Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Victor Sparkles Pop Quest: Chill Out With Mingus!

Did you know that children's favourite Pingu the Penguin was originally named Mingus?

Mingus the Penguin wore sunglasses and a pork pie hat, and inhabited a "cool pad" at the north pole, where he "hung out" with a picaresque collection of beatniks, misfits and loose women.

Unfortunately the name was dropped when the family of Jazz Trombonist Charley Mingus opposed the use of the brand.

In their objections, they cited Mingus the Penguin's substance abuse, bohemian lifestyle and indifference towards social propriety.

"Let's face it," commented a spokesman "the portrayal was a clichéd interpretation of the jazz scene, and a frankly disturbing misrepresentation of the natural world, presenting both environments as feckless, hedonistic and degenerate!"

After ranting for some time, the spokesman concluded: "actually, this isn't really anything to do with Charley's legacy. Let's face it, he's dead, and probably couldn't care less what this animal gets up to, but we feel that it's important to let the world know that penguins are a hard-working social species with little use for extravagant and hedonistic individualism. This show is nothing more than anthromophism gone mad!"

The dispute continued for some years until the project was quietly dropped, only to be rediscovered by younger, trendier, up-and-coming TV execs inspired by the opportunity to broadcast low cost programming with little need for be creative themselves.

However, by the time the penquin scripts reached the filming stage, "Pingu" had not only been renamed, but divested of his louch accoutrements and sanitized for the modern audience, with little more than an appetite for fish.

Pingu is said to be the late Margaret Thatcher's favourite television programme.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Pervy About Protective Clothing?

Then try Spain, where the prostitutes are now wearing hi-viz jackets !

It's the law: you want to work on the motorway, you have to wear compliant safety gear.

Fit for Purpose.

Monday, October 25, 2010

London Fire Brigade to Strike

Yes as the news breaks that the capital's fire-fighters are to strike on Bonfire Night, the ShoeBox has an exclusive interview with a man in a helmet:

"Actually, we're all a bit scared of Bonfire Night, on account of all those fires, and the added risk of all those fireworks, so we voted to avoid it this year. I personally don't like all that banging!"

He then added:

"Also, if we have to go out fighting fires, then we have to interrupt all the other jobs that we normally do to bring in further income whilst we're not really doing anything. You know, in the vast spaces of time between incidents, now that we live in an age where Health & Safety legislation has outlawed many of the traditional sources of ignition. And let's face it, there's only so many cats a man can rescue, without it looking suspicious!"

Then our spokesman yawned, pulled his blanket back up and resumed his afternoon knap at the switchboard.

If only Guy Fawkes knew what he started!

No Fun For Go-Go Go-Getters

As listeners will know, the ShoeBox loves nothing more than lawn-mowing in a mini-skirt and clogs, whilst blaspheming at the well-fed stray cats in the garden.

Well, if I was in Italy THAT WOULD BE A CRIME

"Centre Right" Mayor Luigi Bobbio, (yes, right out of central casting) of Castellammare di Stabia (no, I never heard of it either) seeks to ban miniskirts, sunbathing, playing football in public places, and blasphemy!

The BBC goes on to point out:

"In other places they have banned sandcastles, kissing in cars, feeding stray cats, wooden clogs and the use of lawn mowers at weekends."

There is no indication as to whether Mayor Bobbio is just a lonely misantrhopic Ogre who just hates the thought of other people having fun.

Editorial: Actually, to some extent the ShoeBox is with him on the miniskirt issue.
Naturally, I like to perv at the leggy young lovelies just as much as the next man, but there seems to be no quality control, and leggy loveliness is a finite commodity.

Have you seen the state of some of them out there?

I say, put the controls in at the point of sale.

A discerning gentleman could be employed at each boutique, to discriminate (and it IS discrimination) as to who gets to wear what.

He could also provide advice like: "I say, have you thought of modelling? I have my own photographic equipment you know, and I'd be willing to waive my fee", or "you've got a lot going for you, but come back when you've lost ten pounds!", to the frank, but necessary "sorry darling, but I think you'll find Mrs Ahmed down the market sells a burkah in your size that might spare us all the grief!"

But will they allow this? Of course not, it's political correctness gone mad!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Fat Tuesday

There is discontent in the North this morning with the news that the bus service is being slowed down by the weight of the pie-loving drivers!

The bus company have had to take drastic measures and are attempting to get a couple of the porkers to lose weight .

Apparently they exceed the 20 stone limit* , and have to be greased and shoehorned into their compartments.

(* About average size for an American).

The unions have organised industrial action, but have voted against marching as that would be too much like exercise.

"Why do you think I became a bus driver in the first place?" a spokesman said. "Where-else can you get out and about whilst sitting on yer arse all day?" before adding: "Are you going to eat those chips?"

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Farewell Old Friend




















My partner paid about 25p for this beauty in a car boot sale circa 1989, and it received extensive use in her bathroom for the next 15 years, until she moved in here and the appalling signal rendered it unusable.

We're a digital household now.

However, such was its appeal, that it's taken her 6 years to let it go to the tip.

I have to say, as we drove away, I had to pretend to have dirt in my eye, such was the wrench.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Mision Cumplada

As you know, I'm the last person to trivialise the plight of the Chilean miners, but I can say that I have suffered in an underground hell myself.

I was once stuck on the underground in a carriage with a man who was on his way to the international body-odour olympics.

OK, that was an assumption on my part, but I'm telling you, my money was on him to win gold! Put it this way, he was the kind of guy who never totally left a room!

Anyway, I'm not one to complain, but we were stuck in that tunnel with old stinky for two, maybe three minutes. I never thought I'd see my loved ones, or possessions again!

And what support did we get? No counselling. No visit from Il Presidente. We certainly weren't given the opportunity of live global TV coverage followed by short-lived celebrity.

Life is cruel like that.