands as an indication of some kind of intelligent thought process. This is a mistake on the part of the LOL and the millions of cat lovers who listen to them without questioning the LOL's sanity (or their credentials when dealing with the cranial goings-on of the cat as a species). I shall be exploring LOLs sanity and other befuddled aspects of their life in a future post which I'm titling: LOLs: Are They As Smart As They'd Have Me Believe Or Nuttier Than A Jar of SunPat Peanut Butter?
The following is a transcript of a conversation that never happened between two LOL's I'm calling Edna and Irene. It will illustrate my point and make me look clever despite evidence to the contrary. A bit like how being a cat works.
EDNA:Oh, yes, that's typical of our cat. He won't do a single thing we tell him to do. He's SO independent.
IRENE: Well, Edna, that's cats all over isn't it? They're highly intelligent, you know. Not like dogs. Dogs are daft.
EDNA: Oh, don't talk to me about dogs, Reen. I can't abide dogs.
IRENE: Nor me. They've no backbone. Not like cats. Cats do have a backbone.
EDNA: That's right, Reen. They do. And lungs. And a liver. But dogs!
IRENE: Do they not have lungs and liver's, Ed?
EDNA: I expect so, Reen. But they're only copying cats.
IRENE: Is that where the term 'copycat' comes from, do you think?
EDNA: I do, Reen. In fact, I'd put my bingo money on it.
IRENE: Oh, don't do that, Ed. That would be foolish.
EDNA: You're right, Reen. It would be foolish. It's the type of thing a dog might do.
IRENE: That's true. Dogs love to gamble. My daughter-in-law has a picture of a group of dogs seated around a table playing cards and smoking cigarettes.
EDNA: Were any of the dogs Beagles, Reen?
IRENE: I think there might have been one or two Beagles, Ed, yes. Why do you ask?
EDNA: Well, Beagles are known for it. Beagles love a good fag.
IRENE: Well, I never knew that. You see, you wouldn't catch a cat playing cards and smoking a cigarette, would you, Ed?
EDNA: Goodness know. They're far to intelligent to gamble and smoke.
IRENE: Not in front of humans, at any rate.
EDNA: That's right, Reen. They'd wait until we weren't looking.
IRENE: Exactly, Edna. And that is why cats are smarter than dogs.
And there you have it. Using the LOL Theory I have established beyond reasonable (or unreasonable) doubt that cats are as thick as two, or even three, short planks. And that old ladies, especially Irene and Edna, are stupid or senile, or both.
Now. To the question in hand - Cats: Are They As Smart As They'd Have Me Believe?
This is a fairly easy question to answer. However, I intend to make a right meal of it. I believe cats aren't smart at all. Let's look at some of the facts.
Just about all of the evidence in favour of cats being smart is attributable to the Little Old Lady (LOL) Theory. This is a theory in which a LOL attributes their cat's failure to obey the simplest of commands as an indication of some kind of intelligent thought process. This is a mistake on the part of the LOL and the millions of cat lovers who listen to them without questioning the LOL's sanity (or their credentials when dealing with the cranial goings-on of the cat as a species). I shall be exploring LOLs sanity and other befuddled aspects of their life in a future post which I'm titling: LOLs: Are They As Smart As They'd Have Me Believe Or Nuttier Than A Jar of SunPat Peanut Butter?
The following is a transcript of a conversation that never happened between two LOL's I'm calling Edna and Irene. It will illustrate my point and make me look clever despite evidence to the contrary. A bit like how being a cat works.
EDNA:Oh, yes, that's typical of our cat. He won't do a single thing we tell him to do. He's SO independent.
IRENE: Well, Edna, that's cats all over isn't it? They're highly intelligent, you know. Not like dogs. Dogs are daft.
EDNA: Oh, don't talk to me about dogs, Reen. I can't abide dogs.
IRENE: Nor me. They've no backbone. Not like cats. Cats do have a backbone.
EDNA: That's right, Reen. They do. And lungs. And a liver. But dogs!
IRENE: Do they not have lungs and liver's, Ed?
EDNA: I expect so, Reen. But they're only copying cats.
IRENE: Is that where the term 'copycat' comes from, do you think?
EDNA: I do, Reen. In fact, I'd put my bingo money on it.
IRENE: Oh, don't do that, Ed. That would be foolish.
EDNA: You're right, Reen. It would be foolish. It's the type of thing a dog might do.
IRENE: That's true. Dogs love to gamble. My daughter-in-law has a picture of a group of dogs seated around a table playing cards and smoking cigarettes.
EDNA: Were any of the dogs Beagles, Reen?
IRENE: I think there might have been one or two Beagles, Ed, yes. Why do you ask?
EDNA: Well, Beagles are known for it. Beagles love a good fag.
IRENE: Well, I never knew that. You see, you wouldn't catch a cat playing cards and smoking a cigarette, would you, Ed?
EDNA: Goodness know. They're far to intelligent to gamble and smoke.
IRENE: Not in front of humans, at any rate.
EDNA: That's right, Reen. They'd wait until we weren't looking.
IRENE: Exactly, Edna. And that is why cats are smarter than dogs.
And there you have it. Using the LOL Theory I have established beyond reasonable (or unreasonable) doubt that cats are as thick as two, or even three, short planks. And that old ladies, especially Irene and Edna, are stupid or senile, or both.
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