Bollocks, winkles and a horse's hangdown

It's got a bit dull round here, I may avoid trouble a bit more recently but also avoid fun. Or it avoids me. I was just reading about the judgemental attitude of the new agers, unlike therapists, who blame cancer on the victim. Crap. I suppose there is always order in coincidences, I've said a few new quiz answers would be heard recently and after a few were learnt at least 3 were then heard on the radio or TV as expected, and these questions were years old and randomly selected.

So one more week till my TV series starts, although there are 7 short episodes so I may need to wait and if each is only available for a week sod all people will see it. What a record. Like the first person to shit their pants on TV. Not a clever thing to be known for, the first ever TV programme not made for scheduled TV. I'm confused and I'm in it! I have been roughly told by the boss where it is and I am uncertain, heaven knows what the people who can watch it would do. They have hidden a TV programme under such a pile of hoops to jump through, links and buttons I doubt the series will reach double figures. If that forces them to show it on Sky all the better but I will soon find out.
But it's boring. I've had the time to do some housework and it rained so no gardening, but still took loads of photos the couple of trips I made this week. 6 on TV now on BBC interactive, and I just sent one of my friend's old house which would be pretty amazing to get on TV. Despite 4 1/2 years at the gym and 60 kilo bench pressing my chest is stuck at the same size. Arms big, shoulders reasonable, legs able to shift the whole stack of weights but the chest remains the same. I have at least 4 of a 6 pack, I think the rest is hiding behind the inch or two of fat remaining, but when you look at the big guys of all heights I am not like that.

If I have to make my own entertainment it's similar to here, except it's real and even if I wanted to I couldn't make it up. Nothing here is made up, what's the point? So rather than be boring I use nursery words. Always have. Manure, piles, turds, droppings, suppository, rectum, always reliable as a last resort, I hope. Now if I really have any mental illness it's only stress related and half would go instantly if I moved in with a family. Currently any problem is mine. Mine alone. If I don't fix it and need someone else to I have to wait and often pay as well. Crap. And nothing in my power to change. That's the worst thing, when you are totally reliant on others. My friend in America couldn't afford the trip here this summer so is now due in 2 more years. And then probably 40 miles away. Typical example. And the things I can influence are so trivial they are just survival, no more than that. So I go online and talk about farts and guano as there's nothing better to do. And if I even entertain one person with it it's worth it. I made someone laugh with a Uranus last week, so it is still possible.

While I'm at it, if anyone remember the Wombles, can you imagine my version of it? Bungo brings in a used condom and the French chef asks if he wants her to cook it. Great Uncle Bulgaria keeps them all in until they admit who farted. And could you imagine Bernard Cribbins saying "'Well if you don't like it they can fuck off' said Wellington". Classic. And they'd all make use of the toilet, announcing they need to look around before they run out of paper, and Orinoco saying 'you don't want to go in there for 10 minutes'. I suppose you could call it 'Carry On Wombling', except they never actually swore in that series of films. That would make a bloody good series actually. And that, I'm sorry to say, is how my mind works. Not a penny in it for me.